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withahappyrefrain · 6 months ago

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Unraveled- Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob Floyd likes to think he can keep it cool. Then along comes a sundress.

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, so much pining, language,

Bob Floyd didn't like to brag, but he considered himself pretty dang smart and sensible.

He knew the ins and outs of every jet he has flown. Hell, he could break it apart and put it back together again within a few hours, if that. He was able to quickly assess a situation, weigh the pros and cons, and come to a sound decision. It’s why he was the top WSO for the mission in Miramar.

So why has a piece of fabric thrown him for such a loop?

All Bob was trying to do was be polite. You had mentioned taking an Uber to the Hard Deck tonight and Bob knew the polite thing to do was to offer a ride. After all, he wasn't going to drink. You would save money. It's what any good friend would do. It had absolutely nothing to do with the crush he had been harboring since your first debriefing.

He was just trying to be courteous. The gentleman his Mama worked hard in raising. Getting to spend time with you, without the other members of your shared squadron around or loud music, wasn't even near the forefront of his mind when he made the offer. Bob was just trying to be a good friend. A good friend who just wanted to help. A good friend who was forcing himself to look at you through a platonic lens, not a romantic one.

Bob liked to think he was doing pretty well at that.

That is, until a dress came along and unraveled him.

Perhaps you said hello when you opened the door. You probably did, considering how polite you were. But all Bob could focus on was the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves.

And what little fabric there was. He had seen you in civilian clothes before. But never anything like this. His mind absolutely went blank when you hugged him and he could feel how much of your bare skin was exposed. Due to the halter style of the straps, nearly your whole upper back was now perfectly visible.

“Um you-you look um nice,” Bob barely got out. He was too busy trying to burn the feeling of your soft skin into his brain. You were warm, like a walking ray of sunshine.

“Thanks! I got it yesterday and I figured with the weather being so nice, today was the perfect day to wear it!” you said, giving a little twirl. Bob tried to focus on the pattern of dress; how the green brought out your eyes.

But all he could focus on was the curves of your body, now being highlighted. The way the halter style made your breasts swell and the lack of a bra very apparent. How the fabric stopped at the top of your thighs when you spun, giving Bob a peek of what he often thought about late at night.

This was bad.

“I take it you came early to watch an episode of Love Island before we leave?” You asked as he stumbled walked in.

The truth was, Bob wasn’t a fan of reality TV. But he watched because it gave the two of you a chance to talk to one another. Just as friends, nothing more. When watching the silly show, you two could make jokes, talk about things other than work.

“Yeah! Ready to watch hot people make poor decisions again,” Bob said with a nervous laugh. The joke failed to put him at ease. If anything, it reminded him that he was about to spend at least forty minutes with you and that did not include the drive to the Hard Deck.

“You’re using my tagline!” your smile lit up your whole face. Bob was certain it could light up the whole turmac. All he could do was nod, his heart fluttering when you grabbed his hand, leading him into the living room.

"I have some kettle corn in the microwave for you! I also made cherry seltzer water!" Bob could feel heat rush to his face. You always remembered the little details that no one else seemed to pick up on; that he loved salt but had an even bigger sweet tooth. How in an attempt to cut back on soda, he switched to sparkling water. His favorite flavor was cherry because it reminded him of cherry coke.

"Did you see the video I sent you?" You gently squeezed Bob's hand as you two sat down.

"Y-yeah. You're absolutely right, having three otters would be my dream." Ever since learning about Bob's favorite animal, you had sent him every otter-related video you came across while scrolling the internet. You even got him a pair of Otter socks for his birthday. It was the fact you paid attention to seemingly minor details that made Bob fall head over heels for you.

But alas, you were a coworker. The problem at hand wasn't whether it was allowed, ‘incest’ (as Jake unfortunately called it) happened all the time in the Navy. After all, there were only so many things you could do on a ship before switching to people. No, it was the potential issues that came with dating. Rejection being the main one. Bob had no trouble believing you and he could be professional should you two date and it not work out. That happened all the time. What worried him was rejection. Having to go to work everyday and put on a facade, that things were fine. When deep down, he knew he'd be heartbroken. And even worse, he'd no longer have your friendship.

So Bob settled, as he often did when it came to love. He took comfort knowing he'd still have you, albeit as a friend instead of a partner. That should be more than enough. For the last few months, he had convinced himself that it was enough.

But God was it difficult when you bent over right to grab the remote.

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and-

he could see the swell of your ass. He could see the flash of red lace. Your skin looked so soft and supple and you were so close he could just reach out and-

Oh God he was hard. Oh no.

This was bad. Worse than that time he popped an erection during sex ed in middle school. There, he at least had a jacket and a desk to cover it.

But here? He was a full grown adult and San Diego’s seventy degree weather didn't give him any additional layers. Bob looked around, desperate for something, anything, to hide his cock that was currently straining against his jeans.

Thank fuck for your love of decorative pillows.

He grabbed the closest one, shaped and designed like a pomegranate. You were so excited the day you picked it up from some Facebook Marketplace deal. He had driven you, partly out of wanting to spend time with you, partly because he wanted to ensure you were safe. It was adorable and definitely shouldn’t be used for nefarious purposes, such as hiding a boner. This was wrong, so fucking wrong.

Bob was trying to think of anything and everything that would kill this boner. But his spot on the couch aligned perfectly with the entranceway of the kitchen, where you currently were, rummaging around to fix Bob a drink.

What ever happened to doors? Why were people so opposed to doors? Doors were lovely. You could close doors. Every time he tried to think of something, you were right in his line of view, turning every thought into something more devious.

His family? His family would love you. If you two got married you could make your own family.

Work? You worked with him, in that damn flight suit that clung to your every curve. No one else could make that god forsaken green fabric look good.

School? God, you were so smart. The top of your class. And witty, always ready with a clever, underhanded comeback. It’s how you two originally bonded, both having muttered something about Jake under your breath.

Bob Floyd was screwed. Thoroughly.

He tried to comfort himself with the fact that soon you two would be watching people in their early twenties making the dumbest decisions over dating. If anything were to be a boner killer, that had to be it. He just needed to make it through then.

“Bob?” Your lithe voice broke him out of his thoughts. Not that it was much of a reprieve, with the way you were standing at the kitchen entranceway with a glass of sparkling water in each hand, “You good?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He said with an all too eager nod, desperate to convince you this was truly the case. Fuck, you were so beautiful. And you were showing so much skin. He had seen you on the beach before, adorned in athletic shorts and a sports bra. But this was different.

The dress was far too nice for the Hard Deck. No, you deserved to be taken to a nice restaurant, one with a lovely outdoor patio. The image of you sitting on a lovely chair with a glass of wine in your hand came easily to Bob. It was also the perfect dress for a picnic, particularly at the nearby park, specifically in that little secluded area. God, the idea of you laying down on a red and white checkered blanket, the hem of your dress pushed up your thighs as he leaned over you, ready to take you-

Bob leaned forward, clutching the pillow as he tried to will himself the strength to get it together.

“Bob? Are-are you okay?” You quickly placed the drinks down on the coffee table, rushing over to kneel in front of him on the couch.

Oh what a sight that was, you looking up at him with big eyes, full of concern. Your hands were on his biceps, and Bob knew if he looked down he would have the perfect view of your breasts.

It was so hot and also the very last thing Bob fucking needed.

“I’m good. Stomach doesn’t agree with what we had for lunch, that’s all.” Lying was never good, his mother instilled that in him at an early age. But in this scenario, Bob was certain the truth was much worse.

“I’ll go get you a ginger ale!” Bob opened his mouth to protest, though no words came out due to seeing not only the tops of your thighs, but a flash of your ass as you spun around to go back into the kitchen.

For a few seconds, the supple, plump flesh was so close to him. Practically within arm’s reach.

Maybe he should just leave while you were in the kitchen.

But that would be rude. Not only rude, but it would raise your suspicions if they weren’t high already. Plus, he had already promised you a ride to the Hard Deck. He couldn’t just leave you hanging, not after you brought a dress for the occasion. He may be in dire need of a cold shower, but the last thing Bob Floyd was going to do was hurt you. He squeezed the pillow, knuckles turning white as he tried to find strength. For once, he couldn’t wait to start an episode of Love Island. Hell, he would even take an episode of The Bachelor at this point.

“Here ya go,” You sat down on the couch next to him, glass of ginger ale in hand. You even remembered how much ice he preferred in his cold beverages. You were perfect.

“Thanks,” Bob slowly took one hand off the pillow, the other still holding onto it for dear life.

“You uh, like that pillow?” You chuckled, though your nerves still shined through.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Bob looked down, ensuring his big problem was still covered, “It uh, helps my stomach!”

You raised an eyebrow, though you didn’t further question it. Instead, much to Bob’s delight, you reached for the remote, clicking through until you finally landed on the desired episode. With a shaking hand, Bob gulped down the ginger ale, promptly placing it on the coffee table so he could have both hands on the pillow.

The room was silent, saved for the ridiculous conversations happening on the TV screen. Normally you and Bob would be shoulder to shoulder, laughing as you both narrated your opinions on the contestants. But today Bob was rigid, his fingers still clutching to the pillow on his lap. He hadn’t even touched the bowl of popcorn.

"Do you like my dress?" It took everything in Bob not to groan at your question. The last thing he needed was a reason to look at you. But how could he deny himself such a chance? So he put on his best smile as he turned to face you.

"Uh yeah it's lovely. I'm sure everyone will love it-"

"I got it for you.” Your voice was soft as you hit the pause button on your remote, eyes remaining on the screen.

The words hit Bob like a freight train.

"What? Why would you-"

You shrugged, fingers toying with the short hem of your dress, "I thought maybe, if you saw me in something different, something that wasn't my flight suit or a tee shirt, that maybe you would finally notice me?”

You finally looked him in the eyes, “Maybe you'd finally notice that I've been trying to flirt with you for the last few months?"

Bob opened his mouth just to promptly close it. He thought back to the last few months, now analyzing every seemingly ordinary interaction he had with you.

The way you insisted on sitting next to each other during lunch. As well as during briefings. And when you went to the Hard Deck. Whenever a guy tried to flirt with you there, you turned them down, focusing your attention back on him, continuing your conversation about his latest D&D campaign or a Lego set you had found that reminded you of him. The way you always touched his arm, your hand lingering on his skin as you bore your eyes into his. How you always texted him. How you baked a cake for his birthday. The little trinkets you’d bring him.

Oh god, he was a fucking idiot.

The tension in the room was thick. You, sitting restlessly as you waited for Bob to acknowledge what you had said. Bob, processing your words and what they meant.

“How long?” Bob asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You chuckled as you shook your head, “Honestly? First day. We hadn’t even spoken yet. I saw you walk in and you just were….not only handsome but also looked so kind? Then you offered me a spare pencil, made that comment about Jake’s driving and I….was a goner.”

“I saw you talking to Halo before the briefing room was open,” He confessed, “She said something that made you laugh and it….it was the prettiest sight I had ever seen.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, huh?” You both stared ahead at the TV, still too fearful to face each other.

Bob dryly chuckled, “Yeah….a lot of time. Months, if we’re being more exact.”

The two of you remained in silence, your words sinking in. Neither sure what should be said, if anything should be said. Until finally, you spoke up.

“Bob? What’s underneath the pillow?”

His hips shifted, involuntary, “What?” For a moment, he forgot about the darn pillow and the erection he was covering with it.

The cluelessness in his voice brought a giggle, “The pillow? Why are you using it to cover your lap?”

Bob sighed, “Can I at least kiss you first?”

You nodded, moving to close the gap between you and Bob. Pillow be damned, his hands cupped your jawline, giving you a sweet smile before leaning in, closing the gap between your lips and his.

Bob Floyd’s lips were soft, no doubt due to the sweet mint chapstick you'd watch him apply countless of times. You didn't want to admit how often you'd wondered about the taste, what his hands would feel like on your body. God, they were huge. His thumbs rested comfortably on your jawline, but you could feel his other fingers spanning your neck, down to your collarbone.

The first kiss was gentle, practically modest. Your lips were only apart for several seconds, if that, before connecting again.

You easily found his shoulders, grasping them for purchase. The gap between your bodies was too much, Bob wanted to be as close as possible. So his hands trailed down your body, skimming along until they found the back of your thighs. Using his strength, he moved your body, situating you onto his lap.

A high pitched gasp fell from your lips upon feeling the bulge that was straining against his jeans. Good god, he was thick. You had heard whispers, chalking it up to typical locker room talk.

Nope, those rumors were one hundred percent true.

“I’m sorry,” Bob groaned, hands exploring your soft curves. Worst of all, he sounded earnest, only making you want to touch him more.

“I-I wore this on purpose ah-after all,” you confessed, finding it difficult to speak as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your exposed chest.

Right. You wore this on purpose. To entice him. To see if perhaps he felt the same burning desire. Once realization hit him again, Bob’s hands moved along your back, just stopping above your ass.

Wait, he was about to touch your ass.

“We-we shouldn’t,” Bob mumbled, retracting his hands from your body. You stilled, a crestfallen look painting your face.

“We shouldn’t?” Repeating the words felt like driving a knife through your heart. Had regret finally emerged, beating the rush of adrenaline? Was he going to regret this, ask that you two never speak about it ever again, pretend it never happened?

“I…” Bob sighed, “I need to take you on a date first.”

Bless his heart.

Sighing, you relaxed your body into his, resting your head in the crook of his neck, “You’re too sweet, y’know that?”

Bob chuckled, “That's supposed to be my line.”

His hands gave your hips a loving squeeze, causing you to nestle further into him, until your bodies were nearly molded as one. Your lips searched for his, trailing up his neck, his jawline, along the side of his button nose until finally reaching his soft lips. Bob shifted in his seat, causing you to do the same. As a result, you could feel his erection, despite the layers of clothes.

“Good lord Bobby, you've just been walking around with all that?” Bob groaned, but not due to your words. No, it was because you had started moving your hips in circles, his erection now pressed against your covered core.

“I’m- I’m trying to be a gentleman.” Bob couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to stop. He should stop. Maybe you two could skip the Hard Deck and go out to dinner. Then he could take you home and not feel as guilty.

“You can be a gentleman later,” by throwing your arms over his shoulder you finally had access to his neck. His skin was so soft, so delicate. How could you not sink your teeth into his neck?

Normally you'd have better self control than this. But you were ovulating and had six months of sexual frustrations and wet dreams-

“You had dreams about me?” Uh-oh. That wasn't meant to be said out loud. Granted, maybe it was for the best to get everything out in the open.

Timidly nodding, you explained, “Yeah. The days I didn't sit next to you were because….I had a dream about ya the night before.”

A band had snapped within Bob, no doubt due to the numerous times you didn't sit next to him during briefings.

Within seconds, you found yourself on your back against the couch, the bespectacled WSO hovering over you. There was a fire flickering in his blue eyes as he remained laser focused on your face.

“After this, you're putting this dress back on and I'm taking ya out to dinner, is that clear?” his voice was gruff and deep, similar to when he did a hundred pushes that one day (that you definitely didn't think about while masturbating).

Chest heaving, dress pushed up to your upper thighs, lips kiss bitten, God, you looked like an angel to Bob. He remembered learning about angels in church growing up. How pious they were, that seeing them was a sign of comfort, that they would guide one to safety, to a holy life.

There was nothing holy about what he wanted to do to you.

His mouth was hot, searing kisses along your skin. Your back arched into him, desperate for me. But he always seemed to pull away before you could get enough. Would you? Ever get enough of Bob Floyd?

Finding an answer would have to wait, for now you wanted to relish in the feeling of Bob’s hands kneading your breasts. It was obvious you weren't wearing a bra, a fact Bob ob had spent forty minutes trying not to think about. He still felt a smidge of guilt, as though the newly drawn line between friends and more hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Was he even supposed to be doing this?

“You can keep going. I want you to.” You sensed his hesitation. In all the time you knew Bob, he had never taken someone home for a one night stand. He wasn’t like that. He needed time to build a connection, to feel comfortable enough to be himself. That’s why he loved spending time with you. With you, there was no need to put up a front, no need to be fearful of judgement.

“And then afterwards, we can order some Thai food and continue watching the episode, if you want. Or we can just do that now,” your hands cradled his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you. He found a sweet, reassuring smile, similar to the one that made him smitten six months ago.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Bob could be blunt, and often was when it came to his colleague’s shenanigans. But with his own feelings? He always chose his words carefully.

Hence why his admission took you some time to process. Bob could see it on your face; first your eyes widened, lips slightly parting as if driven by the need to respond immediately. But then your lips closed, your brain quickly gaining back self control.

“I’m falling in love with you too Robby.” You were the only one who could call him that. It was that familiarity, that intimacy, that gave him the courage to move his hands to your hemline up to your hips, revealing the thin, lacy red fabric underneath.

You were breathtaking. Always were. But this? This solidified things for Bob. You two had made a step forward in your relationship. Many things would still be the same. But there were now new things to experience. Simply another layer of intimacy had been added.

His long fingers skimmed over the fabric of your panties, every touch sending a spark of electricity along your spine. Every stroke caused a small gasp to fall from your lips, music to Bob’s ears. Lowering himself, Bob decorated your hips with opened mouth kisses. Finally, gaining enough courage, his fingers pushed your panties to the side.

Fuck, you were wet.

If there was any hesitation left in Bob, it died upon seeing how visibly aroused you were. He had done that. No one else. Lowering himself even more, he was now at eye level with your wet cunt. This wasn’t some vivid wet dream.

When his touch licked a broad stripe up your slit, a broken moan fell from your lips, echoing off the walls. It was the prettiest sound Bob had heard. He wanted to hear it again. All the time.

With more confidence, Bob begins lapping up your arousal, determined to taste every inch of you. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. Looking down, you see his glasses are now crooked, though you highly doubt Bob cares, given how his eyes are half closed in pleasure.

Wait, was he grinding against the couch?

The discovery caused your thighs to clamp over Bob’s ears, your hips thrusting upwards to get more of his talented tongue. Bob wasn't reserved around you, never had been. But this was a new side to him that you had wondered if it ever existed. Animalistic. Devouring. Loud.

His groans vibrate against your core, only heightening the pleasure. Slowly, his right hand goes from your hips to your core, mouth moving to your clit as the long digits trace your opening.

“Oh my God, please,” you all but beg, not quite ready to admit how often you thought about his fingers and how they would feel inside of you.

Always thinking about your comfort, Bob started off with just one finger. You tried to fuck yourself with it, your own fingers gripping the soft strands of his hair for better leverage. The thought of making you beg crossed Bob’s mind. Would you like that? Would you be open to that? There were so many new topics to discuss, so many new boundaries to explore now.

You happily welcomed the stretch of two, three fingers. Bob found the little moans you let out to be quite adorable. He could feel his cock throb against his jeans, but pleasing you took priority.

“C’mon honey. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His voice was low, husky even.

“C-can you be inside me? Like your…your cock?” A broken groan fell from Bob’s lips at the very thought of being inside of you.

“I don't….I don't think I'll last long,” he admitted sheepishly. Hell, he could probably come just from eating you out. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it sounded pretty good- bringing himself to the height of pleasure just from ravishing you.

“I don't think I will either,” you giggled, “But we’ll….we have lots of other times to go slow.”

Bob helped you sit up on the couch. “You wanna go to the bedroom?” He asked, thinking about how this could be more comfortable for you.

Instead, you shook your head, hands moving to his jeans, hastily undoing the buttons.

Now it was your turn to explore, to discover. There was a dark trail of hair that went past the waistband of his jeans. He wore boxer briefs. And Bob Floyd had the prettiest cock.

His face turned bright red at the compliment, “Oh it's…I mean it's like fine, but it's not-”

“Take the damn compliment Robert,” you all but scolded, eliciting a laugh from him, your favorite. The high pitch, near giggle one. The one that made your heart flutter.

Feeling at ease, you moved so that you were hovering over Bob’s lap. Your fingers moved to the base of his cock, making you realize you would have to ease yourself into it.

“I gotcha,” his hands found your hips, slowly easing you down. His sapphire eyes never left your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. He went slow, waiting until you made it vocally known you were ready for more.

By the time you reached the base of Bob’s cock, you were a mess. You wanted him to move, to fuck you within an inch of your life. But he was also so big. The stretch was nothing you had experienced before.

“Hey, we can take our time, okay? I know it's, that it's a lot,” he assured you, as though he could sense your internal conflict. His lips found yours, and in that kiss you found comfort. Bob grounded you, always had, whether it was up in the air or right here on your couch.

How much time had passed, who was to say? You could recall both your phones vibrating a few times, no doubt messages from the rest of your squad. Those messages could wait.

“I think I'm ready,” you whispered against Bob’s lips. He needed, digging his fingers into your hips to gain a better grip. With his help, you lifted yourself no more than a couple of inches off his cock, returning to the base.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Bob moaned. You just made Bob Floyd curse. Something not even a bird strike could do. That four letter word gave you the confidence to lift your hips up on your own accord, returning swiftly. Slowly, just an inch or two, which became several inches. Up and down motions turned to swiveling your hips in a circular rhythm. What was once a quiet living room, saved for a few small gasps and the static from the TV, had now become a symphony of melodic pants and groans.

Bob could tell you were close. Your pussy was tightening around his cock more and more, your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, as if trying to anchor yourself. You practically whined at the sight of Bob taking two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. He lowered them to where your bodies connected.

Upon first contact with your clit, your head dropped to the crook of his neck, unabashedly moaning his name, hips moving in a now frantic motion.

“That's it, I gotcha.” Fuck, we he going to talk you through it? Was Bob Floyd a talker? Ironic, considering at work he was known as a man of few words.

“Feels s’good, being inside ya.” Fuck, he was a talker. You were doomed, “Wanna, wanna make us cum. Bet ya gonna feel even better when ya soak- fuck- soak my cock.”

Your brain was hazy. Was this real? If it was a vivid wet dream, you never wanted to wake up. Was it wrong to hope that you were in a medically induced coma, so that if this was indeed a dream, you wouldn’t have to wake up so soon? Surely, your friends and family would understand upon meeting Bob.

Then he pointedly thrusted his hips upwards, reminding you that no, this wasn’t a dream. No, you wouldn’t wake up feeling frustrated and unable to look him in the eye. After this, you two could go out to eat, on a real date. Not some hey let’s get dinner that feels like a date in everything except in name. You could also order delivery and cuddle up on the couch. Maybe you could even shower with him beforehand, and see his bare body, find out what was truly hiding underneath that flight suit. Oh, he was deceptively strong, you always knew that. But to see it, to feel the hard planes of his muscles? Oh, that would be quite the joy to experience.

“Sweet girl,” you clenched at that nickname, you wanted him to continue calling you that for eternity, “Let go. Know ya want it.”

“I-I do,” you all but whined. Bob found the noise cute. What other sounds did you make? What would you sound like if he kept fucking you after you came? What about if he ate you out for hours? Or teased you until you were teetering on the edge?

There were so many questions, so many areas to explore. But for now, Bob was satisfied with experiencing how tightly you clenched his cock, how you practically sang his name as you came. Your release triggered his, pulling your hips down until they were flushed against his. His lips smashed against yours, swallowing your moans.

Then there was silence. No words spoken. Only the sounds of panting, you both clearly trying to catch your breath, and kisses exchanged, ones that neither of you could resist giving.

Realization hits you like a freight train. “I’m on birth control.”

Bob’s eyes widened, “Oh thank God.” He was usually so good about asking, about pulling out. But you….you made his brain feel like cotton.

“You saying you don’t want to have kids with me?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek to let him know you were only saying it in jest.

“Not yet.” You sat up to find he had an earnest smile on his face, cheeks rosy and eyes shining in adornment.

Bob Floyd was going to be the death of you.

So you brushed several strands of sandy brown hair off of his forehead, replacing them with a kiss, "Gotta get me a ring first."

Luckily, you were going to be the death of Bob Floyd.

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deansbeer · 5 months ago

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☆ summer heat // clark kent.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

synopsis. a quiet drive-in date with clark turns into something far more intimate. with his soothing reassurances, you surrender to him in the confines of his dad's creaky blue pickup truck.

kari yaps. inspired by nai @st4rfckerz to write some clark smut :) it's my first ever time writing something like this for baby so pls be nice about it <333

the drive-in had been clark's idea, a rare night off from his responsibilities and a chance to spend time together without the weight of the world on his shoulders. the summer air was warm, the windows of the small blue pickup truck cracked open just enough to let in the faint breeze. the smell of buttery popcorn wafted in from the concession stand, mixing with the soft hum of the projector and the distant murmurs of people in other cars.

he'd been quiet most of the evening, his arm draped around your shoulders as the two of you leaned back against the worn leather seats. the movie—a horror flick you couldn't quite focus on—played across the giant screen in front of you. clark had been holding you close, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm, but something felt… different.

at first, you thought he was just restless. his knee bounced lightly, his breathing a little heavier than usual. you leaned into him, hoping to soothe whatever was bothering him, but instead of relaxing, his arm tightened around you, his fingers digging slightly into your skin.

"clark?" you ask softly, tilting your head up to look at him. his jaw is clenched, his eyes fixed on the screen, but there's a flicker of something in his expression that sends heat pooling low in your stomach.

"i'm fine," he murmurs, his voice a little strained, but the way his hand moves to your thigh tells a different story.

you swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the closeness of the cab, the way his fingers are sliding higher, inching beneath the hem of your sundress.

"clark," you whisper again, a warning this time, your eyes darting toward the cars parked around you.

"relax, baby," he says, his voice soft but commanding. "no one's paying attention. they're all too busy watching the movie—or rather on each other."

his lips brush against your temple, his breath warm against your skin as his hand presses higher, his fingers grazing the edge of your panties. your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation flooding your senses.

"but—" you start, your protest dying on your lips as he shifts, turning you slightly so you're facing away from him.

"trust me," he says, his voice low and full of promise.

before you can respond, his hands are on your hips, guiding you forward until you're on your stomach, your chest pressed against the cool leather of the seat. the position is awkward at first, your knees bent beneath you, but then you feel him, hard and insistent against the curve of your ass, and any thought of stopping him evaporates.

"baby," you whisper, your voice trembling as his hands slide beneath your dress, tugging your panties down your thighs.

"shh," he soothes, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. "no one will notice. i'll make sure of it."

you want to believe him, but the creak of the truck as he shifts behind you sends a fresh wave of nerves through you.

"what about the truck—"

"'s fine," he says, his voice firm as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "they're all too distracted."

his hands grip your hips, pulling you back against him as he frees himself, the heat of him almost too much as he slides against you. when he finally pushes into you, slow and calculated, a broken moan escapes your lips, muffled by the seat beneath you.

"that's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "so perfect."

his thrusts are slow at first, his hands steadying you as he moves, but the angle—the way the cramped space of the cab forces you closer together—has you biting your lip to keep from crying out.

"fuck," you whimper, your fingers gripping the edge of the seat as he picks up his pace, each movement sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"you're doing so good,” he praises, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "just let go. no one can see you. it's just us."

you try to focus on his words, on the way he feels inside you, but the faint creak of the truck and the knowledge that anyone could look over at any moment has you teetering on the edge of panic.

"they'll see," you manage, your voice muffled against the seat.

"they won't," he assures you, his hand sliding up your spine in a soothing gesture. "trust me, baby. they're all too busy with their own thing. and even if they did…" he trails off, his lips brushing against your ear. "i'd still ruin you right here."

his words send a wave of heat through you, your body clenching around him as he continues to move, his thrusts growing deeper, more deliberate.

the sounds of the movie—screams and dramatic music—fill the air, masking the soft creak of the truck and the muffled moans that escape you despite your best efforts.

clark's hands grip your hips tighter, his breathing ragged as he chases his release, and you can feel yourself spiraling, the tension in your body building with every movement.

"come for me," he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. "let me feel you, baby girl."

it's all you need. the wave crashes over you, your body trembling beneath him as you bury your face against the seat to muffle your cries.

he follows moments later, his movements slowing as he buries himself deep, a low groan escaping him as he collapses against your back.

for a moment, the two of you are silent, the sounds of the movie and the faint hum of the projector the only things breaking the quiet.

"see?" he says finally, his voice soft and teasing. "told you no one would notice."

you let out a breathless laugh, your body still tingling as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, his hands gentle as he helps you straighten your dress.

"you're impossible," you murmur, but the smile on your lips betrays you.

"and you love it," he counters, pulling you into his arms as the two of you settle back against the seat.

as the movie continues to play, you rest your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. despite the flush in your cheeks and the lingering thrill of what just happened, you can't help but feel safe in his arms.

and maybe a little scandalized.

SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @aileenunfiltered @fallbhind @lacydollette . . . ୨୧

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eowynstwin · 6 months ago

Note

i’m drooling at ur older bf price (not much else to say except when/if u ever have more thots abt him please share 🙏)

You curl in on yourself after sex, sometimes. It’s a pattern Price has noticed—you’ll finish, then he will, and in the humid moments after, the shutters in your eyes will close. You won’t meet his gaze.

He’s only asked once about it, and it had been so clear that the question disturbed you that he hadn’t pressed. You’d tell him, he reasoned, when you were ready—

(And he could nudge you in that direction in the meanwhile.)

The sink is put back together, cabinet door closed. Your sundress is wrapped and twisted around your midsection, naked breasts wet with his saliva and compressed against his chest as you lay panting on top of him. His shirt is in some far-off corner, thrown aside, and his jeans are around his knees.

“That was nice,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing your hair. He makes a home for his fingertips between your shoulder blades, walking the trail of your spine, up and down, slow as a tide.

“Mm-hm,” you say, out at sea. Far away.

He can’t deny that it disappoints him. But it isn’t about him, and he shouldn’t make it so. Even if it is about him, it isn’t actually about him—it’s about something else that has attached itself to him. Things are like that more often than not—deeper, older problems with hooks, the barbed kind that sink in and cling and won’t come out of their own accord.

So he keeps kissing your hair, and he keeps stroking your back. His softened cock hasn’t slipped from you yet, and he makes no move to dislodge it. You nestle closer to him; shift your body over his, a little, just for the feeling of it. He waits for the sigh—the long, steady breath you take after the act, after you’ve found yourself again in wherever it is you go after moments like this.

“This is probably weird to talk about after sex,” you say, and Price’s ears perk up.

“Nothing weird between us, dove,” he encourages. “What’s on your mind?”

You play with his chest hair a little, twirling it around with the manicured ends of your nails. (A manicure he happily paid for.)

“You’re the first man who’s ever given a damn about me,” you mumble into his neck.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says honestly. He kisses you again, because he wants to, and because he wants it to comfort you.

“You don’t make me feel stupid for not being able to do stuff on my own,” you continue. “My step—my mom’s husband. He used to make fun of me for, for getting confused about changing my car’s oil. Or he’d get annoyed at me. Or I’d need him to change my tires because I can’t do it on my own, and I’d call him for help, and he wouldn’t pick up the phone.”

“He sounds like a piece of work,” Price comments.

A younger version of himself would have offered to beat the shit out of the asshole. That self’s anger on your behalf sits radioactive in his chest even now—corrosive, roiling, righteous fury, ready to carve your name on whatever offal is left over after Price gets through with him.

But that would be for his own ego, not for you. That has no place here.

“Do you know—” and your voice breaks a little, “do you know how bad it feels when a man who’s supposed to look out for you treats you like you’re an idiot? Like you’re not smart enough to be worth helping?”

“Some,” he says. “It’s an awful feeling. I wish you didn’t know how it felt, dove. I’m sorry.”

He feels something warm and wet drip onto his chest, and your shoulders begin to shake.

It’s not the full-body, wracking cry of catharsis. Just an episode of something longer, something tired. A problem dealt with, over and over again—a wound that reopens sometimes, if it’s pulled the wrong way.

Price gathers you closer, wraps his arms around you tighter. He cups the back of your neck with one hand and murmurs “shhh” into your hair, soothing and quiet, squeezing you against him.

“I’m okay,” you say, a little watery. “Really, I am.”

“I know you are,” he says.

He tilts your face toward his, and kisses the center of your forehead. You meet his eyes with your own, wide and glistening with your tears.

“I’m always gonna help you, dove,” he promises, catching one that falls with the edge of his thumb. “And you can always ask.”

No I don’t have daddy issues why do you ask

#answered #price x reader #price x you #price x y/n #captain john price #john price #price smut #john price x reader #john price x you #mwritesprice #madi writes #one more of these and I’ll have to make a master list

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bi-writes · 10 months ago

Note

I think first make out session of Simon and his mail order bride happened because she wore sundress all day ~~ i'm a bit addicted to the way you writing Simon

mail-order bride

reader described as curvier/plus-sized 18+

simon has gotten away with a lot of things ever since he married you. he's kept a respectful distance; gentle touches, affectionate ones, sure, but it's been easy to brush off the itch in the back of his head ever since he scratched it just enough when he kissed you for the first time.

when the itch becomes too severe, he's been able to hide away for a little while; running it out of his system working out, shaking it off in the field, drinking so it quiets when he makes his way to the pub.

but it's gotten a lot harder lately to pretend he doesn't see you for what you are.

a pretty girl.

he tells you that you're pretty all the time. in the mornings when you're still waking up. sitting at the counter as you watch him make sandwiches for lunch. pushing the cart in the aisle at the market, picking out the right cuts of meat or seeing which crisps you both can enjoy for movie night. and you are pretty all those times, all the time, in fact, and you were pretty when he kissed you, too.

but fuck. you're also...you're also so fucking pretty.

simon kicks off his boots at the front door, holding a few paper bags in his hands from his trip to the store. the weather has been getting warmer, summer creeping by (his most dreaded season since it forces him to take off layers he'd rather keep), and you had been begging simon for some sweet icy treats and a water fountain for the cat (it'll keep her from drinking out of your water glasses, simon).

when he steps into the kitchen, you're coming in from the backyard, flowers in your hands that the neighbor must have given you.

and you're wearing the cutest little white and red sundress (and suddenly he doesn't hate summer so much anymore).

it's got a cherry pattern on it and puffy sleeves. the bodice hugs you until the middle, where it fans out in a pillowy skirt, stopping just above your knees. there's a soft bow tied around the back, but simon really can't help himself from his eyes that narrow in on your figure and how incredible you look with the sunlight behind you.

"hi, simon," you coo, and simon glares, fucking tease. he has an inkling you don't even know what you're doing to him, you can't, not with that sweet little smile and the way you rock onto your toes. you even tied your hair up with a bow, and simon can't help but feel like you're his little gift, all wrapped up just for him.

one he wants to pluck, unravel until you reveal whatever you've been hiding underneath it all--

"oh! look it! oh, simon!" you giggle, grabbing the bag from him when you see the box that pokes out of it. you pull out a sweet, red ice lolly, cherry-flavored, and you lean up on your toes to give simon a big, wet kiss on his cheek before sucking it into your mouth. "mmm...thank you...just what i needed, it's so warm today."

bloody fuckin' christ.

your tongue is so pink. it's sliding up the edge of it until you suck it back into your mouth, and simon lets out the shakiest breath. it's unlike him, and you turn to face him fully when you notice the way he's staring at you. he looks good today, dark denim jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt that stretches around his big arms, and your eyes dart to his tattoo sleeve for just a moment before you smile back up at him.

"what?" you ask him gently. "you want some?"

instead of offering him his own lolly, you simply tilt yours in his direction. he huffs, letting out an irritated laugh before he leans forward a licks a fat stripe up the side of the cherry ice.

you smile a little as he does, and you don't even realize your gaze has dropped. you're eyeing the way his mouth moves, taking in the hinge of his jaw and the light stubble along it and the scar that stretches across his whole face that you kiss sometimes when he falls asleep before you.

he groans a little as he takes a bite of the lolly, and you seize at the sound, dropping the lolly into the sink on accident as you scramble to look up at him. you stare at each other, lidded brown eyes just piercing into your own. you're quiet for only a few more moments before you're throwing yourself at him.

he nearly slams you against the closest wall. your back hits it firmly, rattling the pictures that hang there, and you throw your arms around his neck as he kisses you feverishly. his hands slide down your waist to your lower back, and you stand on your toes, his palms cupping your ass before he picks you up with ease, guiding your plush thighs to wrap around his waist as he holds you there.

you don't know how long you kiss against the wall, but you're breathless when he pulls away. you chase him, kissing along his nose, his cheek, any of the skin that you can get, and simon grunts lowly, cradling the back of your neck.

"we shouldn't," he mutters.

"why not?" you whine, and he hisses, looking into your eyes, hungry, big man, struggling to keep himself away from you. but it isn't what you want, you want him to kiss you, you want more, more, more--

you stand back on your toes, pushing him backwards. simon follows you, his hands bunched around the skirt of your dress as you walk him further into the living room until the couch hits the back of his knees, and he sits with a heavy breath. you bend to go sit in his lap, and simon curses under his breath, leaning his head back against the couch as your cleavage crowds his line of sight.

"fuckin' christ, baby," simon says lowly, running a rough hand over his face. he grunts when you take a seat in his lap, stretching your knees to straddle him, and you cage him in with your arms as you guide his chin back down so you can kiss him. you slot your mouth over his, kissing him lazily, and when you press your chest against his, he breathes out heavily when he feels your pebbled nipples through your dress. "fuck--fuck, fuck--"

"not yet," you giggle between kisses, and simon groans audibly as he slips two big hands under your dress and grabs both sides of your ass, his fingertips slipping under the lace of your panties so he can get a warm feel of you. you sit yourself down deeper in his lap, and you pull away slowly when you feel him underneath you.

he blinks his eyes open slowly, and you tentatively sit a little more in his lap, your eyes widening a little when you feel him between your thighs.

holy fucking shit--

"jesus," you stutter, and he looks away from you, ears reddening, and you're quick to cup his cheeks to bring his eyes back to you. you smile a little, leaning in again, and you press your forehead to his before giving him the gentlest grind of your hips. "oh--simon--" you kiss him again, soft, whispering against his lips, "s-so...you're so--"

"mhm," he nods, and you move so your lips are against his ear, giving him a light kiss where his jaw and neck meet.

"i'd say you're too big for me," you sigh, closing your eyes, "but i'm a riley now." you giggle. "'n we can handle anything..can't we, simon?"

"shit--"

you squeak a little when he wraps a hand in your hair and tugs, pressing your pelvis to his as he ruts his hips up against yours. you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he chokes on his moans, big arms keeping you pressed to him as he pants into your mouth.

he stills, face a little scrunched up as he sits there with you. you keep kissing him lazily, exploring the way he tastes, licking over his teeth and bottom lip, up until he pushes you just that much away and groans in frustration.

your eyes open, and you giggle, and simon smooths his hands up the bodice of your dress, his eyes blown wide as he takes in how pretty you look in it. pretty little angel in his lap, a nice weight to ground him as he tries not to think about the mess he's made of himself.

"i assume you like the dress?" you ask, and when you laugh, simon can see the red on your tongue from the lolly. he knows if he kisses you again and sucks on your pretty tongue, you'll taste like that awful cherry, taste as sugar-sweet as you really are. simon leans back a little, propping you up on his thighs, shaking his head as he runs a big hand down his solid middle.

"well," simon mutters. "'aven't cum in my fuckin' pants since i was a bloody kid, so i'd say so."

"w-wha--! simon!"

you cover your eyes, overcome with shyness, with warmth, not believing really that anyone could you want that much. that anyone could really want you at all.

but when you laugh, he does, too.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #order up

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calypso-rt · 3 months ago

Note

this is my first req ever but im obsessed with your honeymoon fic and i can't stop thinking about eloping with rafe??? just going away and getting married without telling anyone. just us two. vows are intimate af. soft emotional rafe. coming back to the obx as mrs. cameron. AHHHH pls <3

elope

-> Rafe x F!Reader

Summary: When a spur-of-the-moment decision leads to a chaotic, love-drunk elopement, you and Rafe Cameron find yourselves navigating married life with zero preparation, but with plenty of laughter, stolen kisses, and the smug satisfaction of returning to the Outer Banks as Mr. and Mrs. Cameron. 𓏌

-> ily anon for your sweet words and unique request, hope I made ur first request worth it <3

✈︎ The Getaway

It starts as a joke. A stupid, reckless, deliriously in-love kind of joke.

You’re both sprawled out on the couch, legs tangled, some movie playing in the background that neither of you are actually watching. Your fingers are absentmindedly tracing patterns on Rafe’s arm when you sigh dramatically.

"What if we just ran away and got married?"

You expect him to smirk, maybe throw back some witty remark about how you’re already his anyway. Instead, he lifts his head, eyes glinting with something dangerously close to excitement.

"Say the word, baby."

You scoff, assuming he's messing with you. "Yeah, okay, Rafe."

"No, really." He’s upright now, turning to you completely. "We could. Just go. Right now. You scared?" His lips twitch like he’s challenging you.

You roll your eyes. "Oh please. If anything, you’d be the one chickening out."

That’s all it takes.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing clothes into a duffel bag while Rafe is… well, not. He’s just standing in your doorway, watching you with the dumbest grin.

"Rafe, pack something," you huff.

"I’ll just buy stuff there," he shrugs, ever the rich boy.

"Where’s your bag?" you demand.

He shrugs. "Figured I’d just wing it."

"RAFE."

"What?" He laughs. "Babe, I got my wallet, and I got you. What else do I need?"

You groan, but before you can argue, he’s tugging you out the door, fingers locked around your wrist as if he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You won’t.

By the time you get to the airport, you’re both giddy, high off adrenaline, grinning like a couple of kids sneaking out past curfew.

"Are we actually doing this?" you ask, clutching onto his arm as he coolly slides his black Amex across the check-in counter.

Rafe just smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Babe, we were married the second you said ‘What if?’"

...

A Chaotic “I Do”

Turns out, when you spontaneously elope, you don’t exactly get a say in where you end up.

You and Rafe take the first flight out, purely because it’s the next one boarding. And now? You’re standing in the middle of an airport, squinting at a Welcome to the Bahamas sign.

"Okay, solid choice," Rafe says, sliding his sunglasses on like this was all part of the plan.

"We literally picked it at random."

"Yeah, but still. Ocean, sun, you in a bikini? Feels like fate."

You both go straight to the nearest beachfront shop, which is exactly what you’d expect: cheap sunglasses, “I ❤️ the Bahamas” T-shirts, and neon-colored swimsuits.

"Babe, look at these!" Rafe holds up a pair of matching floral-print button-down shirts.

You wrinkle your nose. "Absolutely not."

Rafe tosses one in the basket anyway.

By the time you check out, you have the most ridiculous wedding attire: a flowy white sundress for you (not quite a wedding gown, but it works), and some linen pants and a half-unbuttoned shirt for Rafe (because of course).

You both needed a place to get married. The only available option? A tiny beachside chapel run by an old woman named Martha, who takes one look at the two of you, disheveled, sun-kissed, grinning like fools, and nods approvingly.

"Y’all are one of those love-drunk couples, huh?" she says, already reaching for a pen.

"You have no idea," Rafe smirks.

The ceremony is absolute chaos.

There’s no music, just the sound of waves crashing outside. The ring situation is even worse. Rafe had to buy a cheap one from a souvenir shop (it’s literally got a tiny turtle on it, but he swears he’ll get you a real one later).

Martha starts speaking, but you barely hear it because Rafe keeps whispering things in your ear:

"I still think we should’ve gone for the floral shirts." "Babe, stop laughing, you’re gonna ruin the moment." "Damn, you look good in that dress. Gonna have a hard time focusing, baby."

You swat at his chest, but your cheeks hurt from smiling.

And then, somehow, you’re at the part where she asks if you take Rafe to be your husband.

You don’t even hesitate.

"I do."

Rafe’s eyes soften just a little. "Yeah," he says, voice warm and thick with affection, "I do, too."

And just like that, you’re married.

"Now kiss your bride," Martha says, and Rafe doesn’t waste a second, dipping you down in the most dramatic kiss, nearly toppling both of you into the sand outside.

"See, baby?" he murmurs against your lips. "Told you we were married the second you said ‘What if.’"

...

The Honeymoon Phase

🍊 Breakfast in Bed (Kind of…)

You wake up to the smell of something…burning.

"Oh, no."

Before you can even sit up, Rafe bursts through the door, balancing a tray with way too much confidence for someone who is actively sloshing orange juice everywhere.

"Morning, wifey," he grins, way too pleased with himself.

"Rafe—"

"Made you breakfast." He plops the tray onto the bed, which, by the way, now has a bright orange stain soaking into the sheets, and gestures proudly.

It’s… a mess. The toast is questionable, the eggs are slightly charred, and there’s a very concerning amount of butter on the pancakes.

"You set something on fire, didn’t you?" you ask.

"What? No. Maybe. Doesn’t matter." He shoves a buttery, sticky, orange juice-soaked pancake toward your mouth. "Eat up, Mrs. Cameron."

🏝️ Beach Walks (feat. Rafe’s Need to Be Dramatic)

The sand is blazing hot, and you try to walk normally, but one step in and you immediately yelp, hopping from foot to foot.

Rafe laughs, but before you can even complain, he scoops you up effortlessly, arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

"I gotcha, baby."

"Rafe—"

"Shhh, just let me be your hero."

You roll your eyes, but you don’t protest.

"Y’know," he smirks, adjusting you in his arms, "technically, carrying my wife across the sand is, like, tradition or something."

"That’s for crossing a threshold, not—"

"Baby. Let me have this."

⚭ Introducing You as ‘My Wife’ Every Chance He Gets

It starts off cute.

Like when he checks into the hotel: "Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Cameron."

Or when he orders drinks: "And one for my wife. She just married the luckiest guy in the world."

But then? He just doesn’t stop.

☀️ At breakfast: "My wife will have the French toast. She deserves the best, obviously." ☀️ To the surf instructor: "My wife’s never surfed before, but she’s a natural at everything, so I’m sure she’ll be great." ☀️ To random people: "Oh, you like her dress? Thanks, my wife looks good in everything."

At some point, you just start staring at him every time he says it.

"What?" he grins.

"You really love saying that, huh?"

"Saying what?"

"‘My wife.’"

"Well…" He leans in, kissing your temple. "It’s my favorite thing to call you."

And just like that, you’re completely ruined for him.

...

💍 The Ring

You're standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your hair, mentally preparing to leave this dream-like trip behind. The past few days had been perfect: messy, chaotic, and perfect.

"You ready?" Rafe's voice is casual... too casual.

"Yeah," you sigh, turning to face him. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

And that's when you see it.

A small, velvet box in his hands.

"Rafe—"

"Hold on," he interrupts quickly, flipping the lid open before you can say anything else.

And there it is.

The ring.

It’s beautiful, an actual engagement ring, nothing like the cheap little band you impulsively grabbed at the tourist shop before the ceremony. The diamond catches the light, shimmering, sparkling. It’s classic, elegant, and somehow… so you.

"You—" Your voice catches in your throat. "Rafe, when did you—?"

He rubs the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish, which is insane considering it’s Rafe Cameron standing in front of you. "I might’ve, uh, left the hotel at, like, four in the morning to find a jewelry store."

Your mouth opens, then closes. "You did what?"

"Babe, you deserve a real ring." His voice is softer now, serious in a way that makes your heart do dangerous things. "Something that actually… I don’t know, means something. Something that lasts."

You blink. "Rafe."

"I know we did this all backward, but…" He grins, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it onto your finger. "Had to get you something that actually makes people jealous."

You laugh, but your eyes are already misty as you look down at your hand, his hand still wrapped around yours.

"It’s perfect," you whisper.

His smug little smirk softens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good. ‘Cause you’re never getting rid of me now, Mrs. Cameron."

...

🏡 Back to the Outer Banks As Mr. & Mrs. Cameron

The Pogues’ Reaction

JJ nearly chokes on his beer when he sees the gold band on your finger.

"Shut the fuck up," he says, eyes wide as saucers. "You married Rafe?"

"Congratulations," Kiara deadpans. "Or… condolences?"

Pope just rubs his temples, processing the insanity. "You guys were barely even dating!"

Rafe throws an arm around your shoulder, looking insufferably pleased with himself. "Guess we’re just efficient."

Sarah stares at you, then at Rafe, then back at you. "You— You eloped? Like, actually eloped?*"

You shrug, suppressing a mischievous smile. "Well, yes."

"Bro," JJ turns to Rafe, baffled beyond belief. "You’re a psychopath."

Rafe just smirks. "And now she’s stuck with me forever."

The Kooks’ Reaction

Topper’s jaw drops. "You did what?"

"Married her," Rafe repeats casually.

"You can’t just— That’s not—*" Topper just splutters for a second. "Why wasn’t I invited?"

"There was no invite," you explain, smirking at his distress. "It was very in the moment."

"So you—" Kelce pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to comprehend this absolute madness. "You just ran off and got married. Just like that."

"Yup."

"You’re both insane," he says, but there’s a smile creeping onto his face. "But also… kinda iconic?"

𓏌 Married Life

Everyone’s still reeling from the news. Your phone hasn’t stopped blowing up.

JJ threatens to throw a “belated bachelorette party” despite it being entirely too late.

"You do realize you’re a Cameron now, right?" Topper reminds you every chance he gets, as if you somehow forgot.

Rafe won’t stop introducing you as his wife, relishing every second of people’s reactions.

You catch him randomly grinning at you like a lovestruck idiot.

"What?" you ask one night, curled up on the couch together.

"Nothing," he murmurs, smirking. "Just like saying Mrs. Cameron in my head."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction

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notquitecanon · 1 year ago

Text

Keep talking // Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Summary: Simon really likes your new sundress AND wants to hear about your day. These things can coexist

Tags: established relationship, pretty domestic, yapper wife x silent husband, sunshine x grumpy kinda??? Whatever tropes the kids are saying these days suggestive but not NSFT, dumbification if you really squint, husband Simon Riley, pg-13 at worst

—

Simon was staring at you. Intensely. Him staring wasn’t exactly a new thing, he was a silent creature by nature. He watched, he listened. Especially to you. He loved listening to you.

You’d barely noticed his intense gaze as you flitted about the kitchen of your shared home, putting away the things you’d bought while you’d been out, all the while chittering on about your day, the people you talked to, the things you’d seen, things you’d bought, things you’d almost bought, things you didn’t buy, what you had for lunch, what you were thinking for dinner… And Simon listened like always, absorbing your presence like a plant absorbs sunlight.

Anyone else would have been cowed under the weight of his stare, but not you. Not only were you used to it, you loved having his attention. Every now and then you’d offer him a sweet smile when you looked to him or press a kiss to his cheek or jaw or wherever you could reach easiest as you’d squeeze past where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, absolutely dwarfing the appliances. His face gave away nothing, it never did so you kept talking- yapping, you’d call it jokingly.

“Anyways, that’s when I told her-“

“New dress, love?”

His interruption cut you off. You set down the purse you were unpacking and looked to him as you trailed off.

“Hm?”

Simon kicked off the counter, closing the short distance. It was then you noticed that his eyes weren’t on your face or eyes or even lips, but instead tracing the line of the strap laying on your shoulder.

“‘aven’t seen that one. Is it new?” His eyes roamed to the skirt where his fingers had caught a sliver of the bow in the back, “Soft.”

You cleared your throat as you turned around to face him, “I got it a few weeks ago, since it’s getting hotter, sun dress season and all, but it might be a little much for running around town…guess you haven’t seen it though-“

You cut yourself off again when you felt the tension in the tied back slack. The snapped your eyes to Simon, realizing he hadn’t dropped the bow’s string as you turned.

“I’d remember this one, lovie.” He was still gazing at the hem line appreciatively, where the delicate pattern you loved so much revealed your thighs.

“Well, then it’s new to you.” Your voice was quieter now that you’d realized the specific intensity in his gaze. Simon grunted in response, his large calloused hands resting at your hips. You could feel the roughness and warmth through the thin summer fabric.

“You were saying?” He reminded you with a slight smirk, knowing he’d derailed your train of thought. Cheeky bastard.

“Oh, uh,” You started again, preoccupied with the little circles he was rubbing on your hips, “I told her that, well, that-“

Simon nodded along to your barely coherent dialogue, as if he was listening to a TED talk. Heat was rising up your chest and neck as the solider kept getting closer until your chests were basically flush and your legs were interlocked, your chatting was only slightly better than babbling but you continued choking through your story. Even when he’d slowly moved you backwards so that you were the one pressed against the counter. You hadn’t realized you stopped once again until his brows raised, “that all?”

“Si-“ You all but whined, sharply gasping when he suddenly and effortlessly lifted you unto the kitchen counter, the stone counter chilling the backs of your thighs. Even sat on the tall counters, you still only came up to his broad chest, “We have your friends coming later-“

“And I cleaned up the yard just like you asked, love. Wearing this dress tonight?” Simon questioned gruffly, brushing a kiss first across the top of your head and then leaning down to dust a trail of kisses down your neck.

“What? Probably- but” you stuttered, the heat of his breath making it hard to track the different tracks of conversation.

“Good, does this come in any other colors?” His questions almost fell on deaf ears as he brushed the straps off your shoulders so he could continue his path down your chest. The hands on your hips had traveled first to your knees and were slowly hiking the hemline of your dress up. He paused when you didn’t answer, cutting those sharp eyes up to yours, squeezing your thigh to get your focus back on him and not just his hands. You hummed in confusion, “colors, love?”

“Oh, uh, a couple I think,” you nodded as the squeeze to your thigh turned to a kneading moving further up, “I wanted to try one, but it was hard to decide-“

Simon was sinking to his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact, “Keep talking, love. I’m listening.”

Simon was a hard man to say no to, so you kept talking. Jumping from thought to thought as they became fewer and farther between, a hand in his hair to ground yourself as he’d offer questions from between your legs until you could no longer say anything but his name.

___

I wrote this in 20 minutes on an airplane. It’s not proofread nor is it really in character. First time writing for COD but hopefully not the last… we shall see where the hyperfixation takes me

#Simon Riley x reader #CODMW x reader #Simon Ghost Riley x reader #call of duty modern warfare x reader #ghost x reader

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madewithsilk · 4 months ago

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— ꜰᴜᴛɪʟᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪᴄᴇꜱ 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

synopsis; outlaw cowboy sevika takes a detour and ends up lost at night with nowhere to stay. stumbling over to your house, she hopes it's not an old husband with a rifle and luckily, it's not.

pairing; outlaw cowboy sevika x widow farm-girl reader

cw; age gap, inexperienced (w/ women) reader, experienced sevika, sub!reader, dom!sevika, oral (r!receiving), tribbing

The sun blared down relentlessly on the farm, a scorching sunset that felt more suited to the height of summer than the gentle welcome of spring. The air shimmered with heat and humidity, and the horses stood restlessly, needing constant relief, their flanks fanned with hastily created gusts and cool buckets of water at the ready, providing brief moments of respite from the sweltering heat. It was that time of year again when the pace quickened and the workload surged, a stark reminder of the solitude that had settled over the farm. You shouldered the immense responsibility alone, grappling with the demands of each day, marking the second year since your husband had passed. Yet, the absence was not necessarily what left you scarred, but the loneliness.

As Sevika’s horse trotted along the parched dirt path, it kicked up a swirling cloud of dust that danced in the golden light of the setting sun. The outlines of a quaint village began to emerge, revealing a tapestry of little houses nestled amid patches of vibrant green grass and fields dotted with diligent farmers. The warm hues of dusk cast long shadows, and Sevika squinted against the sun's glare, readjusting her wide-brimmed hat to shield her eyes. Her sense of direction wavered, adding a hint of uncertainty to her journey as she moved toward a barn.

The sundress draped over your boots, its delicate fabric gathering at the hem as you hiked it up to avoid the mud that threatened to cling to the ruffles at the bottom. Your hand shielded your features from the harsh sun, refilling the buckets of water constantly at the horse's disposal. Once the job was done, you rushed towards the steps into your home. Sitting on one of the steps, you removed your boots with grace and kept them on the stairs before wandering into your house.

Sevika had no choice but to ask for hospitality from a stranger. Her best bet was to find someone's wife on a good day instead of an old man with a rifle and in the know about her crimes. It was unlikely such a situation would conclude in her demise, but rather another dilemma to cover up. A clueless woman she could butter up with a charming gaze and the seducing threat of her strap carried on her hip.

Sevika dismounted from her horse, the leather saddle creaking softly as she slid to the ground. With a practiced motion, she looped the reins around a sturdy post. As she strolled toward the imposing wooden doors of the largest barn, her hat threatened to slip from her head, catching the afternoon breeze. She ascended the worn steps, her boots clicking evenly against the weathered wood, and caught sight of a pair of feminine boots resting by the entrance. With a mix of curiosity and caution, she lifted her hand, her knuckles rapping sharply against the door, her expression unyielding just in case.

Your eyes shot open at the thudding coming from your front door, putting down the heavy load of laundry with a lavender aroma to go towards your lock. Your hands trembled as you twisted the lock, reminding yourself of where your late husband's gun was. With a swift motion, the door creaked open to reveal the intimidating and broad figure of a woman with a familiar face. Your lips parted in an O shape, scars painted through out Sevika’s arms and the holster around her hips. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the bulging muscles and mean expression, words stuck on the tip of your tongue.

Sevika’s jaw unclenched at the pure sight of a tender woman, floral pattern sundress reaching down to her toes. Sevika palmed the hat, removing it out of manners and respect. Her expression now turned sickeningly sweet, a smirk plastered across her lips. “Good day, ma’am.” Sevika spoke with a bourbon-smooth voice. Your hands formed into fists around the fabric of your dress, unsure of what this woman wanted. “Please.. I'm not old enough for such a title,” You joked in response, a humorless chuckle leaving your mouth.

Sevika winked, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat. “Well, me and my horse are unfortunately a lost cause. Been on my travels and it seems I took the wrong turn.” She shifted to the side, allowing you the sight of a nearly dehydrated horse. Pity overwhelmed you, a pout gracing your face. Animals always were your soft spot. “Oh goodness, that's terrible,” Even now with the information given to you, it confirmed your suspicions. This woman had a large bounty on her head, her face established in every newspaper. But Lord, how could you deny the willing and attractive face, especially in times of loneliness?

“Do you think I could spend the night here, miss?” Sevika’s voice carries a subtle urgency, a plea veiled in the softness of her words. You pause, biting your glossy bottom lip as a swirl of thoughts dances through your mind. She’s not just armed with a weapon; there’s a strength about her that draws you in, making the prospect of her company seem less daunting.

With a gentle nod, you agree, your heart racing slightly at the unexpected invitation. You swiftly maneuver your boots back onto your feet, readying yourself to tend to the horse. A sigh of relief escapes Sevika, though behind her calm demeanor lurks a myriad of unanswered questions about your innocence.

Following your lead, she grasps the rope with a firm yet careful grip, guiding the horse alongside you. The air is thick with the earthy scent of the stable as you move in harmonious silence, your hands deftly lifting the hem of your dress to prepare food and water. You attend to the animals with polish, filling separate buckets with food and water.

It wasn't long before you both headed inside, Sevika removing her boots outside your home and hanging the hat up on a rack. Your home was picturesque and tidy, with no physical stench of a husband or a man left behind. You stood behind the counter of your kitchen, holding a damp rag in nervousness. “I'm sure you must be parched,” You broke the silence, gazing up at Sevika. She cocks a brow at your fidgety behavior but thinks nothing of it, nodding and leaning against your counter. “Is iced tea to your liking?” You mumble and Sevika nods once again.

You got to work, the citrus scent and taste of iced tea beginning to fill the crevices of your home, the laundry completely forgotten as your mind was fixed on the woman. You kept your gaze averted, squeezing the lemons, and then stuttering out a question. “Will you continue to flaunt the harness around your hips or would you prefer a place to store them?” Sevika chuckles at how observing you were, the sound of metal clacking at bay while she lays it on the counter. “I'm sure you're curious,“ She daunts. You giggle sweetly and pour two glasses for you and the older woman. “There is quite much to be curious about.” You state as the icy beverage slips down your dry throat. “Yeah, likewise.” She hums out and mimics your gestures.

“You can ask away, Sevika.” You slip up, her name stumbling off your tongue with such ease. You could only possibly know from the name in bold on every daily newspaper. Your fingers crossed anxiously hoping she didn't catch that. All Sevika did was raise a brow, noticeably troubled. She shrugs it off, walking closer to you and strumming a hand on your waist. “You're not married.” She stated, her hand grazing over yours, fingers tracing the spot on where a ring was supposed to be.

You jerked your hand away, “He passed.” She hurls at the words, hand moving towards your face. Your solitude left you in an utmost desperate and pathetic state, leaning into her touch. She hid her resentment as she spoke, “Pity,” Her hands tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, keeping eye contact with you as your lashes fluttered at her. “You shoulder the responsibility of both man and woman.” Sevika pities, nearly coming into your ear. You shake your head thoughtlessly.

Sevika observed the way you shuddered, each subtle twitch betraying the vulnerability you felt whenever her hands brushed your skin. You were inexperienced in the realm of intimacy with women, particularly with someone as seasoned and older as she was, whose presence both intrigued and intimidated you. Each gentle touch sent ripples of uncertainty through you, awakening sensations you had never encountered before. Her past of crime alongside the thoughts that worried you clouded your mind. “Do I make you nervous, doll?” She mumbled, her lips hovering over your ear and cheek, leaving you breathless. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

You shake your head, observing how she pressed her body flush against yours with no care. “Have you?” Your little whisper of intrigue made Sevika chuckle, ghosting kisses down your neck. You felt dirty and guilty for making such a mockery of your late husband. So close to making love in his own home. You simply wanted to be kind and shelter a woman for a day or two. “Oh, darling.” She humored you, tongue soaking the sides of your jawline, eyebrows knitting together. “I've had many— younger, older, meaner.” Her laundry list could potentially go on. “I don't think any have been as sweet as you, could bite into you and it’d be pure sugarcane.” Her teasing seemed like mocking yet she truly meant most of it. Nonetheless, he enjoyed your little gasps.

Your lips hovered just inches apart, poised for connection, yet she could see the reluctance flickering in your eyes, a hint of shame casting a shadow over the moment. It was a feeling she didn’t want to linger. With a soft sigh, Sevika stepped back, arching an eyebrow as she distanced herself from the counter. "Is there anywhere I can freshen up? The sun has set below the horizon; it feels like it’s finally time for some rest," she remarked, her tone blending curiosity with a hint of playfulness.

You break out of the trance, guiding her softly toward the bathroom. As she navigates the living room, her gaze catches on the open newspaper sprawled across the coffee table, featuring a prominent image of her face that commands attention. A small laugh escapes her lips, and she quickens her pace to follow after you, a spark of entertainment in her eyes. It seems you held less unknowingness than she initially thought.

Her shower lasted 20 minutes, granting you a rare moment of silence to collect yourself. You took the time to light candles scattered throughout your home, their warm flickering flames casting a soft, ambient glow that filled the space with clarity. Leaning back on the sofa with cozy, off-white blankets, you folded the freshly washed clothes, the fabric soft and fragrant, as you savored the comforting atmosphere that surrounded you. You could hardly focus on the repetitive movements, leg bouncing with anticipation for her to hurry out. As the water began to drain, avid footsteps on the wooden clad floor making herself known.

The light presented her with a more in-depth portrayal than simple sunlight, a black, cropped wife-pleaser decorating her expansive shoulders and back, the lack of a bra letting you stare at her hardened nipples. You tried to avoid that, staring down towards her mid-rise pants that exposed the trail of hair leading up towards her navel. A throaty whimper escaped you, crossing your legs scandalously. “Am I sleeping on a couch or a bed? Anything of the sort is fine,” Sevika was consciously avoiding the elephant in the room, her previous suggestive touch. You cleared your throat, eyeing her face instead which had damp, face-framing strands of hair covering some features.

“You could take the guest room,” You mumbled, pinching the flame in the living room and walking toward the end of the hallway. An untouched room was opened, perfectly set up for any potential or unwarranted guests. She towered over you when beside you, leaning against the doorframe while observing the spare room. She walks in, hand flat on the cotton sheets. You let out a long breath while turning around.

Your steps were interrupted by Sevika’s voice and arm reaching out for you. Her larger hand on your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps trailing up your body. “Yes?” You whispered, the crack in your voice betraying your attempted indifference. “Tell me,” Sevika began, turning you completely around while shutting the door with her heel. She could smell the fear from you. “How did you know my name? Why didn't you fear the guns I carried?” Sevika knew the answer to all of this, she enjoyed the way you scurried for excuses. Yet, you fell silent.

Her laugh echoed, holding you against her and guiding your figure towards the bed. “You act so unassuming, nearly fooled me, dollface.” You whined, hands already flooding towards her and groping the parts you wished to touch. She had caught you, there was no purpose in hiding your core emotions. “You knew who I was, what I’m guilty of.” She murmured against your virgin neck, finally nibbling on it while she pushed you down on the bed and straddled your hips.

“Answer me this, dear,” She started up, kissing your neck and cheek while squeezing your sensitive tits. You had already lost all will of resistance, arms circling her neck and legs wrapped around her torso. “Did you just want me to fuck you?” Her vulgarity took you by surprise, pulling your head away and staring into her eyes. Something about how unapologetic she was made you want to be the same back. “Ye-yea.” Sevika shook her head and forcefully came to your clothes, working them off of your frame.

You both end up completely nude, your sopping cunt begging for some friction. You had no clue how to do this nor how to pleasure her, you were squeamish, stuttering while asking for instructions. “Woman, relax.” She huffed out, pushing you onto your back and kissing down to your pussy. “Just let me take care of everything.” You were holding your breath till her tongue came down flat on your sensitive cunt, an exhaled moan shakily leaving you. She latched onto your clit, suckling on it till your hands tugged at her hair.

Her fervor when pumping her tongue inside of your entrance had your back arching off the mattress, squirming away from her touch. “Don’t run, doll,” She said muffled, holding you down with a firm arm as you babble softly. “Think— think i’m, ngh-” She chuckles as you clench around her tongue, pulling away and not giving you enough relief to suffice for an orgasm. Your whimpers increased, tugging harsher on her hair to try and bring her back but failing. “So damn spoiled. Be patient.”

You nodded with built-up patience, watching her hover above you. She manhandled your legs, forcing them into an easier access position. Your pretty cunt was on display, perfect for her to grind against. It wasn't too long of staring before she placed her own pussy against yours. Your clit catches on hers, her much larger one fucking against yours. You couldn't resist the relentless babbles, eyes rolling back in immense pleasure.

Your own clit wasn't as large as hers, it caught you by surprise. Your hand shot up to her hips, trying to guide her to right spots but she seemingly knew more than you. Her palms used your tits as leverage, fucking against your frantically. “Sev’, goddd, can’t take it!” you ramble, head thrown back along with your eyes going completely white. The ego boost from how sensitive you were was so good, forcing her to groan and keep rubbing her sensitive and swollen pussy quicker against yours. “Dirty girl, been begging for this relief huh?” She mocked.

She reached her lips down against yours and finally kissed you, slipping her tongue past your lips and exploring every inch of your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, lips eventually giving out as her wet cunt dripped onto yours harshly. “Fucking husband– shittt— o-of yours couldn't make you cum this hard,” She boasted, reducing you to tears and moans.

The room had a stench of sex and sweat, nasty squelching and wet noises bouncing off the walls. A knot formed in both of your tummies, her hips stuttering against yours as she neared her orgasm. Her cum was creamy, dripping down onto your asshole. You followed quickly after, scratching at her back with your manicured nails as the orgasm crashed into you. “Just love knowing you’re fucking someone who could blow your head off, babygirl?” You whimpered and nodded, humping her and rutting up against her. She kissed your forehead, beads of sweat forcing your hair to stick to it.

“Sweet girl,” Sevika grumbled and kisses down your neck, not disconnecting her cunt from yours yet as you held her closer. The rest of the night was spent among giggles and cleaning up, limbs tangled as the moonlight seeped through the sheer curtains. You were unsure if you'd ever see her again for months going on by, she was an outlaw, you were well aware. Regardless, she promised to write you before mounting her horse again early in the morning.

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keirareidss · 2 months ago

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summertime girl - a.h

♡ summary: reader wears a sundress. hotch goes insane pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, reader wears a dress,slight description of readers body wc: 1.5k

The sun was out, the weather was hot, and the BAU was on vacation. They all had the day off so they were spending it at Rossi's mansion, in his backyard for a barbecue.

The smell of burgers, hot dogs, and summer wafted through the air. Rossi stood at the grill, swatting at anyone who tried to come too close to his precious meat with his spatula. Emily and JJ sat in folding chairs, drinks in hand, sunglasses on as they relaxed. Spencer sat cross legged on the grass, teaching Henry chess while Morgan sat on the porch with Hotch.

You... well you were definitely entertained. You and Jack were playing some made up game, a cross between tag, hide and seek, and the floor is lava. Currently, you were chasing him across the lawn, sandals left on the porch next to Aaron's chair for him to dutifully watch over. Your sundress flowed behind you in the wind, fluttering around your legs when you stopped. You caught up to Jack, wrapping your arms around him and laughing as the both of you tumbled to the ground. Your fingers danced along his sides, tickling him as he squirmed on top of you. You stopped, letting him rest as his giggles became more breathless.

"You've been caught. The tickle monster wins again!" You cheer as he smiled wide. He lets his head drop down to your shoulder, huffing out a breath, tired from all the activity. "You hungry bud?" You asked, rubbing his back gently. He nodded.

"Uh huh."

"I think Rossi's almost done at the grill. What do you want, burger or hot dog?"

"A hot dog!" Jack sits up on your stomach. You glance over, seeing Rossi start serving out burgers.

"Well, go get one before they're all gone." You smile and he climbs off of you, running over to Rossi. You lay on the grass, staring up at the sky and breathing in the fresh air for a few peaceful moments. Soon, a face appears above you. Your lovely boyfriend Aaron Hotchner.

"Having fun?" He asked, smiling down at you.

"Loads of it." You grinned. He holds out a hand to help you up and to take it gratefully. He pulled you to your feet, steadying you with a hand on your waist. "Mm, handsy today, Hotchner." You grinned at him.

"It's hard not to be when you're wearing that." He murmured lowly, leaning close so only you can hear him.

"You like it? I had you in mind when I picked it out."

"I love it. You look gorgeous. Are you hungry?" Sweet, sweet man.

"I could eat."

"Let's get you some food." He says, holding an arm out to guide you towards the grill. Once you pass him, Aaron spares a quick glance to make sure the others aren't watching before he plants a firm smack on your behind.

"Aaron!" You giggle, looking over your shoulder at him. He wears a smug grin as he follows you to the grill.

That fucking dress. He couldn't stand it. He hated it. He loved it. He loved the way it fluttered around your ankles. He loved the way it hugged your curves so well, accentuating your form. He loved the pattern, the length, the cut, everything. It was absolutely perfect. And he despised it.

He watched from the porch, where Morgans chatter was drowned out into nonsense, as you chased his son around the yard. He felt like a perv for staring but he absolutely couldn't help it. When you and Jack toppled to the ground, his jaw clenched at the way the hem off your dress rucked further up your thighs. The wind blew it up high enough that, if he were close enough, he might be able to see your panties.

"Yo, are you listening?" Morgan's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Yes."

"What'd I just say?" Derek asks, but luckily Hotch is saved by Rossi's voice calling out.

"You two! Burgers or hot dogs?"

"Burger for me!"

"I'll have the same." Hotch agrees. He watches Jack get off of you and run towards the grill, faintly hearing him say 'can I have a hot dog please?'. Hotch gets up, making his way over to you. You look angelic, laying on the ground, hair splayed out around your head, your chest rising and falling softly. He helped you up and you went to get burgers from Rossi, the team all sitting down to eat together. A few bites in, you stood up from the table.

"I'm gonna run and get napkins, does anyone need anything?" You asked politely. They all declined so you headed inside. You were searching Rossi's kitchen to find some extra napkins when you heard the door open. You turned to find Aaron entering the house, the door swinging shut behind him, blocking the others from seeing or hearing the two of you. "Hey, what do you need?"

"You." He said huskily, striding over to you, pushing you against the island and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands grip your waist, yours moving to wrap around his neck. "You look so beautiful." He trails his kisses down your neck, sucking a patch of skin between his teeth and biting down. You let out a small gasp as he leaves a mark on your neck. His lips trail further down to your chest, pressing firm kisses onto the skin of your breasts. He brushes the hair off your other shoulder, moving to that side to press kisses to the other parts neck.

"Aaron," You say breathlessly.

"Shh. Now, turn around and bend over." He murmurs into your ear. You turn, pressing your hips against the counter as you lean onto it. "So pretty." Aaron hums, his hands gathering the fabric of your dress, lifting it up. He rucks it up your body until its collected above the curve of your ass. The hand that's not holding your dress up starts undoing his belt buckle. He unzips his pants, pulling them and his boxers just low enough to free his cock. He pulls down your pretty lacy panties, his eyes landing on the slick between your legs. You're already wet for him. He moves forward, holding his hand under your chin. "Spit." He orders. You comply, spitting into his hand. He moves his hand back down, slowly pumping himself.

"Aaron, please." You whined, pushing your hips back towards him.

"Be patient, honey." He grabs your hips, slowly inserting himself into you. You let out a moan as he sheaths himself inside you, pausing to let you adjust to his length. "Shh. Don't want to get caught, do you?" Aaron teases. "We have to be quick, sweetheart, or else they'll come looking for us." He starts moving, pulling himself nearly out of you before slamming back in. You moan again and his brings his hand back to your mouth, muffling your moans. He keeps a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, pressing you against the counter. He lets out a few low groans, stifling the louder ones through clenched teeth. His hand pushes your dress further up your back as he fucks you against the counter.

"So good for me. So, so pretty." Aaron grunts, quickening his pace. You moan out against his hand, yours coming up to pull it away from your mouth.

"I'm close. 'M so close, Aaron." You whined, the symphony of skin slapping against skin, the scent of arousal encasing your words.

"Me too. Almost there, honey." He fucks into you harder and faster, sweat dripping down his brow. He leans down, kissing you sweat slicked spine, his hand trailing down your side, feeling your soft skin under his fingers. His grips your ass harshly.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-" You cut yourself off, moaning his name as your orgasm washes over you. Aaron follows soon after, his upper body collapsing onto yours with a grunt. He kisses behind your ear before standing, tucking himself back into his pants. He pulls your panties back up, snapping the elastic waistband against your skin teasingly. He pulls your dress back down, fixing it so it sits nicely. He spins you around by your waist, checking you over.

"How do I look?"

"Ravishing. How do you feel?"

"Ravished." You grinned, slipping past him on wobbly legs to find your purse. You pull out your compact concealer, covering up the fresh hickeys on your neck and chest. You meet Hotch's gaze over the top of your compact and notice the smug look on his face. "You are something else Mr. Hotchner." You shake your head smiling. You flick the compact shut and drop it back into your purse, taking his hand. You walk back out of the house together, heading back over to where the team was eating. Derek looks up, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Hey, where are the napkins?"

a/n: this it my first time writing smut, what do we think? I have a lot more planned so stay tuned! let me know if you think I should start a tag list or something :)

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #♡ keira's fics

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silknspice · 6 months ago

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GOOD FOR THE HEART

country! vi x reader fluff, angst, smut (18+), slow(?)burn, wc. 13.6k

synopsis: an intimate bond forms between an ill farmer's daughter, desperate for a taste of the outside world, and the helpful part-timing cowgirl at the farm. OR vi wants you bad, and what better way to get to know you than sneak you around town?

content warnings: illness, NOT read over, foul language, smut so mdni/18+, fingering r!receiving, controlling parent, health worries, fainting, slight insecurity, emotional rollercoaster but a fun one!!

soundtrack: my girl (the temptations) | our love (curtis harding + jazmine sullivan) | | we’ll never have sex (leith ross) | pillow (malcolm todd) | close to you (carpenters) | not a lot, just forever (adrianne lenker) | cool about it (boygenius) | pancakes for dinner (lizzy mcalpine)(this sounds sm like vi to me) | kiss me (sixpence none the richer) | i bet on losing dogs (mitski) aftercare (listen post-fic): force of nature (lizzy mcalpine)

Vi could strip naked right here, right now.

And with her well known spontaneous personality, she would. Especially under the hundred degree heat that preys upon her and forces the girl’s freckled skin to glisten. But a: she’s with her siblings (enough said), and b: she’s working outdoors at the Laurier’s farm. Meaning only a handful of yards away, tucked in that blue, yellow, and white idyllic house covered with blooming botanical life, stands Mr. Laurier’s orphic daughter.

That’s all Violet’s ever heard about you, from children playing on the street to adults roaming the town shops. Ever since her adoptive father suggested she take this summer job before she goes back to focusing on her college work. Ever since her siblings and family friend jumped to tag along after Mr. Laurier decided ‘the more the merrier’.

All that’s been filling Violet Lane's ears is information about you, or, the lack thereof. How you’re always locked up in that big residence. How you used to roam the town just like any other little rascal until five years ago, at the age of thirteen, when something out of her knowledge occurred. How stunning you look in a sundress. She tried to block that one out.

“Why is it that Mylo’s drivin’ the tractor and not me?” Powder complains, pulling her clenched hand from the bag of chicken feed and tossing it on the ground for the horde to gobble.

“Last time you tried to drive something I started praying.” Ekko throws out. His bun shaped hair bobbles as he finally pulls that one stubborn carrot from the ground and places it in the basket.

“Besides Pow,” Violet starts, lifting a heavy brown box onto her shoulder and cradling it with just one arm. “You’re doin’ fine taking care of the animals. Mylo would be scaring them to death.” The pink haired girl sighed out, looking around.

Her gaze landed on the decorated porch, and she pursued. Vi set the last of the boxes down with a soft grunt before straightening her back and lifting her arms, clasped at the fingers, over her head to get a well-deserved stretch.

The worker’s completely regretting her chosen position as the door swings open, and she looks heaven right in the eyes.

You stand there in a white lace sundress covered in a juicy red pattern of cherries, a smile sweet enough to give a sugar high plastered on your stunning face. Vi’s gaze flickers down to your feet covered by red country boots. Above those are your soft looking hands holding a gift basket. When she’s done examining you, her blue-gray eyes trail their way back to yours– and it’s like whiplash. Once again, she’s blinded by those pearly whites and the tasty perfume radiating off of you. God help me, is the only phrase filling her mind because damn you’re ethereal.

“Hi there, cowgirl.” You’re going to send Vi into cardiac arrest with just your voice. Thankfully, she realizes she needs to respond, and quickly wipes the dopey grin (that she wasn’t aware she had) off of her face.

It’s not like everything is peaches and cream on your end. The girl’s tight white t-shirt is grasping onto her glistening biceps, her pretty bright eyes and the freckles that decorate her nose make her look blessed by the sun, and seeing such a beautiful yet handsome woman in a cowboy hat is doing foreign things to your stomach. ‘Wow’, is all your wandering mind formulates.

“Hi there, miss Laurier,” she copies you in her lower voice, and you notice the slit on her lip as it curls up into a soft smirk. You shake your head at her words with a polite smile, insisting she call you by your name, which you offer up. She repeats it once perfectly, claiming it ‘rolls right off the tongue’, and you crack a smile.

“My father informed me that you’re the new help around here for the summer, so I decided to bake somethin’ for the five of you.” You’re sticking out the basket, decorated with a pink bow on top, for Vi to take. She does and quickly takes a peek inside. Five snickerdoodle cookies and one large cherry pie. You do stay on theme, and so, it starts.

“Thank you, cherry.” she cracks a smile that sends a shock down your body, and gently tips her hat.

Fourteen searing days pass on that farm, days filled with laughter, hard work, and the smell of life from the surrounding plants.

But not for you.

For each of those fourteen days, for the past one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, you’ve sat sideways in your window with your back against one side and your legs propped up on the wood. You read, journaled, book pressed flowers (that you had to sneak out front to get), took much needed resting breaks, tended to your pet lamb Daisy, and watched Footloose. Your sock-covered feet subtly shuffled side to side as if you were mimicking their dance moves in your head.

Vi watched as you sat there all those days in your open window. Half of your body out in the fresh air and half cooped back up inside like the past five years of your life. It was as if you yearned to experience life completely outside the window, but you couldn’t. And so, you completed your daily activities the furthest away you could get.

Until your eighteenth birthday came along.

“Lord, can you focus instead of stalking your ‘cherry’,” Ekko mimics the pinkett’s voice with the last two words, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Bet she wants to pop her cherry.” Mylo snickers at his own joke, earning a slap to the nape from Claggor.

“Last warning Mylo. Don’t talk about her like that.” she replies firmly, furrowed brows making a little scowl.

Claggor shakes his head softly, letting the tension between his siblings diffuse before speaking. “You know, you should do something other than just stare at her all day. It’s getting sad.”

“Like?” the cowgirl responds with crossed arms.

“Ask her to hang out, obviously.” Powder pipes up, petting a sheep as she prepares to guide it inside the barn. “She’s always lookin’ so lonely. Swear the only time she smiled this past week was when you complimented her on those blackberry muffins she baked us.”

“You know she’s not supposed to come out, Laurier said so. Pretty sure that’s why she stays upstairs, can’t even come out on the porch when we’re here no more.” Violet huffs.

“You think he thinks we’re a bad influence on her?” Ekko ask in confusion. Because truth be told, no one knew why you stayed locked up in that bright house, like a princess trapped in a tower. People knew better than to ask your father, and of course, they couldn’t get to you. Maybe it was time for someone to be your knight in shining armor.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s not even here right now.” Mylo insists.

So, after a long back and forth conversation of weighing the possibilities, Violet’s shoved over to the shrubs in front of your second story window. You notice her when she’s there (you’ve been sneaking glances at her every so often), shifting your position so that you can look down on her as she calls out your name.

“Afternoon, cowgirl,” you coo, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Hey there, angel,” she simply replies with that signature smile, and your hands clench the frame you’re leaning on a bit tighter. “We’re done with the chores for today.”

“Oh. Well, get home safely.” you hum, eyes dropping in what Vi hopes is discontent, because her next words will cheer you right up.

“Actually, we’re not headed home just yet. The five of us are headed out into the woods over there for a little.. chat." The glowing sunlight illuminates her face as she nods her head to Mylo, who’s allowing the brown paper bag to peek out of his backpack and into your vision. Alcohol. “Would you wanna come with us? Won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.” she asks with a cool voice but a pounding, fearful heart.

No.

Or at least, that’s what you were supposed to say. It’s what you’d normally say. As much as your ill heart ached to connect with others, as much as you wanted to venture out of your home, as much as this strawberry-haired helper made you want to explore new things you’d only ever seen in movies, your answer always had to be no.

But, unbeknownst to the others, today was your birthday. You had cautiously lived another year, and instead of feeling fulfilled, you only wonder how many you have left.

You wanted to live, not survive.

You stared in contemplation before backing up, shutting the window and rushing out of the girl’s sight.

Vi dropped her head down to the shrubs in front of her. It’s over. She blew it.

“You scared her!” Ekko teased, making the girl whip her head around to show an angry stare. But the displeased expression faded faster than it formed when the creaking of that back door met her ears, and Powder gasped in joy and disbelief.

“Lead the way.”

The walk along the trail of the woods to a more secluded area with cut wood stumps as seats was anything but quiet. Powder was talking your ear off about everything mechanic she worked on, treating you like you were from the middle ages rather than just sheltered. Claggor and Mylo were leading, causing the group numerous wrong turns and unplanned ‘shortcuts’ (they’d gotten lost along the way). Vi walked with Ekko on her left, quietly pumping her up and giving her the confidence she’d need to ‘make her move’.

But despite the various noises, she couldn’t hear anything. Because strolling to her right was you, the girl she’s been infatuated with since first glance. She’s trying to be discreet, examining the way your hair falls, your scent, the way you press your lips together in thought before answering a question. It took the platinum blonde boy next to her elbowing her side before she came back to the real world.

“I call first sip,” Powder squeaks, to which Violet scoffs, making a quip about how she’s only sixteen and scolding anyone who attempts to offer her the bottle. The bluenette brings up the fact that the others aren’t even the legal drinking age either, but it’s shut down because ‘an adult is an adult’.

“We’ll bring a juice box for you next time.” Mylo smirks, taking a long drag from the bag before offering it out to you.

Despite the soft urge, you shake your head, because you know your limits. Your heart’s limits. Despite the fact that you’re ignoring the sweatiness of your palms and feeble limbs.

Mylo hums. “Two juice boxes, then.”

“Mylo–” Vi scolds, finally coming out of her trance.

But her anger is cut short at the sound of a hearty chuckle coming from your mouth. And it’s the first time Vi’s ever heard you laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s enough to bring stars to her already-bright eyes.

The conversation continues as the sun and clouds pass by. Eventually, the others are in a heated debate about the best character in some film you’ve never heard of, leaving you and Violet to shyly shift your attention towards each other.

“I’m glad you came. I noticed you.. don’t get out much?” Her tone is the gentlest it’s ever been.

“I’m glad you invited me.” You easily avert her indirect question. It eats you alive, the want to tell her everything about you. How you have a “bad heart” as your father gently put it, and now you live your days mundanely so as to not risk triggering anything fatal. But the desire to live just one day in normalcy is stronger, and so you change topics.

“You have very big muscles. I like them. Is that why you do most of the lifting things rather than herding cattle and such, like other cowgirls?”

Vi feels her cheeks get toasty at the compliment and your almost-awkward forwardness. But you can’t help it, you’ve hardly had conversations with anyone but your father the past few years, let alone a handsome girl so close in age. It doesn’t matter much though, because Vi loves it.

“Not a real cowgirl. I’m only good for lifting what others can’t.” She chuckles a bit. “I just happen to own a horse— and I wear the hat of course… maybe the belt’s a little cowgirl-like too, but that’s all.”

You smirk because that makes her a cowgirl in your book, but you politely hum and say nothing.

The girl shifts her position to turn towards you more, and you swear your heart stops when one of her manspread knees leans against your crossed ones and makes no attempt to move. She examines your behavior, and when she sees the ghost of a smile on your lips, she leans on her opened legs slightly to get more comfortable.

“So what do y’ do in that big house all day, angel? Must get lonely.”

These nicknames are doing terribly good things to you.

You hum. She’s completely correct, but the last thing you want is for her to pity you. “Bake a lot, shop in the catalogs, watch movies, write in my books.” You shrug. “Oh, and I take care of my Daisy girl.” A smile graces your perfect lips.

“That your dog? Never seen her around,” she asked with questioning brows.

“No,” you giggle, sending Vi into heaven. So beautiful. “It’s my lamb.”

A beat passes before she responds, a glint in her eye. “So I should be calling you Bo Peep?” she jokes.

You laugh, knocking your knees against hers in playful scolding. Simple words, simple touches, a simple gathering that may be day to day life for anyone else in the town. But for you, this was the best thing to happen in years.

“Daisy’s a sweet name, matches her sweetheart of an owner.” she compliments you, and you graze your hand over your heart because you can’t decipher why it’s speeding up. “We sound real rugged compared to you. Our dog’s name is Rusty. Powder ch–”

“Hey!”

A deep, raspy voice calls out from behind you. A few of you whip your heads around to see the source of the noise, whereas others stand out of shock as the man comes into your sight. “What are y’all doing on my property? Get over here!” He’s moving quickly towards the group, and Ekko’s the first to move his feet.

“Time to go,” Vi says hastily, standing. Without thinking, she takes your hands and pulls you to a stand. “You a good runner?”

No. I don’t know. I haven’t had anywhere to run in years.

That’s what you should’ve said, but as stated earlier, a life of normalcy for today. And so, you lie.

“Sure– yes, yes.”

Vi nods at that, tightening her grasp on one of your hands as she rushes to exit along with the others. Your hands stay intertwined as the pair of you dash through the greenery, avoiding unfriendly hanging branches, jumping over logs, and ducking under leaves.

You’re terrified. The same glistening sweat that forms in your clammy hands makes another appearance on your forehead. A prickle crawls its way up your throat, and suddenly you’re hacking into your elbow as the cowgirl guides you close to her body while you near the edge of the woods. Your little red problem pounds against your chest as if it’s begging you to stop, to give up before it does, but you can’t.

The man moves quickly, but he’s no match for adolescents of the countryside. By the time you reach the fields of your farm, he’s nowhere to be found.

Powder’s hollering and cheers of victory sound broken, doubling and distilled, coupled with a soft ringing sound and pressure around your head that only grows the longer you stand. The only thing you can hear clearly is your quick panting. That deep red blood is draining from your head and blazing heat is left in its place.

A blurry and distant Violet comes into your impaired vision, and you feel the soft sensation of her cupping your face with worried hands. “Cherry?”

Your mind’s swirling with thousands of sensations, and your terrified breaths grow increasingly shallow until you can’t fight to stay awake any longer, falling into the arms of Vi. There’s yelling, someone scooping you up into their protective arms, orders being thrown around as you’re rushed towards the house, then silence. Complete and utter silence.

The female lead is on your screen twirling and rolling her hips with glee for the third time this week, and you wonder if you'll get a chance to dance like that.

It’d been three days since you fainted after running from the farmer down the trail, three days since you’ve seen Violet (or any of the farm helpers), and three days since you’ve felt that inexplicable warmth in the pit of your stomach.

While you rendered unconscious, Vi and the others scrambled to get your limp body inside. They laid you out on your bed, arguing about whether or not to call for help, because they had no clue what was wrong with you.

Of course, you woke up a couple minutes later as you always do. You were confused and terrified, but strictly instructed to rest by the friends who promised they’d stay until your father arrived. Fatigued even more than normal, you complied.

When your father arrived home an hour later, he stumbled upon Powder placing an ice pack on your sleeping head, Claggor and Mylo pacing the room in worry, Ekko attempting to research what exactly would have caused your current state, and Violet looking sick to her stomach as she cradled your soft hands in her rough ones; praying to whoever’s up there that you’d be fine.

Needless to say, once they’d confessed to leaving for the woods and running back (leaving out every bit alcohol related), he’d been beyond furious, placing you on total lockdown for recovery and demanding the helpers avoid the farm for a couple of days. After you’d gotten your medication in you and recovered after a full day of rest, he chewed you out too. ‘You know I’m just trying to keep you safe.’

But you didn’t want safe anymore, you wanted life.

And Violet walked right through your front door. Literally.

The pinkette runs a hand through her fluffy hair before securing the cowboy hat back on her head. Her eyes are searching the house for the kitchen when they land on you, and a wave of relief washes over her.

“Hi, angel.”

Your heart speeds up, and this time, you don’t need to question it.

“Hi Violet,” you coo shyly, standing from your comfy position on the couch and making your way over to her, hands clasped behind your back.

She wastes no time cradling your face in her calloused fingers, the pair of your soft breaths filling the silence as the girl looks over you, finishing her personal assessment before swiping a thumb across your cheek in gentle comfort.

“I was so worried about you,” the whisper fell from her lips without shame.

“I’m fine, really.” you speak in the same tone, leaning into her sweet hand.

“No, you’re not.” That catches you off guard. “When your father saw what happened he panicked, said something about your heart and thought you were…” she let your mind fill the blank with a glint of pain in her blue-gray eyes. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Your eyes drop to the floor, and before you have time to think about it, you speak. “I’m sick. The bad kind of sick that doesn’t just go away after a couple days.” you can’t look her in the eyes as you speak, just placing a finger to your chest. “I have a ‘bad heart’, as my father puts it. Don’t have a lot of energy, can’t do much without getting too overwhelmed, dizzy spells and such..”

You expect to see a crack in Vi’s sweet eyes, a sign of distaste, of regret for caring about a broken girl, but her gaze only softens and a tender hand moves a piece of hair from your face.

“That why you’re cooped up in here?” she asks, even though she knows the answer. You nod.

It’s silent for some time, and the two of you enjoy the other’s presence in such a milestone moment.

“I have somethin’ for the five of you,” you finally speak, pulling from her affectionate grasp. She nods, wiping the worry she feels in the pit of her stomach away so that she can be there for you. You stroll into the kitchen with the cowgirl behind you, opening and rummaging around the fridge as she takes a needed seat at the marble island.

She looks over your attire. A big bright red sweater hangs off your shoulders that covers your shorts, and a white bow in your hair that brings a smile back to her face.

You turn back around, setting down a tiffany blue cupcake platter and perfectly made white-frosted cupcakes with a purple design in the middle. You then pull out some tupperware, transferring cupcakes into it as Vi speaks.

“They’re Violets,” she says in surprise and you giggle, only nodding your head.

Marry me she thinks, before coming up with something more plausible to say. “Is this what you’re studying in college? You're gonna be a chef or somethin’ angel?”

You pause before barely shaking your head. “Not goin’ to college this year.. my father says I need a gap year before ‘making any big decisions’,” you scoff, because the truth is he just can’t let you go. “Worries me though. He won’t go out and buy me any textbooks or anything, I’m gonna go stupid.” you whine.

Vi presses her lips together, clearly sharing your discontent with the situation.

“Well, I know you’ll do great when you go. There’s already a strong brain in that pretty head of yours,” she grins.

A smile forms against your will as you look up at the girl.

“You think I’m pretty, Violet?’

She responds quickly, like the words spilled out of her heart rather than being formulated in her head. “I think you’re gorgeous. Whoever’s up there took their time making you.”

Comfortable silence ensues as the room’s filled with pounding hearts and warm faces of passion. Finally, you finish packing up Vi’s cupcakes and place the box in front of her. She thanks you, looking to the side in thought before an idea flickers across her face.

The girl rises, lifting the hat from her head and leaning over the marble to place it atop your surprised head. She doesn’t wait for your reaction as she picks up the cupcake box and a wooden crate from the ground (what she should’ve been doing in the first place). “Keep that safe for me until tomorrow, cherry.”

“But isn’t tomorrow your day off?” you ask, flicking the front of the hat so it’s above your eyes.

“Yeah. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”

The sun couldn’t set and rise fast enough.

You waited in so much anticipation that you woke up an hour earlier, practically shoved your father out of the house with his breakfast, and spent any extra time at a mirror fixing an out of place hair or switching your outfit for the fifth time.

You don’t know why you do– why you care so much. But before you can think too hard on it, the sound of someone pulling into your driveway blesses your ears and there’s six soft knocks at the front door.

And so it starts with you and Vi seated on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your backs lean against the lower portion of the soft matter, and Vi pulls out a book. Four books, to be exact. One for each core subject.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking from the pile of literature to the fluffy haired girl.

“I was thinkin’ I'd bring some textbooks to you since you can’t get ‘em yourself. I’m in my second year now so I won’t be needin’ these ones anymore.” She somehow speaks with both suave confidence and warm-faced fear in unison. “We could make it a thing, y’know. Preparing for classes together.”

“Yes!” You speak with starstruck orbs.

Violet laughed with relief, because if she had to be completely honest, that wasn’t the only reason she was here. She didn’t need this time to prepare, maybe a quick refresh before the year started, but she definitely didn’t need to be studying during summer. But if it gave her a chance to connect with you, she’d study until her brain burst.

The helpers’ off days were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So that’s when Violet would pack her books, hop in her truck, and haul ass to your farm. Each session was the same. You’d start out in comfortable silence reading your separate texts and answering questions or jotting notes down, then Violet would make a stupid joke about a picture in the book or get sidetracked by your bookshelf of dvds in front of her, and minutes later the room would be filled with fits of laughter, fuzzy brains, and your books completely discarded.

“‘Dirty dancing’? Damn cherry, your father know you watch this stuff?” Vi grins, sliding the movie case back into its spot along the brown wooden shelf.

“It’s not that kinda movie, Violet. It’s like.. set in the sixties.�� you huff, holding back a smile at her playful words. The pinkette takes her seat next to you on the couch, manspread legs and a cunning smirk just inches away from your face.

“And what exactly is ‘one of those movies’, doll?” she teases.

You scoff.

“I’m sheltered, not stupid.” you play, a soft hand coming up to push against the girl’s arm.

Something flickers across the pinkette’s face before suddenly, she’s on top of you.

You’re pushed onto your back against the plush couch as pure muscle weighs above you, powerful hands swirl at your waist before your laughter fills her ears and your hand shoots out to grab at one of her arms. The pair of you struggle for power, pushing back and forth, twisting bodies, and yelling out competitive quips.

Finally, you smush the palm of your hand against Violet’s face, momentarily stunning her before the stronger girl grabs both of your wrists and pins them right above your head.

Soft panting and awestruck eyes decorate the both of you. The air is tighter, every inch of your body is suddenly aware of your positions, and no words are exchanged as you savor the feeling of her touch. God you feel weak, but you don’t know whether to place the reasoning on Violet or your heart.

Violet’s about to lose it, because with the way your sweet eyes are trailing up her body to her face, her heart is clear.

She wants– no, craves you. Bad.

It’s quiet for a moment longer before Vi clears her throat, reluctantly letting go of your wrists while moving back to stand.

“We deserve a study break.” the cowgirl hums, crouching and examining the lower levels of the bookshelf.

“We haven’t even been studying,” you throw back and fix your skirt while sitting up. Vi finds the record she’s been searching for, pulls it from its sleeve, and adjusts the player.

“Okay smart ass, we deserve a break.” she grins and the stylus hits the circular item.

A soft, sensual song makes its way through the air. It’s older, a woman singing softly about her lover’s perfection, and you warm at the thought of a special someone fantasizing about you to the tune.

Vi stands in the middle of the spacious room, and when you don’t move she waves her arm. “C’mere.”

You stand (a little quicker than you should’ve), and make your way over. She wastes no time, gently moving one of your hands to her shoulder and intertwining fingers with your other. As for your free hand, she tenderly places it on your waist, looking for any discomfort in your face. All she’s met with is big eyes of wonder and god, she’s screwed.

“Just follow my lead.” she’s speaking sensually under the music, thumb rubbing at your waist.

“Oh please, I could dance circles around you.” you quip.

“I’m sure you could, doll. But it’s a slow dance, so we work together.” Your bodies move closer as she speaks, making you smile and lose the sassy attitude for a moment. Just a moment.

Angelic vocals encase the two of you. There are only sounds of that and gentle side steps before you speak once more.

“Did you know it was my birthday?” You stare straight into her eyes.

“Wait, what?”

“The day we went to the woods. Is that why you asked me to come? Because it was my birthday?” you tilt your head.

She blinks twice before huffing a laugh. “No, I didn’t know. This mean I made you faint and get in trouble with your pops as a present?”

You smile to yourself at the coincidence, holding her hand a bit tighter.

“Have you danced with someone like this before?” she asks.

You shake your head before pausing. “Well, once with my mother, but I was very little.”

Vi’s eyes soften a bit more. “Is she..?”

You nod. “It happened when I was eleven. She had the same problem as me, that’s why he’s so protective.” Your voice is soft as you refer to your father. “I understand him, I really do, but I’m just so tired of being separate from the world.”

The girl can only nod, the hand around your waist snakes around to your back and pulls closer until your bodies are almost plush against each other.

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she whispers. And suddenly, there’s soft giggles. You’re laughing because the tough, suave cowgirl you know can be such a sap.

Your laughter dies down and you shake your head before placing it between the crook of Vi’s neck, softening into your sappy cowgirl. “Talk to me about something good,” you hum.

“I’m takin’ you out on a date Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your head back to look her in the eyes.

She stammers and mentally groans because you’re the only one who could ever make Violet Lane stammer. “Well– if you say yes.”

No.

That’s what you’re supposed to say, and what you should say. Not because of your father’s influence, not for your safety, but because you’re afraid. Afraid of the trouble you could get Vi into, of dealing with the unknown, but most importantly you were afraid of hurting her.

While you aren’t bedridden, your life is fragile, and the thought of being a burden to Vi was heavy and present. How long could she stand you until she got tired of your neediness? How long until she’s tired of hearing about all the things you can’t do? She’s spontaneous, reckless, fun, and you thought she deserves to end up with someone just like that. Someone you’re not.

But right now, you want her, and she needs you, so you give her what you can.

“Of course,” you agree with a genuine, toothy smile, and the pinkette sighs of relief.

The song finally comes to a stop.

For the first time, you’re glad your father works all day long, because there’s no way you could sneak someone as loud as Powder around your house.

Her squeals of embarrassment and your laughter echo from the kitchen throughout every room of your home. Your canvases and paints are neglected as you point an accusatory finger at a message on her screen. A message from ‘Ekko <3’.

“I knew it! The way you talk to each other– ‘Oh Ekko! You’re just so smart,’” you mock her, making the girl’s face change colors faster than you’ve ever seen.

“I do not say things like that!” She yells back, making you giggle harder. “And we aren’t dating.”

“Why not?” you whine. You clasp your hands as if a plea is about to fall from your lips when a ding rings throughout the room. You look down and gasp. A message from ‘Lux <3’.

You pause, eyes flickering to the girl. “Do you have everyone saved with a heart?”

She shakes her head.

“Just those two?”

She nods.

“Oh, this is just like the movies!” Your laughter repeats like a loop. The girl groans at you and moves her phone to the other end of the marble countertop. “I’m kidding– awhh, Powder!”

She shakes her head. “This conversation is all the way over.”

It takes a moment for your giggles to die down, and soon you’re nudging the bluenette’s shoulder with yours gently. “You’ll make the right decision, just don’t waste time overthinking it. Follow your heart.”

She raises her eyebrows, picking up her paintbrush. “I could give you the same advice.”

You scoff out a laugh, gaze landing on your taunting medications in the corner of a counter. “My heart is fighting itself. Wants two different things at once. Certainly can’t have both.”

“Then follow your mental heart, not your physical one.”

You pause, brows furrowing as you look at her with suspicious eyes. “Did Violet..”

Powder shakes her head before you can finish. “No. She can keep a secret, especially for you. I connected the dots on my own,” she shrugs, swiping an electric blue line across the clean canvas. “Y’know, the meds, how protective your father is. Once, on one of your bad days, I looked through a window and saw you sitting down a third of the way up the stairs looking all dizzy and breathless. You fainting just tied it all together,” she hums.

You burn holes into the ground with your utterly ashamed gaze.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, but you should live the life you want rather than being trapped in one you yearn to escape. And you can count on that big baby to protect you.” You let out a little laugh, nodding at the younger girl’s sweet words.

“Oh yeah, she wanted me to give you this. Dummy forgot it yesterday.”

Powder sets the brush down and rummages around her tote bag that lays on the counter, pulling out a tiny black velvet box and handing it to you before turning back to her self-proclaimed masterpiece.

Your heart swells in the best way possible, and you flick open the little clasp to reveal a thick golden ring with two red dots and a green leaf in the middle. It’s accompanied by a small white note with bright red writing.

‘Happy birthday, cherry.’

“I knew they were together!”

You stare out of the windows of Vi’s truck into the town square. Your gaze is fixed on Miss Medarda and Mister Talis, who are sitting suspiciously close to each other on a bench near one of the decorative fountains.

Vi fixes her dark brown hat as a laugh escapes her. “No way, he’s always chatting up this guy– one of the professors at U.P.” Vi refers to her college, and it takes you a second to understand.

“His hand was on her thigh, Violet. That was pure romance.”

Vi pauses, seemingly focused on the road ahead, but the lightbulb look behind her eyes that appears makes you think otherwise. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see who’s right.” she jokes after remembering she hadn’t responded.

Vibrant sunlight hits almost every inch of the truck and illuminates the town that passes by as the pinkette turns down a road surrounded by greenery. You spin the gifted ring on your finger once, then twice, out of nervousness. It’d been years since you left your house for anything but the doctor’s, let alone a date. A thousand and one possibilities whirled through your mind, but were quickly flushed out at the sound of Vi’s voice.

“I see you got your gift,” she smiles, eyes flicking away from the road down to your ring and back. “I like how it looks on you.”

She was skilled at putting up a flirtatious and unbothered front, because on the inside you had her absolutely melting. Out of all ten options, you chose to secure her gift on your left ring finger.

You’ll be the death of her, no doubt.

“It’s perfect,” you look over to her with hearts in your eyes. “Thanks, cowgirl.”

She nods, eyes flickering back down before she takes her right hand off of the wheel and down to thumb the end of your shorts. “I like these too, real damn pretty.”

You giggle, and somehow the swarm of butterflies in your gut doubles in size, because instead of returning to the wheel, the girl’s hand is delicately placed onto your inner thigh. Her calloused hands gently cup your skin, and she’s grateful you can’t read minds because she’s terrified of your potential reaction.

You can’t fight the smile that crawls its way onto your warm face. The only thought that runs through your mind is how this is even better than the movies.

“Well I hope I’m dressed well enough for whatever we’re doing today. Wish you woulda told me.” You finally reply, softening under her touch. You swear you hear her let out a little sigh of relief.

“That’d ruin the surprise. I’ve gotta wow you.” she sends you a wink and your laughter fills the car with joy.

It doesn’t take long until you’re pulling into the driveway of Violet’s house. It’s beautiful, all brown and white with flowers out front that Powder planted herself, high school graduation yard signs, and fresh open space. Still, a panicked look sets on your face.

“Wait, wait, Vander’s gonna see me– he’ll tell my dad,” you stammer.

Vi cuts the engine, gently taking a hold of your chin to redirect your gaze as she speaks reassuringly. “Hey, hey. He’s not here you worrywart, won’t be home until late tonight.” Your eyes soften and you sigh. “Besides,” she starts, “we’re going over there.”

Just past the house is a matching white and brown barn-esque building. Stables.

“She’s so big!” you yell with awestruck eyes as Vi pulls the red roan out of the stables by the lead. “What’s her name? When’d you get her? Wow I’ve never seen one of these up close, mama was afraid of ‘em and my father doesn’t ride.” You speak at rapid fire making Violet snicker.

“Slow down,” she instructs, standing between you and the hairy beauty. The girl takes your hand, placing it on the horse’s shoulder, giving you the okay to pet. “Her name’s Gunner, she was my fifteenth birthday present, and I can’t imagine your pops getting anywhere near a horse.” You playfully hit her with your unoccupied hand.

“Gunner,” you whisper, “badass.”

Vi chuckles, because swearing sounds so foreign to you.

“You ready?” She asks, slipping her black riding helmet on your head.

“Wait, what?”

“You think I brought you here just to stare at her?” she smirks, completely mesmerized by your face while tightening the straps of the protective gear. “We’ll go slow this time, I promise. Okay?”

The promise of this happening again makes your heart flutter, and all of the gears in your brain stop spinning before you respond, “Okay.”

She helps you onto Gunner, patting the small of your back before hopping up right behind you. Her warm arms snake around your waist and grab hold of the reins in her hands. Her muscular front is smushed against your back, her head placed inches to the right of yours.

“Now, gently squeeze his middle with your calves,” she instructs.

You obey, and the red roan begins its walk. It’s slow, peaceful, but such a new experience to you that a sweet gasp of surprise falls from your lips.

The two of you sit in silence, appreciating the comfort of each others’ presence and warm golden light shining upon you as the beauty of nature captures you. In the green pasture of Vi’s fields, you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in five long years.

Gunner simply walks for a few minutes as you point out pretty flowers that you pass and Violet mentally compiles a bouquet for you. Vi’s talking about her years as a kid in this field. When she’d lost (and found) her favorite toy bunny out here, or dared Mylo to walk through the vast field at the dead of night. Suddenly you’re begging to see some baby photos.

It’s at this moment that everything’s easy. Vi’s admiring everything about you with eyes of love when–

Gunner’s neigh sounds like a shriek of terror when three birds zip past, spooking the roan into a 180 and bolt away before Vi can make it out of her trance.

You yelp from the sudden change in speed, almost slipping off of the animal, but Vi’s there to keep you securely fastened against her as she takes control of it. Just as fast as it changed, Gunner’s speed slows to a stop. You can feel just how tense Vi is as she speaks.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, doll. She gets spooked so easily and– god, I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

It’s silent for a moment. The scariest moment of the pink haired girl’s life, because she can’t see your twinkling grin that spreads from ear to ear before you laugh.

“That was so cool!” you beam, leaning forward to pat at the horse. “Not so badass though, huh?”

After a few more apologies and you repeatedly telling Vi that it was fine, you two decided it was best to turn in for the day.

You sigh, sitting against the short wooden fence. “I wanna rest for a minute, that okay?” ‘I need to take a rest, I don’t have any energy’ is what you actually mean, but you choose not to worry her.

She wastes no time plopping down onto the grass next to you, eyes raising to the baby blue sky. She gives you a few moments of silence, sneaking glances at your face every so often, before speaking.

“Powder and Claggor were talking about how awesome it’d be if we took you to a Seraphine concert. Think you’d like her music a lot.” she hums, smiling to herself.

“And one day, I'm gonna take you line dancing so we can settle our little debate once and for all.” Her grinning face is inches away from you and her overpowering scent of amber and musk ensues.

“Oh really?” Your voice is soft as your head turns, looking Violet up and down with half-lidded eyes. “I think..”

You quickly mount Vi’s lap, pushing the girl onto her back and pinning those muscular arms right beside her head with both of your hands. You’re both all giggles and grunts, and even though there’s no way you’d stand a chance against her in a real tussle, she lets you win.

You lay there, one atop the other in a field of colors. The tension is so thick that not even a knife could cut it, and your grip softens when tender hands reach up to cup your face, a thumb stroking your cheek. The sun, her hands, her sparkling blue eyes, and the love radiating between the two of you has you all but melting. You’re leaning down, inching closer each second, and just before Vi’s dreams come true, you stop.

You pull back with newly glossy eyes, dismounting the girl while whispering apologies that get lodged in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You want nothing more than to connect your lips and hearts, but you were so afraid. How long until she resents you? How long until it’s over? You’d grown accustomed to heartaches, but never heartbreak.

But Violet craves you more than plants crave water, she needs you more than the Earth needs the sun. You just don’t know it.

“Hey,” she whispers, sitting up and holding your chin as if routine. “Look at me, angel.”

You comply with built up tears that threaten to stain your cheeks.

“You don’t have to apologize for something like that,” she consoles, never looking away from your softened eyes. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want, okay?”

You wipe your tears with the side of your hand, choking out your words. “I just– I don’t want to disappoint you.” I don’t want you to hate me once I’m gone.

“Disappoint me?” She stiffles out a laugh. “You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to, hell, I’d lasso the moon and bring it down if you wanted.”

That makes you sniffle and let out a breathy laugh, bringing Violet some relief. The girl slowly inches forward to make sure you’re completely okay with it before placing a warmhearted kiss to your forehead. It’s quick and simple, but causes an eruption of butterflies in your gut. Soon, your troubles are forgotten.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“What’d I say about keeping this door open?” Vi raises a brow, leaning against the doorframe as she stares at an unbothered Powder who’s doing her mascara, and a flustered Ekko.

“Must’ve been the wind.” Powder mutters.

“She wouldn’t listen!” He raises his hands in innocence from his position on a neon pink beanbag.

It’s silent before the three burst out in laughter, and Vi’s shaking her head as they catch their breath.

“Hurry up though, we’re gonna be late to Laurier’s.”

“Not today, Vi.” Vander’s voice bellows from behind her, making her turn her head with furrowed brows. “He gave the five of you a day off.”

A smile graces Ekko’s lips and Powder is whooping in the back, but Vi’s lips drop into a subtle frown.

“Awhh,” Powder coos, “poor Vi doesn’t get to see her girlfriend today, how ever will she live?”

The teens snicker, but the pinkette notices the uneasy look on his face, the one where he has something to say but just can’t spit it out. “What?”

The burly man runs a hand across his beard with a sigh.

“His daughter.” The entire room pauses. “She's terribly ill today, bedridden. He’s staying home to watch over her so there’s no need for far–”

Vander doesn’t get to finish his explanation, because Vi’s pulling the keys from her pocket and rushing past him towards the front door.

It takes almost running three red lights and a long, torturous talk with your father about being able to speak to you just for an hour, but at your bedroom door stands Vi, taking off her hat to look at you with big worried eyes. “Cherry,” she calls out.

You feel absolutely horrendous.

Your breaths are shallow, your ankles feel swollen beyond belief (you thanked god Violet couldn’t see them from under the blanket), and your eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, threatening to drop from fatigue.

“What’s going on? What can I do?” she asks, wasting no time walking over to your pretty bed and taking a seat right next to you.

You shake your pillow-elevated head, laying on your side to face her with a soft smile. “Can’t do anything, it’s just a bad day.” You reach a hand out to grab her calloused one and intertwine your fingers. “Just glad you’re here.”

“How’d you get past my father?” you whisper, relaxing into the soft matter.

Vi huffs out a laugh, readjusting to lay down as she speaks. “Convinced him that I’m extremely knowledgeable in this area because I’m studying to be in the medical field. So he thought it’d be fine if I watched over you while he feeds the cattle.”

You giggle with a teasing look. “Oh yeah, what have you learned?”

“Cherries are good for the heart,” she says all ‘matter of fact’ like. “They have potassium and antioxidants to reduce inflammation.”

“I should be the one calling you cherry, then.” You hum. You don’t know how much it means to Vi to hear that she’s ‘good for you’.

It’s quiet again, and you spend time shamelessly looking over every inch of the girl’s face, landing on her powder-blue orbs. “You know, your children would have some beautiful eyes.”

“And yours would be beautiful all around,” there’s not a trace of doubt in her voice. “What would you name them?” She asks and throws out silly names as you look around in thought, “Batman? Lice? Maddie?”

“How is Maddie as bad as those names?”

“I just don’t like it!”

Your giggles fill the room before you shake your intertwined hand. “Maybe either.. Josie or Clementine? They sound.. warm. Safe.”

Vi nods, pulling you closer into her chest and draping an arm over you that cradles your back, “Josie it is.”

Your ears burn as you nuzzle into her. “And we’ll live in a big pretty house in the city, surrounded by noise and culture and life.” You wished so badly.

“We?” Vi asks.

“Me, Josie… and you.” You look up at her with the last of your body’s strength. “If you’ll join us.”

That spark in Violet’s stomach has grown to a full fire heating her body. Her dream girl’s lying in her arms, talking her ears off about their hypothetical future together, all while looking up at her with pupils blown wide as if she’s your knight in shining armor.

“Of course,” she agrees, “but we’ll have to bring Rusty and Gunner along.”

You snicker with a nod. “Sounds perfect.”

There’s a glint in the girl’s eyes as she trails her hand up your back to the soft skin of your face. “A pretty house, an adorable daughter, my rascal animals,” you let out a weak laugh, “and my pretty girl to share it all with.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Yours?” you tease.

“Yeah, mine.”

She’s tracing meaningless patterns on your neck with one hand while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with the other. And god, whatever this feeling is it’s too good, too sweet, too sensual. Your waiting lips are slightly agape in awe, and it doesn’t take long before Vi whispers, “Can I?”

This time, ‘yes’ is the only word that pops into your brain and slips from your mouth as Vi’s lips crash into yours.

Her lips are melting into yours with so much intensity that it’s hard to keep up. You let her take the lead while your scents, minds, and tongues mix together in a bundle of passion. Her grip around you never loosens. Fingers thread through your hair, and her slightly chapped lips dread leaving yours, because your kisses are the air she needs to breathe.

A whine falls from you when she reluctantly pulls away from your sweet mouth, placing four chaste kisses on your cheeks, nose, and forehead.

“You need to rest,” she coos, peppering your forehead with another (much needed) kiss, and keeping the close proximity as her arms wrap around you. There’s no argument, because the adrenaline rush from her kiss is wearing off and that wave of exhaustion snakes its way back.

There you lay, bodies intertwined and souls tying as the sound of Vi’s healthy heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

Once you’re out, you stay sound asleep as Vi hesitantly leaves your bed.

You stay sound asleep as she trots downstairs where your father places weights of guilt upon her, claiming he knows you two have been sneaking around, and it’s her fault you’re in this current state.

You stay sound asleep as he demands she doesn’t return to the farm, permanently.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you hate Violet Lane.

And while deep down you know that’s not the slightest bit true, you still act like it.

When you woke up the next day, the birds singing and a beaming face as you skipped downstairs to hug your father good morning, the last thing you expected was to hear the all too confusing news that Vi had quit. Along with the rest of her siblings and friend just an hour after.

Unfortunately, you were none the wiser, and slowly sulked up the stairs and sank into your bed where you cried yourself back to sleep.

For the first couple days, it didn’t make sense. The way she looked at you with those big puppy dog eyes, her tender care, the ways she spoke to and about you, it all seemed so real. It had to be real.

On day three, you decided that acting was just one of her many skills.

By day four, you had it figured out, or so you thought. Vi was a flirtatious asshole who wanted nothing more than some street credit for kissing the untouchable, locked up, sick princess right under her overbearing father’s nose. Coming to and believing such a conclusion felt like a stab in the side, and the knife only twisted when you factored in the fact that the others must’ve known about this, which is why they left alongside her.

You thought you’d become accustomed to all of the heart pains in the world, but you were wrong.

Tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall until they grew dry, your baking pans yearned to be used but were shoved away into a cabinet, and what hurt the most was knowing your father was right for keeping you locked up all these years. You weren’t free, but you were safe.

Finally, on day five, you’re engulfed by the plush matter of your couch when there’s six knocks at the door and someone’s calling out for you: “Cherry?”

You scoff at her audacity.

When you storm over and yank open the door with the meanest glare Vi’s ever seen from the prettiest girl she knows, you’re met with Ekko leaning against your white picket fence with his arms crossed, Powder standing next to him with a worried face, Claggor and Mylo relaxed against Vi’s bright red truck, and said truck-driver right in front of you looking absolutely sick.

And you slam the door right in her backstabbing face.

“Seriously?” Vi huffs out, earning a stifled laugh and whistle from Mylo.

“Go away, Violet.” You yell through the door, voice the sternest she’s ever heard.

“Fuck no. What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” you counter, back pressed against your barrier. “You got all that you wanted from me, and then you quit and disappear from my life. So why are you back, huh?”

You’re lucky you’re packed with pent up anger, because tears are bubbling in the corners of your eyes and yelling is the only thing keeping them from spilling over.

“What?” the pinkette's completely taken aback, because she has no clue what you’re on about.

“That’s not–” she sighs, lowering her voice before speaking. “I’ll never get enough of you. I’d take a thousand kisses and so, so much more if you’d let me, but that’s not why I see you, angel.”

Your eyes soften and hurt brows furrow because damn, she’s a good actress.

“And I didn’t quit. That afternoon when you fell asleep, your old man practically dragged me out of your house and fired me. Said I caused your symptoms to worsen. I thought I’d lay low for a few days– and believe me when I say these were the hardest days of my life, but I didn’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Your bottom lip is bitten red until you finally cave, creeping the door open just enough to show your face.

“You promise?” you ask, and Violet’s heart is aching.

“Cross my heart.” she replies.

That’s all it takes for you to swing the door open and jump into her arms. She stumbles back in surprise before applying the same force, arms wrapping around your waist as she melts into yours cradling her neck.

You’re sniffling, taking deep breaths before you speak. “Really thought you left me,” you croak out.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” she teases, placing a tender kiss on your forehead as you giggle and blink away tears.

“Now go get changed, we’re going out,” a grin tugs at the corner of her lips when your happy eyes make contact with hers. You blink, an idea flashing across your face, before pulling her inside by the wrist, yelling “just a minute!” to the others, before hastily shutting the door.

Violet’s eyes graze over every last atom of your body as your hips sway in front of her, babbling with Powder about who knows what, because she hasn’t been focused since you dragged her into your bedroom ‘innocently’ needing help with your outfit.

She stood in your doorway curiously, thinking she’d only be there for a second, maybe you’d never been to a rodeo and needed advice.

That was, until you paused at your walk in closet, a cheeky smirk on your lips that Vi desperately wanted to taste as you nod your head towards the bed. “Sit.”

And she obeyed, manspread legs at the edge of your bed as you walk infront of her with a few items on white hangers. All frills, lace, denim skirts and shorts, and Vi’s reasonably concluded she died and went to heaven.

“I could wear..” you shift the hangers around, “this with this skirt, or maybe these shorts and.. ooh, these boots match my panties.” You get a rise out of seeing the usually suave girl short circuit at the words that bless her ears. Definitely in heaven.

But Vi came to the realization that she was, in fact, alive. Because her heart truly stopped beating when she helped you settle on your pieces, threw her a sugary sweet “thanks, Vi,” did a casual 180, and stuck your ass out to drag your skirt down painfully slow.

Oh, those boots do match your panties.

Now here you stand in a lacy red top, denim shorts that have her thanking god for your creation, and matching cherry red cowgirl boots that graced her eyes the first day you met.

Neverending chatter fills your ears from other attendees, the overwhelming scent of kettle popcorn from a nearby booth stuffs your nostrils, and you see Ekko nudge at Vi, saying something that you can’t hear over the bluenette beside you talking your ear off about the stunning horses she sees.

Suddenly, Vi’s walking up to you and smushing her hat onto your head with her famous smirk. “Keep it safe for me, doll?”

You nod mindlessly, a hand coming up to fix its position on your head.

“Where ya goin’?” Powder calls out to the platinum blonde boy who’s ushering Vi to hurry up.

“Our annual face off,” he throws her a wink, and the girl’s rolling her eyes with a playful scoff.

Before you can even ask, she’s locking arms with you and dragging you along to an even more crowded area. There’s various groups of people surrounding a blocked off area containing a big, black, circular inflatable mat. And directly in the middle is a mischievous brown mechanical bull.

“Are they..” and your question is deemed useless when Ekko mounts the hairy machine, pumping his hands up in motion for the crowd to whoop and holler. Of course, they do.

Ekko does good, to say the least.

One hand grips the bull while the other is thrown up into the air as the machine thrashes him and his white locs every which way. The intensity increases as it tauntingly speeds up, thrashing harder, and spinning recklessly. Finally, he’s bucked off, rolling to a stand and flashing his pearly whites as the crowd cheers.

A giggle falls from your mouth as your hip nudges Powder who’s in complete awe, and she warms in embarrassment.

Vi and Ekko fake tension, sending joking competitive glares as they switch places. Now it’s the pink haired cowgirl that’s mounting the mechanical animal.

You never thought you’d be admiring this sort of thing, but Violet’s never fails to twist your stomach in knots.

With a hand gripping the bull and the other resting on the back of her head, she bucks her hips back and forth to counter the thrashing machine. She’s focused, her sculpted muscles flexing as she holds on tight, but a cocky smile is plastered on her face with teeth biting down on her rosy lips.

Surrounding girls (including yourself) are wooing at the sight.

Vi makes it through the most chaotic shakes and spins as the bull finally comes to a controlled stop, and you’re cheering louder than you ever thought you could.

“Woo! Hell yeah!” you cry out. The girl’s cheesing harder than ever when she hears your support, and the smile lasts all the way over to a fake booing Ekko who rolls his eyes and slips her a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.

You and Powder unlock arms to move over to the riders. A chuckle of amusement spills from you, and you’re securing Violet’s hat back over her fluffy hair. “That was real impressive, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?” she coos.

“Yeah.” The atmosphere grows heavier, each of your eyes searching the other’s like there’s treasure to find. But your little staring contest as Claggor speaks.

“Earth to lovebirds,” he hums politely. “You coming?”

You’re quick to nod, but Vi gently holds your wrist, making you pause. “Actually, I wanted to show cherry around some more. Catch up later?” She asks, but she’s already pulling you away before Claggor nods in agreement and the group goes in the opposite direction as you.

You speed up, feet coming into step with the girl who’s needily pulling you. Her silent prayers are answered when she spots a more secluded area behind a building and some fences.

“Vi,” you snicker, cheeks warming in nervousness, “what are we doing?”

She hums through half lidded orbs, hands finding their place on your hips and hastily pushing you against the wall that covers the two of you from the eyes of others. You’re looking up at her with the sweetest glint in your eyes and it’s driving her absolutely mad.

“You said I was real impressive, right?” Her voice is smoother, breathier.

Ohh.

You tilt your head, teeth chewing on your abused bottom lip before you mutter. “That’s right.. think you deserve a reward, huh?”

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, sweetheart.”

The newfound nickname is sending a shiver up your spine that transforms into a blazing warmth when Vi’s lips fit into yours like puzzle pieces. This time, messy limbs are thrown over each other. Your hand travels from her hands that are cradling your heated face, down to her abs (making her shiver as you scrape your nails across), to tangle in what pink locks aren’t captured by her hat.

A strong hand makes its way around your waist, pulling you dangerously closer to rub against her body. God, she’s good at this.

“Vi..” you’re finally able to whisper as she trails kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. You can feel her smirk against the area where she peppers you with affection.

And it’s perfect.

Not just the way she’s kissing you, or the fact that you’re kissing at all. It’s the environment, the feelings, the friendships that you’ve made with the others, the fact that for today, you’re living a normal life. It’s the fact that for a moment, you can cheer on your friends in a competition, you can lock arms with a friend and woo over others, you can get lost in passionate kisses with a girl and not have another care in the world.

You wished it could stay this way forever.

You lose all sense of shame, letting a soft grunt slip from your lips at the feeling of teeth and a ‘pop’ on your neck. It’s only a matter of seconds before both of your eyes widen and Vi’s pulling back with a crooked smile on her face.

“Did you..”

She wordlessly eyes the red-purple love bite forming on the back-side of your neck, just below your ear.

“Violet!” you drag out with a whine, sending her into a soft fit of laughter. She feels guilty, but you’re just too cute.

You have a love-hate relationship with the neon lights that are beaming throughout the spacious room that brings more noise than you’ve heard in the past five years– maybe more than your entire life.

On one hand, the flashing colors are starting to give you a major headache. On the other, the red glow that decorates Violet’s face as she grins down at you has your insides doing summersaults.

Nevermind. You love the lights.

“C’mon y’all,” Powder calls out with a chipper expression. Ekko’s standing properly in line and his blue haired companion, who’s already freestyling, spins out of control and squeals up a storm.

“You ready?” Vi’s words kiss your ear as she holds both of your hands, pulling you out to the dance floor.

“Are you?”

Your sass has her laughing, and she brings her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “Follow my lead, cherry.”

And for a few moments, you do. All of the surrounding crowd dances the same to the upbeat, fast-paced country song that pierces your ears, so you replicate Vi’s mixed steps and cute little head tilts with her hand on that chocolate hat.

But then the song changes, it’s more passion filled and fiery. All it takes is Powder spinning out of line and shamelessly making her own moves before you’re formulating the steps in your head. From movies you watched religiously to mindlessly shuffling your own feet late at night, you danced for the little girl who longed to have fun, who longed to be free.

You’re clicking the heels of your boots against the ground, moving your hips as fluid as water, and bringing your hands up just for them to slide down your sides with a heart-stopping smile tugging at your lips.

Violet’s in awe, because her girl’s fearless and full of smiles, and she couldn’t be happier for you.

And there’s no doubt in her mind that this is the only girl she’ll ever want, need, crave.

She whistles, looking up and down with the most amused expression you’ve ever encountered. “Jesus, alright you win, doll.”

“Yeah?” The tease comes out a bit breathless, but you play it off as dancing too wildly.

You look at the pink haired beauty through thick lashes. Inching dangerously closer as you sway, Violet’s hands have a powerful hold on your soft waist. You stumble over your feet once, then twice, and she notices.

“Slow down there cowgirl,” she chuckles, but her gaze is tender under the carefree mask. “You alright?”

It’s unbearably toasty in the room, and you feel two times hotter with each passing second. But you don’t want it to end, so you wave her off, throwing out an “I’m good!”

But you’re not, and it’s evident on your face when the small ‘headache’ turns to tight pressure smothering your scalp, and you’re losing your balance as you search for an exit.

“I just need some air,” you mumble, turning your head. The room shifted under your feet, vision blurring in a haze. You took three measly steps forward, and on your fourth, you crumbled.

Your body gives out under you, and Vi’s right there to catch you when it does. Her arms snake around your waist to hold you up before she lifts you in her arms with big eyes and wavering lips.

“Shit. Ekko, come here! Powder, go get Mylo and Claggor.”

The five haul ass to Vi’s truck, the pinkette tossing her keys to Ekko as he and Mylo hop in the front. She, Claggor, and Powder take seats in the bed of the truck. When you finally come to, your back is laid against Vi’s worrisome chest, and you get the fresh air you were looking for from the speed Ekko’s driving to get you home.

But when you pull into the driveway of your home, there’s already a car waiting for you, and there stands your father with his arms crossed and pure fury in his eyes.

And you’re in so much fucking trouble.

The others attempt to plead your case, in good ways and in bad, as the man scolds everyone in sight.

“Mister, we just went out to dance.”

“She’s not a child you know, you can’t keep her cooped up here forever.”

“Please just understand.”

Everything goes in one ear and out the other, because in the chaos silently sits you and Violet. You’re still breathless, and this headache is gonna last longer than you want it to, but you relax into the warmth of Vi for one last time.

You pull back, ignoring the spike of pain that flashes across your brain, and turn to the girl with a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry, you guys should just go.”

She looks pained, like she wants to say something, she wants to help. But she nods, placing a chaste kiss to your temple just as you’re sliding out of the truck bed and over to your father. He hastily drags you inside while you bid farewell to your moping knights.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you love Violet Lane.

And you’re not an idiot, you’re sure she loves you too.

That’s what makes coming to a conclusion impossible on almost every level.

Your physical heart says this is the most idiotic decision you’ve made in your entire life. You’ve had worse symptoms than normal, you’re putting yourself in danger in the name of ‘fun’, and the thought that’s lingering in the back of everyone’s mind is one you can’t ignore: just how long will you make it?

Your mental heart says this is the best thing you’ve ever done. You’re happy, you’re in love, you have real friends, and you’re finally starting to see the point in living. Not just from a tv screen or the books your father supplies, but through your own eyes and experiences. And even though your father seemed overbearing, you know he’s afraid. He’s taken on all of the worry and stress so that you don’t have to. If you wanted something to change, you had to take the leap yourself. But you’re not sure you can.

There’s six knocks at the door, and you stay seated in your position on the couch. “It’s open,” you call out.

The clack of familiar boots enter the room, and a wave of musk and amber suffocate you when Vi walks past you to sit at your side.

It’s silent. Not your comfortable, daydream filled state of silence that Vi could watch you in forever. It’s awkward, strangulating silence, and she can’t take it.

“Yesterday was..”

“...amazing.” “A mistake.”

You speak at the same time, eyes flickering at each other's response.

“What are you talking about?” Vi asks, setting her textbooks down. You don’t miss the newfound waver in the back of her voice.

You don’t respond. You don’t want to go through with this conversation.

“..Is this about the hickey?” she flashes a strained smile, “I’m sorry if he saw it, doll. Reall–”

“This isn’t a joke, Violet.” you finally speak, eyes strictly trained down on your fiddling hands in your lap. The tears are bubbling at your eyelids and that itchy, sore feeling is crawling its way up your throat.

“Then what is it about? You and your dad? Look, I can talk to him, I’ll make things right.” Her voice is increasingly wavered, desperate, scared.

“Our–” you inhale a shaky breath, “– this, us, whatever we are is an inconvenience. An inconvenience to my father, an inconvenience to my health, an inconvenience to you.” Your voice breaks with the last word. “I’m a burden Violet, face it.”

You can’t see it with the tears blurring your vision, but Vi’s shaking her head in horror. “No. No, what are you going on about? You aren–”

“God just face it, Vi. All you wanted was to love a girl and you got a defective one.” You spit the words out like they sting on your tongue. “Soon, you’ll be annoyed by everything I can’t do and bored of everything I can.”

“Maybe we’re just not…” you can’t continue as silent tears transform into quiet little sobs.

Vi’s heart aches as she kneels down on the floor in front of you, examining your now puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. She wants nothing more than to kiss the pain away, but first she has to fix that worrisome little mind of yours.

One hand intertwines with your anxious ones, and the other reaches up as rough fingers delicately hold your chin, a soft thumb rubs back and forth against your cheek. She whispers out your name with a voice that’s holding back sadness of her own. When you’re finally ready to look at her, she smiles delicately.

“You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to. I’d lasso the moon and bring it down for you if you asked.” You recognize her sweet words from your first date, and you’re weakly melting into the palm of her hand that’s sliding to cup your face.

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” she whispers. “I will never be annoyed by what you can or can’t do– god, I'd sit here and talk to you about slugs all day everyday if that’s what you really wanted.” That has you scoffing, fighting back a smile at her silly words.

“Love isn’t about the activities you can or can’t do, it’s about a connection, our connection, and what we do with it. So, you can get rid of me if this is all true and that’s what you really want, but I will never stop loving you.” She’s speaking so sweetly, and before she even finishes her sentence you’ve made up your mind.

“You’re good for my heart, cherry.”

Those are the last words she can get out before you’re throwing yourself forward and locking lips with the love of your life.

It starts off slow, soft, an apology for the rollercoaster of emotions and blunder of nonsense you put yourselves through. Then, Vi’s hands are cupping your face and the back of your head while yours are thrown around her neck. It’s needier, sloppier, and her tongue slipping into your mouth shows it’s moved from an apology to ‘let me make you feel better’.

You hum into the kisses with pleasure, but you wanted more. Needed more. Without hesitation, you slip a hand under Vi’s tight t-shirt, running a hand up and down her abs.

The action sends a shiver down her spine, and you gasp in surprise when the sculpted girl wraps your legs around her waist and lifts you into her arms.

You’re giggling as she walks up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your litter smooches down her jaw and to that neglected neck, mimicking what she’s done for you. Vi slips a hand under the back of your shirt, making you hum into her neck at the warmth.

Pop.

A devilish grin graces your angelic face when you pull back, eyes flickering from Violet’s to the bruise on her neck.

The girl grins, catching your mouth in a wet kiss. “You’re asking for more, y’know,” she warns, and her lustful eyes are turning your brain to mush.

“Good. I want more. Need you all over me,”

Your confident words are canceled out by a sweet gasp that leaves you when Vi bucks her hips.

“You’ve gotta say it then,” she orders.

“Say.. what?”

She chuckles. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

You swear there’s a pool of slick in your underwear.

“Want you to fuck me till I cum, please please please,” you beg, hiding in the crook of her neck.

“Fuck,” is all she can choke out, because she’s never wanted wanted a girl this fucking much. Your begging is all she needs to hear before she’s stripping you out of your top, unclasping your pretty bra with one hand, and flipping you over onto your back.

You’re throwing your head back with a soft moan, running a hand through her pink strands while Vi latches onto one of your rock hard nipples. Her hand trails down your abdomen and to your pretty little skirt. The fabric slides down your legs and off your delicate ankles, and the girl’s gawking at your panties.

“Vi, please please,” you moan in impatience.

She lets out a cruel chuckle, fingertips pulling down the fabric that’s completely drenched by your arousal.

Holy fuck.

She’s moving faster now, pulling her shirt over her head, and you don’t have a chance to drool over her bare muscles as she sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you back by your hips into her lap.

Your back’s pressed against her chest, and she pulls your legs apart making cool air attacking your lips. One arm hooks under your knee and holds tight, making sure you stay perfectly spread for her.

“Suck,” she whispers, and two of her calloused fingers are shoved in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the nubs, letting drool pool around them as Vi looks down at you like she wants to ravish you.

“Wanted to touch you like this for so long.”

Her fingers are dragging out of your mouth and down to your sensitive slit to your swollen clit. You’re already messily bucking your hips against her as she pushes soft circles against your bundle of nerves.

She relishes in the way your eyes roll back before she decides she’s done being a tease, sinking her wet fingers into you three full knuckles deep.

“Violet– holy fuck yesyesyes,” you whine, quickly closing your legs at the newfound pleasure. But Vi’s pulling them right back apart as she pumps into you faster.

She peppers kisses on your temple, whispering sweet nothings about how you’re ‘so damn pretty’ and she’s been dying to see your ‘fucked out face’.

“Yeah, oh fuuck.” you squirm under her control, a knot of passion and pleasure building in your gut.

“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” She speaks breathily. The way she’s mocking you and the depth her fingers are reaching is sending you right over the edge. Your toes curl while writhing pleasure shoots through your body, and all you can see is stars.

“Fuck fuck, I’m– hah,”

Vi’s shushing you softly, keeping her speed and strength as your cunt tightens around her fingers.

Your moans are like angels blessing your ears as you cum, gushing on her skilled fingers.

The only noises in the room are your exhausted pants, the slick of your cunt as Vi pulls her fingers out terribly slow, and the bed shifting under the absence and reappearance of pure muscle.

Except this time, the pinkette’s knelt in front of the bed.

She pulls you to the edge by the soft skin of your thighs, and piercing blue eyes joined by a warm pink tongue threaten to have you wheel-chair bound by morning.

“Let me clean you up, angel.”

Despite being near nothing but muscle, Vi’s bare body is incredibly comfortable.

“And he made a giant splotch of paint on the wall with his ass.”

You gasp, choking out a little giggle of shock as Vi tells you stories of her childhood, specifically all the stupid situations they got themselves into. The just-right bath water is engulfing your intertwined bodies. Vi’s fingers are threading through your hair as your head rests on her shoulder. Your body sits in between her legs, and your arms lazily drape around her waist.

“How mad was Vander?” you ask.

“He just… laughed. I’ve never really seen him mad, just disappointed at times.” She shrugs. “He knows kids make stupid mistakes, learn, and grow.”

You hum, nuzzling further into her. “I hope I’m that calm when I’m a mom,”

You pause.

“If I’m a mom.”

That strikes right through Violet’s swollen heart, and she shakes her head, holding you a little closer.

“You’re gonna be perfect.” She reassures. “Josie.. Gunner.. Rusty, Daisy, and our big beautiful city house are going to be so lucky to have you. I’m so lucky to have you. Never gettin’ rid of me.

You smile against her skin, placing a loving kiss.

“Even if it takes ages for my pops to understand?” you mutter.

“I don’t care if it takes a millennium.” she states confidently, a tender kiss graces your forehead before she looks you in the eyes.

“I love you, cherry.”

And this time, you’re done holding back.

“I love you, Violet.”

Your fingers, hearts, and lips intertwined as you share your most passionate kiss yet, one of the many for years to come.

Five years, to be exact.

And five years later, as the blood refuses to circulate throughout your body and your heart ceases to beat, you die in Violet's arms.

Through her sobs and shattered heart, she can only smile at the fact that all the way until your death, she helped you truly live.

silknspice

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