#cows and horses on the other hand

[lildoodlenoodle]

Three spider ocs I made and have been partially sitting in my drafts 😭 🫠 Orange Weaver, BirdEater, and Brown Recluse. Could not decide on a format lol

Here’s some extra doodles I made while flushing them out

[nimblermortal]

Tourist: I shot some geese for you, what did you do with them?

Summerhouses children: Boiled 'em.

Tourist: You... you what? But... but my beautiful fat geese... you have to fry geese in butter...

Summerhouses children: Don't have any butter.

Tourist: Why NOT?!

Summerhouses children: Dad doesn't want to buy a churn.

Tourist: ...what DOES your dad like?

Summerhouses children: Sheep.

[astaroth1357]

I have long wanted to write a headcanon where high demons have lesser forms, so take a walk with me on this:

Imagine that the brothers are fighting with each other and one of them takes a serious hit, like, somebody's left hook got them right in the jaw and it was brutal. They fall to the ground, stone cold, and... just. Poof into a tiny little critter. Like a verison of their familiar. And they can't retake human form until they've rested and healed their wounds.

I'm doing that.

Lucifer becomes this fat-ass, little peacock. He's like one of those rotund Chocobo from the Final Fantasy universe, you just want to pick him up and squeeze him but he's slightly too heavy for that. His feathers are black, save for the tail which have black, red, blue, and green markings. If something makes him "Poof!" then he'll hide away in the Castle because he refuses to let his brothers ever see him in that state. MC can visit him, though, and he'll coo and get all fluffy whenever they pet his tummy.

Mammon turns into a three-eyed raven, but not fat like Luci. He basically becomes a bigger verison of one of his familiars, he's about the size of an eagle. For being the second strongest he gets "Poof!-ed" rather often because he gets caught up in so many fights. Most of the time, he's just a bystander then some stray shot hits him and suddenly he's squawking everybody's ear off! Hilariously, he's arguably smarter in this form so when he's stuck as a bird, his grades actually improve (if anyone can read his actual chicken scratch penmanship).

Levi becomes a snake. Duh. He has similar markings along his back to the colorful scales on his neck in his demon form. He isn't even the length of your average scarf, so MC can drape him behind their neck easily and he doesn't get in the way. He's absolutely MISERABLE like this, though, because he has no hands to play games with. He can get extra clingy to people if he's feeling cold, but MC has to invite him to share their body heat because he's too shy to signal what he wants.

As much as Satan would love to be a cat, he becomes a little unicorn (Sorry, I didn't make the lore). He's about the size of one of those miniature horses, but don't be fooled. He will snap your kneecaps and he's at perfect height to rear-kick his brothers right in the crotch. His coat is black but his tail, mane, and the underside of his horn are all his signature green. If he every gets "Poof!-ed!" he's big mad, so he'll spend the entire time trying to kick and spear his brothers so they have to suffer along with him. He's the cause of a lot of chain "Poof!-ings."

Asmo becomes the smallest, cutest scorpion you ever did see. Well, as cute as scorpions can be. His whole body becomes hot pink and he has the biggest widdle eyes (think those jumping spiders who wear raindrops on their heads type energy). He's also venomous as all hell, so his brothers HAVE to make sure that they continously call him "small, cute, and adorable" lest they suffer a week's worth of paralytic toxin. He can fit the palm of a hand and makes MC tie a little bow around his tail so he doesn't feel too bad about being under-dressed.

Beel, unfortunately, becomes a fly. A big fly (by fly standards), but a fly nonetheless. You wouldn't even know that it's him if he weren't traffic cone orange. Literally everyone panics when he gets "Poof!-ed" because it would only take some bozo with a swatter to put an end to the sweetest brother... Belphie never lets Beel out of his sight and even has a tiny leash so he can keep track of him if they have to go out. He's a lot easier to feed like this, but everyone has to resist that automatic urge to smack him away from their dinner plates.

Belphie ironically has the largest lesser form out of his brothers. He's a cow, more specifically a bull, but there's nothing special about him aside from the navy fur. He is a full grown bull and he loves to lord it over the others if they all get "Poof-ed!" at once. Also, good luck getting him to do ANYTHING in this form. He is a bull. If he does not want to move, he will not be moving. Not even Beel can carry him like this. He's the only brother who doesn't mind getting "Poof-ed!" all that much because of it.

[hedgehog-moss]

I randomly found a 500 page French book on OpenLibrary about the etymology of animal names so here are 10 (ish) fun facts:

the French word for poodle, “caniche” looks like it definitely comes from Latin “canis” (dog) but no! It comes from cane / canard (duck) because it was a waterfowl-hunting dog—and its name in English, Swedish, German, Dutch (poodle, pudel, puedel) also reflects this dog’s affinity with water (from pudeln = to splash about). It’s like otters, whose name come from the same root as water...

the canary on the other hand is named after canis / dog, since it comes from the Canary Islands which, according to Pliny the Elder, were named after the huge dogs that lived there at some point. Some historians think these mysterious big dogs were actually seals or big lizards. Then a bird ended up with the name ‘from the dog place’ though it’s unclear if dogs were ever truly involved. (Meanwhile Spain / Hispania comes from the Phoenician i-shepan-im, the place with rabbits.) I like the idea of ancient humans seeing seals or lizards and going “weird dogs”. Like how ancient Greeks saw hyenas and named them “pigs, I guess?”

the fox has a great diversity of names in Europe: fox / Fuchs, zorro, räv, volpe, raposa, lisu, róka, renard... In French it used to be called ‘goupil’, from the same Latin root as the Italian ‘volpe’, but then the mediaeval cycle of poems known as Le Roman de Renart, about an unprincipled fox named Renart, became so popular that renard became the word for fox and goupil disappeared. It’s like if 500 years from now bears in English were called baloos. (The English and German words for fox come from the indo-european root puk- which means tail, like Hungarian ‘farkas’ (wolf) which means tail-having, or squirrel, from the Greek words for shade + tail, there are actually lots of animals that are just “that one with a tail”...)

French has a word for baby rabbit (lapereau) derived from Latin leporellus (little hare) and we used to have a word for adult rabbit (conin) from Latin cuniculus (rabbit)—related to the German Kaninchen, Italian coniglio, Spanish conejo, etc. But ‘conin’ in Old French also meant pussy (there were mediaeval puns about this in the Roman de Renart) and at some point I guess people were like okay, it was funny at first but we’ve run this joke into the ground, and a new and politically correct word appeared for adult rabbit (lapin) based on the pre-existing word for baby rabbit (lapereau).

The english bear is thought to come from the proto-IE root bher-, for brown—I love how Finnish has so many nicknames and euphemisms for “bear” ranging from “honey palm” to “apple of the forest” and English is like... dude’s brown. Same amount of effort with the Swedish and Danish words for fox, räv / ræv, from a root that means reddish-brown. (And the Hungarian word for lion, oroszlán, along with the Turkish ‘aslan’, comes from proto-Turkic arislan / arsilan which comes from arsil which means brown...) And since brown was already taken, ‘beaver’ (+ German, Dutch, Swedish...: Biber, bever, bäver) has been speculated to come from bhe-bhrus-, a doubling of the original root so... brownbrown.

English foal / German Fohlen / French poulain / Italian puledro all come from the proto-IE root pu- which means small (e.g. Latin puer and Greek pais = child)—then the French ‘poulain’ became ‘poulenet’ with the diminutive -et (so, a smallsmall animal) and poulenet became powny in Scots then pony in English, which was then re-imported by French as ‘poney’. Also the Spanish word for donkey, burro, comes from Latin burricus = small horse, and in French Eeyore is named Bourriquet with the -et diminutive ending, so we just keep taking small horses and turning them into smallsmall horses...

The boa (bo(v)a) shares the same etymology as bovine / bœuf / beef, due to a widespread belief that some snakes suckled milk from cows. Pliny the Elder stated this as fact and (not to bully him but) modern research tells us “there is no empirical basis for saying snakes like mammal milk; experiments, indeed, have shown that captive snakes systematically refuse to drink milk”

I was disappointed to learn that antelope comes from Greek anthólops which referred to a mythical creature, because I grew up convinced the origin of the word (antilope in French) was anti-lupus, as in, the gazelle is the generic prey so as a concept it’s the opposite of the wolf, the generic predator. Wolf and anti-wolf. Though it raised the question of why we don’t have antilions (zebra), anticats (mice) and antibears (salmons)

Many European languages have named kites after some sort of flying animal: in English it comes from the word for owl, in Portuguese from the word for parrot, in Italian from eagle, and in French it’s cerf-volant aka flying-deer. There’s an interesting hypothesis for this! Kites came to Europe from China, where they were often shaped like dragons or snakes, and snake is serpent in French and serpe in Old French, so it’s possible that kites were serpe-volants aka flying-snakes. But the ‘p’ and ‘v’ next to one another were a hassle to pronounce so the p got dropped and it became ser-volant, then ‘ser’ which isn’t a word started being mistaken for ‘cerf’ which is pronounced ‘ser’ but means deer... (We did it again with chauve-souris (bald-mouse = bat), which comes from the Gaulish cawa-sorix aka owl-mouse—which makes more sense as a name for bats! similar to the German Fledermaus, flying-mouse, and Spanish murciélago, blind-mouse. But Gaulish ‘cawa’ was mixed up with Latin ‘calva’ = chauve = bald, so now a French bat is a bald-mouse)

I love etymology, it’s all flying deer and dogs named splash and snakes named cow and ponies named smallsmall and five animals named brown and three named tail—words acquire a veneer of linguistic respectability over the centuries and we forget that fundamentally everyone just says whatever

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ cow hybrid with geto 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 17: fill me up with milk!!!

✿ farmer!geto suguru x cow hybrid!reader

✿ warnings: lactating, reader has cow ears and tail, titties play, clit play, breastfeeding

You can feel someone's eyes watching you as you snuggle against the wall. It's your first day at a new farm, and you can't help but feel shy and embarrassed. Not to mention the fact that you're still in your old, ugly clothes. Your eyes flex when you hear footsteps coming your way. Your eyes lock with a young farmer, and your heart skips a beat.

"Hello, sweetheart," he says, crouching down at a good distance from you. he wears a sweet smile, but you're still unsure what to think about him. He's wearing a button-up that he leaves surprisingly unbuttoned, and his hair is in a bun. You've never met a farmer this young.

Your previous owner was an older man. Your whole family lived under his care, and you couldn't complain, he was a good man. But unfortunately for you, he focused his business on horses. And when your siblings were born, you as an older cow, had to be sold to a different farm.

"I'm your caretaker Suguru." The man introduces himself, and you nod at him to show him you acknowledge him.

"I have new clothes for me," he tells you, and you finally notice the basket next to him. It's full of blankets and clothing designed just for you. He pulls a few garments out of the basket, reaching his hand to give them to you. You look at the clothing, and you notice that it's beautiful, but you find the man more beautiful than everything in the world.

The days go by, and you and Geto start to get closer. You wait for him every day to come and milk you, and he never misses, except for one day.

"Oh, you poor thing, did I forget about you?" he coos, your eyes filling with tears. He forgot to milk you yesterday, and you were filled to the brim. Your boobs hurt like with all the milk stored inside. You feel betrayed, you thought you were his favorite

"Come here, sweetheart," he says, stretching his arms for you to lay in them. You shake your head, giving him the angriest face you can master. He chuckles, pulling you closer to his body. He kisses the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you.

"I hope you know you're my favorite." his praise means nothing and everything to you at the same time. You've become attached to Geto, but you can't stand to see him give attention to other people. You thought that maybe he likes you more than a cattle he has to milk. In the end, you're not so different from normal humans, you have a pair of ears and a tail, and you have to be milked.

"I'm tired of you treating me like a cattle," you tell him, his eyes widening.

"I never meant to" he wants to apologize, but you cut him off, "but you did."

"Do you want me to treat you like a human?" he asks angrily, his eyes darkening. You look him straight in the eyes before sticking your tongue at him.

"That's it," he growls, ripping the soft white dress off your body. Your boobs fall out, milk already dripping from your nipple. He manhandles you until you are on his lap. Geto takes one of your boobs in his hand and squeezes, milk spraying everywhere. His mouth latches on your boob, and he sucks. Your eyes go wide, not expecting him do to something so vulgar. He milks you by his mouth, some of the milk dripping down his chin. You feel your panties get wetter and wetter every second. You always get needy when he milks you, but he usually uses machines. This is the first time he used his mouth. His mouth feels so much better than those machines, even though he's being mean to your boobs, biting them as he sucks. It's still better than machines that almost pierce your boobs every time they touch you.

"Geto, I need you." you moan, relaxing into Suguru's body. You feel him smirk around your nipple before his hand travels down your body to your pussy. He touches it with his fingertips softly, laughing when he sees that you're absolutely soaked.

"So wet already," he says, kissing you on the cheek. You turn red instantly, this is exactly what you wanted. Now he's treating you like a human girl.

he puts his fingers on your clit, rubbing it gently. You have never had another person touch you before, and somebody else's touch feels so foreign but so good. he doesn't dare to touch you differently, he just rubs your clit while still sucking on your boobs.

The weight in your boob soon becomes lighter, and he moves to the next one.

"you dirty girl," he says, his hand slapping your pussy. You yelp, whining in Geto's arms. He can feel you're close, but he also wants to milk you dry before you cum. Your hips buck to meet his hand, but he smacks your pussy down.

"Don't dare to cum." he says as he sucks harder on your boobs. There's not much left, and as much as he wants to savor the taste, he knows you want to cum.

He pops his mouth off your breast, some of her liquid leaking down between your bodies. He applies more pressure with his fingers on your clit, making you arch your back against his chest.

"Are you gonna cum?" he asks, rubbing you harder. You nod your head, knowing it won't take long before you cum.

"Come here, sweetheart." he turns your head, kissing you right on your lips. Wind knocks out of your lungs as you cum with Geto's lips still pressed against you. Your body trashes against geto.

"Good girl." he praises you as he throws some blanket around your body, the dress he tore away from you being unwearable.

"Don't ever think that you're not my favorite. I couldn't ask for a better cowgirl than you."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii @armahnsie @satorustar @balenciagarette @erp1007

[whore-era]

glue

☁︎ mean!ellie williams x fem!reader ☁︎ themes: grumpy x sunshine trope, reader chasing after ellie ☁︎ summary: in which jackson's sweetest girl crushes on the town's grumpy asshole. ☁︎ a/n: loosely inspired by the cartoon 'puca puca' lmao, hope yall luv this one ♡ ☁︎ word count: 6,883

spring was coming in swiftly, and you couldn’t be more excited. the snow was beginning to melt, and the town was experiencing small spouts of rain, kickstarting the bloom of some of the most beautiful flowers in the surrounding forest. 

it finally gave you a reason to take out your spring-wear and put your thick and heavy winter coats away in the back of your closet. fashion and clothing was a hobby you found yourself engrossed in, taking the time to carefully curate bright outfits and sew together your own unique pieces, utilizing whatever scraps of fabric you could get your hands on. it certainly took your mind off the reality of what went on behind these walls, a responsibility you could never imagine partaking in. everyone in town held those who went on patrol on high pedestals, thanking them for their brave service of facing those monstrosities and protecting us every day. 

thankfully, maria assigned you the responsibility of the town’s animal caretaker. tenderly providing the animals with food, care, and love. it was a job you absolutely dreamed of, always having a deep fondness for animals, even since you were a small child. 

“oh, jeez, minnie, i think you’re about ready to almost pop,” you mutter, feeding straws of hay to minnie, the beautiful, big, brown cow. she was one of two cows you had on the farm and was currently pregnant, ready to give birth to a cute, little calf. 

minnie doesn’t say anything, and chews on the grain instead. but you like to think that minnie understands your shared conversations, and often expresses her opinions in little ‘moos’. it was either that, or you were actually going insane.

“i think we’ll name your baby….buttercup,” you suggest, rubbing minnie’s ears, “doesn’t that sound lovely, minnie?” and she lets out a little snort, inciting a small smile from you.

checking your wristwatch, your eyes widen. “oops, almost time for patrol. i’ll be back later, sweet lady,” you say as you give minnie’s nose a gentle rub. getting up on your feet, you go to the sink and wash your hands, drying them and using another rag to wipe off any dirt or debris from your light blue overalls. 

this was your usual routine. waking up bright and early, heading to the barn to feed the animals, and making sure they have enough water and are groomed. then, you head over to the stables and help the other stableboys get the horses ready for patrol. yeah, the horses were absolute cuties, but a huge part of the reason you volunteered to go to the stables was so you could see ellie williams before patrol. 

ellie williams was a dream. a dream you’ve been wishing for since you were 13 years old. you were enamored with how fearless she was. she was famous in town for her journey with joel, and what the duo survived out in the open world — causing everyone to heavily praise the two, and think of them in high regard. but you could see there was more to her than meets the eye. yeah, sure, she was a little rough around the edges, but who wasn’t after seeing what she experienced? ellie was usually quiet, and reserved, mostly keeping to herself and her close friends and family. 

the younger folks in jackson think ellie was an ass and a big ole’ grouch. always having a grimace gracing her face or a ‘resting bitch face’ that’d intimidate even the most dangerous of bloaters. but those accusations never startled you.

over the years you’ve tried to get closer to ellie, going out of your way to give her gifts and cooking foods you know she likes. it was your way of helping ellie feel better and relax after a stressful day of patrol, and it was the least you could do. sometimes ellie would get a teensy bit annoyed with you, and would occasionally tell you to tone it down, but you just blamed it on her exhaustion due to patrol.

as you brushed shimmer’s mane, you picked up some baby’s breath that bloomed in your mother's garden and began to tuck it into the creases of the braid you were creating.

“do you feel beautiful, shim?” you ask her, “‘cause you look beautiful.” you giggle, rubbing her nose.

putting down the small pail you used to hold the flowers in, your eyes shift to the exit, raking them over the brunette a few feet away from you. your heart flips in your chest, and you let out a small sigh, fawning over her — ellie williams. 

everything moved in a slow, fluid motion as she turned and headed in your direction. it was like a spotlight was shining right at her, following her every movement. you could only imagine how it’d be to have the privilege of being ellie’s girlfriend, to hold her hand, to kiss her goodbye, to nuzzle into her body during those cold winters. it was a fantasy only your diary had the pleasure of holding. 

there was only one girl in this entire town who held the reputation of being ellie’s girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend. it was dina woodward. they dated for a brief six months, before splitting up and continuing a civil friendship. you weren’t sure what the real reason was for their breakup, but rumors say they ended things because ellie was a terrible partner, never doing anything ‘romantic’ for her or showing any real affection towards her. others say they only got together because they were fooling around when they were out during patrol, and when word of it got out, they thought they’d might as well be together to save face.

but rumors were just rumors and you were never the type of person to believe such things unless they came from the actual source.

your body reacted before your mind could, and before you knew it, you were jogging over towards ellie, throwing your arms around her neck, “good morning, ellie!!”

ellie rolled her eyes, annoyed by the sudden physical contact and loud voice booming so early in the morning. she took hold of your hips, attempting to pry you off her, “alright, alright, that’s enough.”

pulling away and facing her, you smile sheepishly, “sorry, sorry— forgot you hated it when i got a little loud, especially before patrol.”

she huffed, crossing her arms in frustration. ellie knew you as the girl who had this puppy-sick crush on her the moment she arrived at jackson. as young tweens, you chased her around the school grounds, craving any bit of her attention and bothering her whenever the moment arose, like taking every open opportunity to be her partner during class or science experiments. you were the gum on the bottom of her boot, stuck and stubborn, never budging. 

but as the years progressed, she’s learned to tolerate you, thinking you’d eventually get tired of her somehow. giving up after the unreciprocated feelings and chasing after another unlucky fool.

“what happened to shimmer’s mane?” ellie questioned, poking at the flowers adorning the horse’s hair. 

“i braided some flowers in it,” you smile proudly, “she’s cute, huh?”

she nodded mindlessly, and leaned into shimmer’s ear, “i’ll take those off when we get outta here.” 

you made sure to grab the paper bag and held it out to ellie, “i made you lunch again. i left a little note in there, so make sure you read it, m’kay?” you smiled, nodding towards the bagged lunch. 

ellie apprehensively took the bag from your hands, and gave you a curt nod, “yea,” she murmured, “thanks.”

shoving the bag in her backpack, she took ahold of shimmer’s leads, guiding her out of the stables. but you gently touched her arm, “um, ellie.”

she turns slightly, “hm?”

“be safe out there, okay? i’ll be here, waiting for you,” you bite your lip, “and if something happens to you, i’ll— uh— come lookin’ for ya! and i’ll beat those uglies up!”

you smile widely, feeling a bit embarrassed by your word choice, but she got your message. with an awkward smile, she mutters “thanks.”

before she turns again, you move quickly and wrap your arms around her again, giving her a tight squeeze before pecking her on the cheek. a warm, rush of crimson fanned across her cheeks, turning her a bright, cherry red. 

“okay, okay! that’s enough,” ellie groans.

“sorry, sorry,” you pull off and quickly smooth out her clothes, but she just turns away and walks off with shimmer at full tilt. 

as ellie approaches beside jesse, he does a double-take and gawks at her, his curious eyes scanning the face of the girl next to him.

“wow, dude, you look like a tomato-” ellie cut him off.

“shut the fuck up, jess. just shut up.”

as much as you aggravated ellie, she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit to herself that you made her feel something. something she desperately wanted to despise. 

and if there was one thing that was true about her, it was that ellie williams was no liar. 

- 

after arriving at one of the checkpoints along the route, jesse and ellie tied their horses and settled at the abandoned fire lookout tower, taking a much-needed break.

ellie picked off the white florets from shimmer’s hair, letting the small flowers fall to the ground. 

“god, she put so many in here,” ellie muttered, irritated by how many little flowers tangled in the horse’s mane. jesse peered over at her, amusedly watching her peel off the petals and toss them over her shoulder. 

“she ‘do that?” jesse questioned, referring to you as he rummaged through the saddle bag of his horse.

ellie sighed, “yea.” 

“she did a pretty good job,” jesse smiled, “she’s nice for doin’ that.”

she huffed, rolling her eyes for the hundredth time today, “whatever,” she mutters, “shimmer is a brave and strong woman. this shit just makes her look— like a joke.”

the raven-haired boy shook his head in disagreement, “i just think you try to make yourself hate whatever she does.” 

ellie stopped to glare at him, “not true.” 

she didn’t care what you did. she just didn’t want you to involve your perky, bubbly nonsense in her business. ellie thought of you as the complete opposite of her, and being opposites, she couldn’t manage to be around you. you were sunshine, rainbows, puppies, bubbles, and an optimist. ellie was the moon, darkness, crows, horror movies, and a pessimist. two different things. two things that didn’t mix. 

“lies. you try to find every little thing wrong with her, but you can’t admit the truth. she’s the sweetest.” ellie tried her best to ignore the words coming from jesse’s mouth, but she couldn’t. it frustrated her how much he thought you affected her. it was simply false. 

sure, ellie tries to shake off the feeling of pride she gets when you look up at her with adoring eyes and call her ‘brave’ after a day out on patrol, and yeah, she tries to brush away the heat that rises to her face when she sees your face light up every morning when you first see her, but that’s because it doesn’t mean anything. the way ellie blushed rose red after you kissed her cheek this morning meant absolutely nothing. 

“she’s the nicest girl in town,” jesse goes on as the pair take a seat on the wooden steps of the tower, “and you’re being an asshole.”

“yeah, whatever. let’s eat.” ellie attempts to shift the conversation, feeling uneased about all this discussion of you. jesse shrugged, opening his pack and taking out a wrapped-up pack of bison jerky and an apple and took a crispy, juicy bite from the fruit.

ellie took out the paper bag, taking a minute to stare at the ‘for ellie :)’ written in black marker. unfolding the bag, she takes out a tupperware and opens the lid revealing a roasted turkey sandwich on a homemade french roll, freshly made potato chips, a small salad, and a little fruit tart on the side. she takes the small paper in her hand, reading the note you wrote for her:

let me know how you like the food! everything was made this morning and packed with love. be safe and have a great day ellie!

p.s you look pretty today :) 

xoxoxo

ellie suppressed the tiny flutters of butterflies floating in her stomach, blaming it on her evergrowing hunger, and crumpled the note, tossing it back in the paper bag. 

“woah, where’d you get that?” jesse said with a mouth full of jerky, “couldn’t bother to get me one?”

she rolled her eyes, “she always gives me lunch before patrol. you wanna share?” 

jesse shook his head at her offer, “nah, i’m good. don’t think your little housewife would be happy to hear you didn’t finish your food, ma’am,” jesse teased, letting out a chuckle. 

dragging out a groan, ellie closed her eyes before opening them again, “she’s not my— oh, fuck off.”

she chucked a chip at him, the crispy snack hitting him on the shoulder as he laughed again. 

there were a lot of things ellie’s didn’t like about you, but she had to admit, you were a damn good cook. 

-

the sunshine was something you’ve grown to appreciate during your time in jackson. as the winters can drag out for months, you took every opportunity to bask in the sun outside when the weather deemed it possible to do so. during the hotter months in town, you loved getting dressed in flowy dresses and letting the sun kiss your skin tan. it was a treat you and the rest of the people in town enjoyed, especially when everyone took their loved ones to the lake nearby and waded in the cool, fresh water.

after ellie left for patrol in the morning, the weather decided to look up and the sun beamed brighter in the clear, blue skies today, giving you the perfect chance to change out of your overalls and into a cute blouse with puffy sleeves and a pair of blue denim jean shorts. 

sitting on a bench perched outside the fence of the cow’s pen, you let yourself relax, soaking up the warmth radiating from the sunshine and occasionally taking sips from the ice, cold lemonade mrs. meyers made for the workers. 

your ears perked up at the bustling clanks of the main gates opening. sitting up and shielding your eyes from the sun, you take a look and see that ellie and jesse are back from patrol. jumping up in excitement, you set your drink down and sprint over to the stables, excited to see ellie again.

“ellie!” you yell out as she hops off her horse. with wide eyes, she hurriedly hides behind jesse, taking advantage of his taller height and wider build.

“cover for me.” ellie mutters to jesse. 

winded and breathing heavily from the run, you clutch your abdomen and catch your breath, “where’d ellie go? i just saw her.” 

jesse smirks, and ellie looks up at him. don’t you dare. don’t you dare. don’t you fucking dare. 

he steps aside, revealing ellie, hunched forward in a pathetic attempt to hide from you. 

“she’s right here.” jesse smiles, and walks away, staring at ellie as he leaves the both of you alone. 

ellie throws a quick glare his away, before standing up straight and clearing her throat, “hey— uh— i was just fixing my— uh..jacket.”

it was a wretched sight to see. ellie’s lame excuse for avoiding you. if it were anyone else, she’d have no problem telling them to ‘fuck off’ and to leave her alone. but with you, she didn’t have the guts to tell you she was avoiding you. why? she didn’t know. maybe she didn’t want to see your feelings hurt. 

but you were oblivious to this. it was a regular occurrence for you to miss things and let them go right over your head, but it was because you saw the good in everyone, even ellie. 

“how was patrol? see anything interesting?” you pondered to ellie, walking alongside her as she begin her trek back to her house. 

“nah, just the same old shit,” ellie speeds up her pace, and you struggle to keep up with her long legs, nearly stumbling over your own.

“so, uh, ellie,” you stammered, “i wanted to ask if you were doing anything tonight?” 

this was your corny way of asking her on a date, something you’ve been wanting to do for ages. 

“uh, yeah—” ellie scratched the back of her neck, “i’m real busy tonight.”

false. ellie’s evening consisted of smoking a joint and immersing herself in volume 14 of her favorite comic book. but she already knew, there was no telling what’d happen if she were to be alone with you. 

ellie strictly kept her distance from you and always made sure there were other people around you two while talking. it was her way of being in control. she was terrified of what would happen if her feelings were to rise to the surface and reign sovereignty over her. 

“oh okay,” you thought for a moment, “how about tomorrow night?”

“uhh, not available tomorrow either. sorry.” ellie avoided your gaze, instead letting her eyes fall to the ground, but to her inconvenience, her eyes gravitated to the sight of your bare legs underneath those shorts, only imagining what she’d do if she could feel the smooth skin under her fingertips. 

ellie pushed her thoughts to the side. this is what she didn’t want. she couldn’t let herself think these vile thoughts. she couldn’t let her guard down. she couldn’t allow herself to trust and be vulnerable. ellie had to control herself, doing whatever means necessary to keep you far, far away.

“hmph, okay. it’s fine,” you frown for a moment before forcing a smile on your face, “maybe another time.” 

“mhm, sure.” 

as you turn away and head in a different direction, ellie let her eyes watch you walk away, ignoring the tight squeeze in her heart that occurs every time you leave. she knew whatever she did, her feelings for you only grew, scaring her more than any clicker could. 

that evening, you prepared the farm animal's last meal for tonight and filled up their water basins. but you couldn’t focus, your mind distracted by that certain green-eyed girl. it was almost wearisome having these many feelings for one person, your mind consumed by her very existence, to the point where you couldn’t even focus on work. 

startling yourself, you feel the pointy straws of hay poking your legs as you overfilled minnie’s feeder. 

“ugh, minnie,” you groan, “ what the heck am i gonna do with ellie?” 

you grabbed the broom, and began sweeping the stray hay that fell onto the floor, letting yourself vent to the cow. 

“i know, i know, everyone might think she’s a big ole’ grump,” you begin, “but i don’t see her that way. she’s so brave and she’s so smart! i see her reading her astronomy books all the time.”

you smile at yourself, the image of ellie sitting on the brown wicker chair on the porch pops in your brain. “when it gets late at night, i see her doodling the stars and planets,” you fawn, “shh, don’t tell her i told you that.” 

you sigh, leaning your cheek against the top of the broom’s handle, “she’s just so— amazing. a real special person. she deserves everything in the world for all she does.” 

as silence fills the barn, you gasp, minnie’s eyes widening in surprise. “maybe i’ll do something big for her. to show her how much she means to me.” 

you lean the broom against the wall, “thank you, minnie. for always listening to me.” you rub her head before you scurry out of the barn, heading home to lay out your plans. leaving minnie to chew on the straws of grain. 

- 

february 14th

“fucking shit!” ellie yelled, throwing her backpack off her back, creating a loud thud as it landed on the floor of the weapon’s armory shed. today’s patrol was particularly grueling today as she and jesse were confronted with two bloaters and four raiders. after a gruesome fistfight with the raiders, all the men did was loot their weapons and supplies and left them alive with their horses. they were considered extremely lucky, as in most cases, the raiders would’ve left them dead. 

“c’mon, we did good out there,” jesse remarked attempting to lighten the mood, but he should’ve known there was no worth in trying to cheer up an already pissed-off ellie. 

“yea, talking as if we didn’t almost fucking died today,” ellie snapped, “two separate times.”

“you know what you need?”

“what?”

“to blow off some steam. get cleaned up and head over to the bar,” jesse smirked at her, but she rolled her eyes, not wanting to do anymore socializing after the dreadful day she had. 

“not today, jess. i jus’ wanna go home, get this shit off me, and sleep for ten hours.”

“c’mon, you buzzkill. it’s valentines day after all,” he sighed, “you gonna spend it cooped up alone in your room?”

“yup.”

“please, ellie. just come with me. let’s celebrate our win today.” 

ellie thought for a moment, and knowing jesse would never take no for an answer for things like these, she reluctantly agreed, “fine.”

- 

unlike ellie, you were beaming, reeling in the ecstatic mood your favorite holiday has brought. valentine’s day was a day for love and celebration in the town of jackson. the local kids would decorate the buildings with red and pink heart streamers and maria always hosted a lovely get-together filled with delicious food, good music, and slow dances.

your heart skipped a beat at the thought of slow dancing with ellie — her hands on your waist, your arms slung around her neck, your bodies swaying ever so slowly along the rhythm of the song.

your hands fixed the pink ribbon in the back of your hair and adjusted some strands of hair to frame your face. you swiped some oil across your lips to give them a sheen gloss and adjusted the long sleeves of your red dress. you felt pretty. 

scrambling towards the kitchen, you flip open the white box, doubling checking the cake and making sure it didn’t need any last-minute toppings. satisfied with your baked creation, you closed the box and secured it in your hands, preparing to head out the door and make your way toward the tipsy bison.

during the walk there, you quietly rehearsed the speech you had prepared in your head. you were a bundle of nerves as you anxiously ran through the words over and over again, hoping by the time you made it to the bar, you got it down and wouldn’t make yourself look like a complete fool in front of ellie and her friends.

one of your hands pushed against the doors of the bar, the bell tinkling as you entered the establishment. you greeted a few familiar faces and smiled at barry, the regular bartender. but your mind was set on finding ellie, nothing less, so your eyes scanned the area and settled on a certain brunette who was sitting at a booth, amongst her chattering friends as she sipped on a glass of bourbon. 

you couldn’t help the smile that curled on your lips, “ellie!”

the brunette snapped her head at the sound of her name, but she let out a despondent groan after realizing it was you. she wasn’t in the mood nor did she have the patience to deal with you tonight, but nothing could stop you from heading in her direction. 

“ah, shit. she’s coming.” ellie takes a long swig of her drink, hoping the alcohol would make this entire ordeal more tolerable.

“be nice, ellie.” dina snapped as you approached their table. 

you smiled at everyone — jesse, dina, kelly, evan, ellie — and greeted them with a “happy valentines day everyone!”

everyone smiled and held up their drinks in acknowledgment as your eyes flickered on the girl in front of you. “can i talk to you, ellie? alone?”

a mixture of excitement and nerves flooded your body as you were getting ready to execute your plan.

ellie, however, was growing more worried and worried by each passing second. your little red dress was the first thing that caught her eye. the way that it hugged your figure and sat right above your knees to reveal the bare flesh of your legs made her want to protect you from the staring eyes of all the men in here and beat them into a pulp for thinking whatever perverted thoughts that clouded their head. the second thing that got her attention was the shine of your lips and how it managed to make them look pouty and tempting to kiss, an urge ellie had fought so hard to restrain. 

she cleared her throat, and laid back nonchalantly, trying to exude this false sense of confidence, “you can say it here.”

you swallowed thickly, “here? i-in front of everyone?”

“yup.”

looking around nervously, you hesitantly agreed as her friends had their eyes on you, completely immersed in your interaction. 

“alright, i guess i’ll just— come out with it.”

you took a deep breath to soothe your nerves. “ellie, we’ve known each other for years now, and in that time, i’ve– uh— grown to really, really like you. i think you’re so pretty and one of the bravest people in town— and— and you’re so intelligent, the way you know so much about space and stuff.”

if someone were to put a tomato next to ellie’s face, the resemblance would be uncanny. 

“what i’m trying to say is— is that i really hope you could give me a chance— give us a chance— and let me take you out on a date and show you how happy i can make you,” your voice shook, “i swear, ellie. i’d make you the happiest girl in the world.”

you opened the box to reveal a heart-shaped cake covered in pink frosting with the words ‘be mine’ in red buttercream and held it out to her. 

ellie was aghast, and she didn’t know what to say. her mind was going a mile a minute, and numerous emotions were shooting through her body. ellie felt so special and loved, a feeling she rarely ever experienced. she was frozen, yet the next words that would utter in her mouth would leave her regretting ever coming to the bar.

“i’m sorry. i— i don’t think i can do this.”

your brows furrowed, “wh-what do you mean?

“you. you’re too much. you’re always hovering, always around, always calling out my name when you see me. you follow me around and i’m sick of it,” ellie couldn’t stop the words from leaving her mouth, “please, just— leave me alone.”

the moment the words fell from her lips, she immediately felt regret. guilt washed over her the minute she saw your face fall and eyes fill up with tears. fuck. she didn’t know what made her lash out at you like that— perhaps it was the alcohol or the fucked up day this was, but she knew there was no excuse to say any of those things to you.

your lips wobbled, and a tear rolled down your cheek, “ellie williams,” you squeaked, “i never wanna see you again.” 

you dropped the boxed cake onto the wooden floor, the frosting flinging everywhere, and ran out of the bar. ellie wanted to run after you so badly, to take you in her arms and kiss your tears away, but she couldn’t. she was a coward. 

“congratulations, you just got 1st place for being the biggest, fucking asshole.” jesse snapped, but ellie didn’t bother responding, knowing what he said was true.

- 

ellie didn’t see you for a week after valentines day, and that transition from hearing your voice call her name every morning, feeling your arms wrap around her neck to hug her before she leaves, and enjoying your home-cooked meals to nothing at all was like night and day. it was quiet and silent, and all the color that filled her days was suddenly drained to a mere gray without you. 

ellie thought that maybe you were just purposely avoiding her, so she started showing up early at the stables before she left for patrol, but you were never there. then, she started walking around the barns, to see if you were occupying your time by tending to the animals, but no, you weren’t there either. 

unbeknownst to ellie, you spent the entire week at home, sulking in your pajamas and shoveling your favorite junk foods in your mouth while watching your favorite 90’s romantic comedy as an effort to mend your broken heart. you couldn’t bear the embarrassment of leaving the four walls of your home after being humiliated by ellie. 

after spending your days cooped up at home, you finally felt ready to come back to work at the barn. it was currently early in the morning, and you just opened the gates to the fence, letting minnie, the chickens, and a couple of the sheep graze on the grass.

as ellie walked towards the stables for patrol, she caught a glimpse of you from her peripheral vision and nearly broke her neck doing a double take. she knew it was you because you were the only one in this town who owned a pair of bright, yellow overalls. 

there you were, leaning against the wooden fence watching the animals as the sun sat on the edge of the horizon, painting hues of violet and saffron across the sky. ellie appeared next to you, leaning her arms against the wood surface. 

“uh, hey.”

you ignored her.

“how’re things?

silence.

“the animals doin’ okay?”

quiet.

“are you just gonna keep ignoring me?” yes. 

you sighed and turned to head back into the barns, not bothering to look at her. 

“i guess i deserved that.” ellie mutters, watching you walk away. she knew needed to apologize to you and she knew just the way to do it. 

- 

the day after ellie’s failed plan of getting you to talk to her, she conjured up a way to apologize to you.

as ellie was coming back from patrol, she carefully held the bouquet of vibrant, golden sunflowers in her hands. she remembered to bring her switchblade to cut them off of their long stems and tie them together into a beautiful bunch.

she knew how much you loved sunflowers, and remembered how you always used to beg her to take you outside of the gates so you could go collect some so you can plant your own. 

with a little pep in her step, ellie was confident that you would love the gift she got for you and you’d surely talk to her again in no time. everything would go back to how it was before. 

ellie approached the entrance of the barn, seeing you tend to minnie and rubbing the side of her belly. a ghost of a smile made its way onto her lips, and she walked towards you, tapping you on the shoulder. 

your head snapped around and looked at her, a neutral expression on your face. no more bright smile.

ellie coughed nervously, and she handed the bouquet of sunflowers to you, “here, these are for you,” you took them from her hands, “they’re pretty, just like you.”

you cautiously looked down at the posy of marigold sunflowers. 

she fucking loves them. i could tell already, ellie thought to herself. she had to suppress the proud smirk that was about to appear on her face. 

but you did something even ellie couldn’t predict. 

you picked one flower from the bunch, and you began feeding it to minnie. minnie took the floret in her mouth, and smacked on it contentedly, clearly enjoying her mid-afternoon snack.

as minnie chomped on the rest of the bouquet, you turned your heel and left ellie alone to her thoughts. 

“god, i’m so dumb,” ellie groans, and she peers at the small brown mammal, “at least someone likes them,” she comments as minnie looks at her with big, brown eyes.

- 

the next morning, ellie came to the stables early, hoping you’d be there, and to her surprise, you were.

ellie had came up with a new game plan to apologize to you. her first mistake with the bouquet was that she was trying to ‘woo’ you with gifts, but maybe what you needed was for her to just be honest with you and to open up. that was what ellie spent the rest of her night doing, writing a deep letter about her feelings for you and how sorry she is for telling you all those horrible things. 

as usual, you were with shimmer, brushing her coat and making sure she was groomed. from the corner of your eye, you could see ellie coming towards you, and you braced yourself.

she stopped in front of you and handed you a red envelope with your name on it. taking it from her hands, she smiles at you and takes shimmer’s leads from you, gently guiding her away. 

ellie took the time to put on shimmer’s saddle and to pack her bag with some extra treats for her during patrol, but she couldn’t help but think of your reaction to her letter. she imagined the smile that graced your face as you opened the letter and saw the little stickers adorning the border of the paper and reading over the black ink. 

but ellie was wrong. very, very wrong. 

as ellie turned her head to sneak a peek at you, she was startled to see you already looking straight at her. maintaining eye contact, you ripped up the letter and tossed it in the pile of horseshit. you brushed off your hands and walked away, feeling accomplished by your petty deed.

ellie turned to shimmer, “i guess i should’ve seen that one coming.”

- 

after a couple of days contemplating what to do with you, ellie decided enough was enough and that she was going to confront you, no matter what. 

the sun had already set, and the moon had overshadowed the dark, night sky. ellie climbed up the stairs of your house, and pressed three loud knocks against your door, adjusting the straps of the guitar gig bag on her shoulders. 

at first, she thought you weren’t going to answer the door, but after a momentary silence followed by a couple of sounds of shuffling, the door swung open. 

ellie assumed you were about to go to bed, as evidenced by your oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants hugging your hips. 

“hi,” you greeted, the sound of your voice surprising ellie after not having heard it for a while.

“hey,” ellie replied, “can i come in?”

you move aside, giving her room to step inside your home.

“where are your parents?” ellie queries, knowing they’d usually be home around this time.

“upstairs, asleep,” you nudged your head towards the hallway, “we’ll talk in my room.”

ellie follows behind you as you lead the way to your bedroom, opening the door and plopping down on your bed. she closes your bedroom door and slowly walks around, almost as if she’s scared to make any sudden movements.

she finally sits on your desk chair in front of you, taking off her guitar bag and setting it down on the floor next to her.

you weren’t sure what compelled you to finally talk to ellie and let her in your home, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease and anxiety. there was no telling what she was really here for.

“i came here because i wanted to apologize,” ellie murmured, “i’ve been trying to apologize for a couple of days now and i’m gonna keep on trying because what i did was really, really shitty.”

you were silent for a brief moment, “...yeah. it was shitty.”

ellie sighed, “i’ll apologize a million times if you want me to.”

“ellie— you don’t get it. you humiliated me in front of the whole town,” your voice cracked, “i don’t think i could forgive you that easily.”

her heart squeezed in your chest seeing the tears well up in your eyes and hearing the little sniffles coming from your nose. it was her fault you were hurt. she did this.

ellie got up and sat on your bed next to you, letting her feelings overcome her and allowing herself to wrap her arms around your frame, holding you close as you cried into her hoodie.

you pulled away from her chest, looking up at her with glossy eyes, “i was nothing but nice to you, els. you could’ve told me something if i was bothering you,” you wiped a tear, “i would’ve left you alone.”

ellie sighed and brushed your hair out of your face, her entire demeanor softening as she was consumed by your presence, “i didn’t want you to leave me alone.”

“huh?” you gave her a confused look.

“look, i’m not really good at showing my feelings. whenever i try to express how i feel or whatever, it goes sideways and i end up fucking up,” ellie explained, “i really do like you, a whole shit ton. i love everything you do for me and i love how you’re always there and how you wear these crazy bright colors and how you talk to the animals in that one baby voice.”

heat rose to your cheeks and it was impossible to hide the blush that spread across your nose.

“i want to be with you,” she confessed, “i just get terrified of being vulnerable and opening up. love makes you do crazy shit and i don’t know— i hate not being in control.”

you were silent, thinking carefully of what to say next. ellie was internally begging for you to say something, anything.

“love means taking risks and being out of your comfort zone, els,” you whispered quietly, “take the leap.”

ellie soaked in your words. take the leap. take the leap. take. the. leap. 

her hand cupped your cheek and she leaned in, pressing her lips against yours, tasting the salt of your tears. ellie’s lips moved gently against yours, not wanting to show any urgency toward you.

she felt your hand creep up to the side of her neck, rubbing against her soft skin as you deepen the kiss. 

ellie pulls away, leaning her forehead against yours, “i’m sorry, baby. please, i can’t bear being without you,” she whispers, “i’m so, so sorry. i’ll never be an asshole to you again.” 

“i’ll forgive you this one time, williams,” you murmur, “but don’t take my kindness for weakness.”

ellie pulled away, taking her acoustic guitar out of her bag and placing it in her lap.

“here, let me sing you a song i know you’ll love.”

ellie’s fingers strummed the strings, playing a chord.

i’ve never known someone like you

tangled in love, stuck by you

from the glue

her voice sang the lyrics to your favorite song, eliciting that beaming smile she’d missed so badly.

don’t forget to kiss me 

or else you’ll have to miss me

i guess i’m stuck forever by the glue

a tear rolled down your cheek, as you were overwhelmed with joy at the site of her singing. something not too many had the privilege of experiencing. 

finding the right words to use for this song

i have you in mind

so it won’t take so long

never thought i’d find you

but you’re here and so i love you

as the lyrics left ellie’s lips, she knew she’d chosen the right song to sing for you. as this song described everything you both have gone through, being attached to each other like glue.

i’m not wrong when i say i’ve been stuck

by the glue onto you

i’ve been stuck by glue

right onto you

i’ve been stuck by glue

the song came to an end, and ellie placed the guitar down, feeling unnerved from you watching her sing for the first time. you sniffle and smiled, throwing your arms around her and hugging her tightly.

“i loved it! you were amazing, els!” you quipped, inciting a small laugh from ellie.

“glad you liked it, babe.”

you pull away slightly to face her, “gosh, how i missed you,” you exasperate, “it was torture having to ignore you for days.”

ellie lets out a laugh, “oh yeah? if anything, i think out of the both of us, you’re the meaner one.”

you smile and shrug your shoulders, “what can i say, williams? you bring out that side to me.”

ellie smiles and pecks your cheek, “and you bring out the softer side to me, baby,” she points out, “isn’t it ironic? we’re total opposites yet we bring these sides out of each other.” 

“yeah, it is a bit funny,” you giggle, “but i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡

[servicpop]

Hhhhhhh this is gonna be embarrassing 4 me to write out shshjsjs but I LOVE your writing and I have a request

If your like up for it, could you write another yanfic? But cowboy x ‘showgirl’ (a dude cross dressing for fun) it’s sfw

Like the cowboy goes to one of the readers shows and is immediately obsessed with the performer who he assumes is just a really flat woman, but when the cowboy goes backstage to find the woman he’s met with a man who looks identical to the woman on stage and realizes that the woman of his dreams was actually a man and to the cowboy that’s even better

N they go on a date and it’s fluffy and shit cus i love fluff and cowboys, i really fucking love cowboys

-🎱

✶ ﹑ love at first performance ﹏

NOW STARRING : Soft cowboy (Cole Hudson) x show"girl" reader

「ㅤSFWㅤ」ㅤCole goes to watch one of reader's show and was captivated by the performance but he didn't know that reader wasn't really a showgirl.

✙ warnings — fluff, reader cross-dresses, addresses reader as woman in the first bit (he doesn't know yet) use of her once! I'm not very good at portraying a cowboy well...

notes ,, this got me doing my research ! not too sure if this is accurate for show girls (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) not proofread!

Dusty boots scraped on the floor as Cole navigated through the bustling crowd; his heart raced from how many people there were. As the cowboy wandered in the dimly lit venue, his gaze fixated on the stage where beautiful women dressed in flamboyant clothing that glittered and swayed with their movement, danced along with the rhythm of music blaring through speakers. One showgirl especially caught Cole's attention. The way your body moved like water was hypnotising and he coupling stop his heart from thumping against his ribcage.

At first, Cole wasn't interested in these loud events; always scarin' his poor cows and his horse, but this time his pal had really insisted for him to visit one. 'It would be fun,' he said, 'see lots of spectacular performances and maybe some cute girls,' he said. So, Cole rode his horse into the heart of town and here he was now, stuck between sweaty bodies and glaring lights in his eyes.

That one performer though, your radiance was brighter than the other showgirls. Cole was entranced by your dancing, oh how he wishes he was there with you, hand on your hips, slow dancing under the soft streetlights of his home town. He slid his hat off, placing it over his chest almost like he was trying to muffle the sound of his racing heart. The costumes were bright, dazzling, and flowed easily in the wind. They were also quite revealing, accentuating the girl's cleavage and showing off the performer's midriff. All but you.

Cole noticed the lack of well— a larger chest like the other girls had, but he just assumed you were flat-chested. That didn't matter to him, besides, he prefered modesty anyways. After a few minutes, your performance was unfortunately coming to an end. The music faded out and the vibrant lights dimmed as he watched you all bow. The venue filled with deafening clapping but Cole couldn't help but stare starry-eyed at you as you walked off stage. He needed to meet you in person.

The next act slowly made their way to the stage but Cole couldn't care less about them; it was a horse show! He's pretty skilled with horses himself so there was no need to stay. Once again he pushed through the crowd of cheering people, weaving his way out of the venue. When he emerged out, Cole was hit with the crisp night air, a stark contrast of freshness compared to inside the venue. His eyes scanned the area, trying to find where the performers went after their show and he was able to spot a small tent that had light seeping out of the gaps. Cole walked over to said tent and grazed the fabric with his fingertips in hesitancy. He took a deep breath; his chest heaving before he shut his eyes and pushed the fabric aside, walking inside.

He opened his eyes as he walked in, a few showgirls turned around to look at him with confused faces and he just stood there dumbfounded. The words he wanted to speak were clogged by the lump in his throat. You walked up to him, waving your hand infront of his face, "Hey, are you okay?" You asked with a raised eyebrow. He blinked a few times before tilting his head down to meet your gaze. Christ you were beautiful, almost hauntingly similar to the showgirl he was infatuated with earlier. "U—um, I'm looking for a specific showgirl that performed tonight and I was wonderin' if I can... find her," He mumbled out, his eyes locked onto your features as if he was assessing your face. "Are you two, by any chance, relatives of some sort?" He questioned, his country accent shining through his voice.

The girls giggled while taking off their make-up and Cole shot them a confused glance. You sighed with a small chuckle and you looked down at your feet, "By any chance, would this 'showgirl' you're looking for, be me?" Once again, Cole stared at you with his jaw open. He felt his heart strangely flutter despite knowing that you were a guy. He swore he wasn't into guys but you were— different. Not like any man he's seen. He just couldn't shake off his attraction towards you.

"You're a fella?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?"

"Well I'll be damned, you are one beauty."

The mixture of his country accent and your more refined accent strikingly contrasted but for some reason complemented eachother. City boy meets country boy. It seemed like Cole had a staring problem because once again, he was blankly gazing into your eyes. It was charming though, how Cole always looked like he was admiring you. Pretty flattering to say the least. Out of nowhere he spoke up...

"How 'bout takin' a ride on my horse?"

How did you get here? Holding onto Cole's waist, you screamed pathetically. Your eyes were screwed shut and your cheek was pressed against his back, all you could hear were hooves thumping on the ground and Cole's warm laugh that echoed through the valley. You two were going so fast that you swore you'd fall off if you didn't hold on tight enough. "You enjoying the ride darlin'?" Cole chuckled, peering over his shoulder to see you clutching onto him like a koala, "Slow down, please!" He ignored your pleas to slow down, "C'mon sweetheart, open your eyes, the stars tonight are just somethin' else!" He yelled through the noise of the wind instead. When he saw that you didn't budge from your terrified position, he just let out a soft laugh and placed one hand over your ones that were clasped around his waist. The warmth of his calloused palm spread to your fingertips and you almost forgot how cold it was tonight. "We're almost there, don't worry," his voice was gentle and thick like honey as he reassured you.

You weren't used to this, not used to the serene silence of the nature, not used to the wind beating so hard against your body, not used to clinging onto a cute cowboy for your dear life as he rode his horse with such passion. You've grown used to the smoke filling the city, used to the loud noises of late night partiers and engines running, used to being by yourself in an apartment with only the warmth of your blanket to keep you company. When was the last time you felt so— free?

The wind died down and you two slowly halted to a stop; you didn't even realise. "You can let go now sugar," Cole giggled as he waited for you to look up from the comfort of his back. You raised your head, your eyes meeting the beautiful scenery of a small cliff with forests lining the background and a starry display of the night sky that seemed like the stars were winking at you. This was a sight you could never see in the city. Cole slides off his horse, planting his two feet on the floor before extending a hand up to you to help you get off too. Your hand reluctantly meets his, the warmth of his palm returning to your finger tips as he guides you down, catching you when you hopped off. The way he handled you was so gentle, as if he was a beast and you were a fragile butterfly.

"Guess you could say we're on a date, huh?" Cole's smile punched your gut from how soft he looked, his hand never left yours. You scoff at his remark — but in a light-hearted way — as your eyes leave his instead, and returned to the scene presented infront of the both of you. It really did seem like a date, far more romantic than any fancy dinner in the big city. Oh and the way his eyes aren't even looking at the sky. He's looking at you. "Ain't it a sight for sore eyes?" He marvelled, and you know he's not talking about the scenery.

"Yeah, it really is," You breathed out quietly like your breath had just been taken away. Cole's eyes finally leave you and he stared at the soil beneath him before he spoke, his voice hushing to barely above a whisper, "You goin' back to the big city soon?" He doesn't want you to leave. Not now. Not yet. Before you could speak, his large hands bring yours together and he traps them between his. His eyes were wide and his brows were furrowed, "Please don't go," he blurted out, embarrassingly higher pitch than he wanted his voice to be.

Your eyes soften as you couldn't help the giggles that escaped your throat. Your eyes lingered on his hands over yours and you noticed the way his fingers trembled slightly but his strength in his grip never faltered. He wasn't allowing you to leave. You did have time before your next gig so, why not?

"Maybe I'll stay for a little longer."

Your heart ached when you saw Cole sigh in relief, his eyes darting everywhere but yours with dusted rose cheeks. He let go of your hands, clutching his own. "I reckon I'll take you out to the strawberry farm my buddy owns. You can't find nothin' sweeter than the fresh grown strawberries out here," He proposed, his fingers skimming over his own knuckles. He was somewhat afraid that you'd reject him. You were so sophisticated, so refined that he couldn't help but feel silly next to you, a big performer who traveled the country to entertain. You, on the other hand, almost instantly fell to your knees from his adorable invite. Strawberry farming? With this cute cowboy you just met? Hell yeah!

"Sounds like a deal, um—" You just realised, you never got his name, "Oh! It's Cole, Cole Hudson," He replied, tipping his hat at you. Jotting his name down in your mind, you glanced at the sky, and noticed that it was incredibly dark, your manager and the girls would be worried if you were nowhere to be found in an unfamiliar place, "Well, I guess it's time to let you be. Let me take you back to your place for tonight." A whistle breaks through the silence in the air as Cole called over his horse, her hooves tapped against the floor in a trot as he took your hand in his and hoisted you up onto the horse's back before hopping on himself, "Hold on, sweets," He smiled, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his waist, securing yourself to him. With a gentle nudge of his foot and the flick of the reins, he guided his horse forward.

You were a little braver this time, keeping your head up as you tried to look around you but it was practically useless now as everything was pitch-black. You wondered how Cole could navigate in such darkness, maybe it was because he travelled up this same path multiple times and knew it better than the back of his palm. As of now, you put your whole trust in him to escort you to your hotel safely.

The lights of the town in the distance inched closer as you two finally made it back. The town was eerily quiet as many people were presumably asleep at this hour — it was so different to the city. "Thanks for the ride, Cole, I really enjoyed it," You thanked him while fumbling to get off his horse; you were still getting used to it. Cole had a hand gently caressing the mahogany-coloured fur of his mare as he looked at you with those hazel eyes of his.

"See you here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure."

You found yourself rushing to meet up with Cole the next morning. Something in you just— felt at home with him. You met up with him, he took you on his horse, and after a few long conversations about seemingly anything that popped into your minds, you and Cole arrived to the strawberry farm. It was a surprisingly big farm with green rows of leaves with a pop of red peaking out from behind the leaves. Cole helped you put on your boots and strapped a hat to your head to shield you from the harsh sun of the countryside.

"I'll teach ya how to find the sweetest ones," Cole grinned, flicking his head to the side as he encouraged you to follow him. He trudged along the rows of strawberries with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, showing his well-built forearms. He had given you a little basket and labelled you on 'basket duty,' but you didn't complain. You stared at his back while he proudly walked infront of you, it was now that you realised how big he was compared to you, both in height and muscle. Could you grow to his height in the future? Probably not.

You were snapped out of your trance when Cole squat down and reached a hand out to one particularly red strawberry, "Here, this is a good one," he hummed contently before plucking it off the stem before handing it to you, "Y'see, a bright red tells you its a sweet strawberry, and these green caps are also good," Cole explained. He placed the strawberry into the basket and turned back around, walking forward with peeled eyes. He wanted to find the best ones for you.

"How 'bout you try, darlin'?" Cole asked, glancing over his shoulder before reaching out his arm to encircle around your waist, drawing you closer and leading you forward. "Alright," You hesitated on agreeing but why not give it a try? You couldn't get this experience anywhere in the city. Your eyes caught on specific strawberry that fit the 'Sweet Strawberry' criteria that Cole suggested to you. Vibrant color? Check. Green cap? Check. You picked it off the stem and showed Cole for approval. He placed a hand on his chin as he looked like he was lost in analysing the strawberry. A smile plastered on his face and his dimples appeared, "You'll ain't gonna know 'till you try it."

Bringing the strawberry to your lips, you sunk your teeth into it, the refreshing sweetness meeting your tongue. Your gaze was casted off into space as you took some time to process how to describe the taste until you suddenly felt warm fingers tilt your chin up. Before you could question it, Cole leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, savouring the taste of the strawberry that was lingering on your lips. It was only a small peck before he pulled away. You swear you were just swept off your feet and— was it getting really hot or was it just you? You stood there, frozen, unsure of how to act after that kiss. That was enough to send your heart running laps.

"It's real sweet, you sure did a good job pickin' that one sweetheart."

♡

notes ,, I loved writing this so much! Thank you nonnie ♡♡ I wasn't planning on writing this much but I just had to ,, anyways! If you wanna see more Cole please request scenarios/date ideas/etc etc, also, thank you for 400+ followers ♡ my read more thing keeps breaking so don't mind if its kinda weird!

[peachessndreamss]

A Rose by Any Other Name.

Summery : Princes Aegon and Aemond visit Highgarden to broker a marriage contract for the younger brother, while there Aemond finds himself in need of relief and doesn't care who with.

Characters : Aemond Targaryen x f!Tyrell reader

Warnings : Dub Con, abuse of title/rank, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, derogatory terms for women, alcohol consumption, cannon divergent, Aegon slander

Word count : 4.5 k

A/N : Sometimes my dreams are the unlimited pasta caste and sometimes they're this, sorry. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.

The ground of a Highgarden stable yard was a mess of mud and straw as the eldest Tyrell daughter rode her horse sedately out of the stables and toward the open door of the outer keep. There had been days of fresh spring rains which had soaked the earth, swollen the rivers and brought the Reach alive in a riot of colour, from the azure blue of the sky to the lush green of the grasses in the animal fields and every colour of the rainbow in the food and flowers that grew and ripened under the warming sun. 

“Outriders say the Princes are only a few hours away if the good weather holds so don’t go far,” the horse master reminded her. 

“I’ll not go far,” she replied with an airy wave of her hand, the route she’d already set on in her mind was several hours over the roughest terrain the estate of Highgarden had to offer and would have her coming home a good while after the Targaryen visitors had arrived. She had no desire to stand in the muddy yard with her siblings to greet the princes when their wheelhouse rolled in. 

Her father had started brokering the marriage contract over 9 months before, ravens flew back and forth between Highgarden and Kings Landing as her father bartered, first, with the Hand of the King and then with Queen Alicent. She’d looked through the letters herself, working out just how much she was worth to her father and the Targaryens. Finally the Queen suggested Aegon and Aemond visit the Reach themselves to complete negotiations and hold a formal betrothal. 

If she was going to be sold off to Aemond Targaryen like a cow at a market she would at least spend her final day as an unbetrothed woman in the way she enjoyed the most. As she passed under the gate the horse beneath her gave a shiver of anticipation, as they turned toward the East and the low spring sun that dazzled her eyes the horse gave a snort of impatience. 

Despite the lack of visibility Lady Tyrell angled the horse toward a small cluster of woods she knew were on the horizon, she clicked her tongue and gave the horse a short squeeze with her thighs. At this the horse broke into a trot and soon they were hidden by the sun and quickly disappearing over the horizon. 

In the West, still 10 or so miles from Highgarden, the royal wheelhouse shuddered and bounced over the pitted road, shaking the two occupants and further fraying delicate nerves. 

Aegon groaned and gripped at the set beneath him, his head hanging low and his eyes closed tightly as he tried to stop feeling like his head and body were moving in different directions. 

“I can’t see why we couldn’t come on dragonback,” Aegon groaned as he fought the urge to vomit again. 

Aemond remained in stoney silence, seething at his older brother and the despicable mess he was. The night before they had slept in a tavern on the edge of the Reach. Aegon has drunk his way through an entire barrel of rose wine and was found in the morning asleep in the stable between two sheep. The smell of him, a mix of spilt wine and sheep shit made Aemond's stomach roll. 

“Isn't there some high born hole you can marry in Kings Landing?” Aegon complained as the wheelhouse gave a lurch and bumped over the poorly maintained track. 

“Cease your incessant whining,” Aemond finally snapped, kicking his brother in the leg. 

“Why did I have to come?” Aegon muttered, rubbing at his calf and glaring at Aemond through the lank locks of hair that had fallen over his face. 

“I would have paid good money to leave you behind,” Aemond replied coldly. 

“Why didn't you?!”. 

“Mother insisted,” Aemond shrugged and turned away from his brother, pulling the window cover back with a long finger and watching disinterestedly at the countryside rolling by. If he ended up marrying into the Lords of this land, the first thing he'd insist on was better roads. 

The wheelhouse turned sharply and Aegon groaned again, stuffing his cloak into his mouth to fight the nausea. Once it had passed he spit the fabric out, it tasted like sheep and possibly his piss. 

“I fucking hope she's worth it,” he hissed. 

The lady returned to Highgarden even later than she'd intended and in a far worse state. Her usually sure mount had startled while riding through a wooded area and thrown her off his back into a sticky quagmire, she’d landed mostly on her back and left side, the clothes had become soaked in mud that had been almost impossible to get off when it was wet. She had washed the worst of it off her face and hands  in a small stream but her riding clothes remained caked in the muck. 

“My Lady, what happened?” The horse master exclaimed as she trotted the beast into the stables. 

“He threw me is all, no lasting damage done,” she replied as she dismounted and patted the horse's neck lovingly. 

“Are they here?” She asked after a moment of heavy silence. 

“Your father's taken them to his solar, he's not happy you weren't here to greet them,”. 

She nodded sharply and handed the reins of the horse over to a stableboy.

“Plenty of hay, water and a few of those early golden apples,” she instructed before turning and heading into the yard.

She entered the building through a servants door, knowing she could make a path between there and her own rooms that wouldn't put her anywhere near her father's solar. She could be washed and changed and ready to entertain Princes long before dinner was served. 

She stepped into a small anteroom off the kitchens where she knew she could take off her ruined riding gear, stripping down to her small clothes and riding boots, she left everything in a pile, making a note to tell her maidservant about it as soon as she saw the woman. She couldn't well wander the halls of Highgarden in her shift so she took a clean servants dress from the stack in the corner and pulled the shapeless linen over her head, tying it around the middle with a belt of braided cord. She splashed icy water on her face and did her best to tuck any loose hairs back into their braid before setting off for her rooms. 

She'd almost made it back to her own chambers when a voice from behind spoke. 

“Girl, come here,” it commanded and she stopped in her tracks. 

No one in her father's household would speak to her like that, even if she was dressed as a servant. She turned slowly, the blood racing to her face when she looked at Aemond Targaryen for the first time. 

He was still dressed for travel, with black leather trousers and a similarly hardy jacket with a high collar. The patch over his eye hid most of the damage but the deep red scar extended up his forehead and down his cheek, the only mark she could see on his otherwise glass clear skin. There was no flicker of recognition on his face, he obviously had no idea who he was speaking to. 

“Come here,” he ordered again when she'd not moved toward him. 

She opened her mouth to protest, to ask him who he thought he was speaking to but she stopped, closing her mouth and moving toward him. If she was going to marry this man she wanted to know what type of man he was and how better to learn than to see how he treated servants. 

As she moved toward him she kept her eyes downcast, despite being desperate to look at his face in greater detail.

“What can I do for you, my Prince?” She asked meekly. 

“Come with me,” he replied bluntly and turned, striding down the wide and brightly lit corridor toward the rooms that had been prepared for the two visiting royals. 

At the door to his room he pushed it open and stepped back to allow her inside first before following and closing the door tightly behind the two of them. The sound of the latch clicking into place made her heart pound, she'd never been alone with a man before, she'd always been accompanied by her ladies or sisters but now she was alone in the guest wing behind a closed door. 

She stood in the centre of the main room, a fire burned merrily in the grate and the Prince’s trunk stood open at the foot of the bed. She looked up at him from under her lashes and caught sight of his deep indigo eye watching her. 

“Wh-what can I do for you?” She asked again, he'd catch on pretty quickly she wasn't part of the serving staff if he asked her to do much more than pour a glass of wine. 

“I'm in need of some relief,” he said softly, his left hand moving instinctively toward the laced fount of his trousers and his fingers twitched.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, her eyes following the movement of his hand before snapping back to his face. 

“I don't understand your meaning, my Prince,” she said softly, although she was fairly certain she did. 

She had been raised her entire life in the safety and beauty of Highgarden, her innocence protected at all costs and her exposure to men limited as far as possible, but she still knew what men and women did together in the privacy of their bed chambers. 

“The journey here was long and difficult and my brother is a terrible travelling companion, so before I meet with your sweet lady this evening and make dull small talk for hours I need you to get on your knees, open your mouth and suck my cock,”. 

A shiver crawled across her body, she'd never been spoken to like that before and after the initial shock of his crass words she found herself excited by them. But while his words were exciting the reality of what he wanted was frightening, she could tell him who she really was and face the consequences of running around dressed as a servant and tricking a prince or she could do what he asked and face any additional consequences of sucking his cock and having to make dull small talk with him later. 

“Did you hear me?” He demanded, his voice harsher now, “get on your knees, I've got no time for your wide-eyed innocent act,”. 

“But, my Prince, I've never-,”. 

He cut her off mid-sentence, anger flashing across his face. 

“Get on your knees,” he hissed through clenched teeth. 

The anger on his face and in his voice sent a thrill up and down her spine, making the tips of her toes and fingers tingle with anticipation. 

Slowly she lowered herself to her knees, the thin and rough fabric of the dress rubbed uncomfortably on her knees and the cold of the stone floor seemed to soak into her skin like water. 

“So you do understand, stupid little slut,” he muttered, moving toward her while unfastening the laces of his breeches. 

She watched with wide eyes as he pulled his cock free from the fabric of his trousers and pumped his hand up and down the thick muscle. By instinct her mouth filled with saliva and she felt a rush of wetness and heat between her thighs. 

“Open your mouth,” he commanded. 

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before doing as she'd been told, parting her lips and teeth as he came to stand directly in front of her, the head of his cock now bobbing directly in her eye line. There was a bead of clear fluid slipping from the thin slit at the head, she fought the urge to lean toward and lick it up. 

The head of his cock was a dark red colour, completely in opposition to the alabaster white skin of his hands, he wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed. 

“Keep it open,” he said as he angled the shaft toward her lips. 

This was her last opportunity, the very last second she could back out, tell him who she was, run screaming from the room but instead she relaxed her jaw a little and allowed him to push the head of his cock into her waiting mouth. 

His own mouth dropped open in a soft moan as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped his aching cock. He pushed his hips forward, forcing as much of himself between her lips as she could take, the soft, slick slide of her tongue on the underside of his shaft made his toes curl up in his boots. 

Her hands went to the front of his thighs and she braced her open palms against the leather, her fingers moulding to the shape of his lithe legs. He could feel the heat from her hands and the gentle curl of her fingertips through the fabric of his breeches. 

He drew back a little, feeling the warm suck of her soft mouth, he pushed one hand into the soft tangle of her hair and gripped. 

“That's it,” he breathed as he pushed forward again, “take it,”. 

Holding her head steady he pumped his cock between her lips, very quickly he was soaked from root to tip with her saliva and he watched transfixed as it slipped down her chin and wetted the rough fabric of her dress. 

Tears were forming in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks as he fucked her mouth. The musky and masculine smell of him filled her nose as the salty taste of his bare skin on her tongue made her head spin. 

Part of her was disgusted, she was a lady and possibly a future princess but she was on her knees getting her mouth fucked bya man who thought she was a servant. A much larger part of her thought this was the most erotic thing that could ever happen, her cunt was pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart,  she wanted nothing more than to shove her fingers between her legs and bring herself to completion, or even better, take Aemond’s fingers and use them. 

“You cock hungry little slut,” he hissed as he forced his cock deeper than any thrust before. 

She choked, feeling her body suddenly gag at the intrusion so deep into her mouth. She tore herself away from him, gasping for breath. There was pain where he was clinging onto her hair, pulling it hard between his lean fingers. 

“Too much for the little whore?” He sneered, cold laughter on his beautiful face. 

She nodded as he brought the hand that wasn't still tangled in her hair to her cheek and brushed away her tears. 

“Finish me off and you'll be free to go,” he said, pulling her back to him and pressing the head of his cock against her lips. 

She opened her mouth willingly and allowed him to continue, pumping faster but not as deeply as before, he began to pant and groan at every pass of her wet lips. 

“Fucking take it,” he panted, “take it, take it,”.

With a final shuddering, stuttering thrust she felt his cock kick in her mouth before her tongue was flooded with salty, bitter fluid. She kept her mouth closed around his shaft as his seed escaped between her lips and dripped onto her chest. 

“Swallow it,” he whispered, unable to take his gaze from her dripping mouth. 

He watched as her throat bobbed and she swallowed his remaining seed before leaning back and gazing up at him. Her cheeks were marked with the tracks of her tears and her mouth and chin were wet with his spend and her own spit. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips and gathered a drop of him before disappearing again between her used lips. 

Aemond's cock was now rapidly softening and she watched with fascination as the long, thick muscle seemed to retreat back toward his body, the hot, round head disappearing under a hood of skin. 

He tucked his cock back into his breeches before reaching down and brushing his thumb across her lips, his touch surprisingly tender. 

“You can go,” he said bluntly before stepping away from her and turning his back. 

She sprang to her feet and dashed to the bedroom door, yanking it open and not bothering to close it behind herself as she raced toward the sanctuary of her own rooms. The soles of her riding boots seemed to boom on the hard stone floor and she believed as if everyone in the castle would hear her desperate escape. 

Although she kept her head down and didn't acknowledge anyone she passed she felt as if she'd been branded across the face with the awful names he'd called her. Surely everyone she passed knew what she'd just been doing. 

Her heart was thundering and her cunt pounding, the sensations she'd never felt before were making her head spin. Once she was in the safety of her own room she threw herself onto the bed and drove her fingers between the slick lips of her cunt with an urgency she'd never known. She bit into the feather pillow as she brought herself to orgasm within moments of touching the throbbing and engorged pearl between her legs. 

She lay panting on the bed, the smell of him still clinging to her like perfume, now mixing with the smell of her own arousal. 

Her ears still burned with the names he'd called her, she should feel humiliated and insulted but instead she longed to hear those names again. She longed to taste his cock again and then to explore his body, to take time to undress him, observe him and touch him. She wanted him to do the same with her, call her names, strip her naked and explore her virgin body without restraint.

When her maidservant arrived to get her dressed for dinner she could barely lift her head from the bed. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the sheets and touch herself again and again while images of the prince flashed through her mind. 

She was scrubbed clean in the bath, her hair washed and treated with sweet smelling oils. Her maidservant noted the bruises where she'd been thrown by her horse, but the marks on her knees were harder to explain away. 

She was dressed in a gold and green gown embroidered with roses, the usual soft cotton and silk felt like sand abrading her skin. She insisted her hair be styled in the same way it had been when she went riding, in case the Prince didn't recognise the lady he was forced to make small talk with. 

She waited by the door to the great hall, the princes had been announced and seated, then her father and his wife, her siblings next and finally it was her turn. Her name was called and she stepped into the hall. The room was full of the great and good of the Reach sitting on the tables that filled the room, at the top table, positioned above the others on a dais sat her family and Prince Aegon and Aemond. 

She looked directly at Prince Aemond as she walked toward the top table. There was a flicker of recognition followed by a moment of complete horror before he took back control of his face, a mask of neutral passiveness dropping over his features. She took her seat between the prince and her young sister. 

“My Lady,” he greeted softly. 

“Prince Aemond,” she replied.

“Prince Aegon,” she added, leaning around Aemond to address his brother who only nodded in acknowledgement, he was swaying gently in his seat and his eyes were glazed over. 

Aemond could have throttled his older brother for being drunk before the meal had been served. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you my Lady,” Aemond said softly, drawing her attention back to him. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied politely, “but I do hope my small talk doesn't bore you,” she added, dropping her voice so only he could hear. She enjoyed the look of mild panic that crossed his face before she turned to speak with her sister. 

As the food was served the noise levels in the hall increased and she felt able to return to speaking with Aemond without being overheard. 

“How have you found Highgarden so far?” She asked. 

“Most accommodating,” he replied, taking a sip of rose wine. 

“Please forgive me if this question is indelicate,” she started, running the tips of her fingers up and down the thin stem of her wine glass, “if we're to marry, do you intend on taking your pleasure with the servants or your wife?”. 

The hand holding Aemond's wine goblet visibly shook before he placed it back on the table. He cleared his throat and turned his eye to the woman beside him.

“I would take my pleasure nowhere but my wife, and she would take a great deal of pleasure with me,”. 

“Because if I were your wife and found you'd been sticking your prick in the serving girls I'd bite it off,” she said as softly as possible.

Aemond cleared his throat again and gave a small inclination of his head. 

“Understood, my Lady,”.

After the meal there was music and dancing. As expected of her, she danced with her father and her brothers. She'd expected to have to dance with Prince Aegon  as well but he was too drunk to stand straight let alone follow the steps. Aemond, on the other hand, was everything a prince should be, dancing with her step mother and sisters before asking her to dance. 

The music changed to a fast paced peasant tune that meant they needed to dance in a small circle of others before being paired off. Once alone and moving around the floor they were able to speak again. 

“I just want you to know,” she started as she stepped around him, before coming to face him, their toes almost touching, she looked up at him, taking in the curve of his lips and a sharp shape of his chin, “the way you spoke to me, when you thought I was a serving girl made my cunt ache,”. 

She went to twist away from him to continue the dance with the man beside him but he caught her hand and held her, letting her twirl around him again. The line of dancers they were part of muttered and tutted as they scrambled to sort themselves without the Prince and his lady. 

When they were face to face again Aemond held her still, placing his hands on her waist. 

“When you are my wife, it will be my utmost honour to make your cunt ache every day,” he breathed before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on her cheek before adding “my slut,”. 

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine and settled deep in her belly, making her cunt throb again. If she really was a slut she could drag him away somewhere quiet and make him repay her in kind for earlier but she was a lady, and he was prince and they were in a room full of gossiping courtiers. 

“Is that a formal proposal?” She asked as he straightened. 

“I think it is,” he replied, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips. 

“Then I accept,” she said, before twisting around him again in time with the music. 

The other dancers had moved on, leaving the two of them in their own space on the floor, undisturbed by anyone else. The swirling dancers around them made it feel like they were the only two people in the room, trapped by a colourful snow storm. 

Aemond didn't care that he wasn't in a position to officially offer marriage to her yet, his meeting with her father hadn't straightened out all the details but suddenly the dowry, the lands and the titles of their future children didn't matter anymore, these details were nothing compared to how badly he wanted to take her to wife. 

The song ended in a final flourish and the dancers clapped and called out requests for the next piece of music.

“Another dance? I certainly prefer it to small talk,” she teased with a smile as the music started again and the dancers around them took their places. 

“And is there something else you’d enjoy even more than dancing?” he asked before bowing to her and offering her his hand. 

Her neck flushed with heat as she took his hand and the two of them moved in a slow circle. 

“There are many things I enjoy more than dancing, my Prince, and I suspect you’ll show me a great many more,” 

For the rest of the night Prince Aemond danced with no one else and while it certainly earned some raised eyebrows from the more modest members of the Highgarden court neither Lady Tyrell or Aemond could bring themselves to care. They only had eyes for one another and as they danced the rest of the world seemed to melt away. 

At the top table Lord Tyrell watched his daughter and the prince with great interest. He was thinking he might have saved himself 9 months of bartering, letter writing and hand wringing if he’d just invited the prince to visit in the first instance. 

“They make a fair couple, don’t they?” his lady wife asked from beside him.

“When I met with him this afternoon I’d never have believed he could be so taken with her,” Lord Tyrell said, “he was so cold I didn’t think he could look at someone with anything other than contempt but she seems to have won him over,”. 

It was the small hour of the next morning by the time the music and dancing ended. Lord Tyrell and his lady had gone to bed hours before but the revelry had continued. Prince Aegon had staggered from the table and made toward a door at the side of the hall, he’d only made it through the door before tripping on his feet, falling on his face and deciding to stay there. 

As the musicians played their final notes prince Aemond kissed the back of his lady’s hand, looking up at her and smiling. 

“Until we meet again, my Lady,” he said softly, she opened her mouth to reply but he pulled her toward him, bringing his cheek to hers, his lips touching the shell of her ear, “my whore,”.

additional A/N : this has the potential for a part two if anyone's interested? Just putting it out there, letting the universe know.

[ghouljams]

I don't even need to preface this, you already know it's cowboy!Ghost

He is such a lowkey stalker, but he literally can't keep his eyes off of you. Watches you ride your horse to round up straggling cows in the pasture and can't think of anything but how pretty you'd look bouncing on his cock. How well your cunt takes him, how you sob when he splits you open. He only got a taste of you but he is absolutely addicted. He can't disobey a direct order from Price to stay away from you, but God he is drooling for you. It takes everything he has not to palm himself through his jeans the way you smile at him, flushed from the sun and wearing the hat you stole from him.

You knock on his door to tell him you're doing a load of laundry, ask if he has anything he wants washed, and he knows you're not doing it for any reason than Southern hospitality but God he hopes his scent rubs off on you as he hands over dirty shirts and cum stained sheets. Later he watches you pin clean sheets to the line and it feels so domestic that he almost feels bad for wanting to lift you sundress and fuck you into the ground.

You talk a lot more than him, which is fantastic, he loves hearing your voice, until you drop a "Steamin' Jesus" and then he has to call Soap and hear from the devils mouth that the rest of the 141 knew you before he did.

"Price's kid? Yeah, me and Gaz stayed with her and her mum a couple times. Sweet girl."

And Ghost practically sees red, he can't believe you've been kept from him for so long. He can't believe you know other members of the 141 well enough to pick up phrases from them. Come to think of it, he's pretty sure you told one of Soaps crappy jokes the other day. Now he's got to find a way to leave his mark on you, hopefully something more permanent than a stolen hat.

[whitecreekvalley-if]

[ Demo TBA ] • Character descriptions • Pinterest •

Genres: Slice of life, drama, mystery, romance

WCV is rated 18+ for explicit language, violence, alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content.

Life's taken a nosedive—no apartment, no job, no friends. Desperation pushes you to cling to a chance from a kindly stranger offering a ticket to a town hidden beyond mountains and plains, a place people don't seek but always seem to need.

Welcome to Whitecreek Valley, where the Brass Pine Ranch needs your unique skills to mend a crumbling homestead, and a crumbling family. As you tackle the decay of the ranch and the town alongside the rancher's son, deeper troubles emerge—livestock falling ill sparks fears of a town on the brink of extinction. Can you navigate this community, help them rejuvenate, or will it become another link in the list of ghost towns of America's Wikipedia page?

FEATURES

Customization: Appearance, personality, gender & sexuality, what job they had before, their hobbies, etc. Choose how they feel about being a farmhand, how they're adjusting to the rural life, and - with your choices - how the town as a whole sees them. Are they part of the community or an perpetual outsider?

Skills: Depending on your previous job, you'll have a unique set of skills to help the community. Choose to learn new skills, like woodworking, bronc riding, or sheep shearing, to mention a few.

Animal husbandry: The distances around Whitecreek Valley are hefty, so it's necessary to have at least a horse to get around. Choose your favorite out of a cast of individual equines, each with their own personalities. Also, help a calf into this world and realize how fun it is to raise a baby cow! As long as you're in good standing with the rest of the herd, of course.

Rebuilding: Try your best to rebuild the Brass Pine ranch, and the town adjacent. The better job you manage, the more opportunities (and challenges) come your way.

Community outreach: A dying town is still home, and there are stories to be heard, problems to solve. Lend a helping hand to your new community and see how one kindness can pay itself back.

Romance: Not everyone in town is adverse to strangers, and if your heart yearns romance, there is a chance for a spark along the way. Just be careful as to who you're trying to woo in front of whom. Small town gossips, we've all seen it.

Mystery: There's something hanging over the valley, like a rot in the air. Why are people moving out? Why are exports not moving out? And who's behind the animals getting sick? Don you detective hat and lend a hand to the entire four local police officers working the bizarre case.

THE LOCALS (RO'S)

THE RANCHER'S SON

Mason "Mace" Gannon - 27 - he/him

He used to be so much fun. I miss hanging out with him, out by the bonfires. He'd always make everyone feel so included and happy, and oh, that homemade cider he'd bring? Warmed us up on those chilly late fall nights, when we had nothing else to do. Did I tell you about the time he got us all to go skinny dipping? He was such a charmer, I wonder --

Imagine Mace as your human golden retriever – the guy who's a blast to be around, a bit mischievous, and the first to rush to your aid whenever you need it. After being gone for five years to live his rodeo dreams, he's back, now the sole caretaker of the family ranch in his hometown. He goes to great lengths to keep his personal issues personal, and it's the butt of many jokes how he's always there to help others but has the worst time asking for help himself.

He's you boss, and probably one of the best you'll ever get. Just don't pay mind to the spats between him and his dad.

THE BARTENDER

Alice Marks - 25 - she/her

Alice, she's a feisty one! Like her poppa, rest his soul. How I love the drinks she comes up with at the bar, and that horse of hers! She could go into rodeo, but I don't think after what happened with her pa... Oh, but she's a wonder! Always there with a quip, how they drive her suitors mad. Good thing she stopped with the talk about moving away, the town would be so dull without her!

Alice is the town's most known inhabitant, running the show from the only bar in town, which she just happens to own. Her mind is like a machine for fun, and she's the brain behind all the pop-up events and happenings around town. Sure, she can be a bit like a hurricane of enthusiasm, but hey, that's Alice for you. If the town had a social heartbeat, it'd be Alice – the vibrant, smartass soul making everyday life feel like a blessing.

THE DEPUTY

Word of the wise: Never challenge Alice to a drinking game. You will lose, spectacularly, and it'll all be on film.

Judge Gannon - 34 - he/him

Judge is a bit strange, don't you think? He just vanished as soon as he turned eighteen and popped back out of nowhere! That must've been, let's see... Five years ago? He doesn't spend much time with us commoners though, but I think I've seen him at the bar once or twice. I don't actually think he knows how to make nice with people, he always has that glower on. Gets it from his dad, let me tell you --

Bold and straight to the point, Judge isn't out here trying to be intimidating – it just kinda happens. If his brother is a golden retriever, he's definitely the doberman of the family. He's got this brash, no-nonsense vibe that some folks mistake for arrogance, especially when they try laying on the charm and he's not having it. He steers clear of small talk unless it involves his job, and when duty calls, he's more than ready to throw down to protect his town and county.

There's this local urban legend that he cracked a smile once, but it's like spotting a unicorn – not everyone's buying it.

THE LAWYER

Mercedes "Sadie" Diáz - 32 - she/her

The new girl, yes! Oh, a beauty! And so curious. I do love sitting down with her though, oh the stories she brings from the big city, so intriguing! I hear she finds our town intriguing too, the mayor once - don't tell anyone I told you this - the mayor once said he caught her breaking into the city hall archives! I know, scandalous, but good on her, maybe now someone will argue that my neighbors fence post --

Sadie, the big-shot lawyer from the city, doing her solo act in town. When she's not in court, folks are lining up just to get a piece of the urban tales she's got. A trailblazer and truth-seeker, she's got this knack for poking her nose where it probably shouldn't be, and surprise, she knows more local secrets than the town gossip. Sure, she's all passionate and calculated, a bit out of sync with the town's warmth, but hey, that logical mind of hers might just shake things up and get the town back on track.

It's a well known fact that she could get access to places with the right documents, but she herself has said it's more fun to pick locks. Go figure.

LIST OF MAJOR NPCs

LIST OF MINOR NPCs

[banamine-bananime]

Growing up I lived in an area with a lot of cattle farming and I was very scared of the cows. Do you have any cool facts that will make me either more or less afraid of cows?

oh hmm let me think on that!

facts related to how to interact with cows so all parties feel and stay safe:

they have a very prey herd animal mentality. they want to move with their herdmates. they want to watch any potential threats like people and move away from them. they don't like loud or unfamiliar noises (they're sensitive souls. sometimes if i visit a dairy wearing waterproof coveralls where the cows are only used to people wearing cotton coveralls, just the whisper of waterproof pants rubbing against each other can spook them) or abrupt movements or going into areas they can't see well (and they have difficulty with depth perception due to their wide-set eyes for 300 degree vision, and with high-contrast, so going from sun into shade or vice versa can look like stepping into a white or black void for them and they don't like it)

based on this, we know the keys to low-stress cattle handling are consistency in how you interact with them, calmness (small movements, quiet words to let them know you're there), moving cows in groups big enough to have friends but small enough you can control the whole group without them milling around or the ones in front stopping and causing a traffic jam, and slowly moving them by just barely getting in their "bubble" of "whoa, you're a little too close for comfort, i'm going to move in the other direction" without ever getting into their "YIKES RUN AWAY FROM THIS THING" bubble

the last point involves understanding pressure and flight zones and point of balance:

from Mississippi State University Extension:

from grandin.com (highly recommend as a source of information about animal behaviour and welfare!!! temple grandin my idol since i was like nine i love her so. and i tear up when i think about how much she's done for millions of animals ;_; she's a genius and no lie revolutionized low-stress handling):

pet cows that get doted on enough to bond with people may not see people as a threat so the normal ways we use pressure zones to iinteract with cows don't necessarily do anything for them. you would lead them more like a horse, using a halter. or lure them with treats.

beef cows typically have little contact with people, often just processing (vaccines, preg checks, quick exam for any health problems) a couple times a year, so they can be very wild. doesn't mean they're aggressive, the overwhelming majority are non-aggressive but they have very large flight zones, so if you don't recognize that and approach too quickly, getting deep in their flight zone, that can get you into a dangerous situation where they get aggressive as a last resort. that said, they do usually still choose flight unless their calf is with them. "never get between mom and baby" applies as it does with any species

dairy cows are in between beef cows and pet cows. they interact with people regularly, several times per day, and it's respectful but not doting. kind of a business relationship with their handlers. they're not terrified of people by any means, but they haven't been, like, hand-fed treats to get over their instinctive wariness of potential-predator-like animals, and they know sometimes handling results in unpleasant experiences like medical treatment or pregnancy checks, so they avoid touch and have a flight zone, though it's small (and sometimes they'll calmly let you walk right up to them unrestrained, or approach you and lick you out of curiosity). very very rare to have an aggressive dairy cow (as in, one that attacks you instead of moving away when you're bothering them a little. really bothering them and ignoring body language when they can't move away is much more likely to get you kicked)

bulls are not docile. not every bull will be aggressive, but you should assume that every bull has the capacity to become aggressive with little provocation, and always keep a respectful distance and know your escape route if you have to be in a pen or field with them

cows love exploring with their tongues. any time you're in a dairy barn there's gonna be at least one friendly girl mlem mlem mlemming who won't leave you alone

adding on to the above, there is a slight caveat that you still have to be a LITTLE wary of friendly cows. 99% of the time they're just friendly but sometimes cows in heat will try to mount people. you don't have to be scared of friendly cows but if they're right next to you just keep them in your line of sight so you can move away if they make like they're going to mount. again, not common, never happened to me, but something to be aware of

signs of a happy, relaxed cow: lying down, chewing cud or eating, tail hanging down relaxed, moving slowly with her herd

signs of a slightly wary cow (you have entered the "pressure zone"): standing still/stopping what she's doing, turning towards you, ears turning towards you (watching the ears is a very good way of knowing what she's paying attention to), tail swishing or raised a bit away from body

signs of a distressed cow: vocalizing (they also moo for other reasons though), tail swishing, fidgeting/pawing/looking like she wants to move but doesn't know where to, freezing up and intermittently making erratic movements (back away a little)

signs of an aggressive cow: head down with attention on you, pawing ground, turning to show you their broad side. (turn sideways and calmly but swiftly walk away diagonally)

[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter 7 (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

advised and cowritten by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: cursing, kissing, general fluff, verbal arguments, mentions of toxic relationships, angst, 3.7k words

a/n: sigh. here y'all go. damn.

series masterlist

“What if instead of cleaning duty, I was on horses today?”

I look up at him from under my lashes as he scans over his clipboard with today’s task list.

“Hmm..” Chris taps a finger against his chin, tilting his head as if in deep thought. “How about no?”

“Please?” I beg, not caring at all about the slight whine in my voice. When he doesn’t answer, I step a little closer and drop my voice to a whisper. “I’ll kiss you again.”

Chris arches an eyebrow and gives me his cocky smirk. “You were gonna do that anyway.”

Wow. Someone’s gotta humble this kid. I open my mouth but my words get lost when I focus on his lips, his tongue prodding teasingly against his bottom one. Damn it. He’s got a point.

When I throw my head back in a dramatic show of defeat, he laughs and touches my waist lightly. “Sorry, Scotch. No favoritism. You gotta see Cinnamon on your own time.”

I shoot him a glare that turns into a small smile without my permission when I meet his teasing eyes. His hand on my waist lingers longer than necessary as he trails his eyes over my face. Just when I’m sure he’s about to lean in, a couple of the hands walk by and Chris pulls away.

He claps as he recovers, apparently remembering he’s in charge. “Alright. Get a move on. Last time you left milk in my buckets and they soured.”

Covering my mouth in mock horror, I gasp. “Oh my. Not the buckets!”

Chris bites his lip to stop his smile. “Watch it. Keep it up and I’ma put you on pigs tomorrow. Let ‘em dust your ass again.”

*****************

My lip curls up with disgust as I drop my soaked gloves into the trash bin and turn around. Turns out that disinfecting animal equipment is absolutely disgusting. Who would have thought?

Suppressing the urge to shudder at the memory of caked-on curdled milk, I smile at a passing worker as he collects the buckets to redistribute them. He nods his head back in friendly recognition. “Chris said to send ‘ya round to the cows when you’re all done.”

He’s leaning against a truck, staring at someone testing out paint colors on the barn with an inscrutable look on his face. My heartbeat doubles embarrassingly when his eyes find me but I force myself to not let it show. He doesn’t react outwardly either, but I clock how he readjusts slightly like he’s trying his hardest to stay still.

“You rang, bossman?”

He rolls his eyes and gestures towards the painter. “This is all your fault.”

Okay, so that was technically true. But how was I supposed to know when I told Birdie the peeling paint made my eyes bleed, she’d make my uncle redo it?

“I never told her to make it red. She always half listens to me.” I counter, leaning against the door beside him and letting our arms brush.

He glances over at me, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “Speaking of not listening, didn’t I tell you to make sure you grabbed all the buckets?”

“I literally did!” I answer, panic raising at the idea of having to scrub more nasty equipment.

“You literally didn’t.” He says with a butchered valley girl impression. “Coulda sworn I say some of the other side of here. Come see.”

I sigh as I follow him to the back of the barn, already growing irritated at Chris’ nitpicking. But as soon as we are out of eyeshot, he stops short and turns to me. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he leans in, bending his head low and tilting my chin up with his fingertips, before pressing his lips to mine.

It’s a sweet kiss, not unlike the handful we’ve already shared, but there's some urgency beneath this one, his tongue moving against mine. When he pulls away, it takes all my energy not to follow him and bring his face back to mine.

He leans back and studies my face, running his thumb under my lip before dropping his hand. “I’ve been wanting to do that since breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you?” I question with a smile, watching as he leans against the wall of the barn.

He scoffs and crosses his arms. “And have your uncle get to whoopin’ my ass over grits? No shot.”

I smile at the thought of that. “You’re right. It would be pretty funny though.”

Chris just rolls his eyes, using his hands to pull me into him by my belt loops, our bodies leaned against the barn wall. “It’s like you just live to see me suffer.”

“Need I remind you of the work I was doing at the barn today? I’m gonna have nightmares about the smell.” I shiver slightly, reminiscing on the sour smell of milk and strong chemicals combined.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear while his other hand simply rubs my lower back. I’m not entirely sure what’s gotten into him but he’s definitely more affectionate than normal.

“What are you doing tonight?” He smiles, making eye contact with me and immediately causing me to look down.

Unfortunately for me, he doesn’t let me have that luxury for more than a few seconds, his finger lifting my chin to force my gaze back onto him.

“You ask me that every time as if I’m ever doing anything but hanging around you.” I lean in to close the space and place another quick kiss on his smirking lips. “Where’re you taking me now boss?”

“What makes you think you’re getting another date?” He asks as if the answer isn’t completely obvious.

I look up as if I'm really racking my brain for an answer before looking back at his blue eyes again. “I happen to think I know you pretty well. Now tell me, am I wearing a dress, or is this another good ol country get-together?”

“Call me uneducated but I’m not entirely sure on the dress code for every date.” He laughs. “State fair’s coming down, thought you might wanna go on a few rides.”

I gasp with a smile plastered on my face as I step back from him. “Really?”

“Really. Better go looking for outfit ideas soon, Scotch. I’ll pick you up for eight.”

*************************

“Since when were you scared of rollercoasters?” I ask, my arm intertwined with Chris’ as we walk past the brightly colored food trucks.

He scoffs dramatically, shaking his head. “I’m not scared of them, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Really? Because from where I was sitting, it was hard to tell your screams apart from the ten-year-old behind us.” I tease, leaning my head onto his shoulder.

Chris just kisses the top of my head. “I really can’t catch a break with you, can I sweetheart?”

“No, you cannot.” I smile to myself before a sign catches my eye. “Oh my god!”

I pull Chris by his hand, not stopping to explain what has me walking so fast. “Woah, what’d I miss?”

I catch my breath momentarily before replying. “They have my favorite lemonade here. I haven’t had it since my mom took me to the Cali expo.”

He looks down at me, eyes laced with a hint of concern at the casual mention of my deadbeat mother.

Before I can reassure him that I’m okay, it’s my turn to order. “Hi. I’ll have a large raspberry lemonade please.”

I reach for my wallet but by the time my eyes scan back to the cashier Chris is already handing them a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.” He smiles, grabs my drink for me, and begins to walk away from me.

The first sip transports me back to my childhood so quickly, I almost mistake Chris’ arm brushing against mine for my mom’s. Almost.

But the smile he gives me when I glance up at him is enough to keep me from letting those thoughts linger. Instead, I hold out the cup for him to take, listening to the satisfying sound of the ice sloshing against the plastic.

“Try it,” I demand. “It’s like sunshine in a cup.”

His eyes light up with amusement as he takes the cup, tilting it to peer inside. “Sunshine, huh? Awful big promise.”

I shrug, watching closely as he takes a weary sip. “You could have flipped the straw.” I joke when he hands it back, nodding his approval.

He raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “Oh, so you can stick your tongue down my throat but we can’t share a drink?”

“Don’t recall that.” I lie, as I walk over to an empty picnic table and swing my leg over the bench.

“Yeah? Lemme remind you.”

He leans down, tipping my head up so he can kiss me slow and heavy. I reach up and tangle my hands in his hair. Just as I start to deepen the kiss, someone clears their throat and I pull away quickly, the memory that we are in public heating my face.

Chris just laughs, completely undeterred and unembarrassed, before he takes a seat next to me. He reaches over and takes the cup again, taking a slow and deliberate drink from the straw, all the while keeping his eyes trained up on mine.

“Cute,” I say when he hands the cup back, a smirk growing on his face.

“Thanks. I thought so.”

************************

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” I say mortified as I look around at the children occupying the other teacups. Yeah, that’s right. Teacups. Because I’m on a date with a child apparently.

“What are you talking about? This is the best part.”

Chris’ face across from me is one of pure and utter glee. A soft and playful demeanor he rarely wears coming to the surface. It’s so cute, I can’t help but match his smile.

The ride begins and we start spinning slowly, Chris’ hands resting longingly on the wheel. I had expected him to turn it as quickly as he could the minute we started but I guess he wants to be a gentleman.

Thankfully, I am very much under no obligation to be one.

Shooting him an evil grin, I spin the wheel like I’m steering a rouge pirate ship, cackling when the momentum sends him flying to the side.

He looks up surprised but grins back, spinning the opposite way even faster until we are both slipping and sliding, laughing uncontrollably.

I end up sliding over to him and he wraps an arm around my shoulder, slowing down the spinning a bit. I feel his thumb gently smoothing against my arm as I lean into him. “This was my plan all along.” He says softly into my hair.

I smile up at him, content as the world around us continues to spin.

The ride is over way too fast for my liking but it’s probably for the best. Forty-five seconds in and I’m already seeing double of Chris.

He hops off the ride first, extending a hand and helping me out. My first steps are a bit wobbly and he laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side.

“Easy, baby. How about we switch it up and go play some games?”

*****************

I press the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to cover my laughter, as Chris misses his final ball toss. And by final I mean, the fourth round that he’s paid for and missed every single time.

“Y’all got them motherfuckers glued down.” He accuses, jokingly pushing his buddy who’s working the stand.

The boy, who I remember vaguely from our night at Hank’s, smiles back tauntingly and walks over to the glass bottles, picking one up for demonstration. “Ain’t nobody cheating you. You just suck, Sturniolo.”

My laughter bursts out at this but I quickly play it off as a cough when Chris’ attention snaps back to me. “Why don’t we try another game?”

“No chance. You said you want that penguin, you’re getting that there penguin.” He says squaring his shoulders and pointing at the hanging toy.

Oh god. He might as well bang on his chest and swing from a vine.

“Can we just buy the penguin?” I ask the worker, giving him a sweet smile. He leans in, a bit charmed before he notices Chris’ eyes on him and takes a step back, shaking his head.

I sigh and pull out my wallet, grabbing a few dollars to pay the fee. But before I can hand it over, Chris grabs my arm, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m winning you that penguin.” I say as I place the money into the boy’s hand and pick up one of the balls.

“Okay fine. But at least waste my money instead of yours.” He mumbles as I wind back and completely overshoot on my first try.

The worker steps forward, giving me quiet advice on how to set my feet and I nod thankfully before I toss my second ball. It bounces off the ledge and moves the glass a bit but it doesn’t fall.

Motivated now, I try again, tuning out Chris’ rambling advice and aiming similarly to how he taught me to fish. The ball crashes through the bottles and the pyramid crumbles to my and Chris’ shared shock.

We look at each other stunned for a second before exploding with celebration as if I had just won the Superbowl. I’m serious. Pretty sure there was a chest bump involved.

The worker rolls his eyes but there’s a small smile on his lips as he takes down our prize and hands it over. “Here. Now gon’ get away from my stand. I’m gonna throw up.”

Chris grins at the penguin, handing it to me as we walk away. “Good shit, Scotch. I never doubted you for a second.”

I scoff, tucking my stuffed animal under my arm and looking up at him. “You did. But that’s okay. We just proved which one of us got game.” I lace my voice with a perfect impression of his cocky confidence and he kisses his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. You won this one. Bet you don’t wanna see me in basketball though?” He says, already taking off towards the booth like a little kid.

I huff in faux anger as I race to beat him there. “Chris. You are such a cheat!”

But as I hear his playful laughter ring through the courtyard, it’s impossible not to join in.

******************

“Looks like they’re about to close up. You bout ready to call it?” Chris asks, bringing my hand up to his mouth and pressing a quick kiss to it.

I nod, trying not to let the disappointment at the night ending show on my face. “Okay.”

We start walking towards the parking lot slowly, trying to stretch the minutes we have together. As if I don’t see him every day. Somehow it’s still not enough.

“So…” He starts, stretching the word out dramatically. “How was our first real date for you? Give it to me straight. I can take it.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “God. I hate to inflate your ego anymore. But it’s definitely been the best date I’ve ever had.” I shake my head a bit embarrassed as I add a quiet, “Not that I’ve been on many.”

He scrunches his face up as if that’s impossible for him to believe and I just shrug as if to say ‘what can I say?”

“Alright. What’s up with those West Coast boys? They blind or somethin’?” Chris asks lightly, his eyes glancing down to where our hands swing interlocked between us.

I laugh darkly in response, the memory of Jace souring my mood a bit. “More like I couldn’t see past my ex… or whatever he is.” I shake my head and sigh at how dumb I feel not knowing what to call him. “It was complicated. I’ve loved him- I mean, I loved him for a long time.”

Glancing up to meet Chris’ eye, I can tell he’s fighting between wanting to ask more questions and not wanting to press me. But after all the vulnerability he’s shown me lately, the least I can do is open up in return. I give him an encouraging smile and he finally continues. “When did y’all break up?”

The question rattles me immediately and I stop short. Technically…I mean… Did we? Not that Jace and I were ever anything near official and especially not that I have any delusions of him waiting up for me. But it’s true that we never had a conversation about calling it quits. Instead, I blocked him and hopped on a plane.

Worry skates across Chris' features at my silence as we watch each other for a second. “Scotch… You did break up with him, right?”

“Yes. I did…I think. Just not in so many words.”

Chris drops my hand, tilting his head and giving me a look of complete and utter disbelief. “You think or you know? Throw me a bone here and tell me I haven’t been losing my mind over somebody else’s girl.”

“You haven’t!” I say, my voice coming out sharper than I meant it to. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Dating is different in the city.”

His brow crinkles and his voice grows smaller. “You get down like that?”

And I don’t know if it’s his words or the way he’s looking at me like he just found out I don’t light up the sky, but something sets me off.

“You have no right.” I grind out, stepping closer and digging a finger into his chest to emphasize my point. “Don’t insinuate a thing about me like you’re some Sunday school saint. You don’t think I’ve heard about you and your ‘whores of the week’? You get down like that?”

The laugh he gives me is clipped and he takes a step back, looking over my shoulder as if he can’t stand to meet my eye. “If you believe that bullshit talk, that’s on you. I’m going off the words from your mouth. You don’t even bother to put the poor guy down before you're stringing another idiot along.”

My eyes narrow to slits. “Take. Me. Home.”

“You. Got. It.” He answers, mocking my cadence and stomping off toward his truck. I trail behind him in silence, trying to hold back my emotions as adorable couples pass us by hand-in-hand. A few feet away from the car, he turns back around and glares at me, hurt and anger warring in his eyes.

“Just tell me one thing, Y/N. How long were you gonna wait before you ran back to that loser, huh? How long after I dropped you off at the airport? Were you gonna give me a month at least? A week?”

“It’s not like that, Chris,” I say, pleading creeping into my response without my permission. “I hadn’t thought it all through but I was trying to be done with him.”

His lips pull up in the mockery of his usual smile; this one is cold and unlike him. “Oh! Well, as long as you’re trying. Why didn’t you just say so?”

Rolling my eyes at his sarcasm, I step around him and pull against my door handle, finding it locked. “Hurry up before I walk home,” I say, running my fingers through my hair, wincing when I hear his mocking laugh.

He doesn’t say a word, just walks over and unlocks the truck on my side, swinging it open before heading back around. I rest my fingertips on the frame of the door, watching as Chris climbs in and starts the truck, but I hesitate to get in. “I’m not a whore.” I say, my voice remaining strong despite how much I want to break.

Chris looks over at me, the furrow between his brows deepening. “I never once called you one.”

“Then why is it so easy for you to believe I’m trying to play you?”

“Because you’re you, Scotch.” He says simply, his grip on the steering wheel tight.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I cry, frustration at how quickly this all went south rising to the surface.

He’s silent for a beat and the sounds of the fair become audible again. The sound of children laughing and faint carnival music at odds with the tension sitting between us.

“You know what it means.”

My breath hitches for a second but I nod, somewhat happy my doubts are confirmed. The ones that screamed at me Chris would never see past that stereotype that he pegged for the first day we met. The ones that whispered I will always be missing something vital but no one will care enough to tell me what it is.

I slam his car door shut and turn on my heel, walking vaguely toward the direction we came from. Chris is calling my name behind me but I keep my eyes forward even as they grow blurry. When I almost trip over the rocky asphalt, I stop and rip off my heels, carrying them in my hands as I keep forward.

From my peripheral, I see the truck pull up beside me, slowing to crawl and rolling the window down. “Okay, you’ve made your scene. Get in the car.” Chris says, sounding every bit as exhausted as I feel.

Ignoring him, I train my eyes forward, panic raising when I realize the sidewalk ends a few feet ahead. While I’m debating what to do, Chris calls my name again sharper this time.

Cars begin honking behind him as we both come to a stop. Just as I’m about to say fuck it and keep it pushing into the street, Chris’ patience snaps. “Get in the car, Scotch!” He hollers, reaching over and flinging the door open. “I’m not gonna watch you get hit by a fucking high roller.”

My lip trembles as I finally cut my eyes over to his. We stare at each other for a moment before the melody of horns starts back up and snaps us out of it.

“Please.” He whispers so quietly I have to read his lips to hear him.

So I do. Hopping wordlessly into the car, I let him take me home while I stare out the window, my mind racing. And not for the first time, the center console between us feels like it might as well be as tall as the Great Wall.

🏷️// @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @fwskullz @luv4kozume @xoxo4chrisss @ribread03 @h3arts4harry @chrissystur @pepsiboyy

[jungle-angel]

Our Nest (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob are preparing for your little one's arrival and already, shenanigans have ensued

Warnings: Pregnancy, parenthood, Auggie being a menace etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @callmemana @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @sebsxphia and the lovely @bradshawsbaby my darling, I leave this as a little gift for you 🥰🥰🥰🥰

It was one of those gloriously warm spring days in Montana when all the flowers were in bloom, the windows of the house open to let in the breeze and the birds singing. The lilacs and the crape myrtles that you and Bob had planted after your wedding several years before had fully bloomed already, releasing their heady scents and causing more than a few sneezing fits.

Bob hummed a little as he organized the bookshelf in the corner of the nursery, right next to the rocking chair. Already Meemaw and Papa had sent over an old box of books that had been his when he was a baby, each one carefully picked with all the love in the world and inscribed with his date of birth and a message from Meemaw and Papa.

"Whatcha got Bob?" you asked folding one of the little blue onesies to put in the laundry.

"All the books that were mine when I was a baby," he answered. "Got Baby's Good Morning Book, Baby's Bedtime Book, Baby's Story Book, the Christmas Stories, Child's Story Book, Child's Fairy Tale Book, Peter Rabbit and.......looks like Winnie The Pooh too."

You couldn't help but ooh and aah over the books and their illustrations. You wished you could have a few of them to hang on the walls.

"Hey!" chirped a little toddler voice. "Get out me swamp!!"

You and Bob laughed when you saw Auggie running to the door with the kitchen broom as soon as the doorbell rang, when who should enter but Jake Seresin himself, greeted by his godson wielding a broom.

"Bob! I think Shrek's at it again!" Jake announced. "He's chasing me out of his swamp!"

"You're the one who had to show him that movie," Bob informed him.

Jake rolled his eyes as Auggie laughed and hugged his leg, hanging on for dear life and giggling like crazy as Jake lifted one leg and then the other.

"How goes Mommas?" Jake said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Good, save for the fact that my husband is right there watching you," you chuckled.

"Hey it's called being courteous, it's technically not flirting," Jake explained.

"Although Natasha might disagree."

Jake made a noise that caught in his throat, his hand moving quickly to protectively cup his denim clad scrotum.

"That's what we thought," Bob said with a shit eating grin.

Jake gathered up Auggie to go and cause havoc elsewhere for the day, leaving you and Bob to finish putting together the nursery. You unpacked all the baby clothes, blankets, shoes and other things your family and friends had sent you over the last few months including adorable little bunnies, puppies, bears, elephants and duckies for your little boy.

"Oh remember this?" you laughed, unfolding one of the blankets from the box.

"Oh, my Uncle Red's wife made that years ago," Bob cooed, holding up the little ducky quilt. "I used to sleep with it every night and Mom had to wrestle it away just to wash it."

You and Bob shared a few laughs as you kept organizing and putting everything together. Outside, you could see two mountain bluebirds in the nest they had made in the crape myrtle, wondering if there were any eggs due to hatch. Already the chicks had begun to hatch while there were more horse and cow births happening at least twice a week. The bunnies too had been hard at work, their numbers multiplying in the last few weeks as well.

"Oof," you breathed, feeling your baby kick. "Oh I know little guy, you're ready."

Bob helped you up from where you had been sitting, letting you lean against him as his hand rested gently on your belly. "Did he drop?" he asked.

You nodded.

Bob smiled broadly as he knelt to kiss your bump. "Now you wait a minute mister," Bob chuckled. "There's still some things we need to get ready for you."

You laughed as Bob pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. He wasn't wrong. Even though you were days away from giving birth, there were still so many things to do in such a tiny time frame.

The next few days were spent prepping the house and finishing the nursery. The laundry and the last of your knitting went smoothly although your cats would have said otherwise. Bluey and Echo, Bob's two blue-heelers, had taken to fetching the oddest things from the other rooms which led to an odd assortment of everything piling up in the living room. But you wouldn't have had it any other way.

At last, the day had come, a warm and calm night when you woke up suddenly after your water broke unexpectedly. Jake and Natasha came to take Auggie back to their place for a while, while your midwife came to the house to help. Bob stayed with you the whole time, just as he had done with Auggie, letting you squeeze his hand as you relaxed in the warm bath.

At long last, on June 1st, at 1:30 in the morning, your sweet little boy, Patrick Lewis Floyd, was born; sharing a birthday with Bob's father Joe. As soon as you were back in yours and Bob's shared bed, he snapped a few photos and sent them to his parents, siblings and the Daggers. It's not long before his phone is flooded with messages, all from the proud aunts, uncles and grandparents of your new little boy.

Joe and Irene, Bob's parents, are proud as ever of their grandson and of you both, more so now that Joe can joke about Patrick being his birthday present for that year. His Meemaw and Papa are all too proud to be great-grandparents again, all of them offering to come by and help with whatever is needed.

You and Bob wake later the next day at the sound of Patrick's fussing in the little bedside bassinet, Bob carefully lifting him into his arms and bringing him to the window to hear the birds singing. Patrick calms right down as soon as he's heard the birds sing and as soon as he's latched onto you to feed.

And when you and Bob are snuggled in your shared bed with Auggie coming in to see his new baby brother, you are both overjoyed and happy at the little nest you've built together.

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 10

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, blood, injury, vomiting

A/N: This chapter is admittedly self indulgent. I love Daryl whump and I’ve been kind to him physically for most of the story so far. Not anymore! That being said, I feel like I should have split this into more than one chapter because—to me—the quality suffered because of the length. Anyway, on with the show!

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Moodboard by @dannyo000

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

The sun was shining through the open curtains when you awoke. You scowled at the rays but the gentle heat that your skin was absorbing seemed to sooth the irritation. You stretched stagnant muscles, not even venturing to suppress the moan invoked by the action. You let your head fall to the side, finding the opposite margin of the bed empty. Daryl had already left. You shouldn’t be surprised. He was a hunter. Your variety were early risers. Well, you were admittedly a bit of a slacker. 

Your stomach felt moderately uneasy but not unmanageable. Hershel must have given you that injection while you slept. Your IV was disconnected and a glass of water sat on the bedside table, this time closest to you. You picked it up after gliding your legs off the side of the bed, taking slow careful sips. You were just placing it back on the table when there was a soft knock on the door. 

“Come in?” You weren’t sure if it was Hershel or maybe someone else who lived in the home. It felt odd to invite them into a room that didn’t belong to you. 

Carol peeked inside and smiled before opening the door fully to enter, a young blonde girl right on her heels with a glass of something…colorful. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” You accepted the woman’s embrace. 

“Better.” You smiled reassuringly when she pulled back to get a look at you. “Who’s this? And what’s that?” Carol looked behind herself on one side and then the other before stepping aside. 

“I’m Beth. My daddy is the one that helped you.” The girl was just that: a girl. She was older than Carl and Sophia but still a kid. “We made you a fruit smoothie. Patricia says it’s good for you and shouldn’t make you sick.”

You offered her a tight smile and accepted the drink, fearful of not only the taste but the consistency of the thing. You’d never done well with solid things being made into liquids. With an uncertain frown, you took a small sip. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Holy shit, that’s good.” When you took another drink, a smiling Carol put a hand on your arm. 

“Go slow.”

You nodded, tilting your head at the pile of clothes in Carol’s arms. “Are those for me?”

“Mhm. Thought you might like to clean up and change.”

“Oh my god, you read my mind.” You took another sip and made a grateful noise that had Beth giggling. “That is really good.”

It was early evening by the time you had showered and decided to venture outside. The nap in between was desperately needed. You were still a little weak from your ordeal. 

It was your first glimpse of the land. Beautiful fields with horses and cows out to pasture, while the blue, cloudless sky blanketed it all. 

Blue like Daryl’s eyes. 

You frowned, shaking your head at yourself. “Where the hell did that come from?” You brushed it off easily and approached the little camp your fellow group mates had set up. It felt odd being around them all without Daryl being somewhere nearby but it wasn’t bad per se.

Lori looked up from the bin of laundry and smiled at you. It was small and you could sense something behind it. Nevertheless, you returned it. It wouldn’t be a horrible thing to get to know everyone better. You made two steps in Lori’s direction before noticing Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Dale huddled together out of the corner of your eye. 

Normally, you’d think nothing of it, except you happened to catch Dale risking a glance in your direction. His expression pinched, concerned. He was quick to look away but it was too late. 

“What’s going on?” You asked, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jeans. The way they all looked between one another spoke volumes. There was something they didn’t want to tell you. 

Shane did that thing where he shoved his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and looked around at nothing before meeting your eyes. “Nothing for you to worry about, darlin’. We got it under control.”

You couldn’t help but sneer at him. “Don’t call me darlin’ and I can decide if I should worry or not. Rick?” The officers shared a look with Shane shaking his head but Rick seemed to disagree. 

“Daryl took a horse out today to look for Sophia.” 

You shook your head and raised a brow inquisitively. “Okay?” 

“The horse came back. Without him.”

Your stomach dropped before twisting with a feeling of dread. “You’re going out, right?” 

“Well, this is Daryl. We’re gonna give him until nightfall and set out first thing in the morning if he’s not back.” Rick explained. The incredulous expression you donned must have been enough encouragement for him to stammer out further explanation. “We can’t risk going out and not making it back before dark.”

“But it’s okay for Daryl—who could be hurt—to be out there alone all night, right? Are you fucking serious right now?” You were finding it increasingly difficult to keep your anger in check or your voice at a low volume. 

“Listen, missy, you don’t have a lot of right to say much of anything around here! Let me tell you something—” Shane began. You were having none of it. 

“Oh, shove it, Dudley Do-Right!” You hissed. You had spun away and started looking for Daryl’s tent, missing the undoubtedly furious—but comically memorable—expression on Shane’s face. “I’ll go find him myself.”

You heard Rick’s frantic footfalls before he stepped in front of you, palms out. “Wait, wait, wait. We can’t let you go out there.”

“Let me?”

Dale joined Rick, taking off his hat as he spoke. You weren’t sure why he did it other than maybe attempting to show you some form of respect. “Daryl would be less than thrilled if something happened to you.”

“I thought I didn’t have any rights around here?” You crossed your arms, eyes sliding to the side when you heard someone approaching from behind. When they didn’t move where you could see them, you felt your hackles rise. They must have not been informed that you were also a hunter. “If you touch me, you risk losing a body part.” You spat over your shoulder, venom dripping from every syllable. “And I promise you, it’ll be something you’ll definitely miss.” Shane gave you a wide berth as he circled within your sight, hands up as if he were being detained. 

“Look, Y/N, we know that’s Daryl’s baby.” Rick dropped his hands to his sides, bringing one back up immediately to rub at his forehead. 

“And how do you know that?” You knew it was a stupid question. The archer hadn’t left your side the entire time you were unconscious. After you awoke, he was at your beck and call: bringing you food, making sure you drank enough, watching over you as you rested. 

“You were unconscious. You didn’t see him when he brought you here.” Rick was trying so hard to be nice and you knew he meant it. He was a genuine person. 

“He was off the rails! Rantin’ and ravin’ like a lunatic!”

“Shane, you’re not helping.” Rick had tilted his head, directing his statement at his partner but keeping his eyes on the ground at your feet. When he spoke again, his gaze found yours, full of kindness and concern. “We just can’t take any risks.”

Regardless, you would not be deterred. “I’m not asking you to. In fact, I’m not asking at all.” They allowed you to sidestep around them, not following you but you could hear them muttering loudly amongst themselves. 

Finding Daryl’s tent was a piece of cake. You used what you knew of him to conclude that he would be the furthest from the rest. Once inside, you found your pack and knives sitting to one side, surprisingly in a neat pile. In fact, the entire space was orderly enough for you to scratch your head and second guess if you had indeed entered the right tent. 

His bedroll had not been used, the cot not set up. That made sense. He had spent the nights in the house with you while you recovered. You could still feel the warmth his body gave off even with several inches between you. Damn him for going off alone. 

He did have some goodies in his area that you were happy to borrow. Some dried jerky, a length of rope, some extra clothes (for him, just in case), a meager amount of medical supplies (also, just in case), and a flashlight. You’d give it all back. Maybe. 

Knives holstered and bag on your back, you bent down to exit the tent, standing to come face to face with Carol and Lori. Throwing back your head, you groaned. “Not you guys, too.”

“Daryl made it pretty clear that the baby is his.” Lori spoke first. “We’re gonna worry.”

“You’re new, but we’re all in this together. Daryl, too. He’s out there looking for my girl, after all.” Carol held out two canteens of water. “Maggie and Glenn aren’t back yet. That shot Hershel gave you isn’t gonna last much longer. You need to stay hydrated.”

Before you could react, Lori handed you two apples and a can of kidney beans. “You need to eat too. Fruit and protein are good for the baby and for nausea.”

“Thank you.” You turned to allow Carol to place the items in your bag, getting caught in a hug on your way back around. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Carol nodded while Lori took your hand and squeezed. “We’ll handle the men. Go on. Daryl left out that way.” You turned your attention to the direction she pointed and gave a nod, jogging off before anyone could intercept you. 

Situations like this were when being a hunter and tracker was beyond beneficial; it could be potentially life saving. Finding the horse’s trail was easy. The shape of the hooves indicated whether the mare was coming or going, as well as the depth, indicating whether or not Daryl was in the saddle. 

He had gone some distance, that was certain. Being on horseback allowed him to cover more ground but he gave up the advantage of being close to the paths. It had to be harder to see any trails from horseback. Then again, he was a marksman with his crossbow. He was eagle-eyed for sure. 

You had been tracking him for at least an hour, the sun getting lower and lower. Rick and Shane had been right about one thing: Daryl would raze that farm to the ground if he came back to learn you had gone out alone. Still, you had to think he’d find it at least a little funny that no one volunteered to go with you. Big strong manly men letting the petite sickly pregnant woman go in the woods all by her lonesome. You snorted at your own thoughts. 

You paused to check the sun’s position in the sky, estimating you had about an hour of daylight left. Even if you abandoned the search and went back at that moment, it would still be dark when you made it. You weren’t hungry, which you considered might be a bad thing, but you were thirsty. Pulling the bag from your shoulders, you crouched to dig through the contents for one of the canteens. It was easily found toward the top. 

“Small sips, small sips.” You reminded yourself. You didn’t yet feel nauseated but tempting fate was not an activity you regularly enjoyed. You did enough of that in the woods with Daryl and now had a baby in your belly for your efforts. You were screwing the lid back onto the canteen while simultaneously scanning the tracks you had been following, when you noticed a drastic change. “The horse startled.” You whispered urgently. You were quick to set aside your bag, moving low to the ground to inspect each print. “She reared. Fuck.” The next set of hoof prints were not as deep. “She threw him.”

You stood quickly, ignoring the very slight bout of light-headedness. “Daryl!” You whisper-yelled as loud as you dared. Efficient as you were, you could only handle so many walkers alone. Again, best not to tempt fate. “Daryl!” When you had made a 180, you saw a drop-off. You felt the nausea then, but it had nothing to do with your condition. You placed a palm against a tree, just in case you were to feel any sudden dizziness. You’d rather not topple over and go tumbling down the rocks into the bloody…water. “Oh fuck.”

The red was billowing out into green and yellow clouds in the water, showing it had been there long enough to dilute a substantial amount. “No, no, no. Daryl!” You moved hastily down the edge, following the water hopefully toward land. You had called louder only to be met with silence. Maybe he was out and gone. Back at camp and ready to have your head on a platter for going after him. Maybe he was nearby and would appear momentarily and call you an idiot for being so loud. 

Neither of those proved to be the case. 

When you spotted the gravelly riverside, you easily found the hunter. The sound you made was somewhere between a sob and a whimper. He was only halfway out of the water, his legs submerged up to his waist. The blood in the water was still a dark red, indicating active bleeding. There was something protruding from his left side that looked suspiciously like one of his bolts. Your first thought was that someone had taken his crossbow and shot him with his own weapon. However, it was lying just above his head, his hand loosely wrapped around it. 

You were past the point of thinking rationally. He could be a grade A asshole but he was your baby’s father. That was enough reason to try your best to get him out of the fucked up predicament he had somehow gotten himself into. 

It wouldn’t stop you from cursing his name the entire time though. 

“How the hell am I supposed to get down there?” You paced the ledge, pulling at your hair. The slope was steep and littered with rocks, limbs, and roots. You couldn’t risk falling. You wouldn’t. 

But there was so much blood. 

“Think, Y/N!” You crouched down, tapping your fingers against the dirt while willing Daryl to move. To yell. Anything. “When I get you out of this mess, Daryl, I’m going to string you up by—” Your eyes flew wide, a gasp leaving your parted lips. Scrambling back to your bag, you dug through it haphazardly until your fingers wrapped around the rope you’d swiped from his tent. “Yes!”

It probably wasn’t long enough to get you all the way to the bottom but it would do to get you low enough for a fall not to injure you. You’d have to be creative, regardless. You couldn’t rappel down; the length was definitely not enough for that. You also couldn’t tie it to a tree on the ledge either. It would take too much rope. You needed to move down the slope a bit and use one of the tree roots. 

Which meant taking a risk. 

“I swear if you die, I’m killing you.” You muttered, while shrugging your bag onto your back. Your ass met the dirt somewhat roughly in your haste to get moving. The body could only lose so much blood before— Anyway, you had to go. You moved down carefully, keeping your backside firmly on the ground whilst you prodded rocks and limbs to ensure they would hold your weight. There was a sturdy, sizable root just a few more feet. If it was embedded deep enough, you could use it to get you down safely as well as get you both back up. 

You were nearly there when your foot slipped from the edge of a rock. It was easy to right yourself, given how carefully you were moving but it didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your nose. Looking down, you realized you had grabbed your stomach instinctively. With a calming breath, you gave your tummy a pat. “We got this, little thumper.”

The root was easy to get the rope around, secured with a bowline knot. You then loosely secured the end around your waist, high enough not to snap taut around your belly if you were to fall. It’d probably break your back, honestly, but eh, you were optimistic. 

You let the slack fall and grabbed on a couple of feet below the knot. “Here goes nothin’.” You started down at a faster pace than before. You couldn’t slide on your ass the whole way, that would take forever. 

Daryl didn’t have forever. 

You called his name every few seconds, as quietly as you could while being loud enough for him to hopefully hear. You made about three-fourths of the way down when you heard a familiar sound that made your blood freeze. Your head snapped up to some foliage across the riverbank, panicked eyes zeroing in on the walker making a beeline for the same figure you were trying to make your way toward. 

“Hey!” You shouted. You waved an arm frantically but the stench of blood had the corpse’s entire focus. “Goddamnit!” With no alternative, you ripped off your flannel and put it between your hands and the rope. Bracing your weight mostly on the root above, you stood slightly and all but ran down the slope. Each time you misstepped, you threw your weight onto the rope. It would sling you sharply but with nowhere else to go, you could get right back to the descent. 

Unfortunately, the rope eventually ran out. 

Eyes on the walker getting entirely too close to Daryl, you scrambled to untie the line. “Fuck!” The corpse had dropped to its knees and was crawling the last few feet. You yanked your knife from the holster and cut yourself free in a single swipe, barreling toward the water. “Get away from him!”

It finally noticed you, looking your way while Daryl’s arm was in its rotten clutches. Your knife sank into its skull with ease. As much as the smell made you gag, you grabbed the thing as it toppled and pulled. You couldn’t let it fall into the water. Not with Daryl having an open wound. 

Panting through tears, you freed your knife and crawled toward the archer. If you had been one second later, he’d have been bitten. The way that thought devastated you down to your very soul frightened you. You checked his arm first, just to be sure. No bites. No scratches. There was no time to revel in that relief. You stopped to brush your fingertips over a cut above his right temple. From the fall, you surmised. 

The most concerning injury was that it was indeed his bolt impaling his side and it seemed to have gone all the way through. “Damnit, Daryl, what happened?” You felt lost, hands hovering while your chest began to tighten with the all too familiar heaviness of impending panic. “No, you can’t freak out. You cannot freak out.”

First thing was first. You had to get him out of the water. He would be lucky if bacteria hadn’t already seeped into his wound. You could only pray that Hershel had antibiotics in his possession. 

You shed your rucksack close to a nearby tree. The area would give you a view of the entirety of your surroundings. With Daryl injured, you would need to remain vigilant. You were responsible for the safety of three now. 

Moving him would be difficult. It would be pulling dead weight, and was most definitely over the weight limit a pregnant person should be messing with. But you didn’t have a choice. 

“Okay, little thumper. You just be strong in there while I get your dumbass father out of this mess.”

It was a struggle to get him angled on his right side. You couldn’t drag him flat and risk disturbing the bolt lodged in his skin. Hands tightly gripping his forearms, you began to pull, your boots sliding in the gravel. It was going to be quite the journey but you were moving him little by little. 

With a strained grunt, you paused and leaned forward to put your hands on your knees to catch your breath. Just as you leaned forward to grab hold of him again, a cold slimy hand grabbed onto your bicep, yanking you back. How had you not heard the walker approaching? Wasn’t pregnancy supposed to heighten your senses?

“Fuck!” You grappled with the corpse of a man, finding it tough to keep his clicking teeth away from your arm. He was pushing you back easily but you couldn’t let go to get to your knife. One wrong move would result in a chunk being ripped from your arm. Your muscles were tiring, being pushed to their limit. To make matters worse, you could see another walker shambling its way toward the scrap. There was no hope of fending off two of them. 

You cried out in frustration and lifted your foot to connect the toe of your boot roughly with the corpse’s knee, causing it to stumble. You had one shot. With your forearm pressing into its throat, you were able to grab your knife and sink the blade into the soft skull with a sickening squelch. There was no time to catch your breath as the second one slammed into your side and took off your feet. 

Your legs were pinned under its body, forcing you to battling at an awkward angle to stave off its attempts to rip into your thighs. Your knife was within reach, but grabbing it meant one side would be vulnerable. 

“Goddamnit! Get off me, you decaying bastard!” 

The walker shifted and gave you the opportunity to bend your right knee and place the sole of your boot against its abdomen. A solid kick forced it back. You were free to scramble backward and grab your knife, but when you lifted it to strike, you spotted another walker crawling toward you, its empty eyes giving you a glimpse of your fate. Ripped open, half eaten only to rise again; mindless and starving for a taste of flesh. 

This was it. You’d done all you could. You’d fight them to the death but they had you. It was only a matter of time before—

A bolt pierced the second walker, entering through its temple. It landed in the dirt with a dusty thud. You knew exactly what had happened and once the last walker was dead, you would survey the damage. You flung yourself forward and drove your knife through its right eye. It fell still, its weight heavy on your lap. 

“Goddamnit, Daryl!” You exclaimed. 

The hunter was on his knees at the water’s edge, swaying dangerously. The left side of his body was now void of the bolt, rivulets of blood dripping from his saturated shirt. His crossbow fell from his grip as he pitched forward to land on all fours. 

“Shit.” You wiggled free from beneath the walker, sheathing your knife before dropping to your knees beside Daryl. You laid a gentle hand on the middle of his back. “Hey, let’s get you over there so I can take a look at you.”

“Who…came with…you?” He asked breathlessly, his head remaining bowed as if he just didn’t have the strength to lift it. Hell, he probably didn’t. 

You knew he wouldn’t like the answer. You hated to upset him but you wouldn’t lie. “I came alone.” He visibly tensed, fingers digging into the dirt and rock below him. 

“Why…the fuck…would ya do tha’?”

“Because the horse came back without you. Because our baby needs their father.” You reached for his bicep and pulled him up onto his knees so that you were able to put his arm across your shoulders. “Because I was worried about you.” 

He gave you a look from the corner of his eye, his head still hanging. “S’a shit reason…ta risk the… two’a ya.”

“Did you miss the other two reasons?” You shot back, getting your legs under you so you could lift him without pulling your back or stomach. “Selective hearing, I swear. On three: one. Two. Three!” You managed to get you both upright, but Daryl was quick to curl forward with a sound much too close to a whimper for your liking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“S’fine. Jus’…” He trailed off with a languid wave of his hand. You took that to mean he was ready to move and began the short walk to the tree. It didn’t take long but he was somehow even more pale and sweating by the time you helped lower him to recline against the trunk. “Found…found her doll.”

“What?” You weren’t really listening. With his shirt pulled up, you could get a good look at the wound. It was still bleeding sluggishly, but still far too much for your liking. “Did you really pull out that bolt?” You asked while leaning around him to see the back as best you could. 

“Y’ain’t…ain’t listenin’.” The hunter gave you a weak shove, barely moving you at all. “Found…Sophia’s doll.”

“She was here.” Looking around, you saw nothing and you would not leave him to go track. “Where’s the doll?” Daryl jutted his chin toward a downed tree that was close to the shallow water. Even going that meager distance from him felt like you were leaving him unprotected. However, you knew he would hound you until you obliged his request. 

You jogged over, your muscles tired and stomach beginning to feel ill at ease. Sure enough, there laid the doll. You snatched it up and returned to him, taking a moment to place the toy in your bag and pull out supplies. 

“How did this happen?”

“Fell…fell on it.”

“Graceful.” You smirked, ignoring the weak middle finger lifted toward you. “Let’s get this bleeding under control and get back to the farm.” You raised his shirt again but this time he seemed to take notice and went rigid. 

“It’ll keep, jus’ leave it.”

Your mouth gaped. “You can’t be serious.” You admonished him. “I’m not sure you noticed but there is a literal hole in your side. We can’t go back without some sort of treatment first.” His usually bright blue eyes were cloudy when he looked at you. “It’s nearly dark. Stop arguing with me and let’s get this done.”

“Ain’t enough…time ta…get back tonight.”

“We can’t stay here, Daryl. We’re sitting ducks.” You started grabbing other things you needed even as he tried to talk you out of it: food, water. 

“I can. Go on… back. Come back…back tomorrow…with help.” He winced when he pressed a palm against the wound so he could shift to a more comfortable position. 

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Y/N, s’not—”

“I said no, Daryl.” You reached for his shirt again and he didn’t stop you but there was a panicked undertone in his eyes. “Just far enough for me to see the wound, okay?” A visible relief; his shoulders dropped and he let his head fall back against the tree. 

The bleeding had slowed, showing signs that it was beginning to clot. That was great news but it didn’t replace all he had already lost. The wound needed a proper cleaning and stitches, both of which you were not well equipped. You could handle it if you had the supplies. You’d sewn yourself up plenty of times. 

With a sigh, you got up to fetch your flannel from where you’d left it near the rope. You were already tearing it into strips before you returned to Daryl’s side. You tried to be as quick as possible; taping down gauze, folding pieces of your flannel to press over those. Lacking enough to make a compression bandage, you tied pieces of material together. 

“Almost done.” You had to lean into his space to pull the makeshift bandage around his back. His tired eyes flitted back and forth between yours while you found yourself glancing at his lips. You cleared your throat and sat back on your heels. “This is gonna hurt but just try to be as quiet as you can.”

Daryl watched you for a moment and then nodded. He visibly tensed and closed his eyes a mere moment before you pulled the material tight around the wound. To his credit, he merely grunted but the hard lines of pain on his face told a different story. 

“There. That’s the best I can do right now.” You were beyond concerned. The thought of spending the night there with the archer being so grievously wounded was intimidating. You knew there was no other choice. One of the canteens was on the ground beside you where you had placed it when grabbing out supplies. If he was going to stand any chance of surviving, Daryl had to cooperate. This should be fun. “I need you to drink some water. You’ve lost a lot of blood. We have to keep you hydrated until we can get out of here.”

“Nah.” Much to your chagrin, he turned his head. “Ya need… it more… than I do.” He was beginning to look dazed, fighting off the overwhelming urge to allow his body to rest. 

“Stop being a brat and drink the water.” You pressed the canteen to his lips, dropping your mask to wear your concern like a second skin. “Please. I promise I have enough for me too.”

You thought he might argue or once again refuse, but he finally parted his lips with a sigh. You tilted the canteen, flinching when his much too cold hand covered yours to help control how much he was getting. 

“I need to build a fire. Keep it small.” You weren’t really talking to him but he hummed in response anyway. He was cold and clammy. You’d bet money that would be worthless in that world that if you checked his pulse, it would be racing. “I think you’re going into shock. I need to get you warm.”

“M’fine.” His voice was quiet, too drained to offer up a convincing tone. 

You went about gathering what you could find that could hold the highest possibility of burning. “You know what, keep telling yourself that. Maybe your stubbornness will pay off.” Placing some rocks down so you could control the flames, you placed your tinder bundle in the center along with some sticks and wood chips for kindling. You had to do this the old fashioned way. Daryl was watching you with slow blinks as you went about your method. 

You thanked whatever deity that was listening for your experience in the wilderness. You were nurtured by the woods growing up. The trees were like family, offering shade, protection, and a means of warmth or preparing your meals. You had learned the ways to survive. Granted, back then, walking corpses that wanted to eat your intestines weren’t a thing. Scared as you were, you knew you could make it. You could make it. But now, you had to keep Daryl alive as well. 

“Finally.” You sat back with a smug grin, watching the fire burn. You just hoped it would be enough. “Come on, let’s get you settled closer to the fire. Then I’ll heat the beans I have. Daryl swatted at your hands. 

“M’fine here.”

You huffed through your nose. “No, you’re not. Your skin is freezing. I don’t have any blankets. We need to keep you warm.”

“Fine.” He began to lever his way to his feet, growling with annoyance once you swooped in to help him. “Can do it….can do it myself.”

“Shut up and let me help.” You didn’t let go and he didn’t try to force you. He was panting by the time you lowered him down to lie on this back. He couldn’t be comfortable. “Um, one second.” There wasn’t a lot left of your flannel but you could make it work. Folding it to the best of your ability, you gently lifted his head and placed the article  beneath it. As an afterthought, you pulled the clean shirt you had grabbed for him and draped it over his upper half. It would have to do for the time being. “Okay, just rest and I’ll wake you for some food and water in a bit.”

Hours passed agonizingly slowly. You had tried to get Daryl to eat but he had refused. At least he drank the water. You yourself had eaten a third of the can of beans. Everything seemed to be going alright until you found yourself regurgitating into the bushes. Your stomach was turning inside out, now rejecting even the water. 

Carol had warned you this would happen but you couldn’t wait. You didn’t regret it either. Daryl would have surely died had you not gone in search of him. 

Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you staggered back toward the fire. You were steps away when you realized that Daryl was…talking. And not just talking, but conversing. There’s no one there. 

It felt wrong in some ways to move closer; to be able to hear him. It was as if a person was sitting right next to him. Daryl’s eyes were open; mere slits but open. 

“Screw you.”

“A girl. They…lost a little..girl.”

“Shut up.”

“Tried like hell… ta find ya, bro.”

Bro? Daryl had a brother. It was unknown if he was alive or dead. You only knew from Carol. Daryl never let you that close. He was hallucinating which was bad. Very bad. You took a step forward, ignoring your stomach’s protests for the time being. Should you wake him? 

“We went…back fer ya. Rick n’ I, we…did righ’ by ya.”

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

“Don’ talk…’bout her like that. Y/N…she’s…diff’rent.”

Wide eyes blinked. He was talking about you. Granted, it was during a moment of psychological weakness but still. It felt even more wrong to allow it to continue. 

“I ain’t gon’ be…like our daddy. My kid…ain’t gon’ be like us. Like you or me.”

Your heart ached for him. You knew nothing about Daryl’s childhood but now you knew it wasn’t pleasant. Shaking your head, you kneeled next to his arm and placed a hand against his cheek. No fever. This had to be coming from the head injury. “Daryl.” He seemed to be looking right through you. Still, he lifted a hand and let the back of his knuckles brush along your jaw. 

“See, Merle? Told ya… she was diff’rent.” His hand fell away, blue eyes disappearing behind heavy lids. 

“Daryl?” You said urgently, fingers searching along his neck for a pulse. It was there, albeit a little fast but there. You felt weak and allowed yourself to fall back onto your ass, scooting until your back was against the tree. 

From what Carol had told you, Daryl’s brother was vile. He was toxic and the younger Dixon had changed slightly without his influence. She had said Daryl was brash and intimidating, preferred to be alone. Hated to be touched. Yet he had sought out your company twice a week like clockwork. He had talked to you, brief and unimportant statements and questions, but he had talked. He had let you touch him. Intimately. 

“She’s…diff’rent.”

It was dangerous to let your mind wander down the paths it had created from his simple words to a brother who wasn’t there. But let it wander, you did. Maybe Daryl didn’t just care about the baby. Maybe he was impertinent toward you because you had gotten too close. Maybe you had managed to penetrate the walls he had built to protect himself. 

Maybe—just maybe—you had allowed him to pass through your own defenses. 

And that was more terrifying to you than any walking corpse in a dystopian world. 

Taglist:

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[somekindofpoet]

La Petite Mort - La Drague

Summary: Reader and Lorraine take a ride into the woods for a picnic...and other things.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language 

A/N: The angst is coming....enjoy this while you can

LPM Part I LPM Part III LPM Part IV LPM Part V LPM Part VI

LPM - La Drague

Somehow, the day after your barnyard tryst is even hotter than the day before. Waves of heat roll off of the dusty hills, the sun sweltering above your head, making your skin burn. The cattle in the field gather together under the batches of hickory trees, their wispy branches providing thin strips of coveted shade. Getting them moving in this weather will require significant effort on your part and your grizzled veteran of a horse. 

You pat his dappled gray neck and sigh, “Well, CB, the faster we get these ladies back to the barn, the faster we can get to the pond.”

CB nudges you with his nose as if to tell you he’s been ready long before you were. You ruffle his black bangs and reach up to the horn of your saddle, hiking your leg into the stirrup and swinging yourself onto his back. You lean forward and give him another pat on his shoulder, and he picks his head up, ears high, ready to work. If he does well, you’ll be done in enough time to catch Lorraine before lunch, a thought that sends a tingle from the tips of your ears down to your toes. With the proper motivation (yours being the possible opportunity to see her naked again), one could accomplish wonders. 

You nudge CB in the sides, getting him to move toward the handful of cattle lounging in the shade. They pick their heads up lazily, watching you with bored eyes. They were so used to you and CB by now you hardly had to herd them. They had their routine. You just had to get them moving into it.

“Alright, ladies,” you yell, clapping your hands above your head, “let’s get those derrières movin'!”

They gaze at you, their jaws moving in slow circles as they chew their cud. You give them grace, understanding they don’t want to return to the heat. But they need to get moving or you won’t make it back to the house before Mr. Day returns from his trip into town. You glance down at your saddlebag, weighing your options. The fastest route is the one you decide to take, reaching over into the leather bag to pull out your revolver. You sling the cylinder open, checking for bullets in the chambers. 

You slap the cylinder back in and point the barrel into the sky, “Now listen up, heifers! There’s a real pretty lady waitin' on me right now, so I need you to get your asses in gear! I’ll even line up a date with a bull if you save me the money of wasting a bullet on the sky right now.”

The cows shuffle further from you but make no effort to move back to the path that will take them home. They’re going to scramble when you fire the gun, and it’ll take more effort to herd them in the right direction, but at least they’ll be moving. 

You sigh, shaking your head, “Well, girls, you’ve given me no choice. Desperate times and all.” 

You pull the trigger, the gun in your hand sending a familiar shockwave down your wrist. The chemical reaction in the barrel sets off a bang that immediately earns a reaction from the cattle. CB doesn’t flinch, well accustomed to gunfire. You spur him as the cows scramble, working their space bubbles until you have them all in a group and lumbering back toward the barn. You push them a little harder than normal, in a hurry to get your job done for the morning. 

When you come into view of the barn and the house, the driveway is still empty. A wide grin spreads across your face at the sight. You lock the cattle into their pasture and tie CB to one of the posts, making your way toward the house. A curtain swinging closed catches your attention, and seconds later, Lorraine is flying out the back door. You stop walking and watch her, your hands on your hips. She doesn’t slow when she gets closer to you, instead crashing into you, her lips immediately finding yours. She shoves your hat off your head in her haste, her hands and lips frantically taking you in. You respond immediately, but your shock makes your hands slow, and she’s already pushing you back against the barn wall, her fingers working at the buttons on your shirt.

You laugh into her lips, your hands coming up to stop hers, “Woah woah, Raine, slow down.” 

She stops long enough to look into your eyes and pushes into you again, her lips on your neck this time. “I dreamt about you last night,” she says, her words coming out muffled against your skin. 

You let her continue as you mull over your surprise. You knew you were good, damn good in bed. But you hadn’t expected to find her so wild so quickly. You had half worried she might be awkward or embarrassed about yesterday’s activities, but she’s nearing on barbaric the way she’s pulling at you. You realize you’re lost in thought, and she’s already got your shirt unbuttoned. You shake your head, trying to clear the haze that had settled over you. The excitement building in your stomach makes you feel like you’re buzzing, her hands running across your ribs amplifying the feeling. You glance around the open yard and begin to feel too exposed. Her father could come home at any moment and find you in a compromising situation. 

You gently hold her shoulders, pushing her back, “Wait,” you say as she reaches up to kiss you again, “Wait, Lorraine. I have an idea.”

She sighs in frustration, “Daddy is gonna be back any time now.”

You huff out a laugh at how cute she looks, her eyes wide and dark, her nose scrunched with impatience. Her hands are still on your sides, her thumbs running back and forth over your skin.

“I know,” you say, looking down at her, “that’s what I’m worried about. Come with me.” 

You pry her fingers from around your waist and take her hand, pulling her toward CB. She follows willingly, only a slight pull of confusion on her face. You scoop up your hat and drop it on her head, the brim sinking over her eyebrows. She laughs softly and pushes it back, letting you lead her along the fence posts. Her fingers fall from your grip as you untie the reins from the post, and she stands up on her tiptoes to hug CB’s neck.

“Hey, handsome,” she says, and he glances at her, then back to you. 

You pull yourself onto his back and offer your hand to her, but she frowns up at you, your hat sliding down into her eyes again.

“I can ride on my own, you know.”

You shake your head and laugh, “I know that, but we’re in a bit of a hurry at the moment. Are we not?”

CB stomps and shakes his head to accentuate your point, ever the wingman. Lorraine shrugs and reaches up, letting you pull her up onto his back in front of you. You pluck your hat from her head and place it back on your own, and she leans back into your chest. With her body flush against yours, you feel the heat in your belly begin to glow, every nerve standing at attention. The reins gathered in one hand, you pull to the side, telling CB to turn and begin walking down the fence, away from the house. Lorraine drops her head back to rest on your collarbone, and you can’t help but kiss just below her ear, making her shiver despite the blazing sun. 

“I hope you’re takin me where I think you’re takin me,” she mumbles, closing her eyes, her body gently rocking side to side with CB’s steps. 

You smirk, already knowing where she’s thinking, “I am.”

You guide CB through a thick line of trees, picking your way along a trail you’ve all walked many times before. You hardly have to tell him where to go; he knows his destination now that you’ve pointed him in its direction. He slowly makes his way through the trees and underbrush, plodding along obediently. Lorraine is quiet and relaxed, every few minutes, she runs her palms up and down your legs, giving you goosebumps under the denim. You break through into a clearing, and Lorraine sits up, knowing this is your stop. A large pond is hidden away there, only accessible through the clearing. You pull CB to a halt, and she slides off his back with you just behind her. 

You turn back to him to pull the blanket roll off the saddle and a small bundle out of the saddle bag. Lorraine scratches his nose and plants a kiss between his nostrils when he drops his head to her. 

You pat his rump, “Alright, buddy, go do horse stuff, I’ll see ya soon.”

He sidles through the clearing to the grass near the pond and ducks his head down to snack. You unroll the blanket and lay it in the grass, the trees around the clearing providing shade in the shapes of branches and leaves. You set the bundle from your saddlebag on the corner of the blanket and start to pull your boots off. Lorraine watches you curiously, until she understands what you’re doing and follows suit. You’re down to your underwear by the time she gets the picture. Her eyes are trained on you as she unties her shoes, watching you closely as you strip out of your remaining clothes. She licks her lips, hurrying her hands.

You grow impatient and sprint to the water bank, striding in knee-deep and diving in, the cool water washing over your head. When you resurface, Lorraine is in her underwear at the edge of the water, chewing on her cheek.

“Well, now is a weird time to get shy,” you call out, smiling wide.

She shrugs and shakes her head, sighing. She glances around into the surrounding trees, stretching up on her toes to see further into the dense brush.

“You just tried to strip me down in front of your house not thirty minutes ago, and you’re worried now?” You tease her, backstroking further out into the water.

She throws her hands up in defeat and strips down, tossing her clothes back toward the blanket, and wades in. 

“It’s cold!” She yelps, hesitating ankle-deep.

You swim up to a point where you can stand with your shoulders just breaking the water, wind back, and swing your arm, splashing her in a wave. She squeals and tries to retreat, but you’re already grabbing her around the waist, pulling her into the water. You fall backward, dunking both of your heads under, and let go of her. When you surface, she’s spluttering and pushing her hair out of her face, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. You expect to be chastised, but instead, she opens her eyes and lunges at you, splashing your face and giggling. 

She stays a few feet closer to the shore, unable to stand with her head above water at your depth. You watch her for a moment, committing to memory the way the water droplets run down from her hair over her cheekbones and her faint tan lines around the collar of her neck. She stops laughing as you take her in, biting her lip and moving toward you. She has to swim to you, and when she reaches you, she wraps her arms around your neck to keep herself above water. You hold her waist as her legs wrap around your torso, and you quickly remember why you’d trekked all the way out here. This time when she kisses you, you don’t stop her.

You carry her a few steps closer to the shore, your hands sliding down to hold her weight. The water ripples around your bodies as you grow more frenzied, her hips rolling into your stomach, her hands on your jaw. For a split second, you worry that you could get used to this, having her like this, and lose her. The thought flits through your mind, making you falter, but when she sighs into your mouth, the sentiment dissolves like sugar under your tongue. You stay there a bit longer, enjoying her tongue on yours, your skin relishing in the cool dark water, the sun drying your hair and shoulders. It can’t last long because you want more from her, and she’s demanding more from you. You carry her out of the water and over to the blanket, where she unwinds herself from you and lays down, pulling you on top of her. You kiss her lips again, groaning at the feeling of her against your stomach. 

You dip your head to her neck, licking at her skin, and her hands slide over your back, exploring your body, familiarizing herself with the valleys and canyons between your bones. She’s calmed a bit now that you’re pressed into her, her breathing slowing and her eyes less wild. You, on the other hand, are growing in intensity, starving for more of her, inching your way down her body, tracing the constellation of bruises you’d left on her the day before, ensuring they stay another day. You make a brief stop at her breasts, biting and sucking at each nipple before moving on, kissing your way down to her hip bones. You take your time making your way across her body, intent to learn more of her triggers, commit them to memory to recall any time she beckons you to her. 

She likes it when you bite, but not hard. Just enough to leave a light imprint of your teeth, and she likes it when you soothe the mark with your tongue and lips. She responds to your hands wandering over her skin, positive feedback in the form of a caught breath when you reach up to her breasts as your mouth makes its way to her belly button. Her nails dig into your skin, but when yours press into her, she gasps, and her hips stop, telling you to be more gentle. She likes to see you glance up at her as you make your descent, her hand pushing your hair out of your eyes so she can see you kissing the insides of her thighs. She’s especially fond of you pressing a kiss to her center, your lips pushing gently around her clit, your hands running up her legs to hold her hips in place.  

When your tongue runs through her, you lose her eye contact and focus on the more immediate part of her body. You push your tongue inside of her, exploring her sensitivities you hadn’t had the time to reach last time. She responds with a groan, one arm slung over her eyes, closing out one sense to heighten another. You dip your tongue in a few more times, then drag it up to her clit, lapping over it. Her feedback is loud and immediate, her hand reaching down to anchor you there as she rolls her hips up. She likes a flat tongue, light pressure, and consistent speed, whining when you try to change it up. You take note, learning her as she learns herself. You watch for the landmarks, what sounds she makes when she’s getting close, how her body writhes under you, and which muscles tense in what order. 

When she cums, her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes flutter closed, her body freezes, her breathing stops altogether for a moment, and then she’s falling apart at the seams. She rolls her hips and rides it out, looking to elongate the moment of bliss as far as she can. She pushes your head back when it becomes too much and falls limp as a wet leaf on the blanket, shivering with aftershocks running down her spine. You kiss lightly at her again, making her jump and shy away from your lips. You crawl up her body and kiss her jugular, feeling her blood pounding under your lips. 

You roll off of her and sit at her side, content to watch her regain her senses. It’s another piece of her that you tuck away for future reference; she needs time to come back around after an orgasm. Her eyes are glassy and far off, her hand absently stroking your knee. You turn and unfurl the bundle on the corner of the blanket, revealing a chunk of bread and strawberry jam. Lorraine turns her head at the sound of the jar opening, and her eyes light up. You tear a piece of bread and dip it into the jar, pretend to offer it to her, then pop it into your mouth when she eagerly reaches for it.

Her brows furrow over her eyes, and her lip curls as she sits up, snatching the jar from your open palm before you can hold it out of her reach.

“Hah!” She shouts triumphantly, smirking at you. 

You tear another piece of bread and hand it to her, keeping the larger piece for yourself. She rolls her eyes at you and dips her piece into the jar, closing her eyes and humming when the jam hits her tongue. You laugh and shake your head. This girl and strawberries were going to be the death of you. You reach for the jar, but she holds it away from you, motioning to the bread in your hand. You sigh and hand over the piece. She dips it and gives you back the jar, a self-satisfied smile on her lips accompanying the jam. You quirk an eyebrow, you don’t need the bread. You dip two fingers in and suck them into your mouth, maintaining eye contact with her while you lick the sugary preserves from them. Her jaw drops, and her eyes never leave your mouth until you’re smirking back at her. 

She leans over and pushes you onto your back, her lips crashing into yours again, her tongue running over yours. She tastes like strawberries, sugar, and something so uniquely Lorraine you can’t place your finger on it. You sit up and push her down your lap, her legs wrapping around your waist as you sit her back on the blanket. You lean forward to kiss her again, nipping at her bottom lip as your hand slides down the front of her body. You’re met with eager anticipation when she realizes what happens next, her hands running around to the nape of your neck. You slide two fingers inside of her, the cum from her previous orgasm lubricating them easily. She pulls your body as close as she can to herself, leaving you very little space to move your arm, but you’re letting her do it, a slave to her every whim. 

It doesn’t take much to have her trembling again, already sensitive and still turned on. She drops her head into your shoulder, panting on your collarbone as you curl your fingers, hitting that spot you learned she liked. She’s whimpering in your ear, and you’re fully committed to immersing yourself in the symphony of noises pouring out of her, but a sound in the distance snaps you out of your trance. You don’t stop moving, continuing to build her up, but your eyes are scanning the trees, quickly checking your surroundings before diving back into lips. She throws her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as she turns her face to the sun, and you kiss her throat, taking her in savoringly. 

You can see CB out of the corner of your eye, just aware enough to see him pick his head up and look into the trees. Your instincts are torn in half, wanting to continue reveling in Lorraine’s soft moans, slick skin, and tight grip around your shoulders. The other half of you is screaming something is off, and CB is watching the woods far too intensely. Lorraine is too intoxicating to really allow you to think straight, but when she cums, tightening around your fingers and slumping into your shoulder, your head finally clears. CB whinnies, and another horse in the distance answers him, making you go rigid. 

You don’t have time to get dressed, or to bring Lorraine back to earth, so you do the only thing you can think of in your lust fogged brain. You wrap your arms under her hips, stand with her and hurdle into the water. She screams as soon as the cold hits her skin, and you push her off of you.

“What the fuck y/n?!” She shouts, her eyes full of confused fury. 

You slap your hand over her mouth, your eyes wide. Watching over her shoulder, you can see a shadow approaching through the trees, and you let go of her again, gesturing with your head for her to look. She frowns and turns, then turns back to you, her eyes bulging. 

She slaps you on the shoulder and whispers, “Shit,” her face is washed in fear, “it’s my dad.”

You nod, unable to speak as your mind races, trying to come up with any excuse to give Mr. Day when he inevitably breaks into the clearing. You can’t think of a single thing, the haze from Lorraine’s body still making your brain sluggish and dumb. She bites her lip, her eyes racing over you, thinking quickly. Just when the chestnut head of Mr. Days' horse breaks through the trees, Lorraine splashes you and begins to laugh louder than her natural laugh, putting on a show. You pause, confused for a second, and realization dawns on you. You swim back from her a few feet and splash her back, your acting nearly as poor as hers. 

“Girls!” You wince as his voice rings out over your head from the shore. 

You turn slowly toward him, pretending to be shocked seeing him there. Lorraine giggles and yells, “Hi, Daddy!”

Her tone and face are the picture of innocence, and you thank the heavens she’s found some inner actress now. You wave your arm above the water, careful not to expose yourself. “Howdy, Mr. Day!”

For an agonizing moment, everything goes quiet. His eyes are sweeping over the scene you’ve left, the blanket, the bundle of bread and jam, your clothes strewn through the clearing. You think there’s absolutely no way you’re getting out of here without getting shot at. Then, by the grace of some holy entity, he laughs. When he laughs, you laugh too, the hysteria built up so high you nearly cry. He walks his horse right up to the water and turns her, his belly shaking with his humor.

“Ah, to be young again! You two don’t stay out there too long. There’s still work to be done today.” 

You salute him with a deviant grin, “You got it boss! Just coolin off.”

Lorraine rolls her eyes and sinks under the water, air bubbling up where she disappeared. Mr. Day chuckles again, shaking his head. 

“Y/n! Mrs. Day wants you to stay for dinner tonight, she says you’re gettin' too skinny workin' out here. I’ll see you both this evening, don’t ruin your appetite.”

“You got it, sir, I will not eat anything else until supper!” You yell back.

Lorraine slaps your shoulder when he turns his back, scrunching up her face at you, silently telling you that your joke is not funny. You giggle; the double entendre was funny, and you didn’t care what she thought. When Mr. Day is out of earshot, you relax, letting out your breath and sinking yourself under the water. When your head breaks out of the water again, she jumps on you, laughing. 

“Today I learned somethin new about you,” she giggles as your arms wrap around her back.

“Well, I learned lots about you, so we’re even.”

She tsks, “What could you possibly have learned about me today?”

You raise your eyebrows, “I already knew you were a terrible actress, what with your performance yesterday in front of your dad.”

She slaps your chest and gasps, “I am a perfectly acceptable actress, thank you very much. Plus, I learned you crumble under pressure.”

“I do not!”

Lorraine makes an over-exaggerated shocked face, mimicking yours. “Howdy, Mr. Day,” she deepens her voice, mocking you.

You laugh, having to admit the situation would have been worse had she not thought so quickly to save you. “Alright, that’s fair. But I got your naked ass into the water before he saw us, so I get points for that.”

She nods, “You did. But it was only to save your own skin. You know daddy keeps a magnum on his hip all day.”

“I am well aware, Raine. Which is why we’re in the water right now.”

“Did you mean what you said about not eatin again until supper?”

You scoff at her, “I have created an insatiable monster.”

She shrugs and leans down to kiss you.

——

The days that follow end up being much like the day at the pond. You and Lorraine wound up in increasingly risky positions, and Mr. Day nearly caught you almost every time. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he knew what he was doing, but you thought you’d be dead if he knew. 

On Wednesday, Lorraine had snuck you into her room, and after watching her write at her desk for less than five minutes, you were crawling under it to hike her skirt up and taste her. Luckily, when her dad swung the door open, you were completely hidden under the desk, and Lorraine told him she might have a fever when he’d asked why she looked so flushed. 

On Thursday, he nearly caught you knuckle deep inside of her. The only thing saving you was the backfire of the tractor you had been working on before she’d come calling. When it burped black smoke, you pulled out of her, hiding her behind the tire and leaning on it so he couldn’t see. 

On Friday, you thought you’d be clever and drive off somewhere in your truck. You set a bed of blankets in the back and watched the sunset before she climbed on top of you.  Her dad somehow passed by, saw your truck, and, thinking you were stuck in the mud, drove over to check on you, only to find Lorraine sitting in the back. Your body was hidden by the truck bed walls. She convinced him you had run off to pee in the woods, and he’d moved on. 

Saturday was the day your blissful little existence was slapped into reality. You were hauling hay bales into the barn again, reminiscing on the first day you’d finally kissed Lorraine. Exactly like that day, she was sitting on the side of the tailgate, flirting with you openly and watching you do the manual labor. It took you twice as long to unload the truck because you would push your way between her knees and kiss her, making her giggle before you’d move another bale.

When you saw the dirt cloud down the driveway, you’d assumed it was her dad coming home from the auction, but as the vehicle grew nearer, you realized it was a van, not a truck. The driver parks it in front of your truck, and the back doors are thrown open. You glance up at Lorraine and watch as she pales when she sees who steps out. You turn back to them and realize what caused her reaction. 

RJ was grinning ear to ear, his camera in one hand, the other stretched out to his side, “Rainey, baby! I’m home.”

Hearing your nickname for her coming from him turned your jaws into a vice grip. You stared at him as he approached, ignoring you completely. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lorraine stiffen and slide off the tailgate. She lightly brushes you as she walks past, her pinky hooking yours for a split second. It would have been comforting if she hadn’t fallen straight into his arms like she was made to be there. You feel sick to your stomach. You feel naive, stupid to believe that what you had was more than just a temporary thing. You can’t look at him when he leans down to kiss her, so you turn back to the truck, pull another hay ream down, and haul it into the barn. 

You come back out to grab another bale, but a woman is sitting on your tailgate now, a suggestive smile painted across her features.

“Who’s this RJ? You didn’t tell me you had such a pretty thing hidden away out here.” She drawls, her eyes running over you.

Your step falters as she flirts with you, and against your better judgment, you glance at Lorraine. She’s not looking at you. Her eyes are burning into the woman’s head, her jealousy only evident to you. It’s comforting to know she’s jealous because it means she cares, but seeing her still under RJs arm makes you feel petty. 

You offer the woman your hand, “I’m y/n. I work for the Days.” 

“Oooh, a gentleman,” she coos, taking your hand and holding it instead of shaking it, “I’m Maxine. Pleased to meet you, handsome.”

“Pleasures mine, ma’am,” you grin at her, kissing her knuckles. 

You drop her hand and look to Lorraine again, and it makes you regret what you’ve done, at least a little. There’s anger in her eyes, and she’s still under RJs arm, but you can see hurt there too. This situation had become volatile and delicate all at once, and it was going to take a gargantuan effort to get out of it intact.

[ashersanity]

Heyy saw you were a Remy enthusiast from your last post….any yandere headcannons for Remy where you become his house spouse and not his cow? Would like to include horse riding and he sees that as practice for riding him in bed but its ok if youre not comfy with it

The worst fucking spouse known to mankind.

Scratch that, Bailey would probably be worse.

Unrelated but since you asked so nicely, how could I not oblige, polite anon? Kissing you on the cheek just for that and the sick idea. (Platonically)

still going at it, asher?

YANDERE! REMY

content warning! dub-con, mentions of violence, murder, blood, marking, baby trapping, manipulative and possessive behaviour, you know the drill already.

remy and pc are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise. mentions of wren.

“Thought I’d let you get away? No, dear. Now it’s time to make it up to me.”

yandere type : obsessive, possessive, overprotective

Yan!Remy who had set their sights on you the second they saw you, pretty little thing that you are, just meant to be owned and pampered, under their care at the farm. Young and dumb that you were, greeting you over with a trained smile on their face, others at the riding lesson gaping from what they were seeing. Remy smiling? That never happened, but the farmer didn’t want to give the wrong impression after all, coax you in possibly, already envisioning their future with you with a wedding band around your finger. Their cute spouse that’d devote themselves to them. Just as things should be, right?

Yan! Remy who knows they got you right they want you as you laugh at their jokes and antics, lips curled up into an uncharacteristically soft smile, there to match your own. Normally cold demeanour though they’re willing to keep up the facade if it means having you in their grasp, in arms reach. Goes as most marriages do, weeks or maybe months of courting, chatting away and getting to know each other. Next thing you know, the farmer is proposing, expensive ring in their gloved hand that they offer to you. Poor you really, not knowing what you’re getting yourself into as you gladly accept with a flush on your face. Oh, aren’t you in for something..

Yan! Remy who drops the facade the second you get all settled in their ranch, carpeted floors adorned by old furniture passed down from the farmer’s family, bedroom already made for you. How odd, they had everything done over before you even had to ask, knowing your particular taste for certain things, how you cuddle in your sleep, placing a bunch of cushioned pillows around the bed. How you can’t stand the scent of smoke, carefully replacing their gas stove with an electric one. You don’t.. exactly remember telling Remy any of those things, but the memory could’ve slipped from your mind, starting to second guess things. Must’ve been your imagination then.

Yan! Remy who isolates you from everyone else in your life, not feeling a shred of remorse or guilt from it. Oh, your mom wants to pay a visit? Too bad, looks like the weather isn’t suitable for such things today, not giving you a chance to even glance out the window to be really sure if they’re telling the truth. Why did your long time friend suddenly stop coming? The farmer wouldn’t possibly know, handful of notes placed on the table, your so-called ‘friend’ eyeing the stack of cash nervously, knowing what this means. Sometimes, they couldn’t be bothered with the entire money thing, simply turn your pesky surroundings into cattle, not like they’ll ever come to you again if their dumb, foggy cow mind barely remembers you.

Yan! Remy who turns you into their little obedient housewife regardless of gender, dutifully waiting for their return everyday, clasped hands folded in your lap. Since you don’t have anyone else to look forward to anymore, what’s the point in letting you outside either? Not like they don’t provide everything else for you, whatever you need is at home, no matter how much you think there is something lacking in your burnt out marriage. Loves coming back from a long, exhausting day of working at the fields, glistening sweat over their forehead with their usually slicked back, brown hair tumbling over their face, utterly exhausted. Finds you in the bedroom, looking bored as always, pressing an affectionate kiss to your shoulder. Quickly turns into greedily sucking at your neck, your soft whimpers working their way up into whines with your arm looped around their frame. Nothing better than having a tight hole or cock to sink into/onto after working so hard.

Yan! Remy who’s only allowing you outside for their personal horse riding lessons, instructing you to hold onto them tightly as they lead you on the animal. Maybe they do give you permission from time to time to actually ride one yourself with their eyes constantly watching your every move, of course. Makes sure to guide your movements, their gaze fixated on the way your figure bounces on the horse like.. like you’re actually riding something. Doesn’t want you to accidentally injure yourself so the farmer is keeping you in place, gloved hands placed on your hips. The same ones that bounce you on their cock/strap-on, throughly enjoying your fucked dumb face as you ride them, squeaking mattress creaking under your combined weights.

Yan! Remy who completely loses their shit if they ever catch their right-hand assistant hitting on you, soft brown eyes checking you out, a wicked grin on Wren’s face, shamelessly flirting with their boss’s spouse right in front of the farmer. By all means, you can only hope that Remy doesn’t kill the bastard right then and there, never having really formally introduced the two of you due to the possible result that might’ve brought on. Obviously, they were right, the smuggler unable to keep their dirty hands to themselves when it comes to anything belonging to Remy. Expect the roughest fucking of your life once you get back to the barn, roughly tugging at your wrist and throwing you onto the bed. You’re lucky if your little friend that you like to play blackjack with even comes back to have another game. Don’t expect Wren to though.

Yan! Remy who’s dead set on either making you carry their offspring or the other way around, carry yours. Doesn’t matter if you can’t be impregnated or they can’t impregnate you, regardless they’re figuring a way out with this. Sharing the same genitals? Don’t care, doesn’t matter, the farmer’s mind is long gone, a mile away in their own sick delusion, thinking how adorable you’d look with your tummy full of their cum or stuffed with their fat strap-on deep inside your aching hole. Regardless, Remy’s rutting into you like a hung bull when it’s mating season or making you rut into them, willing legs spread wide open. If you two manage a baby? Great, absolutely fucking great, all the more reason for you to stay with them since you wouldn’t wanna leave your poor kid with divorced parents, huh?

Yan! Remy who’s now achieved the ideal life with you, or so they think in their head. Heat of their skin pressed against yours as you’re deep into your slumber, unaware of those green eyes on you, intently watching your sleeping form. Chest steadily rising up and down with every breath taken, tracing a slim finger over the shirt of your pajamas, arm looped around your waist, gripping possessively. This is it, this is what Remy wanted all along, to have their beautiful spouse laying next to them in bed, intimately close together as if they didn’t shut you off from the world. That’s what a farmer does though, keeps their cherished prize to themselves, locked away. Locked away from prying eyes and nosy bastards, theirs alone. That’s right.. You’re theirs now. Remy’s perfect little spouse.

Masterlist

To - @mellowwillowy, for being a Remy fucker.

Yandere! Bailey part 2 might be coming next, don’t know.

[END OF POST]