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I woke up to this thought? And it made me smile~
Wrong way Au?
It's EASY to fly from point A to point B. Linear. Just on long, no traffic, straight line. And if you get lost? Go higher! There you are! But "normal" reporter families with Totally Human genetics can't exactly DO that.
Plus? It's part of the whole Americana thing!
Childhood.
Gotta do a road trip, see weird road side attractions, camp and hike a bit. Go somewhere other then the farm for once. Soooo~ everyone into the car! Yes, you too, Kon.
And don't look at Lois, kids. She hates this idea as much as you do. But it's for Dad. So we're doing it. Get in the car. Some times loving people means "suuuure, honey! I TOTALLY want to sit in an uncomfortable car for hours for your nostalgic dream trip!", so get comfy.
Problem is? He either can't navigate for SHIT (unlikely) or this patch of nowhere? Possibly haunted? Cursed? Fuckey. Very, very Reality Fuckey. Far more likely, honestly. They THINK that was the a same barn the passed four times now... but it looks... wrong? Off. Worse each time, in ways that are hard to place.
Where the FUCK are they Clark?
According to the GPS?
Here.
(You are Here. You are Here. You are He-)
Oh, THAT'S not cursed! She fucking KNEW they shouldn't have left the city. FUCK the countryside. She likes ONE(1) small town and it's where her in-laws live, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! If they die, she swear to GOD-!!!
Then Jon points to colorful tents up the road. A mix of the kind you buy at big box stores and Ren fairs. Balloons. What the fuuuuuck? "Fenton Family Reunion"?
Was... was that THERE a second ago?
Clark's very deliberate Not Too Tight Grip Of Panic ™ on the steering wheel? Confirms that No Honey, it was not. Kon points out? That eventually they ARE going to run out of gas. They should stop.
Words can not express how little the Kents want to do that. They have KIDS to protect. This feels "magical fuckery" to them. AKA? One of the few things Kryptonians very much CAN NOT handle.
And luck getting ahold of anybody back there kids? No? Emergency lines too?
Fuck ™.
Okay! Guess we're stopping! Stay behind us.
They park.
There are campers and trucks, modified tanks and trackers. A few horses grazing side by side with an honest to God moose and two mules. A Llama. Someone's anchored a dirigible. A boat with spindly chicken footed legs, like it's the house of baba yaga's sea faring love child. The name Fenton is slapped on everything. Peoples faces.
Grinning.
Everything grinning.
As they get closer, the racket gets louder. Crashes and smashes. Roaring laughter. Explosions. The screech of metal failing and the whine of energy overclocked. Fatty meats cooking. Spices from around the globe. Radios and instruments, at least one of which violently cuts off in a smash.
They pass an almost violently balloon choked arch, into chaos.
Grinning giants, everywhere. Every color, every shade, every race imaginable. The spectrum of humanity laid bare. Made large. Grinning, Grinning, Grinning. Crashing into each other, against, through. Smashing and laughing, as everything breaks around them. Titans.
Darting underfoot, children. Fast with wild eyes. Mad grins and fae laughs. Wives and husband's, partners and friends, dancing in and out of the chaos. Just as destructive. Perhaps MORE so. Grabbing meals from grills, laughing and joking, tossing children into the fray, all as they effortless hold conversations of their own.
Like a Dionysian revelry, all madness and joy.
Then they are noticed.
"Cousin!"
One of them booms. Locking eyes on Clark. He doesn't even have time to move, doesn't realize until too late, in all the chaos, that the man meant HIM. A running start is followed by a brutal, full body, flying tackle. Clark is taken skidding to the ground and into a headlock.
"LETS WRASTLE~!!"
He watches in helpless confusion as, with high-pitched war cries, a pair of twins jump Jon. They are wearing war paint. Krypto already taken out by a glowing green dog, now confused and wrestling off to the side. Lois has whipped out her tazer. Kon between her and who ever comes next.
By the time he wrestle his "cousin" off of him, he's lost sight of them both.
Dives into the fray.
Magic be damned, that's his FAMILY!
It... It's the most fun he's had in years. That any of them have. He finds Lois in a breathless, screaming, debate/fistfight with her new best friend. Samantha "call me Sam Or ELSE" Manson-Fouley-Fenton. Kon is in the mud pit, wrestling other teenagers in some sort of battle Royale. Jon? Has become king of the ferals. The other parents are impressed.
His years of Damian wrangling finally paying dividends, apparently.
By the time Clark FINALLY tracks down Krypto, there is already crowd and it apparently six heel turns deep into the WWE Grand Saga of the Fenton Pet's League. Krypto, what the hell. No. No you may NOT "form one last alliance against my sworn wrestling enemy, to prove the true meaning of Christmas!" It's the middle of SUMMER!
Clark... Clark is so tired.
He's also a Fenton now. Yes, he KNOWS that's not how anything works. YOU try explaining that! He's on the call list and card list. It's like the Addams family out here! They just... just DECIDED him and his family were related! They've apparently DONE THAT BEFORE!
They leave with directions, fudge, more leftovers then anyone could possibly eat, and a massive new extended family. One that honestly? The Justice League SHOULD have known about. The sheer destructive chaos they get up too? EVERYONE should be aware of them. It seems impossible NOT to be! But? According to THEM, it's a "family thing". Reality tries to ignore them for "it's own sanity"? What???
So yeah.... no more road trips.
How was YOUR weekend?
@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation
#minji's writing#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#dc x dp prompt#danny phantom#welcome to the family au#fenton family reunion
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that guy ⊹ steve harrington
summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words
── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──
The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.
It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.
To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.
You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.
"Hi."
You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"
"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."
A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.
How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?
You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.
"So...not the one, I take it?"
Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.
"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."
"Nothing is wrong with you."
"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"
The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."
Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.
"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."
"She does."
"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."
"At least you have one."
He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"
You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.
What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.
Until it wasn't.
"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."
"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."
Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"
You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."
"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"
Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.
Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.
"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."
"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.
Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"
"You...don't know him," you hedge.
"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."
"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."
Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."
The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.
You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."
"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.
You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?
You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.
"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."
Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.
The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.
No, you aren't going to cry.
This is stupid.
You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.
When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.
You don't have to look up to know that it's him.
"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.
"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.
There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.
"You look just fine to me."
You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."
He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."
"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.
"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.
You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.
"I should've never asked. That was selfish."
"Forget it," you say.
He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.
You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.
"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."
"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."
"Yup. Exactly. In there."
"So you said."
"Yep."
The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—
He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.
"Okay, so—"
You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.
He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."
You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.
"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.
Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"
"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."
"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"
He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.
"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."
"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.
"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."
"Steve."
"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."
"Steve—"
"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."
He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.
Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.
"Is this okay?" he whispers.
"I don't—what?"
Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.
"This," Steve murmurs.
He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.
"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."
"I think I am."
His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.
"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"
You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.
"Yes. It's you."
A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.
You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.
"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."
A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.
"Oh yeah?"
"Completely."
You kiss him this time.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve x you#steve x reader#stranger things fanfic#stranger things imagine#steve harrington scenario#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington one-shot#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington headcanons#steve harrington hcs#steve harrington hc#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington dialogue#steve harrington fluff
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The Hero and Hope (part 3/5)
(part 1) (part 2)
Summary: You've been adopted before. That's why you know better than to hope for another chance, especially a second chance with the Bahrs
-----
It’s not that you don’t want to be adopted. You just know that you’re not going to be. You’re the oldest in the orphanage, barely three years away from aging out. People don’t adopt kids your age, especially not obstinate, mean ones like you.
Besides, you’re a Hero. As soon as you master your power, you’ll be compelled to leave and fight evil anyway. That’s why it doesn’t matter if the Bahrs want you or not. You’re not somebody that’s supposed to have a family.
You barely remember the first time you were adopted. That was back when the Director of the orphanage was mean and biting. You have a vague memory of gold exchanging hands and leaving in the middle of the night. Your new parents barely looked at you and didn’t call you by your name at all.
You don’t remember a lot of that time. You were five and it was a struggle to go from living with a dozen kids to no one at all. Your new family gave you your own room in their small house and told you not to get underfoot.
The first time you ran away from their house, you didn’t get far. The baker in town brought you back to them and warned them about how kids your age are always slipping out when not paid enough attention.
“If you do it again,” the person who paid for you said, “you’re going straight back to the orphanage.”
And you do.
--------.
The day of the picnic, every kid wakes up early without being told.
You watch as Hera fusses over all the younger ones, straightening new shirts and brushing dust off knees. Josiah is reading one of the newest books Mrs. Bahr – Marie – brought, biting the skin on the side of his thumb. You snag Hera as she races to find Annie some ribbon for her hair.
“Hold up, let me brush your hair first,” you say.
Hera frantically pats the braids she slept in. “I forgot about my hair!” She turns large, watery eyes on you. “Islaaaa!”
You snort and help her unwind each braid. She decides to leave it down, charmed by the waves the braids left in her hair. Your hands don’t shake as you work even though your heart is racing. Today is the day of the picnic.
Today might be the day the Bahrs pick one of you to adopt. The younger kids don’t know that, the information carefully hidden from them, but Hera knows. Director Sarah knows. You know.
It’s been a long time since you felt this sort of anxiety. The second time you were adopted was just before the Winter and it wasn’t bad at first. The couple who adopted you ran an inn in town. It was exciting to have your own room and your new mother wanted you to call her Mom right away. Six-years-old and you were so excited just to be able to call someone your parent. This time you were going to listen. You weren’t going to run away or complain if their house felt too big and too lonely. This time you were going to get it right.
You didn’t think about what they wanted from you in exchange.
It wasn’t until the second week when they found out you weren’t really much use for anything that things started getting bad.
You breathe in through your nose and proclaim Hera’s hair finished. She thanks you and races off to find Annie, determined to put the ribbon she picked in the younger girl’s hair.
The Bahrs aren’t like the innkeepers. Whoever they adopt won’t be expected to know how to read or do math or how to take care of horses. If they are required to then Marie and Ivan will teach them first. Both have spent enough time at the orphanage for you to believe that. Isn’t it Marie who’s teaching all of you your letters? Wasn’t it Ivan who taught you how to better put up a fence?
Whoever they choose will be fine, you think. It’s both a relief and a sting. Whoever they choose will be fine. It’s just probably not going to be you. Not when Annie is so sweet and social and Hera is so strong and kind. Not when Josiah works so hard to soak up everything they have to teach him.
“Is everyone ready?” Director Sarah asks. She’s standing by the door. Her clothes are nicer than usual too, a dress made of a light blue fabric you’ve never seen before. Her hair is carefully combed back into an updo and fastened with a tie Hera made for her last winter. She runs a critical eye over all of you. “You all look very nice. Josiah, tie your shoes, please. Annie, leave the slate in your room, what you do if you lost it? Honestly…”
You let Director Sarah fuss over the kids, slipping out the door ahead of everyone. You don’t own a dress, but the button-down shirt is new and starched. Director Sarah helped you embroider bluebells on the collar and sleeves, and you think it turned out well.
You may not be getting adopted today, but you’re excited to see the Bahr family’s estate. The sun is warm overhead, the sky an endless blue. The summer is mild this year, perfect for a party. Isn’t that what Mr. Bahr – Ivan – told you to think of it as? A party. No strings attached.
A wagon comes up the lane. The Bahr family’s home is too far for the younger kids to walk to, past the town and closer to the Lord’s manor. They said they’d send a wagon for all of you, but something still clenches in your chest when you actually see it. Wagons are an expense the orphanage can’t justify, but, apparently, the Bahrs can.
The driver smiles kindly when he pulls up next to you. “Everyone ready to go?”
Before you can answer, the kids are pouring out the front door, chattering excitedly. You help Director Sarah lift the smaller ones into the seats near the front. The wagon is open topped, so Director Sarah can look over everyone sternly, twisting around in her spot next to the driver.
“No playing during the ride,” she instructs. “Mr. Dallen is very kindly driving us so you must listen to him, alright?”
Mr. Dallen also turns around. “I don’t have too many rules,” he says. He pretends to think, scratching his thick beard. He grins “Don’t fall out!”
He’s joking, but that’s why you’re stationed at the back of the wagon. From your seat, you’ll be able to stop any roughhousing before “falling out” becomes a real danger. Already you’re eyeing the way Josiah is fidgeting. He’s incredibly calm when he’s reading, but otherwise he’s like a tornado. There’s a reason he’s the one that fell into the well in the first place. Hera sits primly next to him, her hands folded in her lap. You can tell she’s watching him from the corner of her eye. There’s a reason she’s the one who pulled Josiah out of the well.
Mr. Dallen directs the horses away from the orphanage, through the orchard, and along the road cutting through the fields. When you’re going to the forest to hunt, you take the narrower path that winds through the orchard and more directly into the tree line. The wagon is forced to stay on the wider road where the horses won’t sink into any mud and the wagon wheels won’t catch on rocks or dense foliage.
After the fields is the town. The kids wave to every Villager and Blacksmith they see. “Good day!” “Morning!” “We’re going to a picnic!” Hera pulls Annie back from the edge of the wagon before she tips over onto the street.
You slouch in your seat, wishing you were wearing a hat. While the first family who adopted you left town ages ago to live in the Capital, the innkeepers are still around. You don’t look as you pass their business and try not to listen to Josiah carefully sounding out the name of their inn.
When you open your eyes, Director Sarah is looking at you. You okay? She mouths. She wasn’t at the orphanage for your first adoption, but she was there for the innkeepers. You feign going to sleep. Just tired. She pretends to believe you and turns back to continue chatting with Mr. Dallen.
The kids are excited to go through the forest. Many of them are too young to even go into town with Director Sarah, a privilege you earn at ten years old, and they point to every bird, deer and mushroom they see amongst the trees. You let the sound of nature and the kids’ chatter lull you into a sort of meditation. The estate is only thirty minutes away now that you’re out of town.
You’re nearly dropping off to sleep when Director Sarah’s voice changes in pitch. Your sensitive hearing can pick up a thread of concern in her voice. What makes Director Sarah concerned, makes you concerned.
“—demons in the woods,” Sarah is saying very quietly. She glances out of her peripherals towards the back to make sure no kids are listening. If she notices how you’re only pretending to sleep, she doesn’t show any sign of it. “Shouldn’t we ask the kids to be quiet?”
“The Lord’s Knights have been patrolling,” Mr. Dallen says equally quietly. You can see him scan the trees for a moment before he smiles reassuringly at Director Sarah. “We’ll be okay so long as we stick to the road.”
“Alright.”
You keep a closer eye on the surrounding forest.
“There! There it is!”
Annie’s shout drags you attention from a (suspiciously) shadowed gully. The woods have thinned enough that hedges of the Bahrs’ estate can be seen. You’ve only been out this far once, a long, long time ago. You’ve never been past this point.
You’re just as surprised as the rest of the kids when the hedges give way to a castle.
That’s not a manor. You’ve never seen either, but you’re sure of this. Manors are supposed to look like the orphanage or any of the buildings in town, just larger. The Bahrs’ home has towers. The front doors are three times the height of a regular one and you can see that the handles and knockers are made of copper. The stone isn’t white like the castles in picture books, but it’s clean and neatly cut.
“Wow,” Hera breathes.
You agree.
Mr. Dallen directs the horses right up the main driveway, cheerfully explaining that the roses are the flower of the estate, aren’t they beautiful? Even Hera can only manage a faint noise of agreement, eyes wide on the house.
“The party’s around back,” Mr. Dallen says cheerfully. He clicks his tongue and the horses stop just short of the front doors. “I’ll take you there.”
Around back. You expect him to lead you around the side of the castle, past rows of rose bushes and the fountains that are tucked between the hedges. Instead, Mr. Dallen opens the front doors without knocking and directs everyone to follow him.
You’ve never seen anywhere so grand. The kids follow Mr. Dallen in hushed awe, gaping at the marble staircase that bisects the foyer. There are two chandeliers to either side of the grand staircase that each send a spray of rainbow light across the walls. Is the manor a little bare? The walls empty of portraits and artwork? You eye a pair of crossed axes hanging just beyond the shadow of the staircase.
“They’re ordering portraits from the Capital,” Mr. Dallen says, gesturing carelessly to the space where a portrait of the homeowners might hang. Then under his breath, “Unless they hang more swords there instead.”
“Excuse me?” Hera asks.
“Nothing,” Mr. Dallen says cheerfully. He guides them past the staircase and a row of doors to the back of the house. The large doors at the back of the house are already open. Mr. Dallen cups a hand over his mouth and calls, “Ho ho, look here! Look who’s arrived!”
“Surprise!” Ivan shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. He’s standing on the stone patio just outside the house, but he’s not the only one. Mrs. Bahr is next to him, her hands clasped in front of her, beaming. Behind her is a dozen other adults. “It’s a party!”
“Welcome,” Mrs. Bahr says warmly. She’s dressed elegantly in a long, red tunic that’s embroidered with the Lord’s crest. The Lord is here as well, his golden hair and eyes unmistakable even amongst the crowd. “Welcome to our home.”
You’re already at the back of the group, but you hang back further as the younger kids cautiously step out into the sun. Your eyes flick from face to face. You recognize a few of the people. There’s the Baker from town and her wife, there’s the Merchant that comes through every third week, there’s the Villager that donates zucchini—
And there are the innkeepers who, once upon a time, told you to call them your parents. They’re older than you remember, light hair gone silver in the sun, but it’s them. They’re right by the Lord, eagerly waiting near him for the opportunity to talk.
It’s very clear what this is. You watch the kids stream out onto the patio to greet Ivan and Marie. The other adults study the kids like zoo animals, eyes flicking to their clean party outfits to their happy faces. This isn’t a party for the kids. It’s a party for them. They’re showing off to each other. Look at how great they are! They’re helping out the poor orphan kids! You’re very familiar with these sort of events from back when the other Director was in charge. You just didn’t think you’d ever have to be near one again.
You take a step back and are stopped by Director Sarah.
“It’s okay, Isla,” Director Sarah murmurs. You didn’t even notice her falling back to your side. Her hand is gentle on your elbow. “It’s not what you think.”
Not what you think? You watch the Villager who runs the general store ask Josiah about the book he’s reading. The Bahrs are proudly introducing Annie and Hera to the Lord. There is something different about it, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. All you can see is the way the adults are watching the kids. You breathe in through your nose like Ivan taught you. In. Out. “What is it?”
“Fixing my mistake,” Director Sarah says.
That gets your attention. Your eyes dart from the happy scene in front of you to Sarah and back again. With the white umbrellas over the food tables, the streamers strung between garden trellises, and the kids dressed in their best, it looks like a painting. In contract, Sarah’s lips are pursed and the shadows of the house make her appear more tired than she is.
“There’s a parlor,” Mr. Dallen says. You jump when he speaks and he grimaces apologetically. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “If you need to talk.”
Marie is looking over the heads of the kids to where you’re standing, a frown on her face. She mouths your name, concern in her eyes. Your jaw clenches when the Merchant steps in front of her, hiding you from view.
“Yeah,” you say. “Let’s talk.” You spin on your heel.
Sarah follows you silently. You feel wrong-footed and caged by the entire situation. This was supposed to be a picnic, wasn’t it? No strings attached? Your dress shirt is tight around your neck and you flick open the top button.
“I should have told you,” Sarah says as soon as the door closes. There are two couches in the room adjacent to a large window that overlooks the party. Neither of you sits down. Sarah folds her hands in front of her skirts. “I apologize.”
“What are they doing here?” you ask. You gesture to the window. “The Lord, I understand. He’s the Lord. But the Baker? The Merchant?” You bark a laugh. “They’re not here to adopt anyone.”
“Maybe not,” Sarah says evenly, “but they’re good connections to have.”
“Connections?” You scoff. You remember watching the empty road through that winter nearly seven years ago. “What good are their connections?”
“Annie loves baking,” Sarah says. She doesn’t flinch in the face of your anger. She watches you calmly and doesn’t so much as shift her weight when you start to pace. “The Baker is a good connection for her to have, even if she doesn’t want to adopt. Many of the shopkeepers in town are open to taking on apprentices.”
You falter. You didn’t think about that. Your eyes drift towards the window. You can hear Hera laughing and Josiah complaining good naturedly. You’re nearly 15, just a few years away from aging out. You can’t say you’ve never thought about the future before. “They said they’d be willing to do that?”
“Who knows what the future holds?” Sarah sighs and goes to take a seat on the sofa. She makes a sound low in her throat when she sits. “That wagon ride was not good for my back.”
“I don’t trust them,” you say. You stop pacing to sit opposite her. From this point in the room, you can see the party on the patio. They can also see you. Ivan doesn’t turn away from the dessert table, but you can sense his attention on you. You swallow. “We don’t need anything from them.”
“I agree,” Sarah says.
You blink. “What?”
Sarah laughs. It’s not her usual laugh that she shows the kids, gentle and fond and warm. It’s cold and a little sharp. You’ve only heard it once before when the snow finally melted, chasing the snow spirits away, and the town came to see what had become of the orphanage.
“You and I are a lot alike,” Sarah says. Her eyes drift somewhere distant. “Like you, I remember that Winter. I remember waiting for any sort of response to our pleas. I remember hearing nothing back. The helplessness I felt as our stores dwindled…” Her voice cracks. She shakes herself, swallowing hard. “Well. I don’t need to tell you what their lack of aid cost us.”
It takes you two tries to speak. Director Sarah feels the same way as you. “So why?”
“Why did I agree to the party?”
“Yes.”
“Because I need to forgive, not forget, if I want to fix my mistake,” Sarah says. Her lips thin. “I’m not perfect. Since I’ve been Director of the orphanage, there hasn’t been a single new hire. There have been no volunteers or extracurricular programs for the kids. I’ve kept us hidden.”
“You’ve kept us protected,” you say. Things under Director Sarah have always been better than what they were before. The kids are happier and brighter, and the pantry is always full. No one disappears in the middle of the night or dies under her watch. “We know you have.”
“I’ve tried,” Sarah says. She opens her hands, palms facing the ceiling. “I rebuilt the orphanage to be independent. I thought that if we were completely self-sustaining, we’d be alright. But in doing so I’ve hurt the children. The orphanage is not supposed to be forever. They need connections with people, with the town, for when they grow up.”
“That—” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You fall silent, your anger fizzling out in your chest. She’s right. As much as you want everyone to stay together, you know that can’t happen. What Sarah is saying isn’t wrong, but… “Today is supposed to be for the kids. Not for them to feel better about themselves helping the orphans.”
“The kids are having fun,” Sarah says. There’s a peal of laughter from outside as if to underscore her words. She smiles as she stands. “Kids includes you too, you know. Let me worry about the adults.”
You stand too. You know the conversation is coming to a close and that, soon, you’ll be expected to go out there with Sarah. “Um…”
“Yes?”
You nearly don’t say it. But the way Sarah is waiting for you to speak is so patient that you muster up the courage. “The innkeepers are here. They aren’t…?”
Again, you’re not sure what you’re about to say. There’s a sick fear in your stomach that they’re here to tell the Bahrs all about how awful you were when you with them. Maybe they’re looking for another kid to demand too much of. Maybe they’re here because, in the end, you didn’t mean anything to them and what happened between you and them doesn’t make a difference--
Even if you don’t know what you’re going to say, Sarah must. Her smile darkens. “I’ll take care of the adults,” she repeats. She smooths her hand over your hair when you follow her to the door. “Why don’t you stay in here for a moment? I’ll just have a word with the innkeepers.”
You wait in the parlor while Sarah joins the party. You twist your hands together to keep from picking at the embroidery on your sleeves. You almost want to stop Sarah from talking to the innkeepers. It was so long ago, before the Winter, it shouldn’t matter anymore. You’re being ridiculous to be so worried about them when there are bigger things going on. You—
Hera throws open the door to the parlor. Her braids are a little frizzy already and there’s a flush high on her cheeks. “Isla! We’re playing team tag and you’re the only one fast enough to catch Marie. Come on!”
You don’t have the option to say no. Hera yanks you by the sleeve out onto the patio. The guests are much more dispersed now, pockets of adults around this table or that. They’re not studying the kids now. They’re just watching them as they run to and fro across the lawn, bemused smiles on their faces.
Ivan cheers when he sees you. Like Hera, his face is bright red. “Isla!” he pants. “You’re on my team!”
Marie sprints past, her skirts hiked up to her knee. She runs as if she’s in full armor, strides long and shoulders square. You wonder if she notices no one is chasing her anymore. “It won’t be enough!” she cries.
Josiah is laying on the grass. He chucks his fist in the air. “Go, Marie! Go!” He gasps for breath. “We’re unstoppable.”
“You’re out,” Annie tells him crossly. She’s also laying flat on her back, but seems to be faring better in the breathing department. “You’ve stopped.”
“Shut it—”
You scan the crowd. You don’t see the innkeepers anywhere, not even near where the Lord is sitting. You look over your shoulder back towards the house just in time to see Director Sarah disappearing around the corner. She’s talking to someone just ahead of her. Is she escorting the innkeepers out?
“Isla?” Hera slips her hand in yours. Her eyes are knowing. “You okay?”
You clear your throat, aware of all the eyes on you. You tuck some hair that’s escaped her braid behind her ear. “Just trying to decide which team I should join.”
Ivan cries out in dismay. “Isla, please!”
Grinning, you join the game.
-----
(part 1) (part 2)
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read the conclusion of Isla's tale before next week, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)!
Up this week is a continuation of my Cinderella Retelling, Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairytales
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can you write something with cowboy harry, like a sex in a pickup truck or something like that?
Easy there, Cowboy (Cowboy!Harry x reader)
A/N:- I made this a oneshot cause once I started writing it, I just kept going. Now I understand the obsession with cowboy tropes these days. Thanks for the request, anon! Let me know if you guys would like a part 2!
Word Count: 5,131
Warnings: Smut. Oral(m receiving), fingering, penetration(p in v), dirty talk. Talks about horses and horse riding.
Synopsis: y/n decides to go home to the countryside when she gets a university break. Little does she know she'll fall in love with the new cowboy who's working in her father's ranch.
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You felt great to be back home. You grew up in the countryside, in your father’s ranch and around all the different animals. But your father had big dreams for you, he didn’t want you to spend your life tending to the ranch like he did. So you studied, and went off to the city to attend university. You always rush back home when you get breaks. As much as you love the city, you miss your home and its people so much.
“I might take Clover for a ride today, dad.”, you tell your father as you sit with him, eating breakfast. Your mother kept piling your plate with food, murmuring about her daughter not eating enough while being away.
“Yeah? He’s been a bit aggressive these days. The vet said he’s alright, don’t know what’s wrong with that one, cost me a fortune to get him.Thought I’d use him for the race, but I’m not so sure now.” Your dad mutters, making you frown. “That doesn’t sound like Clover.”
Clover was your favorite horse and he was always gentle to you. “Yes, see for yourself. Harry will be around when you go, just ask him if you need something.”
Your dad has talked to you a lot about Harry, the new cowboy who started working for your father. He had joined a few months back, just when you left, so you had never met him. Your mom and dad seemed to love him though. They said he’s helped bring up the profits by a huge margin.
“Mom, I’m stuffed!”, you laugh, pulling your plate back as your mom comes with more home made sausages.
“Eating all that city food has messed with your appetite, sweetie. You used to eat so much as soon as you got back from the ranch!”
“Because I used to get tired from helping dad.”
The ranch wasn’t too far away, so you decided to walk. You put on your boots, and got going. Your father’s ranch had all kinds of animals. Chickens, cows, sheep. But what interested you most were always the horses. And that’s where you rushed off to first.
The earthy, dusty woodchip and ammonia laced smell of the stables reminded you of the horse races your dad used to take you to when you were young.
“Well hello, Silver!” You greeted the first horse, who immediately greeted you with a happy neigh, nuzzling her head right onto your shoulder as you reached out to stroke her shoulder and neck, giggling. “How’re you doing girl?”
You had named most of the horses, and the method you used was their appearance. Silver is a beautiful white horse. White horses are quite rare and Silver was your family’s favorite. She has won a lot of races with her impressive speed.Your father’s very proud of having her. The only problem is that she’s getting old.
You greet the other horses, and finally make your way towards the last one, kept separate from the others, which makes you frown.
You loved all of the horses, but this boy is your favorite. He is younger than most of the other horses, yet, he’s the only one who can beat Silver in races. He has a rich brown body with defining black shading on his legs and tail. His soft parts, such as the muzzle and eyebrows and around the flanks, are golden brown.
“Might wanna be careful with that one, miss.”
You turned around to see the handsome young man, watching you curiously. With the long dirt covered boots, and the cowboy hat he had on, you figured he was Harry.
Wow. You had no idea Harry was hot.
“Why’d you say that?”, you ask.
He pushes the barrel of horse feed to a side, dusting his big hands against each other. His sleeves were rolled up and you could see that his skin was inked. Just his sculpted arms made you imagine how he could use it to hold you down while-
“He’s not as friendly as the others. Doesn’t hesitate to put down whoever irritates him, which is just about everyone.”, Harry speaks, not taking his eyes off you. He had sharp jaw bones, captive green eyes and beautiful features on his face.
Harry’s lips turned up into a smirk as he caught you checking him out and you quickly looked away. “Are you here to look at horses?”, he asks.
“No, I’m here to take Clover for a ride.”, you tell him, smiling as you look into the big beautiful caramel eyes of the horse’s, letting him know it was you, before you slowly move your hand to stroke his neck.
“You know his name and he seems to know you, seeing as how you’re not on the ground yet.”, Harry comments. “But I would advise stepping away right about, now," he adds as you move your other hand to stroke his body.
“Hey buddy, you miss me?”, you coo softly, grinning as the horse lowers his head down to you and you nuzzle your against his forehead. “I missed you too.”
Harry had never seen the horse being affectionate to anyone. But if he was a horse, he would definitely want to get close to you as well. You talked to the horse like you were talking to a child.
“He’s never been aggressive around me, Harry. We rode round the hills every evening.” Harry strides right next to you, slowly putting a hand on the horse as well, and he didn’t make a fuss at all.
“See? Just needs a bit of extra love, this one. Oh I’m y/n, by the way.” Harry smiles, already having put that together by now. Your dad always talks a lot about you, his only daughter. He never expected you to be so strikingly beautiful though.
“Nice to meet ya, y/n. No wonder why Clover likes you, he’s fallen for your beauty.”, Harry says, making you giggle as Clover continues to nuzzle his head against you. “Lucky horse, getting to flirt with you.”
“I much prefer animals over humans, anyway.”
“Why is that, y/n?”
“Cause they don’t cheat on you, they don’t lie to you, they’re innocent and they deserve our love.”
Harry was now very interested to know more about you. “You don’t think there are humans capable of that too?”
y/n shrugs, going to open the small door to get Clover out. “Maybe.”
“Well there are things animals can’t help ya with, ya know.”, Harry says, stepping aside as you lean down next to him to undo the lock. He sucked in a breath as he saw your ass in those tight jeans.
“Nothing I can’t do to myself.”, you answer, getting up and turning around to look at Harry. “I’m gonna take Clover out now. Nice to meet you too, Harry.” You give him an innocent smile, and he gives you a smile back, but his mind was already having thoughts. The kind of thoughts he shouldn’t have about his boss’ daughter.
______________________________________________
You were out with some friends at the local bar, catching up. Most of them were in relationships, so you felt a little awkward after some time. You excused yourself to go get a drink.
“Aren’t ya a fine little thing. Haven’t seen you around here before, have I?”, a heavily drunk man steps in front of you, eyeing your body up and down, letting out a low whistle.
“That’s cause I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere around you.”, you mutter, stepping aside but he blocks you with his body, letting out a laugh. “I wonder what else you can do with that mouth, little girl. Wanna show me?”
“Move!”, you snap as you try to go through his other side and he steps in front of you again.
“Clint, leave her alone.” You were surprised to see Harry step in between you two, pushing the other man away with a hand on his chest. “She’s not interested. Go away.”
The man grumbled before going away, and the tall cowboy turned to you, his eyes looking you over. “Are you okay?”
He was not in his soiled work clothes. He had a different, cream colored cowboy hat on, and boots, but not the ones he was wearing back in the farm. The light colored shirt he was wearing fit around his muscular torso very well, and it was slightly translucent, allowing you to see that there were more tattoos on his body.
“y/n?”
You quickly nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks Harry.”
“People around here never really change.”, he says, giving you a small smile. “You look bored.”, he notices.
“Is it that obvious?”, you let out a laugh. His eyes twinkle as he smiles. “My friends are busy snogging their boyfriends’ faces off. I was just about to get a drink before leaving.”
“Well, let me give you some company.”, he says, nodding his head towards the two bar stools at a corner.
“Oh it’s okay Harry, you must be here with your friends too-”
He cuts you off before you complete, “They’ll survive without me for a while.”
So you follow him to the bar, and you both order your drinks. “Do you wear your cowboy hat all the time?”, you ask, making Harry chuckle. “Most of the time, yeah. Is it not my style?”
“No it is, you look great-” You flinch and Harry smirks, spinning on his stool as he faces you. “Thanks, love. I think you look beautiful too.”
You know the blush is creeping up your cheeks, and you hope he doesn’t see them. “Thanks. Um, tell me about you, Harry. My parents speak very highly of you.”
“I love working for them, and they treat me well! There’s nothing much to know about me, I’m a cowboy, I love my cattle and horses.”, he says plainly. “But you, you’re interesting. What do you study?”
You tell Harry about your course in the University, and how your father didn’t want you to spend your life on the ranch like he did.
“You must think I’m some stuck up bitch, I lost most of my friends like that.”, you say, chugging some beer from your jug.
“No, I don’t think so at all! It’s amazing that you’re studying something you love, and it’s not like you forgot about your home. Like I said, the people here will never change, y/n, don’t think too much into it.”
You nod, smiling at him. “Now I know why my parents like you so much.” Harry wasn’t anything like the other men you’ve met. He had a broad mind set, and he was respectful.
He grinned, showing off his dimples. You haven’t been able to take that cute smile out of your head since the time you first saw it. You spend some more time talking with him, until you decide to stop on the beer.
“I blabber shit when I get drunk. Don’t wanna embarass myself.”, you explain, and Harry laughs, swiping his hand over his lips as he keeps his empty jug on the counter. “I’m sure it’s not gonna be embarrassing, love. What do you usually blabber about?”
Your heart melted at the term of endearment, and you took a minute to answer his question. “Uhh, things on my mind at the moment.”
“Hmm. What’s on your mind at this moment?”, Harry whispers, leaning closer to you. Your eyes move to his lips. You really want to kiss those lips, throw his hat away, run your fingers through his hair while he pulls your clothes off of you.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”, you answer instead.
“I really would. Think I know already but it would be much better if I can hear it from your sweet voice.” You tip your head to the side, watching him pull out some cash to pay for the drinks. “I can take care of mine-”
“My treat! Got my monthly pay from your dad today.”, he winks at you and says bye to the bartender. “Come on, I’ll drop you home.”
“Is it on your way?”
“Yes, I live on the next street.” He places a hand on the edge of the barstool, keeping it steady so you can hop off. You get out of the bar and Harry points to the truck. “That one.”
“Of course. You drive a truck.”, you nod as you follow him and he laughs. “What? Do I look like someone who drives a truck?”
He does, actually, you thought. Big and strong.
“It has a lot of space, you know, and I use it a lot for work.” He opens the passenger side door for you, offering you his hand to get in since the seat’s a little high up. You held his calloused fingers, they were rough but also really warm and strangely comforting. You realized you were still holding on to it, so you quickly dropped it.
If Harry had noticed it, he didn’t comment on it as he closed your door and went to the other side.You sat in silence for a while, until he asked you, “Do you think Silver’s the best option for the race?”
“She’s great, we use her all the time but I think Clover’s our best bet if we wanna win.”
“I think so too, he’s faster.”, Harry answers. “And as far as I’ve seen, you’re the only one who can ride him, so you should do the race instead of me.”
You turn to look at him. “Harry, you won our last race with Silver. Besides, I won’t be here that long, I’ve gotta go back to uni.”
“Oh.” His face looked a little disappointed.
“How about we work with Clover together? I’m sure we can train him in time for the races. He’ll let you ride him. If not, Silver’s always a backup option.”
Harry slowly nodded. “I’m using you as defense if he decides to be mean, though. That horse can kick.”
You laughed, slapping his arm lightly. “I think he just doesn’t like you!”
“Oh come on, everyone likes me! You just met me and you’re already falling for me.”
You gape, turning around fully to face him. He had a smug grin on his face. “I-I’m not!”, you say, but your face was heating up.
Harry shrugs. “Whatever you say, love.”
It was wrong. He worked for your dad. But God, as cocky as he was, it was the truth. You are falling for him, hard.
____________________________________________
“I’m gonna go get this to the houses, thanks lad.”, you hear your dad as you go downstairs. You had just woken up, but everyone else already had and they were on and about their work.
You wouldn’t have gone down stairs in your shorts and an old t-shirt if you’d known Harry would be there. He had brought in the milk supply from the cattle for the day. You finally saw him without his hat, which was tucked under his arm.
He had lucious brown locks, curly at the ends.
“There she is, sleep well, honey?”, your mom asks you and Harry’s eyes shoot up to look at you. He takes in your outfit, and smiles.
“Yes mom, good morning everyone.”, you say, going down the rest of the stairs since Harry’s seen you anyway.
“Harry told us what you want to do with Clover and I think it’s a good idea! Nothing wrong in giving him a try.”, your dad says and you nod, looking everywhere but at Harry. “Be careful.”, he adds.
“Don’t worry dad, I’ll watch out for Harry.”, you say, making them laugh.
“Nice to know.”, Harry says, drowning the rest of his tea and your mom takes it from him. “Thanks, Mrs.y/l/n. I’ve gotta go now, I’ll be around whenever you wanna come over.”, he tells you and you nod.
“We have to go to the market in the evening to pick up some more fodder.” Your dad walks him out.
“Sure, I’ll bring my truck.”
You went over to the farm later, finding Harry feeding the cattle. “I liked your outfit in the morning.”, he calls out to you, making you roll your eyes. “Shut up.”
“Seriously, it was cute.” You grab the extra gloves laying around, putting it on and grabbing the sweeper. “Thanks! I finally saw that you have hair, I thought you were bald.”
He scoffed, and you grin before starting to sweep all the dirt. “y/n! Leave it there, I’ll do it. Don’t get yourself dirty.”
“It’s fine, I grew up doing this stuff. I’d love to let you do it, but we don’t have all day, Harry, you and Clover need all the training time you can get.”
“Yes ma’am.” You didn’t know, but Harry made a mental note to get up extra early tomorrow so he can finish all his work in time before you came over. He found himself staring at you in awe. You had tied your hair up into a high ponytail, keeping it away from your face that barely had any makeup on.
“Pass me the shovel, Harry?”
He snaps out of his trans, getting up and taking the shovel, grabbing the sweeper out of your hands. “What-”
“-I got this, you can feed them.”
He didn’t really give you a choice so you switched places. Once you were done, you headed to the stables to get Clover. Harry kept the saddle and blanket over the horse, getting him ready as you wore your helmet and gloves. You mounted him and he trotted along, making a guttural neigh as Harry kept one hand on the bridle. He was walking alongside you, holding his helmet in the other hand.
“Be nice, Clovie.”, you rub under his neck, and look at Harry. “He likes neck rubs a lot, so if he’s getting restless, that’ll help.”
“Noted.”, Harry nodded. Once you were out to your usual spot where the horse can run free, you got down. “You gonna let Harry ride you?”, you coo, as the beautiful eyes of the horse look at yours.
Harry carefully mounts the horse and he neighs, immediately trying to shake him off. Harry has experience with a lot of horses so he didn’t fall right away, he held on with one hand and reached to do the neck rub.
“There you go, it’s okay, Clovie..”, you say, nodding at Harry as the horse calmed down, just a little bit.
“What’d ya say we go for a small ride?”, Harry asks the horse. Clover was clearly ready to let go and run.
“Keep talking to him, he likes it.”, you tell him, stepping away and taking your helmet off. “I’ll wait here, come back safely!”
“If I die let my mum know that-fucking hell!” You couldn’t help but laugh as the horse took off. This was going to be fun.
______________________________________________
In the next few days, you worked with Harry to train Clover and they were looking good for the race. Clover had stopped throwing Harry off for fun, and you loved to know that Harry didn’t think he was an aggressive horse anymore. He just requires a lot of attention.
You noticed Harry coming to your house quite often too. He would either bring something in for your mom and dad, or come to take something for the ranch, stealing glances at you whenever he came.
You were sitting up in the balcony with a book in your hand when he came that day, and Harry was disappointed he couldn’t catch you. He was just going to his truck parked outside when you whistled.
Harry looked up with wide eyes, and grinned, but put his finger up to his lips. “Your dad’s right here!”, he mouthed and you giggled.
“Can I come up there?”, he asks, already looking around for a way to get up without having to go inside the house again.
“Stairs at the back.”, you tell him, pointing to the back of the house with your thumb and he runs away.
Soon the cowboy was there to see you, tipping his hat to you in greeting. “I was hoping to run into you.”
“I’m sure you were.”, you tease. “What’ve you been up to?”
“Can’t go long without seeing me, can you?”, he teases back, stepping closer to you, backing you up to the wall.
“Nothing like that.”, you say, holding your breath as the tall man towers over you. He reaches a hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re so pretty.”, he mumbles. You blush under his gaze, keeping a hand on his chest. You both knew you liked each other and that the other knew, by now.
“Harry. You realize what can happen if my father finds out?”
“He won’t find out.”, Harry says. “And if he does, what's the worst that can happen? I’ll lose my job. No problem, I can go work anywhere else. Cowboys are in high demand, you know.”
You shake your head, grinning as he smoothes a thumb over your cheek. “Besides, what’s life without a little thrill? I know you enjoy it. I’ve seen the way you look at me like you want me to fuck-”
You bring your other hand up to cup his mouth. “Harry!”, you whisper-shout..
He snickers. When you lower your hand he says, “Love it when you look so blushy and flustered for me.”
You hear your dad telling your mom he’s going to go out, and Harry has to move his truck or he’ll see that he’s still here. “I’ll see you tomorrow, your mum invited me over for a barbeque.”, he tells you before he goes.
You nod, and he bends down to press his lips against your cheek. Even that light touch sent shivers through your nerves, shivers that made your whole body tremble. “S-See you, Harry.”, you managed to say.
“See ya, pretty girl.” He winks and tips his hat to you again, before taking off.
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Your house was filled with a lot of people. Your mom and dad love to host a barbeque party every now and then. You sat exactly opposite from Harry, both talking to family and friends, but stealing glances at each other when you had the chance.
You wore a cute yellow summer dress, and Harry wore jeans and a red shirt, leaving the top buttons open, with a bandana around his neck.
Finally, when Harry was free, he caught your eyes, giving you a look. He nods his head to the door, telling you he’ll be waiting outside. He leaves, and soon you excuse yourself to leave too.
You looked around for him, and a hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you into a closet. “Finally. God you look so amazing in this dress.”
“Thanks! I like your look too-”
He presses your hand to his crotch. “Feel that? That’s what you did to me.” He was so hard. That must have been painful.
You were wet too. You wanted him to stuff that bandana into your mouth to keep you quiet while he fucked you. The thought made you clench your thighs together, and Harry cups your cheek, pulling you closer to him with his arm wrapped around your waist. “Can I kiss you, y/n?”
“Please.”, you whisper, and he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Your eyes close as his lips mold against yours and you respond with enthusiasm, tilting your head back as he leans in, devouring your lips. You rub your hand against his crotch, making him groan. “Shit. I’ll come in my pants if you do that.”
You started to go down on your knees, but he stopped you. “It’s too dusty. Let’s go to my truck.”
“Your truck? What if someone sees?”
You were giggling with the thrill of it as he grabs your hand and leads you out without anyone seeing. “We’ll be careful. But I can’t wait any longer, I need you.”
You got into the back of his trunk and you made him sit, while you laid on your stomach, keeping a hand on his thigh. You didn’t really have space to sit down. Harry dropped his pants and you took his dick out of his boxers, mouth watering at the sight.
“You’re so big.”, you muttered, boosting his ego. “Thanks love, do you wanna take me in your mouth? Give it a taste?”
“Uh huh.” You wanted nothing more. You lowered your head, taking just the tip into your mouth. Harry groans at the sight, he could also see your ass this way and he flips up your dress so he can grab a handful of your ass, making you moan. You slowly take him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, one of your hands fondling with his balls.
“Bloody hell, that f-feels so fucking good.” Harry throws his head back, his other hand bunching up your hair into a makeshift ponytail so he could hold it away from your face. “T-That’s it, baby, just like that. You know how many times I’ve dreamed about having those pretty lips wrapped around my dick?”
You take him deeper, eyes watering as his hips thrust upwards a little, making you gag. “Shit, sorry.”, he says.
“It’s okay, I like it.”, you whisper, stroking him with your hand as you lift your head up to look at him. “Are you gonna cum, Harry? Fill my mouth up?”
“Fuck, yeah. You’re gonna take it all like a good girl, aren’t you?”, he moans as you put your mouth on him again, and he pushes your head down, your nose burying into his mound as his dick hits the back of your throat. You feel him getting close and Harry tugs you off by your hair, shooting his cum into your open mouth. You swallow it all, humming and he pulls you up to sit on his lap, bringing your lips to his again, tasting him on your tongue.
He slips his hands under your dress, squeezing each of your breasts. You start grinding on his thigh, rubbing yourself against him. “Harry..”
“Don’t worry, baby girl, I’ll take care of you.” He brings one hand to where you most need him, pressing his fingers over your throbbing clit making you gasp. “You’re so fucking perfect, I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you.”
“Yeah? Do whatever you want to do to me, Harry.” He pulls your panties to a side, his fingers running over your folds. “You’re so wet, darling. Is this all for me?”
“Yes.” You moan as he slips two fingers inside your pussy. “I can’t wait to put my dick inside this pretty hole. That feel good, baby? Want another finger?”
“Yes, yes, please..” Harry gives you another finger, curling them to stroke against your g-spot, making you grip onto his shoulders and writhe on his lap. “I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m so fucking gone for you.”
You were cumming on his fingers soon, moaning loudly. “Yes, baby, give it to me. You sound so sweet, you know? Wonder how you’ll sound when I’m inside of you.” Harry gets you through your orgasm, continuing to move his fingers in and out of you until you smile up at him, cheeks flushed.
He grins, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking his fingers clean. “You taste so sweet.”
“I need you inside me.”, you kiss his jawline. You couldn’t wait to feel full from his dick.
Harry nods, and lifts you up so he can stand up. “Legs up on the seat, want you on all fours.”
You do as he said, getting on the seat and pushing your ass out. Harry groans, spreading your cheeks. “Never seen such a pretty pussy before.”
“Quick, Harry, we have to go back inside!” As much as you didn’t want to, you had to.
“Right. I’ll just have to save eating you out for later, eh?” He had to bend his head to stop it from banging against the top of the trunk, and he kept one knee on the seat for support as he brought his dick to your entrance.
You push back against him as he enters you, and you rest your head against the seat, moaning. “Oh fuck..”
“You’re so tight, god, so perfect.” He pushes his full length inside you and lets you adjust for a minute. “Fuck me Harry..”
“Gonna fuck you so good, sweet girl.”, he promises, pulling his hips back and thrusting it forward making you squeal. He went in so deep, hitting all the right spots. You were trying not to scream.
“Shit there’s someone outside.”, Harry says, but his movements didn’t slow down.
“W-What?”, you were out of it, you didn’t care at this point. You wanted to cum. He took his bandana off of his neck and brought it to your mouth. “Here. Hate to muffle your pretty moans, sweetheart, but we don’t wanna get caught now, do we?”
You moan into the cloth as his fingers push it into your mouth just like you imagined, but this was hotter. “So warm and tight, best fucking pussy. I’m not gonna last much longer.”
Harry goes faster, holding onto your hips. “You gonna cum for me sweetheart?” You nod, and it only takes you a few more seconds to reach our high. Harry pulls out when you’ve finished, stroking himself as you turn around. He takes the bandana out of your mouth and holds your jaw open with one hand, the other shooting his cum down your throat again.
You swallow it all down, and Harry collapses next to you on the seat. You both catch your breath, and smile lazily at each other. “That was good.”, you say.
“Never thought I’d take a sexy girl in the back of my trunk.”, he said, and you roll your eyes. Harry reaches to grab a cloth from the front and wipes around your mouth and neck. You fix your panties, dress, and your hair.
“Do I look okay?”, you ask him.
He smiles, cupping your cheek for a quick kiss. “Perfect.”
You both get out of the trunk, and he mutters in your ear, “I’ll top this off next time, promise.”
“Next time huh?”, you say and he smirks, playfully smacking your ass. “I know how well you can ride horses, maybe you can show me how you ride something else.”
You gasp, turning around to hit his chest as you were now walking towards people and they couldn’t hear what was coming out of his dirty mouth. “Easy there, cowboy.”
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Hi, I love the way you write. You express the characters very well, I can really hear Arlecchino's voice in your sentences.
You can do one with Arlecchino x femreader? Where Arlcchino and reader are married and take care of the children together (would be great seeing reader being maternal with Lyney, Lynnett and Freminet) After reader arrived in their lives, parties and family moments were common. One day at a gymkhana held with all the children, a traitorous Fatui was ordered by an Arlecchino's enemy to kill Arlecchino while she was distracted, but Reader noticed and got in front of her, taking the hit. Reader almost dies and Arlecchino, Lyney, Lynnett and Freminet want revenge.
(Sorry for bad english)
HELLOOO ANONN:)) lmaoo sorry i was brainrotting a lot about this ask and i didn't know how to write it and end it because it's such a good idea and has a lot of potential.. anyw here u go and eat uppp!!:) also forgive me if i understood the word "gymkhana" wrong.. i just searched up the definition on google since i am not familiar with the word hihi..
-warning/s ; a bit of violence at a certain part:) besides that, none!:)
(men dni utc please!)
it was a fun, festive day for the children at the house of the hearth.
arlecchino and you had decided to host a fun little event for the kids, as both of you agreed that it'd be beneficial to the children not just for improving their skills, but for their enjoyment as well.
as of the moment, you and arlecchino were sitting on the side, lyney and freminet were currently tasked with helping and assisting the younger children, while lynette had mostly insisted on staying with you and arlecchino while helping out with organizing the event. you and your wife didn't mind much as you knew she was more introverted and a couple more helping hands would help a lot.
"mother, i believe that we should start the flag race soon.. shall we get the horses and the players ready?" lynette asked, looking down at the clipboard in her hands. you couldn't help but smile, lynette has grown into such a fine, young dependable lady. you pat lynette's head, giving her ears a little rub as praise. "yes, my dear. i would appreciate it too if you assisted them with getting on as well, see to it that none of them get injured." you told her, and she nods at you, her tail slightly wagging as she walks away. you couldn't help but chuckle, knowing that your praise didn't go unnoticed by your daughter.
"mother! mother! look, look!"
"don't i look cool, mother?"
"mother! this is so fun!"
left and right, children were all calling for your attention, and your heart was bursting in joy as you got up from your chair to approach them. you could see the smiles on their little faces and you knew they were enjoying themselves. one child ran up to you, holding freminet's hand and a drawing in another. she brought it up and showed you, smiling widely. "mother, ah- look! big brother fremi drew me an octopus!" she boasted, making freminet look to the side shyly. you couldn't help but feel proud of freminet, whom was usually alone and reserved, was now trying his best to get along and help out with the younger children. "my, what a lovely drawing, hm? mother is very glad that both of you are having fun." you smile, the turning your head to look at lyney as they both walked away. he was currently busy entertaining the audience (who were also kids) with his little magic tricks as they waited for the flag race. little eyes looked at their older brother with admiration, watching him unfold each trick with excitement.
and of course, as all this happened in the background, your wife was currently sitting from where you had currently sat with her on the side. arms crossed as she leaned on her chair, eyes watching over you and the children intently, yet the intimidating look had gone away from her face. instead, a soft look could be seen from her eyes, and she was sitting in a rather relaxed manner as she smiled at the sight of you with the children. her heart swelled joyously, seeing you interact lovingly with them, your laughter along with theirs ringing pleasantly in her ears as she made sure to capture each pretty smile you had on your face.
funny, as her comrades and enemies alike told her that "your wife is your weakness, knave. you've gone soft." if it were the old her, the old her that were full of hatred, of revenge-- devoid of the compassion and acceptance that you've taught her, it would've been an insult but right now? it was a fact, she knows it herself. you were her weakness, but you were not her drawback nor her flaw, but the weakness to the lost, angry soul that she was without you. you were the guiding hand that gave her a reason to continue watching over the house of the hearth, a proper one, unlike a certain motherly figure she came to know.
amidst the festivities, lyney had told everyone to calm down as the flag race was about to start. a big smile on your face as you stood there, instead of going back to sit with arlecchino, as the kids wanted to be with you.
everyone had got into position, the kids were safely mounted on the horses. the audience was cheering, and lyney was holding party popper to use as a signal cue. all of you were filled with thrill and excitement, as lyney counted off to start the race.
"alright, on your marks, hold tight!"
"get ready, set, and-"
before he could even pull on the string and say go, another loud bang was heard- and it was not from the party popper that lyney was holding.
much to everyone's horror, you were clutching your sides. you felt like you were slowly falling the floor, eyesight getting hazy, you were losing your senses quickly- everything was becoming blurry.
the whole event was silent before high pitched, loud screams calling your name could be heard as they ran towards you. the older trained kids, however, were sure to hold them back to give you space.
arlecchino, the moment she saw you get shot, wasted no time in rushing towards you to catch you. ".. d-darling, darling. are you okay? i got you, beloved.. i.." her eyes widened in shock, but her face froze in horror as she held you. warm, thick and sticky liquid pouring onto her and her clothes, but she didn't care.
"d.. darling, you-"
she was blinded with rage. all she saw was red and black, you just got shot, the perpetrator shouldn't have gone far. "children, find who did this. now!"
the older kids had gone and scattered, lyney and freminet leading them as lynette ushered the youngers ones to evacuate. as they dispersed, arlecchino held your body with gentleness and care, you weakly held onto her. ".. b-beloved, don't.. don't get the kids into this.." you pleaded, but arlecchino shook her head. you were in a critical situation, and yet, you still thought of the kids?
"my love, they are trained for this. have faith in our children, now, hold on. i will take you inside."
arlecchino gently lifted you up, holding you closely to her chest as she possibly can without hurting you. "don't pass out on me, beloved." she gently coaxed you as she brought you inside, trying to keep you awake.
as she finally got you in the clinic, the kids whom were trained in medical aid had prepared to take care of you while they waited for a real doctor to come. she gently laid you down on the bed, sitting next to you and she held your hand. every time the children made contact with your wound, you couldn't help but groan and moan- this was all being done with anesthesia after all. the sight of you crying in pain made arlecchino's chest tight with anger and fear. it was the first time the children saw their father become eerily quiet with such an expression on her face.
"father! we've caught the culprit!"
lyney came running in the clinic, panting. arlecchino leaned in to kiss your forehead, you were dangling on the edge of consciousness and it made her feel bad to leave you, but she had to- lest her wrath consume her whole and that would not be good for all of you. "beloved, the children will take care of you while we wait for a doctor. i'll be back soon, i promise." she whispered, before joining with lyney. "lyney, is the man tied?" she asked, and lyney nodded. "yes father, shall we turn him in to the-"
"no, never mind that. i will take care of him on my own."
she dismissed lyney with her hand, making the boy silently nod at her father's command to not hand the criminal over to the authorities. however, he couldn't shrug off the creepy feeling coming from his father. arlecchino had a blank expression on her face, he couldn't decipher her feelings at all. he paid no mind to this, not wanting to be the outlet of whatever his father was feeling.
as soon as they walked into the room where the culprit was held captive, the room was filled with a chilling atmosphere. all of the kids within the room could feel it. the perpetrator however, his face was full with fear as he looked at the harbinger. he started talking, but his words were muffled as his mouth was tied and covered.
"children, i am proud of you all for catching this man. we've given your mother justice, but for now. you are all dismissed. tell lynette to come over."
at your words, the children silently obey and leave the room. now it was just the man and arlecchino. for the whole time, arlecchino had held herself back from showing any kind of murderous intent, as she knew you wouldn't appreciate having it shown to the kids.
but now? the look on her face was indescribable, her hand was trembling in pure wrath. she leaned down, grabbing the man by his collar and throwing him against the wall. "i will ask you questions, and for every wrong answer, i will cut off one finger. think wisely." she threatened the man, grabbing a chair and pulling it in front of him. "however, seeing as you've decided to hurt my wife in the first place, i can see that you lack a brain."
the man was silenced, and she carefully studied his features. he was a fatui, much to her annoyance. "a traitor, i see. now tell me, who was it that ordered you to do this?" he asked, tugging on the cloth on his mouth.
"p-please, my lord- it wasn't my intention to-"
the man was cut off by his own agonizing scream of pain, with arlecchino stepping on his leg, piercing his flesh with the tip of his heels. "let this serve as a warning, you buffoon. if you do not give me an answer, i will cut your finger off next."
"i-it was one of the rich men you offended last time, my lord! s-sir van duyn!"
arlecchino clicked her tongue, tsk, it was one of those greedy capitalists again. how childish they are, just because of a few true but harsh words, and they act pathetically like this? sending in someone to hurt the knave's wife as they spend a fun day for the children?
arlecchino walked out the door and lynette was already there. "clean up the mess, do not let anyone else know of this." she ordered and lynette silently nodded.
oh, now they've done it. with a snap of arlecchino's fingers, the man's curdling screams had echoed within the room, his flesh slowly being consumed with her flames and soon, the one behind all this would suffer a much more painful death.
it was already nightfall when you had woken with you in full grasp of your senses. you looked around you, the children sleeping, and you immediately felt bad. they must've been so tired to fall asleep this early.
"beloved, are you awake?"
you were startled, but you looked towards the door. your wife, she was there. there was blood on her. you immediately sat up, but she immediately brought a finger to her lips, a silent cue to be careful not to wake the kids up. she walked towards you and sat by your side.
"oh celestia, my beloved.."
you gasped, hand touching her cheek. blood was splattered against her pale skin, but you were able to deduce that it wasn't hers, seeing as there were no visible wounds on her body. arlecchino however, had leaned into your palm, her hand on top of yours as she closed her eyes. "careful, my love. i do not wish to dirty your hands.." she reminded you, but the blood was dry. your chest was spilling with worry and fear. "what happened, arlecchino? are you okay? are the kids okay? i-" she took your hand off her cheek, kissing your knuckle.
"i'm glad that you are back to your senses, beloved, but yes i am fine. the kids on the other hand, i told you to have faith in them remember? they are fine and unharmed." she assures you as she crawls into bed with you, gently pushing you down and collapsing onto your chest as she wraps her arms around you. "now please, i wish to hold what i've almost lost in my arms." she wishes with a pleading tone, so you decided not to press on further. knowing that it's been hard for arlecchino to see you like this, you sigh, moving your hand to run through her hair again. she closes her eyes, now was she only truly able to calm down, feeling your warmth invading her senses. "if it means being able to keep holding you like this.. i'll do anything- anything, my love, just to protect the warmth that you give.."
a little bonus hihi ;
you sighed, deciding to let this go for now. however, at bedtime, you refused to let arlecchino sleep next to you (for awhile) as you were upset that she had made the kids do something as dangerous as running after the culprit.. but the next morning, arlecchino smiled, seeing as you were sleeping soundly on her chest.
currently, you were having morning coffee with arlecchino while the kids were still asleep. you were skimming through the newspaper, and you couldn't help but gasp in shocking as you read a certain news. "oh, darling? do you remember sir cecil van duyn?" you asked. arlecchino hummed, placing her cup down. "yes, one of our investors? what is it, dear?" she asked, looking at you curiously. "he was found dead! i may have not seen him often, but what a shame.." you sighed, oblivious to the fact that it was your wife's doing. arlecchino looked away, bringing the cup to her lips again. "yes, indeed darling, what a shame.."
she would not tell you this but for you, if it meant keeping you well and alive-- yes, she'd kill for you any day. she could paint her whole arm with the blood of those that dare to even lay a finger on you and she'd wear it proudly, to instill the image of it in their minds, so that her enemies know that it could be their blood next splattering on her if they decide to do the same dumb mistake the others already have.
#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino x female reader#arlecchino genshin impact#lilac writes💜#lilac asks💜#jaksdkjjwahs
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Barnstormer
pairing: charles x reader
summary: charles can’t help but to fall for your small town charm
a/n: so @vitalverstappen and I have been grinding on this prompt for a while (i sent the jumble of ideas to V.V. after this being in my drafts for a few months). read the sister story linked at the end!
masterlist requests open
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Once again, you are in your home country to race, only this time it’s in Austin. You spent the break on your family’s ranch back in Montana, riding your horse and reconnecting with nature. You always joked that you are the racing version of Hannah Montana.
“Y/n, it must be nice to be back home. You certainly look the part,” Laura starts your interview with F1TV.
“Ah, well Austin is much different than Montana. Two different types of cowboy, I’d say,” you are dressed like you just came from the stable. Boots, jeans, hoodie, hair in a braid, and your hat. A quick look says you aren’t a driver.
“How so?”
“Well, they like the spice down here much more, and I’d say that we are much more equipped to deal with snow. One thing I do know is that we both love a good rodeo,” you feel your hat be removed from you head as you speak. Turning to your left, you see Charles put it on his head.
“Yee haw, little lady,” Charles does what might be the worst Texas accent you’ve ever heard.
“Charles Leclerc, you did not just grab my cap by the brim. I don’t think you know what you just did,” you take your hat back, by grabbing the crown - you aren’t an animal, holding it at your side as to not make fans think anything of it.
“Well, I’ll let you sort that out,” Laura turns to the camera. “Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with Y/n and Liam Lawson as we discuss being rookies, Lightning McQueen, and more,” Laura says, letting the camera cut away.
“Sorry we couldn’t get more of an interview, I gotta explain cowboy culture to Charles,” you cringe, pulling the Ferrari boys away. Charles listens as you ramble about how it’s rude to touch a hat, then straw versus felt and why despite it being past labor day you are wearing straw, and finally that his act of taking your hat could be seen as a sign of flirting. You reach the Alpine home and quickly dart inside.
“Mate, I don’t think she got it,” Carlos shakes his head as Charles groans.
“I’ve been trying all season, she just isn’t getting it,” Charles whines, sure you will never pick up on his flirting.
That night you take the boys to a bar just outside Austin that some friends back home recommended, they said it was where a lot of rodeo cowboys go. It does not disappoint, the neon offsetting the wood with Tim McGraw crooning on the speakers. You practically run to the bar to order your favorite cheap beer.
“Some of my friends said this is the best bar in town,” you yell over the music.
“Logan? He was your childhood best friend right?” Franco says, hoping that he got it right.
“Logan? No, although he is my friend. You really don’t know how far Montana is from here and Miami, huh,” you swig your beer before narrowing your eyes at the Argentinian. “Are you even old enough to be here? How did you get in?”
“Franco is 21, barely, but he is,” Alex says, a little put off by the place. Most of them did try to fit in, but everyone in the bar can tell they are tourists based off them wearing felt hats when it’s blistering hot outside.
“Oh, they have a bull,” your eyes light up as you quickly make your way to the mechanical animal. You don’t care if it’s embarrassing for you or the guys, you want to see them fall off.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Max asks, wary of the old machine.
“Sure, that’s what makes it fun. Why don’t you go first?” Your eyes challenge Max as a small crowd watches on, interested at the goings of your group.
“I, uh,” it doesn’t take you more than a second to realize that the boys are scared. You square your shoulders, finishing off your beer.
“Alright, but you’re missing out, it’s mighty fun,” you shrug, taking your hat off and setting it upside down on a table beside the operator. You hand him cash as you step onto the worn blue mats, eyeing up your worn, red competitor.
“Don’t you think this is a bad idea? I don’t want to explain to the team how you got hurt,” Pierre’s panic is evident even as the guys pull out their phones to film.
“Yeah no, I learned from the best. My hometown best friend is a champion rider,” you expertly mount the mechanical bull, unphased as it starts bucking. You hang on much longer than the boys would’ve, and when you feel yourself be about to get thrown off, you dismount with a flourish.
The guys are speechless beyond cheering for you as you put your hat on, heading back to the bar for another beer. Men tip their caps to you and you blush, a little overwhelmed by the attention.
Charles knows enough to know that you put on a show and have the interest of even more guys now. It doesn’t help that your boots and shorts show off your legs just right, and the tee you chose fits perfectly. Your hat adds a layer of mystery as it helps hide your eyes, but not your beautifully curled hair.
You don’t do much the rest of the night other than drink the guys into a hole, get violently drunk, and stand on a table singing Dolly Parton.
You pull up to the paddock the next day wearing a college football jersey, the school you’ve supported since you were a young kid.
“Texas or Georgia?” someone yells at you and you can’t help but step back in disgust.
“Neither, I’d rather die,” you yell back, despite not having a team in the SEC.
“How are you alive and still manage to look good,” Franco groans, walking beside you.
“Sheer will, and a bit of my mama’s secret recipe,” you grin.
“How does he do it?” Charles asks Max, watching Franco effortlessly flirt with you, even though Franco doesn’t realize he’s flirting.
“No idea. Have you talked to Mick, he’s pretty close with her. Maybe he has an idea,” Max shrugs.
“Mick? Like Mick Schumacher?”
“Yeah, they karted together. You could also just talk to her,” Max suggests, pushing his friend in your direction.
“So you are actually a cowgirl?” Charles asks you once Franco drops back to yap with Max.
“Yeah, my parents have a working ranch. I help out when I can, since they helped find people to house and train me throughout my career,” you smile.
“That’s so cool. You have your own horse too, right?”
“Yeah, do you want to see him? He’s a feral mustang that we domesticated, I’m thinking of breeding him with a quarter horse soon,” you pull up photos as Charles tries to understand everything you said.
“What a pretty rider,” Charles hopes you might pick up on an obvious flirt.
“Thanks,” the compliment barely registers in your mind.
“Maybe you could teach me how to ride sometime,”
“Oh, I was going to have Mick, Pierre, and Logan come up after Brazil. You should come too, hopefully we will beat the snow. There’s already been some, but if you bundle up you will be fine,” your smile melts Charles’s brain.
“Snow? Already?” Charles can’t imagine it, it hasn’t even been Halloween.
“Oh yeah, nothing like a warm cider and a fireplace though,” Charles can hear your accent come through.
“So are they dating?” Franco asks, observing how close you and Charles are standing.
“No.”
“But he likes her?”
“Yes.”
“And she likes him?”
“Hard to say,” Max shrugs.
“I am so confused,” Franco stares at you and Charles, it’s obvious you both like each other.
“Me too,” Carlos agrees, having come to retrieve Charles when he overheard Franco’s conversation with Max.
“Y/n is a smart woman, but she certainly cannot pick up on flirting,” Max shakes his head, walking off.
Charles did join you at your ranch before Las Vegas, with strict orders from his trainer on how to keep up with his training. Charles wasn’t expecting a whole complex of barns and houses. You could almost call it an operation.
They were all shoved in the back of your pickup, luggage safe on the bed of the truck, as you and a ranch hand chat in the front of the car.
“You boys are lucky there’s room in the main house during your stay,” the ranch hand had joked. Because the group arrived so late, it’s straight to bed for everyone. Everyone except you.
Charles is restless, and despite his better judgment, gets out of bed for a change of scenery. He walks into the living room, looking at family photos, school yearbook photos, and pictures of your races. Some of your first trophies are proudly displayed above the fireplace, as well as a picture from your first time in the points in F1. He takes in everything, it’s clear how proud your parents are of you.
Charles finds you on the porch, with a steaming mug and quilt thrown over your legs. You are staring at the sky, not really paying attention. He’s freezing, wearing more layers than you, but he sits beside you anyway. You hand him a spare quilt, which he thanks you for.
“It’s nice, to slow down out here, the open skies and quiet,” you break the calm silence.
“It seems busy around here,”
“You have to be. It’s a hard business, no days off. I’m lucky that we are a larger ranch and my family can afford things like my career. Most of my friends stay and work full time, some work for us now. The guys out there are just going in for the night to the bunk houses, they will be up at dawn ready to work,” you explain. Charles was right in that this is a business, and a large one.
“Makes me feel bad that we are here on a break then,” Charles rubs the back of his neck.
“Don’t be. Plenty of ranches book out guest houses for tourism, it’s good income. Plus, you are here as my guest. The town will love to meet new people,” you reassure him, reaching to pat his hand.
“So, I guess you really don’t know every city that we visit?” Charles grins. None of the drivers ever bothered to look up where you are from, so they joke that you know Miami, Austin, and Las Vegas like they are your home town. However, they’ve been taking it more seriously as of late.
“No,” you whisper, a hint of a smile on your face as you watch the snow fall. You find yourself tucked under Charles’ arm before you bid him goodnight, going to bed.
You are up early, eating breakfast with your family.
“What’s your plan for the day?” your mother asks as you help clear the table.
“I think a trail ride then go into town, I don’t want to impose too much, but I’ll probably show them around,” you say, thinking of a schedule.
“Why don’t you do a late lunch in town? I have some things for you to pick up,” you agree with her idea.
“Go ahead, Mama, I’ll clean up,” you say, knowing there is administrative work to do.
The boys meander down about an hour later as you are finishing baking a bread you started yesterday.
“Morning boys,” you wipe your hands as they stand cluelessly in the kitchen. “Take a seat, I’ll whip you up something quick,” you motion to the kitchen table as you head to the fridge.
“Do you need help?” Logan asks, but your look quickly tells him to shut up.
“Coffee’s in the pot if you want some, milk in the fridge, food will be ready in a few minutes,” you wave the offer off.
“What’s your plan for today?” Mick asks, quickly taking to the coffee.
“I’ll take you on a trail ride and tour around some of the ranch, then we will go into town and grab lunch. After dinner we can go to the bar if it isn’t too bad out,” you look out the window, most of the snow has melted off already, but you can never be too careful. The boys quickly eat what you serve them and you take them out to the barn.
“Need help?” Charles asks as you blanket and saddle four horses, one he recognizes as yours. It’s impressive, watching you easily sling the heavy saddles on.
“Hold these, stand still,” you hand him the reigns, making sure he is in a safe position.
“Are you wearing chaps?” Mick notices the tan leather covering your jeans.
“Yes, and you all should too. You will thank me later when the wind isn’t biting at your legs. We should have some extras, hang on,” you grab a few pairs and tell the boys how to wear them.
“This is quite fashionable, I should’ve worn them in Austin,” Charles twists his legs, looking at the western wear. You just shake your head and continue getting the saddles ready.
“This is weirder than I thought,” Logan says, a little uncomfortable in the gear as you help him mount the horse.
“Sit up straighter, and widen your legs a little,” you fix his feet as you speak, adjusting the saddle and stirrups. You help each of them mount the horses you saddled before mounting your own horse.
You start with the tour before the trail ride, and the boys are feeling a little sore from the trotting as they dismount.
“I’m impressed your hat stayed on,” Mick says as he feels his muscles ache.
“That’s the point of a proper fitting hat. You can tell your trainers you had your workout for the day. Come on,” you make them follow you to the truck. As you get into town, you get stopped every other minute, being asked how you are and who your friends are. The boys look around the small store as you pick up your mother’s order.
“You and your boyfriend make quite the handsome couple,” the clerk, a church friend of your mother, says. She observes your startled face and smiles. “The one with brown hair, he seems very protective of you,” you look at Charles and catch his eye, causing both of you to look away with a blush.
“We aren’t dating, he’s a friend that I race with. They all are,” you deny, but you can’t help but wonder why your heart skipped a beat at the accusation.
“Sure honey, but you should see the way that boy looks at you,” you take the package, mind spinning.
“Thank you, Mrs. Anderson,” your voice is quieter as she pats your hand.
“You take care now, don’t forget about your roots when you become a big star,”
“I’ll dedicate my first win to you all,” you smile, taking a step away from the old oak counter.
“Good girl. Watch out on the roads tonight,”
“Yes, Ma’am,” when you approach the guys you notice how you and Charles naturally gravitate towards each other, but you are quick to distract yourself before you think too much about it.
“Everything alright?” Mick asks, poking your head. You swat away his hand as he goes to poke you again. Logan and Charles are trailing you, talking about something that you couldn’t care less about.
“Yeah, just thinking about something the shop owner said,”
“That Charles likes you?” Mick says, you huff and walk a little faster.
“He doesn’t though, Mickie. We are just friends, he’s never even flirted with me. Besides, I don’t even like him like that, and I would NEVER date someone on the grid,” lies, well mostly. The grid part is pretty true, that’s a mess you don’t wasn’t to touch. Mick can read you like a book, he’s your best friend and basically your brother. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into a side hug as you walk.
“He flirts with you endlessly, you are just too blind to see it. Meine Liebe, he is so in love with you that he would crash someone out for you,” Mick looks at you, watching the gears in your brain turn.
“Well, if he is flirting with me that much, he really needs to step up his game,” you look at the sky, then to Mick.
“It’s a shame you are basically my brother, why can’t we date?” you groan, Mick loudly laughs.
“Alpine would hate that, can’t have two of their drivers dating,” Mick lowers his arm, poking your side.
“They are separating us, but our love shall prevail,” you carry on, enjoying the antics.
“Even Mick flirts with her easier than me,” Charles groans, looking at Logan for backup.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but they are literally the definition of siblings separated at birth. They joke like that all the time, he’s just her best friend,” Logan shakes his head.
“So there’s a chance?”
“Not with your flirting,” Logan pats Charles’s shoulder as they approach your truck.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, there is a storm coming,” you turn the key in the ignition, watching the boys get in the truck. Logan calls shotgun, leaving Charles and Mick in the back.
“Who let dying cats sing?” Mick teases you and Logan as you sing along with a country song, earning him the bird from both of you.
“Alright boys, wash up and then be down here for dinner. We won’t wait for you,” you say as you park the truck. Charles grabs the package for you, carrying it inside.
“I’ll take that, son,” your dad grabs the package from Charles as you walk through the door. “Y/n,” you follow his beacon, leaving the boys alone.
“Well, I will see you all in a bit,” Mick heads to his room, it’s obvious that he’s visited before.
Much to Charles’s dismay, he makes no progress on the flirting end for the rest of the week. When you get to Las Vegas, you are swept up in media and team duties. Charles sees more of Pierre than he does of you that weekend. He does notice when you post on Instagram.
instagram
y/username brought the boys home with me, still wouldn’t call them cowboys
mickschumacher to be fair, Logan and I fit in pretty well, Charles though…
charlesleclerc hey!
y/username charlie… you still don’t know how to wear a hat correctly
alpinef1team we 🫶 our cowgirl (and Cowboy Mick)
mercedesamgf1 our* Cowboy Mick 🤠
scuderiaferrari it’s okay Charles, even if you aren’t a cowboy, we still love you (Mick was ours first, back off)
charlesleclerc hey! you are supposed to be on my side
mickschumacher love the support guys 💙🩵❤️
user29 the shared admin parenting 😭
y/username charlie, it’s okay, not everyone is cowboy material
user aww, she brought Logan with her. best former grid friendship
user4 so we are ignoring the part where she got them all to wear chaps?
logansargeant you hear that mick? i’m better than you
mickschumacher impossible, i’m literally her best friend
y/username and they looked wonderful in them 🥰 (i love you two equally)
user2 poor charles, always forgotten even if they weren’t friends until recently
charlesleclerc best cowgirl and teacher in Montana ❤️
y/username only Montana? i’m wounded, you’re uninvited from the next trip
Mick hung around, pulling double duty for Mercedes and Alpine. He watched the race from the Mercedes garage, a tense place to be during the race. The Mercedes team qualified poorly in Q3, leaving them in the midfield. Logan accompanied him, an odd sight for most fans.
You had qualified well, with you and Pierre in P6 and P7 respectively. A crash up front took out Max and Lando, leaving the two of you in a battle with Oscar, Charles, and Carlos. A late safety car and a well timed undercut allowed you to move into P2, fighting for the win with Pierre right behind you. With five laps left to go, you find luck on your side once more. Oscar locked up, giving you just enough room to overtake him. When you cross the line five laps later, you feel tears running down your face.
“We did it, holy shit! Great work team, I’m so proud of you guys. This win is for the huge support network I have back home - I told you I’d dedicate my first win to you, and it’s for this team who has struggled and fought to be in the position to win races again,” you say on the radio as you take your cool down lap, waving to fans as you drive past.
The feeling of standing on top of your car is like nothing else, the crowd electric with you first win, a home win.
Pierre pulls into P3, quickly hoping out to embrace you, rubbing your helmet.
“We did it! You are amazing!” Pierre cheers.
“Finally a podium for us,” you agree, joining Pierre in heading to the barricades to celebrate with the team.
Charles makes his way to where you are putting on your team hat and sipping water a few minutes later.
“Welcome to the home win club,” he hugs you, wishing he was on the podium too.
“Thanks, Charlie. Sorry, I’m just so overwhelmed,” you smile but tears start to flow out of your eyes again. This is likely the only win you will ever get, and you know that.
“Amour,” his voice is soft and sympathetic as he wipes the tears off your cheeks. “You deserve every bit of this win, you drove so well,” he reassures you as you nod, sniffing the tears away.
“Interview time, champ,” Pierre grabs you, pulling you towards Guenther. He quickly shoots Charles a look that says he’s talking about this later. Pierre is protective of his teammate, and he isn’t scared to rip into his childhood friend if needed. You watch Pierre speak, then Oscar, before it’s your turn. They wait for you, not wanting to leave you vulnerable to the media.
“Y/n, first off, congratulations on a monumental win. How are you feeling?” Guenther asks, his voice jovial. He watched you grow as a driver in the Ferrari program, so he feels a bit proud.
“Overwhelmed, mainly,” you laugh, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “I, uh, carry the legacy of many women before me, those who drove, served as test and reserve drivers, and affiliated drivers. I really hope this win made them proud and make the girls driving in lower formulas know they can succeed here too,” you say, still breathing a bit heavier.
“That was one heck of a drive, how were you able to take the win?”
“A lot of luck, and confidence. I knew that I had to take some risks, especially on that overtake and defending the last few laps. I’m glad that Max and Lando are okay, those collisions aren’t fun,”
“One more question and then I will let you get your trophy. How will you take this confidence into the last two races?”
“Just keeping the energy up with the whole team. They’ve worked hard to get Pierre and I on the podium, and it’s nice to see it pay off, especially at my home race. You never really know when you will get to the podium, so I think we will just cherish this and hope the points keep coming,” you say, relieved to be done with interviews for now.
“Thank you, congratulations again,” Guenther says, letting you go. You give a wave and disappear to where Pierre and Oscar await.
“An all Alpine podium,” Mick teases, waiting around the bend for you.
“Former, but I guess it counts,” Oscar smiles as you launch yourself at your best friend.
“I’m so proud, meine Liebe, and I know Dad is too,” he hugs you tightly. Mick lets you go a moment later, promising to see you after the podium.
The cooldown room is nice, you relax in the chair as Oscar and Pierre chatter, watching the race highlights.
“Nice defending, you were a brick wall against Charles,” you fist bump Pierre.
“Ready?” Oscar asks, dragging you out of your seat. Pierre is the first out and onto the podium. “Just breathe, this is your moment,” Oscar reminds you before stepping out. Before you know it you are being drenched in champagne.
“This is just the start of the celebrations, mon amie,” Pierre says, wrapping an arm around you as you head back to the motorhome.
“Drinks on me tonight,” you cheer, ready to shower off the champagne and get media over with.
You are one of the last to arrive at the club, mostly because your phone died and you had to wait on it to charge. However, that just means you had more time to pregame, and you did.
“Oscar!” you drunkenly cheer, wrapping your arms around the Aussie.
“When did you get here? Are you already drunk?” he asks, trying not to laugh.
“Mhmm,” you nod, “I drank with Logan,”
“Logan is here?!” Oscar looks around the room, trying to spot his friend.
“No, silly, he’s in Miami. He was on the phone, duh,” you walk towards the bar, ordering a round of shots for your friends and you. You don’t hesitate in downing it, ordering a drink to take with you back onto the floor.
“How much have you had to drink?” Franco asks, wrapping an arm around you to keep you steady.
“Mmmm, five shots,” you giggle then poke his cheek, pushing his face a bit due to your sloppy motions. “You’re cute, just a babbyyy,”
“You are very pretty as well, how’d you know I have a thing for older women,” Franco flushes, the flirting coming out of nowhere. He honestly thought that you and Charles were dating, but he can’t help that he’s a natural flirt.
“Pierre! George!” you walk away before he can even process everything. You are off to do more shots, intending to get fucked up.
“You okay?” Max asks, quickly replacing you at Franco’s side.
“Y/n was just here, she’s an odd drunk, can she even drink that much?” Franco asks, very confused.
“She brought Tennessee moonshine to a race last year and she out drank Valtteri. I didn’t realize she’s been here,” Max looks around, searching for you.
“Whatever she drank earlier was strong then. Aren’t she and Charles dating? Why was she flirting with me?”
“Who knows,” Max shrugs, leaving Franco confused and alone as he spots you back at the bar in the VIP section the drivers reserved.
“You are cut off for now,” Max shakes his head as he stands beside you, taking the drink from your hand and keeping it for himself.
“Charlie! Tell Max to give me my drink back,” you pout, crossing your arms as you lean back against the bar, stumbling a little as your back hits the edge.
Charles’s eyes rake across you in concern as he quickly reaches out to steady you. He looks away at Max to get a silent read on the situation.
“Amour, how much have you had to drink? Didn’t you just get here?” Charles is more worried that you may have been drugged, no one acts like that after one drink.
“Five shots,” Charles watches you count on your fingers, holding up seven of them.
“And here?”
“Um, three shots and a drink. I just got here fourty minutes ago,” your words slur together as dizzying lights flash around the bar. The change in music tells everyone that Lando got behind the DJ booth.
“You are cut off for the hour, go dance some of it off then I will buy you a new drink,” Max says, winking at Charles. Before he can respond, you are dragging Charles onto the dance floor.
“You are a terrible flirt. You know who told me that you like me? Mickie,” you poke Charles’ chest as you dance close to him. Charles wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you close but providing support.
“It must’ve worked if you know now,” Charles leans down slightly, voice low against the pulsing music. You tilt your head up more, looking at him through hooded eyes, his body moving against yours as the bass builds up.
“No,” you say, lips centimeters away from brushing against his as the beat drops. “You need to work harder to earn me,” you slip out of his arms, going to find your aforementioned friend, leaving Charles alone and horny.
You find yourself back at the bar, no one there to stop you from drinking more. Well, that is until Mick shows up right before the bartender walks back over to you.
“Let’s celebrate the win, if you drink any more right now you will puke in 10 minutes,” Mick pulls you away, back to the other drivers. Fuck Charles, the bar is your one true love and Mick is denying you it.
“Here,” Lewis hands you a drink which you happily take. It’s just a mocktail, but you don’t know that.
“To our cowgirl and her first win!” Carlos toasts, cheers ringing out across your group. You catch Lando sneaking away back to the DJ booth, and you quickly follow.
“Lando, let me play a song,” you beg, and who is Lando to deny you after your first win? The grid gravitates towards the two of you as Lando helps you set yourself up.
“What are you playing?” Lando yells as you quickly pull up your song. Your devilish grin tells him everything as he helps you blend it into the song currently playing. The song slows as a low “tu tu tu tu” rings out, the lights turning in to focus on Max.
“Is this because I took away your drink?” Max yells, embarrassed and a little annoyed even though he thinks it’s funny. The rest of the guys are singing along, teasing Max. That’s the last thing you remember.
You wake up groggy on the couch of your hotel room, Mick in the bed. Based on the weird feeling in your mouth, you were puking before you fell asleep. Stumbling, you cross the room and crawl into bed beside Mick.
Mick wakes you up a few hours later, cup of coffee in hand.
“How much do you remember of last night?” he asks as you lightly groan, launching into your past memories.
You virtually sit down for a podcast later in the week to discuss your win.
“How does it feel going viral?” The one podcaster asks after you discussed your career and fighting in the midfield.
“Viral? Honestly, I’ve been so busy since the win that I haven’t been on social media,” you laugh, very confused.
“Gen Z has taken to you, you are all over TikTok and Twitter,”
“That’s wild, thanks Gen Z,” you smile, giving the camera a little salute.
“The after party seemed fun,”
“From what I remember, it was. It’s always a good time going out with the guys. Can I confess something?”
“Please do,” the podcaster says, eager for some gossip.
“I thought Franco was too young to be out with us. The first time he showed at the bar in Austin, I genuinely thought he was about to be thrown out,” you say, letting the conversation stay of that for a bit.
“So, a photo of you and Charles dancing at the club after your win went viral. We asked him about it and this is what he had to say,”
“Oh yeah, we’re dating, didn’t you know?” Charles says, looking quite serious, but you know it’s a joke, at least you think it is.
“Haha, yeah we are engaged, almost got married in Vegas. Didn’t you know?” you joke, stifling a laugh.
The podcast blew up and Alpine ate it up. The media team was quick to partner with Ferrari to do a couples challenge in the Alpine motorhome. You quickly leave once it’s done, escaping to your driver’s room. Charles follows you, sitting beside you as you take a deep breath.
“Sorry, it’s all a bit overwhelming. I am from a small town, I’m just not used to this type of attention,” you say and Charles holds your hands, providing comfort as electricity courses through you.
“You don’t have to be. Your fans think you are perfect, I think you are perfect,” Charles says, your eyes meeting his, searching for signs that he isn’t telling a lie.
“You do?”
“Of course I do. I’ve been in love with you forever. You are beautiful, and kind, and smart,” Charles trails off as his eyes flicker to your lips. His right hand finds itself moving from your hand to your cheek. He leans in, lips brushing yours as he hesitates - waiting for you to take action.
You tilt your head up, mind spinning as you take in his scent and the moment. You don’t waste another moment, pressing your lips to his. Charles tenderly pulls away after a minute, resting his forehead on yours.
“I didn’t lie in that interview, amour, you are my cowgirl,” he says softly, a hint of relief in his voice.
“Yours? Oh no, Charlie, you will have to work harder to win that,” your sly smile tells him that the challenge isn’t over yet as he leans in to kiss you again.
“My stubborn, stubborn cowgirl,”
Can’t get enough? Check out @vitalverstappen’s sister story ⬇️!
#f1 imagines#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc
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fluff request
Spencer reid x bee holding hands and skipping around. Pls and Thanks!
Love ur work!
Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! wc: 1k A/N: Bear, so sorry it took a while but here is your request and its just pure loving fluff of Spencer falling deeper in love! Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist
In the Ether. // Spencer Reid
It was a rarity for Spencer Reid to fly out of Virginia outside of work and for any other state than Las Vegas to visit his mother. It was even a rarer sight for him to be surrounded by green pastures until all the eyes could see and fading white picket fences that keep farm animals—cows, goats, and horses—safe from one another. He was a city boy through and through, after all.
But here he was, experiencing the tranquility of living in a countryside with just the sounds of air rustling the trees and the harmonizing voices of all living animals found in the farm. It was how you grew up and you wanted him to meet your family while experiencing your quiet childhood in a small town, even just for a short weekend.
“Well, what do you think?” You asked as you sat beside him on the rickety swing bench your father built on the front porch when you were ten years old.
He smiled, grasping your hand into his before bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. “It’s beautiful and peaceful. I could see why you love it here.”
“When I was a teenager, not so much—” you laughed at his incredulous expression. “—there’s really not much to do in a countryside town where everyone knows everyone, i promise—”
“So you dreamed of moving to a big city,” he added on.
You nodded, watching the farm dogs herd a couple of sheep strays back to the flock. “Yup, so I applied to college in a big city and ended up missing the vast space and quiet after a few years. How cliché of me, don’t you think?”’
“No, not really. It made sense for you to miss what you once had,” his voice soft and soothing like a gentle, cooling breeze in an arid desert. He had a way of guiding your thoughts back to the light—a lighthouse that pierces through the grey fog guiding you boat back to shore. It was one of the qualities that made you grateful that he chose you the same way you’d choose him again and again if needed be.
You stood up, shaking any melancholy. “Grab your book, Spence, let’s go visit my favorite tree up the hill.”
Laughing, he guided you inside to the guest room you both will occupy and proceeded to pull out an obscure Quantum Mechanics copy from his satchel.
You shook your head, only Spencer would decide to bring an academic book as a form of light reading.
With your chosen book on hand and a picnic blanket on the other, you shouted out loud your destination for anyone to hear around the house and proceeded to pull your boyfriend of one year outside the back door with a bounce in your step.
The excitement that seemed to vibrate out of you was so contagious that Spencer found himself skipping at your same beat. Hands together swinging between your bodies, he had never felt any more weightless and unfettered by the grim reality his cases had to offer.
Halfway through, you could spot the colossal Sycamore tree that you called your own. It had been nicknamed as yours by the family ever since you fell asleep under it at a tender age of four. It had been your own space, your own solace when you wanted to be alone. It was such an extension of you that you wanted to share its existence to the one you hoped to share the rest of your life with.
You squeezed his hand, signaling him to a stop.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
A mischievous twinkle in your eyes clued him in before any word was even uttered.
“Race you!” You bolted, the loose skirt of your cotton dress sticking to your legs as you picked up speed.
Both your laughters echoing in the air, mixing with the chatter of the nearby ducks, as if you and him were still kids, free from responsibility and unabashed with glee—like everything was simple in life.
With a smile threatening to split his cheeks from happiness, he loved seeing you run across the vibrant green field, sneakers leaving imprints on the moist soil, and tendrils of your long hair trailing behind you. Everything about the moment was precious. Everything about you was ethereal. A forest nymph that had bewitched him body and soul. A woodland sprite coloring his barren wasteland of life in a multitude of colors he can never hope to name. A beloved that he wishes to cherish until the end of time.
You turned around with a smile on your face, having reached the destination first and as if the skies needed him to fall any deeper for you, a soft warm sunlight streamed through the leaves, giving you a golden halo like you were some kind of goddess here on Earth, meant just for him.
Spencer went with instinct, untethered and uncaring for anyone to see. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, twirling you around with your giggles as the music before bringing you back down to Earth and leaning in to give you a slow, soft kiss. A motion so loving that had you melting in his arms, hands clutching his button down, afraid for the moment to end.
He leaned back a sliver. Far enough for breeze to pass between your lips but close enough for your noses to still be touching.
Eyes staring into yours, warm and golden like the morning sun breaking from the horizon, he uttered the truth of his devotion.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid request#criminal minds fanfiction
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1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]
Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.
Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.
Word Count: 6.2k
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰
💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜
Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.
Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.
So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.
I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.
Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.
I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.
At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.
I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.
I don’t think she knows about Alys.
~~~~~~~~~~
On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.
Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.
Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.
When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.
You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.
“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.
“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”
“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”
This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”
Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”
“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”
Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”
“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”
“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.
Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”
“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”
“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.���
You are alarmed. “What? By who?”
“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”
“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.
“They’re putting me on house arrest.”
Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relieved. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”
He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”
“I’ll talk to them.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”
“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”
“But it’s different now.”
He’s right, it is.
“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”
“Of course I’ll call.”
“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”
I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”
The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.
“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”
“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”
“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”
Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”
Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.
~~~~~~~~~~
In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.
“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”
“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?
The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.
George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.
Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.
A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”
And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?
~~~~~~~~~~
The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.
There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.
Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”
“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”
“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”
“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”
“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.
Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”
“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”
He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”
“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”
“How’s Jupiter?”
You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”
“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”
A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”
“In my lair. Like a beast.”
“Alone?”
A transitory pause. “At the moment.”
“On the shag carpet or your futon?”
Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”
“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.
“Where are you?” Aegon asks.
“You wouldn’t believe it.”
“Maybe I want a visual too.”
You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”
“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”
“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”
“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”
Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”
“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”
You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”
“In Seattle?”
“No. Right here.”
Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”
“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”
“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”
“No,” you say, baiting him.
“But I could touch you.”
“You already have.”
“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”
“Do you remember what I felt like?”
“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”
“No, I want you to think about me.”
You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”
“Under the water,” you reply coyly.
“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”
Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.
He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”
“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”
“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”
Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.
“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”
“I want you to finish inside me.”
“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”
There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”
“Wait—!”
You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”
“My parents.”
If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”
You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”
There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”
He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”
Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”
“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”
“So how do I get him to do it?”
You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.
“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”
You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”
“What if Nixon still refuses?”
“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”
Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.
“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”
Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”
“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”
Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”
Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”
“Yes you are.”
There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.
~~~~~~~~~~
Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”
You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.
As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”
He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”
“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”
“It has to fit.”
“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”
“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”
“I’m fine.”
“Io…”
“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.
At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.
“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.
As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.
“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”
You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”
“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”
“It does,” you say softly.
“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”
Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”
Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”
“Actors don’t belong in politics.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.
As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.
“You alright?” Aegon whispers.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look alright.”
“I’m great.”
“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?
On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience—Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.
“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”
In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”
“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”
“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”
“He doesn’t own you.”
“Legally, he does.”
He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”
“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”
“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”
“Okay.”
“At all.”
“Got it.”
You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.
The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.
“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.
Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.
We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.
“I’m so sorry,” you say.
And only then does Aegon vanish.
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen ii#aegon ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon x you#aegon x y/n
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Golden Salvation Pt.2
pt. 1 Pt.2
cowboy!Ghost x m! reader
A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)
Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.
This man had come for blood, your blood.
Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.
.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”
This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.
The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.
“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin
“No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”
“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.
The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.
You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it.
Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.
Thoughts of you.
Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.
And yet...
A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.
In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.
He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.
Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.
Help was coming- you just had to hold on.
The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.
“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.
Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.
You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.
The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.
But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.
“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone.
“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him.
You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling,
Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it.
“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes.
“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out.
You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.
“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away.
You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin.
Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent.
“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks.
Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun.
“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat.
Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it.
“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark.
You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear.
“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate.
You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….
Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit.
He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said.
With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free.
With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged.
You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it.
The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep.
Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.
He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive.
It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs.
“He’s stable” The doctor said simply
Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear
“Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use.
“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin.
Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through.
His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living.
Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive.
“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile.
You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it.
You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain.
You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side.
You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side.
“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him.
Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating.
“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights.
Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.
Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him.
You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him.
Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh.
It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place.
Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest.
“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles.
Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost.
You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him.
“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference.
SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down.
It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else.
“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages.
A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful.
#cod modern warfare#cod x reader#cod fanfic#cod imagine#cod x male reader#male reader#fanfic#ghost cod#ghost x male reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x male reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x male reader
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Living with Thomas Shelby Headcanons
Notes: These hcs were made for an AU were Grace doesn’t reunite with Tommy.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, PTSD, some suggestive language, violence.
Domestic Headcanons
-Tommy is a man that wants his home to be a symbol of sanctuary and his hard-won wealth. Arrow House accomplished that goal. A massive manor made of brick and stone, it reminds you of Tommy in a way. Solid, cold, secretive… hollow. It takes a lot for you to get used to living there. After some time passes, Arrow House’s interior starts to reflect more of your personal tastes. It adds a warmth that was lacking. Tommy won’t admit it, but he’s grateful for it.
- The servants take some adjusting to, absolutely. Tommy actually cracks a smile when you jump at the soft voice of a maid from the doorway. He’s less amused when that jump rips you from his lap. The way Tommy acts in his home, you would think it’s just the two of you living there. He has little issue pushing you to his desk or pinning you to a wall to have his fill of you.
- If you show any sign of knowing how to ride a horse, or that you would like to learn, expect dates on horseback. These dates aren’t necessarily filled with chatter, but you enjoy them. Tommy relaxes in a way you don’t normally see. Traveling over the hills and across these wide plains with him feels so peaceful. Sometimes he talks of his heritage with you. How his mother would tell him stories of his father’s courting of her. They would ride alone, in secret. Horses are precious to his people, as is this time spent with you. A part of him likes seeing that you can live in both worlds with him. Challenge him to a race and you’ll watch the years fall from his face. He becomes almost boy like when he charges past you, perhaps even cracking a smile when he wins.
- He knows many riddles and jokes, he used to say them often. You only found out about it when he told a few silly jokes to a stable boy who had sprained his ankle while working. The boy was terrified Tommy would fire him. He sent him home with his month’s wages and told him to get well.
- When you start sleeping in the same bed as Thomas Shelby as his partner and not just his lover, get ready. His demons always catch up to him in his dreams. He thrashes some nights. Once, Tommy woke you with a scream. The Devil of Small Heath is quick to regain his composure, but you swear you saw him wipe tears from his cheeks. He doesn’t like to be comforted. At least that’s how he tries to act the first few hundred times you attempt to console him. Over time, he lets you hold him. It’s a bit silly. This man let you move in with him and share his bed, yet it took him so long to just let you see him be weak.
Relationship Headcanons
- Beneath all the new money and designer suits beats the heart of a simple man. He likes to read the paper in the mornings and (when he was still drinking) have a splash of whiskey in his coffee. Little homemade things like a lunch packed for him will fluster him. If you rush him with such a thing for him to take with him, it’ll make his day. He will try to refuse, but he doesn’t mean it. Write him a simple note with a kiss. You might just find a stack of these little notes in his desk one day.
- Tommy gets up at odd hours as his sleep is rarely if ever regular. There are mornings where you roll over and his spot in the bed is cold. You call the family office and hear from his secretary that he’s been in for hours. And the sun isn’t even up. That leaves you a lot of time alone in the house. You get to know the staff very well for this reason. Tommy sometimes looks to you to remember the names of butlers or cooks before he makes a specific request or reprimand. The servants all generally like you a lot more than Tommy because of this.
- Lingering touches and soft kisses to the cheek are frequent behind closed doors. Only. No PDA. He hates to look soft. Do not do cute things in front of his men. It will irritate him. That said, privately? He likes to take a seat on the bed you share and have you stand between his legs so he can hold you close. Stare up at you like you hang the stars. Pull you on top of him as he lays back. Perfect way to end a day in Tommy’s opinion.
- Thomas Shelby is a man who loses as much as he gains. People cannot be counted on without fear in his world. No matter how much he loves you, there will always be doubt. Doubt that you won’t survive loving a man like him. Doubt that your loyalty may be decaying with every cold word and impassive wave he sends your way. This is only one of his quirks that have you contemplating homicide on a bad day.
- Part of his fear surrounding you is that he is a man that does not fall first, but he falls harder. You may not always see it, but he would burn the world for you. He will kill for you. If you ever killed for him, Tommy would know his fears were for nothing. Head wouldn’t know what to do with himself after. He’s never had a lover that would watch his back for him like you. Tommy would never ask for you to do it again. Ever. But knowing you’re as dark-hearted as him might make him more open to strategizing with you. Make you his confidant. The Lilith to his Lucifer.
#peaky blinders#peaky blinders headcanon#peaky blinders x reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x you#thomas shelby x reader#Thomas Shelby headcanon#tommy shelby
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𝐆𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
a/n: I watched the new season of The Witcher and somehow Geralt got even hotter??? Anyway, he has dilf energy and I'm in love
Warnings: family abuse, curse previously put on reader
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ
・He had saved you, and yet, your family still did not want you.
・Geralt found out that it was your own father who cursed you
・A noble family that saw you as less than. And they banished you from their land, not wanting you anywhere near them.
・And when Geralt spoke on your behalf, asking what you were supposed to do, your father shrugged his shoulders and ignored the Witcher.
"You won't even keep y/n on as ... as anything?" The Witcher was disgusted when your father kept on ignoring him. It got to the point where Geralt threw a golden plate just above your father's head and his attention snapped to the white-haired man.
"I could have your head for that." Your father's voice was cold, it was always cold.
"And I could have yours," snarled Geralt, whose eyes were ablaze. But he knew he couldn't do anything about your family. Only about you.
・So, Geralt couldn't leave you to fend for yourself. And he didn't.
・Besides, you had no idea how to look after yourself. You had been a monster, trapped inside a form that was not yours for 7 years
・You were filthy, tired, and utterly defenseless.
・And even though Witcher's weren't known for their grace nor kindness, Geralt was different.
・He took you with him, damning your family for casting you out. Promising that you would rise above what they had done to you.
・But for now, he had to clean you up and ... catch you up on life.
- ✦ -
・Geralt sat you in front of him, Roach slightly grumpy with the extra weight. But once you reached Geralt's destination, he rewarded the steed with extra food
"Thank you, old friend," he whispered into the horses' ear.
・Helping you inside, he had arranged a room that had a bathing chamber
・The water ran hot as Geralt added in oils and different kinds of herbs
・It was an odd situation, yes, helping a stranger clean themselves.
・But Geralt couldn't live with the knowledge of you being left on your own. The possibility of so much danger. Of being taken advantage of.
・Helping you undress was slightly embarrassing, for the both of you. Your body was still getting used to its original form. Your balance was off, and your posture wasn’t very good. Geralt had to keep on correcting it.
・Easing you into the bath, he grabbed a cloth and started gently rubbing the grime from your body. The dirt, sweat and mud that caked your body
・Even when you transformed back into your normal form, the dirt still remained, as did the torn clothes that you had worn before being cursed into a great beast
・Speaking was difficult as well, but it was becoming easier with time. Even though not much had passed.
・The bath was the best thing you had felt in 7 whole goddamn years.
・Hot; like it was ridding you of all the hurt that built over time
・You swished your fingers through the water, delighting in the ripples they made. Such a small happiness. Yet you found glee in small things now. Grateful for a second chance.
・Geralt kept on scrubbing at your skin, using a bristled brush on some areas, careful not to be too rough or stay in one spot for too long
・Next he used this delicious smelling soap. Your knowledge of herbs was next to nothing, due to a lack in education, but you thought it smelt homely, earthly and calming. Lathering it in his hands and massaging it onto your own, you both worked the soap into different areas of your skin
“I’m going to wash your hair now,” he said. Voice soft yet still rough, like he wasn’t used to being kind to others. If that were true, you wondered why he was doing this for you.
“But first we need to brush it,” his eyes squinted at the tangled mess but started on it nonetheless.
・It hurt at first, but you knew Geralt was being as gentle as he could be, but there were so many knots.
“What do you think about cutting it?” You shook your head. Your hair was one of the only things that made you feel … beautiful.
“Ugh, fine. But this is going to take a while.”
・You shrugged your shoulders and happily kept on sitting in the tub, taking over some of the scrubbing, especially your feet, which felt so sensitive.
・Once they were large and clawed, now … they were human
・Your eyes stilled as the water reflected the glow of the candles around the room
・And you sighed. Not in sadness, or pain, or grief. But with the knowledge that you no longer had to be someone that you were not. Whether that was a beast or playing a role in your family that you didn’t want to have to play.
“You alright?” Geralt had made significant process, practically finished with your hair. And he grabbed a bucket and told you to lean back as he poured the water onto your hair.
・Geralt grabbed a different kind of soap and placed it in your hair, massaging and rubbing it, making sure there wasn’t a spot unwashed.
・You weren’t used to the sensation and let out a laugh. It tickled a tiny bit, especially when he rubbed behind your ears
・Unbeknownst to you, Geralt was slightly smiling. He enjoyed seeing you experience some happiness.
・After he had washed your hair a total of three times, he stood back satisfied with your appearance and held out a towel for you to wrap yourself in.
・Helping you out of the bath, he set down a pair of clean clothes on your bed and said he would be back in a few minutes.
・He wanted to give your privacy, while also wanting to check on Roach.
・The clothes were a big pair of brown pants and a long white shirt. They were a fresh pair from the Innkeeper's husband, who had recently passed away. Geralt had paid extra for them.
・After twenty minutes, Geralt came back into the room to find you asleep on the floor. The usual place you slept.
・A place you had slept for 7 years.
・7 years without a bed. Without a blanket or pillows. Nor were you given any sort of comfort.
・A rage so hot spread through Geralt that it practically radiated off of him.
・In that moment he swore you would have a better life, the best he could find … or give you.
#witch the writer's headcanons#geralt#geralt headcanons#geralt of rivia#geralt has dad energy#geralt x reader#witchthewriter#headcanons#geralt x y/n#geralt x you#the witcher#the witcher headcanons#the witcher x you
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We Were Cowboys - Dean Winchester (smut)
I kept on listening to the song "We Were Cowboys" by Kameron Marlowe as I wrote this, so I also used some lyrics from the song. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: As Dean and Sam travel back to March 4th 1861 Dean stumbles upon the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. Will one night with her be enough for him? Will he be able to leave her behind the next day?
Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), unprotected piv, set in s6e18 so a somewhat historic situation, some heartbreak I guess, reader works as a prostitute
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.5k words)
Daddy watched John Wayne on a corduroy couch, I didn't know Texas from a hole in the ground but it roped me in, that's where it all began
March 4th 1861
The sound of her heels meeting the wooden stairs echoed through the saloon, though not one pair of eyes found her frame, fully focused on Darla and the way she tried to talk up the two strangers. As much as (y/n) tried to keep her eyes from wandering to the slightly smaller stranger of the two, she couldn’t stop herself from doing so, instantly drawn in by the green eyes that reminded her of the green grass basking in the summer heat, something she’ll be able to take in in only a few months time.
Even though she’d never admit it out loud, not daring to risk her place within this community, (y/n) found pride in the way the stranger didn’t seem to enjoy Darla’s company. (Y/n) had never been one to make many friends, preferring to keep to herself, even as she had left her family behind. She had known from an early age that there was no longer a place for her among the many siblings her parents barely could look after, let alone feed. Darla had never been kind to (y/n), fuelled by her arrogant self, and the way she was praised as the best girl around.
Only as Darla followed the judge upstairs did (y/n) dare move closer, eyes drawn to the man’s green ones again. He shot her a warm smile, tipping his head in a somewhat awkward though warm gesture. She could instantly tell that they weren't from around here, something about them seemed out of place, something she couldn't put her finger on quite yet. For a second she took in the other man, the taller one who smiled at her just as kindly, though redirected his gaze within a few seconds.
“What’s your name, darling?” The green-eyed man smiled at her, leaning against the bar. (Y/n) tried not to overthink the smile he wore, tried not to overthink the interest he seemed to have for her, gaze flickering to Mister Elkins’ hard eyes – a silent warning she stupidly ignored, not wanting to back away from the chance to share some more words with the handsome stranger.
“It’s (y/n), what about you?” Just as the man parted the lips she tried not to stare at, they were interrupted by a scream, heads whipping towards the stairs. She watched the guys race upstairs, forced to stay behind by the warning words Elkins spoke to her. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest as if she had been running for miles on end. Perhaps she had never been a friend of Darla, trying to avoid her at any cost, but she could only pray that nothing bad had happened to her, she wasn’t one to wish anything evil to come upon others, especially not women who were forced to make their living the same way (y/n) was.
And as the men made their way back downstairs moments later, seemingly deep in thought, (y/n) could only catch the small smile the handsome stranger shot her way before leaving the saloon.
We were cowboys, runnin' like wild horses that couldn't be tamed, we were cowboys, didn't know nothing but we knew everything
……
“Come in!” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the room, turning away from her window to watch a tall figure step into her room. It was too dark for her to make out the man’s features, voice trembling as a somewhat determined “I don’t take any customers this evening” rolled off her tongue.
“Excuse me, I didn’t want to disturb your night.” A smile made its way to (y/n)’s lips at the sound of the stranger’s voice, walking closer with the lamp she had originally placed down on her bedside table now in hand. His eyes were no longer filled with that twinkling green colour she had been thinking of all day, they now had a slightly darker touch to them, filled with mystery, with secrets, with longing.
“You never told me your name.” She watched him ponder over her words for a few seconds, wondering why he struggled this much with telling her his name. The few seconds of silence were used by her wandering eyes to take in the spots covering his cheek and nose, the freckles her fingertips longed to trace, wanting to count every single one.
“My name’s Dean, but that has to stay between the both of us. I hope you can keep a secret, darling.” With a hum leaving her, (y/n) took another step closer, front about to touch Dean’s. Softly she murmured his name, tasting it on her tongue as Dean’s hand found her cheek. She feared he could pick up on the racing beat of her heart, coming across as nervous, as uncomfortable – and yet she felt anything but uncomfortable, hoping that she’d be fortunate enough to feel his warm hands on her chest, her behind, between her thighs. “I’ve seen many pretty women, but you’re something else, sweetheart.”
“Am I? How?” The teasing grin she shot him left Dean chuckling, dipping his head down, lips ghosting over hers. A moan threatened to claw through (y/n) even though Dean hadn’t touched her yet, still keeping his distance as if he was waiting for her to make the first move. She didn’t want to waste another second, shifting her weight to meet his lips in a searing kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pressing her even closer to his front, moving them backwards to her bed.
“Let me show you how beautiful you are to me, I’ve never been good with words.” Her throat was too tight to reply, too nervous to speak up, only raising her arms for Dean to pull her nightgown over her head, groaning at her naked frame. The “Fuck” that left Dean made her chuckle with glee, hands toying with his belt, begging him to undress. “I’d kill to get enough time to treat you like you deserve, but I fear I don’t have more than an hour.”
“That’s alright, just touch me, Dean.” Not once had she felt this way towards a man before, needing, begging him to touch her, an unfamiliar longing she was addicted to now. (Y/n) tried not to spare the passing by seconds too much thought, wanting to appreciate the time she got with him, no matter how short it may be. “I’ll do anything for you, just tell me what you need.”
“No, this is all about you, darling.” Pain dripped from Dean’s words, forced to realise that she was too used to giving up her body for the joy of other men. He didn’t want to be like them; he couldn’t be like them. Dean pushed her backwards, watching her plop down on the mattress with a gasp, staring up at him with wide eyes. She wasn’t used to being looked after, wasn’t used to relaxing around another man, but with Dean, she felt safe, with Dean she felt complete.
“You need to tell me if you don’t like what I’m doing, you understand?” Dean’s voice dripped with something that left (y/n) shuddering, making her feel as if he was willing to fight her battles. He’d take care of her, even if it was only for the few minutes she got with him. With a nod thrown Dean’s way, her gaze followed his every move, watching him kiss his way up her thighs to the place where she needed him the most.
Dean’s eyes were focused on her cunt, groaning at the sight of her arousal coating her skin, dripping for his touch only. He’d feast from her, would show (y/n) what it meant to be properly touched, something both of them would forever remember. With her eyes following his every movement, she choked on his name as he drove for her cunt, sucking on her pulsing bundle.
“Oh, Jesus, fuck, that feels so good.” Never had she been touched like this before, not with as much passion guiding the men who came to visit her, not with as much determination guiding their every brush of their tongue. The smirk he shot her left (y/n) shuddering, watching the green-eyed stranger brush his tongue through her slit, groaning at the taste of her.
“Feels like heaven, you’ve already got me addicted.” She didn’t ponder over his words, didn’t ask any further questions – already too far gone. One of his slightly calloused fingertips found her clit, rubbing it as he dipped his tongue into her tightness, spreading her walls while he imagined what it must feel like to have her wrapped around his cock. Soon he’d give in, soon he’d fuck her as if she was the only one he’d ever get to touch. Dean would move heaven and hell for (y/n), for her to be looked after, even if it was just for their one single hour together.
She arched her back off the mattress as a deep moan clawed through her, begging Dean for his fingers, needing to feel them buried inside of her. Dean followed every command her body sent out, pushing two fingers into her heat as he kept sucking on her clit. The unfamiliar sensations were enough to push her higher and higher up the ladder, scared of the fall she’d soon have to endure – (y/n) could only pray that Dean would catch her, soften the blow her heart would have to endure the second he left.
“Cum on my tongue, sweetheart, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.” His raspy voice rang in her ears, eyes squeezed shut and toes curled as she came for him. Dean grinned against her soft skin, enjoying the way she trembled, how she gasped for any air to fill her tight lungs. A spectacle so wonderful he cursed himself for not taking his phone with him, he’d for sure take a picture of her pleasure-drunken features if he could.
“That was intense,” (y/n) whispered her words, eyes glassy while her hands kept gripping the covers she was lying on, scared that she’d wake from this dream. Dean crawled up her body, pressing his bulge against her sensitive cunt, wordlessly showing her how much he wanted her, needed her. “Fuck me, Dean, make me yours, please. Even if it’s just for tonight.”
For a second his mind managed to rip him out of his thoughts, forcing himself to remember that he’d have to pull out, unable to use any protection. But just the sight of (y/n), bare for him, mind and eyes hazy, thoroughly fucked out, was enough to give him the needed push. Dean rose to his feet to shuffle out of his clothes, unable to bite down his grin at the way she gasped as her eyes found his hard cock.
“You’re so handsome.” (Y/n) looked at him as if he was a piece of art, a statue crafted by ancient artists, a god-like figure, she was sure of it. Dean found her lips, kissing her softly as he pumped himself for a few moments before he pushed into her. Both groaned in unison, needing to adjust to one another’s body, needing to get used to the way he stretched her oh so perfectly.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart.” Dean couldn’t rip his eyes away, hoping to burn every passing second into his buzzing mind. For tonight she was his, for tonight it was just her and him, for tonight it was just the crush on her he felt getting stronger with every calculated thrust. Dean fucked her like only a husband would fuck his wife, at least that’s what (y/n) found herself believing, doubting that any other man would ever touch her like this.
Her moans guided Dean on, ringing in his ears like a song he’d blast while taking a tour with Baby, finding himself relaxing further into the comfortable seat, not guided by any worries or fears, just him and the never-ending land stretching ahead of him. Fuck, he had it bad for her, for a woman who lived in the past, a woman he’d never see again.
(Y/n) clawed at his warm skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t fade for a few days, leaving Dean heartbroken whenever he looked at them in his mirror. Her eyes rolled back into her head, trapped in a thick blanket of darkness Dean had pushed her into, set on fucking her till she forgot her own name. Perhaps he could take her with him, perhaps he could free her from this life she was forced to live, perhaps he could keep her close – forever.
“Dean, I-” her moans kept interrupting her, unable to say anything else, needing to hold onto the handsome man who fucked her as if the devil was chasing him. His thrusts grew rougher, and yet they were somewhat loving, hoping that she felt the same sensation thumping through her veins.
He was hers, if she wanted him.
“Cum for me, show me again how pretty you look when you let go.” Another moan left (y/n) as she came around his cock, a sensation so strong she was close to passing out. It took Dean a few more moments to push himself over the edge, remembering to pull out just a second before he came, staining her soft skin with his cum.
“Thank you, Dean.” Tears welled up in her eyes, about to roll down her cheeks, guided by the strong orgasm that had clawed through her, by the crush she felt growing deep inside of her, by the realisation that he’d have to leave any moment now. Another deep kiss was pressed to her lips before Dean let go of her, rising to his feet to quickly redress. Silence engulfed them as he helped (y/n) clean up, putting her nightgown back on.
“Dean, can I ask you something?” A hum left him, green eyes connected with hers, a warm hand cupping her cheek. He tried to memorise every part of her face, scared to let her go just yet. “You’re not from here, are you? I mean, you’re not from my time, you can’t be.”
He froze, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Slowly he shook his head, carefully watching her, unsure how she’d react. But all (y/n) did was nod, kiss him again, and murmur a soft “Your secret is safe with me”.
Once again, they were wrapped in silence, knowing that it was time to let go, to part ways, to never meet again. But Dean couldn’t, he couldn’t leave her behind, not when knowing that she was the one he wanted to offer his heart to. With a deep exhale leaving him, Dean cleared his throat, choking on a whispered “Will you come with me? Back to my time?”.
Couldn’t tell us nothing, ‘cause man, we were something, damn, we were something, we were cowboys
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The Cowgirl and The Aviator Ch10
Alright peeps I will no longer blue ball y'all. Here is the smut! Enjoy you filthy animals jk, but seriously enjoy! WARNINGS: Fluff, Smut and Stalker Behavior
Jake watched you as you ate your pancakes and helped the girls with cutting theirs. He had meant it when you had a family here if you wanted it. The girls obviously loved you and he was happy to have them call you Aunt (Y/N). He had no idea that you never got to see your brother's family. The rest of the day was filled with scattered thunderstorms as you all took care of the horses and other animals. By the end of the day you were happy and even helped him give Georgia a bath as she splashed you both.
The next morning you heard that Evelynn and the baby were home and that they were ready for the girls. You went with Jake and the girls, but took Rebel out to the arena to practice as you didn’t want to overwhelm Evelynn or the baby. Jake respected your decision and soon came out to watch you practice. You did light runs with him as the Rodeo barrel races were tomorrow. “I think you will win some money tomorrow”, Jake said. “It’s not about the money. It’s about the connection you have with your horse”, you explain.
“The family is going to come watch tomorrow, even little Jake”, he said. “They named him after you? Oh Lord help ‘em”, you laughed. Jake just smiled as you both walked Rebel into the barn to brush him. That night you sat with Jake on the porch swing watching the cattle in the distance. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”, he questions. “A little but it’s a good type of nervousness. Like the adrenaline you get before going into the air I imagine”, you reply.
When you started yawning Jake led you to bed where you curled up and fell asleep. The next day was a whirlwind of getting the horse ready and getting him loaded into the trailer. Colton had told you they would be getting there a little later in the day, but they would be there to watch you compete. When you arrived Jake was visibly getting nervous. “Jake sweetheart I’m gonna’ be fine. Rebel will take care of me won’t ya’ boy”, you patted Rebel’s neck.
Rebel snorted and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you with Jake’s look of worry. “You know this worry you’re feeling is the same one I had when you went on your mission so we’re even”, you admit. That seems to shake him out of his worry as he looks at you. “You worried about me?”, he asked. “Of course I worried I had already fallen in love with you by then”, you said. Jake wasted no time in pulling you to him and kissing you until you had to pull away to breathe.
He took you to watch some of the events before you had to go warm up. When they announced the Barrel Racing you got on and started riding towards the arena. Jake stood by the gate waiting to see you before you competed. “Everyone is here watching”, he told you, pointing at Colton, Annabelle, Georgia and Evelynn holding a little bundle. You smiled wide because you never thought you would compete again or have people who cared about you watching.
Your turn was coming up as Jake walked back to be with his family. They cheered when you approached the gate. Rebel danced knowing what to do and you let him go when you were ready. It was a flawless run and when you saw your time you gasped. You were tied for first place where you stayed until they announced they needed a tie breaker. The woman that went in front of you did amazingly well and you knew it would be a longshot if you won.
The run was great, but a second too slow. You didn’t care as you were proud of Rebel and the way he took care of you. Jake was ecstatic as he ran to you after receiving your prize. He picked you up and spun you around as you laughed. You loaded Rebel after grooming him and gave him some hay to keep him occupied. When you made it to the others they congratulated you. “Here since you didn’t get to hold him yet. Meet little Jake”, Evelynn said. You gently cradled him as you sat down on the bleachers.
Jake watched as you held him and smiled when he grabbed your finger with his little hand. “He is a beautiful baby”, you tell Evelynn. Evelynn lets you hold him until he is ready to eat and that's when they decide to call it a night. You and Jake continued to watch the rest of the rodeo until well into the night. Sunday evening is when you both would be flying back to San Diego and you still had to put Rebel in the barn when you got back.
Once in the barn you turned on the small radio when Jake grabbed you by the hand to dance with you as George Strait’s “I Cross My Heart” played through the speaker. Jake mouthing the words as you both danced and you reached up to take his hat. You put it on your head and smiled up at him. “Darlin’ you know what that means don’t you”, he says. “I know exactly what it means. Take me to bed cowboy”, you reply. Jake shuts off the radio as the song ends and takes you back to the guest house.
You don’t even make it inside as you both start kissing as your teeth clack against each other in your haste. Jake opens the door as you both start shedding clothes on your way to the bedroom. Jake lifts you up into his arms as you wrap your legs around him. He kisses your neck and down to your chest where he leaves several hickeys as you moan out his name. You tug on his hair to bring his lips back to your own. When he places you on the bed he takes your ankle into his hand and kisses slowly down your calf to the inside of your thigh.
He pulls back to pull your panties off as he makes his way over you to kiss you again. “Jake I want you to fuck me”, you hum. “Darlin’ are you sure?”, he asks. “I’m sure”, you whisper. He kisses you slowly as he reaches behind you to take off your bra. He tosses it somewhere in the room and kisses his way down to your breast taking a nipple into his mouth flicking his tongue over the pebbled peak. You moan as he does so and gasp when he lightly bites down. He switches to the other nipple giving it the same treatment.
He made his way down your stomach nipping and kissing as he went. When he reached your pussy he licked up your slit and nipped your clit which had you whimpering. He slipped his fingers into you and started to curl them. You were climbing that ladder to orgasm as he continued. “Come on darlin’ let go for me”, he hummed. He sucked your clit back in his mouth as you came hard.
Jake continued until you started getting too sensitive and started to cry out. “Jake too much itstoomuch”, you cried. He didn’t stop, he continued until you were falling over the edge again with his name on your lips. He stopped to let you come back down as he crawled back up to kiss you. You pushed him onto his back as you kissed down his chest, raking your nails over his nipples as he groaned. You could see him twitch in his boxers as you nipped and licked down his abs. He lifted his hips as you took his boxers off and tossed them. You took him into your mouth and had him groaning and moaning as you sucked hard and worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand.
He was getting close as he started twitching more often. “Darlin’ stop”, he told you. He pulled you off of him and back up so he could kiss you. He rolled you onto your back again and continued kissing you long and slow. You wrapped your legs around him and he ground against you with a moan. He reached over to the drawer and opened it, reaching all around it letting out a curse. “Darlin’ I haven’t restocked the condoms”, Jake tells you.
“It’s alright I’ve been on the pill. Please I need you Jake”, you plead. “You’re sure darlin’? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do this”, he whispers. “It’s alright Jake. Please fuck me”, you plead. You grind into his erection and he shudders with a whisper of your name on his lips. He kisses you as he gathers your juices on his cock then notches himself at your entrance. He watches you as he slowly slides in. You gasp and he stills until you beg him to keep going. He kisses you as he slides all the way in and you nip his bottom lip as he stills there for a moment.
“You okay?”, he asks. “Yeah, just not used to someone as big as you are. Please move Jake”, you say. You dig your heels into his ass to get the message through as he starts at a slow pace. Jake was kissing and sucking at your neck as you moaned. “You feel so good, fuck you’re so tight”, he groans. “Faster please Jake please”, you moan. He listens to your pleas and starts a quicker pace which has the bed squeaking slightly.
Jake takes a moment to slow, but punctuate his thrust which has you arching under him. “Holy shit”, you gasp out. Jake chuckles as he does it a few more times making you cry out. He resumes his previous pace as he places his hand low and places his thumb on your clit. He starts to rub your clit as you start towards another orgasm. “That’s it darlin’ that’s it”, Jake praises. You start to spasm around him as he keeps his pace.
You cry out and arch as your pussy spasms and Jake feels the wetness all over his cock. “Fuck Darlin’ “, he hisses. After a moment he starts his pace again this time bringing your legs over his shoulders. He hits deeper at this angle and it’s like heaven. “Jake feels…good”, you mewl. Jake grins but leans down to steal some kisses from you. He brings you to another orgasm and this time your vision goes dark. You feel Jake’s lips on yours as your vision comes back.
He has put your legs back at his waist and you take that moment to roll him onto his back. He looks up at you as you smirk at his confused look. “I’m going for that eight second ride baby”, you say. Jake smiles as you start to grind and bounce a little on him. Jake is taking in your body as you ride him and he leans up to take a pert nipple into his mouth and sucks hard. You cry out as your fingers make their way into his hair. His arms wrap around you as he helps you move on him.
He lets go of your nipple to lay back, but takes you with him as he rolls to be back over you. He goes slow and sensual this time. Taking his time and you can tell he is holding off as his head lowers to rest in the crook of where your neck and shoulder meet. “Where (Y/N) where?”, he pants. “Inside please”, you beg. He groans as he thrusts a couple more times and shudders above you as he cums. You can feel him twitching and the warmth of his cum and that sends you into your last orgasm of the night.
“I love you darlin’ “, he whispers. “I love you too babe”, you respond. You share a couple more kisses before he pulls out and you groan at the loss of him inside you. He disappears to get a warm washcloth to clean you up then comes back to bed. He pulls you over him and that’s how you both fall asleep. That night you both sleep soundly until the next morning. Jake wakes up first and reaches up to push your hair behind your ear.
You wake when he does as he apologizes for waking you. You tell him it’s no big deal as you kiss him long and slow. “If you keep this up we might have a repeat of last night”, Jake jokes. You laugh but decide to get up to make breakfast so you head to the kitchen. Jake joins you and wraps his arms around you from behind kissing your neck. You smile as you push your ass against him feeling that he is already hard. “Darlin’ “, he growls as a warning. You ignore as you repeat the motion.
You're only wearing one of his shirts, but he doesn’t know that yet until he turns off the burners and pushes you against the counter. He has you bent at the perfect angle as he pulls up his shirt you're wearing. “No panties. Naughty girl”, he hums. You smirk to yourself as he gives you no warning before sliding his middle and ring finger into your pussy. You squeal out as he begins his onslaught, not slowing down as your pussy makes the most obscene sounds. You come hard on his fingers and you know you have made a mess when you hear it hit the floor.
Jake doesn’t miss a beat as he throws down a small hand towel then takes up position behind you. “I think you need to be punished (Y/N)”, he says. You shudder as he kicks your legs slightly apart and pushes himself into you in one thrust. You gasp as he sets an unrelenting pace making you moan and your breath to be knocked from your lungs. He has your hips in his hands as he grips just a tad harder. You know you're going to have bruises in the shape of his hands and fingers.
“Oh Jake right there!”, you cry as he hits a particular spot. Jake knows your loving it by the way your pussy is gripping down on him. You just need a little more and you're falling over the edge crying out Jake’s name as he pushes in as deep as he can go as he cums with you. He glues himself to your back as he bites down on your shoulder enough to bruise. It adds to your pleasure as your hand finds the back of his neck. You both come down from your high as you both clean yourselves up.
You both look fucked out as you eat breakfast that is a little cold, but neither of you complain. “We need a shower before we go to spend the day with your family”, you tell him. You both shower which turns into another session of you pressed up against the wall as Jake plows you from behind before you both cum again. You both clean up and finally get ready for the day with his family before you both have to head back to San Diego. You had packed the day of the rodeo so all you had to do was load up and head to the airport when needed. You sat with Evelynn and little Jake while the kids played with their uncle.
“I can tell you both love each other”, she smiles. “I do love him, but I’m a little worried about going back to San Diego”, you confess. “Why’s that?”, she asks. “Well my ex boyfriend found out I have been staying between Bradley and Jake’s apartments. I ran him off, but I don’t know if I should tell Jake. I mean he already has enough going on being a naval aviator”, you sigh. “That’s one hundred percent up to you. If it were me I would tell him, but I don’t know enough to stick my nose into your business”, Evelynn replied.
You sat for a few more minutes in silence before Evelynn spoke up again, “If you ever need to talk I’m here. No matter if Jake and you split up you can call”. “Thank you”, you say. You sniffle a little at how much this part of Jake’s family cares about you. The day goes by as you both have to say goodbye. The girls cry as they hug Jake then you and you can’t help but cry too. “Don’t worry girls I’m sure we will be back in time for Christmas”, Jake reassures them. They seem happy with that answer as you head back to the guest house.
Colton drives you back to the airport and Colton asks to speak with Jake alone. You walked away as Colton and Jake had their conversation. You waited for Jake and soon enough he was walking with you to get the baggage checked in and through security. The plane ride back was the same as flying down as Jake kept your attention. When you touch down it’s late and as you wait for the luggage a text comes through your phone.
‘YOU’RE GOING TO REGRET LEAVING ME’ the text read. “Who’s that?”, Jake asks. “Oh it’s nothing”, you dismiss. As you make your way back to the apartments Jake decides to stop to get some take out. While you wait on the food Jake turns to you and asks, “Move in with me?”. You blink at him slowly trying to process the question he asked. He seems nervous as he shifts his weight from foot to foot as he waits for your answer. “Yeah”, you reply.
His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes and you can’t help but smile as well. He pulls you into his side as he kisses the top of your head. Once back at the apartments you notice Bradley is gone, but you decide to stay at Jake’s. Once dinner was eaten you both head to bed knowing that Jake had training in the morning. You both sleep well and you wake before Jake to make him breakfast. He kisses you slowly as he takes handsfull of your ass and massages it. “Sweetheart you’re going to be late”, you say.
“No I won’t”, he hums. He lays you down on the table and pushes his shirt you're wearing half way up your stomach. He pulls your panties to the side and can already see how wet you are. He pushes his sweats halfway down his thighs and rubs his cock against you. You sigh as he pushes in all the way and leans down to kiss you. “Sorry darlin’ but I have to make this quick”, he says. With that he sets a pace that has you seeing stars and the table to hit the wall in rapid succession.
You reach down to rub your clit as he continues his pace. It takes a couple swipes and you’re coming undone around him. He spills into you with a loud moan and then again when you move and clench on purpose around him. “Too much”, you taunt. “Darlin’ if I didn’t have somewhere to be you wouldn’t be able to walk afterwards”, he responds. He pulls out of you and you tell him you’ll clean up and that he should get ready. You put some baggy shorts on and walk out with him to his truck.
Jake turns to say he’ll be back later when you push him against his truck. His eyes widen as you run your pointer finger down his chest. “I really like this uniform maybe you can fuck me while you wear it one day”, you whisper. Jake has to take a deep breath and will his cock not to jump at the thoughts running through his head. You laugh as you know exactly what he is thinking then lean up to kiss him. A throat clears and you see Bradley standing there.
“Hey Bradley”, you say. “Hey. So are you coming back to my apartment tonight or?”. Bradley asks. “Well I…um..Jake asked me to move in with him and I said yes”, you explain. Bradley’s face goes from being shocked to being red and furious. “Are you serious? (Y/N) don’t you think it’s a little too soon. I swear you have only been dating a month and a couple weeks”, Bradley seethes. “She’s a grown woman and can make her own decisions”, Jake says.
“I didn’t ask you Hangman so piss off”, Bradley growls. “Hey, both of you calm down. Yes I am serious Bradley and it doesn’t mean I can’t come over and hang out”, you reply. Bradley huffs but grumbles something that sounds like “fine”. Jake kisses you again before leaving to go for training. You decide to move all of your stuff from Bradleys apartment to Jake’s while they are both gone. Then you have to get ready for your shift at the hard deck later that day.
You get a text from Jake that the dagger squad still has some stuff to finish up at the base, and that he will meet you at the Hard Deck. You smile and head to work where Penny welcomes you back with a hug. “So how was the trip?”, Penny asked. “It went really well. His sister, brother in law, two nieces and brand new nephew are the perfect family. Jake took me out to go line dancing and we slept out under the stars”, you explain. “Well the real question is did you sleep with him?”, Penny asks.
“Yeah and it was amazing”, you laugh. “You slept with Hangman?!” Bradleys voice booms. You spin around to see Bradley sitting at the bar, but it looks like he just came in to hear your confession. “Please tell me he used a condom”, Bradley cried. “Well the guest house really wasn’t stocked, but he’s clean”, you reply. “(Y/N) that’s not what I’m worried about”, Bradley sighs. “I’m on the pill you dipshit and don’t you dare give any shit to Jake about it. It was my decision”, You tell him.
Jake comes in a little later and you both share a small kiss before you get back to work. “I moved all my stuff in”, you tell him. Bradley doesn’t seem happy with what you just said, but he drinks his beer and heads over to the pool table to wait for the rest of the dagger squad. When the rest of the squad comes in they all hug you and welcome you back home. After your shift you make your way to the squad and watch as they all joke and have fun. By the time you decide to leave Jake tells you he will be home a little later. Coyote and him catching up since he had been gone. When you got home you showered and curled up in bed with your book. A few hours later you must have fallen asleep because the shower is running.
“I thought you would be asleep already”, Jake says. “I was but I woke up while you were in the shower”, you explain. Jake took his spot on the bed as you curled into his side. “How did training go today?”, you asked. Jake knew it was more than that. You were asking if his head was in the right place, and it had been today. The time away helped him and you had a big part to play in that. “It went fine darlin’ no need to worry”, he replied. You both share a couple of kisses until you settle in to sleep.
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NEW CHALLENGE
THE SIMS 4: BARBIE Decades Challenge!
As an aspiring Barbie connoisseur, it gives me great JOY to present this challenge , HUGELY inspired by @sim-himbo Barbie Legacy Challenge and @liyaahgee Urban Barbie Legacy
Barbie has been around since 1959 till now ( 7 generations ) , And adding decades and Barbie lore to the Sims 4 as a challenge would be fun!
Please let me know if you have any suggestions or questions . I would love to hear from fellow Barbie connoisseur ❤ Feel free to tag me @sailorjojogames and use #barbie decades challenge #BarbieDecadesChallenge, I want to see your gameplay ❀ Hope you enjoy this as much as I do x .
All heirs must be named Barbie - optional for generation seven (non-heir children may have any name expect when classified )
You may use the freerealestatecheat for your first house, but try not to use money cheats after that!
You are allowed and encouraged to use lot traits and reward traits to boost skill gain, anything that’s in-game is fair game.
Must refer to Barbie dolls and history - Barbies By Year - Toy Sisters and dress up according to decade.
Must have a pet/pets in each generation.
You are encouraged to use mods - mods needed would be stated.
The race , colour, gender and pronouns of Barbie/Ken/siblings/cousin/friends - DOES NOT MATTER or have to be accurate to THE Barbie lore .
There are other generation ideas for ***generation 2, 4, 5 and 6 at the end, to pick and choose . Enjoy x.
Packs you will need:
EPs: Get To Work, Get Together , City Living, Cats & Dogs, Get Famous, Island Living, High School Years, University, Horse Ranch
GPs: Spa Day*, Parenthood
Optional packs:
Strangerville
*You only need Spa Day for the High Maintenance trait in one of the generations and nothing else, so it’s fine to skip out on it.
Useful tips, links and Barbie Lore and gameplay ideas in this
🎀 🌸google doc 🌸🎀
🎀🌸watch video🌸🎀
Based on the 60's - Classic barbie from 1959
Complete Successful Lineage aspiration
Max Parenting , Cooking and Baking skills
Must have Family-Oriented , Neat and Foodie traits
Must Have 5 children called Barbie Millicent Roberts, Skipper, Stacie, Chelsea/ Kelly and Krissy (if you have twins - called them Todd and Tutti)
***Based on the 70's - Superstar barbie and Malibu Barbie
Complete Master Actress aspiration
Max Acting , Dancing and Singing skills
Must have High Maintenance and Dance Machine traits
Max Actor Career
Must reach at least Proper Celebrity status
Must have a secret affair with a fellow Actor! 🌶
Have a Beach home in Sulani
Have only 2 children - Barbie and Skipper
Optional
Complete the Party animal aspiration -to fit the disco vibes in the 70's
Based on the 80's - Day to night Barbie, Peaches 'n cream and Great shape barbie.
Complete Fabulously Wealthy aspiration
Max Charisma and Logic skills
Max Business career (Investor branch)
Must have Ambitious , Romantic and Non-committal traits
Must reach at least Proper Celebrity status
Have 3 children- Barbie, Skipper and Stacie (does not have to be from the same partner 🌶)
Optional
Be a serial lover (Serial Romantic aspiration) 🌶
Own a Business venue - Use @littlemssam LittleMsSam Mod buyable venues
***Based on the 90's - totally hair barbie, Hawaii fun, magical hair barbie and jewel hair mermaid barbie
Must live in Sulani
Complete Beach Life aspiration
Max Conservationist career (Marine Biologist branch)
Become a mermaid
Max Fitness skills
Must have Child of the Ocean trait
Have 4 children (non-mermaids)- Barbie, Skipper, Stacie and Kelly
Optional
Use The Expanded Mermaid mod by @sp-creates - Max Mermaid Ranks and XP
***Based on 00's - myscenes. Playing as a teen along with generation 4 or can move out as a teen.
Complete Admired Icon teen aspiration
Must graduate High school and have a Prom
Must have a big group of friends - 8-10 sims . Make a club and always hang out with these friend. 🌶 add drama by messing around with the cuties in the group
Must have Creative and Insider traits
Carry onto University...
get into university with the same friend group
Complete Leader of the Pack aspiration
Max Photography and Painting skills
Must complete an art related degree and live on campus
Max Style Influencer Career (Trendsetter Branch)
Get married to one of the friends in the group
Each member of the friend group must have a PET
***Based on the 2010s due to all the unhinged pets playsets that come out during that time and the Farm vet barbie and the Vet barbie .
Complete Friend of the Animals aspiration
Max Veterinarian skill
Run a 5-star vet clinic
Have at least 3 pets - a dog (Taffy) , a cat (Blissa) and a horse (Tawny) and be good friends with all of them
Must have either Cat Lover and Dog Lover trait or Animal Enthusiast trait ( or all of them )
Have a Farm with chickens, mini sheep , mini goats, llamas, cows and horses. (optional - collect all the fish, insects, frogs and axolotls)
Based on the 2020's - inspired by Kamala Harris , presidential candidate barbie and 2023 barbie the movie barbie president
Complete Mansion Baron aspiration
Max Politician career (Politician branch)
Max Charisma skill
Must have Cheerful , Good and Self-Assured traits
Optional
Have a child called Ken
You can stop here , this is according to how long Barbie has existed… The next few generations are not compulsory .
Inspired by 1992/1993 stars ‘n stripes army Barbie
Must live in Strangerville
Complete Strangerville Mystery aspiration
Max Logic and Charisma skills
Max Military career (Either branch)
Must have Erratic and Active traits
Year 3000 inspired by Astronaut barbie and space goddess
Complete Nerd Brain aspiration
Max Astronaut career (Either branch)
Max Robotics and Rocket Science skills
Go to SIXAM at least once and bring a souvenir
Must have Genius and Overachiever traits
Be abducted by Aliens at least once
Fall in love and Marry an Alien
Have a Servo as a family member / Butler
Make your dream Barbie.
Complete at least 2 child aspirations
Complete at least 2 teen aspirations
Complete Renaissance Sim AND Academic aspirations
Max 10 skills
Have 12 or more traits
Graduate from college
Reach the top of any career
Have a house worth 1 Million Simoleons
***Other generation ideas to swap with…
Swap Generation two 70’s movie star barbie with this. Based on the 70's - Superstar barbie and Malibu Barbie
Complete World Famous Celebrity aspiration
Max Dancing and Singing skills
Max skill in at least 2 instruments
Max Entertainer career (Musician branch)
Must have Music Lover trait
Must reach at least Proper Celebrity status
Have a Beach home in Sulani
Have only 2 children - Barbie and Skipper
Optional
Complete the Party animal aspiration -to fit the disco vibes in the 70's
Must have a secret affair with a fellow celebrity ! 🌶
Swap Generation 4 90's sea pearl barbie with this.
Inspired by western stampin' and all the horses that came out in the 90's
Complete Championship Rider aspiration
Max Riding skill
Must make all money from gardening, farming, wine making, etc. No day job!
Must own a horse and have it max every skill
Must have Animal Enthusiast and Rancher traits
Swap for generation five 00s my friends- inspired by Cali girl barbie, city style barbie and fashion fever barbie
Complete Leader of the Pack aspiration
Max Photography and Painting skills
Max Style Influencer Career ( Trendsetter Branch )
Must have Creative and Insider traits
Must have a big group of friends - 8-10 -make a club and always hang out with these friends.
Name children -Barbie, Stacie Kelly and Krissy
Optional
Complete the Beach life aspiration
Date or have an affair with a Prince 🌶
Can use the World famous stylist mod by kiarasims4mod or any model related mod
Swap Generation six 2010s pet vet barbie - Inspired by the show barbie dreamhouse adventurous and barbie vlogs
Complete Friends of the World aspiration
Max Social Media career (Internet Personality branch)
Max Media production and Singing skills
Must reach at least Proper Celebrity status
Must have Cheerful and Outgoing traits
Optional Max social media star aspiration by kiarasims4mod
🎀🌸A huge thank you to @sim-himbo and @liyaahgee for the inspiration for this challenge! 🌸🎀
More Generations ideas and Barbie Challenges
Barbie Legacy Challenge
Urban Barbie Legacy
@sea-cross Barbie CAS Challenge
🌳 // Tumblr // Tiktok // Instagram // Twitter // Twitch // Youtube
Gallery @sailorjojosims 🌸🌸Barbie Month 🌸🌸
#barbie decades challenge#BarbieDecadesChallenge#thesims4#ts4#the sims 4#sims 4 legacy challenge#sims 4 decades challenge#sims 4 legacy#sims 4 challenge#the sims 4 decades challenge#sailorjojo#barbiemonth#the sims community#sims 4#sims#sims 4 gameplay
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Arthur Morgan Headcanons!
(High Honour)
☆ Arthur has a habit of ominously looming over people when he's interested in what they're doing. It's a habit that stems from childhood, and he doesn't seem to realise it's unnerving to most.
☆ Arthur is overly critical of his artwork, never really liking anything he creates. He knows he's good at art, but the imperfections in his sketches genuinely make him frustrated.
☆Arthur is a total perfectionist through and through. His handwriting is the slightest bit sloppy? He's pulling the entire page out. His posture needs to be perfect at all times, his guns need to be cleaned regularly, etc.
☆ He can be a bit of a show off when he knows he's good at something. Art competitions? He's entering them, and winning. Horse racing? Hell yeah. Shooting bottles? Easy. Games at camp? Count him in. And he absolutely will rub it in your face after if he won. Otherwise, he will refuse to speak of it again lol.
☆ He has slight people pleasing tendencies when it comes to people he cares about.
☆absolutely adores animals, big and small. He could sit out watching them in the wilderness all day. He treats his horses like babies, often putting their needs above his own. He will pet every dog and cat he sees in town. Sometimes he feels bad about hunting if the animal died in a lot of pain, but otherwise, not really. He sees it as natural, a fact of life.
☆ Feels a lot of guilt for killing as many people as he did. It plagues his mind at nighttime when he thinks about their friends and family, and how they might've reacted to the news.
☆ Tries to avoid conflict with innocents, but isn't afraid to stand his ground against them either.
☆ Was a smart mouthed teenager. Throughly enjoyed pissing people off. Sometimes, he still does, but not nearly as much as he did then.
☆ Really does love John, despite his annoyance with him. He considers him a little brother but doesn't express it often. He enjoys spending time with him, despite being snappy or insulting him.
☆ He's a very gentle, loyal person at heart, despite his profession corrupting him. In another life, he would've been a rancher, living on a farm with a wife and kids. Perhaps that was what he wanted to do all along. It's a shame, really.
☆ He would've loved scrapbooking. I do not take criticism.
☆ Presses flowers in the back of his journal.
☆ sneezes. so. loud. Like, at camp it doesn't matter where he is everyone will hear it and immediately know it's Arthur.
thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! ♡
#red dead 2#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#arthur morgan headcanons#headcanon#lovelybugsworld#lovelybugsworld headcanons
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hold your horses |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|
prompt: eddie's warned you about your speeding.
cowboy!eddie has been heavy on my mind, since reading @munsonology version of him.
contains: filthy. MINORS DNI 18+!!! cowboy!eddie, domestic discipline-ish/ dom&sub themes, degrading, mean!dom eddie, spanking, oral fem receiving, p in v sex, after care.
The Munson Family Ranch sat on the outskirts of Hawkins, a thirty minute drive out into the rural side of the county- a twenty minute if the backroads were clear.
The first thing Eddie ever noticed about you, was your little, red sports car. The car you'd been trying to fit stacks of lumber into at the Hawkins Hardware store the first time he met you. It was cute, a little thing that could fly. You'd driven him a few times in it, pressing the gas pedal down so it roared to life, leaving Eddie grappling for the car handle. You'd laugh, look over at him with a little grin that always meant trouble.
"What?" You'd shrug innocently. "I like to go fast, baby, you know that."
Eddie did know that. Hell, half of Hawkins knew that, seeing you race by in a flash of red. More importantly, the Hawkins Police Department knew it too. You'd had your fair share of speeding tickets, some you could charm your way out of, others stuck to your name. They only seemed to pile up as you started coming out to Eddie's more often.
"What'd I tell ya 'bout speedin' down those roads?" Eddie frowned, lips pulled down in an unimpressed, fixed look at you. "Told ya that was dangerous, now, baby."
"I know, I know." You huffed lightly, waving him off with a little bat of your hand. "I'm just excited to get to ya, that's all." You grinned, wrapping your arms around him.
Eddie melted into your touch, your pretty smile and dazzling eyes, it was his weakness. He relented, pressing a kiss into the crook of your elbow, pulling you in by your waist. "You better slow down, girlie." Eddie lifted a brow at you. "Want you to come see me in one piece, you hear me?" He pinched the fat of your ass, leaving you squealing into his kiss.
Even with his warning, you still wouldn't slow down, driving too fast down the winding roads out towards his house. Even down the long, dirt driveway towards the house, Eddie would watch you, cloud of dust following behind you. He'd told you not to do that. It got the horses all wild for no reason.
"Hi, baby," You greeted with a purr, sunglasses pushed up onto your head, sauntering towards him sweetly.
Your mouth salivated at the sight of Eddie, hair pulled back and hat tipped low over his brow to fight the unforgiving sun that was beating down onto him. Wrangler clad ass that fit him snug, very nice, accentuating his bulge that had you flushing and pulsing between the legs. He wore his work gloves, tightening a fence knocked down by a bucking bronco from the day before.
"Hey, sweet thing." Eddie cooed, dimpled grin painting his lips, leaving you blushing and reeling. "What're you doin' here so early?"
You shrugged, hands clasped behind your back. "Missed you." You shrugged simply. "I got off work early and thought I'd come see you. Tried to call but... guess you were busy." You tilted your head to the side, looking at the kicked in wood Eddie was fixing.
"Yeah," Eddie snorted, shaking his head down at the wood. "Frodo's being a dick again, but managed to stay on for twenty-seconds. Beat my record."
"That's amazing, baby." You beamed down at him.
Eddie blushed gently, tongue poking out in concentration again. "I'm gonna finish up this. You got a letter from the Sheriff's department in yonder on the table." Eddie's eyes flicked up to you, watching how you stilled, face dropping. "Somethin' you wanna tell me?"
You stammered, looking back from Eddie to the house. "No," You said quickly. "I-I bet it's because I need to change my address. I haven't got around to it yet-"
"-You've been speeding again." Eddie said simply. "Haven't you?" His voice didn't hold any anger, it wasn't strict or scolding, it was level, casual like he'd asked you about the weather.
Your heart thumped in your chest. "N-No." You stuttered, cheeks flushing and flaming.
Eddie scoffed, shaking his head while he gripped the fence, veins protruding in the most delicious way. It had your knees buckling. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'll just make it worse for yourself." A chill spilled down your spine, leaving you shuddering despite the heat from the sun basking on you.
"Seventy-two in a forty-five?" Eddie looked up at you, challenging. Your mouth hung open. "That's might fast to be goin'."
"Y-You looked through my mail?" You gaped, eyes gouging at Eddie in disbelief. "Eddie, you can't do that! That-that's illegal-"
"-So is going thirty over the speed limit down back roads." Eddie snapped firmly at you. His eyes cut over to your, peeking out menacing from under the brim of his hat. "Ran into Hopper today, and he told me one more time and your license would be suspended. I told him not to worry, I'd handle you."
Your tummy flipped, twisting with excitement and dread all at once, a contradicting feeling that left you dizzy. "What'd I tell you would happen last time if I found out you were speeding again?"
Your cheeks blistered, mind reeling back to the conversation. Eddie'd only spanked you lightly, enough to get you whining and pouty before sticking a finger in your face, scolding you like a bad puppy. "I'm gonna tear that ass up if I hear you're speeding again, you understand me, girlie?" You'd nodded dumbly, eyes glazed before dropping to your knees to suck him off as an apology.
You doubted that would help you now.
"I asked you somthin'." Eddie snapped, pulling you out of your own thoughts. "You just not gonna follow any of my rules now?"
"No, sir." You answered quickly, spine straightening under his intense glare. "You said... You said you'd make me sorry." You muttered, a paraphrase sure, but surely Eddie wouldn't make you repeat his exact words.
Eddie snorted in a laugh, shaking his head. "That's not what I said, and you know it." He sneered. "That's alright, honey, you don't wanna be good for me."
"I do." You huffed, lip jutting out towards him. You hated when he'd be mean with you like this. He knows it drives you wild.
"Hm, then prove it." Eddie's tone was cool, chilling almost. He always kept his cool, his composure, even when he was about to wreck you. "Go on and wait for me. You know how I want you. I'll be there in a few, darlin'. You got some learnin' ahead of you."
Your heart skipped, shaky legs carrying you up the steps of the porch towards the farm house. You could feel the pulsing between your legs, agonizing and throbbing. God, you loved when Eddie was rough with you like this. When he'd leave you sobbing and blistered from his belt, begging and dumb on his cock after he'd thoroughly ruined you to his satisfaction. You knew he'd come in, sweat soaked and musty from the day of work, and your mouth filled with spit. You hoped he'd fuck your throat, shoving his cock unforgivingly filthy into your mouth until your esophagus was bruised.
You folded your clothes neatly, placing them on the dresser before grabbing two pillows. He'd want you in the middle of the bed, ass up and hands out. You were unsure of if he'd tie you to the headboard or behind your back. You prayed behind your back, because then that meant the spanking wouldn't be as mean. He wouldn't have your hands that close where he might strike them during his lashing.
You wiggled your hips, relaxing into the fluffy pillows, sighing at the friction on your clit. You hoped he wouldn't see how drenched you were. It would only make him go harder. This was a punishment after all, a lesson you needed to learn.
The screen door screeched and latched, heavy boots hitting against the creaking wood towards the bedroom. Your heart fluttered in excitement, rolling your shoulders forward, hands clasped and extended forward.
Eddie hummed from the doorway, setting down something heavy on the ground. "So you can be a good girl?" Eddie asked, rhetorically. "When you wanna be?"
You pressed your lips together, clenching to keep yourself from shivering at the gravely tone of his voice. Oh, how you ached, begged to be touched and fucked. The mere sound of his voice was getting you this electrified. Your mind raced at what his touch would to do you.
"You've been quite the bad girl, haven't you darlin'?" Eddie tsked, sighing heavy for emphasis. His ostrich skin boots, brown and worn from the work day thundering against the floor.
"Y'don't wanna listen to my rules. Don't wanna listen to the law." Eddie's calloused hands skated across your bare back, goosebumps left in the wake of his feather light touch.
"You just wanna be a bad girl from now on?" Eddie asked, coming to the top of the bed, muddy eyes dark, brows furrowed down at you. "Go on and answer me, baby. You just not wanna be good f'me anymore? Just don't want to listen to anyone anymore?"
You shook your head. "No, Ed." You whispered, breath catching in your throat.
Eddie pursed his lips, puckering them out in confusion. "Then why're you not listenin' to anyone?" Eddie crouched in front of you, leveling himself so he could see you fully. "Why're you insistent on breakin' all the rules?"
You squirmed, the intensity of his gaze making you feel entirely too vulnerable, even in your nude state. "I dunno. I'm not doing it on purpose." You mumbled.
"Oh?" Eddie's voice lifted in surprise, brows raising to match his climbing tone. "'S that right? You didn't mean to go thirty miles over the limit? Down them back roads that I told you not to be speedin' on."
"I didn't-"
Eddie tsked, cutting you off with the shake of his head. He reached behind him, grabbing his thick leather belt, the gold buckle he'd won at a competition weeks earlier still shining on the front. Your heart skipped, breath stilling. His work belt was heavy, thick leather meant to endure buckling horses and lots of movement, and it packed a wallop when he'd use it on you.
To your surprise, Eddie took your wrists, sliding the belt through the buckle until your hands were tied tightly and secured with the leather. Eddie hooked your hands to the frame of the bed, the stretch in your shoulders a little uncomfortable.
"What did I tell you would happen if I caught you speedin' again, huh?" Eddie asked, fingertips skating back down your exposed skin while he disappeared behind you. "Did I not make myself clear the last time?"
"No, you did-" Your voice was whiny and high, teetering on a huff or a pout.
"So what exactly is the issue?" Eddie snapped, mean and gruff. Your thighs clenched, hips rubbing against the pillows. "I told you I was gonna bust your ass if you kept speedin' down those roads, didn't I?"
Your whimper in response was not enough for Eddie, his hand cracking down on the back of your thigh making you yelp. "Didn't I?" Eddie grit.
"Yes!" You cried out, hips bucking against the impact. "You did!"
"So why didn't you listen, huh? Didn't think I'd do it?" Eddie asked, you could feel him pick something up off the dresser, moving to the side of the bed. You didn't dare look over at him, you did know better than that.
"I-I just... I didn't mean to." You pouted.
"Didn't mean to?" Eddie scoffed. "Bullshit and you know it, baby. Lyin' is only gonna make it worse for you."
"'M not-"
Eddie's heavy hand cracked down on your bare cheeks, sending you recoiling at the sting, hips wiggling away from his heavy hand. "I don't want to hear another thing out of you unless I tell you, you hear me?" Eddie snapped, hand snaking through your hair, pulling you back at the scalp to bend you backwards to meet his gaze.
You nodded, lip jutting out in an emphasized pout. Sometimes it worked, got Eddie's heart melting and soft enough to go easy on you. In the least, he might go down on you afterwards if you looked sweet and sorry enough. Judging by the hard glare of his brown eyes, unmoving and unfiltered by your efforts, that wasn't going to happen tonight.
"Seventy-two in a forty-five." Eddie let you go with a slight push, leaving you bouncing forward into the mattress gently. "How much over is that?"
You huffed, thinking for a moment. "Twenty-seven." You muttered.
Eddie whistled, loud and dramatic, shaking his head in disapproval. "Twenty-seven." He annunciated every syllable, menacingly glaring down at you. "Now, you're tellin' me that was an accident?"
"It was-" You snarled, a loud groan pulling out of your chest when Eddie's hand fell heavily on your upturned ass again, leaving you grimacing and gripping against the belt.
"What'd I tell ya about that mouth, sugar?" Eddie growled lowly. "Only thing I wanna hear come outta that pretty little mouth, is you countin' out each of these licks, you understand me?"
You pouted, lips pressed together to contain your whine that threatened to spill out. You jumped slightly, heavy leather rubbing across the globes of your ass lightly, leaving you stilling at the realization. He'd gotten the strap. The dreaded strap he kept in his tack room, pinned up and mocking on the wall, blending in with the other leather equipment but reserved for you only. For when you really got out of line.
"Twenty-seven over, so I think twenty-seven hits are in order." Eddie hummed, running the strap over the globes of your ass. "I want you to count each one, loud, alright? None of that mumblin' or I'll start over." He warned with a cutting tone.
"You ready?" Eddie's voice softened, sweet and caring. It made your heart flutter behind caged ribs.
"'M ready." You nodded, pressing you cheek to the side of the duvet to look at him through thick lashes.
Eddie smiled at you, leaning over to peck your cheek sweetly. Eddie ran the strap over your ass, the heavy leather making you shiver with every glide. Eddie's heavy sigh fell out of his nose, a tell-tale sign he was about to begin. Your eyes squinted shut, hearing the whoosh! of the strap before it cracked down, white hot shocking pain searing your ass.
You gasped, breathless and strangled out of your chest, eyes popping open in a strained glare. Eddie sucked his teeth lightly, glaring sternly down at you. "O-One," You shuddered out.
Eddie nodded curtly, satisfied, before lifting the strap again. You moaned in pain, nails digging into the leather with the blow. He hit the same spot again, purposeful and heavy, leaving you blistering in uncomfortable heat. There was no reason you should be throbbing the way you were, clit pounding and screaming for relief as the vibrations from the strap tickled their way through your skin to your core.
"Two." You grunted, teeth barred. You wouldn't cry, not this early on, you convinced yourself, slow and controlled breaths to keep the burn in your chest down.
Eddie lifted the strap again, letting it snap against your already blossoming skin. "Three!" You squealed, barely catching your breath before it was falling down again. "Four!"
The burn from the strap could barely register before Eddie brought it down again, two more times, leaving you grappling and bucking against the pillows. He paused, letting the burn from the hits of the strap really settle in, that sizzling feelings that felt tight and warm settled into a low ache on the cushiony globes of your ass. Tears brimmed your waterline, and you sniffed them back hard, face rubbing into your arms to maintain your composure.
That didn't last long. By double digits, your voice was wobbling, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes with every hit of the strap against you.
"Eighteen!" You whined, hips wiggling against the pillows. Eddie had already had to fix them once, a silent huff before placing you back on them, letting the strap rest heavy on the small of your back.
The smack! filled the room, leaving you gasping out fiercely. The breath tore through you with shock, choking you slightly from the impact as the sting settled in, the meat of your ass where your thighs met, a sensitive sit spot that now had been struck.
"Ow!" You howled, back arching in reverse to try and pull away.
Eddie's hand was quick, pressing into the small of your back to keep you in place. "What number was that, hm?" Eddie scolded you over your own labored breaths and whiny cries. "We need to start over?"
"N-Ninete-een." You shuddered out, shoulders heaving and shaking, body racked with sobs.
Eddie smiled contently before lifting the strap again. He brought it down lighter this time, enough to sting but not a punishing hit. Still, you sobbed and wiggled, sniffling out a number that was muffled under your arms.
"Twenty-seven!" You cried out before the strap actually fell onto your burning skin, the final blow that left you limp and smushed into the bed.
The patchwork blanket was wet underneath you, soaked with your own tears, snot, and drool. You were sure his pillows were soaked too with your own arousal. Your skin burned, ass ached and felt like it had doubled in size, yet your pussy throbbed. You could feel your own slick spend that had coated your inner thighs.
"Oh," Eddie cooed gently, fingers skating over your hot, buzzing skin. "You gonna be speedin' again?" He asked, tone light, a little teasing.
You shook your head, face still buried in the blanket to muffle your cries. "No? You promise?" Eddie's joints creaked when he crouched next to you, calloused hand petting your hair out of the way, a gentle coax to get you to look at him.
You nuzzled into his affection, wet cheek moving so it pressed into the palm of his hand, whimpering pathetically when he cradled you. "I won't speed anymore." You pouted, eyes glassy with tears. A hard sniffle followed that had Eddie grinning. "I promise, Ed."
"I know you won't." Eddie smiled, rough pad of his thumb swiping under your eyes. "You know you scare me when you speed down them roads, baby. Scares the hell outta me. Could hit someone, or a deer, or go to swerve and go right over, and-and... you can't do that to me, alright? My heart wants to give out even thinkin' about it darlin'."
"'M sorry." You mumbled. "I don't want to scare you. I'm sorry."
Eddie grinned, lips pressing against yours, tasting the salty tears that dripped down to coat those pillowy, soft lips he couldn't get enough of. "Mmm," Eddie moaned into the kiss. "Taste delicious, honey. My sweet, sweet girl." His eyes darkened, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.
"Bet I know somethin' else that tastes sweet too." He rasped, eyeing your lifted hips, ass glowing red and deep.
You blushed, clenching your thighs together. "What'd ya think? Can I have a little taste of her too?" Eddie nodded towards your propped lower half.
You nodded furiously, brainlessly, tummy flipping and squeezing with heat. "Please." You whined, nasally and high pitched, full of desperation but oh so sweet.
"Since you asked so kindly." Eddie winked at you, patting your thigh gently.
He was behind you, pulling the pillows and pushing your thighs to your chest, ass up and high in the air. Eddie gave no warning, he never did, licking a long stripe from your clit all that way to your puckered hole, groaning when he felt you gush and tense. He loved making you feel filthy like that, it always got you so wet.
Eddie pumped his fingers in and out of your sopping hole, tongue latching and suckling on your clit until your toes curled. You didn't even care that he was gripping your sensitive skin a little too harsh, the irritated burn with every pull of his hand only aided to your need, hips wiggling to press back into him.
"Fuck, sweetheart, taste so good." Eddie rasped, letting his forehead rest against your tailbone, inhaling your scent, pungent and tangy, deeply. God, he'd get it bottled up and wear it everyday if he could, your sweet nectar was an addiction to him, his weakness.
"Please, 'm so close." You huffed, eyes pinching close, rocking on your knees for some sort of friction.
Eddie gripped either side of your red cheeks, hot under his touch, pulling them apart to expose your tight, sopping hole before he truly suffocated himself into you. He was licking you furiously, bearded scruff scratching against your clit until you flooded him, leaving him covered and shining in your own spend.
Eddie didn't dare wipe it off, no way. He wanted to be covered in you, feel your release all over him as long as he wanted. His cock was throbbing, uncomfortably and painfully behind the cruel zipper of his wranglers. He didn't even bother taking them all the way off, growing frustrated when they caught around his ankles.
Eddie's boot on the bed, heavy and dirty next to you, the other spread and bent so he could drill you, fuck you hard and deep, hands in a bruising grip on your hips. You were sure he was just using your body to fuck himself, picking you up and angling you so differently until he found the spot he was looking for, that sensitive spot that left you crying out and soaking his cock.
It wasn't twenty minutes later that you had collapsed, sprawled on the bed, Eddie's own release dribbling and coating your abused skin, body still shaking with the aftershocks of the orgasm. Eddie smoked his Spirits, your head curled onto his chest, curls matted to his neck and hair weighed down by the hat. His boots kicked off, jeans long gone, still laying over the covers, long legs avoiding the wet spot you'd left behind. He knew he'd have to clean that later.
"I tell ya." Eddie exhaled slowly, the cloud of smoke following him. "For such a bad girl, you've got the best pussy in the world. Ain't that a shame."
"Gotta have something." You giggled breathlessly, lids heavy and mind foggy.
"You got more than that." Eddie nodded down at you. "You're perfect, baby. Well, almost perfect, you just speed." He gave you a pointed glare, nose pressing against yours.
You laughed, swatting him away gently. "I just like to go fast, what can I say?" You shrugged gently.
"Thought once you started hangin' around me, you'd realize," Eddie paused, looking down at you, puddle eyes starry and shining into you. "Takin' it slow is the thing to do, darlin'. There's no need to rush. 'M not goin' anywhere, and neither are you, alright? So slow it down."
You blushed, moving so your cheek was pressed into his inked pec, nuzzling into the pale skin sweetly. "I'll go slower." You hummed. "For you, and you only."
Eddie's dimpled grin was a true prize, leaving you blushing and dizzy under his loving gaze. "That's all I ask, darlin'." He rasped, lips pressing to yours sweetly. "You speed again, and I'm gonna hide your keys. Make you start driving the Wagon."
'The Wagon' was an ancient station wagon from the fifties. His mother's old car that Eddie couldn't bare to get rid of. Good for cruising because of the low speed it would go, bad for racing because of that.
You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Don't you dare." You jested lightly. "I'll take a horse."
Eddie snorted. "You can't even mount a horse, properly." He eyed you knowingly.
You shrugged. "I'm sure I can figure it out. Mount you just fine, and you told me you're a stallion." You giggled.
Eddie blushed, shaking his head. "I think you told me that." He poked your side gently. "I just agreed with ya."
"You always do." You purred, nails running down the soft skin of his tummy, toned and a little red from his days in the sun.
His happy trail was full again, leading down to the magnificent bunch of hair on his pelvis. Oh, you loved it when Eddie would go stag under his jeans, unbuckle that top button and only his bush showed. It made you drop to your knees every time, that's why he did it.
Eddie sighed, arm curling to pull you closer to him. "Yeah, can't argue with ya too much. Love ya too much, you little wildcat." He pressed a kiss to your hair line, nicotine drenched lips trailing down your temple lightly, smothering you in warmth. "'S why I worry about ya, ya know?"
"I know." You beamed, hugging him tightly, burying yourself in his scent, spicy and a little bitter from the sweat of the day. You didn't mind because it was Eddie, completely him.
"I gotta go to traffic school." You pouted, hooking your chin over his pec to look up at him.
Eddie snorted. "Good. You better pass, too, or I'll bring out the strap again."
"Don't you dare." Your eyes widened at him, reaching back to rub your sore skin. You both knew you didn't mean it, loved the way he was mean to you too much to truly mean it.
Eddie laughed, bumming his cigarette out on the tray before pulling you closer to him, arms wrapped around your frame like heavy weights. "Think I need a minute before I get up." Eddie muttered, heavy lids pulling shut. "Just a second 'fore I go feed the horses."
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