#cowboy natasha

[froottalks]

Countryside Love - Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

[summary: where reader has just finally got her divorce from her loveless marriage and decides to take a break from the big city. reader decides to head to the countryside to live with her loving and energetic grandmother who lives alone after the death of the husband. reader decides that she won't be in a relationship for a while now on her way to her grandma's house, only it doesn't help that her neighbor natasha is a very hot woman.]

Masterlist

{Part 1} {Part 2} {Part 3}

The city had always been a place of hustle and bustle, a constant stream of noise and chaos that seemed to swallow up any sense of peace or calm. For (Y/n), the city had also been the backdrop to a loveless marriage that had finally ended in a bitter divorce. With the papers signed and the legalities settled, (Y/n) decided it was time for a change of scenery.

Tired of the city's demands and the memories it held, (Y/n) packed her bags and left behind the urban jungle. Her destination? The tranquil countryside where her beloved grandmother lived. It had been years since (Y/n) had visited her grandmother's small farmhouse, nestled in the heart of nature's embrace.

As (Y/n)'s car rolled down the winding country roads, a sense of relief washed over her. The city's noise was replaced by the soothing sounds of rustling leaves and chirping birds. (Y/n) could practically feel the weight of her failed marriage lifting with each mile she left behind.

Finally arriving at her grandmother's quaint home, (Y/n) was greeted with open arms and a warm smile. Her grandmother, Elise, a lively and energetic woman despite her age, enveloped (Y/n) in a tight embrace. The bond between them was unbreakable, a connection that transcended years and distance.

"Oh! My sweetie! Welcome home, dear," Elise said, her voice tinged with a mixture of love and excitement.

"Thanks, Grandma. It's good to be here," (Y/n) replied, hugging her grandma tight. God she loved this sweet energy ball of a woman.

Over the next few days, (Y/n) settled into the slower pace of life in the countryside. She helped Elise tend to the garden, cook hearty meals, and relish in the simple joys that the city had stolen from her. The stress of the past seemed to melt away with each sunrise and sunset.

One sunny morning, as (Y/n) sipped on a cup of coffee on the front porch, she caught sight of her next-door neighbor. Natasha Romanoff was a force of nature herself, with muscular arms, that strained against her rolled up flannel sleeves and a well-toned body that showcased her strength. Natasha worked tirelessly alongside her parents, Alexei and Melina, and her sister, Yelena, at their family-owned farm.

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat as Natasha waved with a bright smile, making her way over. "Hey! Mornin'! I'm Natasha. You must be the new neighbor."

(Y/n) returned the smile, finding herself captivated by the woman before her. "Hi, I'm (Y/n). It's nice to meet you, Natasha."

Natasha's eyes twinkled with mischief as she leaned against the porch railing. "I have to say, (Y/n), you look like a breath of fresh air around here."

(Y/n) chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Well, I'm trying to embrace the fresh start."

Over the following weeks, (Y/n) and Natasha's paths crossed frequently. Natasha's flirtatious banter and playful comments made it hard for (Y/n) to stick to her decision of avoiding romantic entanglements. Despite her initial resolution, (Y/n) found herself looking forward to these encounters.

One evening, as the sun painted the sky with shades of pink and gold, (Y/n) and Natasha found themselves sharing a quiet moment by the fence that separated their properties.

"You know," Natasha began, her voice softer than usual, "this place has a way of healing. It's like time slows down, and you can finally breathe."

"Yeah..." (Y/n)'s gaze met Natasha's, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. "...I've been feeling that too. It's as if the weight of the past is lifting."

Natasha's fingers brushed against (Y/n)'s hand, a gentle touch that sent a current of electricity through (Y/n)'s veins. "You're not alone in this, (Y/n)."

As the weeks turned into months, (Y/n)'s bond with Natasha deepened. They spent evenings watching the stars, trading stories of their pasts and dreams for the future. Despite the attraction simmering beneath the surface, their connection was built on more than just physical chemistry.

One day, as they stood in the middle of a blooming field, Natasha turned to Y/N with a serious expression. "(Y/n), I have to admit something."

(Y/n)'s heart raced, anticipation hanging in the air. "What is it, Natasha?"

Natasha's gaze held a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. "I'm not great at expressing my feelings, but being around you has changed something in me. I can't help but feel drawn to you."

(Y/n)'s breath caught as Natasha's admission hung in the air. The vulnerability in Natasha's eyes mirrored (Y/n)'s own feelings, and in that moment, the walls (Y/n) had built around her heart began to crumble.

"I feel the same way, Natasha," (Y/n) confessed, her voice filled with a newfound sense of clarity.

A slow smile curved on Natasha's lips, her fingers gently intertwining with (Y/n)'s. "I was hoping you'd say that."

As the days turned into weeks, (Y/n) and Natasha's relationship blossomed into something beautiful. Their connection, built on shared experiences and genuine affection, proved to be stronger than the city's chaos or (Y/n)'s past.

{Part 2}

[almondcroissantsandink]

i've wanted to practice drawing cowboys for some time now and so the daggers have turned in their helmets and fighter jets for stetsons and horses! yeehawwww

[dontknowwhatyouheard]

Sweet ★ Honey ★ Buckiin'

Pairing✨: Southern Natasha Romanoff x fem reader

Summary✨: You and Natasha have been known eachother for five years. It wasn't until recently that you've been having some not-so-innocent thoughts.

Warnings ✨: 18+ series, Smut, Legal age gap

Main Story

Part One - Sweet ★

Part Two - Honey ★

Part Three - Buckiin' ★

A/N: Y'all know I love me some Beyoncé, and all I could think of while listening to this song was Natasha.

[unholyhelbig]

Claiming my spot as the cowboy Kate chapter two announcement post if you’ll let me 🤭

Title: Outlawed (2/4)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Main Masterlist

Summary: When y/n returns to her hometown of Barton Hollow she stumbles across an outlaw in dire need of help. Together, the two navigate complicated feelings, and demons from their past that are determined to destroy them in the way only the Wild West could.

Warnings: murder, domestic abuse, parental abuse, canon-typical violence, mentions of brothels, reader is called slut (not in a fun way lol), use of a knife (for cooking purposes), gun usage, spit (also not in a fun way), Horrible grammar I do not proofread, we die like cowboys

[A/n: Let's pretend that I didn't forget about this au for a few months, let's also pretend that I have a plan for where to take this plot... I totally do... totally honestly do and don't just plan to have them hate fuck. Enjoy!]

The homestead was nothing but barebones, every crack that was once reinforced by your fathers cracked and aged hands had corroded and allowed the red clay dust to infiltrate. Transients had slept in beds that were once yours and had eaten at hand-crafted tables that you crouched over, shoveling eggs into your mouth and minding your manners, careful to keep your elbows off the wood. Ideas of a house, but never a home.

You’d tied Othello out back. The house was far enough away from town that your presence here wouldn’t draw immediate attention, but you didn’t want to take any chances. Not with an obvious outlaw in your possession. There was enough food in your own pack to keep you sustained for at least a month. You’d stretch it. Find a way to stretch it.

“She’s a real sonabitch, Thello.” You’d griped to the animal as she lounged in the stretching shade of the house, tail flicking back and forth. You pressed your full weight down on the iron handle of the water pump, displeased with it’s resistance. “We saved her from certain death, and she has the nerve, the absolute nerve to give me attitude? Nothin’but trouble. Should have left her in the damn desert.”

You wouldn’t have. Your conscious wouldn’t allow it, and if it did, you would have turned right around and wasted your time loading her onto the back of Othello. She huffed in response, knowing exactly what you were thinking. You got the lever of the pump down for the first time and you were promptly rewarded with a mechanical gurgle, but no water.

“And you know what else? She’s an outlaw.” Othello chuffed, stamped her foot. A clear move of defiance that pleased you enough. Such a good listener. “An outlaw! I don’t feel bad for takin’ her belongings, no sir, I be she took them off some poor fellow first. Doesn’t quite explain the engraving, but hell. This creates a shit storm for the two of us.”

Your voice strained at the end as you pushed the rusted lever down once more, hands burning from the assault of the sun. Once more, an offensive rumble. This time a brown sludge moved from the mouth of the spigot and plopped onto the dry ground.

“You speak of me so fondly, sweetheart.”

Both of your hands were braced on the lever, full body weight aimed to push down. You felt indecent, in nothing more than a tank-top and the blood-marked pants that you’d worn when you’d plugged her wounds the night before. You were covered in a layer of sweat and dirt. Somehow you looked worse for wear than she did.

Kate wore her jacket despite the heat, no doubt covering her wound from you. Her hand was slipped underneath it, clutching at her ribs. She had put her boots back on and scowled at you from the shade behind the screen door. Her slate eyes sparking something serious as she kicked it open in a flurry of dust.

She took a confident step down that had a swaying gait. The type of walk of someone who was compensating for an injury. You crossed your arms over your chest, steeling your jaw. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Far the fuck away from you.”

“You’re hurt, Kate. And I still have your pistol.”

Her eyes flicked angrily towards you as she sauntered past, cowboy hat dipped low over her gaze. “Keep it, Doc. Hope you can shoot better than you can stitch.”

Kate Bishop’s left leg was lagging behind her right and you watched as she slowed even in her preamble a few feet into the endless red desert. Othello gave you a pleading look as if you were supposed to stop the determined outlaw. There was nothing but miles and miles of stretching sand and endless heat that bore down on the both of you. She would certainly drop in the next fifty feet and turn to bone by the end of the week. Coyotes would pick them clean by the next and you could mount them above the hearth like a prize.

“You don’t even have water!”

“Don’t look like you do either.”

You grimaced and slammed down the lever until it bottomed out. It gave way to a steel murmur before a tantalizing flow crashed into the packed dirt. You let it run from brown until it was clear and cold. It was a shock to your fingers, a relief against the heat. The sigh that escaped your lungs was as much a taunt as it was a relief.

Kate has stopped in her spot. Her hands were balled at her side and her head dropped in defeat. She turned her cheek towards you, glared as if you’d offered snake venom instead of solace. You had wet both of your hands and ran them through your hair, letting the cool water drip down your face and soak into your shirt with a grin.   

“What is your deal?” She grit out, slamming back towards you with as much speed as she could muster, her finger suddenly jabbing into your shoulder, tips of her boots splashing in the mud. “You rob me like I’m not a dead woman walkin’ and then you fix me up, and convince me not to walk into the desert after I tell you I’m an outlaw. Why can’t you just let me go?”

She had a snarl to her lip, her eyebrows furrowed and a small cut at her brow. You couldn’t help yourself. You flicked the brim of her hat. Her fingers grabbed your wrist with an iron grip and an animalistic growl. “Alright, alright. Don’t pop a stitch, cowboy.”

Kate must have felt the ache of her exertion because she squatted down and cupped her hands under the steady stream of water and allowed herself to drink, peering up at you under the shadow of her hat. You couldn’t deny her beauty, even in the paleness of her exhaustion. Her shoulders were crouched, her jaw clenched. She nearly looked feral. Guarded. Someone who had never known peace. You relented.

“I didn’t study medicine for convenience, Kate. There is kindness in my heart, curiosity there. I couldn’t leave you.”

 She hummed around a swallow of water, righted herself with great difficulty that made your fingers twitch. You were quite certain that she’d bat you away if you offered up any extra support. She’d bite you and transfer her canine qualities through it.

“You got any food, Doc?”

“You were about to walk into the desert and die five second ago and now you want food?”

She shrugged dejectedly “Pissin’ you off makes me hungry.”

Likewise. You’d had some dehydrated meat and broth that you could do something with. Pressing the lever down and shutting off the lever before making your way back into the house. You were sure Kate would follow with the promise of a meal. She’d flopped herself into one of the chairs at the table, much like your father did after a long day at work, yet she did so in an endearing way.

You busied yourself with the gas stove, with the supplies that you’d thought to bring with you from the last town you could stop in without being hunted like prey. Othello was strong and loyal, and you were thankful for that. Thankful for her. Bartons Hollow was the last place you wanted to be.

“Your old man make this?”

Kate’s voice was surprisingly tender. You turned from the counter, having been wiped of dust.  A warm breeze pushed past a window you’d propped open, cooled the warmth in your cheeks. She was running her calloused fingers over the top of the table, the grooves and the sods.

You nodded, “He was a woodworker. Thought himself like Jesus, if you’d believe it. Didn’t stop his drinkin’ any. But He was good at carving. If you stop at any house or business in Barton Hollow you’ll see his work. It lasted longer than he did. On account of the drinkin.”

You were very aware that you were rambling. The knife you were using came down hard on the carrot that you were chopping. The steady sound filled the room. Kate shifted in her chair and it creaked under her weight. “He beat you?”

“You’re good at small talk.”

“Just a question.”

“Most men that drink do.”

You dropped the sliced vegetable into the broth. A spiced scent filled the kitchen, and it made your stomach clench. Maybe it was the conversation that had it tightening. You’d moved onto the dehydrated meat, pushing the blade into the bloodied flesh, the tendons that distracted you from the overwhelming feeling of being back in this house. Back in this town.

Kate moved with a silence that was unmatched. Even with her injury. Her spiced metallic scent had filled your lungs, but it didn’t startle you. You let your gaze land on her as she leaned against the counter next to you. She watched as your hands stilled, the blade expertly trained at the center of the meat.

“I kill men like that.” Kate swallowed thickly, watched as your stare remained neutral, but remained on her own. “Men who don’t know how to stop. Who think that they control the world just because they’re men. Sometimes I kill important men and that gets me into some hot water, but that doesn’t mean they’re not men who don’t deserve it.”

You breathed out, moving the meat to the broth, giving your hands something to do, setting the knife flat against the counter and wiping the pink juice onto the nearest towel. It was suddenly too cold and slimy against your palms and you didn’t like the feel of it.

Kate gently moved your stare to hers with a surprisingly smooth finger at your chin, directing your attention fully to her own. Tepid gray eyes begging for approval. “Does that scare you?”

“Not as much as it should.”

She dropped her hand, but not her attention. Your stomach flipped at the undivided observation. It shot right to your head and made you feel fuzzy. You could see her freckles this close, her scars and the cracks her lips. The ones you wanted to soothe.

They finally flicked behind you to the white doorframe leading to the living area. To the lead markings that tracked your height. Her shoulder brushed against yours in immense heat, fingers brushing the cursive that tracked your height throughout the years. “Mm, so you were always short, y/n.”

Your name dripped like hot honey from her lips. A genuine smile interrupted her face in a brilliant way. You had to turn to the food, stirring it to keep it from burning. She was pulling you in, and fast. A roguish type of charm that you were sure got Kate Bishop far in life.

“m’not short. Just not as tall as you are.” You frowned, watching the stew bubble, a pleasant smell filling your lungs. “Were you worried I was going to outlaw the outlaw?”

Kate hesitated, her fingers pausing at your last measurement of height. Your mother had stopped taking stock of you when you hit middle school. Your father wanted to stop marking the architecture and as you got older, you started to spend as much time as you could away from home, and with the town physician instead, shadowing him. Learning what you could. What he allowed.

“A little,” She sounded small. Vulnerable. “Played my hand. Got nowhere else to go.”

You flicked the gas stove off and dished out two helpings of stew. The comfortable heat of it brushing against your forearms as you situated both bowls on the table that was steady between you both. Kate waited for you to settle in the first empty chair before she took the other one, suddenly concerned about manners. A stark change, a posh one, that had been embedded within her, you were sure.

“I’m not expectin’ you to go to bat for me if it comes to it.” Kate said, filling the stretching silence, scooping up a helping of stew and speaking around it “I dug my grave, sweetheart, I can lay in it. Christ, this is delicious.”

You took a bite of your own food, relished in the way it quelled your hunger “Good, cause’ I won’t. I don’t expect you to do the same. Mutual destruction an’ all that. I’ve got some business to take care of in town that’s not savory. Might have to split quickly. You can stay here. Doesn’t belong to me anyway, bank owns it.”

This caught her attention. She was smirking at you now, shoveled a large bite of potato into her mouth and kicked you under the table as she chewed thoughtfully.

“Ow? Ow! What?”

“What’d you do?”

“Didn’t do a thing.” You frowned at her, “Town just doesn’t like me. You bed the wrong’ daughters and call out the wrong people for their blasphemy and all of the sudden you’re a pariah. A disgrace to the family name. Last thing I need to do is show up with a pretty woman after years of being independent.”

“let me come with you.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

“No, I heard you” Kate grinned cockily “But I can take care of myself, and it sound like you can too. You don’t want to show me where you grew up, Doc? Least you can do after you robbed me.”

You huffed and tilted your bowl, draining the rest of the bone broth. “Saved you, you mean. You would have bled out without me. Picked to the bone by vultures. When are you going to let that go?”

Kate leaned forward on her hand, jutting her lip out in a mock pout “When I get my pistol back.”

“Forget it. You get it back when you convince me you’re not going to put a slug between my eyes in my sleep.”

 “I’d never waste a bullet on a beautiful girl.” She deepened her pout, kicking you under the table again with impressive accuracy. She was wearing your resolve down. “Let me come with you.”  

You leaned back in the chair, watching her carefully. She’d lifted her hat enough to give you access to her eyes. They were true. She couldn’t get far with her injury, and even if she did bolt, there wasn’t too much you’d do to stop her. A subtle ache in your chest would be the only thing proving your worth. A memory of an outlaw. It would be nice to have her with you, sure. Of course.

So finally, you acquiesced, trying to ignore the dazzling smile she produced and the warm feeling it conjured in your stomach. She was a stranger. She was an outlaw. She was giving you a damn headache.

Bartons Hollow is nothing more than a main street bordered by a general store, a post office, waterhole, library, and a few other stops that had been in and out over the years. A the head is town hall, flat buildings with even flatter fronts to brave the winds. A few carved pathways that branched off to unsavory community centers and bunkhouses.

“What is the Palace of Pleasures?”

Kate’s breath was molten against the shell of your ear. You’d brought Othello to a slow walk. Her arms were around your waist. It took a good amount of convincing to have her take up residence behind you. But, it was your horse, so she eventually gave in with the threat to make her walk.

Her chin rests on your shoulder, her hands interlocked right above the button of your pants, thumbs pressed against your navel. Her cheek is nuzzled against yours. If people were not to talk of your return, they certainly were bound to now. You swallowed the dryness in your throat. Brought on by the sand, you were sure.

“Planning to bide your time there, Bishop?”

“Planning to join me?”

She laughed something genuine, the sound vibrating against your back. You lead Othello to the nearest tying post by the edge of town before the both of you dismounted. It made you nervous, leaving her here. But you did so, just the same, with a parting brush through her mane and an adjustment to the collar of your own shirt. You were stalling. Ignoring the looming prospect before you. Checking and double checking the pistol in your belt. The second one at the small of your back. Kate’s weaponry.

“You all sorted out?” She snorted.

“Just fine.” Your shoulder shoved into hers when you walked past, knocking her a little off kilter. “Stay behind me.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

The Brass Stag was a typical saloon, a reprieve from the boiling sun. Above was a bunkhouse not as quiet as the other in town but half the price. This time in the afternoon granted you some quiet but a general crowd was gathered. Frothy drinks were being served and the light followed you in with a puff of dust. Warmth clung to your clothes to fight off the chill that lingered.

Kate stumbled against you, taking your earlier warning to stay close a little too seriously. You leveled her with a glare, to which she shrugged sheepishly but directed her attention to the liquor with apt joy. Instead, you were focused on the woman manning the bar.

Russet red hair was mostly pinned up, some terrasses falling over broad shoulders. Her neckline dipped low over pale skin. Sharp fern-colored eyes glared down at the countertop before shooting up to yours. You watched as her fingers twitched, and then moved without consequence to the double-barreled shotgun hanging above the bar.

She cocked the gun, aimed it directly at your head. The silence that washed over The Brass stag was about to be shattered by your brain matter. “I told you never to come back here.”

But there was something else. Kate’s hand was around your center, pulling you close to her front. You were enveloped in her warm metallic sent and worried for her wounds. For the simple fact that she had been on her feet for so long. For the even simpler fact that she’d taken her pistol from the small of your back and aimed it right back at the woman behind the bar.

“Now, you can scare away all your business with a half-ass attempt to blow this beauties head clean off, but I must warn you, I never miss my target.”

“Natasha, let me explain. No one has to get hurt.”

Her stare hardened, grip readjusted on her weapon “Worse than what you’ve already done?”

Kate pulled back on the hammer of her weapon with a mechanical click. You stiffened, her thumb rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. You felt comfortable in her grip. As comfortable as you could be with a shotgun aimed right at you. There was an undeniable tension, so palpable it was resting heavily against your chest. Suffocating you.

“I’ll keep my eyes closed, give you an advantage.” Kate taunted with a clear smirk in her words. “Even shoot you in the hand so you can pour me a drink afterwards.”

Natasha snarled back “Will you tamp her down?”

“Afraid even God himself couldn’t do that, ma’am. I just want to talk.”

Natasha drew in a breath large enough to show in her chest, stone stare flicking from Kate to you, not much of a distance. She lowered the muzzle of her gun. Soon it was pointed at the floor, but not remounted.  Kate waited three pounding beats of your heart before she shoved the tip of the weapon back into waistband of your pants, hand lingering for just a moment too long around your midsection before withdrawing like a serpent.

“Whatever you have to say,” Natasha rumbled with a critical glare, “You’ll do it fast, and you’ll do it standing.”  

You approached the bar, but stopped a good half-foot away from it, not wanting to get any closer to the woman that you grew up with. Closer to her younger sister, watcher her with wonder from afar, with pride in your chest and jealousy against your skin. Now, she looked exhausted, worn and pale and dimmed by the smoke that drifted from a rolled cigarette the burned green in a nearby ashtray.

“What about that drink, then?” Kate asked.

Natasha glowered at her, grabbed a crystal glass from the behind the counter. She reeled back, making a lewd noise in the back of her throat before spitting a mixture of mucus and saliva into the base of the cup. She filled it with whiskey then, before sliding it towards Kate with an expectant look. “Five cents.”

Kate blinked at her, then looked at you. “You got five cents, doc?”

Christ. You wished she wouldn’t have said that. Natasha had a shocked expression on her face, eyes flickering to yours with a form of shock instead of the normal anger that flushed her features on any given day. Her grip on the counter loosened and her shoulders dropped in the slightest bit.

“You’re a doctor, then? A legitimate physician? Not that bullshit witchcraft that Maximoff used to pull?”

“Would it make a difference if I was?”

Natasha’s jaw clenched, unclenched. “Alexi is sick. I would be inclined to let you live long enough to defend yourself if you’d take a look at em’”

“You’d put your pride aside long enough to let me?”

“Don’t push it, y/n.” her nose twitched. “Strange died two years back. We ain’t got no real help around here. Clint prays hard and we pray harder but it only gets us so far during the drought. Be good to have a doctor around, even if it is you. Folks may be willing to overlook your discretions in exchange for reliefs.”

“And what discretions were those, exactly?” Kate reached for the drink, it was shoved away by Natasha’s lithe fingers.

“Ask her. So willing to shoot for a woman you barely know.” Natasha laughed bitterly. “Learn your loyalty, kid. Your doctor might be a little too good with her hands. Rumor spreads like wildfire round here.”

“You pointed a shotgun at her because she’s a slut?” She looked at you tenderly, holding up a hand “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Natasha shook her head, clicking her tongue “Oh no, plenty of people are sluts. Not all of em’ kill the Pastors daughter.”

[1000plants]

Under the Lonesome Moon Masterlist

Cowboy!Bucky Barnes x reader (male) 

Golden Era of cowboys - 1865s

Ch1 - New Moons

Ch2 - Half-light

Ch3 - Waxing Gibbous

Ch4 - Full Rose Moon

Ch5 - Nights Last Glow

Author Note- This is technically a reader insert story, but the nickname “Kidd” is used often in replacement of a name. Implied gay love story as per usual!!

[sequesteredsnake]

'Good luck out there.'

What's a little good luck kiss between pardners?

[lesbiradshaw]

♫ top gun characters as taylor swift album covers

[marshmallowprotection]

Ok ok, but....... cowboy Saeran teaching you how to handle a pistol. Just so you don't die in vain, of course. He's not worried for you at all, why would he? Anyways. Just. Uh. His hands on top of yours as he teaches you the right hold, guiding your fingers into place. His breath ghosting over your ear, his voice low and raspy due to his proximity, making it impossible to pay attention to what he's saying at all. Oh. Don't forget the moment he teaches you the optimal stance for shooting at a distance. His hands on your hips, correcting your legs into place by moving your thighs........ Oh yeah. No lesson is going to be learned.

Also, depends on the type of Cereus we're talking here. If you get all beet red in the face and clumsy from the butterflies in your stomach, Unknown will quickly take notice and tease you on purpose. Only, at one point, a game turns into a teasing kiss on your cheek, and the rest is history.

Or, if you're more of a cocky type, maybe you'll lean into him on purpose. He'll scold you for not paying attention to his lesson. But you can shut him up with a kiss. Or you can steal his hat.

CAN YOU TELL I AM HAVING A SERIOUS BRAINROT HERE KAIT

"Just like that, darlin'. Keep yer' eyes on the target. Y'ain't gonna be half as lucky with a movin' target, but let's see whatcha' got before we get to testin' yer' luck other places," his breath was warm against your cheek. You could feel the shape of each letter on your skin with how close he was, but you didn't shy away since you were the one to ask him for tips and advice to protect yourself.

A knife wouldn't cut it, even though you knew how to handle one with expertise thanks to your upbringing at your family's bakery, because a knife at a gun fight was about as useful as a deer with no horns the minute mating season came around. You didn't want to find yourself staring at the bottom of a barrel again.

Even if Unknown could be at your side in a quick draw faster than you could scream his name, that didn't mean he would always be there to protect you when you needed him. As much as you didn't mind owing him your life, you wanted to hold up your end of the bargain. You were capable of fighting, too, even if you weren't as tough as he was. You'd survive even if it was tough.

You promised yourself never to hold back when you left home. It was a dream you always aspired toward, to be confident and bold enough to grab your dreams, but it wasn't always easy... and yet, when you'd stood next to the wicked outlaw himself, it almost felt like you were a confident person without having to force it.

He brought out a side of yourself you didn't know.

A side that was both itching to bite at his fingertips when they got too close and another side that quivered when he teased you in just the right way.

You didn't remember to breathe as he settled a leg between your thighs and adjusted your stance, nor did you hold back the squeak that settled in the back of your throat as he corrected each of your fingers one by one until they were in place. It took nothing to best you and he knew that.

Your eyes didn't dare steal a glimpse at him. You knew what he would tell you if you did. He'd tell you that you were supposed to keep your eyes on the target and if you didn't remember that, it would force him to protect you faster than he could protect himself. You knew he had the power to do that, to look after you just as much as himself, but it made you want to be able to do the same for him.

How hard would it be to make him look at you the way you looked at him when he rescued you?

The target wasn't that far off. You could hit it if you wanted to, that's what you told yourself, doing everything you could to ignore how the heat burned across your body with every chuckle that left his throat at your expense. You could hit the target and show him that he was a fool for tormenting you when you wanted to learn something from his arsenal.

That puff of air against your ear commanded, "Little Cereus, Shoot."

In one swoop, you fired the gun at the target with his hands holding yours steady. He was the one focused on the target now, not you, as the minute you knew the target was blown apart, you turned to face him and stole a greedy kiss from his lips. He gasped, realizing what you'd intended from the start, proving you could handle yourself and handle him all you wanted.

Just not in the way he expected.

You knew Unknown felt the smug smile against your lips, and you thought to yourself, Good. I hope you know I have you in the palm of my hand just as much as you have me in yours.

[froottalks]

Forever Love - Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

[summary: Love between natasha and reader grows to have something deeper for the both of them.]

Masterlist

{Part 1} {Part 2} {Part 3}

The days turned into weeks, and the bond between (Y/n) and Natasha deepened. They spent their time working together on the farm, sharing laughter, and stealing stolen moments by the river. Natasha's touch was electric, her presence a constant comfort for (Y/n). The way they looked at each other spoke volumes, a silent promise of something beautiful.

One evening, as the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the rolling hills, (Y/n) and Natasha found themselves in a familiar spot by the river. The air was thick with anticipation, the words unspoken but understood.

Natasha's fingers interlocked with(Y/n)'s, her touch sending a wave of warmth through Y/N's veins. "(Y/n)," Natasha began softly, her gaze fixed on (Y/n)'s eyes, "I don't want this to end."

(Y/n)'s heart fluttered, her own emotions mirroring Natasha's. "I don't either," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha stepped closer, their bodies inches apart, the air charged with the electricity of their connection. "I've never felt like this before," Natasha confessed, vulnerability in her eyes. "You've changed everything for me."

(Y/n)'s heart swelled with emotion, the intensity of their feelings almost overwhelming. "Nat," she breathed, her fingers brushing against Natasha's cheek, "you've changed my world too."

Their lips met in a kiss that held all the emotions they couldn't put into words. It was a kiss filled with longing, with the promise of forever. The world around them seemed to fade away as they held onto each other, their bodies pressed close, their hearts beating in sync.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, their breaths intermingling in the warm breeze. Natasha's eyes held a mixture of love and determination. "(Y/n), I want to be with you. No matter where life takes us."

(Y/n)'s gaze was filled with the same intensity. "I want that too. I love you Nat."

"I love you too (Y/n)." Natasha returned with a smile, pulling (Y/n) in for another kiss.

The decision was made, their hearts aligned. The love they had found in the heart of the countryside was real, deep, and unwavering. With the sun setting behind them, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape, they knew that their journey was just beginning.

As they walked back to the farm, hand in hand, the future seemed brighter than ever before. Their love story, born amidst the fields and rivers, was a testament to the power of connection, of finding love when you least expect it.

And as they settled into their new chapter, with Natasha's arms wrapped around (Y/n) and the promise of a shared future ahead, (Y/n) knew that what she had with her Natasha was for now and forever.

THE END

[shuveny]

moodboard of my oc evelin piotrowski ( @ natasha lyonne )

[somewhatstacey]

Most writers: I’m going to coast through my timeline and hope no one looks into it very thoroughly

Poker Face writers: I’m going to write a 30 second montage of my main character having an unhinged fling with a hot dude on a mountain to justify her being stranded here months later

Like, what a boss move. I’m legit writing down notes like a fucking student in class. Amazing.

[j-u-s-t--a--g-i-r-l]

Mixed and nosense ai generated images.

[nixnbob]

An update on Free Fall:

Well... It's been a while 🤣 😅

The bad news: Unfortunately, I'd been having issues trying to get into Ao3 until this week, so the maintenance I'd PLANNED to do to Free Fall is still offline at the moment 😩😩😩.

The good news: the fic in its current format is still up for the time being, but you may notice chapters 2 and 3 being pulled and replaced with new ones, over the coming weeks. I'll be posting here each time I've updated the fic, including for ACTUAL new chapters ☺️

What I can say for now is that the first chapter will probably stay largely the same and if you're looking for some BobNix fic to read (or fancy a re-read in its current form), it's here:

Https://archiveofourown.org/works/39933060/chapters/99995160

He knew he loved her. Her smile, her eyes, her flaws, her broken parts. That he would hold onto her through the dive they would take together.

She knew if they came out of this unscathed, that it was a bond that would mast a lifetime.

(Planned to be multi-chapter).

Fic is planned to be 18+, minors please DNI...

In the meantime, enjoy the shiny (half-new) cover for the fic and hopefully see you all back here soon for the revised fic. Unless Ao3 decides to take my pool cue again...

[sequesteredsnake]

Do gay cowboys just swap hats?

Some sketchy lil cowboy blackhill for your enjoyment

[riveramorylunar]

Cowboys/Cowgirls Natasha and Maria Moodboard!

[marshmallowprotection]

Omg "Touch me. Feel my skin. I'm real, see?" promt for cowboy Saeran? :(♡

I miss him dearly

It wasn’t all that often you were graced with your outlaw’s presence. He had work to do that couldn’t stop for nothing. You were just as busy as he was, but you had the illusion of taking a break when he didn’t have that luxury. You could sit down on a bar chair and wax poetic to a crook without a second thought to get him to say what you needed to hear, but he couldn’t slow down and catch his breath to save his life.

You understood just how important it was for him to get his work done. His ass was on the line. He had to do what he had to do. The life of a criminal wasn't an easy one, but it was the life he had to live. Even if you didn't know the devil in the details, you knew he decided to walk down this path for a reason.

That reason mattered to you, and you trusted him to tell you when he was ready to talk about it, but until that day? You were okay to wait in the wings. It wasn't as if the moments in between weren't worth it. A day with your boss was the same as a day of fresh air, and that was all the more reason to enjoy the feeling of being cozied up in bed with an outlaw you called your own.

You could tell that Unknown hadn't slept in days when he showed up at your front door, and despite the wary look in his eyes, he decided to come inside anyway. It wasn't like Zen was around to kick him out. Your best friend was out of town for the week because he had some business to take care of in another city. You preferred to have visitors anyway, especially visitors who made you feel safe.

After you helped him wash up and clean his face, he huddled down in bed with you for God knows how long before you dozed off after him. He needed the rest and he needed the reminder that you trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him.

He didn't have to stay armed to feel safe, and you didn't have to hold onto a knife to feel comfortable around him.

Unknown was warm.

His breath was soft against your throat as you stirred out of sleep and found yourself staring at the dark walls of your cabin. You didn't have the energy to untangle yourself from him to find a candle, but it was dark enough outside to let you know he'd been there longer than just a little afternoon nap. You weren't upset about it, but you knew that it might upset him a little to have put you at risk of someone seeing his horse nearby.

You sighed, absentmindedly running your digits through his messy curls.

However, your moment of peace was destroyed in a heartbeat as Unknown's gentle breaths turned ragged. His peaceful slumber all but burned to terror as his body tensed and his lungs fought to stay in control of his fears. You knew he was having a nightmare, but also knew better than to wake someone from their nightmare knowing it could lead them to be more frightened than anything else.

You had to wait, holding your breath as his only grew worse, trying to coax him to a gentle valley of flowers far, far away from whatever set him off in the first place. It took a moment for you to find his hand in the sheets, but once you did, you cupped it against your cheek. Even if he wasn't awake, you knew he would respond to touch. He... always did.

For a man who let people believe he hated anything closer to him than twenty miles away, he was starved for a single touch.

You breathed a gentle instruction for his sake. He needed to know his dreams weren't doomed. He could save them. "Touch me. Feel my skin. I'm real, see?"

Unknown felt small in your embrace as he fought with his demons to maintain control of his dreams. He wasn't the tall outlaw who had to growl to survive when he was with you... he was a boy who never had a choice in what he had to do to survive. But, you refused to let go of his hand. You wanted him to know you could protect him, too, only if he would allow it.

It took a few minutes, but his breath began to even out again, and he sighed in response to your promise to protect him. You let go of his hand, but he kept it there against your cheek as if the only lifeline he had to stay at peace, making it much easier for you to cradle his head against your heart.

His heart... forevermore.