Where The Aizawa (and Hawks) Fics At

where the aizawa (and hawks) fics at😿😿

I LOBE THIS SO SO MUCH I LOVE YOUR WORK IVE LIKED ALMOST ALL UR POSTS, I CANT WAIT FOR THE 2ND PART TO COME OUT💕😻

Serendipitous

[fem reader] contains: arranged marriage, nonconsensual touch, reader has a southern accent, implied sexual content. pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: stuck in an arranged betrothal, you think you'll forever be trapped. until you meet billy and your world is flipped upside down author’s note: welcome to part one of Serendipitous! there will be three chapters if I'm planning correctly. I will be adding to the playlist and Pinterest boards as I release chapters! Please enjoy! Series Pinterest BoardSeries Spotify Playlist

'Old habits die hard' is what you always said when it came to tradition. It was easier said when it wasn't being forced on you.

Being the oldest daughter of a very well-to-do family, you had always known in the back of your mind that you would have to marry, but you hadn't let that thought go any further than just that-a thought.

Your childhood was free and long and lovely, spent running wild in the countryside with all the wonderful things in the world. There were expectations of course; mandatory lessons were attended by you for the benefit of your future. But you never let it sway you, so childishly single minded, focused on the present.

Truthfully you dreamt of romance, of a love so powerful it would sweep you off your feet. In your storybooks love always seemed to be the goal, woman's purpose. You were privy to it, welcoming even, when you entered Atlanta society at the age of sixteen. Maybe here you would start living. Here you could find what you had daydreamed about for most of your life.

Unfortunately, the only thing you were met with was ambiguity. The men at the parties you attended were hardly what you'd imagined. Most were several years older than you, and all of them were disappointing, talking with cigars half in their mouths and presuming you didn't know anything about anything.

Thinking maybe your expectations had been too high, you gathered yourself together for the next season, hoping this crop would be more promising than the last. Entering the first event of the month with an open mind, you tried again.

Nothing.

Soon you had realized the banality of it all. Every party was the last one's twin, with the same greetings, the same conversation, the same dances and the same men, just with different names and faces.

By your third season you were exhausted. Through the mirror you watched the sparkle in your eyes dim, noticed how every soulless event sucked the life out of that sweet girl from the country. You hardly recognized her anymore.

No longer did you expect anything out of the things you were now practically dragged to by your mother. You were still approached by so called gentlemen, yes, but while they prattled on about whatever it is they felt you needed to hear from their mouths you slipped into daydreams. Except this time, they were not about romance. They were about running away.

You'd resigned yourself to the fact that nothing was going to happen. Even though you quite literally had no interest in any of the men you'd come across, you couldn't help but feel guilty. Was there something wrong with you? Every other girl seemed to find their match just fine. Indeed, even your younger sister was practically engaged to a gentleman from the East.

Of course, your parents had grown rather frustrated with your lack of action, and you shared their emotions. Why couldn't you just settle? Every time you tried, indulged someone with a dance and tried to imagine marrying them, you could feel a headache pounding at your skull. No, it was impossible.

Remaining in this mindset, you'd been rather surprised to find yourself pulled out for half a second when one Mr. Henry Merritt approached you at one of the last parties of the season, asking for a dance.

Out of politeness (and your mother poking her fan into your back) you obliged, letting him lead you to the floor. You were expecting, well, what you'd been forced to endure throughout the last three years when it came to conversation.

It surprised you when it wasn't.

Mr. Merritt was the first man you'd ever met who didn't talk to you like a child, who actually allowed you to share your thoughts as well instead of merely agreeing with his own. He even laughed when you made a shy comment about one of the other partygoers who was far too drunk not to notice anymore.

"You're far more vivacious than anyone gives you credit for," Mr. Merritt said as he spun you one more time, signaling the end of the dance. He held your hand to his lips once before asking, "May I call on you tomorrow?"

Feeling a little twinge of excitement at the prospect, you nodded eagerly, almost rooted to your spot after he departed.

Hope lit your mind again. All the way home and all through preparing for the next day, you rekindled your fire of romance. Maybe all you'd needed was the right person, and it was all possible.

Mr. Merritt had entered your home and greeted you politely. He sat in the drawing room next to you, and you just talked for a while, about anything. The longer you spent with him, the more you could see yourself making a life with him. There wasn't that mind-numbing, heart fluttering, weak at the knees feeling when you looked at him, but you were long past that, forced to admit that was a fantasy. Butterflies were a made-up thing.

As you were talking about a book you'd just finished, you noticed him looking at your lips. You felt a jolt of anxiety. This was what you'd heard girls your age talk about in the ladies' room, something that happened on maybe the second or third meeting. You almost felt proud of yourself that you'd charmed it into occurring on your first.

Mr. Merritt moved closer, and you did too, and before you knew it your lips were touching, moving hesitantly.

Was this what kissing was? It almost felt like an obligation. There wasn't anything exciting about it, just skin on skin. You decided maybe the other girls had overexaggerated.

He put his hand on your waist, and you hardly noticed, just waiting for him to stop. There wasn't anything to it, and you didn't feel the need to continue, but you didn't know how to break away. You moved your hands to his shoulders stiffly, but he didn't seem to mind. Would this have to happen every time you saw him now? Maybe it's not so bad-

Then you felt his hand on your breast.

Alarm bells rang in your head, and you pulled back, pushing him away. Mr. Merritt frowned, reaching for you again, his hand brushing the underside of it. "Come now, dearest, won't you-"

"No," you whispered, moving away from him. You didn't want him touching you ever again. It didn't feel good at all.

When you stood up, he snatched your arm, pulling you back down. His eyes were no longer kind, and you recoiled as if he'd hit you. "Do you know what people are saying about you?" he hissed, his fingers digging into your skin. "A girl who's been out for three years and never married? It's unthinkable. I'm your only option if you don't want to be ruined, so you'd best let me-"

You yanked your arm away from him and fled, running up the stairs to your room and shutting the door firmly behind you. Your breathing was fast, your heart pounding. Was that supposed to happen? Was that some awful secret you should have been warned about before? It was horrible. If that was what marriage was you certainly didn't want any part of it.

Keeping to your room for the rest of the day, you hugged your knees to your chest and tried to imagine your future. Everyone made being an old maid out to be an awful fate but now in comparison to marriage it sounded delightful.

That was what you'd do, you decided. You'd live the rest of your days out as a single lady or marry someone too old to last very long. Then you'd be free. No longer was love your driving force, but liberty. Liberty from the suffocating wiles of high society.

Mercifully, nobody disturbed your peace until the next day, when your father summoned you to his study. Assuming it was so you could tell him about your caller, you went with plans to tell him that Mr. Henry Merritt was not the one for you, and you'd try again next season (even though you wouldn't).

"...just don't think he's who I'd like to marry," you concluded, your hands clasped behind your back.

Your father looked at you coldly, which surprised you. You didn't think you'd said anything wrong. He stood, stacking a pile of papers in front of him neatly. "I called you in today to tell you you're to marry Mr. Merritt."

Instantly your mouth went dry and your eyes widened. "What?"

"As soon as possible," your father said, one of his hands resting on the ornate desk as he looked at you.

"But...but..." you scrambled to think of something, nearly tearing up at the idea.

"Mr. Merritt has informed me that he and you took certain..." your father shifted on his feet. "Liberties."

The word that had once been your dream was now your cage. How ironic. You shook your head, trying to protest. "Daddy...please, I-"

"If he hadn't asked for your hand, I would have been forced to find someone anyways," your father interrupted sternly, his eyes harsh. "Foolishly I let you have a part in the decision of marriage but clearly that was not the best course of action. I should have known someone as flighty as you wouldn't be able to act logically."

His words stung, and you felt tears welling up, too upset to care if one slipped out. You thought of Mr. Merritt's hand on your breast in the drawing room, how his touch had made your skin crawl and your body tense, how you'd wanted to tear off the clothes you'd been wearing and burn them. "Please don't make me do this."

"You will," your father sat down as if he hadn't just shattered everything you'd ever wanted. "And we'll be relocating in three days."

"Relocating?" you asked quietly, your brow furrowing delicately.

"Mr. Merritt has invested in several properties in New Mexico," your father began writing something, the dark of the ink flourishing across his page. "He would like to leave for there as soon as possible."

"You're sending me there with him? Alone?" you couldn't hold back the desperation in your voice.

He looked up at you, and you thought you saw a slight tinge of sympathy. "No. I've been speaking with him about his investments, and they sound very lucrative. With your sister married and your brother off in New York, your mother and I decided we'd like to go out west too. A nice change from Atlanta." He gave you a pointed look. "A nice change for you."

The way it sounded, they were making sure you weren't going to run away from Mr. Merritt, supervising you right down the aisle. But at least you wouldn't be alone with him. Not yet. "Yes, Daddy."

Your father nodded. "Good. You'd best start packing."

That was your signal to leave and you did, feeling nearly lightheaded. A betrothal and change of house. It was maddening.

Packing messily in a feverish daze, you tried to give yourself hope. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe in this change of scenery things would look better. You'd grown up in the country after all, and going back to your roots sounded perfect. Perfect for a fresh start.

Still, the image of you in a white dress standing next to Mr. Henry Merritt haunted your dreams that night and burnt into your eyes for all of the next day.

You liked New Mexico, you decided.

The open air space of it was a stark contrast to the crowded city of Atlanta, and you reveled in it. This was where you truly belonged.

Here, you were free to explore and enjoy nature as it was. Off came your large petticoats and hats. You were more than content to wear your simpler (prettier in your opinion) dresses and wander with your hair loose and your eyes bright.

Your fiancé objected to your activities, but he wasn't married to you yet, so you ignored him for the most part. It was easy to do so since he was busy with his new properties.

One thing you rediscovered was horseback riding, and it quickly became a passion. You'd been fond of it as a child and now you were so happy to have it back in your life. Hours now were spent exploring the open plains of your new home. You found little spots that became more than special to you, refuges from home.

Your mother was pressuring you about the wedding, even though it wasn't for another year. She had a boatload of advice for you that had you practicing endurance.

Mr. Merritt, or Henry as he insisted you call him, called on you rather often much to your discomfort. It was especially hard when he kissed you, which hadn't gotten any better since the first time. The memory of his hand where you didn't want it haunted you, though he didn't try it again. You were always scared he would.

As long as you had your rides, you were content. Because you weren't with him more than you weren't.

He requested your presence for a party one of his colleagues was throwing. You'd balked a little at that, but you knew you didn't have a choice. So, to prepare, you took a day for yourself, spending it on your horse. It was scary- the thought of going to another high society event that was sure to be just like the ones back in Atlanta.

But you did your best to doll yourself up, putting on a pretty blue corseted dress. It wasn't too fancy, but it'd definitely pass. Henry told you how pretty you looked, and you gave him a tight smile.

The second you got to the party you wanted to leave. You clung to Henry's arm as he talked to his acquaintances. Even though you were afraid of him, he was your safest option.

As he drank more alcohol, Henry became looser, touchier. You hated it, how now that you were attached to him, he felt like he had free will to touch you where he wanted.

When you tried to grab a drink to take the edge off, he took it from you, lifting it to his own lips. "She's trying something new," he laughed to his friends, and you felt your cheeks flush.

Henry pinched your cheek, kissing it once, leaving the stench of a drink behind. "She's pretty. Real pretty, huh?"

You felt your breaths grow quicker as his friends agreed. "Lookit that body," one of the other men slurred. "'S tight ain't it?"

Your mouth nearly fell open at how vulgar they were being in public. The awful feeling in you grew when your fiancé didn't defend you, merely laughing and moving his hand down to your bottom.

That was the last straw. You stepped away gracefully, chest heaving as you pushed through the crowd, your vision blurring. This new town was supposed to be something new, different from Atlanta. But no, here you were back in the same old habits, the monotonous, mundane place you'd dreamt of leaving. Only it was worse this time because of the man you were forced to stand beside.

Figuring some fresh air would do you good, you stepped outside, shutting the door behind you and leaning against it, letting the cool breeze of the night wash over you. You closed your eyes, tilting your head back against the wooden surface.

Why did this have to happen? When did your life turn into someone else's, a different person's dream? You had tried to be positive, tried to be accommodating to what everyone else wanted, but now you couldn't stand it. It was exhausting, terrifying to know that you were going to be bound to an awful man for the rest of your life just because you hadn't wanted to settle.

Bringing a hand to your face, you took in a deep breath, trying to calm down. It's okay. It's okay. You can be okay-

"You alright?"

Your eyes flew open, and you looked around for the source of the voice. A tall man with dark hair stood in front of you, a few feet away. He looked concerned. "Noticed ya come out here in a rush."

For a moment you were speechless. You'd seen men before, but one look at him suggested you'd never seen men.

He towered over you, and the hat on his head shaded his eyes but you could still see the bright blue of them, and it made you weak at the knees. His shirt was blue, and he wore suspenders over them. There was a gun belt slung around his waist, and something about the look of it had your heart fluttering.

Butterflies.

You cleared your throat, smoothing your hair and managing to meet his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I'm okay."

"Ya sure? Ya look a little..." his eyes slowly wandered over you, and it made you shiver. "...a little spooked."

You felt yourself soften. Even him simply seeing you had you melting. "It's nothing. I just needed a moment."

"Ah, I get that," the man said, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. "These..." he gestured toward inside. "...can be kinda suffocating."

"Yeah," you breathed, grateful someone else could see it. "It's...I've never been entirely comfortable with them."

He gave you a jaunty half smile that warmed you from the inside out. "You'n me got that in common." He tilted his hat up, presumably so he could see you better in the dark. "Ain't never seen ya before, pretty. Ya new 'round here?"

Your heart stuttered again when he called you pretty, and you nodded, feeling like you were in a daze. "I am. I've been here for about a month."

"Where from?" he folded his arms, tilting his head interestedly.

"Atlanta," you smiled a little bit.

"Ah, I can hear the accent now," he smiled, which in turn made your own grow larger. "Why'd ya move all the way to this little corner?"

"I'm..." you didn't want to tell him that you were engaged for some reason. "My fi- father moved his business out here."

"And how're ya findin' it so far?" he questioned, lowering his chin to better look you in the eye.

That was the first time since you'd come out here that anyone had asked you how you felt. It surprised you so much that you paused before you answered. "I like it. A lot."

You hesitated before you continued, unsure if he cared, but something about the look in his eyes made you sure he'd listen to anything you had to say. So, you did something you wouldn't have done with anyone else. You said more. "I grew up in the country in Georgia, and it's been lovely to go back to my roots, so to speak."

This seemed to please him for some reason. He moved a little closer, and you found you didn't mind at all. "The country, huh?"

"Barefoot on horseback," your accent poked through there and it caused his grin to stretch.

"Well ain't you just a southern sweetheart?" he shifted on his feet. "Sweeter 'n sugar."

"How do you know I'm sweet? You just met me," you couldn't help but tease. "I don't even know your name."

The man held out his hand for a shake. "I'm Billy. Nice to meetcha." He gave you a nod, accompanied by a smile that did more for you than another man's touches ever had.

You told him your name, giving him a mock curtsy that made him chuckle, taking his hand to shake. It was big and warm, and it nearly enveloped yours.

He repeated your name as you shook his hand, and the way it sounded in his mouth...you'd never loved your name so much before. "Welcome to Lincoln County."

"Thank you kindly," you giggled, feeling so lighthearted, more so than you remembered recently. "It's been a pleasure."

Billy lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gallantly, like a knight. "The pleasure's entirely ours to have a beautiful gal settle 'round these parts."

When he called you beautiful, you felt the butterflies again. How you felt around him...it was like a thunderbolt. But you liked it. You realized right then that you hadn't thought of Henry once the entire time you'd been talking to Billy. Now that your fiancé was on the brain, though, you looked back at the house, brow furrowing as you became paranoid he'd come after you.

Billy noticed this and squeezed your hand. "Hey. Whatever's in there that bothered ya...it ain't worth it."

He was very close now. So close that you could see the details of him. His dark eyelashes. The way his hair curled around his ears. Billy lifted a hand, searching your eyes for permission. You gave a slight nod, and he settled it on your cheek, sliding back slightly in your hair. Oh, it was so warm. His thumb stroked your face slightly.

"Don't let 'em getcha down, sunshine," he whispered.

Your heart leapt into your throat. His lips were so close to yours. He was so handsome and caring and-

In a moment of impulse, you bridged the gap and pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly. Billy returned the gesture immediately, his lips rough and hungry. His hand found your waist, and you gasped, a little sound, into his mouth.

Billy dragged his hand through your hair, his movements becoming slower in a way that drove you crazy. His hand gripped your waist, kneading slightly. His lips covered your briefly before puckering slightly again, and he nudged his nose against your skin, biting your lower lip gently.

This was kissing? Your mind hardly had time to wander with what he was doing to you, but you had a brief thought. This is what you'd imagined.

He pressed you against the wall, the brim of his hat slipping up your forehead, the gesture lifting it slightly off his head. Both his hands were at your waist now, thumbs sliding up and down as his lips slotted against yours. One of his knees bent forward, wedging between yours. The action emitted a breathy sigh from you and he grinned against you.

"Like that?" he muttered, his lips still smushed against yours. You nodded, your hands sliding up to grasp his suspenders, pulling him forward so your chests were touching. It felt so good, he felt so good. Oh, you'd never wanted someone like this. And the way he was touching you...you were so starved for affection.

Billy parted his lips from yours and you chased them, not wanting to stop. He squeezed your waist with both hands, his forehead pressed to yours. You reached up and knocked his hat up so it wasn't poking you anymore. He grinned, his nose touching yours again. "Ya doin' okay?"

Nodding, you touched your lips to his briefly, looking up at him through your lashes. "Billy...I..." There was an ocean of feeling crashing inside you, and now you were purely acting on desire. "I need you."

He nodded, pressing his firm thigh up in between your legs and you whimpered, just enough to let him know. "I can feel it, sweetheart."

"Do you live far from here?" you asked softly.

Billy shook his head, holding your waist just by the fingertips and rubbing up and down. "No. Not far."

You reached up and tugged on his shirt collar, lips slightly parted as you looked into his eyes. "Would you...?

A little grin turned the corners of his lips upwards. "You gotta use your words, sweet. Tell me whatcha want."

Leaning your head back, you breathed in once, eyes falling to his lips. "Billy..." you kissed him once, then pressed your lips to his cheek for a long moment. "Make me feel good. Please."

Now he was really grinning. Billy's hand dropped to yours and he clasped your fingers, lifting it to his lips again, not breaking eye contact. Only this time, you saw something different. That pure, primal desire reflected in his irises.

You had one thought of Henry, but it was fleeting. How could you think of him when you had Billy holding your hand and looking at you the way he was?

As Billy led you through the streets, you felt giddy. He wanted this just as much as you did, you could tell. All the way there he talked to you, asking you about what you liked, and your family and your life in Atlanta. He was thrilled to discover you liked riding too, and he said he'd love it if you showed him the spots you'd discovered.

Once you got to where he was staying and through the door, you felt the tendrils of want gripping your chest again. He unlocked the door and held it open for you, letting you enter first.

You entered, looking around at the little space. It was neat, well kept, but it was clear he lived there. There was a belt on the bed, and what looked like letters on the bedside table. Once the door was shut you turned around to face Billy again. He pocketed the key and took his hat off. "It's-"

He was cut off by you pushing him against the door, standing on tiptoes to move your lips against his. He let out a surprised "Mmph," but responded in kind, lifting his hand to your chin and tilting it up. Billy trailed his fingers down your jaw and then his other hand found your cheekbone.

The feeling of his nose squishing against your cheek was somehow erotic to you. His lips didn't stop at your mouth this time; they found your jaw, your chin, your neck. His lips trailed down your neck, and your fingers tangled in his hair, something you hadn't been able to do earlier since his hat had been on.

Billy's hands found your thighs, then your bottom, squeezing it gently with both hands. It was odd how Henry had done nearly the same thing earlier and it'd nearly broken you. But now Billy was doing it and it spurred you on, making you tug at his hair, in turn making him let out a strangled groan.

He grabbed your waist, lifting you like you weighed nothing and setting you on the dresser. Billy pushed your skirt up so it was bunched around your thighs and then gripped your hips, tugging you forward so you were pressed right against him, your legs wrapped around you. You kicked your shoes off and hooked your knees over his hips, ankles crossing over his backside. His lips claimed yours again, but he was slightly off, a messy top lip kiss the result of it.

You squeezed your legs around him. It was evident how badly he wanted you; you could feel it through his pants. His gun belt was pressing against you, and it made you whimper, your hand coming to the handkerchief around his neck and pulling.

"Billy..." you mumbled through his kisses. "I need you...need you bad..."

He pulled back, finding your neck and nipping at it, sucking a bold kiss into your skin. Then he looked up, his hands coming to your hair and smoothing it, tucking it behind your ears. "As fun as it'd be to do it right here-" he paused, looking down at the state of you and smiling. "-I think my bed might be more comfortable, sunshine."

That name. You would've done anything he wanted if he called you that after asking. So, you nodded and he kissed you again before sweeping you off the dresser and laying you on his bed.

You sat up, tugging on his handkerchief and undoing it, tossing it to the side. Sliding his suspenders off, you leaned in and kissed him again, fingers nimbly pulling at his buttons and effectively opening his shirt. He removed it immediately and threw it to the side.

Realizing it was your turn, you reached behind you and tried to undo the laces of your corset. Seeing you wouldn't get very far, Billy chuckled and turned you around, his long fingers starting to make work of unknotting it. Not to keep you waiting, he kissed the back of your neck as he did, then your shoulder when you managed to work your sleeve down.

Together, you were able to slide it off your body, leaving you bare chested, with only a pair of bloomers and stockings covering you now. Billy turned you so he could see, and you thought you heard his breath catch.

"Beautiful," he mumbled, getting to his knees in front of you. "Look atcha. Ya'd think an angel fell into my arms."

As he spoke, his fingers hooked on the edge of your left stocking, peeling it down your leg and doing the same with the other. The sight of him, shirtless and undressing you may have been the most erotic thing you'd ever seen.

Billy reached up and kissed your collarbone, the motion feather light. His lips messily made their way down your chest, nosing against the spot between your breasts. He kissed your tummy gently, then your belly button, resting his chin there and looking up at you. His fingers dipped under the edge of your bloomers, and you saw the question in his eyes.

You nodded, and he kissed your tummy again, sliding your last garment down your legs and off your body.

Once you were completely bare, you scooted back on the bed, your knees bending to cover yourself. He smiled, but didn't question it, instead crawling over you to kiss you soothingly. "Ain't never seen a gal so pretty," he said against your lips. "Look atcha...all stretched out 'n bare for me..."

You reached for the button of his pants, tugging on it. He chuckled lightly, thumbing at your cheek. "Words, honey, 'member?"

"Won't you take them off?" you pleaded, looking up at him needily.

He smiled, standing up and uncovering your body. You reached for the blanket covering the bed, pulling half of it over your torso. Billy undid his belt and tossed it on the floor. You heard his gun clatter, but he didn't stop to do anything about it. In practically no time, he was as bare as you were, and you couldn't stop staring at him.

Billy smirked sweetly when he realized your eyes had caught between his legs. You'd never seen a man fully nude before, not a real one anyways. The statues in the pictures you'd seen in books about Europe hadn't been exactly educating.

You knew what sex was. Young ladies of society weren't supposed to know exactly, but awhile back, when you were in the ladies' room with a group of friends, you'd been passed a book that had been going around secretly. When you opened it, there'd been pictures. And detailed explanations.

But nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. For really seeing a man's body, and one that clearly wanted you, nonetheless. You looked away shyly, clutching the blanket around your chest.

Billy climbed on top of you, nudging your legs apart and settling between them. You were determinedly not looking there, and he noticed, kissing your nose.

"You can look," he smiled, nudging your nose. "Look all ya want. 'S all yours tonight."

Shyly, you did, your cheeks turning rosy as you did. He pressed his cheek against yours, kissing you there. "Ya ever done this before?"

Your cheeks flushed even more as you shook your head. Billy nodded, pulling back and kissing you softly, a gentle soothing motion. "'S okay. 'nd ya want to?"

When he got another nod, he kissed your brow, then your nose again. "Mkay. We can take it slow. Wanna make it good for ya."

He was being sweet, and you appreciated it. But that didn't mean you weren't still nervous. You looked back down between you again, taking in a deep breath.

Billy saw how flustered you were, and he ran his hand up and down the curve of your hip. "You want to touch?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes, looking at your hand, then back at it.

He smiled. "You can touch. It's okay." Billy took your hand in his and guided it south, your heart fluttering when you reached it.

The next little bit was euphoria. It was unlike anything you'd done before; unlike any feeling you'd had before. The way he kissed and caressed, reached and reassured...after it was done the only thing you knew was that you wanted it again. And again.

Billy sat up and moved you to sit on his lap once it was over, skin against skin. You buried your face in his neck, closing your eyes. He rubbed your back, his fingers smoothing over your spine.

"How was it?" he mumbled, kissing your shoulder.

"Felt good," you whispered, sleepily lifting your head to look at him. You were telling the truth. It'd been wonderful. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined you could feel that way. And as of late, you'd never imagined someone like him being the cause of it.

But he was here, and you were in his lap, exhausted and blissful from it.

Billy gently rolled you over to lie flat on the bed, and he settled in a similar position, holding his arm out so you could rest against his chest. He was so warm, his body acting as a pillow for you. And he didn't seem to mind at all.

Stroking your hair, he whispered how well you'd done for him, how pretty you'd looked. The praise made you smile, and you drifted off to sleep like that; with your bare breasts pressed against his equally naked side, cozy as could be.

It wasn't until the next morning that you remembered your fiance.

Waking up next to Billy had you smiling sleepily, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He leaned on his side, rubbing your arm absentmindedly. "Mornin' sunshine."

You lazily pressed a kiss to his mouth, letting his stubble scratch your chin. Oh well, you figured you had all sorts of marks from that and his kisses all over your body after last night. Hopefully you'd be able to cover them up before Henry saw.

Henry.

For the first time in hours, you remembered him and the thought made you bolt up, eyes wide as you struggled to collect your clothes. Billy sat up, looking both amused and confused at your hurry. "What's the rush, sweetheart? Got somewhere to be?"

"I shoulda gone home last night," you managed, yanking your stockings and bloomers on, then stepping into your dress and trying to retie the back.

Billy chuckled and stood, nudging your hands away and lacing your dress himself. The action made your heart flutter. That was all it seemed to do around him. Butterflies.

He reached around and kissed your cheek when he was done, smoothing your hair. "I'm glad ya did though. Ain't often I get a pretty girl in my bed all night."

You turned around to look at him. He was still completely nude. "It's not?"

Billy looked down at you with a sort of intensity in his eyes that parted your lips slightly. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "It's not."

You let yourself look at him for a few more seconds before tearing your eyes away, looking down and smoothing your dress, feeling flustered. Reaching down, you grabbed your shoes and slipped them on hurriedly. "I'd better get back...but..." you stumbled as you tried to get your second heel on. "Thank you for...for the night and-" you weren't sure what to say next.

Luckily, Billy paid that no mind and he sat back down on the bed, pulling the blanket over his lap and leaning back on his hands. "Gonna give me a kiss before ya go?"

Smiling exasperatedly, you gave in and went to him, pressing your lips to his once before rushing out the door. "Goodbye Billy!"

"I'll be in touch sunshine," he called as you left.

You shut the door and leaned against it, sighing as the memories of last night played in your head. You'd slept with him.

A good girl from Atlanta wouldn't do that. Hell, you from a year ago wouldn't do that.

This wasn't Atlanta though. And you were a different person than you were a year ago. One look at a handsome cowboy from Lincoln County and you'd fallen between his sheets. But it'd felt good. And even though you'd technically cheated on your fiancé...you felt no remorse.

And besides, this was different than a one-night stand. Billy had asked you questions, seemed genuinely interested in you and your life. He'd cared about you. That was a rarity in your life: being truly cared for.

Billy made you feel something you'd never felt for a man before. In the merry-go-round of suitors you'd entertained, not one had caused those...those...those butterflies.

As you made the journey back home, it was all you could think about. The cowboy with the blue eyes who'd lit the sparkle back in yours.

is he attractive or is he just irish

I started to watch the new demon slayer season and let me tell you all something I am DOWN BAD for Sanemi bro and because of that all my scenarios with actual people are gone and it's just about sanemi so its gonna take awhile for me to actually start writing here mb y'all 😥

Proud to be a Sanemi fan since s1 🫂

Fashionista right here