#cowboy has a better ring to it

[moonfromearth]

Clyde S. Dale

for @loveryss Embracing Erin Unofficial Bachelorette Challenge~!

About Clyde...

Age: Young Adult Aspiration: Championship Rider Traits: Snob, Outgoing, Music Lover Backstory: Clyde left his small town in Chestnut Ridge behind the moment he aged up, heading to San Myshuno to find fame and fortune in the music industry. However, after his debut album flopped hard, his manager suggested he "return to his roots." Begrudgingly, the Clyde S. Dale brand was born, and everything in Clyde's life became about keeping up the cowboy image. Now, Clyde has returned to his hometown, determined to reconnect with his cowboy image for real and not just as a marketing tool (though this has proven quite a challenge after so many years spent in the city softening him to the realities of ranch life). Always one to put himself out there, despite his adjustment struggles, he's signed up to be a part of Erin's bachelorette challenge in hopes of finding someone to learn and grow alongside him. Bonus Facts that didn't fit in the backstory section: - His real name is William Taylor. Clyde S. Dale was his manager's idea. - His first album had a very electronic pop sound, much different from his current music. - Super outgoing and always the one to carry a conversation. No need to worry about awkward silence when he won't stop talking. - Hasn't given much thought to family life. Has always been more focused on his career. He has more of an, "If it happens, it happens," mindset on the whole raising kids thing.

Download Here (Google Drive, CC Free!)

[it says cc in the gallery an I don't know why I swear he's cc free]

[snekdood]

Ur gonna hafta rip drawing my ocs in fashionable designs from my cold hands, even if theyre cishet

[coryosbaby]

— ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ, ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ !

cowboy! Coriolanus snow x fem! Reader

synopsis: you meet a handsome, mysterious cowboy at a carnival.

content warning . western au, dumb choices, handjobs, cunnilingus, age gap if u squint ig

When you first lock eyes with him, it’s at a county fair.

How cliché it is, but in a small southern town of Kentucky it’s not that uncommon to meet your lover at such an event. Everyone from your town knows each other, knows every name, face, and house. It’s a wonder that anyone has any privacy at all.

But the man you’re looking at, you’ve never seen him around these parts before. His brown curls are hidden— you know he has brown curls because of the way the brunette locks peek out from underneath his cowboy hat. He’s wearing a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders, and the usual pants you see on every other man. But he wears all of this so exceptionally well that you can’t take your eyes off of him.

And he’s looking at you.

You shiver as you watch him watch you. Your momma stands beside you and gossips with her church going friends, and you hope she doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving this perfect stranger. She’d pound your hide for sure. You smooth down your dress, your eyes wondering to the man’s muscle-ey arms. He must be very fit underneath that outfit.

He moves, walking towards a ring toss game and winks at you. Heat creeps down from your fingers to your toes, your bloomers become drenched with arousal. You want to talk to him— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Your momma is busy, anyway, so what harm could it really do? You say goodbye to her and tell her you’re going to go play a few games. You’re not exactly lying about that. Your heel clad feet make their way across the dirt as you subtly take your place beside the man. He smells like soap and cigars, and you’re thankful that he isn’t like the smelly men that plague your location. He turns to look at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Do you wanna play?”

His voice has a soft southern drawl, not as vibrant as yours but still there. He must be from somewhere more up north.

“I’m not that good at these games,” you sheepishly reply. “But I’d like to watch you, sir, if that’s okay.”

“Sir, huh?” He seems amused, and his big hands toss a ring that lands around an old milk bottle. “I’m not that old, y’know.”

You nervously fumble on the balls of your feet.

“I jus’ turned twenty.”

He looks at you again, taking in the sight of your lipstick smeared lips.

“Thought you’d be younger,” he teases, and you smirk.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” he laughs, throwing another ring and once again, landing it onto the milk bottle. You wonder what else his hands can do besides play carnival games. “I’m twenty five, sweet thing.”

A slight age gap, but nothing you can’t handle. He tosses the last ring towards the bottles, and it lands again. The man who’s monitoring the tent lets out a loud whistle.

“First winner of the night,” he says. “Which stuffed animal d’ya want?”

At the mention of the wall of prizes, your eyes dart to all of them. They land on a brown bear with a pink bow wrapped up around its neck, and you frown when you realize that you weren’t the one to win the game.

But to your surprise, the man beside you smiles with his shiny white teeth and points at the bear.

“That one, right there, for this pretty lady.”

Excitement floods through you as the man grabs the bear from the shelf. He hands it to you and you squeal, hugging the bear to your chest.

“Thank you, sir!”

You’re talking to the one beside you, not the vendor, and he chuckles.

"Coriolanus,” he says, and it rolls off of his tongue like honey. “My name is Coriolanus Snow.”

You smile at him as you reveal your name. His hands are cold against your skin when they brush against your shoulder.

“Well, [y/n],” he starts. “Do you wanna get out of here for a little bit?”

It’s against your better judgement to go off from your family for the comfort of a stranger. But this man— Coriolanus— he’s different. Your undergarments are soaked, too, you know they are.

“My momma told me I shouldn’t be alone with strangers,” you chastise. “Promise not to hurt me, Mr. Coriolanus?”

He leans in close to you, something dark drawling in his voice.

“I’ll do my best to take care of you.”

—

You didn’t tell your family where you went. They were probably going to be occupied for the rest of the night, anyway. Your feet pad against the ground as Coriolanus leads you out to his pickup truck. It’s a bit rusty, but it’s a lot better than the vehicles you’re used to. He opens the door for you— a gentleman— and you climb into the passengers seat with little struggle. You lean back in the seat and place the stuffed bear in between the both of you as Coriolanus takes his place beside you. The ride to this mysterious destination is shorter than you expect. He turns into the woods— a little creepy, but you have a switchblade in your corset so it’s fine. When you arrive in front of an opening in front of a lake, your eyes light up.

“You can swim, right?” Coriolanus asks you.

“Of course.” You reply, opening the car door. You skip over to the edge of the water, dipping your hand in to get a feel of the temperature. It’s a bit cold, but nothing you can’t handle. You’re so distracted by the scenery that you hardly notice the sound of Coriolanus’ belt buckle until you turn around. He’s unzips his fly and begins to unbutton your shirt. A humored smile spreads across your lips.

“Skinny dipping? Really?”

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” he shrugs, pulling his pants down past his thighs. “Unless you’re a coward.”

You gasp, lifting yourself back up and putting your hands on your hips.

“I am not a coward, Coriolanus Snow. I’m just a lady.”

“A lady who snuck off from her momma to be with a boy she barely knows?”

He has a point with that, and you let out a frustrated noise. You try not to blush as he slips his shirt off, left in nothing but his underwear. He takes his hat off, too, and his hair is just as perfect as you imagined. You finally give in, beginning to unbotton the top of your dress.

“You’ll have to help with my corset, I hope you know. This thing is such a hassle to unlace.”

“I’d be happy to.”

He seems smug when you pull your dress over your head, your bloomers and corset being revealed to him. You pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and turn around so he can undo the laces on your corset, and his fingers strategically remove the strings in a matter of a few minutes.

“Seems like you’ve done this a lot, Coriolanus.”

He hums. “I guess you could say that I don’t lack experience.”

You scoff, turning around and sliding the corset off of your shoulders. Coriolanus gapes at your now bare chest, your hardened nipples on full display and your chest full and inviting.

“Neither do I.”

You move towards the water, and like a puppy dog Coriolanus trails in after you. The water goes up to your chest by the time you’re done moving, and Coriolanus pulls your half nude body close to him. You giggle, feeling like a giddy child, feeling free. He presses a kiss to your neck, then another, and another. It’s like you’ve known him your whole life. His lips brush over yours, not quite touching but just enough to give you the impression of his desire.

“Can I?” He asks, sweet and gentle. You nod, your head spinning, and his mouth molds to yours perfectly. His hands wrap tightly around your waist to hold you to him, and your arms come up to grasp the locks of his hair. He breathes heavy, pushing his hips against you, and you laugh against his lips when you feel his hardness press against you.

“You’re a filthy man, Coriolanus snow.”

He rolls his eyes, his palm coming down to rub over your breast. You gasp against his mouth, your mound pressing against his bulge, and he chuckles.

“Me?” He chastises.

“Mmm..”

Your hand reaches down, not shy to a man’s body as you move past his waistband. Your hand grips his cock, your tongue coming out to lick your lips when you feel how thick he is.

“Big boy, aren’t you?” You say with a throaty breath. He groans, his face burying itself in your neck as you begin to stroke him.

Your hands are like magic, your skill magnified tenthfold because it’s been a while since Coriolanus has been touched by a woman’s hands. His hips buck against you, precum dripping out of his swollen cockhead, and when your thumb brushes over the underside of his cock he lets out a deep, gravelly moan.

“You’re so good at this,” he breathes out, his grip on your waist the only thing keeping him up. “So good, darlin’, Fuck.”

You whine against him, his praise making your knees buckle. The water around you is still cold but it’s warming now because of your adjustment and your shared body heat. You can feel a few rocks poke at the bottom of your feet, but you can’t think about that right now. Coriolanus’ pleasure is like your own, and with the way he’s feeling… you don’t know how you’re still standing.

You reach past his cock for a moment to feel up his balls, soft in your palm, and the sound he makes is so guttural it’s almost as if you have killed him. His cock kicks, you can feel it and hear the water below you splash as your hand moves faster and gets him closer. He keeps spilling precious moans from his mouth, and you think you could spend everyday with him like this, even though you’ve only known him for a few hours.

“Gonna cum…” he whimpers out, his legs shaking. “Gonna cum all over your hand, baby.”

And you’re perfectly fine with that. You bite down on his earlobe, letting out a tiny giggle.

“Cum for me, Coriolanus. Cum.”

It’s an automatic command that has the boy thrusting one final time against you before he spills inside his underwear. Thick ropes of cum squirt against your hand, sticky and hot. You let him ride out his high before you press a wet kiss to his neck. He sighs against you, and he knows his body would be nearly limp if he wasn’t so fit. After that sigh he lets out a laugh, serotonin flooding his brain as you pull your hand out of his underwear. You smile at him.

“How was that?” You ask him. He tilts his head, biting teasingly against your cheek.

“So amazing that I need you up on that shoreline, darlin’. I needa touch you, too.”

You bite your lip, nervous as you reply.

“You don’t gotta do that. I know some men don’t like to.”

Coriolanus’ brows furrow, a look of disgust crossing his features.

“No man hates eating pussy. What kind of boys have you been hangin’ around?”

You stutter, trying to come up with a response but Coriolanus just shushes you and guides you back to the shoreline with his hands. His back muscles ripple as you watch him from behind, and you wonder what a wanderer is doing with muscles like that.

When you both get back to shore he tells you to stand and wait. He comes back soon with a blanket in his hands and spreads it out on the shore. You lay down on it, trying to calm your beating heart. Coriolanus takes a spot in front of you, sitting on his knees in between your legs. He smiles at you, his thumbs moving to the waistband of your bloomers. You nod to him, and with callused hands he pulls them down past your ankles. He throws them in the sand, the smell of your pussy hitting his nostrils and making him groan. His nose scrapes against your inner thighs, his hands holding your legs open as he begins to mouth closer and closer to your pussy.

“Coryo,” you whine, the nickname making his cock twitch. “Please? Y-You don’t have to, but I.. I really, really want you to.”

“Want me to do what, honey?” He says, his mouth hovering over your dripping slit. “Eat this pretty little pussy? Is that what you want?”

You cry out, nodding your head, begging for it now, and finally Coriolanus licks a long, wet stripe up your juicy cunt with his tongue. His eyes roll back at the taste of you, and he dives into your pussy like a man starved. His tongue moves up and down before probing your hole, slipping just the tip in as his nose rubs against your clit. You desperately hump against his face, riding his strong nose and squeezing around his wet tongue. You’ve never been eaten out before, never in your life. Not even with the handful of men you’ve lain with— none have ever wanted to do this or try to. You’re practically in heaven right now.

“Nghhh..” you moan, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You jump when his finger brushes up against your entrance, slipping it inside next to his tongue and scissoring, and fuck, you never knew this could be so good. Your legs try to close around Coriolanus’ head but he grabs one of them with his free hand and pushes it down. Your legs hitch up, a sob spilling from your throat, and the man below you can’t stop humming and making precious sounds. Slurping noises echo throughout the empty, wooded area, and you can’t help but fantasize about being caught. How hot it would be, someone walking in on this, on this hot cowboy devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal, your fingers gripping his curls like your life depends on it as he drives you closer and closer to the edge like no other man has.

Coriolanus slips another finger inside you, removing his tongue from inside you and making his way up to your puffy clit. He captures it in between his teeth, suckling with everything he has, and without warning your body is seizing up and you’re cumming, a sob escaping you, your hands yanking on his hair, your legs shaking. Coriolanus drinks up your spend, his chin dripping with your release as he pulls away and wipes his mouth on his wrist. You look down at him, and a grin spreads wide on his face. You grin back at him, the post orgasm clarity overtaking you as gets up and digs in his pants pocket. He lays down beside you, taking out a cigar and a match as he lights it up. He takes a long drag and a silence overtakes the lakeside, the only sound the light summer breeze and the crickets in the woods. You turn on your side, the moonlight reflecting off of Coriolanus’ jawline. He turns to look at you too, passing the cigar off to you. You take it, trying not to cough or embarrass yourself because this is your first time ever touching one of these things. When you clumsily inhale and exhale, you give it back to him with curiosity on your face.

“What’s a man like you doin’ around here anyway?” You ask him. “You some kind of outlaw?”

He chuckles, his fingertips grazing your thigh as he looks up at the full moon in the sky.

“If I was, would you tell on me?”

He knows you wouldn’t, but he teases you anyway. You shake your head.

“I wouldn’t. It ain’t my business.”

He sighs.

“Maybe I am. And I think that’s why I need to tell you to stay away from me from now on.” He explains. His finger grips your wrist, tickling you. “I’m bad news, sweetheart.”

“I can handle it, cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans back again and closes them. He changes the subject.

“Do you need me to take you home?”

You shrug, grabbing the cigar from him.

“It can wait a few more hours. My momma’s gonna be livid when she sees me.”

And it’s true. Because when Coriolanus drops you off in his pick up truck with a promise to see you again (after your persuading), you show up at your front door barefoot, the teddy bear in your hands, and without a corset— Coriolanus had taken it from you as a souvenir, and he said he didn’t intend to give it back. In return, you had taken his hat and perched it on your head as a reminder of his touch. You give him a small thumbs up when you watch him get the hell out of dodge.

Your momma is furious when she opens that door, but you don’t regret this night one bit.

[thelasttime]

surprise songs - eras tour

3/17 - glendale, arizona : “mirrorball” and “tim mcgraw”

3/18 - glendale, arizona: “this is me trying” and “state of grace”

3/24 - las vegas, nevada: “our song” and “snow on the beach”

3/25 - las vegas, nevada: “cowboy like me” and “white horse”

3/31 - arlington, texas: “sad beautiful tragic” and “ours”

4/1 - arlington, texas: “death by a thousand cuts” and “clean”

4/2 - arlington, texas: “jump then fall” and “the lucky one”

4/13 - tampa, florida: “speak now” and “treacherous”

4/14 - tampa, florida: “the great war” and “you’re on your own kid”

4/15 - tampa, florida: “mad woman” and “mean”

4/21 - houston, texas: “wonderland” and “you’re not sorry”

4/22 - houston, texas: “a place in this world” and “today was a fairytale”

4/23 - houston, texas: “begin again” and “cold as you”

4/28 - atlanta, georgia: “the other side of the door” and “coney island”

4/29 - atlanta, georgia: “high infidelity” and “gorgeous”

4/30 - atlanta, georgia: “i bet you think about me” and “how you get the girl”

5/5 - nashville, tennessee: “sparks fly” and “teardrops on my guitar”

5/6 - nashville, tennessee: “out of the woods” and “fifteen”

5/7 - nashville, tennessee: “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” and “mine”

5/12 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “gold rush” and “come back…be here”

5/13 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “forever & always” and “this love”

5/14 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “hey stephen” and “the best day”

5/19 - foxborough, massachusetts: “should’ve said no” and “better man”

5/20 - foxborough, massachusetts: “…question?” and “invisible”

5/21 - foxborough, massachusetts: “i think he knows” and “red”

5/26 - east rutherford, new jersey: "getaway car" and "maroon"

5/27 - east rutherford, new jersey: “holy ground” and “false god”

5/28 - east rutherford, new jersey: "welcome to new york" and "clean"

6/2 - chicago, illinois: "i wish you would" and "the lakes"

6/3 - chicago, illinois: "you all over me" and "i don't wanna live forever"

6/4 - chicago, illinois: “hits different” and “the moment i knew”

6/9 - detroit, michigan: "haunted" and "i almost do"

6/10 - detroit, michigan: "all you had to do was stay" and "breathe"

6/16 - pittsburgh, pennsylvania: "mr. perfectly fine" and "the last time"

6/17 - pittsburgh, pennsylvania: "seven" and "the story of us"

6/23 - minneapolis, minnesota: “paper rings” and “if this was a movie”

6/24 - minneapolis, minnesota: “dear john” and “daylight”

6/30 - cincinnati, ohio: "i'm only me when i'm with you" and "evermore"

7/1 - cincinnati, ohio: “ivy,” “i miss you, i’m sorry,” and “call it what you want”

7/7 - kansas city, missouri: “never grow up” and “when emma falls in love”

7/8 - kansas city, missouri: “last kiss” and “dorothea”

7/14 - denver, colorado: “picture to burn” and “timeless”

7/15 - denver, colorado: “starlight” and “back to december”

7/22 - seattle, washington: “this is why we can’t have nice things” and “everything has changed”

7/23 - seattle, washington: "tied together with a smile" and "message in a bottle"

7/28 - santa clara, california: “right where you left me” and “castles crumbling”

7/29 - santa clara, california: “stay stay stay” and “all of the girls you loved before”

8/3 - los angeles, california: "i can see you" and "maroon"

8/4 - los angeles, california: "our song" and "you are in love"

8/5 - los angeles, california: “death by a thousand cuts” and “you’re on your own kid”

8/6 - los angeles, california: "i know places" and "king of my heart"

8/7 - los angeles, california: "new romantics" and "new year's day"

8/24 - mexico city, mexico: "i forgot that you existed" and "sweet nothing"

8/25 - mexico city, mexico: "tell me why" and "snow on the beach"

[stevenose]

so says i (18+)

more cowboy!steve bc he’s my shining star baby boy. contains reader with a vagina; use of the phrase ‘good girl’; impatient steve; lil rough fuckin; class disparity (reader is of a higher class); messy sort of spiteful yet also very fond of each other friends with benefits 🫶🏻 very brief mention of hunting + a gun also!

The problem - a problem - with Steve is that he isn’t quite a patient man. He can be, if necessary. He can be patient when waiting for the right moment to strike a wild bull with his lasso; patient when he’s hunting the coyote that’s been stalking his boss’ cattle; patient when he’s sweating his ass off and still has work to do in the high midwestern sun.

He does not have much patience when it comes to you.

He tries. Counts to ten, then twenty, then a hundred in his head. Grits his teeth. Flexes his jaw and wipes his nose when you get petty with him for what seems to be no real reason. When you laugh at his advances and then climb into his lap and ride him like you didn’t just make his blood come to a boil under his sunkissed skin.

And it’s been such a long day. Back-breaking. Tending to fields and animals by himself, nearly getting kicked in the head and all he wants is you. For whatever reason. It twists in his gut, makes him ache. He should have known coming to you would only make him more upset.

“Come here.” Steve has said it twice now.

You keep your back turned to him. He can’t see your face but he can sense the shit-eating grin plastered on it. “I’m busy.”

You are not. You only want to make him wait. So you polish the same silver spoon you were born with over and over again. As if you ever pull your silver out for anyone. Much less him.

“Don’t make me say it again.” His voice is low, a little threatening. Steve has no real threat to him. He winces when he shoots a gun and winces harder when he raises his own voice.

“What do you want, Steve?” you sigh. “Don’t you have a right hand?”

“Prefer that smart mouth, darlin’,” he says coolly. His fingers tap impatiently against the arms of the chair he sits in.

Impatient. What a vice.

Maybe he could handle you better with patience. But your ill-mannered behavior quickly has him pushing the large chair he sits in backwards, scraping against your pristine wooden floors. He really hopes it scratches, even though he’d be back tomorrow to buff it out.

“Your daddy ever teach you how to not be a petulant child?” he rasps, moving to trap you between his warm chest and the countertop.

You laugh. “I’m petulant?” You push your ass back against him and smile wider when he gasps. “When are you gonna learn I always get you right where I want you?”

It still rings true when he fucks into you harshly. Steve grits his teeth, his hips bucking into yours, sending your hipbones into the counter painfully. It’ll leave bruises, ones he’ll kiss and soothe the moment his anger subsides. For now, he’s relentless, holding your manicured hands under his calloused fingers so you can’t touch yourself. Get any relief. Only what he gives you.

“Maybe - this’ll - fuckin’ - teach you,” he hisses between thrusts, “to be a good - girl - for your man.”

Your giggle makes him see red.

“My man?” you breathe.

His fingers press down into yours a little harder. You squeal with delight when his thrusts become deeper, harder.

“Say it,” he moans, pressing his hot lips up against your ear. “Tell me - who’s this sweet little cunt belong to?”

You gasp at the vulgarity and it makes his cock throb, sends your pussy clenching around him hard.

“This clit, this li’l bundle,” he continues, moving a hand down towards it. “Who makes you cum? Who fills you up?”

You keen and moan, your little hand reaching down to grab his wrist.

“Uh-uh,” he tsks, though he’d certainly stop if you asked him to. “If I don’t make ya cum now, that dun’t erase what we’ve done, huh?”

Your fingernails dig into his skin. It feels good. You cry out again, arching your back a little harder.

“You don’t wanna say it?” Steve bites down on your pulse point til you squeal again. “That a dirty goddamn cowboy takes care of you?”

“Oh, shit,” you moan. Your lithe fingers reach backwards to tangle in his damp hair.

“What would yer folks say? Your friends?” The pads of his fingers work harder against your clit. “Knowin’ you let me cum in this upper class pussy?”

“Do it,” you rasp. “Steve, do it!”

“Who’s your man?”

It takes you a moment, overwhelmed. “You!”

Steve feels you begin to convulse and his patience returns, taking a more leisurely pace with you, forcing your pleasure to slow down and crash. “You’re goddamn right.”

[ghouljams]

I got brain rot of Cowboy!König just being so fucking frustrated over his darling sometimes because she’s so sweet and trusting and just a bit naive so she does stupid things like leave her doors unlocked so he has to go and lock them for her just so that he has some peace of mind.

He will never know peace with Bee. Even when they get together she's the type of person to go, "Why would I worry about that? König will handle it." And he will but Christ woman, worry about something, please.

You are so interminably trusting it is bordering on insane. König twists the knob on your front door and sighs when it opens with little fuss. When you’d talked about how safe this town felt he really had hoped you didn’t mean it was “leave your door unlocked” safe. Apparently you had. He slid the door open enough to let himself in, and shut it quietly behind him.

He may as well, you practically left him an invitation after all. Stupid. Naive. You’re a woman living alone, shouldn’t you know better?

He thinks you keep your spare keys in your kitchen. Really you should have offered him one with how often you see each other, but it’s fine, he’ll grab one for himself and lock up while he’s at it. König is quiet searching your kitchen drawers, mindful of the clink of silverware as he eases each drawer open to look for your keys. It’s late enough that you should be dead asleep, but one can never be too careful. Nothing. He goes to check the table by the door, wincing at the creak of unoiled wood sliding against itself. He pauses, sliding his fingers carefully into the opening to feel for- yes, there it is.

A little ring with two pink metallic keys. He slides one off and takes a moment to put it on his own key ring before replacing the spare and sliding the drawer back into place. There, nothing left but to lock up. 

He hesitates, his hand on the front door waiting to open it. What is stopping him from leaving? No. What’s stopping him from staying? Your little orange cat winds its way around his legs, just as eager to see him as its mother always is. König bends down to scoop it up, feeling the rumble of its purr and scratching between its ears.

“Bringen wir dich zurück zu deiner Mutter,” He tells it with a low whisper. That’s what’s stopping him, he wants to see you. 

He knows where your room is, of course, up the stairs and at the end of the little hall. Your old floors may creak for you, but he’s never had any trouble. Your door is open, your windows are open, you are open. Sleeping soundly under the cool breeze from the ceiling fan, looking so sweet and soft, and vulnerable. 

This was the problem. You left yourself too vulnerable to threats. It’s just not healthy. What if something were to happen and he wasn’t here? He sets the cat down on the floor, and brushes a strand of hair off your face. Pretty. His pretty girl.

You make a soft noise as the cat jumps on the bed, and he- God- No, no, he has to go. He can’t stay. He can’t.

It is a long walk back to the front door, but he doesn’t forget to lock it behind him.

König is such a worry wart sometimes, you think it’s funny that a man his size is worried about safety. He looks like a one man army, but he always double checks that he locked his front door before he leaves. You just wait for him in the truck, eager to get to town and get your weekly shopping done. When he finally gets in the cab and turns the truck on, you catch a flash of pink hanging with the rest of his keys. It looks just like one of your house keys, but that can’t be right.

“Is that my key?” You ask, feeling something pull in your gut, König glances down at his key ring, “How did you get my key?”

“You gave me one, did you forget?” König says with a frown, “You said you needed someone to feed the cat when you go into the city.” You nod hesitantly, thinking. Did you give him a key? You do need someone to feed Spot when you have to make the trek out to civilization. 

“Huh, yeah I- Thanks for that, I guess.” If König says you asked him you must have. He’s got no reason to lie to you.

[tolerateit]

surprise songs so far

17th March - Tim Mcgraw

17th March - Mirrorball

18th March - State of Grace

18th March - This Is Me Trying

24th March - Our Song

24th March - Snow On The Beach

25th March - Cowboy Like Me (with Marcus Mumford)

25th March - White Horse

31st March - Sad Beautiful Tragic

31st March - Ours

1st April - Death By A Thousand Cuts

1st April - Clean

2nd April - Jump Then Fall

2nd April - The Lucky One

13th April - Speak Now

13th April - Treacherous

14th April - The Great War (with Aaron Dessner)

14th April - You're On Your Own, Kid

15th April - Mad Woman (with Aaron Dessner)

15th April - Mean

21st April - Wonderland

21st April - You're Not Sorry

22nd April - Today Was A Fairytale

22nd April - A Place In This World

23rd April - Begin Again

23rd April - Cold As You

28th April - The Other Side Of The Door

28th April - Coney Island

29th April - High Infidelity

29th April - Gorgeous

30th April - I Bet You Think About Me

30th April - How You Get The Girl

5th May - Sparks Fly

5th May - Teardrops On My Guitar

6th May - Out Of The Woods

6th May - Fifteen

7th May - Would've, Could've, Should've (with Aaron Dessner)

7th May - Mine

12th May - Gold Rush

12th May - Come Back...Be Here

13th May - Forever and Always

13th May - This Love

14th May - Hey Stephen

14th May - The Best Day

19th May - Should've Said No

19th May - Better Man

20th May - Question...?

20th May - Invisible

21st May - Red

21st May - I Think He Knows

26th May - Getaway Car (with Jack Antonoff)

26th May - Maroon

27th May - Holy Ground

27th May - False God

28th May - Clean

28th May - Welcome to New York

2nd June - I Wish You Would

2nd June - The Lakes

3rd June - You All Over Me (with Maren Morris)

3rd June - I Don't Wanna Live Forever

4th June - Hits Different

4th June - The Moment I Knew

9th June - Haunted

9th June - I Almost Do

10th June - All You Had To Do Was Stay

10th June - Breathe

16th June - Mr Perfectly Fine

16th June - The Last Time

17th June - Seven (with Aaron Dessner)

17th June - The Story Of Us

23rd June - Paper Rings

23rd June - If This Was A Movie

24th June - Dear John

24th June - Daylight

30th June - I'm Only Me When I'm With You

30th June - Evermore

1st July - I Miss You, I'm Sorry (with Gracie Abrams)

1st July - Ivy (with Aaron Dessner)

1st July - Call It What You Want

7th July - Never Grow Up

7th July - When Emma Falls In Love

8th July - Dorothea

8th July - Last Kiss

14th July - Picture To Burn

14th July - Timeless

15th July - Starlight

15th July - Back To December

22nd July - This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

22nd July - Everything Has Changed

23rd July - Message In A Bottle

23rd July - Tied Together With A Smile

28th July - Right Where You Left Me (with Aaron Dessner)

28th July - Castles Crumbling

29th July - Stay Stay Stay

29th July - All Of The Girls You Loved Before

3rd August - I Can See You

3rd August - Maroon

4th August - Our Song

4th August - You Are In Love

5th August - You're On Your Own Kid

5th August - Death By A Thousand Cuts

7th August - Exile

7th August - Dress

8th August - I Know Places

8th August - King Of My Heart

9th August - New Romantics

9th August - New Year's Day

[eyesxxyou]

I saw one fic abt sucking hobies dick while he’s smoking a joint, and just imagine fucking him while high?? ughhhhh I’m melting rn 🙏

*ೃ˚ :💿 high sex with hobie

❝ warnings ❞ back shots, smoking while fucking, weed for all the sticklers, reader fucks themselves on him, save a horse, ride a cowboy, blowing smoke in reader's mouth, playing of Me and Your Mama' by Childish Gambino

Fucking Hobie while you're both high is a fucking mind blowing experience. It's slow and passionate but also so filthy. It's probably someone other than your bedroom, most likely the living room (whatever the equivalent of that on his canal boat is) because you two can't keep your hands off of each other long enough to get somewhere better suited for your activities.

Hobie would keep the joint between his lips, have you with your knees in the cushions and your arms against the back of the couch while he stands behind you. He has the ashtray on the curve of your back, tapping off the excess ashes while he fucks you from behind in slow, lazy strokes.

Occasionally he'll take it from his lips, hold it between his long, slender fingers, and exhale deeply as he grabs ahold of your hips and fucks you a little harder, dragging something of a needy cry from you, your back arching a little more. Your mind is all fuzzy, hazy. Your body is more relaxed, more willing to take him as he slides in and out of your creamy, messy hole.

But he won't do all the work, he'll stop, slap your ass, and tell you, "go 'head 'n take i', luv. Take wha's yours." Hobie would watch you fuck yourself on his dick, humming in approval as your walls stretch around him and tremble. "Look back, look a' yaself." He'd say and make you look back, watch yourself take the length and girth of his cock while the ashtray wobbles unevenly on your ass.

"Don' le' I' fall now. Don' wanna make a mess do ya?" He'd ask and tap off some more ashes, watching the way your bite your bottom lip and ease yourself down to sink all the way down the the hilt and take all of him.

If you're riding him, he'll blow smoke into your mouth and pass the joint between the two of you. Your eyes all red, staring into each other's. His large hands control the way your hips move, creamy wetness coating his cock in an white ring at the back of his length. Hobie's breathy moans marked by smoke that slides across your breasts. "Jus' like tha', my pretty baby."

Orgasms while high is like having an out of body experience. It shakes your entire frame, makes you feel like you entire world is falling apart and then piecing itself back together. Your nails dig into each other's skin, your moans are deep and rattle-y. He'll buck his hips into you because he simply can't help it, all those muscles spasming.

Oh and 'Me and Your Mama' by Childish Gambino is definitely playing lowly in the background, no doubt about it.

[hihomeghere]

megan, darling sunshine, i have the softest of soft requests for you with our favorite cowboy. 🥺

can i request #6, #34, #36, #41, #83 with arthur? i desperately need protective, soon-to-be dad!arthur in my life. it's what we all deserve, honestly. 🤍

thank you so much! i can't wait to see what absolute magic you make with these prompts.

Deserving | Arthur Morgan / Reader

First off let me give you the fattest smooch <3

Word Count : 1.9k Prompts : 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick? Warnings/tags : Cursing, talk of abandonment, Reader is 5 months pregnant, Arthur deserves a second chance at being a father, Self degrading talk on Arthur's part, Switch POV.

Arthur was aware it was a tad foolish the way he was feeling. Although seeing you growing his child has awakened something that had been lying dormant in him. Something that he hardly understood himself. A primal feeling, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. That it was his seed that had made you grow swollen and round and so damn gorgeous. 

He was also painfully aware of the gold ring in his pocket, his nerves eating him from the inside out. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, more nervous than when he went on his first job. Unlike a job he had never felt more unprepared. He had always wanted children, and he had dreamed of having children with you. But Jesus, he was terrified he would turn out like his old man. He didn’t- no - he couldn’t mess up this time. Not with you. Yes, he loved you. God he loved you more than anything. Arthur did not necessarily believe in soulmates. Perhaps when he was younger he could have believed that his soul could be tied to another person, but he wasn’t that foolish anymore. Love was something you worked for, it wasn't predestined by whatever god was above. He knew you could easily find another man to love you, even with the babe. He also knew you deserved someone better than him. You deserved the world, deserved someone who would build you a home, someone who hadn’t been too damn chicken to ask you to marry him before knocking you up. But he also knew that no man could love you like he loved you.

“You’re staring Arthur.” You chuckled, raising a brow as you turned to face him. Your hand resting on your hip as you leaned on the boar skinned table.

“You’re glowing.” He said softly, not denying the fact that he had indeed been staring at you. How could he not? You were really glowing, he hadn’t known that that silly saying about pregnant women was the truth. You were like some angel, the glow coming from within, lighting up the small tent. If he squinted he swore he could see a halo around your head. Especially when your bump had finally shown itself. 

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you went back to whatever task you were working on. He walked up behind you, his deft fingers working on removing his gun belt. Laying belt down on the table before pulling you against his chest.

His hands lovingly squeezed your hips, before moving to your stomach. He sighed contently, laying his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet smell, his calloused hands running over the soft fabric of your skirt. His heart nearly stopped as he felt the swell of your abdomen. Nearly brought to his knees by such a small thing. Well it wasn’t exactly small anymore, you had finally ‘popped’. 

“‘Think you’re showing, sunshine.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he swayed with you in his arms. You giggled, shying away from his lips as they brushed against your neck.

“I would say so, can’t fit in my damn pants anymore.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued to patch a hole in one of his shirts. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to fit in your pants for a long time. It had been almost four months since the fateful day you told Arthur you were pregnant.

-

You had all the telltale signs, breast tenderness, food aversions, etc. Along with Abigail’s damn knowing glances, and then your monthly cycle had been absent, confirming your suspicions. You had nearly gone mad, a million thoughts running through your head. How were you supposed to care for a child with the lifestyle you had? You had briefly discussed children with Arthur, but it was always in the future. When you weren’t being chased by the law or Pinkertons or whoever. You didn’t want your child to be raised how either of you were raised. Always on the run, never having a true safe place to call home. Speaking of the future, marriage had always been a talk for the future as well. Now you were here, an unwed mother. 

And then there was Isaac and Eliza. That was a whole new can of worms to throw into the mix. Would he even want to have a child right now? Would he still want you after he found out? If he left you what would you do?

You would manage, that’s what you always did. But you didn’t want to go through this without him. 

He had found you pacing near camp, nearly chewing your lip off. His heart constricted in his chest as he watched you.

“Everything alright darlin’?” He asked, pulling you out of your downward spiral. A similar concerned expression on his face as he took you in. You met his bright blue eyes and instantly you fell apart. Tears welled up in your eyes as he rushed over to you. Taking long strides across the grass before pulling you into his broad chest. His calloused hands warm and loving as they rubbed up and down your back, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t control. “Darlin’ you’re scaring me.” He said softly, laying his chin on the top of your head. “Talk to me sunshine.”

“Arthur I think-“ You let out a shaky breath, “I think I’m pregnant.” You cried, tears clouding your vision as you looked up at him. 

He was frozen, his brain short circuiting as he tried to process the words you had just said. He must have heard you wrong. 

“What… what did ya say darlin’?” He asked, his hands on your biceps as he held you in front of him. His brows furrowed and his lips drawn into a thin line. 

“I’m pregnant Arthur.” You said, your lip trembling as you waited for his response. You were trembling in his grasp, your heart pounding against your rib cage. 

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it all. Goddamn it Morgan, you’ve gone done it again. Are you seriously the most foolish man alive? His thoughts spiraled into their usual degrading speech. Here you were shaking in his arms like a damn leaf and he was too damn stupid to say anything. Say something, anything, to stop her from crying. Your tears tugging on his heart strings. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, please.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“M’sorry-” You sobbed, looking down.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for this.” He said holding your face, “If anyone ought to apologize, it should be me.” He said, shaking his head. You bit your lip, looking up at him.

“Arthur, what are we gonna do?” You asked, finally calmed down enough to speak a coherent sentence. He clenched his jaw, looking off to the side.

“Do you want this?” He asked softly, running his hand down your arm. Taking your significantly smaller hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“I-“ You sighed, letting out a long breath. “I think I do.” You nodded, hesitantly raising your head to look at him. He exhaled a breath of relief. 

“Okay.” He nodded, “I want this too.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but let out an equally relieved breath, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, chuckling along with you. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, you or the baby, I swear.” He said gently pulling you closer, his hand moving down to caress your stomach. 

-

You smiled at the memory as Arthur rubbed his hand over your bump.

“They movin’ any?” He asked, kissing your cheek.

“They have been most of the day.” You chuckled, following his lips with your cheek as he pulled away. You turned around in his grasp, laying your hands on his chest. “They’d probably move if you talked to them. You know how the baby loves hearing you talk.” You said, smiling up at him. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride.

 He knelt down, feeling his mothers ring slide lower into his pocket. As he knelt face to face with your round belly, he couldn’t have been more thankful that Mary had returned his ring. That things hadn’t worked out between them, because if they did, he would have missed this. 

He pressed his lips against your belly in a chaste kiss, before chuckling softly to himself. “Hey there kid.” He said, his grin growing if that was even possible. “Ya bein’ good for ya mama?” He asked, running his hand over the tight skin. He felt a small kick under his palm, looking up at you for confirmation that it wasn’t a part of his imagination. “Was that a kick?”

“Sure was.” You chuckled, laying your hand over his. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at your belly. There had been too many nights lying next to you on his small cot, twirling the ring in his fingers. Just trying to work up the courage to ask you. Even before your belly started to swell he had dreamed of asking you. He just wanted everything to be perfect, although in hindsight it was a foolish thought. Things would never be perfect, that was the thing wasn’t it?

Now was the time. He knew it, kneeling here in front of you, but how was he gonna ask? How was he gonna get past the lump in his throat?

“Hey kiddo, ya think I could have a moment with your mama here?” He asked, a nervous smile on his lips as he looked up at you. “I got a question for her.” It was now or never. He reached into his pocket, his sweaty fingers grasping the small gold ring. He took in a deep breath before finding your gaze, holding out the ring to you. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, tears pricking your eyes.

“This… well this ain’t how I imagined this. I wanted to do something special for ya and I should’ve done this a long time ago. I promised ya when we found out about the kid I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya. I mean to keep that promise. There are men more deserving of you, hell I’m probably the least deserving-“ You scoffed shaking your head, “But none of those men could ever love you the way I do. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He asked, gingerly holding your left hand. 

“Yes, yes!” You cried, grinning as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He let out a breath of relief, getting to his feet. You threw yourself into his arms, laughing as tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“It’s uh- I know it’s nothing fancy but-“ He said softly, “It was my mothers and I know she’d want ya to have it.”

“It’s perfect.” You said, pulling away to admire the ruby ring. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled, wiping away your tears as you admired the ring. Arthur’s heart warmed at your words. He would never know what he had done to deserve someone like you, you and the baby. Although he may not have said his vows at that moment, he made a silent one in his heart. As long as his heart was beating, and there was still breath in his lungs, nothing would ever happen to either of you.

[chosetherose]

Updated as of 6/30

The Eras Tour *Surprise Songs*

Taylor said her goal is to not repeat each show’s surprise songs so I thought it would be fun to track them as the tour goes on! Black strikethrough is included in the main set list. Purple strikethrough are included in the main set list but have been switched up at some show/s. Blue songs Taylor played but might be repeated due to messing up.

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw (3/17) • Picture to Burn • Teardrops on My Guitar (5/5) • A Place in This World (4/22) • Cold as You (4/23) • The Outside • Tied Together with a Smile • Stay Beautiful• Should’ve Said No (5/19) • Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) • Our Song (3/24) • I’m Only Me When I’m with You (6/30) • Invisible (5/20) • A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless

Fearless • Fifteen (5/6) • Love Story • Hey Stephen (5/14) • White Horse (3/25) • You Belong With Me • Breathe• Tell Me Why• You’re Not Sorry (4/21) • The Way I Loved You • Forever & Always (5/13) • The Best Day (5/14) • Change • Jump Then Fall (4/2) • Untouchable • Come In With The Rain • Superstar • The Other Side Of The Door (4/28) • You All Over Me (6/3) • Mr. Perfectly Fine (6/16) • We Were Happy • That’s When • Don’t You • Bye Bye Baby • Today was a fairytale (4/22)

Speak Now

Mine (5/7) • Sparks Fly (5/5) • Back To December • Speak Now (4/13, Taylor restarted part of the song but did not confirm it could be played again) • Dear John (6/24) • Mean (4/15) • The Story Of Us (6/17) • Never Grow Up • Enchanted • Better Than Revenge • Innocent• Haunted (6/9) • Last Kiss • Long Live • Ours (3/31) • If This Was A Movie (6/23) • Superman

Red

State Of Grace (3/18) • Red (5/21) • Treacherous (4/13) • I Knew You Were Trouble • All Too Well • 22 • I Almost Do (6/9) • We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together • Stay Stay Stay • The Last Time (6/16) • Holy Ground (5/27) • Sad Beautiful Tragic (3/31) • The Lucky One (4/2) • Everything Has Changed • Starlight • Begin Again (4/23) • The Moment I Knew (6/4) • Come Back… Be Here (5/12) • Girl At Home • Ronan • Better Man (5/19) • Nothing New • Babe • Message In A Bottle • I Bet You Think About Me (4/30) • Forever Winter • Run • The Very First Night • All Too Well – 10 Minute Version

1989

Welcome To New York (5/28) • Blank Space • Style • Out Of The Woods (5/6, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • All You Had To Do Was Stay • Shake It Off • I Wish You Would (6/2) • Bad Blood • Wildest Dreams • How You Get The Girl (4/30) • This Love (5/13) • I Know Places • Clean (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again, 5/28) • Wonderland (4/21) • You Are In Love • New Romantics

Reputation

…Ready For It? • End Game • I Did Something Bad • Don’t Blame Me • Delicate • Look What You Made Me Do • So It Goes… • Gorgeous (4/29) • Getaway Car (5/26) • King Of My Heart • Dancing With Our Hands Tied • Dress • This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things • Call It What You Want • New Year’s Day

Lover

I Forgot That You Existed • Cruel Summer • Lover • The Man • The Archer • I Think He Knows (5/21) • Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince • Paper Rings (6/23) • Cornelia Street • Death By A Thousand Cuts (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • London Boy • Soon You’ll Get Better • False God (5/27) • You Need To Calm Down • Afterglow • Me! • It’s Nice To Have A Friend • Daylight (6/24) • All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before

Folklore

The 1 (replaced IS multiple shows) • Cardigan • The Last Great American Dynasty • Exile with Bon Iver • My Tears Ricochet • Mirrorball (3/17) • Seven (spoken, 6/17) • August • This Is Me Trying (3/18) • Illicit Affairs • Invisible String (replaced by T1 multiple shows) • Mad Woman (4/15) • Epiphany • Betty • Peace • Hoax • The Lakes (6/2)

Evermore

Willow • Champagne Problems • Gold Rush (5/12) • Tis The Damn Season • Tolerate It • No Body, No Crime • Happiness • Dorothea • Coney Island (4/28) • Ivy • Cowboy Like Me (3/25) • Long Story Short • Marjorie • Closure • Evermore (6/30) • Right Where You Left Me •It’s Time To Go

Midnights

On 4/14 Taylor changed the rule: ALL SONGS ON MIDNIGHTS MAY BE REPEATED. I’m adding the dates to the midnights surprise songs but they will remain in black text since they can be repeated.

Lavender Haze • Maroon (5/26) • Anti-Hero • Snow on the Beach (3/24) • You’re on Your Own, Kid (4/14) • Midnight Rain • Question…? (5/20) • Vigilante Shit • Bejeweled • Labyrinth • Karma • Sweet Nothing • Mastermind • The Great War (4/14) • Bigger Than the Whole Sky • Paris • High Infidelity (4/29) • Glitch • Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (5/7) • Dear Reader • Hits Different (6/4)

Other

I don’t wanna live forever (6/3)

[catfern]

she will destroy you.

pairing: abby anderson x afab!reader

music: crack baby or bag of bones ( or anything from puberty 2 ) - mitski

word count: 3.3k (i'm exhausted)

summary: rumours are swirling, fighting their way through your front door. you hope to keep your work and private life separate, but your proximity with your boss threatens to catch up with you.

warnings: mean!toxic!abby, cheating, porn with a LOT of plot, swearing, tipsy sex, fingering, oral (r!receiving), zero ( i mean ZERO ) aftercare, angst-ish

an: a quick intermission from cowboy!ellie because LORD. i read one page from one book abt a butch teacher yearning for the headmaster's wife and suddenly I NEED AFFAIRS!! I NEED YEARNING!! I NEED SECRECY!! and who better to do that with than a rlly mean ceo!abby who has a PhD in fucking bitches.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Shit.”

A line of scarlet trickles onto the warm printer paper and settles. You drop your paperwork on an unknown desk and suck your finger, hissing through your teeth at the sting. Your phone buzzes impatiently in the back pocket of your work pants, and you fumble with your non-bleeding fingers to pull it out.

we’ll talk abt this when u get home

see u after ur party i guess

A shit fucking day.

You hall back to your desk, defeat slumping heavy on your shoulders. The Office makes an effort not to stare as you walk by, low whispers hot on your feet like coals in a firewalk. You pretend very poorly not to see the half-lidded, secretive looks shared between your old work friends by the water cooler. Water off a duck’s back, your mom used to say in a nonchalant way when you cried to her about mean girls at school. Not that you ever really knew what that meant.

You were never really thankful to be shut off from the rest of the cubicles, until now. A fortress of frosted glass and a heavy door, your desk was the secluded gateway to a place dreaded. Just you and The Boss, which you guess didn’t help the flying tongues of the old, bored fucks in accounting, but it kept people away. Away from you, with their knowing looks and unknowing laughs.

You huff, settling into your uncomfortable desk chair and digging out a small first aid kit your dad bought you when you first started. Pulling the seal off the small tin, you eye its contents. Disinfectant, thermometer, some loose aspirin and bandaids. You whine lightly as you wrap one tightly around your ring finger, feeling it throb and pulse, like a complaint. Get over yourself, you tell your body.

A sharp - ahem - breaks through your mumbling silence. She’s never sick, she never coughs. It’s a bodiless beckoning, a call into the wild, it’s the wordless agreement you have with her. You pick up your notebook, and the nearest working pen, and shuffle quickly through the open door into her office.

The opaque shades are drawn, the natural light greying and dying on the dark, decaying herringbone floor. 

Abby is bathed in the orange light of her desk lamp. With impeccable, almost effortless posture, she’s resting her forearms on her desk, one hand scratching notes into her diary, the other distractedly tapping on the leather top. You follow the shadows that the folds in her dress shirt create, your eyes falling on the contour of her body. 

You know she frequents a few gyms. You’re the one who schedules late night international calls around her evening runs, and her weights sessions, and her triweekly spin class. But now, the results of her efforts are on display, tightly wrapped in expensive cotton, perfectly tailored, down to the very last stitch, to her existence. You swallow an uncomfortable feeling when she deigns to meet your eye.

She looks you over in the way she always does, an uncaring, but judgemental once-over, like an army sergeant inspecting a uniform. she hones in on the bandaid,

“Workplace injury?”

Her voice has the warmth of a dying cigarette, rolling like well-spoken honey off her lips. You almost feel ashamed, your finger so offensive to her you could chop it off. You almost feel like you wouldn’t even mind. You start picking at the ends of the bandaid with your thumb.

“Paper cut.” Your voice is always so out of place here. An echo of something that does not belong. She nods her head, ever so slightly, as if she understood.

“Don’t think you can go claiming compensation for that.” It’s a joke you’re not allowed to laugh at. You smile lightly instead. It’s short-lived, “I need you to correct some seating arrangements for tonight.”

Yes, of course. No problem. In wordless agreement, Abby starts listing off adjustments, complaints and warnings from guests about not being seated next to their five ex-husbands, or their whining step-children, or ex-business partners fallen from grace. your pen fingers begin to ache as the whole process draws out.

“And I’m going to need you seated at my table, to keep track of my evening itinerary.”

Uncertainty quickly sows its seeds in your stomach. The unopened messages from your girlfriend burn their way through pocket, searing at your legs like a brand on cattle. Everyone knows, everyone will know. Every detail of your life will be laid bare, and you’ll be tried publicly and without mercy. Your bandaid begins to unravel as you rub anxiously at the glue underneath.

You need to do something, something to get things back under control.

“Actually,” You start, unsure. Abby meets your eye quickly, without hesitation, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” It’s quick, and condescending. Undercutting any sudden courage you may have had, she meets your eye and stares you down, pinning you under ice, almost imploring you to feel terrified. And then she looks away, busy packing away the seating chart, and you wonder if she even looked at you at all.

She stands, and you try to meet her, your hands clutching your notebook.

“Your attendance tonight is mandatory.” She says it slowly, harshly, like it’s hard for you to understand. Her eyes chase quickly over your outfit, “It’s a black tie event.”

You’re left alone in a dark office, hyperventilating.

The apartment is empty and cold when you arrive home. 7 unanswered texts to your girlfriend tell you she doesn’t want you near her, but she isn’t packed. You expect her to come home, hopefully in the hour you have before you have to go again, and you contemplate just blowing the gala off to wait.

Abby’s voice is sharp in your head, a familiar dedication wringing your body. You can’t leave her. She needs you there.

You put off the conversation with your girlfriend into the furthest parts of your mind, allowing yourself to be swallowed in the minor decisions of clothes and hair and accessories. It’s not until you’re throwing your shoes on, and three times you think you hear her keys in the door, that you give up.

The phone rings 5 times before going to voicemail.

Hey. Listen. I know we said we weren’t going to talk until we were face to face but..

Whatever Maria told you wasn’t true, okay? I promise-I fucking promise you, nothings happened. Baby, okay? People are fucking bored, and I love you, so so much. I’ve gotta go to this one thing tonight - i tried to get out of it i swear -, and i’ll come home and we can talk, and we can fix this. Okay? Jus-Just, gimme some time to explain. Okay. I love you. Bye.

Echoes of quiet chatter uncomfortably ebb and flow off the walls of the ballroom. Too many people. Shoes scuff the cheap marble as the rich make their rounds, with light touches and reused laughter. They all hate each other.

Abby is a familiar sight. Wearing the same thing she has all day, she looks staggering. Hands just breaching her suit pockets, comfortably falling at her side, her hair in a calculated braid, designed to make her look approachable. 

 The air here agrees with her, her smile wide and effortless. You know she’s come straight from a meeting, and you suppose that adds to her charm. The Working Woman, a success story. Her rich friends, who spend their inheritances on shares and indoor tennis courts, lap it up. She’s a foreign object, something unfamiliar and wild.

You don’t interrupt, skimming the sidelines to get to your table. You can feel her glance, without substance, before returning to her conversation. Your event planner ( a shitty flip notebook that fits in every small clutch you own ) sits on the tablecloth at your seat, and you wait. Eyeing the glasses at the placemats next you, you can tell a few drinks has been shared, raking your eyes over Abby’s looser disposition.

She’s happy, and charming. She’s been drinking bourbon. Mint, with ice and syrup, the way you serve it to her in her office, when the occasion calls for celebration. 

Her conversation finishes, her soft hands bidding gentle, kind goodbyes to the couple as they move on. She’s a friend to the people that matter.

“I expected you here before me.”

She doesn’t bother to look at you as she sits, instead fixing her napkin to her lap. You watch as the veins in her neck rise and fall as she talks, “Doesn’t matter now. Run me through everything.”

Right, fuck. You open your notebook and run your fingers over the scratchy writing. Your days leading up to this were spent copying details from obscure emails, tidbits you thought Abby needed to remember. Late nights at the office, life abandoned, deciphering biographies and 2 hour youtube deep dives. You can watch yourself fall asleep from the future, your handwriting slipping, long and longer strokes, spelling dissolving, long words abandoned. your pen fell to the floor, and you slept at your desk. Twenty missed calls. You argued when you came home in the morning.

“The Ambassador is arriving around 8:00pm with his new wife, also named Rebecca. Oh, Old Rebecca emailed asking why she didn’t receive an invitation.”

She’s slowly sipping at another whiskey, a different cocktail she ordered just as you’d arrived. The orange peel brushes her nose as she tilts the glass, her jaw tightens as she swallows, “Tell her the venue was at capacity. Send some flowers.”

It continues like this for a bit. Quiet and attentive, she listens to what you have to say, as her eyes follow the crowd. You too, spy people that you know, a few slimy execs that share a whisper and a boisterous laugh as they look your way. You order gin.

Soon enough, Abby checks her watch. An inexpensive, vintage piece of leather and quartz. She excuses herself with a measure of politeness. It’s time for an hour of speeches that don’t matter, before you’re finally allowed to eat. You sigh.

A quiet buzz rips through the growing silence. You open your clutch and hide your phone under the silk tablecloth, away from the disapproving elderly eyes.

i told u to leave me alone

jesus christ

A pit in your stomach. Dark, pressing, ever present. Your saliva is heavy in your mouth, and you feel like shrinking away. Luckily, the waiter isn’t far. Drinks are discounted for the company staff.

Finally, speeches finish. Abby looked nice on the stage, effervescent under the lights. Her hair catches warm light nicely in the strands.

The food comes, but people disregard it for shallow conversations. Plates are taken away full, apart from slim, polite pickings. Your table orders more drinks, and syrupy laughter echoes as anecdotes about private schools and hedge funds are shared. You don’t belong here. Your body becomes unsteady, restless. Your legs shaking, a hand finds you thigh in the veiled secrecy of the table cloth.

Abby’s not looking at you, too engaged in tipsy conversation to draw attention. A nice gesture, but it’s not. It’s wordless agreement. Her thumb traces the outside of your thigh mindlessly, her jaw clenching as she feels your gaze.

You hesitate.

What else did you have to do? Apart from go home and wait for an argument.

You let her touch you a little longer, soft, ghostly. It’s kind, unmistakably. You let yourself revel in it, in her uncommon affection, before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

Abby follows not long after. She’s confident, her position charismatic, not unlike the other times she finds a drink, and then goes to find you. She doesn’t stop, so sure that you’ll follow her trail as you’ve done so often before. But you hesitate, again.

She turns back to you, a look on her face that’s hard to decipher. You stumble in your reasoning.

“It’s just-, my girlfrien-“

“Are you coming? Or not?”

Your palms itch, you swallow.

What kind of sick sacrifice. Unfair to have both, some would say, but some don’t know you. How wicked it is to taste both fruit and have to choose the sweeter. Fuck. The drinks settle in your stomach.

Your girlfriend wasn’t coming home tonight anyway, not really.

She’s leading you up the stairs, hands flush to her body. You grip the cold handrail to hold you steady. She’s already steps ahead, the appropriate distance. 

A quiet corner doesn’t need to be found. She’s been here before. You’ve been here before. The holy emptiness of the second floor is an accustomed comfort.

She’s quick and calculated, despite the mix of drinks on her breath. One hand pushing you to the wall, the other finding the zipper for your dress. It falls off you like it never belonged to you, kicked away and piled into a corner, forgotten.

Gripping you like you’d run away, she palms your tits and presses crescent moons into your hips. She holds her head away from you, watching you down her nose as you squirm. Abby has always remained detached, carefully groomed a distance between you that now feels too sacred to break. You long to feel her kiss you, to feel her intimately, to run your hands along her arms and feel every curve, every outline. You’ve needed to touch her since the moment you met her. Craved it.

Abby is disrespectful, impatient. She cups your pussy, still hidden in slick panties, letting the rough ball of her palm grind against your clit. It sets you on fire, and she chases it with a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Get rid of them.”

You strip fast, in a very unflattering way, you’re certain, and throw your underwear close to the ghost of your dress. She moves against you again, her hand softer as it wraps around your lips and cheeks. You look at her, hoping to see that softness echoed on her face, but her eyes are elsewhere, too focused on the movement your tits make as she holds you against the wall. 

Painstakingly, her fingers slide inside you, her hand pressing down on your mouth as you moan around the feeling of her, the intoxication. Your hands lock and unlock, your nails digging at scratching at the wood boards on the wall as you try to balance yourself.

Merciless. She rocks into you, letting you fall into step with her, find her pace, a relentless one. You feel her melting into your core, her fingers curling and stretching your walls as she pounds into you, again, again, again. You sound pathetic, behind the mask of her hand, whining as she leaves, and nearly screaming when she returns.

Abby watches as your face contorts around her fingers, feels you wrap around her. If she feels even a fraction of what she gives you, you wouldn't know. Her eyes remain unkind, left at a distance, but her breathing is staggered. short, laboured. she looks over you, you feel it, feel as her eyelashes rise as she rakes over your body.

You need it to be desire in her eyes. You need her to starve. To crave, like you do. Desperation.

Her hand moves from your mouth, your whimpering breath filling the room fast, the quiet broken. Her pace slows, and you almost rest on her fingers, left to wonder what she’s playing at. Instead, it comes down on your shoulder, still warm and wet with your breath, and she pushes you down onto her fingers, deep, deep. you feel her at the very centre of yourself, your eyes wide as the pressure builds inside you, her fingernails leaving a trail, evidence of her in your walls. She lets your ragged moans echo, hurt and pleasure. It’s an unkind end to things.

You don’t want to let it to end. You can’t.

The distance is broken. You reach out and grasp flesh, firm under your nails. You’re still riding the ecstasy pulse, the heat in your pussy, and Abby lets you stay, holding onto her as if you would fade otherwise. Your cheeks are almost touching, her breath hot on your ear, you hear her for the first time, raspy groans as you squeeze around her. She’s been holding back.

Damn it all.

“Everybody knows. Please. Please, fuck me like you know you should.”

You meet her gaze. Everything is foreign now. Her skin feels different to how you had imagined it. Softer. Her eyes are more uncertain, more than you’d ever seen before. Hesitance.

“Fuck it.”

Whiskey, and a sip of your gin, and tobacco. You didn’t even know she smoked, but you taste it on her like its the only thing she ever did. The smell of pine came in a wave as she moved, hooking her hands under your legs and hoisting you up. For months, you’ve yearned for her to kiss you, begged for it even. And now, her lips are rough, and bloody, and everywhere. Ghosts tracing your neck, unkind, stinging, exhilarating. 

She moves you to the floor without fuss, holding herself over you, your legs spread around her. She’s smiling, and you become so sure that there’s something not quite right with this side of Abby. You’re quickly aware that you’ve landed in hostile territory, vulnerable, needy.

She usually didn’t like it when you begged.

Her tongue is like the rapture on your clit, spitting fire through your veins, in your nerves. You feel it creep up in your body, twisting and tightening through you like something invasive, moans and prayers dripping from your lips that only push her. her name a curse, fallen on your body. You feel her laugh against your slick walls and it jolts you.

Abby, suddenly so aware of you, so kind, so attentive, shifts her posture, “Oh, you’re so needy.” A hand grabs your face, pulling it up from the floor in a dead lull. Her name rolls off your pretty lips once more, “What? You beg for me, and now you can’t take me?” Her tone is mocking, “Which is it? Hm?”

A cacophony. You, you, you. Your head foggy, unsure of what she wants to hear, you beg for again, telling her you can it take it. I can, please, abby.

Her laugh is cruel, mocking as her mouth finds you again, sending cold vibrations up your legs. Slut echoes against your clit.

Inside of you, she feels like a god. Her fingers stretching your walls, pressing deep against your centre at an excruciating pace, and her tongue lazily laps up all that you give her. 

“Fuck! Fu-uck, fuck!”

It’s clear to Abby that the caution she so carefully designed was useless now. People knew, and fuck it if they knew. Fuck it if they heard you dripping on her fingers, calling out her name. Fuck it if they stop the music, and turn to listen - fucking perverts - because it’s her. And you’re the one begging for her.

Stars creep in through the haze in your vision, and Abby’s trying to ask you something harsh, but you don’t hear it. You’re tethered to the feeling of her fingers, your whole body knotting around her like a planet in orbit of the sun. 

You’d burn if she wanted you to, happily.

You’re so fucking tight around her fingers, your legs shaking and a vicious call ripping through your body. Her Name.

The warmth from your body is too much, and the cool of the floor is lulling, soothing, as you collapse. Abby’s fingers leave you empty, incomplete. You whine as she leaves you, your walls tightening around the absence of her. She wipes your cotton slick on your leg.

She stands, and rolls her shoulders. Fixes the few hairs that fall out of place. Guiltless.

“Get dressed, before someone sees you.”

[marlenesluv]

✧.*Masterlist✧.*

Key:

♡ - fluff

☆ - smut

○ - angst

* - social media

:as time as gone on, i have started to write for a lot of different drivers, you can see below who those are. smut is a topic i am attempting to write. my goal is to be able to participate in a smutty event this christmas, so bear with me. when you request, pls tell me what type of fic (smau or one shot) and the driver (unless you want me to pick which is fine too):

(i write for: lando, charles, daniel and carlos mainly. i will also write for: pierre, max, lewis, george, and oscar per request. probably never alex albon tho: i love alex and lily, sry)

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Click Here to access my Book Lover Series❣️

➥ Lando Norris:

❒ smau:

moments *♡ (part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

part 1: landos posts on his jpg account while you guys are dating

part 2: in which you finally get a jpg account and post your boyfriend and friends

part 3: ?? its a surprise

book lover ♡: you’re a bookstagramer/booktuber and you love posting your books and your boyfriend (taylor swift lovers, same, this is for you)

book lover (part 2) ♡: this is part 2 to the smau above! more posts about books, but you posted a new video with the grid!

tokyo drift ♡: y/n is a formula drift driver, and her fans ship her with f1 driver lando norris.

❒ blurbs:

break ○: lando is on summer break with his gf, but can’t seem to stop training.

➥ Carlos Sainz:

❒ smau:

off the ice ♡: carlos meets his gf, an nhl analyst, and fans are overjoyed as y/n clicks with the grid

rule breaker ♡ (smau + dialogue): y/n leclerc has been dating carlos sainz, which her brother has one rule: to not date his teammate. what happens when she finally tells charles?

doesn’t come easy ♡: y/n is an upcoming scriptwriter for a future oscar winner, but fans don’t like her and her credit is ripped away when her film wins an oscar.

❒ blurbs:

➥ Charles Leclerc:

❒ smau:

hate doesn’t bother me ♡(rude fans): charles and y/n announce their relationship on summer vacation, but fans aren’t a fan of y/n, not that she cares.

welcome to the swamp ♡: cute posts between charles and his gators cheerleader girlfriend.

angel ♡: y/n is a victoria’s secret model dating arber xhekaj, but what happens when cheating scandals arise when she is found with charles leclerc?

nobody knows ♡: y/n is a hollywood actress from brazil, her home and love. but when she visits monaco, charles’ fans start to ship them. what they don’t know, is that their ship has already sailed.

star of the show ♡: y/n, cast member of teen wolf, starts dating charles leclerc, and fans love them together.

uni to paddock ♡: being a university student, reader isn’t able to go to a lot of her boyfriends races. but one day, she decides to go to a grand prix and shock fans.

country feels ♡: reader is a beloved country star, rumored to be dating the f1 driver, charles leclerc. what happens when someone accidentally reveals she has a boyfriend?

lovers to strangers to friends○♡: y/n and charles have been an iconic f1 paddock couple since 2019, but what happens when a rumor spreads about y/n cheating? (

❒ blurbs:

sick day ♡: you have to cancel your date with charles, but he has an idea.

➥ Daniel Ricciardo:

❒ smau:

keep it private *(suggestive content): daniel and his wife, y/n, post some non-pg things on their instagrams.

keep it private (part 2) *(suggestive content): just some more unhinged comments between you and daniel.

unexpected * ♡: daniel meets a dallas cowboy cheerleader and they become and unexpected couple to fans and friends.

paper rings ♡: reader has a job of drawing and reading, but her partime is posting her boyfriend. (just a cute little book smau lolz)

❒ blurbs:

➥ Max Verstappen:

❒ smau:

better kept secret *(mean fan comments): max meets y/n, who is a little younger, country, and both try to keep their relationship a secret until they snap, and drop a soft launch that fans are not happy about.

christmas is better with you ♡: nyc born reader takes her bf max, who isn’t a big christmas fan, to her home, new york, this christmas.

denial is a man’s bestfriend ♡: max and y/n are teammates, but they fall for each other, resulting in pressure from friends.

❒ blurbs:

➥ Oscar Piastri:

❒ smau:

home ♡: oscar and his gf go back to her home, paraná brazil, for summer break, posting a bit along the way.

softies ♡* (smau and fic blurbs) gn!reader: reader and oscar soft launch at the monaco gp, plus some cute oscar being supportive bf.

hard launches only ♡: oscar and his miliatary girfriend hard launch before the singapore grand prix.

teammates roommate… ♡: in which oscar falls for the roommate of lando and max. what happens when lando confront oscar about his little crush?

legos and laps ♡: oscar’s girlfriend is obsessed with legos! and of course he supports her addiction.

sly fox dumb bunny ♡:

❒ blurbs:

stress relief ☆ ♡: oscar’s qualifying doesn’t go as planned, but luckily he has you at home to help him destress.

➥ Pierre Gasly:

❒ smau:

appreciation ♡: pierre loves to post his successful gf, and she loves to post him just as much.

❒ blurbs:

➥ Ollie Bearman:

❒ smau:

going public ♡: reader is carlos sainz’s younger sister who has kept private for a while, but when she suddenly goes public on instagram, so does her relationship with ollie bearman.

➥ Logan Sargeant:

❒ smau:

bad decisions ♡: after logan’s chassis is given to alex, his girlfriend is determined to show him how much she loves him. (this got out of hand and lead to something i hope is cute?)

➥ Ballerina Series:

 ❒ This series follows Y/n Albon, Alex Albon’s younger sister, who is a ballerina. She loves posting her life and supporting her brother. But when her teammate quits, she’s left a little lonely. Luckily, Lando Norris is there to befriend her…..

❒ Here’s some little psa abt this series: this is a dialogue and smau fic. i know alex has other siblings but for the sake of this fic, he doesn’t lol. its just more to write. This is a gradual series that i will post on every once and a while, that way i can still post other fics.

part 1 : (posted on my main tumblr, oops)

part 2

part 3

[mediumgayitalian]

“Sit down, Solace, you pain in the ass, I’ll get it.”

Will huffs moodily, trying in vain to continue hobbling towards the cupboards against the infirmary wall. Nico has to physically wrestle him back to his cot, which in theory should be way harder, but luckily he’s weak enough from the pain meds that once Nico manages to shove him against the cushions, he can’t get back up.

Ha. Karma.

“You can’t get it,” says the most dramatic drama queen alive, dramatically, “on account of you not know what ‘it’ is.”

Nico smiles patiently. It resembles, to the outside eye and perhaps the inner one also, the bared teeth of a grinning shark. “Tell me, then.”

“No.”

“Then tough shit for you.”

“I’m just gonna wait until you’re turned away again,” Will calls against his retreating back. Nico flips him the bird. “So this was futile, really.”

He’s stubborn, but he’s not an idiot, Nico reassures himself. Surely, the many years — formative years — he’s spent as head medic have made him smart. Surely, Mr. Nagging Nag shall heed his own advice, lest the entire camp descend upon him in swathes of shrieking, not quite righteous fury, intolerant or hypocrisy. Surely.

He hears the creak of a rickety bed, a thunk of something hitting the wooden floorboards, and a soft oof.

He closes his eyes and exhales deeply.

For fuck’s sake.

When he turns around, he sees William Andrew Solace, Best Healer in Generations, Paraded Progeny of Apollo, Also Notably Naomi Solace’s Son, That’s Kinda Sick, Isn’t It, sprawled on the floor, ridiculously long limbs outstretched, attempting to wiggle across the floor to the cupboards.

“Solace, I am going to kill you.”

“Some healer you are,” Will mutters, as if Nico is not playing healer right now purely because he is the only one in the entire camp with a half a chance of wrangling the dumbass head medic himself. He continues to wiggle.

Wrapping a hand around his uninjured ankle, Nico drags him bodily back to his cot, ignoring the shrieking.

“One day on bedrest, you dipshit. One. Day. That is all anyone is asking if you.”

“My binder!” he insists, because he is difficult. “I don’t need to sit down and do nothing, I need to run my infirmary!”

“You need to sit the fuck down and heal your body before it schedules healing for you,” Nico snaps. “For fuck’s sake, Will, does it matter to you at all that other people would like to see you safe and healthy, even if you couldn’t give a shit?”

For a glorifying moment, Will stares at him, eyes wide, face frozen. Nico meets his gaze, glaring, his own chest heaving where Will appears to have held his breath.

Then, Will bursts out laughing.

“That!” he says, wheezing. “That is what I have been trying to nail through your thick skull! Karma, you little turd!”

Mouth opening, and closing again, it’s Nico’s turn to freeze.

“Oh, gods.”

The horror in his voice is tangible. Will laughs harder.

“Oh, gods, I’m becoming you.”

He stumbles to the closest cot, sitting down quickly before he gets any dizzier than he already is. Nausea builds up his throat.

Gods, that was a direct quote.

“Not so fuckin’ easy to wrangle you clumsy shitheads, is it!”

Nico cradles his head in agony. No. No! It can’t be! He refuses to lend any credibility to Will’s mother-henning! He is obnoxious, and overbearing, and hell-bent on restricting Nico’s freedom; there is no way Nico is emulating him right now, because that would mean he has a point when he’s bossing Nico around, and — no. Cannot be.

“I told you,” Will says, smug as a godsdamn rooster in a hen house. (Oh, gods, now his stupid cowboy idioms are ringing in his head? He needs to spend less time with Will. Better yet, he should take another dip in the Lethe — willingly, this time. Anything is better than this.) “You clumsy fucks are the sole reason I am going to die from stress-induced heart failure at twenty-two, and then I am going to resurrect myself as a ghost through sheer stubborn will alone to haunt each and every one of you for eternity.”

Nico chooses to focus on the part of the sentence that he can conveniently argue with. “You don’t get to call anyone a clumsy fuck, on account of you shattering three bones in your ankle because you stomped your foot too hard when you were trying to make a point.”

“What was the point I was trying to make, again?”

Nico keeps his mouth shut.

“Something something reanimating entire dragons to scare the shit out of Cecil is going to drain you to dangerous levels of energy and make me have to drag you from the brink of death yet again something something.” He pauses. “Even if it was really funny and he nearly actually pissed himself.”

“Well, whatever,” Nico says, elegantly changing the subject. “You’re an idiot, and if you don’t let yourself heal than you’re worse than the rest of us and can never lecture us ever again. So. And I’ll rat you out, too, they’ll believe me.”

Will glares at him. Nico glares back.

“Get some rest,” Nico orders, still glaring. Will pulls a face and repeats his words back to him, mockingly.

“There’s a difference between me and the rest of you idiots,” he grumbles, petulantly ripping loose the blankets and shoving himself under them. Nico smacks his hands away, tucking them around him for him, checking his pillow, and then his forehead for good measure, just in case his stupid ass somehow gave himself a fever. Will squirms, just to make things difficult, so Nico, as acting healer in the room, has to smack him. “I can feel my limits.”

“And yet you pirouette right on over them. I think that makes you worse, actually.”

Will, son of the god of truth, has nothing to say to that.

“Stupid,” Nico says, fondly, squeezing a gentle hand in his cheek. “Sleep, okay? You can go back to being dictator of the infirmary when you’re healed.”

“Tomorrow,” he insists.

Nico rolls his eyes, smiling, and pulls his hand away. Will darts out and snatches his wrist before he goes far, eyes pleading, and Nico caves immediately. Will’s skin is warm, and smooth.

“If you’re healed by then.”

He traces his thumb across Will’s freckled cheekbone, shivering slightly as his long eyelashes tickle the tip of his fingerprint.

“Mhm.”

He’s already puffing out small, quiet snores, head lolling against Nico’s hand, body exhausted from working overtime to try and heal.

Shaking his head, Nico ducks down, pressing a kiss to the space between his eyes before pulling away. He watches him for a moment, peaceful, face smooth and un-creased, delicate cupid’s bow pink and poised, skin spattered with paintbrush freckles. Heart skipping, he can’t resist another quick peck, lingering, at the top of his nose, the middle of his cheek; again at the dip of his brow. It furrows, briefly, under his touch, before relaxing again.

“Goodnight, Will.” He brushes a knuckle over his cheek. “Thank you, you dork ass.”

[punishereditz]

7 Years

Pairing: Jake Seresin x f!reader

Warnings: None. Just a lot of fluff and nerdy stuff. Childhood best friends to lovers. Do not copy!

AN: I absolutely love incorporating songs with my stories and I have this song on my playlist, and I got this idea. I have been at a terrible writer's block, but luckily, I was able to get this story done just in time for Valentine's.

Summary: All the times Jake asked you to marry him and all the times you turned him down... until one day it was different.

~

7 years old.

Jake runed through the yard and back to the tree house even though his mother specifically told him not to run. He had quickly climbed up, plates in hand. He sat by you, grin wide, you could tell he was up to no good like he usual his. The question was what was he is up to now?

His legs swinged as he happily ate the sandwich his mom made him for lunch, and you ate yours that she made for you. Luckily that day, she let you eat outside.

He giggled and smiled next to you, not being able to contain himself. He turned to you. "Will you marry me?" He finally said what has been on his mind.

You gave him a strange look as he held his arm out. Flower in hand. He patiently waited for an answer from you.

"No! We're to young." You spoke as if it was the most obvious thing.

His arm fell to his side, and before his smile could fall, he quickly snapped back with confidence, "But you will one day."

"No way Jake!" You shook your head and your refusal only made Jake want it more. Even if it would be a challenge, it was nothing he couldn't figure out. Jake knew right there and then that you were going to be his girl one day. He is going to stop at nothing until you are his.

11 years old.

Jake had searched the entire house, and there was no sight of you. After asking your mom, he made his way to the barn in hopes he would find you there. And he did.

He made his way to the top of the hay-bales where you sat up high. Head down in your notebook. He peaked his head over your shoulder. Trying to see what it is your drawing now.

"Whatcha drawing?" He asked.

"A cowboy Jedi." You answered without looking up at him. To focused on the shading, you were doing.

"A cowboy Jedi?" He repeated your words.

You turned the notebook so he could see it better. Using the pencil to point out each detail to him, explaining it. "See?"

He looked down at the western style Jedi that you have been working on for no telling how long. He only smiled widely at you. He didn't understand your obsession with all those Star Wars movies, but he knew it made you happy and he loves seeing you get all excited about something.

Looking away from the drawing, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring-pop, he held it out to you. "Will you marry me now?"

You laughed at him. Looking at him, then the candy. "Um... no. Nice try though." You smiled at him as you turned him down.

He let his head fall back, sighing. "I really thought the ring-pop would work. How could you say no to a ring-pop?" He said dead seriously, and you died of laughter.

"Will it make you feel better if I take it?" You somehow managed to speak through giggles. He said nothing as he handed it to you. His smile growing as he watched you go back to your own little world you have created in your notebook. You will be mine one day, He thought to himself.

18 years old.

Jake knocked on your bedroom door. Shortly after, you peaked your head out, then you fully opened the door for him to come in. Allowing him to see the mess you are. Your hair is tied up in a knot on top of your head. Mascara running down your cheeks and you wear an oversized shirt that swallows you whole.

You crawled back into bed, holding a pillow tight to your chest. Jake sat at the edge of the bed. Sitting two bags in front of you. He hated seeing you like this. It's rare for you to be this upset. Even when your sad, you usually still had a smile on your face, but that night you only frowned.

He pulls all the candy out of the bag. Trying to focus on cheering you up and not his anger. If you didn't ask him to come over when you called, he would have gone straight to the guy's house that did this to you. The guy you have been going out with standing you up for another girl.

"I got your favorites." He finally spoke. Handing you a bag of milky-ways. He reached into the second bag, pulling out a cd. He smiled as he handed it to you.

You gasped, eyes growing wide as you looked down at the Limp Bizkit's greatest hits cd. "Where did you find this? It's been sold out at every place I've checked."

"Well, a magician never tells his secrets." You roll your eyes. Tossing the pillow at him. He laughs.

"I'm sorry." He suddenly speaks. "You didn't deserve that." His voice is comforting. Soft. It catches you off guard. Tears threatening to fall. You stand up. Walking over to his side. As if he read your mind, he wraps you up in his arms. Holding you tightly. He gives you the comfort you need.

"You know... you wouldn't have to deal with assholes like him if you were married to me." You slap his chest.

"But then I would be married to an asshole- that I would never get to see."

"That's true..." He trails off.

"And before you ask, no." You speak. Knowing he will ask. And you know your answer. You're not dare going to say yes because you know once he joins the Navy, you will never get to see him.

"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Your voice cracks. Your terrified for him. But you won't let him know just how scared you are.

"I do, sweetheart." He fights off the knot that grows in his throat as he looks into your pain filled eyes.

"Well... may the force be with you." He chuckles.

"And may the force be with you." He puts up a smile for you. He wants to pull out the little round box with the ring he bought, get on one knee and beg you to marry him, but before he could even ask, you said no. And that's fine. He plans to try again.

35 years old. Presents day.

Jake's not paying one bit of attention to the movie. He looks down at his girlfriend in awe. You're laying against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. He watches carefully as your eyes light up and your smile grows as you watch A New Hope.

He's never cared for the movies but yet he knows everything about them because of you. He is willing to suffer for two hours just because he knows you love them so much. Even though you have seen the movies thousands of times, you still squeal and squirm in excitement when a part you love happens, and that's what he loves to see.

He loves his metalhead, Star Wars, comic book loving, nerd of a girlfriend. You're still the exact same person you were when you were 7. Even though you two have been dating for three years now, he is still in shock that he got you. That you are his and he is yours. He jokingly mentioned dating one night, and you said yes. Completely confusing the hell out of him. But he quickly pulled it together and asked you out. You've been dating ever since. All his dreams have come true. And yours to. Jake's a fighter pilot for the US Navy, a job he loves, and is dating the woman he has been in love with for his entire life. Things couldn't be better.

While Jake was off in the Navy, you were working your ass off in college, getting a degree in art. Now you're a comic book artist, dating your childhood best friend. Everything is perfect. But Jake knows a way it could be even more perfect. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants. Pulling out the death star ring box he has had since he was eighteen.

He sits it on your leg. Not saying a word. You pick it up and he tenses under you. You open it. Looking at the two sliver bands. You pick up the smaller one, noticing the words 'I know' printed on the inside. You grab the other ring, and it says, 'I love you'. You immediately realize that he printed what Leia said to Han in the rings. Your heart sinks, your throat tightening and tears coming to your eyes. The rings are Stars Wars, and the box is as well. Even though he doesn't like it, he did it for you.

Tears fall from your eyes, and he looks at you confused. You hand him your ring, looking into those emerald eyes. "Yes." You say softly.

He didn't think it was even possible for his body to tense even more, but it does. He moves his head back to look at you better. His eyebrows furrowing.

You chuckle, "Don't make me change my mind." You tease. He clears his throat. Breathing deeply. His body starts to relax as he takes your hand in his. Sliding the ring onto your finger. Before you can say anything, he smashes his lips onto yours. His hold on you tightening. Holding you impossibly close to him.

You finally pull away from him to catch your breath. Looking into his eyes, tears threatening to fall. "Mrs. Seresin... It's got a ring to it." His words make your smile grow. He holds and loves you the rest of the night. Never letting go of you.

[ikroah]

A girl can get somewhere in spite of stringy hair or even just a bit bowed at the knees if she can show a faultless…personality! —“Personality,” Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers (1946)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #26 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding V

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

ohhhhh my god why did i make this script so long my hand hurts this took forever aaaaagh

Welcome to the Lucky 38! This is a script that has remained basically the same for a long time but went through COUNTLESS extremely small rewrites over the course of production just to really nail Mr. House's dialogue. He's a long-winded guy, this whole issue is basically just him doing monologues, and I wanted to make sure it was all interesting and non-repetitive. I think I took out at least three uses of "merely" from the first draft.

One of the biggest production decisions of this issue was whether or not to cut the scene with Agnes and Cass and Victor, which immediately follows the end of the previous issue. The reason to include it was because it very necessarily established the change in location from the Vegas Strip to the Lucky 38 penthouse, which would have been jarring otherwise; the reason to exclude it was that it the issue was already extremely long and I thought opening right on Mr. House would have been more impactful. Ultimately, I did keep it, which was a good decision, but only because of the literally issue-saving idea to convey it as closed-circuit television footage instead of actual panels. Every single attempt at overlaying them with the lead-in to Mr. House was way too busy, but that idea really tied the page together like a nice rug.

And lastly, the framing device of the tarantula and the tarantula hawk was actually an extremely late addition to the comic. I had already finished the first three pages when I thought of it. My problem was that Mr. House's constant monologuing and Agnes' sad expressions got pretty repetitive. I needed something to break the action up while adding thematic heft and artistic variety. I've become a real enthusiast for wasps and tarantulas over the last couple months, so this one really was just a stroke of luck. It took only minimal revisions to make room for the framing device, with the most dramatic change being the complete replacement of the last page (which was originally just a splash page of the Lucky 38 in Vegas; bookending the first and last pages is so much better). So you see, the only reason for weaving a scene into this issue of a skittish desert-wanderer getting paralyzed and dragged toward a certain demise by a predator almost perfectly evolved to destroy it was just that I like bugs a lot. That's the only reason, yep.

Original Pencils:

Due to all of the photo-collage in the final version of the comic, there's a lot of panels and details that I (thankfully!) didn't have to draw myself. Sorry that the pencil isn't blue on the last three pages, I've been on the move for the holidays so they got scanned in grayscale by accident.

I did experiment with drawing the tarantula framing device myself, but ultimately went with the photo-collage method because the artistic juxtaposition actually made it much more readable when interspersed with the proceedings in the Lucky 38.

Transcript:

EXT. DESERT OUTSIDE OF NEW VEGAS. The city glitters in the distance, nestled between the shadows of mountains, with the spire of the LUCKY 38 towering above all else.

In the wilderness, a TARANTULA emerges from its burrow.

EXT. THE NEW VEGAS STRIP. On closed-circuit television monitors, a SECURITRON ROBOT approaches AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, saying

VICTOR: Well howdy, partner! Fancy meetin' again here in Vegas!

CASS: What the fuck?

AGNES: Victor?

Unlike the usual police units, VICTOR's robotic "face" is that of a cowboy.

VICTOR: And heck, ya clean up nice! Sure lookin' a lot better now than when I rustled ya outta the bone orchard back in Goodsprings*--

CAP: *As was explained to Agnes way back in IKROAH #2. --Lou

VICTOR: --so how's about ol' Vic skips the rigamarole, huh? 'Fore all my yappin' makes ya want to go back, heh-heh-heh! I'm the welcome wagon, see. I'm to come and collect ya.

CASS: Agnes--

VICTOR: Boss wants t'see you, is what I'm sayin'.

AGNES: Boss?

VICTOR: Only of all of Vegas, friend!

CASS: Agnes.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA crawls beneath the starlight.

VICTOR: So why don't we mosey on over to the Lucky 38? And your good pal can come along, too!

CASS: I need to know what the fuck is going on, right now.

AGNES: I...I don't know.

VICTOR: And y'know, boss ain't ever let a soul inside before, least for not as long as I've been rollin' around on my spurs, so this ain't just an everyday social call, mind...

On the closed-circuit television monitors, VICTOR escorts AGNES and CASS to the entryway of the LUCKY 38.

VICTOR: ...but heck, I reckon ya'll oughta get along like franks on a fire! So come on! Lift's in the lobby here, and up to the top floor--and we can get the formalities out of the way before ya'll get [cut off]

INT. THE LUCKY 38 PENTHOUSE.

AGNES stands awestruck, looking upward, bathed in electronic green light. With horror, she ekes out a single question.

AGNES: ...what are you?

???: A "Hello" would have been preferable, but it'll take more than a crude faux pas to tarnish this moment. Who I am, Agnes--

What AGNES is looking at is a gigantic SUPERCOMPUTER and terminal, flanked by closed-circuit television monitors and guarded on both sides by SECURITRON police units. On the supercomputer's massive screen is the green-lit image of a face. The face

MR. HOUSE: --is ROBERT EDWIN HOUSE. The President, CEO, and sole proprietor of New Vegas--and more to the point, the intended recipient of a long delayed package.

AGNES: Oh, you...you mean the platinum chip?

MR. HOUSE: Correct. It's a...very precious artifact of the old world.

MR. HOUSE: My world, once.

In the back of the room, beyond AGNES, is an oil painting of MR. HOUSE, standing outside in front of what must have been a very large robot.

MR. HOUSE: In that world, I was the founder of RobCo Industries--a titan of innovation. We created a litany of robotic solutions for diverse markets, such as the Securitrons that you see here, and even a line of consumer-grade devices like the wrist-mounted Pip-Boy. But the platinum chip was, more than any other, my design. It was my vision.

MR. HOUSE: But it never left the factory in which it was originally made. Before it could even cool off from its assembly...we had the Great War. An international, thermonuclear bombardment of unimaginable power that annihilated the world in all of two hours.

MR. HOUSE: But not the entire world. Not Vegas. Not my Paradise. From my fortress of the Lucky 38, I saw to that. But as for the rest of the world, and my platinum chip--it took generations.

MR. HOUSE: First for the scarce remnants of humanity to crawl out from under their rocks, and for the world to at least resemble a functioning society again in which to do trade. And then for the work itself--of countless scavengers, treasure-seekers, and the like, all contracted to comb over the wreckage of Sunnyvale. It cost millions of caps, and later, New California dollars. And a not insignificant piece of my pre-war fortune as well. I, quite literally, moved mountains.

MR. HOUSE: I do not believe in providence, Agnes, but I do believe in destiny. How else to explain it? It was pristine when it was found. Neither the bombs nor the passage of time had so much as scuffed its sheen. But still...its value far transcended the mere market price of pure platinum.

MR. HOUSE: Amusingly, despite the discovery, I was still only as close to acquiring the chip as I had been originally in 2077. A final ordeal remained for me: how to ensure the safety of the platinum chip en route to its destination, from Sunnyvale to Vegas, without broadcasting its preciousness to thieves, armies, and raiders--or worse, to heavily armed fetishists for pre-war technology like the Brotherhood of Steel?

MR. HOUSE: Misdirection. Through a network of anonymous liaisons, I contracted the Mojave Express for a batch of deliveries, all superficially similar knick-knacks, to various intermediaries of myself. All but one of the orders were totally worthless decoys. But your identity as the carrier of the one genuine item was somehow compromised, leading to you getting attacked, and to the second disappearance of the chip.

MR. HOUSE: But look around you. Look where you are. You've made it, haven't you?

AGNES, still staring up at the visage of MR. HOUSE on-screen, doesn't respond. She frowns, nervous. The SECURITRONS guarding MR. HOUSE observe her stoically.

MR. HOUSE: Let me clarify: I had nothing to do with Benny's ambush. Heavens no! It goes completely against my interests. It would have been a perfectly quotidian day's work for you if not for his, and I stress, unexpected involvement. The platinum chip...belies its significance. For Benny to have not only discovered its delivery route but possibly enough of that significance to motivate such an act, this constituted a very troubling breach of my security. And I had been looking into it...but in a way, the issue seems to have resolved itself. Hm?

MR. HOUSE: A wild card. Now removed from the deck.

AGNES' gaze sinks to the floor.

MEANWHILE, a small shadow blots out the starlight in the desert outside of Vegas. It flies over the exploring TARANTULA.

AGNES looks back up at MR. HOUSE.

AGNES: I killed him.

HOUSE: So you did. I only wish that we could have spoken before you went rogue on my former protégé: if this story breaks, I can grant you amnesty, but not without controversy. And your infamy as an assassin could make our further arrangements quite difficult.

AGNES: Um...I didn't think there would be more to it than delivering the--

MR. HOUSE: Oh! Of course, of course! My apologies. Two hundred years of anticipation and yet I'm still getting ahead of myself. Well--would you mind? I've been waiting a long time for my mail.

The SECURITRON closest to AGNES wheels forward with its claw outstretched. AGNES reaches her fingers into a pocket beneath the belt of her dress to produce it: the PLATINUM CHIP. She holds it in her hand for a brief moment.

MEANWHILE, the shadow descends; the TARANTULA HAWK engages the TARANTULA.

AGNES relinquishes the PLATINUM CHIP to the SECURITRON.

MR. HOUSE: Thank you--it's a relief to pay for this chip for the final time.

The SECURITRON inserts the PLATINUM CHIP into a slot in MR. HOUSE'S supercomputer, feeding it into the drive with a CLIK.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA is fighting the TARANTULA HAWK.

From behind AGNES, another SECURITRON presents her with a stack of NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC DOLLARS, which she gingerly takes in her hand and looks over.

MR. HOUSE: And I trust that you're satisfied with the agreed-upon compensation from the delivery contract, yes?

AGNES: Yeah, it's...it's fine...I'll be going now. Thanks.

MR. HOUSE: Oh? But you've only just arrived. I insist that you make yourself at home.

SFX: KZZSZZZTTT

The faces on the screens of the SECURITRONS in MR. HOUSE'S penthouse suddenly change from policemen to soldiers. AGNES recoils and tries to step away.

AGNES: H-hey, uh--

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK pierces the underbelly of the TARANTULA with its stinger.

SECURITRONS surround AGNES.

MR. HOUSE: You are the first guest ever through the doors of the Lucky 38, you know. Nobody has so much as checked a coat inside since the war, so this meeting confers you a significant level of privilege...and inevitable celebrity. The people of Vegas have always gossiped, after all. Many have even clawed at the door desperately with dreams of being where you now stand. Surely you can comprehend how this compulsion to leave after such a deliberate and remarkable invitation risks considerable insult--to both myself and my citizenry? And very deliberate this invitation was. Don't you realize: if handing off my package was all for which you were needed, why wouldn't I have just had Victor relieve you of the chip outside? No, no, you see, as necessary as its acquisition was, the chip is ultimately just a key, for unlocking a new frontier...of possibilities.

MR. HOUSE: Possibilities for prosperity, peace, and technological advancement that haven't been seen in two hundred years. Possibilities greater than anything the New California Republic or Caesar's Legion could dream of, let alone achieve, by playing pretend in the clothes of their forebearers and convincing everyone else that it's statecraft. Possibilities--which if they key is turned by human hands--become certainties.

AGNES (a whisper): Are you not human?

MR. HOUSE: Don't let the video screens and computer terminals fool you: I am a living human. No less so than you. I just live with a particular set of, well...handicaps.

AGNES: You said you'd waited hundreds of years to--

MR. HOUSE: One could argue that the world has been waiting hundreds of years for this moment. Waiting for me. For the chip. For the long-dormant doors of the Lucky 38 to finally open, to a single and specially ordained individual: you, Agnes. And there are tremendous things waiting for us, waiting for us to accomplish them, together. I certainly couldn't do them with Benny. What do you say?

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA has become completely paralyzed by the TARANTULA HAWK'S venom. The TARANTULA HAWK seizes its prey.

AGNES: ...no.

MR. HOUSE: I'm sorry--"No?"

AGNES: Yes--I mean, no. No! I don't want to help you! I...

Tears well in AGNES' eye.

AGNES: ...I just want to go back home.

MR. HOUSE: ...I see. Hmm.

MR. HOUSE: How do I put this in a way you'll understand?

MR. HOUSE: The die is cast.

AGNES, crying, looks up at MR. HOUSE again. Fear bulges on her face.

MR. HOUSE: Throughout the long delivery of this chip, several precise plans and fortuitous coincidences have aligned in just such a way as to make you, you specifically at this exact juncture, an irreplaceable asset in the ongoing endeavor of this wounded world's recovery from otherwise hopeless ruin.

MR. HOUSE: Your cooperation going forward is not merely crucial to this endeavor's success, but it's utterly non-negotiable. Should you entertain the moral issue of what's at stake, it's obligatory, even. It's why your refusal comes as such a...genuine surprise. Can't you see?

MR. HOUSE: I'm not a fascist, Agnes--I would never force you. But given the circumstances, I'm entitled, wouldn't you agree, to at least a brief demonstration of my vision? The vision that the platinum chip promises? Victor has surely seen your companion to the presidential suite by now--my other Securitrons can escort you to the basement, where I'm sure you can make a...properly informed decision.

The SECURITRONS close in on AGNES, who screams in protest.

AGNES: No! I said no! I already delivered your chip, I--I killed Benny! I-- I-- ...what do you want with me!?

MR. HOUSE: Haven't you been listening? I want what's best for you--for us. I know it's a lot, but bear with me for one moment longer, and I can assure you--that this is the beginning of something very incredible.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK has dragged the paralyzed TARANTULA back to the entrance of its own burrow.

The TARANTULA HAWK shoves its helpless prey into the hole, and then crawls in after it.

The TARANTULA is not seen again.

[skribblezcorner]

ZOSAN AND MECHANICAL BULL SHENANIGANS?! sign me up, yes please.

post inspired by @bidisastersanji 's fantastic prompt, though slightly different since I kept it in the canon verse instead of making it a modern au.

buckle up children, get ready to go bull riding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is so stupid," Zoro grumbles.

"Can you enjoy anything, for once in your life?" Sanji plucks the cherry from his drink and tosses it into his mouth.

"I can, just not this."

Apparently, watching people get thrown off of a sad excuse for a mechanical bull in some shoddily made ring is supposed to be enjoyable. Zoro has lost count of the number of parties he's been dragged to by his captain, but watching people compete this way for a fucking cowboy hat has to be the least entertaining thing he's ever seen.

"Stop being such a buzzkill. Anyways, it's 'cause these people are fucking terrible," The cook says as he plays with the cherry stem between his teeth. "We had one of these at the Baratie; even Carne could stay on longer than these losers." Sanji downs the rest of his drink, muttering something under his breath.

Flash forward fifteen minutes (and a few drinks), and Zoro is ready to fall asleep. Next to him, Sanji has gotten progressively more vocal about how bad the partygoers are at riding around on the contraption in front of them. The crowd circling the ring has also gotten progressively bigger, squishing them shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Put your goddamn back into it!" The cook cups his hands and shouts to the man up next, who is currently trying to avoid getting rocketed into a wall as the bull violently bucks around. However, the blond's proximity to Zoro also means he shouts right in his ear.

"Do you ever shut up?" Zoro gripes.

"You shut up," Sanji replies, angrily nursing a margarita he stole off a waiter's tray.

"I wasn't even-- I hate you."

About thirty seconds go by before the cook exclaims in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air and almost spilling his drink all over Zoro. "Everyone's fucking incompetent!"

Zoro groans. "Stop complaining like you could do any better, curly-brow."

"I'm offended that you think I couldn't!" Sanji shouts over the cheering of the crowd as another person gets bucked off.

Zoro thinks the cook could last a lot longer than anyone up there, but he doesn't say that -- Sanji's ego is big enough.

"Here, marimo. Hold my drink," Sanji pushes the half-empty glass into Zoro's hands. "Let's make a bet. How long do you think I can stay on?"

"Curly, you're drunk."

"Answer the goddamn question."

Forever, if Sanji really tried. "Five seconds."

Sanji shoots him an offended look. "Jesus, where's your faith?" With that, he turns away and pushes himself to the front of the group of bustling people.

Sure enough, Zoro's watching the cook clamber into the ring, a lit cigarette in his mouth (where did he get that from?) and the worst posture Zoro's ever seen.

The cook hops onto the mechanical bull, grabbing onto the metal grip before pointing and yelling at someone in the corner to start it up.

The thing starts slowly at first, and Sanji's hair sways as the bull moves back and forth. the cook barks again at some unseen person, and then it really starts to ramp up.

The bull starts bucking hard, the force at which it travels increasing each time it swings. Zoro would be worried if he didn't recognize the look of smug anticipation on Sanji's face as he straightens up, even from back in the crowd. He's about to pull some crazy-ass stunt.

When the bull leans forward, The cook uses the momentum to push himself off the handlebars from a seated position and into a handstand, twisting around to plant his feet on the saddle as he comes down.

Sanji moves fluidly with the machine, hips shifting in every direction it leans to keep himself firmly onboard. while the crowd roars, Zoro watches every movement Sanji makes with rapt attention. the blond rocks with the bull, hands now in his pockets and lips still wrapped around the cigarette he pulled from out of nowhere.

He pulls a few more tricks, long, muscular legs propelling him up to balance on the wooden horns of the bull - and gives a cheeky wave to the crowd. Goddamn. Zoro wishes that didn't work on him.

Sanji finishes up his routine with a flourish, doing an aerial and landing smoothly in a crouch on the hay floor of the ring. The crowd cheers even louder than before, and some tubby man comes out to give the cook a pink, bedazzled cowboy hat. The sea of people parts and leaves Zoro standing there awkwardly as Sanji saunters towards him.

"How's that for five seconds, Greenie?" the blond spins the hat around on his finger.

Zoro grunts and tries to suppress the flush on his face. "I could do better."

Sanji rolls his eyes, taking back his drink. "Sure you could. Anyways, I could last a lot longer than that in... other things, y'know?" Sanji makes eye contact with him as he downs the rest of his margarita. "What's that phrase again... ride a bull, fuck a cowboy?" He shrugs, placing the cowboy hat on Zoro's head then looking him up and down. "Eh, close enough."

If Zoro had liquid in his mouth, he would have done a spit take. "What!?"

The blond smirks and puts his cigarette out in the bottom of his glass. "You heard me, marimo. Now- WHERE'S THE FUCKING BATHROOM?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji: i really wanna fuck a cowboy rn *puts cowboy hat on zoro* Zoro: *shocked, confused, bewildered* Sanji: That'll do, i guess

eughhh writers block hit me so hard for like 3 days and i rushed to get this out so this might be kinda terrible. wrote it in like 7 minute intervals over the course of a day so some things might not connect?? lmfao..... sleep deprivation is so fetch.

thibking of making an a03 account..... ill let yall know if i do!!!! hope u enoyed reading this pls comment i really appreciate it !! <3333