#best hair braiding saloon

[ayahairbraiding]

Affordable Braiding Salons in San Diego

Discover cheap braiding salons near me in San Diego. Get intricate braided styles without breaking the bank at our reasonably priced salon. Our skilled braiders use high-quality extensions and techniques to create long-lasting, beautiful braids at budget-friendly prices. Enjoy the convenience of a nearby salon with uncompromising quality and value.

[fawnpires]

may i ask for a arthur morgan x hyperfem reader?

୨୧ — arthur would definitely love himself a hyperfem sweetheart, frills and petticoats and all.

CONTENTS -> hyperfem! + ditsy reader, older!arthur, brief mentions of an age gap relationship, lil’ bit naughty at the end but nothing serious.

you’ve always been heavier on your girlish charms, it’s been a signature staple of yours for as long as you could remember. despite the industrial, lacking-in-color, gloomy america; you were definitely the type to stick out like a sore thumb— a somewhat high society lady in a way. fashionable sore thumb. it’s not your fault you were born into such a cesspool.

ribbons in your hair and lacy, silkened dresses hugging your body wasn’t exactly the norm, at least, not when you were with him.

maybe it was because you were still at the stage of being an explorative young lady, or that naviety that’s always been branded onto your name, but you were almost— quite literally— positive that he had stolen your heart, the one that you’ve seen on wanted posters hung up on the bulletin and power wires, that man. got yourself tangled up with someone on the run, an outlaw with a reputation of a rumored depravity and ruthless violence.

he’s the exact type of man your mother would send herself on a frenzy about, the type your father would have no hesitations sending a bullet straight through the temple of his sun-kissed forehead. how strange you would expect to find yourself right on the opposite side of the warnings you’ve been given throughout your oh-so sheltered life.

but being the girl that you were, you were never one to listen. weren’t into all that abide-by-the-rules bullshit, fit right into being a proper first-class lady.

maybe that’s how you found yourself on the bad man’s lap. arthur’s lap. the prettiest— and the best damn score— that the guy’s ever won for the van der linde gang. you were the definition of a perfect doll to arthur, had a huge heart to match with the looks too. couldn’t ever resist your smothering kisses around his scar-faded face.

“y’know sweetheart, it’s still a wonder as to how i’ve got you all to myself in the first place…” he says with a throaty chuckle, using a hand to smooth out the ruffles of your skirt, “girls your age ain’t really into folk like me.”

you can only roll your eyes, pop your glossy, rosy lower lip in a pout, and think of his words as ridiculous before so confidently responding with, “oh, please. i’m the happiest a girl’s ever been, arthur.”

and he wasn’t going to lie about this, but all this constant, undying affection you had for him? an immediate swell going straight to his ego. nothing like some youthful thing’s obsession to make him feel at least twenty years younger. he’s getting older, after all— so, it was essentially just a waste not to spend those years with someone worth putting all the effort on.

although this didn’t technically make your relationship that much morally correct, by society’s standards at least.

what would a violent, older criminal on the run want with some rich family’s youngest daughter aside from the money?

they don’t get it and they probably never will, they’re not you or arthur, they know nothing about the either of you— because there was no logical explanation to that statement when he’s kissing so fervently at your lips, at your skin with a certain kind of authentic tenderness you’d only see in the motion pictures. even taught himself the silliest practice of braiding hair and tying ribbons for you. that’s what arthur wanted with you.

with him, you felt wanted. the very apple of his eye.

his usually such coarse hands were so gentle with you, molding into your supple flesh, leaving traces of him along the surface. especially visible when when the both of you are out for the night, cooped up in some small town’s saloon, his forearm enclosed around your waist and having you pulled to his side—hand absent-mindedly running up and down your torso decorated of the finest lace.

you guessed you weren’t exactly a common sight around these parts when more than enough of the saloon’s patrons started eyeing you up from across the room, albeit not daring to wander one inch closer; not if they had wanted to stumble right out of there with a broken nose bridge and a couple of teeth knocked loose.

that didn’t really stop arthur, though. something about another man, didn’t matter who the company was, bad intentions or not— he’d still meet them out back, returning to where he left you at the bar with velvet, torn-up knuckles after what felt like hours. what could he say? he just didn’t like when you were being viewed through the lenses of some obvious pervert. next thing you know, you’re being taken by the hand, arthur thankfully getting you out of that slum and helping you onto his steed, back pressed against his sturdy front.

it was near midnight at this point, and you could tell by the tranquil atmosphere settling in, fewer folks out on the trails at this time, the stars blooming across the dark canvas of the sky in glistening rows. peaceful— much rather preferred than sitting in a saloon, acting as eye-candy for those grimy outlaws.

“little brutual, dont’cha think? you finally ask in a tease, tilting your head back, gazing up at his aging face with those doe eyes of yours. made you look all the more angelic from this angle, especially with the way your smaller fingers are running over his split, blood-crusted knuckles aimlessly.

he takes his focus off of the trail for a short moment, a smug smirk pulling at his lips before looking away once more.

“who d’you take me for, darling?” he questions, that same teasing manner hidden in your voice now residing in his own, “i’m not just going to let some depraved bastards eye my girl up and down, makin’ me sick…”

you snicker under your breath. “that just makes me think i’m too pretty for my own good, huh?”

“oh yes, too pretty indeed,” arthur moves his free hand over your leg, palm starting from the outside of your frilled skirts before miraculously sliding, finding its way under the decorated layers. makes your lower stomach churn with that familiar warmth, your heart rate on a high. the things this man does so easily to you was nothing short of impressive.

“you’re gettin’ touchy…” that’s all you can bring yourself to bashfully mumble out, bottom lip being bit down on amid the pout you persisted on with.

you already feel so weak at the knees, so wound up with the simplest of touches.

“i know, baby,” he whispers to you now, a wolfish grin weakly coming to form on his lips. his hand doesn’t dare to move further from its place resting on top of you thigh, like he knew it was complete and utter torture to not indulge in exactly what you wanted right there and then. greedy bastard. “i’ll tell you what, i’ll get us a room for the night, get you outta these clothes, and you ain’t gotta worry about carryin’ all these fancy layers around. how ‘bout that?”

his words were considerate albeit evidently suggestive, how sweet. but arthur was just like that, he did that to you— a natural-born sweet talker who just happened to fall into a more illicit line of work.

with the way he was pressed up against you now, hand practically embedding itself at the soft flesh of your thigh, and a nearby inn coming into view, it was all the more apparent what your would response to be. hell, it might’ve well just been perceived by the look on your flushed face frames beneath the moon’s glaring beams.

leaning back, you’ve got some subdued, mischievous glint in your pretty eyes, and a tone in your voice that compliments with the energy he’s got exuding—

“you’ve got yourself a deal, mister morgan.”

[tinyfishtits]

Heat Wave

Micah Bell / Female Reader

Summary: A heat wave rolls through Rhodes and the reader decides to shave their head, much to Micahs surprise. Word Count: 2,222 Rating: Teen and Up ~ for foul language Author's Note: For all my bald and buzzed girlies out there, this fluffs for you! A pretty gn fic, though a more fem reader makes sense for the reaction their buzz gets.

★ Read on AO3 ★ ☆ Masterlist ☆

“I think I’m dying.” I whined as Micah finally emerged from the general store. He leaned against an adjacent pillar, slowly looking me over as he stuffed his change into his pocket. 

“You look it.” He said, so matter of factly I could have slapped him if the thought of moving wasn't so abhorrent. The smug bastard must have walked straight out of the pits of hell to be so wholly unbothered by the heat. 

“Go… Fuck yourself.” I didn’t have the energy to go off on him like I really wanted. He had dragged me around the bayou all morning on some bogus treasure hunt that led to nothing but us trotting around in the sun for hours. And then the second we got back to camp Dutch just had to insist that he and I make a run into town for supplies. I could throttle them both. 

“How can you even stand it?” I lifted a hand, lazily gesturing to the leather jacket he wore. “I swear… You’re inhumane.” His lips twitched with a smirk.

“Here.” He flicked a few nickels into my lap. “Go get something to drink doll, I got one more thing to do.” I groaned, and he was off with no more than a chuckle. Building towns in the middle of this hellscape was a sick kind of torture. I never imagined I’d yearn for our time back in Colter, but getting stuck in a blizzard would be a godsend right about now. 

Every inch of my body was coated in sweat, my clothes sticking to me like I’d just crawled out of the swamp. I swear my feet even sloshed in my shoes as I finally got up and started walking across town to the saloon. I’d never felt so disgusting in my life. 

The worst of it though, by far, was my god damn hair. I could feel every fucking strand clinging to my skin, scratching my neck, getting stuck in my eyes and mouth… I wanted to rip it off my scalp. I wish I’d taken Mary Beth up on her offer to braid it this morning, if only so that it was out of my face. I’d never been one to put much effort into my hair or appearance, especially when compared to the other girls in camp.

“You look like ya could use a drink.” The bartender announced as I trudged into the saloon, face beet red and body drenched. What I really needed was a wash. “Y'all got a bath here?” I asked. The bartender just jerked his chin toward the door behind him and went on polishing the glasses. I didn’t take two steps before I saw it, a barber. 

“How much for a cut?” I demanded of the greying man that was half asleep in the barbers chair, a newspaper strewn out on his chest. “Wha- What? You want a… a haircut?” He slurred as he jumped out of the chair and looked me over, his expression less than amused. 

“Well you’re a barber aintchya?” The man just gawked at me. “How much?” I repeated, pulling the change out of my pockets and setting it on his work table. “I- Uh… Well-” He stuttered, obviously torn between the money and whatever misogynistic mindset kept him from seeing me as a worthy customer. 

“These your shears?” I asked, taking the cool metal clippers in my hand. His eyes widened as if I’d just picked up a gun. I rolled my eyes at him, Fragile fucking asshole, I murmured to myself as I brought the shears to my scalp and without a second thought, began cutting. 

My attempt at a shaved head was choppy at best, but boy… the relief! It was instantaneous. Every lock of hair that fell to the ground felt as if I was shedding layer after layer of clothes I didn’t even realize had been suffocating me until they were gone. By the time I was done I felt… Well, normal. I’d expected to feel weird at best, especially if the barber's horrified expression was anything to go off of. But I felt like me, just cooler and lighter and free . 

Knowing Micah, I had plenty of time to kill. So I indulged in a cool bath and even played some blackjack as I waited for him to finish whatever business he was up to. I’d turned two nickels into a few bucks by the time he sauntered into the saloon close to dusk. 

“Lookin’ for someone?” The bartender asked as Micah leaned against the bar, scanning the place for me. I watched from the balcony as he looked the room over, his eyes sweeping right over me without a second glance. He grunted, motioning for a beer. “A lady.” He answered, finally. “Ain't we all.” The barkeep replied with a laugh. 

“Micah.” I called as I made my way down the stairs. He locked eyes with me for a moment as he downed his beer and I saw the second the realization dawned on him. He almost choked, doubling over the bar as he violently coughed up his last swig of beer. 

“Holy-” He sputtered out between coughs, slamming his hand on the bar as he regained his composure.“Shit!” His eyes were wild the next time they met mine, scanning over my freshly shaved scalp in utter disbelief. “What the hell did you do?” Not feeling the need to state the obvious, I just smiled back at him as I joined him at the bar, rubbing a hand over my stubbly head. It was quickly becoming my favorite feeling. 

“I- I thought you was a man.” He said, eyes still fixed on my hair. “And I thought you were a lady…” I retorted, pulling on a strand of his long blonde hair. “Damn shame… Woulda made a sweet couple, you and I.” I teased, but he didn’t join in. “Oh come on, Micah. Big rough outlaw like you seen crazier things than a bald lady.” He just shook his head and ran a palm over his face. 

“I got you to thank, anyway.” I said and his eyes practically bulged out his head. “Probably wouldn’t have gone through with it if I wasn’t so damn hot and exhausted from our trek this morning.” He groaned. “Please… Don’t tell Dutch that. They’ll have my hide if they think I was behind…” He waved a hand at my head, “ this.” 

Silence dragged on between us, the bartender casting the occasional curious sidelong glance in our direction. “...Wanna touch it?” I asked, trying to keep things playful and light hearted. Micah in anything other than a cocky, sleazy, flirty mood always made me feel on edge, it wasn’t natural. So I fluttered my lashes at him for good measure.

“No.” He said gruffly. The pout I put on in response was only a smidge theatrical. He avoided looking at me, instead ordering another beer and thumbing through the newspaper he’d bought. I sighed, preparing myself for a long night of Micah getting piss drunk, at least maybe after a few drinks he’d be in a better mood. 

I debated ditching him and riding back to camp myself, but I didn’t want to face the gang just yet. I’d had time enough to prepare myself for Micah’s reaction, but I wasn’t ready for the barrage of questions from the girls and teasing remarks from others just yet. I felt… good. Better than I had in a long time. I didn’t want that soured so soon. 

A well dressed man at the piano began to play then, a jazzy, upbeat tune that brought the smile back to my face. The place was finally starting to liven up. Groups of men coming off work flooded in, the saloon’s working ladies quickly swarming around, bombarding them with promises of a good time. 

None of the men paid me any mind. Occasionally they’d do a double take in my direction, look me up and down with contempt clear on their face before seeking out the more feminine looking ladies. I was more than fine with this. Who knew all I had to do to avoid the unwanted advances from men my whole life was cut my hair off. Simple minded fools, I mumbled into my whiskey as I watched the couple dancing in the middle of the room.

Downing the last of my drink I jumped from my seat and started swaying to the music, letting the alcohol loosen my limbs and the music move them. Without a partner I mostly just twirled around, rolling my hips and shuffling my feet like I'd seen those belly dancers at the fair do. Though I was sure my interpretation was… underwhelming at best. 

Lost in music and whiskey, I didn’t notice until the fourth song that I was the only one left dancing. Most of the patrons ignored me, having moved on to gambling and securing someone to warm their bed for the night. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that a pair of eyes watched me. Still twirling, I scanned the bar's inhabitants for any prying eyes and found a familiar silvery blue pair watching me under the large, white brim of a hat. Micah sat facing me, his elbows perched on the bar, beer and newspaper forgotten. His attention solely on me as I danced, seemingly just for him. 

My movements stuttered a bit under his gaze and I started toward him, intent on asking him to dance when his head jerked up and he reached out to grab me by the arm. “Let's go.” He said curtly, not bothering to meet my confused stare before he pulled me with him toward the back door. A quick glance back at the bar was all I needed to understand, Lemoyne fucking raiders. 

We went on in silence down the dirt road, our horses a good ten minute walk away on the other side of town. The evening breeze blew over me and I jolted back, overcome with a full-body shiver. I could feel the wind in every single hair on my head. I’d never felt anything like it. Though he didn’t say anything, Micah kept turning to stare at me every few steps. His brows furrowed and lips pursed.

“Why do you keep lookin’ at me like that?” I finally asked and he stopped walking, his attention fully on me as I whirled around to meet his gaze. His eyes dragged slowly over my body, starting and stopping at my hair. I folded my arms on my chest, waiting for whatever bullshit he was about to spew at me. 

He took a step closer, his steely blue eyes locked on mine. “You’re bein’ so serious” I said, stifling the impulse to retreat a step as he closed the distance between us, “It’s… unnerving.” I finished and he huffed a breathy laugh, a crooked smile creeping at the corner of his lips. 

The music from the saloon spilled out onto the path we walked and in an attempt to lighten the mood, I reached for his hands. He pulled away, seemingly on instinct, then cautiously relented his hands to me. I took them and began to sway them back and forth, as if coaxing a stubborn child to dance. A big, stupid smile grew on my face as the grumpy outlaw gave in and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me in closer and leading me in a proper dance. 

It was surprisingly… tender , the dance. Slow and intimate. Micah's strong, calloused hands didn’t restrain or force me, he just held me. I was fighting the urge to lay my head on his shoulder the whole time, all too aware of how close we were already. One hand occupied in his, I trailed the other up his arm, firm and muscled. I ran my fingers idly through his hair - the sensation already growing foreign to me - and he let out the softest moan. As if trying to conceal it he began to hum along with the music, his movements never faltering as he slowly twirled us around in the dirt. 

He was a rather good dancer, strong and confident in his steps. And for how grumpy he’d been at the saloon, dancing seemed to lighten his mood significantly. “You look… good.” He said suddenly and I stumbled, stepping on his foot. Pulling me back against him he continued, “Happy.” A bit shocked by his genuine compliment, I just repeated, “I look happy? ” He cleared his throat and hummed a response “Mmhm…” 

“So you’re not gonna start callin’ me sir or boy or nothin’?” I asked and his brows raised, “Tempting… But you already got a pet name, doll. ” I rolled my eyes, “I think I might prefer boy.” He laughed and this time, so did I. 

“Ready to head back?” He asked, our dancing slowing to a gentle sway. I hummed, wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my head on his shoulder in reply. Trailing a hand up to my scalp, he began to caress the short hair there. “So soft.” He murmured, and I just giggled into his shoulder. The feeling of his hand rubbing over my scalp was so heavenly, if I was a cat, I would have purred.

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 4

The next morning, the sun starts to gently beam through the curtain-less windows. It was enough to wake me up from my deep sleep. Yesterday wore me out so good that I was able to go straight home from the saloon and fall right to sleep.

I get out of bed and do some morning stretches. Regardless of me going to the gym here and there, my muscles ache pretty bad. I look at my phone to see what time it is. It is about the only thing it's good for in this town.

"6 am?!" I shout.

I have never been up so early on my own. When I have to get up at this time, I usually have to set an alarm.

I reach into my bag to throw on the same set of overalls but a different shirt underneath. This time, it's a dark blue, plaid, long sleeve. I got to the bathroom and splash water on my face. I twist my hair into a loose braid once again, then head out to start working in the field. I make sure to grab the axe on my way out.

I start chopping away all the stray trees scattered in the field. Only the ones that will be in my way once I start planting seeds.

It wasn't long until I was interrupted by an unfamiliar, friendly voice, "Howdy, Mayor Lewis told me you arrived yesterday. I'm Marnie!"

When I turn around, I find a short, plump, older lady approaching me. Braids must be the style here because she is also rocking one.

"Hi Marnie! My name's Danny" I put down my axe to extend my hand out to her. She shakes it firmly.

"I sell livestock and animal care products at my ranch just down that path," Marnie turns to point, "You should swing by sometime. That is, once you get an area set up to put livestock. I'd also be happy if you happen to swing by just because, too."

I give her a friendly smile and nod my head, "Of course! I will try to stop by whenever I pass by."

Marnie returns the smile. "Anyways, If you ever need anything you know where I'm at! I'll let you get back to what you're doing. You seem to have a lot on your hands with this farm," She says as she begins her journey back down the path.

I go back to chopping the trees and clearing up more of the field to the best of my ability.

                                                  🌻 🌻 🌻

Unfortunately, chopping down the rest of the trees turned into a two day job. I didn't even leave the farm those two days. I got so wrapped up in clearing this place up. All I've been eating were the snacks I brought from home.

Those two days were short ones though because I kept going to bed pretty early. Removing the stumps of the trees was a pain. Chopping was the easy part.

However, today I decided I am going to Pierre's to get some groceries and since I finally have the place to my liking, I can get those seeds now. I never did end up doing them Monday.

When I pass by Harvey's clinic and look through the window. Seems pretty empty in there except for one guy with a fantastic mustache and glasses. I assume that'd be Harvey.

I stop to look at the bulletin board that's on Pierre's shop. I look at the calendar with everyone's birthdays on one side, and at the "Help Wanted" side. There doesn't seem to be anything posted there yet.

After continuing the rest of the way to the door of Pierre's store. I grab the handle and yank it. It doesn't open.

"Huh? That's weird. Maybe it's a push door?" I say to myself as I try pushing on the door. It doesn't budge.

I take a step back and scratch my head. I look at all the papers taped to the glass door and finally at the sign on the wall next to the door:

Monday: 9 am - 5 am

Tuesday: 9 am - 5 am

Closed on Wednesdays

Thursday: 9 am- 5 am

Friday: 9 am - 5 am

Saturday: 9 am- 5 am

Sunday: 9 am - 5 am

"Wait, what's today?" I look back at the calendar on the bulletin board.

"Of course it's Wednesday. When I actually need to get something it's closed."

Once, again I take a step back from the store and turn to look around at the town. I decide to go around the corner and up the stone steps. I turn left and I pass by the building Mayor Lewis told me was the Community Centre. I keep walking and find myself standing on one side of a water fountain. It's a pretty big one but I can just make out a playground located a few feet behind it.

I stand around the fountain and admire it for a bit. I stick my hand in the water and swish it around. Suddenly I find myself with both hands playing in the water. I get a little carried away until a familiar voice chimes in from the other side of the fountain

"What do you think you're doing?"

I quickly yank my hands back and out of the fountain. The person poked their head around the center of the fountain so I could see them. Out of everyone who could have caught me doing that it had to be Haley.

"I don't know... The water felt really nice on my hands. They've been pretty beat up the last few days," I hold my hands back out in front of me. I angled them downward so she could see how red and calloused they are. Not that she would care. I notice her face scrunch up in disgust. "I guess I just got carried away. What are you doing here?" I ask her.

"Not that it matters to you, but I tend to come here to think," she looks away from me and turns toward the town, "It's also a great spot to look over at the town and watch everyone go about their day."

Her expression seemed to softened as she looks towards the town.

"And what does a pretty girl like you have to think about?" I question her. I scoot a bit closer to where she is sitting on the edge of the fountain. She is definitely in a vulnerable mood so I decided to try and ease the tension between us.

From where I am sitting, it looked like her face went bright red. It could just be the lighting though. Or maybe I imagined it.

She quickly tucked her beautiful, blonde hair behind her ears and looked towards the other way. Within seconds, she looks back with a scowl and clears her throat to speak.

"It doesn't matter what I think about. I just think, okay?" She abruptly stands and hurriedly walks to the steps that go down the other side of the buildings. Near the path to get to my farm.

I nod my head and look down at my boot I guess I've been dragging around in the dirt the whole time. Suddenly, two little kids run past me with Penny lagging behind. The two kids stop dead in their tracks when they notice I am there.

"Oh, a stranger! My name's Vincent. Momma says not to talk to strangers," The boy in the striped t-shirt says, "but you seem okay."

"...Hi..." Whispers the girl in the purple dress with a cute bow on her head.

"That's Jas. She is a shy one. Until she gets to know you of course," Penny explains when she finally catches up to the kids. "We don't have a school here but I'm doing my best to give and a proper education. They are just super energetic today and won't sit still."

The kids start giggling and take off once again. Penny huffs and continues chasing after them.

I then decide it's about time to go back to the farm. The sun has begun to set, and it is starting to get dark. I notice time really flies in Pelican Town.

[hevanderson]

hi. take some glestern style descriptions. also i must preface by saying this is NOT historically accurate nor is it meant to be. this is based off of vibes alone. thumbs up

quinn: early on, she wears very modest outfits. high collars and skirts that go to the ankles. flat shoes. long sleeves and/or impractical lacy gloves. light colors, particularly blue and white. long hair, either all down or partially up and partially down. cross necklace is always on. classy, expensive looking jewelry, particularly bracelets. later, she wears pants that are clearly second-hand and in relatively poor condition, stolen. big, button up work shirts that are also not in the best shape. the buttons are never fully buttoned. her hair is now short, think her season 3 hair or s2 new york hair. no more cross necklace, and minimal jewelry, if any at all. more durable shoes meant for working. a belt with a holster to carry a gun. carries more practical gloves in the pocket of her pants. darker color schemes with a lot of neutrals. most of her clothes have some visible stress on them

santana: darker colors. a decent mix of tight and loose clothing– usually, her tops are tighter and her bottoms are looser. big fan of shorts and shorter skirts. moveability is a priority for her. likes necklaces, but doesnt own many. the ones she own are from her family and tend to somewhat clash with her outfits but she wears them anyway because she loves her family. ties her hair up when working, high ponytail, no bangs. when shes working with sue's gang, she layers up as best as she can and goes for all loose clothing so its easier to move and sneak around. her hair is tied into a low ponytail to keep it out of her face. at work and in everyday, she wears boots with a mild heel, but when shes on duty for sue she wears discreet flat shoes to avoid making sounds. for the same reason, she also doesnt wear jewelry while working with sue's gang

puck: dark colors. darker blue jeans that have been worn quite a bit. rips in the jeans. black cowboy boots are always on, and are rather simple with no designs in them. shaved head. off duty, he occasionally wears a cowboy hat. he wears button ups that are, of course, never fully (or at all) buttoned. the sleeves to these shirts are often rolled up to his forearms. tattoos on his arm, hand-done of course, random doodles he thinks make him look badass. always has a gun in his belt holster, conveniently placed right in front of his crotch. gross

tina: dark colors strike again, but her outfits have accents of blue. gloves, dyed black leather with the occasional lace. high collared shirts paired with intricate silver necklaces, usually adorned with blue gems. long, ruffled skirts. her outfits between working and day to day dont change much, although she sometimes will wear subtley striped black pants when working. always in heeled boots with looping stitched details in blue thread. her hair is plain back and usually down, but, occasionally when shes working at the saloon, she'll pull it into a low ponytail or braids. wears a black leather crossbody satchel. no guns on her but just in case she does carry around a small knife with a sheath

brittany: finally a break from dark colors. brittany primarily wears whites and lighter colors, particularly blues, pinks, and oranges. a wide collection of white shirts she's customized, either intentionally or unintentionally– grass stains, paint splatters, patterns stitched into her shirts. she keeps it loose. overalls enjoyer, usually wears a blue pair that have doodles and practice stitches all over them. she generally prefers pants and shorts, and usually wears light blue denim. if she does wear a skirt, it is flowy but not long, and must have some form of pattern on it (she likes florals the most). her hair is equally spent down as it is spent up; either, it is everywhere and flowing freely (usually when shes just out and about), but when working on her farm or performing she ties it up into a high ponytail, but leaves her bangs out (think her early s2 bangs). when shes working for sue, she borrows clothes from santana. she also ties her hair into a ponytail and pins it into a large, rather impractical, hat she wears. her gang clothes are dark, both to obscure her identity and to give her more security under darkness

mercedes: glamorous and colorful. the largest parts of her outfits are usually black or dark brown, but anything else is bursting with color. when performing, she wears darker high-low skirts with ruffles in purples, pinks, and reds depending on the costume. more corset-like tops that have ruffles lining the top and spilling over onto the off-the-shoulder sleeves. feathery headbands. gloves that stop at her wrists and are complimented by bejeweled bracelets. tights with some subtle patterns in them in a darker version of what her outfit's accent color is. tall boots that are just a little impractical to walk in. when shes off duty, she still wears skirts, and they range from stopping at her mid-thigh to coming down to her ankles. flat shoes that are comfortable to walk in. she wears the same bracelets, but loses her gloves and headband. her shirts have a similar construction to her performance ones, corest-y and off the shoulder, but when shes just lounging around or creating costumes she wears more relaxed tops– button ups and things like that. no matter what, though, she likes to have a lot of color. her hair, both on and off duty, is most similar to her s1 pilot hairstyle. no weapons, she tries to be a pacifist when she can

sam: light colors, but a bit less soft than brittany's color schemes. cool colors, blues and greens with some greys. his hair is similar to late s2. king of plaid button ups, and he wears them buttoned to the very top bc he takes his job as sheriff seriously. occasionally wears a grey cowboy hat that has his name stitched into the inside of it (courtesy of mercedes). his shirt is always tucked into his blue jeans, which have very faint grass stains and places that look like theyre on the verge of tearing. brown cowboy boots always. if he wants to class his outfit up, and he does abkut 50% of the time, he'll pair his shirt with a brown leather vest and, of course, a bolo tie. he also wears a belt with a medium sized round belt buckle. he has a holster on his belt but rarely has a gun in it because he honestly hates resorting to violence despite his job

[miamochi-writes]

Heya, well first thing’s first I wanted to say how much I love daycare snacks story it’s absolutely amazing and probably one of my favorite au’s. However I wanted to ask and request something if it’s okey. And I thought about Eriks Vash, fluff where fem reader is playing,brushing and braiding his long hair, and when they hug, to feel his stubble against her cheek or other places and If we could apply some bit of spice?👉🏻👈🏻👀 Also if Erics Vash could be really affectionate as well

Feel free to decline though, if not for your liking.

Thank you for reading my Daycare Snacks series! It means a lot! (I will upload the next chapter sometime next week. Work has been a lot lately). Also my first Eriks Vash! This will mainly apply to Trigun Maximum Eriks. Although this can also apply to Trigun Stampede Eriks so I hope this is to your liking! As for spice...that can be arranged~

Everytime We Touch

It was another windy day in the this small town you called home. You worked at the saloon so you knew all the locals that came by for a drink or a place to beat the heat. Sadly, there weren't too many people that occupied the place. Anytime you saw a fresh face come inside, they never stayed for long. Mainly because of the bounty hunters and bandits that showed up. So imagine your surprise when Lina introduced you to Eriks one day.

Eriks was one of the tallest guys you've ever met. He dressed causally with a simple beige button up. He had beautiful long blonde hair that hid those glistening blue eyes of his. When Lina told you that he would be staying at her place, a part of you was happy. Finally, someone new to talk to! Except, you didn't talk to him for weeks. Apparently, Eriks was put to work running errands for the most part. Thus, you only caught glimpses of him whenever you worked the front counter. A part of you wondered what he was like. What was his story? Why stay in this town? Who were his friends? What did he like? Questions like those would constantly plague your mind whenever you had down time at work.

One night, a group of bounty hunters and rowdy men were having a party. Your hands were practically full from taking care of everyone's orders. Even your boss was trying to make sure no one waited too long on a drink. Once the party ended, you were left with a mess to clean up. As you were stacking the plates up, you tried your best to balance them before heading towards the kitchen. The sound of footsteps hitting the wooden floor were heard near the entrance.

"Hey there. If you can't tell from the mess here, we're closed," you called out. As you turned around, you caught a glimpse of a peculiar tall blonde standing inside.

"Hey Eriks, what brings you here?" you asked.

"I was heading home after finishing some errands. Then I saw you by yourself while I was passing by," he explained.

"Oh don't mind me. I'm just cleaning up here. We had a big party tonight. I gotta get this mess cleaned up before tomorrow morning," you replied as you lifted the stack of plates up. Halfway through, you heard the clanging and clinging of tableware from behind you. You turned around to see Eriks was cleaning up a table.

"Eriks, you don't have to worry about me. Go home and rest," you insisted.

"Let me help you. It'll be faster to clean up," Eriks offered as he carried the dirty silverware to the kitchen. As he put the items in the sink, you sighed at the man before you. Well, you were curious about him for the longest time and now he's here helping you clean up late at night. Both of you managed to clean the saloon in an hour. The dishes were spotless, tables were organized, and the chairs were set up.

"Wow! We actually finished before midnight!"

"I told you it would be faster if we cleaned up together," he replied.

Well I appreciate you stopping by and offering a helping hand. Since you went out of your way for me, I got something for you," you added. You brought out a platter of sandwiches that you made earlier for the party.

"For me? Are you sure Y/n?" he asked eyeing at the food.

"Of course! Consider it as my way of saying thanks," you explained as you gestured him to the front of the bar.

"Thanks, I shouldn't though," Eriks reasoned. Before anyone could get another word in, Eriks' stomach growled loud enough for you to hear. Eriks was taken aback as his body betrayed him.

"Eriks, sit down and eat before you pass out," you commanded as you gestured him to sit down next to you. He did what he was told as he sat down and started eating. You could tell he enjoyed the food as he smiled with every bite. Then you noticed Eriks would push away strands of his hair before taking another bite.

"Hold on a sec," you told him as you went into the kitchen and grabbed your bag. Eriks eyed at you as you held a hair tie and brush in your hands.

"Turn to your right for me," you spoke.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Keeping your hair out of your face," you answered. You gently grabbed part of his hair to start brushing through. Slowly and gently, you combed out any tangles from his hair that might have been ravaged by the desert winds. Surprisingly, his hair was silky soft as your fingers ran through his locks. Once you brushed all of his hair, you started tying his golden hair into a smooth ponytail.

"And done! What do you think?" you asked as you pulled up a mirror near by. Eriks looked in awe at his new look as you smiled at your work. You left most of the shorter parts of his hair alone to perfectly frame his face, while the rest was tied up to where it wouldn't bother him. Finally, you got a better look of Eriks' face and his pretty blue eyes.

"Wow! I look great! Thanks Y/n! I'll give you your hair tie back when I'm done eating!" he thanked you while feeling his new hairstyle.

"Nah you can keep it. I got tons of those back at my place. Besides, you need it more than I do," you insisted. It was then Eriks flashed you a cheeky smile to show you how much he appreciated the kind gesture. As he continued eating, you couldn't help but smile at the man before you. You were slowly finding out more about the kind of person Eriks was. From that night forward, Eriks would continue to see you.

The next morning, you woke up to the hot sun. You decided to tie your hair up to help cool you off. As you walked to the saloon, you saw someone waiting at the front entrance. Stepping closer, you recognized the long blonde hair swaying with the wind.

"Y/n! Glad I could catch you this morning!" Eriks waved.

"Hey Eriks! Nice seeing you too! Did you need something?" you asked. You already knew he was always busy with errands first thing in the morning. So seeing him at the saloon was a bit out of the blue. Not that you were complaining.

"Uh, if it's not too much to ask...could you tie my hair again? I tried to do it this morning but I can't seem to get it right. Plus, it would help if my hair wasn't in the way while I work," he asked. You could tell he was fidgeting when asking you this. He was rubbing the back of his neck and you found it cute that he waited for you.

"Oh not at all! Come on in and I can do your hair real quick," you motioned him inside as you unlocked the saloon. Eriks eyes gleamed as he followed you with excitement. You offered him a seat as you grabbed your brush and mirror. You combed through his lustrous hair piece by piece. As you brushed his hair, you noticed his ears were pink. You figured the heat was getting to him and would bring him a cold drink. Gently, you tied his hair into a ponytail like last night.

"And done! Let me know if it's too tight on you. I want to make sure the ponytail could hold all day while you're comfortable," you said as you handed him a mirror. You walked away briefly to grab some water as Eriks looked at himself in the mirror.

"No this is perfect! It feels great right now. My ponytail looked nothing like yours," he complimented you as you smiled at his answer.

"I'm glad you like it! Sometimes I tie my hair a little too tight since my shifts can get hectic," you explained. Then you handed him a glass of water.

"For me?" he asked as you nodded.

"Yeah, I noticed you were a bit red earlier. A little something to help cool you off," you replied as you put away your brush and mirror.

"Oh, I appreciate it Y/n. I owe you big time for today! I'll finish this before I take off," Eriks thanked you.

"Like I said, no big deal. Just know you're more than welcome to stop by the saloon anytime," you told him. Before he took a drink, you noticed his face was slightly red. Hopefully he can stay inside and avoid the brutal desert heat outside. Once he was done drinking, you took the empty glass as Eriks got up.

"Thanks again for today Y/n! I'll see you later!" Eriks waved as you waved back. Sure enough, he was true to his word.

~*~

For weeks, Eriks would wait for you by the Saloon each morning. He always asked that you do his hair. He insisted that you did a much better job compared to him and Lina. You found it hard to believe, especially since you showed Eriks how to tie his hair one day. Nonetheless, you could never say no to him. You loved his company and it was a great excuse to play with his beautiful hair. Any time you finished styling his hair, Eriks never failed to compliment your work. Hearing those compliments made your day.

Plus, he would pass by the saloon when he was doing errands. Some days he would wave at you while you were on the clock. Other times, you would catch glimpses of him talking to the locals. Whether it was the elderly or adults he always volunteered to help anyone out. When he was with children, he would entertain them to where they cheered with joy. It was these moments that you learned Eriks was a kind soul. He brought joy to those around him, and you enjoyed his company.

One night, Eriks visited you at the Saloon before closing time. Things were slow, so you were lounging next to him as he was eating. You were braiding your hair as you noticed you had a couple of stray hairs that bothered you. Once you were done, you noticed Eriks stopped eating and was staring at you. You gave him a questioning look as he lightly touched your braid.

"Can you do this to my hair too?" he asked. You were taken aback by his question. You looked at his hand holding a piece of your hair and then at him.

"Sure, can I ask why?" you asked.

"I think it's really pretty! Plus I want to match with you," he answered casually. That answer did a number on you. Your heart was pounding and a blush crept up to your cheeks. Eriks sure knew how to surprise you as you tried to compose yourself. Once you steadied your breathing, you nodded as you took out your brush and a smaller hair tie. The blonde's face was filled with pure joy as you motioned him to get closer. You grabbed small sections of his hair and started braiding away. Despite how much you were concentrating on braiding his hair, you could feel his eyes boring into yours. After a few minutes, you securely tied his braid with the hair tie on you. You handed him a mirror to see what he thought.

"Y/n, I don't know what to say," he started. Panic set in as he said those words. Did you mess up? You cursed at how shaky your hands were. Before you could say anything, he continued speaking.

"I love how this looks on me! Thank you so much Y/n! You're the best!" he cheered and pulled you into a hug. You never knew how built Eriks was until now. You could feel his biceps squeezing you as you felt his chest. Furthermore, you felt his stubble rub against your cheek. Eriks was warm to the touch as you slowly reciprocated the hug. As he let go of you, the warmth left you. Yet, the smile he gave you could give the sun a run for it's money. His smile was comforting and contagious as you smiled back at him. Afterwards, he offered to help clean up and walk you home.

~*~

Another week passed by where you practically saw Eriks every day. You always did his hair, wave at him from afar, eat at the salon, and walk you home. Not a day wen by where he wasn't on your mind. Even your boss and Lina commented about how much time you and Eriks spent together to where you both could pass as something more. You waved off their comments, as you didn't think he saw you that way. But a small part of you wished he thought the same of you.

One afternoon, you were running errands for your boss. The saloon was running low on a couple of items. On your way back, you stumbled upon a bounty hunter. You tried to avoid him, but the clanking from the beer and wine bottles gave you away.

"Hey what's a cutie like you doing out here?" the guy asked.

"Sorry, I'm running errands and I really need to head back," you answered trying to get past him.

"What's the rush? It wouldn't hurt to spend time with the toughest hunter in town," he insisted.

"I appreciate the offer, but if I don't hurry back my boss will yell at me," you explained trying to walk back.

"Hey, where do you think you're going sweetheart," he questioned. The man roughly grabbed your wrist. The man's grip was enough to send a sharp shooting pain. You could practically feel his nails digging into your skin as you tried to break free.

"Stop! You're hurting me!" you cried out.

"Maybe if you just followed what I said I wouldn't have hurt ya," he sneered as he squeezed your wrist.

"HEY LET HER GO!" someone yelled. As the man turned around, a rock hit his head. He briefly let you go, but you felt someone else pull you away.

"RUN AWAY! We'll hold him off for ya!" someone else called out. You looked to see it was Lina shouting as a few other kids were throwing rocks at the man.

"Come on! This way!" a familiar voice pleaded. You turned to the sound of the voice to see Eriks was pulling you along. You ran with him as he led you away from the bounty hunter. As you ran, you could hear yelling not too far away from you. Eventually, Eriks led you to a small building inside. He then pulled you inside a dark storage room that hardly had any space to move in. You felt Eriks pull you close as he held you protectively with one hand on your back and another on your shoulder.

"Don't make a sound until I say so," he whispered in your ear as you felt his breath tickle your neck. His stubble would rub on your cheek and close to your ear. Your face was right on his chest along with your hands. You tried to put distance, but failed miserably with the lack of space there was. Thankfully it was dark and he couldn't see how beet red your face was right now. You then heard heavy footsteps making their stride outside. Eriks held you closer as you stood frozen. Both of you strained your ears to hear what was happening outside.

"I know you ran through here somewhere!" a voice shouted. You heart raced as the footsteps grew closer. Suddenly, you heard something fall from a distance. The man yelled and then ran away as his footsteps sounded distant. One second became five seconds. Then ten seconds, until finally Eriks whispered to you.

"I think the coast is clear." He slowly opened the door and checked that no one was in the vicinity. He let out a deep breathe and led you out from the room. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears from the adrenaline and the situation you were just in. You were lost in your thoughts until Eriks put his hands on your shoulders.

"Are you okay Y/n? Did he hurt you?" he asked with worry. You looked at your wrist the bounty hunter grabbed you previously and saw how red it was. When Eriks followed your gaze, his eyes widened. He frantically looked for something to help your sore wrist. He found an ice pack and gently placed it on your wrist. The chilling feel helped reduced the pain as you let out a sigh of relief.

"I should have done something earlier. If I finished my job earlier, I could have prevented this," Eriks spoke. You could hear the regret in his voice as you furrowed your eyebrows.

"Eriks, you helped a whole lot! If you didn't intervene, he probably would have done something worse besides hurting my wrist. I can't thank you enough for helping me today and getting that bounty hunter away from me. Besides, I would rather take a sore wrist any day than getting taken by some guy like him." you emphasized as you tried to get him to look at you. You gave a reassuring smile as Eriks looked at your face with his blue eyes. You then felt his hand caress your cheek and brush his thumb slightly. He then pulled you to a hug as he held you delicately. Almost as if he was afraid you would break.

"Thanks, I'm just happy you're safe," he answered back as you smiled.

"If you really want to keep me safe, help me deal and explain this to my boss later. He's probably wondering why I'm taking too long," you added. That was enough to get Eriks to let out a hearty chuckle. You loved the sound of his laugh as he gave you a thumbs up.

"Leave it to me Y/n! You got nothing to fear when I talk to him. Whenever you're ready, I'll walk you back and make sure no one lays a finger on you," he grinned.

A/n: Hi! Thanks for reading this far! I hope you like it. I know I left this kinda out in the open, but if you want more spice I'd be happy to write a part 2 if there's enough demand :) I didn't want to write a whole lot past 3k words and make this a long read :')

[voidsdamned]

Wicked Natures - The Ghoul/OC (Female Character) Chapter Five

Summary: Bounty hunters are frequent customers at Mulholland's Saloon, and Rue's taken quite a shine to one gunslinger in particular: a cantankerous, old Ghoul in a tattered duster. Witness her unabashedly lust after him in all his irradiated glory (as we are all currently doing), as well as navigate the precarious relationship she unfortunately has with local law enforcement.

Minors, do not interact.

Content Warnings: more spice. Blood. Begging. Spanking. Roughness.

Enjoy.

Chapter Five: Stray Cat

Rue is fitfully sore when she wakes, and her back aches mildly, the curled-up position she slept in having done her no favours. She stretches until something pops –her left shoulder, maybe– and looks around the sunlit room. There’s not a soul in sight. No Ghoul. No Artie. She’s not terribly surprised. Artie doesn’t like staying too still, and the Ghoul… well, Rue’s equating him to a stray cat. He’ll just come and go as he pleases.

She drags herself to her feet, an old, grey bedsheet falling off her. It drapes over her feet, and she just stares at it for a moment, heart warming stupidly. She folds and stows it quick before shutting herself in the bathroom.

In the cracked mirror hanging above a pedestal sink, she can see the events of the night spelled out plainly on her body. Her neck is covered in splotches, the area around her pulse –where the Ghoul must have concentrated his efforts– is particularly bruised. Then there’s an ugly spot on her left shoulder where dried blood stains honey skin. There’s an outline of teeth amongst the bruising and split flesh having scabbed over. Telling bruises litter her breasts, and her wrists are a little red where the ropes rubbed her.

Rue, for once, is thankful she works in a glorified whorehouse. She knows a few tricks to disguise the marks the Ghoul left on her, and she’ll definitely have to. Deck may be out of town and his posse isn’t being as attentive as they should be, but they do still pop in on her. If they saw her in this state…. There would be a shitstorm when Deck returns, one Rue isn’t too keen on imagining. So, she doesn’t, she just sets to fixing the problem.  

She’s quick about a bath. Quick to dress, donning a blouse with a more conservative neckline (but still standard for her). It covers the bitemark completely, and a bit of yellow concealer and some kind of cream almost her skin colour disguises the bruising on her neck decently well. She halves her hair, weaving twin braids to fall over her shoulders. With them providing more cover and a bit of shadow, Rue can’t even tell the Ghoul had gone to town on her.

As for the marks on her wrists… her blouse sleeves cover them mostly. But if anyone asks, she’ll say she got tangled up in the clothes line again.

Made up to the best of her abilities, Rue goes about the rest of the morning as she normally would: breakfast, laundry, and general tidying. There’s a period of time where she goes back into her bathroom, strips off her shirt, and studies the Ghoul’s handiwork again –and it gets her worked up horribly. She’s still sore, almost too sore to touch herself.

Almost.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rue leaves the house earlier than normal, heading straightaway to Artie’s to check on him. She finds him in the schoolyard, working on one of the garbage sculptures he likes to put together –and most of them aren’t bad at all. Some don’t even look like garbage anymore he’s done such a good job with them. Some of the smaller pieces, he even manages to sell.

He’s on his knees, bent over working on an abstract shape of jagged edges, all of metal bits and shards of glass. It glints brightly in the noon sun, causing Rue to shield her eyes as she picks her way across the yard to him. He doesn’t notice her, doesn’t look up from his project, until she’s tapping him on the shoulder and giving a very gentle, “Afternoon, Artie.”

Artie jumps a touch, head snapping up to look at her with wide eyes –well, eye. One of them is black and swollen nearly shut, and it hurts her heart to see it –and to see all those other bruises peppering him. The little cuts. But his nose looks straight and fine.

He settles once he realizes it’s her, giving her a bright, toothy smile. “Rue! Y’see this? Got the idea in a dream last night. A bright, burnin’ star sharp enough to cut.”

She crouches beside him, examining his work and nodding her approval. “It’s nice. Really does have a kinda starburst effect to it. …How ya feelin’ this mornin’?”

“Bit foggy when I first woke,” he tells her, fiddling with a piece of metal, “bit sore. And ‘course I can’t see all the way. Havin’ to keep an even sharper ear out for the Dust Devils.”

“Y’know, I haven’t even seen the first one today.” Rue hopes that will calm him, allow him to relax a touch more. “Thinkin’ that wind storm we had a few nights ago really scattered ‘em.”

Artie gives a deft nod. “Good. Real good. Get a breather in before they start congregatin’ again.”

“I plan to. …You manage to sleep okay?”

“Like a baby. That um… rum? Yeah, rum. It knocked my lights out. Don’t think I want it again, but it did help me last night.”

Rue smiles bright. “That’s good to hear, Artie. Oh, here. I brought ya this.” She pulls out a small, glass bottle of painkillers Doc Nguyen had given her when she twisted the hell out of her ankle a few months ago. “It won’t knock your lights out, and it’ll help if you’re havin’ any pain. Doc Nguyen told me it’s okay to take two every six or so hours.”

Artie takes the bottle from her hands, shaking it. Holding it to his ear as he listens to the contents clink around. “No worms?”

Rue shakes her head. “No worms.”

He nods again. “Thank ya, Rue. Can I keep the bottle once it’s empty?”

“Of course. I can bring you by that empty rum bottle, too, if ya want it.”

Artie nods ecstatically, that toothy grin taking his mouth again. “That’ll be just what I need.”

“Great.” Rue pulls herself up to her feet, dusting off her skirt as she rises. “I’ll bring it by tomorrow, and I’ll try to get your clothes patched in the next few days. Got ‘em dryin’ on the line right now.”

The artist’s toothy smile transforms, becoming something sweet and a little watery. “You’re always real good to me, Rue. I appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome, Artie,” she assures, squeezing his shoulder. “And I’d love to stay and watch ya work on this lovely piece, but I’m already late gettin’ to work. Take the meds if ya need ‘em, and try to get some rest, okay?”

Artie nods dutifully. “Yes’m.”

Rue gives him another smile and a small wave as she bids him goodbye for the day, and Artie goes right back to working on his sculpture, pausing only for a moment to pop two pills into his mouth before moving right along.

She moves right along as well, into another long, busy night at Mulholland’s.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Jimmie Boone brings in a fresh shipment of moonshine, Mullholland’s tends to see a big crowd. It’s good shit, apparently. Volatile as rocket fuel. Rue’s never tried it, because it smells like it could kill her (she does have a gifted bottle of it at home, though). She also doesn’t like the particular brand of stupidity her tables exhibit when they’ve had moonshine. They get drunk, fast. They get clumsy. They get a little testy. They start throwing fists.

And then Rue finds herself watching full-out brawls transpiring in the midst of the saloon until Hal unholsters his revolver and fires a warning shot into an old dartboard pocked with bullet holes. That usually settles things down, but tonight… tonight, two men get a bullet to the ass and Hal gets so fed up he calls it early. He just about decides not to order anymore moonshine from Jimmie -but, of course, that’s a decision Deck will ultimately make once he gets back to town (and Rue already knows he won’t even consider it).

Rue meanders her way home in a fantastic mood. She seldom ever gets off early, and she really is looking forward to a long night of sleep after how hectic Mulholland’s has been lately. She also has a basket full of muffins curtesy of Hal, and she’s so excited to eat one in the morning for breakfast. They go beautifully with coffee, and she’d managed to get her hands on a small bag. She doesn’t have milk, though, which is unfortunate. But she can’t justify buying it when it doesn’t keep and she doesn’t have a fridge.

Home is quiet and dark. Rue sets all her belongings down on her wardrobe and shimmies out of her clothes, catching sight of bruises almost faded and a bite mark almost healed. All so faint, it’s almost like her encounter with the Ghoul didn’t happen. She needs him to come back around and leave some fresh ones (and she knows she’s stupid for that, considering the murderous prick of a warden she’s under the thumb of).

Rue dumps her caps into the slowly-filling, glass jar by her wardrobe, sighing long and deep through her nose as she gets on her tiptoes and stretches her arms high above her head. She doesn’t get a pop like she wants, but the stretch of her muscles feels good regardless. She tries again, rolling her shoulders, touching her toes, and twisting, but earns nothing for her efforts.

Giving up, Rue tosses herself onto the misshapen form of her couch, settling into the lumpy comfort of it. It doesn’t take long for her mind to go sleepily wandering, drifting further and further. She starts seeing a hare with antlers hopping around in her mind, every movement it makes sounding like the jingle-jangle of spurs.

Those jingle-jangles are a little too crisp and clear, and they tickle something in Rue’s mind into a state of quasi-awareness. Her eyes part a fraction, blearily focusing on a dark figure breezing towards her, steps soundless except for the jingle-jangle that excites her heart.

Rue pushes herself up onto her elbows, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand as her lips tilt sleepily up at the Ghoul. “Hey you.” She yawns largely. “Want a muffin?”

The gunslinger pauses, giving her a look that tells her exactly how stupid he thinks she is –narrowed, tired eyes and incredulity. “I ain’t here for muffins, ya thick thing.”

“I know it.” Her grin stretches, teasing and smug. “You’re here ‘cause I’m stuck in your head.”

He rolls his eyes (why does Rue delight in that so much?) and shakes his head. His steps towards her are slow, resounding in the small space. The jingle-jangle of spurs stokes a heat in her belly. “I’m here ‘cause I got an open invitation to ruin you any-fucking-time I want. Remember?”

Rue rocks a hand from side to side, feet kicking idly. “That sounds like me, though.”

He comes to the edge of the couch, close enough Rue could lean forward and plant a through-the-clothes kiss to his dick if she wanted to (and she kind of wants to). She licks her lips, eyes picking their way up to his, holding. His gaze is always so severe, so serious. Rue thinks he could peel back the layers of her with eyes like that.

“Think you’re cute, huh?”

Rue, not looking away, dips her head forward and presses her lips to the front of his trousers. “I think I’m adorable.”

And there comes the fire, that smoldering glint in whiskey eyes. His voice is gruff, a growl, as he orders her to, “Get up.”

Rue complies, drawing herself to her feet to stand pressed to his body –firm and cool with all that leather. “I was thinkin’ ‘bout ya not too long ago,” she shares, stretching her arms above her head. Her back finally pops, and she can’t help the pleased, little moan that escapes her. “All my lil’ trophies are healin’ up, and I like havin’ somethin’ to remember you by.”  

Rue watches his trailing eyes, how they fix on a spot on her neck –one of the more lingering bruises. A cocky, little smirk twists at a corner of his mouth that she wants to pepper with kisses. “With the way you’re runnin’ that mouth, I dunno that you deserve ‘em.”

“Can’t help myself. You’re so fun to tease.” She reaches to touch his leather-vested chest, but he snags her wrist, holding tight enough to have her wincing.

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Ya ought not tease a man like me, sweetheart.”

Rue sticks her tongue out at the mean, old man. “Would ya rather me just sit there all quiet like and take it?” 

The Ghoul snorts. “I don’t think ya can be quiet.” His other hand ensnares her free one, and he pins them behind her back. “But I like to watch ya take it.”

Rue’s smile goes wide. “Challenge accepted.”

He cocks a browless brow at her in question.

“I won’t make a sound.”

He laughs, timber low and vibrating into Rue. “Shit, we both know I can getcha screamin’ if I want.”

Rue doesn’t say a word, only waggles her brows.

The bounty hunter gives an amused, “Hmp,” and tips his head. “Alright, then. Ya make a peep, and ya don’t come. I’ll just find out how deep I can shove my dick down your throat and be on my merry way.”

Just the threat of it makes Rue want to moan, but it’s much too early in the game. In fact, it just started. She raises her chin in a short motion she hopes he reads as, “Bring it.”

The Ghoul drags her in closer, letting her feel all his sharp edges and the hardening bulge of his cock beneath his trousers as he slowly ruts against her. Rue’s eyes flutter, and she bites down on her bottom lip to keep the whimpers in when his free hand tangles in her hair, pulling her head to the side so he can lavish her neck with his brutal brand of attention. 

Against her pulse, he tells her, “I guess I can admit to thinkin’ a bit about ya –the kinda games I’d play with ya. What positions I’d put ya in. Thinkin’ I want ya from behind this go ‘round.”

Rue shivers and squirms, wanting that desperately. They didn’t get to that position last time, and she thinks it would hit like nothing else. She nods her approval probably a little too exuberantly.

The Ghoul grinds against her a final time before his body pulls back a touch. He fetches a length of rope from his belt, and Rue holds still as he binds her wrists behind her back. Then he takes a few more steps back from her, eyes thoughtfully, hungrily, scanning her body before they latch on hers.

Pure wickedness brews in those whiskey eyes, and the devilish curl of his lips promises her undoing. So do those goddamn hands when he takes his gloves off. He really isn’t playing fair.

And he’s playing rough when those hands greet her breasts, the tweak of her nipple something that wracks its way down her spine and has her biting down on her lip. She doesn’t make a sound, only shakes as his fingertips ghost against the flesh he’d just abused. And he makes sure her other tit gets the same treatment. Along with her clit, and goddamnit, is he particularly thorough down there, hooking his fingers into her, curling and coaxing. Flicking. That has her eyes wide around, and her hold on her lip harsh enough she tastes blood.

Rue silently quivering, watches the Ghoul suck his fingers clean of her. “Huh. Guess I gotta admire your determination,” he comments, eyes raising from her cunt and to her face. They go straight to her lips. The grin that takes his is feral as he licks his fingers. “Now, look what ya did. Makin’ a mess. I’m the one who’s supposed to be doin’ that.”

Why is that when he speaks she wants to moan the most? To whimper and swear?

The Ghoul grabs hold of her face and presses his lips harshly to hers, tongue trailing. The taste of blood intensifies as he deepens the kiss, as he bites at her. When he pulls away, his mouth is smeared with crimson. He licks that clean, too.

Rue almost goes to her knees, a series of swears threatening to spill from her battered lips. But she’s good at games, and she’s resolved herself to win this one. She wants to feel his body pressed to hers from behind, fucking her absolutely silly.

She steels herself and smirks, winking at him for good measure.

His eyes go half-lidded, dangerous. He clicks his tongue, a short laugh rumbling from him. “You’re just a glutton for punishment, huh?

Rue’s first instinct is to fingergun at him, but with the state of her hands, cannot do so. She settles for a nod and a slow, exaggerated licking of her lips.

The Ghoul is fast, grabbing and spinning her around. Pulling her down as he plops back on her couch. She lands across his lap, ass in the air and his fingers digging into the plushness of her left cheek. Which is all just fantastic, but what really has her attention is the way his dick presses against her stomach. It’s all she can think about until a breath-stealing, skin-searing, open-handed smack lights up her rear.  

It robs her of her voice (most definitely the opposite of the desired effect), leaving her tense and wound tight as she awaits the next. And it does come, the sound sharp and the contact right where the first had been. But Rue was braced for it, ready, not a sound escapes her; but in her mind, she is gasping and giggling. On the outside, she squirms, toes curling and uncurling. Fingers clenching and unclenching. Her head hangs until a third smack has her snapping upright and biting down on her raw lip all over again.

“Tougher than you look.” The Ghoul hums, almost sounding impressed. His hand leaves her rear to grab her by the hair, tipping her head back further and making a “tch” sound. A scarred-up thumb drags across her cheekbone. “But ya sure are pretty with tears in your eyes.”

That small touch has her wanting to whine. She swallows thickly instead.

“That’s nice, too.” His thumb drags over her lips. “Wish I could see from this angle when you’re swallowin’ me down.”

Rue could make those dreams come true if she could get him on his back. Then she could approach from his right or left side, and he could have a nice side profile of her going to town. And if he was feeling sweet, he could finger or spank her. Or nice mix of the two.

Fuck.

Thinking of it has Rue squirming, needing some kind of friction below. There’s a pressure, a pulse, down there fast becoming unbearable.

Another disapproving sound from the Ghoul as his thumb withdraws from her mouth and his hand from her hair. “Nuh-uh, sweet. None of that. Not ‘til I say so.” One hand ghosts down her spine while the other rubs the tender spot on her ass in slow, lazy circles. Then pinches. Rue’s whole body goes tense, winding so tight it’s almost exhausting.

But I’m gonna win.

She chants that to herself, and almost immediately loses when that cruel hand slips between her legs to be so sinfully sweet she wants to purr and plead. Her head and eyes roll, breath gone completely erratic. Heart a mile a minute. Building and building and building, and-.

SMACK.

It truly takes every single drop of Rue’s resolve, stubbornness, and self not to scream. To shout and gasp raggedly and likely sob just a little. All she can do is shake and bleed and feel tears slip hotly down her cheeks.

The Ghoul huffs. “I was sure that’d get ya.... You don’t wanna sing for me, Rue?”

A dirty, fucking play to use her name, but she nods her head like crazy, curls spilling all around her shoulders and face until she’s shrouded by them.

He’s back to sweetness, touches gentle on her thighs and the spot on her ass likely to be as raw as her lips. Then he’s shoving her off his lap, and Rue’s hitting the floor with a bang that shakes her vision.

“You’re gonna,” the Ghoul promises, voice rough, husky, and even vaguely threatening. “You’re gonna sing and scream and pray for me.” His spurs jingle-jangle as his boots hit the floor as solidly as Rue had. She hears his belt buckle jingle, too. A zipper unzipping. Fabric sliding.

The Ghoul is on the floor with her, hands on her hips, jerking her onto her knees as the left side of her face scrapes against the floor. A knee firmly spreads her legs, and Rue, so excited, tries not to quiver as she feels the hot, rigid girth of him prodding at her from behind. The sharpness of his hip bones pressing into tender flesh.

She doesn’t expect gentleness, and she doesn’t get it. He’s as forthright as he was the first time, slamming his way into her completely in one, debilitating stroke that nearly pulls a whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes,” from her throat.

The Ghoul’s groan does something to her, that deep, throaty, purely pleasured sound. It stokes the fire he’s built up. She wants to hear more, loving to know the feel of her can draw out such a musical sound. That she can make him sing.

But the Ghoul’s grip is like iron, not allowing her to shift or angle her hips any differently. Or let her attempt bouncing off him herself. His fingers only dig in deeper, aggravating the spot he’d favoured, and Rue’s body clenches. The Ghoul’s hands hold tighter, an expletive hissing raggedly out of him.

He spanks and grasps her ass, tone rough and chiding, “That ain’t fair.”

Rue wants to laugh, to risk a glance up at him, but she thinks her smile would only work him up more –which isn’t really a bad thing, but it would only make the game harder. She’s struggling with it now. Really, really struggling when the Ghoul pulls back only to stroke roughly, fully again. Her eyes flutter. Her heart stutters. She needs to claw at the ground. She needs something to bite down on. It’s so good. The friction. The feel. Scratching at an itch so deep she wasn’t even aware of its existence.

She wants to tell him, “Again,” but doesn't have to. He’s a mind reader (more likely he planned on it already) because he does it again. Again. Again. Slow and deep and firm. Excruciatingly saccharine and biting. Something croaked and begging tries to escape from Rue, but she bites down on it with all her might, breathing roughly. Wildly.

She wonders if breathing counts as a noise? Hers is loud and unbelievably lewd right now –even to her own ears.

“So close,” the Ghoul muses, a genuine, wolfish delight underscoring the deep timber of his voice. His hips still. “Ya need a few more of those, huh?”

Rue bobs her head like a desperate fool.

“Ya gotta beg me.”

She shakes her head firmly. She wants to come. She needs to. She can’t have him running off on her tonight, not when she’s in such a twisted-up, terrible way.

A sharp smack greets her ass, and mercifully, it’s not on the likely-bruised cheek. She doesn’t make a sound, but her cunt throbs.

“Stubborn.” One of his steadying hands leaves her hips to fist in her hair, dragging Rue up, pulling her taught against his chest. The hand on her hip snakes to her front, between her legs to press firm, dragging circles against an overly sensitive bundle of nerves. The hand in her hair disengages, reaching around to grasp at her breasts.

Rue’s shaking from her head to her toes. Dizzy. So close to losing her mind.

“Beg me, Rue,” the Ghoul coaxes, voice low and beguiling. “And if it’s sweet enough, I’ll let you come.”

Grey eyes flutter open. She wants to ask him, “Promise?” but she doesn’t trust the offer in full. She wiggles her pinky against his chest.

The gunslinger pulls back a touch, the motions of both hands stilling. He scoffs out a disbelieving, “Really?”

Rue bobs her head.

An aggravated sigh and a grumbled, “Fine then.” A hand leaves her tit; the Ghoul’s pinky hooks with hers. “You’re a bit of a brat. Y’know that, right?”

“And you’re everything,” Rue gasps out. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Please, keep doin’ what you’re doin’. Please. I want you so bad it hurts. I’m about cryin’ over it in the best fuckin’ way.” She tilts her head back, hitting against his shoulder and finding his eyes. They’re hungry, dancing, delighted. And she knows hers only help her case. Wet, wide, and pleading. “You fill me up so fuckin’ good. It’s all I can think about. Please. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me ‘til I see stars. ‘Til I can’t walk. ‘Til I’m screamin’. Make me scream. Make me sing. And, darlin’, if ya gave me a name, I’d pray to it.”

The gunslinger’s hips buck –involuntarily or not, Rue doesn’t know. She just feels everything so acutely that a reedy, pitiful whine rips from her, her head dropping, lolling. Another plea marked by desperation.

A pull back. A stroke that sends her eyes to rolling. The Ghoul growls into her neck, “Ya don’t need a name. Anytime I hear ‘oh god’ come from ya, I’ll know it’s for me.”

Rue decides she’ll give him plenty of that, and she has every opportunity to. The Ghoul hears her pleas, and he answers. He gives her the slow, powerful thrusts that feel as if they reach to her gut. Hands pushing her buttons all the while. His pace alternates, him holding her tight and fucking into her with wild abandon, the snap of his hips quick and brutal.

She’s nonsensical. She hears her voice but cannot understand the words she might be speaking. No thoughts exist in her mind other than those of the Ghoul and everything he makes her feel. She’s lost completely to the mix of aching pleasure and too-sweet pain. And it really doesn’t take him long to send her toppling over the edge. Coming hard and shaky and loud. Her entire body tautens, especially around him. She can hear the way he swears around the buzzing in her ears. She feels every touch, how grasping and desperate his hands become. The unsteadiness his strokes devolve into.

His grip on her torso disappears, and Rue cannot hope to keep herself upright. She has no strength, no control, and no hands to catch herself with. Her chin strikes the floor, setting her teeth to ringing and eyes to swimming. And still the Ghoul fucks her, his hands on her waist and hips until a final, broad, shattering thrust spells out his end. As well as a second one for her that disconnects her brain from her body. She floats, overwhelmed and awash. She could happily drown in such pleasure. 

But the Ghoul's voice and touch keep her afloat. Has her trying to reattach her scattered parts as she picks up bits and pieces of what he says. A bit of praise, him telling her he loves the way her filthy, fuckin’ cunt milks him for all he’s worth. How she’s such a good girl taking it like she did, singing like she did. He could get used to being worshipped.

“I’d exalt ya every-goddamn-day,” Rue mumbles, barely there, not even realizing he’s untied her hands until he’s flipping her over and she doesn’t crush her own arms. They just flop out uselessly beside her. She hazily watches as the Ghoul spreads her legs and kneels between them, his half-hard cock on full, lovely display before her eyes roll back into her head and her body seizes at the way he fingerfucks his way back into her.

“Hell, that’s a fuckin’ sight,” he breathes. “Fillin’ you up and watchin’ me spill out.”

Rue half-whimpers/half-gasps/half-laughs. “Ohhhh, that’s... that's fi- filthy. I... l-love it. But ya -fuck– you’re killin’ me.”

The Ghoul laughs at the state of her (most likely), and through lidded eyes, she watches him sit with his back against the couch and tuck himself away. His head hangs, chest rising slow and steady, and sweat glistens on his forehead and neck. A fucking painting, a masterpiece, is what he is.

Rue can’t help herself. “You’re so handsome.”

He’s close enough to reach out and pinch her. “Gonna make you eat your own tongue.”

The pinch is easily ignored, nothing compared to what she just went through. “So, so handsome.” Rue rolls over on her side, grasping for the couch and using it to haul herself up. She’s not successful. Her limbs are useless. She grins lazily at the cowboy. “Think ya broke my arms… and my legs, maybe.”

A short, bark of a laugh. “Ain’t sorry ‘bout it.” 

“Neither am I.” Rue gives hoisting herself to her feet another go, barely managing to get on her knees. It’s an even greater feat that she manages to get to her feet. She feels wobblily, like a newborn radstag, as she crosses the floor. “I look as silly as I feel?”

“Like an idiot, but that’s nothin’ new.”

Rue snorts, sticking her tongue out at the Ghoul before shutting herself in the bathroom where she cleans up just a bit. When she emerges, she’s pleased to find the Ghoul sitting right where she left him, head tipped back and his boots kicked off. She leaves him to relax for the moment, going to her kitchenette and fishing out the sealed mason jar full of Jimmie Boone’s moonshine. She also fills two glasses with water.

She returns to the Ghoul, handing over the moonshine and a glass before joining him on the floor, back pressing into the couch. She upends her glass of water quickly before tilting her head back to relax and bask in the presence beside her. But the tired hits heavy, letting Rue know she's about to have a proper sleep whether she's ready for it or not. She fights to keep her eyes parted, to enjoy the Ghoul for just a little longer. She watches him unscrew the jar lid and take himself a sniff. Or as good of one as he can. She doesn’t know how much he can smell without a nose.

“Think I’ve had this before,” he mutters before taking a swig. His face screws up. “Goddamn.”

Rue grins smally, drowsily. “Two people got shot in the ass tonight ‘cause of that shit.”

“If they were drunk off this, bet they didn’t even feel it.”

“Sure howled like they did.”

The Ghoul snickers and takes another draw from the ‘shine.

She smothers a yawn, asking, “Ya set to head out after another bounty?”

“Yup. Got some raiders in the hills not too far from here goin’ after caravans. Boy standin’ in for Deck’s offering a hundred caps a head.”

Rue perks slightly at that. “Damn, that’s good money. …Ya sure I can’t bounty hunt with you?” It’s a question made in jest, but… some small part of Rue is stupidly hopeful.

The Ghoul tips back the moonshine, taking a deeper glug. When he pulls the jar away, his sharp intake of breath sounds like a hiss. He shakes his head. “I maintain that you ain’t built for it, sweetheart. I don’t even think ya got a gun.”

He’s not wrong about the gun. Rue doesn’t have one. Deck won’t let her have one. No one in Dust will sell her one either on account of her being not quite right in the head. They think she’ll hurt herself or someone else. But she has a fucking pocket knife. That’s all fine and dandy.

“I used to,” she mutters, eyes too heavy to keep open. He really does wear her out in the best way.... “It was pretty. Bolt-action rifle. Real antique lookin’ thing with gleamin’ wood and all these pretty lil’ whorls carved in it. I think it burned up with the ranch.” Her lips quirk at the thought of it, the mental picture in her head. The blurry sensation of what it felt like to hold it and fire. To feel the assuring weight of it strapped to her back.

She felt tough enough to take on the world back then. She knows that’s still somewhere in her. She feels it stirring sometimes, making her want to rip her skin off.

“Always noticed you take care of your guns,” Rue goes on, voice soft and sleepy. “Appreciate that ‘bout ya.”

“Gotta. They make me my money.” A pause. A shift she can feel vibrate through the couch they both lean into. He might be looking at her? She thinks she can feel his eyes on her, but she can't check. “Ya gonna fall asleep like that?”

“Yeah.”

And she does.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Ghoul is gone in the morning, not that Rue expected any different of the stray cat. But she didn’t expect to wake up in her bed with the covers draped over her –or to find the glasses and jar they used last night washed and drying by the sink. It’s a nice, small surprise. One that has her smiling while she brews her morning coffee.

And her smile takes in her ears when she goes to grab a muffin from the basket on the kitchen table, finding half of them gone.

[javierduffy]

happy 2 see another javier and kieran shipper in the community :) i started smacking them together like barbie dolls after i wanted to inject javier into a bill/kieran domestic au and i found myself completely wrapped up in their dynamics.

from my domestic au to your brain: javier and kieran are ranchers together. javier is constantly reminding himself in saloons to just think of kieran whenever he has the urge to get into trouble. would kieran want this for him? no. probably not. javier is gritting his teeth and telling himself he is going to be a good boyfriend for kieran even if it kills him. which it very well might, he wants to punch some annoying guy very very badly, and not punching him is actively draining javiers health. its fine. he can go home to kieran and get called so brave and strong for handling the situation so well

ive been loving seeing your stuff in the tags, its been a delight, keep it up :)

YAAAAYYY ANOTHER ONE !!!! now there’s … three of us, last i checked …. or at least, ones that are active. still, that’s a better standing than 5 years ago ! happy to be back and part of the gang :] the smacking together like barbie dolls part is soooo real .. they’re so good, aren’t they !-?2!2?2

HAHAHDR THANK YOU THATS SO CUTE the only way kieran would know what javier did (and by extension, did not) do that day would be if javier outright told him, which is double cute. obviously kieran will ask him every single day “oh, how’d your day go ? was it good ? how was town ?” and javi being the little canine he is leaves out absolutely no detail regarding things that will bolster, or at least maintain, his Good Boy status. Good Boy status perks include getting head pats and hair braids and praise like somehow not spilling blood is the best a man can do for kieran duffy (all the same, javier would do just about anything else he’d ask, as well. javi considers himself lucky kieran does not request for bloodshed, because he’d be left with no choice but to fulfill it.). no offense, but john could never have the self control that javier does.

thank you ! that’s very sweet :] i’ve been worried that i’ve just been clogging up the tags with all my spam so it’s nice to hear that someone at least enjoys my silly little shenanigans !!! thank you so much for the ask and for indulging me <33

[infintasmal]

@thuganomxcs asked: yeehaw. both of our characters are in the wild wild west. (let's go botan) Scenarios meme / Accepting

"My, this is certainly a curious situation," It's like stepping into a film. One minute, they're hunting down an aberrant spirit and the next they're being dumped on a prairie with a portal closing quickly above their head. Botan dusts herself off, realizing that they're certainly not in Japan anymore. They're just outside of a small town, filled with horses and carriages, people wearing tall boots, not a light pole or car in sight. Before they can be seen by any passing humans, Botan pulls Yusuke behind a building and pulls her shinigami's notebook from her kimono.

"Alright, let's figure out what's going on, try not to wander." She opens the book, letting the magic grant her the answers she needs. "Oh my, seems that spirit has the ability to travel through time. According to my book, we've landed in 1817 in what will one day be the United State's state of Wyoming. We're in the wild west, the era of cowboys and saloon brawls, how exciting." She's a little too thrilled by all of this, her eye's bright while she peaks around the corner. "The spirit must have tried to escape by time traveling and somehow we were brought along with it. If you can capture it, surely we'll be able to return home," she's about to step out to get a better look around when she thinks better. She looks Yusuke up and down, realizing that they both are likely to cause a commotion looking as they do.

"One moment," she summons her oar and, while holding Yusuke's hand, stamps it on the ground. A gust of colored wind swirls around them both and when it dissipates, their clothing has been transformed. Botan's gotten rather good at manifesting disguises while spending time in the human world and this was too a good an opportunity to pass up.

Giddy with the chance to put on a new costume, she stands before Yusuke in a ruffled white blouse, a long navy skirt and leather boots. Her hair, braided into pig tails, is topped with a wide rimmed hat. She took the liberty of putting Yusuke into his own outfit, delighting in the opportunity and risking his ire for a chance to put a cowboy hat on him.

"It's best if we blend in, otherwise we'll draw unwanted attention. Don't worry, I'll turn it all back once we've finished," she winks, thinking this might be the most fun mission yet.

[zvdvdlvr]

ain't like that, kid. | PROLOGUE, INTRO

series masterlist | navigation

☆ - synopsis :: john marston used to be known for sleeping around with women. he was dangerous in a way that got many women got… aroused. now that he was running with the dutch van der linde gang, that was all behind him- not to mention he had jack and abigail. needless to say when he gets contacted by one of the women he had sex with, he was genuinely taken aback when he was informed that he had a daughter that needed a different place to live.

☆ - warnings :: coarse language, murder, attempted murder, bad communication, illness, character death, it gets better

☆ - pairings :: platonic john marston x daughter ! original chatacter

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - PROLOGUE, INTRO

"Ain't you handsome," crooned a woman, running her hands along John's shoulders. The man smiled and took a swig of the alcohal in his glass.

"Thank you, ma'am. Y'ain't bad yerself," he found himself saying. John was affected by the alcohal, but he was still thinking properly.

"Well, I thank you kindly. You got a name, mister?" the woman asked, massaging john's shoulders.

"Yes ma'am," he replied after finishing his drink.

"Oh? Well what is it?"

Standing up and turning around, John smiled a charming smile that made all the girls dance. "Whatever you want to call me, honey, that's my name." With that, John gently grasped the woman by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

I think you know what happens next.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

Almost 9 months later, the woman that John had sex with that night gave birth to two kids. Two baby girls, both small and tiny. Premature, the doctor had said. Both of the girls were premature.

This was not very good, doctor Mathers explained. They were barely into the eighth month when Catharine gave birth.

It doesn't matter, Catharine had said. I'll do what needs to be done.

What are you going to name the girls ma'am? the man asked after nodding at the woman's previous statement.

Catharine thought for a moment. Carmen and Cameron, she answered. The Corrigan family has two more successors, Catharine said with a smile.

Indeed it does, Doctor Mathers had replied with a weary smile.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

Cameron and Carmen were like many sisters of the era: best friends. The girls- although very similar in looks- were differing in personalities. Not to the point were they clashed over everything, just to the point where they each grew irritated at each other for their likes and dislikes.

Carmen was the oldest. She left the womb approximately three minutes and fifty six seconds before Cameron. As the eldest, Carmen made it her responsibility to take over the chores that Cameron inevitably slacked off. Carmen had black hair that reached her back that was twisted into intricate braids pinned to her scalp. Carmen was nice enough. The girls were told never to speak unless spoken to, never lie or withhold information, never speak out against an elder's statement, and to never wish harm upon anyone. Every single one of these rules were broken by both of the girls but as long as they weren't doing anything illegal or to get the family of three in trouble then Catharine didn't care.

Cameron. The second born. Cameron was as perceptive as her sister but she normally stated what she saw. Cameron was taller than her sister by not even an inch. She was a strawberry blonde, just like Catharine. Cameron inherited her mother's brown eyes while Carmen had a vibrant shade of green and brown. (Literally. Carmen's left eye was green and the other was brown!) Cameron's hair was cut as short as her mother would let it. Her hair was exactly two and a half inches past her shoulder and was braided and pinned back just like Carmen's hair.

Catharine's joy about her kids never wavered. They were the joy of her life, along with a bottle of rum every once in a while. Catharine kept clean for her girls, always putting them first. She worked at the local saloon and was fortunate enough to be able to bring home three or four extra meals that the chef had made more of.

Despite how happy the three were, they knew the hardships of life. When Carmen and Cameron were barely a year old, Catharine was living out in the streets, picking the locks of some churches and sneaking into abandoned houses to sleep in. Only when Catharine had four more years of parenting under her belt did the tide start to turn.

Now at 14, Carmen and Cameron were both working in town. Carmen and Cameron both took time out of their day to go earn some money at the Valentine stable to help clean stalls. In return, the men working would give each twin a dime or two and teach them how to ride horses.

The twins had different main jobs. Carmen worked at the gun store with 'Papa Dalton' (an inside joke from years ago). Papa Dalton taught Carmen everything she'd ever need to know about using any kind of weapon, and- as per their mother's request- taught both the girls basic fighting moves.

Cameron worked with the town doctor, Ben Calloway. She spent her days helping treat ailments and studying medicine. The doctor had a soft spot for the family. He- along with Dalton Smith- cared for the family of three like a grandfather. Calloway taught both girls how to stitch someone up properly, how to suture a wound, remove snake venom from a bite, and many other useful things.

In any case, the Corrigan family were doing better than most. They had each other and reciprocated love for their town of Valentine.

[animusharmonia]

Winesong and Wind

Was it even any surprise that he would be devoutly faithful to the religion he was raised amidst?

A peaceful evening in Angel's Share

Read on Ao3

Written for a class assignment for the prompt Tension/Yearning

“Head on home for the night, Charles. I’ll take over from here.”

The general atmosphere of the tavern was jovial and light as jaunty saloon-song and conversation filled the air. Charles, the current bartender, sent a grateful nod to the fiery red-headed owner of the establishment. With a practiced twist of his wrist, he finished wiping down the glass he held and returned it to the shelves under the counter, using the rag he still held in his other hand to do a quick final once-over of the counterspace.

As one body passed another to and from the space behind the counter, gloved hands tied long red hair in a high ponytail with adept ease. A general cheer of welcome rumbled around the room for a moment as the denizens noticed the master of the house take his place. The tavern owner offered a nod of his own to his current patrons as he glanced about the interior, taking stock of the events of the evening.

Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to occur within the den of drunkards; the regulars were off at their usual tables, one adventurer stood in a dramatic pose as he regaled a wowed audience with obviously exaggerated tales, a pair of lovers sat tucked away in a corner in a whispered world of their own, and the bartender took mental note of those who may approach soon to be topped off or those sooner to be cut off for the night.

From the makeshift stage space across the bar by the door, the bard of the night sent a cheerful wave and a wink. He was a familiar presence, if not the usual one. The common bardic emeralds complemented his slight figure, cape fluttering with his movement like wings and braided hair swaying. String-calloused hands plucked along a well-loved lyre, beginning a song anew.

Averting his gaze to his next approaching customer, he absently wondered. For all that the tavern bore the name of angels, just how would people react if they knew how truly blessed it was? Maybe unorthodox in practice, but in its own way this was part of how he showed his faith. Was it even any surprise that here, in the nation of wind, wine, and song, the linchpin of the wine industry would be devoutly faithful to the religion he was raised amidst?

Even knowing what he does.

Eyes aglow with the clearest sky met burnished sunset, glinting in glee and untold mischief of past and present. A fluttering smile as lofty and bright as wings of crystalized wind rested upon cloud-soft skin drenched in all the hues of adoration.

It was one thing to be faithful, to run his own holy grounds in the form of a bar – whether the patrons realized that’s what it was or not – but it was another to know his efforts were acknowledged. To know that the very name reverently whispered within an entire nation’s prayers knew his own in turn and not only accepted his offering but favored it.

Divine mercy was the strumming of a lyre and salvation a smile.

It still felt almost disjointing, sometimes, knowing that a god walked in their midst. Knowing that their nation’s patron deity was chaotic at the best of times. As free spirited as the wind he was born from and just as whimsical.

Knowing that he, just as any, could get lost in a bottle of nostalgia and liquor, mourning those of ages long past as he sings their stories for the future.

For all that their god may be known as the weakest of the Seven, it could be argued that he works the hardest in his own way. Public figures though some of them may be, there sure had been no news of other gods going out of their way to ease a threat their people faced in hundreds of years. No news of it recently either, to be fair, but one simply cannot ignore what was experienced firsthand when fighting alongside the very figure they utter in reverent prayer. Phantom roars of wind and reptilian alike ring through his ears as he sends a thought to the whereabouts and wellbeing to the freed guardian dragon.

A voice brought the bartender out of his reverie as the bardic god slipped straight from his thoughts and onto a stool before the counter, fondness coating his every word. Noticing the minute jolt of attention from the ever-composed nobleman, he closed his eyes, threw his head back, and laughed, all wild bells and reckless abandon with all the honey richness of dandelions. The matter isn’t even all that funny or a scenario to laugh so hard at, but the atmosphere was already joyous as the night ran long and liquor poured a-plenty. Even through the gentle mockery, crimson eyes glowed with affection for the deity.

The bard placed an order for a glass of the finest wine, only to be shot down by the bartender with a question of his own regarding funds. There’s a pout and playful insistence to put the glass on his tab – not that the tavern allows open tabs – and dramatically rolled eyes. It’s a familiar scene, a familiar routine between the two. Ultimately, a flourishing gesture comes fast and coin, hard earned over the night of song, is pulled from a hat. In turn, practiced hands pass a long-poured glass of wine and the exaggerated pout morphs into an almost impish grin, firelight casting a halo upon raven-blue hair.

He doesn’t know anymore. Doesn’t understand exactly how he lasted so long without this. Memories flash once more of so many years ago, with late nights in fervent prayer, and of warm winds ever there to guide him home when he needed it most. Here, watching his joyous god pillow his chin on his hand, arm propped up by the countertop, he knows he would never go back to those days without.

Emerald-azure orbs met his own carmine once more, sunny-bright still with laughter.

And here, in this holy land of windborne spirits, was peace.

[ayahairbraiding]

Top-Rated Hair Braiding Salons in Your Area

Discover the best hair braiding salons near me. Our renowned salon boasts a team of highly talented braiders dedicated to crafting intricate and long-lasting styles. From feed-in braids to Senegalese twists, we offer a wide range of braiding techniques to suit your desired look. Experience unparalleled skill and attention to detail.

[hellsmayflower]

◎ 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚀𝚄𝙸𝚁𝙺𝚂 & 𝙷𝙰𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚂

→←x→←x→←x→←x→←x→←x→←x→←x→←x→←x

Bold if they do | cross out of they don’t at all | leave normal for if they only do sometimes!

likes artificial watermelon  |  sleeps in what they are already wearing  |  eats their cereal with milk |  listens to music with earbuds  |  hates the summer  |  can recite past the first four digits of pi |  eats frosting out of the jar  |  doodles on their notebooks  |  can bake cookies  |  has a garden  |  has had a snowball fight  |  eats pancakes without syrup  |  prefers shorts over pants |  can name more than ten superheroes  |  has a plan for the zombie apocalypse  |  uses the same password for everything  |  can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds  | can hold their breath for a few minutes  watches anime  |  hasn’t read Harry Potter/Hates Harry Potter  |  can say ‘ I love you ‘ in more than one language  |  prefers mechanical pencils  |  thinks space is cool  |  takes personality tests more than once to make sure  |  can tie their shoelaces  |  has a purse  |  likes salads  |  likes cool colors better than warm colors  | knows how to braid hair |  reads biographies  |  can ice skate  |  knows their mbti  |  reads astrology charts  |  prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy  |  plays video games  | reads the newspaper  |  likes chocolate ice cream best  |  doesn’t [usually] cuss  |  memorizes song lyrics  |  collects coupons  |  has a preferred order at starbucks  |  likes movie theater popcorn  |  has seen a play  |  listens to music with headphones  |  owns a hoodie  |  would rather own cds than online copies  |  has written a poem  |  can shuffle cards  |  subscribes to a magazine  |  double dips when eating (his own food food) |  drinks directly out of the milk container  |  keeps a journal  |

{{ tagged by : @tunedradio }} {{ tagging : @a-hazbin-spider @angelic-stiletto-pointe @murderous-rodeo-imp666 @the-knolastname-family676 @e-m-p-error @peppy-jester @overangeled @the-delightful-temptation @strikers-saloon and others that sees this and wants to do this. }}

[von-eldritch]

Character Quirks and Habits BOLD what often or always applies. ITALICIZE what sometimes, occasionally, or somewhat applies. STRIKE what never applies. REPOST & DON’T REBLOG

likes artificial watermelon, sleeps in what they are already wearing, eats their cereal with milk, listens to music with earbuds, hates the summer, can recite passed the first four digits of pi, eats frosting out of the jar, doodles on their notebooks, can bake cookies, has a garden farm, has had a snowball fight, eats pancakes without syrup, prefers shorts over pants, can name more than ten superheroes, has a plan for the zombie apocalypse, uses the same password for everything, can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds, watches anime, hasn’t read harry potter, can say ‘ i love you ‘ in more than one language, prefers mechanical pencils, thinks space is cool, takes personality tests more than once to make sure, can’t tie their shoelaces, has a purse, likes salads, likes cool colors better than warm colors, knows how to braid hair, reads biographies, can ice skate, knows their mbti, reads astrology charts, prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy, plays video games, reads the newspaper, likes chocolate ice cream best, doesn’t cuss, memorizes song lyrics, collects coupons, has a preferred order at starbucks, likes movie theater popcorn, has seen a play, listens to music with headphones, owns a hoodie, would rather own cds than online copies, has written a poem, can shuffle cards, subscribes to a magazine, double dips when eating, drinks directly out of the milk container, keeps a journal

Tagged By - @onlyheartaches​ (ily)

Tagging - ignore me if you’ve already done this ‘cause idk but uhhh @pxppinmolly​ @strikers-saloon​ @lutebrute​ @hecatcd​

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 6

For now I had put the groceries down on my bed. I really didn’t want the bags on the floor because that’s disgusting and would attract ants. 

“I’ll figure that out later,” I say as I grab the hoe by the door and head outside.

The sun is beating down ferociously today. Thankfully, it is still spring which means there is a bit of a cool breeze whipping through the air. My tank top should be enough to air my upper body out when it does get too warm. Worst that will happen is probably a sunburn.

The time comes to start getting down to business. I till and rake up the dirt to create good soil for planting seeds. I am not an expert at doing this since this is only my first time doing so. I just kind of eyeball it and when the soil looks dark and stirred up enough I move to the next spot. I keep going until I have several rows of fresh, turned up soil.

I plant one row of each type of seed which results in me having 4 long rows of seeds. That didn’t take nearly as long as cutting the trees or slashing the grass. It was a lot of bending down though and my thighs are feeling pretty stiff. 

Once I planted the final seed. I rose from the crouch position I was in, wiped my brow, grabbed the hoe and walked right back inside the house. It’s only about 7 o’clock judging by the position of the sun. I could really go for a beer or something.

Inside the house, I walk over and start the shower. It’s about time I clean myself up. I strip down to nothing and throw a towel around my body. First I put the overalls in the stream of water and put some soap on them to clean them up the best I could. There is no washer or dryer here or even a bucket for them to fit in to wash. The shower is the best I have to work with. 

I ring out the pair of overalls and walk them outside, still wearing just the towel, to lay them across the front porch. Hopefully the sun tomorrow morning will be shining enough to dry them nicely.

“Um… is this a bad time?” A voice calls out. A let out a startle scream and darted my eyes around the field to see who it was. It’s Leah.

I cling to my towel to hold it tighter against my body in hopes it doesn’t decide to fall down at this moment.

“It is slightly a bad time, yeah. But I can’t turn away a fellow Pelican Towner. What do you need?” I give her a friendly smile to lighten the mood slightly.

“I see you’ve just planted some crops.I was just wondering if you’d be able to spare me a head of cauliflower when they are ripe and ready to be harvested? I was going to put it on the Help Wanted board… but I figured I lived close enough I’d take a walk over and ask. Sorry for the bad timing.” She scratches the back of her neck and gives me a goofy grin. 

“Of course I will give you one when they are ready! I will come find you in a few days. Where do you live again?”

“I live by Marnie down that way,” she points to the pathway south of the farm, “I, of course, will give you compensation for this chivalrous deed you are doing for a dear lady in distress,” she sarcastically explains in a weird accent. She lets out a laugh, causing me to join in with the laughter. 

Leah gives me a wave and heads back south to her home. I go back inside to finally hop in the shower.It feels so nice to be clean again. I missed feeling refreshed and relaxed.

Exiting the bathroom, I walk to my suitcase and start rummaging through it for something to wear. I finally settled on a pair of distressed baggy jeans, with a pink plaid, button up t-shirt. After slipping on my boots, I head out the door and to the Stardrop Saloon.

The air has really cooled down since the sun is no longer up. It took me about an hour to fully get ready to go so it’s now 8 o’clock. The townies will all be piling up in the saloon one by one as it gets later. A good chunk should already be there by the time I arrive.

With my hair still damp, I start putting it into a braid while nearing the door of the saloon. I toss my now braided hair back over my shoulder and walk in. Just as I suspected, it is bustling with commotion. Pam is over in her usual spot, and so is the guy standing by the fireplace. Mayor Lewis is at a table with Pierre and Marnie and a couple others I haven’t met yet. They all give me a friendly wave as I enter. I shoot them one back as I approach Gus.

“Hey Gus! How are you today?” I ask, kindly as I sit down on a bar stool.

“Not too bad. Same old, same old. What about you?” he replies.

“I’m in the same boat as you. Although, I did finally get some crops started so that’s a bonus,” I flash him a thumbs up and he copies me.

Without even asking me, Gus grabs a large glass and fills it with beer and passes it to me. I look at him with wide eyes.

“How’d you know?” I utter in astonishment.

“I just had a feeling. I’ve worked here long enough to read people and how they're feeling.” He winks as he goes back to drying other big glasses that have just been washed.

“Wanna try some pizza? It’s freshly made!” Emily had appeared behind the counter near Gus without me even noticing her walk by. She was holding a large, circle tray which I assume is holding the pizza.

“Absolutely I will try some,” I exclaim as I reach over, grab a slice off the tray and start devouring it.

“Pig,” a melodious voice chimes from behind me. Except it wasn’t that pleasant considering what she just called me. It was no other than Haley, strutting in with Alex on her heels.

I turn to give her a scowl, but I have a mouth full of pizza at the same time. My cheeks are slightly puffed from the big bites I was chewing and that caused her to laugh. It seemed like a genuine one rather than her just laughing at me to make me feel bad.

Haley covers her mouth to hide her laugh, but does a bad job because I can still see her face scrunched up and her body shuttering as she chuckles. 

For some reason, her giggling over my behavior makes my stomach feel funny and I feel my face heat up. I quickly look away from her and find anything else to focus on.

“Are you stalking me or something, creep?” She calls out once again.

I slump farther into my seat and turn slowly in the spinny barstool to face her once again.

“I could ask you the same thing. I was here first, you know.” I extend my legs and cross them at the ankles while simultaneously crossing my arms. I see Haley’s eyes flick down to look at my arms but then right back up at my eyes.

“Yeah but I was at Pierre’s AND the fountain first!” She snaps. Poor Alex is still standing behind her, barely even through the door. He has the most confused look on his face I’ve ever seen on a person. He finally decides to grab her shoulders gently and move her to the side so he can squeeze past.

“Then you must just be wishing I’m with you then, huh? The universe must hear your prayers.” I taunt. 

“Go to Hell!” She finally shouts while aggressively pointing at me. She sashays away, trailing behind Alex as he goes to the arcade. I notice her little hip sway as she struts away. 

I grab another beer from Gus and follow their trail to get to the arcade as well. Just about everyone is hanging out there now and I’m one of the last few to arrive. We are just waiting on Penny and Elliot. Penny must be still with Jas and Vincent, but who knows where Elliot is.

Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail are once again playing a game of pool. This time it’s Sam versus Abigail and Sebastian watching from the side. Maru is playing one of the two arcade games, while Leah plays the other. Haley is back on the corner couch whispering away to Alex.

Surely enough a few moments later, Penny comes jogging into the saloon, seemingly out of breath. 

“Sorry…” she pants, ”Late tutoring session. Got wrapped up in a book.” She takes a seat on the couch next to Haley and Alex. Haley shoots her a look but goes back to whispering. 

Tipping back the rest of my beer, I stand up to go get another one from Gus, stumbling around a tad in the process. I am kind of a lightweight and being on an empty stomach with just a slice of pizza in there doesn’t help. 

As I enter the arcade once again, beer in hand, I shout, “Who wants to have a pool tournament!”

Everyone nods in agreement and some chatter stirs up amongst the crowd in the arcade. We go to the chalkboard that’s pinned against the wall and start mapping out the brackets. Since there are 8 of us, potentially 9, it is going to be a long night of pool.

[dienasimplynatural1]

Looking for the best hair solution? Explore our best professional hair experts they provide the best braiding hair solution. Beauty hair braids hair solution is best hair solution on our saloon.