#have a goddamn cup of tea before I go to bed

[exopelagic]

yeah I have more to say

[roses-for-rosalyn]

Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

Part 2

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception. 

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle. 

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door. 

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly. 

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out. 

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest. 

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady. 

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost. 

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman. 

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone. 

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand. 

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.” 

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble. 

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.” 

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out. 

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off. 

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

**  **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient. 

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.  

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus. 

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again. 

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you. 

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke. 

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk. 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart. 

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late. 

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.” 

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?” 

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana. 

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse. 

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana. 

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..” 

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?” 

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again. 

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect. 

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it. 

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town. 

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are. 

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed. 

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?” 

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly. 

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!” 

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food. 

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames. 

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?” 

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?” 

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it. 

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl. 

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.” 

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside. 

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you. 

“Maybe.” You call back. 

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.  

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?” 

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?” 

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six” 

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off” 

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man. 

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine. 

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth. 

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable. 

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar. 

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar. 

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain. 

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?” 

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer” 

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things. 

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Part 2 >>

[dickgraysonsbitch]

Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Eleven - Reunited (and it feels so good)

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.9K

Warnings: dick sucking, fucking, mentions of necklace lando (bc goddamn)

Series Masterlist

It wasn't common for teammates to visit each other in the hospital after a crash. The McLaren team didn't expect it, didn't expect for Lando to rush straight to the hospital as soon as the race was done.

He went straight to her room, where she was laying on the hospital bed getting some well deserved rest. When Lando walked into the room, her eyes flew open. It must have been from the sound of his footsteps, he justified.

She sat up with a groan and looked at Lando. "Hey," she said, rubbing her eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"I had to come visit you, didn't I?" Lando said as he sat on the seat beside her bed.

Y/N let her head fall to the side as she looked at him. "Well, I appreciate it, Lan. But you don't have to stay here. You can go if you'd like," she said and patted the hand that sat on the bed.

But Lando wasn't going anywhere. When the doctor came to discharge her, Lando asked every question he could think of, acting like her boyfriend. When she was discharged (she had flu and slight dehydration, not enough for the doctors to keep her in), Lando walked out holding her things.

He had his arm around her. Keeping her up, he said. It didn't matter whether it was true or not, Lando didn't let go of her until they were back in her hotel room, packing her things.

Lando was supposed to leave Sunday evening, after the race. But he stuck around, waiting for Y/N to get out of the hospital. He was gonna take her home with him, take care of her once they were back at the apartment.

"You gave me a scare there," said Lando as he drover her back to the apartment. "For a minute I was scared you were pregnant."

Y/N ran her hands over her face. "Jesus, shit, Lando. We've used a condom almost every time! You over dramatic asshole." That last bit she muttered under her breath.

She climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. As exhausted as she was, she still marched away from him, making her way up to their apartment. Lando watched as she walked away from the car, disappearing through the door of the apartment complex.

She hid herself away in her room for the next few days, only emerging to make herself soup and tea. That was what kept her going, the irregularly timed bowls of soup and constant cups of fruity teas.

She wasn't avoiding Lando, wasn't exactly mad at him for being so dramatic, but she didn't want to get him sick. So, she stayed away.

She got worse before she got better, watched her favourite movies on repeat as she waited for her coughing and her sneezing to stop. Every day Lando knocked on her door with a cup of tea, which Y/N took gratefully. She didn't drink it, though. The gesture was incredibly sweet, but Lando couldn't make a decent cup of tea to save his life.

On the first day that she was feeling ever so slightly better, she was bored. And she missed Lando. She missed the feel of his body beneath hers, the way he gripped her hips as he moved her on top of him.

The box under her bed should have kept her company, but she was too sick for that. Plus, it just reminded her of the times that she and Lando spent together, using the items in said box.

She didn't emerge from her room until the second day that she was feeling better. Her throat was still tickling, but her nose wasn't running and she didn't feel like she needed a nap every time she so much as moved a muscle.

Y/N walked out of her room. She sat herself on the sofa, putting her feet up onto the coffee table, and turned on the television.

"Holy shit, you're alive," said Lando as he emerged from his own room.

Y/N cleared her throat and adjusted herself in her seat. "Lovely to see you too, Lan," she muttered, her head turned to the side to look at him. "You want to watch Star Wars with me? Meet your namesake?"

"I was not named after Star Wars Lando," he insisted as though they'd had this conversation several times before.

"His name is Lando Calrissian, you should know that."

For all of his protesting, Lando sat beside her anyway. He copied her pose, placed his feet up on the coffee table (knocking one foot into hers), and opened his arm, letting her tuck herself into his side.

"When do we meet Lando?" He asked, his fingertips playing with the ends of her hair.

She smirked at that. "Oh, in the next movie," she said quietly, taking his other hand and playing with his fingertips.

Lando went to stand up, but she clamped her fingers around his wrist. "Nope, Lan, you're going to stay here and you're going to like it."

So, he stayed. Not because he was sucked into the science fiction movie from the seventies that his roommate seemed to love, but because she wanted him there. As long as she wanted him, he wasn't going anywhere.

On the third day, Y/N was feeling right as rain.

In her hoodie and shorts (with lingerie beneath), she knocked on Lando's bedroom door. "Lando Norrissian! I'm feeling better and I want to get freaky!"

She pushed open the door.

Sat in his gaming chair in his best pants, Lando smirked as she walked into the room. She strode over to him, throwing off her hoodie as she did so. "Fuck me, Lan," she began (which he quietly replied to). "I've been looking forward to this since the last Grand Prix.

She got to her knees, blinking up at him as she touched him through his pants. "Has little Lando missed me too?" She asked, running her tongue along her bottom lip.

"Don't call him that," Lando muttered, but he was hard beneath her touch.

She pushed down his boxers allowing him to spring free. "Missed you too, buddy," she whispered and kissed the head of his cock.

Lando couldn't reply. He simply moaned and bucked his hips up. Y/N kept a hold of him, keeping him still as she took him into her mouth. It wasn't the easiest, considering she was still recovering from the flu, but she still sucked him. Not pushing herself too hard, her gag reflex couldn't handle that for the time being.

Lando's fingers knotted through her hair, holding her tightly. He wasn't directing her or forcing her down onto his cock, letting her control the pace. He just wanted something to hold.

Just once did Y/N take him all the way in. She sucked his head before pushing all the way down, until her nose made contact with his navel. But she quickly pulled away from him, took some time to recover before she started again.

As she swirled her tongue along his head, she moved her hand up and down his shaft. Lando's eyes were shut as he moaned and tugged on her hair. Clearly, he was enjoying it. "Fuck, Y/N," he cried, the muscles in his neck straining.

She pulled off of him. "Your turn?" Offered Lando, but she shook her head as she ran to his bedside table.

"If your not inside of me in the next thirty seconds we will be having problems," she said as she pulled out a condom and immediately tore the packaging.

They'd gotten good at putting on Condoms since they moved in together. No longer did they have that awkward struggle of working out which way was the right way. She kneeled in front of him again as she rolled it onto his dick, stood up and jumped on the bed, spread eagle.

Someone was eager, that much was clear.

Lando grinned as he got out of his gaming chair. He pushed his boxers to his feet and stepped out of them. "Hurry up, Lan," she whined.

Lando pulled off her panties. He climbed on top of her and leaned down to kiss her. She could wait if it meant a moment of intimacy. She accepted though, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close as to not let him again away. "Fuck, I've missed you," she whispered, her eyes shut.

Lando pulled away. He held himself as he pushed forward, gently pushing through her folds. Somehow it felt like the first time all over again. She arched her back as he continued to push forward, until he was fully sheathed inside of her.

"Fuck me," she whispered, unable to hold herself back.

Even when inside of her, Lando was still a cocky little shit. "I'm trying," he muttered through a grin as he snapped his hips forward.

As if on instinct, she wrapped her legs around him, hands on his shoulders as he fucked her. Lando had his hands on either side of her head, looming over her as he moved. His breaths were coming out in short puffs, a sheen of sweat appearing on his skin.

There was no better sight than Lando above her, she decided. If she died now, she'd die happy, the image of Lando thrusting into her forever burned into her memory.

Lando used his strong arm to prop himself up on one hand. The other travelled down, touching her body. His fingertips against her stomach had her gasping, but they kept travelling down, until they were nestled between her folds, touching her clit.

It was quite a skill he had, to fuck her like that while he was touching her. It had her moaning and writhing, oh so close to the edge. "Please, please, please," she cried over and over again as Lando grew faster.

Her walls were clenching around him, squeezing him in a delicious way. He felt her let go, maybe before she did. She cried out once more, her body tensing up, her nails raking down his back, leaving red marks as she came.

Lando kept going. Her nails against his back stung, but he loved it. He'd wear those marks forever, if he could.

Lando's thrusts grew sloppy. His grunts grew louder until he finally stopped, spilling his seed inside of the condom.

Swiftly he pulled out and disposed of it, throwing it away in the bin in his bedroom. Breathlessly, Y/N sat up, propped up by her elbows. "Holy fucking shit, Lando Norris. That was..."

"I'd missed you too," Lando answered as he sat on the end of the bed. He went to say something else, but he hesitated. Y/N didn't notice, though, too distracted by the marks she had left on his back. "Do... do you wanna take a bath with me?" He asked.

Still dressed in nothing, the two of them walked to the bathroom. Lando kept his arm around her as he did so. He sat her on top of the closed toilet lid and set about running the bath water. "You know, if you threw in a necklace, you'd look so fucking hot, Lan," she mumbled, leaning her head against the wall.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @hiireadstuff @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sit in the front room of Steve’s apartment. The vague recollection of that morning you fled tugs at your mind. You should have left Barrett then. Maybe if you hadn’t been such a coward, he would still be alive. 

It’s not just your mistake you ran from. It was reality. You put off the inevitable for far too long. You didn’t want your relationship to end. Not like that. On top of all that mess, you ignored yourself, your body, for too long. 

By the count of it, you’re nearly two months along. There’s no question who the father is. You and Barrett barely slept in the same bed, let alone got anywhere close to intimate. 

You drop your head and shiver. 

A shadow approaches and something clinks gently on the polished coffee table. You wince and glance up with only your eyes. You don’t move as you feel him looming over you. 

“Tea. Uncaffeinated. Gotta be safe--” 

“Why are you doing this?” You drone to the floor. 

“It’s been a long night. I figured it would help--” 

“Not the goddamn tea.” You lift your head and glare up to him. “We don’t know each other. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want this baby inside of me--” 

“You’re emotional. It’s hormones.” He says calmly. “I can recognise that. You’re not speaking from a good place right now. A lot has happened. You got big news and you’ve lost someone you loved. Once.” 

“You killed him. You—you murderer!” You stand and he shifts to meet you. He’s big. Not that you didn’t notice before but face to face, it’s even more obvious. You’re no match for someone like him. Not for Captain America. 

His jaw ticks and his eyes narrow. “I protected you. He was choking you. I could hear his pulse. He was full of adrenaline. He would’ve killed you if I hadn’t stopped him.” 

“And? All my problems would be solved--” 

“Don’t say that,” he snarls. His veneer cracks and his face contorts in anger. “You won’t talk like that when you’re carrying my child inside of you.” 

“I’m not keeping it--” 

“It’s not your decision.” 

“It’s my body,” you snip. 

He takes a deep breath and his nostrils flare as he lets it out. He considers you and his features ease. “Like I said, you’re not thinking straight right now. Sit down and have your tea.” 

You stare at him then look past him to the door. He puts his hands on your shoulders, drawing your gaze back to him. He pushes until you sit. Enough to warn you of his full force. You gulp as your butt meets the couch. 

“Stop acting like this is the worst thing that could happen to you,” he drags a hand away and grabs the tea. “I’d say it’s the best thing you could hope for.” 

He hands you the cup, holding it by the body even as it steams. You take it by the handle and watch him. He releases it as your knuckles touch the searing porcelain and you tremble.  

“Besides, where are you going to go?” 

His question breaks the last of your resolve. Your shoulders slump and you look down into the depths of the pale herbal brew. You blow over it and drink without feeling the singe on your tongue. That simple act keeps you from devolving into a new fit of horror. 

He turns and sits beside you. You want desperately to move away but you don’t have the energy. You’re not sure if it’s acceptance, fear, or just complacency.

You’re done. It’s over. Each time you close your eyes, you see the blood pooling under Barrett’s battered head. 

“That’s it, deep breaths.” He reaches to rub your back. “All that excitement, you gotta be exhausted.” 

You don’t react. Not even a twitch. He caresses your shoulder and his fingertips flutter across to your neck. His touch creeps up and he pets your hair. 

Your eyes search and land on his shield. It hangs from the wall. The edge is still dark red. Your vision blurs as you fixate on it. 

“Wash it off.” You grit through your teeth. 

“What?” He winces and runs his index and thumb along your neck, resting his hand across the back. 

“His blood. His fucking blood!” You slam down the mug and it sloshes, scalding your hand. You yelp and wrench away from him. You stumble to your feet and storm across the apartment. “Get rid of it! Gone! Gone!” 

You grab the bottom of your shirt and wipe the reddened metal. The blood chips away and flecks onto your hand. You whimper and drop the shield, recoiling. You cover your face and heave. 

“God! Just make it stop!” You shriek. “This can’t be real. It can’t!” You spin and stagger around dizzily. “No, no, no--” 

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s footsteps mirror his placid tone as he approaches. “Stop it.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You tear your hands away from your face and growl. “Why don’t you care? You killed him!” 

He stares at you. His expression is tepid. His head tilts as the corners of his lips curve, just a little. 

“Why would I care? I got you.” He shrugs. 

[headcanonenthusiast]

Valeria Garza NSFW headcanons. 

This was made with fem readers in mind.

Also quick note, I apologize in advance if this isn't as detailed as my headcanons on some other characters. It was definitely harder for me to come up w/ stuff for Val, especially bc girlie is nowhere near one of my favorites (I'm sorry 😔) but what better way to expand on writing then doing headcanons of characters you rarely think about? So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy! 

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

NSFW under the cut.

-THE brat tamer.

-Absolutely will not take your shit if you disobey her in any way, shape or form. 

-"What did you just say to me? Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" 

-Gets this look of absolute disbelief on her face if you dare to act like a brat, then her eyes turn dark and she's suddenly dragging you to bed. 

-"I'm the woman who decides whether or not you get to cum every night, querida. And if you're gonna keep acting like a fucking brat, then it looks like you won't get to cum for the rest of the week." 

-Her favorite forms of punishment include anything to do with orgasms. Whether it be edging you, overstimulating you or even denying you the right to cum entirely, she loves making you squirm and beg to release. 

-Shakes her head and clicks her tongue, as if you begging to cum is the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard after you've misbehaved. 

-"Oh, so now you're sorry? Chica, a sorry isn't going to cut it. I warned you about acting like a little brat, but you didn't listen. You never fucking listen to me." 

-Proceeds to lecture you and switch between degrading you in English and Spanish as she either forces a strap down your throat or harshly plays with your clit. 

-"Perra estúpida. Never listening to me and then acting surprised when I don't let you cum." 

-Will also partake in bondage, cuffing up your wrists to the headboard before she runs a vibrator painfully slow over your pussy. 

-As rough as she is when it comes to sex, if you're genuinely feeling upset about something, her gaze will turn more sympathetic (which she refuses to show to anyone besides you.) 

-"What? What's wrong, amor?" 

-And you're welcome to tell her about all of your troubles while she gently eats you out. 

-Probably has multiple straps. Prefers buying the thickest one possible but she does have one that's much longer for when you really piss her off. 

-Is very willing to spoil you with new sex toys and lingerie. Anything to make her pretty girl happy. 

-Also, I feel like she'd switch between wanting to see you touch yourself and not letting you at all. 

-When she's not there with you, she probably encourages you to masterbate and send her tons of videos of you doing so.

-But, if she's actually there and catches you touching yourself, it won't be pretty. 

-"Oh, can I not satisfy you enough anymore? Is that it?" 

-Then she fingers you so well your legs are shaking as she rants. 

-"Look at you, cumming just from my fingers. What a slut."

-"And you really thought you could make yourself cum the same way I do? No, no, estás loca por pensar eso, querida." 

-She wants anything sexual to be completely dependent on either her or toys she picks out for you. 

-In other words, very dominant. 

-In other other words, if you ever asked or God forbid tried to make her submit, you're a dead woman. 

-"Thats it. You're getting too fucking bratty for your own good. Get over my Goddamn lap right now if you know what's good for you." 

-And when you are on her lap, she'll switch between spanking your ass and spanking your pussy. 

-Leaves hickeys on the most visible spots on purpose. 

-Smirks when you get all shy about it, gently brushing your hair away as she chuckles. 

-"Don't worry, amor. I won't make the marks too visible." 

-But then she does, so she buys you the prettiest necklace with her name engraved on it as an apology, and another reminder of who you belong you. 

-Some translations for the Spanish stuff, chica = girl, querida = darling, perra estúpida = stupid bitch, amor = love and "no, no, estás loca por pensar eso, querida" = no, no, you're crazy for thinking that, darling. 

(Also I apologize if anything in Spanish is incorrect, online translators can only get you so far 😕)

Look at me go, writing about a character I don't even like and am not even attracted to because I'm straighter than a wooden ruler 🙃

This was honestly fun to write though! Valeria takes up like 0% of my thinking space, so coming up w/ headcanons for her when I barely remember she exists nor am attracted to her at all was a bit more challenging. Hoping y'all enjoyed this! 

Rudy NSFW headcanons r coming up next, so be sure to lookout for those in the near future 🤭

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Microwave

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : The Feeling - Lost Frequencies

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Synopsis: It’s way past midnight again. You’re feeling hungry and decide to warm up leftovers. You try to keep everything quiet, but you get bested by the goddamn microwave.

Word count: 1.136

Masterlist

More domestic Simon to keep me going in life.

It was another one of those nights. It’s 3 AM and you’re wide awake. You’re scrolling through your social media as Simon is happily snoring away next to you. Suddenly your stomach grumbles. You quickly cover your stomach so that it ‘quiets’ down, you didn’t want to wake Simon. You cringe at the loudness of your stomach. You turn over and glance at Simon, checking if he’s still asleep. Seeing that he’s still sleeping you let out a sigh of relief. You quietly and slowly climb out of bed. Widening your eyes when the bed creaks. You quickly whip your head to Simon. He stirs a little and turns over. You quickly place your pillow where you would be sleeping. He grabs it and pulls it closer to him. You snicker quietly before taking a picture with your phone. You’ll show him that in the morning.

You slip your feet in the fuzzy slippers that Simon bought you. You were complaining that your feet were always cold and you refused to wear socks when you didn’t have to go out. So, Simon bought you a pair of warm slippers so that you wouldn’t be cold anymore. You slowly get up, this time the bed spares you. You quietly shuffle out of the room and close the door gently behind you. Refusing to make any noise so you wouldn’t wake Simon. You make your way to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. You turn the tap on slightly, making a small stream of water. You splash some water on your face before turning the tap off and drying your face with a towel.

You head to the staircase, purposely avoiding the floorboards that are known to creak under weight. You quietly make your way down the stairs and turn the lights on. You walk towards the kitchen and open the fridge. You look at all of the items in your fridge, wondering what you should make. An idea pops up in your head. You still have some leftovers from tonight’s dinner. You’ll hear it up in the microwave and finish it. That way you save space in the fridge and you’ll have some easy food to make. You grab the plate with the leftovers and take off the aluminum foil. You open the microwave and gently put the plate in the machine. Not risking waking up Simon. You quietly close the microwave door and set a timer for two minutes.

While you wait, you quickly boil some water to make a cup of tea. You cringe slightly at the noise the kettle makes while boiling water. Everything sounds so much louder at midnight. Once the water is nice and hot you pour it into a mug. You’re about to take a sip when you abruptly stop. You panic as you hastily put the mug down and you check the microwave. You forgot to keep an eye on the timer. The noise the microwave makes when the timer goes off is horrendous, especially at midnight. Before you can even glance at the timer it makes a loud shrill sound. You tap on the button multiple times to turn it off, “come on, you shit thing. Turn off already.” You insult the microwave. As if it’s the bane of all your problems. It is currently but that’s beside the point.

Finally, you get the thing turned off. You stand there leaning against the kitchen counter and pinch the bridge of your nose, reflecting on what just happened. “For fucks sake.” You mutter quietly. That woke Simon up, you’re sure of it. You take the plate out of the microwave and put it down on the counter. As if on cue, you hear Simon running down the stairs. He’s holding a combat knife as he looks around the lit bottom floor. He analyses everything before sighing once he sees you in the kitchen, looking very guilty. He puts the knife down and walks up to you. “Bloody hell, I thought a bomb went off or something. But no, it’s only you making food again.” He jokes lightly. Finding this situation a little funny. You chuckle lightly, “sorry, love. Didn’t mean to wake you with a bomb scare.” He lets out a laugh as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him. He kisses the top of your head before speaking. “It’s okay, lovie. Go on eat, you’re hungry again.” He leads the two of you to the counter where you place the plate. You grab a fork from the drawer and start munching away.

As you eat in silence. He’s watching you with a content smile. You stab the food with the fork and offer it to him. He chuckles but shakes his head, “no it's okay. You eat, ‘m not hungry.” You frown. You shove the fork closer to his mouth, “just one bite.” You say gently. He sighs but opens his mouth and lets you feed him. He chews on it and swallows. He smirks, “it’s cold now. You’ve learned from last time?” You groan as you’re reminded of your stupidity. “Oh come on! That was a one-time thing…” You grumble at his remark. You continue shoving forkfuls in your mouth with a pout resting on your lips. He smiles at you, “one-time thing or not. Once is already enough. Don’t want you hurting yourself around me, lovie.” You mutter an insult under your breath before grinning mischievously.

He looks at you warily, “what are you do-“ he tries asking before he gets interrupted with a mouthful of food. The fork is still hanging from his mouth. He stares at you in shock. You snicker at the sight of his dumbfounded look and the fork hanging from his mouth. You take out your phone and snap a picture. He quickly takes the fork out of his mouth, swallows the food, and tries to take the phone from you. “Delete that now!” He shrieks. You giggle as you continue turning your phone away from him. He smiles at your happiness. He knows he could overpower you easily, he’s SAS after all. But he doesn’t have the heart to do it, not after hearing your giggles. He huffs playfully and throws his arms in the air. “Fine! Don’t delete it.” He exclaims dramatically. You grin at him, finding this whole act of his amusing. He smiles before sighing and wraps his arms around you. “Now finish your food. I’m tired now and demand to go back to bed.” You give him a mock salute as you continue scarfing down your food. He shakes his head in amusement. He places a kiss on your cheek as you eat, content with holding you and swaying in the kitchen at 3 AM.

[catcze]

Like babe can you imagine domestic life w/ Wriothesley;;;;;; like yeah living with and working beside him in the Fortress of Meropide literally in the bottom of the ocean isn't how you thought you'd find love, but goddamn here you are.

like like like;;;;;;; Think about when you both have to get up early to see to the papers and the admin work around the Fortress. Wriothesley is already at his desk, today's newspaper in his hand while he momentary forgoes the documents he has to see to today.

There's barely any indication that he had been in bed with you less than an hour ago, face smushed into the juncture of your neck and mumbling half-slurred words. The Wriothesley then is hard to see as the one sitting before you now: working clothes on, eyes sharp and awake, mouth set into a hard frown as he reads. Awake as if he had been up since the early hours of dawn.

The only thing that gives him away is the bed-headed messiness to his hair, which only grows even worse when you ruffle it as you near. "Good morning, darling," he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. "Finally awake, I see."

"Just barely," is your eloquent grumble, plopping down to sit sideways on his lap, still careful not to jostle the teacup in your hand. Unlike him, your clothes are still rumpled and creased, and your hair is undoubtedly a mess. Probably even worse than his. Sleep is still calling to you, despite the start of the work day, and you yawn before you can even take one of the documents on his desk.

Your lover, quick as ever, takes your momentary distraction to steal your teacup and take a sip of its contents, humming in delight even while you exclaim.

"Hey! Make your own tea!" You try to grab the cup back from him, but he pulls it just out of your reach. With a scowl you try to smack his chest, but he doesn't even wince.

"But you always make the tea just perfectly, darling." But still, with a kiss pressed to your temple, he returns your tea to you, and you petulantly sip down more than half of the cup in one go, side eyeing him all the while. Wriothesley just tries to contain his smile, pulling you close while he continues to read his paper.

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 5. unwritten rules — ✦ (wc: 0.4k)

You will never understand how people wake up before 10 a.m. and enjoy it. Scaramouche was your complete opposite in that regard, preferring to start his days egregiously early. But if you could help it, you'd stay in bed and sleep until the early afternoon hours, cuddled up in the warmth of your blankets.

But here you are, not comfortable in bed but instead seated on your sofa and half-heartedly watching some soap opera on the TV while you wait for the man of the hour to discuss a deal that could change both of your careers, for better or for worse.

The huge glass windows let in sunlight from the waking world, bathing the room in natural light. Scaramouche gives you a nod of acknowledgment as he sits down, a cup of way-too-bitter tea in hand. He takes off his reading glasses and leans back to look at you properly.

“You look like shit,” he greets.

You rub your eyes before glaring at him, “I wanted to catch you before you ran off to the nearby cafe to write your book. We need to actually talk about what we’re getting into in this deal.”

You take a breath before starting, “It’s not going to be easy dating me. Fake or not.”

Scaramouche’s words are dripping in sarcasm. “I know your food preferences if that’s what you're worried about.”

“That...” you groan. “That isn’t even what I mean and you know it; I’m being serious. You know how relentless the media can be when it comes to me. Rumors of us dating have been around since we were first spotted going out and about with our friends. And they’ve only gotten worse since you moved in with me.”

“I can take whatever the tabloids throw at me,” he shrugs. “Besides, my aunt works for The Akasha, remember? She has a lot of pull, not just in Sumeru.”

Is he even taking this seriously? His nonchalant air makes you think he doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation you’re getting yourselves into. He consistently interacts with his fans but maintains a respectful distance from them — you know he's capable of handling a life of fame.

But ever since you stepped onto the stage, the tabloids have followed you like a phantom — lurking in every corner and following your every move. Their eyes aren’t only set on you, though, but on every person associated with you. Scaramouche’s privacy has been invaded multiple times throughout your friendship with him, and he’s expressed his distaste for a life that's fully in the public eye in the past.

Why is he so determined to see this through?

“I doubt one editor-in-chief will be enough to influence the press,” you say.

“But she does control what stories get published,” he points out. “And if she approves articles about us being spotted together in public, it’ll be enough to get people talking.”

He has a point. Goddamn it, maybe he actually thought this through and this wasn’t just some half-assed plan he came up with at 2 a.m.

The two of you would have to set some rules, but that could come at a later date.

“Do we have a deal?” Scaramouche sticks out his hand.

“Yeah.” you take his hand and shake it. “We got a deal.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary:

rule number one: don't fall in love.

rule number two: no one can know about the deal.

rule number three: keep physical affection limited to the public eye. no kissing under any circumstances.

rule number four: break up after you release your album.

easy enough to remember. oh, and remember to not break the rules okay?

author's notes:

sorry for being inactive lmao i got depressed for a hot minute

nah cause why is scarayn banter so much fun to write

taglist — currently OPEN:

@aestherin @unsterblich-prinz @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @syriiina @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @fangygf @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @nillajhayne @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @ako-ang-mahal-ko @only-cherry-blossom @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @n3r0-1417 @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @mamafly @duckyyyx @certified-shrimp @kgogoma @xtobefreex @aeongiies @mechanicalbeat1 @meidnightrain @nordicbananas @feiherp @erzarq

[sublimecatgalaxy]

I've been looking for a story of Daryl and Y/N, where an argument goes a little too far and Y/N end up fliching away. Soft and comforting Daryl💖

sure :) as a person who literally flinches at people clapping, i felt this

"You can choose to stay sometimes." I call out, Daryl's chin tilting so he can give me a sideways glance out his peripheral, my chest rising and falling in a frustrated sigh. I wrap the sheets around my shoulders, settling the goosebumps on my skin as Daryl leans against his desk and he tilts his head at me.

"Gotta work- gotta help." He shrugs simply, folding his arms over his chest. My bottom lip juts out in a pathetic pout, hands shaking in my lap at the thought of being alone all day, waiting to see if Daryl returns home safely.

"I know but I only see you at night and in the morning. We get an hour a day with each other, Daryl." He just shakes his head as I speak, my words sounding more desperate and more frustrated as he continues to dismiss me.

"This ain't like the old world. I can't waste my tim-"

"I'm sorry, waste your time?" I snap, eyes slitting as I glare at him, watching a scared look pass through his eyes and he immediately tries to play damage control.

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"You meant it exactly how you said it." I cut him off once more and he scoffs, taking a hefty step towards the bed with clenched fists.

"Will you let me get a goddamn word in?" He asks, jaw tight as he sits down in front of me, hands reaching up towards my face and instinctively, my body inches away from him and my eyes snap shut. "Aye." My hands raise defensively as his fingers wrap around my wrists. When my eyes open, Daryl's staring right back at me, brows furrowed at my misplaced fear. "Stop." He whispers, reaching up once more to cup my cheeks with a gentle shrug. "That's all." He reassures, pulling me towards him to rest his forehead against mine and my heart rate slows a considerable amount. "You drive me crazy." He laughs quietly, pressing a kiss to each of my cheeks before sighing.

"I know." I mutter, taking his hands in mine, setting them in my lap.

"But I love you." I can't fight the smile that spreads across my lips, my eyes rolling playfully at his attempt to swoon me. I know that he's probably just trying to win me over so he won't feel bad when he wants to go out and work but apart of me is still hoping he'll make the decision to stay. "You want me to stay?" Bingo.

"Please." I plead, squeezing his hands tightly as he presses a kiss to my lips, wrapping an arm around my waist before tackling me to the bed with a sigh.

"'lright, I'll stay." He whispers, cradling my head to his chest and a happy sigh leaves me as I cling to him. "Can't have you begging me to stay in bed with you."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy

@steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht @savageneversaw @admiringlove @witxhy-lexx @starlightandfairies @witxhy-lexx @hysteriahall @piceous21 @igotmajordaddyissues

[angelofacidx]

Mine

((@bunnyreaper V day exchange for @literatecowboy . I do not write fluff but here’s my crack at it, enjoy))

Ghost x reader fluff.

Valentine’s Day is a stupid Hallmark holiday meant to put pressure on couples to over perform and shower each other with gifts so that they may forget about how they treat each other the other 364 days of the year, or to make people feel isolated and lonely for not having a partner in their life. At least, that’s what you’d told yourself for most of your adult life. A self soothing consultation? Maybe. Valid? You’d like to think so. This view was swayed however, when Simon slipped his way past the iron gates of your heart and made himself a home there, rent free, the bastard.

A poorly folded note sat on top of your endless pile of risk assessment paperwork to go over before the end of the week, looking sorely out of place on your otherwise tidy desk. The note found itself clutched between your hands and splayed open as your curiosity surged. The handwriting itself was harsh, pen pressed too hard, angrily or nervously, and akin to what you’d expect a serial killer’s penmanship to be.

‘Be my valentine? -S’

Good lord, this was cheesy for anyone but especially for Simon. Regardless you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and your lips half quirk up involuntarily and awkwardly. Tucking the note away into your desk drawer, you headed to the rec room in pursuit of it’s sender. Thankfully, he was hunkered down on the peeling leather couch, tea in hand as he scrolled through an article on his phone. Probably about WWII. Men love WWII.

“You know you didn’t have to ask right?” You speak up, causing Simon’s gaze to tear away from his phone and fall onto you.

“Pardon?”

“The note. You didn’t have to ask. It’s kinda like…implied since we’ve been uhm..” You cough, clearing your throat and hoping he understands the implication.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, and not bothering to humor you.

“…Yes, but no corny stuff.”

“So a string quartet to your office. Got it.” He says, turning his attention back to whatever he was reading.

When you wake, Simon is out of your bed and gone, his side neatly made with the corners of the sheets and duvet hospital tucked and the pillow fluffed. This wasn’t unusual for the two of you by any means. He’d come over after work, get fed, rearrange your internal organs in a way he saw fit, retire with you for the night, and then be out before his conditioning regimen started.

You sit up in bed, arching your back like a cat and stretching your body out with a content moan, shrugging off the sleepy feeling that ran bone deep. Your phone lit up on your bed side then, calling your attention to the string of ‘happy Valentine’s Day!’ texts from your friends. Cute. No text from Simon though, as you suspected. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot about the whole ordeal and the note was just a manipulation tactic, hoping you’d fawn over the gesture and suck the soul out of him harder than you had before.

Your morning routine went by without issue. Shower, brush your teeth, get dressed and apply makeup, a small spritz of perfume to your wrist. Making your way to the dining room, the usual resting spot for your keys, you’d noticed an iced coffee from your favorite cafe sitting on the table. It was a kind gesture, although the cup was sweaty and the ice was slightly melted, it was sweet of him nonetheless.

Your day at work dragged on as usual. Typing, filing, placing new recruits in their respective units and then completing the paperwork that went with it. Although you were just a desk jockey, you were the backbone of every goddamn task force on this base. Nature called you out of your office to relieve yourself and upon returning, your eyes mimicked an owl’s; huge pupils the size of saucers. Your desk was overtaken by a flower arrangement. Two dozen roses, babies breath, carnations, and eucalyptus all bunched together with a big silky black bow and overflowing the poor glass vase.

This was too much and beyond embarrassing. Your face heated, palms gathering sweat, and heart hammered somewhere deep in your chest. You mentally cringed at the image of carrying this home, the walk of shame off base and the sure to follow childish “ooo”’s from your colleagues. You had to admit though, it was a beautiful arrangement. He had to have picked it out and put some thought and consideration into it, which meant a lot to you even if you didn’t want to admit it.

With a determined pace you left your office, aiming to find Simon. After checking every nook and cranny of the base and leaving no stone unturned, you came up blank. He definitely knew you were looking for him, and saw you before you could see him. Though he was massive, he was able to be elusive and slip right through your fingers like sand. You admired the ability and wished you could do the same, but in the moment you hated him for it. Feeling defeated you headed back to your office, hat in hand, to see another note on your desk.

‘I’ll see you at home. -S’

Home. The word echoed in your mind. Though he stayed over at your place most nights during the week he’d never called it your home. The word itself sent you reeling, a giddy chuckle escaping you before you could stop it. Jesus, get a grip. He’s a guy you’re monogamously hooking up with who just so happens to return to your house every night like a stray cat, not your boyfriend. Totally not.

The end of your shift could not come faster. You sped walked to your car with your arms around the comically large vase, careful not to spill any water as it sloshed around and threatened to soak you. The vase ended up in your passenger seat, buckled in like a person as you made the trek back home.

Entering and kicking off your shoes, the smell of garlic, basil, and onion hit you. Simon sat at the table, two plates of pasta on either side and two glasses of wine. Carefully, you set the vase down as a centerpiece and ruffled a hand through his hair.

“You didn’t need to do all that Si. I appreciate it but you totally could have gotten away with a card or something.” You said, placing a kiss on his forehead before taking a seat at the table. Everything looked amazing.

“You’re better than a card darlin’ M’ almost offended for you. Have some standards will ya?”

“If I had standards you wouldn’t be sitting across from me.” You teased, which pulled a chuckle from his chest and the shake of his head. Your hand found his, giving him a reassuring squeeze that you were joking before letting it fall to your side.

“Did you cook this?” You questioned, stabbing a fork into the pasta and swirling it to gather some on the fork.

“…No. But I plated it so that counts for somethin’ right?”

“It does.” You assured, digging into your food.

The dinner and wine was delicious but silent, how the both of you liked it. Life and work was so busy it was nice to just sit together and exist without noise sometimes.

After you’d both finished you attempted to stand and clear the dishes but he stopped you with a hand to your chest, taking the duty on himself.

“They are beautiful, really. The flowers I mean. I appreciate them and I appreciate you, you really didn’t have to—.”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand, drying them on the dish towel after he finished cleaning up.

“You’re goin’ all soft on me and haven’t even opened the best part.”

“The best part? What is it?” You questioned too fast, mentally scolding yourself for sounding eager.

He fished a small box out of his pocket, placing it on the table in front of you and nodding his head, a silent tell to open it. Your hands found the box, opening it at its hinges carefully. Inside and sitting on the plush black velvet of the box laid a small silver chain necklace with the initial ‘S’.

Your eyes once again widened in awe as he moved to grab it from you carefully.

“Hold up your hair.” He said barely above a whisper.

With your hair out of the way he clasped the necklace around you, adjusting it to his liking before letting your hair fall back to its resting place.

“I uhm.. This.. What does this..?” You trailed off, anxiety twisting in your stomach.

“It means you’re mine, yeah?” He said in a hushed tone, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“..Yeah.” You agreed, breathily and hugging him to your chest.

You were his.

[denzelhart]

His delighted star (2)

Summary: You couldn't sleep due to the last mission. To make it even worse, you had a training session in the morning, after a while you tried to go back to sleep. You have given up, which leads you to making coffee to stay away. That's when you meet Ghost and Soap there. Feels nice to have some company, right?

Warning: Swearing, some fluff?, mentions of death, Soap being the matchmaker (maybe), kinda rush, You have a friend name Tobas, Reader has no pronouns.

- C/n: Code name.

- L/n: Last name.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Note: This is a male reader fic but can be read as gender neutral! There might be some error grammar because English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing fic! Hope you enjoy!

Thank you for reading the last fic! I didn't think you guys would enjoyed that much ( ；∀；)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Male!reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

How much time has passed? You don’t even know anymore. 

It's now three in the morning, you couldn't have a good sleep or nap since that long ass mission, perhaps that's what you pay for sitting goddamn too long even though it weren't your fault.

To make it even worse, you have a training session with the team in the morning. Yet you're still here, eyes wide open, don't know when the sun will rise. You can try or even force yourself to go back to sleep so you won't fall asleep while doing the training, rolling back and forth or maybe counting to hundred will make you fall asleep, yeah it's a good idea. It's not.

What time is it now? Four fifteen, what have you been doing? You might be counted to a thousand or more. Even now, you can't sleep or even rest a bit. Although, your sleep schedule is so little, it didn't bother you much but it became a habit. 

A habit that isn't good for your health.

You got up from the bed after giving up on falling back to sleep, you decided to make coffee or tea to keep your eyes open while you can, maybe find some food in case you're hungry or just want something to chew in your mouth. Put on your hoodie since it'll be cold in the hallway at this time, begin to walk out your room along with go down the hallway in the base to find the kitchen in the darkness. 

Usually it'll always be packed with people walking around, chatting,.. That's only at noon, sometimes in the evening when they have finished their training, now it's only an empty hallway with a little light left turn on for anyone going to the bathroom.

Only a few more steps before you reach the kitchen, little walks like this calm your mind a bit. After a full week, stress out the amount of paperwork that you have to deal with, which has been given the last week. You wanted to finish for so long but you were uninterested in doing those, especially when you hated those boring papers the most. You just kept delaying until the deadline started coming. It always fuck up at the last moment but you already done with it. 

Kind of?

Price doesn't like it when you work half-heartedly. However, you still get your paper stuff done and that's out of the way. You're already in the kitchen while lost in those thoughts about paper works. You hate them, that's fine no one likes it anyways. 

Or maybe it's just you who hated doing paper stuff.

Walk over to the cabinets to find some coffee since it's already run out of tea bags. When you're busy making coffee, you don't notice another silhouette already in the room, looking at you. "Making coffee this early?" You startled, turn around only to see him.

Ghost.

"Ghost, you scared me." You smile and complain a bit, holding onto your cup while waiting for the kettle to boil. Seems like you aren't the only one who is awake. "Can't sleep?" His tired eyes looking at your figure. You shake your head. "No." Silent covers the whole kitchen, the only sound you can hear is the boiling kettle. "You want some coffee?" Didn't look at his direction, hand grabbing another cup knowing what the answer is but still asked him. "Sure." he said.

Hand move quickly making some coffee for the both of you, until you startle a bit by a hand on your back moving slowly up and down through the fabric of your hoodie like trying to give you some comfort after having trouble going back to sleep.

His hand was warm, it felt nice, relaxed and safe. Feeling someone's presence was there, giving you some or little affection after a hard time sleeping. Not just anyone can do that to you. Well, sometimes the team gives you some feeling of a loving family. Ghost sure is something else, the mysterious man with a skull face. You didn't expect him, the one who gives you these types of feelings is him, Simon. 

To get used to his affection and physical contact, it takes you a lot of time and effort to not get startled from Ghost's affection. Eventually you begin to like them, even it took you long enough to finally catch some feelings for your Lieutenant. No warning or a sign, it just calmly came to you.

But it wasn't any feelings, it was love.

The ways he shows you his affection make you feel like home. That’s why you love him, when he was around, you couldn't help yourself by looking at Ghost until he started catching your gaze. It's kinda funny how you try to grab his attention by staring at him.

Tobas was right, you do love him and it's bullshit to keep denying your feelings. Loving someone was hard and loving someone who has a job like you and him was even harder, especially when you both don't know when you're going to die in war. Maybe today the two of you still talk to each other normally, the next day the only thing left behind was a dog tag on the battlefield. It makes you afraid of opening for a new relationship.

Does someone like you deserve to be loved? You don’t know, maybe your father was right, maybe you didn’t deserve to be loved.

Pushing the feelings down is the only way to forget what he has done to you and the feelings you shouldn't have in order to maintain the relationship of a Lieutenant and a Sergeant.

"C/n, you good? You're awfully quiet today."

The voice just snaps you out of your thoughts, your hand still holding two cups of coffee, the warm hand still on your back to close off your distance between you and Ghost. "It's nothing, I just got tired, that's all." You gave him a smile. "Got something in your mind?" he asked, eyes still on the figure next to him. "Nah, maybe a bunch of numbers I counted just to go back to sleep." You lied but it seemed like it worked when you heard him chuckle.

Handing him the cup of coffee you just made, while taking a sip of your cup. "Here's your coffee." You looked at him. "Thanks" He takes a sip of the cup then takes his hand off your back. You kinda miss that warmth.

"No problem." You smile at him.

Other silence covers the room. "I'll be in my room if you need me anything." "Alright, see you at the training." You added, all you got back was the nod from the skull mask guy. Watching him walk out the kitchen, left you alone enjoying your coffee. Just when you think you're alone, a voice comes up.

"Enjoying morning coffee together?" Soap chuckled at the figure taking a sip of the cup. You didn't know Soap would get up this early in the morning so the first you greeted him was startled, again. "Gosh, you and Ghost are always startling me." You scolded at Soap. "Why me? you two always hang out with each other." He chuckled while checking on the refrigerator to look for some food. Feeling comfortable in each other's presence until..

"Everyone starts thinking you two were dating." He looks at you, closing the refrigerator after finding nothing inside. "Really? I thought these rumors already started a few months ago." You said while laughing a bit. "Yes it does, but you two can make the rumors come true tho." the Scottish teased. "I don't think so. If he does, it's just a temporary feeling or he might just be confused." You denied even though there is a smile on your face, stare down the cup that almost got empty.

"You do know that he already passed that kind of age, right?" He sighed. "Yes, I'm just looking for an excuse, am I..?" You blurted, feeling dumb for using that excuse to defend your feelings about him. "Yes, you are. And that's the dumbest excuse I have ever heard of." the other man laughed which made you embarrassed about it. Knowing you can't be denied anymore.

"Alright alright, I know you have feelings for Ghost. You don't have to hide it." Soap responded after laughing for a while. "What, how did you know?" You look at the Scottish man with a confused face. “Maybe the other didn’t notice but I saw the way you two look at each other. It's kinda obvious, C/n.” He said “And I might have asked your friend Tobas about how you feel with Ghost." He added. Goddamn it that fucker, always snitching on you "That fucker.." You mumbled. "But hey! Maybe you can ask him out for some drink." looking at the other figure putting down the cup on the counter.

"Don't know, mate. He might rejected me." You then turn around and wash the cup you just made coffee out of. "C'mon, I know him. I bet he won't turn down that sweet offer of yours." Soap pat on your shoulder and chuckled. While you're trying to wash the damn cup. "I'll consider it." You said jokingly "That's our mate!" he nudged your shoulder with a laugh. You just stand there, drying your hand. 

"Let's see how it goes, well I'll better get ready for the training. See ya later, Sergeant L/n." All you did was give him nod and the Scottish man left you with chuckled, walked out of the kitchen and leaving you alone. Again.

It's already five, still early for training so might as well get ready. Walking out of the kitchen to your room, knowing what you should do in the morning and Soap advice about Ghost making you more nervous then ever.

Until then, you need to do something with that fucker Tobas for snitching on you.

Let's see how it goes then.

To be continued..

[m4ctavish]

Captain Price — General Headcanons.

Masterlist.

Pairing : John Price/GN! Reader

Desc : Just some general headcanons regarding Mr. Price :)

A/N : captain john price?? on my call of duty blog?? its more likely than you think. (also, special thanks to @callsignkonig and @zechie-spams for helping me w/ these LMFAOO)

John Price :

Random thought to start off with but Price probably drinks cheap beer. Like he’d absolutely spend money on expensive cigars but beer? Nope. Absolute dog water quality beer is the way to go

Probably keeps some cigars around, like in a drawer with a false bottom (why he’d need to hide them, i don’t know— maybe he just likes hiding the good stuff)

He absolutely wears camo crocs. (I do not take criticism) You two have matching crocs??? Even better (one of my friends said that he’d wear socks and sandals and honestly, if you wanna take that as a headcanon, go for it)

He’d absolutely take you hiking, jogging or fishing (but like, super early in the morning before the sun comes up, kinda dark and it’s still kind of chilly. lots of morning dew. he wants to watch the sunrise with you :sob:)

He’s an early riser but he’s Not Happy about it. It’s just one of those things that’s engrained in his mind, like he cannot sleep for longer than a specific amount of time before he wakes up (or he wakes up at the same time every day)

If you get up around the same time as him, he’ll brew you something to drink alongside his own cup of tea or coffee (depending on what he’s feeling that morning) He probably has your specific preferences memorized (things like if you want a certain amount of sugar, no sugar at all, creamer or no creamer, honey, etc.)

Price definitely prioritizes others’ problems over his own; it’s easier to solve somebody else’s issues than to focus on his own or to let somebody else fret over him. (you’ll have to sit him down and have a talk w/ him about letting you take care of him for once because he’s always so goddamn stubborn. also, you’ll probably have to tell him that it’s okay to let go of the captain mantle every now and then)

Take some time to massage out the tension in his shoulders or back, he’ll appreciate it. He also loves it when you run your fingers through his hair/just play with his hair or massage his scalp. (Kind of gives me lap dog energy— he just likes resting his head on your stomach/chest and letting you do your thing if he’s had a long day)

Similar to Soap, I feel like he’ll definitely tell you that he loves you whenever the two of you won’t be seeing one another for extended periods of time (either he has to leave for a month or the two of you have to split up for a mission) He’d also press a kiss to your forehead or just hold you tight :AGONY:

Kinda feel like he’s a cuddler if the two of you sleep in the same bed. Guarantee that he’ll always have an arm wrapped around your waist, his face pressed against your shoulders. It’s not a super firm or tight hold and you could move away if you wanted to but it’s enough to be comforting

He’s always super warm too, almost inhumanly so?? Perfect for when you get cold ig

With that said, I feel like this man sleeps like a rock when he wants to but otherwise he wakes up pretty easily, if that makes sense. Like you could whisper a quiet, “John?” and he’d just hum a soft, “Hm?” (Alternatively, can you imagine shaking him awake and he does the thing moms do when you touch them when they’re asleep and they just slowly turn to look at you with wide eyes LMFAOO)

Pillow talk. Sometimes he just can’t sleep so the two of you will spend some time talking about whatever happened during the day or future plans (planned events, missions, etc.) However, if you start talking about stuff like, “John, do you think pigeons have feelings?” He’ll hit you with a joking, “I’m going to bed now.”

He cares about you A Lot. Like, put your life before his a lot; it could be in any scenario and he’d want you to come out completely unscathed if possible. (which may be a bit difficult if you’re also apart of the 141 because it’s quite literally in the job description that you may die at any moment in time 🧍he’d never forgive himself if something did happen to you under his command though. also, i feel like all of the guys are like this but alas)

If he were to have a signature nickname for his s/o, it’d probably be something simple like “Love” tbh or maybe “Sweetheart” (sweetheart perhaps a bit less)

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Restless Night

Moonboys x fem!reader

Summary: You can't sleep but the boys help you out.

Tags: Mostly Fluff.

-

You don't even remember how many hours you were awake now, was it 3 or 4? At first you tried to tire yourself out by scrolling through your phone, that didn't help, so you simply laid in bed, closed your eyes and hoped for the sleepy wonder to finally happen. That didn't happen too, in fact it only increased the frustration. So you tried it with a glass of cold water, but...that only made you go to the toilet...

And here you are, in your boys shared bed, literally whirling around like a tornado, your covers suddenly feels like having 7 different edges because of your kicking and ended on the floor.

You looked over, Marc was the one to fall asleep with you and he is sleeping like a goddamn rock, he didn't even budge when you were whirling around...maybe it was because of the tough mission Marc had. You thought about nudging him awake, but that would just get him grumpy and if you were really unlucky, Jake would be the one to wake up and he would use Steven's ankle restraints on you to keep you at bay...

Maybe you should go look around where Marc and Jake kept their hard alcohol? You already know it atleast knocks Jake out pretty good.

But...

You decided to try your luck and lean close to Marc's ear, whispering softly "Pssst, Marc."

Marc didn't wake up, instead he only shifted to lay on his side...

You sighed, thinking about if you could somehow knock yourself out, when suddenly Marc finally stirred

"Love?" It wasn't the American accent you heard, neither was it the Spanish one, instead it was the sweet British accent that made you smile. It was sweet Steven.

"Steven!" You immediately jumped back into the bed to cuddle Steven.

"Hey there jumpy." Steven smiled sweetly, taking you in his arms and giving a gentle squeeze "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I've been awake for 3 to 4 hours straight now. And Marc was sleeping like he was hit by a truck." You replied with a small chuckle making Steven laugh,

"Next time hold his nose closed and he will awake in no time." Steven joked and slowly let you go to sit up

Don't give her any ideas Steven.

Steven let out a laugh at hearing Marc's voice before he turned towards you, "Well, if you have trouble sleeping then come with me to the kitchen, I can make you some tea if you want." Steven offered.

"Yes please, because I was about to snoop around for Marc and Jake's hard hitting stuff." You giggled and stood up to make your way to the kitchen.

Steven followed you, on his way he passed a small mirror on the wall, seeing Jake

Don't tell her about the hard stuff, Hermaño. That's not the right stuff for our sweet princessa anyway.

"Don't worry mate, I won't tell her." Steven assured, entering the kitched already seeing you sitting at the table

"Who was it?" You grinned.

"Both actually," Steven opened a drawer and got his wide collection of teas out, "Marc didn't like the idea of me giving you ideas on how to wake him up. And Jake don't want you to find out their secret stash."

You couldn't help but smile, "You three are too sweet."

Steven turned his head, giving you a smile "They said thank you." he prepared the kettle and walked over to the window to look out, noticing a full moon shining bright "Oh look at that, no wonder you couldn't sleep, it's full moon."

You raised your head "Again? It already was full moon the past four days. Maybe Khonshu is trying to piss of the other gods again." You chuckled.

Steven turned to you, walked over and ruffled your hair gently "Now why would he do that?"

You shrugged "I don't know. Maybe to torture me for tonight?"

Steven grabbed a teabag of Green tea for you, "Khonshu can be a bit of a bugger sometimes but torturing you with lack of sleep? Nahh, you're his little gem." Steven got a cup, pouring the hot water in and putting the green tea bag inside.

You cocked an eyebrow, "He calls me a what?"

You heard Steven chuckle, but it wasn't his british accent, it was a deep spanish one, it was Jake

"Si, mi armor, you heard right you're his little gem." Jake got you the steaming cup of tea, setting it down infront of you before sitting down opposite from you, grinning cheekily.

"Not his little bug?" You chuckled, looking down at the steaming tea infront of you.

"Nah, he called you that at first but now he calls you little gem. But it suits you more than anything." this time the accent was american.

You looked up, seeing indeed Marc leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, "Tell him I like him." you smiled innocently.

"Oh he'll be flattened." Marc chuckled, "Now drink your tea or I will get mine and Jake's hard hitting stuff, trust me you don't want any sleeping troubles after that." he threatened playfully, looking over to the small mirror and shooting Jake a teasing smile.

But before you could take a sip, you let out a sudden yawn, Marc clearly saw that and decided to tease you, "Aww, is someone getting tired from talking too much?" he grinned.

You shot him a glare but couldn't hold back the smile tugging at your lips while sipping on the tea.

Before you knew it, another yawn escaped you, catching Marc's attention once again as he proceeded to stand up "Alright honey, time for some well earned sleep. I'll let Steven out so he can tuck you in." Marc smiled and grabbed your now-empty cup of tea to place it on the counter and leading you out of the kitchen back to your shared bed "And don't forget, in the morning you will sleep like getting hit by a truck." Marc teased as he made his way to their side of the bed.

You settled in too, and before you could lay down Steven was back, "Now you sleep, alright?" he smiled, getting under the covers.

Steven pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you, "Sleep well, love." he whispered softly.

"Sleep well, Stevie."

[notroosterbradshaw]

“Hey,” Rooster frowned, wandering in to find you in bed, staring at your phone, snuggled under the covers in his ratty, old Navy tank. It was pretty early, about 6pm, so it was either a really ordinary day -

“My period came early,” you sighed. “I feel fine, I am just exhausted. I didn’t feel like cooking, or standing... to be honest.”

“Okay,” he nodded simply. “Do you need anything?”

“Nah, just probably an early night will be enough.”

“Cool. Do you want me to cook, or order anything?” He wandered in, sitting on the edge of your side of the bed, his palm grasping your ankle through the duvet.

“I kind of feel like everything and nothing.” You hated that indecisive feeling.

He gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “So, bed pizza outta the question?”

“Sounds great,” but really, you didn’t care.

To now you’d been pretty lucky. You’d not had a heavy period in years, and truly you felt ok but just as everyone says, no two periods are the same and this one started spontaneously. BONUS! “Ok, I’ll get you some tea and be right back. We can have a pizza party in here or something,” he cupped your face and kissed you again. “You don’t need any meds or a heat pad?”

You shook your head, feeling as vague as you sounded. “Go to the bar if you want. I’m not going to be much fun tonight.”

“I’d much rather be here with you,” he winked and wandered out again. “I see those jerks every day.”

Smiling slightly, you wondered if there was truly anything he wouldn’t do for you. He came back a few minutes later, tea to your bedside table and peeling his tee off, tossing it in the hamper, before sliding off his boots, socks and jeans, body hard after his workout and muscles, quite frankly, bulging and proud as he was left in his boxer briefs.

“Arm day?” You teased as he flexed his biceps and thick forearms.

“What gave it away?” he sheer arrogance of him.

You smiled. “You know, this was just what I needed. You watching you will be just fine for me.”

He laughed and slid into bed beside you, enjoying the soft sheets in his skin. “You’re very easily entertained.”

“It’s a gross misuse of hormonal stimulation.”

“Is that code for you’re horny?” he frowned but was deeply curious.

“I could pretend to be bashful, but yes. I shouldn’t be but wholly blame you. I don’t want to gross you out, or the rest that goes with it.”

“I’ll happily fuck you through it if it’ll help. I’m a big boy,” he admitted. “Stuff like this doesn’t freak me out. And if it makes us both feel good, we win,” he wriggled his brows mischievously.

“I’ll bank the idea for next time," you pet his cheek tenderly.

“Whatever you need,” he kissed your hair, as you rolled your eyes, knowing he was still showing off and he laughed quietly too. “You know, I must be getting old. Bed at 6 o’clock is wild.”

You laughed, shuffling closer and snuggling. He tightened you in his grip. “Ew. Don’t make me laugh.” It felt like a goddamn flood.

“I have literally nothing else going for me if I can’t make jokes,” he joked again as you wriggled uncomfortably. “Sorry, sorry. I will behave.”

“You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

He nodded with an amused pout. “True,” he massaged the nape of your neck and kissed your temple. “Do you wanna watch something or just relax?"

“I want to watch that new serial killer one.”

“Should I be concerned you just went from horny to murder-y in about 2 minutes?”

“Someone has to keep you in your toes, big boy,” you pet his shoulder as he grinned and queued the show on his iPad.

[yourlocalghoulette]

Chapter 2~ Take On Me

Series Masterlist~ Main Masterlist~Meet the horses~

Warnings- eventual smut so MDNI! pretty much just fluff, reader has trauma, language, slow burn, flirting, relationship building

w/c: 3k

A/N~ part 2 is hereee! im literally so excited to be writing this story. part 3 is already in the works! please reblog, it always helps! Lmk if you want to be on the taglist:))

It was only when you got Joel’s number and scheduled your first work day that it started feeling real. Doing this, being around horses again, the thing that hurt you more than anything. 

Well, it wasn’t the horses that hurt you. It was the way you were forced to push your limits with them. The way you were yelled at if you didn’t do something right. The way your stomach sank every time you were forced to use an unneeded pair of spurs on a horse.

Sleep doesn’t come easy Thursday night, the night before the long-awaited first day. You toss and turn in your bed, palms clammy and forehead sweaty. You kick off the matcha-colored bedspread you were wrapped in and sit up in bed, trying to take deep breaths to clear your head. You glance at your phone. 2:00 AM. If you know Sōl well enough, she’s probably at a party. She definitely won’t answer until morning. 

So you text the one person who also might not be awake but still understands. Joel.

You click on the chat that only a few formal messages have been exchanged in and wonder if you’re being too impulsive. What is he going to think about you texting him at two in the morning? Your mind clouded with sleepiness and delusion, you text him anyway.

You- sorry for texting so late. having second thoughts about tmrw. 

To your surprise, the ‘read’ icon pops up as soon as you send it. 

Joel- i understand how you feel. are you wanting to cancel tomorrow? i was looking forward to it.

Did you want to cancel? Your brain is in a frenzy. He’s looking forward to it, you think over and over.

You- idk. i think still want to come tomorrow but I’m gonna take it slow:)

Joel- that makes sense and it’s totally good with me. can’t blame ya for feeling reluctant. you can pace things as slow as you want, ok cowgirl? 

The nickname jumped off of your screen at you and butterflies take off inside your stomach. 

You- ok cowboy;) thanks. excited to see u and the horses tmr!

Joel- likewise. now get some sleep, cowgirl. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you turn off your phone. The conversation was short but sweet and oddly comforting. 

You silently pad over to the kitchen and quickly make a cup of chamomile tea with lots of honey. While you drink it, you shamelessly open the stable’s website and scroll to the picture of Joel and Sarah. You look closely at Joel’s left hand, resting over Sarah’s shoulder. 

No ring.

Ok, he wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean much. He could still be dating, you tell yourself. Even with that possibility, you catch yourself smiling softly at the photo, staring into Joel’s dark brown eyes. Soft and comforting, like the tea you’re drinking. You sigh and walk slowly back to bed, rubbing your eyes which at this point are bloodshot from tiredness.

With Joel’s messages imprinted in your head, you quickly fall asleep.

“Un-fucking-believable. I gave you one. Job. ONE job! To win the goddamn gold medal. And what did you do? You knocked over FOUR jumps. You are a dissapointment to this team. To the profession of jumping.”

“Please- I-I’m sorry, the horse was acting weird! Probably because you made me whip him when he doesn’t need it!”

“Don’t use those goddamn tears on me. Maybe I should show you how a whip feels.”

You wake up three hours later in a cold sweat, your face streaked with tears. You breathe heavily, your hands shaking with each breath. You run your hands over your face. 

“It’s just a memory,” you whisper over and over to yourself. You try to breathe in through your nose and out your mouth, calming yourself down.

Sometimes you wish you don’t have to wake up in an empty bed, no one by your side to comfort you. It stings when you think about the last time someone was in your bed. 

You shake the memories away for right now. Taking one last deep breath to attempt to ground you, you climb out of bed. You skip breakfast, not sure if you would be able to keep any food down with the amount of nerves flitting in your stomach. 

You brush your teeth and throw on some mascara quickly, your hands still shaky and making it difficult. You put on a black tank top and faded boot cut jeans, along with a loose red flannel because it can get cold in the early Texas mornings.

It’s 6:00 on the dot when you slide on your steel-toed work boots, tucking them under your jeans. You grab your keys and a granola bar just in case and head out the door.

As you struggle to start your old pickup truck, second thoughts and anxieties start to fill your mind once again. You struggle to push them out of your head, filling it instead with the thought that you get to see Joel again. Nevertheless, your hands shake around the wheel as you drive the short drive to Sarah’s Stables. 

When you pull into the driveway, Joel is sitting outside the barn on the concrete bench, shaking his leg with a nervous expression on his face. You step out of your truck and stride over to Joel as he stands up, trying to put on a confident smile even though the last thing you feel is confident. 

“Morning,” Joel grins, shaking your hand firmly. His hand lingers on yours a little longer than it should before he pulls away. 

“G’morning, cowboy,” you tip an invisible hat, and he returns the gesture. He leads you into the barn, gesturing you to follow with his hand.

“Did’ya get any sleep last night?” He asks with a hint of concern in his voice, making your heart melt. 

You shrug. “Kind of. And I’m really sorry for texting you so late- or, early? I didn’t really have anyone else to text.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Joel waves it off. “I liked it, having someone to talk to even for a bit. I’m always up past 2 doing paperwork and ordering feed and all that shit.”

“Good to know,” you grin, trying to hide the flustered expression on your face. You enter the barn, immediately walking up to the small Shetland pony’s stall. “Hey, buddy,” you coo, gently tracing the long stripe down his face. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel chuckles, leaning next to you on the stall door. “That’s Orion. Rescued him along with the percheron, Amadeus, from an animal hoarder.”

“So you’ve had a rough time with humans, huh, bud?” You nod understandingly. “I get it.”

“Very. I get it too,” Joel says softly. “So. Let’s get to work, huh? I’m gonna show you the different feed mixes for each horse. Not sayin’ you’ll have to feed ‘em every time you’re working here. We’ll feed the horses then I’ll introduce you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect. It feels weird, being at a barn after so long of avoiding horses, y’know?” you sigh softly. “Is it too soon to say I have a good feeling about you and this barn? Like…I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels different.”

Joel nods knowingly, toying absentmindedly with Orion’s forelock. “Not at all. I get it,” he says understandingly. His eyes soften as he watches you interact with Orion, a slight faraway look on your face. “You doin’ okay, cowgirl?”

You nod, straightening up. “Yeah. Sorry. Just…zoned out.”

“No need to apologize,” Joel smiles softly. A tall cinnamon colored Tennessee Walker down the aisle kicks his stall door in impatience. “Let’s do this.”

In less than 20 minutes, the horses are fed and happily nickering into their feed buckets. Joel had written down the feed mixes for each individual horses with care and posted it on the wall so you didn’t have to memorize them right away. You can tell how much Joel Miller cares for his horses. 

“We can turn the horses out now.” Joel tosses you two halters, a purple nylon one and a teal rope one. “Think you can handle two horses at once?”

“Totally.” You sling the halters over your shoulder. 

“The rope halter is for Whiskey, the Tennessee Walker and the nylon is for Dottie, the Appaloosa mare. Stalls 5 and 6.”

In no time, you worked together to get all six horses out to the pasture. It’s picturesque, a large green field with a tall white fence surrounding the perimeter. It feels like a daydream watching the horses frolic aorund with eachother, enjoying their taste of freedom after being caged in a stall for the night. 

You and Joel sit on the lower bar of the fence, arms resting along the top piece with your head on top. Observing the horses’ behaviors carefully, you can see with the way the chestnut Quarter Horse gelding pins his ears and threatens any horse that gets close to his pile of hay that he’s top dog. The dominant horse, the leader.  A comfortable silence falls between you and Joel, as you both let out a collective sigh of relief as the stress of morning feeding washes off. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Joel sighs, breaking off the silence. 

“Gorgeous,” you agree, glancing over at Joel. His soft brown eyes are full of adoration for his horses.

He gestures towards the chestnut Quarter Horse. “That right there is Magnum. Total powerhouse. Used to be a ‘coon hunting horse.”

You giggle, staring over at Magnum’s solid build and shiny coat. “People still hunt for raccoons?”

Joel shrugs incredulously. “I guess. His owner gave him to me because he wasn’t getting enough attention. He was ridden twice a week and left to rot by himself in a field the rest of the time. He’s obviously dom, as you’ve probably noticed.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I noticed. I can tell he has a strong personality, too.” You grin, looking over at Joel.

“Sure does,” Joel smiles back proudly. Your shared gaze lasts a little too long before you turn your head away, looking back at the horses and trying to hide the flustered expression on your face. 

Joel introduces you to the rest of the horses; Amadeus, the percheron, Dottie, the petite Appaloosa mare, and Arizona, the gorgeous flaxen-colored mustang/Arabian cross. 

“Say, have you eaten anything for breakfast yet?” Joel asks, holding out his hand to help you up from your perches on the fence. 

You’re sure this man is going to be the death of you. You shake your head sheepishly, gently grabbing his hand as you stand up. His grip is soft and warm, hands calloused from years of hard work. “Not really,” you say as you let go of his hand. “I was too nervous.”

“What, am I that scary to ya’, cowgirl?” He grins cheekily, nudging your shoulder playfully as you both walk back into the barn.

“Pfft,” you roll your eyes as you nudge him back. “No, not scared. Terrified.” You stick your tongue out at him. 

“Ha, ha, darlin’. Why don’t we go get some breakfast? Gotta fuel up before cleanin’ the stalls.”

You shrug. “Sure. Where were you thinking?”

“Home Grounds is a good coffee shop, good bakery stuff too,” Joel offers. 

“No fucking way,” your eyes widen in surprise. “I work there! How have I never seen you there?”

“You must not be on the clock when I go. I’m sure I’d remember a face like yours,” Joel says softly, then catches himself, clearing his throat. “Sorry, that was-”

“It’s fine,” you wave it off. “Let’s go. We can take your truck. Mine’s a little…messy right now.”

Joel chuckles. “Sure as hell can’t be as bad as mine.”

Soon, you’re driving with Joel to the coffee shop, Take On Me by A-ha playing quietly through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You smile widely, opening the window and resting your arm outside. 

“Me too,” Joel turns up the stereo. “You sing at all, cowgirl?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes wide in mock horror. “Not at all. Do you, cowboy?”

“A bit. I play a smidge of guitar, too,” he smirks. 

“Oh, really? I’m gonna have to hear some of these Joel Miller guitar skills sometime,” you grin.

Joel shakes his head, a smile growing on his face as he pulls into the coffee shop driveway. “Believe me, I hype up my skills wayyy too much.” He turns off the truck and quickly runs around to your side of the truck to open your door. Butterflies take off in your stomach as he does this. 

Hiding your flustered look, you deadpan him, eyes rolling. “Dude,” you grin, climbing out and he shuts the door behind you. 

“What?” He opens the coffee shop door for you too. “Momma always taught me to be a gentleman.”

“And my mom always taught me to never trust men,” you grin cheekily.

“I can change that,” he side eyes you. 

Trying to ignore his words, you wave at a coworker. “Hey, Jess!” You call to her, walking up to the counter. 

“Hey, girlie. Who’s that?” She asks slyly, eyeing Joel. “New boyfriend?”

“Uh, no,” you say quickly before Joel can hear. “I’m working for him. He owns a horse barn.”

“You’re back to horses?” Jess inquires, cocking a brow. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, okay?” You spin around to face Joel. “What are you getting?”

“Just a black coffee and blueberry muffin, but don’t worry, cowgirl. I gotchu.” He starts taking out his wallet but you playfully swat his arm.

“Don’t. Please. I get employee discount anyway.”

Joel sighs in defeat, holding up his hands in mock offense. “Fine. But I’m paying next time.”

Next time, next time, next time….

After you order, the black coffee for him and a cold brew for you, you go to put your card in the reader to notice Joel’s card is already there. “Joel!” You mutter, giving him a disapproving look. 

“Hey, I’m tryna be nice, okay?” He chuckles. 

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks, really.”

The atmosphere felt charged with an unspoken tension as you both sat at a small table by the window, the warm sunlight filtering in. Joel's eyes seemed to hold a certain depth, a familiarity that stirred something within you.

"So, tell me about yourself, cowgirl," Joel said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

You took a sip of your cold brew, gathering your thoughts. "There’s not a whole lot to tell. Well, there is, but not a lot I want to go into right now. I fell in love with horses after riding a pony at a fair, and it kind of exploded from there. I started off riding Western and doing gymkhanas, then switched over to hunter/jumpers. That was obviously a huge change. I exelled really quickly in that, but as you probably know, being the best doesn’t mean you’re treated the best. A lot of shit happened at those barns, and I quit when when I was 18. People called me selfish and self-absorbed for quitting, which is what i believed for awhile. But my mental health imrpoved a lot after quitting and I came to accept the fact that it was a good thing.”

Joel nodded, his expression understanding. "I get that. Sometimes life throws us curveballs, and we need to take a step back to reassess things."

"Yeah, exactly," you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding. "But now I'm back, and I'm hoping things will be different this time."

"I'm sure they will be," Joel said with a reassuring smile. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, cowgirl."

You felt heat creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, quickly taking another sip of your cold brew to hide your reaction. "Thanks, Joel. I appreciate that."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, covering everything from your favorite books to your shared love of old John Wayne western movies. With each passing moment, you found yourself becoming more and more drawn to Joel, his easygoing nature and genuine kindness pulling you in.

Before you knew it, your cups were empty, and it was time to head back to the barn. As you walked side by side with Joel, the familiar feeling of nervous excitement bubbled up inside you once again.

As soon as you walk back into the barn, he turns on a 70s playlist and tosses you a mucking fork. “Ready to muck some stalls, cowgirl?”

The music fills the barn with a nostalgic vibe as you take the mucking fork from Joel with a grin. "Born ready," you reply, matching his playful tone.

Together, you fall into a rhythm of cleaning the stalls, the repetitive motion oddly soothing as you work side by side. Joel hums along to the music, occasionally breaking out into a soft whistle that echoes through the barn.

As you work, you can't help but steal glances at Joel, admiring the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt with each movement. There's something comforting about his presence, a sense of safety and warmth that you haven't felt in a long time.

Before you know it, the stalls are clean, and the horses are happily munching on fresh hay. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feeling a sense of satisfaction at a job well done.

"Thanks for your help, cowgirl," Joel says, giving you a grateful smile as he leans against the stall door.

"No problem," you reply, returning his smile. "It was actually kind of fun."

Joel chuckles, pushing himself off the door. "Glad to hear it. You've got a talent for this, you know?"

You feel a swell of pride at his words, a sense of validation that you haven't felt in a long time. "Thanks, Joel. That means a lot coming from you."

He gives you a nod of appreciation before glancing at his watch. "Well, I hate to cut this short, but I've got some paperwork to take care of. Think you can handle things on your own for a bit?"

You nod confidently, eager to prove yourself. "Of course. I'll hold down the fort."

"Great," Joel says, giving you a pat on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit. And hey, if you need anything, just give me a shout."

With that, he disappears into the office, leaving you alone in the barn. You take a deep breath, feeling a surge of determination coursing through your veins.

You may have started the day with doubts and anxieties, but now, as you stand in the quiet of the barn surrounded by the gentle sounds of the horses, you feel a sense of purpose wash over you.