#I wonder if he knew from the start...who she was...

[flux1563]

Behind the Spotlight ft Miyeon

Tags : virgin, multiple orgasm, BWC

Words : 14k

"Annyeonghaseyo," Miyeon said shyly, her cheeks flushing a soft pink as she tried to get the attention of the handsome man sitting across the bustling café. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall.

The man looked up from his laptop, a puzzled expression on his face. He clearly hadn't understood her greeting. "Hi," he responded with a warm smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Miyeon bit her lower lip, nervously playing with the translator app on her phone. She had practiced her English lines for weeks, but the moment had arrived, and her mind was a whirlwind. She hoped the app would be her wingman today. "Yes," she murmured, holding up the phone. "I am Miyeon. From Korea. You...are...my...type."

The man's smile grew wider as he read the translation. His eyes met hers, sparkling with amusement and intrigue. "I'm Y/N," he said, pointing to himself. "And you're definitely the most interesting thing that's happened to me in this café."

Miyeon's heart skipped a beat as she read his response on the screen. She had always been curious about dating outside of her country, and here she was, trying to flirt with a white man, a fantasy she had harbored for a long time. Her group's manager had always warned them about maintaining their image, but she was on a break from her K-pop group G-idle, and she had decided that this was the perfect opportunity to explore her desires.

The café was a cozy haven from the New York City rush, its walls adorned with vintage posters and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. Miyeon's eyes took in every detail, from the way the sunlight danced on the wooden floors to the clinking of spoons against porcelain cups. It was her first day in America, and she was eager to absorb the culture she had only seen in movies and dramas.

Y/N leaned in closer, his interest piqued by the beautiful stranger. "So, what brings you to the city?" he asked.

Miyeon paused, her thumb hovering over the app's screen. "Vacation," she typed, feeling a flutter in her stomach. "I want to see America...and maybe find love?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, reading the translation. He couldn't help but chuckle at her honesty. "Well, Miyeon," he began, "I'd be happy to show you around. And who knows, maybe we'll find that love along the way."

They decided to start with the mall, a place where Y/N knew she would love the blend of familiar brands and unique American experiences. As they strolled through the gleaming corridors, Miyeon's eyes widened with wonder, taking in the sights and sounds of shoppers from various walks of life. They stopped at a photo booth, the kind that promised to capture their smiles with a series of snapshots. Miyeon's excitement was palpable as she squeezed in beside Y/N, her hands shaking slightly.

The camera flashed, and they both grinned widely, the photos printing out to immortalize their first moments together. They held them up to the light, examining the images with playful scrutiny. "We look good together," Y/N said, nudging her gently.

Miyeon nodded, her eyes shimmering with a hint of mischief. "Maybe one more?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she leaned closer, her sweet perfume enveloping him. The next set of photos were more intimate, their laughter and smiles growing more relaxed with each flash. On a whim, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, catching her by surprise. She blushed, but didn't pull away. Instead, she turned to face him fully, and their eyes met, the connection palpable.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in a canvas of oranges and pinks, they stepped outside, hand in hand. The warmth of the day had given way to a pleasant evening breeze, carrying with it the distant sound of car horns and chattering pedestrians. They paused at a scenic spot, a fountain with a sculpture of a couple in a passionate embrace. Y/N took out his phone, pointing it at them. "One more?"

Miyeon nodded, her breath hitching slightly. He leaned in, his arm snaking around her waist, and they kissed as the camera clicked away. The kiss was gentle at first, a mere brush of the lips, but it quickly grew into something more, their bodies gravitating towards each other like magnets. It was a moment that seemed to freeze time, their hearts beating in unison as the world rushed by around them.

When they parted, Miyeon looked up at Y/N, her eyes filled with a newfound boldness. She took his hand, leading him to the exit. "Let's go," she said, her voice a soft whisper. "I want to show you something."

The taxi ride to her hotel was a blur of neon lights and unintelligible chatter, her heart racing as she thought about what was to come. The hotel lobby was grand, with chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the marble floor. She felt like Cinderella, except she was the one pulling the strings of this fairytale.

"Y/N," she murmured, her grip on his hand tightening as they stepped into the elevator. "My hotel." The words were barely out of her mouth before the doors slid shut, leaving them alone in the plush, mirrored compartment. The air grew thick with anticipation, their eyes locked in a silent conversation that needed no translation.

They arrived at her floor, the soft ding of the elevator echoing through the corridor. Miyeon's luxury room was a retreat from the chaos of the city, with a view of the twinkling skyline that stretched out like a sea of diamonds. She led him inside, her heart thumping in her chest like a bass in a pop song. The room was immaculate, the king-sized bed an inviting oasis in the center.

Y/N took in the opulence around him, his gaze eventually landing on Miyeon as she stood before him, her eyes a mix of excitement and nerves. He stepped closer, placing a hand on her waist. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

Miyeon's response was swift and decisive. She reached up, her hands cupping his face, and drew him down for a kiss that was filled with all the pent-up desire she had been feeling since she first laid eyes on him. It was a kiss of hunger, a declaration of intent, and it took Y/N by surprise. His eyes widened for a brief moment before a smoldering look replaced his shock.

Y/N took control, his arms wrapping around her tightly as his kiss grew more intense. He dominated the exchange, his tongue delving deep into her mouth, claiming her in a way that made her body tremble. Miyeon felt a rush of heat flood through her, her knees threatening to buckle under the onslaught of passion. She moaned softly, her hands fisting in his shirt as she tried to keep up with the pace he had set.

He broke away, his breath ragged, leaving her panting and wanting more. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "And so eager."

Miyeon's cheeks burned as she nodded, unable to form coherent words. She had never felt this way before, never experienced such raw passion. Y/N's confidence and dominance were intoxicating, and she found herself eagerly following his lead.

Their kisses grew deeper and more urgent as they stumbled down the hallway towards the bedroom, their clothes seemingly dissolving away with every step they took. Buttons popped and fabric slithered to the floor, leaving a trail of discarded pieces that whispered of their desire. Y/N's hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her soft, pale skin as if he couldn't get enough.

Her own hands weren't idle, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers and pushing it off his broad shoulders. His skin was warm to the touch, and she reveled in the feel of his firm chest beneath her fingertips. His belt buckle clattered to the floor, the sound echoing through the room, a stark reminder of the urgency in their movements.

Finally, they reached the bedroom, the large, inviting bed calling out to them. They tumbled onto the soft sheets, their kisses never breaking. Miyeon's long hair fanned out around them, a stark contrast to the stark white of the bedding. Y/N's hands found the zipper of her dress, pulling it down with a slow, deliberate motion that had her squirming beneath him.

The dress fell away, exposing her to his hungry gaze. He took a moment to appreciate her beauty, the soft curves that had been hidden beneath layers of clothing. His eyes roamed over her, dark with desire, and she felt a thrill run through her. This was it, the moment she had been dreaming of.

The air grew thick with tension as they continued to explore each other's bodies, their kisses becoming more frantic. The bedroom was a cocoon, insulating them from the outside world, allowing them to lose themselves in the moment. Y/N's hands slid up her thighs, sending shivers down her spine as he gently parted her legs.

Miyeon felt her heart racing, her breath coming in short gasps as she looked into his eyes. She had never been more vulnerable, more exposed, but with him, she felt safe. Her hands found his waist, her nails digging in as she pulled him closer, her body arching towards his.

He kissed a trail down her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone, leaving a delicate line of fire in his wake. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples until they peaked beneath his touch. She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as the sensation overwhelmed her.

Their kisses grew more desperate as their bodies moved in perfect harmony, the music of their shared passion filling the air. Y/N's weight shifted, and she felt the heat of him pressing against her thighs. Her hand slid down, her fingertips grazing the waistband of his pants, and she could feel the evidence of his desire.

The moment was upon them, a crescendo of emotion and need. With a final, gentle kiss, Y/N positioned himself above her, their eyes locked. The anticipation was unbearable, a sweet agony that had her trembling.

"Be gentle, please," Miyeon whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes searched his, seeking reassurance in the sea of uncertainty that was her first time.

Y/N's expression softened, a look of wonder and respect in his eyes. "I was shocked that a beautiful girl like you is a virgin," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it's perfect."

With that promise, he began to explore her further, his hands and mouth worshipping every inch of her body. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, each touch sending a jolt of pleasure through her. His touch was feather-light, as if he was afraid she might shatter under his touch. But Miyeon was no fragile porcelain doll; she was a woman on the brink of discovering a new aspect of herself, and she craved the release that only he could provide.

Y/N's fingers danced over her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties before finally sliding beneath the fabric. Her breath hitched as he touched her, his fingers skimming over her sensitive skin. He took his time, building the tension with every stroke, until she was a quivering mess beneath him.

Miyeon's body responded to his ministrations, her hips rising to meet his hand. The feeling was so intense, so overwhelming, that she couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her lips. He looked up, his eyes dark with desire, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He slid her panties down, exposing her to the cool air of the room. She felt a flash of vulnerability, but his warm gaze made her feel cherished, not exposed. He kissed her thighs, working his way closer to the apex of her need.

When he finally reached her center, she gasped, her body arching off the bed. His mouth was hot, his tongue teasing and exploring, and she could feel herself spiraling towards the precipice of pleasure.

"Ahh, keep going," Miyeon moaned, the words spilling from her lips in a mix of Korean and English. Y/N's eyes met hers, and he took that as the green light he needed to deepen his kiss. His tongue delved into her folds, finding her clit and circling it with expert precision. Her legs fell open wider, inviting him in, her hands tangled in his hair as she held him there, urging him to never stop.

Her breath grew shallow and ragged as the pleasure built within her, her body tightening like a coil ready to spring. "Ahh, Y/N," she gasped, her back arching off the bed. He hummed against her, the vibration sending waves of ecstasy through her core. She felt her climax approaching, a warm glow that grew brighter with every flick of his tongue.

And then it hit her, a tidal wave of sensation that made her entire body spasm. Her first orgasm with another person washed over her, more intense than any she had ever experienced alone. She cried out, her nails digging into his scalp, her legs trembling around his shoulders. Her eyes squeezed shut, she could see stars behind her lids, a symphony of color and light that danced in time with the pulsing in her veins.

Y/N didn't wait for her to catch her breath. Instead, he took advantage of her heightened state, slipping one finger into her drenched pussy. Miyeon's eyes snapped open, wide with surprise, and she watched him through a haze of pleasure as he began to pump in and out of her slowly. His movements were deliberate and measured, as if he was savoring every second. She could feel herself stretching around him, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Ahh," she moaned, the sound a sweet symphony in his ears. Encouraged, he added a second finger, scissoring them apart to prepare her for what was to come. The sensation was incredible, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that made her toes curl. "So good, fuck," she murmured in broken English, the words falling from her lips like a prayer.

Y/N took her clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking and suckling the sensitive nub. Miyeon's hips bucked, her body writhing beneath him as he brought her closer to the edge once again. He felt her tighten around his fingers, her muscles clenching with every stroke. His other hand reached up, cupping her breast, his thumb rolling her nipple between his fingers.

"Ahh, Y/N," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut. "I wanna pee." The suddenness of her words took him aback, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers for clarification. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from their kisses, and she was panting heavily. "I mean, it feels like... I need to pee, but it's... different."

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through her chest, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, Miyeon," he assured her. "It's just your body's way of letting you know it's ready." He could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes, and he knew it was time to take the lead. "Just let it go, baby," he ordered, his voice firm but tender.

And with those words, she did. A gush of liquid heat spurted against his face, her juices spraying against his cheeks and mouth. It was a moment of pure, unbridled intimacy, one that she had never shared with anyone before. Y/N didn't flinch; instead, he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. He lapped at her, drinking in her sweetness, savoring the taste of her desire.

"Ahh, ahh," she moaned, her voice a symphony of pleasure as she rode the waves of her second orgasm. It was a sound that would be forever etched in his memory, a reminder of the power and beauty of the connection they had just shared. He could feel her pussy clenching around his fingers, her body trembling as she came down from her peak.

Miyeon's eyes snapped open, meeting his gaze as she gasped for air. "I don't know if it feels so good," she murmured, her voice filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief.

Y/N leaned back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug smile playing across his lips. "Trust me," he said, "it's only going to get better." He reached for her hand, gently pulling her upright. "Now, I want to see all of you."

Miyeon's heart was racing as she allowed him to guide her to the center of the bed. He positioned her on all fours, her knees sinking into the plush mattress. She felt exposed and vulnerable, but the excitement coursing through her veins was undeniable. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his intense gaze, and she knew that she was in good hands.

Y/N's hand traveled down her back, tracing the curve of her spine before coming to rest on her ass. He gave her a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over the tight rosette of her anus. She flinched slightly, unsure of what to expect, but his touch was reassuring. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

With a gentle push, he positioned the head of his erection at her entrance. Miyeon felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for the inevitable. She had read about this moment, had fantasized about it countless times, but the reality was so much more intense than anything she could have imagined.

"Please, be gentle," she repeated, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to hang in the air between them.

Y/N nodded, his eyes filled with a gentle determination. He leaned over her, his hand resting on the small of her back as he began to push his erection into her. Miyeon's eyes widened, and she bit her lip, feeling a mix of pain and pleasure as her body stretched to accommodate his size. He took his time, his movements deliberate and measured, giving her body a chance to adjust to the new sensation.

But it was more than she could handle. With a sudden jolt, she cried out, "Ahhhh it hurts!" Her voice pierced the quiet of the room, echoing off the walls like a siren's call. Y/N stilled, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

Miyeon nodded, her eyes squeezed shut as she took a deep, shuddering breath. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I just... I need a moment."

Y/N's concern was etched on his handsome face as he leaned over her, his hand caressing her back soothingly. "Take your time, Miyeon," he murmured. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

Miyeon took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his manhood fully sheathed inside her. It was a strange, almost overwhelming sensation, but she knew that this was what she wanted. She nodded again, her eyes still closed tightly. "No, it's okay," she managed to say. "I'm okay."

Y/N watched her for a moment, his hand still resting on her back. He could feel the tension in her body, the way she was holding herself so tightly. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "If you're sure," he whispered, his voice a warm caress that sent shivers down her spine.

Miyeon nodded, her eyes still squeezed shut. She took a deep breath, her body tensing in anticipation. And then she felt it, the pressure building, his cock pushing deeper inside her. It was as if she had reached the end, but there was still more to come. She gasped, her nails digging into the bedsheets. The pain was sharp, a knife's edge that cut through the pleasure, but she didn't want him to stop.

"Fuck, your cock is so big," she managed to murmur, her voice strained and needy. "I thought it's already inside me all." Her words were a mix of Korean and English, a jumbled mess of pleasure and pain that only served to excite Y/N further. He felt a surge of pride at her admission, his cock swelling even more at the thought of being the first to claim her tight, virgin pussy.

"It's only a half, Miyeon," he said, his voice a gentle command. "Just hold it." And with that, he pushed in further, the head of his cock breaching the final barrier that stood between her innocence and the carnality she so desperately craved.

Miyeon's cry of "Ahhhh, my pussy was torn" filled the room, a mix of pain and pleasure that seemed to resonate with the very walls of the hotel suite. Her body tensed around him, the muscles of her pussy clamping down as she tried to adjust to his size. He paused, giving her time to get used to the feeling, his hand reaching around to rub her clit in soft, soothing circles.

As the pain began to recede, she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "It's okay, you can take it all."

Miyeon took a deep, shaky breath, her body adjusting to the feeling of fullness. "Move, Y/N," she urged, her voice a needy whimper. He began to rock his hips, moving in and out of her with a slow, torturous rhythm that had her gasping for more. She felt her walls stretching around him, accommodating his girth as she grew wetter, her arousal coating his shaft with a slickness that made every movement feel like a delicious agony.

"Fuck, 12 inches of white dick is inside me," she moaned, the words spilling from her lips in a mix of Korean and English. She had never felt so full, so complete. Her voice was a sweet symphony of pleasure, her moans echoing through the room as he began to increase his tempo. Each stroke brought her closer to the edge, her orgasm building like a crescendo within her.

Y/N watched her, his eyes hooded with lust, as he pumped into her. "You're doing so good, Miyeon," he praised, his voice a gruff growl that made her pussy clench around him. "So tight, so wet."

Miyeon felt a rush of pleasure at his words, her body responding to the praise. "I'm gonna cum, Y/N," she whimpered, the words a desperate plea for more. Her hips began to rock back into his, her movements growing more frantic as she chased the orgasm that hovered just out of reach.

With a groan, Y/N pulled out of her, leaving her pussy feeling empty and begging for more. He sat back on his heels, his cock glistening with her juices. "Look at what you do to me, Miyeon," he murmured, his hand stroking his length. "You make me so hard."

Miyeon watched him, her eyes glazed with lust as she felt the wetness between her legs. She had heard of squirting before, but had never experienced it herself. The thought of it was both exciting and a little intimidating. "How do I do it?" she asked, her voice a breathless whisper.

Y/N leaned in, his eyes never leaving hers. "Just keep breathing," he instructed, his voice a gentle command. He slid his hand between her legs, his thumb finding her clit once again. He began to rub in firm, slow circles, his other hand reaching down to squeeze her ass. "Relax, and let it happen."

Miyeon took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed. She felt the pressure building, the warmth spreading through her core. Her pussy clenched around his thumb, her body begging for release. And then it happened. A gush of liquid spurted from her, soaking the bed beneath her.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and arousal as he watched her body convulse with pleasure. He had never seen anything quite so beautiful. "Fuck," he breathed, his hand still working her clit. "You're so perfect."

Miyeon's legs trembled, her body still riding the waves of her climax. "Ahh," she moaned, collapsing onto the mattress with a boneless thud. Her skin was slick with sweat, her hair a wild tangle around her face. She had never felt so alive, so alive and yet so utterly spent.

Y/N, his eyes never leaving hers, took her by the hips, gently lifting her ass into the air. His erection, still hard and slick with their combined arousal, nudged at her entrance once more. "Ready for more?" he asked, his voice a seductive rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

Miyeon took a deep breath and nodded, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She had never felt so exposed, so open to someone else's will. But with Y/N, she felt something she had never felt before - a deep sense of trust and desire that overwhelmed any lingering fear.

And then, without warning, Y/N thrust into her fully, his entire length filling her in one swift, powerful motion. Miyeon's eyes snapped open, and she let out a sharp cry that was muffled by the pillow beneath her head. Her body tensed around him, the suddenness of the act taking her by surprise, even though she had been anticipating it.

"AHHHHH, SO BIG I AM CUMMING AGAIN," she screamed, her voice reverberating through the quiet hotel room. Her pussy clamped down around his cock, her walls pulsing in time with her racing heart. It was as if the dam had broken, and her orgasm was a flood that threatened to consume them both.

Y/N's pace grew more urgent, his hips slapping against her ass as he drove into her with a ferocity that took her breath away. Each stroke sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over her, each impact leaving her trembling and begging for more.

"Ahh, it's bulging under my stomach," Miyeon panted, the sensation of his cock filling her to the brim making her feel so full she thought she might burst. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building deep within her core.

Y/N's hand slid down to her stomach, feeling the base of his cock as it stretched her. His thumb dipped lower, teasing her clit once more as he watched her face contort with pleasure. "You're so tight, Miyeon," he murmured, his own voice strained with effort. "I can feel your pussy gripping me."

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up at him, a mix of pain and pleasure on her face. "Ahh, yes," she panted, her hips rocking back into his, urging him deeper. "It's so... intense."

Y/N leaned over her, his hand moving to cup her face as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, Miyeon." His thumb traced her cheekbone, his eyes never leaving hers as he continued to fuck her with a rhythm that was both punishing and loving.

Her body responded to his words, another orgasm building within her. "Y/N, I'm gonna cum again," she panted, her voice a desperate whine that sent a thrill through him. He could feel her pussy tightening around his cock, her walls pulsing in time with the racing beat of her heart.

Miyeon felt the pressure building, the warmth coiling in her core. Her body was reaching a new peak, one she hadn't thought possible after her first explosive release. But with Y/N's expert touch, she knew she was about to shatter again. "I... I can't hold it," she gasped, her voice a mix of pleasure and fear.

Y/N's eyes darkened with excitement as he watched her, feeling her pussy clench around him. "Don't hold back," he urged, his hips driving into her with a relentless pace. "Let it out, Miyeon."

Her body obeyed, and she felt the warm rush of liquid building up, pooling inside her until she couldn't hold it in any longer. It felt like she was going to burst, the pressure was so intense. And then, with a whimper, she felt it. Her pussy clenched around his cock, and she squirted again, but this time the sensation was different. His cock was so deep inside her that she could feel the warmth of her own arousal trapped, unable to escape. It was an exquisite sensation, one that made her want to scream with pleasure.

"Ahh, fuck," Y/N groaned, his hand tightening on her hip. "You're so fucking wet," he murmured in amazement, his voice thick with lust. He pushed into her harder, his cock sliding through the slickness she had created. "Your squirting is making it so much better."

Miyeon's cheeks flushed at his words, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Her body had never responded to anyone like this, and she was eager to give him what he needed. She pushed back into him, her movements growing more erratic as she felt another orgasm building.

"I wanna cum, Miyeon," Y/N said, his voice strained as he fought for control. "Tell me where do I should put it."

The question sent a thrill through her, a mix of excitement and fear. She had never had a man ask her where he should cum before, and the idea was both taboo and incredibly hot. "Inside me," she gasped, her voice shaky with desire.

Y/N's eyes met hers, and she could see the fire in his gaze. He began to fuck her harder, his strokes deep and demanding. Each thrust sent her closer to the edge, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer.

Miyeon's pussy tightened around his cock, her orgasm cresting. She felt his cock swell even more, and she knew he was close. "I'm gonna cum," she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Inside me, please."

With a roar, Y/N gave into his own release, his cock pulsing deep within her as he filled her with his cum. She felt the warmth spread through her, a sense of completeness that washed away any lingering doubts or fears.

"Ahh, Miyeon," he groaned, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. His grip on her hips tightened, holding her in place as he emptied himself into her.

Miyeon could feel every inch of him, his seed filling her, making her womb throb with the sheer fullness. It was a sensation she had never felt before, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating. "Ah, so full," she moaned, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N withdrew slowly, his cock slipping out of her with a wet pop. He watched as a stream of cum and her own juices trickled down her thighs, painting the bed in a mess of passion. The sight was more erotic than any porn he had ever seen, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at being the one to bring her to such an intense climax.

Miyeon's body went limp, and she collapsed onto the bed, her legs shaking uncontrollably. The feeling of his hot cum leaking out of her was strange but oddly satisfying. She looked at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure and a hint of awe. "Was that... normal?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Y/N chuckled, his own chest heaving from the exertion. "More than normal," he assured her, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You're incredible." He reached for a towel, cleaning her up with a tenderness that belied his earlier ferocity. "Your pussy is a wonderland," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire.

As she lay there, panting and sated, she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. She had faced her fears and given herself to Y/N completely. And in return, she had experienced pleasure beyond anything she could have imagined. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N took her in his arms, pulling her close. "No, thank you, Miyeon," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "That was the most amazing experience of my life."

Their bodies remained intertwined as they drifted off to sleep, the aftermath of their passionate encounter still lingering in the air. Throughout the night, Miyeon's body remained a testament to the intensity of their love-making. She felt her pussy spasming, releasing more of her sweet juices onto the sheets. The warmth of his embrace was the only thing keeping her anchored in reality as she floated on a cloud of pleasure.

As the hours passed, their breathing synchronized, and the room grew quiet except for the occasional sound of their bodies releasing the tension of the day. Miyeon's pussy continued to spurt out liquid, her body reacting to the presence of his cum still deep inside her. It was as if her body was trying to cling onto the feeling of being filled, even as she slept.

The dawn broke, and the first rays of sunlight streamed through the hotel room's windows. They awoke to find themselves still entangled, their bodies sticky with sweat and cum. Y/N kissed her forehead, his eyes filled with affection as he took in her peaceful expression. He knew that he had been the one to give her this moment of pure bliss, and it filled him with a sense of accomplishment and pride.

Miyeon stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. She blushed, remembering the events of the night before. "It's morning," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

Y/N chuckled, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "It sure is," he said, his voice filled with a gentle teasing. "And we've got a whole day ahead of us."

The mention of the day ahead brought a spark to Miyeon's eyes, and she leaned in to kiss him, her lips hungry for more. But as she did, she felt the warmth between her legs, a reminder of the night's activities. She pulled back slightly, a look of embarrassment crossing her face. "I'm still... leaking," she said, her voice a whisper.

Y/N looked at her with a knowing smile, his eyes filled with lust. "It's okay," he assured her. "It's just your body's way of saying it enjoyed itself." He leaned in, his tongue sliding along her bottom lip before delving into her mouth.

The kiss grew more intense, and Miyeon felt the familiar stirrings of arousal. Before she knew it, he had picked her up effortlessly, his arms cradling her as he carried her into the spacious bathroom. The large, sunken bathtub was filled with steaming water, the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a sight that took her breath away, and she couldn't help but feel like a character in a romance novel.

He placed her gently into the tub, the warm water lapping at her skin as he followed suit. They sat facing each other, the water up to their chests, and began to kiss once more. The warmth of the water was soothing, a stark contrast to the fire that raged within her. She felt his hands on her thighs, sliding upward, and she parted her legs without a moment's hesitation.

Y/N took advantage of her openness, his hand moving to her pussy. He found her still slick with cum and her own arousal, and he began to stroke her gently. Miyeon's eyes fluttered closed, her breath hitching as she felt the beginnings of a new orgasm. The water sloshed around them as she leaned into his touch, her hands reaching for his shoulders to steady herself.

Their kisses grew more urgent, their tongues dancing together as his hand worked her clit. She could feel the water lapping against her sensitive skin, adding to the sensation. He pushed two fingers inside her, his movements slow and deliberate, and she moaned into his mouth. The feeling of his cock growing hard against her leg was all the encouragement she needed to rock her hips against his hand.

Y/N broke the kiss, panting, and leaned back slightly. "I want you to ride me," he said, his voice a gruff command. Miyeon's eyes widened, but she nodded eagerly. She straddled him, the water sloshing around them as she positioned herself over his erection.

With a deep breath, she pushed herself down onto him, feeling the tip of his cock breach her entrance. "Ahh," she gasped, the sensation a mix of pleasure and pain. But she didn't stop. She kept going, her hips rising and falling as she took him inch by inch, her eyes never leaving his.

Y/N's hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements as she grew more comfortable. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt her pussy clench around him. "Keep going, Miyeon. Take all of me."

Miyeon nodded, her own eyes glazed with passion. She leaned back, her hands bracing herself against the edge of the tub. The water lapped at her breasts, adding to the sensation as she began to bounce up and down on his cock. Each movement sent a fresh wave of pleasure through her, and she couldn't help but moan.

"Ahh, Y/N," she gasped, her voice a sweet symphony of pleasure. She felt his cock swell even more, filling her completely. "I'm gonna cum," she panted, her hips moving faster.

With a final, powerful thrust, Y/N pulled out, leaving her pussy gaping. He watched, entranced, as Miyeon's hips lifted off the tub's edge, her pussy squirting uncontrollably. The sight was like nothing he had ever seen before - a fountain of pleasure that seemed to flow endlessly. She threw her head back, her body shaking with the intensity of her climax.

"Ahh, ahh, Y/N," she panted, her voice a desperate plea. "I can't stop squirting."

He watched her, his eyes hooded with lust, as he reached for her waist. Before the flow of her orgasm could cease, he pulled her back onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt. The suddenness of the movement made Miyeon's eyes go wide with surprise, and she let out a scream that pierced the quiet morning air.

"Ahh, my pussy was torn again," she gasped, the pain mixing with pleasure as she felt herself stretch around his thickness once more. But she didn't push him away. Instead, she leaned into the sensation, her hips moving in a rhythm that was both desperate and needy.

Y/N took her hips in his firm grip, holding her in place as he pumped into her. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the bathroom, the water in the tub sloshing with each movement. Miyeon's orgasms came in waves, one after the other, each one more intense than the last. She couldn't believe how much she could take, how much she craved the feeling of being filled to the brim by him.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she threw her hands over her mouth to stifle the moans that threatened to escape. Her body was no longer her own; it was a vessel for his pleasure, and she reveled in it. Each stroke brought her closer to the edge, each guttural groan from his throat making her pussy clench around him.

"Fuck, Miyeon," he grunted, his own orgasm approaching. "Your pussy feels so fucking good." He pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices. Without a moment's hesitation, he guided her face closer, her eyes wide with surprise and lust. "Take it," he ordered, his voice thick with desire.

Miyeon opened her mouth obediently, her heart racing. This was new to her, but she trusted him completely. She took his cock in her mouth, her throat tightening around the head as she deep-throated him. She could feel him swelling, his cum building at the tip as he fucked her mouth with the same fervor he had used on her pussy.

He watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of amazement and lust. Her eyes watered, but she didn't pull away, taking his length deeper and deeper until she couldn't handle it anymore. And just when she thought she couldn't take it, he came, his hot seed spurting into her mouth. She swallowed it all, her body trembling with the effort of holding back her own screams of pleasure.

The taste was unlike anything she had ever experienced - salty and bitter, but somehow addictive. She licked her lips, savoring the flavor of him, feeling a sense of power in the act of giving him such pleasure. "All of it," he growled, and she eagerly obeyed, her tongue darting out to catch any stray drops that escaped.

As she swallowed the last of his cum, she felt another orgasm building within her. Her pussy clenched around his cock, and she moaned around him, the vibrations sending him over the edge.

With a roar, Y/N grabbed her hips and slammed into her one final time, filling her mouth with his cum as he emptied himself into her. The feeling of his release only served to heighten her own, and she came again, her pussy clamping down on his cock in a spasm of pure bliss.

When it was over, they remained connected, their bodies entwined in the warm water. "Swallow," he murmured, and she obeyed, her throat working to take all of him in. She felt his cock twitch in response, and she knew that she had done well.

They lay there for a moment, panting and sated, their bodies entangled in the aftermath of passion. The water grew cold around them, but neither moved to get out. The bond they had formed was stronger than any physical sensation, and for the first time in her life, Miyeon felt truly alive.

Miyeon looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of love and awe. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming his name.

Y/N leaned down, brushing a kiss against her swollen lips. "The pleasure was all mine," he said, his voice a low rumble. He knew that this was just the beginning, that their connection would only grow stronger with each shared moment of passion.

The water grew cold, but they remained in the tub, their bodies intertwined. The sun had risen high in the sky, casting a warm glow over their entwined forms. It was a new day, filled with promise and excitement, and Miyeon couldn't wait to see what it held for them. With Y/N by her side, she knew she could conquer anything America had to throw at her.

After they had caught their breath, Y/N helped Miyeon out of the tub, his hands lingering on her wet skin. They dried off, and he handed her an oversized jacket. "This is all you're wearing today," he told her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. She looked at him questioningly, and he smirked. "It's a surprise, but trust me, you're going to love it."

Miyeon slipped into the jacket, feeling the warmth of the material envelop her. It was so large that it practically swallowed her, reaching down to her mid-thigh and hiding everything beneath it. She felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of what might come next. Was this a new kind of fashion statement? Or was there something more sensual behind his choice of attire?

They left the hotel suite and stepped out into the bustling streets of the city. Miyeon was used to the flashing lights and crowds of Korea, but there was something different about this place, something that made her heart race in a way she couldn't quite explain. She looked up at the towering skyscrapers, feeling both tiny and powerful at the same time. Y/N took her hand, leading her through the throngs of people with a confidence that was as intoxicating as it was reassuring.

Miyeon's mind raced as they walked, her thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation and curiosity. What was Y/N planning? Would they be recognized? What would people think of her dressed so... unusually? But as they strolled, she realized that no one was paying them any mind. They were just two people in love, enjoying a day out in the city. And for Miyeon, that was all that mattered.

The lingerie store was tucked away in a corner, a beacon of lace and silk among the concrete jungle. The moment they stepped inside, the scent of vanilla and sex hung in the air, making Miyeon's cheeks burn. She had never been in a place like this before, but the way Y/N's eyes lit up as he perused the racks made her feel like she was in the most natural place on earth.

"Y/n, my pussy still leaking," Miyeon whispered, feeling a little embarrassed but also incredibly turned on by the fact that she was sharing this intimate detail with him. He looked at her with a knowing smile, his eyes filled with mischief.

"I know, baby," he said, his voice low and soothing. "And that's exactly why we're here."

Y/N led her to a rack filled with the tiniest, most delicate pieces of lingerie she had ever seen. Thongs, panties, and g-strings in every color and design imaginable beckoned to her, and she couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed. He picked out a black lace thong, holding it up against the light to inspect it. "This one," he said, a grin playing on his lips.

Miyeon took the thong from him, her hands trembling slightly as she stepped into the dressing room. The plush carpet beneath her bare feet felt like a cloud, and she couldn't help but feel like she was in a dream. She slipped off the oversized jacket, revealing her naked body to the mirror. Her skin was flushed with excitement, her nipples hard from the cool air conditioning and the anticipation of what was to come.

Y/N followed her into the dressing room, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. He couldn't believe his luck, having this gorgeous, famous woman all to himself. Without a word, he reached out and flipped her around, her body now facing the mirror. She gasped in surprise, but her eyes remained locked with his in the reflection.

He positioned her just right, her feet spread apart and her ass pushed out. "Look at yourself, Miyeon," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Miyeon stared at her reflection, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and arousal. She had never seen herself this way before - vulnerable, exposed, and so utterly desirable. Y/N's hands roamed over her body, his fingertips tracing the lines of her hips and the curve of her ass. She watched as he slid the thong up her legs, the lace tickling her sensitive skin. The reflection in the mirror only served to amplify the sensation, making it feel as if she was being touched by a hundred different hands.

Once the thong was in place, he stepped back, his cock already hardening at the sight of her in the skimpy lingerie. "Turn around," he instructed, his voice firm but gentle.

Miyeon obeyed, her breath catching in her throat as she saw his expression - a mix of hunger and admiration that made her feel like the most cherished thing in the world. She had never felt so exposed and yet so powerful. The lace of the thong barely covered her pussy, leaving little to the imagination.

"Now, bend over," he said, his voice a low growl. She complied, her hands on the dressing room chair, her ass high in the air. The thong stretched tight across her cheeks, the wetness from her pussy seeping through the fabric.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the line of her spine. She shivered under his touch, her body responding instinctively. And then, without warning, he pushed the thong aside, exposing her to the cool air. He bent down, his mouth hot and wet against her skin. "You're mine," he murmured.

Y/N's hand found her pussy, his fingers sliding through the slickness that coated her folds. He teased her clit before plunging two fingers inside her, making her gasp. The sudden intrusion was enough to make her legs wobble, but she managed to stay upright, her eyes never leaving the mirror. She watched as he began to stroke his cock, his hand moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

Miyeon felt a rush of heat as his fingers curled inside her, hitting that spot that made her see stars. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out, her eyes wide with a mix of pain and pleasure. Y/N noticed her struggle and leaned in, his hand covering her mouth to muffle any sound she might make. The feeling of his warm skin against hers only served to make her more aware of the delicious pressure building within her.

He pumped his cock faster, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "You're going to cum for me, right here," he said, his voice a low command. And Miyeon nodded, her body already responding to his words. She felt her pussy tighten around his fingers, her juices coating his hand as he worked her closer to the edge.

The tension grew unbearable, and she felt the orgasm building like a storm within her. Y/N's hand moved from her mouth to her neck, his grip firm but not painful. "Come for me," he whispered, and she couldn't hold back anymore. Her body convulsed, her pussy spasming around his fingers as she came, her eyes squeezed shut with the intensity of it.

The sound of his hand slapping against her skin filled the dressing room, the only noise other than their harsh, uneven breaths. He didn't stop, pushing her through the orgasm and into another, her body shaking with each stroke. She felt his cock throb against her ass, knew that he was close.

With a final, powerful thrust, he pulled out, his cock pulsing in his hand. She watched in the mirror as ropes of cum shot out, painting her ass and the floor of the dressing room. "Swivel your hips," he ordered, his voice strained with his own climax.

Miyeon did as she was told, the movement making her pussy clench around the remnants of his fingers. He groaned, his hand moving to cup her sex, his cum mixing with hers. She felt a thrill of power, watching his hand move over her, marking her as his.

As the last tremor of her orgasm passed, he reached for his phone. "Smile, baby," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. He snapped a mirror selfie, his cock still glistening with their combined release, and her pussy swollen and red from their love-making. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but something about the moment felt right. The raw intimacy of it all made her heart race.

Miyeon looked into the camera, her lips curving into a wicked smile as she leaned into him. The mirror captured them perfectly - two bodies, one in the throes of passion, the other caught in the afterglow. The photo was explicit, but it was also beautiful in its honesty. It was a visual representation of their connection, a memory that would stay with her forever.

They left the dressing room, the sound of their laughter mingling with the soft jazz playing over the store's speakers. The clerk at the counter raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply ringing up their purchases with a knowing smile. Miyeon felt a thrill of excitement as she realized that they had just had sex in the middle of a lingerie store, and no one had even batted an eye. It was as if the universe had conspired to give them this moment of pure, unbridled passion.

Y/N took her hand again, leading her out onto the sidewalk. The city was alive with energy, and she felt it pulse through her veins, making her feel more alive than she ever had before. They turned a corner, and she saw it - a sex shop, the neon sign blinking in the daylight. "Hey, Miyeon," he said, turning to face her with a playful smirk. "Ever played with sex toys?"

Her eyes went wide, and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. "No, I haven't," she admitted shyly. The thought of entering such a place was both terrifying and thrilling.

Y/N's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Then it's about time we change that," he said, pulling her closer. He led her into the sex shop, the doorbell chiming as they entered. The air was thick with the scent of latex and musk, and Miyeon couldn't help but feel a little nervous. But she also felt something else - a sense of excitement that grew with every step she took further into the store.

They wandered through aisles of vibrators, dildos, and restraints. The walls were lined with DVDs, their covers displaying scenes that made Miyeon blush. But Y/N didn't seem to mind her inexperience; if anything, it only made him more eager to introduce her to new pleasures. "Choose something that catches your eye," he said, his hand brushing against hers.

Her gaze fell upon a display of anal plugs, and she felt a thrill of excitement. The idea of being filled there was both scary and intriguing. She pointed to a small, pink one, and Y/N nodded with approval. "Good choice," he said, taking it off the shelf.

He moved on to the next aisle, and her eyes landed on a pair of nipple clamps that were attached to a small, buzzing device. "But we need this too," he said, holding them up for her to see. She blushed a deeper shade of pink, but couldn't deny the curiosity that sparked within her. He demonstrated how the clamps could be adjusted for different levels of intensity, and the vibrations sent a jolt of anticipation straight to her core.

After paying for their purchases, they stepped out into the bright sunlight, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the warmth of the sex shop. Y/N led her to an empty park nearby, the only sounds the distant chatter of pigeons and the rustling of leaves in the trees. It was a hidden oasis in the middle of the bustling city, and Miyeon felt a strange sense of calm wash over her as they sat down on a bench.

He handed her the bag with the lingerie and the sex toys. "Open it," he said, his voice low and commanding. Miyeon's heart fluttered as she took the bag, her fingers fumbling with the paper. Inside, she found the small pink anal plug and the set of nipple clamps, the sight of them making her stomach clench with anticipation.

"Open your jacket, Miyeon," he ordered again, his eyes never leaving hers. She looked around the deserted park, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. But the thrill of doing something so daring in public was too tempting to resist. She took a deep breath and did as she was told, letting the oversized garment fall open.

The cool air hit her bare skin, making her nipples harden even further. She watched as Y/N took the nipple clamps from the bag, his eyes dark with desire as he approached her. He took one of her breasts in his hand, his thumb brushing gently over the sensitive peak. "Look at me," he murmured, his voice a soft command that she couldn't ignore.

Miyeon met his gaze, her heart racing as he leaned in to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers with the same gentle touch he had used on her skin. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding into her mouth as his other hand found its way to her other breast. His thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple, rolling it gently before the cold metal of the clamp closed around it with a sharp pinch.

Her gasp was muffled by his mouth, the pain quickly morphing into a throbbing pleasure that made her pussy clench with need. He waited for her nod before attaching the second clamp, the sensation sending a shockwave through her body that made her toes curl.

With the clamps in place, he leaned back, his eyes taking in the sight of her - her nipples standing proud, a stark contrast against the soft fabric of the jacket. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Miyeon felt a thrill of excitement as she reached into the bag once more, her hand trembling slightly as she pulled out the small, pink anal plug. She had never used anything like this before, but the memory of his fingers inside her last night made her eager to try.

Y/N noticed her nerves and took the plug from her, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Trust me," he whispered. "You're going to love this."

Miyeon took a deep breath as she felt the tip of the plug nudge against her tight hole. The coldness of the material made her gasp, but she remained still, her eyes never leaving his as he slowly pushed it inside her. The sensation was strange, a mix of discomfort and a building pressure that sent sparks of pleasure through her body. She felt a twinge of pain, but it was quickly overshadowed by the feeling of being filled, a sensation that was both new and exhilarating.

Y/N's hand guided her through the process, his eyes never leaving hers as he worked the plug in deeper. He was gentle, his movements measured and precise, ensuring she was relaxed enough to take it without causing her too much pain. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her nerves. "You're doing so well."

When the plug was fully seated, he stepped back, his eyes raking over her with a mix of pride and lust. "Now," he said, his voice a low growl, "it's time for you to put on the lingerie."

Miyeon nodded, her heart racing as she opened the bag once more. She pulled out the black lace thong and matching bra, the delicate material feeling almost sinful against her skin. She slipped on the thong, the lace caressing her sensitive pussy, and then slid the bra on, her breasts spilling over the cups. The clamps on her nipples tugged with every movement, sending a fresh wave of arousal through her.

"Good," Y/N murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "Now, put the jacket back on."

Miyeon complied, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled the oversized jacket over her lingerie-clad body. The fabric rubbed against her sensitive skin, sending a shiver down her spine. With the thong in place, the plug nestled in her ass, and the nipple clamps tightening with each breath she took, she felt like a bomb ready to explode with pleasure.

They walked out of the park, her heart pounding with each step she took. The wetness between her legs grew more pronounced, and she could feel the fabric of the thong sticking to her skin. Each time she took a step, the plug inside her moved, sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through her body. "Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with need, "I can't wait anymore."

He nodded, his eyes dark with desire. Without saying a word, he led her down a side street, his grip on her hand tightening. They turned a corner into an alley, the shadows swallowing them up. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the walls, the only indication that they weren't the only ones in the world. He pushed her against the brick, his body pressing into hers, his cock already hard and demanding.

"Here?" she gasped, her voice a mix of shock and excitement.

"Here," he confirmed, his voice a low rumble. He reached for her jacket, pulling it open to expose her barely covered breasts to the cool air. He leaned in, his mouth capturing her nipple, his teeth grazing the metal clamp. The sensation was almost too much, a blend of pain and pleasure that made her pussy throb with need. She moaned, her back arching as he continued to tease her.

Miyeon could feel the eyes of the city on her, could almost hear the whispers of those who might be watching. But she didn't care. All she cared about was the man before her, the man who had claimed her so completely, so utterly, that she would do anything for him.

Y/N's hand found her pussy, his fingers sliding through her wetness. He groaned against her skin, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves through her body. "You're so fucking wet," he murmured. "Do you have any idea how much you turn me on?"

"Yes," she breathed, her voice shaky with need. "Please, Y/n. I need you."

Without another word, he shoved her down to her knees, his cock standing tall before her. She took him in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip as she sucked him deep. His hands were in her hair, guiding her, controlling her movements. She could feel his excitement, his desire for her, and it only served to fuel her own.

He pulled her to her feet, his eyes never leaving hers. He pushed her back against the wall, the rough bricks scraping against her skin. With one swift movement, he pulled the thong to the side, his cock sliding into her pussy. She gasped as he filled her completely, the plug inside her ass adding to the sensation.

"Fuck it was so full," Miyeon whispered, her voice a mix of amazement and pleasure. Y/N's eyes blazed with lust as he began to thrust into her, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the alley. The plug inside her moved with each stroke, the pressure building until she thought she might split apart.

Her pussy was so wet that she could feel it running down her thighs, and she knew that she was going to squirt soon. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "Ahh, I wanna squirt," she managed to say, her voice breathless.

Y/N groaned at her words, the sound of her need pushing him closer to the edge. He pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices. "Do it," he growled, his eyes never leaving hers. "Squirt for me, Miyeon."

Her body responded instantly, her pussy clenching around the emptiness he'd left behind. The plug in her ass was a constant reminder of his claim, the pressure inside her building. And then, it washed over her - a wave of pleasure so intense that she couldn't contain it. Her pussy began to pulse, spurts of her juice squirting out, coating the alley's floor with a sweet, musky scent.

Y/N watched, his hand still on his cock, stroking it with renewed vigor. His eyes never left hers as he brought himself to the brink, her orgasm pushing him over the edge. "Cum with me, Miyeon," he said, his voice tight with need. "Together."

And with that, he thrust back inside her, his cock filling her completely. The sensation of being so full, so claimed, sent her spiraling into another orgasm. Her pussy clenched around him, her squirt mixing with his pre-cum as he drove deep, his movements punctuated by the sound of their bodies slapping together.

He picked her up, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. Miyeon wrapped her legs around his hips, her feet dangling in the air as he fucked her against the wall. The cold brick pressed into her back, adding to the sensation as he moved within her. She could feel the plug inside her shift with each stroke, the pressure building until she was sure she would shatter.

"Ahh, so full," she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt him swell inside her, his cock thickening even more. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he came, his seed spurting into her womb, filling her completely.

Miyeon's body responded in kind, her pussy clamping down on him as she squirted around his cock. The feeling was overwhelming, the intensity of their shared climax making the world around them fade away. They remained like that, locked in their passion, for what felt like an eternity.

When it was over, Y/N's arms remained around her waist, supporting her trembling legs. They both panted, their breaths mingling in the cool air. He leaned in, kissing her gently. "You're amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

Miyeon couldn't help but smile, her body still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure. "So are you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. They stayed there, their bodies joined, for a few more moments, basking in the afterglow of their love.

As they pulled apart, Y/N tucked his cock back into his pants, his gaze never leaving hers. He helped her stand, his eyes lingering on the wet spot between her thighs. "Let's go back to the hotel," he said, his voice low and filled with promise. "We've got more exploring to do."

Miyeon nodded, her heart racing with excitement. She knew that there would be no going back to the innocent girl she was before she met him. But she didn't care. With each new experience, she felt herself growing, becoming more of the woman she was always meant to be. And she knew that with Y/N by her side, she could conquer the world.

They walked out of the alley, the city's noises rushing back in. But it was different now - the world had shifted on its axis, and nothing would ever be the same. They were no longer just two people; they were a force to be reckoned with, a symphony of desire and passion that could never be silenced.

The hotel lobby was a blur of marble and chrome, the chandeliers glinting in Miyeon's eyes as they made their way to the elevator. She was acutely aware of the plug in her ass, the throb of it reminding her of their earlier escapade with every step she took. Y/N held her hand, his grip firm and reassuring, as if he knew the tumult of emotions swirling within her.

The elevator ride was silent but for the faint sound of their breathing, the anticipation palpable. When they reached the room, he didn't even bother to close the door behind them before he pinned her against the wall, his mouth on hers in a searing kiss. His hands roamed her body, tracing the lines of the nipple clamps and the plug, his touch sending shivers through her.

Miyeon's hands moved to his shirt, frantically working the buttons free. She needed to feel his bare skin against hers, to reaffirm that this was real. Her fingers danced down to the waistband of his pants, finding his cock, already hard again. She stroked him through the fabric, his groan urging her to go further. He pulled away from her, his eyes smoldering with desire as he reached for the zipper of her jacket.

In one swift motion, he stripped her of the oversized garment, the nipple clamps digging into her sensitive flesh as they swung freely. He took in the sight of her in the black lace lingerie, his gaze lingering on her erect nipples and the wetness staining the crotch of her thong. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

With trembling hands, Miyeon helped him remove the clamps, the sudden release making her gasp. The sting of pain was quickly replaced by a rush of blood, making her breasts feel even more sensitive. Y/N discarded the clamps on the floor, his eyes never leaving hers as he hooked his thumbs into her thong and pulled it down, exposing her to him once more.

He reached behind her, his fingers sliding along the base of the plug. "Ready?" he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. She nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as she braced herself. And with one swift motion, he pulled the plug from her, the sudden emptiness making her whimper.

"Ahh," Miyeon said, her body shivering with the loss of the intrusion.

"Suck my dick, Miyeon," he said, his voice a command that she couldn't resist. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees before him, her eyes never leaving his. He stepped closer, his cock mere inches from her face. She could feel the heat radiating off him, could almost taste the desire that coated the air.

Miyeon leaned forward, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip of his cock. He was already hard, the evidence of his desire for her gleaming in the soft light of the hotel room. She licked all the way down the shaft, her tongue tracing the veins that stood out in stark relief against the velvet skin.

"Yeah, Miyeon, just like that," Y/N groaned, his hands tangling in her hair. He guided her head, showing her the rhythm he liked, the depth he craved. She took him in her mouth, her throat working to accommodate his length as she swallowed him whole.

He watched her with a mix of awe and desire, her eyes watering slightly but never leaving his. "You're a natural," he murmured, his voice tight with pleasure. "So eager to please me." His praise sent warmth through her, bolstering her confidence. She took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the tip of his cock as she took him back out.

The sound of her sucking grew louder in the quiet room, the only other noises their heavy breaths and the faint "gluk glukk gluk" of her saliva. She felt the pressure building in her jaw, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the way he was looking at her, the way his hips began to rock slightly, urging her to go faster.

Y/N grabbed her hair, his grip firm but gentle as he started to set a rhythm. Miyeon's eyes watered as he picked up the pace, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth with increasing speed. She could feel the muscles in her throat contracting around him, her eyes fluttering shut with the intensity of the sensation.

His hips began to move in time with her bobbing head, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Miyeon felt a thrill run through her, knowing that she had him right where she wanted him. His breath grew ragged, his grip on her hair tightening as he approached climax. She moaned around him, the vibrations sending a shiver down his spine.

"Miyeon, baby," he grunted, his voice strained. "You're going to make me cum." She nodded, eager to taste him, eager to show him just how much she wanted this. Her mouth moved faster, her cheeks hollowing with each suck. His eyes rolled back in his head, his body tensing as he reached the peak.

And then, with a strangled groan, he came, his warm cum spurting into her mouth. She swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him as he filled her throat. His grip on her hair loosened slightly, his body going limp with the force of his orgasm.

Miyeon looked up at him, her eyes shining with satisfaction. He leaned down, kissing her deeply, the taste of himself still lingering on her tongue. "You're perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

With a gentle tug, Y/N led her to the couch, his cock still hard and demanding. He laid her down, her legs spread wide, the damp fabric of her lingerie clinging to her skin. "Now," he said, his voice a low growl, "I want to feel you all around me."

He slid into her, his cock filling her pussy in one smooth stroke. She gasped at the sensation, her body tightening around him. He began to move, his hips setting a steady rhythm that made the couch creak in protest. "Your dick feels so good," she moaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and amazement. "So...so good."

Y/N's eyes never left hers, his expression one of pure hunger as he fucked her. "Your pussy," he ground out, "is so tight, Miyeon. So wet." He leaned in, his teeth grazing her ear. "I can feel how much you want to cum."

Miyeon's hips bucked against him, her pussy clenching around his cock as she neared the edge. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whisper. "I need to cum."

Y/N's movements grew more urgent, his strokes deeper, harder. "Cum for me," he growled, his own need echoing in his voice. "Show me how much you like my cock."

Her body responded to his words, the pressure building until she couldn't hold back any longer. "Ahh, I'm cumming!" she screamed, her body shuddering with the intensity of her orgasm.

Y/N watched her, his own climax building. "Again," he demanded, his voice strained with effort. "Cum for me again." And with a few more powerful thrusts, she did, her pussy spasming around him as she screamed out his name.

The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking - the slap of skin on skin, the wetness of her pussy, the harshness of their breathing. And through it all, Y/N remained focused on her, his eyes never leaving hers as he brought her to peak after peak.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he slammed into her, his cock pulsing as he reached his climax. He filled her with his seed, the sensation sending her over the edge once more. They clung to each other, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their shared release.

For a moment, the world outside the hotel room ceased to exist. There was only the two of them, their bodies joined, their hearts beating as one. And as they lay there, gasping for breath, Miyeon knew that she had found something special, something she had never even dared to dream of.

Y/N pulled out, his cock slipping from her with a wet sound that made them both shiver. He leaned in, kissing her softly as he wrapped her in his arms. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice a promise and a declaration.

Miyeon nodded, her eyes shining with love and lust. "I'm yours," she said, her voice a soft echo of his.

With a smirk, Y/N picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He carried her to the kitchen, the coldness of the marble countertop a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies. He set her down gently, his cock still hard and demanding. "I want to feel your tight pussy on my dick," he said, his voice a low growl.

Miyeon leaned back, her hands braced on the counter as he positioned himself at her entrance. With one firm thrust, he was inside her, her wetness coating him as he filled her completely. She gasped, her nails digging into the counter as she felt him stretch her open. "Ahh, so good," she moaned, her hips rocking back to meet him.

Y/N leaned over her, his hand cupping her face as he kissed her deeply. "You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and amazement. "Your pussy is perfect."

Miyeon's eyes never left his as he began to move, his cock sliding in and out of her with a delicious rhythm that made her toes curl. "Your dick is so big," she whispered, her voice filled with awe. "It feels so good inside me."

Their bodies moved together, a dance of passion that had been building since the moment they'd met. The kitchen was now their stage, the gleaming appliances the only audience to their love. Y/N's hips snapped against hers, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her body. "I want you to cum," he said, his voice tight with his own need. "Cum all over my cock."

And Miyeon did, her body bowing as she shuddered with the force of her climax. She screamed his name, her pussy contracting around him as she squirted all over the counter. The sensation was like nothing she'd ever felt before, a mix of pleasure and power that left her breathless.

Y/N watched her, his eyes dark with lust. "Again," he said, his voice a demand that she couldn't refuse. He began to pound into her, his strokes deep and unrelenting. She moaned, her pussy clenching around him as she neared the edge once more. "Y/n, it's so good," she panted. "I'm going to cum again."

And she did, her body trembling with the intensity of her orgasm. He followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his cum. They remained like that, their bodies joined, for a few moments longer, the kitchen a testament to their passion.

When it was over, they both leaned against the counter, panting and smiling. "That was amazing," Miyeon whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

Y/N leaned in, kissing her softly. "It's just the beginning," he said, his voice filled with promise. "We've got all night."

With that, he picked her up again, carrying her to the balcony. The cool evening air kissed her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. He set her down on the edge of the railing, her legs draped over the side. She could feel the cool metal against her back as he positioned himself between her thighs, his cock pressing against her already-soaked pussy.

He pushed into her, filling her completely. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice a low rumble. "So tight."

Miyeon gripped the railing, her knuckles white with the effort of holding on. She could feel the cool air against her bare skin, the sensation heightening every stroke he made inside her. "It feels so good," she whispered, her voice a moan of pleasure. "Your dick is so big."

He began to fuck her in earnest, his hips pistoning into her with a rhythm that made her toes curl. She could feel his cock stretching her, filling her up until she was sure she couldn't take any more. "You're so wet," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Your pussy is begging for it."

Miyeon nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "It's so eager," she said, her voice breathless. "It wants to cum."

"Cum for me, Miyeon," he urged, his strokes growing faster, harder. "Let me feel you squirt all over me."

And with that, she did. Her pussy clamped down on his cock as she came, her juices spurting out over the balcony. She could feel the wetness running down her thighs, the sensation making her even more sensitive.

Y/N watched her with a smirk, his own need building. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command. "Keep going."

Miyeon's body responded, her hips moving in time with his. She could feel another orgasm building, her pussy tightening around his cock with every thrust. "Ahh, Y/n," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. "It's so full."

"Your pussy is so tight," he said, his voice strained. "It's like a fist around my dick."

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she came again, her body shaking with the force of her climax. The sensation was almost too much to bear, but she didn't want it to end. "More," she begged, her voice a whimper. "I need more."

Y/N's eyes narrowed, his strokes becoming more urgent. "You're going to get it," he promised. And with one final, powerful thrust, he reached his own climax, filling her pussy with his cum.

They stayed there for a moment, their bodies joined, the sound of their heavy breathing the only noise in the night. And as they looked into each other's eyes, Miyeon knew that she had found something that went beyond the confines of a simple vacation fling. This was something real, something that could last.

"Y/n, my pussy," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming his name. "It's sore." But even as she said the words, she felt a thrill run through her. The pain was a reminder of the pleasure they had shared, a badge of honor that marked her as his.

Y/N's only response was to kiss her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth as his cock remained buried deep within her. He didn't care that she was sore, that her pussy was tender from his relentless pounding. All that mattered was the desire that still burned between them, a need that seemed to grow with every passing moment.

He picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom. The soft light from the lamp cast a warm glow over their entwined bodies as he laid her on the bed, the sheets a tangled mess from their previous encounters. He positioned her so that her legs dangled over the side, her pussy open and inviting.

Without a word, he slid into her again, her moan of pleasure muffled by the kiss. His strokes were slower now, more deliberate, as if he were savoring every inch of her. And Miyeon, despite her protests, couldn't help but arch her back, her hips meeting his thrusts as she sought her next release.

They fucked like that for hours, Y/N's cock never leaving her pussy except to tease her clit or slide into her ass. She came over and over, her body a symphony of sensations that she had never before experienced. Each orgasm was a crescendo of pleasure that left her trembling and weak, her voice nothing but a series of incoherent cries.

In the window, her body was bared to the night, the cool breeze whispering over her skin as he took her from behind. In the bathtub, the warm water lapped at their bodies as he pounded into her, her cries echoing off the tiles. And in front of the corridor, the risk of being caught only added to the excitement, the possibility of discovery making her pussy clench around him even tighter.

The hotel room became their playground, each corner a testament to their passion. The bed creaked under their weight, the couch bore the marks of their desperation, and the floor was sticky with their mixed juices. And still, Y/N didn't stop. His stamina was like that of a creature from myth, a beast that feasted on her desire and grew stronger with each passing moment.

As dawn approached, Miyeon's voice was nothing but a series of breathless gasps. Her body was a canvas of pleasure, painted with sweat and the evidence of their love. But she didn't want it to end. With each new sunrise, she felt herself changing, growing more and more into the woman she was always meant to be.

And when the sun finally peeked through the curtains, they were still at it, their bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time itself. The soreness was forgotten, lost in the haze of their shared ecstasy. And as the first light of day bathed the hotel room, they collapsed onto the bed, their hearts racing and their bodies sated.

Miyeon looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and lust. "More," she murmured, her voice a mere whisper. And Y/N, his body still hard and ready, smiled down at her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Always," he promised, his voice a low growl.

And with that, they drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating in unison. They had conquered the night, claimed every inch of the hotel room, and each other. And when they woke, the world would be theirs to explore once more, their love a beacon that could never be dimmed.

Days turned into nights and back again as they reveled in their newfound freedom. Y/N had become more than just a lover; he was her confidant, her guide, her everything. And with each passing moment, their bond grew stronger, their desire for one another insatiable. They fucked in every corner of the hotel suite, leaving a trail of passion in their wake.

The time came when Miyeon had to prepare for her flight back to Korea. The thought of leaving him was a knife to her heart, but she had an idea. "Y/n," she said, her voice soft and filled with hope. "Will you come back to Korea with me? Be my personal assistant. That way, we can be together all the time."

Y/N looked down at her, his eyes filled with love and lust. "I'll do anything for you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. And with that, he nodded, sealing their fate together.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of excitement and nerves. They fucked in the back of the limo on the way to the airport, the thrill of the unknown driving them closer together. And once they were back in Korea, nothing changed. Y/N was by her side, fulfilling his duties as her personal assistant and her lover with equal passion.

After each concert, when the screams of adoring fans had faded into the night, they'd sneak away to the quiet solitude of her dressing room. There, amidst the glitter and chaos, he'd peel away her stage costume, his kisses leaving a trail of fire on her skin. He'd fill her up, his cock claiming her once more, reminding her that she belonged to him, and he to her.

Their secret love affair grew with every day, every touch, every whispered promise of more to come. They'd steal moments in the green room, his hand slipping into her pants as they talked over the day's schedule, her body tightening around his fingers as she struggled to keep her composure. And in the quiet of the night, when the world outside was fast asleep, they'd explore each other's bodies with a hunger that never waned.

In the bustling city of Seoul, they found their own brand of nirvana. Y/N would take her to secluded places, his cock buried deep inside her, as they made love in the shadows. The thrill of discovery, the danger of being caught, it all added to the allure. They were unstoppable, a force that could never be contained.

And so it went, their lives a tapestry of love and lust, of passion and desire. Every day was a new adventure, every moment a chance to push the boundaries of their love. They were bound by something far stronger than duty or obligation, a connection that transcended the ordinary.

In the end, it was clear that this was no fleeting fling, no holiday romance. This was something real, something that would last. And as Miyeon looked into the eyes of the man who had claimed her body and soul, she knew that she had found her home.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "For making me feel so alive."

Y/N kissed her softly, his hand tracing the line of her jaw. "The pleasure is all mine," he said, his voice a promise. "Forever."

Their story didn't end with the final beat of the tour or the closing of the hotel room door. It was just the beginning of a love affair that would span continents and conquer hearts. And as they stepped into the bright lights of their future together, Miyeon and Y/N knew that nothing would ever be the same again. They had found in each other a love that was as fierce as it was tender, a bond that was unbreakable.

[songmingisthighs]

Birthday Baby Wish

group : ateez

pairing : dad!yeosang × mom!reader

genre : smut

wc : 2.9 k

warning : mature, mdni, explicit sex; impregnation kink, piv sex (obvi), unrpotected sex (obvi), dirty talk, slight asphyxiation ? (not choking but the position makes it hard to breathe), nasty shit idk (not baby poop just... the process of making a baby), yeosang wants another baby

a/n : i'm finally doing another special birthday post for a member and y'all can blame not only my cycle but also kang yeosang for existing because how fucking dare he

buy me coffee ?

Yeosang's birthday party ended rather spectacularly, and following the group's hangout tradition, Yeosang foiled Wooyoung's kidnapping attempt, and he had to resort to wrestling him for his daughter. Wooyoung really did take advantage of Yeosang being preoccupied as he actually managed to get to the elevator before Yeosang realized.

After everyone left, you immediately started cleaning up while Yeosang spent a much needed time with his daughter.

Yeonhee's eyes were fluttering close, and Yeosang was just standing there, cradling his baby while looking at her in awe. She was already seventeen months old at that point, but Yeosang still couldn't believe that she was there with him. Since the moment she was born, Yeosang tried his best to spend every single moment with her. Even when you both were implementing the family bed, Yeosang would sometimes find himself spending at least an hour just staring at Yeonhee, comparing her features to yours and also with him, wondering who she'd look like more when sh'e older. So when you both agreed that it was time for Yeonhee to start sleeping in her own room, Yeosang immediately volunteered to be the one to tuck her in every night. That way, he would be able to admire her as much as he wanted. How could he not? He would watch the way she held onto his fingers with her more stubby ones, the way she was breathing oh-so-calmly in his arms, feelings built up and overpowered Yeosang, and it felt like he was going to explode. Realizing that if he stayed any longer he might do something to wake her up, he carefully placed Yeonhee in her crib, giving her one last kiss before quietly leaving.

He found you in the kitchen, scrubbing away the last of the dirty dishes, and he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist from the back.

"God, Yeosang! You scared me!" you lightly scolded, smacking the arm around your waist with your soapy hand, "Did you put the little princess to bed?" At the mention of his princess, Yeosang buried his face in your shoulder and let out a squeak, "Unfortunately, I did," he sighed. You raised an eyebrow at him, "Unfortunately? Baby, she needs her rest, did you not see how she was playing with Wooyoung? Had she stayed up any longer she'd be super cranky and we'd be dealing with her tantrum all night," you pointed out. Yeosang lifted his head and placed his chin on your shoulder. "Well, can you blame her for being excited? Wooyoung matches her energy because he's practically a toddler with a job, so of course, she'd be happy to have a playmate," he stated.

You couldn't help but purse your lips slightly, quietly agreeing to his point that your daughter does seem like she could benefit from having a steady playmate. But you said and did nothing other than putting the last of the dishes up on the drying rack and taking your gloves off.

"So I was thinking," Yeosang started, clearing his throat slightly while playing with the fabric of your apron, "You know... Since it's my birthday a-and usually we do... Things, things I want on my birthday... So..." You knew where this was going, and frankly, you were at the point of waiting for Yeosang to communicate his desire to you. You've seen the way Yeosang look at his daughter, and you've seen the long look he sported when he saw a big family walking by. You both had a deal of having two kids or three max, after talking him down from his insane baseball team-sized family, courtesy of Yunho. Though an understanding was established, you two were waiting for the perfect time. At least, that's what Yeosang was doing; you were just waiting for him to assert himself. Knowing Yeosang, he needed the push to make what he wanted known. Still, you think you deserve some fun watching him squirm to get his point across.

"So... What?" you asked nonchalantly, but a faint smirk made itself present on your face. Yeosang groaned and turned your body around, "I think we're ready for another baby," he said confidently, though a slight blush was present on his cheeks. "Really? So that's your birthday sex wish? To knock me up again?" You were taunting him slightly, but you had to admit, even the mere words made you clench. That and also the thought of how different Yeosang become when baby making is involved. You didn't know what exactly it was, but Yeosang practically became a different man; more pointed, more confident, more cocky.

Yeosang sharply exhaled from his nose, making it known that he, too was affected by your words. His hands skimmed up your body and rested on your waist, firmly holding with his big, strong grip that made your breath hitch. "My birthday wish, dear wife, is for us to have sex all night long until there is no doubt that you're pregnant," he leaned in and brushed his lips lightly against the skin of your cheek, "And we're starting now."

A squeal left your lips when Yeosang suddenly hauled you over his shoulder, and it was at that moment you understood, admired, and fully supported his dedication in the gym because he managed to make carrying another human your size very effortless.

Yeosang dropped you on your shared bed and immediately caged you under him. He hovered above you for a while, scanning your figure with hunger in his eyes, a purpose, a goal. Soon, he leaned down and started kissing you from your forehead, down to your cheek, the corner of your lips, your collarbone, and then stopping at your stomach. He inhaled deeply as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up, causing you to shudder when you felt his lips start nipping at your exposed skin. "Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you are when you're pregnant?" he muttered against your skin. You raised an eyebrow at him as you ran a hand through his soft, silky hair, "Are you saying I'm not breathtaking when I'm not pregnant?" Teasing him further, you pulled up your knees so your feet were planted on the bed, trapping Yeosang's figure between your legs. Your skirt rode up, and it immediately caught Yeosang's eyes, which followed the way the flowy end pools at your hip, allowing him to peek into your red lacy underwear. "Not even when I'm like this?" you faked pouted at him. Yeosang's breathing immediately stuttered, and his face became even redder. You had been together for years already, so it was kind of embarrassing how he still blushed like a virgin seeing you in such a position.

Reacting to your taunts, Yeosang moved his hands into your underwear through the seams at the apex of your thighs. His thumbs immediately found purchase to your clit as they began gently massaging it while the other poked into your opening just a bit lower. Your eyes closed at the sensation but your mind was only completely disabled when Yeosang started sucking marks into the soft skin of your stomach. With each movement of his hand, you felt yourself getting wetter and the more Yeosang worked on you, the more pliant you became, moving your hips along with his movements.

"Honey, you always look breathtaking to me, but when you have my baby inside you?" you yelped when he suddenly took your skin between his teeth, "It was a miracle that we were able to get out of bed every morning," he smirked. "F-fuck, I know what you mean," you moaned when Yeosang pressed harder into your clit. "Do you know what I missed most about your pregnancy?" Yeosang asked as he slowly crawled up your body. You couldn't even answer him verbally as you were so clouded with pleasure, so you were only able to shake your head. "I miss how extremely horny you are, you get so wet and it just drives me crazy," Yeosang moaned as the thumb that was at your entrance turned into two fingers slipping inside. "F-fuck!" you gasped when he started pumping into you sloppily, spreading your arousal all over your pussy lips which made your underwear stick to you. "Not to mention you were always trying to jump my bones, and who was I to deny the mother of my child?" Yeosang chuckled as he pulled himself away from you, causing you to whine and whimper, "It's amazing how much I would give you after you gave me Yeonhee. Now imagine how even worse I'll be when you give me another baby."

Without wasting time, Yeosang immediately pulled himself out of his jeans. You took a peek and you realized how hard he had been while teasing you. The tip of his cock was red and leaking pre-cum, and the slight breeze from the AC caused it to twitch as if uncomfortable waiting any longer. You were about to take your clothes off when Yeosang stopped you, "No time, baby, I need to impregnate you right now." Then all of a sudden he pushed your thighs to your chest and aligned his tip right at your entrance. "Are you ready?" for a moment his cockiness slipped and the usual caring Yeosang came back, wanting to be sure that you were okay before he could proceed. You smiled and nodded before you took hold of your thighs, opening yourself for him, "Yeah, I am."

In a split second, Yeosang's eyes darkened, and he thrust himself inside you in one swift move. The fullness made your eyes roll and your back arch, but you didn't even get to enjoy the feeling because Yeosang was already shallowly thrusting inside you, setting a slow pace at first but he was making sure that his hips slapped your bottom every single time.

"Fuck! I'll never get tired of this pussy," he groaned, licking his bottom lip while smacking you once in the ass. You yelped on impact, but rather than feeling pain, you simply clenched, forcing more arousal to leak out of you. "You better not, since we'll be having even more sex during this pregnancy," you huffed. Yeosang's cock practically twitched inside you at the mention or maybe even affirmation that after this you will definitely get pregnant. "Fuck, can't just say something like that so casually to me, baby," suddenly he pulled your hips up and slid a pillow under, giving you a new angle, "I might not hold back," he smirked before dropping down to rest his elbows on the sides of your head. The new position locked you in place what with having the back of your thighs on Yeosang's chest and your knees now resting over his shoulders. "Do you not want me to hold back?" Yeosang asked as he thrust in again. This time, you felt him so deeply thanks to your elevated hips. You moaned loudly at the feeling, and Yeosang took it as a sign to move again.

Setting a new pace, Yeosang thrusted into you with power and precision. You could feel the veins of his cock scratching against your gummy walls, sending shivers up your spine which caused you to tangle your hands into his hair. "Fuck, Yeosang!" you whined, a bit louder than you wanted to which worried you because your daughter was sleeping in the room just down the hall and there you were screaming like a whore. "Shh, shh, baby, you don't wanna wake Yeonhee up, do you?" Yeosang smirked, teasing the absolute hell out of you because he knew exactly how loud you could be. You couldn't even answer him clearly, so in an effort to minimize the chances of your baby waking up, you smashed your lips with Yeosang. The position and Yeosang's mouth on you took away your breath, literally. You were starting to get lightheaded in the best way. It felt as if you were in a different space that only had you and Yeosang in it. Everything, including all your senses, was filled with Yeosang, and it was electrifying. There was a battle for dominance in the kiss, which was futile because you knew very well that Yeosang was pulling all the shots as the person in the more advantageous position. It was the thought that counted and Yesoang played along, as if he wasn't putting you in your place.

The more Yeosang thrust, the more you could feel him inside you, to the point that you felt like his tip was kissing your cervix, opening you up more to prepare you for what's to come.

You pulled away from the kiss slightly and whimpered, "F-fuck, Yeosang, I'm so close!" "Yeah? That's good baby, cum first, you need to cum first so can you touch yourself for me?"

With slight struggle, you managed your hand down to rub at your clit sloppily. "That's it mommy, show daddy how bad you want to get knocked up," Yeosang grunted shakily, clearly incredibly turned on, "You can't wait to get filled up by your husband, do you? I'm sorry honey, I should be doing better as a husband and fill you up with my cum every night," "Y-yes, fuck!" You gasped, "I should always be f-filled with your c-cum," you whimpered, edging yourself closer and closer to the end. "Okay baby, okay, you better cum soon then so I can fill up your little cunt," Yeosang smirked, pushing his body off of you slightly so he could watch the way he was fucking you just right while you chase after your high. To aid you, Yeosang slipped his right hand under your shirt and into your bra, groping at your tits harshly, tweaking at your perky nipple. "Come on baby, cum for me, cum for me quick," he breathed, starting to feel his own climax coming. The pleasure from his hand on your chest shot straight to your pussy and your body convulsed; your jaw slacked, your legs tensed to the point of almost cramping, your toes curled, and your back arched high. Yeosang only slowed his movements down, allowing you to come back down from your high without losing his momentum.

"T-that was..." You drawled as your senses returned. Your legs felt like jelly and they slid off Yeosang's shoulders due to the lack of strength. "I know, I saw you climax," Yeosang smirked before he positioned your legs again, this time simply spreading them open as he picked up his pace. "But now is my turn."

Overstimulation started building inside you the more Yeosang chased his high. He was so close and your slick was aiding in him reaching deep into your womb. You felt yourself opening up to him and you almost screamed so you resorted to covering your mouth with your hand. Seeing all of this, Yeosang smirked as he panted, "Hold on, okay, baby? Just a bit longer and you'll be stuffed. Just a bit longer and you'll get my cum," he grinned. You used your free hand to grip his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin as if telling him that it was too much, that you were overstimulated to the point that it started hurting. "No, no, no, you can take it, even your body knew you can," he saw how your hips were still meeting his own despite your brain telling you that you had enough and it was making his mouth water.

"P-please," you managed to whine despite your mouth being covered. Yeosang's movements became more erratic, and his breath became uneven, telltale signs that he was on the verge of coming undone, and you saw how his body was starting to twitch. Seeing him like that stirred something in you, and your hand suddenly moved on its own, from his shoulder to the back of his head. You grabbed a handful of his hair and you tugged it back once. It was as if that one simple action was a lever because the moment Yeosang threw his head back, his hip completely stilled, his cock twitched inside you, and the dam was released. Ropes of white painted your pulsing walls and your eyes, and his rolled back from ecstasy.

Yeosang's body slumped forward on top of yours, strength left him completely at that moment but his hips still twitched as your walls that rubbed on his cock overstimulated him, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"You did so well, baby," he hummed, pecking you gently on your lips, making you giggle. "That's so vanilla of you to say after you fold me in half and hammer into me like a possessed jackhammer," you teased and he blushed, embarrassed with the way you phrased things, so he buried his face into your shoulder.

It took you about fifteen minutes to regain all your senses back and the first thing you thought of doing was to clean yourself a little. Just as you tried to push Yeosang off of you, Yeosang grunted and pushed his body up slightly. "What are you doing?" he asked. "I need to clean myself, Yeosangie," you smiled and tried moving again, but were stopped when Yeosang pushed you back into the bed whilst simultaneously sitting up on his knees, which took you by surprise. "You think we're done?" he smiled angelically, but when he suddenly peeled his shirt off, you sensed that he was far from done. "We're just getting started, baby. I mean, I think I mentioned something about fucking all night long until we're sure you're pregnant."

A gasp escaped you when you felt Yeosang slowly dragging himself out before pushing himself back in as equally slow.

"You better get comfortable in this position, baby, since this position might increase the chance of getting pregnant."

network :

@sandsofire @pirateeznet @kflixnet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @itasluv @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread

[itsnesss]

Hi lovely! I was wondering if you could do a lando norris x reader in the Miami gp 24' (based on the dts episode of him) where he is starting to have some self doubt because he is having a hard time beating max in the race so the McLaran team brings reader to talk to lando through the headsets/radio while he's racing and she encourages him to win but also says that other people's opinions about him shouldn't matter to him. And after all he ends up winning the race and reader is the first person lando finds after winning for the first time. Tyy

𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | lando norris × fem!reader

summary | lando, full of self-doubt during the 2024 miami gp, hears your voice over the team radio. your words push him to fight harder, he overtakes max and wins his first race

warnings | emotional vulnerability / self-doubt, slight angst, fluff, comfort, intense racing tension

word count | 1.4 k

🖇 more ln4 🖇 f1 masterlist

The Miami sun bore down fiercely on the circuit, illuminating every curve and inch of asphalt. The 2024 Grand Prix had kicked off with full intensity, and you were stationed at McLaren’s control center, watching with your heart in your throat as Lando fought on the track.

From the moment the race began, the battle for victory seemed destined to be a constant duel between him and Max Verstappen, the relentless champion.

But something about Lando worried you. Through the radio communications, you could sense a subtle change in his voice, a small crack that hadn’t been there before. He sounded less sure of himself, as if that spark that had always made him shine on the track was starting to flicker.

"Everything okay out there?" you asked calmly, trying to project confidence.

"I’m... I don’t know, not sure I can do it this time," he replied, a hint of doubt in his voice. "Max is too strong. I don’t know how I’m going to get past him."

You knew Lando was an incredible driver, capable of pure moments of genius. But you also knew that the pressure of facing a rival like Max could make even the strongest start to waver.

"Listen to me, Lando," you said, trying to make your voice both firm and comforting. "You have something Max doesn’t. It’s not just speed or technique. It’s you. Your heart. Your courage. Don’t let anyone’s opinion make you doubt that. You’re not what others say, you’re what you know you’re worth."

There was a moment of silence, then you heard him take a deep breath. You knew your words were reaching him, that they were starting to sink in.

The race continued, and with each lap, the tension rose. Lando seemed to be fighting not only Max, but also that inner voice whispering that maybe he wasn’t enough.

But you were there, on that invisible radio channel, reminding him he wasn’t alone. That someone believed in him someone who knew he could do it.

"Lando, focus on Sector 3. You’ve got pace, you can catch him on the straight. You have DRS."

The engineer’s voice was clear, but deep down, all he wanted was to hear yours again. Amid the heat, the speed, and the pressure, your voice had become his only anchor.

You came back on the comms, on direct order from the team principal. "Lando, listen to me. Breathe. You’ve done this before. You’re more than a stat or a podium. You brought yourself here. No one else."

From inside his cockpit, with his hands clenched on the wheel and his visor fogged from the heat, Lando closed his eyes for a second. Not enough to lose control but enough to let your words reach him.

"Don’t let Max live in your head," you continued, that mix of firmness and tenderness only you knew how to use. "He doesn’t live there. You do. Remember why you started. Remember who you are. Not to beat him... but because you never give up."

And then, something changed.

The next sector was clean, precise. Pure art on wheels. The gap shrank lap by lap. The pit wall erupted with data and strategies, but Lando wasn’t listening to the noise anymore. He was only listening to you.

On lap 54 of 57, he made his move. Aggressive, but smart. He tucked into the slipstream and, coming out of turn 11, he had him: DRS activated, he dove down the inside and

he passed him.

"Let’s go, Lando, you did it!" you shouted over the intercom, forgetting all protocol. You weren’t part of the technical crew, but in that moment, you were everything he needed.

"Thanks to you," he replied, voice breaking, barely audible beneath the helmet. "You have no idea how much I needed that..."

The final laps were the longest of his life. Not because of difficulty but because of restraint. He wanted to scream, cry, see you.

The team buzzed, fans went wild. Final corner. Final breath. Checkered flags.

"P1. Lando Norris. P1."

For the first time in his career, he crossed the line first, not by accident, not by luck. By merit. By fight.

And when the car stopped at the pit line, and he removed his helmet through tears and ragged breaths, he didn’t look for his engineer or his team boss.

He looked for you.

Mechanics surrounded him, applauding, lifting him onto shoulders while camera flashes exploded from all directions. But he barely registered their faces. It was all noise, confusion, and overwhelming celebration.

Until his eyes found you in the crowd.

You were there, headset hanging around your neck, walking quickly toward him, eyes shining with emotion and pride. You didn’t wear a race suit or technical gear, but you were more a part of the team than anyone.

Lando didn’t think. He broke free from the arms congratulating him, from the cameras trying to capture him. He ran to you as if the real finish line was exactly where you stood.

And you moved too because you knew what was coming.

You met halfway, right in front of the pit lane barrier. He wrapped you in an embrace so tight it nearly lifted you off the ground. His body trembled—not from physical effort, but from the emotional release he’d held in for 57 laps.

"You did it..." you whispered, burying your face in his neck, feeling the heat radiating from his race suit.

"No. We did," he replied, his voice cracking. "I couldn’t have without you. Really. Hearing you... saved me."

Slowly, you pulled back, just enough to look him in the eyes. His face was streaked with sweat and tears, still tense from the intensity but his gaze was clear. Free.

"Lando, win or lose, that doesn’t define who you are. People are always going to talk. But I see you. I always have."

He smiled. Not the usual media smile, or the cocky driver one. A real smile. Raw. Completely human.

"I promised myself that if I won… you’d be the first person I’d hug. And look at us. I didn’t let myself down."

He kissed your forehead, and for a second, the world disappeared. No roaring engines. No screaming fans. Just him, you, and the certainty that the day wasn’t about the trophy.

...

Drops of champagne still sparkled in his hair as Lando stepped down from the podium, the trophy in one hand, and that impossible smile still painted across his face. The British anthem still echoed through Miami’s loudspeakers, and you watched from the paddocksurrounded by media, crew, and curious onlookers. Everyone wanted a piece of that moment. His moment.

But not you. You just wanted to be with him. In silence. No cameras. No noise.

After the press conference, the photos with the team, and congratulations from drivers who finally saw him as more than just McLaren’s friendly kid, he slipped away.

He found you next to the hospitality unit, alone, a bottle of water in hand and your headset already packed away. Lando didn’t say a word. He just walked toward you slowly and, once close enough, set the trophy down and pulled you into his arms.

This time, the embrace wasn’t about euphoria. It was about relief. Intimacy. Belonging.

"Can we hide from the world for a while?" he whispered in your ear.

You nodded without a word, taking his hand.

You climbed into one of the team’s private rooms the one he used between sessions. No luxury. Just a couch, a ceiling fan, and soft sunset light filtering through the blinds. He stripped off his race suit down to his waist, leaving only his sweat-soaked black shirt, his neck still red from the heat.

You sat on the couch, and he dropped beside you, resting his head on your lap.

"You know something?" he murmured, eyes tired but joyful. "During that final lap, I wasn’t thinking about Verstappen. Or the trophy. I was thinking about how you’d look at me if I won."

Your fingers began gently combing through his damp hair, lowering his heart rate more than any cooling system ever could. "And how am I looking at you now?"

"Like I’m worth it. Not for winning. Just… for being me."

You smiled, lowering your gaze to meet his. "You’ve always been worth it. The rest is just... the consequence."

He slowly sat up, leaning in. His hands took yours, warm and soft. "Today, I felt like a champion. But with you… I always feel invincible."

And then he kissed you. Not a quick one. Not one stolen between pit stops. A deep kiss, honest, tasting of victory and salt. Of unspoken promises, clearly understood. Of staying together, through every race, every doubt, every lap.

Because the real finish line was never the checkered flag.

It was finding each other at the end.

[maskedbyghost]

Hiii

Can you write simon teaching 141 medic!reader shooting, shes doing another sidequest of hers and doing a sniper seminar so she’d be more qualified?

thank you for the request, hope you enjoy it <33 +18, mdni

You were only doing this because Price signed off on your little “extra training.” That’s what you kept telling yourself, anyway. He’d signed the paperwork with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, like he knew exactly what you were up to but wasn’t going to say a word about it. Maybe he did know. Perhaps they all did. But no one said anything, and you didn’t offer an explanation.

Because the truth was, you’d already been trained to shoot. You weren’t helpless. But this? This was sniper training. This was one-on-one sessions with Simon Riley, Captain Price’s most trusted weapon, and the walking, breathing, six-foot-something problem who lived rent-free in your brain.

And maybe you had a bit of a thing for the way he handled a rifle. Or the way he stood behind you like his entire body was built to take up space, or the way he always spoke low and slow like his words were meant for you and only you. Or the fact that every time he adjusted your stance or your grip, your skin burned for hours after, like your body couldn’t forget where he’d touched it.

“‘S not that different,” he said, standing beside you now, boots crunching lightly in the gravel, the sleeves of his shirt rolled to his elbows, and forearms flexing as he guided your hands into position. “Just longer range. More control.”

Of course he would say that. As if anything was that simple. As if your brain wasn’t short-circuiting every time his fingers skimmed over yours or his arm brushed your side. As if you weren’t biting down on your own tongue to keep from making a sound when he leaned in a little closer to fix your elbow, his body hovering just behind yours.

“Mmhmm,” you managed to let out a noise that was safer than actual words, because if you opened your mouth right now, you weren’t sure what might come out. You gonna keep touching me like that, or are you gonna take me to dinner first? was one of the many thoughts bouncing around your head, but you kept that one tucked away.

You’d handled weapons before. That wasn’t the problem. You knew how to shoot, and you could defend yourself. You’d seen blood and bullets and screaming, and you could handle all of that without flinching. But this? This was different. This was him. His hands, rough and warm, settling over yours like he’d done it a thousand times. His voice sends a ripple down your spine every time it hits your ear. His breath brushing your neck in the worst and best way possible—distracting, hot, intimate. Like he was doing it on purpose. Like he wanted you to squirm.

And God help you, you were starting to want him to do a lot more than that.

“Loosen your shoulders,” he muttered, barely above a whisper, as he leaned down closer behind you. “You’re too tense.”

You could feel his breath against the shell of your ear, the heat of it sending a shiver straight down your spine. You didn't move right away, and not because you didn't hear him, but because your entire body had locked up the second his voice dropped like that. He always spoke low during training, but this time it felt intentional. Like he knew exactly what it did to you.

“I wonder why,” you mumbled, not even trying to hide the edge in your voice as your cheek twitched with the effort of staying still.

He chuckled, barely a breath of sound, but it rattled you anyway. It wasn’t just the noise. It was the way he didn’t back off. He always stayed just close enough to toe that invisible line between professional and something else entirely.

He had to know; there was no way he didn’t. Not with the way he hovered behind you now, his shadow practically cast over your whole damn body, his chest close enough that if you moved back just slightly, your shoulders would be flush with him. You could feel his warmth, feel how solid he was, and your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it if he leaned in just a little more.

Then his hand slid around you to correct your grip. You didn’t breathe.

He could’ve done it quickly, efficiently, like it was just part of the routine. But no. He took his time. His fingers slid over yours, warm and rough in a way that made your stomach twist and your throat tighten. You could feel every ridge of his skin, the way his thumb pressed lightly into your knuckles, adjusting your hold like he’d done this a hundred times before. But you knew he was lingering. He didn’t need to keep his hand there that long. He just did.

“Try now,” he said, voice still right at your ear, almost too low to hear.

You swallowed hard and pulled the trigger, heart pounding, mouth dry.

The bullet hit dead center.

“Atta girl,” he said, and the way he said it proudly, like you’d done something so much bigger than just hit a damn target, made your whole body flush with heat. You swore to god, your knees almost gave out right there, which would’ve been impressive considering you were already on the ground.

You didn’t dare look at him. You couldn’t. Not with the way your body was reacting. Not with the heat still buzzing in your chest and your hands still tingling from his touch. If you looked at him now, you knew you'd do something reckless. Say something you couldn't take back. Reach for him.

Instead, you kept your eyes forward, jaw tight, fingers still clenched around the rifle, trying to act like you weren’t about to crawl out of your own skin just from a single fucking training correction. Trying to breathe like you weren’t one second away from turning over, grabbing him by the collar, and pulling his mouth down onto yours just to shut him up.

You didn’t look. But you could feel his eyes on you. And that was almost worse.

Every training session was like that, too much and never enough, and you kept signing up for more like a glutton for punishment.

You told yourself it was about improvement, about getting more qualified. Building your skill set so you’d be just as valuable in a firefight as you were in a med tent. You told yourself you were just trying to pull your weight on the field. Being useful. That’s what you wrote on the form, and that’s what you told Price. That’s what you repeated to yourself every time you ended up flat on your stomach with a sniper rifle under your hands and Simon Riley kneeling behind you.

But it wasn’t that. It was him.

It was the way he leaned over your shoulder, not even touching you but close enough that the heat of his body wrapped around yours. It was the way he spoke quietly near your ear, letting his breath skim your skin. It was the way his hand always found yours, firm and patient, guiding you, correcting you, and lingering longer than necessary.

And God, it was the way he looked at you.

His eyes were always unreadable to you. But they would drift, just for a second, and always to your mouth. He didn’t do it every time, but often enough that you noticed. Often enough that it left you restless and sweating and fucked up for hours afterward, stuck replaying every glance, every inch of contact, trying to decide if you were imagining it. But you weren’t, you knew you weren’t.

You wanted him to do something. Anything.

Push you up against the nearest wall... grab your throat... pull your hair. Drag you somewhere dark and quiet and take you apart until your body forgets what it was like to be not touched by him. You wanted his hands everywhere. His mouth on your neck, on your chest, between your legs. All. Of. It.

You felt it in every session.

And he felt it too. You knew he did. There was no way he didn’t. You caught it in the way his voice would go lower when you got something right. In the way his hand would hover at your lower back like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you there, or maybe he wanted to and was trying not to. In the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking at him, his gaze was almost possessive, like he was trying to keep something locked up.

But nothing ever happened.

Not once.

Because neither of you said a word. Not about the glances. Not about the touches. Not about the fucking firestorm brewing every time you were within arm’s reach of each other.

You told yourself it would ruin everything.

The work, the team, and this rhythm you’d found with him, this delicate little balance of silence and heat and what-ifs.

You told yourself that so many times it started to sound like the truth.

But it wasn’t. Not really.

It was fear. It was control. It was both of you pretending like it wasn’t killing you just to be around each other and do nothing about it.

And eventually?

Something had to give.

It happened on the range, after hours, late enough that the rest of the base was quiet, the lights dimmed low, and the air had suddenly turned colder than it was all day, and it was just the two of you standing there in the open, no one else around for miles, the whole field stretching out in front of you.

You had just missed a shot, and not because you didn’t know how to hold the rifle steady or how to aim, but because he was behind you again, standing way too close and way too warm against your back, and your body couldn’t just act like it didn’t feel it anymore.

He hadn’t said a word this time, he just moved his hand slowly down the middle of your spine to fix your posture, like he’d done it a dozen times before during training, like it didn’t make your heart pound faster and your breath catch sharp in your throat.

That sharp breath slipped out of you, and suddenly his hand froze on your back, right between your shoulder blades, and neither of you moved for what felt like forever, because it was like all the tension that had been building between you for weeks, finally turned into something you could feel pressing on your skin, impossible to ignore.

You didn’t say anything, because you didn’t have to, he felt it too, and you could tell by the little twitch of his fingers on your skin and the way his breathing shifted just enough to make your whole body tighten with anticipation, you were both standing on the edge of something you couldn’t back away from anymore.

And then, faster than you could even blink, he moved, spinning you around so your back slammed against the edge of the table behind you hard enough to make the breath whoosh out of you, and before you could say a single word, his hands were tangled in your hair, pulling you close, and his mouth crashed onto yours without hesitation, full of hunger like he’d been holding back too long and finally decided he didn’t care about anything except tasting you.

His kiss was rough and desperate and messy, full of everything he’d been keeping inside, and it just exploded all at once.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him like you needed to anchor yourself because your head was spinning and your heart was racing too fast to think straight, and you kissed him back with everything you’d been trying to hold in.

He groaned low in his throat, as one hand slid down to your hip, pulling you against him, trying to erase every last inch of space between you, and you felt his thigh press hard between your legs, lifting you up against the table more, and the sharp little gasp you couldn’t stop yourself from making got swallowed up by his mouth again as he chased the sound.

It was just him, finally giving in—his hands everywhere, his mouth on you, nothing else mattered, and you didn’t even try to stop him.

You opened your legs wider, grabbed at the front of his shirt, pulling him closer because this was what you’d been waiting for, what you’d been wanting without ever saying it out loud, and now it was real, and there was no turning back.

His hands slid from your hips to your waist, fingers digging in like he was trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you, and he pulled you flush against him, voice low and rough as he whispered, “God, you don’t know what you do to me.”

You bit your lip, trying to catch your breath, your hands trembling slightly as they gripped his shirt tighter, and you managed to murmur back, “Neither do you.”

He smiled against your lips, just for a second, before crashing back down to kiss you harder. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, pulling him closer until you could feel his heartbeat pounding right next to yours, and you whispered, “Then don’t stop.”

He groaned and moved his hands to your thighs, lifting you just enough to push you back onto the table, the cold metal biting into your skin, but you barely noticed because every nerve ending was on fire. His mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath hot and heavy as he said, “Not a chance.”

You gasped when he pressed his body harder against you, and for a moment, the only sound was your breaths mingling, harsh and uneven, and then you said, voice shaky, “Simon, please.”

He paused for just a second, eyes dark as they locked onto yours, like he was reading every hidden thought and wanting to hear the words one more time, his breath catching just slightly before he whispered, “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

His hands moved slowly down your thighs, tracing fire along your skin, and you felt the tension building so thick you could hardly think straight, every nerve alive and screaming as his fingers pressed harder.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling around the edge of the table as he leaned down, his mouth trailing slow kisses along your jawline, every touch setting off sparks that made your whole body shiver.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your skin.

You bit your lip again, heart pounding so fast you were sure he could hear it, and you whispered, “I want you. I want you here, right now.”

A rough smile tugged at his lips as he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes burning with something raw, and said, “You’ve got me. Every inch.”

Then, without breaking eye contact, he slid his hands beneath your shirt, fingers warm and sure as they roamed over your skin, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

You gasped softly when his lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper, savoring every second, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you gave yourself over to the moment you’d both been holding back for so long.

There was no rush, no holding back anymore, just the two of you, caught in a storm of need and everything you’d been too scared to admit out loud, finally crashing down all at once.

“Tell me if I’m moving too fast,” he said between kisses, voice low, almost cautious despite everything. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

You shook your head, breathless and desperate. “No. Don’t stop. Just... keep going.”

His hands were already fumbling at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up slowly like he was afraid to rush, but you didn’t care about slow or fast anymore, you just wanted him. You helped him, lifting the shirt over your head, and then his hands moved to the buckle of your belt, fingers working it loose while your own hands started unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers trembling a little but steady enough.

The cold air hit your bare skin as your clothes came off piece by piece, until it was just you two, skin to skin, breath mixing in the quiet night.

He pushed your pants down, then you stepped out of them, heart hammering in your chest like a drum, while he peeled off his own shirt and pants, revealing skin that looked even warmer under the dim lights. You shivered, not from cold, but because the moment was real and so close to breaking apart the hold you’d both kept for too long.

His hands found your hips again, and he looked at you like he was trying to memorize every inch before he moved.

Then, without any hesitation, he pressed himself against you, sliding inside slowly, giving you just enough time to catch your breath before he started moving. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your nails digging into his shoulders as the fire inside you both built higher and higher.

His breath was hot against your skin as he groaned in your ear, voice rough like he was barely keeping it together when he whispered, “Fuck, you feel so damn good.”

You gasped, the sharp rush of pleasure making your chest tighten and your breath catch, and you started to move with him, hips pressing up, grinding against the heat of him as you couldn’t get enough, your fingers digging into the muscle of his back, pulling him impossibly closer until it felt like you were both melting into each other.

“Simon,” you whispered, voice shaking from the need and the sudden rush of everything crashing over you, “Don’t stop. Please.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement, his hands tangled in your hair, holding you steady while his hips started to move faster, harder, every thrust sending waves of fire shooting through you, and the feeling of him inside you like this, deep and relentless, was overwhelming, making you cry out loud, your nails raking down his back as the tension inside you twisted tighter and tighter.

You could hear his breath hitch in a ragged groan, the raw edge in his voice when he murmured, “You’re driving me crazy, yeah? You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

You shivered, your whole body trembling with need as your legs locked around his waist tighter, pulling him deeper, matching his pace because you never wanted this to stop, not even for a second, and then the coil in your stomach snapped, sending a wave of heat crashing over you so powerful you thought you might shatter, screaming his name like it was the only thing you could say.

He grunted deep in your ear, voice thick with his own release, burying himself deeper inside you, hands gripping your hips so hard you felt the bruises forming already, but you didn’t care, because you were both trembling and gasping, bodies shaking with everything you’d been holding in for so long finally pouring out in one furious, desperate moment.

You held onto him like your life depended on it, breath ragged, heart pounding so loud it was a drum in your ears, and he whispered against your skin, “Fuck, you’re mine.”

You smiled, dizzy with everything, and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, voice soft as you said, “Yeah... I know.”

And there was nothing left to say because you were both there, tangled up in each other on that cold table with the whole world shut out, everything finally right.

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[greenwitchfromthewoods]

"Don't mock me by acting so surprised. You had to know about my feelings for you." Joel Miller

Angry Confessions ❤️‍😠

bio : this story is part of the Angry Confessions series (you can still be a part of it)

requested by : anon , thank you!

warnings: one grumpy guy, a bit of angst but they finally get along

Everyone had their own patrol partner, and you had Joel Miller. The grumpiest, the most sullen, the one who made you feel like a stupid teenager even though you hadn't been one in a long time. Every patrol with him was filled with the same sentences:

"Don't go there. I'll do it."

"Slow down."

"Zip up your jacket. Do you have gloves? Damn, you should have brought them. Take mine."

"Be careful, your shoes are too slippery."

"Here, I'll do it."

There was always something you did wrong and Joel felt a huge need to help you. When you were on patrol with Jesse or someone else, you didn't get argued with as much, but Miller... Damn, he still didn't like something about you.

When you met in Jackson, he barely spoke to you, but when you mentioned that your faucet had been leaking for days and your neighbor couldn't fix it, Joel showed up at your door that same day with a box of tools.

"You should have come to me right away," he mumbled, not even looking at you, charming you into fixing the faucet.

There was something about him that drew you in and made you wonder if you should be around him at all. But those sweet brown eyes of his... Sometimes, when he looked at you, you felt like you were melting under his gaze. And you knew that with Joel, you were always safe. But most of the time...

“I don’t think she should come with us.”

You looked at Joel in surprise, then quickly moved your gaze to Tommy. He was surprised too.

“Why not? We need six people for this patrol.” you asked.

“Collin or Mark could go instead of you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Miller!” you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ve been in this area before, I know how to deal with it.”

“Your gun jammed recently.” Joel muttered, barely sparing you a glance.

You rolled your eyes. “That was once! I fixed it!”

“And I think…”

“I want to go with Jesse and Malcolm. I’ll be in their group.” you announced, moving towards the men.

Tommy looked between you and Joel until he finally shrugged. His brother seemed surprised by your decision, but decided not to say anything.

So you got all the information and were supposed to meet at the main gate in two hours. You took the opportunity to go home and put on an extra sweater, because it was a cold day.

Joel's words were still pounding in your head. How could he? He was treating you like a newbie. Like you couldn't handle anything and only he, the wonderful and wonderful Joel Miller, could protect you.

You were halfway through searching through your closet when you heard a knock on the door. You listened and the knock came again. The woolen sweater you were looking for finally found its way to your fingers and after putting it over your head, you went to open the door.

"Umm... Hi."

Joel. Joel fucking Miller. He stood in your doorway, adjusting the strap of his rifle, clearly intrigued by something.

"Hi. Did you come to tell me again that I'm no good for anything?" you asked rudely. Anger was still boiling inside you.

"W-what?" he frowned, surprised by your attack. "I've never said anything like that?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "No?! What happened with Tommy today?" you snorted, then started to mimic his words. "She shouldn't have come with us. Your gun jammed."

"That's what it was!" Joel tried to defend himself. That wasn't why he came, he wanted to explain what happened, but you attacked him from the moment you walked in. Like a scared animal that gets cornered and starts defending itself. "I care about you, okay?"

"What?! You're ignoring me! You make every patrol with you seem like torture. I don't know what I did to you, I have no idea, but you know what? I'll ask Tommy so you don't have to deal with me on patrol anymore."

Joel looked at you, completely surprised. It would have been quite comical if not for the emotions that were still boiling inside you. You were furious and even glad that he came, because you could finally tell him what you thought.

There would be no more patrols together. You would be free from him once and for all. But when his voice rang out, quiet and deep, you felt as if he had poured a bucket of ice water on you.

"Don't mock me, acting so surprised. You had to know about my feelings for you."

"About what?" you repeated. You were sure you heard wrong.

Joel sighed, slumping his shoulders. “You’re important to me, I just… care about you because I don’t want you to get hurt. Maybe I’m too harsh and I can be rude, but… I care about you. I thought you knew. And I don’t think you’re not cut out for this job. You’re damn good at it.”

You barely managed to say, "Do you really think so?"

Joel nodded. “I really like going on patrol with you. You’re always nice and kind. And when you talk to other people… Fuck, I wish I could talk to you like that.”

A strange warmth crept up your neck, and it definitely wasn’t a wool sweater. Suddenly, all the dots started to connect and you saw the concern Joel spoke of. Rough and sometimes unpleasant, but it was a concern.

“Wow… You surprised me,” you finally said, your tone much calmer. “I always thought you had a problem with me, and you just…”

Joel nodded. Finally, as if grappling with a huge problem, he asked, “Will you go with my group? I want to make sure… I mean, I know you can do it, but I’d prefer you to be close. If that’s okay with you?”

In a strange way, that was okay with you, so you agreed. “But on one condition.” Joel’s eyes lit up. “When we get back, you’ll go for a drink with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His smile could melt you like snow.

[excusetowrite]

Let Him In (6)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Summary: A leaked photo. A brutal spotlight. A boy too afraid to stand still. She faces the storm of public scrutiny with a red dress, a camera smile, and a fractured heart. Jack says he loves her. But not where anyone can hear it. And love means nothing if you're too scared to say it out loud.

Warnings: Minors DNI. This one is a little heavier, babes—no smut in this chapter but definite emotional damage. We’ve got social media bullying, body shaming, a leaked photo, and our girl spiraling hard. Also includes crying, panic, jealousy, possessiveness, and a boy who says “you’re mine” in the middle of a fight (I’m sorry. He’s a lil insane.) If any of that might hit too close to home, please take care reading. That said, this chapter is also full of red dresses, glam, best friend moments, and our leading lady trying to hold her head up while the world falls apart. If you love angst, you’re about to feast. I’ll see you in the stairwell. xo

Red Means Go

The second Hailee shut the door behind her, it was like the world tilted. I stood there for a beat too long, frozen, the image from her phone still seared into the backs of my eyes. My limbs felt far away. Like I’d been shoved underwater without warning, and everything above the surface was moving too fast to catch.

She’d tried to calm me down. Told me she didn’t know where it had come from—that it wasn’t being posted from one account, but passed around. Duplicated. Edited. Shared. She said she was working on it. That she’d talk to her team, that she’d come right back. I think I nodded. I think she squeezed my hand. But I couldn’t hold onto her words long enough for them to mean anything. They fell right through me, like pebbles dropped into a well.

The moment she was gone, I sat down hard on the edge of the bed, phone gripped in one hand like it might anchor me. But it didn’t.

It buzzed. Again. And again.

At first, I didn’t look. I knew I shouldn’t look. But I did.

My home screen lit up with notifications like warning signs. Texts from friends. My sister. My agent. Missed calls. A few voicemails I knew I wouldn’t be able to listen to.

My socials were worse. Hundreds of new likes and follows. Comments stacking by the second. A tag I hadn’t even seen before was trending.

His name. Then mine. Then both of us—cracked together in a single phrase, like we’d never existed apart. I clicked one post. Then another. The photo was everywhere. Slightly edited now. Cropped. Brightened. Frozen in time like a painting.

His mouth at my neck. My head thrown back. His hands where they shouldn’t have been—where they’d always found their way. My shirt pushed up just enough to tell the truth. The shadows of trees and water in the background, blurred but too specific. The worst part wasn’t that we’d been caught. It was that someone had waited. Saved it. Held onto it for months like a secret weapon—and decided today was the day to strike.

My fingers scrolled on their own. Comments blinked in and out.

“Is this her??” “She’s not even famous. Who the hell is she?” “Why her?” “God, she’s plain. He could do so much better.” “They look hot together tho.” “Imagine being her. I’d cry too.”

I was crying.

Notifications started popping up on my own posts at rapid speeds. One of my recent selfies had a hundred new comments.

“He’s been hiding this?” “She looks different here?” “She thinks she’s famous now lmao.”

Another post—me on set, smiling, innocent in a way that made my stomach hurt now—was flooded too.

“Her teeth aren’t even straight.” “Plain. Boring. Forgettable.” “No wonder they were hiding it.”

They weren’t just reacting to the photo anymore. They were dissecting me. I’d always known the internet could be cruel. But I didn’t think it would be this sharp. This specific. They weren’t just attacking what we had. They were attacking me.

They dug through everything. Pulled old pictures, screen-capped videos from set, blew up stills where I wasn’t even looking at the camera. Compared me to actresses he’d worked with. Models he’d never dated. One post had side-by-sides with some influencer in a bikini, captioned “Jack fumbled.” Another quoted something I'd said in an interview months ago—out of context, reworked into something pathetic. Someone edited one of my vacation photos, added fake text like a meme. Another circled my smile, pointing out a crooked tooth like it was a crime.

My face became content. My name, a joke.

I hadn’t known it was possible to feel so visible and so invisible at the same time.

Like I was being erased and scrutinized all at once.

I tasted salt in my mouth. My cheeks were wet, chest hitching. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t put the phone down.

Every post felt like a stone dropped in my stomach. My hands were shaking. A part of me kept looking for something kind—some stranger in the comments to say she looks happy or leave her alone. Something to hold onto.

But the deeper I scrolled, the more it slipped away.

I was unraveling. In real time.

My phone buzzed again.

For a second I thought it might be him. But it wasn’t.

I wanted to throw the phone across the room. Wanted to disappear. Instead I just curled tighter over the blankets, fists clenched in the sheets, breath coming faster. The walls were closing in, and I didn’t even notice the knock at first.

Not until it came again. Louder. Closer.

And then—his voice, muffled but unmistakable. “Hey. It’s me.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

The knock again. “Can you open the door?”

I stood slowly. My legs felt hollow. The phone was still in my hand when I opened it.

Jack froze in the doorway.

And I was still crying.

His brow furrowed the second he saw me—so fast it was like his face hadn’t caught up with the rest of him yet. He stepped inside slowly, like he was worried he’d break something just by coming into the room. Not a trace of his usual charm. Just tension and concern and the kind of panic that only ever came when it was me.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, voice rough. “I should’ve come sooner. I—I was getting calls. Too many. I didn’t think—” He stopped, swore under his breath. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” 

His eyes darted down to my hand, still clenched around my phone like a lifeline. I knew what was on the screen. I saw it hit him before he even asked.

“Oh, baby.” His voice was too soft. Like it hurt to say. He reached out gently, not even touching me at first—just brushing his fingers over the edge of the phone until I let it go. Then his arms were around me. And I collapsed.

I buried my face in his chest as the sob tore out of me—hot, loud, and ugly. The kind of cry that came from deep in the gut, from places that had been hurting too long. Jack held me tight, both hands pressing into my back like he could fuse us together, like he could squeeze the pain out of me just by being close enough.

His breath was shallow. I could feel it stuttering against the crown of my head. He was trying to hold it together. For me. But I could feel the fury under his skin. The tension in his arms. The way one hand moved up to cradle the back of my neck like he didn’t know whether to comfort me or go find someone to blame.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this.”

One particular sob made my knees buckle, but he caught me without flinching. Lowered us both onto the edge of the bed in one slow, careful motion like he was handling glass.

“I should’ve been here,” he said again, more to himself now. “I’m so sorry.” He pulled back just enough to look at me, cupping my face in both hands. His thumbs brushed over my wet cheeks, and he exhaled like he was trying to breathe for the both of us. “This is my fault,” he murmured. “They’re saying that stuff because of me.”

His eyes were shining now too, jaw flexing like he was holding something back. Something sharp and raw.

“I’ll fix it,” he said. “I swear. I don’t care what it takes.”

Jack held me for a long time. Long enough for my sobs to lose their sharpest edge. Long enough for the shaking to start fading from my limbs, replaced by a dull, aching exhaustion that made it hard to lift my head. His hand never left the back of my neck, his thumb tracing mindless shapes into my skin like he couldn’t stop touching me even if he tried.

Eventually, I felt him shift slightly. I thought he was going to say something, but then his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Again. And again.

He exhaled tightly through his nose, jaw flexing. “I should turn that off.”

I pulled back slightly, blinking up at him. “Is it bad?”

He moved to grab his phone from his pocket. “They’ve been texting and calling nonstop. My agent, manager, some PR people. They’re in damage control mode.”

His phone started ringing now, the sound making me jump. He sighed, reluctantly pulling back and looking down at the screen in his hand. “It’s my manager,” he muttered, jaw tightening.

I nodded, wiping at my face, but I didn’t look up. I didn’t want to see it—didn’t want to watch him disappear into the version the world knew. The version who weighed consequences instead of feelings. The one who had to weigh the cost of touching me.

He gently moved me before standing and crossing the room to the window, answering the call with a curt, “Yeah?” His voice shifted just slightly. Not fake, just careful.

I sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, looking at my phone screen light up every few seconds where it sat on the nightstand. The harsh words flashed through my head. I should feel sad. I just feel numb. I could hear fragments of the conversation—words like contain, strategy, fans, narrative. He didn’t argue. Not really. Just listened. Quiet, tense.

Eventually, he turned back to me, tossing his phone down on the bed with a sigh as he dragged his hand through his hair. 

“They want me to brush it off,” he said, slowly. “Say it’s just fans being fans. A rumor. Or a leak from set. Something vague. Laugh it off if anyone asks.”

He waited. Watching me. I stared at my hands, the floor, throat tight. 

Finally he came to kneel in front of me, head tilting to try and see my face. “They think it’s safer,” he added. “For you.”

That part was harder to hear. Not because it wasn’t true—but because part of me was now screaming that it wasn’t the only reason. Apparently, there were a multitude of reasons I should be kept hidden. 

He reached for my hands to gently still them. I hadn’t even noticed I had been anxiously picking at my fingers, my manicure now chipped at the sides and skin red. “Hey. What do you think?” he asked gently. 

I didn’t move my eyes from the floor. My voice came out thinner than I wanted. “If that’s what they think is best.”

He frowned. “That’s not what I asked.”

And here it was—that terrible ache again. That deep, crawling sadness I couldn’t seem to shake. I didn’t want to beg him. I didn’t want to be the one who said, Please, don’t pretend I’m nothing. I wanted him to want to say it himself. I wanted it to be easy. I wanted it to not have to hurt. But maybe that was too much to ask. Maybe I’d already asked for too much.

“Do what you have to.” It came out less convincing than I wanted it to. 

His posture shifted instantly, like he’d almost flinched. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. Instead I curled inward, laying down slowly on my side, facing the wall, like retreating might soften the blow. His head tilted, like he was about to say something—eyes searching for whatever he thought he was missing. “Hey, don’t—”

But his phone rang again, loud and cutting. He swore under his breath and looked at the screen like it had betrayed him. “Shit,” he muttered, then rubbed a hand down his face. “I have to take this. Just for a second.”

I didn’t answer. I just pulled the comforter around me and closed my eyes, already too tired to cry again. The AC clicked on with a low sigh, and only then did I realize how cold I’d gotten. It crept in like the rest of it—quiet, unnoticed, all at once. I drew the blanket tighter around me, like it might stitch the pieces back together. I could hear him talking, pacing the room, voice low and serious as he tried to sound collected. But his words blurred. The darkness crept in, thick and heavy, and the last thing I heard was him saying my name—soft and careful, like it was the only thing holding him together.

—

I woke hours later to the quiet hum of the hotel room, shadows cast long across the ceiling. The lamp was off. The city noise filtered in through the window, faint and distant. Jack was behind me, one arm draped over my waist, his body curled protectively around mine. His breath was warm at the back of my neck. I could feel his gaze on me. The kind that lingered. The kind that made my skin prickle with the ghost of touch. I didn’t move.

Then I heard him. Whispering.

“I should’ve said something. I should’ve done more.”

A pause. A breath. Then, softer, “She’s everything. I don’t know how to hold it without breaking it.” 

His fingers flexed lightly against my hip, and I felt his lips graze the back of my shoulder as he breathed the words like a confession. 

“I love you.”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet. Almost afraid. The first time he’d said it not in a letter or over the phone. He thought I was asleep.

So I stayed still.

And I let myself keep it. Just for me.

Just this once.

A single tear slipped down my cheek and into the pillow, silent as the words I couldn’t say.

—

The first thing I felt was warmth. Not sunlight—Jack. Solid and steady behind me, like nothing had broken.

His chest pressed to my back, his breath slow and steady at the base of my neck. For a moment, I let myself stay there, floating in the false safety of it. Just this. Just him. The weight of his arm around my waist. His fingertips brushing absently against my ribs like he was still holding on even in sleep.

Then it all came back.

The picture. The comments. The way I’d cried myself out. The way he’d held me like I was breaking and he didn’t know how to stop it. My eyes opened, slow and sore, and I blinked against the late morning light coming in from the window.

“Hey,” came his voice, quiet and low. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I was gonna let you sleep a little longer.”

I turned slowly, rolling to face him. His hair was a mess, his eyes rimmed red like he hadn’t slept at all. Still, he managed a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek.

“It’s almost time,” he said, thumb lingering at my jaw. “We’ve got a few hours, but you should probably shower before you go to get ready.”

I nodded, barely trusting my voice. He didn’t press. Didn’t mention the photo or the press or what he would—or wouldn’t—say. It hung there between us like a ghost. Something unfinished. But neither of us reached for it.

Not yet.

Instead, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Go on,” he murmured. “I’ll see you soon.”

When he left, I stood under the water for a long time. The water in the shower was too hot at first. I let it sting. Let it hit my back until the mirror fogged. Trying to imagine the day ahead without splintering again.

By the time I reached the suite where we were getting ready, Hailee was already there in a robe, her hair clipped up and half-curled. She turned the second I walked in, and I didn’t even have to say anything.

“Hey,” she said, arms already open. “C’mere.”

I went willingly.

She held me tight for a long moment. No questions, no pushing. Just the kind of hug that reminded me there were still people who didn’t want anything from me except me.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

I shrugged.

She pulled back, hands still on my arms. “I came back last night. To check on you. I heard Jack in your room and figured I’d let you two have your moment.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

She gave me a small smile. “Look, I know it sucks. People are mean. But they don’t know you. Not really. And today is still something you worked your ass off for. You have to enjoy it. Even just for a second.”

I stared at her. Tired. Frayed. “You think I can?”

“I think if anyone can pull off a red carpet moment after a personal apocalypse, it’s you,” she said, grinning.

I laughed. Actually laughed. She beamed.

That was when the team started filtering in—stylists, makeup artists, assistants with garment bags. The room filled with energy and noise, and for the first time in hours, I let myself get pulled into it.

Someone curled my hair while another lined my lips in a deep berry-red. I held Hailee’s hand while we had our lashes done, both of us blinking against the tickle of it. Our stylist unzipped our gowns—both red—and we squealed.

“We’re gonna look like the best kind of trouble,” Hailee said, spinning in her dress.

We took silly mirror selfies. Laughed too loud. Someone snapped a photo of us mid-laugh and I didn’t flinch. For a moment, I wasn’t the girl from the photo. I was just me. Actress. Friend. Human being.

After Hailee was called to get her shoes on, I paused in front of the full-length mirror. Really looked.

The dress hugged me like it had been made for this moment—like it remembered the girl who used to dream about premieres from her bedroom floor. My hair was swept off my face, soft curls pinned just right. The makeup was sharp without being heavy. I looked…hot. Glamorous, even. Like someone who belonged on the other side of the camera flashes. For the first time since the photo leaked, I didn’t feel small. I didn’t feel erased. I looked like a fucking movie star. Jack told me once that I looked dangerous in red. I didn’t believe him then. I almost did now.

I squared my shoulders a little, lifted my chin, and smiled, crooked tooth and all. 

We stepped into the hallway headed down to the lobby, and the cold air of the hotel AC kissed the heat off my skin. My heels clicked with every step, each one louder than the last. The whole cast was gathering now, publicists fluttering around like bees. Cameras already flashing in corners. I looked for him like I always had.

Jack stood near the entrance, dressed in a black suit cut like it was made for sin. He hadn’t shaved. His hair was still slightly messy. He looked unfair. And he was already looking at me, eyes full of admiration. He looked at me like I was the only thing he could see. Like it hurt not to touch me. Like he hadn’t stopped thinking about me since the second we’d left that bed. A blush creeped into my cheeks and I smiled shyly, looking down at the marble floor as I did so. 

And still, that voice in my head whispered: not enough.

Because no matter how much he looked at me like I was everything, I still didn’t know if he was willing to say it out loud.

The cast began to file outside, ushered into their respective cars. Mine was toward the back, grouped with the other girls. I glanced at Jack one last time as he stepped into his own.

He didn’t look away. Neither did I. Not until the doors closed between us.

The car rolled to a stop at the edge of the carpet, and everything went quiet. Not silent—just quiet, in the way a bomb feels right before it goes off. Like the air itself was holding its breath. I could hear muffled crowd noise outside the glass, flashes already starting, the pulse of bass from the speakers thudding like a second heartbeat. Hailee’s hand found mine in the dark.

“You ready?” she asked.

No. But I nodded anyway.

A publicist opened the door, and the lights hit me like heat. It was like stepping into the sun. Voices. Shouts. My name. His name. A thousand overlapping questions. We stepped out together, red gowns catching the light like fire. I straightened my spine and smiled.

You’re an actress. You can handle this.

I’d told myself that a hundred times over the past year. Before auditions. Before crying scenes. Before our first scene, when my hands were shaking and he looked at me like I was already his.

I could handle this. I had to.

The carpet stretched ahead like a gauntlet. Hailee and I posed together, then were separated by publicists pulling us toward interview stations, camera crews, press lines. I answered questions the best I could but mainly I was on autopilot—about the film, the shoot, my character. Most of the questions weren’t about Jack or the photo. Not really. The movie was the headline. My first big role. People smiled at me like they were seeing me for the first time.

But I still felt like a ghost of myself.

A new interviewer stepped in, asking about what it was like to step into such an emotionally layered role. I nodded, smiled, said all the things I’d practiced. But my eyes kept drifting just past her shoulder.

Jack was maybe fifteen feet away, mid-interview of his own, hands in his pockets, brow slightly furrowed in that familiar way. I watched the reporter lean in toward him, microphone tilted. My heart kicked. I tried to keep smiling, answering a question about what it had been like to film on location, but my ears strained.

“…leaked photo—any comment?”

My stomach went cold. The interviewer in front of me didn’t seem to notice. She was still smiling. Still nodding. But my pulse was loud in my ears.

Jack paused. Just a beat too long. Then I saw his mouth move.

“It’s just fans having fun,” he said. “Speculation. Happens all the time.”

It landed like a slap.

Not a lie. Not quite the truth. Just a soft dismissal. Polished and impersonal. My smile stayed on, but my chest went tight. He hadn’t looked for me before he said it. Hadn’t checked to see if I was close enough to hear. I was.

And for a second—just a second—I hated that I had been.

The reporter in front of me was still talking. I nodded, murmured something about learning a lot on set. I kept the mask on. My body did what it was trained to do. But the ache behind my ribs was something new. Sharp and specific in a way I hadn’t known I could feel. Because people weren’t asking me about us. Only him. And he got to decide what story they heard.

“Can I ask one more?” the reporter said, and I nodded. “There’s a lot of love for your friendship with Hailee online. How would you describe that relationship?”

That brought me back, a little. I smiled, softer this time. “She’s become my best friend. She’s…gotten me through more than she probably realizes.”

I hoped Jack heard that. I hoped he understood that not everyone had failed me.

Hailee was suddenly beside me again, looping her arm through mine like she felt the shift. Like she knew. Her hand squeezed mine gently. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. Not yet.

You’re an actress. You can handle this.

Hailee steered me across the carpet toward the staging area for press photos. “Almost done,” she whispered. “Just a few more shots, then champagne and oxygen.”

I let her pull me forward. The cameras were still clicking, flashes still popping. Someone behind us called for the cast to gather near the backdrop—a massive, screen-printed version of our movie poster. The PR team was herding people like sheep, trying to assemble some organized chaos before we lost the light.

I was trying to stay upright. Trying to breathe past the burn in my chest.

Then I felt it.

Jack’s eyes on me.

I didn’t look at first. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But something pulled me—gravity or masochism or maybe just the need to see if he meant it.

I turned my head.

He was already looking. Still in the black suit. Still jaw-droppingly beautiful in a way that made me want to scream. But his expression was unreadable. No smile. No softness. Just guarded. I hated that I couldn’t read him. Hated that he’d whispered he loved me and still said what he said.

I looked away first.

The cast began filing into position for the group shot. Hailee and I ended up toward one side, her arm still looped through mine. She cracked a joke about our dresses clashing with the backdrop and I laughed—louder than I meant to. Maybe because I needed to feel something that wasn’t this gnawing ache in my chest.

Then Michael stepped up beside me.

“Here comes your favorite co-star,” he teased with a wink.

I arched a brow. “Debatable.”

“Oh, come on. I made you laugh the most. I heard you tried to recast me with Jack once, but I forgive you.” His smile was sly and knowing. 

Then—his arm slipped around my waist like it had every right to be there, fingers settling just above my hip. Then sliding a little lower. The grip was playful, almost flirtatious. Like we were in on a joke no one else knew.

He leaned closer as if he were whispering something sensual in my ear. “Relax. Just giving them something else to talk about.”

The cameras snapped.

But Jack saw.

I felt it instantly—his gaze like a lit match against skin. My stomach twisted, pulse spiking. I didn’t need to look to know. I could feel him across the space like gravity.His head snapped toward us, shoulders squaring like a loaded spring. And when I finally glanced in his direction—

His expression wasn’t unreadable anymore.

It was furious.

Eyes dark. Jaw locked. Lips parted just slightly like he was halfway to saying something he shouldn’t. One of the publicists beside him flinched, like they’d picked up on it too. His whole body was coiled—one wrong move away from crossing the carpet. Away from wrecking the carefully staged image that surrounded him.

I stared at him, a challenge behind my smile now.

Because how dare he?

How dare he glare like that now, like I was the one stepping out of line? Like he hadn’t left me bleeding in a hotel room with a whisper of love and nothing else? Michael’s hand pressed a little lower, almost imperceptibly. And still, it jolted something loose in me—a memory, sharp and hot, of Jack’s hand there instead. The way he used to touch me when we were alone. The weight of his body. The sound of his voice when he said my name like it was a secret.

Six months of phone calls. Late night texts. Breathless voice notes. Whispered I miss you’s from across oceans. Him reading me poems. Us.

Not a fling. Not pretend.

And now I was just another rumor he had to laugh off.

I smiled at the camera.

Let him watch.

Let him think about what it would feel like if someone else really did touch me the way he had.

Let him stew in it.

The flashbulbs went off again.

And I didn’t look back at him again.

But I felt him watching the whole time.

—

The lights dimmed, and the opening credits rolled to a burst of applause. I sat frozen in my seat, the hum of excitement around me muffled beneath the weight in my chest. My eyes flicked down the row. Jack sat at the end, posture stiff, jaw clenched tight. He hadn’t looked at me since we came inside.

And then, halfway through the first scene, he stood.

He didn’t make a sound—just slipped out the end of the row, hands in his pockets, head down like he didn’t want to be seen. But I saw him. I always did.

And I knew he wanted me to follow.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I stood and slipped after him, heels muffled on the carpet, eyes burning as I passed rows of glowing screens. The second the doors shut behind me, the air changed. Quieter. Colder. The hallway outside was heavy with silence, the muffled pulse of the film still beating like a distant threat. I turned the corner and saw him at the end, one hand braced against the wall, the other dragging through his hair. He didn’t turn at first, even when he heard me. Just stood there with one hand in his hair, the other clenched at his side, shoulders drawn like a bowstring ready to snap.

“You followed me,” he said flatly, voice low and hoarse.

I stopped a few feet away. “What are you doing out here?”

He let out a bitter laugh, finally turning. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“You left the movie.”

“So did you.”

The silence after that was thick and hot. My pulse was in my throat.

His jaw twitched. “You didn’t have to let him touch you.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Michael,” he snapped. “Don’t play dumb.”

I scoffed. “Are you serious?”

He pushed off the wall, eyes flashing as he came closer. “He had his hand all over you.”

“Oh, my God,” I snapped. “Are you serious right now?”

He stepped closer. “I’m dead fucking serious. You think I didn’t notice? You think the cameras didn’t catch that too?”

“It was a photo op.”

“Don’t care.”

“Michael was trying to help.”

His laugh came sharp now. “By touching you like that? By putting his hand on you like you belonged to him?”

“He was trying to take the heat off me. Trying to give them something else to focus on,” I tried to explain, frustration seeping out with every word.

“I don’t give a shit what his intentions were.” Jack’s voice rose.

“He’s my friend.”

“He’s not your anything.”

My laugh was bitter. “Oh, but you are?”

His face darkened. “If he touches you like that again,” he said, low and dangerous, “I’m going to break his hands.”

I sucked in a breath. “You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

“The fuck I don’t,” he snarled, chest heaving. “You think I didn’t see him grab you like that? You think I don’t know exactly what he was doing? You’re mine.”

“Are you sure?” I snapped, voice rising. “Because you said I wasn’t.”

His mouth opened—but nothing came out.

“I heard you, Jack,” I continued, voice shaking. “I watched you say it. Like none of it mattered. Like I was nothing but another rumor you could laugh off.”

He stepped forward again, hand twitching like he wanted to reach for me but didn’t. “I thought—I thought that’s what you wanted.”

My stomach dropped. “You thought I wanted you to pretend I don’t exist?”

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Not like that. I just—I didn’t know what the right thing was. I didn’t want to make it worse. You said do what I had to—”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have to beg you to pick me.”

He flinched.

“I wanted you to want to,” I said, louder now. “I wanted you to want to say it. To be proud. I shouldn’t have to beg you to pick me. Not after everything. Not after the nights on the phone. The nights in my trailer. The woods. The way you would look at me like I was already yours. Tonight you didn’t even look to see if I was there before you sold me out with a smile.”

He took a step closer. His eyes were glassy now. Pained. He looked like he wanted to tear his own skin off. “I didn’t know,” he said, broken. “I didn’t realize. I thought I was protecting you—”

“By hiding me?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “By not ruining it.”

And suddenly, I saw it—all of it. The guilt. The fear. The grief. It was all there, barely restrained, crouching behind his eyes like it had nowhere to go. He looked at me like I was the only real thing he’d ever touched and he was terrified he’d break it. His hands were clenched at his sides like it physically hurt not to touch me. He didn’t know how to fix it. He hadn’t even realized it was broken.

He looked…stupid with love. And full of regret.

But it didn’t matter.

Not now.

“We’re not in the Mill anymore,” I said quietly. “We’re not Maggie and Remmick. I’m done pretending.”

I turned.

And this time, I didn’t stop.

Behind me, I heard nothing. No apology. No protest. Just breath—

Held. Shaking. Gone.

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

The Space Between 

bob floyd X fem!reader

THIS STORY IS TAKING PLACE WHEN THEY WERE IN HIGH SCHOOL SO ITS ONLY GONNA GO AS FAR AS KISSING. 

(Freshman Year)

The early fall air was still warm, but hints of October whispered in the shifting light that filtered through the classroom windows. It was just after lunch, the part of the day when everyone was starting to settle in—or daydream about the last bell.

Bob Floyd sat near the back of the room, quiet as usual, notebook open in front of him but untouched. The page stayed mostly blank, save for a few scribbled notes and a nervous little doodle in the corner he hadn’t realized he was making. His eyes kept drifting—again and again—to the girl two rows ahead of him.

He’d seen her in a few of his classes since the start of the year. English, history, now here in biology. Always sitting somewhere in front of him, always with that same gentle focus as she took notes or twirled her pen or pushed her hair behind her ear when it fell too close to her face. It was the little things he noticed first. The way she laughed with her friends, soft and kind. How she raised her hand to answer questions, not to show off, but because she actually cared. She never tried to be the center of attention—and maybe that’s why she felt like one to him.

Bob wasn’t bold. Not in the way people usually meant. He wasn’t the kind of guy who walked into a room and made his presence known. He stayed on the quieter side, letting his thoughts gather before he spoke, watching more than he jumped in. And that wasn’t a bad thing, not really—it’s just who he was. But it meant he’d spent the last month just… looking. Wondering. Hoping for something to give him a reason to talk to her.

Today wasn’t any different. Except something about the light, or the way she laughed just then with the girl beside her, made his chest ache a little. She was beautiful—more than that. She was magnetic in a way that made him forget where he was.

“You’re so obvious it hurts,” Jamie muttered beside him.

Bob blinked, pulled from his daze. “What?”

His best friend leaned back in his chair, smirking. “You keep staring. You’ve been doing it for, like, three weeks.”

“I haven’t—” Bob stopped, because he had. He knew it. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that,” Jamie said. “Come on, Halloween’s coming up. She’s definitely going to the party at the Millers’. You want her there, right? Talk to her.”

Bob shook his head. “I don’t even know her. And she probably doesn’t know me.”

“Bob.” Jamie gave him a look. “She’s seen you. People notice when someone looks at them the way you look at her.”

Bob swallowed, a flicker of heat rising to his neck. “I don’t… I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“‘Hey, I’m Bob. I exist.’ Something simple. You just need to say anything.”

Bob didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced toward her again—caught her mid-laugh, eyes bright. His heart skipped. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that made him so nervous. Maybe it was because she already seemed like the kind of person who could ruin him in the most beautiful way.

“She’s… really something,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Jamie sighed, like he’d been waiting for Bob to admit it out loud. “So go let her know.”

But Bob didn’t move. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to mess it up with something stupid and clumsy. He just wanted a moment—one real, genuine moment—to happen on its own.

⸻

The bell rang, snapping the spell. Students gathered their bags and shuffled out in a blur of laughter and noise. Bob moved slower than most, taking his time, sneaking one last glance at her. She stood, pulling her bag onto her shoulder, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear again. And maybe—just maybe—her eyes flicked toward him.

Just for a second.

And that second was everything.

———

Saturday evenings were Bob’s favorite. Not because anything particularly exciting happened, but because they didn’t require much of him. No school, no plans, no pressure. Just a walk to the little corner store near his neighborhood and maybe a pack of gum or a soda to sip on the way back.

He had just stepped inside—cool air brushing off the back of his neck—when he heard the jingle of the bell behind him and a soft scuffle of paws on linoleum.

“Oh, hey.”

He turned, blinking. For a second, his brain didn’t register what he was seeing. Then it did.

It was her. Her.

She stood just inside the doorway with a leash looped around her wrist and a small golden retriever puppy bouncing at her side. She wore a hoodie two sizes too big, leggings, and sneakers worn at the heel—casual, effortless, and still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

Bob stared. Not rudely, not intentionally, just… surprised.

“Bob, right?” she asked, smiling gently as she tugged her dog closer.

His heart did something dumb in his chest. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, I’m Bob.”

She smiled wider, clearly amused by his reaction. “I thought so. We have biology together.”

He swallowed, nodding. “We do. And, um… history. And English third period.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows raised, but not in a mocking way. “You noticed?”

Bob wanted to shrink into the tile floor. “I, uh… yeah. I mean, we’re in the same classes, so… it’s kind of hard not to, right?”

“Right,” she said, still smiling. Her dog sat now, tongue lolling, tail wagging like it was thrilled to be part of this moment.

Bob didn’t know what came over him—maybe it was the soft lighting, the surprise of hearing his name from her mouth, or the way her eyes actually met his and didn’t look away—but something made him blurt, “Are you going to the Halloween thing? At the Millers’?”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so. My friends are dragging me there.”

“Oh.” His voice caught. “Cool. I’ll, uh… I’ll probably go too.”

She grinned. “You should. I’d love to see you there.”

That knocked the air out of him.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, before he could second-guess it. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

She started to turn toward the snack aisle, tugging her dog gently. “Well, I’ll see you Monday, probably.”

“Okay,” he breathed, watching her go.

And then, once she was out of earshot, he muttered under his breath:

She knows my name.

———

Monday came slower than usual.

Bob had barely slept the night before, thoughts circling endlessly around three words: I’d love to see you there. Her voice echoed again and again in his head like a scratched record, stuck on a loop he didn’t want to fix. He didn’t even remember what he’d said back to her. Probably something dumb. Definitely something awkward.

By the time third period biology rolled around, he was already sweating through the back of his shirt, and it wasn’t even noon.

He walked in a few minutes early, like always, and took his usual spot—fourth row, second seat from the window. Same desk, same view, same quiet rhythm to his morning.

Until it wasn’t.

He heard the door open again and looked up, expecting nothing.

It was her.

And she was walking toward him.

Not past him. To him.

Bob sat up a little straighter, suddenly very aware of his posture, his backpack, his hands—why do hands always feel weird when you don’t know what to do with them?

She didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled at him, gentle and a little shy, and slid into the seat beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” she said softly, unpacking her notebook. “This seat taken?”

Bob blinked. “No. I mean—no, it’s not.”

She gave him a quick glance, half amused, then focused on the front of the room. Mr. Kellerman was already shuffling through his papers, oblivious to Bob’s inner chaos.

They didn’t talk during the lesson. Not really. She took notes like she always did, and Bob tried to keep his eyes on the board, but his brain wouldn’t let him forget the inches between their elbows. The sound of her pen clicking. The way her leg bounced softly beneath the desk.

Once, she leaned toward him just a little. Close enough to whisper, “What did he say the vocab quiz was on again?”

Bob’s voice came out lower than usual. “Chapter five. Page 112.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

That was it. That was the whole exchange.

And yet, when the bell rang and she packed up her things and walked off with her friends, Bob sat frozen at his desk, staring down at his barely-filled notebook with a stupid grin creeping onto his face.

She sat next to me.

———

The Miller’s house had been transformed for Halloween—orange lights strung up along the porch railings, carved pumpkins glowing on the steps, music thumping faintly through the open windows. Teenagers spilled into the front yard and across the lawn, plastic cups in hand, laughter spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Bob stood near the front door, tugging at the collar of his thrifted leather jacket. He wasn’t sure why he let Jamie talk him into this costume. All black everything, white tee, slicked hair he kept trying to flatten down again.

“You look good, bro,” Jamie had said with a shrug. “Classic. Girls love Grease.”

But Bob didn’t want all girls. He just wanted her.

He hadn’t seen her yet. Not inside, not outside. And part of him thought maybe she’d changed her mind. Maybe she wasn’t coming. Maybe “I’d love to see you there” was just something nice people said.

He was halfway through that thought when the crowd near the kitchen shifted—and then he saw her.

And everything inside him stopped.

She was walking in, her friends laughing around her, but Bob barely registered them. Because she was wearing a sleek pair of black leggings, red heels, a tiny leather jacket over a fitted off-shoulder top, and her hair—god, her hair—was curled, voluminous, and perfect. She was Sandy. The final scene Sandy. His Sandy.

And Bob? He was Danny.

She caught sight of him at the same time. Her eyes widened—then softened. A slow smile pulled at her lips as she weaved through the crowd toward him.

“No way,” she laughed as she reached him. “Danny Zuko?”

Bob could barely breathe. “Yeah,” he managed. “I—I didn’t know you were…”

“Sandy?” she finished for him, tugging lightly at her jacket with a grin. “Yeah. My friends thought it’d be funny. I wasn’t expecting to match anyone though.”

Bob blinked at her, face flushed but smiling now. “You look… really great.”

She gave him a quick, playful spin. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nice too.”

A beat passed. Music buzzed low in the background. Someone in the living room shouted. But none of that mattered.

“Do you wanna—” Bob started, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Do you wanna hang out? For a bit?”

She nodded. “I’d love to.”

They didn’t call it a date. It wasn’t. Not really. But she stayed by his side for most of the night. They talked. Laughed. Snuck candy from the snack table and rolled their eyes at the couples making out in corners. At one point, someone even yelled, “Grease Lightning over there really pulled it off!”

And Bob? He couldn’t stop smiling.

Because she came.

Because she matched him.

Because for the first time, it felt like the universe had quietly, softly, pushed them together—and neither of them had pushed back.

———

The backyard had emptied a bit as the night wore on, the cold chasing people back inside. But Bob and her hadn’t moved.

They sat on the porch steps, close enough their knees brushed every time one of them shifted. Her heels were off, her curls a little looser now, cheeks pink with leftover laughter and cider warmth.

She looked peaceful, tracing invisible lines in the condensation on her cup, when Bob finally spoke—his voice so soft it almost got lost in the breeze.

“When you saw me at the store,” he said, “and said hi… I didn’t say this before, but I was shocked you knew my name.”

She blinked, glancing at him with a small grin. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I was pretty much convinced you didn’t even know I existed. And then there you were, walking your dog, smiling like we’d talked a hundred times.”

She chuckled, tilting her head. “Well… I always noticed you. You’re quiet, Bob. Not in a bad way. In a… thoughtful way.”

He glanced down, fingers fidgeting in his lap, then let out a breath like he was bracing himself.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he blurted out.

It hung there—loud and bare and real.

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting in surprise. Then she smiled. Not teasing or mocking—just soft and warm, like she’d been waiting for that truth.

“I always thought you were pleasant to look at,” she said, nudging his arm with hers. “But I figured you had a girlfriend or something.”

Bob huffed a laugh, cheeks turning bright red. “Only in my imagination. And, uh… it was you.”

She turned to him fully now, eyes wide with delight. “Oh my gosh, Bob.”

He winced. “Yeah, that sounded way less weird in my head.”

“No,” she laughed. “That’s, like… the cutest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Bob dared to meet her eyes, heart racing.

And then she said it—quietly, but without hesitation.

“I wouldn’t mind if you were my boyfriend in real life. Not just imaginations.”

He blinked. “You—what?”

She leaned in, smile blooming like spring. “I like you, Bob.”

Then, gently, she pressed a kiss to his cheek—slow and sweet and devastating in the best way. Her lips lingered for just a second longer than necessary before pulling back.

Bob’s entire body short-circuited. “I—uh—I think I—yeah. Okay. I like you too. A lot.”

She giggled. “Good.”

And they sat there, warm and weightless, with the party still humming in the distance. But neither of them cared. Because this? This felt like the start of something that was only going to grow.

———

(Time Skip to Sophomore Year)

It was one of those slow October afternoons — the kind where time stretched long and warm, like sunlight through a windowpane.

His room smelled faintly like dryer sheets and pencil shavings. A notebook lay cracked open on his desk, half-filled with formulas and chicken-scratch notes, while she lay sprawled across his bed, legs crossed at the ankle, flipping lazily through a worn copy of Seventeen she’d found in her backpack. Her socks were mismatched — one green, one striped — and her hoodie was actually his.

Every so often, he’d glance over at her, like just confirming she was real and actually here and actually still his. She looked so at home, curled on his bed like she’d always belonged there.

Bob tried to focus on chemistry.

Didn’t work.

After a while, he looked up again, twisting in his chair. “My parents get home in like… an hour and a half.”

She looked up from her magazine. “Oh. Guess I should leave soon then.”

And maybe she meant it casually. Maybe she was just being polite. But something in Bob’s chest panicked.

“No,” he said too fast. “I mean—you don’t have to.”

She raised a brow, magazine lowering. “No?”

“I—I want you to meet them,” he said, voice quieter now. “If… if you want to.”

The magazine hit the blanket beside her. She sat up a little straighter, surprise flickering through her expression.

“Really?”

He nodded, looking down at his hands. “Yeah. I mean… we’ve been together a while. And I talk about you. A lot. My mom keeps asking when she’s gonna meet ‘the girl who makes you smile like an idiot at dinner.’”

She laughed, hand flying up to cover her mouth. “No she does not.”

“She does,” Bob grinned, cheeks pink. “So. You don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.”

She watched him for a second, smile tugging at the corners of her lips like she couldn’t fight it even if she tried.

“I’d like to meet them,” she said softly.

Bob’s head shot up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… if they’re anything like you, I already know I’ll like them.”

He beamed, shy and thrilled and overwhelmed all at once. She crawled across the bed, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder, warm and familiar.

Then she murmured, “You really want me to stay?”

He nodded. “I really do.”

So she did.

And when his parents walked through the door an hour and twenty minutes later, she was still sitting on his bed, hair pulled into a loose ponytail, hoodie sleeves hanging past her hands.

And Bob?

Bob was still smiling like an idiot.

——

The smell of garlic bread drifted through the house by the time Bob’s mom called them downstairs. His dad had gotten home ten minutes before, still in his work boots, tossing keys into a dish by the door with a tired but friendly “Hey there, kiddo.”

Bob had squeezed her hand once on the way down. Not for her. For him.

Now she sat at the Floyds’ small kitchen table, where the centerpiece was a ceramic pumpkin that said Bless This Mess in faded paint. The dishes were mismatched, and the garlic bread was slightly burnt on the edges, but Bob’s mom had set everything with care—napkins folded, sweet tea poured, plates steaming with spaghetti.

“So,” Mrs. Floyd said, smiling as she passed over the salad bowl, “how long have you two been seeing each other?”

Bob glanced at her, and they both opened their mouths at the same time.

“Since—”

“October—”

They both laughed, cheeks burning, and Bob ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

“A little over a year,” she said, smiling at Bob before turning back to his mom. “Since last Halloween, actually.”

Mrs. Floyd lit up. “Oh, I remember that night. Robert wouldn’t shut up about the girl in the Sandy costume.”

Bob groaned quietly. “Mom.”

“What?” she grinned. “You were smitten. Still are.”

Mr. Floyd chuckled low in his throat, reaching for the bread. “He’s got good taste. Though I think you’ve stolen my hoodie, haven’t you?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh! I—sorry, I can go take it off—”

“Don’t you dare,” Mrs. Floyd said quickly, waving a hand. “If anything, it looks better on you.”

Bob nearly choked on his water.

The conversation moved easily after that—his mom asking about her favorite subjects, her family, if she liked dogs. His dad asked if she watched football and then sheepishly admitted Bob never did, but he did, and she promised to try to learn the rules by Thanksgiving.

She laughed easily. Her voice was bright, kind. And every time Bob glanced at her, it hit him all over again—she was really here. In his house. Laughing with his parents like she’d always belonged at this table.

When she reached under the table and squeezed his hand in the middle of dinner, he almost forgot how to breathe.

After the plates were cleared and the sun had dipped below the trees outside the kitchen window, his mom pulled her aside before she left, arms crossed loosely and a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“You make my boy happy,” she said gently. “I can see it. I hope he makes you happy too.”

She nodded, chest warm. “He does. Every day.”

“Well,” Mrs. Floyd said, glancing toward the stairs where Bob was waiting with her shoes, “don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

And that night, when Bob walked her out to the driveway, he said “thank you” so quietly it almost blew away in the wind.

She smiled and kissed him on the lips this time—not shy.

——

The rain started soft—just a whisper against the windowpanes as she and Bob leaned over the dining room table, surrounded by scattered notebook paper, highlighters, and a half-built diorama of a medieval village.

Bob was focused, tongue poking out slightly as he tried to cut a thatched-roof cottage out of brown felt. She, on the other hand, was drawing storm clouds in the margins of their title page.

The light in the dining room was warm and golden, and the smell of lasagna floated in from the kitchen, where Mrs. Floyd was humming softly along with the oldies radio.

“I swear,” she said, tapping her pen against the paper, “if this storm ruins our cardboard castle, I’m gonna throw it into the rain and let it drown.”

Bob chuckled without looking up. “You’re so violent.”

“I’m passionate.”

He smiled, quiet and fond.

A few minutes passed, the only sounds being the radio, their pencils, and the gentle patter of the rain.

Then it changed.

Suddenly, the sky cracked open—thunder crashing loud and sharp like something had torn the clouds in half. Rain began pounding the roof with wild, frantic rhythm. A flash of lightning lit the whole dining room for a split second in silver-blue.

“Whoa,” she muttered, sitting up straighter.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Floyd let out a yelp. “Good Lord! That one was close.”

Another rumble followed, deeper and longer.

Mrs. Floyd peeked into the dining room, wiping her hands on a towel. “Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m letting you walk home in this. Call your momma. I wanna talk to her.”

She pulled out her phone, thumb shaking a little from the thunder still grumbling outside. Her mom answered quickly, voice muffled by the sound of the grocery store overhead speaker.

“Hey, Mom—Mrs. Floyd wants to talk to you.”

She handed the phone over and sat there awkwardly while Bob tried to look like he wasn’t listening. They both failed.

Mrs. Floyd walked out into the hall with the phone, murmuring kindly and firmly. When she came back, she smiled wide.

“Well, she said the storm’s keeping her stuck at the store a while anyway,” Mrs. Floyd said, handing the phone back. “So guess what, darlin’? You’re staying the night.”

“Oh—oh!” she blinked. “I—I can help clean up after dinner, I don’t want to be any trouble—”

“You’re not,” Mrs. Floyd said sweetly, then looked between the two of them with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Now. Bobby… unless you want your girlfriend sleeping on this uncomfortable sofa all night…”

“No! No—she’ll stay with me!” Bob said instantly, louder than necessary, face flaming.

As if summoned by embarrassment, Mr. Floyd appeared in the doorway with a cup of sweet tea in his hand and a raised brow.

“No funny business at night either,” he said, like a warning shot. “You’re too young.”

Bob looked like he wanted to vanish into the floor. “Dad!”

Mrs. Floyd swatted her husband on the arm. “Oh, stop it. You were kissin’ me in your mama’s living room at sixteen.”

Mr. Floyd took a sip of tea and said nothing.

She giggled behind her hand while Bob stared at the table like it might open up and swallow him.

“Dinner’ll be ready in ten,” Mrs. Floyd added, now completely back to normal. “Bobby, clear the table, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bob muttered, still red as a fire truck.

⸻

Dinner was cozy and loud—rain hammering the windows, lasagna warm and gooey, Bob’s dad telling stories about embarrassing middle school plays and his mom asking about the upcoming homecoming dance. She helped carry plates to the sink when it was over, insisting on drying them while Mrs. Floyd washed.

“You don’t have to,” Mrs. Floyd said kindly.

“I want to,” she smiled. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“You’re family,” Mrs. Floyd replied like it was already a fact.

⸻

By the time the table was cleared, and the last bolt of lightning shook the sky, Bob and she had cozied up on his bed, the project set safely on his desk. The lights were dim, a flashlight between them for movie effect, the storm still rolling outside like a lullaby.

They were under the same blanket, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, his arm around her waist. They watched an old black-and-white horror movie on his laptop—something cheesy and full of dramatic screams and rubber masks.

When the monster leapt out, she jumped slightly.

Bob tightened his arm around her, whispering, “I got you.”

And in the flicker of lightning, she looked up at him.

“I know.”

He smiled.

Neither of them said anything else for a while—not even when the credits rolled, or the thunder softened into silence, or the rain grew gentle again.

They just held on.

———

(Time Skip to Junior Year)

The rain started soft—just a whisper against the windowpanes as she and Bob leaned over the dining room table, surrounded by scattered notebook paper, highlighters, and a half-built diorama of a medieval village.

Bob was focused, tongue poking out slightly as he tried to cut a thatched-roof cottage out of brown felt. She, on the other hand, was drawing storm clouds in the margins of their title page.

The light in the dining room was warm and golden, and the smell of lasagna floated in from the kitchen, where Mrs. Floyd was humming softly along with the oldies radio.

“I swear,” she said, tapping her pen against the paper, “if this storm ruins our cardboard castle, I’m gonna throw it into the rain and let it drown.”

Bob chuckled without looking up. “You’re so violent.”

“I’m passionate.”

He smiled, quiet and fond.

A few minutes passed, the only sounds being the radio, their pencils, and the gentle patter of the rain.

Then it changed.

Suddenly, the sky cracked open—thunder crashing loud and sharp like something had torn the clouds in half. Rain began pounding the roof with wild, frantic rhythm. A flash of lightning lit the whole dining room for a split second in silver-blue.

“Whoa,” she muttered, sitting up straighter.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Floyd let out a yelp. “Good Lord! That one was close.”

Another rumble followed, deeper and longer.

Mrs. Floyd peeked into the dining room, wiping her hands on a towel. “Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m letting you walk home in this. Call your momma. I wanna talk to her.”

She pulled out her phone, thumb shaking a little from the thunder still grumbling outside. Her mom answered quickly, voice muffled by the sound of the grocery store overhead speaker.

“Hey, Mom—Mrs. Floyd wants to talk to you.”

She handed the phone over and sat there awkwardly while Bob tried to look like he wasn’t listening. They both failed.

Mrs. Floyd walked out into the hall with the phone, murmuring kindly and firmly. When she came back, she smiled wide.

“Well, she said the storm’s keeping her stuck at the store a while anyway,” Mrs. Floyd said, handing the phone back. “So guess what, darlin’? You’re staying the night.”

“Oh—oh!” she blinked. “I—I can help clean up after dinner, I don’t want to be any trouble—”

“You’re not,” Mrs. Floyd said sweetly, then looked between the two of them with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Now. Bobby… unless you want your girlfriend sleeping on this uncomfortable sofa all night…”

“No! No—she’ll stay with me!” Bob said instantly, louder than necessary, face flaming.

As if summoned by embarrassment, Mr. Floyd appeared in the doorway with a cup of sweet tea in his hand and a raised brow.

“No funny business at night either,” he said, like a warning shot. “You’re too young.”

Bob looked like he wanted to vanish into the floor. “Dad!”

Mrs. Floyd swatted her husband on the arm. “Oh, stop it. You were kissin’ me in your mama’s living room at sixteen.”

Mr. Floyd took a sip of tea and said nothing.

She giggled behind her hand while Bob stared at the table like it might open up and swallow him.

“Dinner’ll be ready in ten,” Mrs. Floyd added, now completely back to normal. “Bobby, clear the table, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bob muttered, still red as a fire truck.

⸻

Dinner was cozy and loud—rain hammering the windows, lasagna warm and gooey, Bob’s dad telling stories about embarrassing middle school plays and his mom asking about the upcoming homecoming dance. She helped carry plates to the sink when it was over, insisting on drying them while Mrs. Floyd washed.

“You don’t have to,” Mrs. Floyd said kindly.

“I want to,” she smiled. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“You’re family,” Mrs. Floyd replied like it was already a fact.

⸻

By the time the table was cleared, and the last bolt of lightning shook the sky, Bob and she had cozied up on his bed, the project set safely on his desk. The lights were dim, a flashlight between them for movie effect, the storm still rolling outside like a lullaby.

They were under the same blanket, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, his arm around her waist. They watched an old black-and-white horror movie on his laptop—something cheesy and full of dramatic screams and rubber masks.

When the monster leapt out, she jumped slightly.

Bob tightened his arm around her, whispering, “I got you.”

And in the flicker of lightning, she looked up at him.

“I know.”

He smiled.

Neither of them said anything else for a while—not even when the credits rolled, or the thunder softened into silence, or the rain grew gentle again.

They just held on.

——

She looked like something out of a dream.

Bob had always thought that, even when she wore oversized sweatshirts and no makeup, even when her hair was a mess and her eyes were puffy from sleep. But tonight—draped in soft champagne satin that shimmered when she walked, tiny rhinestones twinkling at her collarbone like stars—she looked like something the universe had built for the sole purpose of making him speechless.

“You’re staring,” she said when she caught him doing it for the fourth time.

“I know,” he breathed. “I don’t even feel bad about it.”

She laughed, cheeks warming. “You clean up pretty nice too, Floyd.”

He tugged at the tie she helped him fix earlier, cheeks flushing pink. “Only ‘cause you dressed me.”

The gym was glowing—dim lights strung along the walls, disco ball spinning lazily overhead, music pulsing low through the floor. It smelled like too much Axe body spray and cheap punch, but she didn’t care. She had Bob’s hand in hers, his fingers brushing gently against the inside of her wrist like he was still too shy to grab it outright.

Half the night passed in a blur of dancing and giggling and taking goofy photobooth strips that he immediately shoved into his wallet.

And then the music shifted.

Microphone feedback. Murmuring. The announcement.

It was time to crown the king and queen.

“God,” she whispered, nerves buzzing. “Do you think…?”

Bob just shrugged, trying to smile but his hand was tighter in hers now. He didn’t want to say it out loud. Didn’t want to jinx it.

He knew she deserved it. Everyone loved her. She was kind and funny and always went out of her way to help people. Of course people voted for her. Still—he was bracing himself.

“And now, your 2025 Homecoming Queen…”

Drumroll.

Y/N L/N.

The room burst into applause.

She gasped, hand flying to her mouth.

Bob just stood there, heart bursting with pride, awe, love. He’d never clapped harder for anything in his entire life.

She turned to him, stunned. “Bob—”

“Go!” he grinned, nudging her. “Get up there, Your Majesty.”

She laughed, nearly tripping over her own heels as she climbed the steps, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

They placed the crown on her head. The crowd whistled and hollered.

“And now, your Homecoming King…”

Silence.

Bob’s stomach sank.

Please not—

“Jason Ridge.”

There he was. Coming up from the crowd like a shadow. Taller than Bob, broader too, still smirking that smug, punchable smirk. The guy who tripped Bob in the hallway in ninth grade and called him “four eyes” in front of his crush. The same guy who made fun of Bob for joining AV Club and once asked him if his stutter came with a refund.

The guy who, for reasons Bob never understood, hated him.

Now being crowned next to Bob’s girlfriend.

She was smiling politely, but Bob knew her. He saw the way her hands fidgeted, the tightness in her shoulders when Jason leaned in a little too close for the photo.

One crown. Two people.

He should’ve been up there with her. Wanted to be up there with her—not because of the title, but because he wanted to be the one beside her in her moment. Not the guy who used to throw spitballs at her boyfriend’s head.

When she came down the stairs again—crown slightly askew, bouquet in hand—she scanned the crowd until she saw him.

And Bob smiled for her, just like always.

But it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

⸻

Later, after the dancing and pictures and Jason’s smug little speech, they slipped outside.

The night was cold and quiet. Her heels dangled from one hand, her fingers looped through his with the other. The crown sat crooked in her hair.

He helped straighten it.

“You looked beautiful up there,” he said softly. “You deserved that.”

“I wish you were up there with me,” she murmured, glancing down.

Bob shrugged, trying to play it off, but she tugged his hand tighter.

“He made me uncomfortable,” she whispered. “When they announced his name, I didn’t want to go up.”

“I know,” Bob said. “I saw it on your face.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and something in her chest ached.

“You should’ve been my king,” she whispered.

Bob’s breath hitched. “You already made me feel like I am.”

And maybe the moment was still a little bruised.

But when she kissed him beneath the string lights, crown catching the faint glow of the moon, she knew—

He was the only boy she’d ever want on any throne beside her.

———

Senior prom was exactly the dream they’d always talked about.

A rented tux and a dress that shimmered gold under the ballroom lights. Bob had picked her up in his dad’s car—cleaned it out, even vacuumed the backseat, and showed up at her door with a tiny bouquet of yellow roses. She opened the door in her dress, and his jaw dropped so fast he barely remembered to breathe.

He told her she looked like something out of a fairy tale.

She told him he looked like a man she could love forever.

They took pictures under an arch of string lights and danced until her heels came off and his tie was loose around his neck. At one point he kissed her forehead in the middle of the crowd and said, “I’ve never been this happy.”

And she believed him.

Because it was May, and the world felt wide open. Graduation was just two weeks away. She had her bookstore job waiting for her in the summer and plans to take a few community college courses while she figured out what she wanted to do. Bob was saying he’d take a year off before applying anywhere else.

They had time. They had plans. They had each other.

Senior Week came fast after that—third week of May.

A few kids in their class had pooled together and rented a beach house for the week, something cheap but big enough to cram twelve of them in. Parents had signed the forms. They’d been dreaming about it for months.

And it was fun, mostly.

Bonfires. Junk food. Playing cards by candlelight when the power flickered. Waking up tangled in Bob’s hoodie because she got cold and he always slept warm. Nights where they snuck away from the group to talk on the porch, heads resting together in the quiet.

But something was off.

Not all the time. Just in little ways.

Bob was still sweet. Still her Bob. But there were moments she couldn’t quite explain—times he’d get quiet after a long laugh, like he’d remembered something he didn’t want to. Times she’d reach for his hand and he’d take a second too long to respond. He was up early one morning—earlier than usual—and when she woke up and padded into the kitchen, he’d jumped and quickly shoved his phone into his pocket.

She didn’t ask. Didn’t want to pry.

It was probably nothing.

Probably.

“You okay?” she asked once, a few nights in, when they were watching a movie together on the ratty living room couch. He was holding her like always, arm wrapped around her waist, chin tucked on her shoulder.

“Hm?” he murmured.

“You’ve just been kinda… quiet.”

He smiled at that—soft and apologetic.

“I think I’m just a little overwhelmed,” he said. “Everything’s changing so fast.”

She nodded, letting herself believe it. “I get that.”

And she did. She did get it. It was a lot. They were eighteen. The future was right there, ready to start. Of course things felt strange.

So she kissed his cheek and said, “We’re okay, though.”

And Bob kissed her back and said, “Always.”

——

Graduation night felt like magic.

She stood beside Bob in her cap and gown, her diploma in hand, while their families clapped and took blurry pictures and laughed over who cried harder during the ceremony. Bob’s arm was slung around her shoulders the entire time, like always. Her mom kissed her cheek and took twenty more photos than necessary, and Bob’s dad ruffled her hair like she was already part of the family.

They all went out to dinner together—both families squeezed into a big booth at the nicest restaurant in town. Everyone ordered something indulgent, and her little brother spilled lemonade on the menu and Bob helped mop it up with napkins and that stupid, adorable laugh of his.

At the end of the night, he hugged her outside in the parking lot under the buzzing yellow streetlight. Pulled her into his chest. Kissed the top of her head.

“Can you believe we’re done?” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then he said, “No. Not really.”

She tilted her head up, brushing her nose against his. “You okay?”

Bob nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just a little tired.”

“Call me when you get home?”

He kissed her again, this time on the lips. Slow. Sweet. Familiar.

“Always.”

But he didn’t.

⸻

The next day, she waited for his text.

Then the next.

Then the next.

He didn’t show up to the movie night everyone had planned. Didn’t reply to her good morning message. Didn’t like her picture when she posted one of them in their caps and gowns. Didn’t even open her texts.

By day three, she told herself it was just a glitch. Maybe he lost his phone charger. Maybe something came up.

By day five, she stopped making excuses.

By day seven, she got in her car.

⸻

The drive to the Floyd house felt longer than usual. She knew it wasn’t—she’d been there so many times over the past few years she could make the turns with her eyes closed—but her fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter than she meant to.

Something felt off in her chest. Heavy. Hollow.

She pulled up in front of the house and sat in the driveway for a second, staring at the porch she used to sit on with him, curled into his side. The curtains in the front window were drawn.

She knocked on the door.

It took a minute, but then—

“Hi, sweetheart!” Mrs. Floyd answered the door, apron still tied around her waist like she’d been cooking. Her face lit up on instinct… until it didn’t.

“Hi,” she smiled softly, awkward now. “Um… is Bob here? I’ve been trying to reach him for days and he hasn’t responded and I just—”

Mrs. Floyd’s expression shifted completely. The smile faded. Her hand came up to her chest.

“Oh, honey,” she said, voice cracking instantly. “Oh… no one told you?”

Her stomach dropped. “Told me what?”

“He… he enlisted. In the Navy. He left for Boot Camp yesterday morning.”

Silence.

Silence so loud it rang in her ears.

Her lips parted. She tried to say something. Anything.

But nothing came out.

Mrs. Floyd stepped forward gently, hand reaching out, eyes brimming. “He didn’t say goodbye?”

The girl just stared, mouth slightly open, jaw trembling. She shook her head once.

“No,” she whispered. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

“I am so sorry,” Mrs. Floyd said, and now she looked like she might cry too. “He… he didn’t want to make it harder. He said if he saw you, he wouldn’t go. Said it’d break him.”

She flinched. Physically. Like the words hit her in the gut.

“But he went,” she whispered.

“I know,” Mrs. Floyd said, “I know. He thought it’d be easier this way. But he was wrong. I told him he was wrong.”

And maybe that should’ve helped. Maybe she should’ve appreciated the sympathy. But all she felt was cold.

“I have to go,” she said, voice sharp and quiet and wrong.

“Sweetheart—”

“Thank you. I just—I need to go.”

And she left.

Drove home with the radio off, the windows up, the tears in her throat and not on her cheeks because she refused to cry. Not yet. Not while she still had her hands on the wheel and the ghost of his last kiss burning against her mouth.

He left.

He left her.

And she never got to say goodbye.

———

(4 year time skip)

She didn’t think about him much anymore.

Not on purpose, anyway.

Not like she used to.

There was a time when he was everywhere—every corner of her room, every song on the radio, every time someone laughed in a hallway. That first summer after he left felt like drowning in sunlight. Like waking up alone in a dream you swore was real.

But that was four years ago.

And now she was twenty-two.

She had a degree. A salary. A sleek little apartment in San Diego with a reading nook by the window and no trace of him anywhere.

She never dated after him.

Not really.

She went out, sure. Pretended to flirt once or twice, said no when it mattered.

But there was never a second date.

Never a night she didn’t drive home and cry without really understanding why.

It wasn’t that she was waiting for him. She wasn’t naïve.

It was that no one else ever felt like home.

She hadn’t trusted anyone since.

Because how could she?

When the person who knew her best—the boy who kissed her under fireworks and held her hand through every first—left for the Navy without even saying goodbye?

No call.

No letter.

No note.

Just gone.

And she never heard from him again.

She spent months thinking he’d reach out.

He never did.

And eventually, she did what she had to:

She packed her memories into boxes and shoved them onto a mental shelf marked do not open.

It was just supposed to be a quick stop.

She had a job lined up now—one of those rare, real adult jobs that offered insurance and PTO and came with a name badge and coffee that didn’t taste like burnt cardboard. It wasn’t her dream, but it was stable. And it was hers.

She ducked into the little bookstore on a Saturday afternoon to kill some time before dinner. It was cozy inside—creaky floors, warm lighting, the faint scent of cinnamon and dust. She loved places like this. Safe places.

She was standing in the fiction section, one finger tracing the spine of a paperback she half-recognized from a college syllabus, when something thudded against the floor beside her.

A book.

She bent down to pick up the book—

—and stopped short when someone else reached for it, too.

Her hand froze.

Because the hand next to hers was familiar.

Too familiar.

And when she looked up—so did he.

Bob.

Her throat went dry.

He was right there.

Same soft brown eyes. Same crooked mouth. The curve of his nose. His jaw had filled out, his hair was neater now, and he stood taller, but—God. It was him.

He looked stunned.

Like he was looking at a ghost.

And maybe he was.

Her stomach dropped.

Heart climbed into her throat.

Four years. No contact. Not even a goodbye.

And yet, without thinking, without meaning to, she whispered:

“…Bob?”

His lips parted.

Eyes wide.

Then, quietly—like he was still trying to believe it:

“Hi.”

[abbytism]

WISHBONE — a. anderson

SUMMARY: Everyone in town seems to catch Abby’s attention but you, and you can’t help but wonder why in a drunken haze. Little did you know Abby has to stop herself from taking you exactly how she wants you every time she sees you, but you’ll see soon enough.

GENERAL WARNINGS: no-outbreak!au, AFAB reader, smut (in part 2), drug use (marijuana), r! and a! are both faded in this, jealous! abby?, endless flirting, some angst, reader cries because of abby, abby babies reader, lots of fluff, a lot of ooey gooey feelings from both reader and abby, some alcohol consumption. I’m a florida girl who wrote this totally imagining countryside florida and cuntry ass! Abby. I love it. I won’t stop with Florida Cowgirl Abby now… i’m addicted… Lmk if I missed anything!

PAIRINGS: Abby Anderson x Afab!Reader

WC: 5.6k

A/N: Ahhhhh!!!! I had so much fun writing this, I randomly just couldn’t sleep for like 2 nights in a row and I’ve been wanting to actually sit down and write this for so long but I’ve had so much writers block lately :( But anyway! I’m back and better than ever. Please send me a bunch of requests for some characters you want to see me write for!! Anyway, enough ranting. Enjoy this, reblog, and like!! :) Leave any thoughts 🩶 Pt. 2 coming soon <3

There was a curse put on you.

Or at least that’s the theory you and your friends had convinced yourselves of, because you’d dreamt of her every night for the last four months without ever muttering a word to her. 

Abby Anderson was a paradox. 

She had moved to your quiet, quaint little town six months ago with a group of friends, and the second she arrived, she had two girls on each arm. She was worse than the men you had grown up around, persuading and enchanting the misses to go home with her in two seconds, with nothing but her Cheshire grin and an offer to make their night better than their man at the bar could. The countryside wasn’t exactly full of women-loving ladies, but that changed when Abby arrived. 

Her and her stupid braid and her stupid boots.

Her stupid, big arms that you had seen beat everybody at the bar in arm wrestling. That you had thought of late at night when you were alone. Her stupid, thick thighs that helped her keep her spot as the number one bull rider in your town, mechanical and real. Her stupid, yet perfect, smile seemed to make its way to every pretty girl in town but you. 

You were not jealous-

“You’re so fucking obsessed with her,” interrupted your best friend, Jesse. You had spent weeks trying to convince Jesse that you had not planted this lavender plant just because Abby told him that she had one of your fresh lemon-lavender muffins and loved it. But you both knew it was a lie. Out of instinct, you rolled your eyes and turned around from the beds of your Lavender garden to face him. “What do you want?” You huffed, smacking your gloved hands together to let the soil fall away to the ground. “Now, is that any way to treat your amazing best friend who managed to get you the best shot with the girl you’re not-so-secretly in love with?” Jesse scoffed, following behind you as you put your gloves up in your work shed and opened the back door of your house to the kitchen. 

You weren’t sure what was more annoying, the fact that Jesse was right, or the fact that your heartbeat had already started racing before he even told you what he did. “A shot?” you repeated, trying and failing to keep your voice level as you rinsed your hands in the kitchen sink. “With Abby?” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a smug smirk pulling at his mouth. “You’re catering the VFW fundraiser this Saturday, right?”

“Uhh.. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to this year?”

“She’ll be there. And I signed you up, so you have no choice.”

You turned to him, one brow raised. “Abby goes to VFW fundraisers now?”

“She happens to be volunteering. I signed her up.. she was talking about how she wants to ‘give back’ or whatever.” Jesse made air quotes. “So I figured why not. But giving back is just code for; she’ll be standing behind the beer table all night, flexing her arms and smiling like a goddamn wolf.” You cursed under your breath. Because yeah, of course she’d be there. Of course, she'd be charming old war vets and making every bisexual girl in town drop their drinks and their panties at the same time. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered to Jesse, wiping your hands on a towel. “And you’re gonna wear that blue sundress everyone likes,” he shot back without missing a beat. 

“I am not.”

“You are. You look hot in it.” He was already walking away. “I’ll see you Saturday, lover girl.”

*:·

You hadn’t seen Abby in person since that mechanical bull contest last month, the one where she’d beat the record and high-fived everyone except you, even though you’d made damn sure to stand in her line of sight the entire night. You told yourself it was a coincidence. That you were just thirsty, and the beer tent was in her direction. That you just happened to be wearing lipstick for the first time in weeks. But you saw it. The way her eyes had skimmed all the pairs of legs filling the room. The way her smirk faltered just slightly when seeing you, before she turned away. Like she wasn’t expecting you to look like that. Like she had to collect herself. You told yourself it meant she was out of your league.

You told yourself that again now, standing in the backroom of the VFW hall with a tray of cornbread in one hand and your heart clenching like a fist in your chest. Because Abby was here. And she was dressed like a real cowboy, not the ones you see in TV, wearing jeans slung low on her hips, boots scuffed, hair braided like always. And that same goddamn smile on her face– but this time, it was for you.

You didn’t see her right away.

Too many people, too much chili, and your hands were full, juggling trays and napkins and people trying to kiss your cheek and ask if you’d brought the peach cobbler this time. But she found you. Of course she did. You were in the back hall, crouched beside a cooler, trying to fish out a bottle of water without knocking over the stack of BBQ trays, when her voice found you like a spotlight. “You always work this hard, Angel?” You looked up and there she was. Abby Anderson, arms crossed, shirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Braid slung over her shoulder. Grin a little too smug for someone who just watched you almost faceplant into a bag of ice.

“I don’t do anything halfway,” you replied, trying not to sound winded. Or affected. Or like your brain short-circuited at the sight of her in that stupid tight shirt. Or at her harsh voice calling you an angel. “Yeah,” she said, her smile tilting. “I’ve noticed.” She offered you a hand. You stared at it for a beat, then took it. And maybe she pulled a little harder than necessary. Maybe you stumbled. Maybe your palm fit into hers in a way that made your pulse skip.

“I didn’t know you volunteered for stuff like this,” you said once you were both upright.

Abby shrugged, looking around the hall like it was a new world. “First time. Figured I'd give it a shot.” You quirked a brow. “Out of the goodness of your heart?” Her mouth twitched. “Something like that.” There was a beat, then she added, quieter, “My dad used to take me to these shelters. Animals mostly. We’d clean kennels, feed the strays. I hated it when I was ten. Thought it was gross.” She smiled to herself. “But he loved it. Thought it mattered.” You said nothing at first. Just watched her. Something shifted behind her eyes when she talked about him– soft, unguarded, like a part of her was still that kid with too-big gloves and a grudge against wet dog smell. “He still does it?” you asked gently. She hesitated. “No. He died a couple of years ago.” Your heart thudded. “I’m sorry,” you said. She shrugged again, but it didn’t have the bite it had before. “It’s alright. I think he’d like this. All the weird old men and canned beer and baked beans.” She glanced down at you. “You?”

You blinked. “What about me?”

“What brings you to the land of lukewarm hot dogs and raffle tickets?” You smiled quietly, sad. “My parents used to come every year. My mom was known for her cornbread. My dad thought he was a grill master.” 

“Was he?”

“Not,” you laughed. “But he loved it. They both did.” Abby’s expression shifted. “Are they…”

“Gone,” you said softly. “Car accident. A few years ago.” Silence. “I don’t know… I get you, though. It makes me feel like I’m doing something important.” You expect her to nod and move on. To say “sorry” the way people do when they want the conversation to end. But she doesn’t. She tells you more about her dad, Owen, and how he used to drag her to all kinds of things when she was little. How she hated it. How she pretended she hated the circus and festivals when in reality it was her favorite time of year, and how she pretended she didn’t cry when they left the old dogs behind.

“Now I volunteer ‘cause... I don’t know. Still makes me feel like I’m still doing something with him,” she says. Her voice is quieter now. A little rough. Your heart catches. “I didn’t know that,” you murmur. She shrugs. “You never asked.” That makes you flinch. Because you had, or tried to, in your quiet ways. You’d lingered near her at events, tried to catch her eye at the bar. You’d smiled once, and she hadn’t smiled back. You didn’t realize you’d gone silent until she looked at you.

“What?” she asked, head tilting. You shook your head. “Nothing. Just… kind of funny, I guess,” you muttered, giggling. “What is?” You looked down at your hands. “I always thought you hated me.”

There it was. Out loud. The thing that had pressed like a bruise behind your ribs for months.

Abby’s expression changed instantly. Gone was the smirk. Gone was the teasing edge. She stepped in — not close, but closer. Enough to lower her voice. “I don’t hate you,” she said, and her tone made your throat tighten. “Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered. “You’ve talked to everyone else in this town but me.” “I was trying not to,” she said, almost like she couldn’t believe herself. “Because when I talk to you, it’s… different.” “Different how?” Her mouth parted. Closed. Opened again. “You make me forget how to be smooth,” she said. “And I didn’t know how to deal with that.” You stared at her. And suddenly it all made sense. The glances. The way she avoided you. Not indifference — fear. Not disinterested — nerves. You weren’t the only one who felt it. You never had been.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but someone called her name. Someone from the beer table, waving a clipboard. She sighed. “That’s my cue,” she said, stepping back. “And hey…” You looked up. “That peach cobbler’s gonna be hard to beat,” she said, mouth twitching. “But you just might be my favorite thing here.”

You froze.

She smiled, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the hallway with your cheeks burning and your heart somewhere near the floor.

Later, you passed each other throughout the night like magnets that never quite touched. In the kitchen, her hand brushed your back as she reached for a crate of cups. You swore you felt it long after she walked away. She smiled at you during cleanup, towel over her shoulder, and you nearly dropped the tray in your hands. You brought her a piece of cake during a lull. She said thank you like it was sacred. You’d bonded. Somehow. Through grief and food, and that thing that always sat quiet and unsaid between you. By the time she found you alone in the kitchen, just you, the peach cobbler, and the hum of old country through the walls, it felt inevitable.

“Hey,” she said when you crossed the kitchen threshold.

It was soft. Curious. You froze mid-step. “Hey,” you managed. She stepped closer, eyes skimming over you. That dress suddenly felt like a terrible mistake and also the best idea you’d ever had. “You made the cobbler?” she asked, gesturing to the pan you were setting down. You nodded. “ And the chilli.” Abby’s smile widened. “You’re dangerous.” That made your breath hitch. You busied yourself with the foil. “You’ll live.” She hummed low in her throat, and god, even that sent heat straight down your spine. For a second, it was just the two of you in the narrow kitchen, the hum of country music floating from the hall, the muffled voices of townspeople laughing over beer and barbecue. Then Abby leaned a hip against the counter and tilted her head.

 “You don’t talk to me much,” she said. 

You blinked.

 “You don’t talk to me much.” She grinned. “Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move.” That did it. You looked up– fully, directly, heart in your throat. “Why?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. Abby shrugged, that cocky little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re really pretty when you get all flustered. And you don't look at me like everyone else does.” You swallowed. “I don’t?”

“No,” she said, stepping closer. Her fingers brushed the edge of the table beside you. “You look at me like you see me. And you don’t run.”

You should’ve run. Right then. Out the kitchen door and down the gravel road and straight back to your garden.

Instead, you said, “You don’t scare me.”

And that made her smile for real, wide and bright and terrifying in its own right. “Good,” Abby said. “Because I’ve been trying to get your attention for months.” Her hand brushed yours, knuckles grazing like an accident. Like she was testing something. And maybe she was. Your breath caught, eyes locked on hers, something tight and burning coiled behind your ribs. “You have it,” you said, voice soft and certain. Abby’s smile faltered,  just a flicker. Like she wasn’t expecting you to say that. Like you had caught her off guard for once. She stepped in again, close enough to smell the cedar in her shampoo, the salt of her skin. You could see every freckle, every line, every notch of her jaw as it clenched and unclenched.

“I’m not good at this,” she murmured. “Slow shit. Talking shit.” You tilted your head. “You’re doing fine.” Her eyes darkened. Her voice dropped. “If I kissed you right now, would you stop me?” You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Because her hand was already reaching up, slow, careful, and then hovering there, palm open beside your cheek, not quite touching. And right before you leaned into it, right before your lips would’ve met hers, warm and sure and all-consuming, the door swung open.

“Cobbler’s out?” someone shouted from the hall. You jolted back like you'd been electrocuted. Abby’s hand dropped to her side. The moment was shattered, suspended in the thick, charged air between you. 

“I’ll uh– I’ll take this out,” you mumbled, grabbing the tray. Abby didn’t say anything as you left the kitchen.

But you felt her eyes on you the whole way out.

The almost kiss wasn’t sudden. It was the echo of something already decided. It had already started hours before, with soft confessions and shared ghosts. With laughter in the hallway and your knees brushing under the drink table. With the way she looked at you like you weren’t just another girl at the bar. You weren’t. And she wasn’t just some crush.

Not anymore.

*:·

You don’t see her for the rest of the night.

Which, honestly, feels like a personal attack considering how hard it is to breathe after what just happened in that kitchen. You tell yourself you’re grateful for the space. For the break. For the time to cool down. But then you catch yourself standing on your tiptoes near the beer tent, pretending to grab an extra napkin just so you can see if she’s there. You pass the dessert table twice. You even circle the raffle booth, slow and casual, scanning the crowd for her braid, for her arms, for that crooked, cocksure smirk.

Nothing.

She's gone. Or she’s hiding. Or she’s just too busy. You’re trying not to overthink it, truly, when you catch Jesse near the old jukebox in the back, already nursing his third beer and chatting up a girl who graduated high school last summer. You cut in without apology.

“She almost kissed me,” you hiss. He chokes mid-sip. “Jesus. What?” You drag him away from the dancefloor, behind a row of folding chairs no one’s using. “In the kitchen. Right before that idiot from the aux hall came in looking for cobbler.”

Jesse blinks at you, stunned. Then his mouth splits into a slow, gleeful smile. “No fucking way.” You nod. “I’m serious. She said she’d been trying to get my attention. Said she liked how I looked at her.” He whistles low. “Damn. Okay. Big moves, Anderson.” You’re still buzzed with the tension of it, skin prickling from the almost of her hand. Jesse grabs your wrist and grins. “I told you the dress was a good idea.” You laugh despite yourself. Slap on his arm. He catches your hand in return and spins you in a ridiculous mock waltz, and you're both giggling by the end of it, flushed and tipsy and dizzy from everything.

You don’t know that Abby sees it. From across the tent, from behind the beer table she’s been stuck at for the last hour, handing out plastic cups and watching the girl in the blue dress laugh with someone else. You don’t know how her jaw clenches when your fingers stay on Jesse’s arm. How her eyes narrow like a warning shot.

She doesn’t know Jesse is your best friend. That he’s a brother. That he’s the reason she got to see you at all tonight.

She just sees red.

The rest of the night passed with slow agony. You search for her again once it gets late, but she’s nowhere. And by the time you help clean up, your feet aching and your brain spinning from what-could-have-beens, it hits you, she never came back.

*:·

The days drag.

At first, you think it’s a coincidence. Then you think maybe she’s busy. Then, by day four, you realize it’s avoidance. She doesn’t come into the co-op where you work on Tuesdays. Doesn’t ride by the stables on Thursday night like she usually does. You pass by the gym on purpose Friday morning, sunglasses on, pretending to check your phone, and nothing. No sign of her braid. No sign of her boots. And no text. Not that you expected one. But still. 

By the weekend, you’re restless. The buzz from the kitchen moment has curdled into something bitter. Something tight in your throat. So you get dressed. Something stupid and short and flirty. Jesse raises his brow when you meet him at the bar and says, “You’re spiraling, huh?” You are. Obviously. And it’s going okay, kind of. The bar’s crowded and the music’s loud, and you almost forget about her for a second. Until you glance toward the pool tables.

And you see her. She’s standing against the wall. Wearing the same fucking jeans and boots and expression that made you stupid in the first place. Only now, she’s got her arm wrapped around someone else’s waist. A girl. Blonde. Laughing at something Abby just whispered in her ear.

Your stomach drops. Abby leans in closer, hand skimming the hem of the girl's shirt, thumb slipping just beneath it. It feels like being slapped. You don’t remember leaving the bar. Just that the cool air outside stings your skin, and the walk home is slow and silent and awful. Jesse catches up to you on the porch, says your name three times before you look at him.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “You’re crying,” he says softly. “I said I’m fine.” You light a joint on the back steps. You don’t even offer him any. He stays until you tell him to go.

Three more days pass. You tell yourself you're over it. Over her. Then Ellie shows up at your door with that look on her face. “Abby’s a dick,” she says, pushing her way into your kitchen like she owns the place. “You want me to fight her?” You raise a brow. “What?”  

“I saw her. Saturday night. With that girl.” You exhale slowly. “It’s fine.” “No, it’s not. You cried.” “I was high.” Ellie crosses her arms. “You were heartbroken.” You glare. And then you laugh. Not a real one, something mean and dry. “She didn’t owe me anything.”

“Maybe not. But she wanted to. That’s what makes her an idiot.” You wave her off, already reaching for your lighter. Ellie sighs and disappears down the hallway. You’re halfway through your second joint when there’s a knock at the door. Not polite. Not soft. Someone is angry. You open it expecting Ellie again, maybe pissed that you locked her out. Maybe Jesse is coming to check on you. But it’s her. Abby Anderson. Leaning on the frame like she’s not shaking. Like she didn’t wreck you last weekend and disappear. You blink slowly. “Seriously?” you say. Abby looks like hell. Hair loose, dark circles, eyes bloodshot. Her voice is rough when she speaks. “I didn’t know he wasn’t your boyfriend.” You blink again. “What?”

Your stomach flips. You blow out the smoke slowly. Of course, it’s her. You don’t say anything. You just open the door slightly more. Abby stands there looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen her. Hair loose. Face tight. She shifts like she might leave. Then she looks past you, into your living room, and frowns. “You high?” 

You take another drag. “What do you want?”  “I didn’t know he wasn’t your boyfriend,” she blurts. You blink. You grab your lighter and hit your joint again as you watch her quizzically.  “At the fundraiser. Jesse. I saw you laughing with him. Thought– fuck.” She scrubs a hand down her face. “I thought you were into him.” 

“You ghosted me,” you say flatly.

She winces. “I know.”

“I waited days.”

“I know.”

“Then I saw you with that girl.”

Abby looks at you like it physically hurts. “I was pissed.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I didn’t know what to do!” she snaps. “I don’t do this…feelings. This shit. I’m not good at it.” You scoff. “So you made me think I imagined everything.” She’s quiet. You shake your head, stepping back inside. “You should go.” She follows anyway. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

“Too late.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” You blink at her. Abby steps closer. “Since the day I moved here. Since the first time you looked at me and didn’t flirt. Didn’t pretend.”

Your throat tightens. “You don’t get to say that now.” She’s in front of you. Her voice was low. “I’m saying it anyway.” You push past her, but she catches your wrist. You don’t shake her off. You should. “I hated seeing you with him,” she breathes. “It made me crazy. I didn’t know what to do with that.” Your heart is pounding. “And that night at the bar,” she says. “I didn’t even touch her. Not really. I just wanted to see if it would make you jealous.” You stare at her. “That’s fucked,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“I was pissed. Jealous. I thought I’d fucked it all up before it even started.” You’re silent. Just watching her. Holding the door half-shut. Then she says it. “I haven’t seen you in days and it’s driving me fucking insane.” You let out a humorless laugh. “Poor you.”

“I thought about coming here a dozen times,” she says. “But I figured I blew it. Then Ellie found me.” You stiffen. “Ellie?” Abby nods, jaw clenched. “Cornered me outside the gym.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“She called me a coward,” Abby says quietly. You lift a brow. “She said I made you cry.” Your stomach drops. “I didn’t know. I swear. I thought you were just mad. That you hated me. That it was over.” She exhales, like it hurts to admit. “But when she said that, when I realized what I’d done, I couldn’t stay away.” You stare at her for a long moment. Then turn, walking back inside. You don’t invite her in. But she follows. Because, of course, she does. 

Ellie had found her that morning. Cornered her between the bench press racks, fury on her face and fire in her voice. “You are a fucking coward. Abby didn’t look up. Kept unwrapping the tape from her fists, slow and tight. “You broke her,” Ellie had said. “She cried. I watched her. I’ve known her for years, and I’ve never seen her look like that.” Abby had frozen. Ellie kept going. “You don’t get to play with people like that just because you don’t know what you want.”

“I wasn’t playing.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ellie spat. “All that tension, that pining bullshit.. then you ditch her and grope the first blonde with two legs?”

Abby had looked up, finally. “I didn’t fuck her.”

“Oh, congrats,” Ellie said, voice dripping with venom. “Medal’s in the mail.” That one stung. And when Ellie finally turned to walk out, she left one last blow. “She waited for you, Abby. She believed in you. Don’t show up again unless you mean it.”

Now she’s here. You’re sitting cross-legged on your couch, joint between your fingers, ashtray full. Abby hesitates by the door before she walks in slowly, like it might detonate. You offer the joint without speaking. She takes it. Inhales. Sits beside you like she’s afraid to touch anything. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating. Finally, you say, “I thought you didn’t do feelings.” “I don’t,” she says. You glance at her. She looks ruined. “I don’t,” she repeats, voice low. “But I do you.” Your chest caves in a little. She passes the joint back. You take it, hands brushing. “You hurt me,” you say softly.

Abby nods. “I know.” 

“You didn’t even try to explain. Just vanished.”

“I panicked.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I know.”

You take another hit. Hold it. Let it burn. Then you ask the thing that’s been rotting you from the inside out, “Was it just flirting?”

“No.”

“Then why her?”

“I wanted to forget,” Abby says. “And I thought if I touched someone else, it’d dull it down. Make it easier.”

“Did it?” You smiled at her condescendingly, a hint of disgust written on your face. “No.” Her voice cracks. “It made it worse.” You stare at her. She’s not even looking at you–not really. Just on the carpet. The joint. Her hands. “I’ve never wanted something slow before,” she says. “Never wanted to earn someone. But you..” Abby turns, finally. Meets your eyes. And it’s like her whole face shatters as she looks back down at the floor in shame. “You make me want to try.” That breaks something in you. “Jesus fucking Christ, look at me, Abigail! You can’t even fucking look at me! And you think you can just show up after fucking with my brain like that? Did you know that I’ve liked you since the day we met? Did you?” You scowled at her. She shut her eyes and winced at your voice rising out of frustration. “I didn’t know that.” She mutters, grabbing your wrists and trying to get you to relax, and maybe even listen for once.

“But what I do know is that I can’t let go of you, fuck, I dream of you and every corner I turn there’s something or someone there to happily remind me of your existence. Do you know what it’s like to see the one girl you’ve had an interest in, touching a guy who looks at her like she hangs the sky with her existence? Do you even comprehend the beautiful and amazing woman you are? Do you comprehend that when I saw him there… touching you… I just lost it. I thought I lost it all before it even started, sweetheart.” She inches closer. You don’t stop her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that night,” she says. 

“How close you were. How soft you looked. How bad I wanted to fuck it up because I knew it’d matter if I didn’t.”

“You still fucked it up,” you whisper.

“I know.”

The silence is so loud it buzzes. She presses her forehead to yours, gently and slowly. “Let me try again.” Your hand finds her jaw. And you kiss her. It’s smoke and apology and everything neither of you could say right. She kisses like she’s afraid you’ll vanish again. Like she’s trying to make up for every hour she wasn’t here. You climb into her lap. Her hands grip your thighs, your waist, your spine. It’s different now, not rushed, not wild. Still desperate, but quietly. You whisper against her mouth, “You made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes. “You do. More than I know how to handle.”

“I cried.”

“I know,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

You want to scream. You want to hit her. You want to kiss her until your mouth aches. Instead, you say, “You’re a fucking idiot.” She exhales. “I know.” And then you’re kissing her again. It’s rough and messy and everything you swore you wouldn’t do. Her mouth is warm and desperate. Her hands are everywhere. You back into the wall, teeth scraping, fingers in her hair. She groans into your mouth like she’s been starving. She lifts you without warning, and you wrap your legs around her, letting her carry you across the room, and slam you onto the couch. Her mouth trails down your neck, biting, bruising. “You don’t get to fuck this up,” you whisper. “I won’t,” she breathes. She pulls your shirt over your head. Her hands tremble. You don’t say anything. She kisses your collarbone. Your ribs. Whispers something about missing you so bad it ached. She kisses you again. Slower this time. Like she’s not running. Like, she finally gets it. Like, she finally wants to stay. And just before the rest of your clothes come off, before the night turns into everything you both tried to avoid, she murmurs, “I think I’m in love with you.” You freeze. And then, slowly, your mouth finds hers.

Not an answer. But not a no. Not even close.

Your legs are still bracketing her lap, your knees pressed to the outside of her thighs, but the weight of everything, the silence, the confession, her... has you trembling. Abby’s hands haven’t moved since she cupped your face, her thumbs now motionless just under your jaw, as if she’s afraid you’ll fall apart the second she lets go.

Maybe she’s not wrong. Because you are falling apart, tears slipping down your cheeks without asking permission, your breath catching, your body caught between heartbreak and want, grief and the dizzying, terrifying bloom of hope. You try to laugh, but it comes out watery and thin. “God,” you whisper, wiping under your eye. “I’m a mess.”

“No, you’re not,” she says immediately, firm, low. “You’re- fuck. You’re everything.”

And there it is again, that softness in her voice. That look in her eyes is like you’re made of something sacred. Like you are the thing worth protecting. You lean forward before you can think too hard about it, pressing your forehead against hers, breath mingling between you. Her braid brushes your arm where it falls over her shoulder, and you feel her chest rise beneath yours. You grab the braid, tugging softly at the hair tie before her hair fell out and slowly unravelled itself. 

Abby looks at you wholeheartedly, running her hair through her hands to make it sit better. You smile at her, “I love you with your hair down.” Abbys hums, almost as if in agreement, before wrapping pieces of your hair around her fingers.  “I don’t know how to say it right,” you whisper. “But I need you to know.” Abby blinks. “Know what?” You let your fingers trace down her jaw. “What you mean to me.” Her breath hitches. She doesn’t speak. So you show her instead. You kiss her. Not desperate, not rushed, but deep. Intentional. Like you want her to feel it in her lungs. Like it’s the only language you speak anymore. Her hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips like she’s anchoring herself. You can feel the tension coiled in her, the need just barely restrained. But she’s waiting. For you. You pull back, just enough to look at her. To memorize her face, how wide her eyes are, how vulnerable she looks, mouth parted, skin warm beneath your fingertips.

“I want to give you everything,” you murmur, brushing your fingers along the hem of her shirt. Her throat bobs. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupt softly. “If you’ll let me.” 

There’s a pause. Just long enough for the moment to stretch tight, breathless between you. Then, finally, Abby nods. You tug her shirt over her head, slow, careful, and your fingers follow the path of the fabric as it lifts away. You let your palms map the stretch of her shoulders, the strong slope of her arms, the curve of her waist where muscle meets softness. She’s flushed. Breath heavy. But still watching you, eyes burning like they’re memorizing every second. “God, you’re beautiful,” you whisper, and you mean it like a prayer. You lean in and kiss her collarbone, the edge of her jaw, the scar on her shoulder that you hadn’t noticed until now. Your hands cup her face, smooth back her long hair, touch her like you’re trying to say I see you. I want all of you. And Abby, who never lets anyone touch her first, who never sits still for this long, closes her eyes and lets you.

You undress her slowly– your fingers reverent, your mouth never far from her skin. There’s no rush. No frantic pulling. Just quiet gasps, lingering kisses, the kind of touches that feel like worship. And when you finally press your forehead to hers again, bare and tangled and aching with something far too big for words, you whisper, “I don’t want to take anything from you. I just want to give.” Abby exhales like she’s breaking.

“I want you to take, baby. I want you to take whatever you want or need from me. I want to give you everything, too. Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” Abby presses gentle kisses onto your shoulders and collarbone as you keep your hands fixated on her neck and face. 

“I want you, Abs. I’ve always wanted you.” 

A/N: ahhhhh i hope you guys enjoyed this first part!! please like, leave future story suggestions, comment, reblog!! and follow if you’d like :) sorry if some of it has typos, i proofread but not the best…. anyway the second part with all the goodies should be out VERY SOON! if you want to be tagged, comment and i’ll add you to the tag list for this fic! 🫶

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic June 15 - prompt 15: Drawbridge [word count 703]

Slowly, deliberately, Sirius licked from Remus's collarbone up to the side of his jaw, smiling as he felt his boyfriend shiver in his arms.

"Pads... Please," Remus's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Yes, my love?"

"Not here... Someone might see us."

"Don't worry," Sirius nipped at Remus's earlobe. "We're safe, this is the perfect hiding spot."

It was true. Everyone knew that when summer was approaching the small alcoves at the sides of the stone bridge leading to Hogwarts' main entrance were the ideal place to go with your crush or lover. They were secluded and dark enough that no one passing the bridge could see inside, and they always had that cool temperature useful when you were getting hot. Sirius had often wondered if whoever magically built the stone bridge to replace Hogwarts' old wooden drawbridge had imagined those alcoves expressly for snogging students.

"Are you sure?" Remus asked.

"We won't go in detail about why but yes, I'm sure."

Sirius quickly moved up Remus's jaw to properly kiss him and he felt him relax in his arms, his hands moving up and tugging at his hair in the exact way he loved.

"You know if you keep it up like this I'm gonna have to do more than just snog you senseless," he murmured against his lips.

"Oh yeah?" Remus smirked, his pupils wide. "Like what?"

"Like taking advantage of this place to hear how prettily you can make my name echo."

"Fuck, Sirius..."

There was an echo. They both froze as the bridge almost vibrated with an amplified echo of Fuck, Sirius... They stared at each other, as suddenly the bridge started echoing again, very, very loud.

Not so cheeky now, McKinnon?

Never thought you'd look so good on your knees, baby...

I don't give a fuck about marks, just don't stop!

I'm sure my dorm is empty, please let me get you into bed, love, I'm begging here.

"All of you. Come out now."

McGonagall's sharp voice cut through the echoes, silencing them.

"You said..." Remus started, glaring at Sirius.

"I know!" Sirius rolled his eyes.

"I honestly don't care who you're with or what you're doing, even if I ask you to make yourselves decent before coming here," McGonagall continued. "But all of you are out of bounds past curfew."

Remus sighed and Sirius followed him on the bridge proper, slowly walking up to their professor who had her arms crossed and a stony expression.

"Black, of couse," she sighed as they stopped in front of her. "I'd be grateful if you didn't take my prefects down your undisciplined road."

"You wound me, Professor," Sirius pouted.

"Five points from Gryffindor," McGonagall rolled her eyes. "And five for you as well, Lupin."

"Sorry, Professor," Remus muttered, his cheeks still flushed.

As they walked towards the main entrance, Sirius listened in, curious to hear who else had been caught in awkward positions by the implacable Head of Gryffindor House.

"Five points from Slytherin, Meadowes, and five from Gryffindor, McKinnon. You are both Quidditch players, you should be in bed asleep at this hour the day before a match."

"We were fraternising with the enemy, Professor!" came Marlene's laughter.

"Rosier, Crouch, five points from Slytherin each and I will be confiscating those handcuffs, thank you."

Sniggers echoed along the bridge.

"Evans. I was not expecting you here. Five points from Gryffindor, and five for you too MacDonald."

"Sorry, Professor," Lily's voice was contrite.

"Black."

Sirius stopped walking, about to whirl around and protest he had already had points taken.

"Five points from Slytherin, you should know better than to entertain the Gryffindor captain this late when you'll both be on the field tomorrow."

Sirius's mouth dropped open as he turned to look at the slim silhouette of his brother standing in front of McGonagall, the very familiar and taller one of James right by his side, an arm slung over his shoulders.

"And five points from Gryffindor, Potter. I won't tolerate any yawning during the match, I'm warning you."

"Sorry Professor, I'm actually too happy to apologise," James grinned.

The next thing the bridge echoed with was Sirius's shout.

"PRONGS WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING WITH MY BROTHER?!"

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part IV

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: the big talk with Superman.

Content: angst, mentions of possible pregnancy

18+

[chapter one] … [chapter three]

Word count: 3.1K

a/n: I wanted to share a lil on characterization. I think Clark in Smallville vs metropolis are very different, but for the sake of this fic I combined that but included more nervousness towards reader. To others he very much has Smallville charm n a strong sense of justice whereas with reader the metropolis personality comes out and he just seems shy 24/7

You were half asleep by the time he appeared in your bedroom. You had been under your sheets, a small candle being the only light in the room, strong enough for you to see the words in the book you were holding, but weak enough that you didn’t notice him until you felt your bed dip.

“Now, did I say you could sit on my bed in your outside clothes?” You said in a quiet voice, anxious that somehow your mama or papa’s ears would pick up on you.

He only chuckled softly in response, and you turned your head to face him and noted a tired look in his eyes. You wondered if it was there earlier today and if you’d somehow missed it. Were you any better than the crowds that swarmed around him? You hardly knew anything about him, and yet you’d let him in between your legs within minutes of meeting him. Would you have done the same with any man who’d comforted you then?

”What are you reading?” He finally asked quietly, matching your softness. In lieu of a reply you simply flipped the cover so that he could see.

“Frankenstein,” he said. “A little old, but I’ve read it in my spare time as well, I enjoyed it. How are you feeling about it?”

”I’ve read it a few times already, this is my ma’s book, she told me she got it as a little girl and it scared the hell outta her. I like to read it, just as a reminder that ma was a dumb kid at one point too.” You laughed softly at the memory of her description, and how your granny had to tell her there was no walking corpses lurking outside the farm. “The book ain’t scary at all,” you continued. “I think it’s sad, and it sorta… It… Well, it’s starting to make me think of you.”

“Me? How come you say that?”

You shut the book, laying it on your bed as you sat up on your elbow, careful not to let your blanket slip and reveal your night gown. You had changed into it out of habit, but now felt unsure in the sheer material, not wanting to send an unclear message.

“You ever wonder if people would have still kept kindly to you if you didn’t look the way you do?”

“How do I look?” He asked curiously, to which you rolled your eyes.

”Now don’t be modest, you’re a handsome fella. But what if you weren’t? Now the creature in the story, he wanted to be kind, but he was hardened not just ‘cause he was different but because he was ugly too. That ain’t fair now is it?” You tilted your head as you met his eyes, and if he needed to think about his response, he didn’t show it because it flew out his lips like it was nature.

”I think I’ll always believe in human kindness, in goodness. There’s a lot who love the idea of me, and maybe it’s because I look like most people—“

“— more handsome though,” you interjected, much to his amusement. You could spot the blush that crept onto his face despite the dim lighting.

”I… I suppose,” he continued in his deep voice. “I have a privilege in looking the way I do, despite the fact that I’m not even from this earth. That’s why it’s part of my duty to be a champion of the people, a champion of the oppressed.” You nodded at his words, a sense of pride swelling in your gut at the fact that you managed to get him to open up. Maybe, you could see how far he could go?

”Do you mind telling me where you’re from? I know ma always says that’s a rude question but…” you trailed off, hoping he’d reply. The room was silent for a few painful heartbeats before he spoke.

“I was sent here as a babe from a faraway planet once called Krypton… I had parents, and likely more family, but I never got the chance to meet them. Krypton was doomed, and so I was sent here as its only survivor; my planet’s last son.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied earnestly. He’d confirmed your suspicions, as well as the suspicions of many people that he was some sort of extraterrestrial. It was strange to think about, but it didn’t bother you. You don’t think it would have bothered you even if he looked a little funny. He had a good heart on him, and maybe he was right about kindness, but in your eyes there was a lot of bad in the world.

“No, I understand the curiosity,” he replied. “I grew up in America, raised by regular parents, and eventually became this,” he gestured to himself. “My mother wove fabric that came from my spacecraft and made this for me, this cape came straight from this planet though. My mother thought it would add to the appeal, at first I thought it silly, but I couldn’t let her down. Now I suppose I couldn’t imagine being without it.”

“A bit of a mama’s boy, huh?” You inquired, a teasing smile gracing your lips.

“It’s hard not to be,” he replied coolly.

“I don’t suppose you were raised in Smallville, now were you?” You asked, regretting the words before they even finished on your lips.

”I am unsure if you want to know the answer to that,” he said. You didn’t know what he meant by that, and you realized the reality of the situation. It felt as though the temperature of the room had changed though you weren’t sure why. You’d always had a sense of yourself and your surroundings, and realized it wasn’t the room at all but your own worries suddenly creeping up. You could only chitchat for so long until the inevitable conversation needed to happen. It had been fun while it lasted; just talking about books and mothers. It was nice to know he had a mother, it was something else that pulled him down to earth, made him digestible as a stranger.

”I don’t know what to make of myself,” you said into the room. Your eyes were focused on nothing, and seemingly everything all at once. You could hear his light breathing, you could see the shine of his red and yellow emblem on his chest. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look into those eyes of his. You weren’t sure if you could stomach it, especially when you tried to imagine Clark’s and it felt as though you couldn’t get his face right. His features seemingly confused, as though his nose didn’t know how it was meant to sit, and his eyes didn’t want to cooperate. It seemed to always be like that in the Superman’s presence.

“I think you’re very wise for your age,” he said. “I think you think a lot, and maybe a little too much.”

“A wise woman wouldn’t have cheated on her betrothed with the first man to call her pretty,” you said. “If anything, I think that’s the making of a very unwise woman.”

“I’d hardly call it cheating,” he replied softly, and surely. “It was like you said, you didn’t think he liked you, and it was your parents’ decision, wasn’t it?” There was something below the surface of his words, as if it was breaking him to say. Was he guilty too? Your pa had once said a man can often hide his sins through doing good deeds. It was gambling almost, and his words as a child, led you to steal cookies from jars every time you needed to do your chores. Your pa had chuckled after he told you just because lots of folks do it, don’t mean it works that way.

“But now I know he does like me,” you said.

”And how do you feel about him? This man you were told you gotta marry?” You heard him hold his breath after, and in an odd way you felt as though the silence of your room didn’t feel as familiar as the sound of his breathing.

You were quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I made a promise to him,” you finally decided.

“You didn’t answer the question,” he said softly. You weren’t sure why, but you felt as though you failed them both, at that very moment.

“I think you have the answer then,” you murmured.

“Do you love me?” He asked after a small sigh, and you suddenly felt as though you were saying all the wrong things.

”I don’t even know you,” you said. “I don’t even know your name.”

“You didn’t answer that question either,” he replied. You could feel the tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks, and embarrassingly you began to wipe them away. You stopped at the feeling of him shifting over, almost hovering over your frame as he wiped them away himself.

“I…” You trailed off, at the sensation of his fingers brushing away a tear that had travelled close to your lip. His hand had moved, and circled itself under your chin, bringing your face up towards his. The candle light reflected in his baby blues, and from the flame’s light you remembered that despite his gentle and soft hands, he could kill you if he really wanted to. Yet, despite that, you felt yourself sink down, and rested your head in his hand.

”I don’t understand what pulls me to you,” you whispered. “I’m not some crazed fan chasing a dream, I feel like I know you, as though I’ve known you my whole life. Is it disgusting to say you remind me a bit of him? The parts a’ him I could never talk to ‘cause he couldn’t let me in?” Your words came out like a flood, with sudden gasps as you felt your stomach get lighter with your confession.

“You could never be disgusting,” he said, and you knew he meant it. He meant every word he’d ever said to you, and that was what made him frightening. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, I wish I could make it better somehow.”

”I miss him,” you said. “I feel like when I’m with him I feel an ache like he’s not there with me; it goes away when I think of you. Ain’t that something?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied. You knew it was the type of sorry someone gave, but they meant something else entirely. Why did it feel like he was saying I love you? You didn’t know this man, and yet it felt like you’d always known him.

“I think we’re a mess, not a single one of my thoughts makes any sense when I’m around you,” you finally said, sniffling. He chuckled at that, though you knew his heart wasn’t in it.

“Is that so bad?” He asked gently. His hand under your chin, and the other rubbing your cheek with his thumb. It was intimate, more intimate than anything you’d ever experienced before you met him. The thought overwhelmed you even more.

How could any of this be bad when it felt so natural? When it felt natural to be in the dark, with this man, a nameless man, as if you’d known him across many lives. It felt natural with Clark too, but disjointed somehow as if there was some type of force preventing the two of you from merging.

How long had it felt that way? Why did it take another man waltzing into your life to see that?

“I don’t know anymore,” you whispered. You shut your eyes, consumed by the softness of his skin. It felt familiar, like a hand you know just as well but your mind couldn’t put the pieces together.

“It’s hard for me too,” he finally said. You opened your eyes in confusion, your brows knit together. “I wish I could tell you everything, I wish I could stop the tears, but there’s… I can’t say too much, it’s a burden really.”

You scoffed, sitting up and away from his hands. You were suddenly aware of the cold as you moved away from him, your nipples pebbling up under your gown. You didn’t care if he noticed, not in this moment.

”Don’t tell me you’re hiding a wife and child back home or something,” you said. The thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

“No,” he said. “Definitely nothing like that, but it isn’t as if I can ever be truly honest with you about who I am. That’s something for you to put the pieces together on, it’s a vow I took, in order to protect those I love.”

Those I love.

“How can you love me? You don’t know me,” you said.

“I don’t know Krypton either,” he replied without hesitation. “A distant planet, now nothing more than ashes in space. Yet, I carry it with me everywhere. I see home in everything I see, in what I touch, in every smell. I may not know you in the ways you think I should, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love you. Ever since I’ve met you, I’ve seen you in everything.” He spoke softly, not a stutter, and not a single moment where he looked away from you. It was overwhelming, it was so overwhelming to know a man so capable of vulnerability.

You had been so used to men who carried their feelings inside of them until it ate away at them. Your pa was a good man, but that didn’t mean you’d ever heard him talk about your ma the way the men in stories did about their wives.

“You scare me,” you said. “It’s scary to know there’s someone out there, someone who knows all the right words into your heart.” Your words had a touch of humour, but deep down, what you really meant to say was I love you. You suspected he knew that, because the truth was despite your self awareness, you weren’t quite as ready to be as vulnerable as he was. You may have been your ma’s spitting image, but you had all your father’s flaws.

“It is,” he said. He looked away for a moment, as though in contemplation, before he turned to face you again. “I think there’s something else you’re scared of though, your heart’s been beating like a rabbit all night.”

You gulped softly, your mouth suddenly turned dry. “I’m scared I could be pregnant,” you said carefully, watching as he shut his eyes in thought. “It’s too soon to know, but… I don’t know what to do if that is the case.”

He kept his eyes shut tight, before he opened them again. His eyes downcast, and you could feel your stomach drop at the sight, a sight that felt so familiar. You hadn’t seen him look so reserved before, and yet something about it itched.

“I shouldn’t hav—“

”It wasn’t as though I didn’t want you to,” you said. “If I could go back, I don’t think I would’ve changed anything. I don’t care anymore if that makes me horrible.”

“You’re not horrible,” he said. “You could never be horrible.” His eyes were blazed, you felt as though you saw a spark of red but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He moved fast, his body suddenly leaned over yours as he held you gently in his arms. They circled around you protectively as though you could break, and you supposed you could if he wasn’t careful.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” You asked hesitantly. Your own arms now circled around his neck, as you breathed in his scent.

“I want to tell you everything,” he whispered against your neck. His breath tickled you, and caused the little wisps of hair on the back of your neck to stand. “I want to tell you so bad, I think it’s breaking me,” he said quietly, his voice so soft you nearly didn’t hear. You turned in his arms, moving enough that your head was now pressed against your head board. You moved your hand to cup his cheek, and stared into his eyes and noted their sudden glassiness.

“Why can’t you?” You asked softly. “A vow you said?”

“You’ll understand in due time,” was all he said. “Please, please,” he begged. “I want you to know that you will be okay, you won’t ever have to feel bad ever again, okay?” You knew he was telling you the truth, but it still wasn’t enough somehow.

”And if I’m with child?” You asked bluntly. He replied with silence, his forehead now pressed against yours as if to comfort you. You only sighed, your hand moving to your belly, and finding his own already pressed gently there over the sheets.

You gripped his hand and let out an unexpected sob. A silent pathetic sob because despite your turmoil, despite the anxiety and fear, you were much more afraid of waking your mother. He shushed you gently, his hand still clutched in yours, and his other wrapped around your head. He rubbed tenderly, doing his best to calm you down with his hands. How could you mother a child when you felt like a grown child yourself?

“My name,” he said suddenly after you’d finally stopped your crying, the room quiet if not for your shared breathing. “My name is Kal-El,” he spoke again after another beat of silence.

“Kal-El,” you murmured with a dull sense of thrill, as if the two of you were sharing a secret. It didn’t stop your worries, it didn’t stop the pit of fear that had manifested deep inside you.

Regardless, you shared another secret of your own as your lips met against his. There was no hesitation, and there was no guilt either, and perhaps that would be your biggest secret of all.

Kal-El, you’d whisper it sporadically through the night as he held you tenderly. You traced the letters onto his hands, and tried to picture it as though you’d read it in a book somehow. You held a small fearful delusion that you’d forget it the moment he turned his back to leave you.

[florawriting]

"He's a WHAT?"

Frick it, more Billy is a god AU(?). I have an absolute love hate relationship with Fury of the Gods and I want to spread the love section gods dammit

Wouldn't it be funny if literally nobody knew that Billy was a god?

Like, everybody kind of knows that Shazam (he started going by that name after the wizard gave him permission to do so) is younger then he actually looks.

Some important people, like Waller, some JSA members, Wonder Woman, and probably Batman know his real identity.

But his godhood. No, that seems to be between him, his family, and the other two gods: Anthea and Diana. It also isn't that he kept that secret close to his chest or anything, but it usually doesn't come up in conversations and his godly duties are basically no different then his duties as the Champion.

______________________________________________________________

Just imagine a year or so in the future there comes this ancient beast that starts rampaging, and Aquaman finds an ancient atlantian proficy that basically states: a god will come by and slay it. Back in the day there were a dozon of gods, so nobody worried about the thing. But in this day and age, they are pretty much screwed.

Until Shazam showed up

Shazam: Batman, sir, I had gotten a message that I should help out here?

Batman *slightly suprised*: I am unsure if you can help much Shazam. This monster can only be slayed by a god. So we are now trying to subdue it and chain it to the bottom of the ocean.

Shazam looks a bit confused, his eyes drifting to Wonder Woman, who is currently batteling the beast.

Batman: Wonder Woman is a goddess. While she can do great damage, she can not slay it.

Shazam *cracking his knuckles*: Damm mysogonists Alright, this should be done in a minute or so.

And with that he flies into battle

Batman watches him with growing confusion, and meets with Diana on the battle field.

Batman: I see you have called in back-up

WW: We were getting nowhere Bruce. I suspected we needed to call in the cavalery

Batman: I wasn't aware you had his number. Hasn't he joined the JSA recently

WW: After the attack of the daughters of Atlas, we decided that it might be better for the gods to keep contact with each other. As a first line of defense and as a way to support each other emotionally in our duties.

Batman *detective mode activated*: Wait, Shazam is a what?

Que a shockwave from something falling into the water. Both Batman and Wonder Woman turn to see the beast, defeated, falling towards the bottom of the ocean. Shazam flying in the air doing a celebetroy whoop and fist pump.

It was probably time for Batman to add that to his file.

[sargebarnesx]

The Bride’s Brother 💍

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, MDNI

Warnings: Sex, language, mutual pining, maybe even a little bit of angst if you squint.

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Juliana Seresin for more than twenty years, which means you unfortunately have a lot of history with her older brother, Jake. That history includes one summer night that the two of you haven’t mentioned in a year until things get a little heated at Juli’s wedding.

Author's Note: My first time writing for Jake Seresin! This is inspired by an NSFW audio done by AugustInTheWinter on Reddit 👀 The storyline immediately made me think of Jake so here we are. Hope y'all enjoy! (Banner photos are from Pinterest)

“Is it bad that I’m a little worried Jake is going to make a fool of himself tomorrow?”

Your best friend, Juli, sat across from you, wearing an oversized T-shirt that said Team Bride, surrounded by a plush throw blanket. She had on a face mask and her hair was up in a tight bun - typical activities for the night before a wedding.

You hesitated before answering. “If you’d asked me last year, I would’ve said no. But after the whole ‘Navy’s finest’ shit… are you still scared he’s going to act out?”

You couldn’t believe you were defending Jake Seresin.

The same Jake Seresin who teased you about your braces in high school. The one who had shoved you into the pool after you had made it explicitly clear you hadn’t wanted to get your hair wet.

The same Jake Seresin who fucked you in his truck last summer.

That Jake Seresin.

Not that Juli knew any of that. You preferred to keep it that way.

Juli furrowed her brow in confusion. You would never straight up shit talk your best friend’s brother, but Juli knew the two of you had never gotten along.

“Look, I’m not saying I think he’s a saint. I’m just saying I don’t think he’d do anything to make you angry on your big day. As annoying as he is, he loves you,” you explained, peeling off your under-eye masks.

“Yeah, but you know how Jake is. Plus, he’s been single for a while. I have a bad feeling he’s going to be on the lookout, if you know what I mean,” Juli said with a grimace.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Unfortunately, I do.”

Juli thought for a moment. “What if…”

You glanced up at her. “Juliana, that’s the same tone you use when you’re adding yet another task to my mile-long to-do list for tomorrow.”

As Juli’s Maid of Honor and best friend since kindergarten, you had been knee-deep in the wedding planning right alongside her. In fact, you may have been more involved than Juli’s fiancé, Michael.

“I’m just wondering… what if you keep a close eye on him tomorrow?” Juli offered.

You stared at her. “You want me to babysit your thirty-something-year-old brother?”

Juli shook her head quickly. “No, no, not babysit. Just… intervene if he looks like he’s about to do something stupid.”

You started going through your mental checklist. Juli had asked you to greet vendors if she was in the middle of getting her hair and makeup done when they arrived, make sure all the bridesmaids were dressed by a certain time, follow her around pre-ceremony holding her train, bustle her dress post-ceremony, give a speech, help direct the flow of traffic during dinner, make sure the DJ didn’t play a song on her “absolutely not” list… and now she wanted you to keep an eye on Jake. As if you didn’t have enough to do.

You sighed. “I mean, I guess I can try and keep an eye on him. But I really doubt he’ll do anything dumb.”

Juli cocked an eyebrow. “Your sudden faith in my brother is shocking me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Join the club.”

**********

The wedding festivities began bright and early the next morning.

Your car was packed full with two dress bags, two duffels, snacks, a cooler, and of course - the bride. You could already tell you were going to need caffeine to get through the day.

“I can’t believe it’s my wedding day,” Juliana said. “After a long year of planning, it’s finally here.”

You smiled at your best friend. Juli and Michael had been together since their freshman year of college. You and Juli had been lucky enough to attend the same school and be roommates, so you were there for every step of the way. It also meant Juli had been there for every piece of shit, boring, red flag asshole you’d dated over the years.

It wasn’t that they were all bad. It was just that, unfortunately, there were more bad eggs than good ones.

Even after college, you hadn’t had the best track record with men. You’d been single for the last few years, and honestly, it was for the best.

When the two of you arrived at the venue, there were people everywhere - decorating, unloading supplies, counting out chairs. It was a madhouse.

“This way!” Juli called over the noise, directing you to the long hall that led to the Bride’s Room. The other bridesmaids were filing in behind you, and you recruited a few of them to help unload your car.

“So, I heard Juli’s brother from the Navy is walking her down the aisle?” one bridesmaid asked as she carried a box of snacks.

“I heard he’s hot,” another said with a smirk, gripping one of the cooler handles.

You held the other, your mouth pressed into a tight line.

“You know him, right? You’ve known Juli your whole life.”

“Yeah, I know him,” you replied, deadpan. “He’s an ass.”

Truth be told, Jake Seresin’s asshole personality was just a facade. A mask of protection. You’d seen a different side of him last summer—a side you liked. A side you wanted to see more of. But you’d walked away.

“Well,” one of the bridesmaids said with a laugh, “Guess we’ll see for ourselves this evening.”

You didn’t say anything else. This was exactly the kind of trouble Juli was afraid Jake would get himself into.

Two hours later, you were wearing a pair of silk pajamas that matched the other bridesmaids, plus fuzzy slippers. Your hair was pinned half-up, half-down, with curled pieces framing your face, and your makeup was done to perfection. Your mental checklist was half complete, with the next task being to make sure all the bridesmaids were dressed by 2 p.m.

You’d give anything for a coffee, though.

As you were grabbing another water bottle from the cooler, there was a knock at the door. You glanced back at Juli, who was currently getting her own hair and makeup done while the bridesmaids sat around the room, relaxing before pictures began.

You walked to the door and pulled it open a crack, careful to keep the bride hidden, as she had requested. Standing before you was none other than Jake Seresin.

He carried two drink carriers full of iced coffee cups. You noticed one had Bride written on the side.

“Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Goody Two Shoes,” Jake said with his signature smirk.

“Well, if it isn’t Major Asshole,” you replied with a mock salute.

Jake furrowed his brow. “You know there aren’t majors in the Navy?”

You stared at him. “Don’t care. What’s up?”

Jake didn’t speak at first, just looked down at you the way he always had. “Well,” he said finally, “Thought I’d bring my sister and her bridal party some coffee this morning.”

He stepped forward and you quickly glanced behind you to make sure everyone was dressed. He walked straight to Juli.

“Wow,” he said when he saw his little sister. This was the side of Jake people didn’t see often - his eyes immediately misty, and Juli wasn’t even in her dress yet.

“Jake?” Juli asked, turning in her seat and eyeing the coffee in his hands.

“I brought reinforcements,” Jake announced to the room, handing Juli her coffee. She beamed.

The other six bridesmaids eagerly took their coffees too, but you stayed back by the door, watching him charm every single one of them (even the married ones). His eyes kept flicking to you where you stood, directing each bridesmaid away from the cup that had been sitting next to Juli’s. After everyone had a drink, he brought the last one to you.

“Iced mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso,” he said, holding it out like a peace offering. “Just how you like it, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You remember that?”

He smirked again. “I remember most things about you. Your favorite ice cream, the way your perfume smells…” He closed the space between you and murmured under his breath as he passed by.

“…The way you look when you come undone.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as he left the room. You hadn’t seen him in a year, and that was one of the first things he said to you? He was truly something else.

The summer night you had shared with him had been unexpected, to say the least.

Juli had told you he was home on leave, and it had been a while since they’d seen him. You knew they’d be spending the week attached at the hip, catching up on everything since he’d been gone with the Navy.

That Friday night, you had a date in town with yet another online dating match. He’d stood you up.

You felt pathetic walking home alone, tail tucked between your legs, sweating your ass off in the Texas heat. You were surprised when Jake pulled up in his truck, calling your name.

“Hey, you good?” he asked when he saw the crestfallen expression on your face.

“What do you care? Shouldn’t you be with your mom and sister?” you bit out, knowing your anger was misplaced.

Jake sighed. “I was out with some of the guys I haven’t seen in a while. And I care because you’re alone, at night, and you’re my sister’s best friend. She’d kill me if I let something happen to you. C’mon, get in - I’ll drive you home.”

You debated with yourself for what felt like forever. You shouldn’t get in the truck, but it was hot, your feet hurt, and you just wanted to go home. So you got in.

Jake had the AC cranked up, and it was heavenly. You pulled at your dress, trying to peel if off your sticky skin.

“What happened?” Jake asked, driving slow through town.

You didn’t answer at first. “I had a date,” you said finally. “He didn’t show.”

“Damn,” Jake replied, giving you the exact look of pity you hadn’t wanted. “That really sucks.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Jake, I know. Can we just not talk about it?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, okay? Are you hungry, or do you just want to go home?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly. He looked at you pointedly.

“That - you don’t have to stop, Jake,” you mumbled, but he was already pulling into a drive-thru.

He ordered you a double cheeseburger and a cookies and cream milkshake, along with a large fry. He looked back at you as he drove to the window.

“Hope you’re prepared to share those,” he joked, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

Normally, you’d argue about who was going to pay, but something about Jake’s demeanor tonight made you sit quietly and wait to see what happened next.

The two of you sat in silence once he handed you the fast food bag and pulled back onto the main road.

“Where are we going?” you asked as he turned down a road you didn’t recognize.

“I know a place,” he smirked, then winked at you.

You grimaced. “Oh God, are you taking me where you take all the girls you sleep with?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “This isn’t where I take women to sleep with them. It’s just… relaxing out here. Quiet.”

Once he parked, he turned the truck off and rolled the windows down.

“See?” he said, digging through the bag on your lap and retrieving a handful of fries. “Quiet. Relaxing. Just what an uptight, goody two-shoes like you needs.”

You scoffed. So much for Jake being nice for once. You grabbed the milkshake from the center console and took a long sip.

“How’d you know I like cookies and cream?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Jake stuffed another fry into his mouth. “I’ve known you for more than twenty years. I pay attention sometimes.”

You didn’t respond - just unwrapped your cheeseburger and ate in silence. It felt like an hour had passed before Jake spoke again.

“You deserve better, you know.”

“What?” you asked.

Jake turned in his seat to face you. “Juli has told me all about these assholes you date and how much she wishes you could find someone better. And she’s right. You’re in an entirely different league than the men you date.”

“I think I just need to work on myself for a while,” you admitted, looking down at the crumpled up bag still sitting in your lap.

“I think you need to stop selling yourself short,” Jake said firmly. “I mean, look at you. You’re a college graduate, you’re employed and damn good at your job, you’re a good person - plus, you’re hot as fuck.”

You blinked at him. “Are you good? Are you running a fever?”

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead.

“You pick me up after I’ve been stood up, you buy me my favorite milkshake, you call me uptight, then tell me you think I’m hot? Hella mixed signals, Jake Seresin,” you countered, crossing your arms over your chest.

His eyes flicked from your face to your chest, then back again.

“I think…” he began, “I think it’s just hard to think straight with you in here with me. You’re wearing a skin-tight dress that’s practically a second skin, and you smell like a fuckin’ angel. I should just take you home.”

You opened your mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jake grumbled. “Like you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I literally don’t!” you exclaimed. “I thought you hated me.”

“Hated you? That’s so-” Jake shook his head. “So you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He was so infuriating. You hated the way he had your mind racing, how confusing he was, how irritatingly gorgeous he’d been since high school.

“Jake. Tell me,” you begged, pushing up onto your knees and leaning over the center console.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath when you invaded his space. Before you could say another word, his hands were tangled in your hair and he was kissing you.

The rest of the night was honestly a blur. He’d pulled you into his lap and reclined his seat, kissing you like he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment. His shirt ended up on the floorboard in the back, piled up with your dress. He’d completely unraveled you with his fingers, turning you into a shaking, whining mess on top of him. Then he was inside you, and God, you’d never felt anything like it. By the end of it all, the two of you were pressed together, and he was holding you like he didn’t want to let go.

A year had passed, and you’d been pretending it never happened. You’d expected him to do the same.

An alarm sounded on your phone, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Alright, y’all, time to get dressed!” you called out, unzipping your dress bag and pulling out your bridesmaid dress. It was a silky, steel blue material. You’d picked the style because you loved how it hugged your hips, and the slit up the side was so feminine and pretty. Juli had requested that every bridesmaid wear silver heels, and you had found the perfect pair with a thin ankle strap and a block heel. Juli had picked such flattering colors for her group.

The groomsmen were in black tuxes. Michael wore a black bow tie, while the other men wore steel blue ties that matched the bridesmaids. Jake, as the brother of the bride and the one walking her down the aisle, wore a steel blue bow tie.

Things were going exactly according to plan, and soon it was time for the bridal party to line up and get ready for their entrance into the ceremony. You stood behind Juli, carrying her train off the ground, when Jake approached her.

It actually warmed your heart how choked up he got seeing his little sister in her wedding dress. If Jake was one thing, he was a good brother to Juli - and you had always admired that, even when he irritated you.

“Look at you, all handsome!” Juli exclaimed, laughing to keep from crying as she dabbed at her eyes. Jake pulled her into a tight hug, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, he caught your eye and gave you a nod of approval. You nodded back, hoping your cheeks stayed a neutral color.

“Alright, babe, it’s time to get you married,” you said softly, hugging Juli before fluffing her train. You pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before turning to make your way down the aisle.

**********

“…All that to say, it’s not every day you get to stand next to the little girl you met on the first day of kindergarten as she gets married. Juli and I have been through it all together, and I’m so excited for this next chapter. To Juli and Michael!”

The crowd lifted their glasses as you finished your toast, and you downed your champagne in one gulp. You narrowed your eyes as you scanned the room.

Jake was currently making his rounds but had landed on one guest who was super off-limits - Michael’s ex-girlfriend. You weren’t even sure why she was there. Something about her family being really close with his and all that, but you thought it was super weird.

The dance floor was open, and you felt like the music was going to shake you right off your feet as you stalked toward Jake. When you reached him, you gripped his shoulder.

“Hi, don’t mean to interrupt,” you said with the fakest smile you could muster. “I gotta talk to Jake real quick.”

You grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from Michael’s ex-girlfriend.

“Ow, what the fuck? Why are you so grabby right now?” Jake exclaimed, rubbing his arm.

Even in your heels, he still had to look down at you.

“She is absolutely, one hundred percent off-limits!” you exclaimed through gritted teeth. “That’s Michael’s ex-girlfriend!”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “That makes her off-limits?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to ignore the way he smirked when you did. “Per Juli, everyone here is off-limits.”

“What? No way. Juli actually said that?” Jake asked, crossing his arms over his chest. At this point in the reception, he’d ditched his jacket and bow tie and rolled up his sleeves.

“Yes, she did,” you sighed. “Juli doesn’t want you to sleep with any of her friends.”

“Too late for that,” Jake muttered, and you glared at him.

“What happened last summer wasn’t even a big deal,” you retorted.

Hurt flashed in his eyes before he masked it with skepticism. “Not a big deal? You think getting fucked in my truck isn’t a big deal?”

You nodded. “It was a one-time thing. The exact one-time thing that Juli has tasked me with keeping you away from tonight.”

Jake laughed. “You sure you aren’t just jealous? All these options for me here, and you want to keep me all for yourself.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed. “Not even close.”

He didn’t respond—just studied you. It brought you right back to that night in his truck, and you were ashamed to admit the effect it had on you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said softly, looking at your feet, your heart thudding in your chest.

“Like what?” Jake asked. “Like I’ve had you falling apart on my cock, and now I’m supposed to act like it never happened?”

“Jake!” you seethed, pushing him down the hall away from the reception. “Do you want everyone to hear you say that?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not ashamed of it. I don’t regret it. And the woman I had in my truck a year ago sure as hell didn’t look like she regretted it. She looked like she wanted more.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed your temples. The truth was, you had wanted more. You’d been harboring a crush on Jake for years, but you were scared. He was fast, spontaneous. You were the complete opposite. You stayed in your comfort zone and thought things over at least three times before you truly made a decision. You knew that since becoming a naval aviator, he had changed. But you were never sure if it was enough—if things would truly work out for the two of you. You wouldn’t be able to handle having your heart broken by him.

“You want more, don’t you?”

He was egging you on at this point, and in your frustration, you grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into a nearby storage room. You pushed him against the wall as the door slammed shut behind you.

“I want you to shut up. This isn’t the time or the place to be having this conversation,” you said in a low tone.

Jake looked so damn smug as he eyed you, his gaze falling to your bare skin, just as it had that night in the truck. You rolled your eyes and pushed away from him.

“You keep doing that when you know it turns me on,” he said, taking a step toward you. “You push me away because you want me. You push me away because you know we’d be good together.”

“Good together? All we ever do is rile each other up, make each other mad. Just this morning, I called you an asshole, Jake!” you exclaimed.

“I’ve always thought it was our version of flirting,” he said with a shrug.

You glared at him. He looked so damn good tonight, and in this storage room - standing in front of you with his broad shoulders and commanding presence - you really wanted to kiss him.

“So what? You just like me all of a sudden? Now, out of nowhere, you want to be with me?” you asked, stepping forward until you were chest to chest.

Jake shook his head. “No, not all of a sudden. I’ve had feelings for you for years. I’m beginning to think you just didn’t want to notice.”

He was… right.

You couldn’t remember the exact moment your dynamic had changed - from Juli’s cool older brother and her nerdy, strait-laced best friend - to something more. That night in the truck was just one of many examples of Jake treating you differently, but you’d been so blinded by what you thought was hatred.

Jake softly pushed a piece of your hair from your face. “God, you look beautiful tonight,” he murmured.

You sighed softly. “Jake…”

“If I show you how I feel now, will you actually see it? Will you actually see me?” he asked, his hands on your hips, pulling your body against his.

You nodded, and his lips were on yours in an instant.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted, fisting your hair and pulling your head back before attaching his mouth to your neck. “That night in the truck - I said I just needed to take you home because I didn’t think you wanted it.”

“I-I didn’t think I wanted it either,” you stammered, steadying yourself by gripping his biceps.

“I asked Juli about you every time she called. Always wanted to know if you were in a relationship. Wouldn’t be surprised if she was suspicious,” Jake mumbled against your skin as he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses across your breasts.

“Why-why didn’t you ever call me?” you asked, wrapping your leg around his waist.

He immediately gripped your thigh with his left hand and pulled you harder against him. You could feel him straining against his pants, and you circled your hips, drawing a groan from low in his throat.

“Thought you hated me,” he said, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. “You told me it didn’t mean anything.”

His lips brushed up to your ear and he kissed your jaw. “You smell so good, baby. My truck smelled like you for weeks. Thought about you every time I got in it.”

You took a deep, shaky breath before you dropped to your knees in front of him, unbuckling his belt in one fluid motion.

“I hope this isn’t just your way of keeping me out of trouble,” he moaned, leaning back against the wall.

“Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure I’m the trouble,” you said, looking up at him as you pulled his cock out. He was already so hard, and he watched you stroke him, his eyes following your every move.

“Do I finally get that mouth, baby?” he asked, his voice low and thick.

You looked up at him with a smirk. “Maybe if you shut yours.”

Jake grinned. “Smartass.”

You shrugged. “You like it.”

Before he could respond, you took him into your mouth. You’d almost forgotten how big he was, but you took him deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck, baby. Shit,” he groaned.

“We can’t stay in here all night,” you mumbled, taking him all the way again. “People are going to wonder where we are.

“I don’t care what people think,” Jake said, staring at you through hooded eyes.

You wrapped your hands around him, pumping him in time with your mouth. He was panting above you, his thighs tensing.

“Wait, wait, wait…”

He gripped your wrists and pulled you to your feet, kissing you deeply.

“I wanna be inside you. Can I?”

“Yes,” you breathed as Jake slipped his hand under the slit in your bridesmaid dress.

“So wet for me, fuck,” Jake muttered, pulling your panties to the side. “Why have we been denying ourselves this all year? Why did you tell me you didn’t want it?”

You bit your lip as he pushed inside you, stretching you in the best way.

“Because I didn’t want it,” you groaned as he bounced you on his cock.

“I don’t believe you,” Jake said against your neck.

He was so deep inside you, you swore you could see stars. He kept one arm wrapped around your hips and reached up with the other to pull your breasts out of your dress.

“The prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” he whimpered. “And the most perfect pussy… oh my God.”

He wrapped his lips around your nipple, lapping at it with everything he had.

“Jesus, Jake…” you gasped, gripping his hair and pulling lightly.

“You don’t even live here,” you continued breathlessly. “There’s no way this can work.”

“We can make it work, baby. I want to.”

He reached between your legs as he pumped up into you, rubbing your clit slowly. You arched into him, your thighs starting to shake.

“Jake…” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispered. “Me too.”

You couldn’t believe this was happening - that Jake Seresin was making you feel this good and you were still thinking about walking away.

“I was scared, Jake,” you admitted.

His brow furrowed, and he buried his face in your neck. You could tell he was close.

“I was scared things would be too good with you. They are too good with you. I don’t want to get my heart broken. We’re different, we live in two different states, we-”

“We make sense, baby,” he whimpered. “I wish you could see it.”

You nodded. “Me too.”

Suddenly, it felt like something snapped deep inside you.

“Oh God, Jake!” you exclaimed, kissing him as your orgasm crested like a wave. It crashed over your body, and you felt like you were one with him - your bodies connected in the most intimate of ways.

“I love it. Fuck, I love it,” Jake mumbled against your mouth. His hips stuttered, and he groaned, spilling himself deep inside you. He kept his body pressed to yours for a moment as he came down, a shiver rolling down his spine.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, breathing heavily, as Jake pressed kisses onto your exposed skin.

“We have to go,” you whispered finally. “We’re at your sister’s wedding.”

“Just… please tell me you won’t walk out of this room and pretend this never happened.” Jake had never looked so vulnerable in front of you.

“Can we just…” You paused. The way he was looking at you was overwhelming. You couldn’t handle it. “Jake, I need to go.”

You pushed away from him, immediately feeling the loss of his body heat.

He wouldn’t meet your eye, and you didn’t blame him in the slightest. You adjusted your dress and attempted to fix your hair. The music was still blasting through the venue, and you hoped no one put two and two together.

“Can I call you tomorrow?” you asked him.

He shrugged.

And with that, you walked out of the storage room, letting the door slam behind you.

If you looked back, you knew you wouldn’t leave. So you didn’t.

[sdmnpact]

Lemonade.

George Clarke x Reader fluff

[] George likes Y/n, but Y/n is hard to get.

[] Note: Arthur Frederick will be referred to as Arthur and Arthur Hill will be referred to as Hill.

♪ Now Playing: Lemonade - The Buttertones♪

~~~

She's sweet and she's not concentrate I can't think straight She's looking my way (Looking my way)

George watched as you walked into the pub. You walked across to the bar, ordering your favorite drink. His eyes could not leave you. He was fixated, earning a shove from Arthur beside him. "Mate, you look like you're about to drool." Arthur said chuckling. George quickly pulled himself together, looking back to your direction but you were gone. He looked around the pub frantically, but couldn't see you anymore.

"Fuck sake Arthur." He mumbled as Arthur smiled, taking a sip of his drink. "What? Should've made a move the second she walked in then." Arthur said smugly, turning his attention back towards the group. George could not stop scanning the room looking for you.

You walked out of the bathroom, fixing your dress. It was a cold night but you wanted to look your best, making your bladder take the hit. "Thanks for watching my drink!" You exclaimed to your friend as you walked up to the table, taking your seat. "Of course! Hey, have you seen that group over there, don't be obvious." She said pointing behind you. You wanted to mess with her and quickly turned around, standing up slightly, looking around like crazy. "Stop it!" She said slightly embarrassed, stifling a laugh. You smiled until your eyes met a certain pair of blue ones.

You quickly broke eye contact and sat back down, taking a large swig of your drink. "What!?" She asked excitedly. "I made eye contact with some guy." You said, your face feeling warm. "See, I told you to be discrete." She scolded making you roll your eyes. "Was it that guy with a brown curly mullet and blue eyes?" She asked, you nodded quickly wondering how she knew.

"Yeah, that guy has been staring at you since you came in. His head was on a fucking swivel when you went to the toliet. I think he likes you." She teased. "Bit creepy." You said, trying to discretely look at him but immediately getting caught since he was still staring in your direction. "Oh god. Why won't he look away." You said feeling a bit uncomfortable. "I think you should talk to him." She said, making your eyes go wide. "I call the man a creep and you suggest I talk to him?"

"Whats the worst that could happen? Also his friend is pretty fit, we can double date!" She swooned. You rolled your eyes but thought about it. She is right. 'What's the worst that could happen.' "I'll go over there with you but I don't want to talk to that guy who's staring, I'll go only for you." You said, trying to make a point. "Yay, okay!" She said excitedly. Both of you got up and made you ways towards the group of guys across the bar.

I get sick and my hands start to shake when she says my name Looking my way (Looking my way) I'm losing, weak in my knees She's cold and sour like a tall glass of Lemonade on that hot summer day

George saw you walking towards his direction and immediately fell nervous. He pulled Arthur's arm gesturing towards you. "Mate she's coming this way, what do I do?" He asked, quickly trying to fix his already groomed hair. He felt like he was sweating gallons of water with each step you took in his direction. "Jesus, what's wrong with you " Arthur chuckled, not helping the situation.

"Just talk to her normally- oh wait you can't." He giggled. Arthur was not helping George out at all and this is most likely to the amount of drinks he's had at this point in the night. "Thanks for the advice." George responded sarcastically. Arthur gave him a thumbs up and continued nursing his beverage.

"Hi!!!" Your friend exclaimed enthusiastically as you two finally approached the boys. You counted five guys in total, three with mullets and two without. They all exchanged a small 'Hi' at you two. "What's your names?" She asked trying to make conversation.

You looked at the guy who wouldn't stop staring at you earlier to see that he couldn't look up at you now. You learned there names were Chris, Isaac, Hill, Arthur, and George, the one who was now just staring at his feet, avoiding your gaze.

"George, was it?" You asked him, he looked up and smiled. "Yeah, yours?" He asked. "Y/n." You answered. It felt slightly awkward with this guy. Your friend and the other boys were getting along quite well but you were still hesitant about the whole thing.

"Do you come here often?" George suddenly spoke up after a while of you two standing off to the side. "Every now and then." You responded, keeping your answers short and curt.

That tight dress, I must confess She fucks with my head I try to speak but I'm all tongue and cheek And she walks away Think of something to say (Before it's too late) If I had her, I'd be complete (Before her heart screams)

"Would you like to join us?" Arthur asked as you two were about to walk back to your table. "Ooh that sounds like a great idea!" Your friend cheered, you pulled her arm slightly. "Maybe not, we were just having a few drinks is all, it's a girls night. Come along." You said trying to beckon her back to your table. For how small she is, she fought you off with ease. "Of course, we'll stay." She said emphasizing her words towards you.

You sighed deeply, sitting down on one of the chairs near the table. You weren't interested in the conversation, you really did just want to have a girls night but your friend always gets this way when she spots a cute guy. You always end up letting her have her way and she ends up back at the guys flat while you're off getting an Uber for yourself early on in the night.

George was quiet, he didn't know how to begin a conversation with you. He watched as you took sips of your drink, occasionally picked up your phone, and looked around at the art on the walls. He wanted to talk to you but he found himself tongue tied. Arthur glanced at him every now and then, after a while of feeling bad for his friend, he spoke up.

"Y/n, George here, is a twitch streamer!" He said enthusiastically hoping that will get you interested. "How nice." You responded as nicely as you could without it sounding passive aggressive. "Well, I stream, it's not like I'm super famous." George said trying to seem more laid back. You just nodded your head, looking at your phone for the time.

George didn't know how to get your attention. He realized things like this wouldn't interest you. He had to learn more about you but you wouldn't open up. He noticed your clear phone case which had a polaroid of a dog on it. "Cute dog!" He exclaimed suddenly making you look up. You were confused for a second until he gestured towards your phone.

"Oh! That's my boy, Panda! I love him to bits!" You said happily talking about your fur baby. George saw your face light up at this and began asking you questions about your boy. This got you talking and you felt yourself beginning to soften up towards him.

The conversation began to range from talking about your dog to your interests, his interests, and everything in between. He was actually quite easy to talk to and you had more in common with him than you thought. You were slightly hesitant towards him but you can see that he's just a nice guy who's a bit awkward.

But I gotta be something that, she needs She never gives me a sign, she just takes her time Oh baby please, replenish my mind And be my tall glass of lemonade on that hot summer day And that tight skirt, she makes me hurt What can I say?

The night went on and you guys were having a good time. Your friend was all over Arthur and he was all over her. You're glad she was having a good time. You and George have been talking for hours now, the drinks making you loosen up and his soft tone making you fall for him. He's the sweetest guy you've ever met in this bar and you wanted to know more about him.

It was getting very late and you knew that you needed to get home eventually. At this point, it wasn't obvious to George that you were interested and he still tried to unravel your thoughts to see if you liked him. The whole lot of you walked out to the empty street in front of the pub. Your friend wasn't going home with Arthur because he was going home with her instead.

You were quite impressed that she managed to get a guy to go with her and you somewhat wanted some action yourself. As much as you liked George, you didn't want to pressure him into anything too soon. He seemed like a good lad and if you were to start a relationship with him, it would be all in due time.

Your friend had left with Arthur and Isaac had gotten a ride to his flat. You were left standing next to George, while Hill and Chris were standing off to the side, trying to hold themselves together.

"I had a lovely time with you tonight." George said, breaking the stillness of the quiet street. "I did too." You replied smiling brightly towards him. His eyes were sparkling under the streetlights, a slight glaze to them. His eyes darted to your lips and then back to your eyes. 'Whats the worst that can happen?' your thought from earlier reminding you that it's okay to take a chance.

You closed the gap between you, placing your lips on his. His soft lips moving gently against yours. Your hand pulling on the back of his shirt, his hand on the side of your waist. The sweet taste of you making his knees go weak and his heart beat quickly. Your lips moved together perfectly in sync, only pulling away to take a breath of air.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" He asked, your lipstick smudged on his face slightly. You chuckled as you reached towards his lips, wiping it away.

"I would love to."

~~~

Taglist ♡ @pretendyoucantseeme, @tyna-19, @whisperturnedecho @sundarksposts, @wherethezoes-at, @suspicious-stain-in-spain, @madsclarkey @xlovergirlx @daliah-xxo @needf0rspeed

[sandradreams]

Not a lot, just forever

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Season 3 finale and Season 4 start approx.

Warnings: There may be spelling mistakes, incorrect verb conjugations, or narrative errors. My English isn't very good, so please forgive me for that :(

Word account: 1,251

Autor´s note: I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. I loved writing to Daryl this way. I wrote this while listening to Coldplay's Sparks, drinking cold coffee, and crying because no one would propose to me like this :(

Daryl had spent several days outside the prison, searching for the right and perfect place for the idea he had in mind. A couple of years ago, he had met his girlfriend on a lovely summer afternoon, wearing ripped jeans, muddy and worn. A girl who had lost everything, but upon finding him, had everything once more. And to him, she meant life itself.

He wasn’t sure if it was the right decision, but he did know that he loved her with all his soul. The kind of love you don’t find on a night out at a bar—a love built on mutual respect, care, and the tenderness of a kiss. Daryl had come to understand his heart over time. It had been hard to accept what he truly felt. It all seemed like a dumb, stale joke—but she didn’t make him feel broken and useless like Merle did.

She looked at him as if he hung the sun, the stars, the entire universe—but he preferred to think she looked at him like he planted flowers in the spring. So, with that in mind, he felt ready to take the next step.

Carol helped block the windows and any spaces where light filtered in, baking cookies with ingredients she’d found in the cozy house. The table was decorated with scraps of fabric, but the most important thing wasn’t that—it was what Daryl held between his fingers.

“What are you doing?” his friend asked, noticing he wouldn’t stop rubbing the small object with precision and care.

“Nothing,” he replied playfully. “Don’t be so nosy.”

Carol tried to peek over his shoulder. Maybe he didn’t want to tell her, but she already knew what it was about. She didn’t press and simply continued what she was doing.

The archer kept rubbing the ring he had taken from a walker. Blood covered part of the stone—it was small and delicate compared to his fingers, but it was Y/N’s size. A few nights back, he had measured her finger while she slept, using a string he saved. He killed a few walkers and found it. Bright, with a square cut and a silver band—not too thin, not too thick. Just perfect.

Before the sun went down, Daryl and Carol returned to the prison with supplies, trying not to draw attention. As he got off the bike, he saw his beautiful girlfriend holding baby Judith in her arms. She smiled radiantly as she pointed at him so the little one would see. He wondered if he could ever be a father—but more than that, a good father. The kind that loves, protects, and watches over his children’s dreams. The kind he never had.

He walked toward them and kissed Y/N’s forehead, then her lips. He felt a tiny, warm hand touch his cheek, trying to cover him in drool. So, after pulling away from his girl’s lips, he gently stroked the baby’s head.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly, admiring his slightly longer hair, incredibly handsome as ever.

“Mhm… I brought you something,” he said, pointing to the backpack on his shoulders.

She nodded, and they walked inside to their shared cell. On the way, Carl took his sister and walked off with her, the baby babbling. Daryl laid out what he had brought on the mattress—clothes, a brush, hair accessories, and a few hygiene products. One floral dress caught Y/N’s eye, white and yellow, fresh and lovely. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him—soft and delicate, like the touch of a feather. As she pulled away, she whispered a thank you. He had always been thoughtful, observant, and understanding. Whenever he had the chance, he’d bring her little trinkets she might like.

Sunlight slipped through the prison bars—it was the day he had been waiting for. He was nervous, his hands sweaty and trembling slightly, his foot bouncing as he ate breakfast. As if the universe was on his side, T/N was wearing the dress. A simple hairstyle adorned her beautiful hair, glowing in the light’s rays.

“Do you like it?” she whispered, smiling and kissing his cheek.

“You look beautiful,” he said, never taking his eyes off her. She was radiant. “I’m taking you on a little trip, after breakfast.”

“What? I won’t be able to ride the motorcycle,” she said, surprised. If she had known, she wouldn’t have worn the dress.

“You’ve done it plenty of times before,” he replied.

They finished breakfast and left the prison. The wind brushed her face as she took in the scenery. Daryl pulled into a small housing complex and stopped the bike. She looked at him, confused. He didn’t respond, just helped her off and guided her into the house he had chosen.

Carol, Maggie, and Glenn had helped him prepare everything for their arrival. A few candles lit the room, and wildflowers sat in a vase on the table. Y/N tightened her grip on Daryl’s hand, eyes beginning to blur with tears at the beautiful surprise her boyfriend had prepared. She knew this kind of thing wasn’t his style—but this went above and beyond.

He spun on his heels, nervous to see her reaction. When their eyes met, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She looked at him with tearful eyes and a watery smile.

“Daryl…” his name came out in a low, breathy whisper, choked with emotion.

“I just wanted to do something nice,” he said, brushing a tear from her cheek.

“God… this is beautiful.”

He led her to the table, pulled out her chair, and let her sit. He went to the kitchen and brought over the food. Only the best for his girl. He served her, and soon they ate. The room filled with conversation, laughter, loving glances, and stolen kisses. When the moment felt just right, he pulled a small, old box from his pocket and knelt in front of her.

“Sweetheart, I’m no good with words or writing speeches. I just know that since I met you, my life has felt better, happier, and complete. Every day I wake up with you in my arms, kissing your lips and doing all the things people in love do—because that’s how I feel: in love. When you’re by my side, the sun shines brighter, the cold nights feel warmer, and I want to spend the rest of my life in love with you. Y/N, would you let me spend the rest of my life with you?”

With trembling hands and the overwhelming urge to run, he opened the box. He heard a choked sob and feared the worst.

“Yes. Forever,” she replied. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Daryl gently took her hand, kissed the back of it, and slid the beautiful ring onto her finger.

She knelt beside him and cupped his face, kissing him slowly—with a taste of promise. Of home. Of scars that no longer hurt as much. It sealed the start of a new life. He buried his fingers in his fiancée’s hair. Soon, she would be his wife.

As they pulled apart, panting together, she held him tightly.

“I love you, Daryl. Always,” she whispered.

“I love you, sweetheart. Always,” he replied, kissing the crown of her head.

They had found the place where they belonged—side by side, healing and growing together. Daryl had come to understand that love deserves to be celebrated every day. In a world that keeps changing, she was his reason for being.

*dividers by @enchanthings

[generalluxun]

You know, there's a lot of (appropriate) focus on Marinette in regards to the Big Secrets, but there is something on the *fallout* side that gets kind of overlooked.

First(briefly) I am fully in the 'It's marinette's responsibility as the protagonist/guardian/ladybug' to tell him. That out of the way...

When it does come out, if it all comes out. Adrien's going to lose his concept of family again.

Nathalie

Felix

Kagami

Marinette

Plagg

They all knew. They were all 'in' on it. His girlfriend. His foster mom. His cousin. His ex/situationship. His kwami.

There's no one he can effectively turn to that isn't already involved. Heck, even Luka is across the oceaan. His entire support system is going to collapse.

(Nino will be a bro but I don't think canon has established 'major emotional burdens' as Nino's forté)

I wonder what they will do. Odds are on a sweep-under-the-rug forgiveness speed run. If not though...

Will Adrien fall victim to Lila shenanigans?

Will he seek help from his one outside friend, Sublime?

Will he seek help from his oldest friend, Chloé?

Will he seek out new friends?

Will he isolate?

I am not saying all of these are good/equal options. I do think all are interesting to explore. Not only that, most of them give Marinette interesting situations to play off of.

The Lila-villain angle is obvious, but gives both Adrien and Marinette the least to work with.

Sublime, perfect Sublime, what a threat she could seem to Marinette, if Adrien were to turn to her. Even if both his and Sublime's intent was pure/platonic, Marinette would struggle I think.

Chloé! Isolated with no friends, only followers online. A sincere desire to be seen as helping, if only because she wants to reclaim lost friendship again. Utterly unequipped to help but trying her best in awful ways. It would let you see the roots of their childhood friendship and give Marinette soooo much to chew on. There's less of the 'steal your man' vibe that might come from Sublime, but *who* it is would add it's own flavor.

New friends would be fun, an entire friend group! Hey, the Quantic kids! They don't even need more screen time than an Aurore or a Mirielle, they just need to exist. They need to provide Adrien with a possibility of a life completely independent from Marinette and her friends. He gets to explore that and Marinette gets to grapple with that idea too. The fear of losing Adrien not *to any one person* but just to ... Another life.

Isolating is the least fun. It gives them both the least to work with. Unlesssss... He goes full time into Cat Noir persona. Adrien vanishes, and Cat Noir starts developing friendships hero-to-civilian with members of the cast. That puts lots of options on the table for who they might be with. Marinette has to grapple with both losing Adrien to ??? And with Cat Noir's new independence and connections.

[partylikemajima]

Mending Hearts - Chapter 4

Time apart caused their wounds. Time together started healing them.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Annie missed him dearly.

How dare he stay away for so long, harboring a large piece of her home with him.

The joy of being with him, how he still is her action man, warmed her. He stuck to his word as best as he could with the list of jobs she had. Rushed over every time she asked. He didn't lie if he was late, she could tell if he was.

He only lied to her once in the past before they had gotten married and it was to do with his own upbringing that had been cruel to him. Scared she was going to leave him once she found out. But it had only made her want to hold him close, tell him it wasn't his fault.

He's still her Elijah. And the way he was acting around her, she knew she was still his Annie.

Her days became more unpredictable. Annie didn't mind. She took challenges head on. Will take this one on too. This challenge was exciting yet stressful. She started counting the days wondering what he was thinking, playing her own game against her. She almost gave in too fast if it wasn't for him dodging her kiss and warning her. Now he knows how desperate she is. She knew he was too. He exuded it.

It was just a matter of time from that point. To pick the door holding their hearts apart until they find each other again.

While dealing with the antics in between.

Day 2 - Evening

Annie settled into the chair at the bar inside Club Juke, nursing a drink in her hand while the music soothed the tired souls inside. She rested the side of her face in her hand, elbow propped onto the counter.

"What'd he do?" Grace leaned over, arms crossed on the counter with a knowing smile.

Annie raised a brow to her and pursed her lips. "Nothing"

Grace smacked her arm playfully, returning to drying the freshly washed glasses. "Its always nothing, but given how hard you're staring at him girl, it can't be just nothing" She puffed out air, smile still on her face. "I hope peace finds you" She finished drying and walked out the bar, tapping another woman on the arm to take over for her.

Annie was replaying earlier that morning when her husband had decided to join in on her game. That she didn't invite him to. She could laugh at herself from how she was sounding in her head. It was fine that she was holding out, but now he was too? It irked her up the wall. He was begging and now that he caught her wanting him, he turned the tables. She felt herself starting a fight in her own head and she did that too many times in the years apart.

He was standing above on the upper level, where he seemed to stand to get a view of the happenings inside his club. Eagle eyes. She stared at him for so long that she didn't notice Stack sitting beside her until he made a comment. "Damn Annie you'll burn a hole into him" He snickered at his own comment and took out the cigarette from his mouth.

She rolled her eyes and set her glass down. "You couldn't find anyone else to bother?"

His brows raised a little, shocked by her response. She couldn't care right now. "Agitated?"

"What's it look like?" She stared him down and he shook his head.

"Now you both are being strange as hell" He tutted. "Y'all ain't fuck yet?"

She scrunched her brows together and folded her arms. She was so close to knocking him out.

"Guess not" He laughed.

Annie dug her fingertips into her arms to hold herself back.

"You think he was unfaithful?" He watched her.

"No" She didn't hesitate.

His expression dropped a little, surprised by her answer. But he sported a smirk the next second. "You really believe that?"

She glared at him, rage simmering at the surface.

He silently looked at her for a few seconds before sighing. "Shit you right, man's dick dried up he prolly don't have one no more" He took a drag of his cigarette and Annie tried to contain the laugh catching in her throat. She glanced up to Smoke again, who was having a conversation with Bo.

She'll take her husband back eventually, with whatever condition he was in.

"I tried to warn him, that if he don't use it he gon' lose it" Stack shrugged his shoulders but the fury erupted within her and spread all the way to her fingertips. What did he just-

She swung her hand and nearly hit the back of his head and he flinched, ducking down with his eyelids peeled back. She went for his shoulder, nearly stepping off the stool until his hands grabbed the one reaching for him and pushed back. She used her other hand but he caught both and held them together in one hand, his other hand broke his cigarette in the ash tray behind and lifted his bar stool. He shuffled closer to her so she could her him speak in a quieter tone, her hands still hostage in his left one.

"I didn't mean it like-" He began but she argued back.

"You tried making him unfaithful?! I dont care how many years its been, he'd have to divorce me before he gets with another woman!" She seethed and he looked frightened. She was close to committing a murder.

"Naw girl!" He said louder than he intended with the way he glanced around them in the busy environment. He lowered her hands and let go when they laid on her knees. She had her shoulders squared and tensed up, her body trying to not lurch for him. This better be good.

He held his hands above hers until he must of realised she wouldn't raise them again, and continued his explanation. "I just meant he was so pent up, it didn't even seem like he was jerkin' it off at all, had to give him some alone time at home in hopes he would" His eyes were still wide, trying to get her to understand him. The middle of her brows raised at what he said. Looking between his eyes and down to the ground. Sounded so ridiculous that Stack was saying this. He said a lot of things, but why he was saying this still confused her.

"His trigger finger got worse by the day I had to save myself" He held the back of his neck with both hands, letting out another sigh.

Ah.

She got it now.

He was worried about himself.

"I'm hoping now that he's finally back here with you, it'll soften him. At least not wanting to light up every person he sees." He smiled to her. "He talked about you almost every day in Chicago. The days he didn't were tense days" Stack closed his eyes, as if he was remembering the past and then opened them again. "Might stop shooting at me once you take him back properly"

Despite enjoying hearing about how she never left Smoke's mind while he was gone, Annie raised a brow to him. "Who said we getting back together?" She smirked when his expression dropped again.

"Y-you got to Annie, my life is on the line!" He held her hand with both of his.

"You ever think its your smart mouth that makes people want to shoot you?"

His mouth hung open.

He shut it after a little too long and then rubbed his forehead. "Anyway, think the distance messed him up inside, he was mad at me getting some too, he didn't even know what he was on about" He threw an arm over Annie's shoulders, sighing again.

Day 6

Annie pressed lightly on the avocado she was eyeing at the farmer's market. It looked just about ripe and the small give underneath the outer shell confirmed it. She checked more and gathered a bunch into her arms. Looking around she searched until she saw Smoke checking out the honeydew melons with his face creased into a frown. She slipped through the crowd and dropped the avocados into her basket that he carried in one hand. His frown eased up when he looked to her.

"I don't get which ones supposed to be ripe" His hand felt over one, pulling it back onto his hand and showed it to her.

She felt around it. "This one's bad, its too soft around here"

He turned it in his hand, eyeing it and then placed it back down. "I don't get it"

She laughed and patted his arm, moving on from the fruits to check the vegetables and he followed behind.

Any task she asked him to do, he obliged with no question. He was still following her 'long list of work' she had for him. Of course she'd fit it in with their own responsibilities, her workplace and making house visits, him with the juke, but she was happy seeing his eyes light up like fireflies.

She picked a selection of leafy greens and turned around to place them in her basket but bumped into his chest. She didn't realise he was standing right behind her, bent over to see what she was looking at. His free arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from falling, scooped her up into him and the vegetables in her arms trapped between them, her chest pressing against his. She had let out a high pitched noise at the movement and her eyes darted around checking if people were looking.

She eyed him and saw his face relax. As if he was at peace. Content on just watching her.

He let her go and she cleared her throat, dropping the vegetables in the basket finally and walked ahead of him towards the older woman at the cash register, to hide how flustered she was.

"Just this Annie?" The older woman said while checking her basket and counting the items.

"Yes Mrs Walker, how are you?" Annie asked the her, who lifted her head to look her in the eyes, which drifted slowly to regard Smoke standing beside her.

"Good, how are you?" She asked back while still looking at him.

Annie paused and looked back and forth of the two. "Good"

Mrs Walker hummed and observed Smoke up and down. Annie wondered if the woman was about to say something that was on nearly all the older generations' tongues every time they had saw the SmokeStack twins before they had left town.

'You following the devil's will'

'Evil incarnate'

'Your daddy brought you from hell'

She was ready to defend him when Mrs Walker laughed and shook her head. "You got a good posture young man" She told Annie the price for her shopping and Annie hesitated a few seconds, blinking blankly and then dug in her purse for the money.

Smoke thanked her and helped her pack up Annie's shopping.

"If you mess Miss Annie around again, I'll make hell rain down upon you" She said in a low tone and Annie heard Smoke choke and start coughing. Out of shock probably but he coughed into his elbow and Annie smiled at the older woman who winked to her.

Day 7

She hadn't seen Cornbread for a long while. The juke's plan was to operate as a club mainly on the weekends for now, starting off like this in order for them to build up the reputation as a saw mill and gather money to support the club long term - as a club within a community just trying to get by day to day in an unfair world. Annie figured she would see him chopping logs when she arrived with food for the people at work, yet he was nowhere to be seen.

She had caught Therese the other day while she was coming back from a house visit to an elderly couple suffering from nightmares. Her friend was exiting the building of the local doctor with her sister and Annie asked how she and her husband were doing. Therese gave her a hug and explained something was eating away at Cornbread. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he was saying he was going to sort it soon. Both the women had stared at each other with puzzled expressions.

Annie entered the kitchen area and saw Pearline talking to Sammie. The younger woman did a double take to her and rushed over.

"Girl your man has been acting strange" She said in a hushed tone.

Annie placed the tray down on the counter. "Strange how?"

Pearline's eyes scanned their surroundings, watching several men move past them and leave out the larger back exit. "He's gathering men up, was looking for Cornbread too but nobody could find him"

Annie chewed the corner of her lips in thought. This is either good or bad. "Where's he now?"

"Out back" She pointed her thumbs over her shoulder with a nervous smile.

Annie glanced to Sammie. "You check what he was doing?"

He shrugged. "I tried asking and he told me to shut up"

She closed her eyes and prayed.

She sighed and moved around the juke until she reached the back exit. She wasn't going to intefere yet, just watch. It wasn't like he needed someone to watch over him, he's a grown man, but the way he was probably moving had spooked Sammie and Pearline. New for Pearline but even Sammie was worried. She found Smoke standing off to the corner with his back turned to her. Stack, Earl and Noah in front of him.

She remembered from questioning Smoke earlier on his outburst at the end of the opening night, of who the other man he was holding at gun point, and recognised it was most likely Noah due to Smoke describing the his ears being pierced. Several months ago, the young man had asked her for help with his worries around big crowds and she taught him prayers he could use to quell them.

Poor soul would probably never forget Smoke after what he did.

She watched them stand there awkwardly until Stack tilted his head, saw her and shouted.

"Annie! You seen Cornbread?!" He waved her over.

She shook her head and walked over to him, seeing Smoke glance over his shoulder to her and then mutter to Stack, words that she was still out of earshot for. Reaching them, she stood next to Stack.

"Smoke's been looking for him all morning, said he has to tell all three of them something" He waved a hand over Earl and Noah. The two men nodded to her, greeting her and she reciprocated.

She then looked to Smoke who was already watching her. She tilted her head slightly as a silent question to what he was up to and he only responded with one of his brows raised slightly.

"Smoke we gotta get moving, catch Cornbread another time." Stack suggested and folded his arms.

Smoke lightly scratched the side of his forehead and rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat. "About opening night....." He began, though his eyes drifted to Annie.

Now she understood. This is big.

She quirked a brow to him and he quickly looked away towards the ground for a second and then back to the two men. "I'm sorry, for threatening you" He dropped his hand to the side and held them both together in front, straightening his back. "It was wrong of me, I shouldn't of done that" He paused and glanced to Annie again, and she nodded. "And thank you, for helping m- Annie" He said a little strained than earlier in the apology but he held strong.

Earl and Noah were taken aback. They weren't sure what to do with themselves, with the way they tried to speak but nothing formed. Earl stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. Noah held his hands together in front, similar to Smoke. When they eventually spoke, Earl talked over Noah saying his thanks and Noah mumbled mentioning it was nothing to worry about.

Stack hit both of their shoulders. "Ok we all good then!" He shook their shoulders and the two men started to laugh nervously. Stack looked to Annie with a grin but it dropped in a flash.

Annie heard Cornbread's voice behind her, very quiet as he muttered 'cuse me Annie' before she saw him take a large heavy step past her, barely seeing his arm pull back and swung forward at a fast speed.

"Oh sh-!" Stack reached forward but was not as fast as Cornbread's fist connected with Smoke's chin. The force knocked Smoke off his feet and he landed on his right side on the ground.

Annie quickly stepped around to see if Smoke needed help. If he was even awake. The punch could of put him to sleep given he was caught off guard, but surely not in serious danger, right? Her hands out in front trying to figure out if Cornbread was going to continue what he insitgated and if she was even able to stop it. Smoke slowly moved though, much to her relief, hand holding his chin and his fingertips touched his bottom lip which was busted near the corner, bloodied.

The whole back yard was quiet as Smoke stood upright and checked the blood on his hand and Cornbread towering over him.

Stack stood behind, ready to act if they both started punching.

"You accused me of adultry when you pointed that gun at me!" He pointed a hand to the ground between him and Smoke, wrapped up in anger. "You realise that?! Huh Smoke?!"

Annie tensed watching how heated Cornbread was. But Smoke held his hands together again and slowly nodded. "My fault. Didn't mean it like that, I was wrong" He looked him in the eyes. "Thank you for helping Annie, those shelves are solid"

The anger in Cornbread seemed to cool, with his shoulders relaxing by the second and his breathing less laboured. His head turned towards the rest of the men looking at the spectacle. As if he was checking to see if everyone else was witnessing this. Annie was in awe too.

Cornbread's next action eliminated the tension. He gathered Smoke's stoic self into a tight bear hug. The side of Smoke's face was squished against the large man's upper body, his eyes wide and his body remained in the same stance he was in. "You damn bastard, I thought you had died years ago!" Cornbread said while still hugging him, nearly lifting Smoke off his feet. "I wanted to kill you when you did that and we had just gotten you back!"

The scene made her smile.

"You never hugged me like that!" Stack opened his big mouth.

Well it was good while it lasted.

Cornbread steadily let go of Smoke and turned to Stack. "Oh no you and me?" The tall man gestured with his hand towards him and Stack, walking closer to him. "We gonna fight, just hands. Drop that fucking blade"

"Hey now, this-" Stack backed up and the two men scattered from his side. "Hey!" He grabbed onto Cornbread's forearms when the tall man's hands gripped his shoulders, near his neck.

"Cuss about my wife again, do it!"

Annie fought the laugh coming out of her at the sight and several men whooping and hollering, gathering closer and placing bets on who would win and others clamboring to break it up. From the corner of her eye she saw Smoke leaving, checking his pockets and walked back into the juke.

She found him out past the kitchen area exit at the side of the building, sitting on a chair with a cigarette lit between his lips, blood had dripped onto his shirt and the knuckles of his hand smudged with it. She leaned back in the doorway and picked a clean cloth from the drawer, taking it with her and stood in between his wide spread legs - much to his surprised expression, cigarette nearly falling out his mouth.

She gently plucked it from his mouth, nail grazing his lip and handed it to him. Her fingers curled around his chin and tilted his head up to inspect the damage.

"Nothing to fuss about, had worse" He mumbled.

She met his gaze. "You still bleed every time, means it still hurts every time" She dabbed his lip with the cloth. "You did good, apologising"

The corner of his lips twitch at a smirk but he hissed at the pain. He adjusted his seating position with a grunt under her hold. "Thank you"

Day 9

The job she offered for today was to investigate the noise under her floorboards at her house. Well it was their house. It was bigger than normal, housed a lot of people who had moved away or were long gone. A family that built it up and out with what they had on them over the years. It belonged to her grandmama, and when she had passed, it was only Annie left. They had moved in together after the marriage. Stack had a place to himself and Smoke got to be with her.

In the past.

When she opened the door to him, he was frozen in place, his shirt wet around his shoulders from the heavy rain outside. His eyes studied what he could see of inside.

"You not coming in?" She asked.

"It uh...." His lips remained parted and his eyes twitched. "Hasn't changed, 'cept for our picture" He licked his lips and bit his bottom lip.

She had forgotten about that. They had a picture up on the wall of when they had gotten married. After staring at it every day with tears in her eyes and her heart aching as the years dragged, she had taken it down.

"I still have it, safely stored" She informed and stood to the side. "Along with that old jacket of yours I refused you wearing" She smiled when he kissed his teeth, narrowing his eyes at her.

"That jacket been through hell with me, you and Stack wrong for that" He finally stepped in and Annie felt a shift in the house. Like it was breathing out trapped air within.

She followed behind him as he took his time navigating through it, heading to the main living area and left his lock box on the ground beside the couch. He appeared occupied with checking how much he remembered of the house. Silently recollecting memories with one hand touching various furniture pieces and belongings. Such a surreal sight. She hardly believed it herself seeing him standing in their house again.

He met her gaze when his hand touched the top of their baby's soft toy in the shape of a bear she had hand-crafted, laying on the corner of the couch. His eyes called for her to see what he was feeling. She did. She moved to stand beside him and picked it up in her hands. "Its a bit rough" She rubbed a thumb over the toy's arm, thread fraying. She'd need to sit down and redo the arm itself.

He held out his open palm for him to hold and Annie saw newer scars and callouses marking it. "Like me" He joked and she handed it to him. He held it as gently as he had held their daughter.

The rain pattering on the window outside filled the silence as they both looked at the toy for a moment. She nearly lost her self thinking back to her daughter's cries when he placed it back onto the couch, fixing its seating position so it sat upright.

"You said you were hearing noises?" He sounded concerned.

"Yeah, underneath the area where I wash clothes" She headed over to show him. "I stood still long enough to figure out where its coming from and it sounds like its underneath"

"How long you been hearing this?"

"Two nights"

He opened his mouth to speak, brows raised, but instead pinched his eyes closed with his thumb and fingers, brows squeezing together. He blew out air afterwards and used his lighter to light the kerosene lamp she kept in one of the cupboards - he remembered which one.

They both kneeled on the floor next to the square hatch and Smoke used the flat screw driver to pry it open.

"What if its a person?" Annie's unfiltered thought slipped out, mind thinking all sorts of answers.

Smoke eyes flickered to her, hand on the hatch about to lift it. He didn't say anything, just seemed to consider what she had said and checked he still had his guns on him before lifting the hatch as slowly as possible. Kerosene lamp in one hand, he lowered it down into the dark space and light illuminated it, showing just dirt. He moved it around and supported himself on the edge of the square gap with his other hand to dip his head lower down to see better.

"You only heard it at night?" His voice echoed.

"Yes" She instinctively took hold of his shoulder, to pull him back at the sign of danger. It was during the day, so nothing sinister from another plane should be lurking. But this plane has evil walking on land in plain clothes so she wanted to be ready. The area of his shirt was still damp so she curled her fingers into the material to have a better grip on him.

After another minute they heard light scratching and Smoke stilled, listening for it.

"I don't like this" She whispered but he didn't respond.

The rain heavier outside.

"Just leave it-" She spoke but a high pitched screech pierced their ears, her hand yanking him back to her quickly and she briefly saw a thing scutter past beneath as she fell back.

Her hold on him pulled him over and above her and his hand braced the back of her head, subsiding the thud she felt when she hit the floor. He had twisted in her hold when she pulled him back and while she managed to keep a hold on his shoulder, her other had planned on grabbing the front of his shirt as extra leverage but it now rested on his chest above her. Her breathing heavy, from the sound and the close proximity of him. She watched him search her face, eyes darting around her with a panicked expression until it eased and a smile formed. He put down the lamp away from them on the floor and looked at her again. The amber glow reflected in his eyes, sparkling them.

"Baby, its a racoon" He fixed her headband that must of moved out of place. He glanced down to the hand on his chest, pausing a beat before sitting up and bringing her up with him on his knees, his hands sliding down to her arms. "If you get the door, I'll grab the bitch and throw it out" He turned his head to look down towards the open hatch and Annie could feel his fast heart beat under her hand.

She collected herself mentally and detached from him, reaching the back door and holding it open. She passed him a towel he had asked for and waited as he paused over the hatch, towel in hand. She heard the scurried steps again and Smoke shouted, his hand diving down.

"Got you! You bastard. Making Annie scared" He held it up by the back of its neck, his hand pinching it through the towel and showed her. The racoon flailed its feet in the air and its small hands swung to grasp behind it but couldn't reach. She shook her hand asking him to hurry up and he laughed, standing to his feet and in one fell swoop, slid it across the floorboards by the door and it went tumbling down and out into the rain. She shut the door quickly and locked it.

"I feel bad for how you threw it" She pressed her back up to the door, her hands behind her and her lips in a frown. It looked so sad the way it rolled out.

He shook his head with a smile, folding the towel and placing it in the dirty laundry basket. "It'll be back, then you won't have to feel bad no more" He stepped to her and looked through a gap on the door beside her head. "Yeah" He mumbled. "Its planning alright".

Standing back, he asked her for the next task.

She grabbed his wrist and checked his watch, looking at him. "Ain't you late for the saw mill?"

He let her hold his wrist, focused on her.

"I got time" He said plainly.

She let go of his wrist and turned him around by his upper arms, pushing him towards the front door. "You gon' be late and then Stack is gonna run his mouth at you and next thing I know another fight breaks out" She complained. Her hands on his toned back tingled with the rumble of his quiet chuckle as he let her guide him. He was actually late, they needed to use all the time they had to keep the dream alive for their career. Even if she wanted to keep him longer.

They got to the front door and she reached past him, bringing it open and stood back. He looked out to the rain for a second or two and then turned slowly around to face her.

"I feel bad about the racoon now, having to go back out in this rain" He ran his fingertips along the edge of his pants to tidy his shirt tucked in.

Annie pouted, eyes landing on his nearly dried shoulders and her hands smoothed the creased area of the shirt where she had grabbed him earlier. It was like muscle memory, tidying him. She pulled her hands back and fidgeted with them, twirling her rings.

"At least its not that far" She mused.

He raised his elbow and leaned it on the door frame, resting the side of his head against his hand. His leg crossed over the other loosly and his free hand slipped into his pants pocket. "Still drafty in the barn"

They remained silent and watched each other, both waiting for the other to address that the string tied to each other was tightening.

Eventually he sucked in a breath and stood straight, looking to his car being pelted by the rain, and to her. "You said you heading to that family at the edge of town tomorrow? The ones dealing with haints?"

"Yeah, just setting them up with things they can use" Her fingertips grazed the wall. She wanted to touch his shirt again.

He bit his bottom lip, a hand pushing on the door frame above him, head tilting to the side and his brows knitted together. One finger tapping on the frame.

He wanted to ask something desperately.

"You want to drive me?"

His face lit up. He clicked his teeth and his smile returned.

"I'll see you tomorrow then" He smacked the door frame and jogged out into the rain and into the car.

Day 12

"Where's Smoke?" Annie asked his brother, who was frantically searching through cupboards in his house. The twins were staying in the house further down from Annie's. They had built it out similar to hers before they left for years. She had visited from time to time to check if it was broken in to or belongings were stolen, and on her trips it had turned out a few other members of the community had done the same. The ones who were friends of them, not scared of them.

Despite leaving for years, people, including her, had cared, in case they returned.

"He had to run into town, something urgent" Stack brushed her off, pulling out various items from the cupboards which tumbled down and hit the floor.

"What the hell you looking for?" She was irritated.

Mainly at herself. It wasn't like he was messing up her house.

The pain in her heart subsided when she was with Smoke. Strangly enough, as he was the reason this specific pain was there, and he replaced it with one that was only cured by him. The days she couldn't see him were longer. Fear in her for letting him in again made her want to run away and leave. Everyone and everthing.

That would be different compared to his absence. He left with a plan they agreed upon that got delayed, but she would be leaving to protect herself.

What if there was nothing else to protect herself from anymore?

They both needed each other.

Life is too short.

They both knew that.

"You making a mess" She kicked a can to the side that had rolled to her from his searching.

"You can help me look!" He yelled to her with a hand up. His head stuck inside one of the cupboard.

"I don't even know what you looking for!" She knelt beside him and looked into the cupboard he was half inside. "You fool"

"Its that gold chain Smoke had gifted me" He ran his palm across the top of the cupboard. "I didn't take it with me, didn't want to get caught holding it when we left" He shoved a box to the side and ran his palm down the side. "Gotta be here somewhere"

Annie sat back on her legs and saw him run his palm over the surfaces inside cupboards repeatedly until he shouted in joy and hit the back of his head from the top of the cupboard. "I found it!" He crambled his upper body out the cupboard and held up a solid gold chain. Upon seeing it she remembered Stack wearing it in their younger years.

They both stood, Annie dusting her off her dress.

"Right I gotta get down to the town too, you got somewhere to be? I'll drop you off on the way" He stashed the chain in his waistcoat pocket and donned his accessorized suit jacket.

"I do have to go into the town too, meant to pick up a new dress"

His brow twitched and he held his hands together, rubbing them. "Ah- I'll get it for you!" He stuttered and Annie eyed him.

He's hiding something but honestly, she couldn't be bothered finding out. She was tired from the early morning at her workplace and didn't have the energy to pick apart his lies.

"I'm going myself" She turned on her heels and walked to the front door.

"Wait!" His hand grabbed her forearm and she stopped. "I'm serious! I can get it for you and drop it by yours in the evening" He circled around her and blocked her path. "You can relax in your home!" He held her shoulders but she shrugged them off.

"I don't need you to take me Elias, I can handle myself" She stepped to him and he backed away to the side.

"I know that! But you a lady, I'm not gonna let you go by yourself even if you insist" His voice sounded further as he talked to her until she heard the car engine start up.

Looking back, he drove the car up next to her, and hoped out, holding his hand out to her.

"I'm walking, if you want to help, give me one of your guns" She held her hand out, batting his away.

Stack looked lost, tapping his body and checking his weapons. "Right now I got two .380s, and-" He checked the back of his pants. "And a nine". Then he shook his head. "That's not the point, girl come on what's wrong?!"

She stared at him long and hard, folding her arms and tapping her foot. If she killed him, there would be no coming back from that.

She'll probably kill him if she goes with him.

"Give me one of the .380s" She demanded. "And I'll go home"

He was probably gonna do some messed up shit in the town, not wanting her to witness it.

"If you get in the car and I'll drive you up the road, then I'll give it to you" He grinned.

"You really think I'm stupid? Watch your back door at night I swear I'll send a sinister-"

"Ok! Ok, shit-" He took the small gun out of the strap just above his ankle and handed it to her. "There you go ma'am"

She almost rolled her eyes, turning from him and started walking back to her house. She did roll her eyes when she heard the sound of his car creeping up the dirt road behind her.

"Just until you get in!" He shouted.

She kept walking until she climbed the steps and unlocked her front door.

"And I knew you wouldn't curse me! You wouldn't do that to Smoke!" He beeped the horn and drove away.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

It was Smoke who appeared at her door step at night, handing her the dress that Elias must of told him about. She thanked him and held it over her arms and stood by the the front door with him, a shy smile on her face. Gorgeous man, honest man. Sometimes a hard headed man, though very lenient when it came to her.

"You gon' be at the juke tomorrow night?" He asked, his voice quiet. Just for her ears.

"Yes, I plan to be, Mary coming into town again so we going together"

He hummed with a nod, checking one of his hands. "Guess you already booked Bo to take all three of you?"

She took a deep breath. "That's the plan"

He hummed again.

"Maybe after tomorrow night you'll change that"

Day 13

Annie could wager in the gambling room with her savings and bet it on the fact that the music in Club Juke was better than most have heard in a long time. Miles and Slim were the perfect duo, gathering the people and eliminating their worries each night. Pearline was the sweetness on top, serenading listening ears.

Annie was away from the kitchen for the night, she had prepped early to get started quicker but the women refused for her to be in the kitchen. Told her she deserved to relax and wind down with the crowd. When she had refused, they all crowded around her to block her from entering the kitchen. What was she supposed to do in that situation?

She accepted the offer. She flitted through the crowd, greeting her neighbours and friends. A couple of her friends pulled her in for a dance, music lightening the weight on their shoulders and laughter in the air. She moved to the side, around the bar and her eyes landed on Mary by the stage whispering to Sammie, Pearline and Slim. Annie sipped her drink and kept an eye, until Mary caught her gaze and navigated past others towards her.

"Girl! Glad I caught you" She embraced her and sat down beside her.

"We arrived together" Annie pointed a brow, giggling with Mary. The warm astmosphere hugged her.

"Yeah but I lost you for a good hour, you're very popular" She wrapped an arm over her shoulders and leaned her head against one. "As you should be"

Annie smoothed a hand over one of Mary's, smiling at her as they listened to Slim's hearfelt voice with the piano. After the song had finished, a tune began, with Pearline and Sammie dueting and Annie remembered the the tune. And then the words.

It ringed bells in her head until she matched it to a song Slim had sung years ago one evening, his piano playing attracting others at a party. The song had a sensual and rhythmic tone that blended to create the atmosphere others would want to hold their partners close, with a hint of mischef. She was nineteen at the time, standing beside a same age Elijah and wondering how it would feel like to be swaying to this song with someone. They had been talking for a while, getting to know one another whenever they crossed paths. Looking back, they were drawn to each other at the first sight, but didn't know how to proceed. Felt more than a crush, not completely love, but a longing. That party was when his hand grazed hers, fingers slowly intertwining as they focused on Slim's singing until he grasped it firmly in his hand and whispered to her, asking if she wanted to dance.

Of course she agreed.

Tonight's performance was a lovely spin on the song, the voices of Sammie and Pearline harmonized and Annie turned her head to Mary, finding her line of sight and gave her a look.

Mary laughed and wiggled her brows. "You caught me" She covered her mouth, feigning fear. "Though, it wasn't me who requested it" She winked, standing up from the seat and disappeared into the crowd.

She-

"I was thinking, would be nice if we could dance together" Smoke's velvet voice at her ear had sent sparks along her body and headed south. In the response, her eyes closed and brows drifted upwards as she soaked in the sound of his voice. "That's if you'll have me"

He was probably leaning over the bar counter with how close he was to her, and not touching her.

She turned her head towards him, just a little so she could she see him out of the corner of her eye, lips closer to each other. "You still remember how to dance?"

He moved back and she followed him with her eyes up to him standing in front of her, his hand out to hold hers. "You just gonna have to check yourself" His eyes dangerous. The kind she liked.

She took his offer, one hand gently slotting into his and his quick pull trapped her breath in her chest with the way he brought her body up close to his. Not touching. Just enough to be hypnotized by his eyes. His eyes hooked her to him before he turned away, leading her to a less crowded area of the dance floor. Where they could focus on each other.

They entered the space and he turned around to her, his hand holding her own lifted high and spun her - before bringing her back to him. He swiftly placed her hands over his shoulders and his hands held her waist. He had a cute smug on his face that she mostly didn't want to wipe off. Her own rapid heart beat threatening her to give the game a rest, desperate for the touching.

Maybe it was time to indulge a little.

"Smooth" She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Gotta be, when it comes to you" His fingertips pressed lightly into her light blue fitted dress. "You wear this dress for me?"

She tilted her head down slightly, eyes rounding, he was getting too excited, time to tease him, she pushed out his hold, one hand on his shoulder and started to walk away. "Something you wish for I bet"

What she didn't expect was for him to sieze the hand on his shoulder, tugging her closer a tad and then twirled her to face away, wrapping her own arm around her front and brought her back flushed to his chest. His right hand massaged up her forearm and his left kneaded into her left hip. "I do wish for it" He murmured at the shell of her ear.

By now she was certain he could feel her breathing quickening, her heart pounding and her body trembling in delight.

"Keep-" She fought past the beating of her heart. "Wishi-" She forgot the rest when his hands held her hips and he started to sway.

"Move with me now" He commanded and she followed the order, swaying her hips in time with the tempo of the music and his pace. Sweat beaded on her forehead and the heat attached to her. It wasn't even that hot tonight. It was the heat building between the both of them. His hands fanned out, fingers pressing into her skin, getting a tigher hold on her and her hips remembered the sensation in a multitude of ways. A hand of hers covered over one of his, and her other hand gave a fleeting touch to the side of his face, unsure where to anchor herself to subside how quickly she was losing control. As if she wasn't already anchored to him by his hands.

She was grinding on him on every other sway of their hips, her body and mind chasing the pressure but he kept the tension at bay. On a high, keeping it at the edge. Yet his lips were betraying his composure, breath hot on her neck, the area sending a shiver across her body and his lips brushed ever so lightly on her skin and she sucked in a breath - at the second the song finished and an uproar of clapping and cheering pierced the barrier into their own little world.

She manouvered in his hold to face him, hands snaking up his shoulders and stood close. His hands kept her there at the back of her waist. They regarded each other silently, both breathing faster than normal.

"So? Can I still dance?" He said lowly.

"S'alright" She said coyly.

He chuckled at that, wide smile breaking out. "Annie you know you breathless right?"

She smiled herself, dipping her head down at being caught. They rocked side to side to another slower song that began with Slim's singing. Eventually, Smoke spoke.

"About tomorrow then, change your mind?"

"Yes"

"And?"

She met his gaze. "You can pick me up"

"As a job?" He raised a brow.

"Would you mind?" She raised a brow back.

"Never" His hands smoothed up her back.

She giggled at that, lightly smacking his shoulder. "Just come over"

~~~~~~

IDK HOW THIS FEELS (in terms of if it was good or not but i really love the racoon day and the dancing 😂) BUT I HOPE IT WAS OK. HAVE A GREAT DAYYYY!! Anybody catch the 50 cent song lyric reference let me knowww its kinda obscure. Next chapter is gonna be the last its looking like! Thank you to everyone reading and wanting to keep up with this story and dealing with my silly shenanigans in it 💗💗💗💗🫂🫂

Tagging (by request): @margepimpson @brownskincheyenne @lizbehave @bigjh @hdfen2474 @theegyal @katezy2x @shamansha @lsc72 @prettygirl2800 @freelandgoddess @itstayleigh @thefutereemmywinner @jasssdee1 @puffmamaa (think i got everyone 👀)