#Liveness and readiness Spring boot

[minkieater]

twin cowboys ⇄ yungi ʚɞ song mingi x f!reader x jeong yunho your sorority chose to spend spring break in nashville this year and you couldn’t wait to finally go out to bars with your sisters. it was your second night out on the broadway strip and the only thing on your mind was having a good time – who are mingi and yunho to stop you?

w. smut 18+ minors dni porn with a lil' plot, dom/sub dynamics wc. ~9k

spring break for you and your sorority was a big deal.

for the last three years you’d traveled with the group of girls to new orleans, new york, las vegas, all places with incredible nightlife and a vast amount of things to do whether you’re of age or not. the older sisters always went to bars and clubs, leaving the underage sisters to their own devices in a new city, but someone always knew someone, there was never a shortage of something to do. 

this is your first year of being able to go out to places you could legally drink at and you were overflowing with excitement at where was chosen in the famous yearly salad bowl draw. every year you and your sisters would sit in the living room, your cutest and comfiest pajamas on and the entire sorority would get a partner and make a powerpoint presentation of where they wanted to travel to for spring break, including everything you could do in that city. at the end of all the presentations, you’d put all the cities in a bowl, and the president of the sorority would choose where you’d go.

this year the name that was drawn was nashville, tennessee. 

the bowl draw was smart, every year you had a complete guide already made up, the only work to be done was figuring out where to stay and getting tickets on the same flight. the vice president always figured out the rest, an unspoken job that was passed down year to year. 

this year you were staying in an adorable airbnb, decorated in pink, little sayings and picturesque opportunities covering the walls. it was massive, it had rooms for each of you, including a living space and a kitchen. if you needed to you didn’t have to leave, the place was enough for an instagram post — perfect for the underage sisters. 

it was your second night going out on the broadway strip and you were still hungover from the night before. you get ready with a redbull in hand, chasing your shots with it, using it to power through the stomachache and energize you for another night of too much alcohol. your sisters felt the same, despite the loud music flowing through the space of the home there was an underlying trudge between the sixteen of you. 

you did your makeup before you could feel the buzz that was flowing through your veins form into a flat out drunk, leaving you to only choose your outfit. you had packed very specifically for the short four days you’d spend in nashville, a leather mini skirt, leather top and of course, leather cowboy boots was already laid out for you as your night two outfit. 

your sisters were dressed the same, tassels and cowboy boots were on everybody in the house, that’s how you dressed for nashville, it was on every woman in the city between the ages of twenty and fifty. you’d all gotten ready in the middle of the day, most of you just waking up from a drunken sleep to shower and do it all over again. 

before you left the house you shoved a couple of crackers down your throat, something to soak up the alcohol so you didn’t throw up high noons all over the pink airbnb when you got home tonight. you’d walked up and down the strip a few times already the night before, checking out every bar on the sloped street that way you had a better idea of where you’d spend your night tonight. 

as you left the airbnb your first stop was kid rock’s honkey tonk, a building consisting of five stories that had a different band playing on each one. you’d made it through all five stories, stopping for a drink at each of the six bars, spending more than enough time in the crowd before the band. 

it was getting later, the sun had far past gone down, you and your sisters decided to go to where you’d spend most of your night tonight. luke bryan’s bar, 32 bridge, was connected to jason aldean’s rooftop bar, two places that you could slip back and forth from by just going to the top floor. the night before you’d loved it there, with country music playing earlier in the night shifting to more typical techno and rap music as you got closer to the nightlife crowd entering the bar. 

you were standing on the stage, the lights glowing a dim, cool blue, a massive crowd beyond the stage. you and three of your sisters were dancing along to a random country song, kicking your feet and swaying your arms in the air as if you were holding a lasso. you paid no mind to the crowd beyond you who was watching, eyeing you up from below. you were having fun with your sisters, all three of you giggling onstage, eyes half lidded in a drunken haze. 

the song ended and you realized your drink was empty, you motioned to the bar to let your sisters know you were going for a refill, leaving you to fight the dense crowd on your own. you stuck to the outskirts, weaving through random people and groups of girls just like you jumping and dancing to the music, trying your best to head straight to the bar. 

you sighed when you noticed the three layered crowd surrounding the entirety of the bar, knowing you’d be waiting here for a while to get close enough to even be noticed by the bartender. this was everywhere, every bar, nothing you hadn’t already experienced in the 36 hours you’d been here. 

“what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” your neck snapped to the corny pick up line coming from a raspy, poor accented voice, having to crane your head upward to see the face the voice was connected to. he was smiling, humor laced in his tone, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the attempt. 

“never heard that one before,” you laughed it off as he tipped his cowboy hat in your direction, obviously putting on a southern front when there was no way this man had ever stepped foot in the south.

“was it convincing?” he kept up with the fake accent and instead of cringing you giggled again, covering your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding your drink. 

“somewhat,” you shrugged your shoulders, a blush creeping on your cheeks when you really looked at him. dark, black hair if it wasn’t the deepest brown hair you’d ever seen curling around the edges of his cowboy hat, a lean but muscular build, you could see his forearms flex under the folds on his western themed button up as he drank from his beer. deep, inviting dark eyes, full lips and a sloped nose. he was sturdy, definitely your type, tall and husky and strong. 

“i’ll take that as a win, doll,” he smirked, dropping the accent as the corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile, “who are you here with?” 

“my sorority,” you turned to point to the stage, the remaining two of your sisters dancing with one another for the crowd. that was one way to let you keep an eye on them. 

“no way, i’m here with my frat,” his eyes were wide in surprise, “did we all have the same idea for spring break?” 

“seems like it,” you used your hand to refer to the crowd surrounding you, it seemed like there was no one present that was above the age of twenty five. “have you ever been here before?” 

he shook his head, “nah, the president’s birthday was yesterday so we’re here to celebrate him and spring break.” 

you nodded then decided to introduce yourself, wanting so badly to learn the cowboy’s name, encouraging the conversation to keep flowing so he’d stick around for awhile. 

“mingi,” he tipped his hat again with that pitiful accent, “pleasure to meet you, doll.” 

the blush returned to your cheeks, a weak resolve when his pick up lines were not up to par. you finally got up to the bar, a space left open when the person in front of you had gotten their drink, and you waited with elbows on the gloss finished wood for the bartender to come around to you. 

“did you need another beer?” you asked mingi who stood behind you, grateful he hadn’t left. he shook the bottle of beer to feel how much of it was actually left, and gave you a nod. 

he reached into his pocket and passed you his card, “a drink for you and me.” 

“we just met, i can totally get my own drink, don’t worry about it,” you pushed his card back to his chest and his smile returned, showing his lopsided teeth that matched his endearing look. 

“let me show you a little southern hospitality, you can get the next one if you’d like,” he was giggling as he spoke, barely getting the words out because he knew he was keeping the act up for too long, it was too entertaining to stop, plus it seemed like it was actually working. 

the bartender came around quickly without giving you time to respond, you ordered drinks for the both of you while tapping the corner of his card on the bar. the bartender quickly returned with your drinks and you traded them for mingi’s card, waiting for their swift return so you could sign off on the transaction. 

“wanna dance?” he asked as you turned around, handing his beer to him. 

“only if you promise to cut the accent.” he laughed at that and nodded, walking towards the crowd of people. 

he guided you slowly, inching towards the center of people, wanting to get to the more dense area of the crowd. he seemed to have found his friends, waving to three people who were shorter than him, all wearing cowboy hats and western attire themselves. they were all hot, you needed to find out where he went to school.

he turned back to you and started dancing, a sway to his hips matching that of the cowboy boots on his feet, swinging back and forth in front of you, encouraging you to match his rhythm. you agreed, your body naturally reacting to the flow of the music and the movement of his body, bodies quickly getting closer. it was like his hips were magnetic, the way they pulled you closer to him, closing the space between you. 

your chest came up to just before his pecs, your head tilted up to get a view of his face, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. the songs switched, the next one a hit that everyone in the building knew, a famous song across the entire country. 

well i walk into the room, passing out hundred dollar bills…

you squealed in excitement, jumping a little bit because you know this one. you immediately started singing along, taking control of the dance this time, making mingi move to a flow of your own. 

cause i saddle up my horse, and i ride into the city…

his empty hand reached for your hips, keeping you flush to himself, singing along with you as he stared down at you, between you. you sipped your drink as your legs moved between his own, somehow getting even closer, welcoming every huge inch of him pressed to you. 

riding up and down broadway, on my old stud leroy…

an idea popped into your foggy head, a clever one, one you were sure would get the man to finally close the distance. you reached up to his cowboy hat and quickly took it off his head, placing it on your own as the words save a horse, ride a cowboy pumped through the speakers of the club and out of your mouth. 

his sweet smile turned devilish before he moved his lips closer to your ear, “doll, do you even know what you just did?” 

you laughed, your head falling backwards in a drunken haze, eyes fluttering shut as you held his hat tight on your head with your hand. 

you were oblivious to the old saying, the unspoken rule that if you take off a cowboy’s hat, it’s an invitation to take off other things, too.  

his hand tightened around your hip, snapping you out of your giggles and swiftly moved his hand up to your chin, fingers pinching the skin to connect his lips to yours. you allowed it, you welcomed it, your too hot body immediately leaned into his touch. 

your free hand moved up to cup his cheek, moving your lips with his, biting the skin of his bottom lip. he gasped and you used the opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth, tangling with his own. your bodies kept swaying, moving, dancing as your tongues tangled, bodies involuntarily moving to the music and to each other. 

your back arched into him, pulling away so you could switch your angle, connecting your lips to his again. it was deepening, too hot to be in the middle of a crowded bar. you heard cheers from behind him that you could only assume were his friends, making you smile into the kiss, inevitably breaking the trance the two of you had subconsciously entered. 

you giggled as you peered around his shoulder at the shorter guys who were cheering and clapping, rooting for their friend in the middle of the dance floor. there was a blush to mingi’s cheeks as he told his friends to shut up, then turned back to bring his lips to your own again in a short peck. 

“ignore them!” he yelled as he pulled back, getting into the groove of dancing along to the next song. 

“it was cute,” you replied, taking his hat off of your head and standing up on your tippy toes to put it back on his head. 

“gotta pee! i’ll be back,” you told him, the seal you had broken an hour ago was on overdrive, now your bathroom breaks were getting closer together. he pulled you flush to him in another of slew of open mouthed kisses before he let you go, sending you off with a quick tap to your ass. 

you maneuvered through the crowd again, much more dense this time before you finally made it to the sparse areas, head turning left and right in search for the bathroom. you spotted it and made it there quickly, resetting your bladder to another countdown before you were off for the crowd again. 

as you left the bathroom in a rush, eager to get back to mingi, you slammed face first into something similar to a brick wall. 

you jumped back a step, apologies flooding out of your lips, craning your neck to look up to the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen looking back down at you. 

“you’re good, don’t worry,” he waved his hand with a tight lipped smile, bringing the same hand up to adjust the hat that was atop his rich, chestnut hair. 

“did i spill your beer? i can get you another one,” you offer, hands wiping at the damp spots in his button down, strong abdomen underneath. it was similar to the one mingi wore, identical to the one his friends’ shirts, your drunk mind was too foggy to notice the correlation. 

he shook his bottle and his lips tightened with his eyebrows raised and a tilt to his head, “i could use another beer, actually.” 

you smiled, grateful he was allowing you to pay back the inconvenience you caused him, quickly guiding him over to the bar again. you got yourself another drink and another beer for him, the crowd around the bar was two layers less compared to your last stop here. 

“thank ya, little lady,” he smiled again, patting your head with his long fingers. you were weak in the knees, he was huge, taller than mingi but more lanky. his arms were thinner, thighs less full yet he also looked so strong… where have all of these men been hiding? 

“we’re even now…?” you asked for his name without asking for it, your sentence trailing along, soliciting the information from him. 

“yunho,” he finished for you, those kind eyes smiling down at you once more. you introduce yourself back with a smile, and he shook your hand much to your surprise. such a mature gesture from a seemingly college boy…it was somehow expected from his character that bled through his features. 

“i wouldn’t say we’re even yet, little lady,” yunho interrupted your train of thought, picking your hand up that was glued to your side, “you owe me a dance and then we’ll be even, scout’s honor.” 

he held up three fingers and you laughed, nodding so he’d put down his damn hand that wasn’t holding onto yours and he led you to the crowd. 

he kept towards the outskirts, only inching you in maybe five layers deep, nowhere near the center. his arm immediately slipped around your waist, knees bending a bit as he did, pulling you flush to him to the flow of music in the air. you giggled, swaying your hips along with his, less build up than you had with the other cowboy yet the destination was just as clear. 

you turned yourself around, pressing your back to him instead and he kept that same arm curled around your waist. you tilted your head, hair falling to one shoulder, leaving the other one bare for him. mingi had started something you were unable to finish, you’d hoped that yunho would pick up right where he left off. 

yunho took a breath, moving his hand to travel along the skin of the slope of your neck to your shoulder, pressing his fingers to the flesh made bare for him. your body’s temperature rose even higher than before, trapping the noise of enjoyment in your lungs. your hips moved in tandem, bodies moving as one to the beat, yunho’s small touches only encouraged the pit that was forming in your stomach. you were getting worked up, beginning to inch toward needing a release, not caring which cowboy you got it from. 

like he could read your mind, yunho bent down and pressed his lips to your shoulder, evoking a sound you couldn’t keep inside this time. your head sank back into his shoulder, your hips stuttering slightly against his, you couldn’t hide what yunho knew you needed right off the mark. 

his lips trailed along the skin of your shoulder, spending time where it met your neck, licking over the sensitive skin there, only encouraging your body to sink further into his own. his hand trailed around your hips, playing with the hem of your skirt, fingertips slipping inside the leather to rub against the skin of your thigh. 

you whipped your body around, overstimulated by the small touches, you needed more. you pressed your lips to his and he moved his hand from your skirt to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. his knee split your legs, slipping a muscled thigh between your own, pressing up against your center. 

once again you were in the crowded mob, doing something not meant for the public eye yet enjoying every second of it — damn near begging for more, for it to go further. you moaned at the contact, finally getting some kind of stimulation where you needed it. your lips moved quickly, rushed, your hand flying to his chest to grip onto the fabric of his shirt. yunho chuckled into the kiss and bounced his leg once, twice before you had to pull your lips off of his, eyes screwed shut. 

“yun!” a voice called from behind you and you wanted to scream in frustration, tell the other person to fuck off so you could keep going, finally finish what had been started. but as you whipped around and your other cowboy stared at you in the face, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar, you knew you were caught red handed. 

a blush crept onto your cheeks, mingi clearly didn't realize it was you that yunho had attached himself to when he yelled his president’s name. you didn’t realize they knew each other. 

“damn, i was gonna ask if you were ready to move to another bar,” his lips pulled into a line but you didn’t see any anger in his big, innocent eyes, “i see that you’re busy.” 

your eyes trailed up and down his figure, thighs thick and full and inviting. you peered up to his lips through your eyelashes, missing their taste, wanting more of him. an idea popped into your head, another one that you didn’t consider the consequences of, thinking with everything but your head. 

you curled your index finger, motioning him towards you as your back sunk into yunho’s chest once more. as mingi came closer, your chin lifted to give mingi your best innocent look, “don’t go, we’re just getting started.” 

you swung your arms around mingi’s shoulders, locking your fingers around your cocktail, hips starting to move along to the song again. the boys followed your lead, neither of them saying a word, only falling into rhythm with you. 

with yunho pressed to your backside and mingi flushed against your front, you felt like you could let go, let your inhibitions run rampant between the two sturdy men who could easily take care of you. you pulled mingi down towards your face with the arms wrapped around his neck, you were met with no resistance as your lips connected once more. 

yunho drank from his beer as he kept his other hand secured on your hip, watching the scene unfold in front of him with darkened eyes. it was hot, watching a girl he just met make out with his best friend while her ass pressed against his cock so deliciously, grinding against him to the beat of the song. he was salivating, his beer washing down the desire he felt from head to toe, fingers gripping harder the longer you kissed. 

yours and mingi’s tongues danced again, fighting for dominance, neither of you unaware of the man that stood right behind you. the slight ache of yunho’s grip on your hip made you whimper into mingi’s mouth, mingi’s own hand lifting up to your waist. his thumb circled at the small space between your top and your skirt, feeling the softness of your skin, the heat that transferred from you to himself. 

you broke away from mingi and glanced behind you, noticing yunho’s lustful stare, his eyes low and clouded. you glanced to his lips and he agreed without a word, leaning forward to catch your awaiting lips with his own. 

mingi huffed at the contact between you and yunho, thumb slipping inside the hem of your top, wanting to keep his hands on you as you kissed his best friend. he pressed himself closer, keeping the growing tent in his jeans away from watchful eyes, suddenly very aware of what the three of you were doing in a packed club. 

“we should go,” mingi’s voice is hoarse as he speaks, “i mean, if you guys want to take this elsewhere.” 

you break away from yunho and nod, scared that the wetness between your legs will start dripping down your thighs if you don’t do something about it. you bring the rest of your drink to your lips, chugging three quarters of it down, the twin cowboys doing the same. you placed your glasses on the bar on your way out, the three of you nearly racing out of the club and back onto the street of broadway. 

“i’m staying at an airbnb a block away,” you decide, leading them in the direction of your place, not giving them the option of going anywhere else. 

as you walked off the busy street the two of them grabbed both of your hands on either side of you, their long legs making you have to walk twice as fast to keep up with them. you arrived quickly, messing up the door code not once but twice in anticipation, giving the code to yunho who punched in the numbers with a cool, calculated head. 

the living room had a few underage sisters still lingering, all who watched you with the two men with eyes that bulged out of their heads, but yet no one said a word. you gave them a small wave and a meek smile before you dragged the boys up the staircase, finally arriving at your bedroom which was a wreck after two days of getting ready. 

mingi hopped on the bed quickly, manspreading with his feet planted on the floor, an invitation for you to sit on his lap. 

“we should talk about this first,” yunho interrupted and both you and mingi simultaneously whined, you stopped in your tracks before hopping on mingi’s lap. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” yunho raised his hands in defense, “but we’ve all been drinking and i want this to be a good experience for all three of us.” 

“i want this,” you interjected with a finger, “i started it.” 

“i also want this,” mingi nodded in agreement, hands readjusting his jeans, “was hoping the night would end this way when i first laid eyes on you, doll.” 

you giggled, your body immediately moving to crawl onto his lap, making yourself comfortable on the spot he just readjusted. 

“hold on, little lady,” yunho came up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “you sure? what do you want from this?” 

your head craned upward to look at yunho who stood over you, the crown of your head touching his chest as he towered over your figure that was spread across mingi’s lap. “i’m sure yunho, i wanna be taken care of, want you, want both of you.” 

you glanced down to mingi with the last part and that lopsided smirk returned to his lips as he leaned forward to finally kiss you. yunho interrupted with fingers wrapped around your throat before mingi got the pleasure, tilting your head upward to look at him once again. he leaned down to kiss you, upside down from his position behind you, and you involuntarily ground your hips into mingi. mingi groaned, his head tipping back, watching you kiss yunho. 

“don’t be afraid to tell us to stop if it gets to be too much, okay? you know the color system?” he says as soon as he breaks away from the kiss, moving his head so you were looking into his eyes that have gotten impossibly darker. you nodded and he let go, letting you stretch your neck side to side before you nearly pounced on mingi. 

you attached your lips to the first cowboy, all teeth and spit and tongue, no time to waste as your hands snuck up to the short tufts of hair that were peeking out of his hat, tugging at it. mingi groaned, his hips bucking into you from beneath you, his hands roaming across your thighs. you ground your hips into him, the bulge in his jeans dragging against your clothed clit just right, working your hips into a rhythm. 

you felt the bed dip beside you, remembering yunho was here too, you reached for him with a weak arm. he ignored your hand completely as he pulled your hair over to one shoulder again, leaving the whole side of your neck open, indulging himself in licking up the faint saltiness of sweat on your skin. you moaned into mingi’s mouth from the contact, the stimulation from his cock grinding up into you and yunho’s hot tongue running along your shoulder. 

you broke away from mingi’s mouth, continuing your assault on his lap while yunho licked up the base of your neck, making your head fall to the side so he could suck on your jaw, left hand coming up behind you to unzip your top. you and mingi filled the room with sweet sounds of pleasure, working yourselves on each other, his hands coming up to guide your hips against him. 

“fuck, mingi,” you cursed, your eyes fluttering shut as your top fell to the sheets, missing the widening of the twins eyes, how mingi’s tongue lolled out of his mouth at the sight. 

you felt the pit in your stomach start to build and fast, but it was ripped away from you even faster as yunho scooped you off of mingi’s lap and threw you on the bed behind him. you whined at the loss of contact, your skirt slipping up to your waist at the movement, nothing but your chest and your lacy black thong visible to the cowboys. 

“my turn,” yunho’s declaration was nasty as he attached his lips to yours again, body completely enveloping yours on top of the sheets that you left in disarray. you moaned into him as his hands fled to your chest, thumbs circling over the hardened peaks, making you arch into his touch, legs wrapping around his torso. 

mingi stripped himself of his hat, shirt and boots before he crawled next to the two of you on the bed, an arm sliding between yours and yunho’s bodies, slipping his fingers into your panties. 

you cried out a fuck into yunho’s mouth, the rest of the house be damned as mingi used his ring finger and began circling your clit. you broke the kiss as your head fell back into the mattress, digging into it, your chest arching up into yunho’s as mingi dipped his finger further down, dragging your slick up and down your folds. 

“so fucking wet,” mingi said under his breath, eyes focused on his own fingertip that was slipping in and out of you, barely breaking the line of his first knuckle. you couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, the only word forming in your head was the continuous chant of more. 

“please put it inside, please don’t tease,” you whined, head turning to plead with mingi, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. yunho kissed down your neck and throat, licking the column, covering the area in his spit and all you could do was moan. 

mingi’s smile turned devilish, not a singular ounce of sympathy in his beautiful face. a rush of something fled through you as the dynamic changed in the room, mingi’s sweet, playful energy turned taunting, “you like it when i play with your pretty pussy, doll? hm?” 

your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his words and his finger that was slowly inching deeper, each stroke of the thick digit went further yet still not giving you its entire length, leaving you unsatisfied and impatient but utterly fucked out. 

yunho chuckled as he leaned backward, unhooking your legs from around his waist. your legs stayed spread around his hips as he sat on his haunches, taking one hand to move your panties to the side, watching as mingi’s finger that was covered in your slick barely moved in and out of your center. yunho had changed too, that cool, clear headed energy he filled the room with had turned dominant and powerful, it sent a shiver up your spine. 

he bit his lip as his eyes lowered in focus, “you were right ming, such a pretty fucking pussy.” 

your back arched again, hips bucking into mingi’s finger that still wasn’t giving you enough stimulation. mingi smiled at you through lowered eyes as you thrashed on the bed, bucking your hips even though it was doing nothing. 

“so antsy, what a needy girl,” mingi tsked, shaking his head as he watched you, fingers still not letting up from their unsatisfactory attempt of pleasuring you. 

“here, little lady,” yunho said as if he’d help while he brought his other hand to your center, thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit, using very little to no pressure. you were gonna lose your fucking mind. 

tears welled up in your eyes as the twin cowboys watched with amusement, enjoying your frustration before you brought your hand down to yunho’s wrist, opting to force more pressure from his hand if he wasn’t going to give it to you willingly. it was the only option left, they were getting a kick out of your misery, out of your begging — it was the wrong move, and it turned you on even more. 

yunho gasped as he pulled his hand away right before you could wrap your little fingers around his wrist, mingi following suit, leaving you empty and without any stimulation at all. you cried out, eyes squeezing shut, hips chasing their hands. 

“what was that?” yunho asked in disbelief while you stayed silent, eyes opening to small crescents, tears spilling from your mascara coated lashes. 

his head turned to mingi who responded, “i think that was the doll trying to fuck herself. seems she doesn’t need us at all.” 

mingi’s tightened lips pulled to the side, a disappointed look on his face when yunho responded, “i think you might be right again, ming. you don’t need us, little lady? you wanna fuck yourself? thought you wanted us to take care of you.” 

his words were taunting, mocking, the inflection of his voice did nothing but make the tears flow faster. they had definitely done this before, there were already too many moments where they read each other, knowing what the other was going to do next for this to be their first threesome, you were the naïve one here. you nodded, bobbing your head with fervor, a silent plea for them to just give in, give you what you needed.

“beg for it,” his words were vile, venom as he spat them off his tongue. a wicked smile followed yunho’s order, his hands sliding to your thighs to your hips to take control of your lower half. 

“need you to take care of me, please,” you were immediate in your plea, looking between the two men who wore sardonic faces, their smiles twisted. “need both of you so bad, want you inside me.” 

mingi leaned forward and wiped your tears from your cheeks, the sympathetic glint in his eye did not match the evil smile planted on his lips, “what’s that you sang to me earlier? save a horse and what?” 

“i think it’s save a horse and ride a cowboy,” yunho finished for mingi, pretending he had to rack his brain for the answer, just stalling for more time to look at your naked body spread out in front of him. 

mingi nodded in remembrance, the scene of you grabbing his hat and placing it on your own head playing out in his mind. he flipped over on the bed to his back, knees bent up as he looked over to you, “well? what are you waiting for?” 

you jumped. you scrambled over to lap, kneeling over him as you unbuckled his belt and he laughed, “so eager, doll. can’t wait, can you? no patience at all?” 

you shook your head, eyes completely glazed over as you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles. he kicked them off with ease as you took in the size of him, eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips at the sheer length he’d somehow kept hidden in his jeans. 

mingi chuckled before he turned his attention to yunho, “wait til she sees you.” yunho immediately smiled with a short nod, zeroed in on you spitting onto mingi’s length, spreading it with a manicured hand. 

you couldn’t hear him, too focused on the voice in your head screaming how the hell you were gonna fit him inside of you? you ignored your worry and kept your focus on him, figuring that you could at least try and take him in your mouth before you fit him inside. 

“there you go,” mingi cooed as you bent down to pepper kitten licks across his leaking tip, spreading the saliva that was pooling in your mouth down his length. you finally took what you could in your mouth, tongue massaging against the underside, hands pumping what your mouth couldn’t fit. mingi immediately groaned, his hand flying to tangle in your hair, not pushing your head but leaving the weight of his palm as a reminder that he could. 

yunho undressed himself off to the side, sitting back to watch, hand wrapped around his length as he pumped himself at the scene playing out in front of him. he always lets mingi go first, get the initial stretch out of the way so he could have an easier time slipping inside you. they had a method, the twin cowboys, a routine they’d used every time they found themselves sharing the same bed with a partner. you might have started this, but they fell into pattern the moment they realized where tonight was headed. 

you took mingi down in your throat, gagging around him, eyes filled with tears once more as you took him impossibly further. mingi’s eyes were screwed shut, moans falling from his lips, hips involuntarily bucking up into your throat with his fingers tangled in your hair. 

“so fucking good, doll, keep going,” his words slurred, voice low and hoarse as he tried to open his eyes to steal a peek at you. he failed, the view made the feeling overwhelming, you’re too good, too pretty, he felt a pit in his stomach forming and he could not allow that to happen just yet. his fingers pulled at the roots of your hair and lifted you off of him with a pop, his own mouth hanging open at the sight of your fucked out face. 

he pulled you up to his lips by your hair, kissing you roughly, once again all teeth and tongue. you whimpered into his mouth, reaching for his cock again and he bucked his hips into your grip on him. 

“ride me, need you,” he said into your lips between kisses, that raspy voice sending another wave of heat through your body.

“color?” a voice called from the side of the bed and you called green to the air, not even bothering to look over to the taller cowboy who asked the question, too engrossed in mingi’s slick, angry cock laying across his pelvis.

you swung your leg over his lap, spit onto your palm and gave mingi one last pump of lubrication before you lined yourself up over his length. you caught the taller cowboy in the corner of your eye, his hand was still, squeezing the base of his cock and your mouth went dry from what you saw out of your peripherals. 

“fuck yunho,” your eyebrows furrowed together as you finally looked over at him, another worry slithering up your spine, making you pause in your ministrations, locking up your joints. he was leaned back, chiseled abdomen clenched as he edged himself, head tipped back and knuckles white from the pressure of the squeeze around the base of his cock. he looked so fucking sexy you almost moaned from the view, but the fear remained, mingi was big but yunho was bigger, massive even as his cock curved toward him past his belly button. 

mingi gave you a light slap to your pussy making you gasp before you turned to face him. “eyes on me doll, i’m the one fucking you, not him.”

you nodded and tried to refresh your focus, regain your train of thought, lining him up with your center but you couldn’t relax as you tried to split yourself open on him. muscles locked, joints stiff, even mingi’s delicious length had you a little nervous despite every nerve begging you to sit the fuck down. 

yunho picked up on it, sliding from his spot beside you to slip behind you, planting kisses along on your shoulder and both hands on your hips. you relaxed in his touch, head leaning back on his shoulder, your own shoulders slumping.

“you can do it, little lady,” he encouraged, guiding your hips down onto mingi, “there you go, baby, relax for me, hm?”

you moaned at the stretch and yunho’s words, trying to relax your core, letting your head get a little fuzzy so you didn’t tighten around him and just sank. mingi moaned, a strained, languid noise as he felt you wrap around him, a delicious squeeze as you took him further. 

his hands sat on top of yunho’s as his eyes screwed shut, moaning his words in pleasure as much as he was encouraging, “yes, doll, take this dick.” 

the two men pulled you down further, guiding you, encouraging you to let go. a guttural moan broke out of you as you bottomed out, sitting flush against mingi. he let out a sigh of relief. 

“really thought you panicked after seeing yun,” mingi said with a laugh as you sat for a moment, enduring the stretch, embracing it. 

“i did,” you admitted and you heard a breath of amusement leave yunho's lips behind you. “you guys should’ve warned me!” 

“how were we supposed to warn you? hey i know you want to fuck us but just so you know we have massive cocks? that’s insane, we’d never get laid,” mingi replied and you laughed at that, almost as if he weren’t buried inside of you.

“valid,” you replied and you could feel yunho’s grip on your hips pulling your body upward, telling you to move without actually saying anything. you and mingi both moaned at the friction, you could feel every inch of him inside of you, every vein rubbing against your walls. 

“color?” yunho asked from behind you, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips as he guided you downwards again, keeping a slowed pace.

“green,” your voice was breathless and your eyes screwed shut, brain going fuzzy again knowing that yunho was fucking you onto his best friend’s cock. it made you feel like a doll, a plaything, and it was so fucking hot. 

“yes,” mingi whispered as you picked up speed, bouncing on him now, gaining enough strength of your own instead of relying on yunho’s. you lurched forward and your hands pressed against mingi’s sculpted abdomen, using it as leverage to bounce your hips, to gain a rhythm. 

yunho leaned back, hand wrapping around himself again as he watched you fuck mingi, a beautiful view of the back of you bouncing along his length. 

“so fucking sexy,” yunho’s voice was low and sultry, music to your ears and you moaned in response, eyebrows furrowing, that pit in your stomach growing again. yunho noticed your thighs twitch and your rhythm stagger, he was quick to sit on his knees again, wrapping an arm around your hips to attach his fingers to your clit. 

“yes! yes keep going,” you chanted, using the strength of your thighs instead of learning forward against mingi’s abdomen, giving yunho easier access to rub quick circles on your clit. 

“so fucking good doll, taking me so well,” mingi’s hands ran up your thighs as you bounced, his eyebrows fixed together, jaw dropped in pleasure. 

he was hitting every spot so deep, close to touching your cervix from how far he was inside of you. his hands leaned up and kneaded your tits, massaging your nipples between his fingers, pushing your boobs together, slack jawed from the sight in front of him.

“yes, cum on this cock,” the rasp to his voice was so hot, he felt his own orgasm approaching quickly, he needed you to cum first.

yunho circled your clit impossibly quicker and brought his lips to your neck again and you lost it, creaming around mingi, your bounces becoming erratic as you finished on him with a loud cry. mingi quickly brought his hands back to your hips, fucking you onto him through your orgasm, keeping you at a pace to get him past the finish line. 

“inside,” you mumbled through heavy breaths, “cum inside me baby, please mingi, wanna feel it, wanna be full of you.” 

mingi lost it at that, hips bucking up into you until he lost it, too. he finished inside you with a loud groan, his hips slowing, overstimulating himself until he came to a stop. 

like they had a routine, mingi gave himself a moment to catch his breath as yunho lifted you off his length, mingi pulling his body up the bed until his back was against the headboard. you gasped at their quick movements, you were hoping for at least a minute to recover.

“my turn,” he repeated the same words from earlier as he flipped you, laying you down against mingi’s broad chest, kissing you sweetly as his hands raked over your body. 

“say red if you need to stop, okay?” he looked up to you, eyes staring deep into your own so you knew he was being serious. you nodded and he smiled, kissing you again, taking a minute to get lost in your mouth as his hand traveled to your center that had just been pumped full moments prior. 

he let his fingers slip up and down your folds and you gasped, hips immediately bucking at the contact. 

“too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing mingi’s hands that were laid at your sides. 

“gonna take care of you little lady, don’t worry,” yunho didn’t even look up as he spoke, eyes glazed over as he watched his fingers slip through the flood, the mixture of yours and mingi’s release coating his long digits. 

yunho laid down on the mattress, face centimeters from your center and you panicked. is he doing… what you think he’s about to do? he planted a quick kiss to your clit and your head shot back against mingi’s shoulder, a whine leaving your lips from the quick contact, only getting louder as yunho’s tongue dragged from your overstimulated clit to your full hole. 

he spit on it, getting his own liquids in the mix, a concoction of the three of you that was messily spread onto your pussy. it was hot as much as it was embarrassing, you couldn’t live in the discomfort for any longer than a second as the pleasure overtook it.

“shit,” your moan was dragged out as yunho ate mingi’s cum out of you, you watched him lick, you watched him swallow, you watched as he dug his face farther into you when your hips involuntarily bucked into him. 

he took one of his hands that was pressing your thighs to the side and brought it to your center, circling his middle finger around your entrance, slipping the tip of it inside. 

“not this again,” you whined and yunho chuckled against you, sending vibrations through your entire body before he slipped the entire finger inside. 

you cried out, back arching, nails digging into mingi’s hands as you chanted thankyouthankyouthankyou into the air. he added another finger, scissoring them inside of you, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. 

the pit grew again, that tight band that threatened to snap dangerously quick. yunho kept the pace of his tongue against your clit, a brutal rhythm, one begging you to cum all over his face. 

“go ahead doll, cum,” mingi said in your ear, voice still low and hoarse and strung, it was music to your ears. you let the band snap, hips jerking against yunho’s face but he let you ride it out, let you come down before he came up for air. 

“no one’s ever done that before,” you admitted the second yunho was in earshot, still shocked and slightly embarrassed by what he had just done you began babbling. “well, i’ve never had a threesome before so no one’s really had the opportunity to.” 

both yunho and mingi’s heads snapped to look at one another before they looked back at you. yunho’s eyes were wide as he spoke, “this- we are your first threesome? why didn’t you say that?!” 

“why would i tell you that?” you asked in the same shocked tone, chest still heaving from your orgasm. 

“it’s the same reason we didn’t tell you we were packing,” mingi replied from behind you, chest vibrating into your back, “you were scared we’d say no.” 

“we wouldn’t of said no,” yunho interjected as he sat back up on his haunches, throwing your legs around his hips again as he lined himself up, “we just would’ve been nicer, more gentle.” 

“too late for that, put it in,” you were quick in your response, eyes flying to yunho’s cock, making mingi chuckle beneath you. 

yunho lined himself up before he paused again, making you whine and answer him before he had the chance to speak, “i’m green and impatient, i’ll tell you if it hurts. put it in.” 

he smiled before he pushed himself in, face contorting as he was greeted with resistance, but not enough to make him concerned. your eyebrows twisted, eyes closing at the stretch, still a discomfort after coming twice so far.

mingi let go of your hands and brought one finger to your clit, the other hand tweaking at your nipple, trying to make the pleasure outweigh the discomfort. you moaned, a strangled but sweet noise, the stretch was intoxicating. 

yunho sheathed himself inside of you and groaned, his head falling forward, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“still so fucking tight little lady, gotta open up for me or i’m gonna cum,” his voice was low, his breath labored as you tried your best to relax again. 

“yeah, just like that, there we go,” he noticed the release of your core and began rocking himself into you, small grunts turning into louder moans the faster his thrusts became. 

mingi kept up the pace of his fingers with yunho’s thrusts making the pleasure almost blinding, so overstimulating you felt your head go fuzzy again, tongue lolling out of your mouth, your senses leaving you. 

“perfect little pussy taking me so good,” yunho praised, only sending you further into whatever headspace you’d entered. you didn’t even know what sounds were leaving you as yunho’s thrusts became relentless, fucking into you at a speed that had you seeing stars again, your head falling lifelessly onto mingi’s shoulder. the pit in your stomach returned and you wondered how it was possible for the two of them to make you cum nearly three times in one night. 

“yunho, so fucking big,” you tried to muster but your babbles had become incoherent as you grabbed onto mingi’s forearms, nails clawing at the soft skin, stuck between wanting him to stop and wanting him to rub your clit faster, your orgasm right on the brink of crashing over you again. 

your hips started fucking back onto him and your prayers were answered, your cries ascending to almost screams as your stomach snapped again, so loud the twin cowboys were hoping those girls in the living room had left. 

“fuck yes, cum on this cock. give me another,” yunho ordered, hands wrapping around your hips again, pulling you into him harshly. his brain seemed to have gone elsewhere also, the dominance returning, the powerful energy he’d surrounded the space with earlier. 

“again?” you cried, hands coming up to claw at yunho’s forearms instead, “i can’t!” 

“yes you can, baby, cum again. give me another, wanna feel you cum around me,” he was as mindless as you are, eyes empty as he fucked into you at a dangerous pace. 

mingi’s hand slid up your torso and his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly but just enough, the loss of air causing that pit of pleasure to grow again. yunho smiled, a devilish one while his hand came to circle your clit, tipping you over the edge. 

“yes baby, fuck yes, so good for me,” yunho praised as you came around him, the clench of your pussy only aiding his own release. 

“such a good girl,” mingi cooed, grabbing your hands again, kissing your cheek to soothe your now twitching body. yunho only got out three, four, five more pumps inside you before he was emptying himself, coming down to stilling his movements. 

you caught your breath for a second, pussy still pulsing around him, feeling so utterly spent. yunho pulled out and collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, hands dangling atop his chest. 

“color?” yunho asked, that kind smile on his face as he turned to you. 

“green,” you responded, your voice raspy, “but you can’t fuck me again. i won’t be able to handle cumming again for another, like, three days.” 

the twins both laughed at that, mingi pecking small kisses to your cheek before he asked, “should we shower?” 

the three of you showered, all of you resembling something like zombies as you all shared the same vanilla coconut body wash. you went back downstairs after that for food and water, all dressed in white robes the airbnb provided, and the girls that were in the living room earlier were all still there, faces bright red. 

“wanna watch a movie?” you asked the room, the twin cowboys still behind you, and the girls reluctantly agreed, only receiving shy nods of their heads.  the three of you sat on the massive sectional surrounded by your sisters in their pinkest pajamas, with cozy robes and towels twisted around your heads. you ate popcorn, watched once upon a time in the west, and fell asleep with your limbs entangled, cozied up in the fluffiest blankets with two cowboys that’d go down in history in your sorority’s legendary spring break stories.

[rafesangelita]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 ART DECO

PAIRING: toxic!rafe x fem!kook!reader

SUMMARY: ❝you’re so art deco, out on the floor. shining like gun metal, cold and unsure.❞ — your attempt to cut things off with rafe only fuels him to come back with a vengeance.

WARNINGS: friends w benefits, rafe is terrible, jealousy, manipulation, arguing at a party, topper kisses you, fighting, rafe ‘breaking’ in your house

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

LINKS: series masterlist | next chapter

“i have to get going.” you were still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when rafe started pulling his clothes back on. even though this wasn’t anything new, it didn’t make you feel any better. you watched him, sitting up with the sheets covering your chest. “see you tonight?” he was looping his belt when he sighed. “we’ll see.” he shrugged, not sparing you another glance before leaving altogether.

your friends would be so disappointed in you right now if you told them that you allowed yourself to go through this again. “you’re so stupid!” you muttered to yourself, quickly making your way to a shower, wanting nothing more than to wash the feeling of him off. you knew rafe would never take you serious, but you liked him so much that if having a no strings attached arrangement was the only way you could have him, you were willing to do just that. you wouldn’t let yourself cry over him, but you did go through the motions each time.

you’d swear you would tell him you didn’t want to do this anymore, but the second he was in your ear, whispering to you all the ways he wanted to take you, you never failed to bend at his will, quite literally. tomorrow would be the first day of spring break, so in your best friend’s fashion, it was only right to throw a complete rager with open invitation. you spent the remainder of your evening getting ready before chloe texted you that she was outside.

“you look insane?! are you serious?” chloe’s jaw hung open as you walked to her car. “this isn’t the y/n i know. what did you do with her?!” you laughed, giving your friend a spin. you were wearing a lacey black see through dress, and a matching black set underneath. “good girl is staying in tonight.” you posed as chloe snapped a picture of you. “you look so hot, i love it.” she ushered you into the passenger seat, both of you riding back to her place. “fuck, it’s this packed already?” you got off, the heel of your boots clicking against the cement of her driveway. “just wait till you see inside.” she warned.

sure enough, you were greeted with the sight of at least a hundred people in the living room alone. chloe took your arm with hers, weaving through the crowd of people. you met with some more friends, everyone ogling your outfit since it was a drastic change from what you’d usually wear. “don’t let rafe see you in this.” at the mention of his name, you felt your stomach drop as you looked around towards the kitchen. “has anyone seen him? he’s the last person i want to run into right now.” you accepted the drink one of your friends came back with.

“oh, you don’t have to worry about that, he’s been pretty occupied out on the balcony.” hannah raised her eyebrows, the girls looking at you for your reaction. “occupied?” you took a sip from the red solo cup in your hand. even though you didn’t want to see him, you didn’t want him with anyone else either. “topper and kelce are betting a whole bunch of money on a card game, apparently rafe is too.. just with a random sitting on his lap while he does it.” you licked your lips, nodding your head slowly as chloe watched you carefully.

“that’s cute.” without wasting another second, you started walking upstairs, your friends trailing behind you. chloe’s balcony was connected to the master bedroom, the double doors wide open for anyone to come in and out of. your eyes fell on rafe, the blonde draped across his lap was no one you’ve ever seen before. she was most defintely a touron. you walked outside, the guys so into their game that no one looked up from their cards. “hey.” you smiled sweetly at the girl across from you as you did the last thing you thought you’d do tonight, and sat on topper’s lap.

“well you look really good.” you hit his shoulder playfully, meeting rafe’s heated gaze when he did a double take. “aw, thank you ‘top. you wouldn’t mind if i sat here, would you?” you trailed your fingertips across his chest, a teasing smile gracing your lips as you watched how nervous you made him. “o-of course not, maybe you could be my lucky charm.” he showed you his cards, the giant stack of cash in the middle of the table catching your eye. “who’s winning right now?” even though you asked topper directly, rafe answered. “i am.” your head shot in his direction, his hand running up and down the girls thigh.

“i’m sorry, i’ve never seen you around here, like ever,” you laughed, “do you have a name?” the girl looked embarrassed as you gave her a once over, her body visibly tensing the longer you stared at her. “i’m just going to go get another drink.” she got up, leaving rafe by himself as he shot daggers at you. diverting your gaze back to topper’s cards, you whispered in his ear to put down the ace. “that’s the winning card.” you reassured him, moving your hips slightly as you put the card down yourself, rafe following suit. “whoever has the highest gets the green, baby,” kelce leaned forward as you and rafe flipped your cards over. “fuck yeah!” topper shot up from the couch, holding you against him as you cheered.

“five thousand dollars, all yours ‘top.” kelce’s smile dropped as he glanced over at rafe. “let’s go!” before you could pull away, completing your mission to piss rafe off, topper grabbed a handful of your ass before kissing you roughly. “oh, fuck no,” rafe grabbed topper by his shirt, pushing you out of the way as he landed a punch square in his mouth. you sat there dumbfounded as kelce rushed to break them apart. “i don’t give a fuck about a few thousand dollars, keep your hands to yourself or i’ll fucking kill you.” before you could get up, rafe dragged you away by your arm. “leave her alone!” chloe shoved rafe, who didn’t even budge before taking you outside to the front.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he backed you up against one of the cars, his arms caging you in. “you trying to fuck my friends now, is that it?” you turned your head away from where he was grabbing your chin. “don’t touch me.” you swatted his hand away. “sitting on topper’s lap? what’s your fucking problem?” his knees dug into your thighs, your last band of resistance snapping. “you’re my fucking problem!” you pushed his chest, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

“you tell me that you don’t want a relationship, but then freak out like this? meanwhile you’re still going around doing whoever you want? i hate this, rafe! you don’t even look at me afterwards, how do you think that makes me feel?” he stared at you, his jaw ticking as you kept the tears from falling down your face. “this isn’t about you not being able to commit to someone, this is about you keeping me to yourself and having me around only when it benefits you. i’m done.” you didn’t allow him to respond, chloe jogging up to you just in time.

“you okay?” she pushed your hair out of your face. “can you just take me home please?” your best friend didn’t hesitate, walking you down the driveway before yelling; “get the fuck off of my property, asshole!” making you laugh softly. “fuck him. don’t let him have access to you anymore until he proves to you that he can take you serious. you deserve a million times better than that.” once the car door shut, you let the water works loose. after reassuring chloe that you’ll be okay by yourself, she finally let you off the car, not driving off until she watched you go inside.

your phone started chiming with new messages, all of them from rafe.

[10:47 PM] rafe <3: can we please talk about this?

[10:47 PM] rafe <3: that touron came onto me first, alright? you could ask topper.

[10:48 PM] rafe <3: actually, don’t talk to topper at all.

[10:48 PM] rafe <3: y/n i know i fucked up alright, please call me. or at least let me go over, let me make this up to you, let me make you feel good..

you scoffed at the last message. that’s all you were to him, a good fuck. nothing more, nothing less. you blocked his number, deciding to call it a night. you would have to be joining your parents tomorrow for the country club’s annual luncheon, which you were sure rafe would be at as well. you spent the rest of the night regretting your decision to get rafe riled up, topper kissed you for crying out loud. you made a vow to yourself, swearing you’d never do anything outlandish to get anyone’s attention, especially rafe’s.

“you ignoring me now?” you sucked in a breath, not daring to turn around and face the one man you couldn’t handle to see at the moment. “leave me alone, rafe. seriously.” you walked faster, hoping to reach the main dining room before he yanked you back. “blocking my number and my instagram? i didn’t think you had it in you.” you scoffed, looking up at him as he smiled, shaking his head. “didn’t think i had it in me?” you arched a brow, prying his grip off of your arm.

“come on, y/n,” he looked around, placing a hand on your hip, “we both know no contact isn’t going to work. i’ll show up at your house if i have to.” you didn’t doubt his words for one second, but the fact that he felt this comfortable dismissing your feelings was enough for you to realize what you had to do; tear down his ego. “and why wouldn’t it work? because you wouldn’t have anyone to run to when your daddy makes you cry?” rafe visibly recoiled, his hand moving as if touching you burned him.

“what the fuck did you just say?” his eyes narrowing down at you. “you heard me. it seems like you forgot we were best friends before we started having sex,” you laughed bitterly, “what happened? lost respect for me or something?” not being able to be in his presence for one more second, you left and met your parents at their table. for the rest of the luncheon, you could feel rafe’s gaze piercing through your skin. you knew you struck a chord, but it was all true.

“me and your father will be going to the mainland for the next few days for business, will you be joining us?” your mother’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. “chloe’s only here for a week before she goes back to uni so i’m gonna stay.” she nodded. “alright, i’ll have the driver take you home then, and sweetie,” she leaned in close, “you might want to see what that cameron boy wants, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you sat down.” you glanced up, your stomach dropping at the sight of him. “it’s complicated.” you whispered, you and your mother getting up to leave.

the ride back was quick, your parents letting you know they’ll call you when they get off the ferry. you were about to walk inside before you noticed the door cracked open. what the hell? you turned around to see if your parents were still there, but the car was already gone. you tried to brush it off, going in cautiously. it was still early in the day, the sun still shining brightly overhead. you made your way to the security system, your eyebrows knitting in confusion when you saw it had already been reset. “that’s impossible..” you whispered, jumping when you heard a clash come from upstairs.

you stood frozen, debating if you should run out or go check for yourself. the last thing you wanted to do was call the cops and it wasn’t anything to worry about. you cursed to yourself, slowly making your way upstairs. “is someone there?” you called out, opening the room doors and looking them over. obviously you expected no one to answer, but you still felt relieved when you saw that nothing was out of place. that was until you got to your room, where one side of your bed looked like someone had been laying in it.

you ran your hand over the sheets, the soft material still warm. “i told you i was gonna show up to your house if i had to.” your head shot up to your bathroom, rafe leaning against the doorframe. “what are you doing?” your heart was beating in your ears, his gaze making you feel powerless in this situation. “i’ve been a dick to you, i’ll admit that. i’ll apologize for that. i’m sorry, y/n, i really am,” he started moving towards you, “and you know what? you’re right. it is about me wanting to keep you to myself.” rafe a took a seat in front of you. “i want to work on this. i want us to work together, we could really make this a good thing.” you didn’t know you were crying until rafe wiped the tear from your eye.

“you’re lying to me.” you shook your head, pushing his hand away. a flash of hurt passed over rafe’s face. “i wouldn’t lie to you about this. i’m not as cold and unsure as you think i am.” his hands rested on your thighs. “i can’t even put into words how bad i wanted to hurt topper last night when i saw you sitting on him, and when he grabbed you and kissed you? i wouldn’t have stopped punching him if kelce didn’t get in the middle.” you listened, eventually relaxing under his touch. “i will do everything i have to do to prove to you i’m serious about this. about us.” he started moving closer, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“what do you say, baby?” you swallowed, sitting in thought for a moment. this was all you ever wanted from rafe. the sincerity, the reciprocation. “you promise?” your voice was shaky, his eyes softening as he pulled you against his chest. “you have my fucking word.” he whispered against your skin, his hand running up and down your back. you smiled, pressing a kiss to his adam’s apple. slowly, he brought his hands up to your shoulders, his fingers running through your hair before you felt him gripping your neck. “as much as i want to take you slow, i have to punish you for saying what you did at the countryclub.” your eyes fluttered shut as rafe laid you down, his knee wedging itself between your thighs.

“say it again.” his hand was still wrapped around your neck as you looked up at him with tear clad eyes. “rafe..” he smiled, the action that usually has your heart melting, now had a shiver running down your spine. “say it.” rafe said through gritted teeth. you shuddered, ultimately giving in. “i told you, you wouldn’t have anyone to run off to if your dad made you cry again,” saying it to him after you resolved things just felt cruel now. “and that was very insensitive of me, i’m sorry.” rafe shushed you. “it’s alright.. ‘cause i’m gonna make you regret opening your mouth at all.”

[kedsandtubesocks]

seasons of you (year 1 - spring)

Farmer!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: it’s your very first spring living in the valley & you’re very sure Joel Miller already wants you leave

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a new farmer & has a family but no physical description, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s) very light use of gendered language, handyman & farmer!Joel, grumpy!Joel, wound tending & blood imagery, discussion of family loss with light navigation of grief, Ellie being Joel’s daughter, secret softie!Joel, alcohol consumption mention, use of nickname, budding romance

word count: 5.4k

a/n: our first ‘Joel’ fic for our stardew AU series! Here’s to starting this new aventure with y’all! I couldn’t have the strength to post this without @swiftispunk @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy @burntheedges @perotovar you angels don’t know how much I appreciate y’all and am so grateful for you babes…and to you, if you read this - I’m so thankful for you too ♡

No one in Pelican Town hates you more than Joel Miller does. George, the crabby older elderly man in town, might be a close second, but Joel has him beat by miles.

For someone so incredibly handsome, almost beautiful in a rugged wilderness way with his misty mountain gray hair and sharp lovely nose, his glare could wither your entire family farm’s field.

“He’s just an ass sometimes.” Your Dad had told you with a sigh over the phone. “Been that way even when your gramps was around.”

At first you didn’t want to fully admit it but yeah, Joel is a prickly cactus of a man.

He owns a farm further down the path from yours. You love walking by it when you take the long way home and getting to spot all the sheep roaming around his fields. He’s also the town’s handyman.

“A jack of all trades, more like it.” Pierre, the main store owner, snickered that to you while Joel was in the store fixing a light fixture.

After that Joel helped you set up your first fencing gate. Then he fixed your sink. And then your water heater.

It’s been a lot and you know it. You feel guilty at how bad you can’t seem to get a hang of this new life yet. Your grandpa did it, thrived even. You can too, or you hope you can.

Until Joel glares at you like you’re a bug ready to squash, then you feel incredibly small.

Once you physically and accidentally ran into him walking out of the blacksmith’s shop when he was heading in. You sputtered out an apology, but without a single word Joel walked past you as if you weren’t even worth his time.

One night you went to the town’s saloon hoping to maybe mingle and get to know everyone better. But simply seeing him sitting inside made you turn on your heels and scramble out.

From that point on you’ve been avoiding him.

But now unfortunately, a few paces away from Joel Miller’s farm, your hand bleeds out a bit aggressively.

“Shit.” You hiss, slipping off your backpack to search for your mini first aid kit.

Yesterday you stubbornly tried fixing your fence and accidentally scrapped your hand pretty bad against the wood. Earlier you believed you wrapped it good enough but now the blood soaking through the bandaid mocks you.

“You alright?!”

The sharp accented drawl rings out loud in the early morning and fear collides into you.

Of course Joel hadn’t left for the morning.

You yell back that you’re fine but scramble frantic now trying to find the damn first aid kit.

“Is that blood?” Joel snaps, sounding closer, as his boots rush against the dirt.

“No, I spilled paint.” You grumble to yourself annoyed.

“M’old but I fuckin’ heard that.” Damn.

He’s much closer now, so close his shadow falls over you but you refuse to look at him.

“What happened!?” He barks confused.

Sighing, you give up hope on finding the poor elusive first aid kit.

“Just cut my hand, that's all. It isn’t deep. I’m fine.” You reassure him.

Joel sighs angrily.

“Come on.”

Now you turn and discover his soil eyes stare at you with such a steeled intensity you almost want to scurry away.

“Fixin’ this up inside.” He doesn’t even ask or let you leave. With one yank Joel Miller pulls you towards his farmhouse.

“I’m fine.” You snap back.

“What? Just wanna let it bleed ‘n get everywhere?” An edge in Joel’s voice silences you.

Any argument you wanted to hiss out immediately floats away the moment you cross the threshold into his house. Your eyes go wide. You never once thought you’d ever see the inside of Joel Miller’s place.

It’s larger than your grandpa's.

Joel deposits you into his kitchen. The lingering smell of breakfast, possibly oatmeal with its warm cinnamon notes, hangs in the air. Yet you feel like a caught feral cat that doesn’t know how to react being inside a house for the first time.

So you let your eyes wander.

Beautiful wood cupboards line the walls. A fridge is covered with various papers held up by sweet colorful cartoonish magnets you never would’ve expected from him. A worn cozy, well loved, couch peeks out from the slight view of the living room you spot being inside the kitchen.

Joel’s house seems knitted together by a rustic weathered comfort. Yet, there’s a hollowness to the house, like it’s waiting for more spirit to fill the halls. You can’t pinpoint or describe the stillness here in this place, but you sense it.

After rustling around a drawer, Joel yanks out a rather impressive medical kit. Largely bulky and intimidating, like him, it’s no surprise a handyman and farmer has such a first aid kit.

“How’d it happen?” Joel asks gruff and quiet as he rummages around the bag.

You tell him and his seasoned face scrunches up frustrated.

“Why didn’t ya call and have me go fix it?”

You thought about that. But you couldn’t handle the thought of asking him to help again, to deal with his frustrated sighs and gruff annoyance. He barely said a word to you last weekend when he went to check your sink again.

“Don’t need you to fix everything.” You tell him composed while Joel pulls out various things to wrap your wound.

“Besides, I can fix things on my own.” You add firm.

“Not all the time.” He replies.

You stay quiet and watch his hands, large and callous, gingerly dab away all the crimson from your cut.

He’s never been this close to you. You catch the faintest smell of wood and of something clean crisp, his laundry detergent maybe. It threatens to fog your senses knowing he smells this lovely.

“Y’dont ask for help and shit like this happens.”

Your face hardens at Joel’s words. You even childishly want to yank away your hand and storm off.

“Look I get it, you barely tolerate me and think I can’t do shit. I know I’m still new, but this was an accident. It happens.” Your words come out harsher than you intended, sharpened scythes that cut through the room, and Joel freezes.

“I don’t think that.” He replies clear as a spring blue sky.

You want to bark a laugh of disbelief, but instead you simply stay silent.

Joel sighs, keeping his eyes on the medic tape he readies.

“And I… tolerate you.” He sputters like he’s trying to muster the words out.

A moment passes. Then Joel sighs, ancient and heavy.

“Don’t mind me. M’just some grumpy old fuck-”

“Hey you’re not old. You’re just grumpy.” You interrupt trying to ease the mood and your heart jumps hearing him snort.

“M’old.” He clarifies. He is older, older than you, and that fact creates a strange flutter in your chest you don’t want to explore just yet.

“And…don’t want ya feelin’ like shit.” He continues with a curt softness.

You never knew his voice could sound this layered, so tough but tender.

“Just tryin’ to look out for ya like your gramps asked me too.”

There’s a strange apology shaded in his words but you manage to catch it. A rush of emotions drown you in their current.

“You were close with my grandpa.” You comment with a curious question lingering below the surface.

“Yeah,” Joel answers low now tenderly moving to wrap your hand. “His ol’ ass used to keep me in place.”

You smirk fondly. That sounds like your gramps.

“Miss seein’ him walk by this place and hearin’ him complain that he likes the sheep more than me.”

Joel’s fond and aching voice digs its hooks into your soul. You miss gramps too, so much.

“Used to fish a lot together out by the lake.” He adds.

This is the most Joel Miller has ever spoken to you and you worry the sun might fall out of the sky soon.

“I bet he out fished you.” You tease soft.

Joel snorts. “Damn right he did.”

You can almost picture it clearly, your gramps and Joel laughing together, having a friendship.

“He’d be proud of ya.” Joel mutters but his words chime clear.

Your attention flickers to Joel. He keeps his focus steady on your hand. However his words crystallize deep in your heart and you blink away tears. You ever expected Joel Miller to almost make you cry like this.

“Thanks…means a lot.” You truthfully tell him while you swallow back the heartache and love threatening to spill over.

“He’d also say you’re a fuckin’ stubborn thing for not askin’ for help.”

You snort at that.

“Well you knew the old guy, it runs in the family.” You reply.

Joel chuckles.

It’s small - like the faint flash of seeing a cardinal in the trees. But you heard it, his amusement, and it’s lovely for a man quietly layered as him.

“Alright, all fixed up.”

The wrap is tight, secure, and speaks of his many times previously doing this before.

“Thank you Joel, appreciate it.” You do.

“Can't be a handyman if I can’t fix up people sometimes.” He shrugs but there’s a deadpan charm to his words you’re slowly catching now.

“Doctor and a handyman, no wonder the town keeps you around.” So you dryly joke back.

This moment isn’t much. Yet it feels like gaining a good step in the direction of something right and solid.

Gathering your things, you decide to head out. Even though curiosity claws at you to take in a few more moments being inside Joel Miller’s home, you have seeds to buy.

“Where ya headin’’ to?” Joel asks.

“Pierre’s.” You huff. “Need more parsnips.”

He hums a noise of acknowledgment.

Back outside the mid morning sun’s warmth soaks you in its gaze. Maybe you could fish for a bit before you head to the store. After all, the weather is so nice.

“Hey.” Joel barks out and before heading back on the road, you turn to him.

He’s a sight on his porch. You think of the typical romance movies of the handsome farmer trying to woo the newcomer in town and how right now he puts them all to shame.

Hands crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders seem like mountains against the doorway, so striking and large taking up the entire focus.

“Don’t hesitate to call y’hear? Don’t fuckin’ care what it is or what it’s for, call me.” Joel’s face is hardened and serious, reflecting the unwavering tone in his voice.

Something heated crawls up your throat and makes you dizzy. You blame it on the blood loss.

“Besides, s’what neighbors are for, right?” He adds a bit awkwardly.

It hits you. He’s the closest homestead to you. You are neighbors with him.

“Alright will do, promise.” You nod and mean your words.

“Thanks again neighbor.” Those words tingle on your lips.

Joel nods and with that you head out.

You’re on such a strange high you simply float straight to the pier and fish. It’s comforting being among the crashing waves, the sea breeze, and the wonderful weather. You also think of your gramps and Joel here.

But by the time the sky starts to turn into a ripe tangerine you realize in horror you forget to buy more seeds.

You almost scream in anguish when you find Pierre’s doors locked. Accepting momentary defeat, you head home.

When you reach your porch, there against the steps a bundle of parsnip seeds and a small pack of bandaids sit waiting for you.

- ☼ -

Your hope to quietly enjoy the egg festival, your true first event here in the valley, is diminished when Mayor Lewis practically drags you into the egg hunt saying it’s a rite of passage.

His deadly polite politician smile said there was no way you could worm your way out of participating. So you simply start the hunt thinking of the strawberry seeds you can’t wait to plant once this is over.

You’re not overly competitive, but these eggs are getting harder to find. You want to finish at least with some dignity.

Besides the area around Stardrop Saloon you scan every inch like a hawk. Someone coughs, clearing their throat, and it catches your attention.

Under the shade of the building, nursing a cold drink, Joel slightly turns towards you.

Now instead of a hawk you feel like a surprised field mouse caught in his gaze.

Without saying anything Joel flickers his eyes a couple of times towards the corner of the building. Is he giving you a hint?

Heading to the spot his eyes vaguely guided you to, you discover a colorful egg.

You almost want to keep it as proof this happened. Joel helped you.

By the time the egg hunt ends everyone already seems to be packing up and the mysterious Mr. Miller has vanished from the commotion.

Abigail wins the egg hunt and you aren’t even upset. In fact you walk home feeling like a champion.

The next morning on the help wanted and errands bulletin board in town you spot Joel’s name. Below it is a request asking for a small pack of wood.

You readily answer it and drop off the bundle eagerly, a way to help pay him back for everything.

The pretty decent payment he gives you is nice but the crooked soft hint of a grin on his face when you arrive to deliver the request is worth iridium.

A few days after that he mails you a recipe. The letter is so simply Joel - a straightforward recipe then a scribbled JM below it. You hang the letter up proudly on your fridge.

Spring blooms more and more before your eyes.

You decide to take advantage of it by foraging for the day.

“Where y’heading?”

You’ve been taking the long way to the forest these past few weeks in hopes of seeing him again. Now that you’re not actively avoiding him, you discover, small town or not, Joel is a surprisingly busy man.

When you catch glimpses of him, instead of glares being thrown your way, Joel Miller simply nods acknowledging you. Comforting as it is to know he doesn’t outright detest, you don’t like how much you hope to run into him more.

Now he’s here sliding on his backpack while moving to lock his gate.

“Just heading to the forest, gonna forage and walk around for the day.” You answer him.

“Works out, hafta head that way myself.” Joel explains falling into step besides you.

Alone with Joel Miller once again.

The small talk comes - asking each other how your days have been, anything new or interesting happening. The heat is starting to pick up announcing summer’s close arrival. Thankfully it’s still not unbearably hot as you and him fully enter the woods.

Cindersap forest is tranquil. A beautiful glimmering evergreen haven you enjoy simply strolling through. You never thought you’d ever be here with Joel.

“No new crops coming in?”

“Nothing exciting.” You shrug. “I’m more upset that I didn't plant any tulips this season.”

“Those your favorite?” Joel asks, surprisingly curious.

“Not mine, my gramps.” Your memories of the farm might be hazy, but you always remembered fresh tulips in the kitchen.

“They’re for the fairies.” Gramps would tell you with a wink.

You were bummed after realizing Pierre had flower seeds and it was too late to see them bloom in your kitchen.

“Damn,” Joel sighs. “Ain't your fault. Pierre’s an ass and hides all the good shit, flower seeds included.”

You’re almost positive Pierre doesn’t do that, but you burst out laughing.

A giddy twinkling glee consumes you and fills you buoyant. He’s trying to comfort you in his own Joel way. And it’s dangerous how fast you’re growing to enjoy the company of this grumpy cactus of a man.

You move to snag a few dandelions and wild horseradishes. You make a face at one that smells a bit ripe and decide to leave it for the forest.

“You can eat those y’know.” Joel comments.

“Yeah so I’ve heard.” You tried your first ever daffodil this month. “A wild horseradish might be a bit too much right now though, but who knows. Maybe one day I’ll try ‘em.”

“My kid used to eat these all the damn time. Never took a likin’ to ‘em myself.” Joel grumbles kicking the disposed horseradish.

Kid.

“You have a kid?” You ask curiously.

Joel blinks to you and there’s a gleam in his earth eyes of something reserved slowly revealing itself.

“Uh… yeah. A daughter. Ellie.”

A daughter. He’s a dad.

It fits him in a way that you never would have expected.

“She doesn’t live here?” You ask but then quickly apologize for pressing the subject. Joel waves you off, casual and unbothered.

“She did, just graduated highschool this year. Wanted to do the whole college deal. She lives out west now.”

So he’s an empty nester.

Delicately, wanting to know more about him and his daughter, you ask about her.

Joel inhales deep then exhales slowly, as if an immovable weight on his shoulders rattles deep to his bones.

“She’s a headache, my Ellie.” Fondness trickles out of Joel a steady stream.

“Stubborn, damn near impossible to argue with cause she’s so fuckin’ smart. Got a good heart. Good head on her shoulders too, wants to be an astronaut.”

“An astronaut?! That’s incredible!” You exclaim in brilliant excitement.

Like the proud dad he is, adoration tugs at Joel’s lips.

“Yeah, been wantin’ to be one for years. That’s why she’s going to school.”

“She sounds incredible, Joel. You must be proud.” You earnestly tell him.

“I am…” His voice is thick, and you don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over distant and misty.

You decide not to press the subject any further. He instead does it for you.

“She loved livin’ here until the damn flower festival rolled around. Then she’d swear up ‘n down about how much she hated this town and was gonna leave the second she could.”

The flower festival is just days away. The town swirls in a controlled chaos for its arrival.

You laugh warm. “I’m guessing she’s not a fan of dancing.”

“Takes after me.” Joel nods.

“Ahh…so guess that means you’re not asking anyone to dance this year.” You comment lightly and Joel snorts.

“Ain’t danced with anyone in a very long time.”

A wistful ace now twists your heart thinking of Joel alone in his home, alone watching the others in town pair off.

“You gonna ask anyone?” Joel turns the question around to you and you almost choke on an inhale.

Not wanting to get flustered or react wildly you focus on the wild springs among the lush forest.

“Uh no. Don’t think anyone wants to dance with the newbie in town. Which is fine.” You answer.

There are lovely and gorgeous people in town. Some have caught your eye. However, you didn’t feel brave or interested enough to ask anyone to dance. And no one seemed intended to ask for your hand in the dance, and you find you’re not too upset about that.

Joel hums low, a sign you’re catching on means he’s listening without having to reply much.

“Hopin’ someone will ask ya to dance?” That question takes you by surprise.

You shrug not wanting to fully answer the question either.

Someone suddenly calls out to Joel from behind. At the edge of the forest leading back into town stands Maria, the town’s legal counsel and assistant mayor.

“Caught playing hooky, busted.” You snicker and Joel scoffs.

Maria yells out Joel’s name again.

“Can you come back to town and help us with something? Thought you’d be at home seeing how it’s your day off today. I’ve been trying to call ya but nothing went through.” She yells.

The service here in the forest was awful compared to the town, a hard lesson you’ve learned quickly.

But you also don’t miss Maria’s comment.

Joel had today off. Yet he decided to stay a bit with you. That thought has teeth and you can’t stop their bite from sinking into your heart.

Joel groans but doesn't hesitate to head towards where the assistant mayor stands. Maria of course spots you and a wonderful grin lights up lovely her face.

“It’s good to see you.” She calls out.

“You too!” You reply back thankful your voice is level.

Joel glances over his shoulder to catch your eye.

“Good luck foragin’. Don’t eat any weird shit.”

You sputter out a squawk at his casual comment.

“Next time I see you, I’m giving you a wild horseradish!” You playfully snap the ridiculous reply before you can even stop yourself, but Joel thankfully rolls his eyes unbothered.

Maria’s eyes however flicker curiously between you and Joel. Too many emotions heat up your skin now. So bidding Joel and Maria a quick goodbye you stomp back into the forest to continue foraging.

Now along in the woods, your thoughts still think of Joel. The bag of parsnip seeds, the bandages, and the recipe, come to mind. You never once discussed any of it with him or him with you. It’s something you keep locked in your heart, just like today will be.

Soon the day melts into early twilight. You snag a couple of dandelions and a few other forageables before deciding to head home.

Joel’s farm house looms quietly still with no lights. You can’t bring yourself to open the gate to his farm and walk up to the house.

So instead you place a few dandelions along with a nice fresh large wild horseradish on top of the mailbox by his gate then head home.

Even when you unwind for the night, you mind still feels like it’s snagged on Joel Miller, still there with him foraging in the forest.

- ☼ -

The flower dance, as strange of a custom as it is, is rather ethereal. So many vivid floral arrangements decorate the space with dynamic colors and the air even smells fresh.

The flower dance honors the legacy of celebrating the final days of spring. But it also is a celebration of love blooming.

“It has roots dating back to fertility rituals.” Demetrius, ever the town scientist, told you while you were chatting with him and his wife.

He was right of course. The flower dance is the opportunity for someone to extend a hand of romantic feelings towards another. Those who hope to participate in the couples dance, or possibly win the crown of Flower Queen, are dressed in glorious attire. Soft light fabrics and flowers woven into crowns create a scene conjured out of a fairy’s kingdom.

Compared to the others in lovely attire with flowers in their hair, you didn’t even dress up or change out of your messy dirt covered jeans. And the only flowers in your hair are actually twigs and leaves from cleaning up more of your property.

With no need to worry about someone asking you to dance, you instead simply enjoy the various foods prepared for the occasion.

“Be careful, the salsa actually has a pretty good kick.” You’re about to go in for a second helping when a gentle accented voice floats out to you.

Besides you is a man with the kindest eyes you’ve seen. Faintly you recognize his face and can recall seeing him around town.

“Tommy Miller.” He reintroduces himself seeing your slight hesitation and your eyes go big.

“Oh, Maria’s husband!” You fully remember her introducing him to you. But now something else clicks.

He’s Joel’s brother.

“Yup.” He grins proud at his wife’s mention.

You apologize profusely for not remembering him sooner and with a kind understanding smile Tommy reassures you it’s fine.

“Been a busy first month for ya, I get it. You’re a tough cookie handlin’ it all.”

Even though his twang mirrors his brother’s, Tommy already radiates a much different energy than Joel. He’s warm in a way that reminds you of a soft summer day welcoming everyone with his vibrant energy.

You thank him earnestly. “The town’s been good to me.”

A part of you wants to add Joel has been good to you. Weeks ago, you would’ve laughed at just the idea of Joel Miller showing you an emotion other than annoyance. But now you and him seem to slowly be warming up to each other.

“Don’t go stealin’ all the good stuff, y’little shit.” Joel arrives with a gruff grumble of a voice and quickly nudges Tommy.

Yet his eyes remained glued on you.

You also seem to notice how striking Joel looks in the crisp light jean button up shirt he wears.

“Speak of the devil… was just about to ask our new farmer here if ya haven’t scared her away yet.” Tommy jokes.

Joel’s face flickers with a scowl fighting to form but he keeps himself surprisingly composed.

Guilt sinks in your gut. You know he’s hard to read and you even feel bad for thinking he’s mean. Because you’re learning fast Joel is earnest in his own way.

“Nah,” you tell Tommy, answering for yourself and Joel almost. “His sheep are actually scarier than he is.”

Tommy busts out laughing and you grin. Your eyes flicker to Joel but see he isn’t grinning. Instead Joel’s handsome aged face stares at you guarded and you can’t read the emotions shimmering in his eyes.

Shit.

You might have overstepped and upset him. So to physically stop yourself from saying anything else you take a bite out of the delicious cornbread on your plate, wave a weak goodbye to the Miller brothers, and scurry away.

Now alone under the shadow of one of the lovely cherry trees, you’re aware of how new you still are, a fresh bud still trying to foster roots in this new ground. You wonder how your gramps dealt with this every year.

Soon enough, the music starts and Mayor Lewis claps excited ready to begin the dance.

At least this will be over soon.

The couples slowly sway to the soft melody then rustling arrives at your side. Gently your eyes turn to the source and you almost collapse seeing Joel move in besides you.

His eyes though stay on the couples dancing among the blooms.

“Could’ve at least picked better music to dance to.” He mumbles bored.

Your lips press hard trying not to smile ridiculous and wide.

“Could you imagine if someone played the wrong song?” You whisper back. “Like, some heavy metal rock song suddenly started screaming out?”

Joel snorts, masks it with a few coughs, but you did it. You made him laugh.

Golden soaked triumph fills you and it feels like the first morning you woke up and found a sprout peeking up from the dark tilled soil.

He’s a complex man and you’re barely even scratching the surface of him. But it’s a tender start you want to continue kindling.

For all the commotion and production given to the festival, the dance only lasts a few moments. It’s over thankfully fast.

“Bit anticlimactic.” You mutter under your breath.

“Yeah it’s dumb.” Joel deadpans.

Your lips fight from letting out a laugh.

Everyone claps joyously at the couples concluding their dance. You wonder, even as silly as this is, if one day maybe you’ll dance with flowers in your hair. But you don’t give that thought too much attention. Just imaging yourself next spring already seems so far away.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at the gorgeous meadow.

“I’m kind of tempted to maybe see if I can steal some of the leftovers but yeah, I’m heading back.” You reply.

“Tell me which food you’re eyein’ and I��ll grab it. No one will tell me no.” He offers and you laugh.

“Tempting as that is, I’m just gonna go home.” You wish Joel a warm good night.

He continues walking alongside you.

Your heart jumps until you realize he lives in the same direction. The chatter from the festival still lingers in the air even while you walk further away from the meadow.

“How do you deal with that every year?” You ask with a sigh.

“Alcohol.” Joel dully answers and you snicker at his reply.

“Maybe one day you’ll be dancin’ out there.” Joel comments like he’s trying to continue the small talk. But the suggestion makes you skin itch for a reason you can’t pinpoint.

You only reply with a simple ‘maybe’ and a shrug.

“I’d pay a hundred bucks to see you dance though.” You joke, but also quickly imagine Joel a picture of softness with a flower behind his ear resting beautifully among his silver curls and it makes your knees weak.

Joel however rolls his eyes.

“Next year we’ll just sneak in and take over the music. See what happens.” You offer.

“Now that sounds like a plan.” Joel agrees gruffly.

It sounds like a promise.

You bid him good night until his eyebrows crinkle so classily grumpy Joel.

“Whadya doin’? Ain’t lettin’ ya walk home alone, sprout. Now come on.”

He continues walking as if nothing while your mind tries to recover being tilted on its axis for a bit.

Joel is walking you home.

And he called you sprout.

You want to cradle this new nickname so tenderly in your hands.

Joel quietly asks about your plans for the upcoming season, almost as if he’s trying to keep you focused.

To settle your flutter heart, you manage to ramble about the new incoming seeds you’ve heard about. You talk about your hopes of going to the beach more, not just to fish but to simply enjoy the ocean.

Among all that discussion, in a blink you’re back at your farm.

Instead of Joel rushing home, he lingers.

He checks your porch almost like he’s making sure the thing still stands.

“Hope one day to see that dang greenhouse up ‘n runnin.” He points to the broken greenhouse and you can’t help but sigh at the sight. You hope so too.

Then Joel moves to stand next to you on the land.

It feels different seeing him here.

Just a few weeks ago he was shouting every profanity known to man trying to fix your ancient water heater. He also glared at you the entire time.

Now he stands next to you suggesting on what to grow for the upcoming season.

“You could plant the tomatoes over on this side, give ‘em more shade to grow.”

Joel already reminds you of a back alley cat, one that hisses and refuses to let others near until he decides when to warm up to others. And, like a fresh new sprout, you want to soak up this warmth of him up.

“Also… Don’t forget to plant flowers.” He adds with a soft grumble.

“I won’t.” You grin impressed he remembered.

When you bid him goodnight and thank him again, you almost want to promise you’ll stop by with coffee tomorrow morning.

However that feels too much, like you might make the wrong move and spook him. But you do want to know if he makes it home okay. You can’t even bring yourself to ask him for his phone number.

So you watch Joel leave until your thoughts move fast and you blurt them out.

“Wait how will I know you made it back?”

Joel suddenly stops then glances back to you.

A very soft twinkle comes over his face and he gives you a crooked grin. It colors him with such a boyish expression. This new face of Joel feels sacred, special, and it steals your breath away.

“Hang outside for a bit. I’ll give ya sign, don’t worry.” He nods then melts into the darkness.

You stay frozen on the spot, not wanting to miss whatever it is. You wait, hoping he makes it back safe. Then out from the darkness, far down the path, you see it.

A light from Joel’s house blazes alive.

Then it flickers on and off, like someone flipping the switch a few times. The movement of it against the darkness even feels like a wave of some sorts.

You wish so badly to wave back.

Reassured that he’s home, you head back feeling as light as a feather.

Stepping onto your porch, something catches your eye.

Resting on the main railing barrier are a batch of tulips that were not there when you left.

Your heart jumps into your throat. You didn’t even see Joel place them there.

Delicately placed, the tulips so brilliantly colored sit warm and bright for you - the most beautiful end to your spring.

Though, in your heart, these blooms feel like something closer to a beginning.

[growthhyp]

The Garage Sale VI

Don wiped the sweat from his brow with a grimy towel as the final strokes of light disappeared beyond the horizon. The construction site was a mess of steel beams and concrete dust, but he felt a sense of accomplishment knowing that he'd put in a solid twelve-hour day. His muscles ached from the relentless labor, but the thought of returning home to Carlos, his devoted husband, filled him with a warm glow. Don knew he was going to be late for their usual dinner ritual, but he was pretty sure Carlos would be cool about it. After all, they had a bond that could weather any storm, a bond that had only grown stronger through the years of sweat and toil that had built Don's muscular frame and filled the layers of fat that concealed it.

Finally, at 11 PM, Don trudged up the path to their cozy abode, his heavy boots echoing in the stillness of the night. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow through the windows and beckoning him home. The door creaked open, revealing a scene that was eerily quiet. The house felt empty, but the tantalizing aroma of something delicious wafted from the kitchen. He recognized it immediately; it was Carlos's famous beef stew simmering on the stove, a meal that could make any man's stomach growl in anticipation. He called out his husband's name, but all he heard in response was the muffled sound of the TV coming from their shared bedroom.

Pushing the door open, he stepped into the dimly lit room, the TV's blue glow playing shadows on the walls. The sight that greeted him was like something out of a magazine – a man lay sprawled across their bed, every muscle in his body chiseled to perfection, not a single strand of hair out of place. For a moment, Don's brain struggled to process the image. The man's face was obscured by the shadows, but as he approached, he felt his heart hammer in his chest. It was Carlos, but not the Carlos he knew. This man looked like a Greek god, his body stripped of any semblance of the softness it had once held. His chest was broad and sculpted, his abs rippling with every shallow breath he took.

Don's eyes traveled downward, tracing the lines of Carlos's newfound physique, and that's when he noticed it. The bulge in his blue briefs was obscene, a stark contrast to the man he knew. His heart raced as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He had never seen Carlos's body look this…powerful. The clothes lay torn and tattered on the floor, as if they had been stretched to their limits and had given up trying to contain the new form beneath them. Don's eyes widened when he saw the athletic socks that clung to Carlos's now-massive calves, reaching up to his knees. It was something so out of place in their lives, something so…strange.

"Carlos," Don murmured, his voice thick with a mix of awe and concern. "Babe, wake up. Did you eat?" He reached out to shake his husband gently, his rough, calloused hand touching the soft skin of Carlos's shoulder.

Carlos' eyes snapped open, the room spinning around him as his mind tried to catch up with the sudden intrusion of consciousness. He sat bolt upright, feeling a strange energy coursing through his veins like a potent caffeine buzz. He took a moment to blink the sleep from his eyes, and as he did, he felt something…different. His body hummed with power, every muscle taut and ready to spring into action. He looked down, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw his once-soft stomach now a washboard of abs, each ridge standing out like a mountain range on a map. He tentatively reached out to touch his chest, the feel of his own skin against his fingertips sending a jolt of electricity straight to his groin. The touch was so sensual, so alien, and yet…so incredibly right. His hand traveled over his body, exploring each bulging muscle and feeling them flex under his command.

Don watched, his eyes wide with shock and something else - something he didn't dare put into words. The sight of Carlos's transformation was mesmerizing, and as his hand moved down to the bulge in his briefs, the air in the room grew thick with anticipation. Carlos's cock stirred to life, pushing against the fabric with a hunger that seemed insatiable. He moaned softly, the sound echoing off the walls and sending a shiver down Don's spine. He couldn't believe this was the same man he'd known for years, the same man whose love had gotten him through the toughest of days. And yet, here he was, reborn as something…more.

"Do you like it?" Carlos's voice was low, a growl of power that sent a thrill through Don's body. "Tell me, Don. Do you like these muscles?" He flexed his arms, the biceps swelling like boulders, the veins standing out like rivers on a map. Don felt his own body respond, his cock thickening in his pants as he took in the sheer beauty of the creature before him. He couldn't find the words to express his feelings, his mind racing with a cocktail of confusion and arousal.

"Yeah," Don managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do."

The admission seemed to ignite something within Carlos. The newfound confidence in his posture grew stronger, his gaze more intense. He smirked, a hint of arrogance playing at the corners of his mouth as he slid off the bed, his muscular form moving with the grace of a predator stalking its prey. He stepped closer to Don, the heat radiating from his body like a furnace, making Don's skin tingle with anticipation. The scent of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of sweat and something… primal.

With a swift move, Carlos reached out and grabbed Don's hand, placing it on the bulge in his briefs. The fabric was tight, straining against the size of his cock. Don gasped, feeling the warmth and solidity of it, his own desire spiking in response. He looked up into Carlos's eyes, seeing a hunger in them that was unfamiliar yet thrilling. "You like what you see?" Carlos purred, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate in the very core of Don's being.

Don nodded, unable to form coherent words as his thumb began to trace the outline of Carlos's cock, feeling it pulse and throb beneath his touch. "Good," Carlos murmured, his eyes darkening. "Because now, I'm going to show you how a real man takes care of his man."

Before Don could even process what was happening, Carlos had torn open his own briefs, revealing the monstrous cock that lay within. It was thick and veiny, the head glistening with pre-cum that dripped down onto the floor. Don felt his own cock strain against his pants, desperate to be set free from its confines. The power dynamics in the room had shifted, and for the first time in their relationship, Don found himself craving the dominance that radiated from his transformed husband. He watched, almost hypnotized, as Carlos stepped closer, the heat from his body washing over him like a wave.

"You want this, don't you?" Carlos's voice was a seductive purr, his eyes locked onto Don's. The need in those eyes was undeniable, and Don felt his own resolve crumbling. He nodded, his throat too dry to speak, as his hand continued to explore the massive bulge in his husband's briefs. The touch was electric, sending shockwaves of desire through his body that he had never felt before.

With a smug grin, Carlos reached down and grabbed Don's chin, tilting his head back and capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. Don's cock twitched in response, straining against his own pants as he felt the power in Carlos's grip, the dominance that had never been there before. He kissed back with a hunger that surprised even himself, his body responding instinctively to this new version of his lover. The kiss grew deeper, more demanding, as their tongues danced together in a passionate duel that seemed to go on forever.

The taste of Carlos was like nothing he had ever experienced before - it was musky and sweet, with a hint of something dark and addictive. Don felt himself melting into the kiss, his body going pliant under the onslaught of desire that washed over him. He could feel Carlos's new muscles pressing against him, the power and strength behind them undeniable. The sensation was intoxicating, making him want to surrender completely to the man who had been his gentle, loving partner for so long.

With surprising aggression, Carlos yanked at the strings of Don's sweaty tank top, tearing it away from his body. The fabric ripped like paper, exposing his broad, hairy chest to the cool evening air. The action was so sudden and raw, it sent a bolt of excitement through Don's body, making him gasp. He had never seen this side of Carlos, and it was as thrilling as it was terrifying. The normally soft, loving eyes he was used to were now dark with lust, and there was a glint of something almost animalistic in their depths.

Don's hands flew to his own pants, his trembling fingers fumbling with the zipper. He felt a strange mix of apprehension and arousal as he let Carlos's newfound dominance wash over him. His cock was now painfully hard, the head peeking out of his boxers, leaking a steady stream of pre-cum that slicked his stomach. The sensation was overwhelming, and his mind raced with thoughts of what was to come. This wasn't the gentle, loving sex they'd always shared. This was something primal, something that spoke to a part of him he didn't know existed.

"On the bed," Carlos growled, his eyes never leaving Don's. The command was clear, and Don felt his body respond almost involuntarily. He stumbled backward, his legs feeling like jelly as he climbed onto the mattress, his heart racing like a jackhammer. He lay down, his back flat against the cool sheets, his eyes locked on Carlos's powerful form.

Carlos climbed onto the bed with a grace that belied his new size and strength. He straddled Don's waist, his thick cock slapping against Don's abs as he positioned himself. Don couldn't help but whimper, the feeling of his husband's weight on top of him was both exhilarating and a little intimidating. The muscles in Carlos's legs flexed as he reached down and yanked Don's pants down, the fabric tearing easily under his newfound power. Don's cock bobbed free, the pre-cum now a steady flow that coated his stomach and chest.

"Look at you," Carlos murmured, his voice thick with lust as he took in the sight of Don's arousal. "So eager for me." He leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over Don's skin as he took a moment to lick the pre-cum from his abs, savoring the taste. The act was so raw, so unexpected, that it sent a jolt of pleasure through Don's body, making his cock throb in response.

Don felt his body reacting to Carlos's newfound dominance in ways he never thought possible. He was usually the one in charge, the one calling the shots, but now he found himself craving this new dynamic. He felt his own body respond, his cock growing even harder as he watched his husband's muscular form hovering above him, the shadows from the TV playing across the planes of his muscles like a living statue.

With a powerful thrust, Carlos plunged his massive cock into Don's hole. The feeling was like nothing Don had ever experienced before. It was tight, almost painful, but the pleasure that accompanied it was overwhelming. He moaned deeply, his body arching off the bed as Carlos's thickness filled him completely. He could feel every ridge and vein, the head of Carlos's cock pressing against his prostate in a way that made stars dance before his eyes.

Carlos began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, rhythmic motion that sent waves of pleasure crashing through Don's body. Each stroke was deliberate, each one hitting that sweet spot that had Don's toes curling and his nails digging into the sheets. The room was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet, needy sounds of their bodies coming together in a dance of dominance and submission.

Don's moans grew louder, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to process the sensations that were overwhelming him. The thickness of Carlos's cock was unreal, the way it stretched and filled him so completely was almost too much. Yet, as the initial shock began to wear off, he found himself craving more, his body moving in sync with his husband's powerful thrusts. The feeling of being claimed, of being taken so thoroughly, was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, and it was intoxicating.

Carlos' muscles bulged and flexed with each movement, his biceps and abs rippling like the ocean under the moonlight. His eyes were dark with lust, his teeth gritted as he drove himself into Don's willing body. Each powerful stroke was punctuated by a low growl that seemed to resonate through the very core of Don's being, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. The sound was like music to his ears, a symphony of desire that had his blood singing with excitement.

Don felt himself being dominated in a way he had never experienced before. It was as if the very essence of masculinity was being poured into him with every thrust, filling him up and making him feel alive in a way that no construction work ever could. His body responded instinctively, his hips rising to meet Carlos's, eager for more. The pleasure was intense, a maelstrom of sensation that had him teetering on the brink of orgasm.

It was almost too much, the feeling of being filled so completely by the man he loved. The pressure built and built until, with a strangled cry, Don came. His orgasm was like a dam breaking, a torrent of pleasure that surged through him, making his toes curl and his eyes roll back in his head. He could feel his body convulsing around Carlos's cock, his muscles clenching and releasing in waves of ecstasy. His cum spurted out, coating his chest and abs in a sticky mess.

But Carlos wasn't done yet. He continued to pound into Don, his movements growing more and more frantic as he chased his own release. Don's eyes snapped open, watching the display of power and passion playing out before him, his own orgasm still pulsing through his body. He could feel his husband's cock growing even thicker, the head swelling and throbbing as Carlos neared his peak. And then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, Carlos came.

The force of his climax was like nothing Don had ever felt before. Hot ropes of cum shot deep into his ass, filling him so completely that he thought he might burst. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pain that had him crying out in ecstasy. He felt the warmth spread through him, a sensation that was almost as overwhelming as the power behind the thrusts that had brought him to this point. And still, Carlos didn't stop.

For what felt like an eternity, Carlos's cock continued to pulse inside him, sending wave after wave of cum flooding into his body. Don's ass was stretched to its limits, the muscles straining around the thickness of his husband's shaft. He could feel the warmth of it filling him up, a deluge that seemed never-ending. The sensation was so intense that it almost bordered on the edge of pain, but Don reveled in it, his body responding to the sheer dominance of the moment.

As the final spasms of Carlos's climax subsided, Don felt the first trickle of cum begin to escape his stretched hole, running down the cleft of his ass and pooling on the bed beneath him. The sight of it made his own cock throb with a fresh surge of desire, the sticky mess a testament to the power and virility of the man above him. He watched in awe as the cum glistened in the dim light, the pearly strands connecting them in a way that was both intimate and a little overwhelming.

With a final groan, Carlos pulled out, his cock still thick and slick with the evidence of their passion. Don felt the loss like a physical ache, his body clenching around the emptiness that remained. He looked up at his husband, the question burning in his eyes. "What happened to you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from their passionate cries.

Carlos smirked, his eyes gleaming with newfound confidence. He glanced down at the athletic socks that were still clinging to his now-bare legs, almost as if they were a part of him. "These," he said, his voice deep and powerful. "These socks…they've changed me, Don. They've made me realize what I really am." He flexed his arms, the muscles bulging and dancing in the dim light. "They've made me…more."

Don lay there, panting, his body still trembling from the intensity of their encounter. He felt a twinge of something…different, something that he hadn't felt in their relationship before. He wanted to complain, to say that he missed the gentle lover he had known, but as he stared into Carlos's eyes, he realized that he didn't. He liked this new side of his husband, the side that took what he wanted without asking. And as he felt his cock begin to stiffen once more at the thought of that dominance, he knew that he craved it.

"Don't worry," Carlos murmured, his voice still thick with lust. "I'm still me." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Don's sweat-slicked forehead. "But now, I'm more than just a programmer." He flexed his arms again, the muscles bulging. "I'm going to join a gym. I want to show everyone what I can do."

Don looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. "But what about your job?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "You've always loved coding."

"Fuck the job," Carlos said, his voice filled with a newfound assertiveness. "It's not who I am anymore. This…this is what I was meant to be." He flexed his arms again, the muscles popping like they were trying to escape the confines of his skin. "I want to feel this power all the time." He leaned down and kissed Don again, the kiss filled with a passion that seemed to have been amplified by his transformation.

Don couldn't help but feel a little lost. The man he had known was slipping away, being replaced by this god-like creature that craved physical perfection. Yet, as he felt the heat of Carlos's body pressing down on him, the firmness of his muscles, and the dominance in his kiss, he couldn't deny that he was also turned on by the change. It was a confusing mix of fear and excitement, but as he stared into Carlos's eyes, he knew that he still loved him, no matter what form he took.

"I love you, Carlos," Don murmured, his voice still thick with lust. "I just… I don't know what to expect."

Carlos leaned back, his muscular form framed by the moonlight that streamed through the bedroom window. "You don't have to expect anything, Don," he said, his voice softer now. "I'll still love you, no matter what." He ran a hand through Don's sweaty hair, his gaze searching. "But I need this. I need to feel strong, to be powerful. It's like…it's like I've been asleep all this time, and now I'm finally waking up."

Don swallowed hard, trying to digest the information. The man he'd known for years, the man who could spend hours hunched over a keyboard, had been replaced by this…this Adonis. It was a lot to take in. But as he stared into Carlos's eyes, he saw the same spark of love that had always been there. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort. "Okay," he murmured. "I trust you."

Carlos' expression softened, his eyes still dark with passion but now filled with something softer, something that made Don's heart clench in his chest. "Thank you," he whispered, his hand still gripping Don's hair gently. He leaned down and kissed Don again, slower this time, more tender. It was a promise, a reassurance that no matter what changes he went through, the love they shared was constant.

Their kiss grew deeper, their bodies tangling together as if trying to become one. The scent of their combined sweat and cum was intoxicating, a heady aroma that seemed to envelop them like a warm blanket. They lay together on the bed, their muscular forms intertwined in a dance of love and lust that was as old as time itself. The tension in the room dissipated, replaced by a warm contentment that seemed to seep into their very bones.

Don felt his body relax, his muscles going slack as he melted into the embrace of his transformed husband. The fear and confusion he had felt earlier washed away in the wake of the overwhelming pleasure Carlos had given him. He wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders, his hands tracing the new contours of the muscles that had appeared so suddenly. The sensation was soothing, grounding, a reminder that even though everything had changed, the core of their relationship remained the same.

Carlos broke the kiss, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he gazed down at Don. "Let's get some rest," he murmured, his voice now a comforting rumble. He leaned down, his powerful arms moving to pull the blankets over them both. The fabric felt almost insignificant against the warmth of their bodies, but it served to create a cocoon of intimacy that Don craved.

They lay there, their limbs tangled together in a mess of muscle and passion. The heavy silence was filled only with the sound of their breathing, growing slower and deeper as they drifted closer to sleep. Don felt safe and loved in the embrace of his transformed husband, his heart pounding in time with the steady beat of Carlos's. The warmth of their bodies seemed to meld them together, creating a bond that went beyond the physical.

===

The same night, Tamil sat in his own home, a comfortable abode filled with the quiet hum of his beloved computer systems. He was a man of routine, his life meticulously organized around his job and his few, close friends. At 35, he had carved out a successful career as the head of the computer engineering department at the same company where Carlos worked. His mind was a labyrinth of code and algorithms, a world where he was the master, but his body was a testament to his sedentary lifestyle.

His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. Glancing down, he saw a text from Carlos. "Tamil, you're not gonna believe this," it read. "Aiden hit me up and sent me some weird socks. Says he's into football now." Tamil furrowed his brow in confusion. He had not heard from Aiden, and the idea of his usually jock-averse friend suddenly embracing athletic attire was bizarre. He shrugged it off as one of Carlos's quirky stories.

The evening dragged on, and Tamil found himself still pondering over the text. His curiosity piqued, he decided to check his own mail. Amongst the usual bills and junk, he found a package with no return address. Intrigued, he carefully opened it to reveal a pair of athletic socks.

They were unlike any he'd seen before, a vibrant blend of colors that seemed to pulse with an energy all their own. The fabric felt almost alive in his hands, whispering secrets of strength and vitality. He chuckled to himself, assuming it was some sort of gag gift from one of his coworkers. After all, Tamil was known for his aversion to sports and all things athletic.

But the note was what truly perplexed him. "Thank you for everything - Aiden." He read it over and over again, his eyes widening with each pass. Aiden had always been a good friend, but they had never exchanged gifts before, and certainly not something as personal as clothing. The words hung in the air, a question mark in the shape of a smile.

Tamil's thoughts drifted back to Aiden, his mind's eye painting a picture of the young man he had been mentoring for the past year. Aiden had shown a natural aptitude for coding, a prodigy in a world of ones and zeros.

Aiden had been offline for days, and Tamil had noticed the absence keenly. His bright, eager mind had always been a delight to bounce ideas off, a fresh perspective that kept Tamil's own coding sharp. He had sent a few messages, but they remained unanswered. Concern grew into a knot in his stomach, one that tightened each time he checked his messages.

The note from Aiden, coupled with Carlos's cryptic text, sent Tamil's thoughts spiraling. He knew that Aiden had been feeling the pressure to fit in, to find a place outside of their coding bubble. But football? It was a universe away from the quiet comfort of their digital sanctuary. The idea that Aiden had chosen the gridiron over the keyboard was hard to digest, like a piece of code that didn't compute.

Tamil sighed, setting the socks aside. He had always been there for Aiden, guiding him through the intricate mazes of computer science. The thought of his protégé abandoning their shared passion for something so…physical…was a blow to his ego. Yet, as he sat in the quiet of his home, the only company the soft glow of his computer screens, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. Aiden had been like a son to him, eager and bright, a mind ready to soak up every piece of wisdom he had to offer.

He picked up his phone, his thumbs dancing over the screen as he composed a message to Aiden. "Hey, man, heard you're into football now? That's…different. But hey, if it makes you happy, go for it. Just remember, coding is still here if you need it." He hit send, his heart heavy. The silence that followed was deafening.

Dinner with Kamala was a welcome distraction. She had prepared his favorite, butter chicken with fragrant basmati rice and warm naan bread. The aroma filled the room, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for bringing his work woes into their sanctuary. He took a deep breath and told her everything, from Aiden's sudden transformation to the mysterious socks. Her eyes widened, the soft glow of the pendant light reflecting in her dark pupils.

"So, you're worried about Aiden?" she asked, her voice gentle, understanding.

Tamil nodded, taking a sip of his water. "Yeah, I am. I mean, it's great that he's found something that makes him happy, but I just…I don't get it, you know?"

Kamala took his hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "Tamil, you've always been there for Aiden. You've taught him everything he knows about coding. But sometimes, people need to explore other sides of themselves."

Her words echoed in his mind as they finished their dinner, the conversation flowing into a gentle silence. The warmth of her hand remained a constant, a reminder that he wasn't alone. As they moved to the bedroom, the topic of Aiden still lingered in the air, a soft hum that seemed to resonate with the beat of their hearts.

Tamil couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for his earlier reservations about Aiden's transformation. It wasn't his place to dictate the path of another's life, especially not someone as bright and independent as Aiden. He looked over at his wife, her dark eyes reflecting the moonlight that streamed through the window.

"You're right, Kamala," he murmured, stroking her hair. "I just want him to be happy."

Her eyes searched his, understanding and empathetic. "You've been a great mentor, Tamil. You can't hold him back forever."

He nodded, her words sinking in. "I know. It's just…I don't want to lose him."

Kamala's hand slid over his chest, her thumb circling one of the sparse hairs. "You won't," she assured him, her voice low and sultry. "You're a part of him, always will be."

Kamala and Tamil ended up in a hot and steamy night of sex which ended up both of them feeling tired and sleeping soundly.

===

Morning came, and Tamil was jolted awake by the harsh reality of his blaring alarm. He shot up in bed, his heart racing as he realized he had overslept. Panic set in as he glanced at the clock and saw that he had only minutes to spare before he needed to be at the office. He was the manager of the IT department, and today was the day of a crucial board presentation that could make or break the future of his department. He had meticulously prepared for this moment all week, but now his carelessness might cost him everything.

Kamala lay sleeping peacefully beside him, her breaths deep and even. He didn't have the heart to wake her, not after the incredible night they'd shared. He hastily threw on the first suit he saw in the closet, a crisp white shirt and a tie that was only slightly askew. He grabbed his black dress shoes and a pair of socks that had been sitting on the living room table - the ones Aiden had sent him. They were still wrapped in their package, the vibrant colors seemingly mocking him in the early morning light. He didn't have time to think about it, so he stuffed them into his pocket and slipped on his Crocs, the only footwear that would do in his rushed state.

The drive to work was a blur, his mind racing with what-ifs and contingency plans. What if the presentation didn't go well? What if the board didn't see the value in his department's innovations? He parked in his spot and took a deep breath before striding into the building. The elevator ride felt like an eternity, his heart hammering in his chest like a bass drum in a rock concert. He checked his watch again, his heart sinking when he saw he had less than five minutes to spare.

Tamil shot a quick text to Kamala as he hurried through the office, his black shoes in hand. "Overslept. Barely made it. Presentation starts in 5. Wish me luck," he typed, his thumbs moving with the urgency of a SWAT team breaching a building. He slipped into his office, shut the door, and took a moment to collect himself. The envelope with Aiden's socks was still in his pocket, the edges crumpled from his restless night. He pulled them out and studied them, the vibrant colors seemingly pulsing with energy. On a whim, he decided to put them on, hoping the change of pace would bring him luck.

The material was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, a strange blend of comfort and power that seemed to sizzle against his skin as he pulled them up his legs. The fit was snug, almost too perfect, as if they'd been made just for him. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were somehow…alive. He quickly laced up his black shoes and took a deep breath before heading to the board room.

The room was a sea of suits, a stark contrast to his usual office attire. He felt the eyes of his colleagues on him, their gazes lingering on the socks that peeked out from beneath his slacks. Tamil pushed aside the self-consciousness and took his place at the podium, the glow of the PowerPoint screen washing over him. His heart was racing, his palms slick with sweat, but as he looked down at the socks, a strange calm settled over him.

He took a deep breath and began his presentation, the words flowing from his mouth with a confidence he hadn't felt in months. The socks grew warmer, the heat spreading from his feet up his legs and into his core. It was distracting, but not unpleasant, more like the warmth of a hot tub on a winter's day, soothing and invigorating.

As Tamil talked about the innovative coding languages they'd been developing, the heat grew stronger, his legs feeling like they were made of molten steel. Yet, his voice remained steady, his explanations clear and concise. The board members leaned forward in their seats, their eyes glued to the screen .

The air grew thick with anticipation, and beads of sweat began to form on his brow, rolling down the side of his face. He paused for a moment, casually adjusting the thermostat on the wall. "It's a bit warm in here, isn't it?" he quipped, trying to play it off as a mere environmental issue. The room chuckled politely, and he continued, his heart hammering like it was trying to escape his ribcage.

Tamil's shirt clung to his back, the dampness spreading like a shadow beneath his open coat. He felt his stomach tighten, his breathing becoming shallower. He took a deep breath and continued speaking, his eyes flicking to the baggy fabric under his chest. It was definitely… different. The material of his shirt that had once strained against his stomach now hung loose.

He paused for a moment, his hand shaking as he clicked through the slides. He glanced down at his arms, noticing that his sleeves now had more room, the fabric of his shirt no longer stretched taut. His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his cool, not letting his mind wander to the implications of what might be happening. He had to focus on the presentation.

As he talked about the potential cost savings of their new cloud-based system, Tamil felt something strange happening in his body. He felt…lighter.

He took a moment to compose himself, trying to ignore the growing tension in his clothes. His pants felt snugger around his thighs, and there was definitely something happening in his crotch area. He coughed into his hand, trying to cover the small moan that had escaped his lips. The room remained silent, all eyes on him, so he hoped it had gone unnoticed.

The fabric of his shirt began to stretch over his chest, the material straining against the swell of new muscle. The seams of his jacket tightened around his shoulders, hinting at the burgeoning power that was taking root in his body. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the discomfort, his eyes never leaving the board members in front of him.

As he approached the end of his presentation, Tamil's legs felt as if they were on fire, the material of his pants now visibly straining over his growing quads and calves. The bulge in his crotch grew, pressing against the fabric of his suit pants in a way that was impossible to ignore. He shifted his weight, hoping to alleviate the pressure, but it only made the sensation more pronounced.

The room remained eerily silent, the only sound the occasional shuffling of papers and the faint murmur of the air conditioner. The board members' eyes never left him, and he couldn't tell if they were engrossed in his proposal or distracted by the transformation happening right before their eyes. Tamil's voice grew stronger, the words flowing out of him with an assertiveness he had never felt before.

He glanced down at his legs, now clearly defined by the tight material of his pants. The fabric stretched taut over his swelling quads, the seams straining to contain the power within. He could feel his calves bulging, the muscles tightening and growing beneath his skin like a living sculpture. He took another deep breath, his chest expanding, the buttons of his shirt now threatening to pop open from the pressure of his burgeoning pectorals.

The cough grew louder, a desperate attempt to cover the moan that bubbled up from deep within him. His hand clenched into a fist at his side, his knuckles white with the effort of maintaining his composure. The room remained silent, the only sound the thud of his heart in his chest, echoing in his ears like a bass drum at a rock concert. He hoped they wouldn't notice, that they'd think it was just nerves or allergies. But deep down, he knew the truth. The socks were doing something to him.

Tamil felt his feet growing, stretching his shoes to their limits. He glanced down, the sight of his toes pushing against the leather making him want to laugh and scream in equal measure. He wiggled his feet, trying to relieve the pressure, but it only made the sensation more intense. He had to think fast. In a swift movement, he slipped off his shoes and placed them under the board table, hoping his socked feet wouldn't be too obvious.

The room was a blur as the blood rushed to his face, the heat from the socks spreading upwards. The cough grew deeper, a primal sound that seemed to resonate from his very core. He felt his cock thickening, the fabric of his underwear straining against his growing erection. He forced his mind back to the presentation, focusing on the numbers and graphs on the screen in front of him.

The words flowed from his mouth like a river, smooth and unstoppable. His voice was deeper, more commanding than it had ever been. The board members leaned in closer, their eyes glued to him, and he could feel their attention like a tangible force. His heart raced, his mind a tornado of thoughts and sensations.

He was grateful for the podium, which obscured the growing bulge in his pants from view. The fabric of his suit was stretched tight across his burgeoning physique, the seams of his jacket groaning with each new influx of power. Tamil had never felt so alive, so…so…so incredibly turned on. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It was as if his body was being rewritten with every word he spoke, every breath he took.

The board remained rapt, their focus unwavering on his presentation. The socks had become a silent partner, a silent whisper of strength that grew louder with each passing moment. His voice grew deeper, his posture more commanding. He could feel the power coiling in his muscles, a serpent ready to strike.

As the final slide ended, a smattering of applause filled the room. Tamil's heart raced, his body begging for release from the confines of his now painfully tight suit. He took a deep, shaky breath and said, "Thank you for your time. If you have any questions, I've prepared some notes, and my secretary will be more than happy to address them."

"Thank you, Mr. Tamil," the CEO said, his voice a mix of professionalism and curiosity. "Your presentation was quite…stimulating. We'll review the proposal and discuss it further."

Tamil nodded, trying to ignore the growing pressure in his crotch and the way his biceps bulged against the fabric of his shirt. He took a step back from the podium, the floorboards creaking beneath his now heavy, muscular frame.

The board members began to murmur among themselves, peppering their conversation with nods of approval. Some of them took out their phones to jot down notes, while others leaned back in their chairs, stroking their chins thoughtfully.

Tamil felt his heart racing, his chest heaving as the last of the adrenaline from his presentation coursed through his veins. He was relieved that his words had carried him through the ordeal without giving away the tumultuous transformation happening beneath his clothes. He looked down at his hands, now thick and powerful, the veins standing out like a map of his newfound strength. He flexed his fingers, feeling the fabric of his shirt tighten around his bulging forearms.

The board members began to ask questions, their voices a distant buzz as Tamil's mind raced to keep up with the changes in his body. The socks had not only transformed him into a muscular Adonis but had also imbued him with an unexpected confidence that made him feel like he could conquer the world. He stepped aside, allowing his secretary to take the floor. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in his new form, but she remained professional, her voice steady as she began to address their inquiries.

Tamil couldn't ignore the impending grunt anymore; it was growing louder, more primal. He knew he had to get out of there before he lost control completely. He cleared his throat, his voice now a deep rumble that seemed to resonate in the room. "Excuse me, folks, I think…I think I've got a bit of a…stomach bug coming on." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he had to get out before he gave away his secret.

The board members looked concerned, some of them nodding in understanding as he quickly gathered his papers and made a beeline for the exit. The door to his office was a welcome sight, the sanctity of the room beckoning to him like a lighthouse in a storm. He practically sprinted inside, slamming the door behind him, and took a deep, shuddering breath. The transformation was happening at a pace that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Tamil's eyes fell on the full-length mirror behind his desk, and he couldn't believe what he saw. His body was no longer that of a soft, slightly overweight computer engineer but that of a Greek god, his muscles bulging and pulsing with newfound power. His shirt was now stretched to its limits, the buttons straining against his swollen chest, and his pants were a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

He stumbled to his private bathroom, the urgency of the transformation making him feel like he was on the verge of bursting out of his clothes. As he closed the door behind him, he let out a deep, animalistic groan. The coolness of the tiles against his bare feet was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. He reached down and unbuttoned his pants, the zipper protesting the new landscape it had to navigate.

The fabric of his shirt was now a second skin, clinging to every new ridge and bulge of muscle. He peeled it off with trembling hands, the cotton feeling like Velcro against his overheated flesh. His reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable, a sculpture of power and dominance staring back at him. His once soft stomach had transformed into a set of abs, each ripple a testament to his newfound strength.

With a grunt, Tamil pulled his polo shirt over his head, the material giving way to the relentless expansion of his biceps. The sleeves tore like paper, the sound echoing through the bathroom like a declaration of his rebirth. His shoulders had widened significantly, the muscles stretching and popping the material beyond its breaking point. The shirt hit the floor, a discarded shell of his former self.

In the mirror, his chest was a landscape of power, the pecs swollen and tight, the nipples now hardened peaks in the center of a sea of newfound muscle. His abs were a masterpiece of definition, each rippling like waves in the ocean, a six-pack that had bloomed into a stunning eight-pack. His back was a tapestry of muscle, the lats flared like the wings of an eagle, the traps rising like mountain ranges under his skin. His arms were thick and bulging, the biceps and triceps etched with veins that looked like roads on a topographical map, leading to the promised land of his newfound strength.

His shoulders had broadened to a width that would make any bodybuilder jealous, the deltoids swollen and round, the muscles shifting and dancing as he moved his arms. His forearms were now as thick as tree trunks, the veins standing out like ropes, pulsating with the life force that had been unlocked by the enchanted socks. The sight was both terrifying and awe-inspiring, a testament to the power that now surged through his veins.

The fabric of his corporate pants had reached its breaking point, the seams now screaming in protest against the unyielding pressure of his swelling legs. With a final, dramatic rip, the material gave way, revealing the true extent of his transformation.

His legs were a marvel to behold, thick and powerful like the trunks of ancient oaks. The muscles of his thighs bulged with every step, each flex sending shockwaves down to his calves, now as round and firm as cannonballs. His quads had grown to the size of watermelons, each muscle group clearly defined, a testament to the strength that now flowed through him. The socks, once a mere curiosity, were now a part of him, their colors pulsing in time with his heartbeat, the material stretched taut over his newly formed Adonis belt, the V-shaped line that led down to his groin.

His calves were a complex network of power, the diamond-shaped muscles flexing and releasing with each step he took, the skin now as taut as a drumhead. His feet had become large and wide, the toes now thick and powerful, each one a tiny hammer ready to strike the ground with the force of a piston. The socks had transformed his feet as well, the fabric now a second skin that melded with his new form, the arches now high and pronounced, a sign of the strength that lay beneath.

The last piece of clothing that clung to him was his briefs, now a tiny scrap of fabric that barely contained the beast that had been unleashed. The waistband was stretched to its limits, the elastic digging into his hips like a vice grip. His cock was obscenely large, a thick, veiny monster that throbbed and pulsed with every beat of his heart, begging for release. The head was a swollen mushroom cap, a deep purple hue that seemed to glisten in the bathroom's fluorescent lights. The shaft was a work of art, a sculpture of power that curved upwards, reaching for his now rock-hard abs.

The enchanted socks had done more than just transform his legs; they had turned him into a sexual powerhouse, the very essence of masculine virility. Tamil could feel his balls tighten with each new surge of power, the weight of his new form a constant, heavy reminder of the change. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and desire, his body demanding relief from the intense pressure that had built up inside him.

The pressure built inside him, his muscles flexing and bulging as he fought against the urge to give in to the primal instinct that consumed him. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a roar that echoed through the bathroom, the sound so primal that it seemed to shake the very walls of the building. The last of his transformation had been completed, and his body was now a temple to masculine desire.

As he looked down at his engorged member, it began to pulse with a life of its own, the veins standing out like cords of steel. He could feel the cum churning in his balls, the pressure building like a volcano about to erupt. With a final grunt, he released the beast, his cock spurting thick ropes of white-hot semen that arced through the air like a fountain. The floor was quickly covered in a puddle of his essence, the warmth of his cum spreading across the cold tiles.

Tamil watched in awe as his body continued to convulse with pleasure, his muscles rippling and flexing with every spurt. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a powerful climax that seemed to go on forever. His mind raced with thoughts of dominance and breeding, a primal instinct that now ruled his every thought.

As the final droplets of cum fell from his cock, he turned to the mirror again, his eyes raking over his new form. Every inch of him was a testament to power, from the bulging biceps to the thick, powerful thighs. He couldn't help but flex, the sight of his newfound strength making him feel like a king.

The socks had done more than just transform his body; they had also transformed his mind. Where before there had been a hint of doubt, now there was only confidence. Tamil's thoughts grew more dominant, more arrogant, as if the very essence of masculinity had been distilled into his being. He knew he was now the alpha, the one who would lead and protect, and the idea made him swell with pride.

In the mirror, he watched as his biceps bulged and danced with every flex, the power within them seemingly infinite. His chest had become a fortress of muscle, the pecs standing tall and proud, each one a testament to his newfound virility. His abs rippled like a stomach of steel, the definition so sharp it could cut glass. He could see the desire in his own eyes, a hunger that went beyond the physical.

Tamil felt a swell of arrogance rise within him, a newfound confidence that was as potent as the musk that now filled the room. He had always been a good provider for Kamala, but now he felt like a king, ready to claim his queen and fill her with his seed. The thought of her carrying his children, raising a strong and powerful family, made his chest swell even more, his heart pounding with the need to claim her.

He stepped closer to the mirror, running his hands over his bulging abs, feeling each ripple of muscle beneath his fingertips. His gaze drifted down to his crotch, where his cock still stood tall, now slightly less engorged but no less impressive. He knew that with this new body, he could give her everything she desired, satisfy her in ways he never could before. The desire to impregnate her, to fill her with his seed, was overwhelming. It was as if his very soul was screaming for it, a primal need that could no longer be ignored.

Tamil's mind raced with thoughts of a future filled with strong, healthy children that would carry on his legacy. He could see them playing in the backyard of a large, beautiful house, a home that he would provide for them with the same strength and determination that now pumped through his veins. His love for Kamala grew more intense, a burning passion that made him want to claim her, to show her what a real man could do.

He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He knew he couldn't just waltz out of the bathroom naked, not in the middle of the office. His mind searched for a solution, and that's when he heard the soft knock on the door. "Mr. Tamil, are you okay in there?" His secretary's voice was filled with concern.

Tamil cleared his throat, his voice now a deep rumble that seemed to fill the small space. "Yeah, I'm fine," he called out, trying to hide the tremble of excitement in his voice. "But, uh, I had a bit of a…wardrobe malfunction."

There was a pause on the other side of the door, and then his secretary responded, "Should I send someone to help you?"

"No, I'm fine," Tamil said, his voice still a bit shaky from the overwhelming transformation. "Just grab me something big from the closet, maybe a couple of sizes up from my usual."

The secretary's footsteps retreated, and he heard the door to his office open and close. He took a moment to appreciate the new reflection in the mirror. His body was no longer that of a soft, slightly overweight man; it was a masterpiece of muscular perfection, sculpted by the very fabric of power itself. The socks had not just altered his physique but had also transformed his mind, filling him with a dominance he had never felt before.

Tamil couldn't resist the urge to flex once more, watching his biceps swell and his chest ripple with the power that surged through him. The mirror was a reflection of his new identity, a promise of the future that lay before him. His mind raced with thoughts of the new life he would lead, the challenges he would overcome, and the pleasures he would claim.

The knock on the door was a gentle reminder of the world outside, and his secretary's voice echoed through the room. "Here are the clothes, Mr. Tamil," she said, laying a set of oversized garments on the counter. Without hesitation, she turned and walked away, leaving him in a bubble of anticipation. He knew the moment he stepped out of the bathroom, everything would be different. The socks had changed him in ways he had yet to fully comprehend.

Tamil donned the new clothes, feeling the soft fabric stretch over his newfound muscles. The shirt clung to his torso, accentuating the deep V of his abs, and the pants, though large, hugged his thick, powerful legs, leaving nothing to the imagination. He emerged from the bathroom, his posture now that of a man who knew his worth. The secretary's eyes widened at the sight of him, and she couldn't help but stare. He nodded and said, "Thanks," his voice a gruff rumble.

Aiden's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his heart racing as he saw the notifications from both Carlos and Tamil. He unlocked the screen to find two pictures, each showing off their new physiques with broad smiles and flexed biceps. Aiden's smirk grew as he read their messages. "Thanks for the gift, man. Feeling like a new person," Carlos had written, while Tamil's simply said, "You won't believe what happened."

[willowed-wisp]

I’m really fucking drunk right now

But the request is to just make Soap and Ghost happy, however you decide to do that 😭

Complete freedom of uhhhhhhhh prompt just that, idk, I’m floating off the face of the earth right now I am not here nope nowhere too much wine I think but it was fun 👍

mistletoe [ ghost ]

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I hope I did well with the request given, it said to make Soap and Ghost happy. And the boys do need some love. And anonymous, I feel you- my exact though process on wine lol

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Christmas, the time of giving… even in the military… even in its special branches. You were the only female on your squad, which meant one thing. You would be the only one getting them presents, because that’s just what you did at the festive season.

No missions, but you did find out from Price the most vagrant member of the teams’ phone number; being placed with him and Soap on most occasions.

When he didn’t respond to your text message to meet up, you set Soap on the case. You didn’t have family, Johnny didn’t speak to his and Simon you really had no clue about… the 23rd December rolls on, you had been up since four in the morning from habit but decided to get prepared. Cutting carrots… getting the roasties ready to cook later… Yorkshire pudding mix ready to go… Turkey in the oven…

Before you knew it there was a firm knock on the door and it was ten o’clock, and you’d expected to just see the postman before they went on their holiday leave. “Somethin’ smells good… watcha cookin’?” Johnny brushed straight past you to the kitchen, and the biggest surprise was seeing Simon Riley on your doorstep.

“He’s not wrong…” He said, rubbing is feet on the mats on both the inside and outside. Taking his boots off, you smiled at his politeness. You had never hung out with Simon, he kept himself to himself. Though you thought Johnny pushed him into coming over.

Entering your kitchen, stood Johnny MacTavish with a finger dipped in the eggnog… looking like a guilty child when you entered, “It wasn’t me, I swear…” You waved it off.

“A bit of gun grease never hurt anyone…” Knowing how messy the job proved most of the time, “How does it taste? The eggnog, not gun grease…” Ghost just stood leaned against the door frame connecting kitchen and living room. While Johnny tasted.

His eyes electric giving a hum, “Oh my god, Simon, you’ve got to try some…” Eyes lingered on you and then Johnny.

“I’m driving back, remember…”

“Come on, Lt… I’m sure Y/N doesn’t mind us staying until later, do you?” Head shaking with a dim smile on your lips.

Opening the overhead cupboard, “I even stocked a couple bottles of bourbon…” A brow raised by Simon beneath the hood and Johnny chuckled.

He shook your shoulders from behind you, “How can you say no to these faces?” Both giving your best mopey frowning.

Simon’s arms folded, “Use that technique in negotiations? Because I’m not turnin’ down a bottle of bourbon…” Johnny released your shoulders, returning back to the eggnog jug. “I wanna know why we’re actually here?” You hadn’t realised he’d slipped to stand directly beside you, and you felt your knees numb at the height of the man you’d spent hours of missions with…

It felt like you were under interrogation, “I thought you both deserved a homemade Christmas meal instead of a ready-made spag bol from the shops…” Only comprehending how close the man was to you, pushing off the island countertop and checking the turkey…

You had ushered the men to sit at counter on stools, Johnny had a jug of half gone eggnog in hand and Simon a whiskey glass. Simon more than Johnny marvelled how you worked around the kitchen, a spring in your step and a cheeky glint in your eye. A nudge to his right side, “Y’ staring, Lt…” He didn’t respond to the Sergeant, knowing fully well… maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go to your house and stay for an alcohol catering pre-Christmas meal.

But he couldn’t help it, “Need any help?”Talking to an optimistic person was what he craved and you seemed to be the only one in 141 that was a ray of sunshine in the storm ahead.

You queried, “You any good with mashing potatoes?” You swore you had never seen fluffier potatoes after Simon had finished up with the saucepan. “I’m impressed… and you alright there, Johnny?”

“Me nanna always slipped m’ some eggnog when I was a wee lad,” His cheeks ruddier than usual, and his smile wider. Let alone his speech, Simon and yourself sharing a humoured look at barely being able to understand your teammate.

Simon nudged him, taking the jug passing it to you, “Think you’ve had enough of that, Sergeant. Barely fuckin’ understand ya…” You giggled into your wine glass, taking a sip; meeting Ghost’s eye contact. He’d forgotten to take his mask up as the drink sputtered down his neck and onto his white shirt, “Fucks sake…” Discarding his jacket.

Johnny from the side, “Shit, bourbon stains like a bitch…” Simon didn’t care about the shirt, he just didn’t want to spend the entire day with an orange stain down himself.

“Throw me the shirt, I’ll get it out in a jiffy…” He cocked his eyebrow at you, “Not shy are you, Ghost?” In no time, his shirt was off and a flash of white caught in your hands.

His chin jerked up, “Work your magic then, love…” You couldn’t believe Simon Riley was taunting you, attempting to avert your gaze from landing on that toned chest and his broad shoulders. Relatively easy being around muscled men your entire career, though you were disappointed when his hoodie came over to block his skin. All while you used bicarbonate and white vinegar, scrubbing until the darker patch faded till it was barely there.

“Á voila!” Holding up the large T-shirt, “just need to chuck it in the wash.” Throwing it in with a bundle you had yet to put on. The alarm going off for the oven. Thinking a curse, tackling so much at once. Opting to run to the washing machine, throwing some washing powder and conditioner in. Returning back to the kitchen, alarm on snooze but met with the sight of Ghost carving the turkey, his collarbones defined and visible as was the top of his chest. The hem rising just enough to see the band of his boxers.

Johnny just smirked at you, merry as could be watching his squad members mentally undress each other between half-lidded gazes. “So you’re good with all kinds of knives?” You didn’t mean it to come out like a purr but it had, dishing up the roasties. Johnny was setting the three table places- he shot you a smile. A knowing one, that you had harboured a crush on your superior since you joined the SAS.

Simon Riley just had a swagger about him- a cockiness to his aptitude. He was also caring, whether he accepted that compliment or not. He had saved your life more times than you could count, you’d had his back countless in turn. Partners in stealth and then Johnny was brought into the dynamic, you’d hit it off immediately- you viewed him as an annoying, endearing brother all the while Ghost commented flirty jokes to you. Never enough to have intention but he still said it.

Never knowing much about the man, for all you knew he could have a wife and kids at home.

But the way he was acting, it could be a Christmas miracle that Lt. Simon Riley returned whatever flicker of a feeling you held for him. Fingers brushing against each other as you reached for the same cutlery set bundled beforehand by Johnny. Simon’s whiskey beside your wine while you had staved Johnny on lemonade. “I’m comin’ ‘ere for every Christmas… how did you ge’ the turkey like tha’,” It warmed your heart, you knew Johnny didn’t speak to his family all that much and that his Christmases were spent alone. “Wha’ abou’ you, Lt?”

Simon had his mask up below his nose, and had been munching away. Simply giving a shrug, before digging into more. If he hated it, he wouldn’t be going in for more on the plate.

“You’re okay with us stayin’ the night?” You had been the one to suggest it, and your house had three bedrooms. Though Johnny seemed content sleeping on the sofa- passing out after finishing off the jug of eggnog. You had draped a blanket over him. Simon was holding his whiskey well and hadn’t overdone it unlike the man asleep like a baby.

You were glad to be upstairs, avoiding Johnny’s snoring. “We’ll leave in the mornin’, so you can get shit ready for your family to come over…” That was the sad truth and he saw it on your face.

“I don’t have anybody round Christmas time…”

“No family?” It wasn’t like Simon to ask, the whiskey had loosened him up.

Your head shook, “My parents died, they’d been disowned by their families… so I’m usually on my own with a ready made spaghetti bolognese on Christmas,” You were too close to him- a wall overhead. Only noticing then that a stray mistletoe sat in that spot all year round. Your parents used to make an effort to kiss under it every day…

“We’re under mistletoe…” His gruff voice spoke too effortless while a blush covered your cheeks; maybe from the wine but maybe from how naked he was under that hoodie- forgetting that his shirt was still in the wash. “You’re gonna have to take it off?”

An arm around your waist as you wobbled. “What do you mean?” His other hand removed the mask he always made an effort to wear even while eating. But there he was, a normal man with a charming grin and puppy dog eyes. “Simon…?” Unsure of him…

“I wanna kiss you, Y/N…” And you sealed the deal, lips on his- stood on tiptoes with his palms keeping you upright. He was fire against you, your fingerprints were invisible when marking his neck. It was like a wave calmly drifting to shore, like Simon all together. Something that could be so violent yet tender, especially beneath your touch. Your lips off his, finding comfort in the eyes you’d known for years. “Did you want us to stay in the morning?”

Pondering, “Don’t you have family who want to spend Christmas with you?” A shake of the head with a lopsided grin on his face.

The man shrugged, “We never did anything for it, it’s just another day,” that’s when he grabbed your hand, “But I’d love to spend Christmas with you… and Johnny…”

The three of you ended up making another Christmas dinner on the 25th, Johnny got drunk on eggnog and ended up doing karaoke while you and Simon held hands under a blanket. A snap of you three on your Polaroid and added to your kitchen’s cork board and a picture from Christmas evening of you and Simon Riley in bed- no mask but the fact neither of you were wearing clothes wasn’t obvious.

He would come back after dropping Johnny off on Boxing Day… “Shit! I forgot to give you two presents…” He pulled you back onto the sofa as you went to rush away.

“You gave us something better than a present…” Before planting a kiss on your temple, “And your cooking was perfect,” cuddling into you watching a cheesy Christmas movie. Kind of like the one you had just lived out.

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cod m.list | request guidelines | ghost m.list

[ruedesu]

Bakugou x reader, experimenting with writing this au, might continue it depending on the brainrot.

cw: death, descriptions of death, silly

Heavily heavilyy inspired by the manga Re-Living My Life with a Boyfriend Who Doesn't Remember Me

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Stay with me."

Katsuki's hand winds around your waist pulling you closer to him.

"Stay with me for the rest of the night."

A warm breeze blows through the leaves of the courtyard trees, and shadows of leaves dance across his face. Spring is here, and that means graduation is right around the corner.

"Katsuki, I-"

His lips interrupt yours as he kisses you. A dance of need and passion; his hands go to your neck, angling your head for a deeper kiss.

He steals the breath from your lungs as if there is nothing easier in this world for him to do.

You could die happily in this very moment as long as he never lets you go.

Smiling, you pull away, and his lips chase you. You grant him one more kiss before pulling away again, this time spinning just out of his reach.

"I would love nothing more than to continue, but I have to go to the supplemental class Aizawa is teaching, or I won't graduate."

His shoulders slump, "You can't skip, just this once?"

You raise your eyebrows, "Is Bakugou Katsuki asking me to skip a class?"

He rolls his eyes and looks away from you, giving you a perfect angle of his lower lip puff out in annoyance, but his hand reaches for yours. His heart shows you his true colors.

"I want to talk about what happens after we graduate..."

It's hard to hide the smile on your face, "We will, tonight I promise. But first, I have to actually graduate."

His eyes turn back to you, and his thumb draws circles on the back of your palm.

There's something swirling in his mind, a worry that you don't know how to quench, until he blinks it away, banishing it from his mind.

"Find me right after, okay?"

You nod quickly, "Right after, I promise."

His hand, still holding yours, pulls you into his embrace. His strong arms wrap around you, squeezing you so tightly you can barely use your arms to hug him back.

"I'll be in the lounge in the west wing waiting." He whispers, kissing your hairline.

He releases you from his hug prison, his fingertips trace the length of your arm until his fingers lock with yours again.

Your heart thumps in your chest. He's being so clingy you're going to explode.

"Katsuki, is there-"

Across the courtyard, the bell tower strikes four. The loud chimes echo in your ear as you curse. "Shit, we'll talk tonight. I promise."

You quickly gather your bag from the base of the tree and run back to Bakugou for another kiss.

"The west lounge, I won't forget."

"You better not." He says begrudgingly, but with a small smile in the corner of his pout.

You just one more smqll kiss and then run to Mr. Aizawa's lesson.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Oh it's so late, I hope Katsuki's not worried.

Your boots splash through puddles as you try to dodge the large raindrops.

You make it to the west wing and dry yourself off as you climb the stairs with haste in your step.

The lounge door opens with a small creak, and your lungs are instantly filled with warmth.

The lounge is a medium-sized room with tables lining the walls and a hearth directly opposite the door with two lounging chairs in front of it.

The room is empty except for the small spikes of blonde you can see poking up from the lounging chairs.

You set your things down and walk around the chair, ready to be met with an annoyed but relieved gaze, but instead, his eyes are closed, and his head rests against the back of the chair.

He fell asleep waiting for you. Your heart nearly grows two sizes, and you're mentally screaming your love for him over and over again.

You sit down on the floor next to his leg and rest your head against his thigh.

You're expecting his usual warmth to reach you, to seep into your bones and wash away all your worries, but instead, you're met with cold.

Lightning flashes through the window, and the crack of the thunder jumpstarts your anxiety.

"Katsuki?"

You pick your head up, scanning his body for any type of movement.

"Katsuki?!"

You rush to check his chest, his heart, and it's silent. Cold.

You panic. How? Adrenaline courses through you, and you carefully pull your lover from his chair to the floor.

You scream for help as you unbutton his shirt, looking for any signs of trauma or blood.

"Please, please," you beg, your own lungs struggling to take in enough air.

"Someone! Help him!"

Lightning flashes again, the bright light illuminating his body, and sears the macabre scene into your memory.

"Help!" You shout again before a cough takes hold of you, and you clutch your throat. Your lungs are filling with fire.

Your vision starts to blur, no, no, no.

You try to yell, to scream, but no sound comes out.

I have to save him... I have to...

You look to the door, and back to Katsuki.

Please.

You try to crawl, but your arms can't support the weight.

Please.

I have to save him.

Thunder booms as your eyes close.

Please.

You stretch your hand out to reach Katsuki one last time.

Please.

A shock pierces through you, and then the world fades to black.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Gasping for air, you bolt upright.

What was that? A dream? That was way too real to be just a dream. I was in love, almost graduated... until... oh my god.

You push your mind to remember every detail, pulling every memory from a fog so that you won't forget.

Katsuki...

Your heart yearns for him. Is he alive? Where is he?

And for that matter, where are you?

You look around the room and the realizationshocks you. No... no way.

You get out of bed, run to the mirror in the corner of the room, and look at your reflection.

This can not be happening. You pinch your cheeks, no. You slap your cheeks, absolutely not.

And then there's a knock on your door calling your name, "Are you going to spend your tenth birthday in your room? Come out for breakfast!"

I went back in time?!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

a/n: thanks for reading!! I've had this stuck in my head for days and had to get it out. Def go check out the original book if you're craving more of this trope. I might write more because I am living for it. If I do write more I'll probably add more details about the setting but I think this is a good start!

[hugshughes]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟, 𝐘/𝐧 𝐘/𝐥/𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐮𝐦, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞!

𝐰𝐜 - 1.4𝐤 (𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐡𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟!)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 - 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝! 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 (𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲!), 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - 𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬!

𝐦𝐚����𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @alwaysclassyeagle (𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!)

-

real life! december 10th, 2023. 8:23pm EST.

"I'm gonna fucking throw up. I can't do it."

You earned a slap on the back of the head after the loud proclamation. You turned to your best friend with wide eyes, rubbing the spot she made contact with.

"No you're not. And yes you can! Everyone's gonna go ballistic, they miss you babe!"

You stared down at your phone, gazing at the text messages between you and your manager, she'd just given you the go ahead to post the announcement for your new album.

In reality, you knew they did miss you, but you were so nervous. Your new album was so special to you, and you wanted it to be recieved well. Every song was so complex and unique to you. It was the first album you would release since the worst breakup of your life. After you'd finally broken up with Mat, all you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and not talk to anyone for a year. Honestly, that's kind of what you did.

"I know. I just want everyone to love it like I do."

"They will, I promise. Everyone's gonna freak! Now, I have an idea."

"What?"

"After you post, we leave our phones down here and while we go get ready, and go to that bar you love!"

You smiled, that sounded fun. You opened Instagram, sliding to create a post. After choosing the photo of the new album cover, you typed out a caption.

"Okay, we can do that! That'll take my mind off of this. Now I just need to post, shit, I'm nervous."

You looked over and your best friend just smiled and nodding towards your phone. You sighed, biting your lip before hitting the post button. You refreshed your profile to make sure it posted before shutting your phone off, dropping it next to you on the couch.

Your best friend jumped up, grabbing your hands and pulling you to stand.

"Let's go, sweetheart. We're gonna go get you happy and tipsy."

You followed her upstairs and into your bedroom, standing at the door of your closet while she grabbed outfits to offer you. You let her dress you up like a little doll. She put you in a little black dress with a white bow under the bust. She added black boots and your outfit was complete. You both fixed up your hair and makeup before putting together your going out bags.

Once you were downstairs all you did was throw your phone into your little purse, not caring to check any of the notifications you were receiving. You climbed into her Black SUV before she pulled out of your driveway, starting to the city. You lived in a few different places, having two homes and an apartment in three different cities. Currently, you were staying in your house in New York, in a more suburban and residential area farther from the city.

You also had a house in Palm Springs and an apartment in Seattle, since that's where lots of your family currently was. The drive to the bar was about 40 minutes, all spent singing and dancing with your phone connected to CarPlay. You guys parked in a large parking garage before heading down the street into the bar. You walked quickly to get away from the cold, shivering beneath your large leather jacket.

The bar was always less crowded than most, since it was higher end, and you knew some of the staff. Your face lit up as you saw your favorite bartender wiping down glasses as you sat at the bar.

"Hi lady!"

Her head snapped up, a smile gracing her face while she greeted you.

"Aw hi! Oh my gosh, girl. I saw your announcement! You don't know how excited I am!"

Your heart warmed. This being the first reaction you heard to your announcement was definitely sweet.

"Stop, thank you so much! I've definitely been really nervous about it. I haven't even checked my phone since I posted it."

"Well you are going crazy viral, everyone is freaking out!"

You best friend gave you a knowing look, she had told you so. You blushed, thinking about your fans loving the new album. You got your drinks and went to sit at an empty booth in the back of the bar, a Cosmopolitan and a lemonade, since your best friend was designated driver. There were only a couple other groups here, around 10 other people.

After a bit, you two took a trip to the restroom. You took your jacket off while you best friend took photos of you in the mirror to post later.

After around two hours, you exited the bar, the time nearing midnight. You were astounded when you saw flashes of light blinding you as you began the walk to the garage. Paparazzi. Thankfully, you were in New York, and knew the guys.

"Oh, hi guys! What's up?"

"Hey Y/n! What's up with us? What's up with you?! Everyone saw the announcement earlier tonight! Personally, I can't wait!"

You smile brightly, New York paparazzi weren't like Los Angeles paparazzi. These were the guys you knew through Taylor, they were respectful and not pushy.

"Thank you so much! I'm so excited! I literally have not looked at my notifications since posting it, I was too nervous!"

"Can you tell us what the album's gonna be about? Maybe a little insight?"

"Well, the songs are all pretty different from each other, honestly. Some are more personal than others. But the genre of music isn't too steady through on this album, I jumped around a bit!“

They nodded, laughing along with you. You answered a few more questions and took a few more pictures before they let you go. You felt happiness settle into your stomach when you got comfortable in the car.

It wasn't until after you got home, and got ready for bed that you started looking through your new notifications. Many texts from friends congratulating you, news that you were trending on Twitter, and that you post had 6 million likes in five hours.

Your manager had also texted you that sometime soon you should post the back cover, especially since the first post was so well received.

First you posted the photo from the bar to your story before going to post the back cover, some how more nervous than before. The back cover had the track list on it, it would reveal the whole album. Scary.

"Just post it! I'm not going through this with you again."

Your best friend gave you a look, one that heavily reminded you of her mother, with a hand on her hip before she climbed into your bed next to you. You nodded, sighing as you hit the post button.

The two of you laid close and talked quietly, giggling and shushing each other like little girls scared their moms were going to come in and tell them to go to sleep.

Eventually you did fall asleep, the do not disturb setting stopping your phone from buzzing off the table.

-

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[sunsetchicane]

cowboy like me [LN4]

lando x fem!reader

word count: 8.2k

summary: The one where you work on a ranch and it’s everything you know. There’s nothing that can come between you and your love for your home. Not even a handsome stranger who seems to pull the best out of you.

warnings: slight angst, some fluff, horses!, brief sexual innuendo, a singular swear word, and one [sad] kiss.

author’s note: hey! hi! hello! this is my first fic on here (omgggg 🤭) so please, please, please let me know your thoughts/comments/questions! might write a second part to this…thoughts??[xoxo elle]

~~~

Buxton Ranch has been in the Buxton family before Montana even became an official Union state in 1889. Land wasn’t simply a commodity or property back then; it was life or death. William T. Buxton and his wife, Mary Anne, put their boots down on this land along with their four children and they’ve never left. They fought their way over the mountains, survived the unbearable, and have reaped the benefits of their resilience for over a century and a half.

Willamina T. Buxton I, my boss, is the great-something granddaughter of William T. Buxton I. Her father, William T. Buxton VII handed over the ranch to her on her 30th birthday a few years back. The controversy caused ripples through the entire community because even though Willamina is Mr. Buxton’s first born, the ranch has always been handed down to the eldest son. Willa is the first woman to ever have ownership of the ranch.

My family hasn’t been in Montana nearly as long as the Buxtons. My mom and I moved out here in the spring the year I was born. My father skipped out before my mom could even hold herself upright in her hospital bed after laboring with me. She tells me that we came here to Montana for a fresh start, and what better place to go than where the sky is bigger and the air is pure. The mountains became our safe haven, our buffer from the rest of the world and, more importantly, our history. It’s easy to forget up here, to allow your mind to rest. I’ve never been at a loss for why the Buxtons came and never left. Sometimes, in the dark of my room, I pretend that I really am a Buxton, that I truly belong.

However, when the sun breaks across the mountain peaks and the world comes alive once again, I’m forced to realize that I don’t belong to the Buxton dynasty. I simply work for them.

My alarm blares to my right, causing me to shoot upright. With fumbling fingers, I seek for the power button of my alarm clock. When I finally find it and shut off the hellish noise, I fling my legs over the side of my bed. With the heels of my hands, I rub the sleep from my eyes. The world around me is painted in a deep blue, still fast asleep and undisturbed by my alarm. I envy it as I rise from my bed and get ready for the day.

Silently, I pull on my bootcut Wranglers and a light green long sleeved button down. My belt and beat up old boots complete the ensemble for the moment being. My next stop is the bathroom where I brush my teeth and comb my hair. Tying my hair off into a low braid so it’ll sit right under my hat takes only a couple minutes. I’ve been wearing my hair the same way to work every day for the past seven years.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen where a pot of coffee is automatically brewing on schedule. I toss a few eggs into a pan as well as two pieces of bread into the toaster. The breakfast of champions and me every single day. After crushing a cup of coffee and my plain breakfast, it’s time to head out. Instead of living on-site with the rest of the ranch hands, I still live with my mom. I’ve been wanting to move out to the ranch for over a year now since I finished college, but the possibility of breaking my mom’s heart stops me from even mentioning it to her.

Glancing at the clock, I know I have plenty of time to spare, but I start to pack up and head out the door anyway. I enjoy being early to the ranch. It’s peaceful and serene before it wakes and rises. Grabbing my work jacket because the winter’s just turning over to spring, my chaps, and my lunch sack, I head out the door. My mom and I share an old, sunburnt orange Chevy truck that just barely runs. I toss my things into the bed of the pickup before sliding into the worn out driver’s seat. As I slide the key into the ignition, I send up a quick prayer that she turns over. When I press the key forward, the engine roars to life. Prayers have been answered this morning and I hope it’s a good omen for the rest of the day.

The drive to Buxton Ranch is short and sweet, all dirt roads and drifting grassy fields. The radio sounds quietly and the engine hums loudly, but everything else is completely still. A distant light orange is just starting to brush the very edges of the horizon in the east. Nature is starting to reach out and stretch its sleepy limbs.

As I pull up to the place where I always park near a stretch of fence, I see a figure dressed in shadows leaning over the wood a few yards away. Once I’ve tossed the pickup into park and yanked out the keys, I jump down from my seat so I can walk over to her. She’s always out here before everyone. Sometimes I see her, most times I don’t. When I do, it feels like fate, like there’s something about today that’s meant to happen this way. Or maybe it’s just Willamina Buxton.

“Good morning, y/n,” she rasps without glancing over at me. Crossing my arms, I lean over the log fence and take in the view. I don’t think there’s a better view in all of Montana than that from Buxton Ranch.

“Good morning, Willa,” I answer quietly. Her brother, Wyatt, was my best friend growing up. She’s only 12 years older than the two of us, but somehow she seems infinitely older and wiser. She’s been a role model for me. We grew closer after Wyatt left for college a few years back. Of course he came back in the summers to visit, but he never stayed long. He wasn’t born for this life. Instead of horses, he dealt with horse power. He always wanted to become an engineer for Formula One. When the opportunity came to go overseas to study in England and intern at McLaren, he hadn’t even thought twice. One day he was here, and the next he was gone.

I struggled with feeling abandoned for a while, but I came to terms with it quickly. I realized that dreams were meant to be chased and he was incredibly fortunate to get this opportunity. I was also chasing my dream, I just had to go down the street instead of across an ocean. We keep in touch, calling frequently and texting nearly every day, but it’s not the same. I miss him.

“Heard from Wyatt recently?” Willa says quietly then takes a sip from her mug of iron black coffee.

“Not in a couple of days. Seems busy,” I mumble. Wyatt’s leaving is a bit of a sore spot for Willa. She wanted him to stay on the ranch and in the family business. Her asking about him is a bit of an anomaly.

She hums, then pauses, then sighs. “Lots to do today. We better get going.”

And just like that the work day starts.

I tend to the horses right away, leading them out into the corral so I can wash out their stalls from over the weekend. I give each of them fresh hay and fill up large troughs of water for the more temperamental ones. Then I lead them one at a time back into their stalls and give them a thorough once over to check how they’re doing.

The last one I have to put away is the youngest of the group. He came to us only last year, unbroke and wild as the river. He’s a black Morgan stallion, sleek and athletic. He’s larger than your typical Morgan, with rippling muscle, and a proud face. He’s beautiful. We call him Jupe.

“Jupe,” I coo kindly to the untamed stallion. “Come on, Jupe.”

He casts a look over his back at me telling me everything I need to know. Sighing, I toss myself over the fence and into the corral. With my palms raised up and in front of me, I show him the leather lead in my hand as I walk over to him slowly.

“Come on, Jupe, we gotta go back inside. I cleaned up real nice for you, boy. Fresh hay, new water, you’re living the five star life, buddy,” I say while creeping up on him. He doesn’t move, but simply tracks my movements with his black eyes. Nerves claw at my stomach as I approach him. Reaching out slowly, I praise him and repeat his name over and over. Finally, I slide the clip of the lead around a loop in his bridle. But there’s no relief yet. I still have to get him into the stables without incident.

“Good boy, Jupe,” I say, reaching out gently to stroke his nose. He pushes at my hand playfully. A surge of pride washes over me. Maybe the two of us are finally making progress. Jupe lets me lead him out of the corral and back to his stall with ease. Today really is my day.

“Thank you,” I whisper to the stallion as I slide the lock shut on his door. Jupe’s head hangs over the short door, his head coming down to level with mine. Patting him gently, I pull a couple sugar cubes from my pack. I hold them up to him on my flat palm and he slurps them up gratefully. A smile that I can do nothing to stop breaks across my face. I’m gonna saddle him up one day. And maybe that day is sooner than I’d anticipated.

“Only you would give that stubborn Morgan a treat,” I hear a familiar voice say. I whip around in disbelief as the tone and inflexion registers in my mind.

“Then again, maybe the two of you have bonded over your mutual stubbornness.” Wyatt hardly gets the words out before I’m taking his arm in mine and wrapping him up in a hug with the other. We laugh as we sway side to side. My hat careens to the side of my head as I hug him and I know I must be getting him all sweaty and dirty, but I can’t find it in myself to care about vanity at the moment. Wyatt’s back.

“Surprise!” He says when I finally let go of him. He’s wearing a bright smile as I pull back. Wyatt reaches up and straightens out my hat for me.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming!” I say while smacking the back of my hand against his shoulder. “I would’ve gotten off work and…”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he laughs as I slide past him to finish up sweeping this side of the stables.

“You’re right,” I laugh along with him while I sweep. He knows that I love my job too much to step away from it. I hate missing a day and he knows that.

Wyatt takes a seat on a stack of unused hay bales that I’ll have to load back up. He chats with me about school and England and McLaren. I don’t know much about Formula One, just what I picked up on from Wyatt constantly chatting my ear off about it. Most of the stuff that Wyatt has told me, however, goes way over my head. What I do know is that this boy is an engineering genius and McLaren is lucky to have him now as a full-time employee. They offered him a job straight out of university. He’ll be living full time in the UK. My stomach twists at the thought.

“So, what do you have going on for the rest of the day?” Wyatt asks after I’ve finished sweeping. I place my hands on top of the broom and lean my chin over my fingers.

“Riley and I were going to take down that rickety south fence and…” I start to say while mentally checking my to-do list.

“Sandy’s helping Riley with that,” Wyatt says matter-of-factly. I cast him a questioning look to which he simply blinks at.

“Alright. Then I have to go to the cattle and check on all of the pregnant…”

“Louise has that covered,” Wyatt informs me while picking at his nails. What is he getting at?

“Why…well, then I have to…” I begin, trying to move away from things that he could possibly know of.

“Go riding with me and my friends!” Wyatt exclaims while hopping off the hay bales and clapping his hands together. “Wonderful idea.”

My jaw drops. There’s no way that he’s trying to make me skip the rest of the day to go riding. Not after we just had a conversation over the fact that I would never do that. That I could never do that. I have an obligation to be here, to get things done.

“Wy, you know I’d love to, but I’ve got work to do,” I say firmly while walking over to hang up my broom. Jupe huffs and brays at Wyatt as he walks briskly over to me.

“No you don’t. I made sure of it,” Wyatt says while grabbing my hands so I have no choice but to stand in front of him. “Willa’s told me to inform you that if you’re found working this afternoon, there’ll be severe consequences.”

At that, I know I have to oblige with Wyatt’s request. If Willa gave the all clear, there’s no reason for me to try and argue. One thing about the Buxtons is they’re nearly as strong-willed as the horses they hold. Not to mention it would be incredibly rude of me to not accept Willa’s generosity. This doesn’t stop me from letting Wyatt know exactly how I feel about him pulling me away from my work. I do so in colorful language the entire walk over to the house.

“You don’t even want to go riding with me, you just want me to be your guide,” I feign an accusation as we approach a small crowd of people on the large front deck of the Buxtons glorious ranch home. I see a few ranch hands and two other men that I don’t know, who must be Wyatt’s friends.

“You are the best guide out here.” His backhanded compliment earns him an eye roll. As we approach the house, he tells me to wait for a second while he calls over his friends. Their heads turn quickly to the two of us when Wyatt calls to them. They say hasty goodbyes to the staff they were chatting with before walking over to Wyatt and I. One is tall and pale, with pale eyes, and pale hair. His cheeks are flushed a slight pink from the chill that still hangs in the spring air. He looks lively and excited, his eyes bouncing around from one thing to another at lightning speed.

The other man is shorter with cropped, dark, curly hair. His hazel eyes are sharp and brilliant against his tanned skin. As he draws nearer, I can tell that he’s very physically fit. He’s wearing a tight long sleeve shirt that hugs his arms, brand new boot cut jeans, and a shiny pair of boots that have obviously never been worn. His eyes, unlike his friend, don’t wander while he walks over to us; they stay trained on me. A small smile falls across his pretty pink lips as he finds me watching him swagger his way over. He’s attractive.

“Never seen a British boy in cowboy boots before,” I say when they stop in front of us, glancing down at the brunette's footwear. When my eyes flick up to his, he still hasn’t stopped looking at me. Clearing my throat, I extend a hand to the blonde.

“Hi, y/n,” I introduce myself while shaking his hand.

“Mitchel,” he says, his accent is sharp and acutely German, which takes me by surprise. I nod, casting him a warm smile. I watch as Mitchel’s eyes flick to Wyatt over my shoulder. Following suit, I catch Wy smiling like a fool and a slight blush that I don’t think has anything to do with the weather coating his cheeks. When he sees me looking at him, he quickly crosses his arms and looks away. My smile widens. Mitchel drops my hand and then stuffs his back into his pockets.

“Y/n,” I say to Wyatt’s other friend who has a bit of a staring problem. He takes my hand in his slowly.

“Lando Norris,” He says crisply, his accent confirming my previous assessment. “Nice to finally meet you, y/n.”

His name catches in my mind, as if I’ve heard it before but I can’t place it. Wyatt must have mentioned him at some point, but for the life of me I can’t remember what about. A moment passes and our hands stay held together in the space between us as I try to place him. My eyes scan over his face and catalog his freckles and scars and the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles. When it dawns on me that I’m now the one with a staring problem, I swiftly pull my hand from his. Briefly, his jaw clenches.

“Finally, huh?” I take his previous statement and run with it. Turning my back to Lando, I glance over at Wyatt. “Just what have you been saying about me?”

“All good things, all good things,” Wy assures me while coming up to clasp me on the shoulder. He leans into me with a big smile that makes my stomach churn at the thought of what he’s actually told his friends. What does Lando think of me? Why does it matter what Lando thinks of me?

“Well,” I say quickly, trying to shake the thought of Lando from my head. “I suppose we should get going if we want to be back by sundown.”

The three boys nod their heads in agreement. The four of us walk over to the stables. Wyatt and Mitchel walk slowly behind me as they chit chat and laugh. Casting a glance over my shoulder at them, I watch as their shoulders bump together and their fingers brush intentionally. I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling. Wyatt’s alway had a hard time with romance and partnership just because of where we grew up and the hate he received for simply being himself. Seeing him this way, happy and smitten, makes me feel proud. It affirms that his leaving was necessary in so many ways.

“How long have you been working here?” Lando’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. My attention slides over to him. He’s come up to my left, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes are wide and curious as he looks at me. I can’t help but feel like I’m being analyzed.

“Seven years. But I’ve been on the ranch all my life. I took riding lessons from Willa and then became fast friends with Wyatt,” I tell him while pulling my eyes from his. Returning his gaze seems difficult, so I keep my eyes trained on the stable. He hums in acknowledgement of my response. I can feel his eyes on me still.

“Do you work at McLaren with Wyatt?” I ask my new acquaintance. He chuckles to himself a little, his pretty eyes squinting from his large smile.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he says, making me feel like I’m missing something. I scoff at his vague response, but don’t press the issue. If he wanted to explain himself, he would. His aura is interesting. He seems so sure of himself, completely at ease with who he is. It’s captivating.

We make it to the entrance of the stable and I instruct Lando and Mitchel to take a seat while Wyatt and I saddle up the horses. It takes us a while to get everyone ready for the trail ride, but with every passing minute, the more excited I get. Wyatt and I used to go out on the trails all the time. During the summer as teenagers, we would stuff our packs full of camping supplies and go for days at a time. Those memories are my most cherished possessions, things that I will never forget. Now whenever I take others up there, I feel as though I’m bearing a part of my soul to them.

Once we’re done getting everything ready, Wyatt leads his and Mitchel’s horses, Rudy and Molly, outside with Mitchel in tow. This leaves me alone with Lando. My stomach twists nervously when I feel his presence looming to my right.

“Ever ridden before?” I ask while petting Luna, a beautiful sorrel tovero paint. She’s older, but strong and steady, a good horse for a beginner.

“Yeah, loads,” Lando says while joining me in stroking Luna. I cast him a critical glance. If he sees it, he ignores me. Rolling my eyes, I really can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. It’s important to know what you’re doing while working with large animals. I make the mental note to keep him in my line of sight at all times while riding.

“Oh, good. Then you’ll be good to lead Ms. Luna out? She’s yours for the day,” I tell him while handing over the reins. I watch his adam's apple bob and his eyebrows lift slightly before nodding and accepting the reins from my hand. When his fingers brush over mine, goosebumps run across my arm. Quickly, I pull my hand away and turn towards Beau, my stallion for today. Fiddling aimlessly with his bridle, I wait until the steps of Luna and Lando have disappeared before releasing a breath. Leaning my forehead against Beau’s neck, I sigh at my stupid behavior. Am I really so touch starved that I get goosebumps at my finger brushing against his? That’s sad.

I take Beau’s reins in my hand and start leading him out to the waiting pack of boys. Just as I’m about to exit the stables, I look over at Jupe. He’s looking at me like he knows exactly what’s going on in my mind.

“Don’t give me attitude,” I tell him.

He just blinks at me.

Beau and I join everyone. Wyatt’s running Mitchel through the basics while Lando watches on. He’s pretending to not be listening by petting Luna and quietly talking to her, but I still catch the way he glances over when Wy demonstrates something. I walk around and do a quick double check on everyone’s gear before returning to Beau’s side. With the ease of muscle memory that I don’t think I’ll ever lose, I toss myself up and onto the saddle. Wyatt assists Mitchel into his saddle before climbing into his own. Lando glances over at me before sliding his foot into the stirrup and attempting to pull himself up. He looks out of his depth and slightly awkward as he hauls himself onto the saddle seat. Biting back a laugh, I click my tongue and squeeze my legs a little to get Beau to move for me. The two of us saunter up next to Lando. His easy continence is long gone, replaced by nerves and uncertainty. His hands shake as he grabs onto the reins incorrectly.

“Here, like this,” I correct while reaching out to his hands. My fingers pry his anxious fists open and fix where he’s holding the leather cord. I’m surprised to find calluses littering his palms, a mirror of my own. I maneuver his palm to rest in the right way so he doesn’t agitate Luna. I can feel Lando watching me as I touch and hold his hands. I’ve done this a hundred times when teaching lessons, but this is the first time that I feel an uncomfortable blush creeping onto my cheeks. Lando’s presence has me off axis, spinning out of my routine. I’ve known him for maybe an hour and he’s already getting under my skin.

“Just trust Luna, she knows the way,” I say quietly as I pull away from him. He bites at his lip but nods along with my words. Smiling as warmly as I can, I leave his side to ride up to Wyatt. However, I can’t help but glance back over my shoulder at him. He’s not looking at me, thankfully. Instead, his eyes are trained on his hands as he flexes them on the reins the way I showed him. His focus is endearing, almost cute.

But when his eyes rise to find mine, I snap my head forward in hopes that he didn’t catch me staring at him. The last thing I need is to develop some sort of childish crush on a stranger that I’ll never see again after a few days. I just have to keep my head down and my thoughts off of him.

“Time’s wasting!” Wyatt calls to me, letting me know that everyone is ready to go. Nodding, I take the lead while Wyatt falls to the back. We keep Mitchel and Lando between us so they don’t get caught straying off the path.

Going out for a ride is one of my favorite things. I love going into the mountains, walking along the thin paths, and enjoying the earth. As we go, I hear Mitchel and Wyatt quietly chatting at the back of the pack. However, once we get to the treeline, their voices fall away from my earshot. My senses are overcome by our surroundings. The budding trees are gorgeous as they filter the sunlight into sultry beams that fall onto the new grass along the sides of the gravel path.

“Beautiful,” I hear Lando speak for the first time since we left. I’ve been distracted thankfully, leaving me free from his effect on me. Now, though, I find myself turning to the side to look at him as he comes up next to me. I’m surprised to find him staring at me instead of the lively forest that hems us in. A thought that he might be making a comment about me instead of the scenery flashes through my mind. Quickly, I shove the absurd thought away and chalk it up to wishful thinking.

“It is,” I agree, giving him a small smile. He chuckles a little before turning to look around him. Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of him. Somehow he adds to the already perfect scene around me. His hair is being ruffled by the slight, cool breeze, which also lends his skin a gorgeous pink flush. Bright hazel eyes track the swishing branches and fluttering wildlife. His muscles are on display as he engages them to ride Luna. He looks less stiff than he did earlier, as if he’s finding himself at ease here. The idea makes me giddy. I find myself agreeing with Lando’s previous assessment. Beautiful.

“See something you like, cowgirl?” Lando laughs when he catches me staring at him yet again. My eyes go wide and my mouth parts as I scramble for a proper response, a defense, anything. There’s just something about him that makes it nearly impossible to look away. I think I’d like to be able to see him a lot more.

“Cowgirl?” Is all I can come up with. It’s not an inaccurate title, but the way he said it made it sound different. It was tacked onto his question almost like an endearment, or a tease. I laugh a little at his choice of words and the way it sounds in his accent.

“I see a lot of things I like, cowboy. You’ll have to be more specific,” I challenge. This successfully pulls a proper laugh from him. It’s the type of laugh that sends birds flying frantically from their perches and the creatures hidden in the grass scurrying away. It’s impossible to not laugh along with him. My heart flutters and I have to hold on tighter to my reins so I don’t fall off the saddle.

“I may be a lot of things, but I am no cowboy,” he corrects. I nod while continuing to laugh.

“I could have told you that,” I confirm while adjusting my hat.

“Oh really?” Lando says, urging me to explain myself. He tilts his head to the side while his mouth pulls into a closed lipped smile.

“If the brand new jeans and boots didn’t give you away, then you’re riding definitely does. You ride stiff as a board,” I inform him while glancing down at his boots and jeans. His denim clad thighs are tight around Luna’s middle, tense muscles visible through the fabric.

“Alright, teach me then,” he says, his free hand coming to rest on his hip. “Cowgirl.”

I roll my eyes at his words once again, but am resolved to help him nonetheless. There’s nothing like going out and being able to ride properly. I want to ask him why he lied to me about his experience with riding, but I don’t want to bruise his ego any further. Trying something new is challenging enough, and if he’s willing to learn, then I don’t want to jeopardize that.

“Keep sitting up straight, but relax your body. Your hips should shift back and forth in the seat a little. Don’t fight what feels natural. Just watch me,” I tell him. His eyes slide slowly from my face down to my hips. I watch as his eyes track my hips back and forth just slightly with Beau’s steps. Lando’s breathing goes uneven and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth. He’s staring at me like there’s nothing else he’d ever want to look at. It makes my heart race and nerves flutter in my stomach. I hadn’t really thought about the more sensual implications of having him watch my hips, but it seems rather obvious now. However, I don’t really mind the way he’s looking at me, or the way his focus is completely attuned to me. Selfishly, I really wish he wouldn’t look at anything else ever again. But that can’t happen.

“Eyes up, cowboy,” I tell him after a few more seconds of letting him watch. “Go ahead.”

Clearing his throat, he shifts a little in the saddle before settling in to do what I asked. I don’t miss the way he avoids looking me in the eye, as if he’s embarrassed. Have I flustered him? The thought makes me just a tiny bit proud. He doesn’t seem like the type to be flustered easily. He sits up straight and attempts to relax his body. His lower half starts to shift the right way, looking more natural and less jerky than before. Indulging myself, I watch for a few more seconds. I bite the inside of my cheek as he rocks back and forth in the saddle. My mind goes wandering to places that I shouldn’t be thinking about with a man I’ve only known for a day. Less than a day. And yet, I can’t stop myself.

“Maybe we’ll make a real cowboy out of you yet, Lando Norris,” I tell him after I’ve noticed improvements. His focus fractures and he looks over to me.

“I think I’d like that,” He shoots back, a sly smile accompanying his words. The look twists my stomach into nervous knots. There’s something about him, something intangible, that draws you in. Maybe it’s charm or charisma, or maybe it’s just the way he was made. Whatever the circumstances or reasons are, it’s not fair. I feel as though I have hardly a fighting chance to ward off any sort of desire that’s bubbling to the surface. I want to keep getting to know him; I want to teach him anything he asks; I want to never let go of the way he makes me feel.

The walk back to the ranch grounds is much faster than I would have liked. Lando chats with me the entire way back about this and that. He’s smart and funny and my chances of not having a crush on him grow slimmer with every passing minute I spend with him. When we get back to the stables, I find myself taking much longer than I normally would to put everything away. Mitchel and Wyatt decided that a fire would be the best way to end the night, so they ran out to get it started while Lando and I finished up with the horses. He tried his best to help, but kept getting distracted by visiting all of the stalls.

“Who’s this?” Lando says as I finish putting away the last saddle. I say a quick goodbye to Beau before heading down to the last stall near the open barn doors. Lando is standing in front of Jupe’s stall, his arms crossed over his chest. I stop next to him, leaving an appropriate amount of space between us, even though I want to come up right next to him and press my shoulder to his.

“This is Jupe. He’s our newest. Bit ornery, but a good boy,” I say while reaching my hand out to pat Jupe’s head. He brays at my touch, but doesn’t pull away. I give him a quick kiss on the nose and coddle him a little. Positive reinforcement does wonders.

“My turn,” Lando says from behind me. Astounded, I turn my face toward him. He’s insinuating that he wants me to kiss him. My brain short circuits at the thought. He’s just standing there with his arms still crossed over his chest and a stupid smile playing across his handsome face. I scoff at his joke, trying not to let on how much it affected me.

“Careful what you wish for, you might end up with a stall of your own,” I jab back. However, keeping him here doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“Being praised, kissed, and ridden by you? Sounds like these guys are living the dream,” Lando says. My jaw hangs loose as his words hit me like a freight train. Shock courses through me, leaving me beyond speechless. Is he being serious? Who says things like that? I blink at him, unsure of how to continue. I can’t lie and say that the images that popped into my head when he spoke were entirely unpleasant. If he’s being serious, there’s a lot to consider here. I could deny my feelings and spare myself the heartache. Or the alternative, which is letting my emotions get the better of me. This would mean that in a few days after spending time together, I would have to deal with heartbreak and come to terms with the fact that I’ll maybe never see him again. Or maybe I could, if there’s something really here. Maybe I have to give into hope for once. There’s never really been anyone who I’ve put ahead of my goals or dreams. I’ve never been tempted to stray from my path by anyone. Sure, I’ve gone out with guys, had a boyfriend for a while. But if something didn’t line up, I made cuts so my life would fit together how I needed it to. Suddenly now, as I stand here in this stable with a man I met only hours ago, I’m finding myself bending my rules for the first time. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my whole life.

“Alright, cowboy,” I say while taking a tentative step toward him, I’m ready to play this little game of his. His hands have fallen to his side, so I gently slide my fingers into his. Shining eyes lock onto mine. His tan skin is set aglow by the dying sunrise, highlighting the ridges and curves of his face. I want to memorize every freckle, every line, every corner of him. I’m lost in the way his hand feels around mine and in the way he’s looking at me, and I don’t ever want to find my way out. One of his fingers comes to the front of my hat and pushes the brim up. He draws closer now, his face mere inches from mine. His jaw flexes and his large neck muscles twitch with tension as he dips his head down just enough for his lips to hover over mine.

“We have a fire to get to,” I finish my earlier thought in a whisper. With hooded eyes, I look into his wide ones. Smiling smally, I step away from him. Adjusting my hat back to its original place, I begin walking out the door. Lando is hauled after me with my hand still grasped in his. Giddiness takes me over as I walk hand in hand with him towards the fire pit near the house. My small smile breaks into a much larger one as I pick up my pace, breaking into a jog. Lando’s hand clasps around mine tighter as he adjusts to the new pace. A laugh bubbles from my chest as I bring my free hand to hold onto my hat as I run harder. A sense of carefreeness has corrupted my usual serious disposition. Rarely do I feel as free as I do now. Lando’s lightness has infected me, and I can’t help but fall in love with how it’s buoyed my spirits. It feels like the first hit of a drug; it’s the type of high I’ll be chasing for the rest of my life.

As we approach the house, I can hear Wyatt’s laugh ring out from around the corner to the back. Just as we’re about to turn that last corner, Lando’s arms reach around my waist, stopping me from moving another inch. His chest hits my back with no small amount of force, tossing my hat from my head. I’m bent over in his arms as both of our laughs pull the last threads of air from our tired lungs. He hauls us both upright and my head falls back against his shoulder. I suck in a deep breath of the cool, dusk air. It cools me from the inside out. A feeling stirs deep in my stomach as I stare up into the sky while basking in the feeling of Lando’s arms wrapped around me.

Belonging.

It’s something I’ve been chasing my whole life; a sense of knowing where I belong and who I am. And now I feel as though I’ve finally found it: a home; a place to belong; a knowledge of exactly who I am.

Once we’ve regulated our breathing, I break out of his arms. Leaving them isn’t what I want, and as I pull away, I immediately feel much colder. However, we have to accompany Wyatt and Mitchel before they grow suspicious. Carefully, I pick up my hat, but don’t place it back on my head.

“Are you coming?” I ask quickly, tossing a glance to Lando over my shoulder. He shakes his head with a smile, but follows me around the corner without a word. Wyatt’s eyes find us over the roaring fire he’s built. Mitchel is seated right next to him on a log, a thick blanket spread over their laps. Between the warmth of the fire, the blanket, and the present company, I know that the nighttime chill won’t be able to touch me. As I approach Wyatt, he reaches to the side to pick up another blanket with a couple beers and s’mores supplies stacked on top. I accept it with a quick thank you before plopping down on the log next to them. Lando saunters after me, slowly taking a seat to my right.

“Hold this?” I ask while placing the blanket onto his lap. Gently, I set my hat down behind me, then reach over my shoulder to grab the end of my braid. I pull the elastic from the end and go about undoing the braid.

“So, Lando, how was the ride for you?” Wy asks as he brings his beer to his lips. My eyes are on the fire as he speaks, my mind slipping out of focus for a brief moment while I concentrate on my hair. But I’m aware of the fact that Lando doesn’t answer. When I turn to look at him, I find his eyes already on me, following my fingers as they finish pulling out my braid. I run my fingers through my roots to shake out the nasty hat hair that I undoubtedly have.

“Lando?” Wyatt laughs.

“What?” Lando says as he snaps out of his dazed state. His eyes go wide as they shift over to Wyatt who’s chuckling to himself. A goofy smile breaks across Lando’s face as Wyatt restates his question.

“I think I might have to switch professions,” Lando says, his eyes flicking down to me. The fire is lighting his skin with a warm glow. The flames flash lazily in his glossy eyes.

“I think it would be best for you to stick with McLaren,” I joke while cracking both of our cold beers. With a small smile, I hand over one of the bottles to a slightly offended Lando. Laughing to myself, I nudge his shoulder and click the neck of my beer to his. The liquid is cold and fresh against my lips, sending the perfect chill cascading down into my neck and chest.

“Yeah, mate, I think it’s best if you stay in the cockpit rather than the saddle,” Mitchel adds. “Play to your strengths and all that.”

The cockpit? As in the cockpit of a Formula One car? The realization hits me with all the grace of a drunk elephant. Lando Norris; I recognized his name earlier because Wyatt works as an engineer for a driver named Lando Norris. A Formula One driver named Lando Norris. With wide eyes, I stare forward into the fire. Every possibility that I’ve just dreamt up has suddenly become nothing but a fantasy. My body tenses as it physically revolts against my idiocy and naivety. Reality settles into my bones and I have to chide myself for being so stupid to ignore it for as long as I have. Not only did I ignore it, but I created a work of fiction where maybe we could end up together.

“Shit,” I hear Lando breathe next to me. His face is one I don’t recognize, one of seriousness. For the few hours that I’ve known him, which feel more like years, I haven’t seen him lose that little spark that makes him so him. Now it’s nowhere to be seen. He didn’t want me to know that he was a professional driver, one of the most elite in the whole world. It stings because I don’t understand exactly what his intentions were and it allowed me the space to concoct some seriously messed up notions. There’s no way that anything could happen between us now. It’s hard enough to maintain a friendship of years over an ocean with an engineer; imagine trying to hold together a relationship with a driver across continents and seas that constantly change. However, I can’t justify being angry with him. It is his life to be in the public eye constantly. If he came out here to not be recognized for a while and to be treated like just a normal guy, then who am I to deny him that. I just wish he would have given me the opportunity to do that with knowing who he really is. Now I’m stuck with feelings that I know won’t go away in a hurry and thorough embarrassment.

The rest of the night passes monotonously. Wyatt and Mitchel are wrapped up into their own little world, so they hardly notice the ever eroding gap that suddenly formed between Lando and I. We chat a little, but it’s not the same anymore. Roasting marshmallows has suddenly become my new favorite thing because it gives me an excuse to not look at him. I know that if I do, I’ll start to adore his curly hair and the scar over the bridge of his nose and the way that he looks right into your soul with his pretty eyes. I know that if I dare to look at him, I’ll start to believe in fiction once again. That’s not something I can allow; I won’t be the person who falls in love with the idea of something they can never have.

I won’t be the person that falls for someone they can never have.

Wyatt and Mitchel bid us goodnight before walking hand in hand into the house. Envy flares in my chest, jealousy turning my heart an ugly shade of green. The crackling of the dying fire and the rustling of wind through the grass and trees are the only things that greet my ears. Usually, I would be incredibly fond of this quietness. But now, it simply feels like a life sentence of silence. And once again, as the world turns to night, I feel the loneliness creep in at the edges. The night chill has crept into my fingers and toes, slowly creeping inward.

“I’m sorry,” Lando’s voice is gravelly from lack of use. “I should have…”

“You should have,” I agree. My voice isn’t harsh or condescending, it’s soft, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I understand, though. I just wish I had known before…”

My voice trails off and gets blown away with the smoke that floats lazily into the atmosphere. Clouds have collected across the sky, cutting the stars from our view. With a melancholy heart, I can’t help but admit how fitting that is. I suppose we really weren’t written in the stars. We are the opposite of destined.

Lando’s hand wraps around my cold fingers, but instead of warming me, it burns. The kiss he leaves on my knuckles feels as though my hand was dipped into the embers of a fire. Blinking back the prick in my eyes from impending tears, I watch his face fall into a frown. I hate the way his eyebrows are creased in the middle and the concern that’s painfully evident in his stubborn eyes. It’s not the look I wanted from him tonight. It’s not the face that’s become my brand new favorite. It’s not Lando.

“How long are you staying for?” I find myself asking. I have to know how long I’ll have to endure his presence. But what’s worse: having him here and knowing I can’t have him, or watching him leave and knowing that I’ll never have him?

“We leave on Monday,” he says. Just for the weekend then. I’ll only have to see him on Monday and then I’ll be free of him. I know he’ll torment me in my sleep, when I see someone walking down the street who looks a little like him, when I look at Luna. I’ll never truly escape him.

“Alright,” I mumble. A beat passes without any more conversation. Then Lando’s hand is slipping under my hair and around the side of my neck. My head turns toward him, his touch unprompted and sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin.

“I’m sorry, but I have to know. Just once and then we can put it away forever. Alright?” He’s closing that gap between us, both physically and emotionally. His face slows as it hovers in front of mine. My breathing has ceased and fear has seized my heart. Is this the right thing to do? Or will it make it worse?

“Alright,” I find myself agreeing without thinking. Maybe I have to know, too, if this is everything I think it is; if this really is everything that I’m losing.

His kiss is light at first, lips just barely brushing mine. It’s soft and gentle as he uses his hand to bring my face closer to his. When his lips are fully on mine, my mind bursts into stars and streams of color. He kisses me with quiet passion, slow and strong. That belonging that I felt when he had his arms around me flares back to life in my chest. His fingers flex under my jaw, holding onto me tighter like he’s scared I’ll slip out of his grip. Which I am. When we break away from our first and last kiss, I feel as we filter through each other’s fingertips. We’re lost now, never to be found.

A crack in my chest sends me to my feet. Tears suddenly blur my vision.

“Goodbye, Lando,” I find myself saying, my words taking every bit of strength I have left. As I turn away from him for the last time, I find myself wishing I'd have said no to his kiss. As I walk away from him for the last time, I know now that I’m losing the one real thing I’ve ever known.

The truth is he isn’t a cowboy like me.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎBodies Are Not the Only Things Buried౨ৎ꣑ৎ

꣑ৎ"Even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt."꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: mentions of death/dying, angst pairing: ghost!billy the kid x fem reader author’s note: tagging @kellielovesmovies <3 and @these-travels <3 because we talked about doing more ghost billy!! Enjoy! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

"Have you ever seen the ocean?"

Billy turned his head to look at you, and his breath would have hitched if he had any left. The sunlight reflecting off your skin gave you a glow that was nearly angelic, and for a moment he was sure the higher powers had come for him after all. You blinked, nuzzling your head into the crook of your elbow where it lay, and he wished it was his arm there instead. Holding his girl. The way it should be.

He shook his head, shifting on his side. "When my family crossed to get here I did. But I don't remember much. Was a long time ago."

Your lips puckered just slightly, and he longed to touch his own to them. "I've always wanted to see it but I've never been."

Imagining you in the backdrop of ocean spray, sand sticking to your soaked feet, Billy smiled. "You'd fit right in."

With a giggle like bells, you looked back at the sky, your ever-present smile soft as spring's first rain. The grass framed you perfectly, making a soft bed that Billy didn't deem near good enough. Once again he tried to will his body solid. There was no need for a beating heart or blood siphoning through his veins. He only wanted to hold you.

Death made life feel like a distant memory. The more time Billy spent with you, the more painfully clear the difference between existing and living became. Consciousness was a curse, carried out by the remnants of him left like a half-eaten dinner. Maybe somebody had forgotten to take the final step and bring him wherever those he had known in life were. Or maybe they were lingering too, in different pockets of time's fabric. He had certainly never come across anyone like this.

Maybe you had been the only one who bothered to see. Or care. Either way, he had been revealed to you, the veil separating life and death lifting for a quick second so he could escape. And you were there to see it.

You spent a great deal of time at the cemetery, keeping him company. Often you would lie on the grass with a book and read to him, the passages you picked from between hundreds of pages only enhancing the complexity of your beauty.

It was natural he would fall in love with you. In the beginning he had felt it coming, a universal fact already set in motion. It was almost cruel, and he wondered if perhaps his forced haunting hadn't been a mistake at all. He could be atoning for every sin committed in life in some new method of torture where he was made to think himself joyful.

It was delicate, his dormant love a cobweb formed over decades of starvation. An emotional ache he had resigned to live with for the rest of time. If he had known death was this impermanent, he never would have wished for it.

You rotated on your side to face him, eyes reminding him of daisies. Young and fresh and lovely, innocence shining through your new bloom. Billy's attention was immediately piqued, ready to absorb whatever you had to say, even if it was a single word.

"Have you ever left this place?" He smiled when you asked, wholly enraptured.

Sitting up, Billy leaned against his headstone. Unmarked, unnamed, only the year he died carved crudely into the rounded shape. It made a good resting spot for you some days, though, and he was happy some facet of him was able to do so. "Not for a long time."

"Why not?" you asked, propping yourself up next to him, chin on the heels of your palms. The image of you was so painfully adorable that he had to pause before speaking.

"I dunno," he shrugged, looking at his boots. "It seems odd, but I've never thought of it."

"Never?" You tilted your head.

"I've never had a reason." He half-smiled. "You're the first person I've talked to in a century, sweetheart."

Something softened in your eyes at the term of endearment, and he was now making plans to call you it over and over just to see that look. "You never had wanderlust?"

Billy moved his hand so it was flat on the ground next to yours, pinkies nearly touching. "I wandered so much when I was alive, it must've just burnt out."

Somehow, he couldn't read the look on your face, as though your thoughts at the moment were in another language. He wished more than ever right now that he could draw you into his arms, maybe rest a hand at the crown of your head. There were so many things he desired, and you were at the center of each one as he orbited hopelessly.

He'd never had a sweetheart before. Through every misdeed and trial thrown under his feet and scratching his arms like thorns, he'd never found anybody. Further, he never expressed the desire, not out loud.

Love was always considered a luxury. He'd observed it plainly with his mother and father, witnessed the lengths it traveled and the way it grew to fit the space of new circumstances. But his parents had been good people, trying to make an honest living. He never thought love was meant for men like him.

But without survival on the line, what else was there to think of? There wasn't anything else to exist for, especially when the woman in question was you.

Without physical feelings, Billy ran on pure emotion. It was an energy of its own that replaced what his blood must have done. For so long it had been justified sorrow, but now it was something else. Something he didn't even want to think of because it was so out of the question.

He was a ghost. You were alive. Nothing more needed to be said.

Stretching your arms with a little hum, you shut your eyes and let your hair fall to the side, over your shoulder. He watched it cascade like a waterfall, wishing for the millionth time he could brush it from your eyes. "You know, you could travel if you wanted to. See everything you want to." Opening your eyes, you smiled at him with a little glimmer that lifted his spirits. "You could see the ocean and remember it better this time."

Billy wouldn't tell you what he was thinking. That the only way that desire would enter him is if he could do it with you. See that adorable look of astonishment when you tasted salt water for the first time.

He didn't let his thoughts go any further than that. Instead of saying it, he smiled. "You'll have to see it for me, darlin'."

You looked up at him, resting your cheek on the cool stone of his headstone. If he imagined it right, your ear was on his heart instead of a monument to his death. His girl. In his dreams you were his girl.

Months since you'd first seen him, when he'd expected you to be frightened but instead you were kind. Ghost or outlaw, it seemed any time he was given was to be spent unconventionally. Based on your reaction, it was easy to imagine you in the context of his time. Maybe you never would have judged him the way everyone else did.

A shock of warmth coursed through his spectral being when you simply said, "Your time didn't end when you died."

It echoed, bouncing off the cemetery gates long after you left for the night.

Everything except Billy's existence was glaringly temporary.

He had long accepted the fact that his fate was to stand still, frozen as an unseen relic of time while the world hurtled forward into a future he couldn't have imagined. Regretting his legacy, coming to terms with the fact that he was existing in a space where he couldn't change anything.

Long had he wondered of this purpose. Whether it be by punishment or pity, he was immoveable. And now more than ever it was becoming glaringly obvious that you weren't.

"Long day," you sighed one evening, flopping down next to him. He reached for your hand, wincing as his hand passed through like you were water. But when he made a move to pull it back, you shook your head, half smiling briefly. "Keep it there. It feels nice."

Billy smiled, turning to the side to look at you as you began to chatter, playing with a rogue strand of hair. "I got some news today."

"Good news?" he asked, and you smiled tightly, still anxiously fidgeting.

"An opportunity to travel. And go to school," you went on softly. "In London."

London. There was a pang in his chest. "That's incredible, sweetheart." Billy lowered his head to meet your eyes, where you were staring at the ground. "You've worked hard."

There was that half-smile again. "Thank you." He could see something brewing in you like a storm on the horizon, but didn't press. If you wanted to tell him you would.

After a beat of silence, you whispered, "I was excited about it. It would get me away from home." Billy's thoughts conjured the one time you had told him about your parents. About your mother's passing, and how your father had married a woman who hardly regarded you. He couldn't help but sympathize, thinking of his own mother and the cruel man she'd been forced to wed. The idea of you in that kind of situation kicked his protective instincts in, and it hurt that there wasn't a thing for him to do about it.

Billy nodded, searching your gaze. "You should be."

"And they have an amazing arts program."

"Of course."

"And it's beautiful- I've always wanted to go there." You were staring at him now. "The ocean is close. Closer than it is here."

He smiled. "It is."

Your eyes stayed on him, and he looked right back. It felt like you were trying to tell him something, but he refused to pry at it. Slowly, the corners of your lips turned down as something was defeated within. Without another word you breathed out, leaning down and resting your head in his lap. To his dismay, your head went right through his thighs, landing on the soft earth below.

Neither of you commented. He hovered a hand over the outline of your head, pretending to stroke your hair.

In the next weeks, you didn't broach the topic of school again, instead returning to your regular graveyard activities. Talking to him and smiling as if he was something extraordinary. Picking flowers that grew nearby and braiding them together, leaving them in little bouquets sagging at the base of his tombstone. He memorized every bit of you and tried to piece it together in the hours you weren't there, an endless puzzle.

The beginning of the end was impending, kicking up dust. He could feel it in his being, filling the space where his bones used to be. It wove marrow and tendons out of feelings, creating a whole other entity for him to inhabit. There was no end to Billy's endings.

You were lying side by side with him now, hair spread out like a halo over your head. When you opened your mouth, he heard it before you spoke.

"I'm going to school in London."

Billy let it stretch and consume him, show him what would never be. This was a routine. This was not new. "I'm happy you are. You're gonna do great, sweetheart."

Somberly, you whispered, "I leave in two weeks. To get adjusted to the new country."

He was quiet, just watching your expression. You were holding yourself together and he didn't know why.

Then in a quiet burst, a tear slipped from your eye, leaving a path on your cheek as it trickled down like rain on a windowpane. "Billy I don't want to leave you."

It hit him like something earthshattering. The shot that had ended his life hadn't collided the same way this did, with a force that came from somewhere in the folds of existence, somewhere Billy didn't understand. He sat up, reaching a hand out. "Sweetheart-"

"Tell me not to leave," you whispered, and he froze, watching another tear cross your cheek. "I won't leave if you want me to stay."

"You have to go," he said, shaking his head and getting to his knees, searching your eyes. "This is your dream. You have to do it."

"But I don't wanna go," you sniffled, reaching for a strand of hair and twisting it between your fingers. "Billy..."

"Hey," he breathed, hands over your elbows. "Sweetie, I'm always gonna be right here. And the time we've spent together's enough for me. I want you to live."

"I love you," you managed through your tears, lower lip trembling.

Billy shut his eyes, chin dipping. The fingers of melancholy were seizing him in a way that kicked everything that had ever mattered to the side. Your tears were multiplying, and they were of such a quality that he swore they were what dotted the sky every night. Stardust...that was what you were. Unreal. For him, untouchable.

He risked a look back up at you. You, whom he'd imagined as his for so long. But you weren't because he couldn't have anything anymore. The only thing Billy possessed was a sliver of humanity enclosed as an idea. He didn't even have a heart to give to you.

But there was nothing in him for the truth to hide behind. It was transparent as he was. "I love you too."

You took in a shaky breath. Billy knew right then that for the rest of time he would be committed wholeheartedly to you. You were the only thing in this wretched world worth anything. Tension heightening like a string pulled taut, you surged forward in a single motion, arms encircling his shoulders, pressing your mouth to his.

Warm. It had been so long since he'd been warm. But you were. Between his arms, encasing whatever was left of him in the gift of your body. He hardly registered the sensation of being kissed until you pulled back, breaths leaving your prettily parted lips in quick bursts.

Kissed. He had been kissed. He had kissed you.

"I didn't think that would work," you confessed quietly, and in a natural move, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from your eyes, something jolting in him when his fingers didn't pass through.

Billy shook his head, drawing you in by the waist and touching his lips to yours gently, relishing the sensation of you melting under his touch. He wouldn't dare try anything else, this new allowance precarious. Who knew if it would be taken away from him? Your hand found the collar of his shirt, just holding it as his nose bumped your soft cheek. Soft...he could feel that you were soft. Just as he'd imagined.

Conscious of your need to breathe, he separated himself from you, just a little. The last of your tears escaped, and he thumbed them away, not wanting to let go now that he had the option. You whispered, "I can't leave. I love you."

The chasm within him began to open again, and he could see the way it could have gone. Past and present and future. Every version of you and him spun until they disappeared into nothingness, leaving reality standing still, a tower of his own making. A structure he couldn't tear down if he tried.

He breathed, "I love you and that's why you have to leave."

The curtains of the summer were drawn shut, and sometimes Billy wondered if any of it had ever been real. He loved you too much to make you stay, to leave you hanging off the whim of a dead man with nothing to give forever.

He wished you hated him. It would be easier for you to leave.

Any writing on the wall was faint, and he'd been unsure if you'd go through with it. But after the day you were set to leave marched by without so much as a glimpse of you, he bowed his head and thanked whoever was above. Guilt would have tainted everything if you had stayed. He would rather love you miserably than be responsible for the end of another life, especially yours.

Time went back to how it was before. Boundless and brutal. Billy existed in the plane of memories, staring at the sky and letting it consume him.

He hoped for many things. That you would love it when you got there and forget all about him. That you would fall in love because everyone should fall in love with you.

Most of all, he hoped you would never return. He hoped whatever had tethered you to this place would unravel and blow away, off to some far away corner of the earth where you couldn't reach.

Regret tainted him oftentimes, and he wondered if he could leave like you had said. Go find you wherever you were and remind you that even the dead were enchanted by you.

Billy imagined sometimes what would have happened if you stayed. If maybe when you loved him so closely he would have eventually become whole again, not quite alive but not a ghost any longer. Physical. Worthy. Maybe it would have been proof to whoever had damned him this way. He was alive so long as he was loved. It could have been his second chance. The one leniency he'd snuck in the margins of his death's contract.

He let that dream rot with his body, buried in the earth below.

[latenightdaydreams]

I know you write a lot of Konig smut... But how do you feel about fluff? Like baking with Konig, or having a family with him or something like that. Your writing is so fantastic and I love reading it so much! You should write for yourself at some point too! You are an amazing awesome human! Have some snacks and water and get plenty of sleep! Have a wonderful day/night!

I do write fluff but then delete it because I think its corny 💀 I appreciate you so much! I am beyond thankful for all of your support and kindness! I hope you also take care of yourself and have an amazing day/night! I hope you enjoy this story!🥰

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Homecoming (fem)

Fluff!

Master List💗

>cw: fem/afab, pregnancy, glossing over pass lost but nothing deep

1.1k word count

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König has been deployed the last 4 months but today is his homecoming, and the day you get to share your big news with him. Your belly has been growing for the last few months since you found out you were pregnant right after he left, exactly 8 weeks at that time.

The oven’s timer goes off as you stand slowly from the couch and waddle over to the kitchen to the the cookies you made for him out of the oven. It has become a tradition to bake for him once he comes home. Grabbing the sifter, you dust the cookies with vanilla sugar, the kitchen smelling heavenly.

Your hair still in your pink bonnet and wearing one of König’s shirts that is covered in flour from baking, you decide to go upstairs to begin getting ready. The bathroom filling with steam and the smell of your lavender body wash as you gently wash over your stomach.

“Daddy is going to be so surprised when he sees you,” your voice so tender while talking to your unborn child. The sex of the baby is still unknown since you wanted to be surprised with König.

Once out of the shower you dry yourself off while deciding what to wear. You always like to dress up for when König comes home, it is a special occasion after all. After a while being indecisive, you put on a yellow summer dress. Styling your hair in the way you know he likes; you walk out of the bed room and make your way back down stairs.

It’s a bright and sunny spring day so you decide to open the window to let the breeze in. You look over at the clock near you, 11:23am, you still have three hours until he is supposed to arrive. Feeling exhausted you decide to take a nap on the couch. You set an alarm on your phone so you can be awake before he gets home, and you lie down.

One hour later König unlocks the front door, eager to see you again after months apart. As soon as he opens the door he is hit with the sweet aroma of vanilla. A smile comes across his face as he steps inside and begins to take his boots off by the door, dropping all of his gear. It felt good to finally be home.

“Liebling? I’m home.” He calls out to with, but gets no response.

He begins to walk into the house and makes his way to the kitchen where he sees the homemade Vanillekipferl you’ve left cooling. He pulls his mask down and places it on the counter as he reaches for a cookie and eats one. His eyes looking around for you.

“Liebling?” He begins to walk towards the steps, assuming that you’re in the craft room.

That’s when he sees you asleep on the couch in the living room. König stops in his tracks as he smiles looking at your face squished against the blue throw pillow, snoring lightly. His eyes trailing down to your breast in your dress and then… wait. He thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him for a split second as he begins to approach you.

Kneeling down in front of you his hand slowly reaches out to feel your stomach, swollen with his child. “Hallo mein Kleiner…” His voice so soft. His hand rest on the harden curve of your pregnant belly. His eyes drink you in and how your body was changed. A million thoughts running through his mind but all he can focus on his how he has never seen anything as beautiful as you pregnant with his child. He is the luckiest man in the world.

His eyes shift to your face as he reaches out with his other hand, “Liebling, I’m home.”

Slowly you stir in your sleep, feeling his hands on your body. You slowly open one eye and see Königs blue eyes. Instantly you feel energized and sit up.

“König!” You sit up on the couch and he leans in to wraps and arm around your body as the other lingers on your stomach, his lips eagerly finding yours.

He tastes your lips and he breaths your scent in. He can’t explain the ways in which he has missed you. He slowly pulls away and looks into your eyes and down to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

“Schatz,” his hand gently moves over your stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“At first I wanted to make sure the pregnancy would stick,” you two have been through some losses together already, “then when it did, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, I am surprised.” He chuckles, “You make such a beautiful pregnant woman…” His eyes trail over your changed body. He has seen your weight fluctuate over the years and he has never seen you as anything less than perfect. With his baby growing in your womb, you look like a goddess to him.

“Do you know what we are having?”

“No, I had the doctor write it down, put it in an envelope, and I haven’t opened it yet. I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”

König’s eyes lit up at the knowledge he gets to share this moment with you, “Wo ist es?”

“Its in my bed side table-” Before you could finish König jumped up to his feet and ran up stairs to grab the letter.

You stand and go towards the steps but König comes rushing back down before you go up. He scoops you in his arms bridal style and kisses your head before sitting down on the couch with you on his lap. In his hands he has the letter with your baby’s sex in it.

“Do you have a preference?” You ask as you caress the back of his head and play with his blonde hair.

“I don’t, do you?”

“No, I’m happy either way.” Your voice is giddy with excitement that the time has come.

“You ready Schatz?”

“I am.”

König opens the letter and pulls out first a sonogram. His eyes twinkle as he sees the 3D imagine of his baby’s face, blown away how he can see they already have his lip shape and your nose. You can see the emotions building that he tries to suppress. You both look through the sonograms until you get to the gender reveal.

“I- I have no idea what I’m looking at.” König says as he begins to laugh. You laugh along as you nod in agreement.

“He said he wrote it down,” You opened up the envelope again to see if we missed something. You found the slip of paper with the sex and You held up the folded piece of paper. “Ready?”

“Ready Liebling,” he kisses your cheek.

You unfold the piece of paper and his arms wrap around you tightly as you both begin to cry from excitement. The excited shouts can be heard from outside as you both celebrate the news.

[byeuijoo]

spring things 𐀔 boynextdoor

genre : mostly fluff ⋆ warnings : none ⋆ word count : 0,5k

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park sungho ⭒ a bike ride down the lane

on a beautiful spring afternoon, under a sunny sky, with birds singing in the wind, there's nothing better than a romantic bike ride around the lake not far from your home. sungho was ready to follow you everywhere, so he didn't hesitate for a second before following your lead. after a few minutes of preparation, you're off into the wind under a bright sun, rolling side by side, beautiful and radiant smiles on your lips, the scent of budding flowers tickling your nostrils in this new spring season.

lee riwoo ⭒ making flower crowns

the advantage of living in the countryside is having a big garden full of little flowers of all colors. a sunny afternoon of boredom, sanghyeok and you set up outside, filling a basket with a bunch of different little flowers to make flower crowns together later. after settling down on the outdoor table, you busied yourselves making your wreaths while chatting about anything and everything in the spring sunshine. just as you had finished yours, you felt something on your head — and when you looked up, you saw the crown your boyfriend had made in your hair.

myung jaehyun ⭒ picnic dates

even if the wind was against him, and prevented him for a good 3 minutes from putting the picnic tablecloth on the park's fresh grass, jaehyun finally succeeded in getting the latter into the right position to carefully deposit the many dishes you had prepared together beforehand. the return of spring and sunny weather means the return of romantic picnics during your free afternoons — listening to music with one headphones in one of your ear, eating, chatting and laughing out loud, you often end up dozing off against each other, his warm hand playing with your hair, while you can't take your eyes off his angelic face.

han taesan ⭒ walk through the woods

there's nothing better than the first walk in the woods in early spring, when the trees regain their color and flowers begin to bloom here and there. your hand clinging to dongmin's, fallen branches crackle under your feet with every step, but this doesn't disturb the birds returning from their migration. their new song mingles with the scent of greenery, nature and the renewal of this sweet season. and the soft, fragile wind settles on your skin in a pleasant veil that simply makes you want to enjoy this walk with the boy who gives you butterflies in the stomach. he seems interested in every new flower specimen that crosses his gaze.

kim leehan ⭒ lying under the sunny sky & watch the clouds

lying on a blanket in your garden, donghyun was at your side, his arm tucked behind your neck. the sun shone high in the sky, flowers showed their buds on the trees, colorful daisies grass, and in the blue sky, pretty white clouds forming all sorts of patterns that let your imagination run free. occasionally pointing a finger at the sky, outlining your drawings and arguing your ideas, the atmosphere of springtime renewal and the gentle breeze caressing your skin could be felt. especially when you felt donghyun's hand lightly caress your hair.

kim woonhak ⭒ jumping in puddles after a rainstorm

every teenager has a childlike side to him — and you and woonhak are no exception to the rule. after watching the rain fall violently for hours, slightly spoiling the afternoon you had free, the spring sun was finally showing its face, despite everything still being wet outside. putting on your rain boots, the boy pulled you by the hand outside, great bursts of laughter leaving your lips every time you jumped in a puddle. you were bound to end up soaked and your clothes full of mud, but no matter — the euphoria of the moment was far more important.

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reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

taglist ౨ৎ @leehanist @wtfhyuck @florainnie @dazzlingligth @yuma-is-mine

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 93

Part 1 Part 92

Eddie feels the hands around Will’s throat like it’s his own. Steve’s hands. Around Will’s throat. He gasps on the ground for a second as Barb and Mama Byers scrabble at him, trying to pry Steve’s hands free.

Will’s tugging at him, pulling at them both hard enough that Eddie swears he can feel his ass sliding on the tile toward him. Like he wants both of them to save him, even now, with Steve’s hands squeezing the life out of him. Steve’s pulling back, like they’re a fucked up little triangle ready to go out together.

Always, always together. If not in life, Eddie’s ready to stay by their sides in death.

“Will!” Mama Byers cries, bending one of Steve’s fingers back far enough that Eddie hears something within it popping free.

It doesn’t matter – once she lets go of the digit, it springs back, to hold on, crunching like the little bones beneath his skin are rubbing with every movement.

The sound, that terrible, horrible sound is what breaks Eddie free from his shocked huddle in the water. He sloshes upright, boots filling with heat as he lunges toward Steve, bogged down by the weight of his now-soaked clothes.

He joins the fray, yanking Steve’s hand for all he’s worth. Will’s still pulling on them both, he can feel it tugging at his sternum, pulling the strings of his heart like only the two of them can. But it’s getting weaker already. Steve’s is growing weaker right alongside it.

Like, Steve’s hands are choking the life out of Will and taking him along with it. Like, even hidden where he is, he knows he can’t live in a world where his hands have done such a terrible thing.

Eddie can’t breathe.

“Move!”

Barb jumps back without hesitation at the sound of Perkins voice booming around the small space. No one else does.

Eddie shifts his eyes toward her, wild and frenzied and they stick. She’s got fucking oven mitts on, a cute turquoise pair with lace cuffs, and she’s holding a steel pot between her palms, Like she’s making mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving and not watching her best friend choke a kid’s life right out of his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t see her move, doesn’t even comprehend what’s happened as something scalding drips onto his hands, so shockingly hot that he jumps back. He looks down at his hands, watches them turn bright red and blister.

Mama Byers is clutching her own face as Will drops, coughing into the water. She snaps out of it, reaching out with desperate, grasping hands to pull him away from where Steve stands, water sloshing as its violently displaced.

Only Barb remains unscathed.

And Steve, he writhes, wet and seizing, black bleeding into his veins.

Behind him, Perkins stands, oven-mitted hands still clutched around her now-empty pot.

Steve drops.

Water splashes around him, soaking everyone further as the water begins to creep out of the bathroom entirely, soaking into the Harrington’s pristine white carpet.

Eddie doesn’t care. He’s frozen where he stands.

Steve’s back arches macabrely, throwing his neck back far enough that his mouth is briefly submerged, bubbles coming out of his mouth in a voiceless scream.

It’s the swimming pool all over again. Steve was always going to drown, and Eddie was always going to follow right after him.

But then he seizes again, and his head’s above water.

Perkins drops the pot with a clatter, dropping to her knees to cup Steve’s face absurdly between her oven-mitted hands.

She’s muttering too quietly for Eddie to hear until he drops down beside her, holding the back of Steve’s head to stop him from going back under.

“Be okay, be okay, be okay,” Perkins mutters, less a plea and more a demand, like she can reach into Steve and rearrange his insides if need be. She’s snarling, feral and wide-eyed.

The blacks traveling up the veins in his arms, peeking out from his clothes as it moves, inexorably to coalesce in his chest. For a wretched moment, Eddie thinks this is it – the smoke will choke out his heart, and there will be no more Steve.

There’s a cry building in his throat, kept down only by the sheer force of it.

But then it continues, bubbling through his heart, and up, up, up into his throat, bulging the veins there enough that Eddie’s afraid they’ll burst.

 Smoke pours out, black and choking. Eddie and Perkins stumble back, instinct taking over as Steve falls unimpeded into the bathwater with clattering splash as his head hits the running faucet on the way down.

The smoke dashes around the room looking for new bodies or an escape. Eddie doesn’t care. Because Steve’s face is submerged and he’s not getting up.

Eddie lunges, meeting Perkins and Barb halfway as they all scramble to get Steve out of the tub.

It’s an uncoordinated slide drag pull, limbs bouncing off porcelain and tile. None of it matters, though. Because Steve coughs, dispelling normal, clear water from his lungs, no black in sight.

Steve Harrington opens his beautiful, beautiful eyes. They flit around, dazed, brow wrinkled until they land on Eddie. He smiles, just a little, like a reflux to seeing Eddie’s face.

“Hi, angel,” Eddie calls, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“Ow,” Steve whispers, voice cracking from his ruined throat, but it’s all him.

Eddie laughs, just as Steve slumps into a dead faint, splashing back into the water for the umpteenth time.

Will sighs. “That’s definitely him.”

They’re all soaked and beat to hell, but this is the happiest Eddie’s ever been. He pulls Steve into his arms, pressing his face into Eddie’s neck so he can feel his puffing breaths.

Proof of life.

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Eddie Munson cries.

Part 94

[thestoryofella]

rainy day

summary: you are terribly unprepared for the weather, luckily your neighbor is dressed for a flood.

warnings: fluff, swearing

steve harrington x reader ✿ 976 words

There was nothing more soothing to you than the gentle patter of rain, splashing onto your bedroom window, a stream of light filling your room with the sunrise. So, when you woke up to a mist of rain spraying through your opened bedroom window, you knew it was a good day.

You got ready in a hurry, quickly throwing on clothes suitable for the weather, brushing through your hair, and practically running to the front door to slip on your shoes and grab an umbrella. It wasn’t until you tried to open your only umbrella on the front porch that you realized maybe today wasn’t going to be a good day.

“Well, fuck,” you muttered, the umbrella springs weakly flopping back down after you attempted to shove it open. You love observing the rain, being around it, not being drenched with it. From the looks of the outdoors, you were going to get drenched without an umbrella.

Looking from under the roof of your porch revealed an absolute downpour of rain. The rain came down torrentially, sliding off your roof visually similar to a waterfall rather than singular droplets. Given that your raincoat from last season didn’t fit anymore, and your umbrella decided to shrivel back up on itself, you were screwed.

Bracing yourself, you stepped out from the protection of the roof, immediately being hit by heavy water droplets. Living only half a mile from Hawkins High School was usually great until it meant you lived too close to be a part of the bus system. Today, you despised your proximity to the school.

Walking as quickly as you could manage, you marched through puddles of water that were practically ponds due to the uneven road, quickly feeling the weight of water as it soaked through your normally warm sweater.

You only managed to make it one block before hearing the voice of your only other classmate who had to walk to Hawkins too: Steve Harrington. He jogged up to you in an outfit that sent deep waves of jealousy through your soul. He looked uncharacteristically nerdy as he was readily equipped with rain boots, a rain jacket, and an umbrella. I wonder if he’s even found waterproof hairspray for the weather, you accidentally let out a small snort at that last thought.

Steve was nice, nicer than you expected him to be given his popularity and seemingly exclusive friend group. Despite the fact that you two never talked outside of school, you’d developed a relationship as friendly acquaintances due to your close living proximity and shared understanding of just how shitty walking to school every morning was.

When he meets you, Steve gapes. His eyebrows raise so incredulously that they almost meet his scalp. “Y/N! Did you forget your umbrella?” His breath fills the air with small, quick puffs of clouds, coming out in quick pants after running to catch up with you.

Continuing your pace, not wishing to be out in the rain for any longer than necessary, you and Steve fall step in step making your way toward school. Recalling the events of your morning, you gain a new twinge of frustration in your heart but nod nonetheless. A small frown sets in on your face, “something similar to that. It just wouldn’t open this morning no matter how hard I pushed upwards.”

“Gosh, I hate it when that happens,” he huffs out. “You know the last time we had rain like this, the same thing happened to me,” he gestures to his outfit, with his hand on his hip, “hence why I’m wearing this.”

You let out a small laugh, tossing your head back a little, after observing the ridiculousness of his outfit for the second time this morning. His rain boots look extra silly as you walk on the evenly paved main road, barely even submerging into any water as it readily went down the storm drains. “You know, I was wondering why you had so much rain gear on,” you laugh.

He looks up at you, and a look of embarrassment spreads across his face, a slight pink dusting his cheeks. He has to fight the urge to facepalm himself when he notices your rain-soaked hair. Here he was in every item of rain gear he could ever need while the rain pelted your clothes, gradually lengthening your sweater as the weight of the rain pushed it down your torso.

Without a word, he moved his umbrella to cover both of your bodies and the immediate coverage from the rain was relieving. However, you couldn’t tell if the warmth came from the end of the torrential rain pelting your clothes, Steve’s warm shoulder brushing up against yours, or the heat that crept up your face because of his thoughtful actions.

“Thank you,” you spoke quietly, slightly embarrassed accepting a thoughtful gesture. You’d always struggled with that.

“I figured I should put you out of your misery,” Steve laughed, his brown eyes and cheeks crinkling as a smile overtook his face. You two walked shoulder to shoulder as Steve made an effort to stay close enough to cover the two of you, although his raincoat would probably have him covered.

Walking shoulder to shoulder, you two gradually made it to Hawkins High School, mostly in comfortable silence as you enjoyed the sound of the rain, the tweets of morning birds, and the rustling leaves on overhanging green trees.

When you reached the school, you were filled with a comfortable warmth that you weren’t sure was from the relief of the umbrella or your thoughtful savior who was comically overdressed for a rain storm.

“See you around neighbor,” Steve waved in his oversized raincoat, a few droplets shaking off from the action, with a newfound twinkle in his eye you hadn’t noticed early this morning.

“Have a good one, Steve.”

[vidalinav]

A Taste of Milk and Honey

Summary: Part 1 of omegaverse nessian; Nesta is an omega in heat when Cassian (alpha) is delivering the queens' letter in Wings and Embers. If you know, you know. This is likely to get smutty... for obvious reasons.

~

Delivering a letter shouldn't have been so hard, Cassian thought. Not for an Illyrian warrior who had centuries on the young woman who lived in the estate he currently circled.

He wondered what the humans might have thought about his behavior if they could see him past the glamour and wind. What did they see? A squawking pigeon or a tortured crow? A vulture circling the house like a ill-fated omen?

Cassian couldn't yell out that he wasn't here to devour dead human flesh, but he wasn't even sure that was true. Even now he could feel an ache in his jaw. He was ready to bear teeth, bite and feast... human flesh and well... An Archeron sister appeared in his mind and the thought of her pale neck. The way her chin raised so high, her nose held up in such a way that he could see exactly where his lips could press.

This Archeron hated him, though.

And he wasn't so fond of her either. He would give the letter to the queens to her simply because it was his task... not because fae feasted on flesh and he yearned to learn exactly how Nesta Archeron tasted when he licked--how sweet she'd be when he bit. Would she blush as pretty as the rosebuds not yet blooming, a fresh spring after snow and ice?

No, he thought, shaking his head. He was here to deliver a letter and to leave. So what if he agreed too quickly? So what if he circled the estate nine times already?

Was he scared?

Cassian didn't know. Rationally he knew that he should never underestimate humans. Humans were unpredictable, even if he was likely to best them in combat, and there was no human more unpredictable than that blasted woman who sneered in distaste, dismissing him so thoroughly he almost wondered if he was young again... there was no one better than Nesta Archeron at reminding him how dirty his boots were and how many callouses ran across his palms. He'd sully her with a single touch. Not that he was even allowed to touch her.

She'd hate him.

But she already hated him, so Cassian took a deep breath and held it as he made his way down to the front door. That was their plan afterall. He'd knock and she'd open it. She'd tell her maid it must have been the wind and he'd slip inside and try not to breathe in her scent.

Lavender and books so thoroughly loved, he'd get dizzy and Cassian knew he would hope somehow that it would get caught on his clothes so he'd scent her all the way back to Velaris. That he would give anything, even an ash arrow or two, to bottle it like perfume.

But Cassian straightened, shaking his head as he rid himself of such foolish thoughts. He wasn't a boy, and Cassian had a job to do, so he knocked as instructed.

Nesta Archeron opened the door, just as planned.

When Cassian had first laid eyes on her, he thought she was an alpha. No one that fierce could be anything but. She had radiated dominance. Her gaze was the color of knives and her tongue was just as sharp. Now, he could see that her eyes were actually a pale blue.

Skies and wind and the freedom of fresh air. Not as intense as metal but just as piercing. Already he could feel a tightness in his chest as if she'd stabbed him.

But her lips were a soft budding pink and he knew he'd suffer for just a sip from her. A taste of milk and honey.

"Who is it?" a woman called from somewhere beyond her.

But Nesta gripped the door handle, slightly shifting as to let him glide past. She shut the door with a thud.

"No one, Ms. Cartwright. It was just the wind."

Cassian stood as still as a statue as he spotted the housekeeper trudging forward with a furrowed brow. Nesta merely continued to the stairs without a glance to the woman.

"Are you sure, you don't want me to stay?" she admonished, the furrow deepening as she wrung her hands. "I know it's quite a private ordeal, but I'd hate to leave you when you're... like this. You don't have a mother to see you through and your sister plans to be away I hear."

Nesta's hand clenched along the banister and she barely spared a glance at the concerned housekeeper. Cassian didn't know if he should be thankful that her icy demeanor was not solely reserved for him or indignant that it was not his alone to keep.

Her spine stayed ramrod straight and her knuckles resembled the color of bone.

"I only need privacy," Nesta answered without even looking at the poor woman, but something about her answer made Cassian pause. His gaze had never left her form, but he surveyed her now with a warrior's assessment. What was wrong? What could he do?

"Just as originally planned, you may come back in five days time."

The housekeeper only nodded lightly, but Nesta spared her no glance as she made her way up the stairs.

Cassian followed, but he held his breath along the way, clenching his fists. Dizzying scent and his calloused hands that wanted to reach for her--he needed to finish delivering this letter and then stay far away from Nesta Archeron.

[weirdosinthestereo]

The Cowboy and the Rocker (Tyler Owens x F!Reader)

Author's note: This is just a slightly self-indulgent story I've come up with after obsessing over Twisters. The reader has a name, but I don't think any physical characteristics are mentioned besides music taste and story age. Unedited! Enjoy! No warnings really for now.

Tyler sighed irritably as he stood beside his truck, he checked his phone for the fifth time in a span of six minutes. 

“Where is this kid?!” Tyler spits as he turned to Boone who was checking some mechanics in the big red Dodge. Tyler was ecstatic to help a student from the University of Alabama get data for their Masters project, but they were slightly behind making it to the meeting spot.

“C'mon man! They are only like three minutes late. You're just impatient.” Boone laughed as he lifted his head from the middle console. Tyler rolled his eyes and his lips pulled into a fine line as he looked out at the early morning sky. The spring weather was nice, but dark clouds already threatened them with storms to come. Tyler noticed a blacked out lifted truck heading down the highway towards the gas station. He could hear the heavy bass and screaming metal from here. 

“Oh please don't be our kid.” He mumbled as he watched the truck speed in to the lot and park in front of his Dodge. The Tacoma was sharp and already decked out with gear to protect it's driver from a storm. The University told Tyler on the phone that the student was already preparing to start chasing on her own, but he didn't expect to already see a very expensive truck on her first time chasing. 

“DRAG ME DOWN SOME MORE. GET ME LOW… LIKE A BASEMENT. I HOPE THAT YOU WROTE, ALL YOUR SONGS FOR ME.”

Tyler stared in shock as the driver of the truck smiled happily over her loud music. Letting it play with her windows down as if to make a big entrance. The driver pulled off her black sunglasses and revealed bright happy eyes. 

“Hi! Sorry I'm late! Had to get gas a while back.” Tyler noticed the heavy southern accent immediately when she spoke. She shut off the truck and jumped out. Tyler arched a brow as he saw she was wearing some more durable boots and jeans paired with a heavy metal band t-shirt, this is not who he expected to see. The girl walked up to Tyler happily as she stuck out her hand. 

“My name is Lila. I'm the student from UA.” Lila introduces with a bright smile. Tyler gave her a small smile before shaking her hand. “I'm Tyler. I was wondering when you were gonna grace us with your presence.” Tyler teased as he put his hands on his hips. 

Lila throws a glance back at her black truck, “Doesn't always have the greatest gas milage.” Lila glances off to the west when she heard anew angry rumble of thunder. Lila smiled as she bounced on the balls of her feet. 

“Sounds like we already have a storm brewing.” Lila says walking to where she could see the darkening sky more clearly. “I'm ready to test my truck out.” She adds rubbing her hands together excitedly. Tyler couldn't help the teasing grin that stretched across his face. “You think you can handle that truck?” He teases as he came to stand beside her. 

Lila threw Tyler as strange look, her nose scrunching up. “I've lived in Alabama for all of my 28 years of life, of course I can handle that truck. Just haven't had the chance to push her.” Tyler laughs playfully, despite her music taste, he was starting to like Lila. 

“Guys! We have some heavy activity on the radar from that storm building in the west! Let's go before we miss her!” Dani calls as the other wranglers throw their stuff in their vehicles. “Here, you will need this radio to keep in touch.” Tyler says tossing Lila a walkie before jogging to hop in his truck. 

Lila gawks before dashing to her truck as well and starting it up. Lila backs up to let Tyler lead and floors it to stay right behind him. 

Tyler and Boone start their feed as they barrell down the road. “What's up everyone! It's your favorite Tornado Wrangles and we have a special guest today in the truck behind us! She's came all the way from Alabama to chase with us for some data and footage for a Masters project!” Tyler yells to the camera over the music. “Roll tide!” Boone hollars jokingly. 

Lila grips the steering wheel tightly as she tails Tyler. Introducing herself to everyone on the walkie since she didn't before driving off. Lila leans forward to get a better look at the sky as the rain slowly starts up. Tyler makes a sharp turn on to a dirt road and Lila yelps as her truck fish tales slightly with the quick turn, but she gets it back quickly. 

“Okay newbie, back off for this while we head on. We will let you come on the next one.” Tyler calls on the walkie as he powers forward as the possible EF3 tornado touches down in an open field. 

Lila frowns and starts to slow down, however, she smirks before turning her music up loud. Given up by Linkin Park blaring from her radio as she slams her foot down on the gas. Dani and Dexter jump where they stand outside the camper shocked as they watch Lila speed to catch up to Tyler, Boone, and Lily in the Dodge. 

“Uh, Tyler? Our student is now chasing you.” Dexter says over the radio system in his vehicle. 

Tyler frowns as he looks in the rear view. “What the hell? Boone cut the camera a moment. Hey Lila?! I told you to hold back this time!” Tyler scolds on the walkie so he could talk to her. 

Lila looks at the walkie on her dash and smiles, “If you feel it, chase it!” She informs before overtaking Tyler on the small dirt road. Kicking up mud as she passes. 

“This girl is gonna get herself killed!” Lily says worriedly as she watches Lila cut off into the field. Her truck bounced on the new terrain as she kept heading straight for the tornado. Tyler curses as she follows Lila. “Lila! Back off now!” Tyler orders, but Lila wasn't listening, just flicked some switches in her truck to get her mounted cameras ready to take pictures of the storm on the outside of the truck. Lila stops her truck a few yards from the storm and presses a button that causes anchors to deploy and keep her truck locked down. 

Tyler was shocked to see this, this girl already had this on her truck as well? Tyler pulls up beside Lila and anchors his truck as well. Tyler looks over at Lila who's smiling widely as she gives him the swirling motion with her fingers that he uses on his videos. Boone laughed as he started the stream again to show Lila to the channel. “Guys! Look at this crazy girl having her first ride with a storm!” Boone cheers as the tornado envelops both trucks. 

Lila watches in awe as the storm roars around her, raging over the sound of her music. Lila presses the space bar on her mounted laptop to take pictures of the storm. Lila grabs the steering wheel shocked when her truck jerks roughly. “What the…” the truck starts to jerk again as the tailend of the storm comes at her. Tyler saw the scared look on Lila's face and leaned over Boone to see her anchors moving in the ground. 

“Shit! I don't think they go deep enough to hold her truck's weight!” Boone concludes. Tyler watched with a worried look as he saw the anchors start to eject from the ground. “No.. they are malfunctioning.” Tyler says, and looks to see the storm was just about to pass. 

“HOLD ON LILA! THE STORM IS ABOUT TO PASS!” Tyler yells through the walkie. Lila shook heavily as she saw the button light up to pull out the anchors. “No! No no no no no..” Lila mumbled as she presses the eject button in hopes to keep the anchors down. 

Lila screamed as her truck lifted about a foot and a half off the ground before dropping again roughly after the tornado passed them fully. Lila shook terrified as she clumsily got out of her truck. 

Tyler scrambles out of his truck and runs to her followed by Boone and Lily. Lila's knees buckle as she walks to the back of her truck, gripping the side of the bed for leverage. 

“Are you okay?!” Tyler yells as he comes to Lila's side where she was hunched over. Lila shook like a leaf in the wind as she leaned up and looked at Tyler. Boone kept the camera rolling as Lily stood on the other side of Lila. Tyler gave Lila a confused look as she smiled widely. “That was absolutely terrifying, but I wanna go again!” Lila yelled as she clung to Tyler's shirt as her legs still trembled under her. Boone whooped excitedly as he made sure to get footage of everyone as Lila jumped up and down now with him. 

Tyler stared at Lila's back in awe before a smile broke across his face. Lily let out a playful scoff as she crossed her arms and watched the two make content, “This girl is gonna give us a run for our money if she makes her own team one day.”

Tyler smiled wider as he watched Lila and Boone fuck around while Dani and Dexter park a bit away to join them. “I don't know… maybe she can work with us?” Tyler suggests and turns his wide smile to Lily. “She's still in school. There's no way she would drop out just to do this when she's so close to finishing her degree.” Lily shook her head. 

“School? I'm not in school.” Lila says absentmindedly before realizing what she said. Tyler frowns now, “Aren't you a student at the University of Alabama going for her Masters in Environmental Sciences?” Tyler asks as he comes closer. Lila stutters worriedly as everyone stares at her awaiting her answer. 

Lila sighs heavily and shakes her head, “I'm sorry. That was a lie. The guy that called you was a friend of mine. I wanted to go chasing with some professionals before trying on my own. I was scared you would refuse unless I came up with some sort of story.” 

Tyler puts his hands on his hips and chuckles dryly as he looks away. “Boone erase the stream. Don't post it.” Tyler gives a pointed look at Boone before he glared at Lila. 

“You know, we probably would have thought about helping you get experience if you had just been honest. Now, I just wanna send you home and never see you again.” Tyler seethed and Lila rubbed her arm as she dug the toe of her left boot in the mud, not wanting to meet Tyler's eyes. Tyler sighed heavily and took off his hat, running a hand through his hair. “But, you've already made the trip out here. We will let you continue to tag along. No more lying though.” Lila looks up shocked but excited. 

“Thank you!! Thank you!!” Lila yells jumping up and down before hugging Tyler tightly. “Okay.. you're welcome. Let's get going to see if we can catch something else.” Tyler says as Lila dashes for her truck and hops in. “Where to?!” She calls.

—----

Night had settled over the town the crew decided to rest in. Groups of chasers gathering at the same motel on the outskirts of the nearest town to follow the Tornado Wranglers, as well as getting their own starts. 

Lila walked the parking lot as she took in the many faces. Her hair still feels windswept and slightly dirty from wandering in the rain and fields all day. Lila smiled and waved at a few passing chasers that greeted her. It was literally like a traveling caravan with how many people seemed to know each other and shared a beer together after the long day. 

“Lila!” Tyler calls and waves her over to sit on the tailgate of his truck. Lila shyly comes over, still worried he was angry with her. “Hi.” She muses while hoping up to sit down. Tyler gives Lila a shit eating grin as he watches her settle in beside him. 

“So, you aren't in school. What were you doing before coming out here? Also, how did you afford to already have a decked out truck?” Tyler asks curiously. 

Lila snorts softly and laughs dryly, “My parents helped me with the last bit of the truck, but it's taken many years of saving to get that truck. I also work as a project manager at a local construction firm that also does a good bit of environmental consulting. I saved my vacation time for months to take off for two weeks. I wanted to be able to rest a week after getting home from chasing with you guys." Tyler listens quietly and shakes his head at her, a smile still pulled across his face. 

“So you do work on environmental issues then? Well, still you didn't have to lie. We loved the idea that someone wanted our help to do something for school. Also, I'd prefer you be careful going into storms for now since your truck tried to send you to the grave this morning.” Tyler watched as Boone and Dexter were actively trying to figure out why her anchors released on their own. Dani and Lily help by holding flashlights now that the sun is fully down. 

Lila sighed heavily as she remembered the fear she felt when she saw the red light come on telling her the anchors were coming up. 

“I don't really get to do much environmental stuff. Mostly I'm just a paper pusher. I know more about regulations than anything.” Lila explains as she looks up to the sky, admiring the stars.

Tyler watches Lila quietly, thinking of something to talk about. He wanted to lighten the mood between them after he yelled at her earlier in the day. He glances at her dirty band tee, Motionless in White? 

“So… you like the heavy stuff, huh? Who's this band on your shirt?” Tyler asks to break the silence. Lila smiled as she looked at her shirt. “Yeah, they are considered metalcore, I think? There are too many subgenres for metal. I love them, though. They are my favorite band. I've seen Motionless in White like five times in concert.” Tyler listened quietly. He didn't really vibe with the metal stuff, but he hasn't tried listening to it in years. Lila flushed red as Tyler watched her quietly and turned her head with a small smile. Tyler came back to reality when he saw her do this. He smirked cockily now. 

“Hey, don't get all shy on me now.” Tyler nudged her with his elbow as he lightly swung his legs that hung off the truck's tailgate. 

“Tyler!!! Come shotgun a beer with me!” Boone yelled loudly across the parking lot. A beer held up high in the air. Obviously, Boone had already had a couple first. Tyler shook his head and hopped down from his truck. “Come on. If we don't go over there Boone will just make more noise than needed.” Tyler said as he waited for Lila to join him. Lila laughed as she followed Tyler to the rest of the group. “How do you shotgun a beer?” Lila asks.

Tyler raised a brow and laughed, “We can show you.” That night wore on longer than it should have as Lila partied with the Tornado Wanglers and a few stranglers that joined them from other teams.

_-_-_-_-_

I may post more parts, but enjoy some Tyler Owens fluffiness!!

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

The Pretty Woman AU no one asked for.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Prostitution, Older Man/Younger Woman

Chapters: 2, 3, 4, 5 (WIP)

AO3 Link

For @whatishowedyouinthedark because she wondered when we were going to get a Pretty Woman AU. Well, my dear, that day is today.

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Chapter One

If I Got Me a Wealthy Man

Feyre tried not to let the dread and panic choke her as she walked down the street.

Everything had been fine until that text. The one from her landlord informing her that no, she could not extend her late payment any later, and yes, she would be facing eviction if she didn’t cough up the now three thousand dollars she owed for both this month’s and last month’s rent.

And, at any other time, this might’ve been doable. Difficult, but doable. Normally her sisters were there to help pay their fair share of the rent and cover for each other any time one of them was a little short. But now that Elain had moved out to live with her boyfriend, and Nesta had disappeared to lord knew where again, their little sister had suddenly found herself on the hook to cover everything herself.

And she was struggling.

She was already working two jobs and even then she was just barely getting by. Even if she managed to fit in a third job somehow and started today, by the time she received her first paycheck she would’ve already been booted onto the streets.

How did one even make that kind of money in a few days? Become a hit man? Did she need to become John Wick for a night? She briefly considered drug dealing…until she realized that she didn’t actually know any illegal drug suppliers. Which was, you know, probably important.

She ended up going with the next best (and illegal) thing.

Which was how she ended up here, on the street corner on the bad side of town, wearing the shortest, sluttiest thing she could find in Nesta’s closet. After all, how difficult could it be for a nineteen year old to find some horny old men to pay her for sex?

Rather difficult it turned out.

Three hours in and she was now beginning to regret her hasty decision. Three hours and she hadn’t seen a single man wander past and give her so much as a creepy stare. Instead, she’d had the local corner shop owner ask her four times in the last hour if she wanted to come inside.

“You look cold dear,” the woman insisted for the fifth time as she closed up shop for the night. Feyre suppressed a shiver as the early spring air gusted over her bare legs.

“I’m alright,” she said while trying not to let her teeth chatter. That probably would’ve been a dead giveaway that she was not, in fact, alright. God, why hadn’t she thought to bring a coat?

Because coats hide the goods, that infuriatingly rational part of her brain supplied.

Not that anyone besides Mrs. Nosy had seen the goods the entire time she’s been out here.

“It’s fine,” Feyre continued. “Really. I’m just waiting for a friend.”

This might’ve been convincing if it hadn’t been the exact same story she’d given this woman every time she’d asked. Said woman looked at her disapprovingly, but seemed to sense she wouldn’t be winning this battle and so left with a parting, “If you say so dear.”

Forty-five minutes later, Feyre wondered where she’d gone wrong in her life. If it hadn’t been apparent before that she was ill-dressed for the weather, then it certainly was now that the sun had set. It had to be near freezing.

And still she hadn’t seen hide or hair of a single horny man ready to throw money at her. She’d barely seen anyone out here really, save for passing cars and the odd homeless person muttering to themselves. God, had she picked the wrong day or something? Did she miss the memo? Was there a prostitute group chat she wasn’t a part of that told everyone which street corner was the busiest? Did prostitutes even have group chats?

These were the questions she was asking herself when he appeared.

“Excuse me, do you know the way to the Four Seasons?”

Feyre startled.

A man had joined her under the flickering street light. A man who was talking to her. And asking for directions.

A handsome man.

…Maybe even too handsome.

“Oh, umm…” she blinked at him stupidly.

“I’m sorry to ask, but I seem to be a bit lost. I swear I was downtown an hour ago but now I’m not really sure how I ended up here. I’d just call an Uber but unfortunately I left my phone at the hotel so…” He smiled at her sheepishly as if to say, ‘what can you do?’.

Feyre studied him thoughtfully. He was tall and impeccably dressed. He certainly looked like someone who could afford to stay at the Four Seasons so that part of his story was likely true.

Which also meant…the wheels started turning in her head.

“…And what’s that worth to you?”

It was cruel. Normally Feyre would’ve just walked the poor man to his hotel herself or offered for him to use her phone….but she was desperate. And from the looks of his shiny shoes and expensive peacoat…he could afford it.

The man looked at her then. Really looked at her, with her ill-fitting cheap dress and haphazard attempt at gaudy makeup…and something suddenly seemed to click in his brain.

“I see.” And he did. His entire demeanor had changed. Where once he had seen a young college student who could give him directions now he clearly saw her for what she truly was.

A whore.

Even if only for the night.

“Do you?” Feyre lowered her voice as she straightened her spine a little. Anything to make herself appear older. Sultry. Unconcerned. As if she weren’t about to be homeless in five fucking days.

“How much do you charge?”

The question caught her completely off guard when it absolutely shouldn’t have. This was exactly why she was here. And yet, when actually faced down with a living, breathing man ready to pay for her services she couldn’t think of a single fucking number. What did sex workers usually charge? It’s not like she knew a lot of prostitutes she could ask. And what if this was the only man she managed to snag in the next five days? She needed to get as much out of him as she could. She needed…she needed…

“Three-thousand dollars.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she desperately wanted to take them back. Was she fucking insane? Nobody was going to pay three-thousand dollars for her!

“Three-thousand,” the man repeated. His face was infuriatingly blank. Was he angry? Upset? Convinced this was all a joke?

“Yep,” Feyre confirmed, figuring she was already in too deep. Might as well commit.

After all, the worst thing he could say was no…and then she would have to go ask that nice homeless man who’d been circling the block for tips on how best to survive on the streets.

“Per?”

She blinked. “…Purr?”

Like…like a cat? Was that something he was into? Was he seriously asking if she would be willing to purr in his lap like a kitten for three grand? Because if so, the answer was definitely-

“Per hour? Per night? Per week?” The man clarified, face still blank.

“Oh…” She suddenly wished lightning would strike her dead right then and there. “Umm, per night?” It came off as a question even though she hadn’t meant it to.

“Three-thousand dollars for the entire night.”

Feyre was deeply annoyed by his ability to make his questions not sound like questions. As if question marks didn’t even exist in his vocabulary.

“That’s…what I said.”

Maybe she needed to revisit the drug dealing idea again. Surely that was easier than standing in front of this stranger and negotiating her worth like she’d never done it before. Which…she hadn’t. But still.   

He stared at her for a moment with those intense dark eyes of his. She couldn’t really tell under the flickering light, but she thought they looked almost…purple? Violet maybe? Which was stupid because neither of those were actually a real eye color.

“Tell you what,” the man said pulling his hands out of his pockets. In his right he held a leather wallet that looked as if it were brand new. He plucked several bills out and held them out to her. Her heart stuttered when she saw the number 100 on each of them. “I’m afraid I don’t have three thousand dollars on me at the moment, but I do back at my hotel. I’ll give you five-hundred now if you agree to take me there and the rest when we get back to my rooms. Do we have a deal?”

Feyre felt faint.

She hadn’t actually believed he’d give her three-thousand dollars! That was just…a Hail Mary! A dumb, impulsive shout into the void!

“Just to get you back to your hotel?” She asked, eyeing the bills greedily.

“Just to get me back to my hotel,” he confirmed.

She took the money.

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As they made their way downtown, Feyre thanked her past self for having the foresight to wear her ratty converse instead of squeezing her feet into Nesta’s too-small heels. Not exactly the sexiest shoes ever, but they were saving her from the blisters she likely would’ve had by now after walking the last six blocks so she wasn’t about to complain. And it wasn’t like men were going to be staring at her feet all that much anyway. Or, at least, that’s what she had assumed.

Because he was staring at them.

She’d caught her strange companion (Rhys, he had introduced himself as shortly after she’d snatched the money out of his hand) staring at her shoes at least three times now. If she were anywhere else, doing anything else she might’ve confronted him about it, but he had also just paid her five-hundred dollars and was planning to pay her another two and a half grand more once she got his ass back to his ritzy hotel so she was willing to bite her tongue.

“Are you sure you don’t want to borrow my coat?” He asked her for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

And even though she was freezing her tits off she was just stubborn enough to give him the same answer she had last time.

“I’m sure.”

He kept doing that. Offering her things. Asking her questions. Normal questions. Like how old she was and how long she’d lived here.

It was kind of freaking her out.

She had lied of course. She couldn’t exactly have some strange man knowing who she was or where she lived. This was only temporary after all. What would Nesta think if she knew her baby sister had dressed up like a hooker and propositioned a man on the street corner? What would Elain think? No, better none of this got back to them. Better she got her money from him as soon as she deposited him at his destination and then went home and forgot all about this hare-brained adventure of hers.

Thankfully they wouldn’t have to travel much further. The buildings had gone from old and neglected to shiny and new rather quickly. Once upon a time Feyre used to come here often to visit her father in his swanky office in the financial district, but those days had come to a very sudden close after the market crash. Now she was lucky to come here whenever her job at the local bistro needed extra help on the weekends.

She spied a passerbyer give her a judgmental look as if to illustrate just how much she no longer fit in here anymore. Or, you know, it was probably the skimpy dress she was wearing in freezing temperatures. Who could say really?

The entrance to the Four Seasons wasn’t all that difficult to find amongst the busy streets of downtown. Honestly, Feyre sort of wondered how on earth Rhys had managed to get lost when all he’d really done was walk in a straight line away from his hotel for about a mile. It almost felt a little unfair to be taking so much money from him over something he could’ve easily figured out himself but, then again, any man willing to throw three-thousand dollars away over something so minor probably deserved to get scammed.

The man in question stared up at the entrance and then back at her curiously, as if surprised she had actually kept her word and done what he had asked. Then, without a word, he opened the door and waltzed inside.

She stood there for a moment, not sure what she was supposed to do now. Did he expect her to follow him up to his room? Or did she wait outside and hope he returned with the money? Thankfully, he saved her from fretting for too long because she saw him reappear, holding the door open for her.

“Aren’t you coming?” He arched an eyebrow at her as if to say ‘well?’.

She supposed that was as good an invitation as any and followed him inside.

The lobby was enormous. That was her first thought. Her second thought was that she absolutely did not belong here. Everything looked so…expensive. And white. Spotlessly white. White walls. White marble floors. White furniture and decor. White, white, white. Rhys, however, seemed completely unfazed by all the luxury around him and headed straight for the gold elevator, Feyre scrambled after him and desperately hoping her grubby shoes weren’t leaving dirty shoe prints on the pristine floor (they were).

They were quiet on the ride up and she watched the number slowly rise and rise and rise the higher they went. Just how far up was his room? When she saw the number go past forty her mind really started to boggle. What on earth was past the fortieth floor?

The fucking Presidential Suite, it turned out.

No wonder he was willing to throw thousands of dollars around for some directions. This place had to cost at least three times that just for a single night!

Rhys, oblivious to her inner turmoil over his clearly considerable wealth, wandered in almost aimlessly, dropping his coat on the back of a chair and loosening his tie as if returning home after a long day at work.

“Make yourself comfortable. Give me a moment and I’ll grab the rest of your money.”

Your money. As if it were already hers and he was just returning it to her.

She just nodded dumbly, but he was already disappearing around the corner into what she assumed was the bedroom. She tried to do as he said and briefly sat down on the couch…only to shoot back up moments later, afraid to sully the spotless brocade with her…with her what? The miasma of poverty she carried with her?

“Here,” Rhys reappeared carrying a large stack of crisp hundred dollar bills and handed them to her without fanfare. “That should be twenty-five hundred but feel free to double check. I wouldn’t want to cheat you out of what you’re owed.”

He was right. She should count the money just to be safe. She needed it to keep the roof over her head after all.

She didn’t.

Because it suddenly occurred to her…she had the money now to pay this and last month’s rent…but what about next month’s rent? And the one after that? She still had to cover Elain’s portion of the rent now that she had moved out. And Nesta was still M.I.A. and thus unavailable to pay her half. So where did that leave Feyre? Stuck covering the entirety of their fifteen-hundred dollar rent bill all by herself for the foreseeable future, that’s what. She needed some sort of buffer to fall back on while she waited out the last few months on her rental agreement and Nesta figured her shit out.

She needed more money.

And, she thought as she looked up at the handsome man before her, it looked like she might just have someone willing to give it to her.

“Is that all you want?” She tried to sound sultry but Feyre had a feeling she sounded less like Jessica Rabbit and more like Velma from Scooby Doo. Awkward. And incredibly young.

Rhys gave her a strange look. It wasn’t turned off exactly, but it also wasn’t exactly turned on. He seemed…searching. Like he was trying to figure her out.

“Isn’t that all you want?” He asked, turning the question around on her.

“I could…do more,” she said clumsily. “For a price of course…”

He didn’t answer her, just hummed thoughtfully. She pressed forward, hoping he just needed more convincing.

“You could have me for the whole night this time. I can do whatever you like…”

“How old are you?”

The question caught her completely off guard. He had already asked this on their walk and she had already given him an answer. She’d told him that she was twenty-four but it was clear now that he hadn’t believed a word she’d said. And, looking up at his inflexible features, it was even more clear that this time he wanted a real answer. A truthful one.

Feyre glanced down nervously. Would he continue if he knew her real age? Her real name? Her real reason for being here? Or would he kick her to the curb?

She really, really needed the money.

“Nineteen.”

He nodded, as if this were what he’d been expecting.

“And is your real name Vivian?”

“…No.”

“And would you rather I called you Vivian?”

“Yes, please,” she whispered meekly.

“Why were you on that street corner Vivian?”

She hesitated. Did she tell him the truth? She’d already divulged more than she likely should have…but he was being strangely sweet to a random stray he’d found on the side of the road. So what was the harm in giving him at least a little more? Not all of it though. She wasn’t that stupid.

“I was going to be evicted and needed the money. I still need the money.”

“I see,” and just like before, he did. He wasn’t pitying exactly, but he had a look of understanding. “And do you want to have sex Vivian?”

The answer to that question should’ve been ‘no’. She absolutely should not have wanted to have sex with a much older man just so she could pay her rent. It was wrong. It was illegal.

And he was really hot.

And nice to her.

“Yes.”

Shockingly, he didn’t immediately turn her down. He just said, “Are you sure?”

“Will you be paying me?” This was, after all, why she was here. Even if she also selfishly wanted to know what he looked like without his clothes on. If she had to earn her paycheck on her back, at least it was underneath somebody who wasn’t a completele asshole and looked like he stepped out of a perfume commercial.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Then I’d rather earn my money, if you don’t mind.”

He just nodded.

And that was that.

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

They didn’t immediately jump into bed, as it turned out.

As she soon discovered, there were negotiations to be made. Prices to agree upon. And limits to discuss. Honestly it felt a lot like that Fifty Shades movie she had guiltily watched on her laptop and then told everyone she hadn’t seen.

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do?”

Truthfully, her sexual experience was rather limited so it was hard for her to answer that question. She’d only ever had sex with two people a handful of times before deciding that maybe she just wasn’t that into it. But he was also paying to use her body so it really didn’t matter what she was into. Just what she absolutely wouldn’t be able to stomach.

“Just…no kissing.”

In hindsight, it seemed like a stupid rule but it felt right to her. Sex was sex. But kissing made it…real. Like feelings were involved.

He didn’t argue. Only gave her a curious look before moving on.

Finally, he handed her an even larger stack of bills than before.

Five-thousand dollars.

Between that and the money he had given her previously, she was officially eight-thousand dollars richer. It was enough to make anyone feel a little faint.

“So you just…have this kind of cash on hand?” Feyre blurted out, a little breathless.

It was still mind boggling to her that anyone would throw this sort of money around willy nilly, as if it weren’t life-changing. Because that’s what this was for her. It was a life preserver. He was saving her and he didn’t even seem to know it.

Rhys raised his eyebrows.

“Not always. Usually I just use credit cards.” She noticed he hadn’t actually answered her question but knew better than to push. He probably thought she was planning to rob him or something.

As if you aren’t already? Her brain screeched, still unable to process that anyone was willing to spend this kind of money just to get inside of her. If you asked her, she was worth like…a hundred bucks and maybe a pizza. Maybe. Not…eight-thousand fucking dollars. And for only the one night!

Feyre took the money and held it in her hands like a live grenade. It felt wrong to just stash this in her purse instead of immediately dashing to a bank or ATM to deposit it but she’d made an agreement and, damn it, she was going to stick to it.

“So…how do you wanna do this?”

By now, Rhys was lounging on the couch in the living area, watching her intently as if she were a fascinating creature and not a very broke and awkward teenager.

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Whelp. In for a penny, in for a pound.

She sat on his knee and shifted clumsily, trying to find a more comfortable position, but Rhys fixed that quickly by pulling her against his chest so she could hear his heart beating against her ear.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, as if they hadn’t just spent the last forty-five minutes discussing exactly that.

“Of course.”

He could’ve touched her anywhere. Her breasts. Her ass. Between her legs. And yet it caught her completely off guard when he went for, not any of those, but for her hair.

He was…stroking her hair.

She went still.

Bit by bit she felt her muscles go lax and limp. She felt a bit like a cat being stroked into a nice, long nap. It was…nice. Soothing.

“Good girl.”

They were such simple words. So normal. A little condescending even. But god, they lit up her brain like a fucking Christmas tree.

Oh, she thought as gooseflesh broke out along her arms. So it’s like that then?

Feyre pressed her nose to his throat and filled her lungs with the scent of salt and citrus and expensive cologne as she tried to suppress the shiver that suddenly took hold of her.

She felt…restless.

Squirmy.

That hand kept stroking her hair, unconcerned with the bomb he had set off in her brain.

“Look at you,” Rhys murmured into her ear. “I knew there was a sweet girl under all that bravado.”

She felt his other hand skim down the length of her, the slope of her shoulders and the curve of her waist, before coming to rub innocent circles into her thigh.

“Are you going to be my good girl?” He whispered, petting her hair with one hand while his other finally began to sneak under the hem of her skirt. “Are you soft and wet for me?”

Her heart thumped against her ribcage like a hummingbird trying to fly free.

Oh she was certainly wet alright, a fact he soon discovered when she heard his pleased groan as his fingers made contact with the gusset of her panties.

“My good sweet girl. You need this don’t you?”

Feyre shivered as lust crawled through her veins like fire. He hadn’t even really touched her yet and she could already feel her heartbeat throbbing away in her cunt.

“Please,” she begged against his neck.

Those fingers petted her over her panties. Softly. Gently. Like she were a wild animal that needed taming. Her clitoris felt flush with blood and heat. Jesus, this was already hotter than anything she’d ever done and he’d barely even touched her. 

“That’s it…”

She just sighed.

Between one moment and the next she felt his fingers slip under her panties and brush against the curls there. Self consciousness suddenly gripped her. Should she have shaved?Didn’t men hate pubic hair? Her last two partners had. Perhaps there was still time to make an excuse and then go find a razor in the bathroom and-

“So soft for me here.”

Okay. So maybe he didn’t mind it so much.

His fingers sifted through her pubic hair until they found the burning seam of her. They dipped inside and she tried hard not to gasp when they brushed over the pulsing little bead of her clitoris.

“And so soft for me here too…” She felt ready to combust when two of his fingers burrowed their way inside of her.

His erection pulsed underneath her, hot and hard, but shockingly Rhys, unlike every man she’d ever met, seemed in no hurry to attend to it. Perfectly content to whisper in her ear and plunder her insides while he ground his palm against her clit.

“Don’t…don’t you want to have sex?” Feyre gasped against his throat.

She felt a gust of laughter against her skin. “My sweet girl, what do you think we’re doing?”

And then, just as if to prove his point, he curled his fingers inside of her.

In theory, Feyre knew what the g-spot was. She’d heard it spoken about in whispers in the girl’s locker room, as if it were a myth. She’d read about it in the romance novels she told Nesta she totally didn’t steal from her. And yet, none of that could’ve prepared her for what it felt like to actually find out that it was very real and ohJesusohGodohfuck-

Her body seized. Her legs kicked out. Her toes curled.

“There you go,” Rhys crooned sweetly, petting her through her orgasm. “Such a good girl. You’re so pretty when you come.”

She was shivering.

Why couldn’t she stop shivering?

Rhys lifted her as if she weighed no more than a kitten. Only moments later she found herself laid down upon a plush white bedspread. His room. He had taken her to his room.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” She whispered, suddenly sleepy.

“Is my sweet girl so desperate for my cock already?” He asked, amused. He pulled the covers out from under her and then laid them over her, cocooning her in a cloud of warmth.

“Why don’t you come over here and…uh…find out,” Feyre replied with a yawn.

“We have all night for that,” he pointed out as her eyes began to droop.

“Yeah…that’s true…”

Maybe he was going to let her nap and then wake her up later? It was getting late after all. And his bed was so very comfortable…maybe just a quick power nap first…

She was asleep long before he kissed her on the forehead goodnight.