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hedgehog-moss · 11 months ago

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9am: Pirlouit & I are waiting for the farrier; it's Hoof Day! The farrier always tends to run late so I have a thermos of tea and a breakfast pastry to eat as we wait. Pirlouit has been offered some hay and has refused to eat it because he's sulking because it's hoof day.

Isn't it nice to get a pedicure, Pirou?

9:10am: The farrier is late and Pirlouit is worried, wondering what we're waiting for here on the road. Maybe he has been sold? to a sadistic new owner? who's going to shove him into a crate and send him to the salt mines like the donkeys in Pinocchio? Plus, he's more stressed than usual today because one of his hooves hurts (hence the farrier appointment), he's been limping for a few days and he doesn't know what the farrier will do to the hurt hoof. I told him there's only a 30% chance that he'll amputate it.

9:15am: Pirlouit's family is here to support him though! Or, in the case of Pampérigouste, here to puzzle out a vexing mystery.

9:17am: The llamas have grown bored of standing there in support and have started eating the brambles near the gate (supportively). Very good initiative, I approve. Also I thought Poldine was trying to eat the brambles outside the gate (greener on the other side and all that) but no, she was trying to fit her head through the bars for a little kiss </3

9:20am: Even Merricat is being supportive. (Well, she's waiting for me to go home so she can finally take her first morning nap in my lap.) Also Pirlouit has found some grass under the leaves and temporarily forgot all of his worries.

9:22am: Poldine is determined to kiss this cat.

9:24am: The farrier is here! As always he starts doing Pirlouit's hooves right there in the middle of the road, and if a car shows up well, "they can wait a few minutes... On n'est pas aux pièces" (this is a phrase for "there's no rush" that I've never heard anyone but my grandma use, it's nice to hear it again!) There aren't any cars anyway.

9:27am: Pirlouit's hurt hoof has been diagnosed: he has an abscess. Since this autumn has been relentlessly rainy I thought perhaps it was a fungal infection—but the farrier told me he's been treating a lot of abscesses lately, as the very wet weather softens hooves which allows bacteria to enter.

9:30am: The abscess was successfully drained and Pirlouit is now wearing a fashionable hoof bandage. He was very calm and brave throughout <3

9:35am: The farrier left his car by the side of the road, and after releasing Pirlouit we crossed the pasture to go home have a cup of coffee.

9:45am: The farrier is gone; end of the post :)

10am: Pampe is gone, too.

Well, she probably left around 10am but I didn't immediately find out as I had more pressing problems. After the farrier left I went to get a small apple to reward Pirlouit, and when I returned to the pasture and he came over for his treat, I realised he was limping. But on the other side. We've just treated his right front hoof, and he is now holding up the left front hoof...

9:57am: After giving Pirlouit his apple I go home in a hurry to call the farrier and ask him to come back. But there's almost no mobile service around here and I can't reach him. This is so frustrating, he can't be very far... On a hunch I call a horse farm not far from here, maybe it's hoof day for their horses as well?

10am: It's not, they have no farrier appointment today, but when I explain my predicament the woman on the phone goes "if it's just to drain an abscess I can send you a guy who'll do it, no worries!" Every time I've had someone from this farm on the phone to ask something or other, they've offered to Send Me A Guy. It's never the same guy too, they have an endless supply of guys.

10:05am: Having accepted gratefully, I return to the pasture to catch poor Pirlouit again, who thought I was done bothering him for today. As I wait for The Guy, I find a spot with some unexpected mobile service and start googling hoof hardeners, because maybe if Pirou's prone to abscesses it's worth having something in prevention for wet months?

10:15am: I receive a text from the guy.

"Is it normal that your llama is on the road with a dog? They are going to [village]."

10:16am: I reply to the guy.

"It's neither normal nor abnormal."

10:17am: I tie Pirlouit to a tree and run back to the barn to get some muesli. Then start running on the road, trying to figure out how Pampe escaped, and the answer seems obvious: after his coffee the farrier crossed the pasture again to get back to his car, and he knew about the Special Anti-Pampe Safety Knot 3000 but either forgot and closed the gate like a normal person, or didn't do it correctly. Pampe in her little llama brain knows very well that most visitors don't know about the Anti-Pampe Knot so she hurries to check the gate after a stranger leaves her pasture. Meanwhile I was busy noticing Pirou's limp and trying to call the farrier back and I didn't check the gate as I usually do.

10:20am: The guy has found me trotting on the road with my muesli and picked me up in his car. We go back to where he last saw Pampe. I apologise for wasting his time and he tells me "I've heard of your llama" in a tone half-sympathetic half-fatalistic.

10:24am: Pampe & Pandolf have been located; are having the time of their lives. Pandolf is a bit sheepish when I call him, though. He loves going on adventures with his best friend so much but he knows it's a bad dog thing to do for some reason :(

10:34am: The Guy is trying to push Pampe forward with his car while I try to attract her towards me with my muesli in a carrot-and-stick routine; Pampe occasionally veers off-road to eat some leaves, inspect the mud in the ditch, pretend to admire a cloud while secretly brainstorming strategies.

Guy's commentary: "This is worse than dealing with an escaped horse. I feel ignored. I feel powerless."

10:39am: Pampe is home! She didn't actually go very far. But since she hadn't locked the gate behind her, when we arrived we found Pampelune on the road as well, just sort of waiting for us like a sentinel. Pirlouit was still tied to his tree staring at his inexplicably orange foot, and Poldine was panicking because her mother had abandoned her for the millionth time and her grandma had left the pasture too and she couldn't figure out how :((( All she had to do was fiddle with the gate with her nose really, but it never occurred to her to do so, she's too innocent. She only inspects gates in order to figure out how to kiss someone through them. So she was alone in the pasture trotting in circles, making undignified sad goat noises when Pampe & I returned.

10:53am: Pirlouit's other hoof has been treated, hopefully he'll feel better and stop limping soon... I'll have to remove the bandages with scissors, clean both hooves and re-do the bandages in a couple of days which is probably going to be a whole Thing, considering he's suspicious of buckets of water and scissors and objects in general. But as for now everyone is in the pasture having some celebratory hay and Pampoldine is deeply relieved to find that she hasn't been abandoned by everyone forever (as she assumes every single time.)

Also I realised I only paid the farrier half of what I owed him... I had prepared the exact sum but I had half in one pocket and half in another which was a risky idea. And neither of us checked what I was handing him, or noticed. He called me back when he arrived in a place with mobile reception and I told him about the whole affair and he said it's a good thing I accidentally paid him half because he didn't see the other abscess and failed to make the Anti-Pampe Knot 3000 so "it's a fair discount." So I got a half-price farrier visit thanks to Pampe (partly)... I won't tell her because she already thinks she's doing the world a favour by escaping (free fence integrity checks, free cardio training for me by forcing me to do interval running, free entertainment for everyone, plus her modest contribution to cosmic chaos.)

11am: I meant to take an "all's well that ends well" photo of the whole family but I realised Pampe is making her angry hammerhead shark face because her adventure was very short-lived and I didn't even take a picture of her escape, as I'd left my phone in my coat pocket under Pirlouit's tree (& supervision) when I went after her. (I figured I was about to run for 15min and would not need my heavy coat)

She thinks I did it on purpose to demoralise her by refusing to document her victories. But she's not giving up.

#crawling along #llama drama #this post is from last week but i forgot i had it in my drafts! pirlouit is doing better<3 #changing the bandages was a nightmare. as expected #i have a ridiculous photo of him standing as far as he possibly can from the terrifying basin of water like it's a ticking bomb #plus he got overshadowed by a llama in his own post about his hurt hooves. it's hard being a donkey

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inkonparchment · 29 days ago

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American Wedding | Part 2

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

You've never seen him, you’ve never met him and yet here you are, Mrs Kennedy, a fate that was always to be yours since the day you were born. The golden band on your finger catches dust at the train station, hoping that at the very least, he's kind.

warnings: this is set in late 1800s. reader is described as having long, silky hair. allusions to mental and physical abuse (not by Leon). misogyny. marriage of convenience. arranged marriage. implied age gap. absolute zero research for era appropriateness. bodyshaming. eating disorder.

word count: 5.6k

a/n: writing this felt exactly like how it feel watching a one take movie scene. i hope this wasn't disappointing and lives up to expectations. enjoy<33

prev.

You barely sleep.

The cotton sheets feel soft under your touch as you curl in a fetal position in the centre of the bed, your book still clutched tightly against your chest. Sleep doesn’t come to you, your heart a hammer in your chest, eyes wide and unblinking, ears sharp and trained to listen for any scuffle outside your door.

You think he will come again, in the dead of the night with no soul around to bear witness to his ravage of you. Perhaps he is careful of his image, not wanting his men to see his cruelty. Wet tears moisten your cheeks, gathering into a puddle near the embroidered roses on your pillow. The mattress feels wrong. It’s too stiff, too cold and smells foreign. It doesn’t feel like home.

You trace the roses with your fingers, swallowing your sobs, pressing the hardcover closer to your heart in hopes of soothing it. It works terribly, for your heart still aches for your mother. With the edge of your palm, you press away the tears, trying to recreate her gentle loving caress. But it's not the same. She feels so far away, the scent of her floral perfume already a distant memory. Your hands ache to write to her, drowning in want to melt into her arms, to run back to her.

But can you? No.

Your husband wouldn’t allow it. I will never force you to do anything that you do not wish to do. Is that not what he had said? But you know that candour is not a trait possessed by men, their tongue crafted by the devil himself, dripping in fallacies. He means to be kind to gain your trust, perhaps a planned ruse to lull you into a false sense of security until he decides to truly reveal himself to you.

You tangle your hand into your hair, combing it away from your face, imagining yourself sitting on the stairs of your- your father’s porch, your mother sitting behind you with a brush in her hand. You would watch the butterflies, watch in fascination as they would fly freely across the green pastures, taking their pick of the prettiest flowers whenever they wish to rest. It’s in a man’s nature to be cruel, they just can’t help it. That would unsettle you, taking her words in your mind and spinning it around in every angle.

Surely that can’t be?

Mr. Matthews always caressed his daughter’s cheek before handing her a butterscotch. You would always stare at their interactions from your seat three rows behind them at church, agog at the way he looked at her, something akin to fondness, you could even delude yourself into thinking it was love. You had given it a try, foolishly tugging your father’s hand against your cheek, expectantly staring into his eyes to see if you could find the same twinkle in them.

You had to sleep on your left side that night, the sting across your right cheek too unbearable to put any weight on it, only for it to be cooled by the stream of your warm tears.

Exhaustion soon wins over, underestimating how much you had been spent by the day. The memory of your father etched in the front of your eyes when your eyes finally flutter shut.

You don’t know how long you sleep for, dreaming endlessly of lush field speckled with daffodils that burst against the soft trot of your horse, hair whipping in the air, suddenly shooting upright as the hammer in your chest returns, almost tearing through your ribs. It takes you a whole to absorb your surroundings.

Your bed is in the wrong direction, it doesn’t have four tall posts with chiffon draped around, your curtains aren’t blue against the orange gleam of the morning sun shining through. The walls are different, your vanity a strange shape with possessions scattered across that you don’t recognize. You panic, thinking you are in the wrong place, taken blazingly in the dead of the night from your home. Reality finally hits as you almost scramble out of the bed, melting back onto its edge, the book falling to the floor with a loud thud.

Of course. You’re Mrs. Kennedy now, a possession still but now by a different man.

You blink at your blurred reflection in the mirror. Your make up is non-existent now, smudged sloppily across your face, the streaks of tears leaving behind tracks on your cheeks. You feel hollow, lips sticking to one another, chapped as you pull them apart. Your hair now cascades down your shoulders, carelessly thrown over each other, still clad in the virgin white of your supposed wedding dress.

Your senses are slow to return but the house feels quiet, deathly so. There’s no movement, no murmur, no thunderous applause of boots or the loud indignations spurred on by drunken stupor. There are no slamming doors, no muffled tears. And that sets you on the edge.

There’s a sharp rap of knuckles against your door that has you jumping from your seat, standing upright, straightening the state of your hair as you fold your shaking hands in front of your skirt. I hope he doesn’t bruise. The door swings open softly and standing on the other side is a kindly looking woman, the roots of her hair turning grey, pulled back into a neat bun and dressed in a soft brown plain dress.

She introduces herself but you’ve already forgotten her name, too struck down in your fear to register anything. Soon after she’s ushering you out of your room, bustling you across through another door. Steam greets you with a soft gentle tug, a bathtub sitting in the centre of the room, smelling deliciously of perfumes and oils. You are stripped of your previous clothes and submerged in the water.

It’s nice, at a perfect temperature. But you’re numb to the woman’s gentle scrubbing, washing you as though you are porcelain. She doesn’t say much, doesn’t stare, doesn’t ask questions but instead lets you be, kneading out knots from your tense shoulder. You must take care of your hygiene. Smell nice, look pretty, be of some value like a jewel. Only then will he learn to cherish you.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t lay with you. Maybe he considered you impure, tainted by your past life, carrying with you a stench that you could not smell. Perhaps he will now that you are scrubbed clean. Still frozen in your state, the woman coaxes you out of the tub, wrapping something equally warm around your shoulders and then you’re herded back to your room.

You blink and she is gone.

The stool of your vanity is comfortable, the velvet plush under your touch. Any evidence of yesterday’s travels has been washed away from you, all of your make up gone, leaving behind soft unmarked skin. You’re in a periwinkle blue dress, the colour light and soft against your skin. Your hair has been left to curl loosely around your shoulders, strands fluttering across your forehead. You gather them quick and push them back, hastily locking them tightly, not a single lock out of place. There should be no flaw visible on you.

And then you sit like a corpse, fingers tugging against each other, the sun merry in its journey to the apex. You wonder why you’re not happy, always having dreamed of escaping your home. But perhaps you had indulged in your fantasies too much for this to bring you satisfaction; dreaming of heroes coming to save you with their glittering swords and brilliant stallions, threatening to tear apart anyone who stood in the way of his love, cupping your face with utmost gentleness, whispering grand professions of their love, of how you are the moon that guides them home before setting off to a blissful life awaiting in the land beyond where the sun sets. Perhaps this was your own undoing.

Sunlight floods your room now, the gurgle of your empty stomach finally prompting you to dare to venture into his house. You heard no noise during your pitiful vigil, confirming that you were perhaps alone. The stairs creak as you descend them slowly one by one, careful not to make too much noise.

The first thing you notice is the door that leads outside. There’s a glass panel in the centre, allowing you a glimpse into the outside world. The sun shines bright, dust kicking up every now and then by what you assume is the wind. The sudden urge to run grips you again, screaming at you to take the opportunity, to not look back. Too late for all that now, isn’t it? You smooth your skirt, bury those thoughts for good and walk forward.

The parlour is a vast space, surrounded but couches and chairs alike all turned towards the bricked fireplace. There is no stuffed animal head hanging atop the fireplace, the usual subject of boasting during men’s gathering, gauffing about the animal’s helplessness before the final killing shot, whiskey tipping out of their glasses and onto the wooden floor below.

It looks unused, something about the space that seems cold, perhaps it’s the thick layer of dust atop the abandoned book sitting on the table like it hasn’t been disturbed in years. The curtains are drawn, material thick as it doesn’t let any light permeate through it. You don’t dare to take a step inside, not wanting to disturb whatever has been left abandoned in it.

You find the kitchen easy enough, right next to the main entrance. It is sizeable, your eyes widening at the space, admiring the solid wooden dining table seating eight in the middle. A small basket carrying assortment of fruits calls you towards it, hesitantly reaching out for an apple, its red skin glistening under the golden rays. You look over your shoulder once before allowing your fingers to curl around it.

You pull it towards yourself, inhaling deeply, eyelashes fluttering at its sweet scent. You skin your teeth in, juice erupting where you had bruised its skin, tongue quick to lap them up. The apple disappears quick in your haste, bitten down to the very edge of its core, leaving your fingers sticky from where you hold it. The hunger quells in your stomach, no longer protesting from starvation but also not quite satiated. But it is all that you allow yourself, quickly disposing off the remnants, hiding any evidence of your meal. No seconds for you, we don’t need you chubbing up uselessly. No man will want you.

You think about exploring the rest of the house but pause. Isn’t the kitchen the most important room now as the lady of the house? It is your responsibility, every other corner irrelevant. Your room for you to rest and the kitchen for you to serve. You begin to move by yourself, scouring the entire room, familiarising yourself with its every crevice. You look out the window over the sink, the sun almost as high as it can get and the thought of making lunch hits quick, shivering at the thought of your hungry husband returning home without a warm meal waiting for him.

You find the ingredients needed for a hearty stew, some missing but you’ll inform him later, setting quick over the stove. A warm meal always cools tempers. You find a pretty apron hanging by a hook inside the pantry, an aura of dust around it. The image of your husband donning it on to cook relieves your anxiety a bit, but shame quickly follows about thinking of him that way. The lid goes on the pot bubbling away and you set aside a plate for him, lessening the time it would take to serve him.

It’s when the sun begins to come down from the top mast that the sound of heavy boots snaps you out of your daze. You straighten quick, pushing the chair back in its place and dust off your apron, adjusting your skirt and then standing with your hands folded together.

You see his shadow fall on the floor before you see him, bringing with him the scent of dirt and sweat. Leon walks in through, hat in one hand and a rag in another that he’s using to wipe his face, too busy to notice you immediately. You try to control the way your pulse starts to hum, struck at how different he looks from the first time you met him. Gone is the proper looking gentleman.

In his steed stands a rancher, a man who works tirelessly on his land, unafraid of hard work. His outfit is replaced by a plain dark blue shirt with sleeves pushed to his elbows, his veins carving out paths on his glistening forearm, disappearing in the bulge of his concealed biceps. His suspenders attach to his dirtied work jeans, boots heavy in their steps, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

He notices you, lowering the rag and swiping his hair back from his face where they remain, wet from his sweat. Leon’s expression immediately softens, turning towards you, eyebrows furrowed at how you cling so stiffly to the edge of the dining table. The concern in his eyes pulls you in, not a word uttered but the look on his face urges you to relax. His eyes flicks to the pot on the stove, then to you, then to your apron. But he makes no remark.

“Good morning,” You blurt out without thinking.

The upturn of his lips is instant, stuffing the rag in his back pocket and putting his hat on the table. “Good afternoon.”

Right, you almost smack yourself, growing heated as he places his hands on the chair, leaning against it, biceps flexing as he shifts his posture. He looks over your form, bright blue eyes taking you in, never lingering anywhere too long to make it uncomfortable.

“Did you sleep well?” Leon gently asks, furrowing his brows.

“Yes.” The lie is instant. There’s no reason to burden him with your worries. He’s keeping you in his home and that is enough.

He hums thoughtfully, eyeing you up as though in question and searching. For what, you don’t know.

Your mind snaps at you again, reminding you of the heated stew and chastising at your lack of response after seeing your husband return from work. “I made some food. If...if you’d like.”

It’s childish how you blurt short sentences around him, anxiety making you word vomit instead of taking deep breaths and talking in proper sentences like a proper lady. You’ll have to correct it soon; there’s only so much patience you can demand from him.

“Thank you.” Leon sounds genuine as though truly grateful for your effort, his voice gravelly after a day of labour. “I’ll wash up.”

You stand there as he walks past you towards the sink. You stand frozen, the sound of running water drowning out the chaos in your mind. His broad shoulders draw your gaze, each movement igniting a mix of admiration and anxiety. Should I say something?

Leon turns off the water and turns, clean towel in his hand as he dries off, catching you staring at him. You immediately look away, anxiously pulling at your apron as you busy yourself in scooping out the food in his plate. You pick up the plate of the bread you cut up, turning around to set it down in front of him and then feeling your footsteps stutter.

He’s not sitting at the head of the table like you thought, like you were made to practice the proper etiquette to serving your husband. He sits on the far side from you where he can watch the stove, the window and the main door. It's no matter. You still serve him.

You set the plates down in front of him, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight shake in your hands.

“Thank you,” He repeats in the low gentle tone of his, “You really didn’t have to.”

You back away just as quickly hands clasped like they were before.

He leans his head forward, catching wafts of steam in his nose, inhaling deeply. When he opens his eyes, there is a glaze in them, but it disappears before you can catch it. Leon picks up his spoon but doesn’t start, not yet, twisting his head to look at you expectantly.

Your heart leaps out of your throat. What have you done? Have you done something wrong? Does he not like to eat stew? God, you should have asked him for his meal preferences. Was it the bread? Did you set-

“Where’s your plate?”

Oh.

“I...I’m not hungry.” Another lie. But this time your stomach grumbles loudly, betraying you.

He sets his spoon down, leaning back in his chair as he fixes you with a look. “I am not going to eat without you.”

His clear admission leaves you dumbfounded. What? Should he not eat first while the food is warm? What good would it be for him if you’re too busy eating yourself? What if he needs something? You’ll be slow to get it for him and he will be fast in reprimanding you.

You dish out a serving for yourself, pushing away your anxieties. The portion you get for yourself is significantly smaller than his, choosing the pieces with less meat on them, feeling undeserving of it. You don’t need it anyways. He works hard does he not? Meanwhile you will sit away under the shade of your house. You have no use to eat heartily.

You hear the scraping sound of a chair being pulled back and you turn to see Leon holding the back of the chair at the head seat, waiting for you to sit so he could safely tuck it under you.

Your mouth runs dry. How do you tell him that you cannot? That it is not your place but his to sit on the throne? That you’ll be okay sitting at the base of his feet, dusting off his shoes, making yourself as small as possible so that you’re insignificant. You’ll be a woman one day, learn to be quiet.

But this is his house, and his word is the law.

He pushes the seat in as you begun to sit before sitting back onto his chair. He waits until he sees you lift the spoon to your lips, silent but observant to your helping of the stew, and then he begins to eat. You sit with a bated breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable onslaught of criticism, how there is too much salt or there isn’t enough salt. Instead, he showers you with praise. “This tastes so delicious.” and “Thank you for making the meal.” and “I haven’t eaten this good in a long while.”

Each compliment is like a fuel for your heart. You like how he says it so earnestly, his eyes wide and catching yours whenever you would dare to look at him, gleeful in how he would lick his spoon clean each bite, fascinated by how his tongue would curl around the metal. You feel your face burn, suddenly full from having watched Leon devour your cooking, soaking up every last drop on his plate with the bread slices.

The warmth of his words wraps around you like a comforting blanket. “I’m glad you like it,” you reply, your voice soft.

You make to get up, to take away his dishes, your own food remaining in your plate. But he is quicker than you, hands brushing against his, feeling the strong, hard calluses against your soft skin when he rises to his feet.

Leon shakes his head at you, the gestures towards your unfinished meal. “Eat. I got this.”

You practically shovel the food in your mouth, your blood running cold at the sound of him rinsing dishes while you finish your lunch. You make it a point to remember to finish before him next time either by lessening your portion further or simply eating fast. You’re up in a second, coughing to help move the food down faster, approaching the sink to relieve Leon from washing the dishes.

But he doesn’t move, doesn’t let you come too close, choosing to simply take your empty dishes and add them to the pile of soapy water. You try to tell him to move, “Mr. Kennedy, please let-”

He fixes you with a look that has you shut your mouth up in an instant. You stare at him unblinking, realising that you’re once again pulled into his gravity. The freckles on his face have freshened up, his long eyelashes fluttering against the sunlight. His stubble remains unchanged from yesterday and you’re suddenly gripped by the urge to run your hand across it, to feel it prickle against your palm.

Leon is still staring at you, his eyes flickering between yours in search of something. There is a crease in his forehead, seemingly in deep thought. He slowly moves his head forward, forehead almost caressing yours, breathing in the same air as you, waiting for you to back away. But you don’t.

“Leon,” He firmly says, “Always Leon to you. Try saying it.”

You bite the tip of your tongue, regretting the slip up. You expected more of an outburst, but he is patient with you. You can’t help but notice the speckles of green in his eyes unbothered by his musky scent that he has enclosed you in. You swallow thickly, and in a voice as low as a whisper that barely moves your husband’s bangs, you finally say, “Leon.”

The smile he graces you with warms you to your toes, you growing bashful under it. Thankfully he doesn’t fixate on you too much, turning back to wash dishes. The two of you fall into a rhythm soon enough, him handing you wet plates and you wiping them dry and carefully placing them away. For the first time since you can remember, the silence isn’t overbearing. It doesn’t suffocate you, no sweat gathering in your hairline as you wait for the inevitable wailing that always follows.

“Did Marla find you okay?” Leon asks in the low baritone of his voice, still focused on his task while the sunlight bathes him in gold.

Marla? You wonder who he’s- Oh, he must he talking about the lady who helped you in the morning. You’ll have to remember to thank her later. And apologise for your stricken behaviour. “Yes, she was very helpful. Thank you.”

The dishes are soon wiped away, kept back in their designated places and you stand at a distance from him, watching as he leans against the wooden counter. He seems to be in deep thought, glancing down to your shoe wear, scratching his stubble. “Do you have boots?”

Boots? Why would you need boots? Does he plan on making you heave hay bales, working you to the bone under the sun? You can’t refuse, once again submitting at his mercy. “Yes, I have them upstairs.”

Leon folds his arms, shirt straining across his chest at the action, looking at you through his eyelashes, “Go put them on.”

You almost run, careful to hang the apron back in its place. The stairs creak under your quickened steps, kicking off your dainty shoes and struggling to lace your boots under the plaits of your skirts, mind afflicted with a dozen possibilities of what he could possibly have planned for you.

By the time you return, he’s waiting for you by the door, his hat back on. You let go of your skirt when you near him, his hand holding the door open for you. You steal a glance towards him, biting the inside of your cheek, the glint bright in his blue eyes as he gestures with his head encouragingly.

You step outside, the hot wind greeting you quick. You squint at the harsh light, hand coming up to shield your eyes. Leon chuckles as he brushes past you, a “come on” to make sure you follow him, taking off in the direction of the stables. Dust kicks up around your steps, trying your best to keep up. You take up your surroundings, the ranch hands working hard, tipping their hats to you as you walk past, sweat glistening down their forehead, their “Good day ma’am” making your stomach lurch, mumbling back a greeting to them, confounded at the sudden attention you’re receiving.

Leon greets the stable boy, heading inside and glancing over your shoulder to see you haven’t strayed too far behind. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust, smiling meekly at the “Ma’am” offered to you by the young man. Your steps falter, breath hitching in your throat, eyes widening as you’re greeted with the sight of the same brilliant stallion that had brought you here yesterday. His brown coat shimmers, light moving as he trots his foot, digging into the dirt underneath. He’s beautiful, putting to shame all the horses you had seen on your father’s estate. He is much bigger and muscular, a perfect picture of grace with beady eyes reflecting intelligence as he watches you.

You feel a warm presence come up behind you as you donot dare to move, too enraptured by the sight in front of you. A hand comes round from your left, the golden ring glinting, palm facing towards you, holding out a sugar cube.

“His name is Beauford,” Leon mumbles close to your ear, his silky husky voice smoothing out the edge in your system. “He’s quite fond of sweet things.”

You can’t help but throw him an incredulous look over your shoulder, his hat tipped back a bit so you could see his whole face, eyes full of mirth, gliding between your eyes and lips. “Beauford?”

He laughs at your tone, eyes crinkling at the corner, the sound thrilling you, surprised by how easily his features melt into softness. “Well, that would be my fault. I‘m not so good at naming gorgeous things. Now you’re here so I can leave that up to you.”

The back of your neck burns, gaze falling immediately to the sugar cube he’s holding out to you. Hesitantly you reach out, taking note of the cracks in his palms, silvery ribbons of what you imagine to be old scars. You think about your fathers' hands, his palm soft but never holding out any love for you, only knowing them for the cruelties that he would distribute so enthusiastically. You stare hard at the cube before picking it up, your fingers lingering against his. And he moves away, taking the warmth with him.

You step towards Beauford, his watchful gaze fixed to you holding out the sugar cube. Once you’re close enough, he steps forward, lapping up your offering. Your heart swells in glee, an easy smile breaking out on your face, hands immediately set on patting his neck, nuzzling your nose into him.

Leon smiles as you do, hands gripping his belt buckle as he watches the scene unfold, chucking slightly when you grow bashful upon realising he’s watching you. His saddle is on, you notice, wondering if Leon would allow you to take a small trot around the stable. As you build up the courage to ask, the sound of stirrups clicking snaps your head back to see Leon gracefully climbing on another horse, it’s black mane glossy.

You stare dumbfounded, question dead on your lips, throat drying up. He’s leans forward on his saddle, quirking an eyebrow at you. “You don’t know how to get on a horse?”

You nod dumbly. Of course you do. It’s second nature to you.

Leon fixes his hat on his head, a mischievous look flashing on his face. He pulls on his reigns, setting off in a gentle trot, brushing past you. The pink of his lips are upturned at the corner when he calls back out to you, “Let’s see you keep up!”

Adrenaline begins to pump in your system, making your heart race, a light shake in your hands but this time out of excitement. You pick your skirt up and haul yourself onto Beauford’s back, patting his neck, “Let’s be friends now.” And instincts take over.

Beauford feels strong under you, feeling his muscles contort as he takes off bursting into the midday sun. You squint again, following the dust trail to see Leon galloping in the distance, but not too far away for you to not catch up to him. You spur him on, racing after Leon, your anxieties melting away, unable to fight off the smile that stretches your cheeks.

You don’t see the way Leon grins, turning his attention forward and tearing into a full run. The vibrations of Beauford’s gallop thunders through your body, uncaring at how your hair is loosening from their tight hold, whipping against the wind. Laughter echoes as you bask under the hot sun, gleeful at the sensation of leather gripped tightly in your hands, taking deep lungful of unrestricted air.

Leon begins to slow after a while, the ranch distant behind the two of you, guiding you up the small rocky hills, carefully bypassing cacti and thorny shrubbery. You fall into step next to him, feeling hot under the sun, sharing small smiles with Leon. He halts to a stop near the edge of a cliff, fixing the reigns of his horse onto a rock before coming to stand next to you, patting Beauford’s head.

You still, watching him take the reins forward. Leon holds out his hands and you hesitate. It’s a little higher than what you’re used to, you can manage by yourself, the little voice in your head scoffing at you becoming a nuisance. His gaze halts that voice, making it disappear and you lean into him. You steady yourself on his shoulders, his hands coming to hold you by the waist, bearing your weight without a complaint, lifting you off the saddle and gently placing you on the ground.

Leon is strong and unwavering in his motions, no betrayals of faltering, eyes fixated on the flush of your cheeks, taking note of your heaving chest. He feels strong pressed against yours, marvelling at how you feel secure in his grip, your thumbs brushing the hair on the back of his neck.

One of his hand travels up to your face, rough fingers feather light against your cheek as he tucks your hair behind your ears. He releases you with a deep sigh, stepping away and making you miss his touch already. You shake your head, meekly following him as he comes to sit on a bench shaped rock on the edge of the hill.

A gasp involuntarily escapes from your lips when you see the view; it’s the whole of his ranch. It's gorgeous in the deep orange hues of the sunset, the whole land visible and easy to track by the white fences, ranch hands moving about like tiny ants. The house sits on the edge, looking like a doll’s complete with a swing set that you had never noticed before. The whole land stands in the middle of tall cliffs surrounding it as if in embrace, protecting it from threats unknown.

“I come here sometimes by myself,” Leon says, seated next to you, “It’s nice to take it all in from here.”

“It’s gorgeous,” You whisper in wonderment. You didn’t think you’d find it so, a strong contrast to what you had seen growing up.

Leon hums in agreement, his eyes stuck to your face as you stare at the view, your eyes wide and bulging, his heart fluttering at seeing the sparkle return to your otherwise dead gaze. He likes it, wants to keep it there. “Yeah, it is.”

He reaches out for your hand making you jump at the unexpected contact. But you relent, allow him to pull it in his lap and intertwine it with his, your paired rings resting against one another. “I know this is far from what you’re used to but if you’ll let me...I’ll do everything in my power to never make you feel misplaced again. This all belongs to you and I hope it is enough.”

Your heart seizes, vision getting blurry at the thought of simply being considered for. You stare at your intertwined hands, marvel at how delicately he holds you, yearning to feel more. Maybe you will learn to love this place. “This is more than I deserve.”

Leon grips your hand tighter, giving you a serious look. “Don’t say that. You deserve everything.”

You grow weak under his watchful gaze, his jaw locked, his dislike apparent at your words. It’s okay, he decides, you two have a whole lifetime for him to make you understand, to make you see that there is nothing more precious than you. He will bear the burden, shower you with his patience and love, slow and steady like you should have always received. He will make you understand, make you his priority, his wife never to long for anything ever again.

He sighs, bringing your hand up to his face and gently places a kiss over your shared wedding rings. “Welcome home, my love.”

And as the sun dips in the horizon, an unfamiliar warmth settles in your chest, quenching the longing in your heart. You realize that this is home – not the land or the house but the man who’s promises are etched in your heart.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #goodNIGHT

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frogchiro · 1 year ago

Note

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

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

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

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

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

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #konig x reader

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myhappylittlesideblog · 7 months ago

Text

Make It Back

A/N: A right of passage- sticking the reader character into the 'Andrea shot Daryl' scene :) Reader goes OFF on her, so be prepared lol. Sorry if you love Andrea

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader

WC: ~4k

Warnings: talk of Daryl's injuries, falling down the cliff, Walker attack- nothing too graphic; Andrea shooting Daryl but just grazing him; mentions of gore/blood- nothing too graphic; angst, comfort, fluff, cuddling; Daryl being sassy; reader character fighting with Andrea (yelling match)

Summary: You confront Andrea after she shoots Daryl, thinking he's a walker. With your anger taken out on her, you then comfort Daryl as he spends the night in the Greene farmhouse.

You heard the gunshot. Everyone on the farm did. You just didn’t know exactly what had happened.

Following Lori’s lead, you jogged around the house, hoping it wasn’t another accident like the one that almost killed Carl. It was a single shot. Why would anyone risk a lone round out in the open like this? On this beautiful farm.

Once you circled the house, landing in a clump of Herschel’s family and a few others from your group, all you saw was sun. Its rays were blinding yellow as they cut over the tall, deep treeline on the edge of the meadow. It was the middle of a gorgeous day.

You heard Rick scream. It was a booming, worried thing. Then he screamed again.

“What the hell is going on here?” Herschel bellowed.

You moved closer to the field, the gravel of the driveway turning to grass under your feet as you neared the van. Dale was standing beside it with his hands on his head, panic clear in his figure as he looked out to the scene in the pasture.

“Shit,” Andrea said as she hastily climbed down the ladder from the top of the van. She started whining, more to herself than anyone else. “No, no, no, Daryl.”

“What?” you asked, a cold shock running down your spine from the back of your neck to your heels in the dirt. “What? What about Daryl?”

“I-I thought he was a walker,” she said.

Your head whirled to the cluster of men at the treeline. You tripped, your feet rooted to the ground in horror and misunderstanding. Was Andrea actually saying-

“I shot him.”

You bolted at her confession. These days, you were used to running, having done plenty of it through the woods to escape walkers. Then, you had to be careful of roots and puddles and dead bodies and the trees slowed you down, making sprinting difficult. Now, as you watched Rick fall to his knees in the distance, reaching for Daryl’s head after it hit the ground, speed came easily to you. The open meadow of freely growing grass under the clear blue sky was practically a racetrack.

Andrea panted behind you and the useless coins in Dale’s jeans clinked together, but you were faster, your feet agile in their swiftness. Your boots didn’t pound into the dirt like theirs. You sped to Daryl, only slowing when Rick threw one of Daryl’s arms over Shane’s shoulder and took the other one over his own. Daryl’s body fell limp against them, his feet dragging.

As the men caught their balance, you took Daryl’s face in your hands, seeing it drenched in blood.

“He’s unconscious,” Rick said to you. “We’ll get him back to the house.”

You nodded, otherwise silent.

Andrea, however, let loose her apologies and worries in a shrill voice that made everyone around tense up like their limbs were attached to drawstrings.

You didn’t listen to her words. Or T-Dog’s or Glenn’s and you didn’t notice Rick pull something from Daryl’s neck. Only the grass had your attention as your mind ceaselessly spun. Your boots pushed the tall blades around, making them sway with your every step. The shades of green were glowing in the slowly setting sun until they were marred- darkened by the looming three-headed shadow making its way across the field. Daryl’s blood dripped with every step, leaving red droplets behind with the last of the dew.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea said. When she touched your arm, you jumped, jarred back from the peace of the meadow and into the grisly present.

You didn’t answer her.

Daryl was still unconscious by the time Rick and Shane laid him down in the bedroom. While they’d carried him into the house, you beelined straight to Maggie, asking for a rag and some warm water. You ducked into the bedroom and dodged the panicking men so you could sit on the bed and wipe as much grime from Daryl’s face and hands as you could manage before leaving Herschel in peace to bandage his wounds.

When the door to the bedroom closed you out, you sat on the floor in the hall. Earlier, you had wondered if what Rick told you was true, if Daryl was only unconscious. If the bullet had truly only grazed him. You only fully believed Daryl was alive when you washed his face clean. His brow even crinkled when the wet cloth touched it. He was in there still.

Lori sat down quietly next to you in the hallway. She patted your knee. She didn’t have to say anything. You knew her well enough by now to know what she thought. You’re a good friend to him, she’d say. And he doesn’t have many.

You leaned your head back against the wall with a soft thunk and closed your eyes. It was tranquil there for a moment before a familiar, unwanted voice interrupted.

“Can I talk to you?”

You opened your eyes to see Andrea standing above you and Lori.

“Now’s not a good time,” you said. It was awkward and uncomfortable. “I’m waiting for- for some word.”

“I’ll be quick,” she asked, sliding down the wall and sitting beside you.

Andrea had a knack for rubbing you the wrong way at the worst times. You wouldn’t call yourself a ‘strong personality,’ but she certainly was. Whatever it was deep down in you was constantly butting heads with whatever lived in her core. You disagreed with her most of the time, but tried your best to be patient and gracious given the losses she’d suffered and the emotions clearly wracking her. Still, you couldn’t help but feel she went about most things all wrong.

Like insisting she speak to you now.

So you stood up. You asked Lori to come find you when Daryl woke or when you could go visit him- whatever came first- and you left the house. The turmoil in your chest almost made you scream. But instead of letting it rip through you, you sucked in a deep breath and walked down the front steps. To be alone.

“(Y/N), wait.”

You could tell it was her by the sound of her voice.

“Andrea,” you warned, “I’m not in a place to talk right now.”

“To anyone? Or just to me?”

“Does it matter?” you asked, spinning around in the gravel to face her. “Can’t you just respect that I’m- I’m trying to-”

“What?” she shouted, hands in the air. “Trying not to yell at me? What if I want you to? What if I want you to scream at me? Tell me I’m reckless! Tell me-”

“Tell you what you need to hear? That’s not my job.” You were calm, considering the outburst in front of you. “Just leave me be.”

“No.” She ran in front of you, standing with her feet spread wide, blocking your path from the farm house. Like a child. “I need to… I need to apologize. To you. For what I did to Daryl.”

A laugh escaped you. “Apologize to me?”

“Yes. And-”

“You know who you need to apologize to, Andrea?”

“Daryl, I know, but-”

“And Herschel and Rick and Glenn and T-Dog, and everyone else you put in danger when you decided to not do what you were told.”

You watched her jaw clench and set in place. Lowly, she said, “I don’t need to be told what to do.”

“Apparently you do. Apparently you don’t have your head screwed on straight!” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“No, Andrea!” you cut her off with a stabbing shout. “You’re gonna follow me around like this and beg for a piece of my mind? Let me give it to you! Lord knows no one else here will.” You took her arm, leading her away from the front of the house where your temper- or loss of it- wouldn’t disturb Herschel’s family. When she tried to talk over you, tell you she knew what she was doing with that gun in her hands, you snarled at her. “Shut up! I’m speaking now.”

***

You didn’t realize that the hidden spot you led her to happened to be just below the bedroom Daryl and the other men were in. You had no clue that your every word rode the breeze up and through the window above where Rick, Shane, and Daryl could hear you as clearly as if you stood right before them.

And you didn’t know Daryl was already awake.

Shane, arms crossed over his chest, peeked out the window at the sound of Andrea’s voice. He whistled to Rick. “Catfight.”

“What?” Rick asked. He followed Shane’s gaze and shook his head when he saw you. “Nah, (Y/N)’s good. She’ll keep her head.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” Daryl grumbled. “Girl’s got a temper.”

“Never heard anything out of her,” Shane said.

“Thas ‘cause you ain’t never heard her complain ‘bout you.”

“Man, shut up,” Shane growled over Rick’s chuckles. “If (Y/N) gives Andrea a talkin’ to, that’s one less thing on my list.”

Daryl violently shifted the pillow under his head. “Dun even wanna know what’s on yer list.”

Shane shushed him, spitting on the window screen, and nudged Rick. “Wanna listen to her.”

***

You stuck an accusing finger at Andrea, keeping her staring at you and squinting into the low sun. “You need to understand, there’s no ‘girl jobs and boy jobs’ here. It’s not that simple. Just because you don’t like doing laundry and washing dishes doesn’t mean you get a gun to flaunt around by default.”

“They’re wasting my skills!” she hissed.

“Those guys,” you pointed out to the pasture, where Daryl went down, “Rick, Shane, Daryl- those guys are trained with those weapons. They were fucking cops and hunters, Andrea! That’s why they get the guns right now, not because they’re better than us, or whatever the hell story you’ve told yourself.”

“Then I should be trained the way they were,” she said. “Before they took it from me, I had my own gun for years-”

“After what you did today, I hope you never get your hands on another gun! You put every one of those guys in danger today. What if your aim was further off, huh? What if you shot Glenn? Or Rick? You could have killed him right in front of his boy! Right after Carl got back on his feet, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does!”

“Are you sure?” The sun was beating down on your back. The heat of its rays added to the roiling in your gut, making sweat drip down the side of your face and pool on your lower back. Its slick had your t-shirt clinging to you. “Are you really sure? ‘Cause if your shit aim was a half an inch better, you would have killed him today! One of our own. And you’re acting like you barely care- you’re here apologizing to me?”

“You’re closest to him,” she grumbled. “I was trying to be-”

You spoke over her meaningless words. “Daryl is an asset to this group. He keeps us safe, feeds us- he was coming back from looking for Sophia and what thanks does he get? A fucking bullet to the head. You took down a good man today-”

“I thought he was a walker!” Andrea screamed in defense.

“So what?” Your throat ached from its work and Andrea flinched. You forced a calming breath before you continued slowly and deliberately, hoping some of your words would actually stick in her head. “We are so lucky we’re allowed on this property. That we found this doctor.”

“I know.”

“And he asked one thing in return. No guns. You were told by Rick, by Shane- no guns. You saw- you thought you saw one walker and you waste a bullet on it? That one gunshot could have led a whole herd to this house, Andrea. What would have happened then?”

“I get it, okay?”

“I don’t think you do. Four men went out there to take down that walker. They explicitly told you not to shoot that gun. And you did it anyway. And for what? Pride?”

She stared at you. Then she shrugged flippantly. “I wanted to do it. I knew I could do it.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it to you.”

***

Shane whistled again from his spot in the window. “If we ever need a lawyer, she’s the one.”

Daryl laid his head back on the pillow after holding it in the air to listen carefully to your argument. His cheeks, ears, neck and chest were hot and flushed from your words about him.

“She still down there?” he asked.

“No,” Rick said. He rounded the foot of the bed and walked towards the door of the bedroom. “I’ll go check on her. She’ll wanna know you’re alright.”

“He’s red as a tomato,” Shane said, slapping Daryl’s foot, “but alive, right Daryl?”

“Barely,” he grumbled.

***

It was Lori who found you first. She grabbed your wrist and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Daryl’s okay,” she said. “You can go up and see him now.”

You ran your palms up over your cheeks and into your hair, feeling the sweat that had gathered. You sighed. “Maybe later. He should probably rest.”

“He was askin’ for you,” Rick said, appearing behind Lori with a hand on the small of her back. “Go on up.”

At that, you nodded and headed for the bedroom.

Miraculously, you didn’t run into anyone else as you made your way through the house. You would have been embarrassed to see one of the Greenes after what had gone down today in the pasture or even after scolding Andrea, whether anyone had heard you or not.

You couldn’t quite get yourself to open the bedroom door, even as you stood before it, hand on the knob. There was no talking or snoring or shifting of sheets from the inside and you debated if you would be a disturbance or a comfort to whatever mood you’d meet inside.

Finally, at length, you pushed it open.

Daryl was shirtless, legs tangled in the thin sheets on the large bed. He only took up a small portion of it, though he was laying almost diagonally across it so he could watch the door. Of course he and his tracker’s ears had heard you open it. He looked at you with narrowed eyes.

“Hey killer,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t even.”

You stood in the doorway, watching him. His arm was tucked tight under his head as he looked away from you and down into the sheets. He tucked them up all around him, blocking his injury and most of his skin from view. You knew why, but ignored it. You instead stared at the bandage tied around his head. It made his short hair stick up wildly, like a bloody coyote in the woods.

“You wanna be alone, or you want me to stay?” you asked, hanging onto the doorknob.

He shrugged. “Dun matter ta me.”

That was the closest to a yes you were ever going to get. You closed the door behind you with a soft click and walked to the emptier side of the bed to sit on its edge. “You need anything? Water, or-”

“Got it,” he said, blindly pointing to the nightstand beside the bed.

“Kay.” The air in the room was hot, but since the sun was setting lower and lower each minute, you knew there’d be a breeze blowing through the lacy curtains soon enough. You wiped your brow again. “How are you feeling?”

“‘Bout as bad as I look.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

You breathed out a laugh. “You looked like death itself before, though, so this is an upgrade.”

He glared at you, but it was playful. For him, you knew it was. “Well, I was shot.”

“Yeah.”

You swallowed hard at the reminder. Next to his glass of water was the bowl and cloth you’d brought to him earlier. You reached for it now, wringing it out some before bringing it to his forehead which was as damp with sweat as yours was.

“What else happened out there?”

“Nuthin’,” he said, shrugging off the cloth.

You didn’t budge and asked again. “You look rough, Dare. Herschel said there was something with your side too? I saw all the blood.”

He was quiet, attention again on the sheets as you dabbed at his forehead and cheeks. There was still blood on his chin and grime on his neck- mud and something else you didn’t care to guess at. You stopped at his shoulders. It was clear he didn’t want you looking anywhere near his chest or back, buried in the sheets.

Then you noticed him watching you.

“You…”

“Hm?” you pushed.

“You were worried? ‘Bout… ‘bout me.”

“Of course I was. Still am. You’re one of us, we’re all worried-”

“I fell. And a couple’a walkers found me.”

Panic shot through you like lightning, branching through your veins and up your limbs. “Walkers?” No one told you. No one said anything about a bite or scratch or anything- “Is that, the injury on your side, it’s from a walker?”

“No,” he was quick to correct. “Nah, I fought ‘em off. Didn’t get me.” “Christ,” you whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to keep the unshed tears stuck in your eyes.

“When I fell down the cliff, I took an arrow through my back.”

It didn’t-couldn’t-register. “You fell down a cliffside?”

“Twice.”

That was all you could take. The emotion, the stress and panic of the day, of the weeks past, caught up to you in one drowning swell. You felt your lips tremble and tried to keep them shut up tight, tried to count the bumps in the washcloth still in your hands, dripping on the knee of your jeans.

“Ay,” Daryl said, gruffly. He took the washcloth from you and smacked your arm with it before tossing it near its bowl. “Dun do that. Dun- dun cry fer me-”

“Argentina?”

“Wha?”

It made you laugh. It was a wet, snotty laugh and the curve of your cheek pushed out a fat tear that carved its way down your face. “It’s a song,” you said.

“Don’t start singin’ neither.”

You chuckled again, losing more tears and the fight to not cry in front of Daryl.

With a painful grunt, he moved himself on the bed, opening a spot for you. He patted the empty space, mumbling. “Come on.”

You kicked off your boots and laid down on the bed, mirroring him. One arm supported your head, while the other tucked tight against you, keeping to your own space as you looked at him. His teeth dug into his lip over and over as he studied the hair and freckles on his arm as if he’d never seen it before.

“Were you scared?” you whispered.

After a long while, narrowed blue eyes met yours and he nodded.

“Out there alone.” Your voice broke, shaking with the tight breath in your chest.

“S’alright. M’back now.”

You flopped on your back, away from him for a chance to breathe. You were losing your grip and you didn’t want to break in front of him. You were there to support him, not force him into comforting you. But the thought of him in fear and suffering alone was stubbornly lodged in your throat.

“When I was out there climbin,’ that’s what I was thinkin’ ‘bout,” Daryl said. “Thought ‘bout comin’ back. Seein’ ya. Knew I had ta get back.”

His words hung in the air. They were soft and open, his voice less harsh than usual.

“That’s right,” you said. Using the collar of your t-shirt, as sweaty and dirty as it was, you wiped the tear tracks from your face and cleared your eyes.

“Now we both look bad as I feel,” Daryl said.

“Shut up,” you said. But you laughed.

The air felt clearer now. It wasn’t so stifling hot and you watched the transparent curtains dance in the breeze coming in through the window. Again, you turned to him, laying on your side, able to study him more. Daryl, however, seemed like he couldn’t bear the attention. His flitting gaze fell on just about everything in the room except you until he seemed to settle upon the safety of the bare ceiling above, studying it as if it were a map to a hidden treasure. Like a cure to the world’s mess.

“You okay?” you finally asked.

“Did you mean it? What ya said?”

“When?”

One of his hands flew up, gesturing toward the window. “Earlier. To Andrea.”

You hummed, lips glued together for a moment. “You heard all that?”

He chuckled. “Loud and clear. She deserved it.”

“Mm. Just lost my temper.”

He grunted, agreeing. “But’cha- what ya said ‘bout me.” He struggled for the words, throat and mouth working for the right thing to ask. “Said I was a good man, ya mean that?”

“Of course.” You sat up, moving your face into his line of vision. You made him look at you. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. And I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t think it.” Your fingertips grazed his skin, tickling down his cheek until they turned the other way, your knuckles running the same path for good measure. “You are a good man. I see you. I see the things you do and no matter how much you like to hide it, I know you have a big heart. I’ve seen it.” You gave him a soft shove on the shoulder, teasing. While you were there, close to him, you brushed the hair off his forehead before returning your hands to yourself and laying back flat on the bed.

He grunted and pressed his lips together, staring at where your face had been, the spot that was just the bare ceiling now. Then he shrugged away from you and turned to the opposite wall and grumbled, “S’not what I asked, girl.”

“Gave ya some extra bang for your buck, that’s all,” you said. When he didn’t turn or even chuckle, you bent towards the floor for your boots. “Want me to go? So you can get some rest?”

He gave you nothing in answer. You at least hoped he heard what you said, took it to heart. But, you thought, that’s what you get for blubbering all over his bed. Only slightly bothered, you leaned towards the nightstand to see if he had enough water for the evening. Then, you’d leave-

“Dun haf’ta go,” he mumbled.

“Oh.”

“So long as ya don’t go all girly ga-ga on me again.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he peeked at you over his shoulder. “You mean telling you that I actually care about you? Then don’t go tryin’ to die on me again.”

He flopped over. “Ya think I wanted to fall off the damn cliff? Fuckin’ horse threw me off.”

Setting your boots back down, you settled into the bed next to him. “Horse shoot you with your own crossbow too?”

“You shut your mouth, girl.”

“Mhmm.” you hummed, grinning.

Like two parallel beings, you laid opposite each other, close, but not touching. You used your own arm for a pillow and tucked yourself under the sheet of the bed. Daryl looked past you, as if watching the door as another breeze blew through the room.

“Here,” he said, shimmying up towards the head of the bed and sliding the arm of his uninjured side under your head. You laid close, tucking your arms into your chest so only your elbows and your knees crossed over into Daryl’s space.

At least, it was that way until he leaned down into you, resting his chin on your forehead and letting his other arm drop over your side. You let loose a sigh at the touch- he’d made it back.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead Daryl dixon #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead Daryl dixon x reader #my writing #daryl dixon comfort

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b1mbodoll · 1 year ago

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how can u say bull hoon like i’m in a crisis now. just thinking about beefy hoon being brought into a new farm and immediately becoming obsessed with the sweet little farmhand who’s in charge of collecting his seed. everyone’s always talking about how impeccable the quality of his seed is and how they’re gonna have to have him breed with the cow girls. but why would hoon go near those girls when he can just dump his load into his pretty little farmer and make her carry his calf :( just thinking about her all round and swollen with his baby has him pumping load after load into her

pairings: park sunghoon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + courting + oral + scent kink + strength kink + begging + jealousy + pregnancy

💌: help u sent me !!!! into a crisis im going to think about this for literally forevwr like i cant rn omfgkfsoskkfjfkskdnf i need him ps it doesnt matter what u look like i promise bull! hoon is large and in fucking charge!!!!!!!!!

bull! hoon is no stranger to sex. sometimes farmers would slap a wad of cash on his handler’s desk n he’d be sent to the field where a scared little cow hybrid was waiting for him to take what he wants, but he never did. instead he’d stay away from the heifer n do his own thing until her owner would get angry n snatch their payment, cursing sunghoon as the pair leave because how dare the bull not seduce his hybrid!!!!!!

his handler gets fed up with the constant failed breeding attempts n sends him your way, tired of dealing with such a stubborn bull. when sunghoon lays his eyes on you it’s like his personality does a complete 180. he’s no longer cold and distant n is so careful with you because ur such a tiny little thing in comparison to the buff bull.

when you try introducing him to ur sweet cow hybrids sunghoon is so distraught because he’s been courting you for weeks n this is the final nail in the coffin, he can’t keep pretending like he doesn’t wanna pound you til you’re crying. completely unaware of the bull boy’s feelings you leave the pair alone, tending to your other hybrids in the meantime.

sunghoon’s snorting and stomping his feet because he’s so angry!!! he doesn’t want to fuck a cowgirl he wants you!!!! wants to stuff you full of cum n make you a slut for his dick til all you can think about is getting bred :( sends the cowgirl back to her pen n waits for you in the pasture

when you return to check on them you’re surprised to find the bull alone, slipping into the fenced in area with him before asking, “hi hoonie, what’s wrong? did something happen?” he nearly caves at the sound of your sweet voice laced with worry, but he maintains his composure. “what’s wrong?” he snorts angrily, “what’s wrong is i’ve been tryin’ to show you i’m worthy of being your mate but you won’t give me the time of day!” the shock is evident in your face and hoon cant believe you really didnt know his intentions. “wha? hoonie i can’t be your mate! you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, y’just haven’t met the right cow!” you continue making excuses for him and he’s had enough, biceps flexing as he shoves you facefirst into the dirt.

the display of strength has your cunt dripping and you can only pray he doesn’t notice. but he’s a top hybrid, the best of the best and his sharp nose instantly picks up on your arousal. “stay down” he grunts, making sure you’re properly presenting for him before making his way behind you and tearing your shorts off with his large hands, leaving you clad only in your tiny tank top and cotton panties drenched in your juices.

your bull stuffs his face between your thighs n shoves his nose right up against your cunt, inhaling deeply and becoming obsessed with how good your pussy smells. “if y’can’t be my mate then why are you so wet, human?” you’re so embarrassed n your hole clenches around nothing at his words. “‘s normal sunghoon! what else do you expect after treating me like this?” he ignores you completely n rips your panties off, throwing them to the side before digging in, mouth slurping at your pussy like he’s fucking starving.

his tongue is so fucking long and he’s so skilled, it’s not long before you’re creaming. “you’re ready.” is all he says before lining his dick up with your sloppy cunt, filling you in one quick thrust. he moans so loud you’re sure the entire farm can hear him, feeling sorry for your hybrids because you can’t bring yourself to make him pull out. “you wanna cum again, sweetheart?” you nod your head like crazy, wanting nothing more than to milk his dick for all it’s worth. “then fucking beg.” sunghoon is a dirty pervert and you’re just as bad, begging instantly with no hesitation. “please hoonie! wanna be your breeding bitch, need your thick cum inside now! wanna cum with you n feel you impregnate me, please!” he’s in fucking heaven, cums so hard n so much it’s no wonder he’s a prized bull, fills you up so well it makes you black out.

after he makes you cum again sunghoon carries you inside, tucking you into your bed before taking his spot next to you. when you wake up the following morning your body is so sore and you still feel so full because sunghoon is insatiable and couldn’t resist fucking you til he passed out from exhaustion. as you make your way around the farm to check on your hybrids you can’t help but notice how they’re staring at you, jake, your sweet dog hybrid is even outright glaring at you because how could sunghoon get to you first? it’s only fair if he gets a turn because he was here before that damn bull!

#♡.signed. sealed. delivered.#♡.the honeypot #💌.breeding #💌.hybrids #💌.oral #💌.creampies #💌.pregnancy #💌.size kink #💌.strength kink #enhypen #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut

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yourmidnightlover · 4 months ago

Text

a lil blurb i cooked up a while ago but never posted… a bit angsty, a bit smutty. enjoy :)

18+

it didn't feel right, being here with him.

you know where your heart is, and it's nowhere near where you are right now. where you are being some nice restaurant in manhattan when you know that your heart is truly still in brooklyn, in the bed you never slept in, with the man you always slept with.

but the man before you was so kind. he checked every box there was. now, this was your third date with him in two months.

he had picked you up at your place, held your hand on the drive to the italian eatery. he even pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss there just because he could.

he listened to you attentively. he asked questions about your parents, your life growing up. he asked what it was like being an avenger, not because he was a fan of the avengers, but because he wanted to support you and make sure everything was going well for you.

in return, you smiled at him. you thanked him for his kindness and thoughtfulness. you listened to him explaining his fears that he knew were silly and stupid. and you held his hand, too.

he made you laugh and smile. he was gorgeous, too. he was a man who worked a typical 9-5. he maintained hobbies, though. he was very fit, made sure to stay in shape by eating right and going to the gym at least four times a week. he let himself enjoy the best parts of life, never skipping dessert when he felt like it.

and when you were walking down the street to his parked car...

he held your hand.

the man who held your heart, however, never held your hand. his hand would occupy your neck, your wrists, your hair, your ass, so many parts of you his hand has held. but never so tender, and never your hand.

so, when josh dropped you back off at your place with no expectations other than a smile gracing your face, showing you actually enjoyed his presence, you pulled him in for a kiss.

but there were no fireworks that went off, no spark that was suddenly engulfed in flames that refused to be extinguished.

there was calm, and somewhat peace for you.

there was a river that calmly flowed through a pasture, a field of the most beautiful wildflowers you had ever seen.

but was that what you wanted?

"i had the best time tonight, josh." you pressed your forehead against his, his hands cradling your neck as his breath fanned over your face.

"i can't tell you how happy that makes me." you could feel his smile on your own face, his cheeks bunching up at the motion. "is it too soon to already ask you on another date? i would worry about being too forward, but i can't help it when i'm feeling this way about you."

you wish those words were coming from another pair of lips, but he was so wonderful. and you liked him, really, you did. he was everything you've ever wanted. he just wasn't bucky.

"i wouldn't say it's too soon at all," you agreed to the date, wishing him a good night and ordering him to get home safely before trudging inside and dreaming of the super soldier.

"steve, cut the shit," bucky was tired of steve beating around the bush. "what the hell is going on?"

steve sighed, knowing that he could never really keep a secret from his best friend. "look, i know you don't want to admit you love y/n, really, i do-"

"because i don't, okay!" the look bucky shot him before he resumed lifting the weights above his head made it seem like he would much rather be chucking the weights at steve's head. "now what the hell are you going on about?"

sam had told steve he saw you on a date with another man, looking mighty happy and grinning, at that. there was no doubt in steve's mind that bucky was in love with you, either.

he knew in the little things bucky always did.

he would always make sure that when someone did grocery runs they would stock up on your snacks on the off chance that you stayed at the compound for a night or two.

he always checked in with tony to make sure you returned from a mission in good shape, and if you were ever sent to the medbay he would speed to the compound, always staying in the waiting room and never letting anyone tell you he was there. but he was always there for you.

if there was a mission where he knew you would be exhausted afterword and would want to stay at the compound, he would make up your room himself, spraying your favorite scent all over the room and making sure your pillows where exactly how you liked them before making sure the bathroom was stocked with your favorite soap, shampoo and conditioner.

the times that the team would go out for drinks together, he would tell off any man that even looked in your direction, promising they would regret it when they would never be able to look at anything ever again if they looked at his girl,

of course, steve would never tell bucky that he knew he did those things. but bucky has never cared so much about someone to be so thoughtful and caring.

although, steve also knows that bucky is absolutely shit at explaining his feelings and showing affection face to face.

"y/n's been seeing someone." only steve would be able to tell the changes in his micro-expressions with as subtle as they were. although bucky is one of the best spies in the entire world, his best friend knew him before all of it.

"and?" he pushed the word out through gritted teeth.

"you don't care?" now this was entertaining...

"why should i?" he continued on as if nothing was said.

"well, they left together," steve shrugged, now taking on a nonchalant tone to see how far he could push this. "apparently they were all over each other the whole night. he couldn't drop her hand all night," he shook his head with a chuckle. "she seemed so happy with him. especially when they-"

"i don't care!" bucky slammed the weights in their rightful place. "why should i care, steve? she's not mine, okay?"

steve stayed quiet at the outburst, holding back a grin. finally, he had broken through to him.

"i'm not sure how serious they are..." he wanted to throw bucky a bone. he couldn't help it, that was his best friend.

he got an angry grunt in response before the brunette stormed out of the gym.

my girl.

mine.

out with another man.

smiling,

laughing,

happy.

he knew he never deserved you anyway. he was pushing his luck by having you the way that he has been.

but god, you were addicting. once you crossed that line, once he had you one time, he was hooked.

being engulfed in your being, holding your body close to his, feeling you come apart, being the reason you fell apart... it was intoxicating.

but he never wanted to taint you, or hurt you with who he was. his past, the demons he's faced, hydra's still alive. he never wanted you to be in danger. so, he acted like he hated you to protect you, physically and emotionally.

in spite of knowing it was for the better, he fucking hated it.

he wanted to scream from the rooftops how much he loved you. how he had you, if even only for a few hours, he got to make you his. you had carved your place in his heart, and as far as he was concerned, it would never erode with time.

but hearing that you had been with another man, letting him hold you how he had yearned for so long. it was truly only a matter of time before another man realized how wonderful you were, he had only hoped that he would be able to scare them off before they approached you. seems like this time he was too late.

"bucky," you sighed into his mouth as his fingers plunged in and out of you. "don't stop, please," your forehead rested against his as he smirked with a knowing look.

"i feel it, princess," he chuckled. "let go for me, cum all over my fucking hand, baby," your mouth opened in a silent scream as you came on his fingers, squeezing them tight as he caught your lips in a kiss as your legs began shaking, only being supported by his body pressing yours against the wall of his apartment. "that's my girl. fuck yea, keep going, princess." he let you ride out your high with a smile on his face.

"i want you, jamie," you were the only person he let call him that. ever.

"what do you want from me, baby?" he teased as you whined, gripping his shoulders even tighter.

"i want you to fuck me, please?" you sounded so desperate, like he was the only thing that could tether you to the earth at this very moment.

"since you asked so fucking nicely," he slid inside of you in one thrust, filling you to the brim so sweetly.

it felt like, as cliché as it sounds, a puzzle that finally showed the full picture. like finally seeing color after years of only black and white. like home. ang god, he didn't want to leave.

he wrapped your legs around his waist, walking you to his bed and laying down with you as he continued fucking into you. if this was the only way he could have you, he would show you all of his passion the only way he knew how.

"so pretty under me like this," your hands were thrown over his neck, pulling his face in the crook of your own. "feel so fucking good every time, princess." his thrusts sped up as he let one hand travel down your body to play with your clit, sending you over the edge. "atta girl," he fucked you through your high as he reached his own, his cum painting your walls as you kept chanting his name in a moan.

he pressed a kiss to your cheek before rolling to lay beside you, pulling you to lay on his chest. his heartbeat had a way of grounding you. you’d read once about how sometimes your hearts would synchronize… you forgot the stipulations of that, but you hoped that it was true. because if that was true then at least you were tied to him in a way not many others would have.

you sighed contently as he did nothing more than hold you. his arms securing you to him, his heartbeat grounding you. he was enveloping you in every sense of the word, he was all around you, and you didn’t even want to complain about it. to be quite frank, you would dream of being consumed by him. about him being in your life in every possible way.

perhaps the dream you had would be more of a premonition. of the life you could have with him if you both cut your shit out. of a life full of softness and holding hands.

or maybe that dream would never come into fruition… it would stay right where it belongs, in his arms as you slept only to be ripped from you in the morning.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes smut #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #smut #bucky smut #james barnes smut #sargeant james barnes #sargeant smut

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months ago

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Broken: Travis Wheatley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @keyweegirlie @nu1freakshow @trublu2u

Companion piece to

Texas - Travis and you make a realisation about your relationship.

The Vet - Rip comes face to face with a nightmare.

Travis isn’t in Montana the night Malcom Beck comes for you. He’s back home on his ranch in Texas, wrangling cattle and trying to forget about the fact the two of you decided to call it quits a couple of weeks ago. It still hurts like a fucker, no matter how much he tries to busy himself.

When he gets the call from Rip he thinks it’s about horses. The Duttons have been expanding onto the rodeo circuit, he suspects they want to talk logistics. He doesn’t expect Rip to tell him he needs to get his ass to Yellowstone right fucking now, because your ex husband has beaten you so badly they weren’t sure if you were going to make it through the night.

He gets on the first plane he can out of Texas, praying to God and replaying that phone call over and over and over again his head. It’s the longest four hours of his God damn life. A living fucking nightmare.

“They’ve moved her to the ICU.” Rip informs him when he lands. “He beat the living shit out of her, if Imogen hadn’t turned up when she did...”

Then they would have found your body instead of you bleeding out across the tiles trying to fend off Malcom Beck.

“Did he…” Travis can’t bring himself to say the words.

“No.” Rip says, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel, remembering the scene he walked into. “But it was close.”

Travis wants to murder Beck. He wants to tear him apart, to scatter his remains into the tar pits in Texas where they wouldn’t find a trace of him. The impulse surges through his body like a wildfire burning him up inside.

“I’m going to kill the fucker.” He snarls, his hands clenching into fists. “I’m going to…”

“You’re not going to do anything but take care of your girl.” Rip says sharply, the harshness of his voice stopping Travis in his tracks. “You’re the one she needs right now, leave Beck to us.”

There’s silence then as Travis tries to rein in his temper. He knows Rip’s right, that he needs to be there with you, supporting you because despite the fact the two of you aren’t a thing anymore, he’s still deeply in love with you.

“He needs to suffer.” Travis says finally, his voice rough. “I’m not talking a bullet to the head Rip, it needs to be fucking biblical.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Rip promises and Travis already knows from the tone of his voice that Malcom Beck is going to die screaming.

When he gets to the hospital, Lloyd is waiting for him near the gift shop. They fall into step and he gives Travis the latest details regarding your condition. You’re in and out of consciousness due to the pain medication. You have a broken arm, multiple fractured ribs, internal bleeding and a concussion so severe they would have refused to let you out the hospital even if you didn’t have the other injuries.

“You need to prepare yourself.” Lloyd tells him, pausing outside the door. “It ain’t pretty.”

Travis’s throat constricts and he nods his head in understanding before the other man opens the door and gestures for him to step inside. His eyes come to rest on you and for a second he doesn’t actually recognise the person lying in that bed. His breath catches and his knees grow weak. Lloyd’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, squeezing lightly and that sensation it anchors him. He lets his bag drop to the floor, before he approaches your bed. You’re asleep, a deep exhausted rest that comes with heavy medication. He wonders if you’re dreaming, he hopes that if you are they’re sweet ones, ones of you riding Artemis over the pastures with that pretty smile on your face.

His thumb traces over the cuts on your knuckles, split from defending yourself against that animal. His eyes began to sting because he cannot imagine how scared you must have been in those moments with Beck, how you’d literally fought for your life.

“I’m gonna give the two of you a little time.” Lloyd says, squeezing his shoulder again. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Travis nods his head, waiting for the door to close before he takes the seat alongside of you, his hand clasping yours. The tears, they’re following freely now, salt stains his cheeks as he chokes, the sobs wracking his body with a violence that vibrates through every single one of his nerve endings. He doesn’t remember the last time he cried, his daddy died over a decade ago and he hadn’t shed a single tear for that man.

Your hand slips from his as he tries to stifle the sound but it tears from his chest as his heart shatters into a million pieces. Something soft brushes his face and it takes him a second to realise it’s your fingertips, trying to chase away his anguish.

“You’re here.” You say, your voice barely more than a rasp.

“Yea honey.” He whispers as he kisses the pads of your fingers. “I’m right here.”

Love Travis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#travis wheatley #travis wheatley x reader #yellowstone

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Feel free to ignore this! I'm just v sleep deprived and having brain rot inspired by some things I saw in ur writing and thought it may be up ur alley. Also this brainrot thingy is mainly aimed at readers who have the ability to get pregnant so if that don't sit right with you feel free to ignore it or change aspects of it!

Hear me out right. A mix of the sex doll au and hybrid au (either fox or husky) for childe. But like in the doll au how he replaces components as a form of trying to live out the dad fantasy? Yeah that but in the hybrid au. Like reader is trying to rehabilitate this poor little baby fox kit/husky puppy that's really sickly and was abandoned. Childe basically looks at the reader playing nurse/mommy for this poor thing almost 24/7 (his attention is being deprived lol) and goes "oh yeah that little one is ours duh". He starts exhibiting protective dad behavior while simultaneously being like "look at how good of a job I can do".

Follow up to that the pup/kit either gets better and can be handed off to another conservationist who has other young hybrids and would do a better job at caring for them in a group environment with other hybrid kiddos so there's less of a risk of em becoming too domesticated. And reader is supper bummed out about it for a while bc all their attention was zoned in on this one really precious little one and now they've moved onto bigger pastures 🥲. Meanwhile childe sees this and is like "oh now I can both console my mate in their grief, I've proven I'm a capable partner, I can totally help them make new little ones!"

Take all of that inspo/brainstorming as u will. Also if you consider people submitting ideas as commissions I apologize for misunderstanding! Did not intend to overstep 🙇‍♀️

tw - implied violence, child neglect/abandonment, and obsessive behavior.

fjdkljdfksdj i think this would probably be more plausible with husky!childe, but something about this scenario with fox!childe is just,,,

it'd just be so sweet to watch him dote over the tiny, terrified kit one of your friends found shivering in a snowbank. you really aren't qualified to take care of such a young hybrid, but while you scramble to get a hold of a more experienced volunteer, childe picks up the slack. despite being old enough to walk, the poor thing barely leaves his arms. he handles their near-hourly feedings, modifies the ill-fitting clothes you pull out of storage to accommodate their tail and hind legs, even lets them crawl between you and him at night and violate his cardinal rule (no one else gets to so much as touch your bed except for him - an unspoken law that's resulted in more than a few bitten hands and bleeding guests). he does his best to put a dent in their never-ending energy, and when it's time for you to take over, he's never more than a few feet away, wagging his tail as you take the kit's temperature and try to convince them to swallow a few drops of medicine. and, when you finally contact a volunteer with a small shelter and a pack of orphaned kits, childe seems as happy as you are, rubbing his cheek against theirs as he tells them that they'll be home soon enough. it's sweet, even if fox-hybrid dynamics are, admittedly, a little lost on you. honestly, you're just relieved you'll be able to sleep through the night again.

at least, you're relieved until you get back from work the next day, until you find your door unlocked and your apartment wrecked, furniture overturned and rust-colored stains soaked into your carpeting. you find childe on the foot of your bed, bouncing a crying kit in his lap and gushing them quietly, but he doesn't look concerned. if anything, his posture is slack, the smile written across his face nothing short of ecstatic. he looks calm. he looks happy.

he looks like someone who only just found his way home.

#hybrid au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere childe #childe x reader #yandere ajax #yandere tartaglia

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pedroshotwifey · 9 months ago

Text

To the Flame chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Chapter tags/warnings: smut, piv sex, breeding kink (kinda, more like territory kink), possessiveness, oral (f receiving), talk of m oral, pwp, manipulation, rough sex, rough oral sex, nipple stimulation, squirting, stuff I'm definitely forgetting, dirty talk, manhandling, stupid amounts of making out/kissing

Chapter summary: You arrive at your new home and spend some quality time with the man of your dreams

A/N: Hey y'all! Hope we're still liking this story! Gotta be honest, 90% of this chapter is pure smut lmao. Can't go wrong there! (or can we?) Thank you for putting up with my bs and for staying tuned while I get some more served up!

***

Javi’s house is almost exactly what you had expected it to be. It’s not too big, and not too small. The Spanish style home is tucked back behind some woods in the middle of a small plot of land, which is apparently owned by his father.

There’s a pasture on half of his property filled with cows, which he tends to in return for living in the house. It’s peaceful and cozy, reminding you of the man who lives in it.

It doesn’t take long for you and Javi to haul your things inside, placing your clothes in his room, and any extra belongings in a hall closet. Your stomach makes nervous flutters the entire time, keeping you giddy with happiness despite your current situation.

Within just a few hours, you’ve gotten engaged, and have moved out—well, been kicked out, but it sounds better the other way—of your house and into Javier’s. It seems like a dream come true when you really think about it.

You fiddle with the ring on your finger as you bite your lip to hide the smile that’s creeping across your face. It’s absolutely the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and it fits you perfectly. How did he even figure that out?

It’s a simple ring, but intricate enough to hold anyone’s attention. The plain, gold band comes up to mold into a thorny vine design near the top, where it holds the perfect sized diamond. Not big or obnoxious enough to be gaudy, but keeping on the delicate side.

You also appreciate the way the vine design doesn’t continue all the way to the bottom, instead flattening out so that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable if it scratches or digs into your skin. It seems like Javi really thought this out, on top of knowing that he was going to marry you one day. Never have you experienced something so romantic in your life.

As you’re staring down at it, completely enamored with your thoughts, Javi comes up behind you. He admires the piece of jewelry over your shoulder, putting one hand carefully on the side of your head to pull you to him so he can place a kiss to the opposite side.

“It’s so pretty, Javi,” you tell him without taking your eyes off of it. You hadn’t gotten a good look at it until it was on your finger and Javi pulled back onto the road, and you’ve been in a trance since then. You lean into him, finally looking up to see him gazing adoringly back down at you.

“You deserve pretty things, pretty girl,” he says, wrapping you in a hug as you lean your head into his chest. He sighs and rests his chin on your head.

“I hope you know we’re not going to be able to have a big wedding at first, but I promise you that we will when the time is right. I want everything to be perfect for you, bebecita.”

You smile at that. You don’t mind that you can’t have a ceremony. You know that he will keep his promise, and you’ll get the fairytale wedding you’ve always dreamed of one day. He would do anything for you, he told you so.

HIs hand comes up to your chin, and you allow him to tilt your head up to capture your lips in a slow kiss. He slips his tongue between your lips, gently licking into your mouth in a way that makes your entire body light up with the sensuality of it.

Sparks jump in your belly, and you can feel wetness seeping into your panties. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your body responds to his touch. You moan into his mouth and bring your arms up to circle his neck, leaning on your toes to deepen the kiss until it feels like you’re trying to consume each other.

Javi lets you push him backwards to the couch, keeping his mouth on yours and pulling you back with him as he takes a seat. Your thighs bracket his, and the position immediately reminds you of just last night, when the two of you had been in the back of his truck, you giving your body to him for the first time.

Is it weird that you already want him again?

You decide it’s not as you start to grind down on him, and Javi definitely agrees with that assessment by the way he groans into your mouth.

“Shit, baby, lay down for me. Gonna do this properly this time,” Javi pulls away from you to say, his lips still close enough to be brushing against yours.

You eagerly comply to his request, letting him place you down on your back across the seat of the couch. He takes his position above you, giving you a few more teasing kisses before he starts to trail down your body.

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing, a gasp tumbling from your swollen lips as he sharply nips at your neck. His hands are slithering up your shirt, and you subconsciously arch your back to help him get it off you.

He grabs hold of the hem and raises it up until your stomach and your breasts are exposed, his mouth worshiping each inch of skin as it’s revealed to his greedy gaze.

“So pretty and soft for me, sweetheart.”

Javi’s lips are so close to your skin when he says it, that you can feel the moisture from his breath. You whine and wiggle, trying to get some friction somewhere. Your nipples are almost painfully hard against your bra, and you wish he would take it off.

“Please, Javi,” you beg, bucking your hips up while simultaneously trying to keep your hands planted on the couch. He didn’t give you explicit instruction to keep them there, but you see the game he’s playing, and you know he would if you moved them right now.

The look in his eyes can only be described as feral, fed by the carnal desire to have you above all. Seeing your struggle, he reaches his hands up again, and you lift up so he can undo your bra and then pull it off.

As soon as the article hits the ground, his hands are on you, fondling your breasts and thumbing over your erect nipples in a manner that makes you keen. You close your eyes as he moves up enough to seal his mouth over one of the buds, sucking and flicking his tongue harshly.

You moan his name wildly as he grasps you so that you’re unable to move, stuck with nothing to do other than take the assault on your sensitive flesh. You feel a heat stirring between your legs—which you didn’t know was even possible without direct stimulation—and when Javi lets one hand sneak down to rub tiny circles on your clit at the same time as he bites down on you, you’re coming undone in a matter of seconds.

You’re distracted enough by the blinding pleasure to be almost unaware of Javi pulling his mouth from your breast and snaking down even lower. His thumb stays on your clit as he spews bouts of encouragement your way.

It’s only when he removes his hand and pulls your pants and panties down that you open your eyes again to watch him scoop up your thighs, and dive into your cunt like a starved man. Your hands immediately fly to his messy hair, already damp from his efforts.

Javi moans into you as he tongues in and out, not wasting a second before going full force, alternating between your overstimulated clit and your weeping pussy. You’re getting light headed, your entire body heating up as he begins to pull another orgasm to the edge, just waiting for that one push. Just as you think he’s about to give it to you, he pulls away, breathing heavily as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.

“You have no idea how fucking good you taste, sweetheart,” he says, and you don’t know if you’ve ever heard him say anything with so much conviction.

Despite the crudeness of what the two of you are doing right now, you feel your face flush at his words. He licks a quick stripe up your seam before coming up again, and you almost come untouched at how much this look puts the last to shame. You’ve heard the term “pussy drunk”, but this might be your first time truly seeing it.

“Maybe I’ll fuck you with my cock and make you taste yourself on me after I make you come, would you like that, baby? See how god damn sweet you taste?”

Your jaw completely drops. You didn’t even know he could talk this dirty. You just keep getting luckier with this man. Your head nods frantically before you can even think about it. Javi chuckles lightly from between your thighs.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” is all he says before dipping down to continue feasting on you.

It only takes a couple of strokes for you to be coming on Javi’s tongue, though he moans and squirms enough for it to sound like he’s the one getting his second orgasm today. He only pulls away once you’re whining and tugging on his hair from the overstimulation.

For a moment, he looks like he’s going to get up and strip, but you see something flash across his eyes, and he just reaches down instead. Your head falls back as you hear the sound of his zipper going down, just the thought of him fucking you naked while he’s fully clothed makes your cunt pulse with need.

You look down, and your mouth goes dry when you see that he doesn’t have any underwear on. He keeps his eyes on yours even though they’re trained on where he’s pulling his thick, throbbing cock from the opening in his dark jeans.

Your eyes flicker back up to his as he lines himself up, wasting no time in pushing into you. Your jaw goes slack at the stretch as he leans over you completely, putting his palms on the couch on either side of your head as he sinks in all the way. Your own arms wrap beneath his to cling and claw at his back. Just by his body language and the hungry look he’s giving you, you have a feeling you’ll need something to hang on to.

Somehow, it feels even better than the first time. You feel stuffed to the brim, but also complete. Like Javi’s been your missing piece this whole time, and now that you’ve found him you feel whole. When you’re staring into his big, deep, brown eyes, you see nothing but adoration for you. Lust. Love.

And it’s in this exact moment that you know you’re in love with him.

Javi hisses as he rears back enough for just the tip to remain inside you, and he captures your lips in a feverish kiss as he thrusts back in, already nailing your g-spot. You gasp and he steals the air from your lungs. You can taste a hint of yourself mixed in with his saliva, and you had no idea until this moment that something like that could turn you on so much.

He quickly picks up the pace, and you find yourself too weak to do much more than whine and moan for him, much less continue kissing him. Javi brings one hand up to hold your chin and make out with you even though you can’t reciprocate. You don’t mind, the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth is an orgasmic feeling in itself.

You just focus on breathing through your nose, keeping a hold of the man who’s sending you up the couch with his cock, and the feeling of his thick tip pummeling into your most sensitive spot. Your entire body is shaking with the intensity of the sheer force he’s slamming into you with.

There’s a strange but good feeling starting to tug at you someplace between your pussy and your abdomen, making your desperate sounds come out wobbly in addition to being smothered by your fiance’s mouth.

He makes a strangled noise and suddenly moves on to sucking the skin on your throat. You wonder if he can feel the way you’re tightening around him in anticipation as this new feeling grows and spreads.

“J-Javi,” you warn, unsure about what’s happening. You almost feel like you need to pee, but this sensation is far more intense.

He must not hear you, because his pace doesn’t falter and he doesn’t look up at you. He just keeps jackhammering his hips to yours and sucking hickeys on your already-sensitive skin.

It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because you’re already feeling that coil snap, crying out as you tighten like a vice and gush all over Javi’s dick.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, your body tensing as you ride out what has to be the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. You barely even hear Javi talking to you through your foggy mind. It’s like you’ve been transported to another place completely, a place where you can only feel pleasure.

“Such a good f-fucking girl, squirting all over my cock like that,” Javi praises as he nudges your chin up to make room for more sloppy kisses.

As you begin to come down, you can hear the steady slapslapslap that comes from where your bodies connect, each collision now aided by your juices and Javi’s heavy balls smacking against your swollen cunt.

It’s a disgusting sound in retrospect, but it turns you on even more when you hear your whines and Javi’s grunts blended into it. You can tell he’s starting to get close by the way he isn’t pulling out as much, and his noises are becoming more frantic.

“R-remember to p-pull out,” you breathe into his ear just in case he forgot. He, again, shows no sign of having heard you. You must be speaking even quieter than you thought.

“Javi, please pull out,” you say, louder this time even though it’s a task to do so through your exhaustion. This time, he hears you.

“Please, baby, it’ll be f-fine, gonna marry you, let me come in this pretty cunt,” he says, though you’re unsure of the correlation between those two things.

“No, Javi, it’s not safe.”

He’s pumping himself harder and faster, getting up to the edge.

“Buy you–fuck—buy you a plan B,” he grunts, his voice strained.

“No, n-not this time. C-can’t risk it,” you squeak, clawing at his back as he pushes you even further up the cushions.

You hear him mutter a curse as he pulls out just enough to grasp his dick and splatter rope after rope of cum on your damp stomach. You let out a breath when he finishes and lays back down on you, his cum spreading between your sweaty bodies.

You’re both breathing heavily, trying to come back down to earth. The ceiling fan above you is spinning slowly, pushing just enough air your way as you close your eyes and toy with Javi’s curls where his head is resting on your chest.

“I love you, Javi.”

You don’t know why you say it, well,you do, but you hadn’t known the words were even on your tongue or even on your mind. They just slipped out without a thought. Javi tenses against you, and you feel a ball of dread drop into your stomach.

Was it too soon? Does he not love you back? Are you being too clingy? Too immature?

When he looks up at you, your breath caught in your throat, there are tears in his eyes along with another emotion you can’t quite place. One corner of his lip twitches, like he’s resisting the urge to smile too hard.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he says, obviously a little choked up.

You grin at him as he climbs up again to kiss you, this time soft and slow, with care.

“Going to take such good care of you,” he promises when he pulls away.

*** Thank you for reading!! I would love to know what y'all are thinking so far!

Taglist is still open if you would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @movievillainess721 @callachloe @missladym1981 @casa-boiardi

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juniefruit · 2 months ago

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☆ Burn the Breeze ☆

☆ cowboy! chan x gn! reader

☆ notes: as a midwestern resident I feel it's my due diligence to write this...

☆ summary: Life on the ranch was business as usual. It only takes one runaway calf to bring you to Chan, head rancher of the neighboring property. You've gotten used to the summer storms that pass through the area, but this one caught you off guard...

☆ warnings: NO SMUT!!! Safe for the kiddos!! jk. just a few horny thoughts by both Chan and y/n. petnames-doll, sweetheart, getting soaked (by the rain...), western attire, cow wrangling & horse riding

☆ word count: 4.6k

Rays of bright summer sunlight beat down upon the grounds of the countryside. The tall, dry grasses hiss in the breeze, and the ranch horses whinny in their pasture. The sun was unforgiving this summer, the heat hitting you in waves until you seek the shade from one of the sparse trees on the grounds. You huff out a sigh and wipe your brow at the thought of finally ending the day and leaping into bed. The mountains gleam with golden sunlight, creating a picture-perfect view you never got tired of. This ranch was your family’s pride and joy. Your cowboy hat casted a shadow above your tired eyes, and your boots shuffled against the dusty gravel in front of the barn. The worn-out radio strewn with cobwebs inside the barn was playing muffled country songs, barely detectable. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the chickens shuffling about in their coop. And even farther, against the backdrop of the mountains, horses whinnied beyond your property; you wondered who they belonged to. The few moments of tranquility were almost concerning. It didn’t last long, though. The panicked shriek that you recognized as one of the mother cows brought you back to earth. With a sharp turn of your body, you sprinted to their pasture. Hopping the fence with a step and a jump, you sought after the sound of concern. The mother cow was all black except for a white spot on the top of her head and her hooves. You realized, her calf is nowhere to be seen. Spinning around and looking through the surrounding herd, you don’t see the tiny black fluff ball anywhere. You immediately assume the worst. Wolves did come through the area once in a while, but nightly patrols and electric fences seem to do the trick.

“Don’t worry mama, I’ll find your baby.” You pat her head with a sigh before making your way to the stables, where your horse, Haven, was. She had a beige coat, with a mane of the richest caramel brown. Quickly saddling up, you head out into the acres and acres of land that neighbored the ranch, searching for the missing calf. The searching went on until you reached the fence of the neighboring ranch. You didn’t know them too well, only from the few times you had spotted a few young cowboys wrangling their herd of cattle in the distance, too far away to see any distinct features. As you walked along the property line, sudden commotion to your left caught your attention.

“C’mere, you lil’ rascal!” A man shouted, on top of a horse with a coat of fur as dark as night. Lasso in hand, he was trying to catch something. Squinting your eyes, you recognized the baby cow. It had the same coloring as its mother. The calf was yelping in distress, clearly scared from being in an unfamiliar environment all by itself. You watched, stunned. He was exceptionally handsome, shirt hugging his broad shoulders just right, and black cowboy hat framing his features.

“Ha! Gotcha now.” He spoke as the lasso caught onto the calf to stop its frantic running. His muscles in his back and arms rippled as he held the rope steady. The huff of your horse alerted him of your presence, his eyes landing on you near the fence. A smug smile grew on his face.

“This one yours?” He spoke loudly to cover the distance. His voice was firm but not threatening, and smooth as molasses. In your dazed state, it took you a few beats of silence before your brain processed his question.

“Uh? Oh, yeah. Thanks for rescuing him-” You stated.

“Ah, no big deal. Happens all the time.” He brushed it off with a shake of his head, as if wrangling a spooked calf was as easy as breathing. You stuttered, no coherent words available.

“So, you’re from the next ranch over?” He asked with a tilt to his head, a playful expression as his eyes peered into yours.

“Y- Yeah, he must’ve seen something and ran off and couldn’t find his way back,” you gesture to the baby cow, still tugging on the lasso. The man shifted on his horse, stepping closer. He loved eye contact, apparently, because his eyes, like sculpted marble, pierced your gaze. He chuckled at the calf’s curiosity.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call my ranch. We’re always happy to help.” He was close enough to reach over and hand you a business card from his back pocket. The proximity wasn’t helping your nerves. It felt like you couldn’t breathe; he was dripping with suave confidence. “Or just call me,” he winks with a smirk. “Number’s on the back. And I’m Chris, but you can call me Chan.”

“O- Okay. Thanks.” Sure enough, when you flipped over the card, his number was writted neatly in blue ink. “I’m y/n. I live… over there.” You pointed behind you, and immediately regretted opening your mouth. He stifled a chuckle and his eyes crinkled with his smile.

“I would hope so, sweetheart.” His subtle accent tainted his voice, smooth and sensual. He hands you the lasso, the calf running to your side beneath your saddle. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Get this little guy home before it gets dark.” He said. With a determined nod and a goodbye, you set off with Haven and the calf. Once back, you loosened the rope and reunited the herd. Crap, you realized, you had Chan’s rope. You’d text him about it later. The thought brought heat to your face and you’re lucky that no one was around to see you blushing. The late afternoon setback had put a pause on your nightly relaxation, but now was finally the time. You were asleep before you knew it, the rising sun and the call of a rooster disrupting your peace.

During your entire morning routine, you were drafting messages to Chan in your mind. Too desperate, too formal, too casual. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Until you finally settled on something you deemed decent-

8:41a.m:

You: Hi Chan! It’s y/n from yesterday. Thanks so much for your help! I have your lasso, when do you want it back?

8:43a.m

Chan: Hey, sweetheart. My boys are making dinner tonight, why don’t you join us?

You froze. My boys? Does he have kids? You barely know this guy! You didn’t have any plans tonight though… And he seemed nice… Whispered the little voice in the back of your head.

8:55a.m

You: That sounds great, see you at 6?

8:56a.m

Chan: Sure, doll. Just come through the front door.

And it’s settled. As the rising sun shone through the blinds in your living room, another day on the ranch began. The anticipation was killing you; but most of the ranch animals didn’t seem to mind your distracted state. A thought struck you like a bolt of lightning; you’d bring a housewarming gift to Chan and his… boys. But what, though? You mulled it over until you finished lunch, and through the afternoon while tending to the chickens. Every grueling minute that went by, the knot in your stomach tightened, just like the lasso you had a death-grip on in your left hand. You opted to drive the distance, lasso and a basket of eggs settled neatly in the passenger seat. Walking up the white wooden steps, your feet fidgeted in your cowboy boots, and you fixed your hat for the thousandth time already. You hit the doorbell with your elbow, shuffling to the side so you wouldn’t drop anything. When you opened the door, You couldn’t believe your eyes.

________________________

“Hey, you made it!” Chan, as smiley as ever, was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. But behind him… those were not boys. Those were men. Very loud, chaotic ones. Three of them were arguing over something on the TV, the tallest holding the remote over his head. One of them was out cold on the couch; one was eating... Is that cheesecake? And the last two were casually playing on a nintendo switch. Snapping out of it, you realized that Chan was still looking at you with a certain sparkle in his eye that you couldn’t discern.

“I did! Uh-” You look down, lasso in one hand, basket in the other. “Here’s your lasso. And I also brought these, as a gift!” You lift up the basket of eggs to show them off.

“Aw, ya didn’t have to, doll,” He stepped closer, “But thank you. The boys will probaby go through these in a day or two.” He loosed a faux sigh at the sheer thought of how much food they use. His voice was saccharine sweet with an australian lilt to his voice that had the power to instantly draw you in like a spider’s web.

“You mean, them?” You pointed behind him curiously. He looked behind his shoulder instinctually.

“Yeah, why dont I introduce you to them? Don’t get all shy now, they won’t bite.” He smirked, shuffling to the side to let you in. Your boots came off by the door, placed neatly next to the pile of men’s boots of varying colors. As you passed him, Chan’s scent was woodsy but clean; pleasant to be around. You were pleasantly surprised at the state of their home; pristine walls spotted with tasteful decor for a ranch house, dark hardwood floors smooth beneath your feet.

“Ahem!” Chan faked a cough to get everyone’s attention. They turned their heads simultaneously, alarmed at the sudden sound. Those on the ground scrambled to their feet, one of them shoving the sleeping one awake. “Boys, I want to introduce you to y/n. She lives on the next ranch over on the left side,” Chan smiles at you with a sincere look on his face, not matching his usual rugged and cool demeanor. You smile with pursed lips, waving. Chan points as he names each of them. “Here we have Hyunjin, Minho, Changbin; then Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin and Jisung.”

“Okay… I think I got it.” You say, repeating their names in your head with a furrow in your brow.

“Ah, don’t sweat it y/n. Why don’t we start dinner?” At Chan’s words, the boys cheer, making their way to the large dining table and attached kitchen.

Sitting to Chan’s right, he had rolled up his sleeves to his strong forearms, showing off a beautiful tan. Veins ran alongside them, stopping at his hands that were bony yet built, secure in the way they gripped the cutlery. Safe to say, dinner was entertaining. Your presence gave Minho just the right dosage of an ego boost when you complimented his cooking, a sly smirk gracing his features. The boys behaved like it was any other dinner, managing only a few stern looks from Chan when things got too heated. They’d tease him about wanting to make a good impression on you later. And when all was said and done, Chan walked you out the door, with that dimpled smile that made you feel dizzy, until you were sat in your ranch’s truck and driving down the gravel driveway, a blush as red as the sweetest cherries on your cheeks that Chan wished he could’ve seen.

That dimpled smile, those broad shoulders. His playful jokes and mannerisms. If you could superglue yourself to him, you would. Every time he spoke, you took in every word like a sermon. You’d listen to him talk for hours if you could, and gawk at him like he was the world’s most beautiful creation for even longer. But you couldn’t voice your true feelings. It was such a deep and vulnerable part of you, you just couldn’t. Not when Chan would be so nice about his rejection, letting you down so softly that you couldn’t even argue. He’d probably even try to set you up with someone else from his ranch, which you’d have to politely decline because you only want him. Him, always him: ‘What’s Chan doing right now?’ ‘He should take a nap, he looked tired yesterday.’ ‘I wonder if he would like this dress.’ You couldn’t get enough of him.

Chan took it upon himself to start patrolling the property line between you two, “coincidentally” at the same time you were. Sometimes, you’d talk until the sun went down, and the crickets started chirping, until your horse stomped her feet and you had to pull yourself away to finish your duties. Even your horses got to know each other, huffing and sniffing like good horse friends, you assume.

Chan also wished that you could just read his mind. You were perfect to him, crossing his mind at all times of day and night. Ever since he first laid eyes on you, he was a goner. He shunned himself for not introducing himself sooner, had he known about the cute rancher down the street. That’s the hardest part, even though it’s quite simple: he thinks about you, and he blushes until his mind overheats and he can’t focus. How could he tell you that? He’d probably stutter and mumble until he melted into a puddle of embarrassment. Oh the duality. He imagines he’d get lost in your curious eyes, so patient as you wait for him to finally spit it out. You care about him and his boys, and it makes his heart swell with something he’s never felt before.

Tonight was no different. You were laughing at something Chan said, the dim lamp-post on the property line illuminated your features, until a boom of thunder surrounded the area. You were so lost in eachother, you must have missed the storm clouds rolling in. The horses whined, and then you felt the drizzle of rain. Chan chuckled at the scene, and a droplet slid down the slope of his nose.

“I should get going,” You mused, but not sounding too enthusiastic about it.

“Aw, you scared of a little rain?” Chan teased, dimples on full display. You huffed out a laugh.

“What? No way. I just-” A crack of thunder and lightning so bright your eyes hurt. The rain got heavier. Your horse got restless. Chan frowned at the weather. “Really, I need to go check on everyone. This could be bad.” You squinted up at the sky, the color of a thunderstorm.

“Yeah, I’ll do the same. The boys are probably already working on it.” With a determined nod, you both set off in opposite directions. Once you were back, all the ranch animals already sought cover. Going through your mental checklist, everything looked good. Just one last place to check: the cow pen. And the gate was wide open, creaking with the force of the wind. You outwardly groaned, stepping into the pen to take a headcount. The wind howled past your ears, and the rain thudded against the sodden ground. Squinting, something felt off. Counting again, something felt like it was missing. The calf. Of course. Rain was running down your face at this point, fishing a flashlight out of your satchel and turning it onto the highest setting. You flipped around and darted for the wooded area at the property border. It was your best guess, if you had anything to learn from the last time this happened. You were honestly kind of glad, because Chan would’ve stayed a stranger otherwise. As you reached the fence, you heard the shouts and orders from the boys across the way. They were working hard to make sure everything was sealed and shut before the storm got worse. Your frantic heart was bettering in your chest, eyes scanning every barn and pen you could see. Before you could react, an old and gnarly tree branch was smacking you straight in the arm. Yelping in surprise and a flash of pain, you don’t have time to deal with it right now. Horse jogging along the fence, a few moments pass and, you hear it- the baby. Tying Haven up under a tree so she stayed moderately dry, you gave her a peck on her cheek before hopping the fence and following the noise. Through the haze of the rain, there was the calf, stuck under a pile of logs that had fallen. The ground was muddy and slippery so it couldn’t stand up, hooves covered in muck.

“Oh my god, baby!” You gasp in surprise. You really should give the calf a name. What you didn’t see, though, was Chan, who also heard the calf in distress. The rain was so loud you didn’t even hear the stomping of his boots in the mud. His eyes widened in shock. Pet names already? Not that he was complaining. When you completely disregard him and go straight to the calf, he almost facepalms. Of course, the calf. The baby. As you kneeled next to the poor thing to try and help, Chan kneeled beside you. You noticed him for the first time when his muscled arm reached for a log to toss it off the calf.

“This guy just can’t stay out of trouble, huh?” He says, voice strained over the rain and thunder. You huff out a laugh at the situation, reaching for a log.

“Y/n. What is this?” Chan grips your forearm, as if it wasn’t hard for you to breathe already. You glance down, and it’s not mud covering your arm, but blood. A sizable amount of it. Chan’s eyes flit to yours, eyebrows laced with concern. You lock eyes.

“I must’ve hit it or something, I- I don’t know!” You say defensively, breath hitching.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. Let me-” He tapers off, shoulders rolling under his soaked shirt. His deft fingers untie the bandana looped around his belt. Grabbing your arm, he ties the bandana around the wound firmly to slow the bleeding, eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Does that hurt?” He runs a hand against yours, comforting you. His touch was blazing against your skin, soothing against the cold rain. You relished in the touch, wishing you could feel his skin on yours forever.

“No…”

“Good. Just stay there while I get these logs off.”

You didn’t obey his orders. Your mind was running so rampant, you didn’t even register that he was trying to be protective. As if he could just let you run around with an open wound; he wouldn’t be having that. Or, so he thought.

“Hah, as if. Move over.” Against your better judgement, you get up with your good hand, kicking and shoving the waterlogged wood away and into the mud. Chan watched, mouth agape, as you did your own thing. If he didn’t like you before, he definitely loves you now. The furrow in your brow when you focused, and the little huffs of air when you kicked a log to the side. Chan couldn’t help but care for you, but that didn’t mean he thought you needed it. The fact that you, despite your wound, were helping this calf proved to Chan everything he needed to know. The sleepless nights thinking about you, or the hot summer days when he daydreamed about you, wondering if you were taking a well-deserved break. Truth is, he needed you like oxygen. And he hoped you needed him too. He would scream his confession from the tallest mountain if it meant you’d be his. He’d wrangle the meanest bull, clean the entire barn. Anything for you. If only someone had the guts.

The calf was squirming, not helpful at all. It squirmed and whined until the last log was lifted off its hind leg, shakily standing up. Sure enough, the calf ran off. Chan practically leaped over to where you stood, now clutching your arm. His palms engulfed your shoulders, now shivering slightly from the cold, wet shirt.

“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” You only nodded weakly in response.

Chan didn’t leave your side until he barged into one of the barns, big wooden door groaning in response. He ushered you inside, guiding you to a chair, leaning over your shivering form. His eyes, wide and worried, scanned you for damage. He couldn’t even think about how he could see the silhouette of your body through your soaked shirt, not now at least.

“My horse…” You said, eyes closing in exhaustion. He reached up to a top shelf to grab a blanket, wrapping it around you. If you weren’t so cold, you would have jumped from the close proximity.

“Don’t worry about a thing right now doll, I got it.” He took out his phone from his back pocket, dialing Jisung. A few rings passed.

“YEAH?” Jisung yelled through the pouring rain.

“Do me a favor, run and grab y/n’s horse from the property fence. It’s…” Chan turned his head towards you, silently asking.

“By the big old oak tree and the creek.” Chan relayed the information to Jisung.

“Oh and, if you see a runaway calf, just hold on to it for me,” He added.

“On it, Chan. I think we already found it- Minho! Be gentle with that calf!” Jisung trailed off, and Chan loosed a small smile and hung up. You couldn’t help but smile too.

“How are you feeling, doll?” Chan leaned in close again, holding himself up with an arm against your chair.

“I’m fine, Chan. Stop worrying so much,” You complained. It really did bother you that Chan was so caring, it messed with your head. Chan looked down, at nothing in particular, then back up.

“Sorry doll, can’t do that. You’re too precious to me.” You said nothing, just stared into his rich, brown and inviting eyes. The silence made his heart race. As much as Chan likes to be in control, you were something he couldn’t tame. Not even when you reached up to wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. His breath hitched. His brain short-circuited. He felt like he was going to fall into you, but by some higher power, his arm on the chair held up. His eyes were wide with shock before he realized his face was in your neck, the smell of rain still lingering on your semi-wet hair. Then it hit him: he wasn’t hugging you back. He felt you break away just the slightest bit before he abruptly pulled you back in. As if he would ever let you go now. His arms splayed across your back, rubbing up and down in soothing motions.

“What would I do without you, Chan?” You asked, not fully knowing how Chan was gonna answer. He nuzzled a bit closer, nose and lips brushing against your nape.

“You don’t even have to worry our pretty head about somethin’ like that, cause I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me.” He spoke into your neck, the vibrations sending a bolt of electricity down your spine. You hummed in acknowledgement, attempting to bring him impossibly closer.

“I’m cold.” Chan huffed out a chuckle. Could you be any cuter?

Reluctantly, you both pulled away, chan inspecting your bandana-clad arm. The blood had soaked through a bit.

“Let me see if this barn has somethin’ for your arm,” he mumbled to himself, walking over to the rustic cabinets in the corner. The rain pitter-pattered against the roof high above you. He opened each and every one, brows furrowed in concentration. In the lowest cabinet, he kneeled down and reached all the way inside to take out a first-aid kit, covered in dust and cobwebs. He blew the dust off and, of course, it went right into his face. He coughed, and your lips hurt from trying to keep a grin from breaking free. In another cabinet, he must’ve found one of the boy’s old t-shirts, because it was faded and stretched out, but clean nonetheless. Walking back over to you, he pried open the kit and took out some cotton pads and gauze. Gingerly taking your arm in his outstretched palm, his eyes cearched yours for permission. You gave it without a second thought. He made quick work of taking the bandana off and wrapping your wound in something clean. Satisfied with his work, He leaned down and pressed his lips to the gauze.

“A kiss makes everything better, don’t ya think?” There he goes with that teasing grin. You hum in response.

“Couldn’t agree more.” You spoke as he lifted himself up, but before he could, you grabbed him by the shoulders and redirected him to your lips. Chan hummed in delight when your hands slid up to his neck, resting right under his jawline. His lips were pillowy soft, just like you imagined.

Personally, Chan was convinced he was dreaming. It was only when you shivered against him did he come back to reality, grasping the old shirt in his off hand. When you ran out of breath, he spoke.

“Go change into this, doll. Promise you’ll feel a lot warmer.” His gaze didn’t waver, and this time, you listened.

“But where? I don’t see a bathroom.” You stood up, and he couldn’t resist a quick kiss before he answered with a nod to the left.

“There in the corner, unless you wanna strip right here,” He teased, but his eyes were lidded and you swear his gaze darkened like he wasn’t joking.

“Sure, Chan.” Your tone was laced with sarcasm before walking over. When you walked out, Chan was arranging the blanket and some old pillows on a faded couch that had seen better days, but it served its purpose. He changed into something else too, because his soggy work shirt was in a lump on the coffee table. Yours joined the pile too. Chan’s heart almost burst at the sight of you in that tee. The bright red tint to his ears blew his cover. You giggled at his speechless state, tossing yourself onto the couch alongside him. Chan outstretched an arm across your part of the couch, a classic move. It was nearly midnight now, the adrenaline had worn off, and you were tired. The throbbing pain in your arm is disregarded when you have Chan's body emanating such warmth, you couldn’t help but shuffle a little closer and lean against his firm shoulder.

“Thank you, for all your help,” You spoke softly. At those words, Chan left a kiss at the top of your head.

“Anything you need, I’m here.” After that, if he said anything, you didn’t hear it, because your eyelids felt heavy and the soft tap-tap-tap of the rain lulled you to sleep. When you awoke, there was a strong set of arms wrapped around you, and only after a mini panic attack did you remember. Quietly turning your head, the morning sun shone graciously onto Chan’s face, void of any frowns or scowls. Just… serenity. His cowboy hat was on the ground, somewhere, but you couldn’t care when you took a strand of his hair and twirled it through your fingers. Your ears twitched when you heard the creak of the barn door opening, a head poking through and then standing in the doorway. This was Jisung, you think.

“Oh- Sorry guys-” He whispered. But behind him, the click of a camera sounded.

“Just got us some new blackmail,” Minho grinned, poking his head though the barn where his arm was outstretched, holding his phone.

“Get out before Chan gets mad! For your own good!” Your voice was a hushed and hurried whisper. Speaking of the devil, his arms shuffled around your waist.

“Who’s good?” Chan was still groggy when he lifted his head, but ended up dropping it onto your shoulder anyways.

Minho and Jisung booked it out of the barn.

Thanks for reading! Check my masterlist for more!

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