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sunsetchicane · 3 months

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cowboy like me [LN4]

lando x fem!reader

word count: 8.2k

summary: The one where you work on a ranch and it’s everything you know. There’s nothing that can come between you and your love for your home. Not even a handsome stranger who seems to pull the best out of you.

warnings: slight angst, some fluff, horses!, brief sexual innuendo, a singular swear word, and one [sad] kiss.

author’s note: hey! hi! hello! this is my first fic on here (omgggg 🤭) so please, please, please let me know your thoughts/comments/questions! might write a second part to this…thoughts??[xoxo elle]

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Buxton Ranch has been in the Buxton family before Montana even became an official Union state in 1889. Land wasn’t simply a commodity or property back then; it was life or death. William T. Buxton and his wife, Mary Anne, put their boots down on this land along with their four children and they’ve never left. They fought their way over the mountains, survived the unbearable, and have reaped the benefits of their resilience for over a century and a half.

Willamina T. Buxton I, my boss, is the great-something granddaughter of William T. Buxton I. Her father, William T. Buxton VII handed over the ranch to her on her 30th birthday a few years back. The controversy caused ripples through the entire community because even though Willamina is Mr. Buxton’s first born, the ranch has always been handed down to the eldest son. Willa is the first woman to ever have ownership of the ranch.

My family hasn’t been in Montana nearly as long as the Buxtons. My mom and I moved out here in the spring the year I was born. My father skipped out before my mom could even hold herself upright in her hospital bed after laboring with me. She tells me that we came here to Montana for a fresh start, and what better place to go than where the sky is bigger and the air is pure. The mountains became our safe haven, our buffer from the rest of the world and, more importantly, our history. It’s easy to forget up here, to allow your mind to rest. I’ve never been at a loss for why the Buxtons came and never left. Sometimes, in the dark of my room, I pretend that I really am a Buxton, that I truly belong.

However, when the sun breaks across the mountain peaks and the world comes alive once again, I’m forced to realize that I don’t belong to the Buxton dynasty. I simply work for them.

My alarm blares to my right, causing me to shoot upright. With fumbling fingers, I seek for the power button of my alarm clock. When I finally find it and shut off the hellish noise, I fling my legs over the side of my bed. With the heels of my hands, I rub the sleep from my eyes. The world around me is painted in a deep blue, still fast asleep and undisturbed by my alarm. I envy it as I rise from my bed and get ready for the day.

Silently, I pull on my bootcut Wranglers and a light green long sleeved button down. My belt and beat up old boots complete the ensemble for the moment being. My next stop is the bathroom where I brush my teeth and comb my hair. Tying my hair off into a low braid so it’ll sit right under my hat takes only a couple minutes. I’ve been wearing my hair the same way to work every day for the past seven years.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen where a pot of coffee is automatically brewing on schedule. I toss a few eggs into a pan as well as two pieces of bread into the toaster. The breakfast of champions and me every single day. After crushing a cup of coffee and my plain breakfast, it’s time to head out. Instead of living on-site with the rest of the ranch hands, I still live with my mom. I’ve been wanting to move out to the ranch for over a year now since I finished college, but the possibility of breaking my mom’s heart stops me from even mentioning it to her.

Glancing at the clock, I know I have plenty of time to spare, but I start to pack up and head out the door anyway. I enjoy being early to the ranch. It’s peaceful and serene before it wakes and rises. Grabbing my work jacket because the winter’s just turning over to spring, my chaps, and my lunch sack, I head out the door. My mom and I share an old, sunburnt orange Chevy truck that just barely runs. I toss my things into the bed of the pickup before sliding into the worn out driver’s seat. As I slide the key into the ignition, I send up a quick prayer that she turns over. When I press the key forward, the engine roars to life. Prayers have been answered this morning and I hope it’s a good omen for the rest of the day.

The drive to Buxton Ranch is short and sweet, all dirt roads and drifting grassy fields. The radio sounds quietly and the engine hums loudly, but everything else is completely still. A distant light orange is just starting to brush the very edges of the horizon in the east. Nature is starting to reach out and stretch its sleepy limbs.

As I pull up to the place where I always park near a stretch of fence, I see a figure dressed in shadows leaning over the wood a few yards away. Once I’ve tossed the pickup into park and yanked out the keys, I jump down from my seat so I can walk over to her. She’s always out here before everyone. Sometimes I see her, most times I don’t. When I do, it feels like fate, like there’s something about today that’s meant to happen this way. Or maybe it’s just Willamina Buxton.

“Good morning, y/n,” she rasps without glancing over at me. Crossing my arms, I lean over the log fence and take in the view. I don’t think there’s a better view in all of Montana than that from Buxton Ranch.

“Good morning, Willa,” I answer quietly. Her brother, Wyatt, was my best friend growing up. She’s only 12 years older than the two of us, but somehow she seems infinitely older and wiser. She’s been a role model for me. We grew closer after Wyatt left for college a few years back. Of course he came back in the summers to visit, but he never stayed long. He wasn’t born for this life. Instead of horses, he dealt with horse power. He always wanted to become an engineer for Formula One. When the opportunity came to go overseas to study in England and intern at McLaren, he hadn’t even thought twice. One day he was here, and the next he was gone.

I struggled with feeling abandoned for a while, but I came to terms with it quickly. I realized that dreams were meant to be chased and he was incredibly fortunate to get this opportunity. I was also chasing my dream, I just had to go down the street instead of across an ocean. We keep in touch, calling frequently and texting nearly every day, but it’s not the same. I miss him.

“Heard from Wyatt recently?” Willa says quietly then takes a sip from her mug of iron black coffee.

“Not in a couple of days. Seems busy,” I mumble. Wyatt’s leaving is a bit of a sore spot for Willa. She wanted him to stay on the ranch and in the family business. Her asking about him is a bit of an anomaly.

She hums, then pauses, then sighs. “Lots to do today. We better get going.”

And just like that the work day starts.

I tend to the horses right away, leading them out into the corral so I can wash out their stalls from over the weekend. I give each of them fresh hay and fill up large troughs of water for the more temperamental ones. Then I lead them one at a time back into their stalls and give them a thorough once over to check how they’re doing.

The last one I have to put away is the youngest of the group. He came to us only last year, unbroke and wild as the river. He’s a black Morgan stallion, sleek and athletic. He’s larger than your typical Morgan, with rippling muscle, and a proud face. He’s beautiful. We call him Jupe.

“Jupe,” I coo kindly to the untamed stallion. “Come on, Jupe.”

He casts a look over his back at me telling me everything I need to know. Sighing, I toss myself over the fence and into the corral. With my palms raised up and in front of me, I show him the leather lead in my hand as I walk over to him slowly.

“Come on, Jupe, we gotta go back inside. I cleaned up real nice for you, boy. Fresh hay, new water, you’re living the five star life, buddy,” I say while creeping up on him. He doesn’t move, but simply tracks my movements with his black eyes. Nerves claw at my stomach as I approach him. Reaching out slowly, I praise him and repeat his name over and over. Finally, I slide the clip of the lead around a loop in his bridle. But there’s no relief yet. I still have to get him into the stables without incident.

“Good boy, Jupe,” I say, reaching out gently to stroke his nose. He pushes at my hand playfully. A surge of pride washes over me. Maybe the two of us are finally making progress. Jupe lets me lead him out of the corral and back to his stall with ease. Today really is my day.

“Thank you,” I whisper to the stallion as I slide the lock shut on his door. Jupe’s head hangs over the short door, his head coming down to level with mine. Patting him gently, I pull a couple sugar cubes from my pack. I hold them up to him on my flat palm and he slurps them up gratefully. A smile that I can do nothing to stop breaks across my face. I’m gonna saddle him up one day. And maybe that day is sooner than I’d anticipated.

“Only you would give that stubborn Morgan a treat,” I hear a familiar voice say. I whip around in disbelief as the tone and inflexion registers in my mind.

“Then again, maybe the two of you have bonded over your mutual stubbornness.” Wyatt hardly gets the words out before I’m taking his arm in mine and wrapping him up in a hug with the other. We laugh as we sway side to side. My hat careens to the side of my head as I hug him and I know I must be getting him all sweaty and dirty, but I can’t find it in myself to care about vanity at the moment. Wyatt’s back.

“Surprise!” He says when I finally let go of him. He’s wearing a bright smile as I pull back. Wyatt reaches up and straightens out my hat for me.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming!” I say while smacking the back of my hand against his shoulder. “I would’ve gotten off work and…”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he laughs as I slide past him to finish up sweeping this side of the stables.

“You’re right,” I laugh along with him while I sweep. He knows that I love my job too much to step away from it. I hate missing a day and he knows that.

Wyatt takes a seat on a stack of unused hay bales that I’ll have to load back up. He chats with me about school and England and McLaren. I don’t know much about Formula One, just what I picked up on from Wyatt constantly chatting my ear off about it. Most of the stuff that Wyatt has told me, however, goes way over my head. What I do know is that this boy is an engineering genius and McLaren is lucky to have him now as a full-time employee. They offered him a job straight out of university. He’ll be living full time in the UK. My stomach twists at the thought.

“So, what do you have going on for the rest of the day?” Wyatt asks after I’ve finished sweeping. I place my hands on top of the broom and lean my chin over my fingers.

“Riley and I were going to take down that rickety south fence and…” I start to say while mentally checking my to-do list.

“Sandy’s helping Riley with that,” Wyatt says matter-of-factly. I cast him a questioning look to which he simply blinks at.

“Alright. Then I have to go to the cattle and check on all of the pregnant…”

“Louise has that covered,” Wyatt informs me while picking at his nails. What is he getting at?

“Why…well, then I have to…” I begin, trying to move away from things that he could possibly know of.

“Go riding with me and my friends!” Wyatt exclaims while hopping off the hay bales and clapping his hands together. “Wonderful idea.”

My jaw drops. There’s no way that he’s trying to make me skip the rest of the day to go riding. Not after we just had a conversation over the fact that I would never do that. That I could never do that. I have an obligation to be here, to get things done.

“Wy, you know I’d love to, but I’ve got work to do,” I say firmly while walking over to hang up my broom. Jupe huffs and brays at Wyatt as he walks briskly over to me.

“No you don’t. I made sure of it,” Wyatt says while grabbing my hands so I have no choice but to stand in front of him. “Willa’s told me to inform you that if you’re found working this afternoon, there’ll be severe consequences.”

At that, I know I have to oblige with Wyatt’s request. If Willa gave the all clear, there’s no reason for me to try and argue. One thing about the Buxtons is they’re nearly as strong-willed as the horses they hold. Not to mention it would be incredibly rude of me to not accept Willa’s generosity. This doesn’t stop me from letting Wyatt know exactly how I feel about him pulling me away from my work. I do so in colorful language the entire walk over to the house.

“You don’t even want to go riding with me, you just want me to be your guide,” I feign an accusation as we approach a small crowd of people on the large front deck of the Buxtons glorious ranch home. I see a few ranch hands and two other men that I don’t know, who must be Wyatt’s friends.

“You are the best guide out here.” His backhanded compliment earns him an eye roll. As we approach the house, he tells me to wait for a second while he calls over his friends. Their heads turn quickly to the two of us when Wyatt calls to them. They say hasty goodbyes to the staff they were chatting with before walking over to Wyatt and I. One is tall and pale, with pale eyes, and pale hair. His cheeks are flushed a slight pink from the chill that still hangs in the spring air. He looks lively and excited, his eyes bouncing around from one thing to another at lightning speed.

The other man is shorter with cropped, dark, curly hair. His hazel eyes are sharp and brilliant against his tanned skin. As he draws nearer, I can tell that he’s very physically fit. He’s wearing a tight long sleeve shirt that hugs his arms, brand new boot cut jeans, and a shiny pair of boots that have obviously never been worn. His eyes, unlike his friend, don’t wander while he walks over to us; they stay trained on me. A small smile falls across his pretty pink lips as he finds me watching him swagger his way over. He’s attractive.

“Never seen a British boy in cowboy boots before,” I say when they stop in front of us, glancing down at the brunette's footwear. When my eyes flick up to his, he still hasn’t stopped looking at me. Clearing my throat, I extend a hand to the blonde.

“Hi, y/n,” I introduce myself while shaking his hand.

“Mitchel,” he says, his accent is sharp and acutely German, which takes me by surprise. I nod, casting him a warm smile. I watch as Mitchel’s eyes flick to Wyatt over my shoulder. Following suit, I catch Wy smiling like a fool and a slight blush that I don’t think has anything to do with the weather coating his cheeks. When he sees me looking at him, he quickly crosses his arms and looks away. My smile widens. Mitchel drops my hand and then stuffs his back into his pockets.

“Y/n,” I say to Wyatt’s other friend who has a bit of a staring problem. He takes my hand in his slowly.

“Lando Norris,” He says crisply, his accent confirming my previous assessment. “Nice to finally meet you, y/n.”

His name catches in my mind, as if I’ve heard it before but I can’t place it. Wyatt must have mentioned him at some point, but for the life of me I can’t remember what about. A moment passes and our hands stay held together in the space between us as I try to place him. My eyes scan over his face and catalog his freckles and scars and the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles. When it dawns on me that I’m now the one with a staring problem, I swiftly pull my hand from his. Briefly, his jaw clenches.

“Finally, huh?” I take his previous statement and run with it. Turning my back to Lando, I glance over at Wyatt. “Just what have you been saying about me?”

“All good things, all good things,” Wy assures me while coming up to clasp me on the shoulder. He leans into me with a big smile that makes my stomach churn at the thought of what he’s actually told his friends. What does Lando think of me? Why does it matter what Lando thinks of me?

“Well,” I say quickly, trying to shake the thought of Lando from my head. “I suppose we should get going if we want to be back by sundown.”

The three boys nod their heads in agreement. The four of us walk over to the stables. Wyatt and Mitchel walk slowly behind me as they chit chat and laugh. Casting a glance over my shoulder at them, I watch as their shoulders bump together and their fingers brush intentionally. I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling. Wyatt’s alway had a hard time with romance and partnership just because of where we grew up and the hate he received for simply being himself. Seeing him this way, happy and smitten, makes me feel proud. It affirms that his leaving was necessary in so many ways.

“How long have you been working here?” Lando’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. My attention slides over to him. He’s come up to my left, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes are wide and curious as he looks at me. I can’t help but feel like I’m being analyzed.

“Seven years. But I’ve been on the ranch all my life. I took riding lessons from Willa and then became fast friends with Wyatt,” I tell him while pulling my eyes from his. Returning his gaze seems difficult, so I keep my eyes trained on the stable. He hums in acknowledgement of my response. I can feel his eyes on me still.

“Do you work at McLaren with Wyatt?” I ask my new acquaintance. He chuckles to himself a little, his pretty eyes squinting from his large smile.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he says, making me feel like I’m missing something. I scoff at his vague response, but don’t press the issue. If he wanted to explain himself, he would. His aura is interesting. He seems so sure of himself, completely at ease with who he is. It’s captivating.

We make it to the entrance of the stable and I instruct Lando and Mitchel to take a seat while Wyatt and I saddle up the horses. It takes us a while to get everyone ready for the trail ride, but with every passing minute, the more excited I get. Wyatt and I used to go out on the trails all the time. During the summer as teenagers, we would stuff our packs full of camping supplies and go for days at a time. Those memories are my most cherished possessions, things that I will never forget. Now whenever I take others up there, I feel as though I’m bearing a part of my soul to them.

Once we’re done getting everything ready, Wyatt leads his and Mitchel’s horses, Rudy and Molly, outside with Mitchel in tow. This leaves me alone with Lando. My stomach twists nervously when I feel his presence looming to my right.

“Ever ridden before?” I ask while petting Luna, a beautiful sorrel tovero paint. She’s older, but strong and steady, a good horse for a beginner.

“Yeah, loads,” Lando says while joining me in stroking Luna. I cast him a critical glance. If he sees it, he ignores me. Rolling my eyes, I really can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. It’s important to know what you’re doing while working with large animals. I make the mental note to keep him in my line of sight at all times while riding.

“Oh, good. Then you’ll be good to lead Ms. Luna out? She’s yours for the day,” I tell him while handing over the reins. I watch his adam's apple bob and his eyebrows lift slightly before nodding and accepting the reins from my hand. When his fingers brush over mine, goosebumps run across my arm. Quickly, I pull my hand away and turn towards Beau, my stallion for today. Fiddling aimlessly with his bridle, I wait until the steps of Luna and Lando have disappeared before releasing a breath. Leaning my forehead against Beau’s neck, I sigh at my stupid behavior. Am I really so touch starved that I get goosebumps at my finger brushing against his? That’s sad.

I take Beau’s reins in my hand and start leading him out to the waiting pack of boys. Just as I’m about to exit the stables, I look over at Jupe. He’s looking at me like he knows exactly what’s going on in my mind.

“Don’t give me attitude,” I tell him.

He just blinks at me.

Beau and I join everyone. Wyatt’s running Mitchel through the basics while Lando watches on. He’s pretending to not be listening by petting Luna and quietly talking to her, but I still catch the way he glances over when Wy demonstrates something. I walk around and do a quick double check on everyone’s gear before returning to Beau’s side. With the ease of muscle memory that I don’t think I’ll ever lose, I toss myself up and onto the saddle. Wyatt assists Mitchel into his saddle before climbing into his own. Lando glances over at me before sliding his foot into the stirrup and attempting to pull himself up. He looks out of his depth and slightly awkward as he hauls himself onto the saddle seat. Biting back a laugh, I click my tongue and squeeze my legs a little to get Beau to move for me. The two of us saunter up next to Lando. His easy continence is long gone, replaced by nerves and uncertainty. His hands shake as he grabs onto the reins incorrectly.

“Here, like this,” I correct while reaching out to his hands. My fingers pry his anxious fists open and fix where he’s holding the leather cord. I’m surprised to find calluses littering his palms, a mirror of my own. I maneuver his palm to rest in the right way so he doesn’t agitate Luna. I can feel Lando watching me as I touch and hold his hands. I’ve done this a hundred times when teaching lessons, but this is the first time that I feel an uncomfortable blush creeping onto my cheeks. Lando’s presence has me off axis, spinning out of my routine. I’ve known him for maybe an hour and he’s already getting under my skin.

“Just trust Luna, she knows the way,” I say quietly as I pull away from him. He bites at his lip but nods along with my words. Smiling as warmly as I can, I leave his side to ride up to Wyatt. However, I can’t help but glance back over my shoulder at him. He’s not looking at me, thankfully. Instead, his eyes are trained on his hands as he flexes them on the reins the way I showed him. His focus is endearing, almost cute.

But when his eyes rise to find mine, I snap my head forward in hopes that he didn’t catch me staring at him. The last thing I need is to develop some sort of childish crush on a stranger that I’ll never see again after a few days. I just have to keep my head down and my thoughts off of him.

“Time’s wasting!” Wyatt calls to me, letting me know that everyone is ready to go. Nodding, I take the lead while Wyatt falls to the back. We keep Mitchel and Lando between us so they don’t get caught straying off the path.

Going out for a ride is one of my favorite things. I love going into the mountains, walking along the thin paths, and enjoying the earth. As we go, I hear Mitchel and Wyatt quietly chatting at the back of the pack. However, once we get to the treeline, their voices fall away from my earshot. My senses are overcome by our surroundings. The budding trees are gorgeous as they filter the sunlight into sultry beams that fall onto the new grass along the sides of the gravel path.

“Beautiful,” I hear Lando speak for the first time since we left. I’ve been distracted thankfully, leaving me free from his effect on me. Now, though, I find myself turning to the side to look at him as he comes up next to me. I’m surprised to find him staring at me instead of the lively forest that hems us in. A thought that he might be making a comment about me instead of the scenery flashes through my mind. Quickly, I shove the absurd thought away and chalk it up to wishful thinking.

“It is,” I agree, giving him a small smile. He chuckles a little before turning to look around him. Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of him. Somehow he adds to the already perfect scene around me. His hair is being ruffled by the slight, cool breeze, which also lends his skin a gorgeous pink flush. Bright hazel eyes track the swishing branches and fluttering wildlife. His muscles are on display as he engages them to ride Luna. He looks less stiff than he did earlier, as if he’s finding himself at ease here. The idea makes me giddy. I find myself agreeing with Lando’s previous assessment. Beautiful.

“See something you like, cowgirl?” Lando laughs when he catches me staring at him yet again. My eyes go wide and my mouth parts as I scramble for a proper response, a defense, anything. There’s just something about him that makes it nearly impossible to look away. I think I’d like to be able to see him a lot more.

“Cowgirl?” Is all I can come up with. It’s not an inaccurate title, but the way he said it made it sound different. It was tacked onto his question almost like an endearment, or a tease. I laugh a little at his choice of words and the way it sounds in his accent.

“I see a lot of things I like, cowboy. You’ll have to be more specific,” I challenge. This successfully pulls a proper laugh from him. It’s the type of laugh that sends birds flying frantically from their perches and the creatures hidden in the grass scurrying away. It’s impossible to not laugh along with him. My heart flutters and I have to hold on tighter to my reins so I don’t fall off the saddle.

“I may be a lot of things, but I am no cowboy,” he corrects. I nod while continuing to laugh.

“I could have told you that,” I confirm while adjusting my hat.

“Oh really?” Lando says, urging me to explain myself. He tilts his head to the side while his mouth pulls into a closed lipped smile.

“If the brand new jeans and boots didn’t give you away, then you’re riding definitely does. You ride stiff as a board,” I inform him while glancing down at his boots and jeans. His denim clad thighs are tight around Luna’s middle, tense muscles visible through the fabric.

“Alright, teach me then,” he says, his free hand coming to rest on his hip. “Cowgirl.”

I roll my eyes at his words once again, but am resolved to help him nonetheless. There’s nothing like going out and being able to ride properly. I want to ask him why he lied to me about his experience with riding, but I don’t want to bruise his ego any further. Trying something new is challenging enough, and if he’s willing to learn, then I don’t want to jeopardize that.

“Keep sitting up straight, but relax your body. Your hips should shift back and forth in the seat a little. Don’t fight what feels natural. Just watch me,” I tell him. His eyes slide slowly from my face down to my hips. I watch as his eyes track my hips back and forth just slightly with Beau’s steps. Lando’s breathing goes uneven and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth. He’s staring at me like there’s nothing else he’d ever want to look at. It makes my heart race and nerves flutter in my stomach. I hadn’t really thought about the more sensual implications of having him watch my hips, but it seems rather obvious now. However, I don’t really mind the way he’s looking at me, or the way his focus is completely attuned to me. Selfishly, I really wish he wouldn’t look at anything else ever again. But that can’t happen.

“Eyes up, cowboy,” I tell him after a few more seconds of letting him watch. “Go ahead.”

Clearing his throat, he shifts a little in the saddle before settling in to do what I asked. I don’t miss the way he avoids looking me in the eye, as if he’s embarrassed. Have I flustered him? The thought makes me just a tiny bit proud. He doesn’t seem like the type to be flustered easily. He sits up straight and attempts to relax his body. His lower half starts to shift the right way, looking more natural and less jerky than before. Indulging myself, I watch for a few more seconds. I bite the inside of my cheek as he rocks back and forth in the saddle. My mind goes wandering to places that I shouldn’t be thinking about with a man I’ve only known for a day. Less than a day. And yet, I can’t stop myself.

“Maybe we’ll make a real cowboy out of you yet, Lando Norris,” I tell him after I’ve noticed improvements. His focus fractures and he looks over to me.

“I think I’d like that,” He shoots back, a sly smile accompanying his words. The look twists my stomach into nervous knots. There’s something about him, something intangible, that draws you in. Maybe it’s charm or charisma, or maybe it’s just the way he was made. Whatever the circumstances or reasons are, it’s not fair. I feel as though I have hardly a fighting chance to ward off any sort of desire that’s bubbling to the surface. I want to keep getting to know him; I want to teach him anything he asks; I want to never let go of the way he makes me feel.

The walk back to the ranch grounds is much faster than I would have liked. Lando chats with me the entire way back about this and that. He’s smart and funny and my chances of not having a crush on him grow slimmer with every passing minute I spend with him. When we get back to the stables, I find myself taking much longer than I normally would to put everything away. Mitchel and Wyatt decided that a fire would be the best way to end the night, so they ran out to get it started while Lando and I finished up with the horses. He tried his best to help, but kept getting distracted by visiting all of the stalls.

“Who’s this?” Lando says as I finish putting away the last saddle. I say a quick goodbye to Beau before heading down to the last stall near the open barn doors. Lando is standing in front of Jupe’s stall, his arms crossed over his chest. I stop next to him, leaving an appropriate amount of space between us, even though I want to come up right next to him and press my shoulder to his.

“This is Jupe. He’s our newest. Bit ornery, but a good boy,” I say while reaching my hand out to pat Jupe’s head. He brays at my touch, but doesn’t pull away. I give him a quick kiss on the nose and coddle him a little. Positive reinforcement does wonders.

“My turn,” Lando says from behind me. Astounded, I turn my face toward him. He’s insinuating that he wants me to kiss him. My brain short circuits at the thought. He’s just standing there with his arms still crossed over his chest and a stupid smile playing across his handsome face. I scoff at his joke, trying not to let on how much it affected me.

“Careful what you wish for, you might end up with a stall of your own,” I jab back. However, keeping him here doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“Being praised, kissed, and ridden by you? Sounds like these guys are living the dream,” Lando says. My jaw hangs loose as his words hit me like a freight train. Shock courses through me, leaving me beyond speechless. Is he being serious? Who says things like that? I blink at him, unsure of how to continue. I can’t lie and say that the images that popped into my head when he spoke were entirely unpleasant. If he’s being serious, there’s a lot to consider here. I could deny my feelings and spare myself the heartache. Or the alternative, which is letting my emotions get the better of me. This would mean that in a few days after spending time together, I would have to deal with heartbreak and come to terms with the fact that I’ll maybe never see him again. Or maybe I could, if there’s something really here. Maybe I have to give into hope for once. There’s never really been anyone who I’ve put ahead of my goals or dreams. I’ve never been tempted to stray from my path by anyone. Sure, I’ve gone out with guys, had a boyfriend for a while. But if something didn’t line up, I made cuts so my life would fit together how I needed it to. Suddenly now, as I stand here in this stable with a man I met only hours ago, I’m finding myself bending my rules for the first time. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my whole life.

“Alright, cowboy,” I say while taking a tentative step toward him, I’m ready to play this little game of his. His hands have fallen to his side, so I gently slide my fingers into his. Shining eyes lock onto mine. His tan skin is set aglow by the dying sunrise, highlighting the ridges and curves of his face. I want to memorize every freckle, every line, every corner of him. I’m lost in the way his hand feels around mine and in the way he’s looking at me, and I don’t ever want to find my way out. One of his fingers comes to the front of my hat and pushes the brim up. He draws closer now, his face mere inches from mine. His jaw flexes and his large neck muscles twitch with tension as he dips his head down just enough for his lips to hover over mine.

“We have a fire to get to,” I finish my earlier thought in a whisper. With hooded eyes, I look into his wide ones. Smiling smally, I step away from him. Adjusting my hat back to its original place, I begin walking out the door. Lando is hauled after me with my hand still grasped in his. Giddiness takes me over as I walk hand in hand with him towards the fire pit near the house. My small smile breaks into a much larger one as I pick up my pace, breaking into a jog. Lando’s hand clasps around mine tighter as he adjusts to the new pace. A laugh bubbles from my chest as I bring my free hand to hold onto my hat as I run harder. A sense of carefreeness has corrupted my usual serious disposition. Rarely do I feel as free as I do now. Lando’s lightness has infected me, and I can’t help but fall in love with how it’s buoyed my spirits. It feels like the first hit of a drug; it’s the type of high I’ll be chasing for the rest of my life.

As we approach the house, I can hear Wyatt’s laugh ring out from around the corner to the back. Just as we’re about to turn that last corner, Lando’s arms reach around my waist, stopping me from moving another inch. His chest hits my back with no small amount of force, tossing my hat from my head. I’m bent over in his arms as both of our laughs pull the last threads of air from our tired lungs. He hauls us both upright and my head falls back against his shoulder. I suck in a deep breath of the cool, dusk air. It cools me from the inside out. A feeling stirs deep in my stomach as I stare up into the sky while basking in the feeling of Lando’s arms wrapped around me.

Belonging.

It’s something I’ve been chasing my whole life; a sense of knowing where I belong and who I am. And now I feel as though I’ve finally found it: a home; a place to belong; a knowledge of exactly who I am.

Once we’ve regulated our breathing, I break out of his arms. Leaving them isn’t what I want, and as I pull away, I immediately feel much colder. However, we have to accompany Wyatt and Mitchel before they grow suspicious. Carefully, I pick up my hat, but don’t place it back on my head.

“Are you coming?” I ask quickly, tossing a glance to Lando over my shoulder. He shakes his head with a smile, but follows me around the corner without a word. Wyatt’s eyes find us over the roaring fire he’s built. Mitchel is seated right next to him on a log, a thick blanket spread over their laps. Between the warmth of the fire, the blanket, and the present company, I know that the nighttime chill won’t be able to touch me. As I approach Wyatt, he reaches to the side to pick up another blanket with a couple beers and s’mores supplies stacked on top. I accept it with a quick thank you before plopping down on the log next to them. Lando saunters after me, slowly taking a seat to my right.

“Hold this?” I ask while placing the blanket onto his lap. Gently, I set my hat down behind me, then reach over my shoulder to grab the end of my braid. I pull the elastic from the end and go about undoing the braid.

“So, Lando, how was the ride for you?” Wy asks as he brings his beer to his lips. My eyes are on the fire as he speaks, my mind slipping out of focus for a brief moment while I concentrate on my hair. But I’m aware of the fact that Lando doesn’t answer. When I turn to look at him, I find his eyes already on me, following my fingers as they finish pulling out my braid. I run my fingers through my roots to shake out the nasty hat hair that I undoubtedly have.

“Lando?” Wyatt laughs.

“What?” Lando says as he snaps out of his dazed state. His eyes go wide as they shift over to Wyatt who’s chuckling to himself. A goofy smile breaks across Lando’s face as Wyatt restates his question.

“I think I might have to switch professions,” Lando says, his eyes flicking down to me. The fire is lighting his skin with a warm glow. The flames flash lazily in his glossy eyes.

“I think it would be best for you to stick with McLaren,” I joke while cracking both of our cold beers. With a small smile, I hand over one of the bottles to a slightly offended Lando. Laughing to myself, I nudge his shoulder and click the neck of my beer to his. The liquid is cold and fresh against my lips, sending the perfect chill cascading down into my neck and chest.

“Yeah, mate, I think it’s best if you stay in the cockpit rather than the saddle,” Mitchel adds. “Play to your strengths and all that.”

The cockpit? As in the cockpit of a Formula One car? The realization hits me with all the grace of a drunk elephant. Lando Norris; I recognized his name earlier because Wyatt works as an engineer for a driver named Lando Norris. A Formula One driver named Lando Norris. With wide eyes, I stare forward into the fire. Every possibility that I’ve just dreamt up has suddenly become nothing but a fantasy. My body tenses as it physically revolts against my idiocy and naivety. Reality settles into my bones and I have to chide myself for being so stupid to ignore it for as long as I have. Not only did I ignore it, but I created a work of fiction where maybe we could end up together.

“Shit,” I hear Lando breathe next to me. His face is one I don’t recognize, one of seriousness. For the few hours that I’ve known him, which feel more like years, I haven’t seen him lose that little spark that makes him so him. Now it’s nowhere to be seen. He didn’t want me to know that he was a professional driver, one of the most elite in the whole world. It stings because I don’t understand exactly what his intentions were and it allowed me the space to concoct some seriously messed up notions. There’s no way that anything could happen between us now. It’s hard enough to maintain a friendship of years over an ocean with an engineer; imagine trying to hold together a relationship with a driver across continents and seas that constantly change. However, I can’t justify being angry with him. It is his life to be in the public eye constantly. If he came out here to not be recognized for a while and to be treated like just a normal guy, then who am I to deny him that. I just wish he would have given me the opportunity to do that with knowing who he really is. Now I’m stuck with feelings that I know won’t go away in a hurry and thorough embarrassment.

The rest of the night passes monotonously. Wyatt and Mitchel are wrapped up into their own little world, so they hardly notice the ever eroding gap that suddenly formed between Lando and I. We chat a little, but it’s not the same anymore. Roasting marshmallows has suddenly become my new favorite thing because it gives me an excuse to not look at him. I know that if I do, I’ll start to adore his curly hair and the scar over the bridge of his nose and the way that he looks right into your soul with his pretty eyes. I know that if I dare to look at him, I’ll start to believe in fiction once again. That’s not something I can allow; I won’t be the person who falls in love with the idea of something they can never have.

I won’t be the person that falls for someone they can never have.

Wyatt and Mitchel bid us goodnight before walking hand in hand into the house. Envy flares in my chest, jealousy turning my heart an ugly shade of green. The crackling of the dying fire and the rustling of wind through the grass and trees are the only things that greet my ears. Usually, I would be incredibly fond of this quietness. But now, it simply feels like a life sentence of silence. And once again, as the world turns to night, I feel the loneliness creep in at the edges. The night chill has crept into my fingers and toes, slowly creeping inward.

“I’m sorry,” Lando’s voice is gravelly from lack of use. “I should have…”

“You should have,” I agree. My voice isn’t harsh or condescending, it’s soft, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I understand, though. I just wish I had known before…”

My voice trails off and gets blown away with the smoke that floats lazily into the atmosphere. Clouds have collected across the sky, cutting the stars from our view. With a melancholy heart, I can’t help but admit how fitting that is. I suppose we really weren’t written in the stars. We are the opposite of destined.

Lando’s hand wraps around my cold fingers, but instead of warming me, it burns. The kiss he leaves on my knuckles feels as though my hand was dipped into the embers of a fire. Blinking back the prick in my eyes from impending tears, I watch his face fall into a frown. I hate the way his eyebrows are creased in the middle and the concern that’s painfully evident in his stubborn eyes. It’s not the look I wanted from him tonight. It’s not the face that’s become my brand new favorite. It’s not Lando.

“How long are you staying for?” I find myself asking. I have to know how long I’ll have to endure his presence. But what’s worse: having him here and knowing I can’t have him, or watching him leave and knowing that I’ll never have him?

“We leave on Monday,” he says. Just for the weekend then. I’ll only have to see him on Monday and then I’ll be free of him. I know he’ll torment me in my sleep, when I see someone walking down the street who looks a little like him, when I look at Luna. I’ll never truly escape him.

“Alright,” I mumble. A beat passes without any more conversation. Then Lando’s hand is slipping under my hair and around the side of my neck. My head turns toward him, his touch unprompted and sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin.

“I’m sorry, but I have to know. Just once and then we can put it away forever. Alright?” He’s closing that gap between us, both physically and emotionally. His face slows as it hovers in front of mine. My breathing has ceased and fear has seized my heart. Is this the right thing to do? Or will it make it worse?

“Alright,” I find myself agreeing without thinking. Maybe I have to know, too, if this is everything I think it is; if this really is everything that I’m losing.

His kiss is light at first, lips just barely brushing mine. It’s soft and gentle as he uses his hand to bring my face closer to his. When his lips are fully on mine, my mind bursts into stars and streams of color. He kisses me with quiet passion, slow and strong. That belonging that I felt when he had his arms around me flares back to life in my chest. His fingers flex under my jaw, holding onto me tighter like he’s scared I’ll slip out of his grip. Which I am. When we break away from our first and last kiss, I feel as we filter through each other’s fingertips. We’re lost now, never to be found.

A crack in my chest sends me to my feet. Tears suddenly blur my vision.

“Goodbye, Lando,” I find myself saying, my words taking every bit of strength I have left. As I turn away from him for the last time, I find myself wishing I'd have said no to his kiss. As I walk away from him for the last time, I know now that I’m losing the one real thing I’ve ever known.

The truth is he isn’t a cowboy like me.

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violetpixiedust · 9 months

Text

thinking about innocent angelic!reader being a risqué burlesque dancer, and catching the attention of billy. (mdni) (pt. 2) ౨ৎ

the bar is stifling, as cowboys, coal miners, and married men alike fill the wooden walls with cigar smoke and pungent whisky breath, thick and heavy amidst the humid air. jesse’s already pulling billy closer to the front of the stage with his bruised hand clasped along the younger man’s shoulder, knocking past gorging men too drunk to spit out a threat or chance them a second glance.

the tinny music starts up just as the pair find a good view point. billy glances around stoically from beneath the dark brim of his hat as the men around him practically hop out of their wooden seats, cheering and yelling at the empty stage as if the beheading of a rebel were about to occur. it isn’t until you come out that he realizes the validity of their reactions.

your soft hair reflects against the warm amber oil lamps above you. it’s done up in an intricate hairdo, littered with silk bows and pearls, royal. billy let’s his cobalt eyes drag down your angelic figure, eyeing the lacy little corset dress that hugged your waist. complete with spaghetti straps and a minuscule hem that left the petal soft skin of your arms and legs bare, save for your knee length stockings. he felt a white hot light burn within his core, releasing a hushed, but pitiful breath at the sight of your near naked frame prancing around the stage.

your glossy smile was bright, framed with a darker shade along your cupid’s bow, emphasizing to the lone cowboy just how plump your lips were. you seemed excited, happy even, but there was a light behind your eyes that grew dimmer with each foul remark spit your way, each taunt, each coin tossed at your heeled mary janes. you longed to be on the big stage. you wanted to preform for artists, you wanted to be in the pictures-

your set is nearly finished. you twirl, just like a ballerina figurine trapped within the confines of a music box. with every spot of your turns you see a handsome man dressed in deep indigo, holster on his hip, hat tilted, hypnotic eyes watching your every move from behind his glass of whisky. he’s oddly quiet, however his chapped lips are parted, revealing that not even he is immune to your siren song. you can’t take your eyes off of him once you regain your footing, neglecting your big sign off to unravel the baby pink ribbon that previously sat in a bow around your neck. the crowd grows cruder at your actions, but you, unknowing to the bigger picture, only point to the outlaw in two counties that the townsfolk call “billy”. his lips form into a subtle smirk, only widening when his blonde friend pushes him forward teasingly, half finished drink handed off to one of the many drunks in the now jealous crowd.

he trots over to you easily, following the manicured call of your curled pointer finger. you’re stood at the edge of the stage, bent over to meet his eye-line. he’s even prettier up close, you think, with your ever softening doe eyes. sun kissed skin stained with dirt and sweat, complimented by a strong bone structure. brunette locks that curl out from beneath his hat, matching eyelashes that frame his darkening eyes as they gaze at you. you giggle softly, a shy, tinkling sound that has billy fighting back his grin. as quickly as you can, you tie your ribbon around his large wrist. a wave of heat rushes through every avenue of your body as you note the size difference of your hands, leaving you tingly and warm. despite being a burlesque dancer, you weren’t the most experienced- besides one or two men who found themselves in the boarding house a bit ago, but you knew lots of tricks from your burlesque sisters, and you were eager to put them to good use with the handsome stranger in front of you- if he would let you.

billy’s heady gaze drops towards your lips as you place a sticky kiss along the corner of his mouth, just catching the prickle of his stubble. you can feel billy’s breath hitch ever so slightly, as the salty taste of his skin causes your long eyelashes to flutter. “meet me backstage after the show. please?” he all but nods at your pleading, letting his usually rough hand brush a loose lock behind your ear as gently as he could. with a good southern-natured tilt of his hat and rosy cheeks, billy gives you a crooked smile that you couldn’t help but flush at.

“yes, m’am.”

#this is my first time writing for him #and i’m 🦋🦋🦋🦋#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x fem!reader #billy the kid x black!reader #billy the kid x poc!reader #billy the kid x you #william h bonney #billy antrim #billy the kid fic #billy the kid fanfic #billy the kid smut #billy the kid blurb #billy the kid fluff #tom blyth fanfiction #pixie’s works * ੈ✩‧₊˚

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orphicrose · 7 months

Note

What about rdr2 van der Linde Gang with a reader who stutters? I can imagine the reader being mostly quiet because of it, but at sind point they have to talk and I know people especially back then would make fun of it (Micah) and the gang standing up for reader.

He had it coming ( Camp x Fem!Reader)

Thank you for the request! I did do some research before i wrote this to make sure it was as realistic as possible. But i do apologies if it isn't so please let me know if i wrote it badly!

Warnings ! Micah, bullying, name calling.

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The sad truth that a lot of people had to face during this era, was that nothing outside of social norms was taken seriously. Things like disabilities, appearances, or even sexuality, greeted with a mocking laugh or worse. Far worse. If you were lucky enough, you'd only be laughed at. But that didn't make it any better. The stereotypical cowboys that you were stuck with didn't make it easier. It's just one of those things you'd either accept or suppress over time.

In this situation, y/n suppressed it. Heavily. Growing up being beaten with insults, or fists because of it. The van der linde gang was somewhat outside of stereotypes, though. A lot of the members from all across the world; black, natives, Hispanic. Then there was Bill, everyone knew he played for the other team, despite the harsh denying and homophobia in return. But the point it, y/n got lucky with falling in with this specific group. Making judgements hard to give.

Y/n's 'issues' lied in her speech, being born with a stutter. It wasn't cute or dainty, it was annoying. What made it worse, the anxiety surrounding it. Sometimes she didn't stutter at all, around people like Arthur or Hosea. But around Micha, it was so much worse. Unbearable, even. The ignorance surrounding that man was almost unbelievable, even for the 1800s.

"Mornin, miss l/n" She was approached by a muscular shadow blocking the sun light from her position on the floor.

"Morning Arthur" Her smile infectious as he took a seat next to her, leaning back against a tree and pulling hit hat over his face. Shielding his eyes from the light. "Busy day today?"

He grunted, shifting in the soft lemoyne mud. "Uncles got a job set up" he failed at suppressing a laugh "Dunno how well it's gonna go."

Y/n chortled, imagining old Uncle out doing some real work. "We-well good luck. I'm glad I'm not joining y'all" her eyes returned to the easy reading of her book that Mary-Beth had lent to her.

Arthur hummed, relaxing in the hot air for as long as he could before his name was called to action.

"Arthur!" That wasn't uncles voice. He lowered his hat to see a nasty looking individual unfortunately strolling towards his direction.

"What do you want, Micah" His voice held hostility, reasonable hostility, as the greasy haired mans face was blinded by a ray of sunshine. Y/n huffed, clutching at the book harder to distract herself.

"Wanted to know what you're ta-ta-ta-talking about" He mocked y/n, without any subtleness about it. Y/n remained quite. It was sad to admit in any situation, but she had grown used to the constant mocking.

"Theres no need for that, is there?" Arthur raised to his feet without hesitation. Moving to get in Micahs face. Any excuse to punch him in the nose was a good excuse in his eyes,

"Now, now, Mister Morgan" The rat put his hands up in surrender, backing away with that smug grin still on his face. "It's just a harmless joke. No need to go out guns a blazin'"

"It's not supposed to be harmless, is it?" Arthurs fists clenched under his anger. Y/n rising to her feet behind him and putting a hand on the back of his shoulder.

"I-it's okay. Ar-Arthur" She mumbled, to which Micah laughed. Before he got the chance to get in the last word. Arthur had landed a heavy hit square in his face. Not wasting any time to wind it up before landing on his nose. Micah fell to the floor and began wailing about how his nose was broken. An audience soon formed around the rat writhing on the floor. Not much sympathy to be shared, but knowing glances at one another. Quiet laughs and 'he had it comings' shared between them before Dutch marched over. Clearing the group and making sure he was ok.

"Arthur, we've talked about this"

"I know, i know Dutch but-"

"The last thing we need right now is our gang turning against each other!"

Y/n could hear the two arguing in Dutch's tent, biting at her nails with worry. It was her fault, she thought. A hand landed on her back, spinning to see tilly with a sad smile.

"Its okay" She offered. "That rat had it coming. Arthur did everyone a favor" just thinking about him on the floor, in pain, brought serotonin to her.

"I-I guess" y/n mumbled

"No need to be ashamed, darlin" she took y/ns hands in hers. "you're perfect as is".

#red dead redemption arthur #red dead fandom #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead online #camp x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #tilly jackson #micah bell #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #tilly x reader #arthur angst #rdr2

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messenger-of-stupidity · 1 year

Text

Shaw Pack HBS Snapshots I think happened

Redacted Masterlist

Angel didn’t think about the fact that Davey perhaps, just maybe, liked personal space every now and then. When they were having a meal with the rest of the vacationing pack, it never crossed their mind that he didn’t want them in his lap. It was really more convenient because this way they could steal his food more easily. Although if you believed them it was really our food because this is a communist state now. Besides, after only ten minutes of him complaining, his hand eventually rested and massaged their thigh. So clearly he wants them there.

Baabe finds it hilarious to convince Asher to walk around in heels. It doesn’t matter who the heels originally belong too, Asher is wearing them now. It’s funny to watch him waddle around as he tries to stay balanced. It’s funny to see the pack laugh at him falling flat on his adorable face. They only realized there was a problem when he challenged Milo to a race in heels. Now no one can stop those two. Not even David.

Darlin found a hat shop on one of their many forced outings during day time. They had wanted to stay inside with Sam and maybe watch some TV but he had forced them to go outside and “make the most of the vacation” as he put it. Entirely ridiculous and honestly pretty rude of him. But that wasn’t the point. Kind of. Actually it was, hence the hat shop. Sam refused to tell them that he had, if ever, owned an actual cowboy hat. Well guess what southern batman? Now he does thanks to the power of capitalism!

Sweetheart loves pulling pranks on their mate. It’s common knowledge by now. And yet... Milo still falls for every single one. No matter what he says. They’ve hidden dress socks, snuck up on him, tricked him into playing horror games, and made him think he was having a whole ass conversation with Aggro when really Aggro was at Marie’s house and Sweetheart was just playing several recordings of Aggro meowing so Milo would meow back. But the most recent one has to be their favorite. You see, Milo think that a package from the front desk is coming. Nope. It’s glitter.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted shaw pack #redacted david #redacted angel #redacted asher #redacted baabe #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted tank #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted hbs #redacted hbs 2023

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milkcos · 10 months

Text

redesigns!! ft. an entirely new style

more abt my choices behind the read more

maka: pretty much superficial stuff, gave her a cloak-like coat to replace the trench coat and updated her look a bit more? i wanted her to have more of a grunge vibe mixed with a prep look. so she’s got mary janes and a half tucked shirt

soul: he’s very much a grunge hipster based on canon aesthetics, so i changed his jacket into a quarter zip and gave him some baggier pants. also i feel like he would be that person perpetually carrying headphones

black star: he gets platforms!!! i feel like he would persist being stupid short for the rest of his life. otherwise his outfit remains pretty similar with just added bracers. i also incorporated more blue into his outfit and got rid of his dog cone collar.

tsubaki: unsexualized your girl, and then makes her more cool. no more tiddy window, but i did keep her slit just bc i feel like it’d give her more movement. she’s got shorts now and those martial artist slippers? for increased traction. and then yk pouches bc a girl has to have some sort of storage on her

kidd: i kept his suit style, but gave him a zoot suit instead. it gave him a more personalized look and kept him more on theme with the other redesigns. also skull bolo tie which fits the suit and his aesthetic. plus i like putting male characters in heels so he’s got heels on his mock dress shoe converse

patty: desexualizes and cowboys your girl. she’s got shorts in the original so i just made them longer and added a big belt buckle + bolo tie + cowboy boot + cowboy hat combination.

liz: desexualizes and cowboys your girl pt 2. since she’s got pants originally, i feel like boot cut jeans would make a lot of sense fr her? she’s got that kinda older sister y2k vibe. matching w patty also w her accessories too <3

#soul eater #maka albarn #soul eater evans #black star #tsubaki nakatsukasa #death the kid #patty thompson #liz thompson #elizabeth thompson #redesigns #soul eater redesigns

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raewritesfiction · 6 months

Text

The Deputy [Jeremy Renner]

A/N: I watched the video for “Trouble” by Pink and it gave me this idea. Still…. ACAB. I know he plays the Sheriff in the video but for this he’s the Deputy! Also the daughter’s name was picked at random via a Google generator.

Plot: You’re locked in a cell in the Wild Wild West but Deputy Renner has a soft spot for you.

Pairing: Deputy! Jeremy Renner x Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Sex worker. Lesbianism. Unsafe sex. Handcuffs.

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @thegreatlarryfisherman @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikki-rogue @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @madsadgenius @dreamlesswonder86 @purplerain85 @lipstickandtanqueray @kandis-mom @melaclintbartoncorner @mcugeekposts @kcthescreamqueen

—

You sigh loudly just to piss off the Sheriff as he goes off duty and switches with his Deputy; you blow the man in charge a kiss “say hello to Scarlett for me!”

“That bitch stays put!” He says to the Deputy and walks out mumbling under his breath.

You’d get nowhere with the Sheriff but the Deputy…. Deputy Renner had a soft spot for you since you came to town and you were more than willing to use your own soft spot to your advantage.

The Deputy smiles at you behind the cell bars and shakes his head “ma’am… just what did you?”

“Hello Deputy Renner.” You wink “well… it seems I was caught stealin’ from a client… the thing is it was the heart of the Sheriff's daughter I stole…and he don’t like that none.”

Deputy Renner nods “uh huh…”

“The Sheriff wants Scarlett to marry some big wig in the city. Business type…. So he’s sending her off tonight on the last train of the day.”

“Well ain’t that a pickle?!” He grips onto the bars and flexes his biceps.

“Ain’t it just? I would very much like to leave and see her off… but it seems that I am stuck here in cuffs.” You pout and flutter your lashes at the Deputy.

“I would very much be obliged if you could let me out and although the sheriff took all my coins I can pay in a different way.”

Deputy Renner raises an eyebrow “I see…” re-adjusting his cowboy hat as he walks to the door of the cell you were in. “And how would you pay ma’am?”

“Well I know how badly you’ve been trying to get to my room at my… lodgin’s… but it seems I am always very busy with other clientele. Maybe I could forgo payment just this once to give you a very private experience right here?”

Deputy Renner smirks and licks his lips “well, the sheriff is gone until mornin’… but what do I tell him then?”

“You tell him I slipped my cuffs with a hair pin while you were taking care of business and then escaped my cell the same way… and you’re not in the habit of manhandlin’ a lady like that.”

“Well you have this all thought out don’t ya?” His hand was already unlocking the cell door for you.

“Yes sir, I most certainly do.” You smile and stand, flashing him your most seductive smile.

“You clean…?” He watches you.

“I sure am, it’s why my price is so high.” You nod “my clientele is very select.”

The Deputy nods and motions for you to step out towards him whereupon he guides you back towards the Sheriff’s desk “this would piss him off so badly…”

You nod “in which case I am all for it… and if it’s your thing… you can leave me in the cuffs.”

“Oh I am definitely leavin’ you in the cuffs until we’re done.” The Deputy nods and makes light work of undoing your bodice; it was re-stitched multiple times but it was still a firm favourite of your clients due to the way it made your tits so pronounced.

The Deputy licked his lips at the sight of your bare chest and his hands moved to massage and tease you, watching your nipples harden under his touch. You let out breathless moans and gasps; his name escaping you when his lips close around your nipple and suck lightly before switching to the other side.

You shuffle your legs and squeeze his hips with your thighs “please Deputy Renner…”

“So polite ma’am… I’m not so much when it comes to matters of pussy…” his hands glide up your legs and move the layers of skirts until he gazes at you “well look at that pretty pink pussy… I was almost expecting it to be made of gold the way other men and women talk about it.”

You blush and smile, leaning into his ear and speaking quietly “feels like silk, so I’m told…”

The Deputy moans low and reaches between your legs, sliding his fingers over you until they were slick and then pushing them into you with ease. You throw your head back and moan quietly; you had mastered the art of making the right noises at the right times but the way the Deputy moved his fingers inside you felt like he knew how to please a lady; curling and scissoring, thrusting them slowly then speeding up until you were whining against his ear and rocking your hips to his hand for release. Something you usually had to do for yourself between clients.

He withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, humming and closing his eyes “so sweet…”

You lean panting against him and nibble on his earlobe, wanting nothing more than to touch him but being bound by the cuffs behind your back.

Deputy Renner makes quick work of his belts and pants; pushing them down to free his hardening cock. “Want me to help?” You whisper and nip again.

“On your knees…” he commands

You drop down and open your mouth ready for him, your tongue peaking out over your teeth. His cock tastes a little salty, surely better than most of your clients and you bob your head as you suck along his length, taking little time to feel him harden fully.

“You’re over qualified for this…” he breathes and holds the edge of the desk “get up!” He groans and moves your skirts as you position yourself on the desk again; his hand grips your hip while the other guides his cock into you with ease, “God damn you really do feel as soft as silk…” he groans and pulls you down his length fully, both hands now gripping your hips.

You steady yourself and tighten around him in pulses to tease; a little something that drove other clients wild. The Deputy moans and gasps “keep doing that…” he starts thrusting into you and you’re glad the desk is against a wall for stability; his thrusts are rough and deep but he’s not hurting you like others who do the same. He keeps the pace measured and steady, your pussy coating his cock in your arousal until you’re both a panting mess.

The Deputy watches your tits move on every thrust, mesmerised by their sight and the way your body reacts to him. He watches your nipples harden into sensitive nubs and leans down to suck on them in turn making you whine and moan. Actual moans; you didn’t have to fake anything for the Deputy as he speeds up his hips and reaches to tease your clit - he wasn’t just about his own pleasure. You tightened and relaxed your walls around him as best you could and arched towards him as his teeth scraped over your nipple.

“Oh fuck!” You moan and pant quickly, violently tightening around his cock and pulling him into you with the force of your release. The Deputy grunts roughly and has enough thought to pull out of you, wrapping his hand around himself and jerking himself roughly, moving back as you fall to your knees and throw your head back again. After only moments you feel his hot cum on your bare tits, where his lips had been just seconds ago. His moan is rough and full of pleasure he’d been wanting to release; his jaw was lax and eyes tight shut and his chest heaving.

After a few of minutes, The Deputy is uncuffing you and watching you re-dress yourself.

“Come by anytime and tell them I sent you; I’ll make sure you get a good deal on any lady you like… and I’ll be sure to always have time for you, Deputy.”

He nods and offers a smile “Thank you ma’am… you’d better get running if you’re gonna catch her.”

You nod and leave to the sound of Renner sighing and thanking God.

-Fin-

#Jeremy Renner #Jeremy Renner Smut #Jeremy Renner X Reader #female reader x Jeremy Renner #Pink - Trouble #Trouble #The Deputy #Pink #Jeremy Renner AU #AU Jeremy Renner

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seeminglyranch87 · 3 months

Text

Taylor & Travis Timeline

July 2024 - Part 1

July 3 - New Heights Ep. 97 airs, season 2 finale. Jason & Travis Kelce discuss Travis' debut on the Eras Tour stage (x) (x 48:30)

Kelce said it was initially his idea to join the show at Wembley Stadium, recalling that he told Swift it would be “funny” if he “rolled out on one of the bikes” that dancers typically ride on stage during the 1989 portion of the show.

Kelce said Swift laughed, but then asked him, “Would you seriously be up for doing something like that?”

“I was just like, ‘What? I would love to do that. Are you kidding me? I’ve seen the show enough — might as well put me to work here,’” he recalled. “And sure enough, she found the perfect part of the show for me to come in.”

Kelce surprised the crowd in London last week when he appeared on stage in a tuxedo and top hat carrying Swift onstage in “The Tortured Poets Department” era of the show.

It happened on the third night of the London stops, after the brothers attended Swift’s first two shows there.

“There was no bike in case I ran into somebody else or hit one of the dancers or anything,” Kelce said. “It was the safest option.”

Kelce said his silly dance on stage was inspired by one Jim Carey does in the movie “Dumb and Dumber.”

“I always wanted to pull out this move, but I never knew like when I should pull it out where it made sense,” he said. “That’s one of my favorite moves of all time!”

All said, Kelce called it an “honor” being on the stage with Swift and her dancers.

“It was an absolute blast,” he shared. “It was such a fun, playful part of the show and it was like the perfect time for me to go up there, just be a ham and have some fun, not only with [Swift]… but the crowd and really try and get everybody excited for the rest of the show. It was awesome.”

“I didn’t disappoint Taylor, so that’s all that really matters,” he added, saying his only rule was “do not drop the baby.”

“The golden rule was ‘Do not drop Taylor. Get her to the couch safe,’” Kelce said.

His brother and co-host Jason Kelce laughed, adding: “No fumbles.”

A little serendipitous don't you think...?

July 4 - The Eras Tour, Johan Cruijff Arena, Amsterdam, Netherlands N1

Guilty As Sin x Untouchable (guitar) The Archer x Question…? (Piano)

“I’ve been the Archer, I’ve been the prey, who could ever leave me darling? Who could stay? It’s just a question….”

And if you want to stay what do you ask the other person?

Taylor Nation reposting…. They are so unserious!

July 5 - The Eras Tour, Johan Cruijff Arena, Amsterdam, Netherlands N2

Imgonnagetyouback x Dress (guitar) & You Are In Love x Cowboy Like Me (piano)

Our girl is in love!

Taylor mimics a Travis move during Midnight Rain

Taylor sang “Karma is the guy on the Chiefs” with Travis in attendance.

Taylor Nation are riding the Tayvis train - are they hinting at a 2nd appearance on stage for Travis tomorrow for Amsterdam N3?

July 6 - The Eras Tour, Johan Cruijff Arena, Amsterdam, Netherlands N3

Travis, Patrick & Brittany Mahomes are in attendance (in suite) and sing their hearts out 🫶

Sweeter Than Fiction x Holy Ground (guitar) & Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) x So High School x Everything Has Changed (piano)

"all I know since yesterday is everything has changed and in a blink of a crinkling eye, everything has changed and I'll be 87, you'll be 89, I'll still look at you like the stars that shine in my sky, oh my my my"

Note that the secret message in the lyric booklet for Mary's Song is Sometimes love is forever. This was a love letter to Travis. Travis got a little emotional during the 2nd mashup and was seen wiping away tears.

Taylor & Travis leave the stadium together (x x)

Taylor & Travis head out with Patrick & Brittany Mahomes & Summitt & Miranda Hogue in Amsterdam post performance.

Pics posted to IG July 15 (x x)

July 8 - It is one year today since Travis Kelce went to night 2 of the Eras Tour in Kansas City wanting to shoot his shot and give Taylor Swift a friendship bracelet with his number on it. News agency's jumping the gun on Taylor & Travis' anniversary releasing articles and timelines. Remember they had not met or had contact yet.

ET timeline (x)

CNN (x x)

July 9 - The Eras Tour, Station Letzigrund, Zurich, Switzerland N1

📸 Noam Galai, 9 July 2024

Right Where You Left me x All You Had To Do Was Stay (guitar)

“Happy 9th July to those who celebrate” says Taylor before belting out

Last Kiss x Sad Beautiful Tragic (piano)

July 10 - Travis finishes filming Grotesquerie, seen with Larry McGee and crew.

The Eras Tour, Station Letzigrund, Zurich, Switzerland N2

Closure x A Perfectly Good Heart (guitar) & Peter x Never Grow Up (piano)

July 11 - Travis films advertisement for Lowe's in Long Beach, California.

Travis participates in the American Century Championship charity golf tournament's karaoke competition in Lake Tahoe, Nevada. Travis sings belts out Whitesnake's 1982 hit "Here I Go Again." (x) Travis is awarded first place!!! He accepts his award (x)

“This is the greatest thing that’s happened this year. Taylor this is for you!”

Not sure how many drinks Travis has consumed but glad to know Taylor is on his mind!!! ; )

July 12 - Travis competing in the American Century Golf Championship with his brother Jason, Lake Tahoe, Nevada.

Travis Kelce is announced as the #1 Tight End in the NFL 2024. Taylor shows her support liking 3 IG posts below.

Go to previous update -> June part 3

Go to next update -> July part 2

Return to the timeline

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prolix-yuy · 1 year

Text

Chapter 6: You Gave Me the Strength to Keep Going

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It's only perfect.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: T, more yearning for Jack and his ranch, a kiss!, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: It's time to see what Jack's ranch is all about, and to find out exactly what he's keeping in that barn. Hint: my horsey girls will be very excited about it! There's been a dearth of horse content in this sequel but we're about to change that.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist || Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The conversation on the drive back to Jack’s ranch is peppered with questions about Lacey’s wedding, your life in the “real world” as you both have taken to calling it, and observations of the landscape as the town thins out. Jack listens to you describe your job, tedious as it may be, and the hobbies that fill your free time. They pale in comparison to the cozy warmth of this town and Jack’s life commingled with it. The cool grays and blues of your apartment, the shimmering glass and steel of skyscrapers, the distinct coldness of how easy it is to live your life without ever interacting with another human being. None of it entices you home.

“It must all sound boring after what you’ve been through,” you muse, Jack chuckling softly.

“I don’t know, Sugar, I think you had some trials of your own,” he says as he parks the truck. You look at him curiously, making a smile quirk on his lips. He shrugs, shifting in his seat to face you better.

“When we were…there…you told Mary and Jeb about a husband.”

Mouth drying out, you recall the story with the thrum of anticipation that moment brought. Jack’s body so close, a lie because the truth was too hard to weave. The twin emotions of relief and disgust at how easy it was to imagine Eric removed from your life.

“Now, I realized it may not have been true, but on the off chance it was I took my time making sure.”

“Sure of what?”

Jack chews his mustache, hand smoothing around the steering wheel.

“That you weren’t happily married. That I wouldn’t ruin your life by barging in if you found someone in the time it took me to find you.”

Your cheeks heat up, embarrassment and curiosity warring.

“How?”

Now Jack’s cheeks are pinking, eyes darting to the barn outside and back to you.

“The private investigator I hired. I asked if you had a marriage certificate, and he didn’t find one. Then, I went to see for myself. Had a list of places you might be, and a few times I found you.” The hazy mist of half-formed memories drifts in - broad shoulders passing you by, a cowboy hat in the corner of your eye. You must look shocked because his eyes plead with you. “I’m sorry Sugar, I know how bad it sounds, I just…I told myself I’d walk away if I had proof.” He nods down at your hands worrying in your lap. “That tricked me for a while.”

You look down, the muted teal of the ring on your left hand pouring realization over your head.

“It’s not a…” you stammer, but Jack interrupts with a placating wave.

“I heard. You and Lacey were talking about it. She got it for you?”

It dawns on you that most of what you’d discussed in the past two days was Jack’s year of awakening. He knew nothing of yours. Spinning the ring on your finger, you find words that hurt less every time you speak them.

“I was engaged when I met you. Really unhappily, but I couldn’t admit it. You…you changed something for me. I went back and left him. Lacey helped me through it, and it was this ring she got me on her own Westworld adventure that made giving his back more bearable.”

Jack’s eyes harden and soften in record time, hand flexing in his lap. You wish he would reach for yours.

“I’m sorry you went through that, darlin’,” he says, shifting in his seat and putting one hand on the door handle.

“I’ve been a lot happier since then,” you say, a wider smile blooming on Jack’s face.

“Good,” he says, warm and thick like honey. Yanking on the handle, you find a little bravery that’s less foreign in your mouth.

“There hasn’t been anyone since,” you add. Since you sits on your tongue, but you swallow it back. His quick glance, edged with a heat that sends a frisson down your back, responds as loud as you need it.

Good.

Traipsing out, Jack saunters around the truck. A lightning bolt of white and brown streaks out from between the buildings, Russell bouncing in a tight orbit around Jack’s feet.

“Yeah, yeah, missed us Russ?” he says, the casual roll of us off his lips making your heart pound. He scratches Russell between his floppy ears as his tongue lolls out wildly. Straightening up, Jack shifts nervously with his hands on his hips.

“I thought before you head back, you might want to see the rest of the place?” he offers, your heart clenching at the way his jaw ticks side to side as he waits for your answer. It’s barely past noon, sun high and hot in the sky, the deep earthen scent of dust and clay in your nose. You wait for an objection to surface, some hard and fast desire to run from how messy and strange this all has been.

For once, your mind is silent.

“Yeah, show me around cowboy,” you say, and the bashful smile that one agreement elicits makes you want to kiss him.

Holy shit, you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

But he’s turning and ushering you towards the barn, a steady stream of tour guide-worthy tidbits matching his stride.

“...barn wasn’t in good shape, so I fixed it up with a few other guys in town. I mostly keep the machines I work on in here, some hay and feed, you know.” Pulling open one of the large doors Jack leads you in, your eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. What looks like a delivery drone rests on the floor, a toolbox and tablet on a table nearby.

“That’s a new generation seeding and fertilizing tool, though they don’t make ‘em to last. Blades always get damaged or the motor burns out. Parts are cheap, but not many people know how to fix complex machines.” Your body continues to warm at this blatant display of knowledge and competence, being careful not to step too close to the drone. Catching Jack’s eye, you quirk an eyebrow at complex machines and he shrugs. “Lots of older folks just trying to make a living. I help them, they help me. It’s…familiar.”

Looking up, you startle as a handful of glossy glowing orbs point at you from the hayloft. Jack follows your line of sight and tsks.

“How are there even more of you now?” he exclaims, and from above a chorus of mewls tickle a laugh out of your throat. “I swear they’re making my loft a den of ill repute, but damn if they aren’t cute.”

“Soft spot for animals?” you tease as blurry shapes move away from the edge. Jack shrugs but it’s even shyer now, Russell settling at his heel and staring adoringly at his master.

“They’re easier than people sometimes,” he says, colored with subtle melancholy. You kneel and hold a hand out for Russell, which he sniffs before allowing you to scritch his princely head.

“I always wanted a bunch of animals when I was a kid. My parents never let me have any, didn’t want to end up taking care of them.” Russell’s tail wags furiously as he lets you roughhouse him a little, wiggling his little lean body under your hands. When you look up at Jack there’s a thick layer of fondness on his face that he hurriedly tries to wipe off.

“Well then you’ll love the rest of the zoo I’ve got here,” he says, clearing his throat as inconspicuous as he can. You bounce to your feet, excitement thrumming in your veins.

“I can’t wait,” you say, giddiness washing away the lingering anxiety in your shoulders. Jack motions you out of the barn with a flourish.

Once back outside he leads you between the house and the barn to a domestic vista that swells around you. There’s a delicate wire fence corralling about fifteen chickens, a perfect row of henhouses lined up in the sunshine. A caramel colored is strutting outside the fence, head snapping quickly to you and Jack. He tips his hat and rumbles a “Ma’am” at her, little head cocking with a cluck before returning to her strut.

“She’s the boss,” he says, brightening at your giggles as the hen patrols…well, like a mother hen.

It’s easy to see Jack is in his element here, amongst the animals and a small town that doesn’t ask for much beyond what he can give. His eyes are bright and mirthful, hands moving quickly, and he’s lighter than you’ve ever seen him. He’s clearly home.

“Now, for the piéce de résistance,” he jokes, opening the wooden gate around the second barn and ushering you in.

Sunlight filters in through an opening in the roof, the rays speckled with hazy dust motes. Your nose fills with the scent of sweet hay and horse musk, and you can’t stop a smile from beaming on your face. The short walkway is lined with stables, many without doors and stacked with hay or saddle racks. A few saddle cloths drape over the partitions, sable browns and rust reds you observe as you step quietly behind Jack.

Then, a sound that makes your body spark to life - the plosive snuffle of a horse’s snout.

“I didn’t mean to hide them from you so long, didn’t get a chance to show you before,” Jack chuckles at your open expression as a long black nose pokes over the top of the stable door. “This here’s Jet. He’s my work horse, always carrying my ass around.” He pats the onyx horse on the neck, earning another whuffle as you smooth your palm between his eyes. Jet moves with the calm self-assurance of an experienced creature, sure-footed and even tempered.

Another, almost indignant snort comes from behind, and you turn to investigate. Just across the walkway is another stable, another occupant, and one that takes your breath away.

An Appaloosa. A long, delicate snout speckled with chestnut brown and buttery white, nostrils flaring as it tosses its silvery mane. Unbidden you walk over to it, barely aware of Jack by your side. It stomps and shifts in the stable, shaking its head again as you come within reach.

“She’s new,” Jack says quietly, your eyes still locked on the mare as she watches you with one unblinking glossy eye. “Folks selling her said she was too ornery, but she warmed up just fine to me.” Jack reaches out to pat her neck and she settles down, still shifting on her feet. You reach out a hand to stroke between her eyes, just as you did with Jet, but she jerks her head up to smack her nose into your palm. Snickering, you redirect to stroke her soft muzzle. That touch settles her, content to let you coo at her quietly. When you finally look at Jack he’s just shy of beaming, trying to hide it beneath his dark mustache.

“Seems she warmed up to you just as nicely,” he muses, shifting a fraction closer. The heat of his body calls for yours, magnetism and comfort pulling you towards him. A sudden push from the Appaloosa’s snout knocks you off balance, stumbling a step back as you bleat out a laugh. Before you can trip any further Jack’s arm is around your waist, hands closed around your elbows to steady you. His face is just by your temple and if you turned you could be kissing him in a breath’s time.

“Can we ride?” is what you say instead, two facets of your mind screaming at each other, but Jack’s smile only grows.

“I thought you’d never ask, Sugar.”

Tacking up is quick and mostly silent except for the natural noises of the horses. Jack pulls out equipment for you, sweat staining the center of his shirt and curling the hair at the nape of his neck. You prepare the Appaloosa, watching for her shifting feet. She’s definitely been ridden before but there’s a bratty energy in the way she tosses and wiggles while you work. Soothing her a few times, you get her squared away before leading her out of the stables. Jack waits for you outside the barn door, Jet’s reins loose in his hands as he sits atop.

With the afternoon sun starting to lengthen your shadows, Jack is every bit the cowboy you remember. Faded leather riding boots fit snug into the stirrups, threadbare jeans hugging his thick thighs. The sun-bleached gray of his button-up is dark with sweat, but that only intensifies how much you’d like to bury your nose in his chest and inhale him deep. He’s rolled the sleeves, exposing corded forearms dusted with hair. Wide palms and blunt fingers rest on his pommel, and the shade his black hat affords his face can’t hide the simmering pride in his eyes.

“She’s never let me tack her up that quick,” he comments as you walk up beside him.

“She have a name?” you ask, patting her shoulder to earn an affectionate huff.

“Not yet, nothing’s come to me,” he muses.

“I’m sure we can find something that fits you,” you placate, putting a foot in the stirrup to lift yourself up. In one forceful push you mount, swinging your leg and settling on the Appaloosa’s back. She shifts under you but stays still as you adjust your position. Satisfied, you flash Jack a scandalous look.

“What, no offer to help me up?” you tease. Jack’s eyes crinkle as a sideways smile twists his lips.

“I would never presume to be so bold with an experienced rider,” he drawls.

“You could,” you shoot back, your own confidence surprising. “You could be bold, Jack.”

Jack’s smile softens, eyes turning contemplative.

“I guess I could, Sugar.”

You hold your gaze, electricity sparking between you on the precipice of the unknown.

Jack leads you off the main property and into the sprawling plains. He mumbles that he doesn’t own all of it, but no one else does either so he’s chosen to watch over it. The gentle sway of the horses’ gait undulates you back and forth, closer and further apart, as he points out ridges that lead to other homes, fences he’s helped build. When silence creeps in it’s comfortable, the clop of hooves a constant.

Cresting a hill, a rust-colored valley opens up at your feet. Miles of land uninterrupted, only patches of dry desert grass and spindly trees to dot the landscape. Side by side with Jack something shifts in you, matched by the Appaloosa’s stamping feet. You lean down to stroke her neck, head tossing with a whinny.

“What do you want, girl?” you ask, the barely restrained thrum of her muscles twitching under your hand. She takes a step forward, then stops and shakes her head. You look at Jack over your shoulder, and he jerks his chin at you with a smirk.

“You wanna run?” you ask, loosening the lead on the reins. She swings her head back like she can’t believe you have to ask. “Okay, girl, let’s fucking run.”

A nudge of your heels is all she needs to take off like a shot, your body lifting and tensing as she sprints, then canters, then breaks into a full-on gallop across the dusty plains. You lean forward, outstretching your arms to move with her neck and taking your weight off her back. Thighs burning, wind whipping across your face, you let the elation of hooves slamming into the ground rip a wild laugh from your throat. Your form, your control, the magnificent beast below you and the world whipping by are all that matter. If you wouldn’t lose all balance you’d throw your arms out and try to fly.

A blur of black comes up beside you, Jack urging Jet to keep pace. You can only glance at him, but what you can see of his handling and posture lets you know he’s giving Jet the lead to chase you. Your eyes water against the wind (or maybe something else) as the Appaloosa begins to flag, slowing as a grassier hill grows before you. With a final push, you ride her momentum to the top, gasping along with her explosive pants. Without the wind your skin is hot and sticky, legs tight from the effort of riding. Shaking your hands out, you dismount as Jack comes to a stop.

“You sure let her out!” Jack shouts as you spin in a circle, the high of speed and freedom making every nerve sing out.

“Sure fucking did! That was…shit, yes, that was…” you try to articulate, but all you can make come from your lungs is one exuberant, primal scream that echoes through the valley. In that noise is all of the tightly-gripped pain, the fear, the disbelief that you could ever be happy thrown into the air, never to sink into your flesh again. This is joy. You are capable of joy again, and it’s thanks to a man now standing behind you, smiling like you’re a miracle he never thought he’d experience twice.

“Jack…”

His name is soft in your mouth, and when you say it his smile only deepens. Nothing could come between the pull of your bodies now, so you let yours go to him. In two steps your head is tucked under his chin, arms around his waist. He’s surrounding you, warmth and musk pressed into your cheek. Dipping his chin down, he buries his nose in the top of your head and inhales, large hand cupping the back of your neck.

“I missed you, darlin’,” he says in a whisper, like he’s afraid you’ll spook. Your throat is so tight you can barely croak out, “I missed you too Jack.” His hand cups your cheek as he guides your foreheads together, hat tilting back on his head. Your noses glide against one another, lips barely brushing but the featherlight caress awakens a need in you that begs to be quenched. Jack’s proud nose drags along your cheek as he presses a kiss at the hinge of your jaw, worshipful in his offering. You grip his shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists as he noses up to your temple, another kiss tattooed on your skin. Tilting your chin up, your eyes open to his searching your face, and he must have seen the plea in your eyes because he cradles your head in both hands and presses his lips to yours.

It’s everything and nothing like the first time you kissed Jack Daniels. There’s no tension, no anxiety, no worries coloring how you taste him. Instead there is a clawing need to be swallowed whole, to suffocate on his affections and let him devour you. The first kiss is full, promising, pulling away only enough to slip in a breath. The second is overwhelming, hard and demanding as he swipes over your lower lip and crowds your body. Opening for him, his tongue finds yours and strokes lazily against it, a choked groan pooling heat in your cunt. You press back and suck on his lower lip, the harsh pant of his breath on your cheek spurring you on. His next kiss has teeth, a forceful press into your mouth, and hands wandering to grip your waist. You accept it all greedily, stumbling into him and burying your fingers in his hair. He rips his mouth away with a gasp, chin tilting up to offer his long neck. You accept with wild abandon, licking a stripe before placing a wet kiss at the base.

“Fuck, fuck, Sugar, you sure can drive me to distraction, slow down for a second,” he pleads.

“Can’t, Jack, fuck, I can’t…” you pant, crashing you lips back against his when he tips his chin down. The groan in his chest is half frustration, half elation. Hands slide up your spine in soothing paths, tugging you flush while his lips ghost over yours.

“Not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he rumbles, rocking you on your heels while his hands sweep up and down in a gentle pattern. “Slow down, we got plenty of time. I’m right here.”

Finally the choking need to crawl inside him dissipates, traded for the marshmallowy softness of his lips on your neck, grazing the swell of your cheek. You’re lost in the limbo of kissing Jack until a sharp nudge knocks you in the center of your back. He chuckles.

“Seems like our company is growing tiresome for these two,” he says while you turn in his arms. The Appaloosa is standing behind you with the horsey equivalent of rolled eyes and “can we go now?” energy. You ruffle her forelock affectionately as Jack’s arms wind around your waist, chest solid against your back.

“She was my sign,” Jack says quietly as she flicks her tail at a troublesome fly. “Was at an auction, not looking for anything in particular, and I saw her. She was pulling at the reins, giving them a run for their money, and I thought you’d like her.”

Your fingers rest lightly on her muzzle, breath hitching in your chest.

“See, I was debating on whether I was going to go about my plan at all. I got myself established, safe, functioning in this new world. I told myself I was going to find you once I was ready. But then I thought, what if she’s happy? What if she doesn’t want anything more than what we shared that night? I would be ruining your life by trying to find a way back in it.” Your hands fall to clasp around his, a skyline stretching with miles and miles of potential before you.

“But then I saw her, and…well, I guess I don’t have quite the same belief in a higher power as some. But this was too great a coincidence for me to ignore. If the world was giving me a sign, I had to at least try.”

She turns one eye to you, amber and gold in the afternoon light.

“Daybreak,” you say, smiling as she nickers quietly. Jack’s hum urges you to add, “You should call her Daybreak.”

The beginning of a new day, and all its possibilities still laid before you.

“Daybreak it is,” Jack agrees.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

#jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x reader #westworld fanfiction #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #prolix fics

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andreabaideas · 12 days

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What costumes would DJATS characters wear for Halloween 1978?

Uhmm, cool one!!! Tough though. I pictured the shows actors and looks for this to work.

The band gets invited to a Halloween promo party at a Haunted mansión themed club party where everyone is presented the fancy way and like going down stairs, as everyone famous or cool IS going...Yeah so they have to be wearing a costume :

Lisa & Warren dresses as Gómez and Morticia Addams, he says that for once Gómez IS played by a latino. He keeps being disgustingly kissy all night long and throwing crass jokes.

Karen dresses in black leather trousers and almost seee through black shirt. She wears tons of makeup. She looks like a Barbie doll gothic edition. She wears red lenses and looks super sexy. Then just before the party she sprays herself with fake Blood and puts fake fangs...etc voila She's a Bloody Vampiress!

+ Graham dresses as a old time XIX cowboy, leather Duster jacket and everything , but Karen convinces him to be a bit more cool and terrifying, to match with her, so he puts some fake Blood on him on his neck and he brings his childhood fake toy gun and a spike , so now he IS a kinda punk Vampire Hunter cowboy. He looks amazing.

Camila dresses as a Vampire too, with sexy make Up (see Camila Morrone Nars Lipstick promo makeup) with a long flowy classy black dress and puts a very simple neck two fangs wounds. She sews a tiny black Witch dress with shiny bits,very pretty, 20's like gown for Julia, with a hat and everything, the hat part IS constantly rejected by Julia , that has other plans...and throws a tantrum until she gets to...wear a red wig, to be dressed as Daisy.

Billy Finally convinces Julia to be a Mini redhead Witch , so both his Girls are Happy. Julia gets the wig, but throws her hat all the time, Camila seems content, but is slightly sad and holds Julia's hat all the time she throws it away . Only just with the shiny black dress (that looks eerily very similar to the dying on the shower Daisy's outfit) she totally traumatises (unwillingly) Billy (for obvious ptsd reasons).

Speaking about the devilBilly...He hates this kinds of things, he always dress as himself with a sticker putting : Myself or alt "RockStar" or "Julia's Dad " "Camis husband" "Graham bro" "Daisy's Shithead"...Etc XD.

This year, and after :

1- Daisys jocking taunting him about last years non effort crappy costumes (75' 76' and 77' previous home parties).

2- Camila's sadness over the hat she made for Julia

and

3 - Julias tantrum.

He , for once, says fuck It! , and makes a Halloween effort, and a great one. He buys a profesional costume like those wore by actors. He looks sexy , regal like he just came out of the XIX century... And he dresses as a Classy regency Vampire, He even cuts his hair shorter just before the party, like when he was twelve, because Camila had told him that He would look super cute like that now too, to surprise her and make her Happy, after Julia's drama. Then he puts into good use the new beard he was growing (my inspo was thirsting over Sam dressed as Edmond Dantes at some of The Count of Montecristo promo pics and It showed XD). Also he wears fake fangs and a bit of fake Blood on his lower lip. He looks like The sexiest™.

Simone accompanies Billy for the surprise to her old time expensive costume store , and she dresses as a old time Queen Voodoo Witch (picture Marie Laveau) She looks like a queen (like always).

Bernie and Eddie dresses as a pair of terryfying realistic Zombies, as they both went to remind Daisy about the party (Bernie ordered by Simone and Eddie by Rod) ; then she uses them as her Makeup Guinea pigs... And gives them some clothes - that the lousy Nicky left forgotten at her House after the breakup- covered in strawberry Jelly. Then she creates fake wounds on both of them with melted cheese sheets and makeup on their skins, to create realistic fake wounds that seems ripped chomps of skin and meat. The both look like munched corpses. They scare themselves and the others. Simone IS super traumatised for Bernie. They are delighted if cheesy smeling XD. Warren jokingly steals one wound from Eddie and eats It. Everyone goes eew!!!

Rod dressed as Drácula a la Bela Lugosi. Super dapper.

Teddy dresses as an ancient Warlock, like Gandalf lord of the rings book drawings.

Daisy comes 2h'30 mins late, everyone thinks she forgot...and to be honest she kinda did forget about the party the first 30 min , until she got reminded by her dear zombies XD

But nope, shell be the Halloween Queen , she IS secretly that "unhinged for Halloween" group friend who likes to traumatise the rest,. She puts a super sexy silky White dress (inspo IS a dress Riley wore once silky and White) , but as she has inherited her father artistic drawing talent , she draws wounds on herself too, she puts something sticky red on those face and arms wounds, and some Green juice too, then she wets and messies her hair too, and goes shoeless...As adult Regan from the exorcist.

Also - as the dramatic little shit she is (affectionately)- She enters the party doing theatrics mimicking the unfamous stairs scene (those artistic gymnastic classes paid by her parents should be put on good use right?) Almost everyone feels like fainting or gets trauma wide mouthed, then as she stoods Up, Daisy just evil laughs...XD

Only one not traumatised , Its tiny Julia, who inmediatelly goes to Daisy hugs her and ask her if she likes her costume . Daisy praises Julias costume, as her "Kid self" was a terrifying little Monster, and after watching Camila holding the hat and Billy trauma face when watching Julia, she convinces Julia into wearing the hat and of being Witchy Baby!Daisy , as she always wanted to be a Witch as a kid. Camila silently thanks her. Billy seems relieved.

Julia then slightly concerned asks Daisy if she got chickenpox " like I did when I started school" and then scrached like she did XD

Billy almost dies of laughter after that.

Everyone relaxes then and has a great time.

Julia wins the costumes kids award of the party as Mini Daisy.

Simone wins best female costume. Billy Its tied with Graham as co winners for male costumes. Daisy wins the best scare /scary time , but never gets invited again to the club party, as the old owner almost got a Heart attack XD

She then start a tradition of making a Halloween party at her House... Everyone Its terrified to go (sauf Julia, brave little nugget she IS).

As an Adult Julia grows even more unhinged than Daisy for Halloween...Dressing as Samara from the Ring or as La Llorona and keeps jumping from corners !!! Billy IS very afraid of her during that week and blames everyone for it. Camila shrugs It off, she's used to that dumbasery already XD.

Looong ooneee, I know.

Thats It!

#Answered #Halloween #daisy jones and the six #sam claflin #riley keough #camila morrone #billy dunne #daisy jones #Julia dunne #Eddie Roundtree #Simone Jackson #Bernie Jackson #Teddy Price #Rod Reyes #Graham Dunne #Karen Sirko #Camila Dunne #see what i did there #Camila IS still around for a bit when Julia IS an Adult in the show so i used It in the end

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joanie-writes · 2 years

Text

Astraea Pt. 2

The much awaited return.

LowHonour!Arthur x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, naivety, slight degradation, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, rough sex

Word count: 3.1k

Pt. 1

At first you were only excited for his return. It was all you dreamt about, all you hoped and prayed for. But time went on and that ruggedly handsome face hadn't shown, your dreams slowly died out and you began to unravel what had happen that night. You were left tarnished and ruined. Sure nobody ever found out, though your father was furious about the loss of his horses. Arthur had taken your innocence and bolted with it. Why couldn't you have just listened to your father and stayed far away from the greedy hands of a man? That was what you often stayed awake thinking about.

But another question you could not seem to drop was if what you had done together was so wrong, why did it feel so good? After waking from a false reality where the cowboy had climbed into your room once again, you bit your lip as you felt slick beginning to cool your inner thigh. You dragged a shaking hand down your front, sliding your fingers to the bud that longed for the touch of him.

Your father had left to attend some business in the east, but with your brothers in charge the ranch continued on. As did your learnings, father had always said he didn't want a stupid girl, so you practiced your pianoforte tirelessly. With the beautiful chimes you were left unable to think about his blue eyes or the way he held you as you kissed. You were so focused on getting the damn song right that you hadn't even noticed that you'd played yourself into the night.

A siren kind of sound was what Arthur heard from his place upon his horse, a ways up the hill and still decently far from the familiar manor house. But he could hear the graceful song well, the notes soaring through the fields. It wasn't a short trip back here, but Arthur couldn't get you out of his head. You were messing up his shots and causing tension with his fellow gang members, all while you weren't there. So he figured that one more time would get you out of his system for good.

"You have got to stop leaving doors open, angel." Your head whipped around at the gruff voice, a gasp leaving your lips as you stopped mid play.

There he was, leaned up against the patio doorway, his hat only just covering his eyes. Your eyes were wide and doe like, that same look you'd given him when you awoke with his hand covering your mouth, the same look but softened when he left. You got up, silently making your way to him only for Arthur to grab you and lean you over with a kiss, allowing you to snatch the hat right off his head. You moaned against his lips, tasting a minty tobacco mix.

Once you had been released from Arthur's hold and a cocky smile was placed on lips and you took your chance to give him a very deserved smack.

Arthur chuckled and shook his finger also shaking his head while he said, "You pack one hell of a hit."

"You just abandoned me, Arthur, after you did, that, to me." You frowned, pushing his hand away when he reached for your waist. You placed his trusty hat on your head, just to try.

"I'll make it up to you."

There was not a hint of remorse in his voice, but as that silver tongue poked out to wet his lips, you couldn't help but fall for him and his tricks again. As soon as you nodded, Arthur pressed his lips to yours again, leading you back into the solarium which housed the grand piano, tipping the much too big hat off of your head.

There was a part of Arthur that couldn't help but be eternally grateful to whatever entity watched over him that you were not enlarged with a baby of his creation, he knew he wasn't meant to be a father. And you would have been put in the paper as the next Virgin Mary, which he'd chuckle at later.

Arthur pulled away again to your disappointment, leaning away with a smile when you chased his lips. "I heard your playing, you think you could give me a little show?" You took a deep breath before shrugging and agreeing, it wasn't like you were short on time, but your patience was running a little short.

You sat on the bench, flipping through the sheet music to find a song that might better suit the electric atmosphere. Arthur waltzed around the room, admiring the expensive trinkets and the array of plants but as you began playing his gaze fixed itself onto you. He watched your impeccable posture and your fingers move skillfully along the keys to create the melody. You blushed under his intense stare but simply tried to focus on the song, trying to prove you were unaffected by your own yearning.

The song faltered when you watched Arthur drop to his hands and knees out of the corner of your eye and again when he pinched your leg. "Don't stop, just pretend I'm not here." Arthur spoke from under the piano, you shook your head and kept up with your fingers.

Your breath hitched when you felt Arthur tug your undergarments off while he pushed your skirt out of the way. You paused for a mere second to assist him with the task. A quiet whine escaped you when you felt Arthur press his lips to your inner thigh, his hands dancing from your knees to your hips. Arthur glanced up at you before reaching around you to pull your body closer to the edge of the bench and to his greedy lips, making it harder to play but you figured whatever he was about to do to you would be worse.

He started by kissing up your thigh, skillfully dragging his tongue along your flaming skin, "You're so wet already, you know I was comin'?" Arthur smiled when you nodded breathlessly, not yet letting his orchestrations distract you from playing. The first flick of his tongue on your clit brought forth the most angelic sound that Arthur had ever heard, even more angelic than your music, which was also impressive.

The slight pause of your playing was left unnoticed by Arthur because he was too busy with the sinfully sweet taste of you dancing in his undeserving mouth as he ate you right up. His hands gripped the flesh of your thighs and groaned into your skin. Your wanton moans mixed with the music in perfect harmony. The foreign feeling of his tongue dipping into your entrance made your chest rise with breath and whimper his name.

It had been so long since you'd felt this enraptured, your peak didn't take long to build in the pit of your loins. When Arthur swiped his tongue over the whole of you the harmony became yours alone because involuntarily your hands left the piano to grip the dirty blonde hair.

This caused Arthur to pull away with a sharp nip to your inner thigh, "What did I say, angel?"

"Don't stop." You answered breathlessly, the gleam of sweat on your bosom nearly making Arthur unable to follow though with his order, only wanting to follow the one you just indirectly gave him. The sight alone made him want to dive back into your pussy.

But alas, he regained control of his thoughts and pushed the bench away from the piano, swiftly getting up to place you atop of the grand instrument. Automatically your legs spread to create a perfect space for him. Arthur's impatient hands made quick work of your blouse; in an instant it was cast to the floor. "Shame you stopped that pretty playing, would've loved to keep goin', angel." He said while undid the buttons of his shirt.

You turned red hot at Arthur's words and the way he nimbly undressed himself, revealing his strong body just for you. The thought of what he may have done in his absence irked you some because you had to sit here and daydream, but you pushed the thought away, focusing on the moment in front of you. Arthur began pulling your skirt off, leaving you only in your corset.

"I need you, Arthur." You spoke softly, looking at him with that semblance of innocence which in turn ran a chill up Arthur's spine. The mostly glass walls of the solarium made the thill of this sin more exciting for Arthur while it made the hairs on your arms stand straight up.

Arthur didn't dignify your begging with a response, only pulling your bottom half closer to his crotch by pushing the small of your back, your skin horribly squeaked against the shiny black piano as he did which caused your face to burn hot for the umpteenth time. Again, Arthur paid no attention, purely focused on the the feeling of his swollen and angry tip prodding your entrance.

You tilted his face downwards to yours with a single finger, lowering your tone to a whisper to make the message clear for him.

"Fuck me, cowboy."

"When did you learn that talk, huh?" Icy hot jealously whipped through Arthur's veins, a few months ago you barely knew what your own body was capable of but now you were using this kind of language?

"You fuck somebody else since I been away?" He imitated you, causing you to shrink in on yourself.

"No, no, I just um, I was talking to one of the ranch hands about one of the girls from town he hangs around with." Arthur believed you, he just wanted to take every opportunity to make your stomach twist with nerves that he could.

"He told you how he fucks her? Does he fuck her good?"

"I don't know!"

"But he told you that he does fuck her, clearly. Do you think he fucks her good?"

"Arthur." You sighed.

He laughed, shaking his head as he said, "I guess it doesn't matter, you know I'm gonna fuck you good."

Your fingers locked around Arthur's thick biceps in a tight grip the second he pushed half of his length into you. The sudden stretch burned for you but there was no resistance on his part with the way your nectar was dripping out of you. Arthur couldn't help but pause and admire your beauty yet again.

The second half of his length officially filled you to the very brim. A feeling like no other; a feeling that you'd been trying to chase but being held by iron chains made it impossible.

"Give it to me, angel, let me hear you sing."

You could barely hear Arthur's words over the sound of his skin violently hitting yours from the force of this thrusts, there was no shot your body would be the same after tonight. A pitchy whine released itself from within you at his plea and the feeling of him reaching so very deep inside of you.

He chuckled as he panted from the strain, laughing out, "That's it, you're such a good girl." With a smack to the side of your thigh.

"Hey sister! Are you in there? Whats going on?"

You pushed Arthur by his bare chest with all of your might, hurrying to pull on your skirts and drag a still very much shirtless Arthur out of the patio door. The rush of adrenaline went straight to Arthur's cock. He was impressed with your speed, and he had to admit the glimmer of sweaty arousal in the moonlight on you looked incredible.

You silently prayed that your oaf of a brother wouldn't knock down the locked door in search of you for you knew Arthur's dark red shirt and scuffed hat still lay strewn about the floor along with your top. But hopefully if he did he was dumb enough to think one of the farmhands was getting up to no good... Arthur on the other hand stood quietly next to you against the wall of the house, watching the peaks of your breasts in the corset fall rapidly up and down. The strain in his pants grew more uncomfortable the longer you stood there and waited for any sort of noise.

"He won't go searching, c'mere." Arthur beckoned, tugging you by the hand further along the back of the house, where the chandelier light from the solarium didn't reach as much. He kissed your neck, leaning you against the wall and greedily grabbing at your body wherever he could. Your lips fell apart in the utter lust of it all, your eyes closing in the frustration of Arthur's recklessness.

You huffed, still nuzzling into the campfire scent he had, "A-Arthur, somebody is going to see us out here." He only shushed you, the sudden feeling of your feet leaving the ground making you forget the danger you were in right now. Arthur had picked you up to properly hold you captive against the wall, the stockholm syndrome was strong.

He helped you moved your skirt aside, your wonder got the best of you again, "You can have me like this?"

Arthur smiled wickedly before replying, "I could have you anyway I like."

The property was quiet besides the occasional yelp of a fox and both of your ragged breathing. You held yourself up securely around Arthur's toned back while he continued his assault on your jaw and neck. Your eyes clamped shut when he pushed into you once again, the size of him and the tightness of you got the best of you both for a moment there. You moaned against the flaming skin of his neck, the feeling was indescribable.

"You're so fuckin' hm - so tight, angel. Feels like I can't even move."

"Please, oh-" You were cut off by the first thrust and your brain felt like it was turning more and more into mush with each direct snap of Arthur's hips. He could tell, he knew that your eyes were rolling back and the way your front teeth gently scraped against the bare skin of his shoulder indicated that you couldn't even bear to produce sound.

"You were made just for me, weren't you? Sent down by the fucking heavens above." Arthur mumbled to you, the slap of his skin against yours joining the sound of the crickets. The heat of the summer night made sweat drip down the back of Arthur's neck but not even the heat from hell below could have stopped him from ravishing you.

He adjusted his hold on you all while picking up the speed of his thrusts. Your body shook and your toes curled when he hit that special place inside of you, like he had found the key once again. "Oh my - Arthur, Arthur, do that again, please." You tremored out.

Usually Arthur Morgan wasn't one to obey the requests of anybody, but with the way you were holding him and how you felt wrapped in his arms, he would've done anything for you. So at his brutal pace, Arthur repeatedly hit that spot, even faltering in his movement for a moment with the way you squeezed around his cock in return. And for the first time in a while Arthur got to see you as you threw your head back in pure, unadulterated, pleasure. Your hips bounced gently back against him, which only poured fuel on the fire that burned inside both of you.

"Cmon, angel, show me what a dirty girl you are."

Arthur's backwards flattery pulled a long whine out of you, and with a final sharp push you felt yourself shake with the crashing waves from the first time. Arthur looked down to where he was still fucking into you, seeing the ocean of your bliss drip down into the grass. The sight made his abs tighten, he bit your shoulder in a last attempt to last any longer but again barely made it to spend himself onto the ground below you. He wished he could have just stayed sheathed inside of you, feel his cum leak into you and then proceed to push it even farther, the thought alone made him want another go at you. But, he held your limp form in his arms still and knew you couldn't handle once more. The signature smirk returned.

Arthur carried you back into the solarium and gently placed you back onto one of the cushy chairs, catching himself absentmindedly giving your forehead a tender kiss. You picked your head up to watch him collect his clothing, half buttoning his shirt and laying his hat towards the back of his head - he was beautiful. Arthur brought you your shirt, knowing you couldn't stay in here the whole night so he was unable to freely enjoy the view of your naked form like before. He also figured staying any longer would already be pushing his already dumb luck.

"So uh, where's your pops? I guess I should introduce myself, huh?" Arthur teased, chuckling at the sight of your eyes widening.

"Arthur Morgan." You sighed, smiling as you stood, your legs screaming for you to sit back down.

He held your face in his giant hands, a stroke to your cheekbone warmed your heart. Both of you leaned in for one last kiss and you arms instinctively wrapped around him once again to pull your body closer to his. Arthur was first to pull away to then lean his forehead against yours, he didn't seem like a big bad outlaw right now, especially with the way you tipped the hat off his head this go around.

"What are you doing to me, angel?"

You didn't fully get what he meant by that so you didn't feel the need to respond. He met those doe like eyes again and shook his head while fully pulling away from you. "I should go now." Arthur said while looking at the sky; the black abyss now had yellow and pink hues spilling into it.

"Will I see you ever again, Arthur?"

He shrugged, finding it harder to move the more he backed away from you, "I don't know."

You felt the urge to throw something at him or scream or anything. It wasn't fair for him to do this to you again and it also wasn't fair that you couldn't leave this godforsaken house. You had half the mind to run away, which also didn't seem fair, because before Arthur, you would have never thought a thing like that.

"Don't come back then." You seethed

Arthur watched your hopeful shoulders fall, he watched you move closer to shove him out of the patio door, pushing his hat to his chest with tears brimming your eyes. "You don't get to throw me away when you don't need me, Arthur Morgan."

Wordlessly, he turned around and began his walk away from you. Arthur knew if he explained his feelings to you that it would only hurt and confuse you more. He also knew that he may not be able to control his frustration. But his stomach hurt with the thought of how he just hurt you, he'd never felt that for anybody before.

#haven't written in a while hope this is good ;(#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan smut #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 writing #rdr2 #arthur morgan #x reader #reader insert #female insert #smut

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zae-heeyyy · 5 months

Text

Chiaroscuro

Summary: You're very fond of silk scarfs and Arthur Morgan. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,555 Tags: fluff, developing relationship, Horseshoe Overlook, kissing, affection

a/n: It's been 10 years since I've written and published any type of fiction, so I'm a bit out of my comfort zone. Also learned that they mostly used "scarfs" instead of "scarves" in the 20th century so I wrote accordingly. Let me know if you enjoy; thanks for reading!

( ´˘ᴗ˘)♡(´ ❥ `✿)

chiaroscuro: an Italian term used in art to describe the contrast between light and dark, often associated with dramatic lighting.

You let yourself indulge in one of the few simple pleasures you could afford: silk scarfs. Your clothing trunk was full of them; they were light and didn’t take up a lot of space, something you had to think about in your line of work. The often patterned and bright pieces of fabric were soft and delicate, two things you frequently wished you could be if your life had gone differently. You didn’t want to admit it, but you cared about looking pretty. You didn’t like to go out of your way to style your hair or put on makeup daily, so you settled on scarfs. Still, you didn’t feel like you were easily noticed, like Mary Beth or Molly, but you’d caught the attention of the only one you’d care to, Arthur Morgan.

Arthur had started to notice your growing collection. He invariably knew when you were wearing a new one, always taking the time to acknowledge it. “New scarf?” He’d ask with his brows raised, or “That’s a nice one.” Sometimes, he’d tease you, “We’re gonna have to get you a whole wagon for all those scarfs.” More seriously, he had started complimenting you, “looks mighty fine, miss,” he’d say, tilting his hat. You’d flush and thank him shyly, and the two of you would go about your separate ways.

Then, the cowboy started seeking you out in the mornings, leaning casually against the wagon where your clothing trunk and scarfs were stored. The two of you would share small talk while you picked out your scarf for the day. He would smile and nod in approval of your choice, no matter what it was, and then he was gone again, disappearing like a whisper in the wind. Once, he leaned over you, grabbed a specific scarf from the pile, and held it out, “That one’s my favorite,” he’d say, making you work to maintain your composure when you were beaming inside.

After a week or two, your communication was much less vocal. It was intense eye contact and shy smiles and nods. He’d silently look through your scarfs, pick one, and wrap it around your neck for you. He seemed so confident in the moment but would scratch his chin and look away right after, finding some excuse to swiftly depart. His sudden lack of confidence embarrassed him, but you found it endearing.

Finally, the tension had built. Arthur was wrapping your scarf around you like he’d started to do, and you grabbed onto his hands as he finished tying the knot. Both of you paused, staring intently at one another. You lifted up on your toes just as he bent to reach you. It was hard to say who kissed who first, but you’d never been kissed so gently and tender. You wondered if you’d made him want to be that way-- gentle and tender, words no one would usually use to describe the outlaw. You could’ve kissed him forever, but you had to breathe, and he had a job to do. But you’d been giddy, and your heart would flutter whenever he was around; it also ached for the following day when you’d have your moment with him again.

Some mornings, he’d be there waiting before you’d even gotten completely dressed, still in your shift and bloomers from the night before. He’d hand you a metal cup of coffee, and you’d stand close together, shoulders touching, and you two would go on about whatever came to mind. When you couldn’t waste any more time, he’d pick out your scarf and tie it around your neck. You’d share your anticipated kiss before he went off on whatever errands Dutch wanted him to run for the day.

You’d found him sitting alone another day, seeking solace from camp with his back against a large rock. His head was dipped into his journal, sketching so intensely that he didn’t notice your approach. You’d only caught a glimpse of pencil markings on the page when he looked up, saw you, and closed it. You’d wonder what he was always writing in that thing, but you respected him enough not to ask. He reached out for your hand and pulled you down to sit with him, not letting it go for the entirety of your conversation. You and he would spend hours behind the boulder, lost in conversation. The mystery of the leather-bound book’s contents would fade away, consumed by memories he’d share with you.

But you’d find out sooner than later by accident. Arthur hadn’t returned to camp in a few days, which was typical. However, it wasn’t normal for him to stalk straight to his tent on his return. His routine usually involved stopping by the donation box or sitting by the fire and, lately, seeking you out. You discovered him in his tent, digging through his satchel, his brows furrowed in frustration. His face softened as you approached, and he looked at you, scratching the back of his neck.

“Lost my damn pencil,” the brooding man murmured, looking around his tent.

You helped him look around his tent and through his satchel, taking the leap to dump all its contents onto the cot. Cigarette cards, documents, herbs, feathers, and his journal fell onto the bed. You’d started to give up when you noticed the gray tip of the pencil sticking out of the journal. You flipped the book open without thinking, too caught up in being the solution to his problem to realize you were about to invade his privacy. As you went to grab the pencil from the crease of the journal, your eyes fell on the bookmarked page. The markings on the paper were so detailed and intricate that you couldn’t help but draw your eyes to them. You’d gone quiet, and he turned to face you. His eyes landed on the open journal briefly before you closed it hastily. Handing it back with the pencil on top, you murmured a quick apology. You looked away from him, putting the contents of his satchel back and going to stand. He gently grabbed your wrist as you tried to leave, making you stop in place. Without resistance, you found yourself guided to the cot, where he sat down, pulling you beside him. His face was soft but riddled with thought as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I—“he paused, searching for the words but decided to show you instead. In your full view, he opened the book, smoothing the pages over his lap. Above an inscription, he’d drawn a flower. You recognized it instantly as a printed flower from a scarf you wore a few days before. Your fingers reached to absent-mindedly touch the fabric around your neck. Then the words caught your eyes and made them almost fill with tears, “That girl and her scarfs bring color to my dull, dull life.” You laughed and wrapped your arms around him. As surprised as he was, he wrapped his around you and held you close for a while

The gunslinger had been less shy after that, keeping the journal open when you’d come to sit beside him behind the rock. He’d sometimes tear a page out and hand it to you or leave it for you to find. You’d started finding them all over the camp. He’d leave one in your clothing trunk, caring to leave several if he knew he’d be away from camp for a while, or you’d find one tucked under your pillow when you went to lay down for the night. The sketches were always so identical to your scarfs that you knew exactly which scarf he was thinking about when he drew it. You’d study the drawings, noticing all the elaborate lines. You wondered how the images stuck in his mind so easily, but he’d confessed to you that every part of you stuck in his mind, always.

You woke and walked to the wagon one day, but he wasn’t there. In his absence was a small box wrapped in twine with a bundle of English mace sticking out of the top. Your name was scrawled across a tag in his handwriting. You opened it to a pool of plain white silk. “Pure as you” was written on a piece of torn paper on the inside. You beamed but left it in the box and tucked it away with all your other scarfs.

Arthur returned to camp in the evening just as Pearson had served the stew. As he approached, he smiled at you, but his smile fell when he noticed your unusual lack of a scarf.

“Did you—“he started to ask, but you threw your arms around him and cut him off with a kiss.

“‘Course I did,” you pulled him to the spot at the wagon and held the box to him, “Just been waiting for you to tie it on.”

His mouth formed into a slight grin, his chest rising and falling with a deep chuckle.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin'.”

He enveloped you in the scarf, sealing his gesture with another affectionate kiss. As you sat together at the fire, you were engulfed by another type of warmth–– your feelings for Arthur. Though neither of you had said it yet, you knew you loved him, and he loved you too.

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allzelemonz · 1 year

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Scent: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, bottom Micah and top reader, Micah is a little creepy (I coulda made it so much worse), he’s obsessed with how you smell, finger sucking, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex Summary: When your mask goes missing from the laundry you find it somewhere very unexpected, getting it back leads to something much more unexpected.

You can’t find it anywhere. Laundry always gets done in camp, one way or another. Sometimes things get lost, it happens, but this is the most inconvenient time to lose your mask. You’re supposed to be meeting Bill, Arthur, and Lenny to rob a train but you can’t find the mask anywhere.

Mary-Beth says she never saw it.

Tilly says the same.

And Abigail.

Karen is drunk, no help.

Miss Grimshaw asks if you ever gave it to the girls to clean.

You’re sure you did, along with a few other items of clothing. You got everything back from Tilly yesterday, but the mask wasn’t there. You look over your clothes again, at this point just trying to pick out something to ruin so you can cut a new mask from it. Just as you pick out an old shirt you’re willing to part with, you see it. Your mask, crumpled in the hands of Micah Bell.

He’s on the edge of camp, somewhere most people wouldn’t see him, but your tent is angled just right. Micah runs his fingers over the fabric, almost as carefully as he does with his guns. It’s an unsettling sight, proving that he clearly meant to take it. You walk the long way around so he doesn’t see you coming, approaching him in a blind spot like an animal stalking prey.

“Hello, Mister Bell.”

Micah jumps ever so slightly, something you would have missed if you blinked at the wrong time. He turns, tucking the mask into his pocket in the process.

“Hi there, cowpoke.” He says, hiding his guilt with scary efficiency.

You pause for a moment, trying to find a hint of something in his face. “There a reason you took my stuff?”

“No idea what yer talkin’ about.” He dips his head slightly, utilizing his hat to hide his face as he relaxes with his hands comfortably on his gun belt.

“Come on, Micah.” You sigh. “I actually have to go out and make money instead of lazing around camp all day.”

He chuckles. “Good one, cowpoke. I’ll remember that.”

“Just give it back.”

Slowly, he takes the mask from his pocket and turns it over in his hands.

“Don’t think I will.” He says, clearing his throat. “Unless ya wanna try n’ take it from me, cowboy.”

You stare at him for a moment as a sick smile spreads over his face. “Keep it.”

Micah laughs to himself. “Whatever you say.”

You walk away. You’re already late for the train job, you don’t have time for this. The shirt you pulled out is still there and you cut a decent shape out with your knife for a new mask. The job itself goes fine, has a decent take, and the law shows up late. Couldn’t have gone better, especially considering Bill planned it.

When you dismount back in camp you return to your tent to find Micah sitting inside. He has your mask in his hands as he looks it over. As you approach, he peers at you from under his hat. Before you can speak, he holds the mask out to you. You take it from him, not letting your eyes go anywhere else for fear he’ll pull something Micah-like.

“What’s your deal?” You ask, your grip on the mask he’s handed you barely holds it because you wonder if he’s done something to it.

Micah grunts as he stands. “That’s for me ta know.”

You step in front of him when he tries to leave, putting yourself not even an inch from him.

“Don’t test me now, cowpoke.” He says. “I ain’t in the mood.”

You hold the mask between you. “Just tell me why you took it.”

Micah takes the fabric from your hand and carefully looks over your face for a reaction. His eyes hold a steady gaze with yours as he brings it close to his face and inhales long and slow. He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the scent that comes off of it. He’d taken it from the laundry before it was washed, every drop of blood and sweat from the last couple jobs still intact. You’re not entirely sure what the feeling shooting through you is. This is creepy, the very definition of it, but something about Micah stealing something of yours just to smell it is making a tent form in your pants.

You push his arm out of the way as you step towards him, gripping the collar of his shirt to hold him still as you press your lips to his. Micah steps backwards with you, dropping the mask and resting his hands on your waist. You pull him down to your bedroll, laying him on his back and working quickly at the buttons of his shirt.

“Eager are we, cowpoke?” Micah chuckles, relishing in the feeling of your fingers brushing against his bare skin. “Shoulda done this sooner.”

“Thought you weren’t in the mood.” You mutter, taking off your own shirt.

Micah sighs, his hand trailing down your now bare stomach. “Didn’t know you was so… domineerin’. Makes a man change his mind.”

You lean over him and grip his hair, pulling hard to make him keep his eyes on your own. His eyebrows turn up from the slight pain and his hand falters against your chest.

“What is it that you want, Micah? Just like the way I smell or you want something specific?”

Micah bucks up, searching for friction as his hardness strains against his pants. You pull his hair tighter, warning him to stop.

“Words, Micah. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, cowboy.” He groans, his hands working to unfasten your gun belt.

“That all, Micah?” You remove his hands, unfastening the clasp yourself. “You could’ve just asked.”

Micah watches as you stand and let the privacy flap of fabric fall down. You kneel next to him, taking his remaining clothes off and running your hands over the newly exposed skin before removing your remaining clothes as well. You sit between his legs as your hands wander over his thighs, thicker than they look hidden behind his pants. Micah whispers your name when you near his groin. You look up and find his face expressing more than he could ever beg with words. The hardness in his cold eyes soften completely as they plead for you to touch him. You keep a hand on his thigh as you lean over him and connect your lips. Slowly, you move your hand up his inner thigh and over his balls. He shivers under you and his hands move to grip your waist. You wrap around him, running your thumb over the tip and Micah groans against your mouth.

You bring your other hand up and press a few fingers to his lips. He takes them without argument, closing his eyes as he sucks them. It feels like he’s done this before, running his tongue along your fingers expertly and coating them with heavy spit. It makes your dick twitch against his thigh. You take your fingers back, unable to wait much longer. You grab at the pile of shed clothing and crumble it. Micah takes them, knowing what you want, and puts them under his back so he’s comfortable and positioned well enough for you to have access.

It’s agonizingly slow for both of you as you spit into your hand and slowly massage him open. He isn’t one for noises, gritting his teeth to hold whimpers and groans when you push another knuckle inside. His dick is throbbing by the time you withdraw your hand, satisfied by the stretch he gives. You take the same hand, collecting as much spit into it as you can before rubbing it over yourself to make this easier. Micah watches you with half lidded eyes, struggling not to touch himself.

Finally, you rest a hand on his hip and line yourself up. Micah grips at the fabric of the bedroll beneath him as you press inside, spreading his legs further like a submissive whore. You mutter a few things as you feel him surrounding you, warming every inch despite only a small part being inside of him. When you bottom out, Micah shutters and you lean back over him to connect your lips and distract him from the pain of being stretched. He groans into it, not afraid to make noise if it’s muffled. You start slow, just for a moment, before quickly setting a harsh pace. Micah’s hands wander over the bare skin of your torso, gripping tightly when a thrust is particularly deep. You break the kiss, moving to his neck as you slam into him. Micah takes heavy stolen breaths before you knock them away, fucking him harder than you thought you could. You leave marks along his neck, wanting him to remember this for a while.

You pull back, grabbing his hips as you double your efforts. You slam into him and move a hand to pump his neglected dick, doing your best to match your own thrusts. Micah looks lost in his own bliss as he gazes down at the sight of you jerking him. He releases, putting a hand over his mouth as he moans and mutters your name mixed with a string of curses. You return your hand to his hip, gripping tighter as you chase your end. The sight of Micah’s cum covering his stomach and the feeling of his muscles clenching around you send you over and you release into him with a few last thrusts.

Micah hums as you pull out. “I really shoulda done this a long time ago.”

You fall next to him, the heat and the sweat covering your body becoming evident in the absence of the pleasurable distraction. Micah rolls to his side, a hand turning your head to give him access to your lips as he kisses you slowly.

“Ya still smell good, cowboy.” He says, groaning as he inhales deeply. “Might get me all worked up again.”

“Never took you for the type, Micah.”

He chuckles. “Don’t let just anybody fuck me like that, cowboy.”

You reach up to brush his hair out of his face. “That right?”

“Carefull.” He clears his throat. “I might take ya next, show ya how to treat a fella properly.”

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