#i wanted her to still look a little youthful even if she's a step into her 20s so hence the baby face

[ournosleep69-blog]

Joel Takes Your Virginity (yippee)

Haven’t done this in a while, so please bear with me!! I also need more ideas for what to write LOL. Thinking about doing some Arthur Morgan stories?? Mayhaps?? I also do angst & fluff YIPPEEE

Pairing: Joel Miller (hbo) x fem!reader (use of she/her, feminine terms)

Word count: 4.3k Warnings & Content: Smut, 18+. Age gap (reader is 19, Joel in his 40s), fem!reader, oral - female receiving, praise, P-in-V unprotected, loss of virginity, slight awkwardness, established relationship, creampie, dom!Joel, marking, sleepy aftercare, veryvery smutty, set in Jackson.

It’s already been a wonderful eleven months being with Joel. Sure, moving into his house before you two had even crossed a year together was a little bit risky, yet, it felt right; still feels right. Plus, you two had connected before you’d even gotten together, so it wasn’t as if it happened completely out of the blue.

Everything was amazing - Joel was the best boyfriend you could ask for; sweet, gentle, yet protective and ready to defend you if it came down to it (and it has, many times). He was thoughtful, and never wanted you to do things yourself, even if it was as simple as making coffee in the mornings. The age gap may earn some…questionable looks from a few randoms here in Jackson, but he never cared. Joel loved you loud, and he was damn proud of it.

On an intimacy level, however, you two hadn’t gone past the casual late-night makeout sessions, the hickeys here and there, the occasional groping. But it never went past any of that. It began to frustrate you, even if it was your doing. You stopped things before they went past that line of intimacy, but it was only because you were scared. What if you weren’t as good as the other girls he’s had? How many girls has he had, exactly? What if you can’t please him the first time-

“Thinkin’ hard over there?” Joel’s gruff voice interrupts your thoughts as his large hand comes out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His words ground you back into reality, and suddenly, you’re back on the couch with your boyfriend, watching some cheesy action film on a small TV. “Starin’ off into space like that, you alright?” 

Your gaze flickers over to Joel, noticing his hand gently squeezing your thigh in a reassuring manner. He seems to be worried, his brows furrowed, the slight wrinkles on his forehead deepening.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you quickly brush his worries aside. Your hand reaches out to grab his own, feeling the way his palm and fingers nearly dwarf yours in size. “Just thinking.”

“Thinkin’?” With a grunt, the Texan shifts closer to you, his free hand trailing down to your chin to tilt your head in his direction. God, the man was stunning. Even in his late forties, he looked so full of youth. His brown eyes, deep and intense, met yours, beckoning you to be honest.

A sense of uncertainty fills your brain. It’s best to be honest, but you feel odd talking about it - intimacy was never your strong suit, even if it’s only because you were so inexperienced. So, you inhale a deep breath, your eyes fluttering slightly as you prepare to express yourself. 

“I wanna…well,” it’d be nice to turn your head and dodge his eye contact because you can already feel your cheeks heating up, but he keeps you in place. “I just think maybe we, uh, we take things..” Fuck, this was hard.

“I want to have sex. With you. Uhm, right. Yeah.” Jesus Christ, you kick yourself mentally, a palm slapping over your face in embarrassment. That was so awkward you might as well have just jumped his bones instead.

 You can see a wave of surprise rush over Joel’s features. His eyes widen slightly, lips parting to say something, yet he remains silent, only the sounds of his near-silent breaths filling the room. The hand on your thigh tightens just a bit. 

He then clears his throat, “you sure, pumpkin? That’s a big step. I don’t want you to feel like you have to. We can go as slow as you w-” But you cut him off by leaning in just slightly. The air between you thickens with tension, and you can feel Joel’s body tensing with anticipation. 

“I’m ready,” it’s all Joel needed to grab your hand, leading you up from the couch and towards your shared bedroom upstairs.

  ☆☆☆☆☆☆

It was a quick mess of clothes being discarded as soon as you two passed the threshold leading into the bedroom. Joel’s arms are tight around your waist, your own clinging to his shirt while your lips fight for dominance; a fight Joel quickly wins every. Single. Time.

Hot tongues slide and tangle against each other while your feet step towards the bed. Joel’s strong arms, marred with scars and scratches from all of his arduous years of surviving, guide you to lay back on the bed. 

“Just lay back, sweetheart. I wanna make your first time somethin’ special, you hear me?” The older man murmurs whilst slowly crawling on top of you.

Your back sinks into the fluffy softness of the covers, eyes flitting up to meet Joel’s intense ones. His gaze is roving over your body, pupils widening at the sight of every inch; the swell of your breasts, your flared hips, those plush lips and beautiful eyes. He could spend countless hours just ranting about how amazing you are, how special you are to him. 

How much he loves you.

His lips brush against the shell of your ear, breath warming the skin there whenever he talks. And the way his hand slides up to your stomach, tracing the contours, makes your insides clench. Though things were starting to get steamy, the nerves were starting to take over.

“Hey, hey. Darlin’, breathe,” You tried to keep it together as much as you could, but Joel could see the slight tremble in your body, the way you were unintentionally digging your nails into his shoulder. “Are you sure this is somethin’ you want?”

“Yes. It- It is. I know it…it doesn’t seem like it, but,” a shy laugh escapes your lips, and you loosen your grip. “But I want this. I’m serious, Joel.” 

At your words, the Texan nods firmly. His touch resumes on your stomach, fingertips trailing up and over your ribcage, feeling the ridges even through the skin. His touch is featherlight, calming even. And then his fingers brush against the bottom of your underwear, earning a gasp from your mouth.

“Someone’s eager..” He murmurs, shifting his hips nearly imperceptibly. But you could feel the hot bulge of his arousal pressed to the soft flesh of your inner thigh, the way it twitches through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“I could- could say the same about, uh, you,” It sounded a lot smoother in your head, but not so much when you stutter it out.

But he was right. The soft cotton panties that adorned your hips were damp in the crotch from your arousal, the slickness only growing with each touch, each loving caress from your older lover.

“Remember what I said, pumpkin. Breathe, in and out.” For someone so…intimidating, Joel can never help himself from babying you; especially in this moment of pure vulnerability for you, for your relationship.

Taking his advice, you suck in a deep breath, letting the oxygen sit in your lungs for a few seconds before you exhale just as slowly. The nerves are still there, but they’re calming down, and you can feel yourself enjoying the moment even more.

Joel can tell, too, because his touch becomes bolder. Leaning in, his lips descend upon your neck. He makes sure to carefully nip at the sensitive flesh behind your ear, earning a soft moan. But the acts of affection lower, and he starts to trail down the column of your throat with them, occasionally slipping the tip of his tongue out to taste you.

By the time he’s got you more opened up to the idea of this, you’re squirming under him, trying to press your hips up into his own. He chuckles, the movement making his beard scratch nicely against your jawline.

One of his hands begins to slip down, dipping below the elastic waistband of your underwear. He stops just short of actually making contact with your pussy, his fingers pulling back slightly. Joel leans his head back, only enough to look down at you. He can see the flush on your cheeks and it makes his dick throb. 

“Is this okay?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, those weathered puppy eyes staring longingly into yours.

“Yeah..” You breathe. The anticipation combined with your arousal is sending tingles up your legs and into the apex of your thighs, amplifying every one of your intense feelings. Your pulse quickens, the steady thrum of your heart filling your ears.

Without hesitation, his fingers finally make contact with your most intimate area. Joel emits a soft groan, while you emit an even softer whimper. His touch is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your legs and lower stomach, even if he hasn’t touched a particularly sensitive area yet.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked,” he whispers, voice hoarse and full of incredulousness. The older man continues his exploration of your cunt, index finger languidly sliding between your hot folds, feeling the way it glides so easily from your evident need. You’re too flustered to say anything, so you only look away, wanting to shrink away from his gaze. 

“Hey, look at me. Please.” 

You tilt your head back, too weak and in love to ignore his loving plea. A genuine, tender smile curls at the corners of his lips. “I wanna see every emotion on that pretty lil’ face, ‘kay?”

“Fuck-” You gasp again when his digits find your clit, beginning to rub tight circles over the sensitive bud. It throbs under his touch, your legs quivering just a bit while your entrance clenches around nothing, eager to be filled with something. Anything.

“S’alright, let it out.” Joel praises lovingly as he kisses your cheek, continuing his movements that have your hips rocking up and arching to chase that pleasurable feeling. 

With his thumb now replacing his fingers, Joel pays more attention to your entrance. But before he does anything, he suddenly lifts off of you. You whine at the loss of the pleasurable sensation, but he only gives you a soft ‘shh’, reassuring you that he’s nowhere near done working you up.

The older man finally settles between your thighs, his rough hands sliding up to your hips. His fingers curl around the waistband, pulling them off in one easy - or easy-looking - movement. The cool air brushing against your swollen folds makes you shudder, your toes curling on the sheets. It’d be surprising that you aren’t feeling exposed or uncomfortable, yet, you’re with Joel, and you trust him more than anyone.

“God, look at that,” A soft kiss is pressed to your mound, making you jump a little. “Every goddamn inch of you is perfect, sweetheart.” he admires.

It’s like you completely shut out every other feeling when Joel’s tongue comes out, mimicking the way his finger had slid between your folds just minutes ago. You can only focus on the wet, heady feeling of his tongue, of the way it brushes once more against your swollen clit.

Another mousy cry of need escapes you, yet your eyes are trained on Joel’s - you don’t want to disobey him. Watching him go down on you for the first time is so fucking erotic. “You taste even better than I imagined.” 

Fuck. 

Joel’s ministrations become more intense. His tongue flicks and works around your needy bud, not daring to overstimulate you before you two have even begun. Those arms come to wraps around your thighs, keeping you in place as he begins to feast on you like a man once starved. 

“Holy shit,” Your hands lose themselves in the soft salt-and-pepper locks of Joel’s hair, tugging his face closer to your dripping cunt. This only makes him double down on his efforts, the obscene sounds of his tongue licking and lapping filling the room.

Joel stops for a moment, looking down. His hand pulls away from your thigh, bringing two fingers to his mouth. Then, he’s looking back into your heated stare, sucking them into his mouth, getting them slick enough to slip inside of you. 

Now, this part was a little intimidating. Sure, you’ve touched yourself many a time, yet you’ve never put something inside of you. It makes you nervous to think about, but then you stop to  think. He’s never hurt me before.

“Please be careful.” The words leave your lips before you can stop yourself.

“I wouldn’t dream of hurtin’ you, kid.” 

The tip of only one digit breaches your small entrance, making you exhale a shaky sigh. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels unfamiliar, and your thighs threaten to lock around his head. Joel slides it in slowly, pupils blown wide at the feel of your velvety walls clinging to his finger, trying to pull him deeper. “I’d say you’re already up for a second. Carefully, ‘course.” 

Your left hand loosens the grip it had on his hair, coming down to hold the one still around your thigh for support. Joel wastes no time in intertwining your fingers together, offering three comforting squeezes that melt your heart. I love you.

It’s a little longer of a process for your body to relax enough to let him slip in a second digit. The two inside of you stretch you just a bit, and the sensation is…odd. It’s not painful though, not when Joel’s muttering words of praise and reassurance the entire time.

“I think…I think you can move now.” You decide. 

As if on cue, Joel’s fingers begin to slip in and out of your entrance, wanting to get you acquainted with the feeling. And once you do, he curls them up. They brush against your g-spot, feeling the spongy yet hard surface against the tips with each thrust.

Even the slightest touch as your back arched off the bed, a keening moan filling the room. Joel only smiles contentedly, lowering his head to begin suckling at your clit.

Your toes curl once again, and you cry out. “Oh my god, Joel-” Each flick of his tongue, each movement of his fingers has you grinding against his mouth, unable to hold back. The flush on your cheeks has bloomed down to your neck, the cutest sight to the older man who absolutely adores you. “That feels s- so fucking good-”

“Let it out. Be as loud as you need to, baby,” his southern drawl comes out husky with arousal, yet he pushes through. His desires can wait, he’s only worried about making sure you have the best first time. It only comes once, but he wants to make sure you do multiple times tonight.

The praise sets you off, the combination of being fingered and eaten out has you an absolute blissed-out mess. He hums against your cunt, sending vibrations through your entire body. Your hand tightens in his, your head thrown back.

Just another minute or so passes, and you feel the intense tug in your lower stomach. Close, already. Joel can tell as well, seeing the way your walls are fluttering around him as he finger-fucks you with care. His tongue keeps the same steady pace, not wanting to change it up and make you lose the building climax.

“Joel- Joel! Fuck, don’t stop, please!” 

And just like that, one more flick of Joel’s tongue, one more thrust of his digits, has you tumbling headfirst over the finish line. Your climax is intense, easily one of the most intense you’ve had in your short life. Thighs clenched tightly around his head, you cry out in ecstasy as your legs tremble and feel like jelly, walls contracting while your juices spill down to Joel’s palm.

And through it all, the older man’s mouth and hand keeps moving, prolonging your orgasm until you're a writhing, boneless heap on the bed beneath him. Your face glistens with that post-orgasmic glow, chest heaving with each gasp for air.

While you’re still reeling, Joel slowly removes his fingers. He presses kisses up along your body, only stopping when he reaches your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue - slightly tangy and salty, mixed with something uniquely you. It should gross you out, but it only serves to keep your arousal up, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You did so good, so fuckin’ good,” Joel mumbles between kisses. The kisses aren’t overly eager; no, they’re full of adoration and tenderness, and the desire to make you feel the best that you possibly can.

You already feel like a puddle of goo, but the way he’s complimenting you only makes you melt even more. But something snaps you from your thoughts - his length, once again, pressed to your thigh. It’s as hard as a fucking rock, and you know it has to hurt as this point. One glance down and you can see the wet patch from the pre-cum staining his boxers, and it makes you shudder.

“Keep going..” you murmur, voice weak and slightly husky from the climax. Joel only looks at you with a curious lift of his brow. But you only nod, even beginning to rub your thigh against his bulge.

“Are you sure, pumpkin? I mean- fuck.” The growl deep in his chest makes your pussy wetter, and you can see his hips twitch slightly, wanting to chase that friction. “Alright, alright.” He chuckles.

Pulling back so he’s on his knees, the Texan moves to tug his waistband down.The boxers slip down his muscular thighs with ease, revealing the neatly trimmed forest at the base of his shaft, and most importantly, the seven and a half inch length of his cock. It springs free, slapping against his stomach as he leans back, giving you the full view. It’s thick, veiny, and clearly in need of release. It twitches once again, the tip an angry pink.

You’ve felt it multiple times during your makeout sessions, and even seen it during showers together, but this was entirely different.

“This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” You swallow thickly. The nerves rush back, making your stomach drop and clench with anticipation. All you can think is ‘how is that supposed to fit in that?’

“I won’t let it,” he’s quick to dispel your fears, once again. “I promise ya’.” 

You watch on in aroused disbelief as Joel spits into his calloused palm before he brings it down to wrap around his shaft. “You’ve got me hard as a damn rock, kid.” His head tilts back, strong jaw clenching under his beard as he starts to stroke it with lazy pumps of his fist. It must be only to lubricate it, because he’s back to hovering his body over yours. “Ain’t a surprise though, huh?”

With one hand moving to guide his length to your soaked pussy, the other moves back to slide into your own, holding your hand to support you through what’s going to be your first time having sex.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel’s soothing words fill you with ease. He kisses your forehead, pouring every ounce of his true love for you into the action. He’s not a man of many words, but you melt down that gruff exterior, and he loves you all the more for it. “So perfect. And all mine, ain’t that right?” It’s possessive, but he’s not mean about it. You nod, and he smiles. “Can you say it for me, pumpkin? Go on, I know ya’ can.”

Trying to gather up the words while Joel’s swiping his cockhead through your folds for lubrication is nearly impossible. Your hand tightens on his, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the task you’ve been given.

“I- I’m all yours, Joel.” You finally breathe, gasping when his tip breaches your entrance. It feels thicker than his two fingers, and there’s a slight burning sensation that comes with being stretched like that.

Joel grunts, one hand beside your head to keep himself up. His other simply squeezes yours back, grounding you to the situation. “I know, baby, I know. Deep breaths, breathe through it.” 

The encouragement is enough, and you start to breathe deeply as he begins to sink inch by inch inside of your tight, wet, velvety heat. You’ve never been stretched so fully - or at all for that matter - it makes you wince, yet clench your muscles around him.

“I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” Joel grunts, the pleasure nearly overtaking him. It’s so fucking tight around his cock, he fights the urge to just start thrusting right then and there. But he’d never hurt you, especially not for some selfish need for pleasure. “Say it back, sweetheart, let me hear those words from your pretty ‘lil’ mouth.”

It clicks right then and there; he’s distracting you, trying to make you focus on anything other than the feeling of him stretching you wide around his arousal. It’s so sweet it nearly brings tears to your eyes. In fact, it does. Your eyes fill with unshed tears at the sentiment, and you cling tighter to him.

“I love you.” 

The older man finally buries himself to the hilt inside of your cunt, his breathing slightly ragged. He stills to let you work out the foreign feeling for a few moments, leaning down to kiss your cheeks, even kissing away the few tears that had escaped.

“Say it again, kid.” 

“F- Fuck- I love you-” 

“Atta girl.” Joel encourages warmly, and he begins to piston his hips in gentle, languid strokes. Each thrust has him groaning, mouth pressed against your collarbone, which he begins to mark up with hickeys. It’s a reminder of the trust you put into him, the trust he wouldn’t break for the world. “I love you more.”

Meanwhile, each thrust has you making your own coos of pleasure. The feel of his cock nestled inside of you, each roll of his hips that has his pelvis grinding against your oh-so-sensitive clit, is driving you insane with gratification. With unadulterated need. 

Your bodies fit and move together like pieces of a puzzle, your legs wrapped tight against his waist as he drives into you over and over. The pain and burn had begun to fade, opening up to extreme pleasure every time the slight curve of his cock pressed against your g-spot. 

Your noises, combined with the slapping of flesh, fills your ears, making it impossible to focus on anything else; not that you’d want to anyway. And the noises you were making were making Joel inch towards the edge, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, my god, pumpkin,” Joel growls. Making sure you’re still holding onto his hand, his other one slips back down - making sure to caress your breasts adoringly on the way - to rub circles into your bud. You mewl, the dual stimulation serving to heighten your pleasure even more. Your walls clamp down on Joel’s shaft, making him let out a strangled moan. It was no secret, you were both so close.

“I want- ah, shit-” The Texan mutters, trying to find his bearings while his hips begin to rut faster, chasing the release he craves. “I want you to cum with me, kid. Let it- Let it wash over ya’. Deep breaths.”

Joel redoubles his efforts, wanting you to find that wave of ecstasy beside him. He can tell you're close, and with the way his balls draw up tight, he can tell he is too.

“Joel-” Your nails dig into his hand, leaving deep crescent-shaped marks with every step closer you take to the edge. “I- I’m gonna-”

“Shit, darlin’-” It’s not long before you both find that much-needed orgasm. Joel’s lips crash against yours, groaning gutturally into your mouth, his hips bucking. Your climax triggered his own, walls keeping him deep inside while his cock twitches and pulses, emptying ropes of thick, hot cum deep inside your womb until he’s spent and panting.

Your legs had locked tight around him, squeezing him while you rode out your own waves of pleasure. Your cries were muffled by his lips, by his tongue. It was somehow even more intense than the previous one, your juices flowing and dripping down his shaft.

Joel carefully collapses on top of you, his hands moving to gather your boneless form into his comforting arms. “There you go, sweetheart. You did so good. So good for me.” He whispers against your ear, turning your bodies to the side so you were snuggled against the hard planes of his chest instead of laying under him.

“Was it okay?” He asks, genuinely caring about your wellbeing whilst he peppers kisses all over your face. His softening cock slips out of you with a soft pop, a trail of your combined fluids leaking from your well-loved hole and onto the blankets below. 

“Okay?” You ask in a tired voice, your face pressed against his neck. “That was...that was fucking amazing.”

Joel chuckles, the deep rumble of it vibrating in his chest and filling your ear. “Good, kid. I’m glad.” There’s a sense of accomplishment in the way he holds himself in this very moment. He’s proud he’s satisfied you, turned your first time into something you’ll never forget. “Don’t worry about cleanin’ up just yet. Lemme hold ya’.” 

“Mhm..” You’re so out of it that you’re already falling asleep - and Joel’s kisses aren’t making it any easier to stay awake. The scent of him fills your nose, the comforting smell surrounding you in warmth and familiarity. “How…how was I?”

“The best I ever had. Ever.” His thick fingers start to trace invisible patterns around your back, his movements reverent - he was being genuine with his words, you could hear it in his voice. 

“Get some sleep, baby girl. I love you more than anything. And I mean that.” His breath nearly catches, a lump forming in his throat. The man quickly clears his throat, not wanting to get all sappy on you when you’re trying to sleep. Though, he does whisper one last thing before closing his own dark eyes, letting exhaustion wash over him as well.

“Anything, kid.”

[floralcrematorium]

Rumor has it, it was this lass's birthday yesterday!

Belarus | Belgium | Czechia | Hungary | Liechtenstein | Monaco | Seychelles | Taiwan | Ukraine | Vietnam

[d1stalker]

This is Ours [Logan Howlett]

Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.

Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST

A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)

----

For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhood—days spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.

Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.

It couldn’t get any more perfect than that. 

But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busy—first with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long. 

You miss it.

This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break you’d had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go. 

—

The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where you’re sitting in the back of your parent’s car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.

When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that it’s been a while since the grass was last trimmed. 

Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and there’s your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the same—warm, welcoming, and full of love. “There’s my girl,” she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can. 

“Grandma!” you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.

She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. We’ll fix that with some good meals, won’t we?”

You laugh, nodding. “I missed your cooking.”

“And I missed having someone to cook for,” she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. “Come inside. Your grandpa’s been counting down the days until you got here.”

You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. It’s just as you remember—cozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.

“There’s my favourite farmhand,” he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair. 

“Grandpa,” you say, meeting him halfway for a hug. 

“Got here just in time,” he says with a wink. “Plenty of work to do, you know.”

“I figured,” you reply, playfully nudging him. “I’m ready to get my hands dirty.”

“Good to hear,” he says, leaning back against the table for support. “This old back of mine isn’t what it used to be.”

Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,” she begins gently. “Your grandpa and I… well, we can’t do as much as we used to.”

You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficult—it's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.

“We’ve hired some help,” she continues. “A man named Logan. He’s been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But he’s… well, he’s not much of a talker.”

“Logan?” you ask, glancing out the window. 

That’s when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. He’s wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s strong—he looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

“Yeah, Logan,” your grandfather confirms. “Keeps to himself mostly, but he’s get’s the job done. Don’t mind his gruffness; he’s just not used to people fussing over him.”

“He’s been here since last spring,” your grandmother adds. “We needed the help, and he needed the work. It’s been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.”

Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way it’s always been. 

The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresser—everything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. It’s comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.

After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this room’s charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behind—a pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.

You’re standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmother’s laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfather’s playful grumbling about having to pose for ‘just one more picture.’ The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.

Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here. 

The trek to the barn isn’t very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of work—footsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. He’s focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others. 

You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. “Logan?” you call out softly.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and there’s a moment where you’re not sure what to say. “I’m—”

“I already know who you are,” he grunts, cutting you off. 

His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. “Right. I guess that makes sense.”

“If you wanna help, there’s a broom in the back shed,” he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. “You could sweep up the hay.”

You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but you’re determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasn’t much of a talker.  “Sure,” you say. “I can do that.”

As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. “There’s a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,” you mutter.

In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesn’t bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.

Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Logan’s footsteps stop. It’s only when his voice breaks the silence that you’re pulled back to the present.

“Your grandma called for dinner,” he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.

Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.

You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.

“So,” your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. “I take it you’ve introduced yourselves to each other?”

You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. “Yeah, we have,” you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that. 

Logan doesn’t say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesn’t seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he’s always this closed off or if it’s just his way of dealing with new people.

“Well, that’s good,” your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. “Logan’s been a big help around here. We’re so grateful to have him.”

Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, “He’s got a strong work ethic. Doesn’t shy away from the tough jobs, that’s for sure.”

Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. “That’s great. It’s good to know the farm’s in good hands.” Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it. 

As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what you’ve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews you’ve had, the options you’re considering, and the challenges you’ve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you can’t help but notice the man’s presence beside you, still silent. 

At one point, when you’re talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is he’s thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isn’t the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.

They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. “You’ve had a long day, dear. Why don’t you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.”

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He’s already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but it’s like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off. 

—

The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the house—the way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.

You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.

Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as you’re whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges. 

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse. 

Your grandparents’ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that they’re still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you can’t help but smile into your mug. 

Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. It’s Logan, a small surprise given the early hour—you didn’t hear him wake up—but he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand. 

You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didn’t expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of him—so different from the unapproachable exterior he’s shown so far—stirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast you’ve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan. 

As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.

He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours you’ve known him, and then he grunts, “Already ate,” and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.

His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. It’s not like you’re asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why he’s like this. 

“Alright,” you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen. 

Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. This is so fucking awkward. You’re going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and you’re sure that he probably just see’s you as an annoying nuisance. 

And it’s not like you’re ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that he’s acting like he owns the place. You get it, he’s been here for a for a while, and it’s only been him doing the work, blah blah. But you’ve been helping and doing the work your entire childhood—missing a few years doesn’t take away that fact. 

With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparents’ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.

—

You’ve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. There’s always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think it’s best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take. 

Once you’ve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out. 

Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everything’s been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. It’s the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so it’s a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones you’ve seen around the city. 

You can’t really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace. 

As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. You’re completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. You’ve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life. 

You’re just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesn’t say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.

There’s a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere. 

When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Logan’s machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass. 

You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the other—the grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan won’t notice, but of course, he’s right there, watching as you flail around.

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesn’t say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined. 

Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morning’s work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby. 

After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. There’s something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction. 

You nod. “Thanks.”

Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that it’s already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, he’s probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone. 

—

The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparent’s are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses. 

Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a word—his presence now a familiar and abating part of your routine—or sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know he’s never far away. 

You’ve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isn’t necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesn’t speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.

One morning, as you’re finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. “We need to run some errands and pick up a few things,” your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. “But we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.”

“They haven’t been to the pond in a while. It’s good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.” Your grandfather chimes in. 

You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. It’s the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll take them out there for the day.”

Your grandmother’s eyes light up as she hands you a basket. “I packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. It’ll be a lovely day for it.”

“Thank you,” you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. It’s been a long time since you’ve been there last. 

In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that you’ve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.

As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. “Hey, Logan,” you say, catching his attention.

“I’m heading to the pond with the horses,” you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. “Grandma’s packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. “Really? But you’ve been here for over a year. I just assumed—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. “I’ve always just walked alongside them. Holdin’ onto the reins is one thing, but I’ve never actually been on top of one.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “That’s okay,” you say gently. “You can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you. 

The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horses’ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, it’s silent. 

When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.

“I’m going for a quick dip,” you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. It’s subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.

You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfect—the gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface. 

But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.

He’s lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeper…But then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.

The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once you’ve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket. 

You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time there’s a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if he’s trying to be discreet but can’t quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. “Want one?”

He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. “So,” you start, glancing over at him, “how did you end up here, working on my grandparents’ farm?”

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. “I was passing through,” he says finally. “Didn’t plan on stayin’. But your grandparents… they’re good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.”

You nod, taking another bite. “They are good people,” you agree, thinking of how much they’ve done for you over the years. “But where were you headed before that? Where are you from?”

Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. “Alberta,” he says. “Grew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Alberta’s home—or was.”

You smile, finding comfort in the fact that he’s sharing a bit more. “Alberta’s beautiful,” you say, remembering the few times you’d traveled through the province. “Why’d you leave?”

He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. “Needed a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movin’ around, never really settlin’ anywhere.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. “Must have been hard, never really having a place to call home.”

His gaze meets yours, and there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But your grandparents… they’ve made it easier. This farm… it’s good.”

You smile warmly at him. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a huge help to them. And… well, I’ve liked having you around.”

He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.

The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. It’s different—unexpected—and to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze. 

Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasn’t just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparents’ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes… all of it.

Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time. 

You can see your grandparent’s car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning they’ve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure they’re comfortable for the night. 

Once they’re all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you. 

“So ‘bout tomorrow…” He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. “You really think you can teach me to ride?”

You grin excitedly. “Of course. I’ll come out after I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield. 

“How was your day?” your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.

“It was nice,” you reply. “The horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.”

Your grandfather, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. “And Logan? Did he go with you?”

You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. “Yeah, he came along. He’s never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”

Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. “That’s good, dear. He’s a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell he’s got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.”

Chatting with your grandparent’s a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Logan’s footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster. 

—

Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Morning,” you greet. “You ready to get started?”

Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.

As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Go ahead and mount up.”

He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. “Just relax. The horse can sense if you’re tense, so try to loosen up a bit.”

He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. It’s clear that he’s out of his comfort zone, but he’s determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.

After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horse’s steps.

“You’re doing really well,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Want to try picking up the pace a little?”

He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. “Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animal’s movements. There’s a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes he’s actually getting the hang of it.

As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. He’s a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell he’s starting to enjoy himself.

Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look that’s both grateful and slightly sheepish.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” you say with a grin, patting the horse’s neck.

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you’re a good teacher.”

The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer. 

“Logan,” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

“Thanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.”

Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

—

The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didn’t think was possible. 

Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Logan’s daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.

He’s improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and he’s able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasn’t there before. 

And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silence—the only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced. 

Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual. 

Yet throughout all of this, there’s a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface. 

It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that don’t really seem to be as accidental as you may think. It’s in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you’re not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if he’s memorizing every movement. 

You’re not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, you’re in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. It’s hard, sweaty work, but the it’s kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like they’re telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring. 

And when you’re both tending to the horses, something happens again. You’re brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk. 

“Here, let me help,” he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. You’re acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.

Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, you’re both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. It’s a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what you’re actually feeling.

“No problem,” Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool. 

You can feel it. You’re not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist it—how much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is reciprocated, or if it’s just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.

—

You’re not the only who see’s it. 

“You know,” your grandmother says one afternoon, as you’re helping them with a puzzle. “Logan has really come out of his shell since you’ve been here.”

You blink, and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she says with a knowing smile. “He’s been here for over a year, and in all that time, we’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now… well, it’s clear he’s become quite comfortable around you.���

Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. Logan’s always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, he’s been different. More… engaged, I suppose you could say.”

You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. “I-I don’t know about that,” you stammer, trying to brush it off. “We just… work together a lot. That’s all.”

Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. “Darling, don’t be modest. It’d be obvious to anyone that there’s something going on between the two of you. He’s practically a different man when he’s around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!”

“You’ve managed to do in weeks what we couldn’t do in a year. Whatever it is, it’s good for him. And for you, too, I’d wager,” your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink. 

Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and you’re honestly not sure how to respond. “We’re… friends,” you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them. 

The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that there’s potential for something more there, if you’re both willing to see it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. “He’s just… he’s a complicated person.”

“Everyone’s complicated, dear,” your grandfather says gently. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.”

There’s a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparents’ teasing remarks, it’s impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.

Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Just take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

—

The following week, you find yourself itching for something new—a change in scenery. While the farm has been everything you’ve wanted and more, you think it’d be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation that’s been on your mind for days.

“So…,” you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.”

He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. “The town?” he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to face him fully. “I need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring… It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.”

There’s a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. It’s clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasn’t done in a long time—if ever.

“I don’t know,” he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. “Busy places are not really my thing.”

You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. “I get that,” you say. “But it’s not about how many people are there, really. It’s about taking a break. You’ve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,” you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.

Logan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think he’s going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. “I’ll go.”

You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. “We’ll leave early on Saturday, okay?”

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environment—away from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.

So, when Saturday morning arrives, you’re up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothes—something comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attire—and head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.

“Off to the city today, are you?” your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.

“Yep,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “and I’m dragging Logan along with me.”

Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, that should be interesting. Don’t think he’s much of a city slicker.”

“Be patient with him, dear,” your grandmother adds, laughing. “He’s stepping out of his comfort zone for you.”

“I will,” you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.

Logan’s already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you can’t help but falter in your steps. The shirt he’s wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength that’s always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, “Ready?” 

“‘Course,” he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.

The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell he’s starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.

When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day. 

Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. It’s clear that he’s out of his element, but there’s something cute about the way he takes it all in. “Where to first?” He questions. 

“Well,” you say, smiling at him, “I was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little café I know, then hit a few shops. There’s a bookstore I love that I think you’d like too.”

He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. “Lead the way.”

You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something he’s always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.

After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading back—a lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.

The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.

“Logan,” you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, “what did you think of me when we first met?”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I thought you were different,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “You didn’t act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you weren’t just a visitor—you were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. “And now?” you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.

He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, he’s timid, almost bashful, as if he’s revealing something he’s kept hidden for a long time. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. “I thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But it’s more than that. Now… now I think you’re perfect.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what he’s just said.

Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. “I was… cold at first,” he murmurs, “Didn’t know how else to act. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didn’t shy away from that—you didn’t let my attitude push you away. That changed somethin’ in me.”

You want to say something—you should say something—to acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you can’t. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.

“What about you?” His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. “What was your first impression of me?”

His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you. 

“Honestly? I thought you were rude as hell,” you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “You were so gruff, so serious… I didn’t know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and… it didn’t take long for my opinion to change.”

He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen. 

“And…You’re kind,” you continue. “There’s this gentleness about you that I wasn’t expecting.” You suck in a shaky breath. “I think you’re pretty perfect now too, if I’m being honest.”

The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. It’s a rare sight—seeing him like this—and it makes you swoon. 

“I don’t know about that…” He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“I do,” you reply firmly. “You’re more than you think you are, Logan.”

The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what you’re saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.

Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.

You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. “Ew! A seagull just pooped on me!”

The kid’s parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you can’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” he mumbles under is breath.

You’re still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. “Yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. “Guess we should be thankful it wasn’t us.”

Logan grins, warm and wide. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

—

Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and you’re fine with that. There’s no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You don’t want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction that’s been building throughout your time together. 

Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for today,” he says sincerely “I… liked it.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Me too,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. “We should.��

—

A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.

“We’ve got some news,” she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Your grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summers’ cottage by the lake.”

You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. “That sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.”

“Well, we thought so too,” your grandfather says. “But that means we’ll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.”

It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan… alone… for an entire week.

Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, who’s sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But there’s a quick flash of something that suggests he’s as aware of the situation as you are.

A voice brings you back to the moment. “Now, don’t worry,” she says with a reassuring smile. “There’s not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. “We trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,” he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. “And to keep an eye on each other.”

You can’t help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a buffer—your grandparents—means that literally anything could happen. 

“Don’t worry,” you finally manage to say. “We’ve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.”

Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he agrees, “We’ll take care of everything.”

—

Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.

Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, “Take care, dear,” she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passenger’s seat. 

Your grandfather shakes Logan’s hand, giving him a firm nod. “Take care of things.”

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm. 

There’s a pause. 

Suddenly, you’ve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing. 

“So,” you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” he replies a bit deeper than usual. “Just us.”

“What should we do first?” you ask as casually as possible. 

He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Same old, I guess. Can’t let everythin’ fall apart right when they leave..”

“True. Let’s start with that.”

The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though you’re busy with work, there’s an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each other’s presence that just wasn’t there before. And it’s impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of what’s to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration. 

That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, you’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents there—emptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.

And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.

“Long day,” he grunts.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But it was nice. Peaceful.”

His eyes find yours. “Peaceful,” he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.

You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. “I’ll check on the barn,” he says gruffly. “Make sure everything’s locked up for the night.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan leaves to check on the barn, while he’s gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils. 

Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.

A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.

It’s now or never, you think.  “We have the place to ourselves now,” you state. 

He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Indeed we do,” he replies.

The simple acknowledgment—and the way he says it—makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. He’s always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way he’s respected your space, you’re done with tiptoeing around.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, or—” But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves. 

His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing what’s about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.

You lose track of your surroundings—the night, the farm, everything—as you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. It’s intense and claiming, a declaration of everything you’ve both been too afraid to say.

His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that he’s really here, kissing you.

Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing you’ve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. It’s something that’s so uniquely him—so uniquely Logan—and you can’t get enough. You’ve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of it—to the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters.

When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isn’t missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your pu—

“You’re not the only one,” You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.

He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Then don’t,” you whisper against his mouth.

The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Logan’s grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you. 

The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.

You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, “God, you drive me crazy,” and then he’s on you again. 

It’s wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure. 

The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core. 

Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. “You know,” you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, “as much as I’m enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that he’s already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“We gotta go to your room,” you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.“I don’t think I’m ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what you’re implying. “Oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside. 

By the time you reach his door, you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.

You turn to face Logan, but he doesn’t give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

But there’s none. You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that it’s taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him. 

His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.

He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.

One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.

The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. They’re everywhere—one gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before it’s tossed carelessly to the floor.

Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You can’t help the way your hips rock against him, the need for more—more pressure, more friction, more him.

Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own. 

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “No idea why I waited so long.”

You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, “Don’t need to wait any longer.”

The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. You’re left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way he’s staring at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes you feel powerful, desired in a way you’ve never felt before.

He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yours—bare— and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of him—strong, muscular, yours—makes your breath catch in your throat. 

There’s a moment where he’s standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then he’s on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.

You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that you’re on the verge of begging too.

Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.

Logan’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. You’re lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way he’s driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, “You. I want–I need you.”

That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.

The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.

“Oh god,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

And then, finally, Logan gives you what you’ve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely. 

Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what you’ve both wanted for so long.

He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything you’ve been dreaming of and more, and you can’t help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.

The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.

And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat. 

Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“You okay?” he murmurs. 

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper back, voice full of emotion. “That was… everything.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Logan’s lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees.

Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Get some rest,” you hear, “We’ve got plenty of time… no need to rush.”

You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep. 

—

You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Logan’s breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.

But it isn’t long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly

He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there. 

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, “Morning…”

The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyes—dark and hungry—tells you that he feels the same way. 

The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isn’t a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.

Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. It’s like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment you’re together becomes an opportunity. 

It starts innocently enough—just a kiss in the barn when you’re supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.

Or when you’re in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know there’s no point in pretending. Logan’s hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss. 

At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Logan’s room, the place where it all began. 

The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“This week… it’s been more than I ever expected,” he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. “I don’t want it to end.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected there—the same desire to hold on to what you’ve found together. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were before.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. “No, we don’t,” he concurs. 

—

The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. “We’re back!” she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.

You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. “The cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.”

Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. “Everything go smoothly while we were gone?” he asks.

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

Then they do that thing they’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been with them, where they exchange a glance—and share a look that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week. 

“Well, that’s good to hear,” your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much they’ve guessed.

“Seems like you two managed just fine without us.” Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder. 

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. It’s a way to tell you that he’s just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But there’s no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.

—

The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger. 

It’s not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesn’t go ignored. It’s the little moments that fill your days—the way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when you’re working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you don’t need it). 

The work on the farm continues to get done, but there’s a new layer to everything you do—a sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.

As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. He’s heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.

“Logan, why don’t you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,” he suggests, his tone casual.

Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insane—there’s a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. It’s almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town. 

You have half a mind to join them. 

The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after he’s turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesn’t miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment. 

“He’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?” she says affectionately. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.”

Your heart blooms in your chest. “I guess he does,” you reply, your voice soft,  breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you. 

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm “And you’ve got it bad for him too, I’d say.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

Several weeks later, it’s raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasn’t going to go to plan. You’re sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon. 

But then you decide to go through some emails—just a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routine—newsletters, updates, the usual clutter—but then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.

It’s an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.

Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.

You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is it—your dream job, the opportunity you’ve been working toward for years. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.

You glance over at Logan, who’s still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life you’ve built together, at least for a while. And you don’t know when—or even if—you’ll be back.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I… I just got an email,” you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.

He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what he’s feeling. At first, there’s no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows. 

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

Then, “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” His voice is steady, but there’s a sadness there too, a heaviness that you can’t ignore.

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah… it is.”

There’s a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “You have to take it.”

You swallow hard. “But what about us? I don’t know when I’ll be back… or if I’ll even be able to come back.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he’s trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. “You’ve worked too hard for this to pass it up.”

His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way he’s starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.

You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper as the tears finally spill over.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he can’t bring himself to say. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he admits. “But I’ll be here when you get back. However long it takes.”

And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didn’t expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.

—

The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you. 

In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm life—early mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each other’s arms, exhausted but content. But now, there’s a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time that’s not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadn’t quite as often before. 

These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments you’ve shared on the farm—they’re softer, more tender, as if you’re both trying to imprint each other’s presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re still there with him.

Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of course—Logan’s touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as ever—but now, there’s a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadn’t been there before. 

Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. They’ve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and there’s a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together. 

It’s not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you. 

They don’t say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets. 

Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Logan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, “I see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.”

You smile, leaning into Logan’s side as you listen to her. “You two have always been such an inspiration,” you say, meaning every word.

She chuckles, a wistful sound. “It wasn’t always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now… I know you’ll find a way.”

Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.

Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. “I believe you will. But just know… it’s okay to be sad, to be scared. That’s part of loving someone.”

The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. “You’ll be alright, my dear. Both of you.”

The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each other’s arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans you’ll make when you’re together again. But still, it’s sad. 

—

Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at dusk—inevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is it—your final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.

He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.

With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breeze—it’s all so beautiful, so full of memories.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says it all—he knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.

Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..

You just lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “Let’s go to the pond,” he says delicately. “Just you and me.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where you’ve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so it’s only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.

You decide to walk to the pond. Logan’s hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you. 

You and Logan stand at the water’s edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. It’s not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeks—this is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the water’s edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, there’s only this moment. 

With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words. 

It’s a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says I’ll wait for you.

After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.

Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” you choke out. “More than anything.”

—

Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was different—this was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but it’s impossible to shake the image that’s burned into your mind—the image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time. 

Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but it’s no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon you’re bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car. 

You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.

—

The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind. 

At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that you’re not alone, that he’s still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there. 

But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when you’re both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.

Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way. 

Then, one day, the call comes—the call you’ve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. It’s your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away. 

You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.

And he’s there too—Logan. He’s standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, it’s as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go. 

The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that you’ve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, everything hitting you at once—the loss of your grandfather, the years you’ve spent apart, the life you could have had together.

He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I miss you,” he murmurs thickly. “Every damn day, I miss you.”

You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how he’s kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. It’s clear that the farm hasn’t been the same without you, just as your life hasn’t been the same without him.

Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but there’s a calm acceptance in her expression. “I’ve made a decision,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I’m going to sell the farm.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. “Not to just anyone,” she adds quickly. “To Logan. He’s been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But… I need to move into permanent care. I can’t manage on my own anymore.”

You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But there’s also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.

That night, you’re tangled in Logan’s arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.

—

Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. You’ve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfaction—it begins to weigh on you more and more. 

So, you make a decision.

You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. It’s a drastic change, but it’s one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life you’ve been yearning for, isn’t in the city. 

It’s back at the farm.

As you step out of your car, you see him. He’s by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops. 

There’s a lifetime of emotions in that look—love, longing, hope. Most of all, there’s recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment you’ve been waiting for all these years.

And when you’re finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago. 

----

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club

Pairing: The grid x driver!reader, Lance Stroll x reader

Summary: A wild goose chase ensues when you are at a meeting with your book club

requests are open (plz send some, i can’t keep only getting ideas while driving 🥺) masterlist

————————

“Guys, have you seen y/n?” Lance panics, rushing into the McLaren garage. It’s not the first time his girlfriend had disappeared from her garage but he’s always been able to find you a few steps away.

“She’s missing?” Lando leaped out of his chair. “Come on, Oscar, we gotta find her,” Lando drags his teammate out of the garage, following Lance to the Mercedes garage to find George.

“Any y/n sightings?” a very stressed out Lance asks.

“No, but now I am invested,” the Brit tags along in the search, hopping over to the Ferrari garage.

“Mes amis, you seem stressed,” Charles says, looking up from his book.

“Y/n is missing, Lance can’t find his girlfriend,” Oscar sighs, not sure why he isn’t leaving the group.

“No, we must join the quest, Charles,” Carlos says, clapping his teammate on the shoulder.

“Alright, only for y/n,” Charles, like oscar, begrudgingly agrees to join the ‘noble quest’.

Meanwhile, y/n is sitting on the couch, wearing a chunky cardigan and a pair of fashion glasses, sipping tea.

“No, Lizzy was clearly in love with Darcy even then,” Fernando waves his hands. This month’s book was Pride and Prejudice.

“Sure, Fernando,” Valtteri rolls his eyes.

The book club, affectionately called ‘The Old Drivers Club’ started when y/n barged into the Haas garage, claiming she needed their opinions and that she was tired of all the young drivers. Despite her being only 21, she found a home with some of the older drivers in the Paddock. The club consisted of her, Fernando, Valtteri, Kevin, and Nico. Lewis wanted to hold on to his youth, as he claimed, and Checo didn’t quite care for their gossip sessions.

“I still don’t understand how you can go from a 20 year old party animal to a 80 year old grandma overnight,” Kevin teases the young girl, bringing up a common point of conversation (usually her complaining about the younger drivers).

“And I don’t understand how you all don’t find Nico attractive? If I was ten years older, I would be all over him. God damn, what a fine man,” you swoon, causing the German to blush fiercely.

“Yes, yes, someone who could outshine Charles Leclerc in his prime,” Fernando dismisses it with the wave of his hand. You giggle and refocus on the book discussion.

“Nando,” you prompt him, silently asking him to go to the next topic.

“Alright, alright, let’s discuss what was probably y/n’s favorite scene, the confession scene. The second one, not in the rain,” Fernando says, and you shyly look down, the older drivers knowing you too well.

“Max, Checo, have you seen y/n?” Lance asks, even more flustered, half the grid behind him.

“Y/n? Why do you ask?” Max says, looking at his teammate.

“She’s missing!” Lando exclaims causing Checo to laugh.

“No, no. She’s with her book club, in the Haas motor home. I sometimes join them, interesting gossip, but not quite for me, no,” Checo says, looking oddly at the group.

“Her- her book club?” Lance asks, utterly confused.

“Si. Lewis has been invited too, but he claims he is too young,” Checo laughs to himself.

“Sorry mate, a book club?” George asks, a little offended he was never invited.

“And gossip? I’m a little offended I’ve never been invited,” Pierre gasps.

“Well? Is that all,” Max asks, wanting the group to leave his garage.

“Right, well I guess we go to Haas,” Carlos says, quickly thanking the Red Bull drivers.

“VALTTERI!” Your astonished gasp is heard from outside. Your group had moved on to what some think is the more enjoyable part of the evening, the gossip.

“Y/n! Oh thank god, we were worried sick,” Lando dramatically says at the doorway, having opened the door, revealing your group. The five of you look at the other group wildly confused.

“Worried sick?” You ask, looking at them.

“You were missing, I couldn’t find you,” Lance scratches the back of his neck, a little confused.

“I,” you pause before laughing. “Lancelot, you could’ve texted me,” you tell him.

“Why weren’t Pierre and I invited?” George asks, looking accusingly at your group.

“You don’t fit the criteria,” Kevin says, dismissing the question.

“And y/n does?” Pierre asks.

“Yes. When she sits upside down on your couch to gossip and complain about you all, and ask for life advice, then we might consider it,” Nico shakes his head.

“She is the founder of our group,” Valtteri points out.

“You also have to find young Nico attractive, more than current Charles,” Fernando teases, causing the young girl to blush.

“He was!” You defend yourself, and Carlos nods in agreement.

“Your girlfriend, mate. I’m surprisingly glad I tagged along,” Oscar says to Lance, pretty amused at the chaos.

“Out of curiosity, what is your next book?” George asks, your face lighting up.

“We are on a classics kick right now, so we are reading the No Fear version of Romeo and Juliet,” you say excitedly causing George and Charles to groan.

“We can’t join?” Charles asks again.

“Sorry, Leclerc, only room for one hot driver here,” Nico winks at you, causing your cheeks to redden.

“HEY!” most of the drivers in the room take offense to it, Lance mainly because the wink was directed at his girlfriend.

“Alas, if only you didn’t have a wife and kid, and I was ten years older,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“In another life, Mein Liebchen,” Nico sighs as well.

“Alright, I’m stealing back my girlfriend,” Lance pulls you away.

“Lancelot,” you giggle, waving goodbye to your book club.

“It is in these moments that I remember how young she is and how old we are,” Fernando sighs, Lewis taking your seat.

“My bones ache more and more each day, mate,” Lewis shakes his head.

“Welcome to our club, have the first act read by the next race,”

[iuchamjohta]

A magic touch ft Seulgi

Word count: 9036 Tags: Thressome, Double penetration, Anal, Squirting, spitroast, vibrators, overstimulation, use of blindfold, armpit kink, a little bit of feet.

Longest fic ever of smut! Hope yall enjoy it. Seeing her fancon pics and vid made me just had to write about her. See ends for more notes The final notes of ‘Cosmic Love’, Red Velvet’s last encore song reverberated through the stadium, the lights dimmed, leaving the crowd mesmerised at the captivating performance.

A sea of applause and cheers was heard. The stage was a riot of colour and sound, and the energy in the air was almost tangible. Seulgi stood with the other members of her band, sweat glistening on their faces, her hearts pounding from the adrenaline and the sheer joy of the performance. She had just given her all for what she believed, was another stunning performance. After catching her breath, Seulgi gathered at the front of the stage, hands clasped together as her group said their final thanks and took a bow. The audience’s roar was deafening, and she felt a wave of appreciation washed over her. Her band waved, smiled, and exchanged grateful glances, soaking in the moment. The connection between them and their fans felt like a beautiful, unspoken bond. She couldn't have asked for a more incredible audience. As the final applause began to fade, Seulgi exited the stage, her steps heavy but her spirits high.

The backstage area was a hive of activity—roadies packing up equipment, crew members tidying up, and fellow artists exchanging congratulatory hugs. She felt a pang of exhaustion as she walked through the corridor leading to her dressing room. Once inside, Seulgi slumped onto the couch with a grateful sigh, but her relief was short-lived. The soreness in her muscles was impossible to ignore. After consecutive concerts that they had, it has finally taken a toll on her body. She tried to stretch, but each movement seemed to amplify the stiffness in her legs and shoulders. Seulgi grimaced and leaned back, wondering if there was a way she could magically make the pains in her body go away.

“Unnie, are you okay?” Yeri, ever observant, came over and plopped down next to Seulgi. Her eyes were full of concern as she watched Seulgi struggle to find a comfortable position. Seulgi managed a weary smile “Yeah, I’m fine, all that dancing and jumping really took its toll tonight” This was expected. Afterall, Seulgi was a born performer, she pours her heart and soul into every movement, each dance step a testament to her dedication and passion. Her flawless execution of her powerful dance moves and boundless energy never fails to captivate the audience and turn the stage into a breathtaking spectacle. “It seems, you are getting old Unnie, the magical 30 have caught up to you” Yeri teased. “Hey! I’m still youthful and energetic” Seulgi pouted, as she attempted to move, a wince of discomfort crossed her face, revealing just how sore she was. The sight of her struggling to keep up her appearances despite her aching muscles was both endearing and a bit comical, making her look even more charming in her vulnerability.

Yeri chuckled at the sight before her cute Unnie. “I’ve got something that would help you a lot,” Yeri said as she reached into her bag to pull out a business-card-sized-envelope.” Seulgi's eyes lit up upon hearing this, her eyes tracing every movement of her younger member. “What is this?” She took the card from Yeri’s hands and glanced at it. The elegant script on the front read, “A magic touch.” Written below that was Y/N, the contact details and a note that said, “The best massage for tired muscles.” “Request for Y/N, he is the best one out there” Yeri said. “Oh and tell the receptionist that I sent you and you want the Yeri’s special,” Yeri added. “ Yeri’s special? What’s that” Seulgi raised an eyebrow, intrigued at the weird request.” “It’s nothing much! They just make sure to pay more attention to you since I’m a regular” Yeri smirked to a clueless Seulgi, oblivious of what was about to unfold. "I'm all sweaty and haven't showered yet. It’s going to be late by the time I finish all that—will I still have time to make it to the massage?" Seulgi whined. "Don’t worry about that—they’ll take care of everything for you! I always go there after our concerts,” Yeri reassured her. Seulgi remembered how Yeri would often head off alone after performances and return to their apartment looking refreshed and rejuvenated, as if she were a completely new person. That was more than enough to convince Seulgi, to trust her maknae. Assuming there would be showering facilities at the parlor, Seulgi gathered her things and asked her manager to drive her to the address on the card.

The drive felt lengthy as Seulgi nervously fumbled with the black and gold business card in her hand. "Best massage out there," she muttered, hoping it wasn’t just a marketing gimmick. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, they had arrived. The manager pulled up to the front, and Seulgi double-checked the address before getting out. The massage centre was housed in a stately building with an elegant facade, its grandeur illuminated by soft, ambient lighting. The entrance was adorned with lush greenery and delicate string lights that cast a warm, inviting glow. Seulgi walked towards the entrance, her tired muscles already anticipating the relief to come. A beautifully crafted wooden door greeted her. It was flanked by tall, ornate vases filled with fresh flowers. As she pushed open the door, a gentle chime rang out, and she was greeted by a serene, luxurious interior. The lobby was a haven of calm and sophistication. Soft, instrumental music played in the background, blending harmoniously with the gentle scent of essential oils that permeated the air. The reception area featured a sleek, polished marble desk and an elegantly designed waiting area with plush seating and tranquil water features. Large, framed artworks of nature scenes adorned the walls, enhancing the sense of peaceful retreat. Seulgi approached the reception desk, where a friendly female receptionist named Emily welcomed her with a warm smile. “Erm, Yeri sent me, and she told me to request for Y/N and for the Yeri’s special” Seulgi said sheepishly, uncertain of what she was asking for. "Of course, ma'am. Please have a seat in the lobby while we prepare your room." Emily’s friendly demeanour immediately put Seulgi at ease.

After a short 10 minutes, Emily called for Seulgi telling her that the room was ready and led her down the hallway. As Seulgi walked down the hallway, she marveled at the attention to detail. The walls were lined with calming hues and soft, textured fabrics, creating an atmosphere of relaxation. Each treatment room had its own unique design, with soft lighting, comfortable massage tables, and calming decor. Seulgi was escorted to her room, which was a sanctuary of tranquility. The room featured a massage table draped in soft, pristine linens, surrounded by warm, ambient light and gentle, aromatic scents. The atmosphere was inviting, promising a session of deep relaxation and rejuvenation. Seductive like a siren, was what came to mind in Seulgi's head as she saw the layout. She shook that thought out of her head and sat at the large massage table in the middle of the room." You can leave your clothes and bra here, but please keep your underwear on," Emily instructed. Once Seulgi was ready, she asked if there was a nearby shower, she could use. Emily reassured her with a smile, "Don’t worry, our masseuse will take care of everything, including a wash before your session." Emily then took out a soft silk satin blindfold and prepared to place it over Seulgi's eyes. "Um, what’s this for?" Seulgi asked. Emily smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, it helps you close your eyes and relax, enhancing your overall experience." Emily gently placed the soft silk satin blindfold over Seulgi's eyes, the cool fabric settling comfortably against her skin. As she adjusted the blindfold to ensure it was secure yet gentle, Seulgi felt a soothing darkness envelop her. The sensation of the blindfold heightened her other senses, allowing her to fully immerse herself in the forthcoming relaxation. The absence of visual distractions helped her mind quiet, creating a deeper sense of calm and anticipation for the massage ahead.

As Seulgi laid face up on the plush massage table, she settled into the comfortable linens and took a deep breath, readying herself for the massage. After about 5 minutes, she expected to hear the footsteps of just one person, the masseuse. However, as she listened closely, she detected the sound of 2 pairs of footsteps approaching. A slight rustling and murmured conversation filled the air, piquing her curiosity about what was happening just outside her line of sight. “Are you ready for your cleaning? Seulgi” You asked with a deep voice. Her face changed to an initial surprised expression. She was showing her idol body to what she believed was not 1 but 2 male masseurs. This expression faded quickly as she reminded herself that this was a professional setting and that they were here to help her relax. Trusting in the professionalism of the staff, she put her concerns aside and nodded softly prepared to fully embrace the massage experience. You took in the magnificent view before you. Seulgi was incredibly sexy.

She exuded an effortless allure, her skin glowing with a subtle sheen of sweat that highlighted her toned physique. Her hair, slightly damp, framed her face beautifully, and her well-defined abs…those well-defined abs were to die for. Her breasts were full, and her curves accentuated her plump meaty ass. You and your partner, Alison, take in her irresistible feminine scent and begin your work. "Let's start with your tongue bath, shall we?" Seulgi was shocked by that very different meaning of cleaning, but before she responded, you and Alison began your slow, sensual tongue massage. Starting at her ears, you trace the outline of her lobes with your tongues, flicking the delicate skin with the tips. Seulgi lets out a soft moan, instead of protesting, she lets her head tilt back to give you better access. She was secretly enjoying the moment as well.  You pause at her earlobes, sucking and nibbling gently. Lowering your mouths, you lick a path down her jawline, your tongues working in unison as you coat her skin with your warm saliva, enjoying the way her body squirms in response.

Then, lifting her arms, you move down to her armpits, an area that deserves your special attention. You notice the sweat that glitters on her arch, and can’t help but take a deep breath, inhaling her scent fully. You and Alison take one pit each, burying your faces in the sweet-smelling hollows. Your tongues dart out, licking every inch of her sweat-glistened skin, tasting the tangy, musky flavour of her arousal. You suck and nip at the sensitive folds of her skin, replacing her sweat with your saliva, your breath hot against her pits, making her whimper with pleasure. After thoroughly cleaning and worshipping her armpits, you trace a path down to her chest, circling her nipples but not quite touching them yet. You lick and nibble at the soft flesh of her breasts, your tongues flattening to cover as much area as possible. Finally, you can't resist any longer, and you latch your mouths onto her erect nipples, sucking gently at first, then with more intensity. Seulgi's breath quickens, her hands instinctively going to your heads, threading her fingers through your hair as you tease her sensitive peaks."Oh, fuck... that feels so good," she breathes, her hips bucking unconsciously as waves of pleasure shot through to her already throbbing pussy. She was leaking wet and feeling exposed at the mercy of you and Alison. She was relieved that she could keep her underwear on, which provided a final layer of modesty and protection, sparing her from potential embarrassment and preserving her dignity.

You and Alison continued your work giving each nipple equal attention, your hands occasionally roaming her body, caressing her soft skin, your fingers gently pinching and rolling her nipples when your mouths aren't on them. Both of you work in unison as if a mirror to each other's movements giving the same attention to both halves of her body. Teasingly, you trail your tongues down her quivering abdomen, circling her belly button before dipping in as well. You swiped your tongue along her well-defined abs, feeling her toned muscle on your tongue. Her skin is like a canvas, and you're painting it with your saliva, marking her with your lust. As both of you traced down her curves and thighs with your tongue finally reaching the waistband of her soaking panties, you paused and looked at her with hungry eyes. "Already so wet down here," you comment, your voice husky with desire. Seulgi’s face flushed with embarrassment upon hearing this. Seulgi bites her lip, anticipation coursing through her veins. "Please... I need more."You chuckle softly, enjoying the power you hold over her. Instead of going straight for her pussy, you surprise her by capturing her feet in your hands. You and Alison take a foot each, kissing and licking the delicate skin of her soles and toes, sucking on her toes one by one, making her squirm. After thoroughly worshipping her feet, you use your hands to massage her calves and thighs, working your way back up her body. You avoid her pussy, your fingers brushing agonisingly close, but never quite touching her aching core. Seulgi is panting now, her need palpable in the room. Her pussy is leaking onto her panties, the wet spot growing bigger by the second. "Please... touch me," she begs, her voice thick with desire. "Not yet sweetheart. We're going to take our time with you," you whisper, your lips brushing against her earlobe, commanding a certain dominance in your voice. You took a step back to admire the view. Seulgi's body is glistening with both of your saliva, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she anticipates your next move. Proud of the tongue-bath you gave her. You reach out and gently grasp her panty-clad ass, giving each cheek a soft squeeze before slowly sliding your hands down to cup her pussy. You feel the heat radiating from her core, the damp fabric of her panty, a testament to her arousal. Using just the tips of your fingers, you massage her outer lips through the fabric, avoiding her clit and entrance, much to her frustration. "Tease," she whimpers, trying to push her hips toward your hand. You chuckle, enjoying her squirm. "All in good time, sweetheart." You move lower, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Seulgi whimpers, her need building with every touch. Her pussy is dripping wet, but you continue to avoid it, focusing on the areas surrounding it.

Then as if understanding each other, both of your tongues and hands leave her body, causing her to feel empty and wanting. Seulgi lay still on the massage table, her senses heightened by the uncertainty of what was happening with the blindfold still covering her eyesight. The silence of the room was then interrupted by the soft squirt of massage oil being dispensed from the bottle. The sound was immediately followed by a cool, liquid sensation as the oil was gently applied to her skin. The initial contact of the cold oil against her warm, slightly damp body made her shiver pleasantly. The contrast between the chill of the oil and the warmth of her skin was both surprising and invigorating. Using slow and deliberate movements, you continued to pour the cool scented oil onto her body, starting with her shoulders and working your way down. Her skin glistens in the soft light as you massage the oil into her flesh, your strong hands working out any tension she might have, untying every knot in her body. Your hands move down to cup one of her breasts, and you could feel her nipples already rock hard from your skilled touch. Your hands gave her firm breast a strong squeeze. “Oh, yes,” Seulgi moaned, arching her back as you continued to knead her flesh more roughly. “Don’t stop,” Capturing her nipples between your fingers, you rolled them gently before you and Alison gave it a rough tug, seeing how far it could stretch, before letting it spring back to her chest. This move left Seulgi moaning loudly and whimpering in a hot mess. Her breath quickens as your hands glide lower, caressing her inner thighs, inching towards her core but never quite touching it. You both chuckle darkly at her frustrated whimpers.

Both of you pulled away again and grabbed something from the desk. A soft vibrating sound was heard, which she guessed was a bullet vibrator. You and Alison switched places now, you attending to her lower body, while Alison her upper. The blindfold was doing its work, keeping her anticipating the next move yet never knowing when it was going to come. Tracing the cool metal over her skin, you watch as goosebumps rise in its wake. Seulgi shivers, her breath catching in her throat as you slowly drag the vibrator up her thigh, closer and closer to her aching pussy. Meanwhile Alison worked his way down her arm and to her heavy breast, circling her rock-hard tits but never quite touching it again. You continued to administer this treatment for a good 5 minutes, always nearing her core but never touching it. This to Seulgi felt like an hour. She squirms, her hips bucking slightly as she tries to rub her neglected pussy against the table to gain some sort of friction. “Such a good girl for us” Alison murmurs. “Please... I need... to cum" she pleads, her voice hoarse with desire. "Patience, my dear, you will only cum when we allow you to" you chide gently but with utmost dominance in your tone, which leaves Seulgi submissive and unable to protest. Grabbing some tape, you and Alison place the bullet vibrators on each of her tits "You like that, huh? Like us playing with your tits?" you murmur, your lips brushing her ear. You blow a gentle stream of air onto her damp nipples, causing her to shudder, and then you twist and tug on them, earning a keening whine from Seulgi before finally securing the vibrator firmly in place on her tits.

Instead of giving her the relief she craves, you take another vibrator and press the vibrator to her inner thigh, just below her pussy, taping it in place. Seulgi lets out a frustrated whine, wanting the vibrator to be exactly where she needs it. At this point, her underwear had been so soaked that it turned a completely different shade of colour from her initial bright pink to a deep red velvet (I know I couldn't help it). It has been almost an hour of edging and teasing yet Seulgi was unable to get the release she had been chasing.

“Turn around for me sweetheart” you instruct, giving her a playful smack on the ass. The sound echoing through the still and silent room as you leave a slightly red handprint on her fleshy globes. Seulgi does as she's told, presenting her round, peachy ass to you. It's a glorious sight, and you can't resist caressing the soft, plump cheeks, revelling in the softness of her skin. With her chest now pressed against the massage table, she could feel the bullet vibrators, vibration stronger on her nipples and the sudden pleasure shot through to her core, causing an accident mini squirt out of her throbbing pussy. Did she just have an orgasm from just having her tits played with? Seulgi thought. She however had hoped that this would have gone unnoticed to both of you. To an experienced masseur like you, it was immediately apparent. “Did you just cum? You slut, who said you could” Your deep voice echoed with authority. “Naughty girl like you needs to be punished!”  You grip her plump ass cheeks, squeezing them firmly before landing a sharp smack that echoes through the room. Seulgi yelps, but it quickly turns into a moan as you massage the heat from the spank. ‘That's a good girl. You are enjoying this aren't you? Taking your punishment so well," Alison purrs, landing another smack, this time on the other cheek. Both of you continued to land open handed smacks on her ass until it was glowing a rosy, red, you admired your handiwork, running your hands over the warm flesh. Seulgi squirms, desperate for more which you do not disappoint.

You and Alison stand on either side of her once more, your hands roaming her back and ass, massaging and kneading the supple flesh, administering the same treatment as you did to her front. Your fingers glide down the crack of her ass, teasingly close to her most intimate hole, but never quite breaching it. “Well, there is one more area we have not cleaned sweetheart” Slipping her soaked undies off and placing them on the table beside you, you leaned down and bury your face in her ass, your tongue snaking out to lick a path from the tail bone down to her crack, tasting the salty sweetness of her most private areas. Seulgi moans, her head falling forward to rest on the table as she basks in the sensations bombarding her body. Alison joins in, and together, you eat her out, your tongues working in harmony to pleasure her. Alison licks and sucks at her pussy, delving into her wet folds, tasting her sweet nectar. At the same time, you rim her tight asshole, circling the wrinkled flesh with your tongues, teasingly penetrating her with the tips. Seulgi is lost in a haze of pleasure, her body shaking uncontrollably as she nears her orgasm with the attention her holes are finally getting. "Oh God, I'm gonna cum... don't stop!" she cries out, her hands gripping the edges of the table as she braces herself for the impending explosion. “Hold it slut” both you and Alison, remove your tongues from holes. “Please, let me cum” Seulgi begged. Seeing her sincerity, you relented with an agreement, “You only get to cum on our count of 3 from now on, is that understood?” You declared with a certain firmness in your voice, eliciting a nod from Seulgi.

With that said, you and Alison in union dived back into her holes, lapping away hungrily at both of her holes. Then Seulgi heard the count as she reached her orgasm. “3” Seulgi fist clenches hard on the sheets trying to hold her orgasm. “2” you hear her whimpering as if begging you to count faster. “1” You intentionally drag the 1 as you swirl your tongue relentlessly around the wrinkled hole. Meanwhile Alison, captured her clit with his mouth and gave it a rough suck. Her knuckles were white at this point, before you finally gave the command “Cum” As if she was being liberated from a cage, Seulgi convulsed hard, releasing one of the strongest orgasms she ever had. Spraying Alison’s face with her squirt, some even reaching the room walls. A pool of her juice was even formed on the sheets below her. As her orgasm starts to subside, you and Alison lap at her remaining juice that tasted sweet as nectar before slowly pulling away, your tongues and lips glistening with her essence. You take a moment to admire your handiwork, your beautiful client splayed out on the table, her body spent and satisfied. “It is my first-time squirting” Seulgi pants while trying to catch her breath. “Don’t worry it will not be your last. “You smirked leaving her to wonder what you meant. This session was just getting started.

You reach for some more massage oil, warming it in your hands before pouring it onto Seulgi's back, your slick hands gliding over her supple skin. You work the oil into her muscles, your fingers firm yet gentle as you soothe away any remaining tension. Your hands roam lower, cupping her ass cheeks and spreading them slightly to expose her tight, quivering asshole once again. You rub the oil into her crease, your fingers teasingly circling her hole, making her moan and squirm. Before she could protest or had enough time to recover from her orgasm, you slip a finger inside her ass, your other hand reaching under to find her swollen clit. “Oh God, I have never had anything in there” She moaned. Ignoring her, you finger-fuck her tight hole slowly, as your other hand works its magic on her clit, rubbing and circling the sensitive bud. Alison joins in, running his hands up Seulgi’s thick thighs, spreading them slightly, moving to kneel before Seulgi. Her pussy is completely bare, her lips already swollen from the previous simulation. He leaned forward, inhaling her sweet musk before tracing his tongue along her slit. She tastes of honey and desire, and Alison moans softly as he laps at her, his tongue flicking over her clit, replacing your fingers. Teasingly he inserted one finger into her tight hole and felt her wet clench around his fingers.  "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," Alison groaned, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside her. Seulgi keens, her body writhing as both of you stretch and fill her. "More... I need more," she begs, her hands reaching back to grip your wrists. Squirting a little more oil to your fingers, you slowly added a second finger, slowly pushing it deeper into Seulgi's ass, stretching her slowly as you work her in a steady rhythm. Seulgi gasps, her body tensing momentarily before relaxing as you curled your finger, searching for that sweet spot. Meanwhile Alison continued to lick and suck on her clit, his own fingers buried deep inside her pussy, slowly quickening his fingering, until with every thrust, a squelching sound could be heard from how wet Seulgi’s pussy had become. "Mmm, that's it," you encouraged. "Take it all, Seulgi. We know you can take more." You give her fleshy ass a playful bite before licking the redden area, as you fuck your fingers deeper into her ass, feeling the tight hole clench around your finger even more with every playful bite that you give her.

Synchronising your movements, your fingers and tongues working in tandem to drive Seulgi wild. Her breathing becomes ragged, her hips bucking as she cries out, her third orgasm approaching rapidly. You don't stop, determined to push her further. You slip a third finger into her ass, scissoring her as you suck another reddened spot you created. Alison mirrors your movements, adding a third finger to Seulgi’s pussy fucking her with powerful deliberate strokes. "Oh my God, oh my God," Seulgi chants, her body glistening with a mixture of lube and her own juices. "I'm going to cum again, please don't stop!" "That's it, baby. Cum for us," Alison urges, his voice hoarse. With that , the magical countdown began “3…2….1…” Again, you intentionally hold the 1, which causes Seulgi to once again grip the sheets tightly. “Cum, let it all go sweetheart” you encouraged, your voice thick with desire. As if on command, and with a few more quick thrusts of your fingers and relentless rubbing of her clit, Seulgi tumbles over the edge. She cries out, her body convulsing as she rides out another powerful orgasm, her juices dripping down Alison’s hand. Alison presses his fingers against Seulgi’s lips, which Seulgi subconsciously opened invitingly to suck his fingers clean. She felt so dirty tasting herself but was surprised at how sweet it tasted. Before she had time to recover from her orgasm, your fingers re-entered her puckered hole, this time with a fourth finger. Alison, seeing this joined back, filling her empty pussy with 4 fingers as well. Seulgi screams, her body shaking uncontrollably. "Too much! Oh, God, it's too much! I need a break" she cries, her voice high and breathless. "Relax, baby. Let it happen," you soothed. As you and Alison continued the assault, relentlessly stretching out her holes, you sensed Seulgi’s 4th orgasm was coming and you began the routine. “3….2....1” “Cum you slut”. Her orgasm hits her like a wave, her body trembling as she cries out, her pussy clenching around Alison’s fingers. You feel her ass contracting around your fingers and you know she’s experiencing an intense, full body release.

You remove your fingers, her ass gripping them tightly as you pull them out, reluctant to let go. You marvel at the sight of her gaping hole, satisfied at how stretched it looks. Seulgi collapses onto the table, spent and satisfied, a lazy smile on her face, her eyes closed as she basks in the afterglow. "That... was incredible," she manages to gasp. You stand there, taking in the sight of her gorgeous, satisfied body, giving her a short break before removing the taped vibrators on her tits and thighs. This deceived Seulgi into thinking the session was finally over after 4 hard orgasms. Little did she know what “Yeri’s special entailed”. Like energy that cannot be destroyed or created only converted to other forms, so was the use of the bullet vibrator, it simply had a new function this time. Swapping places with Alison, you push the vibrator deep inside her pussy causing her eyes to open to the darkness of the blindfold. The buzz echoed through Seulgi's body as you slowly work the vibrator in and out, scissoring her occasionally as you allow the vibrator to work its magic. As you continue to fuck her with the vibrator, relentless in your pursuit of her pleasure. Alison adds the second vibrator, pushing it into her ass as you focus on her pussy. Seulgi is sent into a mess of writhing limbs and incoherent moans as you drive her to the edge again and again, her body shaking with another orgasm. With every orgasm, you applied the same rule, only allowing her to cum when you gave the command, conditioning her body to your words.

Then, sitting Seulgi up, Alison went behind Seulgi, cupping her breast giving them a gentle squeeze and massage, before she suddenly hears a different vibrating sound this time, one more powerful that filled the room. “What is…” Before she could even finish her sentence, you pressed the vibrating wand in your hand against her clit, making her cry out in surprise and pleasure. Her hands clutch at the sheets, her body already on edge. If Alison was not behind her supporting her, she would have crashed onto the floor by now. “Fuckkkk , please, let me come” You smile, holding the vibrator firmly in place, watching her squirm and writhe. Her pussy is already glistening with arousal, her clit begging for more attention. “3…2…1…. Cum for me Seulgi, let me see you fall apart” You turn up the intensity on all the vibrators, making her cry out loudly as she felt the vibrators rub against each other. Her body convulses, her back arching as the orgasm crashes through her. You hold the wand firmly against her clit, prolonging her pleasure, riding out the wave. “Please… no more…” You ignore her, repeating the countdown, time and time again. “One more time sweetheart” you demanded one orgasm after another, and she delivers each time with her body solely responding to the countdown now. After a boundless amount of orgasm, Seulgi feels like she has almost lost her mind from the over-stimulation.

Then there was silence…… Everything was removed in an instant from her body and the vibrations went still . She felt Alison standing up from behind her as well. “Y/N, are you there?” There was no response for another 15 seconds, and just as she was about to take off her blindfolds to understand the situation, she heard the ritual that by this time, her body was all too familiar with. “3…2….” “Wait, I can’t cum anymore, it’s too much” She protested while wondering also how she would be able to cum, with all the stimulants removed, “1..” As she heard the 1, her body anticipated a pending orgasm, but she needed a little something that would push her over the edge. You are more than happy to oblige. “Cum” You surprise her with an open-handed smack right on her sensitive pussy. The sound echoes through the room, and Seulgi's eyes roll to the back of her head as another orgasm takes hold of her. This time, it's too much, and she squirts even more powerfully, her juices drenching you. "Oh, fucking hell..." she screams, her body shaking uncontrollably. "I'm squirting... Can't hold it..." You laugh, a deep, satisfied sound, as you watch her lose control. "That's it, drench us, you filthy slut," you growl, your voice thick with satisfaction. Her juices coat your hands and your body with multiple spurts that she could not control, a testament to the pleasure you've given her. Finally, you relent, and let her body rest. Seulgi lies boneless on the table, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. You and Alison clean her up using the towels, before you see her soaked panties on the table and a nasty thought crosses your mind. Using it as if it is a sponge, you swipe her already soaked fabric on the pool that had formed on the massage table between Seulgi’s legs, making it dripping with her essence. “Here, drink up” Your finger grabbing her chin as a sign for her to open up her mouth. Seulgi still deprived of her eyesight, innocently consented and opened her mouth assuming it was water. You squeeze the soaked panties, allowing the essence to fall directly into her mouth. She was initially shocked at the quantity and the taste of it before recognising what it was but swallowed it anyway like a good girl she was. You did this a few more times, hydrating her with her own essence making her feel like a dirty little slut.

Seulgi closed her eyes and accidentally drifted off into sleep while you guys were doing the remaining cleaning up. You smile gently at the sight of the cute girl before you who you had known had given her all on and off stage. After a while, she stirs a little and the blindfold falls off, and she blinks, her eyes adjusting to the soft light of the room. “Welcome back sweetheart” you murmur a satisfied smile on your face. Seulgi cracks a lazy smile, her entire body tingling with post-orgasmic bliss. "That... was incredible. I've never experienced anything like it." her body is feeling renewed by now.  Her gaze lands on you both, and her breath catches in her throat as she takes in the sight of your eager, hard cocks

"It is my turn to return the favor," she purrs, her voice thick with desire. She kneels before you both, her eyes sparkling with mischief. You and Alison stand side by side, your cocks twitching with anticipation as your 7-inch cocks throbbed with need. It was professionalism but more so a miracle that kept you guys from fucking her in the past hour and half. I mean who could resist such an insanely sexy body like Seulgi’s. She was such a sexy vixen. "Suck us off, sweetheart," you growl, your voice deep and husky. "Show us how much you appreciated the massage." Seulgi's eyes shine as she looks up at you, and then her gaze shifts to Alison. Her lip’s part, and she leans forward, wrapping her lips around your cockhead. She swirls her tongue around the sensitive ridge, teasing you with soft sucks and gentle nips. Her hands explore your thighs, squeezing the firm muscle, her touch sending shivers up your bodies. You groan as you watch her, your cock throbbing fiercely. "That's it, baby," you encourage her. "You like the taste of this dick, don't you?" Seulgi hums in response, the vibrations sending a jolt through your body. You thread your fingers into her hair, guiding her pace, sliding your length in and out of her warm, wet mouth. Not wanting to leave Alison out, she uses her hands to gather the saliva dripping down her chin from the blowjob, lubricating it before stretching them out to give Alison’s slow but firm strokes on his cock. Soon she was controlling the pace and alternating between the both of you. Seulgi uses her warm hands to stroke your length this time, while she takes Alison deeper, her lips gliding to the base of Alison’s cock and her tongue grazing the underside of his shaft. She increases her pace in her double administration, stroking faster while bobbing her head quicker, maintaining eye contact, and you can see the desire burning in her eye. It was a sloppy mess and you and Alison were grunting and clenching your fist to not release too quickly from the expert skills of the sexy vixen before you.

You look over to Alison, and without a word he nods, as if understanding you too well. Together, you stopped Seulgi and urged her to stand. You lead her to the massage table and gently lay her down, her head hanging off the edge. Her neck is exposed, her hair cascading down, providing the perfect access to her pretty mouth. "You ready for a face fuck, baby?" you ask. Seulgi's eyes glitter with excitement. "Please," she whispers, her breath coming in short gasps. "Fuck my mouth. I want to feel you." You don't need to be told twice. You step up to the table, positioning your throbbing cock at her lips. Her mouth opens, and you slide in, her warm, wet tongue greeting you. You groan as you start to thrust, your hands tangling in her hair, holding her in place as you begin to fuck her face. Her mouth is hot and tight around your cock, her tongue dancing along your length. You pull out, your cock slick with her saliva, and then plunge back in, going deeper each time, hitting the back of her throat. Your balls graze her nose each time you fuck deeply into her throat, forcing her to inhale the musky scent it was giving off, which turned her on even more. You watch as her eyes water, the signs of her slight discomfort only spurring you on. "You like that, don't you, baby?" you grunt. "You like getting your throat fucked by this dick." Seulgi manages a throaty moan in response, her hands grasping at your thighs as you pound her mouth. Shifting your hands, you reached out to stroke Seulgi’s throat, you could feel your cock going in and out of her. You applied some pressure and tightened your hold of her throat, which causes her throat to also tighten around your huge cock increasing your pleasure. She gags on it, her face glistening with more and more spit with every passing second. After a while, you thought of your partner and pulled out, leaving her lips glistening and swollen, and stepped aside for Alison to take your place. He plunges into her mouth, his cock slick and hard, and begins to thrust, his pace frantic as he fills her mouth over and over.

As Alison uses her mouth, you take the opportunity to explore her body again. Your hands glide over her soft skin, caressing her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her squirm and moan around Alison’s cock. You trace your fingers down her stomach, dipping into her navel, before sliding your hand lower, between her thighs. Her pussy is dripping wet again from the face fuck, the evidence of her arousal coating your fingers as you rub her clit in slow, teasing circles. Seulgi bucks her hips, her breath coming in sharp gasps as you torture her with pleasure. "Please," she whimpers, her voice muffled by Alison's cock. "I need more." You chuckle as you think to yourself of what an insatiable slut Seulgi is, even her countless orgasm was not yet enough for her, but then you remembered …. Well Yeri’s way worse.  “Fuck her Y/N”. Alison grunted. You do not need to be told twice. You position yourself at her entrance, the tip of your cock teasing her wet, eager hole. With one smooth thrust, you sink into her, her heat enveloping and accommodating your big cock. Seulgi cries out, her back arching as you fill her completely. You give her a moment to adjust to your size, revelling in the feeling of her tight pussy clenching around you. "Ready for more, baby?" you ask, your voice rough. Seulgi manages a nod, her eyes wild with desire. You begin to move, slowly at first, pulling out until just the head of your cock remains inside her, before slamming back into her with force in one swoop. Seulgi screams, her legs wrapping around your waist, her heels digging into your ass, urging you on. Then, you set a relentless pace, pounding into her, your balls slapping against her ass with each deep thrust. Her pussy grips you tightly, milking your cock. It was a rhythmic and synchromatic mess. With every hard thrust that you fuck Seulgi with, it pushes her take take more of Alison’s cock down her throat. Similarly with every thrust that Alison’s fucks Seulgi’s throat with, she was pushed back to take your shaft deeper into her. This spit roast left Seulgi at the mercy of both of you controlling the pace. She felt like she was merely a vessel of pleasure to be used by both of you at this point and all of you knew it would not be long before you all found your release. "I'm close," she whimpers. "Please, don't stop." You grin and thrust harder, your cock plunging deep into her wetness. "Cum for me, baby," you grunt. "Cum all over my cock." Seulgi's body tenses, and she lets out a cry, her face contorting and pussy clenching around you like a vice. Her orgasm washes over her, her juices flooding your cock, as she rides out her intense release. The sight of her climax pushes you over the edge. You pound into her a few more times, feeling your balls tighten as your orgasm builds. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you grit out. "I'm gonna fill that tight pussy with my load." Seulgi moans in response, encouraging you to let go. You thrust a few more times, before remembering she is still an idol. You quickly pull out, your cock throbbing as you spill your cum painting her abs and tits. Ropes after ropes of your hot cum covers her, and you grunt in satisfaction as you ride out your orgasm. Within seconds of this hot sight, Alison reaches his high as well. Holding her head in place, he gives one more deep thrust before ejaculating hard down her throat. The warm liquid fills her throat as Seulgi gags and tries to swallow everything but fails as some of it drips down her lips and chin onto the linens on the massage chair. Licking the side of her lips, she does something none of you expected, she turns slightly and dips her tongue onto the linens, cleaning up whatever cum that had spilled on it. “Damn, what a dirty slut” you said. This erotic sight that was displayed before both of you made your cocks hard again, ready and energised for round 2.

Alison wasted no time, wanting to feel her pussy this time, positioned himself on the massage table. “Ride me Seulgi” Seulgi straddled him, aligning herself with Alison’s cock, she lowered her hips patiently and felt the full length of Alison’s cock pushing through her folds. “Fuuuck” She groans in pleasure. Once she had adjusted enough to Alison’s cock, she began to ride Alison at a steady pace. You watched as she rode him, her perfect ass bouncing with each thrust. She threw her head back, moaning with pleasure as Alison filled her pussy. As she continued to ride him, you approached sneakily from behind, your cock twitching with anticipation. Suddenly, Seulgi felt your hard cock teasingly probing at her virgin asshole. “I’ve never done this before!” Seulgi said with a concerned look, wondering how she was going to fit all those 7 inches into her virgin asshole. With one hand on her back, you pushed her slightly forward, bending her down unto Alison’s body. With her ass lifted, Alison moves his hands to her ass cheeks, parting it slightly, giving you a clear view of her now exposed rosebuds. Lubing up your hard cock, you entered her tight hole slowly, feeling the tough resistance of her virgin ass enveloping your cock.  Seulgi gasped at the sensation, her body tensing. "Oh fuck, it's so full." You gripped her hips, slowly pushing it inch by inch into her ass, giving her time to adjust to the feeling, until she managed to take you all the way to the base of your shaft. "Relax, baby," you whispered. "You're doing great." you whispered into her ears as you began thrusting in and out of her ass. Alison, feeling the new tightness of this position started pistoning into pussy, his hips slapping against her clit. The bed creaked with the force of your combined thrusts. As Seulgi’s breast were bouncing all over the place, you reached around, squeezing Seulgi's tits, using them as handlebars as you continued to fuck her ass. "God, she's tight," Alison grunted. "Feels so good." You spanked Seulgi's ass, leaving red handprints on her cheeks. "Take it, you dirty girl," you growled. "Take our cocks in both your holes. Seulgi cried out, the sensation overwhelming her. The feeling of being filled in both holes sent her approaching an intense orgasm. Sensing her impeding orgasm, you gripped her tits harder, and sped up fucking her ass. Meanwhile, Alison gripped Seulgi’s waist and forced her to lower herself onto his slick cock while at the same time thrusting himself up into her wanting cunt, spearing her folds. You leaned forward, nibbling on her earlobe. "That's it, baby. Cum all over our cocks.” This sent her to the edge as her lower body convulsed and trembled, clutching at Alison’s shoulder as she came hard around both of your cocks, her juices flowing.

You withdrew from her ass, sliding your cock out with a wet pop. Lifting Seulgi off Alison’s cock, you spun her around into a reverse cowgirl position now, making her face you, her eyes still sparking with lust. Alison’s cock was glistening with her juice, repositioning himself, he guided his cock towards her ass. Seulgi gasped as she felt the head push against her tight hole. She moaned as you slowly lowered her down onto Alison’s, allowing her to feel it penetration her tender walls once again. "Fuck, this ass is so tight," Alison grunted, his voice strained as he fought for control. Once, you see that Alison’s cock has completely disappeared into her ass, you guided your shaft towards her pussy, rubbing the head against her swollen folds before slipping inside. Seulgi's face contorts into a whimpering mess, her moans are now pants of inaudible words, as both of your cocks stretched her to her limits. Both of you began to move in unison, your hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. Alison's cock slid in and out of her ass, from her riding while your piston-like movements in her pussy drove her wild. You could feel Alison’s cock in her ass, pressing against your own through the thin membrane separating her holes. It was an incredible sensation, feeling her body filled to the brim. Seulgi was being fucked mercilessly; her senses overwhelmed as both of you used her body for their pleasure. As you continued fucking her, you reached forward, cupping her tits and tweaking her nipples. "Your body is so fucking perfect," “Made for our cocks’ Seulgi threw her head back, her long hair trailing down her back. Taking the opportunity, you leaned forward, your lips crashing against hers. It was a sloppy, passionate make out, your tongues tangling for dominance as you tasted each other, your hands still played with her tits, rolling her sensitive nipples between your fingers. Breaking the kiss, you trail kisses down her neck, savouring the taste of her skin. You continue lower, your mouth enveloping one of her nipples, sucking and biting gently as you twist the other peak between your fingers. Not wanting to be outdone, Alison reached around her, his hand searching for her clit. Upon finding the swollen nub. He rubbed circles around it, his fingers slick with her arousal as he thrust his balls slapping against her ass "Come on, baby, cum for us again. Let us feel that your holes clench around our cocks again," he growled as he gave her swollen nub a pinch.  Seulgi's body obeyed his command. Her orgasm crashed over her, and her ass and pussy clenched around your cocks. You and Alison groaned, your own pleasure building as you felt her walls pulsate around them. Not wanting to cum just yet, you and Alison slowed your pace, taking deep breaths as you fought for control. You wanted to edge closer to the precipice, but not fall over just yet.

Withdrawing from her, you helped Seulgi move into a new position. She lay on her side, her legs drawn up, offering both her holes in a spooning position. This time you wanted her tight ass again, so you positioned yourself behind her while Alison took her front. Seulgi is once again sandwiched between the two of you as you both enter her again. This time her muscles were relaxed to accommodate your thickness. Given how slick both of your cocks and her holes were, you guys slid into her easily, filling her up again as she arched her back, pushing her ass back towards you. You both set up a steady, hard rhythm, double-penetrating Seulgi, who was squirming and moaning, her body on fire with pleasure being impaled on two hard cocks. "You like being our sexy little slut, don't you?" "Yes!" she cries, her head tossing from side to side. "I'm your slut, your dirty little toy! Make me cum, please!" Seulgi was surprised at how dirty she sounded but at this moment all she could think about was her release. You chuckled then with a mischievous grin, you reached for the bullet vibrator once again, switching it on and teasing her clit with it. She bucked her hips, her breath catching as the vibrations sent sparks of pleasure through her body. Then, you pulled out of her ass and slipped the vibrator into her tight hole before thrusting your cock back in, fucking the toy into her with your cock. Alison mirrors this action, grabbing another bullet vibrator and slipping it into her pussy, the toy disappearing instantly into her slick hole, before continuing to fuck her pussy with it. Her pussy and ass were all being used, filled and simulated and on the brink of a powerful orgasm. "Oh god, I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum so hard! " She cried out.  You felt Alison's balls slapping against Seulgi's pussy as he pounded into her, and you knew he too was close. You could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of your cocks fucking her tight holes, and the vibrations of the bullets added a whole new level of intensity. "Cum with me, sweetheart.” “Let go, I want to feel you milk us with your tight holes.” Your words send her over the edge, as Seulgi convulses, cumming harder than she had ever done before in her life. Her pussy contracts around Alison’s cock, and her ass clamps down on yours, attempting to milk you both as she orgasms. “Fill me with your cum” Seulgi begged. Not being able to hold out any longer, with one final, powerful thrust, Alison emptied his load deep inside Seulgi's pussy. His cum mixed with her juices as he filled her up, and the feeling of his hot seed pushed you over the edge. Rope after rope of your cum shot into Seulgi's ass, your cock twitching with each pulse. You felt spent, but the pleasure was overwhelming. The three of you collapsed in a heap, your sweat-covered bodies intertwined. Seulgi’s holes gaping from the intense fucking. Seulgi turned to face you, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. She kissed you deeply, tasting herself on your lips, and then turned to Jake, doing the same. The three of you lay there, catching your breath, the bullet vibrators still buzzing gently inside her. "That was the most intense thing I've ever experienced," she breathed, running her hands over her body. "I can't wait to do it again." She could see why Yeri would come here regularly, discovering how much of a freak her maknae is. Magically, every knot in her body was gone and her muscle ache had disappeared even though the past 3 hours of non-stop debauchery was an intense workout itself. “I look forward to seeing you again sweetheart” you said as you helped Seulgi wipe the remaining cum off her skin and helped her get dressed. She was one of your favourite clients, given how hot her body is.

As she walked in the door of her apartment feeling refreshed and like a new person after the massage, Yeri was waiting for her. "Well, someone looks completely renewed!" Yeri teased with a smile. “You were such a slut out there Unnie” Yeri said as she flipped her phone over, revealing that she had access to the livestream of the entire session the whole time. “YAH, KIM YERI, YOU BETTER DELETE THAT” She exclaimed, her face completely flushed in embarrassment as she hurried straight to her room. As Seulgi sank into her bed, she recalled the events that had transpired, and rubbed her clothed pussy. She could not wait for her next session with you. “A magic touch indeed” Who knows maybe she would one day even come here together with Yeri or her group for a combined session with you.

Thanks for reading my second piece. Her abs are to die for!! Will appreciate, comments likes or reblogs! Hope you guys enjoyed many words worth of smut! Request are open but I will only write request that I find interesting enough and are idols I enjoy unless you would like to commission a piece. Do check out my first piece if you havent as well! I'm so surprised it has reach 750 notes and am thankful for support. Not sure if I will release fics are regular as now as I only write when I have a motivation! Cheers

[snailpebbles]

teach me kisses? - OP81

summary: oscar teaches you to kiss ig. gone right.

wc: 2k

tags: fluff, tooth rotting, maybe suggestive, uhh kinda sad but not for them lmao, not proofread

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It was safe to say Oscar was a little more than concerned to receive a text from you in the middle of a relatively chill day, asking for him to come over. Of course he does seeing as it's impossible to deny you, his best friend of six years. He rushed around his flat unsure of what to grab, so he settles on a multitude of items: Advil, Tylenol (for variety, you tend to get picky), a hoodie with his cologne, and another hoodie (once again, variety).

While making the drive to your flat, he stops by a corner store to grab a few more items on the rare chance you might be upset with him. The bell dings as he steps into the family-owned shop, most definitely older than him if the kind old lady behind the counter was anything to go by. It's mostly empty, the short aisles containing various items, but he knows what he wants. Settling on a nice bouquet of pink tulips alongside your favorite soda, Oscar makes his way to the counter.

The cashier smiles at his items and makes idle conversation with the young man, feeling some sort of interest within him.

"She the lucky girl, or are you a lucky man?" She asks, chuckling softly as she fixes up the flowers to look more presentable. Oscar's face tints pink, an awkward side smile pulling on his lips.

"Oh shes- well-" He stumbles for his words, suddenly seeing you in a new light he'd previously pushed down in the fear of losing you. "lucky man." Is the answer he settles on, giving a slight huff of laughter to ease his own nerves that the old woman doesn't share. She hands him the flowers and soda, patting his left hand as she does.

"My Willis and I have been together since the fifties, so listen to me when I tell you...cherish each other." A nostalgic smile lights up her face, previous youth shining through. Pictures hang on the corkboard behind her, all featuring that youth beside a young man.

"He was lost in the war, but those few years were the best of my life." She sighs softly, a shaking hand tracing along a picture of Willis. "You keep that girl close, or my umbrella and I just might have to find you." Oscar nods at her comment, taking it to heart.

"I'd never hurt her, Gods help me if I did." He mutters, placing his credit card back in his wallet, a picture of you beaming at the camera greeting him momentarily further softening his heart.

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Your doorbell startles you even through you'd been pacing in front of it for the past ten minutes, debating every choice that has led you here. Trembling hands brush invisible dust off your pajamas and regret fills you for not looking more presentable. Peering through the peephole, you are greeted by Oscar rocking on his heels in the hall, your favorite flowers in hand.

The door flinging open surprises him, as does your hand tugging him inside. Within a flurry of motion the tulips are put in a vase, the soda is already half chugged, and multiple thank yous meet his ears. You're a tornado of movement and he has to catch you by the shoulders, stilling you in front of him with a worried gaze.

"Did something happen? Are you alright?" He asks, eyes scanning you and definitely not lingering.

Definitely.

"No I'm fine Osc, no need to act like a worried mother." You wave his concerns off, moving to set on your comfy sofa, soda still in hand. He settles down beside you, placing his stuffed to the brim backpack by his feet. He unzips it and a hoodie half falls out, one that he places in your lap. "Why..are you cold?" He smiles awkwardly at your question, now feeling like an idiot.

"No uhm, well I was worried so I might have...over prepared." Before he can hide his backpack you're already rifling through it, awing at each thoughtful item.

"You brought me drugs! How kind." You snicker, holding up the Advil and Tylenol. Oscars already red face only turns a darker shade and he snatches them away from you.

"I didn't bring you drugs- well technically I did- but I thought you were sick or something!" He defends, placing the bottles back in his bag. An apologetic smile forms on your face and your hand falls to his shoulder, appreciation only rising for the sweet man before you. What country did you save in a past life to warrant such blessing?

"Not sick, but I do have a bit of a request for you." Your hands twist nervously in your lap, the inside of your bottom lip chewed raw at this point. Oscar dips his head to meet your gaze, making you feel warm all over from his attentiveness. "You need to promise me that you won't laugh, okay?" Oscar nods, shifting closer to you.

"I promise I won't laugh." He murmurs, worry internally taking him over as thoughts rush through his mind. Did you take your ex back? Are you sick and lying to him? Oh God do you have a new boyfriend?? This one truly makes him sick, but he refuses to dwell on his reaction.

Inhaling deeply, exhaling through your mouth, you blurt out what you want with your eyes squeezed shut.

"I need you to kiss me."

Oscars heart stops briefly, then kicks back up into overdrive. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Kiss you? You? His lips on yours? Oh God.

His silence makes you nervous so you peek, and the air is punched out of your lungs as a result.

His face is red and he's stone-still, lips parted and eyes ever so slightly widened. Is it bad to say you enjoy seeing him like this?

"Okay." The words finally leave his lips in the form of a breathless whisper, tongue darting out to wet them subconsciously. Surprise smacks you in the face, never once having anticipated a yes so simply. An urge to explain fills you; to justify such a request.

"See I just- well I have a date tomorrow and it's been a long time since I've ever kissed someone, so I figured you could help me relearn." You explain, hands waving around in the air to further your point. As you speak, you don't notice the way Oscar steels back up, shutting back down. How could he ever think you'd be into him when you're so amazing? All of those emotions are forced back into an old box, edges worn out from his mind picking at it on late nights.

"Right. Yeah." He nods, swallowing the bile wanting to rise. He should be happy for you, for taking such a step after the shit-storm of your last relationship. Jealousy edges into his mind, seeping into the cracks and his ego, protectiveness shifting into possessiveness for a split second. You're his, not some random guy who can't even qualify as a man. He's always been there, not this- this idiot.

"So uh, do we just..?" You bring your legs up onto the sofa, sitting criss cross and shifting to face him. The nerves teeter on uncomfortable, but excitement balances it all out for you. His lips are so kissable, it has honestly pained you for years that you may never feel them against your own. Oscar takes the lead of course and his slender yet strong hands cup your jaw, pointer finger drawing circles just in front of your ear. You feel frozen in time, hands useless in your lap as you can't seem to draw your attention anywhere but those lips and the light stubble surrounding the area.

"..You need to close your eyes." He reminds you, his voice sounding a whole lot more gravelly, if not hoarse. Why would it be? What would cause such a-

Warmth. His lips, a delicacy you knew internally you craved, bring a warmth you'd forgotten the embrace of long ago. Oscar sharply inhales at the first contact and struggles to restrain himself, your hesitancy in the kiss the only reminder that you need slow and gentle. He abides by this and tries to stay focused while you lose any thought except the need to keep him as close as possible, right on you where he belongs.

Your eyes had fallen shut awhile ago, but who can say? Time feels meaningless when Oscars hands are trailing down to your hips, the kiss at some point having deepened into an intimacy you weren't sure even existed. He lifts you into his lap with an ease that sets you on fire, scorching a path up to your heart and burning up the oxygen in your lungs. Not that you mind. You'd happily give him your air if it'll make him stay attached like this. Oscar memorizes all of you as you do him, burning your skin with his touch and peeling away layers of lies you'd both put up for a false pretense of simple friendship.

Maybe you've fallen into wonderland because you certainly feel mad. He's tearing out your soul with how gentle yet compassionate his kisses are, soft gasps and sighs filling the otherwise quiet flat, only to mingle with birdsong outside the window. Would you let him kiss you on that balcony for everyone to see? A Juliet he'd most certainly keep. He tugs you closer, chest to chest and heart to heart, both fluttering wildly as if in a cage. Every touch he gets is full of you, any late night dream far surpassed as you give up any control to him, bending under gentle actions like putty. God and your taste, one in the same as it is for you. Closer and closer you become, the outside world ceasing to exist just like any false boundaries you'd both foolishly believed like it'd save you from the damnation of love.

"Osc.. Oscar.." You mumble breathlessly as you part, both panting for air and refusing to give the other space with the way your foreheads stay pressed together. "I lied. There's no date." The white lie is finally revealed, one you'd said out of fear for rejection.

"...Thank fuck." He mutters, laughing under his breath as his lips meet yours once more. He can barely kiss you though, not when he's smiling so widely. You giggle, so he does too and suddenly you're both laughing heavily, falling into one another.

"Be mine?" The question leaves you without consequence, your heart and head airy with love. Oscar nods into your collarbone, still placing kisses there with reverence.

"I've always been yours." He says simply.

"Me too."

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

"C'mon! We're gonna get soaked!" Your laugh fills up the corner store, rain hammering down on the two of you. Oscar trails in behind you, hand tightly linked with yours as a bright smile stays firm on his face.

"Thought you liked when we were-" He starts but you slap his shoulder, covering your grin with your free hand as you scoff. He grins back, leading you through the short aisles to wait out the storm and maybe get a few (a lot) of cheat snacks. Oscar grabs Snickers, you grab Hersheys. He takes a Sprite, you take a Dr. Pepper. (You'll later end up forgetting that chocolate melts and get a whole pizza instead, walking in the park while eating out of the waterlogged box.)

"That everything?" The old lady behind the counter asks as Oscar goes to pay, just barely beating you to it while ignoring your protests. He thinks for a moment and then grabs a bouquet of pink tulips, grinning like he'd just won a race. Your heart warms and you peck his cheek as thanks, his pale skin going an identical shade of pink to the petals. Maybe one day he'll realize that that's why pink tulips are your favorite.

She checks you out and waves goodbye since the rain has since cleared up, watching as you walk out swinging each other's hand. Her gaze falls to the corkboard behind her, a small smile on her lips as she traces her lost loves face.

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

hello I haven't written in forever and I also don't know why I gave the old lady a backstory ????

[barcaatthemoon]

hold it in || claudia pina x reader ||

claudia pulls away when she thinks that you're dating cata.

"carry me!" you shouted as you jumped onto cata's back. you arrived with her to training like you did every single day. cata dropped her bag down to make room for you to ride on her back to the locker room. the two of you were extremely close as cata was your roommate and best friend, but despite what a few of your teammates thought, that was the extent of your relationship.

everyone was fairly used to seeing cata carry you around, so nobody said anything. she dumped you straight onto the floor in between where patri and claudia were standing. almost immediately, claudia dropped down to help you up onto your feet. she made sure that you were okay before turning to cata and flaying into her a bit.

"it's everyday with this bit. you would think that claudia would just give it up. i'm pretty sure that's the only reason cata still does it," patri said. you nodded as you brushed all of the dirt off of yourself. the two of you stood back watching cata and claudia playfully fight with each other.

alexia came over to break it up at the sound of the first crash. all of you were ushered out to the pitch. you easily fell in step with cata, who linked your arms together. claudia frowned at the sight in front of her. it was like the universe wanted to throw it in her face that you weren't hers. you liked cata, and claudia had missed her chance with you when you transferred.

"don't shoot rockets at me, i'm not panos!" cata warned as she separated from you with a shove. you rolled your eyes as you stumbled to the side. claudia clenched her fists, even though you were laughing along with cata. the goalkeeper blew you a kiss before she went over to join the others.

"i swear she's so annoying sometimes," you said as you fell in step with patri and claudia. patri hummed in agreement, but claudia didn't even react to you. they went with the other midfielders for training, but since the coaching staff wanted to push you back a bit, they had you with the defenders.

you had played as a defender in your youth club teams, but your college and national team had you playing as a forward. slowly, you had made your way up the positions, but every now and then you liked to fall back. you were a versatile player, one that barcelona had jumped to add to their roster as a few of their key players left.

you kept glancing at claudia during practice, but for once, you never met her eye. you chalked it down to claudia not feeling well, so you gave her space. unfortunately, you weren't the only one who noticed claudia's change in mood. patri had confronted her several times throughout the day, all coming to a head with a huge argument in the parking lot.

"hey, don't worry about them. they'll be fine, they scream at each other like that every other week. it's natural," cata reassured you. she was right, their little squabbles did tend to get heated, but something about what you had just watched felt different. "come on, let's go get some rest."

…

claudia's mood was not a one-off thing. at least it wasn't around you and cata. claudia seemed distant and a bit more tempermental around the two of you. it took about a week of claudia acting like that for you to decide that it was best if you kept your distance with her. cata seemed to have decided the same thing, and in that, she knew that she had to look out for you a little bit more.

"ugh, disgusting," claudia muttered to herself as she watched you hold cata in a tight embrace. cata's gloves were still off, so she ran her fingers through your hair. you completely melted against her body. it was no secret within the team that you had arrived a bit touch starved and still clung to every bit of affection that you could get.

"alright lovebirds, break it up," patri said as she came in between the two of you. you frowned at her, but took your spot in the lineup anyway. you were in between ona and patri with a couple more players in between you and cata. claudia seemed a bit smug about that, even if she didn't say anything about it directly. "stop fidgeting."

"i can't help it," you whined. you were a bit nervous. practices hadn't been going great for you with everything on your mind. this game felt like your chance to prove to the coaching staff that they hadn't made a mistake shelling out all that money for you. you knew what you had to do, and a big part of that was hoping that things went your way in today's game.

for the most part, things went well. you got the odd ball to kick back up into the midfield. most of your opposition's attempts were killed in the midfield and turned into points for barcelona on the scoreboard. at halftime, you felt better about everything, despite the nagging feeling in your stomach. irene gave the pep talk speech, motivating the team to play like they had been in the first half.

the game hadn't even resumed for a full minute when you went down the first time. it felt like a little tweak to your knee, but nothing you couldn't handle. you grit your teeth and kept going, not even allowing for them to stop the game and get a trainer out there. when you went down again, you were completely out of it. a good slide tackle on your end had been ruined by the boot of a forward crushing your leg.

claudia sprinted towards you as you screamed in pain. she wanted nothing more to be at your side, but cata held her back. claudia couldn't pinpoint the look on cata's face, but it looked like cata was mad at claudia. still, claudia tried to push past the goalkeeper to see you.

"cata, let me through. she's my friend, i want to see her," claudia huffed. no matter how hard she tried, claudia couldn't just push past the goalkeeper.

"not with the way you've been acting. just get out of here, you've done enough today," cata said. she pushed claudia back with a shove. her back was turned towards you, so she missed the way you reached towards claudia as you were stretchered away.

"i just want to see her," claudia mumbled sadly.

…

"you've got visitors," cata told you. you tipped your head back to look at the door where claudia, ona, jana, and bruna were standing. "i'm going out for a bit, okay?"

"yeah," you told her. cata leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. you shifted on the couch a bit to make room for your friends, glad that they came to visit you.

"we brought markers for your cast," jana said as she held them up. you smiled, patting the spot next to you for her. she came right over with bruna in tow, the two of them dumping the markers on your coffee table. they sat on the floor so that they had better access to your cast.

"are you feeling okay?" ona asked. she had texted about coming over, but cata hadn't let anybody else over except for alexia and a couple of the older players. it seemed that everybody wanted to come check on you, which you found flattering. however, all you wanted was claudia's attention.

"better now that we've got my medicine figured out," you told her. "hi clau."

"hi (y/n)." claudia stood still, eyes downcast on the floor. "i'm sorry that you got your leg broken like that."

"it sucks, but frido is making cata take good care of me," you said happily. you were depressed about being injured, but it was highly amusing watching frido boss cata around. the swedish woman lived in your complex, as did a few of your other teammates, so frido was over nearly every other day to check on you. "you should come over more, i miss you."

"i'm not sure that i should," claudia said nervously. jana and bruna shared a look between themselves before they got up from the floor. ona walked them into the kitchen, which wasn't too far away, but did give you a bit of privacy.

"why not? why don't you want to be around me anymore?" claudia glanced over at you and immediately regretted her decision. your eyes were watery, like you had been waiting for this moment for a long time. "we used to be like best friends, and now you won't even look at me."

"it's hard when you're always hanging off of cata or hugging her or letting her kiss you. it's not fair because it should be me," claudia huffed. if she wasn't so genuinely distraught, you would have thought that she looked adorable standing there with her arms crossed and pouting. "i should leave."

"no, don't. cata's only been so affectionate because i need it. one day we're joking around, and the next you're avoiding me like i have the plague," you said. claudia sat down on the couch with you and pulled you to lay against her. "i don't even know what i did."

"you didn't do anything, i just got jealous of you and cata."

"there's nothing to be jealous of!" claudia cupped your cheeks and wiped away the tears that were falling. "we've never been together, not when she knows how much i like you."

"fuck, i'm an idiot. i'm sorry, can i make it up to you? we can kick cata out for a night or two. you deserve something special," claudia offered. you nodded, honestly loving the sound of that idea. "good, and i'm sorry for how i acted. i've hated every minute of it too, i swear."

"do i hear crying in there? claudia, if you made her cry, cata will kil all of us!" bruna shouted as she rounded the corner. you laughed as you buried your face in claudia's chest. claudia held you on the couch as bruna and jana took their spots by your cast, this time joined by ona.

"mapi will kill you if you take all the spots," claudia reminded them. the girls all shrugged, not fearing the older defender's wrath at all. between ingrid and alexia, mapi wasn't messing with a single hair on any of their heads.

[latenightdaydreams]

Okey, I hope this request makes sense.

But just imagine König with a shy, younger, insecure girlfriend who's inexperienced and chubby.

König adores every bit of her which obviously includes her body!!

Reader knows that, but she's still hesitant and shy, even though she wants to sit on his lap. She wants to lay on top off him when they cuddle. She wants him to manhandle her. She wants to ride him when they fuck for the first time.

But the cute, pathetic little doll is too scared too ask! Worried she'll do it wrong or that he'll realise that his exes were better or that he'll realise that he wants her to be smaller.

~🌟

As a chubby and shy girly myself, yessss🤭😏😮‍💨

König x Chubby!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, fingering, p in v, insecurity, chubby reader

1.7k word count

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.

.

König saw you for the first time he was paroling around a college campus. You were wearing skinny jeans that hugged your wide hips, thick thighs, and apron belly. Your lavender top complimented your skin that looks so smooth, your large breast the bounce with ever step you take. He couldn’t focus on anything but the way you walked, so he decided to take a shot and approach you.

Ever since that your first date, König has been obsessed with you and you can’t understand why. He’s a wealthier older man, well established in life, his body 280lbs of solid muscles. It just doesn’t make sense- to you. To König your body is perfect the way it is.

You’ve been a chubby person your whole life and because of that you’ve never really dated. You’ve only ever had two boyfriends before and sexually have don’t nothing past missionary. With König, you want him to bend you over or throw you on the bed. You want to get on his cock and ride him until he cums. He’s strong enough to, yet you can’t find yourself asking for more. In a way you’re embarrassed to want this. What if he can’t lift you? What if he thinks you’re just too much and would rather have a smaller girlfriend? This is the reason you both haven’t had sex yet. He hasn’t even seen you naked yet, only the occasional boob pic.

König is well aware of your insecurities and he tries to reassure you as much as he can about how much he loves you. His hands always finding their way around your waist to rest on your belly, snaking down your hips to grab your thighs. He can never stop telling you how perfect you are. It’s hard to not compliment you when you walk around the house wearing tight little outfits that show off all of your curves.

Today was like any other day, you came over early to spend the day with König as soon as he got off his shift. He was tired and dragged you into the bedroom to nap. He held you close to his shirtless body, your fingers tracing the outline of his muscles. His hand caresses your side, squeezing at the fat around your hips.

You wanted to lay on top of him, but you’re too bashful to ask. You view yourself as too fat for him to relax with you like that. You look at his face as he lays with his eyes closed. His blonde hair growing shaggy and makes him look more youthful for his age.

König can feel you watching him as he opens his eyes slightly, he smiles one he sees your precious face looking up at him.

“What is it, Maus?”

“Nothing.” You giggle.

“Tell me,” He pulls you closer to him, pressing your body tightly against his.

“I was just admiring you.”

“Ja?” He begins to shift with your body in his arms, easily pulling you on top of him chest.

You can’t help but to smile big, yet something in you was telling you that you shouldn’t be enjoying this.

“König,” You giggle and try to move.

“Stay, I need you closer.”

“But I’m heavy,” You roll slightly off of him, one of your legs still draped over his body.

“You aren’t to me.” His hand glides up your thigh until he feels the warmth of your vagina through your biker shorts. He begins to rub your pussy through your pants.

You let out a soft moan as you bury your face into his arm.

“I love your body…let me love it please Maus.” König moves his hand and slips his hand down the front of your pants.

You move to stop him, then you stop yourself and let him. His hand squeezes your stomach twice before moving down to your pussy. His fingers rubbing your clit softly.

“You’re already wet?”

“I like being close to you,” You giggle embarrassed by how wet you are.

.

.

Now you’re completely naked and laid out on the bed, legs spread wide apart as König fingers your gummy cunt.

“Tell me what you want, Liebling.” König whispers into your ear.

Being shy, you don’t reply. You don’t feel secure enough to speak your desires without a heavy fear of rejection. You just lay there and enjoy the feeling of him fingering you, but then he withdraws his fingers. You turn your head to look at him.

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I won’t let you cum.”

You can feel your face get hot with embarrassment, feeling as if you were just put on the spot.

“You have to use your words or I won’t know.” He kisses your forehead.

“I-” you begin to speak but feel too ashamed.

“Keep going,” his hand moves up to your belly and squeezes gently.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have wants? Don’t you want me to fulfill you?”

“I do but,”

“No buts, tell me.” König sits up waiting to hear.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re talking to me, I’m your König. Don’t be embarrassed.”

You smile and let out a long sigh before sitting up and kneeling on the bed before him. His eyes drop to look at how beautiful your body looks in this position. He wants to get behind you and fuck you like this, holding your head back. He snaps out of it and looks back at your eyes.

“Okay, well,” you take a deep breath. “I want you to manhandle me, toss me around and be rough. And I want to ride you, like be on top.”

König began to smile big as he was excited for this. He’s been wanting to fuck you since the moment you met, but he was always respectful and moved at your pace.

“But I’m scared that my size will be too much for you.”

“Never, you’re perfect as you are. I can handle you.” König begins to lay down, his hand tugging at his balls.

“Put your legs here,” he taps by his hips.

You blush, “But I don’t know what to do that. What if I’m bad?”

“Impossible, your pussy is your pussy. I’ll be pleased to be in it no matter what.” He laughs.

A small chuckle escapes your lips as he says that. You crawl to him and swing your leg over his to straddle his body. His hands go to your thighs and caresses them gently.

“I’m nervous.” You giggle, König smiling and chuckling lightly.

“Don’t be. I’ve got you. Lean forward a little.”

You do and König reaches his arm around you to grasp his cock and hold it upright for you. He slides his other hand up your thigh to your hips as he begins to press your hips down. You follow his motion and sit back on to his cock.

You let out small moans as you feel his size begin to fill your tight cunt. You sit all the way down on him, feeling a slight pain because of his length but you love knowing his cock is too big for you. König lets out a pleased sigh once you take him in fully. Your tight cunt is so warm and welcoming, it was worth the wait.

“Do whatever feels natural to you,” He looks beside him and grabs pillows from your side of the bed to prop his head up more so he can have a better view of you.

Slowly, you begin to rock your hips back and forth, causing you to whimper slightly. König keeps his hands at his side so he can resist the urge to lift you and fuck you.

“Is this okay?” You ask nervously, stopping you motion until he responds.

“Absolutely. Das ist fantastisch. Don’t stop.” He moves his hands to your thighs and begins to caress them.

You rock your hips back and forth slightly faster this time, letting out pathetic little whimpers as he grasped your hips and began to move you, following your motion.

“You’re doing so well,” König moans, “try bouncing Liebing.”

You nod and move your legs so that it is easier to bounce. His hands go down under your ass as you lift up, he helps. You slam down on his cock making the both of you moan out loudly. A smile comes across König’s face as he feels your ass jiggle in his hands and he can see your breasts and belly bounce as well. He’s been dreaming about the moment for so long.

“Fuck!” You yell and it surprises König.

His usually meek girlfriend is starting to show off a wilder side and it excites him.

“There you go, you look so fucking sexy y/n.” König’s eyes travel all over your body as it moves.

Your breathing gets heavier as you feel a strong pressure building spreading over your body, each thrust becoming more euphoric as you drop your head back. König watches you closely and realizes that you’re about to orgasm. You change motion and begin to rock your hips back and forth again.

“Your cocks so fucking big!” You moan loudly as your hands go to his thighs and grind his dick further into your sopping wet cunt. You begin to cum as your body trembles and your pussy clenches around him.

König moves his hands off of you and lets you ride it out as he enjoys the show. Your breasts bouncing in his face as you as your tight pussy tries to milk his cock. Your beautiful eyes rolling back. He wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer.

“Ride my cock, use my cock like a fucking dildo. Fuck…” His voice cracks from pleasure as he reaches out and squeezes your breast with one hand as he grabs the bed sheets tightly with the other hand.

“Liebling, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum, cum in me.” You recklessly say.

König quickly moves his arms to your body and leans you forward. He readjusted his legs and he began to thrust in into you rapidly. Your ass rippling with every connection. You moan loudly as König breaths hard, eyes closed, as he focuses on his orgasm.

“Oh Gott!” His cock throbs, painting the inside of your walls with his sticky white cum.

Both of your bodies cover in sweat, König begins to kiss the side of you face and neck as both of you breath heavy and try to calm down.

“You were amazing Maus.”

You giggle and hide your face in your hands. He laughs and squeezes you tightly against his body. He is already ready for round two, ready to see your body in a different position.

[foldingfittedsheets]

In the bloom of my youth I found myself on an evening with my best friend in the park. We were young and it was a beautiful warm summer night to be out. At sixteen in a small rural town our options for entertainment were limited but it had been a good day.

Park is a somewhat generous term for the locale, what it amounted to was a cleared space with some planters and bushes, a tiny podium, and a square of trees round the perimeter. We had been hanging about with our friend who needed to leave, and waiting to be picked up ourselves, carless plebeians that we were.

So there we were, two teen girls in the park alone as the last of the light faded. Neither of us had cellphones, and my nana was collecting us right from the park as we’d agreed earlier. We were in no hurry, knowing she’d arrive when she arrived.

Until my friend said, “What was that?”

I looked up to where she was pointing but I didn’t see anything. “What?” I asked.

“I think it was… someone streaking?”

It was absurd to think. Our little town, tiny and rural as it was, with a streaker. But I loved my friend, so instead of laughing I said, “Let’s go see.”

I’m not sure what I thought it was, but I was confident she’d be less nervous if we investigated and found a plastic bag or a jogger in white. And I’ll admit I was curious at this anomaly. We made our way across the park to where she’d pointed.

That’s when I saw it too. A flash of pale skin under the streetlights, moving too quickly through the shadows and shrubs to see clearly. My friend clung to my arm, shrinking in on herself and I felt the first twitch of fear. Investigating no longer seemed like the thing to do.

I was determined to protect her from whatever was lurking, so I changed course and started cutting away from the movement, heading for the small shopping center not too far outside the park.

Our progress was suddenly arrested as the mysterious figure launched into our path. A man crouched on the pavement before us, fully nude except for a loincloth. His hair was in white people dreads. It was in every way like Tarzan had stepped out of the animated movie into real life.

My friends fingers were digging painfully into my arm and we stood stock still, staring at this bizarre apparition. He was still a good fifteen feet away from us. He stared back, making soft simian “ooh ooh” sounds.

I was struggling to process that a man in a loin cloth was right there when he started to move toward us. It was in his monkey half crouch, a few shambling steps, slow, with his eyes fixed on us.

“Leave us alone!” I declared.

He stopped, tilting his head this way and that. Then shifted like he would take another step.

I was fully afraid now, but I was also furious that he was menacing us and scaring my friend. I dropped her arm, marching forward with wrath in my eyes and said, “Get out of here before we call the cops!”

At my approach he turned and bolted back into the bushes. I whipped around and zipped back toward my friend, grabbing her arm and power walking us out of there. We arrived at the nearest business and darted inside, conveying what had just happened in garbled snippets.

The workers were outraged to hear our story. They let me call my nana to tell her where we were, then asked if we’d like to call the police. I shook my head. I emphatically did not want to deal with the police.

In the safety of the store my fear had started to feel ridiculous. It was probably just some bored prankster.

As we waited for my nana my friend quietly admitted she would rather liked to have called the cops. I apologized for not asking. We lapsed into silence. She said, “I can’t believe you went toward him.”

I couldn’t either. I didn’t remember planning on it, only I wanted to be between him and my friend. “Do you think he was crazy or was it just a prank?”

She shook her head. She didn’t know either. All these years later I still don’t really know what happened that night. If he was on a dare, or cosplaying Tarzan for fun, or if he was unwell. A lot of the details have hazed over with time but the utter dissonance of seeing a man in a loin cloth pop out of the bushes is seared into me.

I also remember back then, in a whisper both scandalized and fascinated, my friend admitting, “I saw his penis.”

[midzandrist]

bitter sweet ─── kim minji.

a/n: of any of you have seen this post before, i want to clarify that it is mine, i just re-uploaded it because the previous one had some spelling errors!!

synopsis: while digging through your childhood closet at your mother’s house, you stumble upon a treasure trove of bittersweet mementos from your past relationship with your ex-girlfriend, compelling you to confront the choices you've made and the love that might still linger in your heart.

warnings: angst, fluff sometimes.

word count: 7.2k

you are driving down a familiar road, the one that leads to your mother’s house, a route steeped in memories. it's a journey you've made countless times, but today holds a different purpose. it’s been years since you moved out into an apartment of your own, and your childhood room has remained almost untouched, like a time capsule. nostalgia tugs at your heartstrings as you contemplate the old toys, clothes, and relics of your youth that await you. today, you plan to clean, to sort, and perhaps to rediscover parts of yourself you thought long buried.

as you pull into the driveway, the house comes into view, and the sight invites a flood of emotions. there are the shutters painted a cheerful yellow and the garden neatly trimmed by your mother’s diligent hands. you can almost hear the laughter and shouts echoing through the years, memories of barbecues and holiday celebrations flickering in your mind.

you lift your hand to knock on the door, but as it swings open, you are greeted with warmth and familiarity. your mother, clad in an apron dusted with flour, beams at you. “look who’s here! welcome home, darling!” she exclaims, ushering you inside as the rich aroma of baked goods fills the air.

“smells amazing! what are you baking?” you ask, your heart warming at the sight of her.

“just some cookies,” she replies, her eyes sparkling. “i’ll make you a cup of coffee while you get settled. go ahead and get comfortable!”

you watch her bustle back to the kitchen, momentarily caught up in the joy of being in this nurturing space. as you climb the familiar stairs, the wooden steps squeak softly beneath your feet, a sound that brings back a flurry of childhood memories—playing hide-and-seek, running up with your friends, and the occasional scolding for making too much noise.

the hallway is adorned with family photos: snapshots of birthday parties, holidays, and milestones, each one whispering tales of love and laughter. you pause to admire a picture where you are grinning widely, cupcake frosting on your nose, a reminder of simpler times.

when you reach your room, you hesitate at the door. a small part of you wants to turn back, to avoid the flood of emotions waiting inside. but curiosity compels you to open the door. as you step in, a smile dances across your face, and a twinge of embarrassment washes over you. everything feels so achingly familiar.

your bed remains adorned with the same princess sheets you've cherished your whole life—yes, you still used them as a teenager because they were so comfortable! the walls, painted your favorite pastel, have not changed, and neither have the shelves packed with stuffed animals, each one a gift from family, friends, or even random encounters. they are memories stitched in soft fabric, guardians of your childhood.

you wander over to the closet, the sliding doors gliding open with ease. it’s a treasure chest of old clothes, some you’ve outgrown, while others are relics of styles you once adored but have since outgrown. you begin sorting through the hangers, deciding which clothes to donate and which might find a new life with your little cousins.

among the chaos of shirts and old dance costumes, one box catches your eye. it stands out against the bright colors of your clothes, wrapped in delicate white paper covered in charming little hearts. curiosity piqued, you pull the box from the clutter, holding it in your lap as you sit on the edge of your bed.

taking a deep breath, you reach for your trusty box cutter, carefully slicing the tape without tearing the paper. what you find inside takes your breath away.

it’s the box filled with memories from your relationship with minji, your ex-girlfriend. you hadn’t thought about those days in a while, but opening this box sends you spiraling into a whirlwind of emotions. how could you forget the delicate bracelet she made you, each bead representing a moment shared between the two of you? next to it lies a crumpled concert ticket—her favorite band, the one you both danced and sang along to, lost in the electric atmosphere, her voice mixing with the music as you both laughed and swayed.

your heart quickens as you delve deeper, pulling out notes she had written late into the night, filled with confessions and dreams you once shared under quiet stars. but what hits hardest are the photographs that make you remember old memories—snaps of a summer spent together, ones that showcase radiant smiles and sun-kissed skin. the carefree days roaming the park, fingers intertwined, the laughter, feeling invincible. as you sift through these memories, the pain of their absence washes over you, flooding your heart. that last summer together feels like an eternity ago, yet its echo reverberates in the chambers of your chest.

you don't know why you do it, but you decide to investigate the things that are now memories of those moments.

i. plane tickets.

you sit on minji's bed, your phone in hand, scrolling through the endless abyss of social media. a faint glow emanates from the computer screen perched on her desk, illuminating the small space and painting shadows across the walls. it's late, the hours slipping by like grains of sand. the air is thick with the quiet murmur of night, and the only sound is the gentle whir of the fan above.

minji is sitting in her chair, the light casting a soft halo around her, making her look absolutely luminous. the glow from the screen reflects in her glasses, which are perched neatly on her nose, accentuating the delicate features of her face. it's a sight that makes your heart race and dulls your wits all at once. she pulls her attention away from the screen to look at you, a curious expression crossing her face.

"where do you think we should go on vacation this summer?" she asks, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile — the kind that always makes your insides flip.

you momentarily lose your train of thought, caught off guard by the question. the truth is, you hadn’t considered it much. your head is still buzzing from the concert you both went to last week and the dread of final exams looming ahead. it's so easy to get caught in the web of everyday stress that thoughts of a getaway seem like an indulgent daydream. still, you don’t want her to see you dismissing it so carelessly.

you glance back at your phone and mutter something vague, “i don’t know, maybe somewhere nice?” your attention drifts back to the glowing screen in your palm, half-expecting her to let it slide. but minji is not one to pass up on an opportunity for a genuine conversation, particularly one involving the two of you. you feel her eyes drilling into you, silently trying to uncover your reluctance.

she pivots in her chair, so all you can see are her soft brown eyes framed by those stylish frames. you can almost hear the gears in her mind working, seeking answers. god, she looks breathtaking like this, her shiny black hair piled up in a messy bun, loose strands accentuating her elegant silhouette. there’s something enchanting about the way she engages with you, as if every discussion holds the weight of the universe.

she breaks the silence first, “oh, come on, babe! there must be something on your mind.” you fidget under her gaze. how can she be so effortlessly captivating? admitting it to her is like cracking open a treasure chest flooded with your deepest affections and fears.

eventually, you take a deep breath and decide to confide in her. “okay, fine. i’ve been thinking about hawaii,” you confess, your cheeks warming slightly as you say it.

her reaction is instantaneous. that soft giggle escapes her lips, and your heart skips a beat. she tilts her head, arching an eyebrow. her look is playful, teasing, as if she knows exactly the power she has over you. “hawaii? really? is it because of the movies and stuff? you’re such a cliché!” she quips, but there's no malice in her tone, only mischief.

a flush creeps onto your cheeks. it’s true; the romanticized idea of hawaii, with its pristine beaches and lush greenery, has been at the back of your mind. but admitting that feels like exposing a part of yourself that’s vulnerable to her judgment. “okay, maybe a little,” you admit sheepishly, your heart thrumming at the thought of escaping to an island paradise with her. “look, don’t judge me. i know it sounds cliché, but it’s not just about the movies. i’ve been curious about it for so long. the beaches, the culture, the sunsets… and experiencing all of that with you? i really would love to explore it with you. i think it would be amazing.”

for a moment, her gaze softens, warmth enveloping you. “it would be amazing,” she echoes, and the sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten with hope. you can almost imagine it: the two of you walking hand-in-hand along the sandy shores, the turquoise waves lapping at your feet, laughter bubbling between you. “hawaii it is then!”

the computer glows faintly, illuminating her features in a soft, ethereal light. her glasses reflect both the screen’s radiance and the glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. you find yourself captivated, caught between admiration and uncertainty, swept up in the delicate way her black hair is haphazardly arranged and the faint smudge of her eyeliner that makes her look almost like an art piece—imperfectly perfect.

before your brain can fully catch up with the spontaneous decision, minji’s fingers are dancing over the keyboard, the rhythmic click-clacking filling the room. you watch her with rapt attention, caught in the elegance of her movements, mesmerized by the ease with which she navigates the virtual landscape.

minutes pass as she navigates the various options—flights, hotels, excursions—her enthusiasm infectious. you begin to imagine the golden sand beneath your feet, the sound of waves lapping gently against the shore, and the way the sun will warm your skin while you sip ice-cold coconut water.

with a few clicks, minji navigates through pages, her focus unwavering. you lean slightly closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her enthusiasm. when she finds the flights, she glances at you with excitement sparkling in her eyes. “look! this one is perfect and not too expensive," she exclaims, her voice ringing with joy.

your heart swells at the thought of minji, so invested and excited about the trip. you nod, surrendering to the flow of her excitement as she proceeds to enter her payment details, a confident smile plastered across her face. the anticipation is palpable, wrapping around both of you.

as the computer processes the payment, you feel a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling inside you. the thought of being in hawaii together feels like a promise of freedom—a chance to break free from routine and simply be with each other, free from obligations.

a moment passes, and then the screen lights up again, confirming your reservation. minji squeals, throwing her hands up in victory, and you can’t help but laugh along with her. “we did it! we’re going to hawaii!” there’s a jubilant glimmer in her eyes that makes your heart swell.

the reality of the adventure dawns on you like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a stormy sky. a smile spreads across your face, a blend of shock and joy. “wait, you really did? just like that?”

she turns around to face you completely, her chair revolving with enthusiasm. “just like that! don’t you realize how easy it can be? all we have to do is show up!” her eyes sparkle as if hinting at adventures that await on shores far away.

a small gasp escapes your lips, excitement bubbling within you. “oh my god. it’s happening. we’re really going!” you leap off the bed, excitement propelling your movements as you wrap her in a tight embrace, the warmth of her body grounding you in the reality of this dream.

“thank you for convincing me,” you whisper, looking deep into her eyes, “for believing in the dream.”

she smirks, playfully nudging your shoulder. “oh, don’t thank me yet. just wait until we’re hiking up to diamond head or laying on the beach, and i’m making fun of your sunburned nose.”

ii. a polaroid on the plane.

the airplane cabin hummed softly, a mechanical lullaby that both soothed and unsettled you. as the plane taxied down the runway, the anticipation of flight churned in your stomach. this was your first time traveling by plane, and the unfamiliarity of it all made you feel small, almost like a child again. you leaned your head against the cushioned headrest, your heart thumping a little too loudly in your chest.

your gaze drifted to the window, but the sight of the ground receding and the horizon stretching far beyond made you feel dizzy. just then, you turned away from the window, seeking solace in the familiar warmth of your girlfriend, minji, sitting beside you. she was tapping away on her laptop, completely absorbed in whatever project had captured her attention. her presence was a comfort, and you wanted to reach out to her.

minji, with her long hair cascading over her shoulder, sensed your discomfort. she paused, her eyes darting toward you, filled with concern. “baby,” she said softly, closing her laptop and shifting her attention fully to you. "are you sure you're okay?”

you forced a nod, not trusting your voice to silence the tremors. your head is still resting against the cushioned headrest, surrendering to the moment, but your heart raced like the engines’ roar. it was all too new, too dizzying, and you felt vulnerable floating amidst the clouds.

“look at me,” she said gently, tilting her head to catch your eyes. “nothing bad is going to happen. we’re safe up here.”

you felt her take your hand, her fingers curling around it with a gentle firmness. the warmth of her touch seeped into your skin and chased away the chill of anxiety that had settled there. she began to massage your palm with her thumb, and though you still felt the tension in your chest, her soothing gestures offered a small reprieve.

“nothing bad is going to happen,” minji repeats to you again. her voice was calm, like a gentle stream, and it washed over your worries. “just close your eyes for a bit. you’ll feel better, i promise.”

her voice was soothing, wrapping around you like a safety net. “just breathe with me,” she instructed, and you followed along, inhaling deeply, then exhaling slowly.

with each breath, the tension in your body began to loosen, even as the plane lifted higher into the sky. you leaned into her side, comforted by her warmth.

with her encouragement, you slowly began to relax. the aircraft’s engines roared as it powered down the runway, and you squeezed her hand tighter, but instead of fear, you felt a burgeoning sense of trust in her presence.

as the plane lifted off the ground, a thrilling rush engulfed you, but with minji’s hand in yours, anxiety started to dissipate. you took a deep breath, the cool airline air filling your lungs, and then you let it out slowly.

“you should sleep,” minji murmured, and her voice felt like a warm blanket wrapping around you.

you hesitated, glancing out the window once more, the clouds beginning to roll beneath you, fluffy and white. it was beautiful, but the beauty felt distant, overshadowed by your anxiety. yet, with minji beside you, her calming energy made surrendering to sleep seem a little more possible.

a few minutes later, your eyelids grow heavy. the steady rhythm of her thumb against your palm lulled you further, your worries fading along with the world outside. you couldn’t help but let go.

you abandoned the tension, letting yourself drift off, lulled by the rhythmic hum of the airplane engines and the comforting presence of minji beside you. just before you slipped entirely into slumber, you heard her whisper, “sweet dreams.” a soft brush of her lips touched your cheek, leaving a lingering warmth—and unbeknownst to both of you, a bright red mark from her lipstick.

while you slept, minji couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you, peaceful and vulnerable. she reached into her bag for her instant camera, knowing this moment was one worth capturing. clicking the shutter, she watched as the familiar white rectangle emerged from the front of the camera, the image gradually developing to reveal you nestled against the seat, her kiss on your cheek a bright reminder of her love.

minji chuckled softly to herself at how adorable you looked, the lipstick mark making you seem even more endearing. once the polaroid was fully developed, she held it up to admire the warmth of your expression, a pure moment of tenderness that she wanted to remember forever. in her heart, it was a badge of honor, a testament to her love, a symbol of comfort wrapped in a kiss.

minji leaned in, planting another kiss on your forehead before returning to her seat, the photo tucked safely in her pocket. she gives you one last look full of love and affection, then returns her attention to her laptop.

iii. the "lucky charm" coconut keychain.

the sun beats down on you as the two of you walk along the bustling streets of waikiki, a blend of tourists and locals enveloping you in a chaotic yet vibrant atmosphere. you squint at the horizon where the ocean sparkles, wishfully imagining the gentle waves and warm sand beneath your toes.

but here you are, walking with minji to rent a car that you doubt is even necessary.

renting a car seems unnecessary to you—especially in hawaii, where the beach isn’t far from your hotel, and enjoying the warm breeze as you stroll hand-in-hand feels more romantic than navigating through traffic. regardless, here you are, headed to the rental agency after yet another discussion about what constitutes an ideal beach day.

you can feel the heat of the pavement radiating through your sandals as you whine, “why do we even need a car, minji? we could just walk to the beach. it's only a few blocks away!”

with a laugh, she looks at you sideways, the glint in her eye promising mischief. “oh come on! i don’t plan on walking all day. if i have to deal with your annoying ass in this heat, i might regret it!” she pokes your side lightly, and a smile breaks through your complaining facade.

you can’t help but huff in response, a mix of warmth from her playful banter and annoyance at the heat radiating off the concrete beneath your feet. each step feels like it takes a monumental effort, and you can’t shake the thought that you could have been lounging on the beach already. “but it’s so hot,” you counter, trying to mask your fatigue behind a passive-aggressive pouting.

the two of you pause at the crosswalk, and you catch a glimpse of the rental agency sign barely visible amidst the swaying palms. as you wait for the light to change, your eyes narrow against the sun. you momentarily lose track of her as the heat hits you—a palpable wave that weighs heavy on your skin.

“maybe i’m just a little cranky,” you concede, squinting up at her. “but you know, this could have waited until after the beach.”

before you can elaborate on how you’d rather be frolicking in the waves than walking under the sun, minji suddenly spins towards you. she takes you by the wrist, her fingers warm against your skin.

“listen,” she says, lifting your spirits with her smile. “just trust me.” there’s a shining determination in her gaze, so you relent—almost rebelliously. and then she leans in, kissing you softly. the world narrows until it’s just the two of you, her lips pressing against yours melting all complaints away.

when she pulls back, her confession surprises you. “i’ve always wanted to take you to the beach. ever since i got my driver’s license, this moment was the first thing i thought of.”

your heart swells at her words, and you can’t help but smile back, feeling as if you had just won the lottery of love. minji’s enthusiasm, her pure joy, makes it impossible to stay irritable. the idea of her planning this little excursion—her first real drive as an independent woman—sends a thrill through you.

the thought of a romantic beach ride, the sun warming your backs, and the waves lapping at the shore, finally feels tangible. "you really had this planned?" you ask, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach. you watch her, marveling at the sincerity and excitement shining in her eyes.

“yeah,” she beams, and you can’t help but grin back at her as you watch the way her smile lights up the entire world around you.

as she fills out the paperwork and exchanges details with the rental agent, you stand nearby, casually leaning against the counter. you can’t help but admire her; she’s focused, glowing in the sunlight streaming through the office window, and you feel like a lovesick puppy.

your heart races; it’s as if the most picturesque sunset were unfolding right in front of you. you catch glimpses of her full concentration, the way her tongue peeks out slightly as she writes, and you can’t help but think how lucky you are.

she notices your lingering gaze, the smirk twitching at the corners of her lips. even while focused on the paperwork, she feels your eyes on her like an open book. the atmosphere around you buzzes with her quiet confidence, and you revel in it.

“you're ridiculous,” she says playfully, catching you staring. you burst into laughter, mocking your own pads of devotion with exaggerated gestures. yet, inside your chest, warmth pools, and you feel content as she finishes.

“got it!” she announces, her voice rising with triumph as she strides out of the office, her fingers wrapping around the sleek car keys like a trophy.

minji flashes a grin that infects your mood. “ready for a ride?” she teases, twirling the keys as you walk towards the car. you roll your eyes but can’t hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

inside the vehicle, she takes her place behind the wheel, and you settle into the passenger seat, adjusting your position as the sun spills through the window and warms your skin. the sunbeams highlight her features, the way the light dances off her hair, and for a moment, you’re completely overtaken by how fortunate you are to share this car—and this moment—with her.

there’s something undeniably attractive about her as she grips the steering wheel, her other hand resting on your thigh in a possessive, almost intimate manner. she steals glances, and those fleeting moments are enough to send your heart racing.

before you know it, the sound of tires crunching against gravel leads you to the beach’s entrance. minji turns to you, and with the sunlight painting her features, she looks breathtaking. there’s a hint of playful mischief in her smile as she turns off the ignition.

with determination, she removes her seatbelt and glances down to gather your beach gear—two bags filled with sunscreen, towels, and lunchtime snacks. but your attention is drawn to the keys, dangling from her fingers. they’ve got a ridiculous keychain in the shape of a hawaiian coconut drink, complete with a colorful umbrella, a miniature straw and a beautiful flower.

noticing your gaze, minji chuckles. “do you like it?” she asks, her mouth curving into another smile.

“it's cute,” you admit, laughing at how utterly charming she is.

she plucks the keychain from the keys and tosses it gently into your lap “here, just keep it. i don’t think they’ll mind if a little keyring goes missing.”

you look down at the keychain, surprised by the unexpected gift. “i can’t take this,” you protest, but she waves it off.

“consider it a lucky charm,” she replies, her eyes burning with enthusiasm. “and a reminder of what we’re about to do!”

looking up at her, your heart swells again. “you’re really something else, you know that?” you smile, feeling a warmth radiating from deep within you, thanks to her playful spirit and charisma.

as you both step out of the car, the salty breeze hits your face, and the distant sound of waves crashes joyfully against the shore. minji grabs your hand, pulling you towards the sound, and all your earlier complaints evaporate into thin air. you do not need a car after all; all you need is her.

iv. the flower necklace.

the warmth of the sun blazes overhead, bathing the beach in a golden light that glimmers off the waves rushing to meet the shore. with each step you take, the soft grains of sand squish between your toes, tickling your feet and adding a certain playfulness to the atmosphere. your hand is intertwined with minji’s, and her laughter mingles with the crashing waves, a melody more beautiful than any song.

you stroll alongside her, glancing at the various stalls lining the beach. each one brims with colorful wares, tempting treats, and handmade treasures. the salty breeze carries the scent of coconut and pineapple, and your stomach growls in agreement with the delight of your surroundings. minji tugs on your arm, her enthusiasm infectious, and you both wander from stall to stall, sampling tropical smoothies, fresh fruit skewers, and irresistibly fluffy coconut macaroons.

every few yards, you and minji pause, your excitement bubbling over as you indulge in whatever catches your fancy. a fresh coconut, juice dribbling down your fingers, followed by crispy calamari that crackles with each bite. you share each morsel, your tastes blending as effortlessly as the colors of the sunset overhead. amid the laughter, you find a rhythm—a little dance of spontaneity that sends your spirits soaring.

every few minutes, she catches your eye, a sparkle dancing on her own as she takes delight in your childish excitement. you spot a t-shirt that makes you chuckle, a caricature of a sunbather being chased by a particularly aggressive sand crab. you point it out to her, and she snorts, laughter bubbling out of her like an effervescent drink.

just as you’re finishing a sip of a particularly delicious mango smoothie, something catches your eye. the vibrant colors stand out against the myriad of summer products; delicate flower necklaces, each adorned with blooms that seem to dance in the breeze. your heart skips a beat at the sight. memories rush forward—watching “lilo & stitch” with your younger self, feeling enchanted by the characters draped in beautiful leis, and dreaming of adventure in far-off shores.

without giving it a second thought, you swallow hard, chucking the rest of your smoothie down your throat and then gently tugging on minji’s arm, a grin breaking out across your face. “look!” you exclaim, pointing toward the flower stall, your voice energized with excitement.

minji’s head turns, and you can see the moment an understanding dawns on her face. a giggle escapes her lips, both adorable and infectious. her laughter twirls on the breeze, filling you with warmth. “you want to get one, don’t you?” she teases, her eyes dancing with delight.

you nod, a fit of childish glee erupting within you. “i’ve always wanted one,” you reply, the words tumbling out in a rush. you can’t help but reminisce about the animated characters and sunny beaches from “lilo & stitch.” those images of flower necklaces draped over sun-kissed shoulders and carefree laughter imported into your heart—a wish that was born long ago, now verdantly alive in this moment. “after watching that movie … you know, lilo and stitch? i thought they were the coolest.”

minji watches you with an amused expression as you practically bounce on your heels, determined to fulfill this childhood dream. without a second of hesitation, minji draws you toward the stand, where colorful blooms create a rainbow of choices.

together you begin to examine the array of colors laid out before you. delicate plumerias, bold hibiscus, and vivid orchids jostle for your attention, each a promise of summer.

there are some with bold reds and deep purples, while others boast soft pinks and sunny yellows. scents dance around you as you lean closer, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers, their delicate notes twisted with salty ocean air.

this isn’t just about the necklace—it’s about feeling connected, about this joyful day spent with her.

“what do you think?” minji asks, plucking a necklace of creamy white and soft lavender flowers, a splash of innocence draping over her fingers.

“pretty, but not quite right…” you muse, your fingers brushing over another—a garland of fiery red and deep yellow.

"look at this, baby.” you call her attention to one that’s fully a shade of coral, with hints of pale pink blooms, and she gasps, squeezing your hand tightly. “that one is beautiful!” her excitement washes over you, and you find yourself nodding in agreement.

“i like this one too!” she responds cheerfully, holding up a strand of bright green and pink blooms, but you both know it’s more than just the colors. this is a joint decision, a symbolic choice, deepening the bond you've created together over countless sunsets and shared dreams.

minutes stretch into an eternity as you narrow down your choices. the chaotic energy from the world around you fades into a soft hum, and you lose yourselves in the exploration, each flower carefully considered. all at once, you realize that anyone else might simply choose for themselves, allowing their partner to do the same. but not you two. you want to match, to wear the same reminder of this beach day, this moment of joy—a testament to your unity.

but then, another catches your eye. it mirrors the forming hues of the sunset—oranges, purples and pinks intertwined, a dance of color just as mesmerizing as the sky above. “what about this one?” you suggest, your pulse quickening at the thought of having this vibrant mingling around your neck.

"it's beautiful..." she replies, her tone softening.

“okay… let’s go with the sunset,” you finally whisper, your voice filled with resolution.

“perfect! just like us,” minji beams, and as she hands the vendor the payment, your heart swells. you can’t help but imagine the many more fitting matches you'll create, the many more places you’ll wander together.

you both ponder and banter back and forth over which flowers suit you best, but your taste remains unwavering. the sunset necklace seems to be the perfect fit. finally, with a shared decision solidified by laughter and playful nudges, you approach the vendor and select the shimmering masterpiece draped in the colors of twilight.

with the necklaces around your necks, you step back into the world of glimmering sunlight and lapping waves, both of you grinning like children who’ve just uncovered treasure. you can’t help but feel that this moment—perfectly silly and sweet—is encapsulated by the flowered adornment hanging from your neck. the sun has nearly kissed the horizon, leaving behind a lingering glow that cascades over the ocean and dances in your drink. you sip your coconut smoothie as the taste of tropical goodness fills your mouth, sweet and sincere; you can’t help but smile at the thought of matching necklaces.

as you pass a group of children building sandcastles, minji glances sideways at you, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.

“do you think we’ll look silly wearing these?” she teases, nudging you gently with her shoulder.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “not at all! we look amazing! these flowers make us look like we belong to the beach, like we really have that island spirit.”

she pauses, her gaze drifting back to the vast ocean. “you know, i promise to take you to every beach in existence. we’ll collect memories—shells, snacks, silly souvenirs like these necklaces just to see you smile.”

your heart warms at her words, feeling a rush of affection as the sunset paints both the sky and your life with promises of future adventures. “really? you’ll take me everywhere?” you ask, your voice steadily breathless with the sweetness of her promise.

“everywhere,” she insists, turning to look at you, a determination sparkling in her eyes. “from the beaches of hawaii to the secret coves of thailand, wherever there’s sand and sunshine, i’ll be there with you. just picture it! each time, i’ll buy you something silly—a flower necklace, a coconut drink, everything that brings me your smile. just knowing i could do that will be the best part.”

a laugh bursts from you, a sound of pure happiness resonating against the gentle waves lapping at your feet. you lean in closer to her, the sunset glimmering between you two like a promise sealed in gold. “deal,” you say, “but i get to buy you silly things too! matching sunglasses at every spot!”

you can’t help but chuckle, feeling a powerful feeling build in your chest. the tenderness in her words swaddles you, and you want to drink in this radiant moment, this intertwining of lives, hopes, and dreams, all while the waves lap soothingly at your feet. you look at her, the silhouette outlined against the fiery colors of the sunset fading into dusk.

the beach stretches ahead like a canvas, every step you take is a brushstroke of laughter and affection. you glance down at your matching necklaces, a delightful reminder of the time spent together, a tiny paradise wrapped around your neck.

v. the hibiscus flower and the bag of sand.

the sound of the gentle tide of the sea fills your ears as you lie on the blanket, the cool morning air wrapping around you like a warm embrace. you find yourself next to minji, who is curled up on her side, her eyes sparkling like the ocean waves licking the shore. this moment, just before dawn, is special—just the two of you beneath a canvas of stars and the promise of a new day. you came here to catch the sunrise, but the stillness before the world awakens seems just as gratifying.

a faint orange hue begins to bleed across the horizon, and as you glance toward it, you feel her fingers playing with a small red hibiscus flower. it’s vibrant against the muted white of the blanket, and she gently runs it through her fingers, as if deciding whether to keep it or share it. you close your eyes, absorbing the soft symphony of the sea, but not before catching her gaze fixed on you—an invitation to linger in this shared silence.

while you listen to the ebb and flow of the water, exhaustion nips at your eyelids. the events of the previous night, filled with laughter and play as you splashed amongst the waves, seem to catch up with you. it takes only a moment before you feel the blissful pull toward sleep, but as you drift away, minji’s soft touch brushes against your cheek. it’s a playful gesture, yet one that pulls you back into the moment. you open your eyes just in time to see her tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

“what are you doing?” you ask, your voice a husky whisper, still thick with sleep.

“just admiring your beauty,” she replies, the corners of her mouth curling into that familiar mischievous smile. the warmth in her voice spreads through you, igniting a delightful blush on your cheeks.

her fingers dance to your ear and, with gentle care, she places the hibiscus there, adjusting it until it sits perfectly, a blissful crown of nature’s artistry. you can’t help but smile back, charmed as always by her romantic gestures.

“you know what, baby? it looks better on you,” she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “but we should keep it. a little memento of this morning.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “flowers wither when cut, minji. it’ll probably end up in the bin before the week is out.”

she shrugs, her gaze never leaving yours. “ah, but that’s where you’re wrong! the love i’m giving this flower is so strong, i think it’ll hold onto its beauty. just like my love for you.”

you can practically hear your heart melting at her words. such cheesy remarks usually draw your playful banter, but this time, something shifts within you. it’s as if the tide itself is pulling you deeper toward her, a swell of emotion crashing against all your defenses.

“okay, okay,” you sigh, pretending to be exasperated. “but if it turns brown, i’m blaming you.”

minji giggles—a sound so pure it almost makes the waves pause to listen. you can’t help but feel how lucky you are. moments like this, where laughter dances between you, replace the worries that often plague your mind. after another quiet span, you let the comforting silence wash over you, enveloping both of you in a bubble of serenity.

but just as you’re about to let the silence deepen, minji leans closer, her voice teasingly conspiratorial. “you could also take some sand home. think of it as a souvenir!”

you burst into laughter at the absurdity of it. “sand? are you out of your mind? it smells terrible after a while, and it gets everywhere!”

“exactly!” she pipes up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “it’s memorable! just like us, a little messy and a lot of fun.”

you find yourself chuckling at her absurdity more than ever, realizing that it’s this very quirkiness that first drew you to her. you grab a handful of soft, glistening sand, letting the grains run through your fingers, contemplating the idea. “okay, but i’m gonna need a bigger bag for this! i don’t want a pocketful of sand giving me a scuffle every time i change pants.”

minji laughs alongside you, her joy infectious. as you tease her, your fingers slip into the sand, and you realize how sacred this moment is. here, in this place far removed from the noise of everyday life, your connection flourishes with every giggle and flick of a sandy finger.

as the horizon erupts into hues of orange and gold, the sun begins to rise, casting a soft glow over the landscape. minji sits up, her eyes focused on the sun breaking free from the ocean, and you can’t help but follow her lead. the beauty of it leaves you breathless—so much more spectacular with her by your side.

“look at that,” you say in awe, gesturing toward the spectrum of colors before you. “it’s almost as beautiful as you.”

she turns to you, her smile wide and her cheeks slightly flushed. “almost?”

you chuckle, folding your arms behind your head as you lean back against the blanket. “i’ll give you that one. you win this round.”

you stop digging, overwhelmed by the cascade of memories flooding your mind: the spontaneous karaoke nights, the whispered secrets under the star-speckled sky, the way she would scrunch her nose when something amused her. all those shared moments now feel like a ghostly echo rather than cherished memories.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you remember the way it all came crashing down. the finality of it, the breakup — sharp, sudden, and unyielding. you thought the pain would fade over time, but today, as you sift through the remains of your shared lives, it surfaces anew, raw and pulsing.

and when tears threaten to escape from your eyes, you wipe them hastily, feeling embarrassment swell within you. how ridiculous it is, you think, that just last week you’d been laughing with friends, discussing life’s ups and downs, yet here you are, drawn back into this melancholic spiral. the laughter, all of it, feels like a distant echo, replaced by a deafening silence in your heart.

lost in the mire of your thoughts, you hardly notice the gentle knock on the door. instinctively, you swipe at your eyes and attempt to refocus as if doing so will wash away the sadness.

“sweetheart, the cookies are ready!” your mother’s voice weaves through the door, warm and inviting.

you had almost forgotten that she was baking. It’s her way of comforting you, her quiet attempt to be there despite the distance, the unspoken hurts you both carry. gathering yourself, you wipe away the remaining tears, trying to shake off the heavy feelings that weigh on your chest. you can’t let her see you this way, not now.

“okay, i’ll be down in a minute!” you call back, your voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil within.

you take a final glance at the box, then close it, as if sealing away the sorrow with your memories. as you step back, it feels like the door to that chapter of your life is slowly closing. you remind yourself that those days were real, that the joy was real, but so was the ending. it's time to move forward.

as you descend the stairwell, the warm aroma of freshly baked cookies fills the air, pulling you from your reverie. your stomach grumbles, but more importantly, you feel the warmth of home enveloping you like a hug.

in the kitchen, your mother stands by the oven, a cheerful smile brightening her face. the familiarity, the routine of this moment is comforting. she glances over her shoulder and notices the shadows lingering in your expression.

“everything okay?” she asks, her brow furrowed with concern.

you hesitate, caught between the urge to confide and the instinct to shield her from your heartache. “yeah, just… looking through some old things,” you finally reply, a touch of variability in your voice but masking the depth of the sentiment.

she approaches, an understanding glimmer in her eyes. “sometimes memories can be bittersweet, can’t they?”

you nod, appreciating the wisdom behind her words, knowing she too has weathered her own storms of nostalgia.

“settle down with some cookies and coffee,” she says with a gentle nudge. “you need a sweet distraction.”

your mother looks at you, her face lighting up with a warmth that melts away some of the coldness inside. “i saved the best batch just for you,” she says, sliding the plate closer.

“thanks, mom,” you mumble, leaning down to take a cookie. the sweetness bursts on your tongue, and for a fleeting moment, everything is good again. you can almost hear your mother recounting the day she taught you how to bake, flour-dusted and mischievously knocking over containers in a fit of laughter. you let the warmth spread through you, memories mingling with the taste of chocolate chips and heavy cream.

and for the moment, the warmth of the kitchen, the sweetness of the cookies, and your mother’s reassurance begins to act as a balm. you realize that healing isn’t linear; it’s a series of moments strung together, a gradual return to finding joy amidst the shadows of the past.

you take a deep breath and feel a flicker of hope as you sit down at the kitchen table, ready to embrace the present.

[livwritesstuff]

The arrival of fall means the arrival of soccer season for the Harrington family. Soccer, as Eddie has learned, is kind of a gateway drug to the world of sports, the first sport their naive, impressionable youths are indoctrinated with, and all three of Eddie and Steve’s daughters are playing soccer in their town’s youth league this fall, even five-year-old Hazel now (she hates it; it’s probably also the very last time she’ll play too), so Eddie usually spends at least half of his Saturday at a local field watching his daughters’ games.

Steve usually volunteers to coach their daughters’ teams, except there’s another soccer-related first this year – Steve decided to take a step back from coaching Moe’s team like he’d been doing since Moe was in kindergarten, which means that he's actually on the sidelines with Eddie.

At one point during one of Moe’s games, things gets held up for a few minutes while one of the team moms argues with the coach. It seems to be about Moe, given the look of indignation on Moe’s face.

“Did you see what happened?” Eddie asks like he tends to whenever anything happens in Moe's games because they move pretty damn fast and he doesn't have an eye for this stuff like Steve does.

Steve shakes his head, “It’s Moe. Anything could have happened.”

It’s a fair point, honestly, and the coach shuts the whole thing down pretty quick and the game continues. Steve and his ear for drama didn't, obviously, and pretty much the second Moe’s game is over, Steve asks her, “So what was Mrs. Roberts all upset about?”

“I dunno,” Moe shrugs as she hefts her enormous soccer bag higher on her shoulders, “Apparently I said the C-word and she wanted the coach to take me off the field.”

Eddie feels himself freeze, feels Steve do the same beside him because, sure, their kids curse up a goddamn storm (no idea where they got that from) but everyone has their limits and Eddie’s pretty sure that he and Steve have never used that word – certainly not around their daughters, but not really ever (Nancy doesn't like it and they're all a little afraid of her still).

“I didn’t even know the C-word was a bad word,” Moe finishes.

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, something in his tone suggesting he’d rather be asking their daughter anything else, “Well, what…word did you say?

Moe shrugs, “I just said crap.”

Steve visibly relaxes beside Eddie as he does the same. Even still, Eddie can’t help but feel kind of perplexed even by that because, frankly, both Steve and Eddie usually bypass the sanitized expletives and head straight for the bigguns. It’s kind of crazy she didn’t go all in with the F-bomb whenever she got wronged on the field.

“Since when was crap a bad word?” Moe continues.

“It’s not,” Steve waves her off, “But…yeah, don’t use that one around Mrs. Roberts ‘cause she’s weird about that kind of thing.”

“Well, you already said I can’t say shit, so what can I say?”

“Well, you’re ten, so you can say nothing and survive the game totally fine.”

“That’s censorship at its finest, Papa,” Moe rolls her eyes.

“Darling, please don’t cite Dad at me.”

[runnning-outof-time]

GIF blurb 5? Last one, scouts honor

I loved every single one of these you sent in!! Thanks so much again for doing so!! 🧡

Let’s Get Home

Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

warnings: some suggestive language

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tommy said, his forehead still pressed against (Y/N)’s.

“Like what?” (Y/N) questioned innocently, although her sultry eyes were painting another picture.

Tommy stepped away upon hearing her question. She was able to see the change in his eyes, and that a grin was tugging at the corner of his lip.

Looks like this were being exchanged all evening as they wined and dined. Tommy had just returned from a business trip that kept him away for several weeks. (Y/N) missed him something fierce. Now it all seemed to be coming to a pinnacle as they walked along the river outside the stretch of city.

“Like you want to fuck me,” he answered her, his response holding no filter.

(Y/N) bit her lip now. She held his gaze through her eyelashes for a moment before finally letting her smile show. “Maybe I want you to,” she responded, prying her eyes away from him to look at the river.

“Tommy!” she shrieked as she felt herself being hoisted upwards. Within seconds she was resting on Tommy’s shoulder as he then began walking away from the spot they were in. “What’re you doing?” she asked, unable to stop her giggles.

“I want to, too,” he echoed to her previous response, a grin present in his voice as he reached up and tapped her ass, which made (Y/N) shriek again. “Let’s get home.”

I’d love to know what you think! — adding my Tommy taglist below the cut.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

[woso-dreamzzz]

Escape

Bruna Vilamala x Eriksson!Reader

Summary: You need an escape plan

"Oof! Frido! Get off!"

Your sister's friend came crashing into you the moment the whistle blew. You couldn't quite keep your balance and tumbled to the ground, bringing Frido down with you.

"Off!"

"Never!" She declared, ruffling your hair as you tried to scramble away.

It was a healthy defeat for Wolfsburg against Barcelona - one that you had predicted when you woke up that moment - but it still didn't mean that you weren't a bit annoyed.

"Come on! I'm not a baby!"

"You're such a baby! Little baby Eriksson at Wolfsburg!"

"I hate you!"

"No, you don't!"

You finally escaped her, only to run straight into Ingrid, who took you to the ground as well.

You sent a look to Lena, who tried to scamper off as well but was caught by Frido and tugged to the floor too.

"Look at these little babies!" Frido cajoled," Trying to get away without getting hugs from us. Honestly, Ingrid, the youth these days."

"Oh, yeah," You said sarcastically," Because you two are such old hags."

"Hey, watch it." She waved a teasing finger in your face. "Or I'll tell you sister that you're bullying me."

"You'll get no sympathy from her."

You managed to flip Ingrid onto her back and immediately tackled Frido to the ground. The momentary distraction from both of them allowed you and Lena to make your escape, sprinting across the field through the sea of Wolfsburg and Barcelona girls so Frido and Ingrid couldn't find you.

"Come on," Lena tugged you through the crowd," They're going to find us!"

She was right, of course. You could just make out Ingrid and Frido making their way through the group, temporarily waylaid by greeting their old teammates.

"There's nowhere to go," You answered, scrambling to find somewhere to hide.

This happened every time you faced either of them. The tackling to the ground which was usually followed by being thrown over their shoulders and carted around like a prize.

Frankly, it was humiliating.

Even more so when your sister texted you the videos that surfaced online about it.

You were adamant about not letting Magda have more blackmail material on you - especially now that you and her played in the same country.

As you and Lena put your heads together to scheme, a throat cleared behind you.

Originally thinking it was Frido, you jumped a foot into the air and whipped around, hands already up to defend yourself.

But, thankfully, it wasn't.

"Oh," You said, trying to calm your beating heart," Hello."

Jana Fernández and Bruna Vilamala stood just in front of you. Both had played today, looking a bit sweaty and red in their Barcelona jerseys.

Vilamala, in particular, seemed incredibly red, eyes wide when you caught them.

"Hola," Jana said, nudging Bruna in the stomach and pointedly jerking her head towards you.

"H-Hola," Bruna finally said," Er...I was...Would you..."

"Bruna wants your shirt," Jana cut in," She thinks you're super cool."

The words caught you off guard and you felt your face heat up. "Oh..." You caught Bruna's eyes again. "I think you're pretty cool too."

Lena snickered behind you and you stamped on her foot.

"We've got to go," She hissed at you, tugging on your arm," Frido and Ingrid'll find us soon."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up, Lena," You said through gritted teeth," Don't ruin this for me." You took a bold step forward, towards Bruna and stripped your shirt. You made a point of flexing as you did so, accentuating your muscles and smirking at her.

You held it out to her - noting the way she fought to keep her eyes above your shoulders. "You know," You took another step forward," This is usually the part where you give me your shirt too. But, if you want me just in my bra, I'm happy to accommodate. It's just, I've got to escape Frido and Ingrid soon and I don't want to flash anyone when I start running."

"Oh, er, yeah." She hurriedly stripped her shirt and you pulled it on, spying Frido just breaking through the crowd.

"We've got to go!" Lena insisted, slowly backing away.

"I think it suits me," You ignored her, speaking straight at Bruna who looked like a deer in headlights," I think it'd suit you to have my name on your back too."

Her blush got deeper and her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips.

"Tell you what," You said," You help me escape Frido and Ingrid and I'll come and find you later. I know this excellent restaurant nearby. I'd love to take you out to dinner."

Ingrid joined Frido at the edge of the crowd.

You pressed a kiss to Bruna's warm cheek and winked.

"Make your decision, Vilamala, 'cause I've really got to go."

[afterglowkatie]

back to where it began | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 2k | a look back into yours and kyra's first matildas camp, the place where it all began

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pair of pests universe. this is a flashback kind of fic. a fun look back to the beginning of Kyra's and r's friendship. From where it began to where they are now and then the next fic will continue from 'i love you' :)

You looked up at Sam watching her mouth move but not processing any of the words actually leaving her mouth. You’d just arrived with Steph to your first matilda’s camp. Your first senior call up. It was both nerve wrecking and a dream come true for you. Ever since you were little you wanted to be just like your older sister having watched her achieve her dreams, you were following in her footsteps. You always worked hard throughout youth national teams, a-league and wsl to be able to get the chance to play alongside your older sister as a matilda.

Now your dream of sharing a pitch with Steph at national level was one step closer to coming true. You’d gone from playing together in the backyard as kids to sharing a pitch together at Melbourne City to now hopefully sharing a pitch together as a Matilda. Though a dream in theory is less nerve wrecking then when that dream becomes a reality. 

‘It’s good to have you here, kid,’ Sam placed a hand on your shoulder when she finished speaking, bringing you back to reality and out of your head. 

‘Yeah, it’s…it’s good to be here. Excited,’ You breathed out, not realising you were holding your breath slightly to begin with. Anyone could feel the nerves radiating out of you causing your older sister to playfully roll her eyes and laugh. 

‘Relax,’ Steph laughed a little, smiling at you while bringing you in for a hug. Steph’s hugs always made you feel better, even if you liked to deny it. It was hard to relax when you knew you had to take this opportunity to prove yourself even more than you already have in your current season with Manchester City. You were genuinely excited to be called up and have the opportunity to gain more experience and develop even further alongside the people who you’ve been supporting and watching from the sidelines for years.

Having been a matilda for a fair few years, Steph had definitely found her place within the team. Whereas you were still finding yourself and where you fit amongst the others both on and off the pitch. You weren’t as chatty as your older sister and kept to yourself a little until you were fully comfortable which made it a bit harder for you to make friends and find your own little group within the team dynamic.

Everyone was welcoming but you found yourself almost glued to Steph’s side. Your sister loves you and is proud of you for how hard you’ve worked and everything you’ve done over the years but you were slowly getting on her nerves. It was midway through your first camp and Steph and the older girls were more than happy to have you around and show you things and all that. But Steph thought you might’ve made friends with the other younger players just like yourself considering you had played alongside and against the other young players.

‘Come sit with us today,’ Alanna slung her arm around your shoulders pulling you to sit at a table with just her and Mackenzie, an attempt to give Steph some space having been on the receiving end of her complaining the other night. They were subtle about it, no one wanted you to get the wrong idea or hurt your feelings already knowing how nervous you had been the entire time.

‘This feels like you’re about to interrogate me or something,’ You joked, laughing with the other two while you had some lunch after the morning training session. 

‘What? Can’t have lunch with our favourite Catley without being accused,’ Alanna faked being offended at your comment, while you just rolled your eyes and pushed her arm.

A few tables away Sam nudged Steph’s arm getting her attention, ‘Why don’t you just subtly push her to partner up with, I don’t know, how about Kyra? At the next training session?’ Sam shrugged trying to come up with an idea to help both you make new friends within the team and Steph to have a bit of time away from you.

‘Kyra seems like a good kid, might be good for Tiny,’ Caitlin added in. Steph hadn’t considered trying to push you to hang around the other younger, newer matildas, not wanting you to think she was trying to get rid of you. Steph thought it was important you gain experience from the more experienced matildas but it was also important for you to have fun with the experience.

At the next training session when doing partner drills that’s what Steph did. She, along with the help of Sam, got you and Kyra to partner up in hopes that the two of you would click. Of course you had known of Kyra, playing with her in the youth national teams and also playing against her in the w-league. Though neither of you had really interacted all that much, settling into separate friend groups.

‘It’s cool Steph’s your sister,’ Kyra started talking first while going through the different partner drills, ‘Must’ve been nice to have an older sister like that,’ 

‘You’d think so but Steph can be pretty annoying, especially growing up,’ You lightheartedly joked around making Kyra laugh. You looked up at Kyra smiling, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed her lips quirk into a mischievous smirk.

‘Wanna get back at her for all the times she was annoying?’ You had half a mind to say no and to stay out of trouble, especially during your first senior camp. But there was something about Kyra that instantly drew you in and so you couldn’t help but agree.

The two of you instantly clicked, everyone thought it was a good thing. Steph felt relieved to have a bit of time back to be with her friends without you around, and everyone found the friendship to be good for both you and Kyra. Both being new they thought you could lean on each other. 

What they didn’t know was how when the two of you were sat together away from everyone else, was that you were scheming up ways to mess with everyone. Steph being your first victim. 

‘I’ll distract Steph while you set it all up,’ You and Kyra were eating lunch together while going over the plan you had created over the past day.

‘Why do you get to distract them,’ You whined not wanting to be the one responsible if the set up failed.

‘Maybe I should call you baby Catley instead,’ Kyra laughed, making fun of you for whining causing you to punch her in the arm, ‘Ow!’ Kyra dramatically yelled, pouting while holding and rubbing her arm.

‘Maybe I should call you baby Kywa,’ You mocked Kyra putting on your most babyish voice you could muster. The two of you burst out into fits of laughter causing the other girls in the room to look over at you. 

‘What’s going on over here?’ Steph came over to the both of you, raising her eyebrow when she noticed you both scramble to hide the paper you’d been writing on from her.

‘Nothing Stephy,’ You sang out, trying to seem as innocent as possible. You weren’t always the best at keeping things from her.

‘Yeah, nothing Stephy,’ Kyra scooted closer to you, linking her arm with yours pulling you in closer leaning in to discreetly whisper into your ear, ‘I’m gonna work my magic and you go work yours,’ A subtle nod and weak excuse from you to leave the pair alone you quickly made your way towards the room Steph was staying in. 

You made sure no one saw you go into the room, they made sure you had a key for the room Steph was staying in just in case you needed her at any time. Setting up the vials of glitter above the door and making sure they were set to go off when the door was opened you then got into position, hiding under the bed getting ready with the camera.

Meanwhile Kyra was making sure to keep Steph’s attention until she got the message from you that everything was ready to go, ‘Stephyyy, have I ever told you how cool you are,’ Kyra stood up slinging her arm around Steph’s shoulders and exaggerating all of her words.

‘Kyra…’ Steph’s voice was low and questioning, eyebrow raised while she chuckled at the younger girl, ‘I’m gonna go to my room for a bit,’ Steph wiggled out of Kyra’s embrace looking at her with an amused and confused expression.

‘NO!’ Kyra shouted, panic evident in her voice, causing a bit too much suspicion from the older girl. Steph looked at Kyra expecting her to continue to explain herself, ‘I mean…um…’ Lucky for Kyra you managed to save her from coming up with an excuse, letting her know everything was ready, ‘Y’know what, have a good nap grandma,’ Kyra pushed Steph towards the elevator, walking away quickly but hiding around the corner ready to follow after Steph but not wanting her to see.

Steph let out a deep breath and shook her head, stepping into the elevator on her way back to her room. You were set under the bed, phone on video facing the doorway ready for any moment when Steph would walk in. Kyra was quick to discreetly follow, wanting to at least hear the reaction first hand, watching the video back later will be even better.

Hearing footsteps get closer to the door, the adrenaline mixed with nerves pulsed through your body. You were never scared of Steph’s reaction to anything, you liked annoying your older sister. You got a kick out of it and no matter how mad Steph seemed to be with you, you knew she could never actually stay mad at you for long. Probably why you never cared for how she would react.

‘What the-’ Steph’s voice boomed through the room once she opened her door hearing the little pop noises and noticing she was now covered in glitter. You burst out laughing, keeping the camera pointed towards Steph, her confused expression turning into a glare directed at you from under the bed.

Kyra came running down the hall into Steph’s room laughing, almost knocking Steph over in the process, ‘Kyra!’ Steph yelled, grabbing onto the younger girl to steady herself. The floor and herself were covered in glitter, ‘You…’ Steph turned and pointed at you while you were wriggling out from under the bed.

‘C’mon Tiny, before scary Catley makes us clean up,’ Kyra didn’t give you a moment to steady yourself before she grabbed your hand pulling you out of the room with her. 

‘Pair of pests,’ Steph’s voice could be heard, even from halfway down the hall. You both kept running and laughing until you found a quiet spot away from where anyone would be able to find you.

You sat next to each other against a wall. Kyra’s arm around you while you both watched the video over and over, ‘You see Steph’s face,’ You paused the video and laughed at the facials Steph was pulling. Making sure to screenshot so you could both have them for later, knowing you’d be using them whenever you got the chance. Steph’s expressive personality coming back to haunt her for as long as you were both in her life.

‘We’re gonna be the bestest of friends,’ Kyra proclaimed. After one day of properly knowing each other and you’d clicked as if you had been best friends for years and years. The pair that everyone would wish never met in the first place, especially once they had been on the receiving end of one too many of your pranks. 

Though it was nice to have made a friend in Kyra, you both helped each other over the years. During your move to England and her move to Sweden, you never lost contact and continued to help each other become the best versions of yourself, the best players you could be. Always supporting and being proud of each other.

[cowgirlcasanova]

I made the mistake of clicking on a link to a reddit thread about abigail marston.

the way the men on there talk about her makes me physically feel sick. the names they call her, the way they describe her and john’s relationship, the way they constantly bring up her past in a negative way.

They seem to lack any and all artistic thinking skills. to me, one of the main points of media and art is how you’re supposed to analyze and discover the things they aren’t outright said. You have to dig a little deeper, you have to actually think. The people on that godforsaken website seem to just not have/be able to do that!

abigail was a prostitute. yes, we all know this men of reddit and it’s okay! please shut up about it!!!!

she was also an orphan, even worse for the time, an orphaned girl. she had little to no opportunities in the world she was born into. EVEN JOHN KNOWS THIS. “she’s a woman in a man’s world” and they act personally offended on johns behalf. john was an orphan too, i can promise you he understands how hard it is to survive and he doesn’t look down on her! Not that it even begins to matter if john or anyone else “understands” her reasoning for her choice of survival. It doesn’t. it simply matters that abigail was incredibly strong throughout that time of her life and rest. she survived and did whatever she could to and that is to be appreciated.

These men seem to have this one single idea that “abigail was prostitute so john thought baby not his cause so many men 🤓” SHUT. UP. no actually that was so much more actually john not ready to be a father and being afraid of himself!!!! honestly speaking, the entirety of that situation has very little to do with abigail herself. but no they’ll never understand that because it was written out in black and white and you may have to think a little to get to that conclusion. not to mention, they could never accept it because then john marston wouldn’t be as “alpha” BE QUIET IM BEGGING YOU.

the way they discuss abigail and uncle made my skin crawl. there is nothing else said about that relationship, there is no one specific cannon explanation as to how or why they knew each other. but the men i saw discussing it said such disgusting and vulgar things about how uncle “reallyyy knew abigail”. truly horrifying. There’s so many different ways they could’ve crossed paths. she was a prostitute but that’s not all she was. she was still a woman, a person. i can assure you she had other hobbies and activities that she did, that she enjoyed doing.

not to mention how it seems to be such an odd and disgusting fantasy for them that “everyone in the gang had abigail” i hate to break it to you but no they didn’t! Now this is up for debate for a lot of people and i actually want to make an entire post just dedicated to this. When looking at both instances where that was said, it was purposely said to hurt john and throw him off. not to mention, abigail was never around when it was said. There wasn’t an instance of anyone saying it in camp or even throwing an insult to john about it in rdr2. hmmm i wonder why that is????? Bill said it to make him stumble and dutch said it because he knows john and he knows how to hit him where it hurts. But, i don’t think any of it is true. of course no internet bro is going to actually think into enough to even be curious so!

abigail marston is someone to be admired. someone who persevered as much as any man in that gang but she doesn’t get the same appreciation. she probably had to work just as hard if not harder than some of the men just to stay alive in her youth. Abigail marston is not a nag, she’s not annoying, she’s not “mean” to john. take a step back and look at what she’s responding to and give her the same grace you give arthur and john. “oh well arthur just had a hard time showing emotions because of the way he was raised” “oh john couldn’t deal with everything so he ran away for a little bit it’s okay.” let abigail have that same grace.

so sorry this was not meant to be this long. clearly it has been nagging at me. if you read this love you and love abigail marston!

[roanofarcc]

THE ONE

 pairing. alive!reader x trevor lefkowitz

summary. (requested) It would have been fun if you would’ve been the one.” 

warnings. g!n reader, mentions of death, feelings of unrequited love, not proof read

word count. 3.3k || masterlist

The boredom of the mansion was quelled the second a new guest arrived to check into the B&B. Trevor shot up from his spot on the couch and followed the group of ghosts out of the living to the front desk where Sam and Jay stood, happily conversing with the guest. For a moment, Trevor was excited to see what the guest looked like; as a ghost, he had to take what he could get. His love life had fallen to shambles and the only thrill he got anymore was ogling attractive guests as they arrived. 

However, when the guest had turned around for a moment to pick up their duffle bag from the floor, Trevor felt a quick flood of emotions enter his body. He stopped short of the desk with his throat suddenly dry and hands clammy. 

“Are you in the area for business or a little vacation?” Sam asked, making her usual small talk. 

You pushed the duffle bag over your shoulder and cleared your throat. “Uh, neither.” Your voice was different than Trevor remembered, older and a little deeper than it had been, which made sense. You were older but still the same height you were in high school. Maturity was written across your features, but he still saw the remnants of your youth that he had once memorized. 

Maybe he was dreaming. He had dreamed of you before, both before and after he died. In college, he had thought about calling you every time your birthday rolled around or when one of his friends said something funny that he knew would’ve made you laugh. But every time he chickened out, figuring you still hated him. Instead, he saw you in his dreams like some embarrassing rom-com where you came back together when you were a little older and he was less of an idiot. Then he died and he dreamed of all of the things he would have done differently if he had a redo button. But he genuinely thought he’d never see you again. When you hadn’t come to the memorial his parents put on for him, he knew his dreams were pointless. His parents hadn’t even mentioned you, meaning you were probably well moved on and married or something. 

“This might sound weird,” you continued, smiling sheepishly. “But you actually held a memorial for my…friend a couple of months ago. Trevor Lefkowitz.” The ghosts all snapped their heads in his direction but all Trevor could get himself to do was stare at you. Something about the way you hesitated before calling him your friend made his stomach ache. 

Sam’s eyes widened as she looked at Trevor too for a moment. “O-Oh! Yes. We did. Trevor. You knew him?” 

“Yeah and I wanted to come but I thought it would’ve been weird. I wasn’t close with him when he died. We were friends when we were kids. But the more I thought about it, the worse I felt about not coming. So I figured I’d pay my respects. That and when I visited his parents they wouldn’t stop talking about this place.” 

He snapped out of his daze and stepped forward, standing beside Jay and getting a better look at you. He felt bad about it, but the first thing he did was look at your left hand. You didn’t wear any rings and while he knew it was so stupid, he felt relieved. 

“Sam,” Trevor said quickly. “You gotta talk to them. Please.” He couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice. 

Sam obliged with a nod of her head that was directed at him. “If you would like to, after you get settled in, you could tell us about him. Trevor. I mean, after we got his parents' side of who he was, Jay and I have been interested in what he was like to his friends.” 

Jay furrowed his brows. “We have?” Sam shot him a look that he understood right away. “Ohhh. Yeah, we have. For sure.” 

You thought about it for a moment, fiddling with a room key in your hand. “That would be nice,” you said. 

“No pants wants you to talk to them?” Jay said after they all were gathered in the kitchen, waiting for you to finish getting settled into your room. Jay worked on making lunch while Sam put on the kettle for tea. Trevor sat at the table feeling too many things at once. It was one thing seeing his parents. They were his parents and they loved him no matter his screw-ups. But you were under no obligation to forgive him. In fact, he figured you’d be mad at him forever and he’d spend life and death regretting his choices. Yet, you wanted to talk to some stranger about him?

Sam sighed, taking the seat across from him. “Yes,” she replied to Jay. “For a childhood friend, you don’t look too happy to see them.” 

“No, that’s not it,” Trevor said, sinking into his chair. “I messed things up with them, big time, before I left for college. I don’t know why they’d want to pay their respects to me after all these years.” 

It wasn’t too often he garnered looks of sympathy from Sam or the ghosts. The only other time was when his parents came and he learned he was a child of divorce. All he wanted to do was hug his mom, but he couldn’t and he felt like a little kid lost in a grocery store. Alberta hugged him instead, which was not quite the same but close enough.

“What’d you do?” Sasappis asked. 

It was more about what Trevor didn’t do. He didn’t tell you he reciprocated your feelings after you confessed the night before you both moved away to different colleges. At the time he didn’t want to be held back by his hometown; he wanted a fresh start to be someone else. It was stupid in hindsight because he didn’t change that much in college, he learned to like the person he was, quirks and all. And he didn’t realize that you didn’t hold him back, you made him better. But by the time he figured all of that out, he heard you had some boyfriend and moved across the country. He missed his chance and figured you hated him. 

“Hi.” You poked your head into the kitchen and Trevor sank down further into the chair. He felt guilty, hot and festering in his veins even though there was no blood in his body. 

Sam turned around in her chair. “Hey. Take a seat. Jay, can you pour the tea?” 

With a nod, Jay made the tea while you took the seat beside Sam as you observed the kitchen, unaware it was occupied by a series of curious ghosts and Trevor. 

“So, you still talk to Trevor’s parents?” Sam got right to it, a bit too eagerly. “Because you heard about the memorial from them,” she clarified. 

You thanked Jay as he sat down your mug. “Yeah. I didn’t for a while, not until I heard that he died. They called me, tracked down my number and everything. I was surprised. Trevor and I hadn’t talked since the night before we both left for college.” 

“Oh,” said Sam. “Did you guys have a falling out or something?” 

“Yeah, of sorts. We were dumb kids and said some things we didn’t mean. At least, I did. I’d like to think that he did too but I didn’t get the chance to ask him.” 

Trevor tried to ignore the burning gazes of his friends but it was impossible; they wanted to know every little detail, that much was clear on their faces. Even Sam and Jay looked engrossed in your words, curious to know more. 

“Well? Did you?” Hetty asked, nudging Trevor’s shoulder. 

“Of course I did. I was a dumb kid, like they said.” He let you walk out of his life and tried to convince himself it was better that way. 

“The truth is,” you continued. “I thought I knew him better than anyone. We grew up together and he was my best friend. But maybe I didn’t.” 

Trevor felt like was going to cry; it was awful and pathetic. He was the one who walked away and thought a couple of weeks would pass by and you two would be able to pretend like your conversation had never happened. But it never did and he was too stubborn to reach out. Then weeks turned into years and you grew up while he regretted letting you go. 

“Best friends at age are tricky, especially when you’re leaving for college. I know one of my best friends and I got into this weird fight before we left for college. I was scared she was going to find a new best friend. And she did,” Sam laughed uncomfortably at the memory.

You smiled kindly at Sam’s rambling. “I was scared he was going to fall in love with someone at college before I got the chance to tell him I loved him. But I wished I would’ve kept it to myself. Then I at least we would’ve stayed friends.” 

A couple of gasps sounded from behind him and Sam’s eyes widened as they flickered between him and you. “Y-You loved Trevor?” 

A sad smile pulled on your lips as you held onto your steaming mug of tea tighter. “Yeah. And after I told him he said he wanted a fresh start in college. A blank slate. Not a partner. He didn’t like me that way and I overreacted, walked away, and avoided him for a while. He never reached out; I figured he found what he was looking for in college.” 

He buried his head in his hands and stifled a groan. 

Sam hesitated before continuing. “That’s… terrible.” 

“It was all so stupid in hindsight. I always thought about reaching out, just to check in. The night he died I even dialed his number that I found in the phonebook. I was going to call but decided against it. Then two weeks later his parents called me to tell me he died and I couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I had called. He was here, he wasn’t even home so it wouldn’t have changed anything but I…I don’t know.” You nervously played with the button on your shirt, looking at anything but Sam and Jay. “Sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. I don’t even know you and it’s not like you knew Trevor. It’s just...I haven’t talked about him to anyone. I’d feel bad bringing any of this up to his parents. And being here…I don’t know.” 

“Don’t apologize! His parents said the same thing when they were here. I guess if you believe in spirits maybe…maybe his is still here. But that’s…crazy.” Sam was a bad liar but she was lucky her ability to see ghosts was so insane no one would think she’d be lying about that. 

You hummed, taking a sip of tea. “That’s a nice thought.” 

Trevor wanted to talk to you; he wanted you to see him more than he was sure he wanted anything “Oh, man,” he groaned loudly. “I should have called. I should have-” Pete placed a hand on his shoulder, looking down at him sadly. He wanted to curl into himself and disappear. 

“I’m sure he felt the same way. He probably wanted to reach out too,” Sam offered in an attempt to make you feel better. 

Jay nodded. “Oh, yeah. Trust me, I was a dude in college once. There was not much going on up here.” He tapped on his forehead. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. Trevor wished he could tell you for certain that he had been an idiot and he regretted it still. He loved you back, he just didn’t realize it until you were out of his life. What if he had said so that night? Would he still be alive? Would you two have been married? There were a million different outcomes of his life that played through his head at a dizzying rate. “This is probably weird for you guys, learning so much about some guy you didn’t know but died in your house.” 

Sam and Jay exchanged a look. “You know, it’s almost like we did know him.” 

You ate lunch and didn’t bring up Trevor again, neither did Sam and Jay despite the buzzing questions the other ghosts spit out at you and Sam. It wasn’t until you left that Trevor felt like answering them. 

“Oh boy,” Jay whistled. “That was rough, no pants. How’s he doing?” 

“Bad. Obviously bad!” Trevor said. 

“Bad,” Sam repeated to Jay. 

“Well, I mean, what’s his side of the story?” Everyone turned to Trevor, but Sam answered before he got the chance. 

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say he realized he felt the same way after they stopped talking, right?” 

Trevor huffed. “How’d you know?” 

“It’s written all over your face, honey,” Alberta said. 

“And he never told them?” Jay asked. 

“I thought about it,” Trevor signed. “A lot, but I thought I lost my chance. And now they’re here and I still can’t tell them the truth.” He wanted to tell you, not to have it translated through Sam. And there was a slim chance you’d believe her anyway. Believing in ghosts was one thing, but trying to convince someone that not only were ghosts real but the ghost of an old friend who was actually in love with you was in front of them was a whole other thing. 

Sam frowned. “He thought about it but figured he missed his chance,” she told Jay. 

“Man, this sucks,” Jay replied.

“You could knock over vase again,” Thorfinn suggested. “Maybe they fall downstairs and die or see us like Sam.” 

“No!” Sam was quick to shoot down that idea. “There will be no murder attempts, guys.” 

“There’s gotta be another way for no pants to confess his feelings without someone else dying in our house. Seriously, that’s a lawsuit we do not have money to pay for,” said Jay. 

“You know what’s romantic?” Isaac began. “Letters.” 

A gasp fell from Hetty’s lips as she tugged on Isaac’s arm excitedly. “Yes! Have Sam pen a letter.” 

“You could say everything you wanted to them without having to first convince them ghosts are real,” Sass added. “It could work.” 

“That’s a great idea!” Sam said, earning a confused look from Jay. “I’m going to write them a letter from Trevor telling them about his feelings.” 

Jay nodded, impressed. “That could work. But how are you going to explain to them why you have the letter?” 

“Just tell them Trevor’s parents found it and brought it to the memorial thinking they were going to show up,” Alberta said. “Say they forgot it and you held onto it for some reason.” 

Sam explained that to Jay before she rushed off to find a pen and paper. Trevor nervously tried to gather his thoughts. It was a lot of pressure, putting everything out on a piece of paper, but he had to do it for both himself and you. He couldn’t go another moment without you knowing that he did reciprocate your feelings and that you were the only person who knew him so well. He needed you to know how much you meant to him and how he regretted letting you walk away in the first place. He should have chased after you the second the realization hit him like a truck. He should have shown up at your dorm like he imagined himself doing a hundred times over until he talked himself out of it. 

After Sam returned she and Trevor were left alone. He spilled his guts. Every regret, everything he didn’t say, she wrote down. He admitted to loving you too but being too much of a coward to admit it after he let you go. He told you how he missed you but he wanted you to be happy; that was all he had ever really wanted. And for a while, when it was just the two of you in high school, that was what he tried to do. He didn’t know why he thought stopping was the right move, but he couldn’t take it back. All he could give you was the letter of his feelings. He hoped it was enough to bring you both closure. 

After it was written, Sam went upstairs to deliver it. She knocked on your door and sucked in a deep breath before it was swung open. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” you said. 

“I found something that belongs to you.” Sam held out the letter and you took it with an odd look. “I forgot about it until a little bit ago. Trevor’s parents brought this letter with them to the memorial, but they left it here and I, well I’m not sure why, but I kept it. And when you were telling us about Trevor, I remembered I had shoved it in a drawer. Super weird, I know, but it’s all yours.” 

You flipped over the envelope to see your name scrawled across the front. Sam awkwardly lingered in the doorway for a moment before she realized you weren’t going to open it with her standing there. She let you be and returned downstairs to a nervous Trevor pacing back and forth across the kitchen. 

“Did you give it to them?” he asked, chewing on his nails. 

“Yeah, I think they’re reading it now.” 

You didn’t come out of your room for a while and Trevor wondered if you’d even read it at all. He guessed he couldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t. In your head, he was someone else, some asshole who didn’t even call you on your birthday, so you didn’t call him when his rolled around a couple weeks later. Maybe you had saved face for Sam and Jay and deep down you really hated him. Maybe you threw the letter away and were busy packing your bags. 

But then you showed up, eyes rimmed red, and clear tears streaked down your cheeks. Trevor didn’t know if he was relieved or worried. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, abandoning her cutting board on the counter where she was helping Jay with dinner. 

You smiled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Yeah. I just wanted to say thank you for this.” You held up the letter. 

Sam sent a small smile in Trevor’s direction before she ushered you into one of the kitchen chairs. “Dinner’s still cooking but while you wait, how about a chocolate chip cookie?” 

Your eyes widened slightly before your brows furrowed. “Chocolate chip? Those are my favorite.” 

“Oh, what a coincidence,” she said, looking once more at Trevor who stood in relief mixed with something else that was warm but nice inside his chest. He knew they were your favorite, which is why he told Sam to make them. He still remembered most things about you. 

And now you knew how he felt after all that time. You knew that he didn’t forget about you. In life and death, there would always be a soft spot he had for you and dreams of what could have been but never was. At least now you knew he had loved you and he regretted not owning up to his feelings; he hoped that gave you some kind of closure. He hadn’t been much for spilling his feelings when he was alive, but death had changed him a little and he didn’t want you to go the rest of your life thinking your feelings about him had been misplaced and unreciprocated. You knew the truth and you seemed at peace with it. 

Pete appeared beside him, clapping him on the shoulder gently. “You okay?” 

Trevor nodded. “Yeah. I think I am now.” And he hoped you were too and that you’d continue to be until you were old and gray, living your life out to the fullest.