#sweet moo farms

[laughingbear]

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[whore-era]

glue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she turns slightly, “hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

ellie sighed, “yea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

p.s you look pretty today :) 

xoxoxo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“cover for me.” ellie mutters to jesse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mhm, sure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

february 14th

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

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

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

“you know what you need?”

“what?”

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

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

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

“yup.”

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“uh, hey.”

you ignored her.

“how’re things?

silence.

“the animals doin’ okay?”

quiet.

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you cautiously looked down at the posy of marigold sunflowers. 

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

but you did something even ellie couldn’t predict. 

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

but ellie was wrong. very, very wrong. 

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“huh?” you gave her a confused look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i’ve never known someone like you

tangled in love, stuck by you

from the glue

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

don’t forget to kiss me 

or else you’ll have to miss me

i guess i’m stuck forever by the glue

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

finding the right words to use for this song

i have you in mind

so it won’t take so long

never thought i’d find you

but you’re here and so i love you

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

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

by the glue onto you

i’ve been stuck by glue

right onto you

i’ve been stuck by glue

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

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

“glad you liked it, babe.”

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

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

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

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

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

♡♡♡♡♡♡

[frogchiro]

The bull x cow one ?????? OMG so big brain <3<3 they definitely all have breeding kinks!! Trying their best to impregnate the pretty little Hefner and showing her whose the strongest so she'll pick them to breed her, she gets all the gifts and best flowers!! They love watching her sun bathe just staring at her and shes none the wiser shes all warm in the sun with the prettiest flowers surrounding her. They want her so bad!! Want her to hold on to their horns as she gets fucked dumb (well dumber than she is)

Price will only drink her milk and it makes the bulls so angry >:0 how dare he!! Hes so selfish >:(( the boys definitely try to sneak some of her fresh milk but price always catches them it's like he has some super sense for it. They all treat her so well but price is her favourite <3 he gives her sweet treats for letting him take so much milk although its she enjoys giving him her milk <3 her breasts get so swollen and sore and need to be taken care of so bad :(( shes whiny and the bulls are seconds away from filling her up

When the boys go into rut price always let's them use her (after hes had her to himself) he watches as shes bent over and bred crying and begging for more. Shes an absolute mess leaking cum from all her holes but so happy to be pumped full <3

They are so desperate :(( Literally all they want is to get Price to give you to them, are they not suitable studs for you? They're all so big and strong, they work so hard on the farm, they're perfectly fertile with potent sperm and would be more than good candidates to father any possible calf of yours :(( They'd make such cute, happy and healthy babies and your already big tits would swell even more with more sweet milk but Price is selfish and greedy and cruel (their words) bc he won't even let them near you >:( Always getting angry whenever he goes out into the pasture and if he sees them hanging by the fence separating you from them he shoos them away like they're unruly calves >:(

And then they have to endure watching you be all lovely with John; they have to watch Price fawning over you, cooing about how you are such a good and pretty girl, always giving him so much milk and all you can do it moo and whine softly as he starts massaging your full tits, watching you wince slightly because they're just so full and sore :(( They can feel their cocks twitching and leaking when they watch Price put his mouth on your nipple right then and there and suck, making you moan sweetly as a bit of the build up pressure is finally released and they swear that Price was giving them a nasty side eye all the time and now they're horny AND angry >:(

[bandgie]

Milking Farm

Chan x Minho x Jisung x fem!reader | MDNI 18+

warnings!: smut, nipple/boob play, lactation, fingering (f!), 4someish, reader's boobs are called udders, cow!reader, reader is called pet, milking

919 words

It's hard to cum now. They're so used to milking you with ease that they don't let you finish anymore.

You're trying so hard to have Chan keep his gloved fingers buried in you. To keep Han and Minho tugging at your breasts to squeeze out every drop. The buckets beneath you are already almost filled up with your milk, but the thought of them stopping wrecks you.

You remember when you used to cum on Chan's digits. Your cream was so wet and warm that he could feel it through the gloves. If you were really good, he'd let you have a taste. Now he pulls his fingers out the moment the buckets fill.

"P-please," it's a soft whimper that leaves you. Your floppy ears flick in anticipation. Your tail swishes unsure behind you, hitting Chan on the arm. He's still pumping his digits inside you. Deep enough to make you clench, but not enough to build that delicious heat inside.

Chan's fingers slow, dragging a whine out of you. "Please what? What's wrong?" There's a hint of concern in his voice. Even if you're not the exact same species, he still treats you with respect.

Even if you're spread out on all fours.

"Cum," you meekly respond. "I wanna cum." You wiggle your hips for emphasis. Your breasts bounce in front of Minho and Jisung. They work diligently on your tits, making sure to squeeze and grope them just right. Still, you could see the outlines of their cock in their pants.

"Cum?" Chan says like it never crossed his mind. "Do you like cumming?"

This makes Minho snicker beside you. His hands play with your breast a little rougher, tugging your nipples more than what's necessary for your milk to spurt out. It feels good.

You turn your head back to nod at Chan. "Yes. I really like it."

The man behind you coos. Your ears twitch in response. He resumes his quick pace, now using his other hand to rub your clit. "Seems like we haven't been treating our pet good, have we boys?" Chan questions the other two.

They nod in agreement. Jisung looks as though he might replace his hands with his mouth. He likes the way your full breasts bounce, and how your nipples seep with sweetness. Truthfully, he’s missed when you came. Your moans sound so pretty to him, arms shaking so much he and Minho have to carry your weight.

"You like it when we play with your udders huh? Naughty pet. I don't think you're supposed to," Minho tuts at you. There's a smirk on his face, one side of his lips turned upwards. "Such a nasty girl. But it's okay, we won't tell anyone."

Your legs begin to shake from the stimulation. You rock yourself back onto Chan's fingers, uncaring for how your tits leak outside of the bucket. They seem to pay no mind to it either, letting you chase the release you've craved for so long now.

There's a soft, gummy spot that Chan hits. Your hips still at the overwhelming pleasure, soft moo's leaving your lips.

"Oh she likes that spot," Jisung licks his lips eagerly. He places his free hand on your shoulder to push you back onto Chan's digits. The fingers slide against that spot once more and you quiver. Arousal leaks down your thighs, adding to the wetness where Chan rubs your clit. He takes it upon himself to please you. His fingers ruthlessly fuck into you, curling them downward.

Your body reacts violently, an arm reaching back to try and slow him down. Chan slaps your hand easily, a soft sting spreading on your skin. "You said you wanted to cum," he sounds stern. "So cum."

But it's all too much. Every part of your body is being touched, everything is so wet. You can't even speak anymore, grunts and moans are all you can manage. You bear it all, the rough pulls on your chest and the relentless pace in your cunt and on your clit. Chan's right, you did ask for this.

And you're their good girl, so you can take it.

The heat builds in your stomach, clawing its way to your pussy. Your moans get louder, your milk streams out steadier. Jisung can't help himself when he leans forwards, catching your nipple in his mouth to suck. He only has a second of pleasure before Minho yanks him off by the hair, irritated.

"You horny fuck. You just fucking contaminated everything." Minho sounds close to a snarl.

Maybe you should get mad, Chan definitely should. But you can't find it in yourself to care when you finally tip over the edge. Hot cum spreads over Chan's fingers. It drips down your hole to your thighs. He pulls out his fingers to collect your cream and shove it back in.

His pace at your swollen lips is slow, but he maintains pressure. It's not until you're reaching back once again that he stops. His fingers slide out, your cum dripping once again. Chan smiles proudly, patting your puffy clit to watch you squirm.

"There baby. We'll make sure to let you cum every time, yeah? Would you like that?"

Chan watches the back of your head nod. Satisfied, he directs Minho to help get you settled comfortably in the bed. When Jisung moves to help, he quickly stops him. "Not you. You got the milk dirty. You're suspended, go home."

You laugh tiredly at Jisung's whines, his milk-stained lips pouting.

a/n: this is something ive been daydreaming about recently. was pretty hard to put into words but I needed to make my dreams a reality. I hope you understand

[holybibly]

I'm brave and not sending this anonymously... but I had this thought earlier today about if san wasn't an idol what occupation would he be in, and my mind went Farmer/Cowboy... the tan, the muscles, the ranch and farm, the animals, most of all... HIS STAMINA...

My mind went all mushy with this thought, and I don't regret it 🤤

Well, let's go on with our week of hard hours with my brave bunny and the sweet farmer, San.

I think of how shy he would be in response to your praise of his looks and the touch of your hands on the moist golden skin of his biceps. That damned blush and that sweet, dimpled smile—you're not going to let him get away from you in any case.

Living so far away from the city on his small farm, he would be very unaware of his appearance. Your praise would turn his head so much that he would start to hang on to your every word, waiting for the words of praise to roll off your tongue.

San would be so focused on your glistening, glossy lips that his mind would begin to form images of those lips wrapping around the head of his cock and sucking on it like a piece of candy. He would shyly ask you if he could use your mouth, and hell, it would be just what you were hoping for—to take him all the way to heaven.

He may not have the longest cock, but he sure as hell has a size you can count on. San couldn't keep his mouth shut about how good it feels and how tight and wet your pussy is when he pinned you against the wall of the barn while he fucked you into oblivion. And I've got to tell you, those muscular thighs know how to get what they want. You'd be clawing at his wet back, feeling the muscles under your hands tense and roll with every thrust of his cock. You'd be squeezing his firm buttocks with your hands, digging your nails into the soft flesh, and God, he'd be moaning like a whore. San's terribly tough; once he's tasted you, he's going to give you a real rodeo, desperate to please you.

Maybe he pours milk or cream on your naked body. He admires the way it drips down your body while his tongue traces the path of the sweet milk drops.

"Dirty boy."

Your words would cause his eyes to roll back in his head and a bright red blush to spread across his beautiful face and neck. One hundred percent, you'd leave hundreds of hickeys all over his body. He's just so delicious. How could you possibly resist him?

He would definitely be a hungry boy who would cling to you as if his life depended on it. He would eat you up in the shower, with your legs resting all the way on his muscular, broad shoulders. Oh, a fucking show of force would send you over the edge, and you'd literally be riding on his pretty face. But San would be totally cool with all that.

He'd be mooing, whinnying, and asking all the time.

"Do you like it this way? Am I doing well?"

He's not quite sure if he's doing it right; after all, you're a city girl spoiled for attention, but San is full of enthusiasm and endurance, and he learns how to rub your pussy properly with his tongue.

And this would go on for hours and hours until you would literally have to pull him away from your cunt. And even then, San would still be licking his lips and giving you sultry, wet looks. You are so sweet, and he has such a terrible sweet tooth.

You had no idea your visit to the farm where your parents do p's would be like this. Eventually, you begin to understand what "Save the Horses, Ride the Cowboys" really means.

And damn it, that is exactly what you have been planning to do.

[jungle-angel]

A Boy And His Critters (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob think your oldest child might be an animal whisperer

Warnings: Mentions of birth, pregnancy, cuteness overload etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @withahappyrefrain @bobfloydsbabe

It was late in the afternoon in early spring, on a day when the hawthorn trees in your yard had just begun to bud and flower. Your birdfeeder already had more than enough visitors, your three cats, Freya, Thor and Pumpkin, having eyed them from the living room window. Already there had been fifteen calf births within the last two days with Bob, his father and his brothers and sisters having to wake at some ungodly hour to help with the births.

You were in the living room of your home in Montana, the soft Disney piano music playing from the speaker on your laptop. Bob lay on the spread out quilt on the living room floor, one pillow under his head and the other under his tummy while he gently rocked Baby Rudy in his little baby hammock. The sun streamed through the windows as you sat close to your husband and baby, the other three outside with their grandparents or aunts and uncles while you were busy carding the freshly shorn sheep's wool from the week before. You set aside your brushes and quickly took a snapshot of the sweet sight, hoping to add it to the photo album later.

You heard a loud meow and felt that familiar bushy tail brushing against you, looking down to find Thor rubbing against you. "You need a good brushing," you chuckled, teasing him with the carding combs.

"S'it the cat again?" Bob mumbled with a yawn.

"Yep," you answered, getting back to your work. "Rudy asleep?"

"Mmmhmm," Bob answered. "M'gonna go see if Dad needs help and come back for a nap."

Bob rose from his spot and kissed you before heading out to the barn to see if his father needed any help. "Hey sleepyhead!" the older Floyd greeted, tipping his black cowboy hat a little.

"Hey Dad," Bob answered sleepily. "Everything good?"

"Yeah everything's lookin good," Joe answered. "The hands have it all down so we don't have to worry until the spring auction. The baby go to sleep?"

"Just went down for a nap," Bob yawned. "I think I might too, my eyes are starting to itch."

Bob and his father conversed back and forth, totally unaware at first of the clanking of a metal bucket and the hurried footsteps of five year old Auggie.

"Bud?" Bob asked when he finally saw. "Whatcha doin?"

"Nothin Daddy," Auggie chirped.

"Doesn't look like nothin," Joe chuckled.

"I gotta go milk the cows, Papa!" Auggie announced.

Joe and Bob were humored to say the least, more so when they saw Smokey, the crotchety old rooster weaving his way in and out from between Auggie's legs. They followed behind him to make sure he didn't get into trouble, when he approached the female dairy cow that Joe and Irene had taken in, singing in his chirpy little voice, one of the farm songs he had learned in his kindergarten class at the so-called "hippie school" he attended with the other Dagger children.

"Holy shit," Joe chuckled. "Get a load of this Bobby."

Bob was thunderstruck when he saw the old bat following Auggie into the barn with Smokey still clucking away between his little cowboy boots. Normally it would take two or three of the hands to lead her in, but here was Auggie, five years old and barely up to his father's hips, leading her into the stall with no issues.

"Un......believable," Bob laughed.

"How the fuck does this kid do it?" Joe wondered out loud, a broad smile on his face at the sight of his grandson.

Bob quickly pulled out his phone and began recording, hoping to be able to show the others when they had a chance to come by. Auggie chirped away as he milked the cow until a startled moo came from her.

"Sorry Peach, but that's what Daddy does to Mommy and it works."

Bob stifled a squawk in his throat but not before Auggie began yelling at him in his best Shrek voice.

"AYE! GET OUT ME FUCKIN SWAMP!!!!!"

"August Robert!" Bob laughed.

Auggie hurried over but Bob was in too good a mood to discipline his son. "Sorry for using a dirty word, Daddy," he apologized.

Bob picked his son up and kissed his cheek, Auggie's glasses falling slightly off the bridge of his nose. "I'm glad you said sorry, but Daddy should remember the rule the he and Mommy put into place."

When Bob was able to go back inside, he showed you the video including the one of Auggie's Shrek impression.

"You'd think he was an animal whisperer by the way Smokey follows him around," you laughed.

"Sometimes I like to think so sweetheart," Bob yawned as he lay on the couch.

You set aside your carding combs and the wool, covering Bob with the spring quilt and snuggling in beside him, the two of you proud as ever of Auggie.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 9: Why Don’t We Go There]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (+18), beef cattle, drugs, alcohol, smoking, Walmart, vegan baking, David Archuleta, mental health struggles, pregnancy, pigs, bodily injury, death, miscarriage, Jace acting vaguely human, angst, Southern Baptists, Cookie Monster pajama pants.

Selected Chapter Quote: “You have no idea how much I’ve kept from you.”

Word count: 8.6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​@doingfondue​ @catalina-howard​ @randomdragonfires​ @myspotofcraziness​ @arcielee​ @fan-goddess​ @talesofoldandnew​ @marvelescvpe​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @mariahossain​ @chainsawsangel​ @darkenchantress​ @not-a-glad-gladiator​ @gemini-mama​ @trifoliumviridi​ @herfantasyworldd​ @babyblue711​ @namelesslosers​ @thelittleswanao3​ @daenysx​ @moonlightfoxx​ @libroparaiso​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @mizfortuna​ @florent1s​ @heimtathurs​ @bhanclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @heavenly1927​ @mariahossain​ @echos-muses​ @padfooteyes​ @minttea07​ @queenofshinigamis​ @juliavilu1​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @lauraneedstochill​ @wintrr13​ @r0segard3n​ @seabasscevans​ @tsujifreya​ @helaenaluvr​ @hiraethrhapsody​​​

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The last day of summer, the first day in Kansas City: emerald seas of soybeans, cornstalks taller than you are, massive tractors rolling laggardly on the shoulder of the road, red-tailed hawks perched on utility poles, cloudless cerulean skies, sunlight that beats down like soft rain. There is a long, rambling dirt driveway that leads from Route 210 to your parents’ farm. When you climb out of the Escalade, you cannot hear traffic or voices or some playlist of bygone pop hits or ice cubes jangling in misty glasses or the roar of jet engines. You can hear only the sounds of the Midwestern earth: wind in the leaves, cicadas humming, the distant mooing of black angus cattle. For a moment, Comet Donati just stands there breathing in the unhurried, golden air like the atmosphere of a new planet, their lungs acclimating, their eyes wide and peering around. Where have we landed? Any signs of intelligent life?

There are footsteps and then the squealing creak of the screen door as your dad throws it open. Along with your parents pour out five Australian cattle dogs. They bark uproariously, herding the new arrivals like errant calves. Aemond laughs and crouches down in the dust of the driveway to pet them. Rhaena screams and clings to Luke.

“Belmont! Bel, you git down!” your dad scolds, pulling her away from Rhaena by the collar: pink, so everyone knows she’s a girl. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart, she don’t bite none.”

“Unless you’re a cow, of course,” your mom adds, tittering merrily. She starts handing out glasses of sweet tea, already dripping with condensation. Outside it’s 80 degrees even.

Your dad whistles as he studies Aemond’s scar, his sightless left eye like a pool of blue fog. “That must’ve hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“Jeff!” your mom objects mildly; she abhors swearing.

Aemond considers your dad: a man who doesn’t flinch away from him, who doesn’t bury truths under the cover of night. “It did.”

“My uncle came back from ‘Nam with something like that. Was never right again.” He taps his own skull. “You must be tough as nails to be carrying on like you are, son. What happened to you was a damn shame.”

“Jefferson, please!” your mom says.

“The man’s been to New Jersey, Carol! I think he’s heard worse words than bitch and damn!”

“Her name’s Belmont?” Rhaena says, frowning nervously at her canine tormentor: rust-orange, brown-eyed, tail wagging eagerly at the prospect of making new friends.

“You betcha.” Then your dad informs Aemond: “That’s Lone Jack you got there.” He points to the remaining dogs. “And the others are Carthage, Kirksville, and Island Number Ten. We call her Tenny.”

“They’re all named after Civil War battles,” you tell Comet.

“Civil War battles in Missouri,” your dad says. He turns to his guests. “Were you aware that over 100,000 Missourians served in the Union Army? Ulysses S. Grant’s first military assignment was in Missouri. He met his wife Julia here.”

“Daddy, they’re English. They don’t know what the Union Army is.”

“Were they for or against staying colonies?” Aegon asks, and Criston covers his face and groans.

Your dad spots the motorcycle Aemond rode here from the airport, weaving between the Escalades until Criston stuck his head out a window to yell at him. “Lord almighty, is that a Gold Star?! Made by the Birmingham Small Arms Company?”

“Yes sir,” Aemond says, smiling down at a delighted Lone Jack and scratching his long pointy ears.

“An ingenious piece of machinery! ‘55?”

“1960.”

“Remarkable.” Your dad admires it. He’s wearing red flannel, Wrangler jeans, the UChicago hat that you bought for him your freshman year of college.

“We’ve been told you don’t eat meat,” your mom says to Aemond, with a gentle, sympathetic tone like she’s conscious of some bad luck that’s recently befallen him: a grim diagnosis, a storm that carried away his house. “So I’ve got some chicken soaking in buttermilk to fry up for supper.”

Aemond chuckles uncertainly.

“No, she’s serious,” you tell him. And then: “Mama, we went over this on the phone. He’s vegan. That means no animal products at all. No meat, no poultry, no fish, no dairy, no eggs, nothing that came from an animal.”

“Well I’ll be, what the heck does he eat?!” your dad says. “Carrots? Acorns? Sticks and leaves? He can graze out in the pasture if he likes.”

“We’ll find you something,” you promise Aemond.

Your dad surveys Aegon (white cargo shorts, neon pink tank top, sparkly matching Crocs) and then Jace (black skinny jeans and a violet sequined blazer with nothing underneath except a mosaic of tattoos). “I suppose you two will be wanting to share a room. Well, it ain’t my place to pass judgement, I reckon. But I don’t want to overhear nothing that couldn’t be done in church.”

Jace is confused. “Huh…?”

“No, Daddy, they’re not gay.”

“What, me?!” Aegon exclaims. “Gay?! For Jace?!”

Jace says: “Sir, if I ever start looking at Aegon that way, I give you enthusiastic permission to take me out back and shoot me dead like a horse with a bum leg.”

Your dad guffaws, a deep gruff rumble like an earthquake. “I don’t think I could oblige you, buddy.”

Your mom gestures to the front door. “Y’all go on in and make yourselves at home. We got a few extra bedrooms and a nice big den if anyone’s willing to sleep on a couch. But be warned: you’ll probably end up having a dog or two snuggled up with you.”

“We are guests here!” Criston shouts at the band as they begin dragging their luggage inside, suitcase wheels bumping up the creaking wooden steps of the wraparound porch. “You will not humiliate me! You will not break things! You will not cause any problems whatsoever or you can stay at the Hilton with the security guys and I’ll have them handcuff you to a bed!”

“He will,” Aegon warns the others. “I’ve seen him do it before. To…um…somebody.” He disappears into the five-bedroom farmhouse: mint green paint, white accents, two rambling stories plus an attic and a cellar.

Criston waves to the security detail as the Escalades turn around in the driveway—stirring up dust like a parched cough of earth—and then head back towards Route 210, towards the light pollution and acclaimed barbeque joints of Kansas City. Now Aemond is standing by the barbed wire fence of the pasture and looking longingly at the black angus cattle grazing on tall swaths of windswept, green-gold switchgrass. Lone Jack, Carthage, and Kirksville are all bounding around him hoping to elicit praise and scratches. Tenny has taken a liking to Baela and follows her and Jace into the house. Belmont, still held captive by your dad, whines and struggles.

“Aemond, you can’t pet the cows,” you say. “They’re beef cattle. They spend most of their lives out in fields, they don’t get handled very often, they’re not used to people. They can be aggressive.”

He is disappointed. “Oh, okay.”

“You can pet the pigs though,” your dad says.

“Pigs?” Cregan perks up. “There are pigs?”

“Sure are. Well, they’re pigs now…come Thanksgiving, they’ll be hams! Hahaha. They’re right ‘round the back of the house. You’ll show ‘em, chickadee?”

You reply: “Yeah, Daddy. I’ll show them.”

As the rest of the band claims sleeping spots and unpacks their suitcases inside, you lead Cregan and Aemond—and Lone Jack, Carthage, and Kirksville, all blue speckled with random splatters of white markings like stray dabs of paint—to the pigs. They have a large, muddy enclosure surrounded by a wooden fence that stops at your waist; pigs, fortunately, cannot really jump. They immediately come trotting over to their visitors, tails swishing and snouts twitching, spewing a chorus of guttural oinks. Aemond leans down to pet them, beaming, then takes a Ziploc bag of raw cauliflower out of his jeans pocket and starts dropping pieces into the pigs’ gluttonous, slobbering, gaping mouths.

“Wow,” Cregan says. He’s grinning broadly, something that’s rare for him. He slips out his phone and starts taking pictures. “Iris is going to love this.”

On the second floor of the farmhouse, a window slides open. “Aemond!” Aegon calls. “I need help! It’s an emergency!”

“What’s your problem?” Aemond snaps.

“Tell Jace I need the bigger bedroom!”

“Please go away.”

“Aemond! Do not betray your favorite brother!”

“Hey!” comes Daeron’s muffled objection from inside.

“Aemond! Threaten to break Jace’s face again!”

Aemond exhales in a loud sigh and then makes for the house.

Still taking pig photos, Cregan glances over at your belly: ten weeks. Not enough to be properly showing, but enough that you can feel a difference, an extra inch here and there, a heaviness that settles in you like stones plinked in a jar. Your parents don’t know. Nobody knows but Aegon. “So,” Cregan says. “Have you told Aemond yet?”

Your attention jolts to him, a lightning strike, a surge of adrenaline. “What?”

“I remember what it looks like when someone’s trying to hide the fact that they’re pregnant.” He smirks. “And I remember that night at Club Camelot.”

People are going to start figuring it out eventually. Aemond is going to figure it out. “Do you think he’ll take it well?” you ask hopefully.

“No,” Cregan says.

In your chest, a sinking like dead weight: “Oh.”

“But he’ll probably come around to the idea eventually.”

After he’s said something unforgiveable. After he buries another knife in me, spilling blood and scraping marrow. You stare down into the pigpen, observing them root around for remnants of cauliflower and blink their awfully intelligent eyes, too clever for the fate they’ve been assigned.

Cregan lights a cigarette and puffs on it, taking advantage of a rare moment out of Criston’s line of sight. “When I first found out about Iris, I did not behave in a way that I would consider to be honorable. But fortunately, nature gives everyone time to adjust to these things. I had my head right by the time she was born. If I had to guess, I’d say it will be similar for Aemond. Then again…” He takes a deep, meditative drag. “I’d like to think I was never as fucked up as he is now.”

You study Cregan. “So you’ve been watching me. I’ve been watching you too. You haven’t been partying as hard. A few vodka shots, a secret cigarette on occasion. But no more disappearing with Aegon to do lines in the bathroom or arranging drop-offs with drug dealers.”

He shrugs. “Someone has to be the adult. Someone has to help Criston look out for the others. It used to be Aemond, but not anymore. He’s different now. One day he’ll figure out where he’s supposed to be and he’ll stop touring with Comet altogether. So I’m going to do it. There are people who need me.”

“Comet is your family,” you say. “Just as much as your mother and siblings and Iris. They love you. They belong to you, and you belong to them. And that will never change.”

He smiles; his greyish eyes are teasing but kind. “Good luck, Stargirl. You need it.”

“Thanks, Cregan.” And together, you leave the pigs and join the rest of the band inside.

Your parents’ farmhouse, the same one you grew up in—a different world, a different you—is painted in shades of gold: late-afternoon sunlight, chicken thighs and drumsticks browning in canola oil, mashed potatoes wet with cream and butter, corn cut from the cob, an enormous pan of baked macaroni and cheese, homemade rolls, a butterscotch pie cooling on the windowsill. You find a vegan alternative for Aemond in the pantry: a box of Barilla spaghetti, a jar of Ragu marinara sauce. Criston insists on cooking it so everyone else can enjoy their supper. Cregan asks your parents about tips for raising pigs; Rhaena asks about the history of the farm; Aegon eats butterscotch pie until he has to roll out of his chair and lie sprawled on the hardwood floor for a while, Australian cattle dogs licking at his pink palms and cheeks. And when Aemond finally receives his spaghetti and marinara sauce, you think: That’s the same thing he was eating in Rome. And you remember the razored sting of the comet tattoo, the nightscape motorcycle ride, the incomplete truth about Aegon, the realization of what you felt for his scarred, perfect, brilliant, haunted younger brother.

“I didn’t know the weather would be so nice here,” Baela says as she scoops herself a third helping of macaroni and cheese. Tenny lies by her feet under the table, her muzzle resting on her paws.

Your dad nods, but his words hold a warning. “It can turn quick.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“He could be a stay-at-home dad,” Aegon suggests. It’s the next day and you’re up in a hundred-year-old white oak tree, killing time until the Escalades arrive to shuttle Comet to soundcheck and their first of two shows at Arrowhead Stadium in downtown Kansas City. You’re sitting on a colossal, sturdy branch only four or five feet off the ground, your feet dangling; Aegon is a few limbs above you, alternating between swinging like a monkey and lying on his stomach so he can peer down at you with those large, oceanic eyes.

“No. If he chooses to, sure. But not because he has no other options. A baby is not something to paper over a quarter-life crisis with.”

Aegon thinks, then is struck with inspiration. “He could work for your dad on the farm!”

“The beef cattle farm?” you say. “You want the traumatized vegan to spend the rest of his life as a cog in the blood-drenched machine of American industrial agriculture? Besides, I’m sure he hates Missouri.”

“I don’t know, I mean I thought I hated Missouri too. But lowkey it kind of slaps.” Aegon closes his eyes and smiles as the warm, sunlit breeze breathes through him, tousling his hair. It’s long again, it’s almost down to his shoulders. He smells like sunscreen and Axe body spray and the homemade waffles your mother made for brunch, soggy with dollops of butter and a river of amber-colored maple syrup. Something’s missing. It takes you a moment to realize it’s the scent of beer. Your parents don’t approve of drinking, the house is bone dry. Aegon hasn’t complained about that yet, a miracle, Moses turning the Nile to blood. Maybe Missouri is good for him after all. “How’s Starbaby?”

“Good, I think. I’m not nauseous anymore. Now I’m just super hungry and horny.”

“Oh my God, you can’t say stuff like that around me, now I’m having immoral thoughts.” He squeezes his eyes shut, frowns mournfully. Goodbye forever, pornstar pussy. “When are you going to tell Aemond?”

“Soon,” you say noncommittally, like a coward. Not a coward: someone who’s been hurt before. Not just hurt: slaughtered, buried, exhumed, robbed for the jewels on the bones of her fingers. You’re finally whole again. You’re in no hurry to imperil your resurrection. “Cregan knows.”

“Rhaena knows too.”

“What?!”

“She asked me in Dallas, but she waited until I was sloppy drunk first. Smart girl. I tried to deny it, but honestly she already had it figured out.” Aegon looks at you meaningfully. “If you wait much longer you’re going to lose control of this thing. It’ll get to Aemond before you can. And I think it will be worse if he finds out from somebody else.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’ll tell him, Aegon, I promise. Before Comet flies out of Kansas City.” They’ll be leaving you here, though no one except Aegon and Criston know that yet. Their private jet will take them to New Orleans, and then Miami, and then all the way to South America: Rio de Janeiro, Sao Paulo, Bogota, Buenos Ares, Lima, Santiago.

Now someone is trekking across the field behind your parents’ house and towards the centenarian white oak tree. It’s Jace. He’s wearing a rather understated outfit today: a lavender polo, denim shorts, boat shoes. His dark curls whip and tangle in the wind.

“Ugh,” Aegon says once Jace close enough to hear. “Why don’t you go try to pet a rage-filled, 2,000-pound mound of unprocessed cheeseburgers?”

“I’m here for my complimentary therapy session.”

Aegon stares at you. You stare back. The only sounds are made by the earth and the sky and the animals, air in the leaves, the low mooing of cattle. You both wait for Jace to rescind his request. He does not. At last, you relent. “Okay. Fine. Aegon?”

“You want me to leave you alone with this inked-up ogre?”

“Confidentiality is important. I’ve always given it to you, Jace deserves the same.”

“Does he really?” Aegon flings back; but he obediently climbs down from the tree and walks to the farmhouse. Your parents have no booze, no internet, a landline telephone, and a single tv with basic cable. Everyone else is in there playing Uno, doing animal-themed puzzles, and baking apple cider cookies in honor of the first day of autumn. You’d think Comet would be losing their minds after adapting to months of nonstop, breakneck excitement, but they seem to be enjoying themselves. You feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. You don’t miss the jet, you don’t miss the bars or the five-star hotels, you don’t even miss your apartment in the city that is still being sublet by some grad student with a Flemish Giant rabbit. You wonder if you ever wanted to leave the farm at all, or if you only wanted to leave the way you felt about yourself the last time you called this place home.

Jace grins and hauls himself up onto the tree branch to sit beside you. “Want to see my new tattoo?”

“Comet has definitely already been to Kansas City.”

Still, he’s acquired one, left wrist, black ink: a single star the size of a quarter. “For you, Stargirl. So I don’t forget about you. So I don’t lose you in the sea of gorgeous women I have marooned myself in.”

“It looks like a pentagram,” you say. “That’s appropriate, since you’re basically Satan.”

He’s not offended. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want to talk about?”

“I already know.”

“Do you really?”

“You’re happy, but you feel bad about it. You wanted to be the leader of Comet, but you wish it could have happened a different way.”

Jace opens his hands and offers you a crooked, wry smile. “I might jibe at Aemond, but I don’t hate him. Why else would I let him knock out four of my teeth without expecting any penance in return?”

“No, you certainly don’t hate Aemond.”

“And what happened to him…it sucks. I mean, obviously, it was life-ruining for him. Not ruining, I shouldn’t say that. I’m sure he’ll get a new life someday. But it wrecked him in ways I’ll never be able to understand.”

“You’ll have to let him go when the time comes.”

“Yeah,” Jace says, unusually somber, gazing out across the field of white wild indigo, prairie dropseed, blue star, yarrow.

“And if Baela gets into ballet school, you’ll have to let her go too.”

Now Jace turns to you, startled. “I can’t. I’d miss her.”

“Yes, but you aren’t right for her. Sometimes we have to give people the freedom to realize they want something more than us. It’s the greatest act of love we can do for them.”

He laughs, a disdainful little snort. “That’s what everyone says. If you love someone, let them go. But then nobody ever really does it. They cling and they manipulate and they beg. Nobody helps the people they love leave them. Nobody escapes the indignity of becoming a regret.”

Please don’t let that be true. Please don’t let Aemond regret meeting me, touching me, maybe even loving me. “Why do you think that is, Jace?”

And he says, like it’s obvious, like you should already know it: “Because letting go is too fucking painful.” He hops off the branch and drops into the tall grass below. Then he extends a hand to help you down. “Come on. I bet those apple cider cookies are ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You see glimmering dresses, incandescent string lights, neon signs, the winding reptilian sheen of the Missouri River in the distance, faint dots of stars muted by the city’s synthetic luminance. You taste your faux Bramble: ice, cranberry juice, a sliver of lemon on the rim, sweet and tart and cold. The speakers are thumping out Prayin’ For Daylight by Rascal Flatts. Aegon is in neon yellow. You almost wore the same, but the flowing yellow gown you bought in Reykjavik suffered an unfortunate Australian-cattle-dog-related incident before Comet left your parents’ farmhouse for the concert. You opted for the short sparkly black dress embroidered with silver stars instead…and hurried out the door before your parents could catch a glimpse of your comet tattoo.

“No way!” Baela cries as she checks her phone. “Look, look!” Liam Payne has just posted a selfie on Instagram. Cuddled up next to him on a beach in Ibiza is Shelby, tan and with her long blond waves flying everywhere. The comments are a smorgasbord: Cutest couple EVER! Aww, did you and Aemond break up again :( Enjoy your vacay, girlie! Guess love really can’t conquer all. You are stunning, Shelby! I’m still hoping you guys get back together. You deserve better! What is Aemond even doing these days?? Is this why Comet took A Girl Named After A Car off their tour setlist :(((

“Damn, poor Liam,” Daeron says. “Should we warn him?”

Aegon replies: “Bruh, this is so tragic. That dude has enough demons already.”

“Good luck, Liam,” Luke says, toasting his Mai Tai against Aemond’s fully-alcoholic Bramble. “Thoughts and prayers.”

“Maybe he’s dumb enough to sign up to be her boy band baby daddy,” Aemond quips. You and Aegon exchange an uneasy glance. Then Aegon gets an incoming FaceTime call. It’s Taylor Swift. He beams—he lights up, he glows—and rushes away to find a quiet spot where he can talk to her. Criston chases after him, extra vigilant since Aegon’s overdose in Las Vegas.

You gulp down the rest of your not-cocktail cocktail. The bartender calls over: “Another cranberry juice, ma’am?”

“Cranberry juice?!” Daeron says. “That sounds…healthy?”

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Baela asks you. It would be a rude question if you didn’t know each other so well. Though not quite as well as she thinks. Cregan and Rhaena peer awkwardly down into their glasses, eyebrows raised.

“Because. Um.” You hesitate. Aemond looks over at you curiously. “I’m an alcoholic.”

Baela blinks. “You’re what?”

“Um. I was developing an alcohol problem so to be safe I stopped drinking altogether.”

“How mature of you!” Rhaena chirps, then drags Baela towards the dancefloor. Luke and Jace go with them. Daeron and Cregan depart to charm some potential paramours: a flock of Kansas City University students for Daeron, a bachelorette party of flattered, giggly soccer moms for Cregan. You procure another cranberry juice from the bar and then return to Aemond. You are alone together, a strange combination of adjectives: solitary, secretive, appreciated, known. You migrate towards the edge of the roof and sip your matching drinks, wearing your matching black clothes, wind in your hair and the sounds of late night traffic on the streets below.

“So this is the place,” Aemond says, playful, wistful. “Where you and Aegon…met.”

“It feels so different now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look out over the city, breathing in humid night air and a verdant, ancient wildness. “You know how when you’re a kid, you’ll go somewhere and it feels endless and magical, and then you go back five or ten or fifteen years later and you’re disappointed? Like, that’s it? Is this even the same place?”

He swigs his Bramble. Ice clinks; the glass is frosty in his hand. “I know what you mean. But it hasn’t been that long. A little over a year.”

“I guess I’ve changed.” More grounded. Less restless. Less aimless. More pregnant.

“I hope Comet hasn’t traumatized you.”

You laugh, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only two people at this rooftop bar, in this city, on this planet: one river blue eye, one pool of sightless otherworldly mist. He hasn’t worn sunglasses since Shelby’s deportation from the band’s retinue. “Not yet.”

He is mischievous. “There’s still time.”

Not much of it. Aemond’s iPhone rings, Mr. Brightside. He checks it. “Is that Shelby offering you ten thousand blowjobs if you take her back?”

Aemond smiles. “No. It’s Helaena.” He answers and puts it on speakerphone. “Hi, LaeLae. Can I call you tomorrow? I’m at a very loud, very crowded rooftop bar.”

“With her?” Helaena asks, delighted.

“Yes, actually.”

“Okay. Call tomorrow. I wanted to tell you about the praying mantis I found in the garden. Check the weather. Goodbye!” She hangs up before Aemond can.

“Weather…?” he muses, then shakes his head and slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans. He returns his attention to you. “Ten thousand blowjobs, huh? I think I’d rather have another ten minutes in a bar bathroom.”

You are so game. It’s humiliating how game you are. Dear Starbaby, today I had slutty bar bathroom sex with your slutty dad, the same place I hooked up with your super slutty uncle. “Really?”

“No,” Aemond says sheepishly. But the corners of his lips are curled up in fond nostalgia. “That’s not my usual style.”

“What is your style?”

He drains his Bramble and turns to you. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You want few things more. “Yeah.”

You leave your empty glasses on a tray by the edge of the roof. Aemond lets Criston know that you’re taking one of the Escalades back to the farm. Aegon pauses his conversation with Taylor Swift just long enough to wink at you. No need for condoms, he mouths with a grin. And then he shouts, as the opening notes of Starboy blare from the speakers: “Stargirl, it’s our song!”

The Escalade makes one pitstop: the Walmart just off Route 210, the same one you always shopped at growing up. Aemond piles the requisite ingredients for vegan chocolate chip cookies in the screechy-wheeled cart, flour, baking soda, salt, white sugar, brown sugar, dark chocolate chips, rice milk (Aemond swears it tastes like Rice Krispies), vanilla extract, coconut oil. You wander down the aisles together talking, joking, finding excuses to touch each other, hands on wrists and collarbones and waists.

As you scan the items at one of the self-checkout kiosks, two guys buying frozen pizzas and White Claws peek over at you and start snickering. You grab snippets of their conversation like fireflies from the air: critiques of your body, critiques of your soul. You ignore them. This happens sometimes when you’re home. Someone from high school will recognize you, someone will remember.

Aemond is staring at them. Not staring; glaring, seething, mentally splitting flesh and dislodging teeth.

“Aemond, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m not upset. Just ignore them.” He walks away from you. “Aemond, don’t!”

He grabs the closest man’s shoulder and spins him around. “You got a problem?”

Both men gawk up at him, mouths hanging stupidly open and eyes inane like fish. The one he’s clenching sputters: “I’m sorry, are you…are you…are you Aemond Targaryen?!”

“I’m the guy who’s about to go to prison for second degree murder if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

He puts both hands in the air. “Hey man, I am actively shutting the fuck up. You have a nice evening.”

Aemond releases the man with a shove that sends him staggering back into a rack of tabloids. He returns to you, puts the bags in the cart, starts pushing it out to the parking lot.

The man turns to his friend. He is starstruck, elated. It might be the best day of his life. “Bruh, I just got assaulted by Aemond Targaryen…!”

The Escalade glides through the dark to your parents’ farm and drops you and Aemond off in the dirt driveway before zooming back towards the city. Aemond insists on carrying the shopping bags…but he doesn’t go inside. He stands near where his Gold Star is parked and gazes up at the night sky: moon, stars, the hazy white shadow of the Milky Way, all unmarred by the arrogant, buzzing radiance of electricity.

“Aemond?”

“You can see everything out here,” he says. “Maybe Kansas isn’t so bad.”

“Missouri.”

“Missouri,” Aemond agrees. “But you’re still the best thing about it.”

You smile. “I don’t know the names of any of those constellations.”

He points to show you. “Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. Perseus. Draco. Hercules.”

“Heroes,” you say.

“And animals.” He ascends the steps of the front porch. They creak beneath him, weight that will soon be gone, to New Orleans and Miami and South America and God knows where else.

Your parents are watching the 11:00 news in the den. The weatherman is issuing tentative warnings for tomorrow. Summer is gone, storms are coming in. They politely ask what you and Aemond are up to and then try not to look repulsed when you mention vegan cookies. You’re actually pretty excited; you love cookie dough, and because it will have no raw eggs in it, you can eat as much as you like without endangering Starbaby.

On the kitchen counter is the same CD player that your mom has owned since 2008. You press play on whatever she has currently spinning around in there. MercyMe? TobyMac? Danny Gokey? What you hear instead is Crush by David Archuleta.

“That’s a throwback,” Aemond notes.

“My parents love David Archuleta. He’s Christian, he’s cute, he’s gracious, he doesn’t swear. I remember them incessantly calling in to vote for him when he was on American Idol. They put in a prayer request at church to help him win the competition. I guess God used his executive veto power.”

“Do they know he’s…?” Aemond draws an invisible rainbow in the air with his fingers.

“No, they don’t use Google.”

“We won’t tell them. He needs the record sales.”

You and Aemond mix the cookie dough and then portion it out on a baking sheet. He slides the sheet into the oven, sets the timer, and then notices the reserve of dough you’ve left in the bowl. You dip your pinky finger in and then lick it slowly, savoringly: sweetness, chocolate, fats obtained without the sacrifice of a soul.

“Looks good,” Aemond says, a little hoarsely.

You swipe your index finger around the curve of the bowl and then offer it to Aemond. He holds your hand still and licks your finger clean, his tongue dragging over your skin, goosebumps rising on your arms, heat stirring up everywhere. You’re transfixed by him; you can’t stop watching. Then he closes the gap between you and cups your face in his palms and kisses you, not in some glittering city or on a stage or for an Instagram post but in the kitchen of a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, the home of nobodies. His lips are sweet, swift, seeking more. He only pulls away when the noise of heavy footsteps approaches the kitchen.

“Smells great in here, chickadee! Even if they are vegan cookies.” Your dad says the word vegan like someone else might say the name of a tourist destination halfway across the globe. He can’t quite get the pronunciation right. His eyes snag on the bare skin between your shoulder blades. “Lord almighty, what is that on your back?!”

Your comet tattoo, that’s what. “Uh, Daddy—”

“It was my idea,” Aemond says quickly, seamlessly. “They’re my lyrics. Lyrics I wrote before the accident, I mean. And I was feeling just…purposeless, and useless, and really doubting myself. She wanted to show me that my work still mattered. So when the band was in Rome, Jace got a tattoo and I suggested she get one too. It’s entirely my fault.”

“Huh,” your dad replies uncertainly. “Is that right? Well, I suppose there’s not much to be done about it now.” He chuckles and moves your hair so it’s covering your tattoo. “Let’s not mention it to your mother. She’s already got high blood pressure. Say, can I try one of them cookies when they’re ready?”

Criston and the rest of the band arrive back at the farmhouse just as the cookies are coming out of the oven. Miraculously, no one is drunk enough that your parents are aware of it. Everyone samples the vegan chocolate chip cookies and agrees that they are nearly as delicious as the cruelty-enhanced version. You and Aemond watch each other from across the kitchen that’s now crowded with people, hearing them but also not, wanting more and knowing you can’t have it, here in this place with little privacy and very few remaining secrets.

Comet scrambles to get ready for bed, racing to claim bathrooms and banging on doors to peer pressure people into finishing their showers faster. Back in your bedroom, clean and alone and wearing an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants, you rearrange your pillows over and over again and try not to think about the band leaving in two days. Strangely, you don’t really want to go with them; you don’t want to board the jet, you don’t want to sightsee, you don’t want to be surrounded by people ingesting poison in all its forms. But the thought of being away from the band—from Aegon, from Aemond—is impossible, unbelievable, horrifying. You’re humming something as you crawl into bed. You don’t even realize what song it is until you’re under the covers and sinking into sleep: The Man Who Can’t Be Moved.

You’re only asleep for ten or fifteen minutes. When you wake your eyes are watery and you can’t remember your dream—you almost never can—but you know that Aemond was there. Now he’s here in your room as well. He’s gently stroking your cheeks, your forehead, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he’s murmuring, only a silhouette in the darkness. But you would recognize him anywhere. “You had a nightmare. You were crying, I heard you.”

“Were you lurking outside my door or what?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he asks: “What were you dreaming about?”

“You.”

And when you reach for him, he meets you without hesitation, his hands in your hair and his lips on yours, blankets thrown aside, his weight between your thighs, your fingertips ghosting against his face, reading his past and future like braille. He bites your lower lip, nips at the curve of your jaw, kisses a path down your throat like the contrail of an airplane. You yank off his t-shirt. He lifts away yours. He’s touching you everywhere, fingers beneath your pajama pants, smothering his moans against your neck so no one else will hear.

He whispers breathlessly: “I don’t want to rush this time.”

“I’m yours for as long as you want me.” Forever, I hope. And then: “Can I turn on the light? I want to see you.”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. And then he reaches out to click the lamp on. The nightstand is cluttered with your souvenirs: refrigerator magnets, snow globes, figurines, cosmetics, snacks, crochet celestial objects, the frisbee from New Jersey, your plushie sika deer nestled together with the hammerhead shark from the aquarium at the Mandalay Bay. In the weak golden lamplight, you study Aemond like a painting, a marble statue, a comet you’ll only see once in a lifetime.

You say, softly like a prayer if you believed in such things: “You are so fucking beautiful.”

He doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to see you too. Your clothes are gone, every scrap of fabric and concealment; if he is cognizant of any minuscule changes in your body, he is not suspicious of them. Now he is bare for you as well, now he is pushing your thighs apart so he can marvel at you, taste you, drench his mouth and chin in your wetness, bring you to the edge of a cliff with no bottom, no rocks to rupture against. Now he is inside you, tremendously big but also careful, listening to you, watching every line of your face, slowly, so exquisitely slowly, his tongue darting between your lips and his palm against your cheek. And you remember how Aegon felt—always so simple and yet transient, soothing and welcome but never necessary—and Aemond could not be further from that. Nothing about what you have with him is simple. It is profound and intense and singular, and the thought of it not lasting forever is agony.

Afterwards, he retrieves his vintage metal lighter—small, square, Targaryen etched into one side—and a shimmery gold pack of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes out of the pocket of his pajama pants that are crumpled on the floor. He lies on his back and takes deep, drowsy drags, smoke like opaque morning mist in the air, one arm draped across you as you rest your head on his chest, lungs and heart and bones and blood.

Secondhand smoke isn’t good for the baby. You get up out of bed and sneak across the treacherously creaky hardwood floor. “Let me open a window.”

“So your parents won’t know?”

“Yeah.” You push the window open and then turn to him. “You should stop smoking. It’s really bad for you.”

Aemond smiles faintly. “Why would I care about that?”

“It’s bad for the people who love you too.”

He looks at you for what feels like a very long time. “Come back,” he says at last.

You do: to Aemond, to his warmth and lust and tenderness, to the space he occupies that will soon be empty like the vast expanses between comets, between stars.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I would like to say something.” You rise from your seat at your parents’ long dining room table, perfect for hosting judgmental-church-people gatherings and family reunions. Lunch for Comet Donati is steak and baked potatoes, lovingly prepared by your mom just before she and your dad left in their Ford F-150. It’s Sunday, and your parents will be at church socializing with their friends until late afternoon. Aemond is suffering through another meal of boxed spaghetti and Ragu marinara sauce. He doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite; not for food, anyway. You take turns glancing at each other and then looking away, smiling, flushing. Now he is intrigued by your announcement. His brow knits into thoughtful little grooves. The Australian cattle dogs scuttle around under the table for scraps. The television is on in the den. A tornado watch has been issued for the greater Kansas City area; no big deal, they get alerts like this once or twice a week here sometimes. It rarely amounts to carnage. Outside the sky is a tumultuous grey but not especially sinister at the moment: no greenish hue, no cloud rotation.

“You agree that Aegon hooking up with Taylor Swift would be disastrous for everyone involved,” Jace jokes.

“No, I know what it is,” Aegon says. He pokes at his baked potato with his fork, melancholy.

“I want to thank you for giving me this amazing opportunity,” you tell Comet. You have perhaps not dressed for an occasion of this significance: flip flops, a tie-dye One Direction hoodie, an old pair of shorts you found in your bedroom dresser. You like the way Aemond watches you when you wear them. “And I’ve experienced so many things, and learned so much from all of you, and I sincerely hope that we’re going to be in each other’s lives forever. But for right now…for this tour…Kansas City is my last stop with Comet.”

“What?!” Baela cries.

“No!” Rhaena gasps, her dark doe-like eyes glistening.

People are asking you why, people are asking you to reconsider. Aemond only stares, a sharp hostile look, menacing like storm clouds.

“I really, really appreciate everyone’s concern. But it’s been over three months, and this was never intended to be a permanent arrangement. Right, Aegon?”

“Right,” he reluctantly agrees.

“And it’s time for me to figure out what the rest of my life is going to look like, because I can’t just follow Comet around the world forever.”

Cregan nods to Criston. “Did you know about this?”

“I did, yeah,” Criston confesses. “We finished up the paperwork last week.”

“But we’re going to miss you,” Baela says. She sounds shockingly close to tears. Jace tries to soothe her and she shrugs his hand away.

“I know,” you concede. “And I’m going to miss you too. But we’ll still talk all the time, and I’m always willing to help you guys with anything, and maybe in the future I can visit—”

Aemond stands, his chair squealing against the hardwood floor, and flees from the dining room.

“That went well,” Jace says.

Aegon points towards the doorway Aemond left through and asks you: “Do you want me to…?”

“No, I’ll do it,” you say, and go after Aemond. He’s outside by the pigpen, his hair and t-shirt whipping wildly in the strengthening gusts of late-September air. Sparse raindrops fall from the sky. The pigs are agitated, pacing, oinking, scampering in and out of the shed they have for shelter. Aemond is smoking, embers glowing on the end of his cigarette; you purposefully stand upwind from him.

His voice is stunned and dazed and beneath that dangerously angry. “You’re leaving the tour.”

“Yes.”

“When we get on that jet tomorrow, you’re not going with us.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And you told Aegon and Criston but you didn’t tell me.”

“I had to tell Criston. And Aegon…” What can I say? What is the truth? “Aegon is easier to talk to about things like this.”

“So you feel like you can’t talk to me?” Aemond demands.

“Well, yeah, because sometimes you’re kind and patient and the single most incredible man I’ve ever met, and then something rattles your demons awake and you’re this…this…this vengeful, mistrustful, irrationally insecure person, and I can’t do anything right because you’ve already decided what my intentions are.”

“I want you to stay with Comet,” he says suddenly.

“I can’t, Aemond.”

“In Tokyo you asked me what I want, so now I’m telling you. I want you to stay.”

“Why, so you can sometimes love me and sometimes hate me, and refuse to build a new life for yourself, and relive what happened at the Budokan over and over and over again because that’s the background noise of everything you do now? Why?”

He gestures vaguely. “So we can figure things out.”

“I’m figured out, Aemond! You’re the one who isn’t and I can’t help you anymore, you have to do it for yourself, you have to want it!”

“You’ve never wanted to stay with me. You’re a liar, you’re a user. I’m glad Comet could fill that gap in your resume.” He takes a forceful drag and exhales smoke that the wind snatches away. “All you do is keep things from me.”

Venomous, violent disappointment blooms dark and scarlet in your veins. “You have no idea how much I’ve kept from you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You watch him, mourn him, commit him to memory for when you can’t see him anymore, every thread of him, miraculous and doomed. Saint Jude, you think, a man your parents as good Southern Baptists do not pray to. You tell Aemond: “You’re a lost cause.”

“And you’re a nobody.”

You turn away from him like ripping a page in two. You don’t want anyone to see the tears welling up in your eyes, escaping down your cheeks, marking you as someone who was weak enough to believe you could save him. You know that’s not the way it works, you know people have to be willing to accept the truths you help them uncover like prehistoric bones. Still, you believed in him. Why? Why?

Because I wanted to. Because I love him.

Your flip flops pound against the soil of the driveway, raindrops leaving spots like freckles, dust flying everywhere. You swipe at the tears that blur your vision. When you are far enough away that nobody can see you from the farmhouse, you rest your trembling hands on your belly. The life in progress there is half-built of Aemond, you carry pieces of him around with you like coins jangling in you pocket. You can’t forget him. You can’t forgive him. It shouldn’t be possible to be so close to somebody and yet so far away.

There’s no one out on Route 210. Your flip flops cross from a dirt road to black pavement. You lose track of how long you’ve been walking. Five minutes, ten minutes, it doesn’t matter. What are minutes when your mind is years away?

How will I keep Aegon in my life without tabloids finding out about the baby? What will I tell my child when they ask who their father is?

A vicious wind, so strong it snaps branches from trees and almost knocks you over. And then you hear it, that sound that every inhabitant of the Lower Midwest knows: a deep rumbling like a train. You peer up into a sky that is dark and murderous and glowing a strange sickly green. And above your head, spiraling with increasing speed: a funnel cloud, an emergent tornado.

~~~~~~~~~~

Criston is herding everyone towards the cellar, bellowing, waving frantically: Aegon, Luke, Rhaena, Jace, Baela, Cregan, Daeron, five yelping Australian cattle dogs. Through the window, they can see the tornado approaching the farmhouse, a column of shadowy atmospheric fury, unpredictable and unstoppable, here and then gone, the meteorological version of a comet.

Aemond slams the door as he sprints inside from the field behind the house. He breaths heavily, his chest heaving as his clear right eye studies the band’s panicked faces. “Where is she?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘where is she’?!” Aegon pitches back. “She was with you! She’s with you, right?!”

Aemond looks at Aegon, looks through the glass at the tornado, grabs the keys to his 1960 Gold Star off the dining room table.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re running, but you can’t see; there’s dust and debris everywhere, there are pieces of trees and fences careening through the air, when you breath you choke on airborne earth. The wind keeps pushing you off the road and then you have to fight your way back. You have to find your parents’ driveway. You have to get to the house. The sun is gone, and the roaring like a freight train is louder, louder, louder. And now there is another sound too, a different sort of growling, mechanical and familiar. Punching through the haze like a bullet, Aemond and his Gold Star screech to a stop beside you.

“Get on!” he screams over the storm, then helps drag you onto the seat behind him. You link your arms around his waist and then you’re flying together, just like Rome, just like before Reykjavik or Paris or Singapore or Tokyo or East Rutherford or Las Vegas or any of the other cities happened, back when you believed you could cure him like a witch with a spell, back when you wanted him in a way that was unburdened by truths you wish you didn’t know.

The Gold Star rockets by trees, utility poles, fence posts seconds before they are ripped from the ground by 200 miles per hour winds. Aemond steers roughly onto the dirt road of your parents’ driveway. You cling to him, breathing him in: smoke, cologne, memories, nightmares, dreams. In the rearview mirror is a maelstrom of dark, churning grey peppered with wreckage.

Something collides with the motorcycle, a pence post, a tree limb, you don’t know, it doesn’t matter. The Gold Star is knocked off the driveway like a bloodied tooth from a jaw. You sail off of it as it begins to roll; you hit the ground hard on your back, loose a pitiful wounded howl, try to start crawling towards the farmhouse.

“No, stay down, stay down!” Aemond is saying over the roar of the tornado. He covers you, he shields you, he pins you to the ground, he puts his hands over your eyes. The last thing you see is the Gold Star lying on its side a few yards away, its wheels still rotating. It’s over 400 pounds, too heavy for Aemond to lift even if you helped him, even if that couldn’t hurt the baby.

The baby?? Your own hands go to your belly. You try to ascertain if the heat throbbing in your back has traveled anywhere else, reached with blood-red, needle-sharp talons to your child, to your future.

The wind is letting up; is that your imagination? No, the tornado is receding, the debris fall to the earth, the deafening runaway train made of rogue air evaporates. Cautiously, Aemond rises from you. When you look at him, the right side of his face is riddled with shallow, bleeding gashes; but his eye is mercifully unharmed.

“Aemond,” you say, pained, reaching for him, trying to clean the blood from his face with your sleeves, a hoodie with some boy band on it, men you don’t know and don’t care to meet, fantasies that pale in comparison to the reality that stains you like rust.

“I’m fine, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so…”

They come stampeding down the driveway: Criston, the rest of Comet, the barking Australian cattle dogs.

“Oh my God, they’re alive!” Jace exclaims, and soon everyone is there, surrounding you and Aemond like a circle, a ring, an orbit, something that goes around and around and might fade but never ends.

You aren’t worried about the baby. There’s no cramping, no pain except the throbbing in the curve of your back, blood loosed and then trapped, indigo bruises tattooed under your skin like ink. You press your palms to the earth and brace yourself so you can stand. No one is helping you get up; why is no one helping you? Why are they only staring, gasping, covering their mouths with shaking hands?

“You’re bleeding,” Aemond says, a panicked voice through fog. Slowly, like trying to run in a dream, you look down. There are thin rivulets of scarlet snaking their way down your thighs, calves, shins, ankles, painless ruinous tributaries, constellations unraveling until the patterns cease to exist, no myths, no monsters, no men, just senseless pinpricks of distant light you’ll never know the names of.

“No,” you whisper, like you can stop it from happening if you refuse to believe it, like it’s a mistake you can talk yourself out of. You gaze up at Aegon. Knowledge flies between you, something shared like an heirloom or an oath.

“Call an ambulance,” Aegon says to Cregan. “Tell them that she’s…” His eyes dart to Aemond and then back to you. “Tell them to hurry.”

Aemond is holding you, he is touching your face, he is asking: “Are you cut, do you need stitches—?”

“I’m alright, it’s nothing, it’s—”

“What are you talking about?! It’s not nothing, you’re bleeding, why are you bleeding?”

“Aemond, it’s nothing—”

“Tell me what to do, tell me how to help you!”

“It’s just…” And a sob breaks from your throat, and your words are brittle and splintering, and you can’t lie to him anymore. You’re out of time in so many ways. “It’s just the baby.”

[merakiui]

*same anon listening intently and now with a popcorn in hand* Oh my goddd-- PRIZED CHUBBY HUCOW AZUL!!! Aaaaaaa he's super healthy and his tits are always so heavy and full of milk, they jiggle nicely in your hands (And they have boypussy you say???)

( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) Azul milkies......... expensive for everyone else, but for you they are free and will come right from the source (so long as you always love him and give him your attention at every hour). <3 chubby hucow Zuzu who grows up alongside you on the farm and you shower him with affection!!! It would be such a confidence boost. I think he'd grow up with a kinder view of himself and his body if you were constantly affirming that he's so pretty and perfect as he is. :D he'd be far more confident in himself after hearing such sweet truths from you for years of his life. He still gets embarrassed when he leaks through his shirts, though. >_<

Omg omg Azul in heat.......... mooing pathetically while he rubs himself against your thigh, soaking it in his slick. Stuffing your fingers up inside his pussy and watching him squirm, his lashes fluttering against cheeks flushed pink,,,, lying him down on the bed to eat him out!!!!!! Squeezing and grabbing at his soft love handles...... WAAAAAA HE'S SO CUTE!!!!! OTL Azul trying and failing to glare at you when you tease him for leaking so much milk, but it's impossible to keep up any sort of flustered vitriol because of his heat-addled brain and muddled senses. Less talking and more drinking straight from his tits!!!!!

[deepestnightcolor]

PLEASE MORE OF SAM FLUFF PLS PLS PLS

ᴀ/ɴ: Thou ask and thou shall receive!~ Thank you so much for your request, love!

I hope this is okay, I've become quite rusty when it comes to fluff. I hope you enjoy! Also, to everyone suffering of pollen allergies - much strength to you. Blondie is suffering with you.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x GN!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 1373 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None, just fluff!

☾ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ ☽

The warming rays of the spring's sun tickled your nose the moment you stepped out of your farm house. Spring was about halfway over, but still in its complete beauty.

You looked at your fields with a content look in your eyes. The seeds you had spread over the tilled ground had stretched out their green leaves, some of them would soon be ready to harvest, would need nothing more but a bit more of the tender sun and the water that was coating their complex beauty from the sprinkler already running this morning.

Butterflies were dancing through the air that was drenched in the sweet aroma of nature coming to life and blooming in its bright, cheerful colors, breezes of gentle wind wafting the scent towards you coaxing you to step forward.

A glance to your right made you see that your cows and chickens had found their ways outside by now, hungry mouths and beaks tugging at stems of grass that carried a lush green colour. The bursts of rain that had fallen on the Valley the last few days had done nature a favor, you thought, a smile on your lips.

You picked up the bucket you had brought outside with you, making your way over to their pasture.

"Good morning, ladies," you called out, chuckling as a chorus of moos greeting you in return. Betty and Moonalisa looked great today, and it filled you with a sense of pride to know it was your care that made the bond between you so strong. Scratching the cows' heads, you chatted quietly to them. Told them what had happened to you yesterday. You had seen Sam, you told them. He had taken you out on a date, and you still felt the giddiness of the last night rush through your veins.

Even as you were milking them you chattered about the blond, the twitch of spotted ears giving you the feeling of being listened to by your friends. When the bucket was full, you gave each cow a small treat as you thanked them, bringing the bucket to the shed to fill it in the machine that would make it become cheese in a matter of hours.

It didn't take long for you to enter the coop, greeting Julie and Lana with the same excitement you had done with the cows. You ran your fingers through the soft feathers, listening to the cluckering as the two hens picked at the ground. "You are very pretty today," you told them with a nod, "did you do something with your feathers?"

Cluckering sounds answering you made you chuckle.

Once you had allowed Sam to follow your morning routine because he had woken up as early as you had, and your boyfriend had watched you with an amused smirk on his face. When you had asked him why he looked at you like that, all he gave you was the shrug of his shoulders.

"It's cute how you treat your animals. Makes me appreciate you more, y'know? Shows you care."

He had kissed your head and crouched down to tell one of your hens that her eyes were gorgeous, and the other that she walked with great grace. The compliments seemed so genuine, so warm, they didn't leave you a choice but to kiss Sam right then and there, because you knew you could trust him. Even with silly little things like talking to your animals in front of him.

"I'll check on you again tonight!" You called towards them, your hands filled with the two large eggs you had found in the coop. After putting them in their respective machines, you decided to make your way to town. You had some ggeodes you wanted Clint to break open, and maybe you could visit Sam with a pizza for lunch.

However, the sound of someone sneezing made you raise your brow. That had been a loud sneeze.

You pushed your hands in the pockets of your overall, holding onto the fabric as you tilted your head. Waited. Maybe it was one of your animals? You had heard Moonalisa sneeze once, it had been louder than you would have ever guessed. Or you had just-

ACHOO.

Okay, you had definitely not imagined that, but it hadn't come from behind you, either. With your face still scrunched up in confusion, you walked towards town, perhaps you would find the sneezer there?

But you didn't even have to go so far, because looking to your right, you saw a mess of blond hair and a familiar blue jacket.

Your boyfriend stood hunched over in the field of lowers near the bus stop. A small bouquet was already in his right hand, the other traced through the tender sea of pedals and leaves. "S-"

ACHOO.

The sneeze shook the man's whole body, making him groan out loud. "Fuckin' allergies," his voice grumbled, but it sounded strained. Probably from all the sneezing he had been suffering through.

"I like you, you flowery pieces of death, why can't you fuckin' like me back?"

"Maybe they don't like you plucking them?" You joked, making the blond twirl around to look at you.

His eyes were teary and red, his nose was red, and he seemed defeated. However, a smile spread on his face just a few seconds later.

"Can't be it, they try to kill me even if I don't pluck them," he laughed, leaning down and picking up another flower, tenderly adding it to the bouquet. You watched him, biting down on your lower lip. "Just out of curiosity, why are you in a field of things that kick off your allergy?"

Sam gave you a sheepish grin, mouth open to answer your very valid question, though the sneeze that tore through him was faster. A groan left his mouth as he grimaced, rubbing his eyes and then his nose, only to realize what he had just done. The pollen on his hand led to another sneezing fit. You reached out your hand and slowly pulled him away from the flowers, pulling out some tissues to dab at his teary eyes carefully.

"Because of the tradition," he answered when his breathing seemingly had steadied. "Tradition? What tradition?"

Again, your boyfriend carried this sheepish look on his face.

"That when you wanna date someone, you give them a bouquet."

You looked up at him, your eyebrow lifting in a slight arch. "But...we are dating, aren't we? 3rd of winter. That's when we got together."

Sam nodded and gave you another grin, this time, it was almost shy.

"But I didn't give you a bouquet." It wasn't an explanation. It was a matter of fact, at least that's how it sounded when he said it.

You couldn't help yourself, you never really could around Sam. Around him, your reactions were real. Raw. You laughed and gripped his face carefully, kissing the swollen nose just as gently as you did it affectionately.

"But Pierre sells them, Sam! You didn't have to trigger such a big allergic reaction for me," you whispered, and now it was Sam that rose his brow.

"Those are ugly ass flowers in that bouquet," he began, puffing out his chest, "and who the hell knows how long our dude Pierre has kept those flowers in a random ass drawer, keeping them alive with whatever witchery he has up that ugly sweater sleeve? Nope, no chance, my babe only gets the best- ACHOO."

Sam let out another groan, slowly holding the flowers towards you. "But..I'd be thankful if you took them off my hands...you know. I think you look prettier with them than I ever could, anyway."

You cooed as you looked at your beaten by allergies boyfriend, taking the bouquet and kissing his lips gently. "Yes, Sam," you whispered against them after a moment.

Sam, distracted by the affection inflicted on his lips, looked at you in confusion. "Yes what?"

You grinned, intertwined your fingers. "Yes, I accept the bouquet. Can't let my boyfriend die and then not accept the bouquet now, can I?"

Your boyfriend, now back on track, smiled, pressing a large hand to his chest. "That would have been more cruel than the pollen in spring."

[catladyoftheyr]

Too Sweet Ch. 4

Ch: (1) (2) (3)

Harvey x Gn reader

Summary: you stumble upon Harvey leaving Caroline’s dance aerobics class and startle him. He accidentally drops his dumbbells on your foot and has to patch you up <3

Word count: 1.6

A/n: vhs because in my heart stardew is set in the 90s. Also he can lift you because his dance aerobics class is WORKING OKAY lmaooo I just thought it was cute 🥰

You woke up groggy, regretting the decision to pack light when you moved to the Valley. You missed your coffee maker. You desperately wanted to roll over, to pull the sheets back over your head and sleep for just 5 more minutes. But you knew yourself well enough that 5 minutes would turn into 20. You had animals to feed and crops to tend to. You dragged yourself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes before sliding your feet into your work shoes. Getting dressed could wait, you decided.

The summer air was muggy and you knew that sooner rather than later your clothes would start to stick and your hair would start to frizz. You let the animals out to graze and deftly avoided stepping on any chickens while you made your way over to the new barn you'd commissioned from Robin. A small calf poked her head out of the barn door and mooed. “Good morning to you too, Daisy.” You gave her a gentle pet on the head and she nuzzled back affectionately.

The barn and the calf had drained the last of your money. You’d have to sell directly to Pierre today if you wanted cash to buy any more seeds. You dressed for the day and headed back outside to assess what you could sell. You’d managed to craft some rudimentary sprinklers after finding a book full of blueprints your grandfather had left behind. It saved watering time, but you still had to harvest everything manually. You arranged a large basket full of everything you could part with before heading into town.

The bell on the door rang as you walked into the general store. Pierre greeted you as you set the large basket on the counter. “You’re selling today?”

“I need more seeds and tomorrow’s Wednesday.” It wasn’t technically a lie. You just omitted the fact that you were flat broke as well.

“Well I’m happy to help out. It’ll be great to have some fresh from the farm produce to offer.” Pierre took his time examining the goods you’d brought, carefully placing each item on the counter and punching numbers into his calculator. You made idle chit chat as the women from Caroline’s dance aerobics class began to file out into the store. You told Marnie that the calf was settling in just fine, thanked Robin again for her hard work on your barn. Emily told you what she was getting Gus for his birthday and overheard Jodi ask Caroline what she should make for dinner. You heard Pierre announce your total and you exchanged most of your meager earnings for seeds, pocketing the rest. You were turning to leave when you saw one more person enter the store from the house. Was that…. Harvey?

You rubbed your eyes thinking you might have made a mistake, but this town was small and that was definitely the local doctor standing there. He held a pair of small dumbbells, and you noticed sweatbands on his wrists and forehead. He wore a pair of small shorts and a t-shirt boasting what you assumed was his alma mater. You walked over to say hello and tapped him playfully on the shoulder. Harvey spun around, seemingly frightened by the unexpected touch. He dropped the dumbbells in surprise and you felt them land directly on your foot. You swore and jumped back, hopping on your good foot.

“I’m so sorry!” You both shouted in unison, apologizing to the other for different things. “I didn’t mean to startle you-“

“Your foot!”

“I think it’s okay really. I should head home.”

“You should let me examine it. The clinic is next door.” Harvey’s face displayed genuine concern, and you were secretly worried that your foot was broken. You relented, hoping the injury wasn’t going to impact your farm work. You turned around to head outside and winced as soon as you put pressure on the bad foot. You inhaled sharply and tried to find a way to walk. Harvey took notice of your efforts and wrapped one arm around your waist while draping one of yours across his shoulders. “Let me help you.”

You’d never been this close. You felt your face flush and hoped he wouldn’t notice. The act of chivalry seemed to come so naturally to him. You made your way to the clinic slowly, relishing the feeling of his arm on your waist. Harvey helped you through the doors of the clinic, allowing you to sit down on a bench in his waiting room. “Thank you” you whispered as you adjusted your positioning.

“It’s the least I could do. I can’t apologize enough for what happened. Now let’s take a look.” Harvey was especially gentle as he knelt in front of you; He unlaced your shoes, sliding off the sock of the injured foot. He pursed his lips as he examined you.

“I’m sorry I startled you. I just wasn’t expecting to see you today; at least not in Caroline’s group.”

“You need to stop apologizing.” Harvey fell silent for a moment, contemplating his next words. “I joined as a way to try and stay active. I’m not as young as I once was; it’s getting harder to stay In shape.” His face had a hint of flush to it as he spoke. You wouldn’t dream of saying it, but you found it incredibly endearing. You also couldn’t help but let your eyes wander. Harvey typically wore slacks and blazers. You trailed your vision down the lines of his arms and imagined running your fingers over the veins. His legs had a considerable amount of hair and you traced it as it disappeared under the hem of his shorts. His physique reminded you of someone’s dad, you could picture him wearing socks and sandals and denim shorts while he stood behind a grill.

“I think it’s nice that you’re making the decision to do what’s healthy. And all the women in that group are really nice. Caroline gives me some tea leaves from the bushes in her sunroom. You picked good friends.”

“Thank you. Can you promise me you won’t tell anyone else, though? Word spreads fast in small towns. I’m not ready for everyone to know about this.” His face flushed deeper, a clear shade of red now.

“I promise.” You extended your arm toward him and stuck out the pinky on your hand. “I pinky swear it.” Harvey chuckled and smiled at you before hooking his own pinky in yours and shaking hands.

Turning his focus back to your door he frowned as he felt around it gently. Even the soft touches hurt and you hissed quietly when he hit an especially sore spot. He prompted you through rotations and flexes before rising to his feet. “The good news is it’s not broken. But it’s bruised pretty badly. The swelling should go down significantly in a couple hours and you should be able to work on it tomorrow. But you need to stay off it for the rest of the day if you want it to heal. I’ll wrap it for you in a second, but you should probably ice and elevate it as well.”

The doctor disappeared behind the doors and you heard the sounds of drawers and cupboards opening and closing. You sighed and shook your head while you tried to stop the montage of scenes from today from replaying in your mind. Images of Harvey in athletic shorts, his smile as he linked pinkies, how his hands felt on you, and the look on his face when he saw you in Pierre’s swirled around your brain. Your daydreams were interrupted when Harvey emerged holding materials to wrap your foot. He worked deftly, the years of experience showing as he wrapped the fabric around you in record time. He let out a small sigh as he finished.

“You’re all set. However as your doctor I am strongly recommending that you don’t try to walk home on that foot yet. You could delay your recovery and risk further damage. Now as your friend, I’m proposing that you can come upstairs and watch a movie to stay off your feet.”

“I don’t think I can climb the stairs…”

“Leave it to me” Harvey leaned forward and swept you into his arms in one smooth motion, holding you bridal style. You gasped as your legs dangled in the air and giggled as he began to ascend the stairs carrying you. You leaned in closer, seizing the opportunity to press yourself against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he finagled the door to his apartment open. You breathed in deeply through your nose, trying to hold onto his scent before he set you down on his couch. He pulled his coffee table closer to the couch to allow you to rest and elevate your foot.

The doctor strode to a shelf near the tv that held an extensive collection of VHS tapes. He hummed as he browsed through the titles before selecting one. He popped the tape into the VCR. He settled onto the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel the fabric of his t-shirt against your arm. The movie was in black and white, definitely a classic. “I put in The Zuzu City Express. It’s one of my favorites” Harvey explained almost sheepishly. You hadn’t picked him as a film buff.

You tried to focus on the film, but the truth is you were exhausted from the stressful day. Harvey’s arm was draped across the back of the couch. You let your head fall onto his shoulder. He made no effort to move you, no indication that the action was unwanted. You relaxed and a yawn escaped. Your eyelids grew heavier as you tried harder to pay attention to the movie. Harvey’s arm moved to rest across the back of your neck, his hand falling on your shoulder as you drifted off.

[frogchiro]

Ok so about cow!reader and soap i wanted to get into bit more detail

Bull!Soap is mounting cow!reader all day because he could smell her hea was getting close he was following her around all day and kept messing with her until farmer!price had to step in and took reader away

Bull!Soap is so cheeky!! He has no shame at all and may seem like a bit of an airhead, more muscles than brains but he's stupidly brave and cunning in his own way, an example of this is when he managed to break through into your pasture one sunny day😭

How he did it no one really knows but all Soap cares about is finding you!! He could smell you from far away, your sweet scent tinged with a more heavy note-you were near your heat! A perfect time for him to finally get to you and breed you so that way Price won't take you away from him since you will be a mated pair with a baby, it's a genius plan!!

When he finally finds you he swears he hears angels singing; you're laid out like a meal on the soft grass, the sun giving your soft skin and fluffy coat an etheral glow as you lay calm and happy among tiny white flowers and only move when you hear Johnny call out to you and you moo softly back.

You shift a bit from your position and prop yourself up on your elbow as you watch the large bull approach you, his heady musky scent making your pussy clench and ache and you curse softly; Soap's your friend but your incoming heat is clouding your mind and the quick thought of being mounted by one of the strong bulls here on the farm comes and goes in the blink of an eye and leaves you flustered, your tail lashing behind you.

Soaps smirks at your form, much more twitchy and fidgety than before and from then on it's game on for him. For the rest of the day he'll be flexing and preening before you, showing off like crazy and scenting you even more, releasing as much of his musky scent as possible to push you over the edge and get you into heat, he's so so ready to mate :(( He'll be nuzzling against you insistently, desperately wanting you to present yourself and smell like him, draping himself over your back and trying to hump you, listening to your whines and soft moos as he tries to fit the tip of his cock inside your aching cunt but in his desperate state he always misses making his cock slide over your swollen lower lips and smearing his seed all over you.

By afternoon you basically won't be able to get him off of you, being on the brink of your heat clouding your head and almost sending Soap into an early rut but he still can't seem to get inside you :(( Your hole just seems too tight and slippery with slick making his cock slide over it and only just managing to hump you, your poor pussy and lower tummy covered with his seed but none of it inside you where he wants :((

Just when Soap was starting to get angry with impatience and desperation, his need to breed overtaking any rational thought he was suddenly pulled back roughly by his horns by and even angrier Price who was basically fuming. How the fuck did this even happen? How did Soap manage to get into your pasture in the first place?? But Price guessed it didn't really matter at that point, his main priority was getting you safely to your private pen/stable to get you safe and comfortable with your heat and send Soap back into his shared barn with the other bulls and punish him to hell and back. He'll have to do a pussy inspection on you now too to make sure Soap didn't stuff you full with his seed but that's more of a pleasure for John than a chore <3

[melon-cream-enmu]

Hhhh…hucow reader being a new cow belle at the farm, and Tengen, Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma really take a liking to you! The girls love you, when you’re sent back to the stables every night they want to come with you, sleep with you for the night. Uzui wouldn’t be allowed, because bulls and belles are to remain separated, but he’s a mated ‘pair’ with the three girls, and they have their own separate abode.

Reader starts her heat much too early and it riles everyone up, all the animals of the farm in fact. The farm hands are scrambling to calm them, and in the commotion have neglected checking on the uzui’s barn, and when they finally do, the girls are visibly distressed. But their bull is missing….

Fearing the worst, the farmhands rush to your stables, where they’d evacuated everyone from earlier that morning. The girls follow, knowing exactly what’s up. They were so distressed because they wanted to see you! They wanted to get to love on you too but it was better for Tengen to sneak out alone. But they love what they see

Tengen, holding you up, full nelson and pounding into you roughly, so roughly his balls slap your plush mound. You, crying out and whimpering and letting out sweet ‘moo’s, tummy jostling from the force, thighs rippling, breasts bouncing. Every thrust forces out dribbles of cum, they can see you squirting from where they stare enthralled at the barn doors, alongside an absolutely stunned farm hand.

They promptly slide and slam the door shut, but the girls give them quite the angry look, so they open the door once more, shoving the three inside, before slamming it again and booking it back to the house. They warn everyone to stay away from the stables. House the cows elsewhere in the mean time.

The girls are so happy to see you taking Tengen so well! You’re perfect! And you respond so well to their pampering (and touching) when you’re too fucked out to go on. Suma is shy but antsy to give you a kiss, and when she plants a quick peck on your soft lips you give cute sleepy smile.

They help you move into their barn as soon as they can. They want to spend your heat together after all~

[r0-boat]

Since requests are open maybe Bull Guzma stuff? Sfw/nsfw works,

This ask made me realize I never actually wrote headcanons for Guzbull.

Bull farm Guzma

Sfw

Before he came to the farm, he was the leader of his own hea

rd of wild bull men that would cause massive trouble to the nearby towns. Even taking over an entire Village at one point.

This group of Monsters has since disbanded after a nameless farmhand successfully overthrew their leader. they say the leader of this Troublesome heard has retired the same Farm after he fell for the farmhand.

He calls members of his old herd The Boys. They gather together in the abandoned Barn every Friday night for some human poker or sparring.

Guzma is a valuable member of the farm hand protection Squad. he is a lot bigger than most Bulls so they tend to stay away. Guzma is a brutal bull to work with. Your boss even admits that he has a hard time with Guzma, but with you, he seems so gentle and sweet; you see how he had butts and spars with other bull men/cows but with you he treats you like glass.

Guzma doesn't seem to want from you when he follows you around, in fact the slightest touch from your soft hand has his face turning red as he grumbles about how you treat him like a baby, he argues and protests with every touch or compliment you give him but his eyes seem to gleam when he sees you smile.

Guzma doesn't talk to you much he just sits there and watches you work, but oh boy does he talk all about you to his Boys. He cannot shut up about you.

Guzma is old school; to claim someone as a mate, you must prove your strength and fight off suitors.

Guzma has a hard time explaining his emotions with words or displays of affection

Nsfw

Guzma it's just as gentle with you in bed as he is with you normally, in fact maybe even more gentle.

He just loves how big he is compared to you, humans are more fragile than Bulls one wrong move and he could break you, your body Underneath Him nuzzling into his arms wrapping your legs around him, the warm heat of your sex just inches below his. The thought alone makes his cock pulsate.

Even though he wants to drill you into the ground until you become nothing but a cum drunk whore, he knows he could never harm you. however he folds easily at your begging and your whimpering. Growling mooing and clawing as he pounds into your tight human hole.

Guzma hates being milked by hand or by machine; he'd rather feel the ache of his balls being full than feel something that isn't your hole or spilling all over you.

With a wide smirk, he takes you in your own bed, the bed creaking underneath his weight, caring little of what the farmer, your boss, would think, claiming you like a beast, covering you in his scent and Seed, emptying his balls deep inside of you

Nothing drives him more crazy than when you grab his horns, even keeps them nice and clean for your hands to grab and tug.

He practically creams when he feels your teeth sink into his shoulder, you marked them as your mate, your mate, he's going crazy speeding up his thrusts marking you back.

But nothing beats when you ride him, cute tiny farmhand human, hands where they belong on his Ivory horns, drool dripping from his mouth as he grips the grass, humping and bugging up into you every time you slam back down onto his hips, his gray eyes clouded with lust as he encourages you to milk him more.

[libraryofloveletters]

Moo-ry Christmas

Erling Haaland x Fem!Reader

Warnings: so much snow, erling is an overgrown kid, farmer erling, baby cows in hats!!, erling thinks you're crazy and you think he's crazy too, #hater for a moment lmao

Word Count: 482

Author's Note: is it even me if I don't write erling on the farm?? okay hush, look at the cute cow and don't complain.

--

Erling insists that Santa has to get cookies and milk for his journey to Norway. Now where you got that milk? Erling the Farmer was on the job. 

Norway was home for your boyfriend, the cold and the snow welcomed you.

As you did more times you were in Norway, you were on the farm. Erling's family would be joining you tomorrow but the two of you wanted some alone time so you were up there, playing house.

Your boyfriend insisted you baked cookies for Santa - Santa being him. He'd sneak out of bed at 4am for a cookie, thinking you didn't notice the 6'4 Norwegian missing from bed.

"We need milk," you shout to him from the kitchen, shutting the fridge door. You weren't expecting him to be right there when you shut the door, your hand to your chest. "God! You scared me!" You smack him, the man laughed.

"No milk?" He asked, checking the fridge as if you hadn't just said and did the same thing.

You roll your eyes, "yes Erling, no milk."

He nods to himself, "I got it."

"You're gonna go to the store? It's snowing pretty bad out."

"Babe," he looked at you, an obvious look on his face as he waved his hands around. "We're on the farm. I'm just gonna go get some milk."

"Oh," you say, Erling walks to the front door and you switch off the oven as you take the cookies out. "Wait for me!" You run after your boyfriend.

You and Erling were in the barn, it took him a second glance to confirm that he was seeing right. "Why are the calves.. wearing hats?" He looks at you.

"Uh.." your lips pressed together. "So, uh, I figured they'd get cold so I knitted them hats!"

Erling laughs, smiling at your sweetness. "When did you even make these?"

"Well, I get bored when you're playing. A girl can only watch a football match so many times."

"Did you knit me something?" He asks, walking over to the pen where the calves' mother was. "No," you tell him, fixing the hat on the little brown cow.

"Are you serious?" He shouts, you run over to see what was wrong. Erling points to the cow, "you knitted her a scarf and a hat? And nothing for me?"

Your lips pressed together, giggling. "I couldn't leave their mama out, they would be rube. Sorry baby, next time I'll knit one for you and your big head too."

Erling twists his face, sitting on his stool as he sets his bucket up. You leave him with the cow, going back to the pen with the claves, feeding them as you waited on your boyfriend.

The two of you head back to the house, Erling locked up the barn. He was giving you the silent treatment.

"What?" you asked him, holding onto his arm.

"I can't believe you knitted them hats." He huffs, making you smile. "Baby, you're just hating that because I didn't knit you a hat for your big head."

[punishedwilson]

Plunder the towns and plunder the farms and plunder the houses and plunder the virgins and plunder the hospitals and plunder the doctors and plunder the stores and plunder the shops, plunder the markets and plunder the cops. Plunder the fields in which i sleep. Plunder the mountains and all of the sheep. Plunder the sky, the forestgrove too, plunder the creeks and the cows that go moo. Plunder my heart that bleeds which is red. Plunder sweet wilson before he goes to bed.

[callsignfate]

rustic charm

Day Seventeen of Writemas/Birthday posts!

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here

TW: None? If I've missed any let me know!

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡ Kate needed a break from the city and its people. The endless buildings and standard scenery were boring her. After a friend of a friend mentioned they had a place for her to enjoy the countryside, that's exactly what she did.

The car's tires crackled and dug into the rocks and dirt as she pulled into the driveway, driving slowly down it as she saw cows starting to walk towards the fence she was driving next to, mooing loudly.

She stopped at a big red house that sat in the back of the property. An older man patted what Kate assumed was his daughter on the shoulder and said something before he and the woman next to him climbed into a truck and left as Kate parked.

She stepped out, slapped in the face by the smell of cow manure piled nearby. Her face contorted into a small expression of disgust as you walked up to her.

"Welcome, darlin'. I heard you were the city girl coming to help on the farm?" You asked, trying to stifle a laugh at her face of disgust from the smell. "It's manure day; people are coming to collect it for their fields," you added with a smile as you put your hand out to shake hers.

"Nice to meet you. I'll be showin' you around the place and teachin' you how to do the farm chores," you added before she took your hand.

"Nice to meet you too," Kate muttered with a polite smile until she jumped slightly as she felt a wet, cold sensation on her exposed ankle.

"Oh, that's wee Lass, call her Lassie. Go on, git'," you said swatting the air slightly before she ran back towards the field. "She's good, just nosey. Let's grab your bags, and you'll be staying in the room next to mine," you said as you opened the car's trunk and started grabbing the bags as you spoke.

"Oh, you don't have to—I've got it," Kate said, trying to help you grab her bags.

"Oh, it's alright, darlin'. Let's get inside before all of the cows come runnin' over; they get loud when they want attention," you said with a small laugh before you easily carried the bags to the house.

"Thank you," Kate said, noticing how easily you carried the bags, how willing you were to help, and how sweet you were to her right away.

"Hope my car treated you alright; left it at the airport for you last night. Hope the drive wasn't too long, and don't worry about it; these are lighter than the hay bales I throw around," you said with another small laugh. As you led Kate into the house, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief from the city's hustle and bustle. The country air, even with a hint of manure, was a welcome change. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. A mix of rustic charm and modern conveniences made the house feel like a comfortable haven.

"You've got a beautiful place here," Kate remarked, genuinely appreciating the simplicity and authenticity of the farmhouse.

"Ah, thank you, darlin'. It's been in the family for generations. Now, let me show you around," you said, leading her through the cozy living room, where the scent of fresh wood lingered. The walls adorned with family photos told a story of a life rooted in the land.

The kitchen was spacious and well-equipped, and the view from the window revealed the vast greenery stretching out to meet the sky.

As Kate settled into the room next to yours, she took note of the carefully chosen furnishings and the thoughtfulness in every detail. It was evident that you cared for the place deeply. The next morning after Kate fell asleep in the homey feeling space she was shocked to hear soft knocks before she welcomed you in to the room before her eyes glanced out the window to see it was still dark. "Time to get up, cows need some hay, and some feed the chickens need to be let out of the coop, the waterers need to be filled, the ducks need some food, the pig wants his feed and some treats." You listed off the chores as you carried in some overalls, a pair of tall rubber boots, and a thick shirt for her to wear.

"mornin' dear," you greeted her with a cheerful smile as she finally sat up in the bed. "The farm waits for no one, you know? Time to embrace the country routine."

Kate, still half-asleep, nodded in acknowledgment. "Alright, I'm up. But can I just say it's still practically the middle of the night?"

You chuckled. "City time and farm time don't always sync up. But trust me, once you get used to it, you won't mind the early starts. Its already 4:45am, I usually start at 4:00."

With a good-natured grumble, Kate changed into the farm-appropriate attire you provided. The overalls were a bit big on her, but the boots fit perfectly. As she followed you outside into the pre-dawn darkness, the fresh, crisp air invigorated her senses.

The farm was a different world at this hour. The stars still shone brightly, and the moon cast a soft glow over the fields. The sounds of the animals awakening gradually filled the air.

You demonstrated each chore patiently, explaining the routine of caring for the animals. The cows lowed in the distance, the chickens clucked in their coop, and the rooster crowed loudly in the distance.

By the time the sun painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Kate had forgotten the early hour. The simplicity and purposeful work had a grounding effect. The connection to nature and the animals made the chores more fulfilling than she could have imagined.

As you both finished up the morning tasks, you turned to Kate with a satisfied grin. "See, not so bad, is it? The farm has its own magic, especially when you're a part of it."

Kate, though tired, couldn't help but smile back. The exhaustion was different, a result of meaningful work and a closeness to the land she had never experienced before. The simplicity, the authenticity, and your warm companionship made her appreciate the charm of farm life.

As you headed back to the house, Kate realized that the farm, with its early mornings and hard work, had become a place of solace. And in you, she found not just a farm guide but a friend who welcomed her into this world with open arms.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

A/N: I may have a Pt. 2 to this and a version where Kate is the farmer! I do live on a farm so this was just something fun to write and if you think the accent is written poorly its because I've never written my own accent (I have one sadly). I also am 21 today! yay?

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here