just thinking about cowboy ghost and their big chunky baby with little leg rolls and he’s so gentle and pregnant goose and them going round the farm and ahhh i’m so feral for that man i’d have his babies any day
I think about the cowboy babies all the time. The biggest chunkiest babies. Ghost holds the 141 record for biggest babies. He's so careful with his babies, so worried he's going to hurt them on accident. They're so loved. He's constantly holding one of his little girls, sitting with them for tea parties, braiding their hair. He loves all the softness that comes with being a father, and it hurts a little. Ghost remembers his own childhood, the horrors of it, the hatred he still feels for his old man, and he vows that his little girls will never experience that. And it's so strange to him to think about his father, to feel his own joy with his kids- he can't conceptualize ever treating them with the malice his father did. How could anyone hurt a child?
He sits on the couch watching a footie game and Frog comes to cuddle under his big arm. Asks him to explain the rules, who's winning, who is that, why did the man in the stripes give him a card, is that player hurt? Just a mountain of questions. The same ones Simon remembers Tommy asking his dad, earning a beating for disturbing the game. But Simon doesn't feel that annoyance, that rage, God he's never wanted to hurt his daughter but especially not now. He's excited to share his favorite sport with her, explains the rules a million times just to watch her bounce excitedly when Manchester scores a goal. It's perfect, it's a shared joy.
It's the same when his middle girl asks him to teach her to shoot. When his youngest chatters away about her upcoming dance recital as he helps slick her hair back into a bun. He thinks about his mom when he sees you, when you laugh and scoop your daughter into your arms, when you kiss him quick before dinner. God, he doesn't know how that man could hate something like this, could hate the overabundance of love that Simon has. His family is his whole world, of course he's gentle with them. The world is already hard enough, why would he make it harder when he can be a source of comfort instead?
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I AN FERAL OVER THAT COWBOY GRAVES ASK. Gnawing on the bars of my enclosure, I am a rabid animal at this point. Imagining his darling is known as being very standoffish and cold. Doesn’t participate in any local celebrations, doesn’t even try to make any friends, and doesn’t even bother to make small talk or joke around with anyone she has to interact with, just grunts and moves on as quickly as possible. Doesn’t help that she has a resting bitch face. Oh, but she’s so sweet to the animals. Lingers on the edges of other people’s farms (maybe she can’t afford her own or something, idk), petting them and feeding them sugar cubes or other goodies. The softest look in her eyes when they nuzzle into her hands. ♥️♥️♥️
I actually see his darling as someone who is well known for being friendly, you just have to look past the resting bitch face. Maybe reader looks standoffish but people are drawn to them. It's a real problem! People just come up and share their worries with them, talk to them like they're old friends. Is always kind and courteous to folks, so they're well known in the rodeo circuit. I think they're a bronc rider like Goose, not well known for winning but well known for their kindness. I get very... silver and bronze buckle energy, which they're happy with.
But it's exactly because you're so used to people coming up and talking to you, to men hitting on you, that you're almost immune to Graves' charm. He finds you, desperate to try and flirt, try and win you over, and you're just... not interested. It drives him crazy. He's attractive, how are you not attracted to him? Ok so not interested in looks. He sidles up next to you at one of the food booths and pays for your food with crisp bills, even leaves a generous tip. You thank him, but not profusely. You don't seem even a little wooed, don't even spare him a genuine smile.
Yet you go to sit with your friends and you beam like sunshine on earth. You smile and laugh for them, take off your hat to fan your face with it in the summer heat. You're gorgeous and untouchable and he has to have you just- just to prove that he hasn't lost his touch. No other reason.
He corners you at the bar, cages you against the lacquered wood with a firm hand on either side of you. He leans heavily against his palms, flexing a little, showing off for you. Your eyes flick over him, you raise a brow, "Can I help you?" You ask like you're unimpressed. Graves leans a little closer, tips his head so he can drag his eyes over you.
"You wanna help me?" He asks, voice slick and flirty. You blink at him, some sweet mischief in your eyes that makes him want to purr for you. "I told you sweetheart, I'm gonna make you mine. Would go a lot faster with you helpin' out." He likes the way you nod, slow and purposeful before you hook a finger into one of his belt loops. You drag him close, turn your head to speak into his ear.
"Where's the fun in that," You tell him. You hate flirts like him, men that chase you just because you're a pretty feather in their cap. It's fun playing with them though. Worth it for the steely look in Graves' eye when you pull away and pat his chest, ducking under his arm to rejoin your friends.
You don't see the way his hands clench against the bar, the way he drops his head to laugh to himself, replacing his annoyance with mirth. Oh you are cute. Worth it, he thinks, worth every trouble he knows you're going to put him through. Worth a quick background check, and a dossier. No sense marrying someone he doesn't know, and that's where this is going. Soon as you figure out he's worth the trouble.
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