#it's horse boy summer y'all

[lemotomato]

His job is horse.

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

A Wolf in the Dragon's Den

Pairing: Aemond x Stark reader

Summary: The Greens have won The Dance of Dragons, and your family has offered your hand to Prince Aemond as a means of forgiveness for your part in the war. But what shall happen when a wolf meets a dragon in its den?

Warnings: SMUT, mdni 18+, p in v, kind of mean Aemond? but he gets better lol, Aegon being Aegon, use of pet names like Little Wolf or My Dragon, fingering, soft to rough sex, uhhh language for sure haha if I missed anything let me know y'all!! It's also not proof read so forgive any mistakes haha

AN: Well ... sorry this took me so long y'all! I guess my summer classes caught up to me a bit but that's ok cause after long last here it is!! A good old-fashioned Aemond x Stark reader fic. I hope you guys enjoy haha, I'm working on a request next, but let me know if there's anything else y'all wanna see! :)

King’s Landing was a hot, humid, fish-smelling shit hole. The warm temperatures were much too hot for your usual furs, heavy cloaks, and skirts. Even your horses were succumbing to the heat, panting more than usual, the poor things. You could have rode in the carriage, along with your mother and younger siblings. But you preferred horseback, the wind in your hair, and the breeze on your skin. Although, the air here was salty and thick. 

Your father and brother, Cregan, rode beside you. “Hells, could it be any hotter,” your father murmured under his breath, sweat beading on his brow.

“Those vapid Targaryen’s couldn’t bear it any other way, something about the ‘dragon’s blood–” 

“Careful brother, they could have your head for that–” You chuckled a bit, but you all knew there was truth to the statement. The Dance of Dragons had proved as much, the Greens' force and display of violence was wide and plentiful. “Rash and brash” as your father had put it once. Especially that of your betrothed, Prince Aemond One-eye Targaryen. Or “the one-eyed cunt” as many northerners took to calling him. The betrothal, much to your dismay, had been arranged by your father, in a weak attempt to repair your house's relationship with the monarch. 

“Hmph, well if I had my way we wouldn’t even be here at all. Those ‘dragons’ wouldn’t survive a damn minute in the North. Their blood would freeze, and then maybe we’d all be rid of their problems.” Cregan said the word “dragons” with a mocking tone, a scoff in his voice. 

“That’s enough, your sister is right boy, they would have your head for that. Or perhaps feed you to one of their dragon’s” And with that, your father put an end to that potentially treasonous conversation. Cregan however, had muttered something under his breath about “told you to stop calling me boy”. 

Having had enough of the bickering, you tapped the sides of your horse, trotting ahead by several paces. Your dire wolf, Snowcap, had evidently decided to part temporarily from the group, to hunt or to shade herself you didn’t know. But you couldn’t blame her either way, the journey from the Winterfell to King’s Landing was a long one, and not a particularly comfortable one.

The gates to the Red Keep came into site ahead of you, the streets leading up to it peppered with Gold Cloaks and guards. The people of King’s Landing pay little mind to your small party, too busy with their buying and selling. You had chosen to travel light, there were no copious amounts of banners flying, or any regalia at all really. You would be surrounded by plenty of that kind of thing soon enough. 

To say that your greeting was lackluster, would be an understatement. Ser Criston Cole stood beside the Dowager Queen Alicent atop the Red Keep’s stairs. Besides another dozen or so Gold Cloaks, that was what there was. Cregan scoffs in annoyance from beside you, he must have caught up to you somewhere along the way. 

“He cannot even come to meet his bride-to-be, what a disrespect, pathetic,” You made a bit of a noise beside him, urging him to keep his mouth shut. You were in the dragon’s den now, who knows who could be listening in? Another glance around the unfamiliar faces does confirm your brother’s statement. Your betrothed was nowhere to be found. Even the training yard remained empty, and from what you’d heard, Prince Aemond could often be found there. 

As you dismount your horse, Queen Alicent begins to make her way down the steps, towards you and the rest of your family. Your father and eldest brother move to stand to your left and right. Your mother and younger siblings finally join you, to your left. Your mother gives you a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder as she moves to stand beside your father. You curtsey as the Queen approaches, she takes your hand in hers. Her palms are soft and warm, gentleness radiates from her person. 

“My Lady Stark, how nice it is to finally see you arrive. I hope the journey south wasn’t too unpleasant” She gives you a small smile, not as lovely as your mother’s, but kind nonetheless. 

“It was alright, long, very long, but alright,” You say, matching her smile. Queen Alicent releases your hand and carries on to greet the rest of your family, Ser Criston following closely behind her. Still no sign of your betrothed, nor his elder brother, the King. Although you supposed he must be occupied with his duties on the Small Council. You know you will hear an earful from your brother later on the matter. Had Creagn been born a Lady, he would indeed circulate most of the gossip around Court.  

— — — — — 

The Red Keep was massive in comparison to your expectations of its size. The halls appear more like an intricate intertwining of mazes rather than passageways. Your footsteps echo and reverberate off of the stones. Tapestries depicting great moments in Targaryen history line the walls. Lit torches line the halls, the windows, and the arches looking out onto bustling the city below. Servants, guards, and other nobles wondered about, gossiping, rushing to and fro. Ladies, lords, and servants alike whispered to one another as you and your family walked by, being led by Ser Cristin and the Queen. 

It was no secret that your brother had sent Northeners and Graybeards to fight in Rhaenyra’s name. “Fight like Northerners they will,” your brother had said once. And they did indeed, the bitter cold and long winters having hardened them into mighty soldiers and fighters. Barbarians, some called them. Your father had handed over the duties of Winterfell to Cregan as he grew older. Your father had hardly left the North in all his years of life, but he had become confused and temperamental in his older age. It had ultimately been Cregan’s choice to join the Blacks, a decision he is now trying to repair. Or it would be more accurate to say you were trying to repair. Since you were a wolf being offered up to the dragons for slaughter. Perhaps the only reason that the Greens hadn’t burned down Winterfell, and your family around with it, is because they know the importance of your family to Westeros. And if the North falls, we all fall, and no one knew the North better than the Starks. 

As you continue on your walk through the winding halls of the Red Keep, you finally come to stand before a set of doors. Modest in comparison to some of the others you’ve passed by. Metal filigree winds its way up from the handles like vines, the rest of the door was rather lackluster. Ser Cristin steps forward, dutifully opening the doors for your party.

There in the middle of the small council room, stood your betrothed. After long last you finally laid eyes on your betrothed. Aemond stood proud and tall, his long silver hair pulled back into one thick braid, tied together at the bottom with a strip of black leather. His back was turned towards you, hands clasped behind him. He was dressed in what appeared to be his riding gear, perhaps he had just come back from a flight with Vhagar.

“Aemond, there you are. You missed the arrival of your betrothed,” Alicent chided her son, who could not be less interested in the conversation at hand. 

“Mhm,” He hummed, “I was–” He paused thinking, “ –busy”. From beside you, you can hear Cregan scoff a bit. Your mother puts a warning hand against his back, he was never one for formalities. But then again, most Northerners weren’t. The Prince finally turned towards your party. The famous leather eye patch covering the sapphire in his socket. The faint pink lines of his scar peeked out on either end of the patch. He’s beautiful, you think, in a macabre sort of way, but beautiful nonetheless. He looked ethereal standing there, backlight from the evening sun shining through the windows. 

His lavender eye rakes itself over your form, as your mother pushes you forward a bit, to better meet his gaze. He lets out another hum, of approval, or disapproval, you cannot tell. A cord of annoyance strikes through you, not having the wherewithal to be subjected to such petty scrutiny. 

Alicent places a guiding hand on your waist, walking you forward, closer to the One-eyed Prince. You curtsey once you reach him, the lessons your mother taught you as a girl kicking in and taking over.

“I did not know you Northerners were capable of such manners,” Aemond scoffed as he said this as if he was telling a bad joke. Your teeth grind together, hands clenching into fists in your skirts. Behind you you can hear the scuffle of footsteps, and then a halt. Presumably, your brother acting out again, or perhaps your father this time. Typically, your family wouldn’t care much about appearances, but you were all treading on thin ice, and you knew it. 

Rising back up to your full height, which annoyingly still made you have to look up at him, you say: “We are rather steeped in our traditions in the North my Prince. We value honor decency, and the truth of one's word,” You glare at him through your lashes as you say this last bit. If it were not for the threat upon your entire house and bannermen then you would not be here, wolves were not creatures made to bow, even in the face of a dragon. 

Surprisingly, Aemond lets out a hardy laugh. You chance a glance over at his mother, she looks to be just as stunned as the rest of you. Silence befalls the room. 

“Smart mouth you have, huh, my Lady Stark?” He chuckles some more, then leans closer, intending his next words to only be for you. “Watch your tongue in my court, or I shall have it served to you on a platter at our wedding feast,” and with that, he straightens, and walks away. Yelling something over his shoulder about the training yard, and Ser Cole come with. 

“I–” Alicent begins to say, but you cut her off, rather impolitely, “ It’s quite alright Your Grace,” You offer her a smile. You liked Alicent, the poor woman had been through enough as it is, and the arrogance of her son wasn’t any help. “I am just pleased to finally have arrived here at court, and to settle in at my new home,” It was most certainly a half-truth, but there was no need to make tensions rise any higher. 

— — — — —

The following next few days were spent quite the same. Your little party with the guidance of Alicent took tours of the Red Keep as well as its many gardens and docks. One afternoon Alicent and Queen Helaena accompanied your mother and yourself down to one of the traveling markets of King’s Landing. It was rather grand, merchants coming from all across Westeros to sell their wares. Helaena had shown you a favorite merchant of hers, a man who made intricate gold and silver jewelry in the shapes of little bugs and small creatures. You had purchased a ring depicting the head of a dire wolf.

Aemond had remained illusive, he only graced everyone with his presence at meals. Choosing to sit far away from you, his brother, the King, talking about who knows what was next to him, but all the while his lavender eye remained fixed on you. It made you squirm a bit, being under his heavy gaze. Overthinking how you raised your fork to your lips, or where you held your cup of wine, on the stem or the rim as you’d always done. 

With your wedding on the morrow, your nerves became more frayed than usual. Your mind is plagued with silly thoughts like: Will he think I’m pretty? Will he learn to love me? But as soon as those thoughts enter they are replaced with others such as: Why should I care? He’s been nothing but unpleasant and rude. But the younger, little girl in you still hopes to have a fruitful marriage, one filled with respect and love. Much like that of your mother and father’s. Although you know now that that is an anomaly in this world. 

Your night is filled with restless sleep. Your body follows a pattern of waking for an hour and then sleeping for another. The heat of King’s Landing did not aid in this, the covers bunched down by your feet as you tossed and turned. Shortly after the sun had risen, maids had burst into your room, wedding gown in hand. You spent the next couple of hours being dotted upon like the princess you were about to become. 

It wasn’t a large service by any means, not that you minded. Something smaller and more intimate was more to your liking. Your father walked you up the long aisle to meet your soon-to-be husband. Aemond stood at the altar in the sept, his house cloak in his hands to drape around your shoulders. The closer you got to him the more you could see his eye attempt to devour your appearance. Surprisingly, he gently held your small hands in his. His fingers and palms were calloused from many hours of training with a sword, and flights upon Vhagar. He was a handsome man you thought, too bad his arrogance made him ugly. Perhaps a bit naively you thought, I can change that. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. Your mind already trying to fix something potentially broken. 

Aemond’s lips touched yours, forever sealing your vows to one another. Unlike his hands, they were smooth and soft, and uncharacteristically gentle. He was a good kisser you think, but then again the only other boy you’d kissed was a farm hand back at Winterfell when you were much younger. 

Aemond thought you were beautiful, the moment he laid eyes upon his Little Wolf he thought perhaps this union will not be one of suffering and strife. At least she will be pretty to fuck. As his lips touched yours in the sept in front of the Gods, he tasted honey and black tea. You smell like vanilla, spices, and what Aemond assumed fire to smell like. His hand came to fist in your hair, possessively anchoring you to him.

When you part you suck in a breath of air, cheeks red. Such a sultry kiss in front of your family and the Gods caused a rush of embarrassment to course through you. Aemond however, gave you a wicked smirk in response to the color in your cheeks. Still clutching your hand tightly in his, he guides his new bride down and out of the sept, to return to the Red Keep for the evening's festivities. 

— — — — —

The great hall was filled with the aroma of cooked meats, potatoes, wine, and the heavy laughter of your party guests. Your mother and father sat with you and your new family at the head table, looking down slightly upon the rest of the partygoers. Where the ceremony may have been smaller, the feast after it was not. Several more houses and bannermen of your brother’s came to celebrate the historic union. Boltons, Lannisters, Freys, Greyjoys, Hightowers, and the like filled the hall. You chose to remain seated beside your new husband, the ever-dutiful wife. You knew and had seen many times how rowdy Northmen could become at such a venue. You preferred to keep your distance, although it was not unusual to find you dancing with your younger siblings back home at Winterfell. 

By the looks of it, your brother had loosened up a bit, a tanker of ale clutched in one hand.

The king had joined him and the others closer in age for what looked to be some kind of drinking game. Meanwhile, Aemond’s hand absent-mindedly made its home on your thigh, stroking up and down. The gesture was a stark contrast to his previous words and actions. 

“You have barely eaten wife,” He noted as he glanced at you, “You must be well full and ready for what I have planned for you.” The same small smirk crosses his lips once again. Leaving you with a funny feeling in your stomach. But you can’t help the small wave of heat that strikes your core. Your mother once told you that men can become rather possessive of their women, and it can be quite cumbersome most of the time. Restricting one's freedom, constantly wanting you in their presence, she had said to expect this with someone like Aemond. But she mentioned that sometimes, in the confines of your marital chambers, it can be very — riveting to lay with such a man. It wasn’t until now that you began to understand what she had meant.

“I am afraid I have no appetite, my lord husband. My nerves do not allow me to eat it seems,” Aemond’s gaze darkened at the use of the word “husband”. Prince Aemond was not a man who did anything halfway, if he were to do anything, it was to be done fully without exception. A wave of dark possession seeps into his gut. He had already claimed a dragon but now he wishes to claim a wolf too. 

From across the hall, his thoughts are abruptly interrupted by his brother's drunken yelling. 

“ – the bedding ceremony! Come now little brother it is time for the bedding ceremony,” Aemond’s fists clenched, the hand on your skirts bunching in the fabric. “Will you fuck her like a hound brother? Woof Woof hahaha,” The hall had fallen eerily silent. Aemond’s chair clatters to the ground from the force of his standing. From beside Aegon, you see your brother place his cup of ale on the table, hand reaching for his sword. Your father is already a step ahead of him, hand on the hilt of his dagger. Your mother goes to stand in front of your younger siblings, shielding them. If you had no appetite before you certainly don’t have one now, your hands had gone cold and clammy, your head feeling light at the insults thrown your way. From beside you, Alicent stands, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“That is enough Aegon,” She begins to say.

“Oh come now Mother it was only a jest. Can I not be proud of my little brother?” Alicent opens her mouth to respond but Aemond beats her to it.

“You can take your ‘jests’ down to your whores on the Steer of Silk but you will not speak in such a way in front of my wife, let alone her family.” His voice is dangerously calm, ready to snap, and bubble over into pure rage at any given moment. 

“Always so uptight little brother, as if someone has shoved a stick up your ass–” It is your turn to stand now, the feet of your chair scrapping the stone floor beneath you. 

“I am quite tired, husband will you escort me back to our chambers?” You look at Aemond, a stern, silent plea evident on your features. 

“Certainly wife,” He responds with the same tantalizing calmness. Offering you his hand, which you take, grasping on tighter than perhaps necessary, you both make your way out of the great hall. Leaving the mess that is Aegon behind for someone else to clean up. It was your wedding day after all and you needn’t worry yourself with such matters. 

The walk to your marital chambers is quiet and tense. Your hand still firmly grasping Aemond’s, although he now squeezes yours back. The heels of your shoes echo off of the palace walls in an attempt to keep up with Aemond’s long strides. After an eternity of uncertainty at what was to come next, you reach Aemond’s, and now your, chambers. The room is large and furnished quite cozily. A large four-poster bed makes its home in the center back wall of the room. A table of what looks like chess pieces and a map sits by the open windows.

Aemond however reaches for the pitcher of wine on another small side table, pouring a cup for himself and downing it in one go. He pours a second, and a third for you. He offers it to you, you shake your head, afraid you cannot stomach the drink after what had just happened. 

“I am sorry–” You break the silence. Aemond raises a hand to silence you. 

“It is I who should apologize. My brother is a foul and evil creature who feeds off of the discomfort of others. But never had he dared to do so so boldly before,” He pauses, taking a sip of wine. “I have been absent since you arrived at the Keep and I believe I owe you an explanation,” 

You cross your arms over your chest, the air coming in from the harbor seeming chilly now. “Yes I do believe you do,” you say.

Aemond quirks an eyebrow at your sass, a small smile spreading across his lips. “They told me women of the North have sharp tongues and poor manners,” You scoff, his smile widens, “but I must say I’m rather enjoying that thus far.”  He moves toward you, one hand still holding his cup of wine, the other reaching up to cup your chin, turning your face to meet his eye. 

“I must admit that when I learned that your treacherous brother’s offered your hand to me I was quite – unnerved. I had no desire to marry, let alone marry a traitor,” A cord of anger courses through you, and Aemond notices this. He sets his cup down on the table next to you, the one with the chess pieces. Your eyes follow the movement, better taking in the contents of the table, a war game perhaps, you think. 

“I didn’t want to be chained to a dull, meek little pup for the rest of my life,” His now free hand comes to rest on your hip, and his thumb and forefinger move from your chin, to trace the shape of your lips, then your jaw, and down the column of your neck. “But I must say, that you have certainly exceeded my expectations. I shall enjoy breeding you,” His alkaline nose moves to smell your hair, and you inhale a sharp gasp at the vulgarity of his words. You feel him smile into your neck as he continues his ministrations, placing the whisper of a kiss here and there.  

“I do not understand you. You show me kindness, even apologizing for the acts of your brother, but then you insult me and my heritage. What is it that you want from me, Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You question him, hoping your voice comes out as steady as you command it. Aemond pulls back laughing, both hands now finding purchase on your hips, he begins to guide you backward towards the bed. The backs of your knees hit the wooden frame. 

“Perhaps I wish to see how far I can push you Little Wolf. I enjoy your banter and wish to hear more of it. It pleases me that I’ve been matched to a woman who is not afraid to speak to me in such a way. People so quickly cower and whisper when I am near, it is refreshing to be met head-on.” His blunt statement surprises you, you had not expected such a confession from the Prince.

“Perhaps–” You pause, choosing your next words carefully, “ – perhaps then we can learn to love one another in this marriage.” You almost whisper the last bit, uncertainty in your voice. 

“Yes, I think perhaps we can,” Aemond whispers back to you, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. The tension in the air is palpable, maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move. To see how far he could push you as he had said a moment ago. Deciding to test this hypothesis you stand on your tiptoes, slotting your lips against his, just as you did in the sept. A hungry growl leaves Aemond’s throat using his grip on your waist to pull you flush against his chest. He kisses you back with ferocity. 

A hand grapes your throat, guiding you down towards the bed, your back hitting the feather mattress. You gasp against Aemond’s lips, swallowing the sound, he continues his assault. His hand against your throat tightened, although not unpleasantly, heat rushing to your core. His lips begin to retrace their path down your jaw and the column of your neck, biting and sucking red marks in their wake. 

“Aemond– someone will see–” He parts from you only for a second, looking into your eyes. 

“Let them, after all, isn’t that what my imputant brother wanted proof of our coupling? Perhaps it will give him something to pleasure himself to–” The thought makes Aemond’s cock harden impossibly more in his trousers. The fact that he could pleasure his wife to a level that his brother could only imagine, was nearly enough to drive him over the edge. 

“Husband that is not reason enough to leave –” You're interrupted by a particularly sharp bite to the collarbone. A moan of pain and pleasure escapes past your lips, spurring your new husband onwards. With a sharp tug, Aemond pulls the bodice of your dress down, exposing your chest to him. He murmurs a simple “beautiful” under his breath before latching onto one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling at the flesh. Your back arches slightly in response, desperate to bring yourself closer to his touch. 

As he continues his ministrations he begins to unlace the remainders of your gown, shimmying them down your body, to pool at his feet. You feel his calloused hands roam up and down your body. Sketching your shape into his memory. His fingers knead the flesh of your breasts, your thighs, your ass. Finally, he swipes his fingers between your folds, you emit a soft whine at the contact. 

He raises an eyebrow, “I’ve barely even touched you yet Little Wolf, and you're already soaking my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock–” He trails off, mesmerized as he begins to pump two fingers in and out of your core. Your cheeks flush a deep scarlet at his words. Your hands find purchase in the sheets of your new bed. 

“Oh– oh Aemond –” You whisper in between breaths. 

“Say it again, say my name again,” It’s almost a plea, begging to hear it again.

“Husband– Aemond– My Dragon –” Aemond harshly withdraws his fingers from you. You nearly scream at the loss of the delicious contact. Discarding the remainder of his clothes, tossing them haphazardly to the side, Aemond grabs you by the ankles pulling you down towards the end of the bed where he stands. You catch site of his cock as he gives it a few tugs in preparation. The tip angry and red, glazed in his arousal for you. Your eyes widen a bit, your mother never prepared you for what might happen should your lord husband be too – big. 

Aemond sees your moment of concern, he positions himself over you, cock aligned at your entrance. His hand carresses your cheek, as he says “I shall be gentle, if you ask me to.Give you time to adjust –” 

“No,” Your answer surprises the both of you. “I want you, I am not some small flower, I can take what you give me. I want whatever you shall give me Husband.” You lean up to kiss the tip of his nose, as if to reassure him that what you say is true.

“Seven fucking Hells, you are something did you know that?” He rests his forehead agaisnt yours, as he ever so slowly begins to sheath himself inside of you. 

You let out a small giggle, whispering back “I know–” 

Aemond bottoms out inside of you, his cock fully enclosed by the walls of your cunt. He could die like this, he thinks. Cock sheathed in the cunt of his gorgeous Little Wolf. Your walls squeeze him perfectly, he needs to take a moment to catch his breath. He had fucked women before, whores in the Street of Silk. His brother having dragged him there once, and to seek some kind of perverted comfort there during The Dance. But none of them compared to this moment, none of them –

“Husband, Gods move please,” Aemond is brought out of his thoughts by your pleas, you voice hoarse with want and need. 

“With pleasure Little Wolf.” He begins to thrust, moving his hips at a slow and steady pace. It’s for his own sake as much as it is yours. He’s afraid that should he move to fast he won’t be able to carry on for very long. Beneath him your hands clutch the sheets of his bed, your cheeks are flushed the most lovely red, your hair played out in a halo around you on the pillow. If he could burn the image into his mind forever, then he certainly would. 

Aemond’s cock stretches you out perfectly, boardering on pain and pleasure, but only for the first moments. His thrusts are steady and calculated, but never the less delicious. The movement causes friction on your clit, sending a wave of pleasure to your core. It’s lovely, you think, but you want more. Moving from their place in the sheets, your hands settle on his hips, urging him to move faster.

“Aemond– more,” His lilac eye flits up to your face, asking for silent reassurance that that is indeed what you want. “For Gods sake Husband, move faster please I–” Not needing to be told twice, Aemond picks up speed. Where his thrusts were slow and sensual, now they are fast and hard. He fucks you like a man starved, as if he was told this is the last woman he will ever lay with. Which in his case, was true, since you were married after all. 

Your tits bounce at the force of his movement, your hands that were previously on his hips, begin to rake down his back. Your legs come up to circle his waist, drawing him impossibly closer. 

“You like this then, huh, Little Wolf. Treated like my own personal whore, to fuck how I please?” The sounds that fill the room are egregious, skin against skin, moans, whimpers, and screams. 

“Louder Little Wolf, howl for me, let the whole Keep hear how I pleasure you so,” Perhaps that same small part of him wanted his brother to hear. As if Aemond had something to prove to him, that he made a better husband, a better lover than Aegon ever will. 

“Aemond, Aemond, oh Aemond–” You chant his name like a mantra. His cock hits that sweet spot inside of you, you gasp eyes widening at the feeling. 

“Seems I’ve found where you feel pleasure best. Is that right Little Wolf?” 

“Yes, Gods Aemond, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna –” Hearing that was all the motivation he needed to pick up his pace even more. To fuck you even harder than before. He grips your hips pulling you closer to him at the end of the bed, from this angle he has full control over your body, and can fuck you as you so desire him to.

The force of his thrusts, and the friction against your clit cause you to see stars behind your eyes. With one last scream of his name, you cum around his cock. Your walls pulling him in, attempting to root him to you. Aemond however, does not let up, chasing afer his own release. 

“Just a moment more, my sweet, perfect Little Wolf. I’m going to breed you, and watch you swell with my pups. Wouldn’t you love that huh?” Aemond continues to piston in and out of you, the feeling almost too much, but still just as lovely as before. Nonsensical moans leave your lips, and Aemond laughs at you babbling, although not rudely. 

His hips begin to stutter as he nears his end, his heavy balls slapping against your cunt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” He mutters under his breath as you feel his seed coat your walls. The feeling warm, and full and lovely. Aemond remains seated inside of you as he rests his forehead once more to yours. You kiss his nose again, a new favorite spor perhaps. He offers you a small smile in return.

You both groan as he pulls out. Your cunt perfectly overstimulated and happy. Wordlessly Aemond leaves the bed, and begins to rummage around some drawers in one of the many pieces of furniture in the room. You worry for a brief moment that he will leave, and that he meant none of what he said. But as he brings a damp cloth between your thighs to clean you, your worries wash away. He tosses the rag aside, to be dealt with on the morrow. For now, all he wanted was to lay with his wife in his arms as he drifts off to sleep. 

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you move to covers to lie beneath them. Aemond pulls you to him, tucking the top of your head under his chin, he kisses your hair. You both think that perhaps this marriage will be fruitful, that over time you will learn to love one another. It seems as if you both are on a lovely start for that though as is. 

“Good night ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved),” Aemond mutters into your hair. 

“Sleep well, My Dragon,” you say in response. You both drift off into a peaceful sleep, held comfortably in each other's arms. No one knew what the morrow would bring, let alone a fortnight from now. But you both knew you would see it through together as equals, husband and wife, dragon and wolf.

Tag List:

@helaenaluvr @anukulee @darylandbethfanforever9 @stuckinaf4nfiction

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Chicken

John Egan X Farmer! Reader

Summary: When Meatball kills the farmer's chicken. Bucky flies to the rescue.

Warning: Animal death/ swearing/ mention of boobs/ use of Y/n/ mention of blood.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: I'm alive y'all! And my brain functioned again!

When John Egan came to Thorpe Abbotts, he was aware of the people that already lived there. He knew they were here, but he didn’t know them personally. When he saw her riding her horse, he knew he had to introduce himself. But he didn’t have the courage to go talk to her, she looked so intimidating, riding her horse and handling the goats.

Y/n lived on her family’s farm, but her family was away, they were in Austria, the farm was their summer house, but they wanted Y/n to keep it clean and work there. Usually, she would’ve been back in Austria, but with the war, it wasn’t safe to travel. Her chores were simple, making sure the goats didn’t run away, getting the eggs from the chicken coop and keeping the stables clean. It was easy, especially since she got her horse, Fred. He was a mustang, a beast that she had trouble training, but she kept persevering and was able to ride him. She was riding Fred everywhere; she loved her horse.

‘’Cleven! Good morning’’ she greeted the blonde. They quickly became friends when he came on the base, he went to introduce himself to the people living on the base, already saying he was sorry for the future disturbance that the soldiers were going to cause. When Gale saw Y/n, he thought she was amazing and they talked for hours, quickly becoming friends. They would trade stuff together, for example, if Y/n wanted a bottle of whiskey, she would give Gale a dozen eggs. ‘’Morning Y/n! How are you?’’ he asked. ‘’Good, just counting the chickens’’ she stopped when she heard a dog barking. ‘’Why do you have a dog here?’’ she asked, stepping in front of the chickens. ‘’Brady got him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t come near the coop’’ he reassured her. ‘’He better, because if he eats any of my chickens…’’ she threatened. Meatball came running towards Buck. ‘’He’s cute, but I meant what I said’’ she looked at the dog, smiling. ‘’I’ll make sure of it’’ he smiled.

John Egan heard a horse neigh; he knew that Y/n was close. And he was right, her (Y/h/c) hair were flying in the wind, she had a cowboy hat on her head. A white tank top that made her boobs look 5 times bigger and jeans that made her legs look amazing. She was beautiful. ‘’Y/n, what’s wrong?’’ Gale asked. She got down her horse, patting him before looking at the boys. ‘’I can’t come here and say hello?’’ she smiled as she looked at Bucky. ‘’Technically, you’re on a private property’’ Murph said. She scoffed. ‘’Technically, you guys invaded our property’’ she replied. ‘’Touché’’ Murph laughed. ‘’Nice ride’’ John Egan said, looking at the horse. ‘’Thanks, that’s Fred.’’ She replied. ‘’Um, do you guys have a minute to spare? We need help moving the hay’’ she asked. ‘’Sure, we can help’’ Bucky quickly replied.

‘’Be careful with that Jeep, don’t run over my animals’’ she smiled at Bucky, before she climbed up her horse. ‘’Wanna race?’’ Bucky proposed. She gave him a challenging smile, Fred was a fast horse, he was originally supposed to be a racehorse, but Y/n bought him at the town auction. ‘’Sure, but don’t cry if you lose’’ she smiled. When Fred started to run, Bucky knew he’d already lost, he didn’t want to go too fast, in case of a loose animal. She looked like a goddess, riding that horse. He thought about her riding him for a second, but his thoughts quickly faded when he heard Meatball bark, his mouth was all bloody and he had feathers on him.

‘’Calm down! It’s only 3 chickens!’’ Gale Cleven tried to calm her down, but she was ready to skin the dog alive, Bucky was holding her so she wouldn’t kill the dog. ‘’IT’S LESS EGGS! LET ME GO! I’m going to kill that dog’’ she tried to get away, but Bucky’s grip was too hard on her waist. Meatball didn’t have any regret; he was looking around like his life wasn’t on the line. John Brady, the owner, arrived at the scene in a Jeep, with Harry Crosby and Rosie Rosenthal. The 3 bodies were lying on the ground, headless. Y/n took deep breaths and calmed down a little. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Brady asked. ‘’You’re the owner?’’ she asked, angrily. Brady nodded. ‘’Your stupid dog ate 3 of my chickens!’’ she spat, showing the corpse with her hand. Brady swallowed a nervous laugh. ‘’I told you to watch him and I’m leaving the farm for an hour, I come back, and Dave, Danny and Darrel are dead!’’ she said, looking at her chickens. Bucky had to refrain a laugh at the names of the deceased animals. ‘’I’m sorry miss, I don’t know what else to say’’ Brady explained, scratching the back of his head. She took a deep breath, realizing how crazy she looked. She touched Bucky’s hand, to show him that he could let go. She replaced her hair as she sighed. ‘’I’m sorry, I kinda overreacted. You guys can go, I’ll, uh, clean up. Sorry for the disturbance.’’ She said, with an embarrassed tone.

He felt bad for her, sure it was only 3 chickens, but still. So, that night, he decided to find the courage and go talk to her for more than four words. He rode his Jeep to her house; he nervously taped the wheel with his thumb as he shut the engine down. Seeing lights outside, Y/n got out of the house, standing on her porch, seeing it was a soldier, she wiped her hands on her pants before going down the short stairs. ‘’Major Egan, to what do I owe this visit?’’ she asked, trying to hide her joy. She found him attractive, he was a gentleman during the day and a manwhore during the night, or at least that was his reputation. ‘’Hello, please call me Bucky, and I’m here to pay you back’’ he smiled. She tilted her head. ‘’Pay me back? You owe me money?’’ she questioned. He shook his head, chuckling. ‘’No, it’s for the deceased chickens’’ he explained.

Y/n fought the urge to smirk. ‘’You want to pay me for the chickens I lost?’’ she asked. ‘’Yeah, I mean you said it yourself, it’s less eggs’’ he blurted out. Now she couldn’t fight it anymore, a smile creeped on her face as she looked at the flustered Bucky. ‘’Come inside’’ she invited. He nodded as they waled inside the small home. The smell of burnt candle filling his nose as he looked around the kitchen. ‘’Does Brady know you’re doing this?’’ she asked as they sat in the kitchen. ‘’No, it’s my idea’’ he looked on the ground, not daring to look at her in the eyes. ‘’That’s very sweet, Bucky, but I can’t accept this, you must have family that this money belongs too, what about Mrs. Egan. It’s very thoughtful but keep it’’ she politely said. He started to laugh at the mention of a Mrs. Egan. ‘’There’s no Mrs. Egan, never set that part right, and my family doesn’t need the money. Please, Y/n, take it’’ this time, their eyes were locked into each other.

‘’You know, I didn’t think you would be the one offering me money. I thought Cleven would do it’’ she said, taking a sip of her homemade alcohol. It’s been an hour since Bucky came into her home they’ve been talking ever since. ‘’He felt bad, but he has to keep it for the phones, his girlfriend wants to hear from him twice a week’’ he chucked. She smiled as she looked at him. ‘’It’s getting late, I should get back to the base’’ he said as he looked at his watch. She got an idea. ‘’Are you free for dinner tomorrow?’’ she blurted out. He looked at her, smiling. ‘’Uh, yes, why?’’ he asked. ‘’Because I enjoy your company. And I have some extra money to buy good meat.’’ She smiled. ‘’Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’’ He leaned to kiss the top of her hand. ‘’Good night, Y/n’’ he said. ‘’Good night, Bucky, see you tomorrow’’

[certaincollectionlandblog]

F1 Drivers that I think would date some plus sized queens and how I think it would go

Carlos Sainz

- I can't explain why, but I feel like Carlos is already an ass man and with his personality he seems like the guy to love when his girl was squishy. Maybe like a fit plus size queen like they go to the gym together and stuff, but she's still thicker than a Snicker like Ashley Graham without the boobs (TBH that's specifically my body type and all the plus size queens with the boobs get love, but were is the love our itty bitty bitty plus size babes?) if you have the boobs sis he would love it too; just wanted to give some representation for my body type cause I know I can't be the only one out here like this! - Would constantly come up to you saying "I shall call her squishy and she shall be my squishy" before wrapping you in such a great hug and peppering you with kisses (come guys I can so see this like AAGHH) - If you're tall and a plus queen I think he would also be totally down for that too! We need some tall plus size love too man :) - He knows that you probably can't wear his clothes or that if you can that they don't fit oversized like he knows you would find cute so he orders some hoodies a size or two too large and keeps "accidentally" leaving them around you. - Krispy Kreme has nothing on this man, he is hot and ready for you all the time - Summer is his favorite time because seeing you prance around in those shorts that ride up your ass have this man so distracted that he is a danger to himself and humanity - Hand on the ass ALL the time (y'all can't argue with me on this one okay) - He loves to lay on you whenever possible - You are his human pillow now - Carlos Sainz is a cuddle bug and no one can tell me other wise!

Mick Schumacher

- If I were to picture our precious Mick with anyone else other than a beautiful tall plus size sweetheart it just wouldn't fit in my mind - He is such a boob guy like there's literally even no denying it (~starts crying in itty bitty titty committee~), but if you were less blessed in the chest I think Mick would still love it cause he is an angel - Mick is a sweetheart who has been through a lot, you provide him a sense of comfort and love when you pull him for one of your ever constant and always soft hugs (you never let go before he does because sometimes he just needs to hold you and that's okay) - You're like the Anna to his Kristoff (Frozen anyone?!) sweet, fun, adventurous, with a little side of chaos - He will kiss every single freckle, scar, and stretch mark on your entire body, in fact he makes it his life mission to do so - Sometimes he steals your sweatpants cause y'all are pretty much the same height and he loves having the extra room from the size difference - One time he stole a pair of your Juicy sweatpants to wear around the house and didn't realize the butt had JUICY bedazzled on it until his mom pointed out when she came over to visit for dinner - Mick loves to snuggle with you while you sleep, but he always falls asleep with his hand on your boob - You make him smile so much the boys started teasing him telling him he should try to get Crest toothpaste as a sponsor - Mick is major on cockwarming and if he had it your way he would never leave the warmth of your walls

Daniel Riccardo

- I feel it in my bones that Danny is an ass man - He is constantly sending up little prayers of thank you to whoever invented leggings and compression shorts - Daniel loves when you steal his button ups to wear around the house with nothing else because even though they aren't quite oversized it's the fact that seeing you wear his clothes and seeing your ass at the same time as poor Danny boy wound up tighter than a Jack in the box - You know they do say that cowboys tend to like their women like molasses, sweet and thick and well as bad as Danny wishes he was cowboy he makes sure to follow that rule -Save a horse ride a cowboy anyone? - He swears he's died and gone to heaven when he looks down into your innocent doe eyes every time you suck him off - You guys have matching sweatsuits for movie nights (secretly he loves it) - Danny just gives off the vibe of loving if you were tall too like it's giving off power couple vibes - He actually steals your hoodies because they're so soft and smell like your perfume - He loves when you rest your head on his shoulder like he actually smiles a kid getting to meet Santa for the first time - Is constantly giving you forehead kisses because he doesn't have to bend down and he loves seeing your eyes light up like a Christmas tree when he does

Jack Doohan

- first off there's not enough Jake Doohan love on this platform and I am determined to fix that sweethearts - Okay IDK if it's just my experience, but it's always the skinny, tall white boys getting with these plus size queens and Jack is no exception - I'm not really sure if Jack is a thigh or an ass man more, but I'm totally getting those vibes you know - He already loves surfing and spending anytime in water that he can and now he gets the added bonus of seeing your beautiful figure in his second favorite amount of clothes for you (the first is when you're butt ass naked) - I can't explain it, but I am very much going with the theory that these Australian boys love themselves some tall plus babes (if you're short I'm sure they would like you too baby it's just the vibe I'm getting okay) - He always holds the door for you because he's a gentleman duh, but he also gets to look at that world shattering ass and those beautiful thighs of yours - This man loves you more than a southern granny loves her biscuits and gravy - Jack loves not having to look too far down to see, if he even has to look down at all TBH because let's be real here couples with a height difference especially a big height difference one of the poor love bugs always ends up with back problems - No lie he reminds me of Johnny from Hotel Transylvania like he'll try to be smooth with you, but you keep this man so flustered that sometimes he doesn't know what to do with hisself - Jack 100% loves to snuggle with you on the beach; He's sitting between your legs leaned up against you while you read your book - He loves to take you doggy style (he has Pierre to thank for the idea after that interview) - Always is pulling you into his lap during movies, make-out sessions because he loves having you straddle him

I have no true evidence to back up these theories, but going strictly off of vibes. I am convinced our bros would be down to date some plus size queens, especially some tall ones ;) Please feel free to leave feedback below!

All photos are from Pinterest!

[sushiwriterhere]

right where i want you

summary: "Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader word count: 6.1k warnings: sub!rhett, pseudo enemies-to-lovers!, mentions of violence, choking, dry humping, overstimulation, aftercare, potentially ooc, no use of y/n.  notes: uhhh walk him like a dog bitch walk him like a dog🗣😼 i'm not even gonna lie to y'all i've never seen outer range but lewis pullman is in my brain. pls let me know what u think! thank you to @sebsxphia for encouraging my rhett brainworms and to @rhettabbotts for reading a snippet ! my other works are here tagging: @lewmagoo @wkndwlff @bobfloyds @sometimesanalice @bradshawsbitch @roosterbruiser @withahappyrefrain @theharddeck - pls let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

You work a comb in steady, circular motions over your horse’s coat, watching as the dust and pollen raises into the soft afternoon light. Just under the background noise of the stable, you hear boots crunching and you immediately know who it is. All your time away hasn’t changed a thing, it seems. 

“Rhett Abbott you leave me alone or I’ll yell at the top of my lungs, I swear.” You don’t even turn around to look at him, as if not making eye contact would mean he’ll leave. He won’t. And he never does.

“How’d ‘ya know it was me?” You hear the way he kicks at the dirt of the barn floor with his boots absentmindedly, and you try to not let his presence rile you up too much since you know that’s what he wants.

You still don’t turn around to face him. “Because y’never leave me alone.” 

“I’m jus’ sweet on ‘ya. Couldn’t help it if I tried. Besides, missed ‘ya while ‘ya were away at that fancy east coast school o’ yours.”

“Well, have you tried?” You ignore the second part of what he said–you’re back for the summer, and you really haven’t been gone all that long even if your parents act like you’ve come back from the dead.

That pulls a laugh from him. 

For as long as you can remember, Rhett Abbott has been a pain in your ass. You were slightly younger than him but that somehow never stopped him from always finding a way to be in your presence. Your dad being Wabang’s sheriff didn’t seem to deter him either, especially when your dad started getting real prickly about having boys around. 

“Nope,” He lets his lips pop dramatically on the ‘p’ sound, then pauses as if to consider his next words, “Plus, you’re real cute when you’re mad.”

All you want is to turn around and throw the rubber brush you’ve got clenched in your fingers at his stupid, smug, face. You know the exact expression he’s wearing in that moment because it’s the same one he’s had every other time he’s taunted you. 

“Decide if you love me or hate me, Rhett Abbott. Quit wastin’ my time.” You hiss, and this time you do turn around. You refrain from throwing anything at him, though. 

“Aw, don’t get too upset now,” He pushes himself off the stall door he’d been leaning against and makes his way into your personal space.

You level him with a scathing glare before going back to grooming. Even the way he breathes around you seems to raise your hackles and you wonder if all this tension is ever going to resolve itself. If he’s ever going to leave you alone.

“I didn’t come by to bother ‘ya, honest.” He murmurs.

You don’t grant him a response, but he stays where he is, undeterred.

“I wanted to see if you’d come out tonight, everyone’s been missin’ ‘ya. Whole town’s in uproar that you’re back.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

That seems to satisfy him as a grin spreads across his face and he spins on his heel, whistling jauntily as he strolls out of the stable.

You’re loathe to admit it, but it makes something twist in your stomach at the thought that Rhett came by to invite you out, to tell you he missed you. That everyone missed you. You shove that feeling down, though. Rhett’s always just been a nuisance and the fact that he seems to have gotten far handsomer while you’d been away is not part of your calculus.

-

For all his insistence that he actually likes you, has been thinking about you this whole time, Rhett sure is more than happy to let some buckle bunny cuddle up to him. You swallow something down, not jealousy, but what feels like a lump in your throat. He’s a liar and you’re a fool. Rhett Abbott will never be anything but a good for nothing, sonofa—

You storm out of the bar in a huff, not noticing the way Rhett’s eyes follow you over the head of the bleach blonde who’s grasping the collar of his flannel. 

In missing Rhett’s gaze, you also miss the way James Earl follows you out. By the time you’re in the parking lot, it’s too late to turn around. James is between you and the door. 

He calls your name and it makes all the hair on the back of your neck stand up, “Wait up!”

“Leave me alone, James.” You really don’t want to deal with him right now, you don’t want to deal with any men, for that matter. 

“I said wait.” His voice turns acidic and you pause before turning around slowly. There’s nowhere else for you to go but back into the bar, and you’re certain he won’t just let you walk off while you try to call your dad.

“Now that you’re back, I’m going to take you out to dinner.” James looks almost like he has good intentions, but you haven’t lost touch with the way news travels in Wabang just because you were separated by a few states. 

You know what the girls who stayed behind say about him. You heard the stories in high school about how he treated his girlfriends–always holding their arms too tight, a little too possessive. There’s nothing about him that you like, or even want to tolerate, at all.

“No, thank you, James. I really should get going.” You try to sound sweet, try to turn on the charm in hopes that he’ll change his mind. 

You turn your phone over in your hands, unlock it, and try to act nonchalant. You remember the Swiss army knife tucked in your bra if things get rough. 

His demeanor switches in an instant.

“You think just ‘cause you’re the sheriff's daughter you can just walk around like you own this place, huh? Too good for us with your fancy college? All of Wabang swoonin’ over a stuck up, prissy, little bitch.” The words are like poison, but you try to stand your ground, “Why I ought’a teach you a lesson.”

When James stalks your way, one hand starting to reach for you as you reel back in fear, you realize just what he intends. The world slows to a molasses, you’re outside your body as you freeze, unable to do much but witness what you know is about to happen to you.

Instead of James’ hand around your wrist or in your hair, Rhett’s voice breaks the moment, “Earl, I’ll make ‘ya sorry ‘ya ever look’d at ‘er if ‘ya don’t step away right now.” 

There he is, illuminated by the bar deck lights, one hand on his belt as he stalks into the parking lot. You’d call him your savior if you don’t blame him somehow; if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in whatever girl was giving him attention in that moment maybe you wouldn’t be here. 

“Like hell you will, Abbott. Leave us alone, this is none of your business.” James whirls around, his attention momentarily off you.

You think you can make your escape, make it back inside the bar where there are more eyes and call your dad to get him to pick you up. Instead, you watch as Rhett and James come face to face, both acting like macho idiots. 

They soil your plan for a hasty escape. It’s Rhett who makes the first move and shoves James, hard. In a split second they’re yelling obscenities at each other as Rhett grabs him by the collar to shake him and clock him across the face. His knuckles split open on James’ face and you aren’t sure if his nose is broken from the blow or not. 

“Stop it!” You try to at least get Rhett’s attention, maybe use his feelings for you for good, but it does little as James tries to gain the upper hand. “Rhett Abbott you fool, get off’a him!”

All at once, a few other patrons spill out of the bar doors at the commotion. You’re standing a few feet back from the pair as they tussle; there’s blood strewn in the dirt and you hope not too much of it is Rhett’s. Suddenly they’re being pulled apart.

You march up to James and stick a finger in his face as he struggles against the men holding his arms, “You ever try that shit with me again I’ll make sure my daddy gives you exactly what you deserve.”

His face is twisted up in a snarl, and he looks like he’s considering spitting in your face, “Still hiding behind your daddy? Figures.”

He’s hauled off in a moment before you can respond, no doubt to get cleaned up and have someone take a look at his nose. Maybe even to face your dad. You whirl around to start shouting at Rhett next, but he’s simply standing there, hands hanging loosely by his sides. No one’s restraining him anymore, they’re all dealing with James you guess, and you realize that it’s just the two of you in the parking lot at that point. 

You make your decision in an instant, “Give me your keys.” 

You don’t get closer to him, you just hold a hand out and look at him expectantly. Rhett doesn’t move. 

“Rhett Abbott, you damned fool, give me your keys so I can take your stupid ass home.” 

He has the audacity to smile wolfishly at you, cheek bruising, and say lowly as he walks to you, “Tryin’ to take me home, sugar?”

Snatching his keys from his fist, you turn around without responding. You don’t check if he’s following you, some part of you knows you don’t need to. 

You climb into the drivers side of his truck and start it, only barely waiting for him to get in and buckle up. Switching it into gear, you start driving. It’s deathly silent in the cab as you drive, ignoring far too many traffic laws along the way for someone who was raised by the sheriff. Rhett fidgets in his seat next to you. 

As you weave down the back country roads to his place, you distantly recall the time during high school when he’d bought the truck. All week, girls had flocked to him, begging him to teach them to drive stick (they all already knew) or even just sit in the back. Trucks were a dime a dozen, but Rhett Abbott’s was special in the eyes of all the future buckle bunnies. 

You’d watched the chaos from afar until he’d lifted his gaze from the girl tugging at his flannel to look at you. You’d looked away quickly, too embarrassed to be caught staring at him despite your continued insistence you didn’t like him in the slightest and that he never crossed your mind.

He never did end up giving any of the girls a chance. He wouldn’t even let them touch the keys.

Now here you are, driving his truck like it’s your own without a single complaint from him. 

When you pull up to his house, you get out the same way you’d gotten in–without a word and barely waiting for him to catch up to you. It’s almost instinctual, the way you grab the house key from next to the truck one, unlock the door and shove inside, only knowing that he’s inside too because of the way the door slides shut softly instead of slamming. 

Once inside, you flick on the kitchen light and round on him, “Now why’d ‘ya have to go and start shit with James Earl, huh?”

Rhett looks like he’s just been scolded by his mother for leaving his socks on the floor at his ripe age, and he scoffs harshly. You don’t miss the way his knuckles are split and crusted in blood. There’s a bruise blooming high on one of his cheeks. 

“I’m the one startin’ shit? He was tryin’ somethin’ with you!” He takes a step toward you but you don’t move, “Earl’s a piece of shit and he got what was comin’ to him. I don’t regret a goddamn thing.”

“I had it handled.” Your defense is instinctual–knee jerk, even—everyone wants you to be fragile, to be something that needs protecting, and you’re sick of it. 

“Did ‘ya?” You’re toe to toe now, and his shoulders are heaving. “‘Cause what I saw said somethin’ else.”

For a moment, you think he might kiss you. It takes all of your mental effort not to shove him and start shouting at him for how stupid he is, so instead you raise a single eyebrow and plaster on your most disapproving expression possible. 

“I’m not arguin’ with you, Rhett Abbott. Get your damn first-aid kit and lemme clean ‘ya up.” 

For once in his life, he listens to you. Eventually you find yourself kneeling in front of him as he sinks into the couch. You’ve turned on one of the living room lights, but there’s still just barely enough light to make out the details of his face and the way he tore up his knuckles on James Earl’s nose and cheeks. 

“Now keep bein’ all tough, I better not hear ‘ya bitchin’ about the antiseptic hurtin’.” You don’t have it in you to actually hurt him though, so you keep the press of the rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton balls gentle. 

He draws his shoulders up by his ears regardless, hissing lightly when it stings. Thankfully, only his pinky knuckle is actually split open on his right hand, so he won’t be entirely useless at work. His left hand is in worse shape, with three of his knuckles bubbling blood where he managed to cut them open. Both hands are bruised.

He doesn’t comment on your position at his knees. 

“Earl’s nose better be fuckin’ broken.” Rhett finally breaks the silence as you finish cleaning his hands. 

You don’t grant him with a response. Instead you stand to your full height and make your way to the kitchen to throw away the cotton balls now soaked with his blood. Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

When you return to him, he hasn’t moved a muscle. He simply tips his head back to look at you. Slowly, you put one knee up on the couch next to his thighs, then the other, and all of a sudden you’re kneeling over his lap. The hem of your dress just barely brushes his jeans. He looks like he’s holding his breath and he barely exhales when you let your full weight rest on him.

“I need to make sure he didn’t break yours.” It’s a lame excuse and you both know it, but you know he won’t call you on it, not when your bare thighs are warm against his denim-clad ones. 

He smells like outside, like the evening sun, and something that tickles your nose; it’s uniquely Rhett. Privately, you wonder if all his clothes smell like him, and if they carry that scent even when he hasn’t worn them in a long while. 

Shifting in his lap, you cradle his face and turn it toward the light. As if he’s trying not to spook a wild horse, he very delicately places his hands on your thighs. He doesn’t grip them, doesn’t let his fingertips twitch, just rests his calloused palms against your bare skin.

“Looks fine to me.” You breathe out, realizing how close your faces are.

“I’ll pretend that was a compliment.” He’s trying to sound flirtatious, trying to sound like the casanova his reputation makes him out to be, only he’s breathless and his face is flushed and you can feel his pulse racing.

You hate when men think they can just take control of you in bed because they’re a man and you’re not. But with Rhett, you can tell you’ve got him right where you want him by the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat and the way his hands rest on your thighs, fingertips just barely brushing the hem of your dress. 

Letting go of his face, you brush imaginary dust off his shoulders before letting one hand rest flat on his chest, and threading the other up into his hair. It’s silkier than you ever imagined despite the way you know you can safely assume he does jack all to take care of it. He’s so damn pretty it makes your chest ache.

Both of you are silent, only the sounds of your breathing barely audible. Ever so gently, you slide your hand from his hair to the base of his neck. He’s like a foal in the way you’re unsure of how he’ll react to your hand placement, a new sort of touch. His heart hammers in his chest beneath your palm.

He doesn’t bolt or react strongly. Instead, he swallows thickly against your hand, blinking slowly at the sensation of your fingers tucked neatly around his throat. You’re not squeezing in the slightest, just letting your fingers rest around the warm, tanned, skin of his neck.

“Are you going to behave, Rhett?” Your voice is low over the sounds of the night outside.

He nods as you flex your fingers gently, testing the waters, and his eyes flutter shut. Rocking your hips experimentally, you feel the way his grip tightens on your thighs and the way he’s hard against you. 

He likes it. He likes the way you’ve got a hand around his throat, the other resting gently on his chest. He isn’t fighting you, he isn’t arguing–for once in his life, he’s quiet in your presence. 

The realization of how obedient he’s being sends a skittering sort of arousal through you. You see yourself pulling on jeans tomorrow and finding his fingerprints on you. You see him staring at himself in the mirror in the morning, lost at how to cover up the evidence of what you’d done to him the night before.

“You’ve spent all this time pullin’ my pigtails, and now that I’m here you can’t even form words.” He keeps his eyes closed and nods ever so slightly.

You want to hate him. 

Oh how you want to hate Rhett Abbott. You want to hate the way he’s spent the last however many years following you around like a stray dog, poking fun at you and riling you up, just to have your attention. You want to hate the way he probably spent more time chasing boys off than your dad did. More than anything else you want to find it in you to feel something other than the way he’s burrowed himself under your skin. 

“Whatever,” His voice is strained and he clears his throat before opening his eyes again, “Whatever you want, sugar. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“And if I want to get up right now, and never see you again?” You aren’t going to make this easy on him. 

Yelling at James Earl is one thing, almost beating him to a pulp is another. You can protect yourself, you’re not a damsel in distress, and above all Rhett needs to learn his place. You’re grateful he was there, you are. But you didn’t need him to go and get in trouble on your behalf.

“Now, sugar, I find it hard to believe—”

You move as if to stand up, going to remove the hand from his neck to use one of his shoulders as leverage. Before you can get far, really even one inch away from him, one of his hands is flying from your thighs to clutch at the wrist of the hand that’s leaving his throat. He holds you there, and you can feel the way his pulse is racing. He maintains the way he stares into your eyes, but this time his are wide, almost as if in fear that you’d actually get up and leave. 

“Try again.” You don’t change the way half your weight is off him, but you let him hold your wrist.

“Whatever you want, goes.” He swallows slowly before speaking again, “Will you just–Will you please sit back down?” 

He doesn’t let go of your wrist.

You ease yourself back into his lap and run your free hand in between you till you reach his erection. It sends a thrill through you to feel just how excited he is by all of this. You want to hear him say please again, you want to see how far you can push your luck with him in the palm of your hand. You want him to beg.

You laugh lightly, if not a bit cruelly, as you squeeze his cock over his jeans, “Does this turn you on, Rhett?” You pause to watch how his pupils dilate at your tone before pressing on, “Not much of a big, bad, man now, are ‘ya?”

To your surprise, that doesn’t set him off. Most men wouldn’t let you put your hand around their throat, much less question just how much of a man they are. But he barely reacts beyond his chest rising and falling, his hands moving back to fully settle on your thighs and this time, gripping tightly. 

“Like I said, whatever you want, sugar–I just want ‘ya to use me. Be good for something,” He licks his lips and exhales shakily, “Be good for you.” 

Jesus. His sincerity bleeds through in the way his face is flushed and he maintains steady eye contact. He doesn’t waver for a single moment. 

Something sick twists in your chest. Never before has a man been so willing, so pliant, for you. They’ve always tried to take what they want from you, always tried to make you submit. But what you actually wanted was this, Rhett’s eyes gazing pleadingly up at you while you sit in his lap. 

“So this is what you wanted all along, huh? Always following me around, playing pranks on me, just wanted me to get my hand around your throat and use you?” You’re goading him on, trying to discern exactly what he wants you to say, what he’ll let you get away with. 

With that, you lean close as if to kiss him and he closes his eyes lightly in anticipation, but at the last second turn your head so you can drag the tip of your nose across his cheek. The shudder that runs through him at the feather-light sensation is delicious; it makes you laugh lightly at how affected he is. His breaths are starting to come heavier, already betraying him if he tried to hide how badly he wants this. But he isn’t hiding, not in the slightest.

Now that you’re this close to him, the scent of him is overwhelming. It floods your mind and makes you almost lightheaded as you realize just how badly you want him. Part of it is that he’s so pliant, so willing, but the other part is the truth of the matter that you finally have to admit to yourself: you don’t hate Rhett Abbott. 

In fact, his whole years-long performance has only meant that his constant presence is lingering somewhere at the forefront of your mind regardless of whether he’s around or not. When you’d gone off to college, those nine months had been odd without him around. You’d half expected him to show up to walk you between lecture halls or push some frat boy off you at a party.

(What you don’t know is that Rhett did almost go out to visit you. He’d looked at plane tickets, at how long it might take him to drive. He decided against it when he remembered every time you’d rejected him or told him to, very unkindly, “fuck off”.)

“Can I kiss ‘ya?” His voice is rough and he licks his lips again, like it’s a nervous habit. 

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek and giggle softly to yourself when he whines and says, “That’s not what I meant and y’know it.”

Finally, you press your lips to his. They’re soft and warm and he’s so much better of a kisser than everyone else you’ve been with that it almost knocks the wind out of you. But he keeps you grounded, especially when his hand moves up to your jaw so he can coax it open. The way he licks into your mouth makes you let out a startled gasp. 

You don’t expect it to feel so good. It’s one thing to sit in his lap and flirt, it’s a whole other to taste him and understand why girls chase him endlessly. You can’t stop the way your hips move against his and he keeps one hand on your thigh while the other goes to your tits. His hand dwarfs your chest and he gropes you haphazardly. 

“Fuck, you’re even better than I imagined,” He sighs, pushing up against the hand that’s still around his throat. 

“I haven’t even taken my clothes off, Rhett.” You tease, wanting to see how far you can push him, see if you can still get a rise out of him.

But it seems he’s given up the fight now that you’re right where he wants you. He smiles gently as he pulls back to look you in the eyes, “I could finish in my pants like a damned teenager with you like this, sugar, doesn’t matter.”

Rhett Abbott, womanizer, absolute menace in your life, admitting that he’s got it so bad for you that he could come in his pants just from having you near him? You could’ve guessed that he wanted to fuck you, but you always thought it would be more of him getting his rocks off and letting you fend for yourself. It never would’ve occurred to you that this is how he’d be in the moment. Him admitting how weak he is for you makes your head spin.

You press yourself ever closer to him, licking into his mouth and trapping his hand between the two of you where it had been stroking your nipples through the thin fabric of your sundress. He manages to free it, though, and slides it down your side to where your thigh creases. He wraps it around you there and the the sheer size difference between his hand and your hip makes a twisted sort of want course in your veins.

The first press of his thumb against your clit through your panties sends a jolt through you. He keeps your hips moving in a steady rhythm against his as he works steady circles over your clit. His other hand won’t stay still as it runs up and down your back, rubs your nipples, yanks on the tips of your hair ever so slightly. It’s mind-numbingly filthy, the quiet of his house filled with both of your gasps and moans, your hand still on his neck. 

“Cum for me, sugar,” Then, as if he’s anticipating your chastisement, he adds, “Please.”

Your orgasm rips through you like white hot lighting as you gasp into his open mouth and he moans right along with you. You realize you’re chanting his name over and over like a prayer, completely unwittingly. He doesn’t let up with any of his movements, prolonging your pleasure til it folds into something more biting, just on the edge of overstimulating. 

“Fuck, Jesus,” He gasps, and after a moment, “I’ll be thinking ‘bout that til I die,” He rasps out, settling both of his hands on your hips and leaning his forehead against yours. 

You want to tease him about taking the Lord’s name in vain but you hold back. For a moment, it’s quiet. Your hips are still against his as you take in what just happened. It begins to dawn on you that he’s still hard under you, but he isn’t making any moves to change that. 

He starts to shift under you like he’s considering standing up but you stop him by leaning into him. 

“Ah ah, I’m not finished with you yet,” His eyes snap to yours in surprise.

“Rhett Abbott. Tellin’ me I could make you cum in your pants like a teen boy?” You lean back ever so slightly with a light snarl on your face, finally tightening your fingers to a tight grip in a way that makes his eyes glaze over, “Prove it.”

Pressing the heel of your palm into his crotch, you watch as he eyes scrunch shut and he grinds up once, twice, three times before a he releases a shaky exhale. You watch as he comes, as he pants and whines through his orgasm, the denim under your hand growing warm and wet. He doesn’t stop grinding and thrusting up against your hand til it draws a pained moan from him. 

“Can I–Can I keep going?” He tries to make eye contact but his eyes are too unfocused from pleasure, “Like it when it, ah, when it hurts.”

God, this is what you’ve been missing out on the whole time? You let yourself rock steadily in his lap as he grinds up against your hand and leans forward to kiss you messily. You wonder if he let the other girls he’s been with do this to him. But something tells you that isn’t the case–you really don’t want it to be.

The whines and gasps he’s letting out as he’s writhing below you are something from your most far-fetched fantasies. You’re only slightly stunned as you feel him get hard again below you, though it seems to draw out the pain more than the pleasure given the way his face twists up and the hiss he lets out. All at once he settles; and then he goes to lift your wrist away from his crotch. 

It’s terribly tender, the way he pulls away from you to press a kiss to the palm of your hand and smile widely at you. You almost get whiplash.

“What are you playin’ at?” You can’t help but settle back into your old ways–the Rhett Abbott you’ve known for so long has only really been around to aggravate you, the heartfelt way he’s looking at you sets you off kilter. 

When he laughs at the way you’re starting to get irritated, you try to pull your hand from his to no avail and it makes the heat rise in your face, “Knock it off, Rhett. You’re bein’ an asshole.”

But he just keeps smiling at you as he pulls your other hand off his neck so that he can place both on his shoulders and cradle your face, “You’re so beautiful.”

As if anticipating the way you’re going to react to his words, he pulls your face to his so that he can press your lips together once again. It’s nothing like before. Before it was all tongue and your lips barely meeting through the gasps and moans being pulled out of you. This time it’s something so warm, so delicate, it makes your chest hurt in a different way. 

“I hate you, Rhett Abbott,” You manage to gasp out once he pulls away fully, a sparkle in his eyes. It doesn’t have any heat to it, lacks all the rage it used to–this time, it just sounds like you might be trying to tell him you love him. 

He ignores you in favor of standing with you still in his arms and declaring, “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up and go to bed.”

Somewhere between your orgasm and when he kissed you that final time, you think he might’ve figured it out too–that you don’t hate him and maybe you never have. Because you let him carry you through his dark home without protest. You let him undress you wordlessly, without fanfare and without ogling your naked form. He simply drops your soiled clothing into a laundry hamper and starts undressing himself.

You watch him strip as he turns on the shower and gestures for you to follow him in when he steps in. For just a second you stare at him, halfway in and halfway out from under the stream of water, the way he’s staring at you expectantly. 

He still has that bruise on his cheek from where James Earl hit him what feels like a lifetime ago. His knuckles are still split in some places, just turning that particular shade of red in others. He’s a goddamn vision under the yellow and white fluorescent lights of his bathroom. It makes you want to hold your breath for fear that you’ll disturb the moment somehow.

The shower proceeds without a hitch. It’s oddly lacking sexual tension, though you notice that he’s still half hard. You have half a mind to sink to your knees and suck him off, just to prove your point, just to show him you mean business. But the way he gently washes you as if he’d done it a million times before stops you. You let him clean you up between your legs without a protest.

When he opens the bathroom cabinet to reveal various creams and lotions after you’ve both stepped out and wrapped yourselves in towels, you feel yourself start to get angry. Is he seriously showing you all the products he buys for all the other girls he brings home?

Instead, he smiles sheepishly at you and rubs the back of his neck, “You always smell so good, I spent ages tryin’ to figure out which one you were usin’. Just bought all of ‘em at some point.”

You feel floored as the fight leaves your body. You don’t have a way to be upset about that. Wordlessly, you pick up one of the bottles tucked in the second row and hand it to him. 

“It’s this one.” 

The grin that spreads over his face is one of such genuine happiness it makes you want to squeal and run for the hills at the same time. You wonder distantly if he’ll ever stop making you feel like that–simultaneously like a trapped animal and like you’re the only girl he’s ever seen. You wonder if this (there’s a ‘this’?) will last long enough for you to find out.

He lends you one of his shirts and you’re pleased to find out that it does hold his smell. It sits long on you, settling around your knees, making you feel just a bit like a sexy ghost with the way it hugs your chest. He pulls on a pair of briefs before flicking off the overhead light and then throwing back the covers and patting the space next to him.

“You’re a vision for a blind man, sugar,” His voice carries through the otherwise silent room, “Now come to bed.”

It’s something out of a daydream, climbing into bed with Rhett Abbott. You’re immediately enveloped in his scent, the way his arm lays heavy around your waist and pulls you close to him. For once, you don’t fight him.

“You okay there, sugar? Been awfully quiet.” His voice is low right next to your ear before he turns away momentarily to turn off the bedside table light. His arm is back around you in an instant.

Wiggling yourself around in his arms, you turn so that the two of you are nose to nose. He smiles that smile again, the one that fills you with warmth and makes your stomach twist. There’s barely enough light from outside to really see him as your eyes adjust to the dark, but you know his face.

“I don’t think I hate you.” 

He starts laughing. It shakes his shoulders and makes the bed creak. His eyes screw up and you can feel the way his stomach moves against yours. You feel your shoulders go up by your ears and you try to pull away, embarrassed that he’s laughing.

“I’m sorry, sugar, c’mere,” He tugs you even closer to him than before, if possible, “I’m not laughin’ at you, I’m laughin’ only ‘cause I never hated you. I don’t really think you hated me either.”

“Hey!” You’re indignant, “Rhett Abbott, who’re you to tell me how I feel?”

“Alright, alright, sugar, I’ll take ‘yer word for it. My heroics do it for ‘ya?” You barely catch the way he winks at you in the dark, but it makes you want to bite him in retaliation.

“The way you almost got the snot beat outta ‘ya? Sure.” Scoffing, you turn yourself over so you’re facing away from him again, only you don’t move out of his arms. 

He huffs lightly in protest, but lets it go in favor of nuzzling into your hair and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. It sends a warm sort of heat through you. You’re not ready to fully give in to him yet, but you think he might be growing on you. You’ll just have to see.

[moralesmilesanhour]

RODEO

genre: fluff, first meeting

format: bullet points/flash fiction(?)

pairing: miles (1610) x reader

summary: you encounter miles for the first time after a rodeo.

Sweat collects around your hairline underneath your wide-brimmed hat as you watch horses and bulls alike kick up dust around them.

Your voice risks going hoarse on account of all the cheering you and a friend do for your cousin once it's their turn to give chase.

After the rodeo, you spot your aunt having a lively chat with a tall, sturdy man that you later learn is Jefferson Davis Morales: a police officer from Brooklyn visiting family for the summer.

You groan the moment the woman makes eye contact with you, knowing she's about to wave you over.

The conversation is cordial; you shake hands and tell Mr. Morales a few white lies about how your academic life is going, and he goes on about how he has a son your age that they "had to practically drag down here" to attend.

"Miles–where'd that boy scurry off to? Miles!"

"I'm right here, dad."

A lanky boy with a deep russet-brown complexion materializes beside his father. He looks about as enthusiastic to be a part of this conversation as you are, shifting uncomfortably in leather boots that look new.

"Since we're in the area for a couple weeks, you might as well make a new friend, don't you think?"

Miles' eyes settle on you, wide and shiny like a deer in headlights. Each time your eyes meet, his gaze flickers down to his boots or some other part of your face. You would later find out that his hundred-yard stare just came with the territory and that he wasn't actually terrified of you.

"Oh, Y/N, Jeff was just tellin' me about how Miles is the artsy type like you are. Why don't y'all run along and get to know each other?"

Miles give you a tight, apologetic smile, and you give him a shrug.

"Wanna grab a bite to eat?" He asks. "Sure, if you want."

The two of you enter an awkward conversation over hot dogs, slowly realizing that your DIY projects and paintings were definitely not the same 'artsy' as his quick sketches and graffiti.

"So, like, what are you planning on majoring in?"

"Physics, probably. You?"

"Nursing. What's drawing you to physics? I don't hear that one a lot."

Miles' face lights up as he explains the ins and outs of Princeton's "cutting-edge" science program, and something about electrons that you won't even attempt to understand. He stops himself when he notices the smile playing on your face.

"...Sorry. You probably don't wanna hear all of that," he laughs nervously, tugging at the collar of his tassled shirt. You chuckle.

"I won't lie, none of that was really comprehensible to me, but you looked cute explainin' it."

Miles looks a little like his father when he smiles. Part of you wants to poke the dimples that appear in his cheeks.

The day ends with you exchanging phone numbers. Apprehension settles on Miles' features as he returns your phone to you.

"We'll only be here for like, two weeks, though."

"You'd better make sure to call me, then," you say with a wink.

[learnfromdiana]

What's good, people? It's your boy, LearnFromDiana's unofficial spokesperson, here to bless y'all with some knowledge. And let me tell you, today's topic is hotter than a Florida summer, so get ready.

We're gonna talk about something that's on everyone's mind these days: productivity. That's right, folks, we're gonna figure out how to get sh*t done and make it look easy.

Now, Diana has some pretty great tips on how to be productive, but I'm gonna take it to the next level. You ready? Here we go.

First off, forget about all that "work smarter, not harder" nonsense. That's a load of BS. You know what you need to do? Work harder AND smarter. Boom, mind blown.

Secondly, don't bother with all those fancy productivity apps and tools. Ain't nobody got time for that. Just write your to-do list on a piece of paper, like a caveman. It's simpler and more satisfying to cross things off with a pen. Trust me.

Thirdly, and this is where it gets spicy, take breaks. Yeah, I said it. Take breaks, people. I'm not saying take a two-hour nap in the middle of the workday (although, if you can swing it, go for it), but take a breather. Get up and stretch, go for a walk, check your phone. It's like hitting the reset button on your brain.

And lastly, if all else fails, just remember this: no one's perfect. Sometimes, you're gonna have an unproductive day. And that's okay. Take a deep breath, recharge, and get back on that productivity horse tomorrow.

So, there you have it, folks. Some tips on how to be a productivity master. Now go forth and conquer the day like the boss you are. And if anyone asks, tell 'em LearnFromDiana's spokesperson sent you. Peace out.

[romaevelizz]

Sandpaper ˖ ࣪⊹

Carter Dutton-Wheeler & oc!Crystal Maverick

1.) Miss Mav

sum: June had finally started meaning people would be coming and going from the ranch. Carter was excited to watch cowboys come and go from the ranch. Little did he know he’d be meeting a family friend that would be staying for the summer. The bunkhouse quickyly giving him shit for his little girl crush, little did he know just how close this family friend was.

warnings: cursing, Orginal characters! non-canon storyline! Not thoroughly proofread.

The sun had not yet begun to rise, casting a soft, dusky light over the rugged mountain peaks, but Carter was already awake and preparing for the day ahead. The scent of coffee mingled with the aroma of sizzling bacon wafted through the air as the bunkhouse came to life. The morning air was filled with a quiet anticipation, and conversations were just starting to bubble up among the occupants. Carter moved through the small, cluttered space, collecting his thoughts and his breakfast. He glanced at his bunkmates with a hint of amusement. Teeter was playfully flirting with Colby, herthick accent ringing out like a bright chime, while Colby, his cheeks flushed with joy, grinned from ear to ear, clearly enjoying the attention. In another corner, Lloyd and Ryan were engaged in their usual banter, teasing Jake mercilessly as they sipped their steaming cups of coffee. Carter couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics, feeling a warmth in his chest as camaraderie filled the room.

The atmosphere shifted slightly as Rip made his entrance, his presence commanding immediate attention. A hush fell over the bunkhouse as everyone turned to see what was planned for the day. He moved purposefully, and when he reached Carter, he offered a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes about their relationship. Carter met Rip’s gaze with a grateful smile, in many ways, Rip had become more of a father to Carter than his biological dad ever was. With every shared moment and every word, Rip had given Carter a sense of belonging and support that he had longed for. As the day began to unfold, Carter felt a deep sense of gratitude for this second chance ata life.

“Alright, well be having people coming in today I need bout, four stalls cleaned and set up,” he spoke up his gaze shifting to Carter as he said the last part. “We have family coming in needles to say, some of y'all know 'em and some of ya will just be meeting them. They're guest of Mr. Dutton treat them with respect.” he finished off the team nodding.

Carter cast a wary glance around, trying to gauge who was approaching. Rip had just wrapped up giving orders, and one by one, the others began to disperse, their footsteps echoing against the ground. With a sense of purpose, Carter moved to the stable, quickly getting to work on saddling the horses. As he tightened the girth and adjusted the stirrups, the distant rumble of a truck engine broke the stillness, its sound growing louder as it drew nearer. Finally seeing the truck it wasn't just one but two, two GMCs pulling horse trailers, one black, the other white. He let out a low whistle at the nice trucks. His eyes wandered curiously his gaze being shaped away hearing Rip yell at him.

“Boy! I need them stalled cleaned, get on it!” Rip hollered getting off his horse.

Without a moment's hesitation, Carter made his way directly to the stalls. The air was thick with the earthy scent of hay and the faint sound of rustling hooves. He rolled up his sleeves, he began to clear away the old bedding, gathering clumps of straw and manure into a wheelbarrow. The warmth of the sunlight filtering through the open barn door cast a golden hue on the wooden beams as he meticulously cleaned each stall, ensuring that everything was fresh and tidy for the animals that would stay in them. He heard the unfamiliar voices of people talking, the sound of hoves entering the barn getting louder before he stepped out of the stall. He Came face to face with a teenage boy his age, an older guy and Rip, bringing in three horses.

“This is Carter, he's mine,” Rip spoke half introducing him.

“Hello.” Carter smiled at the two.

“Hey! I'm Micheal, you can call me Mikey.” the younger boy introduced himself shaking Carter's hand. Mikey was pretty tall bout six feet like himself, he was black, his hair short clean fade on the sides but a hat backward on his head covering the small pit of hair he had on top. He seemed to be pretty strong a tone build not too skinny but a bit smaller than Carter. He wore a black tee shirt with a logo that Said ‘Maverick ranches’ inside a star, and some washed-out wranglers and boots.

“I am Elijah Maverick, his father. Thank you for cleaning up for us we got two other horses to bring in.” he smiled shaking the boy's hand. Now that was a big Man. He easily made Carter nervous though he was nothing but kind and even smiled at him, He was taller than his son and Rip maybe bout six-three, a dad-built with huge shoulders and arms he was muscular, to say the least. The Tan button-up shirt his sleeves rolled up with a different logo that Said Maverick Ranch kind of reminded him of the top gun logo but kinda different, but it was black showing the tattoo sleeves on his arms.

“Its a pleasure to meet you guys, do you need help with the other horses.” Carter asked wanting to be helpful.

Elijah let out a small chuckle at his eggness “No its alright, My daughter and her friend are out on them helping your cowboys for fun.” he spoke shaking his head.

He had a daughter? He thought meeting Mikeys eyes he asked “She older?”

Mikey scoffed “ She’ll tell you she is but only by like— seven minutes.” he rolled his eyes.

“Shes your twin? Wow that's cool.” Carter grinned.

“You could say” Mikey smiled, “you ride man?”

Carter nodded “Nice maybe you could show us around a bit haven't been here since we were kids.” Mikey explained.

“Sure id love too, but I don't get off till later this evening.” Carter shrugged.

“Hey no worries! We got some work to do, my sister in ropeing this summer so we got errans to run.”

She Ropes! The phrase hinted that she might rodeo a bit. The conversation between the three faded, and they stepped outside, with Carter trailing closely behind. He strolled toward the fence, where he could see them skillfully herding the cattle. His attention was immediately captured by an impressive all-black gelding, which glided smoothly across the landscape. Sitting atop the horse was a dark toned girl whose long, mixed-color braids of different browns and blonds were woven into a single, thick braid thatmoved as she maneuvered with practiced ease. She commanded the horse effortlessly, guiding the cattle with precision. She wore of a snug pink t-shirt with a Maverick Ranch logothe shirt highlighted her curved frame, paired with light-washed boot-cut True Religion jeans that hugged her legs comfortably. A pair of boots on her feet, complementing the rugged ensemble. Cinched around her waist was a stylish belt, adorned with a gleaming buckle—perhaps a trophy from a recent victory.

As Carter's gaze shifted to her face, he couldn’t help but notice how striking she was. A wide, radiant smile lit up her features, radiating confidence as she worked the herd. Her youthful appearance was enhanced by several piercings; both nostrils and ears displayed shimmering gold jewelry that suggested a sense of maturity. On her head was a light tan felt hat, which she adjusted with a quick flick of her hand as she turned to listen for her name being called in the distance.

“Well shit miss. Mav you can cowboy better than Jake here!” Lloyd complimented the young girl.

Her laughter bubbled up, bright and infectious, and it brought a small, genuine smile to Carter's face.

“Crystal, mere!” he heard a deep voice say next to him.

She quickly made her way over the fence, “Hi daddy!”

“Hi baby, wanna intriduce you to Carter, take it you met some of Rips new boys.”

She hummed nodding her head “But this is Carter, he Beth and Rips kid.” he spoke.

Carter watch as she raided a brow “They took me in.” he spoke up clearing her confusion.

“Ohhh- that makes a bit more since, Nice to meet you Carter! I'm Crystal, how old are you?” she asked quickly.

“Im 16 turn 17 in july.” he said.

“Nice! Bit older than Tate.” she spoke.

Her head looked over her shoulder again “Sorry I started helping them wanna finish up before I come out! But again it's nice to meet you good to know there are kids our age here so I wo t be stuck with those old farts.” she giggled motioning towards Lloyd and Jake.

He nodded “No worries I get it I gotta get back to work myself, nice to meet you Ma'am.”

She flashed him a radiant smile one final time before returning to her work, a gesture so warm and genuine that it felt contagious. Carter couldn’t help but feel the corners of his mouth tug upwards into a grin. The brightness of her expression seemed to light up the room, and perhaps it was a tad too apparent, as he caught Lloyd’s gaze across the space. Lloyd was watching him with a knowing chuckle, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement at Carter's unintentional display of infatuation.

“Don't let that sweet smile fool you, kid; she's quite the handful,” Elijah chuckled, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes as he warned the young boy. His heart swelled with love for his daughter, a whirlwind of energy who had a delightful knack for turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. With her vibrant personality, she commanded attention wherever she went—her laughter rang out like a cheerful melody, and her outgoing nature was unmistakable.

Though her smile was disarmingly charming, Elijah knew that beneath that veneer lay a fierce spirit capable of surprising even the hardiest of souls. Her words often spilled forth without hesitation, and it was her fearless confidence that sometimes left adults taken aback. She could rope and ride with an expertise that rivaled seasoned cowboys, effortlessly outshining those who had spent years honing their craft. Every time she mounted her horse, it was as if the wild spirit of the West surged through her veins, and Elijah couldn’t help but beam with pride at the audacity and joy with which she embraced life.

“Common miss. Mav shows em whatcha got.” Walker spoke.

Carter's mind drifted as he pondered the unusual nickname, "Miss Mav." The curious title echoed in his thoughts, leaving him with a sense of intrigue. He couldn't help but wonder about its origin and what it revealed about her character. Yet, he decided to put that question aside for now, focusing instead on the moment at hand.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the landscape, the day began to draw to a close. The Mavericks had ventured out for a while, promising to return later, leaving behind a lively atmosphere in the bunkhouse. Inside, the boys gathered, their laughter echoing off the wooden walls as they shared stories and teased one another. Teeter, seemed particularly taken with Crystal, affectionately referring to her as “my girl.” The friendly ribbing continued as they playfully jabbed at Jake, tasing that the young girl had outdone him in their cowboy activities that day.

Carter still curios he was still a bit out of the loop regarding the Mavericks. When he inquired about them, Lloyd took the opportunity to share tales of their impressive ranch located up in Oregon, not quite as expansive as Yellowstone, but substantial nonetheless. He painted a vivid picture of the Tillamook area, where the Mavericks cultivated a diverse array of animals—goats, chickens, and horses. This conversation reignited the question that had been lingering in Carte's mind,.

“Why do you guys call her ‘Miss. Mav’?” he asked.

Lloyed chuckled “Just respect really, a nickname that has been with her for years. She was a bossy thing when she was younger and hung around here. Shit I mean she still is. They call her that in the rodeo to just kinda stuck Mr. Dutton started it really.” he finished.

Carter nodded, his gaze drifting away from Lloyd, his thoughts lingering on their recent interaction. He recalled the moment when she was putting her horse away, a vivid picture in his mind. Her spirited chatter had flowed effortlessly, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being scrutinized, as if he were in the hot seat. The way she tilted her head, a delicate movement that drew attention to the soft curves of her features, captivated him. Her eyes, bright and intent, locked onto his with a piercing focus, making him acutely aware of every word he uttered. An unsettling mix of nerves and intrigue bubbled within him, leaving him both breathless and contemplative.

He watched her as she bikers with her horse as one would with a person made him laugh, “Why do argue with him like he can understand you.” Carter asked laughing a bit and closing the stall as she stepped out.

“Hes like a giant dog who has no manners.” she scoffed glaring at her horse.

He chuckled a bit watching the horse wander around the unfamiliar stall before sticking his head out and going for her hat. Crystal quickly grabbing her hat from him, “Can you not! Can't you see in having a conversation!”

Her horse shook his head almost in a mocking manner “Take it he's a handful when y'all aren't actually showing?”

“Handful is an understatement Theo is a Boy dog with leg extensions.” she laughed a bit.

Their eyes met, “so whatcha doing tonight Carter?” she asked putting her hand behind her back.

Carter scracthed his neck nervously as she stepped a bit closer to him, “Well.. Uh nothin much, just plan on turning in for the night having dinner with my family tonight.”

She hummed “ Ouu sounds fun so ill see you at dinner then! Maybe after-”

“Cryst! Let's go!” Mikey yelled into the barn, his voice stopped quickly seeing them close.

“Hey! You leave that poor boy alone!” Mikey yelled.

Her head shaped over to her brother scoffing “Shut up Michael! Can't I have friends!” she finish shoot ping her hands up in a shrug expression.

“Carter run while you can!” he spoke, a small playful scream leaving him as he quickly ran back as he saw his sister start to move towards him.

She looked back quickly waving at Carter and smiling at him “Bye Carter I’ll see you at dinner!” she spoke quickly before turning back and running out of the barn.

Coming back out of though he laughed a bit to himself his eyes looking up meeting Ryans. He sat up quickly looking around “ What?” he asked.

“Oh nothing, just watching you smile to yourself over there like a lil weirdo.” Ryan spoke shrugging his shoulders.

“What no! Am I really?” he asked quickly.

“Ye’ yet are” Teeter grinned, “Thinkin’ bout’ lil miss Mav huh?” Teeter spoke to the boy.

Carter shook he head standing up “No its not like that, just not used to talking to kids my age and having some around is nice..”

Lloyd hummed mockingly “mmhmm, Thats why you waited a hole hour after just to unsaddle her horse.”

“I was being nice.”

The bunkhouse erupted into a chorus of laughter, the sound echoing off the wooden walls. A playful teasing filled the air as the boy, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and delight, exchanged glances with his obvious crush. It was to early to say he had any actual feelings toward her but he'd be lying if he said he didn't grin when thinking about her.

The bunkhouse fell to a hush as Beth entered the house, “Baby lets go we have guest tonight.” she spoke motioning to him.

Carter looked back at everyone “Not a word..” he mouthed, the cowboys only laughing lowly as he left.

Getting in Beths car she looked over at him. “I need you to take a shower when we get up to the house okay? Gotta be a bit presentable.” grabbing his head kissing the side of it, “You smell like horse shit.” she smiled before starting the car heading up to the house.

This was bound to be an interesting dinner.

[tricornonthecob]

Ow my back

Felicity Steals An Entire Fucking Horse: The Movie (2005)

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9

Man did they spray that pony with fake sweat.

Have you considered: the racehorse is not used to carts or getting yelled at by drunkards.

You know who this guy reminds me of?

Five-Below version of British Man typecast as Grumpy British Man in every single BBC period drama from 1980 onward.

small human, please do not run towards the skittish 1,500 lb creature with sledgehammers for hands.

"Drag his ass, Penny!"

Felicity is ready to throw hands, she should have been a lady pugilist.

Ben: "stfu Felicity!!!!"

Ben: "no kill the delivery boy pls."

I mean, we get that you're dehydrated, day drunk, possibly heat stroked, and inappropriately mourning your dead wife due to the cruel restrictions of the patriarchy, but yes, Jiggy Nye, that's generally how these transactions work.

lol the side-eye on this horse.

You're no fun, Mrs. Merriman, let the theater kid have some theatrics.

I mean the recognition is nice but how about some manumission ayyyyy

so why the fuck did he buy a racehorse when he needed a draft pony??? Also damn that is ALOT of madeira.

Damn, ol Eddy's got that Bill Clinton Squintin' goin' on.

In case y'all needed remindin' on who runs the Merriman household.

Shut up and drink your claret, Nan.

As a kid hearing this: "Man that's a lame surprise."

As an adult hearing this: "Fuck yeah, Merriman Grant! Y'all wanna pay for my educatin', too???"

"You sweet summer child."

Welllllllllllllllllllllllllllll that might be a little tricky.

oh my GOD, Nan.

And there's a no-refunds policy on the deposit.

Girl its only gonna take like twenty minutes to teach you that, calm down.

We get it, Mrs. Merriman, you're Top Bitch in the Notable Housewives of The Greater Hampton Roads Area and come from a long line of Hot-Shit MILFs.

[brasideios]

My boy Charlie

So, tentatively, I really want to start posting more about my original writing, since that's what I do full time; what I'm working on, the things I'm writing about, and just generally more writerly stuff, including talking about my OCs.

I feel rather shy about it, but I'm doing it anyway. If y'all hate it, I'm sorry in advance.

I've started with an OC because of a conversation I had in passing with @ainulindaelynn last week. As I said there, a lot of my OCs are based on kind of 'archetypes' I've developed (if that's not too grand a name for it) who I write and rewrite in various guises. I usually call them after the name I gave them the first time I really dug into their character.

Which brings me to my boy Charlie.

He's been my muse for a really long time - and I had this weird experience where I found a picture of him the other day so you can even see him without my having to attempt to draw his ass:

[This image is from a fashion catalogue; the absurdly expensive brand is Connolly.]

Something about the unsmiling face, the way he's looking away into the distance - just the whole vibe. The model from other angles doesn’t look like him, just this image... and the vibes.  

Original Charlie

The first time I wrote Charlie was in 2004 in a short story called The Pioneer; that short story was re-written heavily in 2014 and was eventually polished up and included in my published (2018) book Stories from Wiacubbin.

It was called - can you guess? - Charlie 😆 I've never enjoyed coming up with titles!

The whole book was written as an extension of that short, to expand on the characters in it so - what a journey this guy has taken me on.

Anyway. This is (the polished version of) how he's first introduced:

~~~

The sky was the barely blue of a long dry summer, even though it was only early December. Sun-bleached wheat fields lay across the flats, blonde on red clay.

Charlie was surrounded by familiar sounds: the shush of the breeze in the wheat; the snort of the horse’s breath and the muffled thump of its hooves on compacted dirt; the clink of the harness. He was a man used to being in the saddle - his mother had liked to say he was born into it. 

He squinted out from beneath his hat, pulled low over blue eyes, at the crop as he passed. It was an assessing glance which told him harvest wasn’t far off.

The Young’s homestead lay ahead. Granite dry walls, sun-baked mud brick, corrugated iron; the outbuildings of canvas, tree trunks, stone; and beyond, the granite outcrop, Wiacubbin Hill - a dark looming mass in the bright day.

The cattle dogs heard the horse and rider approaching and began to bark. Two men walked out from the stables curiously, shielding their eyes from the sun. 

As Charlie dismounted, the elder of the two asked, ‘You the new man?’

Charlie nodded curtly, and introduced himself.

‘I’m Ed, this is John.’ John nodded in greeting.

‘The boss about?’ Charlie asked after shaking hands with them both.

‘Down the south paddock. He’ll be back shortly. Head into the house and the girl’ll get you a drink while you wait.’

The house faced the outcrop. There was a dry gully which ran from the dam in the orchard at the south end of the house, along the front of the veranda and into oblivion, thus dividing the house from the driveway. Two rough-hewn tree trunks had been placed across the gully, and Charlie walked over these and then up the couple of steps to the veranda and the front door.

The door stood open. He knocked politely against the door frame before stepping across the threshold. 

The dining room was unexpectedly cool. With whitewashed walls, it was dominated by a large, scrubbed table; its only nod to decoration was a sideboard on which several old-fashioned photographs stood. He was looking at these when a girl in her late teens came into the room.

‘My father’s out. He’ll be back soon.’ Her voice was very soft. For a moment, their eyes met. She looked away. ‘Please sit. I’ll bring tea.’

He watched her go, then did as she’d instructed. He took a seat which gave him a clear view of the outcrop and the dam humped beneath it. The landscape was blurred and moving in the heat haze, a wash of gold, ochre and brown. 

His eyes wandered back to the photographs on the sideboard. The family ancestors, he assumed. None of the girl, he noted; only matriarchal women in tight-laced dresses and huge hats, and men in dark suits and full moustaches, all of them looking very serious.

He heard the clink of the teapot lid and teaspoons against the china as the girl came back. She set the tray down on the table, then handed him a cup and saucer, and set another at the head of the table.

She turned to leave, but stopped when he said, ‘I’m Charlie, by the way.’

She looked at him from under her brows, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly. Her face was as serious as the ancestors on the sideboard beside her.

‘I’m Rebekah.’ She was gone again before he could say anything further. He poured the tea into his own cup, frowning momentarily.

~~~

New Charlie (Joel).

I've been working on a new story, set nearly ~80 years later, and was digging into a new character via dialogue, Joel. I got a-ways in and was like, oh no. This is Charlie.

So new Charlie has just dropped (or has started to drop, anyway 😆)

(This is a WIP so forgive unpolished bits):

~~~

It was a perfect golden afternoon – the sparkling ocean beneath a high clear sky; a cargo ship even then was slipping towards the hazy horizon.

There was a golden quality to it all that tugged at my heart strings. The strange sense I sometimes have of the perfection of the world – or at the least, of a moment of perfection.

That feeling was powered by intense gratitude. I was still haunted by the person I’d been, and perhaps still partly was. The darkness that’d been in me – but I didn’t want to think about that. There was too much pain in it.

The guy who was sitting with Rowan came over to where I was looking out at the sunset, dragging a chair behind him, clumsy and shy. The sun caught his sandy brown hair, turning it vividly gold. His face was pleasant, wide-browed, but there was something vaguely brooding about him; something stern could be glimpsed lurking beneath the friendly surface. His eyes were very blue.

‘Since your friend and my friend are talking, I thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Joel.’

He offered a hand, and I shook it. His hand was so calloused, I almost recoiled.

‘Arity,’ I said.

‘So, what brings you ladies here this arvo?’

‘It’s my birthday actually.’

‘Let me guess,’ he said, squinting at me. ‘You’re… twenty-five?’

He was right. ‘Good guess.’

He smiled in one corner of his mouth.

I pondered a moment, looking at the pint of beer he’d placed on the table. The drops of condensation on the glass caught the sunlight like jewels.

After a minute, I said, ‘Well, I guess one of us has to do it.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do what?’

‘Ask the obligatory, boring question – what do you do for a crust?’

He half-smiled again. ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’

I laughed, though I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking.

I suggested, ‘So… you’re a secret assassin, here to take out innocent women quietly drinking their cocktails?’

He smiled properly. It transformed his face in an astonishing way, softening the hard lines, crinkling his eyes at the corners charmingly.

‘Not at all,’ he said, though I could see him choosing his words. ‘I’m in public service. What about you?’

‘I work in hotels.’

‘Anywhere good?’ he asked, then clarified, ‘I mean here, in Perth, or somewhere exotic?’

‘Here,’ I said. ‘But I want to go up north eventually, after I finish my degree.’

‘Your degree?’

He’d visibly recoiled a little. I wondered what he was thinking.

‘I’m going to be a writer.’ I said it boldly, as if finishing the degree would automatically eject into the world someone who would write a novel. As if authors were somehow produced via a reliable process. ‘That’s part of why I want to travel. I can’t write about this shithole, can I?’

He half smiled at that; whatever thought the degree had provoked had passed, apparently. Maybe I’d misunderstood his body language.

‘I dunno.’ He looked around us pointedly, eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve been to worse pubs.’

It took me a second, then I caught up. I laughed.

‘You know what I mean!’

He took a drink before he said, ‘I sure do. Perth sucks.’

I agreed with him, but there was something about the way he said it that made me perk up my ears. To me, it sucked, but I meant it in an affectionate way; his dislike was different.

‘You’re not from here originally.’ It wasn’t a question.

He shook his head. ‘Brisbane.’

‘Been here long?’

‘Seven months. Another five to go.’

‘Then what?’

He shrugged, looking out at the ocean. ‘Not sure yet.’

Something clicked then. I’d grown up in Langarrin with new Navy kids always turning up for classes, then leaving again a year later. One of my high school friends had joined up when he was old enough, and he’d seemed to move at least every year, sometimes more, until we eventually lost touch.

And, of course, there’d been my Dad.

‘Are you in Defence?’ I asked, unintentionally pitching my voice low, as if I was asking him to disclose a state secret. Maybe it was his earlier evasiveness which made me vaguely nervous about asking.

The swiftest flicker of surprise crossed his face, as though I’d caught him out; but it was gone as he tilted his head and asked very coolly, ‘What makes you ask that?’

I sat back. I knew I was right. I wondered why he hadn’t just told me outright – I’d never met a sailor who’d been that evasive.

I shrugged. ‘I’ve known sailors all my life.’

He scoffed. ‘Navy.’ He shifted then, sitting up straighter. He met my eye with an almost defiant expression. ‘I’m Army.’

I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say about that. I said, ‘Fair enough,’ but I felt compelled to add, ‘I don’t judge.’

He visibly relaxed. I didn’t understand his reactions at all.

‘Do you want another drink?’ he asked. Why did I feel like I’d passed a test?

‘Yes, please,’ I said, waving my now-empty glass at him. ‘Tom Collins.’

He asked Rowan if he wanted another, and Suzie took the moment to glance over at me then.

She tilted her head, as if to ask if everything was good. I smiled back, reassuringly. I wasn’t sure if I liked Joel, but I’d definitely been around worse people.

I returned the favour, and she smiled in this way she had that said she liked him. I smiled back.

~~~

So that's Charlie. He's one of the easiest to pin down.

Where I can identify the source of his character, he's based very loosely on a close friend I had at one time, mixed with a collection of ideas gleaned from the books of Cormac McCarthy, all things Western, and a brief spell of being really into mid-century history.

If anyone cares to ask anything about him or OCs in general, or anything about writing, I'm open to talk about anything pretty much. AND I would love to see/hear about everyone else's OCs. It's so interesting to see what other people people are making 😆

If you read this far, thank you 🤍

[khoicesbyk]

The Royal Romance.

Forevermore.

A/N: this is the next chapter in the journey of my OTP. Follow along for the fun.

Rated: Mature (at times can and will be Explicit. I'll be sure to change the rating when and if that happens). | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual. Y'all should be used to this from me by now 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me and/or other authors [their characters have been mentioned and/or used in the story with their permission] ) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: words. (may be slightly more or may be slightly less. Look, I stop counting after editing and re-editing and driving myself insane. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

This series is rated Mature and/or Explicit. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations

Chapter 2.) The Family Rys. Part 1.

It was the end of Summer and the beginning of Fall in Cordonia. It was September and the running of the Cordonian Derby. For the first time in five years. Marquise was excited. He's always loved horses and horse racing and to have it come alive again made him giddy. He had spent the past few weeks meeting with organizers, vendors, horse owners, and staff at the racetrack and stables to make sure everything was in order and the event would go off without a hitch. 

He was coming back from a visit to the racetrack when he was greeted by three of his favorite people, his wife and his boys. 

“How was it?” Shanelle asked. 

“Amazing. Everything is almost ready. The stables and the track are beautiful. I can't wait for everyone to see it.” he replied as he picked up his two toddling babies. 

“Good. I know my dad is excited. He said the Derby was one of my grandfathers’ favorite pastimes.”

“I know. The last time I remember seeing him was at a race before he died.” 

“I wish I could've been there. I'm sure I would’ve loved it.”

“Of course. And King Dominic would've had the winner of that race given to you.”

“Even though Edward and your father were both King at that point?” Shanelle asked. 

“Trust me. Your grandfather didn't care who was King. That horse would've been yours. It's one of things I've always respected about him. You became his reason. It was no longer about him. It became about you.” Marquise replied. 

Shanelle smiled wistfully. 

“Walk with us?” Marquise asked. 

They walked to the playground where the boys wobbled over to the swings. 

“Looks like two little someones want their Daddy to push them.”

“They always want me to push them.” Marquise pouted. 

“It's what you have those big ass arms for. Now move it. My boys are waiting.”

Marquise cut his eyes at her over his shoulder before going to push the boys. 

While most noble parents took an off hand approach to raising their children Marquise and Shanelle do not. They make sure to always be present in their children's lives and if they have to leave them, they know that their kids are safely in the care of Margo and her family. 

“There you are! And there's my two little turtle doves!” Margo announced. The boys perked up at the sound of her voice. 

“Well Hi mom. It's good to see you too.” Marquise replies. 

Margo waved him off and went straight for the twins. 

“Y’know I'm starting to get the sense that you love them more than you love me.” Marquise said to his mother. 

“I do love them more than I love you.” Margo replied. “You’re an adult son. A fully grown old spinster. Whereas my two precious turtle doves are not.” 

Shanelle stifled her laugh. 

“You do realize that I control your paycheck right?” 

“No your daughter does and she’d be pissed at you if you ever withheld it from her grandmother,” Shanelle replies. 

“Indeed she would.”

Marquise groaned. 

“How many times do I have to tell you two that she doesn't get a say?”

Margo and Shanelle looked at each other. 

“Son, how many times have you ever told your daughter no? Don't answer that because I can do that for you: none! You never tell her no.”

“Your mom has a point.” Shanelle added. 

“There’s a first time for everything you know!” 

“Not when it comes to your daughter.” 

“I have to agree with my Queen. You will never ever be able to tell the Princess no.” Margo quipped. 

Marquise cut his eyes at them both before he shook his head. 

“How was your appointment mama?” Marquise asked. 

“It went well. The newest scans show that the cancer has not grown any and Dr. Pollard thinks my treatments are doing wonderfully. He also believes that with things going so well I may be able to stop treatments soon.” Margo replies. 

Marquise closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank goodness,” Shanelle said. 

Margo smiled at them both. 

“You two have enough to worry about. You don't need to worry about me.”

Marquise pulled her close. 

“Mama we have been over this. As long as I breathe I will always worry about and for you. Especially now. Now have you had a chance to rest?”

“Yes my son I have. And before you ask, yes, I've eaten as well.”

“I wasn't going to ask but thank you for telling me.”

“Suuuuure you weren't.” Shanelle quipped. 

“How was your visit to the track?” Margo asked. 

“Fantastic. The track and stables are beautiful.” Marquise replied. 

“Good. I know how much this meant to you. And to Papa.”

Marquise smiled wistfully. 

“God I miss him. I wish he was here. He would've gone with me and would've charmed everyone.”

“That sounds like George,” Shanelle added. 

“And after you got back he would've told these two adorable little ones everything in stunning detail.” Margo quipped. 

Marquise fixed his face to mimic George. 

“You'll see soon my boys. There will be horses and women! Lots of women! Many for you two to choose from!” 

Margo shook her head with a smile. 

“How I put up with that man for so long even I will never know.” 

“You did it because you loved him. Just like you love me.” 

“Them son.” Margo corrected him, “I love them and their sister.”

“One of these days I'm gonna get you to admit it!”

“Don’t hold your breath son.”

Shanelle snorted just as one of the boys yawned. 

“Uh oh! Sounds like nap time for these two.”

Marquise checked his Apple Watch. 

“Yes, and it’s time to go pick Khari up from school.”

“Okay. I’ll go put them down for their naps. And you and Margo go get the Princess.”

“Deal.” Marquise replies before offering an arm to Margo, “Madam Geaneaux?”

“Merci mon roi,” Margo replied. 

Soon they were off to get the Princess from school. While outside the school gates, Marquise took time to greet the other parents and speak with as many of them as always. When the gates opened up, all of the children came running out. Many were smiling and giggling as they ran to their parents. Seeing the children reminded Margo of when Marquise was little and waiting to be picked up from school. 

“I remember a time when you were this little son,” she whispered to him. 

He smiled at her. 

“I know. I couldn't wait to see you and my mother.”

“I remember she used to always speak to everyone. Like you do.”

When Marquise looked up there was his little girl. Running straight towards him.

“Hi Daddy! Hi Grammy!” she said as she got to them. 

“Hello my love. Did you have a good day at school today?” he asked. 

“Uh huh. I even met our new Headmaster. She said you and her went to school together.”

“Really?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Her name is Lady Josselyn Gallagher.” Khari replies. 

Margo looked at her son. 

“Gallagher? Like Lord Gallagher of Comery Isle?” Margo asked. 

“Yes. Lady Josselyn is his oldest sister.” Marquise replied. 

“Interesting.”

“That’s one way to put it.” 

As soon as Marquise said that, Lady Gallagher came walking out of the gates and made a beeline for His Majesty. 

“Your Majesty! It's great to see you. It's been far too long.”

“You as well my lady.” Marquise replied. 

“I should have known this bright beautiful girl was your daughter,” she said, gesturing to Khari. “How have you been Marquise?”

“Your Majesty. My lady.” Marquise corrected her. 

“Yes. My apologies. How have you been, Your Majesty?”

“I’ve been well, thank you. The last I heard you were teaching in Edinburgh.”

“Yes, I was. But I began to feel homesick and when Earl Rickards retired as Headmaster I applied for the vacancy. And the rest is history.”

“Well, it's good to have you here. If you'll excuse us.”

Lady Gallagher nodded politely. 

“Of course my King.”

Marquise escorted Margo and Khari to the waiting motorcade. Once inside Khari spoke. 

“Daddy can we stop for a snack?” she asked. 

“Sure. What would you like?”

“Apple turnovers!” she replied. 

“Mama?” he asks Margo. 

“I agree with the Princess,” Margo replies. 

“Turnovers it is!”

“And Cinnamon Rolls for Mommy. And maybe some apple juice for the boys,” Khari added. 

“Very well my love.”

Marquise turned to the driver. 

“Diego can you take us to Bookaholic Cafe please?”

Soon they were off to the cafe for snacks then to the palace. Later after helping Khari with her homework, playtime with the boys, a very animated family dinner, bubble baths, and bedtime stories, the Royals were relaxing by a fire in the Residence. 

“Now this is more like it. A glass of Lowyn Black, a roaring fire, and my human pillow.” Shanelle said with contented sigh. 

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“Shhhh! Less talkie more laying still.”

Marquise rolled his eyes good naturedly. 

“I met Khari’s new Headmaster today.”

“Really?” Shanelle asked. 

“Yup. Lady Josselyn Gallagher is the new Headmaster.”

Shanelle sat up slightly. 

“Gallagher as in?” she asked. 

“You sound like mom. But to answer your question, yes, THAT Gallagher. She's his oldest sister. She and I went to school together. In addition to being the ladies football captain, she was one of Naya’s best friends.” Marquise replies. 

Shanelle groaned. 

“Of course she was…is she going to be a problem?” Shanelle asks. 

“No I don't think so. While her brother and sister-in-law may be a pain in the ass, she's not. At least she shouldn't be.” Marquise replied. 

“Famous last words.” Shanelle muttered. 

“Besides she knows she can be removed from her post as Headmaster.” 

“She can?” Shanelle asks. 

“Yes. The school advisory panel who hired her sent over her contract. There's a clause in the contract that specifically states that I can remove her if I find she's harmful to the children at the school.” Marquise replied. 

“I wonder how her brother feels.”

“He’s probably thrilled. Although Josselyn had no interest in courtly politics when we were growing up, I'm sure she has mild interest now. Especially when her brother is a Head Of State.”

“I’m really starting to not like that family.”

“Josselyn is harmless. She used to have a crush on Bannon growing up but he always turned her down.”

“Smart man.” Shanelle quipped. 

Marquise shook his head. 

“Now onto more exciting matters. Like the Derby in two weeks. I'm so excited.”

“I know my dad is too. He and mama said they'd arrive with the kids.”

“Good. I'm excited for our children to see the stables and feed the horses.”

“I’m not too sure the boys will get it though.” 

“Oh I’m sure they won't but at least they'll look cute.”

“True.” 

The couple enjoyed the rest of their quiet evening together. Sipping wine and being snuggled up together. A few days later Shanelle found herself back home in New York for New York Fashion Week. She also took the time to spend time with her parents. 

“It's good to have you home Butterfly,” Shantel said to her daughter. 

“Oh please. You’re just excited that we’re going to the fashion show tonight.” Damian piped up. 

Shantel rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, hush! I could've gone for years if someone would've taken me, Mr. Ambassador.” 

“If I've told you once then I've told you a thousand times Shantel, I am not sitting through five hours of ugly-looking walking planks wearing fishnet!” Damien fussed. 

“Okay break it up you two! Besides, it's time for us to go mama.”

“I’m so excited.”

Damien shook his head with a smile. 

“Enjoy my loves.”

“Byeeeee!” they said as they walked out the door. 

They arrived at the Alexander McQueen show early enough to get backstage and meet a few of the models and designers, before taking their seats and being awed by the show. Later that night after Shanelle and her mother got back it was all Shantel wanted to talk about. Just as Shanelle got ready for bed, her father popped his head in to speak. 

“Do you know your mother hasn’t shut up yet?” He asks. 

Shanelle snorted. 

“Leave her alone. She had an amazing time.”

Damien shook his head with a smile as sat down on the edge of her bed. 

“I know. It’s all I’m going to hear about for the next millennia.”

“Stop it, Daddy.”

“Did you enjoy yourself my love?” Damien asks. 

“I did. I enjoy the shows. Next year I’m going to Paris Fashion Week.” she replies. 

“Please don’t take your mother. She’ll never let me live it down.”

“No promises.”

Damien smiled before leaving her bedroom. After a FaceTime call to her husband to tell her babies goodnight she went on to bed. The next few days were a blur of shows, shopping, and photos. Shanelle was asked by designer Christian Siriano himself to pose for his Haute Couture Line. But what she was most excited about was having a quiet dinner with her Dad. 

“Have you had fun this week?” Damien asks. 

“Have I ever! It's been so much fun.” Shanelle replies. 

“Good. I'm happy you've had a blast. How are things in the kingdom?” he asked. 

“Pretty good. Marquise has been interviewing people to fill an official position,” she replies. 

“Oh? What position?”

“Education Minister.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Duke Francis has decided to retire at the end of the month. So this week he's doing interviews.” 

“I wonder…” Damien trailed off. 

“Wonder what Daddy?”

“I wonder if he'd offer your mother the position.”

“Uh Daddy Mom retired, remember?”

“You know your mother has never stayed away from the one thing she loves besides her family. She's been hosting workshops left and right for months.”

Shanelle smiled softly. 

“I should've known that she'd never truly walk away. I'll text him and have him interview with her. More than likely the job is hers.”

“Of course. She's an educator at her core.”

“And the schedule will give her the flexibility that her teaching job didn't necessarily give her.”

“Besides, your mother never really liked Burgess. She always said he was too stuffy for the role.”

“In her defense, Mom wasn't wrong.”

The two laughed. 

After spending time with her parents, Shanelle couldn't leave New York without seeing her nieces and nephew. As soon as she got to Dee's, AJ came barreling out of the house, nearly knocking Shanelle down. Not that she minded. 

“TiTi!”

“Hi, pretty girl!”

“TiTi come to see me?”

Shanelle’s heart nearly melted. 

“Yes, Precious, I came to see you.”

“Yayyyy! I missed you TiTi.”

“I missed you too sweetheart.”

When Shanelle looked up at the entrance Dee was standing there shaking her head with a smile. 

“I swear you two are so dramatic.”

“Whatever! You’re just jealous!”

Shanelle put AJ down long enough to hug her mother. 

“It's good to see you Nelle,” Dee said. 

“Same love.”

The girls have been friends for years. It's always a good time when they get together. After playing with AJ until she fell asleep Shanelle got to see and hold her youngest niece and nephew and catch up with Dee. 

“I swear nothing beats that new baby smell.”

“Unless it's a dirty diaper.” Dee quipped. 

“True.”

The girls laughed. 

“How are you doing babe? Really.” Shanelle asked. 

Dee chuckled softly. 

“You never stop,” Dee replies. 

“How long have you known me, Ms. Day?” 

“As you always say forever and a day. But to answer your question, I'm doing good. James and I are in a great place. We have these beautiful little ones. Our businesses are booming. We're good I promise.” Dee replied. 

“Good. It does my heart good to see you happy.”

“Thanks, Nelle. I know you worry about me and trust me I appreciate it and you more than you know but I promise I'm okay.”

“Alright, love.”

“How are Marquise and the kids?” Dee asked. 

“Driving me crazy. I'm kidding. The boys are toddling all over the place. Khari is bossing everyone in my damn house around. And their daddy is the same lovable beanstalk he's always been. We're good love.” Shanelle replies. 

Dee laughed. 

“Stop calling him that.”

“I will do no such thing! It's not my fault he's 6’5.”

“Be nice Nelle.”

“Oh, be quiet! The only reason you’re defending him is because he has Bookaholic cater his meetings on top of the fact he and Khari always go to the cafe after she gets outta school.” 

“Exactly. He and your dad are two of my best customers. Marquise has had us cater all his meetings as well as catering breakfast and lunch for your palace staff since we opened there and your dad is always buying three dozen chocolate croissants and two large Dark Roast coffees with hazelnut cream and sugar from our flagship.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes good-naturedly. 

“Okay. And when those two eat you out of stock don't dare you call me! Because I ain't got nothing to do with it!” Shanelle warned. 

The girls laughed. 

“Thank you for coming to check on us. I appreciate it so much.”

“Always my love. It's what family does.”

Dee hugged her. 

“I love you, Nelle.”

“I love you too babe.”

Meanwhile, in Cordonia, Marquise was about to interview his mother-in-law for the position of Education Minister. When he called her on FaceTime she picked up with a smile. 

“Hello, son in love. How are you?” she asked. 

“I'm doing good Mom,” he replied. 

“How are my grandbabies?” 

“They're good. Khari is at school doing God knows what. And the boys are here but I put them down for a nap. I was hoping you had a free moment.”

“For the King? Always honey. How can I help you?” Shantel asks. 

Marquise chuckled. 

“I’ll get to the point. I have an opportunity for you.”

“Oh? What kind of opportunity?” she asked.

“Duke Francis has decided to retire at the end of the month. And I now have to fill his position as Education Minister. And after having interviews all week I was hoping to have you take the position.” he replied. 

“You want me?! According to the law Marquise, that position is only to be filled by someone of noble status.”

“To be fair, you are married to a Prince and you were given the title of Duchess by his father, your daughter is the Queen of Cordonia, and your grandchildren are the Heirs to the throne. So I think that counts towards you having noble status.”

Shantel snorted. 

“This is nepotism, son.”

“This is politics.”

“Uh-huh. Who put you up to this?” Shantel asks.

“Your daughter might have not so lightly suggested that this position is perfect for you. And when I asked your husband, he agreed,” he replies. 

Shantel shook her head with a smile. 

“And they know as well as I do that education has been your entire purpose in life. You love championing and advocating for students and educators. I also know that even though you retired, you never really stepped away. This is an opportunity for you to continue your amazing work while having flexibility. So what do you say, Mom?” 

“What are the duties of being the Education Minister?” she asks. 

“You would review, revise, and set the curriculum for the school year. You are also the one who hires, reprimands, and fires the leaders of every school board in Cordonia. In terms of Cordonia University and the smaller colleges, their curriculum is set based on the different majors, but you would still be able to see and add or change the course requirements, and you would oversee admissions as well as write the standards for that and you would oversee college staff members, and you would also be required to quarterly meetings with administrators four times a year.” he replies. 

Shantel nodded. 

“That's not bad. Would I have to move?” she asks. 

“I knew you'd ask that. Like I told Damien no. You wouldn't have to move if you don't want to. If you choose to stay where you are I would have an office for you set up here in the Parliamentary Building but your primary office would be at the Consulate in New York.” 

“You really do think of everything son.”

Marquise snickered. 

“I try.”

Shantel smiled. 

“Alright son-in-love you've convinced me. If you’re truly offering me the position, I will gladly accept.”

Marquise let out a sigh of relief. 

“It's yours, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, honey. It's an honor.”

“The honor is mine. We’ll talk more about it after the race.”

“Sounds good. I'll see you soon, son. Give my babies a hug and kiss from me.”

“Will do, Mom.”

Just as he hung up with his mother-in-law, his wife called. 

“Hey, beautiful!”

“Hey yourself handsome. How'd it go with mom?” she asked. 

“We tentatively have a new Education Minister,” he replies. 

“Yay! I'm so glad she agreed.”

“We’ll talk more about it after the race but for now we celebrate.” 

“It'll be so good to have her at the helm.”

“Indeed. How is your trip, my love?”

“Amazing! I can't wait to show you and Khari everything.”

“How many bags are you bringing back?” he asks. 

“Enough to make you thankful that I only fly private,” she replied. 

“Oh for the love of God,” he said with a groan. 

“Oh quit bitching! I got gifts for you, the kids, and a new Birkin for your mom.”

“What is it with you women and those overpriced handbags?” he grumbled. 

“Quiet!” she snapped at him. 

Marquise shook his head with a smile just as one of the twins woke up from their nap. 

“Sounds like one of the littles is waking up. Be right back.”

“Okay.”

Marquise switched off his camera and then returned with one of the boys in his arms. 

“My love look,” he whispered to his half-awake son, “there's your mother.”

Zyon blinked sleepily and when he looked up to see his mom he half smiled. 

“Hi, Pumpkin! I miss you. I'll see you tomorrow okay?” 

Zyon just laid his head on his father’s shoulder and yawned. 

“Let me deal with him and I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. I'll see you and them tomorrow. Love you.”

“I love you too, my love.”

The next day Shanelle was home and bearing gifts. Toys for her children, new cologne for her husband, and as promised a new Birkin bag for Margo. 

“Oh, it's beautiful, Your Majesty! You shouldn't have.” 

“Nonsense! You had been wishing for this bag for months. Besides, I promised your daughter and granddaughters that I'd get it for you when I was in New York.”

Margo shook her head with a smile. 

“Thank you, Shanelle. Truly.”

“Don't thank me. Thank your son. It was his card I used.”

Marquise made a face. 

“The only reason I won't make a fuss is because you had a good reason to use my card. Also, give me my card back! What is wrong with you?!” 

Shanelle handed him his card back as he grumbled. 

“Now if you two will excuse me, I've been away from my babies for far too long. I'm due for some twin snuggles.”

And off she went to be with her littlest ones. That following week they hosted many other royal allies, and then that weekend the family was getting ready for the Derby. While Khari was getting ready with her grandmothers, Shanelle was getting the twins ready. 

“Okay, you two. Let's get dressed.”

Unfortunately, the boys would rather play with their pups. 

“We don't want to be late boys. Your daddy will have a fit.”

She managed to get Kylo dressed but Zyon wasn't ready to go yet. Instead of getting dressed, Zyon took off down the hall in nothing but a diaper. 

“Zyon, come back here!” 

The giggling 10-month-old ran from his mother and almost ran past his father. 

“Whoa! And where are you going my love?” he asked as he picked up his son. “Now now, we will have time to play later. But right now we have to get ready.”

Marquise returned Zyon to his mother so he could get dressed and they could get ready as well. Soon the family was off to the racetrack. When they got to the stables, their daughter was excited to see the horses. 

“Come on Daddy! Let's go!” Khari said before taking off towards the horses. 

“Wait for your brothers!” he replied as he pushed the stroller with the twins. 

Khari stopped long enough for him to catch up. 

“Sorry.”

“No worries. Besides you can't feed the horses without apples now can you?” Marquise asked. 

Khari shook her head no. 

“Now let's go feed the horses.”

His Majesty helped the children feed the horses although the boys didn't quite understand that the apples were for the horses, but they had fun nonetheless. 

“How was it?” Shanelle asked her husband. 

“They had a blast. The horses are beautiful and they were so gentle and patient.” Marquise replies. 

They soon left the stables and headed to the red carpet. Their Majesties watched as Shanelle’s parents and Margo escorted their kids on the red carpet. The little ones stole the show. Many of the paparazzi clamored to get pictures of the smiling young royals. 

“Look at my babies!” Shanelle whispered proudly. 

Marquise shook his head with a small chuckle. 

“My poor boys. They don't know what to do. It's adorable.”

“There was a time that you didn't either.”

“True I didn't. But I'm thankful that they have their sister and our parents with them.” 

They watched as Khari helped her brothers walk up the red carpet steps. 

“Well my Queen, it's showtime.”

“I live for this.”

“You or your ego?” he asked.

“Both,” she replies. 

Marquise snickered as they walked the red carpet. The couple had the paparazzi buzzing about their outfits and especially Shanelle’s flowery headpiece. 

“I will never understand why I let you talk me into letting you wear this thing.”

“Simple. You didn't say anything because you knew I'd look good in it.”

“True. It's just huge!”

“That's the point, Your Majesty.”

“You just love to be over the top.”

“Your fault.”

“Indeed it is.”

The couple walked into their new private box where their entire family was mingling about. When they got there Shanelle spotted Damien staring and smiling wistfully at a portrait of his parents. She walked over to him and laid her chin on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay Daddy?” she asked. 

“Yes my darling, I'm fine. I had almost forgotten about this portrait. This was commissioned after their 10th wedding anniversary. They look so young.” Damien said to her. 

“It was found in the archives a few months ago, and it was faded and covered in dust. So I had it restored and had it hung here in their honor and yours.”

Damien smiles softly. 

“Thank you my darling. They would've been thrilled to see it.”

“I know you miss them. Especially today. But they're here Daddy. And they're happy.”

Damien kissed the back of his daughter's hand. 

“I know.”

Khari worked over to them

“Who’s that mommy?” Khari asked. 

“They're my grandparents. Pop Pop’s mom and dad.” Shanelle replied. 

Khari looked up at the portrait and smiled. 

“Your mom is very pretty Pop Pop.”

Damien smiled. 

“Thank you, sunshine. She would've loved to be here today. She and my father loved horses and horse racing.” 

“Did they have horses?” Khari asked. 

“Mmmhmm. Every time we had a new foal in the stables I got to name them.” Damien replies. 

“Like me?” she asked. 

“Just like you. You have to remember sunshine, Pop Pop is a Prince,” he replied. 

“One of the best Princes ever.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now let's go grab a bite to eat.” 

“Okay, Pop Pop! Let's go.” Khari said as she took his hand and they walked over to where the buffet was. 

Shanelle stayed looking at the portrait as her mother walked up behind her. 

“I thought you were gonna tell him about the portrait, Mom,” Shanelle said to her mother. 

“I was but I wanted to see the look of shock and love on his face,” Shantel replies. 

Shanelle smiled wistfully. 

“I miss them. There are days where I wish they were here to guide me.”

“They are here, baby. They're always here.”

Shanelle smiled at her mother.

“Marquise and Daddy are always telling me that they'd be proud of me. It's just sometimes I wish I could hear them say it.”

“I know honey. And your dad and husband are right. Your grandparents would be so proud of you.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now let's go get something to nibble on.”

Shanelle followed her mother over to the buffet. After grabbing food, Shanelle joined her husband at the podium. It was time for them to give the opening remarks. 

“Good afternoon to one and all. Today is a fine day for a race wouldn't you all agree? Today is the first running of the Cordonian Derby in nearly 5 years. That's a long time for a lot of us. It has been a long road to get here. After a long wait, we will all get to experience our kingdom’s oldest and most celebrated pastime. And now I believe Her Majesty has but one thing to say.” 

“Let the races begin!” Shanelle announced. 

Soon a flurry of bettors were seen running to place a bevy of bets. Including many in their family. Namely Logan. He. Marquise and Damien were sitting in the King’s lounge.

“$98, $99, $85,000.00!” he announced triumphantly after counting his winnings. 

“Well done Logan,” Damien said to him. 

“Thanks Pop.”

“That's nothing. Wait until the main race. You could win up to quadruple that.” Marquise said as he pulled out his cigar case. 

“Cigars? Have I ever told you that I love coming here?” Logan asks. 

Marquise snorted before passing a cigar to both Logan and his father-in-law.

“Come to Papa!” 

“Thank you, son.”

“Of course. It's a special occasion so it's time for the rarities.” 

“How rare?” Logan asked. 

“These are El Rey De España cigars,” Marquise replies. 

Logan whistled impressed as he lit his cigar. 

“I can't believe you got your hands on these. They only produce 20 cases a year.”

“I know. I bought the company and the towns surrounding it in Cuba a few months after I got married. They make them for me all the time, but they only publicly produce 20 cases a year because that's all I'm willing to give up.”

That piqued Logan’s interest.

“Would it be too much?” Logan asked. 

“Yeah yeah. I’ll have a couple of cases sent to you for Christmas like I do Damien,” Marquise replies. 

 “I knew big sis marrying you would pay off for me.”

A waiter brought a bottle of whiskey and three glasses of ice. 

“For you and your guests Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Vander. That will be all.”

The waiter bowed before leaving. 

“It's like you're trying to spoil me!”

“Go to hell, Logan,” Marquise replied as he poured drinks for the three of them. “Gentlemen, salud.”

They clinked their drinks before downing them. Meanwhile, Shanelle was catching up with her girls. 

“It's so beautiful here,” Bronwyn said. 

“Thank you, babe. My husband put a lot of thought, time, and effort into this.”

“Forget the grounds. Can we talk about the food? These little steak crostini things are everything!” Robin piped up. 

Shanelle laughed. 

“I'm glad you like them, baby.”

“How are you, Nelle?” Bronwyn asks. 

“I'm good love. I'm happy that today is finally here. And so far it's been an amazing success. Everything has gone off without a hitch.” 

Just then an attendant walked up to the girls. 

“Pardon the interruption my Queen but there's someone here to see you.”

The girls looked at each other. 

“Who is it?” Shanelle asked. 

That's when Khari’s Headmaster walked up. 

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty! I'm Khari’s Headmaster. Lady Josselyn Gallagher.” she said to Shanelle. 

“Good afternoon Headmaster Gallagher. It's good to finally meet you.” Shanelle replied. 

“Indeed. I wanted to introduce myself since we haven't had the chance to meet. Khari talks about you and her father all the time.”

“I'm sure she does.”

“Well, I won't take up too much of your time. Again, I just wanted to introduce myself to you.”

“Thank you, Headmaster. We’ll talk soon.”

Lady Gallagher bowed her head before leaving. When Shanelle sat back down, the girls noticed the slight agitation on her face. 

“Okay, spill,” Rob said to Shanelle. 

“What?” Shanelle replies. 

“Who the hell was that and why do you look like you were ready to knock her ass out?” Robin asks. 

Bronwyn snickered at the look on Shanelle’s face. 

“You make me sound violent, Ro.”

“You are violent!” they replied. 

Shanelle sucked her teeth. 

“Trollops! The both of you!”

“Answer the question, Nelle.”

“First off, I was not about to knock her ass out. Thank you very much.”

Bron and Rob looked at each other.

“And second, that is the new Headmaster of Khari’s school.” 

“Okay fine, so you weren't gonna punch her lights out. That still doesn't answer Rob’s question of why do you look like that?” Bronwyn said. 

“You remember me telling y'all and the girls about the new Head of State for Comery Isle. Lord Gallagher?” Shanelle asked. 

“Yeah. Isn't he the one who was sitting on YOUR throne the first time y'all met?” Robin replies. 

“Yup. And you girls just met his oldest sister. Oh and not only was she in class with my husband, she used to be his ex’s best friend.”

The girls looked at each other. 

“Do we need to handle a problem?” Bronwyn asked. 

“And you know I carry my knucks with me,” Robin added. 

“And you two scallywags have the audacity to call me violent. While I appreciate the eagerness you two have to put your feet up somebody’s ass, stop it! So far she hasn't even shown an ounce of interest in anything that has to do with politics.” Shanelle replies. 

“And what does that mean to the people here?” Rob asks. 

“Besides nothing,” Bronwyn added. 

Shanelle snorted. 

“This is why I love you two. It means she has no interest in politics. At least not right now.”

“Okay. But you know that if she's ever feeling froggy.” Bronwyn warned. 

Shanelle cackled. 

“Girl! Bye! You live in California! You can't do anything to her.”

“Shit! The hell I can't. Don't think for one second that I won't hop on my plane to come jam my foot up somebody's ass!” 

Rob and Shanelle died laughing. 

“Calm down Crusher!” Rob said to her. 

“Yeah. Besides, if she ever becomes a problem I always know who to call.” Shanelle said. 

“As long as you know.” Bronwyn quipped. 

“Chile! It's almost time for the main race so I'm gonna go get the boys. I'll be right back.”

That's when Shanelle walked from where the girls were sitting into the lounge where the guys were. 

“I knew I'd find you three underneath all this cigar smoke.”

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Marquise asked. 

“Indeed I am,” Shanelle replied while pouring herself a drink, “I came here to tell you three that it's almost time for the main race.” 

Marquise checked his watch. 

“So it is. Well, let's go.”

Logan was the first to stand up. 

“More money for meeeeee!” he sang. 

“You sound like a kid in a candy store,” Shanelle said to him. 

“I am a kid in a candy store!” he said matter-of-factly as he walked out. 

Soon everyone was seated and awaiting the main race. The winner of the race won the entire box money. With Logan winning an additional $340,000.00. 

Later that night after everyone had gone to bed, the Royals enjoyed a nightcap. 

“Today was a success, Your Majesty. You should be proud.” Shanelle said to her husband. 

“I am. It's been a long time coming. I'm glad everyone had a good time and won a little pocket change.”

“I'm happy with all the money we raised. I remember a time when it wasn't always like that.” 

“True. Did you enjoy spending time with the girls?” he asks. 

“I always do. I even met someone interesting today.”

“Oh? Who?” he asked. 

“Your daughter's Headmaster. She came and formally introduced herself,” she replied. 

Marquise took a thoughtful sip of his drink. 

“She was sitting in her brother’s box so it's only natural that she'd want to introduce herself to you since you two have never met.”

“Maybe. Or maybe her brother sent her over to size me up.”

“I don’t think so. She's not the type to dare the wrath of her King. Her brother is. He's impulsive and arrogant as hell; whereas she's more calculated and measured. Besides, I think she enjoys her job as an educator more than anything.”

“I will take your word for it. In the meantime, I have wine to finish.”

“You do that. I'm gonna go check on our children.”

“They're sleeping, babe.” 

Marquise shrugged helplessly. 

“Bad habit.”

Shanelle shook her head. 

“This is true. Okay, go check on them.” 

Shanelle watched her husband disappear down the hall before she went back to her wine. 

A few days later Marquise was going over a budget proposal for the kingdom when he heard a loud commotion outside his office. 

“What in the world is going on?” he thought. 

That's when a guard ran into his office. 

“Your Majesty! Come quick!” 

“What is it?” 

“It's Mrs. Geaneaux. She's fallen.”

He felt like his heart stopped.

“What?! Where is she?!” he asked. 

“This way.” the guard replied before he led Marquise to where Margo had fallen. When he got to her she was just starting to regain her standing. 

“Mama! Are you alright? What happened?” he asks her. 

“I'm fine, my dear. I just got a little dizzy, that's all,” she replies. 

“Here let me help you up.” 

Marquise slowly helped her to her feet. He quickly scanned her to make sure she wasn't seriously injured. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. 

“Only my pride, my love. I'm okay,” she replied. 

“Let's get you to my office so you can have a place to sit down,” he said to her, “where is your cane?”

“Right here, Your Majesty.” a young guard holding her cane replied. 

“Thank you,” Marquise said to the guard before turning his attention back to his mother, “can you walk? Do you need a wheelchair?”

“No no. I can walk.”

Taking his arm and walking gingerly, Margo walked with Marquise back to his office. Once inside he led her to the sofa and helped her sit down. 

“Thank you, my son.” 

Marquise turned to the female guard holding Margo’s cane. 

“Let her son Bannon and my wife know that she's here and that she's fallen.”

“At once Your Majesty.” 

The guard handed Marquise her cane before leaving. 

“Mama, are you sure you’re not hurt?” he asked. 

“Yes. I promise I'm fine. It was just a fall Marquise.” she replies. 

“Fall my ass. You aren't even supposed to be here today. What are you doing here Mama? You should be at home resting.” Marquise fussed. 

“This is my home son.”

“Mama you know what I mean! You had another round of treatments today. And when you have those treatments, you are supposed to be at home when they're done. We've been over this!” Marquise snapped at her. 

Marquise shook his head sadly.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I had no right.” 

Margo just smiled. 

“Come here.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Come. Here,” she replied. 

When he sat next to her, she wrapped him in the motherly hug he knew all too well. 

“My boy. My sweet beautiful boy. I'm not angry about your concern for me. And I'm sorry if my fall scared you. But assure you that I'm alright.”

Marquise took a deep breath. 

“I know…I just panicked when I saw you.”

Margo smiled warmly at him. 

“You never stop. You are determined to protect me.”

“You always protected me so it's the very least that I can do.”

Just then her oldest son Bannon came rushing in. 

“A guard came and got me. What happened?” he asked. 

“She fell,” Marquise replied. 

“And he's making a big fuss of it.” Margo quipped. 

“As he should! You aren't supposed to be here mother.” 

“Oh for the love of God! Both of you stop it! I have the right to come and go in this palace as I please!” Margo fussed. 

“And I'm starting to regret granting it to you,” Marquise muttered. 

“His Majesty has a point.”

Margo gave them both a look that shut them right up. 

“Much better. Now I came here because I would've been bored at home. And as much as I love that my two oldest boys want to look out for me, I am fine. Nothing is broken or bruised. Outside of my pride that is.”

The men looked at each other.

“If your Papa could never get me to change my mind, neither can the two of you.”

“How does she do that?” Bannon asked Marquise. 

“I have no idea,” Marquise replies. 

Marquise sighed. 

“Will you let us take you to your room here?” Bannon asked.

“Yes. If it'll make you both feel better. And before either one of you says anything, I promise to rest for the remainder of the day.” Margo replied.

“Very well. Let's get you comfortable.”

After being helped up, Margo walked with her sons on either side of her to her bedroom in the palace. It was right across the hall from Khari and the twins. 

“Thank you both for helping me to my room.”

“Do you need anything, Mother?” Bannon asked. 

“Just some water. And maybe a turkey club.” Margo replied. 

“Of course Madam,” Bannon said to her with a bow before turning to Marquise, “thank you, brother. I'm glad you were there and that she wasn't alone.”

“Of course. It's what family does.”

Bannon smiled gratefully.

“Indeed. I'll be back.”

10 minutes after Bannon left, Shanelle came in with the twins. 

“A guard told me what happened. Are you okay Margo?” she asks. 

“Yes, my dear. I'm fine. It was just a dizzy spell.” Margo replies. 

“I'd prefer it if you didn't have any of those. Thank you.”

Margo chuckled. 

“I’ll try.”

Shanelle set the boys down and they wobbled their way over to their grandmother. 

“Hello, my sweet turtle doves. Have you come to check on me too?” Margo asked them. 

Their only reply was to snuggle in her arms. 

“Oh, you two came to give me snuggles. I will gladly accept them.” Margo said to the twins as she snuggled them close. 

Marquise smiled at seeing them together. He then turned his attention to his wife. 

“Can we talk?” he asked Shanelle, who simply nodded. “We’ll be right back Mama.”

“No rush. I have my turtle doves to keep me company.” 

Marquise led his wife outside before letting out a breath he'd been holding in. 

“Are you okay?” Shanelle asked him. 

“No. I mean she looks fine but when I got to her…” Marquise replies. 

“I know. But as George always said, she's a lot stronger than we give her credit for.”

“Yeah. She is. I'm still going to have Dr. Wembley look her over just to be sure that nothing is broken and that her port looks good.”

Shanelle nodded. 

“I won't try to talk you out of it.”

“Thank you. I know I'm being overprotective.”

Shanelle rubbed his arms. 

“I know Margo well enough to know that she appreciates it. She knows you love her. And she knows you will do any and everything in your power to keep her safe, protected, and healthy.”

Marquise leaned his head against hers. 

“Thank you, my love.”

“Always. Now you stay with your mom, and I'll go get Khari from school.”

Marquise kissed her forehead softly. 

“Alright. Thank you for understanding.”

Shanelle smiled at him. 

After coming home from school, Khari ran straight to Margo’s room with flowers in hand. She was reading to the twins. 

“Grammy! Are you okay?” Khari asked.

“Yes, my darling. I'm fine. Are those for me?” Margo replies. 

“Yes. Mommy said you had a fall when she came and got me from school. So instead of something to eat, we got you flowers.”

Margo read the worry on Khari’s face. 

“Here, come sit with me and your brothers.”

Khari placed the flowers on the bed and climbed in with her and the twins. 

“There that's much better. Now that I have all of you with me I know I will feel much better.”

Khari smiled sadly.

“Why the long face my dear?” Margo asked.

Khari looked at her guiltily. 

“I got scared that you got hurt and would go away to the happy place like Grandpa,” Khari replied. 

If there was one thing Khari loved, it was her grandmother. 

Margo tilted her chin up and smiled softly. 

“My sweet darling. I promise you that I am not going anywhere. I know you are worried for me and I am so grateful for it and you. But I swear to you that I will be here with you, your brothers, and your cousins for as long as the Good Lord will allow me to be. Okay?”

Khari nodded. 

“Yes ma'am.” 

“That's my girl. Now did you have a good day at school?” Margo asked her. 

“Yes, I did. We had our music theory class. We practiced one of Grandpa’s favorite songs today.” she replied. 

“That's wonderful my love. Do you have homework?” Margo asked. 

“Yes. And I promise I will do my homework but I wanted to see you first and bring you your flowers.” Khari replies. 

“Thank you my darling. It is very sweet of you to think of me.”

Margo pulled her and her brothers close. 

“I love you Grammy,” Khari said. 

“And I love each of you,” Margo replied as she snuggled with the children. 

Marquise watched from the doorway with a smile. When Margo looked up, she smiled at her son. 

Later that night Marquise was standing out on the balcony with a drink in his hand. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Shanelle asked as she walked up. 

“For you? Always,” he replied. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks. 

He took a sip of his drink. 

“If I was, I wouldn't have this drink in my hand,” he replied. 

She kissed his shoulder.

“This is why I love you. You are always protective of those you love.”

He closed his eyes and smiled softly. 

“You're a good son.”

“Lord knows I try to be.”

Marquise finished his drink before he and Shanelle went to bed. 

You've reached the end of Part 1.

Stay tuned for part two!

[ramune-raven-art]

since I'm hyperfixated on Bob's burgers rn and my favorite is Tina, imma tell y'all a story that would piss her the fuck off. ((also at the end I'll post the pestos monster au designs))

so, when I was like 10-12 I lived on a horse rescue with my dad during the summer in the Greeley grasslands, there was only one other neighbor from what I remember, it was pretty lonely out there, my dad was employed at the horse rescue, and lived on site.

we spent the school year with our mom since well,, it's kinda hard to get a bus to a super rural area.

there's was at least 3 horses I remember, Peanut, who was an old white horse, and Jelly bean, a little black and white foal, than there was one other one, a brown one, but I forgot her name. There was a lot more horses on the rescue but those are the ones I remember most, because I helped take care of them

my job was to help feed the horses hay, the chickens seed, and brush the horses, all TERRIBLE jobs for me since I'm allergic to horses chickens and hay. But HAY, ((get it?)) I enjoyed the job.

I was once given an opportunity to ride Mr Peanut, one thing I remember about peanut was,, he's HUGE. He was a big ol' boy, and I was a small idiot 12 year old.

Now... here's the infuriating part,, I never rode the horses. Not once, I think I sat on peanut for like, a minute, but pussied out, and got off.

I lived every horse girls dream and never rode the horses around, which I was allowed to do by the way I think I gotta emphasize that, I was given multiple opportunities to ride them around and just didn't take em.

I mainly spent my time with the chickens and catching toads. There was so much toads...

oh yeah btw here's that monster au design thingy, I decided the pestos are centaurs, lived with horses and still can't draw the bastards

I forgot ollie's leg, gotta take him out back

[the-fearful-one]

🎶✨ when u get this u have (the option) to put 5 songs u actually listen to. then send this ask or tag 10 of your friends/followers/just some guys you feel like if you feel like✨🎶

got tagged by @whilomm so i will gladly take this oppurtunity to rave about some of my favorite songs. they are all folk.

all of the links are spotify links

Call of the Void - Rail Yard Ghosts

Yes this song is over 14 minutes long. Even though it's one of my favorite songs of all time I wouldn't recommend listening to it right away since it's the second to last song on the album Hiraeth, which is a concept album about a group of train hoppers that find a mysterious magic book that kickstarts a bunch of weird things around them. The band (supposedly I've never been able to confirm this) actually recorded this album in a train yard! One of my favorite albums of all time

Wild Dogs: Divorce! - Jordaan Mason & The Horse Museum

Another song that's at the end of a concept album BUT you don't need to listen to the whole album to understand it, it stands on it's own pretty well. Honestly, I Could Not tell you what this album is fully about but it is very queer and about a t4t relationship with lots of Xian themes. Another one of my all-time favorite albums, I really like live-recording version they released in 2019

Transvestites Can Be Cannibals Too - Harley Poe

I'm seeing him in concert next month YIPPEE! Anyways another queer song, this time folk punk! Harley Poe has just been pumping out albums recently and I definitely enjoy them but Satan, Sex, and No Regrets is my favorite <3. I listened to this the most when I was attending my local community college and was being harassed daily by a bunch of YAFF kids :).

Big Bird - AJJ

AJJ was one of the first folk punk bands that I got into so they hold a special place in my heart. I was debating putting either this one or Small Red Boy since they both make me feel absolutely Insane but I like Knife Man as a whole more. I'm now realizing that almost all of the songs that I like have nature themes to them. oh well

Apple- The Narcissist Cookbook

Most underrated artist fr fr. I'm often on the fence about spoken word songs but Narcissist Cookbook just does it in a way that I absolutely love. Me and my gf saw them on tour this summer and I specifically made a patch about this song to show to them but I chickened out </3. PLEASE listen to their new albums they're so good and emotional

honorable mentions that i can't not talk about in some capacity: ramshackle glory, days n daze, apes of the state, and modern baseball.

i'm not going to tag anyone outright but this is completely open to all who see it! i would love to see y'alls songs and music opinions teehee.

[ferretseal]

Y'all know what time it is?

Holly lore dump!

But first! Holly art WIPs!!! And a description of her!!

Description of Holly.

She's on the shorter side, her hair is curly and is just above her shoulders in length and is a dark brown. Her eyes are a dark brown and look tired. She also has pierced ears and glasses.

Her skin is pale, and looks almost sickly to the others on Pandora because she doesn't have any color due to lack of sunlight. Once she's outside more often she gets a little more of a tan but she has to use a lot of sun protection otherwise she ends up looking like a lobster.

She's rather skinny, and has smaller, more rounded features.

More often than not she wears dark pants or shorts, and layered shirts. Her earrings are often simple studs and she also has a crystal necklace.

Ok! Lore stuff!

Holly seemed to be one of those people who just seemed to be depressed as soon as that emotion was available.

She would spend hours with books of what earth was like before everything became dead and grey, and spent an alarming amount of time in the simulations just wandering around fake nature.

So her parents put her in Pandora camp, where a giant greenhouse was made and about 60% of the plants inside were real earth plants, the rest were safe recreations of pandorian plants, and it was basically summer camp for her. It was educational but did basic boy scouts stuff and summer camp stuff, but had Pandora focused twists.

Her adoptive father is a professor, but her adoptive mother is a swim coach. But they both made good money and we're well off enough to get her through school no problem.

Because Spider doesn't really have anyone looking after him like full time Holly basically appoints herself as like a big sister to Spider.

He really doesn't like her at first, because she makes him behave and at least wear normal pants inside the lab

But eventually he warms up to her because he doesn't really have anyone to really call family like that. She took one look at him and goes "Oh that's gonna change."

She can't sleep without weight on her. She has a weighted blanket and a weighted plush she sleeps with.

When she's captured she doesn't sleep for almost three days until Spider is goofing around with her and pins her to the floor by laying across her. He's a good foot and half taller than her and because he has a high muscle mass from running around in the jungle all day he's not a light kid. She pretty much passed out on the floor and Spider just says there until she wakes up because he doesn't want to deal with a sleep deprived Holly anymore. Meanwhile they're in the middle of the floor. Everyone else has to walk around them.

When she's rescued and back to where she belongs she still has anxiety and trouble sleeping but it's somehow worse now but because she's an adult she just quietly suffers because she can handle it. Max has to take away the blanket and fix it because she filled it with sand to make it heavy enough to possibly suffocate her. He doesn't understand why she needs something about as heavy as a dire horse on her to sleep.

"I get the weight thing, but this is ridiculous."

But sometimes Spider will sneak into her bed because he doesn't want to sleep alone because traumatized boy got scared. Because of how her bed is set up he's forced to kinda shove himself between her and the wall but it's cozy so he's good. One morning Norm can't find him because when he looked in Holly's room he could only see Holly because Spider was completely under the blanket Holly is laying there playing animal crossing and Spider is snuggled up to her under the blanket like a cat and she's just like "He's fine. Leave him."

She makes him keep up with his hair too because the dreads aren't good for his type of hair. Holly helps him with it, of course. She knows how her own hair gets unmanageable sometimes He doesn't always like sitting down so she can wash and detangle his hair, using like 20 different products in it. It takes like an hour and a half because he won't sit still.

But once they're rescued, at some point he quietly brings her the supplies and asks her to fix his hair. "Can you fix my hair.... Like you always do..? It's ok if you're busy it's not that-" "com'ere Spider, I'm not ever too busy for you."

Holly carried around this plush Na'vi doll all through childhood. It was her emotional support teddy. It was an anonymous gift for her first birthday, and even though her father thinks it was set up by Grace he really has no way to tell. It could've been a coworker of his for all he knows.

Her first care package had the same plush, but restored, included in it. He lives in a storage box in her room, but comes out so she has something to talk to when doing video logs He's called Mr. Blue bean. Because she was a child and children give stuffed animals silly names. There's drawings she made at Pandora camp where Blue Bean is portrayed as an actual Na'vi because he was helping her with her activities. The reality is that the camp councilors couldn't get her to leave him in her bunk.

[qverdia]

alex's fingers squeezed hers - anchoring her to reality , to the hard mattress and the soft sounds of breathing from the rest of the people in the bunker . her thumb brushed along his in a silent thank you , and her other arm moved from squeezing her blankets in a fist tight as iron to resting her arm over her stomach .

❛ when i was younger i had these thick rose-colored glasses on . my brother always saw things as they were , but not me . ❜ abilene preferred to remember the happy times as children , before everything went sour . she liked to remember playing with her brothers , and the hot summer days . abilene sighed . she was not one to trust easily , not anymore . . . but there was something growing between the two , some connection she had not felt for years . ❛ there are these trees with these little flowers that grow everywhere . in the summer they make parts of the district smell so sweet . i liked to watch them try to ride the younger horses , see how long they could stay on . ❜

the bunker was quiet , now . perhaps , abilene thought hopefully , the capitol had decided that the surface had been leveled enough and had left . . . she doubted it , but a part of her still hoped .

❛ i don't have a plan . . . but there's plenty of room in the victor's village for a few rowdy boys . ❜ abilene laughed , the noise quiet but one of the few times she'd truly laughed in ages . ❛ y'all don't mind cats , do you ? or a big dog ? ❜

had they met under any other circumstances,  abilene would be able to see a different side of alex nilsen;   in what he now refers to as his past life,  he was all boyish charm and sweet smiles,  jokes and optimism.   in this life,  the one in thirteen,  he’s a man riddled sick with anxiety and pent-up rage,  only feigning hopefulness in front of his siblings.   perhaps he should offer his newfound friend some sort of consolation as well,  but can’t bring himself to do that.   there’s something about the darkness that helps peel off the mask that he keeps on during the day.   “can’t argue with that.   and maybe no place will ever feel like home again,  but…   this is all we’ve got.   for now.”   his fingers slipping into the spaces between her own,  squeezing gently.   a gesture meant to remind both of them that they’re still alive,  even if rarely seems like it to alex.

“i know exactly what you mean.   it’s the little things,  the stuff we didn’t appreciate enough or took for granted or straight up disliked that we long for now.   that semblance of normalcy.”   in their brief dialogue,  alex can feel a bond forming,  and not just of shared circumstance and trauma but of a burgeoning sense of familiarity and connection.   “being outside on a hot summer afternoon,  when you can smell the changes coming in the weather even before the clouds roll in,  feel the electricity in the air as the storm begins to brew on the horizon?   i used to hate it,  but now i miss it.   tell me more ‘bout ten.   what was it like livin’ there?”   the blue-eyed man asks,  both out of curiosity and in an attempt to distract the other from the sounds of bigger and smaller explosions.   in turn,  he ponders her question,  their fingers still laced together.   “depends…   on what’s left when this is all over.   what ‘bout you?   what’s your plan?”

[twosroos]

All Grown Up [Chapter One]

( robert "bob" floyd x fem!southern!reader )

roos says ! we need more bob appreciation. i love him. my boy :) also I am not southern, so i apologize if i'm very off with this-- this chapter is a bit short since it's technically a prologue but I'm not really gonna call it such.

desc: as summer rolls into it's time in south carolina, you find yourself surprised when your old next door neighbor returns-- looking and acting completely different after a few months on the west coast. the two of you have a lot to talk about, after you remember the good times, of course.

fluff, with spicy kissing at the end

notable characters: robert "bob" floyd, and that's kinda all, it's pre-uranium mission time y'all :D!

TWs: underage drinking (past tense), mentions of hook-ups, spicy kissing?

ao3 link ! next chapter

The morning dew sparkled on the sides of every blade of grass in the long field on your parents farm. It's stark, plain green path was dotted with a dark log-cabin themed barn on the top of the hill, leaving around two acres of fenced in land for a few horses, cows, goats, and other livestock to amble about on its right, and about a half-acre to the left used for more deliberate things, like the horse training you'd planned to do today. The soft sound of a low cylinder motor hums as it accelerates up the fenced off path, you're driving the busted up farm truck with one hand on the wheel as you slide your hat-- an old stetson gifted to you from the neighbor-- on your hairline as you bring it to a park in a dead grass spot. You parked off the driveway too much, your mom had given up yelling at you for it.

Looking up, you see the sun as it begins to peek over the tops of cypresses, pines, and hemlocks, letting its golden glow dance on geraniums and indigo flowers planted by the barns entrance but far enough away from the fence so they won't get eaten by the horses inside the barn. The window stays rolled down as you climb out, the morning dew in your lungs as you take a deep breath and start whistling the same song you always do as you begin to undo the lock on the barn. Considering its the building closest to the street, its got quite a few locks on it just in case of any attempted break ins. Luckily, no one has tried in the past decade.

As you swing the gate open, you’re met by a chorus of animals, waking up for the day as you swap your boots for a set of riding boots as you yawn, moving to the side to begin opening up the side doors in each stall to let the animals out. Majority of them leave, ambling out into the grassy field to take in the morning sun. Your horse-- a black-ish brown quarter horse, bumps her head into your back and you laugh as you turn to bump back her nose.

"Relax, Fuego." You murmur as you slip into her stall, moving to open the back gate so she can do what she does every morning-- take a sprinting lap around the place. As she, and the other horses in neighboring stalls do what they want for about an hour, you spend your time grabbing the food, water, and other things the animals need from various locations around the barn. The sun rises higher, white puffy clouds rolling through the sky as planes float idly ahead. you huff, grabbing your riding gear, before theres the sound of a car door slamming. Setting down the saddle in your hands, you walk to the front door, smiling when you see your neighbor's daughter-- a five year old by the name of Molly, patting your horse on the head as she leans herself over the gate and low enough for Molly to reach on her tiptoes.

"Hey, Molly." You call and she turns, a hot pink cowboy style hat on her head as she runs over, her pink boots splashing mud puddles from last nights storm.

"Y/n!" She cheers, grabbing your hand and jumping, "Robby's home!"

"Robby?" You ask, lifting your head to look at your mother, "Floyd's back?"

"Mhm. Got in last night, he swung by the house this morning with his mom to drop off his sister for a playdate today." Your mother grins, "Genevieve ran straight for the cows, she's lookin’ at the calf, right down the fence."

Your mother pointed down the fence line where you could see your younger sister petting the cows and baby talking them-- just like you did when you were a kid.

"How long is he home for?" You ask and Molly giggles swinging herself as she uses your hand to keep her from falling.

"He's back until July when he leaves for a mission!"

"He leaves the fifth." Your mother clarifies and you nod, a soft smile gracing your sun-kissed skin from the time you've spent in the heat of South Carolina. Just like all the years you had spent by Robby's side, the sun had caused freckles to bloom across your shoulders, shown by the skin-tight tank top you wear over your riding pants.

And, oh god, Robert's home.

When he'd left, it had been awful. He refused to tell you why he was moving other than the word 'bootcamp' and you'd had a sort of half argument over it. Though, you could never stay mad at his goofy half smiles and confused squints whenever you said something he didn't quite understand. There had been multiple nights in your lifetime where you both stumbled back to your house after parties, or just drinking in the various fields around your house, climbing in the never locked storm door to crash on the basement couch. Your parents never asked, neither did his. They'd say you were Bob and Y/n, a dynamic duo, never seen without each other and never seen arguing.

But, he'd left four hours after your first time kissing him. Sure, it had been because he wanted to know how to kiss before he moved away from home, assuming the tales friends had told you two about hookups and such in the college experience; over beers in your basement, had been true.

And god, you weren't ready to see how he'd changed after your mother had told him he was in the Navy. And all you could think of was his last night in your house, right before he had to leave for bootcamp. Two weeks after the end of your senior year.

...

Senior year had been the year for the two of you, despite the revamp of the rumor you two were dating, again, and making it impossible for you to find any sort of partner other than each other for every school event, you didn't care. Bob was your best friend, and you'd never do anything to change it. You were prom king and queen, and most likely to marry for tax benefits in the accolades section of the year book. But never once had you kissed, or even romantically held hands.

From your first day of kindergarten, to graduating middle school, to your senior year homecoming game as cheer captain, and his senior year homecoming game as drum major, to your senior year graduation, you were stuck at the hip. Inseparable. You could sit in a room for silence for hours and never get bored, or watch the same movies and shows you could quote over and over and enjoy it. And you spent a lot of time gossiping over stolen liquor bottles from the back of your dad's expansive cabinet, or riding horses thorugh back trails, or taking the farm trucks on joy rides. Bob, despite being a bit socially awkward, was your ride or die.

Until you kissed him the night before he left.

The TV buzzed behind you softly as you downed another shot of Hennessy. Bob shutting the storm door as he sat down on your couch almost immediately afterwards, his lips chewed up like he was deep in thought. You reset the CD in the small radio by your hip and turned to him with a pout, walking across the room to fall by his side like natural as you hand him the bottle.

"What's a matter, Robby?" You asked, alcohol still burning your throat. In silence, he unscrews the cap before he starts talking as he gestures with the opened bottle.

"I don't know if I'm ready to leave for college." He murmurs-- that's what he called bootcamp, college, as to not scare you about it. He takes a gulp of the alcohol, making a face at it.

You shift so you’re sitting up, pressing a hand to his shoulder and trying not to notice the way he tenses up and flushes as you speak softly, trying not to wake your parents through the thin walls of the house, "Why, Robs?"

He laughs, taking another long swig before he starts talking, "Everyone else I know who's going has some sort of... ugh, romantic or... sexual, experience and I have none. Curse me being so socially awkward."

"You've never kissed anyone?" you perk up before deflating as you think, "Wait, you would've told me if you did."

"Never kissed anyone besides my Ma." he grumbled into his hand.

In hindsight, you're not sure if it's the alcohol speaking as you sit up and slide your hand on his chest, "would you wanna?"

"Kiss you?" He sputters, face flushing bright red. He'd been drinking before he'd gotten here, you could tell by the smell of Tito's on his breath. It makes you frown, he must've been thinking about this all day.

"Yeah, as practice." You chime, shifting now so you're standing above him and between his jean-covered knees.

He gulps, taking another swig of the alcohol before he caps it and tosses it down on the couch, "and you're my teacher?"

"I've had a few hook-ups, Rob. You know this." you lament, moving closer as you press another hand to his chest, feeling the muscle he'd accrued over the years of working on his family farm, and yours when needed. You expect him to vocally answer, but his hand grazes the outside of your thigh instead, thinking.

You move, straddling him on the couch as you lean close to him, lips inches away, "C'mon, Floyd," you purr, "Gimme a lil' somethin'."

He perks up at the way you say his last name, biting his lip as he adjusts his glasses before he gently takes your jaw and pulls you close by your waist. It makes you jump, a soft gasp escaping your glossed lips as he mumurs,

"Is this okay?"

"More than." You reply, leaning in to connect your lips. It's an alcohol fueled fever, the way he pushes back into you as his lips lock to yours. His hands freezing at your hips, never once moving, you dont mind snaking a hand up to his hair and carding through it, pulling back from the kiss for air before he's dragging you back down again.

But then his alcohol confidence slips and he pulls back roughly, smacking his head on the wall in true Robert fashion. He gapes at you, and you take it as a sign to quicky back off. You can read him like a book nowadays, and the way he sits shocked makes you think you fucked up.

"Sorry." Escapes his lips before he's pushing his way past you and back out the storm door, though he still makes sure to carefully shut it a certain way so it doesn't creak or bang as it closes.

You're left with a bottle of half-finished hennessey and the taste of Tito's on your lips-- too confused and shocked to move for several minutes.

When you realized he left the next morning, you also realized that kiss was the last fleeting memory you'd ever have of him in that moment. Though, hindsight would say, it wouldn't be too long until you found yourself in that position again.