#sky willow barnes

[geminibsworld]

Preachers daughter pt 3

pearl sat outside in the grass underneath the large willow tree by the barn, she hoped she’d see billy. her fathers had him running errands since he found out about them. trying to keep them apart, somehow billy convinced him to let him stay hired. pearls father hated billy, but pearl and his mom thought he was the most gorgeous man they’d ever seen. momma thought father was jealous, pearl thought that was a funny thought.

the golden sky shined on her golden skin, the breeze gentle as it blew. she pulled her knees up to her chest, as she looked around. she wanted nothing more than to leave, go to the city. she wanted billy to come with her.

“hey babydoll,” she heard billy’s voice behind her, she turned and grinned. she stood up and jogged, jumping onto him wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. his hands grabbed her waist, pulling them chest to chest. she smiled into the kiss, as one of his hands came up her back to the back of her head pressing her lips harder into his.

she pulled away breathlessly, he had a boyish grin on his face. she gave him a bright smile, before pulling him into her again giving him another kiss. he responded kissing her back, dipping in desire. they pull away from each other, hand in hand now.

“doll face, i’ve missed you,” he says, smiling down at her. pearl grins, feeling fiendish for him pulling him into her again.

“mhm,” she hums, “i’ve missed you, daddy” she says quietly looking up at him. he grins arching a brow at her, cocking his head to the side. she admired his rougher look, the messy hair and stubble on his face. she loved it, in fact.

“oh yeah? show me how much you’ve missed me then,” he says, smirking at her pulling her to the barn. he pushes her against the wall by the edge of the barn, kissing her softly.

she pulls away getting on her knees in front of him, she reaches for his belt undoing it slowly. billy watched her, feeling so proud that she was doing this. her hands undo his button on his pants then his zipper pulling down his pants, his erection stood up straight. billy cleared his throat looking around just in case.

“do something baby,” he says his rough hand cups her jaw gently, she nods. she knew he was big, she’s felt him inside of her and seen it many times but the fact it was in her face. it was pale with a few veins on the sides, his tip was shiny and a pale pink color. she wrapped her hand around it, glancing up at billy quickly before jerking him a few times. billy groans, before stopping her hand.

“baby, use your spit,” he mumbles, his eyes closing as he leans back against the wall. pearl nods, before spitting on his cock. she then starts jerking him off again, her thumb rubbing over his precum covered tip. billy moaned as her thumb rubbed over his tip ever so softly.

“fuck- my good girl,” he says, breathlessly. she looks up at him, his eyes were closed and his head was thrown back against the wall. he almost looked like he was in pain.

“mhm, baby put me in your mouth,” he says, peaking one eye down at her. she looks up at him nodding, she leans foreward as she licks his wet tip. he hisses, she pulls away and looks at him.

“don’t stop, doll,” she nods, before taking her tongue up the bottom of his shaft. he groans, his hand going to her head. his large hand grips her head, pulling her to him. one hand slowly jacks him off as she licks his cock. he groans, his hand fisting her hair.

“god, i wanna fuck your pretty little mouth,” he groans, she takes his tip into her mouth before moving her head up and down at a steady pace, up and down. making it halfway up his cock, she gags. billy moaned loudly, his hips bucking. she sucks him, her tongue caressing his cock. billy’s hand fisted her hair, she winced as billy pulled her mouth deeper on his cock. she gagged, as his cock went deeper in her mouth barely hitting her throat.

“good girl,” billy purrs, before wrapping her hair around his hand. billy pushes himself off the wall, standing up straight as he begins to gently fuck her mouth. tears brimmed pearls eyes, as billy watches her. he slowly slides back against her tongue, billy bites his lip and lets out a throaty groan. his hand gripping her hair tighter with every inch.

pearl gags on his cock, her throat gently squeezing him. billy throws his head back.

“fuck,” he groans, “such a pretty girl with my cock between your lips,” billy picks up the pace, his hips rocking back and forth. pearl gags again, her doe eyes stare up at him as he begins to fuck her mouth. he slides in and out of her mouth, her pink lips wrapped around his cock, her tongue tasting him.

“this is almost as good as your pussy baby,” he mumbles, his teeth gritting. he pulls out of her mouth, a line of spit trails out behind him. the sun shining, billy’s skin illuminated by the sun pearl truly thought he was beautiful. dad always talked about angels, but she never thought they existed, made up. until she met billy.

“stand up for me,” pearl climbed to her feet, standing in front of him, billy pulls off his shirt as he picks up pearl. she lets out a small laugh, as billy’s arms wrapped up underneath her butt, he pushed her dress on her hips. he presses her against the door frame of the barn. his cock underneath her, rubbing ever so slightly between her wet folds.

“so wet for me,” he says, his fingers racing her skin near her neck, his eyes meet hers as he pulls her into a passionate kiss. one hand slowly cups her jaw, as the other trails down her chest slowly his finger tips dancing on her skin. she whimpers into the kiss as his cock rubbed between her puffy wet folds. billy couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss, he picks up the pace his tip teasing her hole ever so slightly. she started panting into the kiss, billy’s slips his tongue in dancing his way around her mouth as their tongues meet he moans into the kiss, before sliding a hand down as he grabs his cock, entering her slowly. she moaned into the kiss as he slowly stretched her, she couldn’t help but pull away and throw her head back in ecstasy. her nails racked his back, as he filled her up. billy’s groans, filled her ears. once billy was all the way inside of her, he pulls out before slamming into her again. he started rough this time, grabbing her hands using one of his hands and held them up against the wood.

“fuck- sweetheart,” he groans, she clenched around him as he pounded her. her breathless moans and whimpers making him wanting to cum already. his balls slap against her skin, as moans louder now as he picks up the pace. billy smirks to himself.

“dirty, dirty girl. you like when i go hard and fast huh?” he hisses, admiring as her tan skin gloated with sweat, her eyes barely open as she bounced on his length.

“yes- fuck, daddy,” she whimpered out, billy leaned in close. keeping his pace, she pants wanting to kiss him, but billy’s in control. billy was already going hard and fast but because she liked it billy kept it up trying to go faster and harder.

she moaned with every thrust, his tip bumping into her g spot every time. she clenched around him, her juices soaking his cock. billy couldn’t help but let out a moan as he felt her clench and soak him. her juices leaking out onto his balls, she clenched around him.

“fuck-“ he groans out, sputtering she clenches round him creaming and soaking him, as billy moans finishes inside of her filling her up. their highs coming down together, he slowly pulls out of her sighing. giving her a small wet kiss to her forehead, she smiles lopsided at him.

“mmm my good girl,” he says, stroking her soft pink cheek. at the moment, it was only them. she holds her hand to her cheek, his warm rough, and calloused hand against her soft flush cheek.

“so beautiful,” he mumbles, his blue eyes piercing into hers. she smiles at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

he slowly drops her, cum dripping down her thighs, as she watched billy zip his pants and buckle them then sliding his shirt over on his toned body.

“oh, there you are william,” pearls eyes almost burst out her head, billy’s head snapped towards him.

“oh, hi, sir,” billy says, walking out of the barn to meet her father as pearl hid behind the wall. her back pressed up against the wall, anxiety and excitement coursing through her veins. she grins biting her lip, thinking about her fathers face if he had caught them.

[imtryingbuck]

Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n becomes Queen of Astoria not that she wanted to. Prince James of Winterfeld meets her and falls in love.

Word count: 6,142

Warnings: angst. fluff. swearing. mentions of being sick. mentions of being barren. y/n’s father. mentions of wishing for a baby to die (in flashback). hitting of a teenager. panic attack. 

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

"Go and fetch Queen Y/n, quickly!"

The young servant bows before her King before making a bee line out of the chambers and down the corridors, not even apologising to the other servants or knights she bumps in to along the way. She doesn't want to disappoint her King so saying a simple 'sorry' will have to be saved until later.

The young girl knows exactly where to find the Queen and pushes her legs to keep carrying her small frame, ignoring the burning pain she feels in her lungs.

The sun shined in the sky on the hottest day of the year, the chatter of the townsfolk ring out in the air as they move around through the market - each person paying no mind to the servant as she continues running towards the woods.

"Are you ready to admit your defeat?" A familiar soft yet harsh voice hits the girls ears.

"Never!"

"Ah, very well. I must kill you now" Just as the sword is raised in the air the servant calls for the Queen.

"Yes?"

"The King, he said it is urgent."

Six months after Y/n and Bucky married Carlson kept lingering around the council table, his eyes looking at her before dropping to his hands, his mouth opening and closing before any word could escape him.

Sighing she looked up from the papers in front of her and looked at her best friend. “What?”

“Huh? Oh nothing.”

“Carls you have been pacing around for the last hour looking like you want to say something, so… out with it.”

“I-I…” huffing and dropping down in one of the empty seats, Y/n winces as Carlson’s head bangs on the table, he mumbles something.

“What was that?”

“I wish to marry Larissa.”

“Then marry her.”

“D-Do I have your permission?”

“You are both my friends, all I wish is for you two to be happy.” She smiled at him.

“But I am your best friend, right?”

“Of course, no need to get territorial.” They both burst out laughing. “Do it under the willow tree.”

“Why there?”

“I may have been telling stories but I noticed the way you stared at her. I think it would be sweet.”

“When should I do it?”

“Now if you have a ring?”

“I have my mother’s.”

At the mention of his mum they smiled sadly at each other, a fever took her away from him and his dad when he was only eight years old. Y/n remembers holding him in her arms as he drenched her dress with his tears as his mum took her last breath, she remembers holding his hand as the coffin went into the ground. For months Carlson didn’t smile despite her attempts at making him crack one, Carl was no better.

“They would have loved Larissa.”

“Do you think?”

“I know they would. Go and I will have someone fetch her.”

Carlson smiles widely and jumps up out of his seat, pressing a quick kiss to her temple he runs out of the room. Y/n made her way to the room where her sisters, mum and Larissa were doing their needlework and asked for Larissa to follow her, leading her friend arm in arm outside she walked her towards the willow tree, smiling and nodding in encouragement as she let go of Larissa’s arm. Watching her best friend get down on one knee had a smile on her lips which only widened when Larissa nods with a huge smile.

Three weeks later Y/n walked Larissa down the aisle to where Carlson was waiting, as the celebration began to draw to a close it was the same on her own wedding night where an argument was made with the maester who wanted to be in the room, but this time it wasn’t Bucky but Y/n arguing with them. The argument didn’t last long of course.

A few days after the wedding of her two friends Y/n squinted her eyes at seeing Annalise floating by the open door of the private family garden.

“What are you doing Anna?”

“Oh! Sister I did not see you there.” She says coming outside, a sweet smile on her lips.

“No of course you did not. What do you want?”

“I do not want anything.”

“No? Right, well come and sit with me.”

The two sisters - the oldest and the youngest out of the children shared from the same parents - sat in silence watching as the birds flew overhead in the sky. That was until Anna broke it.

“C-can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What is marriage like?”

“I assume it is different for everyone.” Y/n starts, but she knows that’s not what her sister is asking. “For me I was lucky to marry a man I love, it is beautiful, though I do admit I am not fond of him being able to see me as I am.”

Annalise frowns and cocks her head to the side. “How do you mean?”

“He sees me as Y/n, not the queen, not the warrior, just me. But in a way I like it, you know?”

“I do.” A small smile tugs at her lips before dropping quickly. “Florence will be wedded soon to that prince.”

“She will be.”

“Is she scared?”

“I do not think so, they have spent so much time together and I believe there are feelings for one another, why are you asking me this?”

“I… I wish to be lucky like you, sister. I wish to marry for love.”

Taking her younger sisters hand in hers, she looks in her eyes and sees her younger self staring back at her. “Liam, am I right?”

“H-how did you know?”

“I am not blind, I see the way you both look at each other.” Pushing back a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. “Also you do not like horses.”

The two sisters start laughing, Anna nodding in agreement to her oldest sisters comment. “If- if he asked…”

“If Liam asks for your hand then I will grant it.”

“And you are not mad? That he is a stable boy and not a prince?”

“All I have ever wanted for my sisters is to be happy, if a stable boy makes you happy then so am I.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” Anna wraps her arms around her sister and pulls her close, snuggling into Y/n’s warmth when she feels her sisters arms around her.

Later that day Annalise and Liam came into the throne room where Y/n was talking to Bucky as he sat next to her, Liam got down on one knee and bows and asks his queen permission to marry her sister, the longer he was down on one knee the more he got nervous as she didn’t say anything. Only letting go of the breath he was holding when she smiles and says another wedding will be taking place. Not even two weeks later Bucky walked Annalise down the aisle - Y/n had to stifle her laughter at seeing the proud look on her husbands face as he walked his sister-in-law towards her soon to be husband.

“Are you sure?”

“I am, my Grace.”

“Do your checks again because I think you are wrong.”

“M-my Queen this is the fourth time we have checked. You are with child.” The maester smiled.

“Oh.”

“I think you are three months along, my Grace.”

“Right. Right, okay, thank you, you may leave now and do not speak a word of this please.”

The two maesters shared a look between each other, it wasn’t the reaction they were expecting when they told her that she was with child, but smiled at her and promised that they wouldn’t speak a word of it, they left quickly once she dismissed them.

Her hand went to her stomach and frowned at feeling the small bump, how she didn’t notice it before was lost on her, she felt sick as she eyed up the small bump in the mirror - her mum told her that her father was lying about her barren and now according to the maesters she was three months along. Sitting down on the chair she tried to breathe, she closed her eyes.

*flashback*

Y/n forces herself not to wince as she tries to sit on the wooden chair at the dinner table knowing that her father was watching, even with the pain shooting through her body she refused to show her father any weakness.

Dinner was eaten in silence - even her youngest sister who normally liked to talk with her mouth full of half chewed food, kept quiet. It wasn’t until food was gone and the plates were cleared by the servants that the king decided to speak.

“King George wrote to me, wanted to talk about marrying his son to my oldest daughter.” He looked over at Y/n smirking at seeing her dig her nails into the arm of the chair. “But I wrote back to him to say that she was not able to marry.”

Y/n, her mum and stepmother in unison let go of the breath they were holding, the thank you dying on her mums tongue as her husband continued. “I told him that it was unfair to marry his son to my barren daughter.”

“What? How could you say that about our daughter?” Her mum shouted, her eyes going back and forth between her husband and daughter, noticing the stare off they were having.

“It is true. No Gods would allow her to be a mother.”

“You cannot say something like that, she is a child!”

“She is barren!” Her sisters flinch and let out cries as he screams, slamming his hand on the table. “She is a barren useless bitch!”

Nobody dared to say anything or move, the only sound in the hall was her two youngest sisters crying quietly not understanding why their father was angry. Her mum was staring at her in hopes to catch her eyes to silently tell her to back down but Y/n’s eyes were on her father. Though she was thirteen years old she knew what barren meant, she knew that it meant that she would never be able to have children and at thirteen she didn’t care, she already had to help with her younger sisters - she remembers when each of them were born and couldn’t understand why everyone kept saying they were cute… because to her they weren’t, she had witnessed her mum and stepmother give birth and the thought of going through the pain that they were going through wasn’t something that was pleasing to her.

Her mums heart dropped when her oldest daughter, her starlight, start laughing.

“Are you scared that I would have what you could not?”

“And what is that?”

“Sons.”

Her grin only grows when she sees the twitch in her father’s cheek. “I am your father!”

“Unfortunately.”

“I am the king!” He once again shouts. “You will show me respect!”

Pushing her chair away from the table, holding the wince that tries to make an appearance, she leans on the table. “I will do no such thing.”

As she walks away from the hall she can hear her father screaming for her to stop, not even flinching when a cup flies past her and smashes against the wall.

*present*

Y/n stood up way too fast which caused her head to go light as she rushed over to the bowl, she had only managed to get down on her knees before her breakfast came up. Groaning once she was finished, she sat against the wall - not even flinching when her head banged against the stone - closing her eyes she went into another memory.

*flashback*

All she wanted to do was train with Carlson but the men in the ring wouldn’t let her, Carlson was fine as he was a boy but because she was a girl she wasn’t allowed.

“I can fight!”

“You are a weak little girl. You cannot.”

“I am not weak!” They all laughed at her. It probably didn’t help that she was stomping her foot. “Please let me fight.”

“No-“

“Wait, is this the barren princess?” One of the men asked, eyeing her up and down.

“Yes this is her.”

“I am not barren.” She mumbled as she shifted under the intense gaze of the men.

“Let her fight with us. If the barren princess wants to fight who are we to protest.”

“Not barren but thank you.”

It had been a year since the dinner disaster as her stepmother calls it, the servants were quick to tell others what they had heard which meant that the whole kingdom had heard what her father had called her. She had grown use to the pity looks from the people, she had grown use to the failed attempts of whispers of how her womb that would remain empty for the rest of her days when she would walk by, she had gotten use to pretending that it didn’t affect her when in reality Carlson had held her in his arms more times than he could count as she cried about her being a failure as a woman with him being always quick to tell her that she wasn’t a failure.

Her first time in the ring the men were arguing with one another about who was going to be the first one to fight the barren princess. None of them went easy on her. Every time she went down Carlson flinched and silently begged for her to stay down, rolling his eyes when she didn’t.

“Stay down barren princess.” The large man panted. Though he had to admit he admired her bravery… or stupidity.

“I am not barren!” She growled, spitting out the blood from her mouth, she stood up and charged at him.

Her sword clashed with his and for the first time since she had gone into the ring she was getting the upper hand, the men began cheering her on with Carlson screaming the loudest. Her opponent chuckles himself as her face morphed into confusion as she manages to get him down on the ground.

Holding his hands in surrender he smiled at her. “You have bested me, my barren princess.”

“I am not barren.” Slamming her sword into the ground right next to his head, she leans down closer to him. “I am not the barren princess. Do you understand.”

“That you are not.” He chuckles, standing up he picks her up and places her onto his shoulder. “All hail the warrior princess!”

*present*

Looking around the room she tried getting her heart rate down, before she chuckled at the memory of the servant going pale at seeing the bruises that covered the majority of her little body that she got from training with the skilled warriors of Astoria.

As she placed her hand on her stomach there was a knock at the door.

*flashback*

The adrenaline was still pumping through her as she jumped on her bed - she, Carlson, her father and his army had just come back home victorious from the battle, though her thigh hurt from where the enemy had sliced her she kept jumping on the large bed.

A knock on her door had her stop bouncing before she could tell the person to enter the door opened, her shoulders instantly slumping and that once happy feeling she had faded away as she made eye contact with her father.

“Get down.” Huffing she does as he says and gets down from the bed. “Now sit.”

“I am not a dog.”

“Just sit.” She sat knowing that if she just complied with him he would leave quickly. “What was you thinking?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sneaking into line with my men! It was reckless, you could have…” Closing his eyes he blew a breath before turning his back on her. “You are not a trained fighter.”

“I want to fight and you have to admit father I was doing well.”

“You could have died! How stupid can you be?” He yelled, then began pacing up and down in her room.

She sat there staring at her father, hope blossoming in her heart at his words. “Would… would you have cared?” She whispered.

“What?”

“Would you have cared if I did die?”

That hope she had forming in her heart died the second the words came out of his mouth. “No. But your mother would.”

“Why do you hate me?”

“What are you talking about?”

Standing up she made her way over to her father and stood in front of him. “Why do you hate me?”

“I do not.”

“No?”

“No.”

“And yet you say that you would not have cared if I died on the battle field.” He tries to walk away but she grabs him by his arm, her hand trembling slightly when he looks down at her hand in complete disgust. “All I have ever wanted was for you to love me but yet you have had me beaten, belittled and casted aside, an- and I do not understand why.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Anything! Tell me what I did so terrible to you. Tell me how I can make you love me as you love my sisters. Anything, father, please.”

Ripping her hand off of him harsher than he expected which caused her to stumble backwards. “You are not the child I wanted!” He shouted. “The second you were born I wished you died before you took your first breath! You were not the boy I wanted.”

Lowering her head she fought with herself not to cry right there and then in front of him. “I-I am sorry.”

“Sorry? Sixteen years too late.” He replied coldly.

Still she tried to gain back her love for him after three years of feeling nothing for him, he was her father after all. “I can fight in your army, I proved that to you. I can prove myself to you.”

“No!” Once again he shouts, she silently wonders how his throat wasn’t hurting yet. “You are useless to me.”

“Why do you not kill me then? Do it now, no one would question you, mother will get over it-“. Her words get cut off by her father’s hand smacking her across her face.

“I could do that, yes, but what kind of father would I be by doing that?”

“Y-you… I do not understand. You hate me that much is true, you torment me, you-you hurt me and yet you are too much of a coward to kill your own daughter that is useless to you. It does not make sense.”

“Do you know how many kings, nobles, hells even common men, have offered me an alliance due to me having a daughter who is barren?”

Her nose flares at that word, having grown to detest it, she clenched her fist by her sides. “Ah, so they pity you.”

Before she could realise what was happening her father’s hand came into contact with her face once more, knocking her off balance causing her to bang her head against the table.

*present*

“Y/n! Sweetheart, please come back to me.”

“B-Bucky?”

When she came back the present she noticed Bucky and Carlson kneeling in front of her, she was backed into a corner with her knees pulled up to her chest, her whole body was trembling with sweat dripping down her face. Her eyes shifting between her husband and best friend as her grip tightened on her dress.

“Y/n/n, it is alright, you are safe I promise you.”

“C-Carls-“.

“I swear to you that everything is fine. You are with me and Bucky, look.”

Looking at Bucky she frowns at seeing the heartbroken expression on his face. “I-“ Taking a deep breath, once, twice. “I am fine. I am fine.”

“You gave us quite the scare, my love.”

“I am sorry. I did not mean to.”

“Y/n, what happened?” Carlson asked as he smoothed out her hair, his heart aching at seeing his best friend in this position again.

“N-nothing. I am fine.”

“Do not lie to me.”

“I- it was just a memory, that is all.” She tried to smile though it came out as a grimace. “Why are you here?”

“Your guard heard you in distress so one came and got us.”

“Right.” With the help of the two men she stood up, smoothing her dress out she tried to remember what she was doing before she allowed the memories to take over. As she moved around the room she could feel the two sets of eyes on her, looking over her shoulder at them she gave them a questioning look. “What?”

“Please tell us what happened.” Bucky begged.

“I- I was told something and I do not know what happened, it felt so real. I was a child again.” Shaking her head she sighed. “It does not matter.”

“What was you told?” Carlson asked, he couldn’t understand it himself why his eyes trailed to her stomach, only widening when she nods slowly.

Bucky noticed the look of pure joy on his friends face, frowning when the two best friends were having a silent conversation that he had no idea what it was about. “Either one of you want to let me in on this conversation?”

Y/n walks slowly over to him and takes his hands into her own and places them on her stomach, his ocean coloured eyes widen, going from hers to where his hands were resting. “They said I am three months along.”

“Y/n…” Dropping to his knees he rested his forehead against her stomach. “I am going to be a father.”

“Yes.” She smiled down at him. “I did not believe them so I had them check four times.”

Both of the men chucked at her words, knowing that she probably asked the maester to check again - hells if Y/n had it her way she would be getting the maesters to check again and again even if her stomach was swollen to the point of exploding.

“I told you that he was wrong Y/n/n. Please allow me to be the first one to give you my congratulations, you will make wonderful parents.” Carlson presses a kiss to her temple and pats Bucky - who is still on his knees - on the back. “I will leave you two to get some rest, you need it, my Queen.”

“Carlson was right, he was wrong.” Bucky knew about her father, of course he did, he had heard the whispers of her being barren from the moment he came to Astoria, it wasn’t until after they were married that he had gained the courage to ask her about the whispers - so she told him the truth, his heart racing with anger at her father, hating the man he had never met. “Our babe is in here.” He whispered.

“Are you happy?”

“More than happy.” Finally standing up he cupped her face and kissed her. “I love you. Gods knows I love you.”

“I love you too.”

When a yawn makes an appearance Bucky is quick to untie her hair from the braids and brush out the tangles, undoing the laces to her dress he helps her slide her dress off and her slip - since being married they both preferred sleeping naked, he quickly removes his own clothes before picking her up and carries her to bed, gently laying her on their bed he helps her get under the covers, climbing in next to her.

With her head resting on his chest he drew invisible shapes on her bare skin - knowing that it helps her fall asleep - he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, my sweet love.”

“I love you too.” She mumbled. “Oh, I just remembered we were supposed to marry a long time ago.”

“W-what? Y/n?” Looking down he smiled softly at seeing her already asleep, he made a mental note to ask her what she meant in the morning.

Steve and Sam stood leaning against the wall their eyes bouncing between Bucky and Carlson as the two men paced back and forth in the hallway as if they were caged animals, their fists clenching as Y/n’s screams bounced off the walls. Both stopping every time everything went quiet, only to resume their pacing when they heard her screaming again.

When the door opened Bucky and Carlson nearly collided with each other with how fast they moved towards the door.

“How is she?” They spoke in unison.

“She is well. The babe is here.”

They both sigh of happiness at hearing that Y/n was well, and that the babe had finally arrived twelve hours after her waters broke. Carlson wrapped his arms around Bucky and smiled. “Go and see them.”

“Are you not coming in?”

“I will see them soon.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here with me, for her.” Carlson nodded then pushed him closer to the door.

Bucky didn’t know what he was going to walk in on but seeing the bloodied sheets being bundled into a ball made him feel sick knowing that was his wife’s blood however that sick feeling went away the second he laid eyes on Y/n - sweat still dripping down her flushed face, her hair a complete mess and a dazed look in her eyes, he thought she was still the most beautiful woman in the world.

The air got caught in his throat. His eyes followed hers that’s when he sees her holding their babe. The babe that he had been talking to whilst it grew inside of her was now here, the babe he loved the second he found out he was going to be a father, he wanted to see if the babe had its mothers nose like he said it would yet he couldn’t force his feet to move.

That was until Y/n looked up at him and smiled, beckoning him closer, it took three large steps for him to be at her side.

“A boy.” She smiled at him.

“He has your nose.” Chuckling when their son scrunched his nose up. “Oh he is perfect Y/n. Have you thought of a name yet?”

“I-I would like to name him after my brother, if that is fine with you?”

“Archie? Our little Archie is perfect.”

When her mum and sisters came in they instantly crowded the cradle where Archie slept peacefully with his stomach full of milk, her mum burst out crying at hearing the name her grandson was given which caused Y/n to panic that she had done something wrong.

“He is a mixture of the two of you.” Her mum wailed, gripping Bucky’s shoulders for dear life.

“You are not mad about his name?”

“Oh you fool, of course I am not! I named your brother after my own, my mother did the same.”

When it was Carlson’s turn to come in he had his hand on Larissa’s back, leaving his wife’s side the second he laid eyes on Archie. Bucky being ever the gentleman helped his friend sit in the seat he was occupying.

“Hi little one, I am your uncle Carlson.” He cooed as he raised him out of the cradle. “Your mama said that she would name all her sons after me but she has not so I will call you Carlson Junior when it is just the two of us.”

“I never said such thing!” Y/n chuckled.

“All of her sons!” Carlson stated with his eyebrow raised, his eyes never leaving his nephew.

“You can name your own son after you.” Y/n quipped back, pointing to his wife, her friends large bump.

“He thinks it is going to be a girl.” Larissa smiles softly as she rubs her hand over her stomach. “May I hold him?”

“Of course you can, he is your nephew after all.”

It took nearly five minutes to get Carlson to hand over Archie to Larissa.

Two weeks later Steve and Sam stood leaning against the wall their eyes bouncing between Carlson and Bucky as the two men paced back and forth in the hallway as if they were caged animals, their fists clenching as Larissa’s screams bounced off the walls. Both stopping every time everything went quiet, only to resume their pacing when they heard her screaming again.

Y/n made sure that she was in the room with her friend as she gave birth, Larissa felt guilty that she couldn’t do the same for Y/n but the maester advised that as she was heavily pregnant herself that she shouldn’t be in the room. After only a couple of hours of labour Larissa’s body sagged in Y/n’s arms as the room filled with the cries of her babe.

Carlson was right. They had a baby girl.

“We have named her Abby, after my mother.” He told Bucky who held his niece in his arms.

“Luckily she takes after her mama and not you.” Bucky chuckled, gasping when his friend throws a cloth at him. “Not when I am holding my niece!”

Y/n and Larissa cooed as they watched a two week old Archie hold a one day old Abby’s hand. Whilst Bucky and Carlson held onto each other with tears running down their faces.

The kingdom thrived even more now that Y/n sat on the throne, the townspeople were more happier than they had ever been before, they no longer feared telling their Queen and King their worries and problems knowing that they would happily put their worries to rest and help with said problems - not like the late king who always dismissed them before they got the chance to open their mouths.

Trading had never been more prosperous. In the short time Y/n had been on the throne she had made more alliances than her own father despite him reigning for twenty one years.

It became a regular occurrence for the people to see their Queen and King walking around the market that they would always chuckle when those not from Astoria saw them walking around freely and not completely surrounded by guards.

When word reached the people that Y/n was with child they all cheered and sang their prayers, and when they heard that the babe was born they got their best clothes ready and waited for the day to come for when they would get to see the new prince of Astoria.

What shocked them the most was when Y/n announced that a building was going to be built and for it to be a school for the children so that they could be educated. It was unheard of. And at first they worried that they wouldn’t be able to afford to send their children to this school, when she shocked them again by telling them that it was going to be free.

Another change made in the kingdom was her army, it seemed to grow with each passing month with more and more boys wanting to fight for her and their home. One day during her pregnancy Y/n sat in the throne room when a knight come up and told her that a bunch of women wanted a word.

The bunch - eight - women came inside, all with a look on their faces that she had seen on her own face when she looked in the mirror. Determination.

“How can I help you today?”

“My Queen, we are here to ask you if you will allow us to fight in your army.” One spoke.

“Really?”

“Yes my Grace, we have always admired your strength and courage-“

“There is no need for flattery.”

“Not flattery my Grace, just the truth.”

Giving a nod of gratitude she eyed the women up and down. “Why do you want to be apart of my army?”

“We wish to fight for our Queen, our home.”

“Meet me on the training ground tomorrow morning.”

“R-really?”

“It will be nice to see women on the training ground.” She smiled, which only grew more when they beamed up at her.

The next morning Y/n met the women who were so eager to prove themselves to their Warrior Queen, due to her being pregnant she didn’t go into the ring but was happy to talk them through the correct stances, where to hit and how to protect themselves. Leaning over the railing with Bucky and Carlson on either side of her, they winced before cheering as one of the women flipped her opponent over her shoulder and onto the ground - the man laid sprawled out on the ground trying to figure out what had just happened.

It was an easy decision to make the eight women soldiers.

Dropping her sword she climbs over the fence and begins running towards the castle, Carlson and the servant right on her heels - everyone was quick to move out of the way for their queen.

Rushing towards the family room where the servant had told her that Bucky was waiting, the guards opened the doors as she panted as she looked around the room.

“W-what is wrong?”

“Say it again, go on, you can do it.” Bucky waved her over as he sat in front of their son, a huge smile on his face as he looked at his wife.

“M-m-mama.”

“Did-did he…”.

“He said it before then I got the servant to get you.” Bucky beamed at his son, chuckling as the one year old kicked his legs out.

“You told her that it was urgent, my heart nearly stopped!”

“It is urgent, Lukas just said his first word!”

Three years after Archie was born the maester confirmed what Bucky had expected that Y/n was pregnant again, he kept telling her that her breast was getting bigger - he was way too happy with himself that he was right. Eight months later Bucky and Carlson were back to pacing back and forth as Y/n gave birth, Larissa came out to let Bucky know that everything was okay and that he could go in, he rushed inside to see the love of his life smiling at their new babe. This time Bucky named their second son, naming him after his uncle.

As Y/n looked around the room she saw her five year old Archie and his best friend, cousin, Abby playing with their toys, a three year old Carl - Carlson’s and Larissa’s son - trying to get away from a two year old Nicholas - Annalise and Liam’s son - Larissa rocking hers and Carlson’s second son, nine month old named Eric, in her arms. She felt happy, felt at peace, sticking her tongue out to Archie making him giggle.

Bucky stood up once Lukas crawled away to follow Carl and Nicholas, and wrapped his arms around Y/n, his hand going to her stomach. “When can we tell them?”

“Not yet.”

Two months ago she found out that she would be back on the birthing bed, screaming and withering in pain, cursing all those around her and begging for it to all end - I mean… she found out that she was expecting their third child.

The rest of their family began trickling into the room one by one, her mum going straight for Lukas as she placed him on her hip she gave her oldest daughter a knowing smile when she sees Bucky’s hand placement.

As the royal wheelhouses pulled up to the royal garden where Y/n had taken Bucky to show him the past king and queens of Astoria, it seemed as if the whole kingdom had come out to witness the unveil of the statues of their queen and king, giving Steve and Sam a nod they removed the large cloth revealing the large statue of her and Bucky, she smiled up at him noticing his eyes were already on her.

“I told you that I would make sure they capture your beauty.”

“Beauty… what?”

“Beauty, sweetheart.”

Chuckling, he took her hand in his and raised their hands to his lips. “Thank you, my love.”

As she laid in bed that night, her heart and head light with the days events. She watched as the flame of the candle flicker in quick succession, blowing it out and turning on her side a content sigh fell from her lips, she snuggled further into Bucky’s warm embrace. The chants from her townspeople making her smile as she laid in the arms of the man she loved more than anything, knowing that her two sons were fast asleep across the hall, placing her hand over Bucky’s as it rested on stomach where their third babe was growing, she fell asleep happily.

“Long live the Queen and King!”

<Previous

Tags: @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @sidraaaaaaaaa | @mrsnikstan | @barnesxstan | @hi172826 | @alexdarkacademia | @supraveng | @baw1066

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Hi everyone! I have a new Arthur x female!OC fic I've been working on that's posted up on Ao3, so I figured I would share it here as well. Please let me know what you think! This story is currently still on-going :)

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Summary: Kate McCanon, a young widow from the north, meets outlaw Arthur Morgan. When the two cross paths she discovers a complex man wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong. As their unlikely bond deepens, Kate becomes determined to guide Arthur towards a brighter path, even as tensions rise within his gang led by the enigmatic Dutch van der Linde. With danger lurking at every turn, Kate must navigate treacherous territory to protect those she holds dear, all while finding love in the most unexpected of places. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapter 1 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

1890

Kate had never fancied herself a skilled woodworker. While she had lent a hand to her husband in constructing a barn, her role mostly entailed passing him tools and bringing him his lunch. But as she stood amidst the sawdust, tears streaking down her cheeks, she grappled with the daunting task ahead. She lacked both the sufficient wood and the patience to craft two coffins. Thus, the inevitable decision emerged: they would be laid to rest together.

The Reverend's suggestion to cremate the bodies, emphasizing the need to eradicate the disease completely, fell upon deaf ears. The mere thought of reducing her beloved husband and precious baby girl to ashes felt abhorrent to Kate. Instead, she harbored a tender hope that one day, perhaps, they would blossom into a magnificent Willow tree.

Amidst the melancholy chore, the vibrant symphony of birdsong provided a bittersweet backdrop, reminiscent of the lullabies she once crooned to her infant daughter. With a sorrowful melody humming in her heart, Kate toiled diligently, her hands blackened with grime, each wipe across her tear-stained cheeks a testament to her grief. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting their modest farm in a golden hue, Kate's work pressed on.

Night descended swiftly, cloaking the world in shadows that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Kate, perched upon her porch swing, found no solace in slumber. Her vigil was solemn, her gaze never wavering from the rough-hewn coffins that cradled her entire world within their confines.

With the break of dawn, the Reverend returned, his disapproval evident, yet tempered by resignation. Together, in a somber silence, they labored to fashion a final resting place. By mid-afternoon, the grave stood ready, a solemn abyss awaiting its occupants. With the Reverend's assistance, Kate tenderly lowered her cherished husband and daughter into the earth's cold embrace.

As dusk settled, the Reverend offered prayers and parting words before taking his leave. Left alone in her sorrow, Kate felt the weight of despair bearing down upon her. In a world forged by men and seemingly devoid of solace for a solitary widow, she found herself with no recourse but to depart.

Beneath the twilight sky, the epitaph etched upon their shared gravestone bore silent witness to her profound loss:

Here Lies My Beloved Noah, And Our Beautiful Daughter, Lorena.

May God Keep Their Souls.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

1899 

As the sun rose over the horizon, casting its golden rays across the sprawling expanse of Emerald Ranch, Kate found herself amidst the ebb and flow of another day's labor. Nine years had slipped by since the tragic loss of her husband and daughter, a span of time marked by wandering footsteps and the pursuit of odd jobs on her journey westward. 

She had once heard her father say they had family in California, he had many sisters but only kept in touch with one. Kate wrote to her after the death of her husband, seeking asylum with a relative with nowhere else to go. Her Aunt wrote her back and gave her condolences, she said Kate would be welcome with open arms. 

However, the last she heard of her Aunt was 7 years ago. But still, she continued west. She had come too far and been through too much to stop now. What she hoped to find in the valleys of California, she did not know anymore. Over the years she became more cowboy and less of a woman, her once soft hands now calloused by years of labor. The untamed plains and cold hard ground had become both her refuge and her bed. 

She came to Emerald Ranch only a week ago, her boss; Seamus, was reluctant to hire a stranger, let alone a woman, to help on the ranch. Kate assured him she was cheap labor and was only looking for shelter and a place to rest until she was on the move again. Kate was no stranger to odd jobs, she took any work she could get and saved as much as she could. But she was no criminal. 

She heard Seamus talking to two men as she filled the troughs with clean water. The gentlemen said they were new in town and looking for a partnership, one in which they could both make money. 

“Look I ain't no idiot, and I don't trust folks outta the blue. If you want to work together then you're gonna have to prove to me you’re worth my time.” Her boss's voice raised above the usual noise of the barn animals. 

“Of course! We’re only interested in a partnership, just looking to make a little extra money.” Carried the voice of an older gentleman. 

“No doubt. I do interesting very well. It's trusting that I don't do so well.” her boss answered, still not convinced by the two strangers.

“Look at us, we’re honest as the day is long,” said the other man with cheer. 

“You really want us to prove ourselves to this clown Hosea?” said the other voice, sounding much younger than his partner. 

Seamus scoffed, “good day to you, Hosea.” 

“N-now wait a minute Seamus. Arthur can be rough, and quick with his tongue, but I swear you can trust him, you can trust me.” Hosea pleaded, following Seamus to the side of the barn. Kate now had a clear view of the new “business partners”. 

Kate didn't know Seamus very well, but she could tell he was an honest enough man. Wise for his years, and liked to keep his nose out of trouble. “I’m an old man Hosea,” he began, “and you know why I ain’t dead yet?” 

“Because you don't trust idiots,” Hosea finished.

“Exactly.”

“We’re not idiots, Seamus. Let us prove it to you.” Hosea had an air of confidence, he wasn't some runaway bum looking to make a quick buck. He was serious about a partnership. Although Kate wouldn't say the same for his partner, who loomed behind them like a panther ready to pounce. 

“Okay…I’ll tell you what, old Bob Crawford and his boys just bought a beautiful stolen stagecoach from up north. It’s in their barn. Now you go get that,” he looked around for anyone who might be listening to his scheming, “then we can work together.” He said quietly, placing a hand on Hosea’s shoulder. 

“Who’s Old Bob Crawford?” inquired Hosea.

“An acquaintance of mine…well, not just an acquaintance. He’s my cousin, by marriage.” Seamus explained. 

“Oh so now we’re meddlin’ in your family business?” Arthur boasted with skepticism. 

Hosea waved him off and continued speaking, “Where is he located?”

“Now hang on a moment, you boys could very easily take this coach and sell it yourselves for a pretty penny,” Seamus began. 

“So you comin’ with us? I thought you didn't want to be involved in shady business?” Arthur spoke up again. 

“Heavens no, if my cousin saw me it would be my death. I'm sending someone with you, as collateral.” Seamus turned around and saw Kate already watching them, he waved her over. 

Arthur shook his head disapprovingly, “nah, I don't do babysitters Seamus.” 

Kate was just as skeptical about her part in this, she told Seamus she was looking for honest work, and robbing his cousin certainly falls out of that line. 

“She’s not babysitting . She’ll take you to my cousin's farm and let you do the robbing. Kate has been working for me for a few days now and she’s tougher than she looks.” Seamus said turning to Kate, “I want you to make sure that stage coach gets back to me. You don't need to take part in the robbery.” 

“You’re fine with them robbing your cousin?” She spoke in a hushed tone so only Seamus could hear.

“By marriage,” he added, “and yes, I would love it. The man’s been a thorn in my ass for years.” He said amused.

She nodded in acknowledgement and turned to get a good look at the two strangers. One was indeed much older than the other, with cropped white hair peeking out from under his hat. The other gentleman was tall and burly, and he hid his eyes under the brim of his hat. He seemed wary of strangers and kept both hands resting on his gun belt. 

“Let me get my horse saddled and I’ll meet you boys at the intersection leading out of town.” She spoke, Hosea nodded and was already making his way to his horse. Arthur stood for a moment eyeing the woman, no doubt playing the intimidation tactic. But Kate had seen far scarier men than him in her days. “Y'know the quicker we get this done the quicker you fellas get paid.” She noted.

Arthur scoffed and finally followed Hosea to his horse, “don't need no damn babysitter,” he grumbled kicking dust.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate made quick work of saddling her black Hungarian roan, she calls Lorena. After her infant daughter. In a moments pass she was on the dirt road leading out of Emerald Ranch and toward Carmody Dell. She waved for the two men to follow her, they stayed behind her a short distance and made no effort for small conversation.

However, she overheard snippets of their own conversation as they went, “I thought you wanted me to be the strong arm? That's usually how it goes,” Arthur spoke.

“Yes but..” Hosea hesitated, lowering his tone a little, “you know how this works.”

“Cmon Hosea that fellers a joke, he don't even trust us enough to handle it ourselves. Now we got a chaperone.” Arthur complained loudly, at least he’s not calling me a babysitter , Kate thought. 

“All the better, he won't cause us any problems. And I cant blame the guy for sending the girl. Two strangers looking for quick money? Hell, I’d want assurance too.” Hosea answered, “besides, if he’s sending protection that means there’s big money to be made. Seamus wants his cut.” 

Kate came to the same conclusion, up until now Seamus had given her the usual ranch-hand tasks. Feeding and cleaning mostly. This was very different, there must be good money for this stage coach. 

“I guess you’re right,” Arthur muttered.

Hosea mumbled something back to Arthur about “hanging up their hats” if they couldn't finish a job as easy as this. They laughed and began chatting about their travels in Emerald ranch, Kate tuned them out and began humming a song to her horse. 

Her singing always pleased her horse and calmed the girl’s nerves. She was a strong and fierce steed, but jumpy and needy like a baby sometimes. Kate thought naming her horse after her daughter would bring her closure, instead, she was almost convinced that her daughter's spirit lived on in Lorena somehow. In all ways except biological, her horse was her baby.

Carmody Dell was a short distance north past the train tracks and Fort Wallace, Kate had passed it once before. They rode at a steady pace, the men behind her never coming too close. She wondered for a moment what their story was, and why they needed money so bad. Perhaps they were travelers like her, maybe they even had a caravan. She entertained the thought of traveling with a group again, but shuddered at the memories. Her previous caravan adventures had not ended well. 

Once the ranch was in view she slowed and allowed the boys to catch up on either side of her. She led them to a grassy clearing off the road. 

“You should continue on foot from here, I’ll stay behind with your horses.” She said dismounting. The two of them nodded and dismounted their horses, Kate was almost surprised to hear no objections from Arthur. 

“C'mon son, let's see what we’re dealing with here.” Hosea commented walking towards a large rock in front of the house. 

“Son”, so they are family . She mentally noted. Arthur gave his horse a pat, “be a good girl for the lady” he said, tipping his hat towards Kate. She was slightly taken aback by the sudden politeness.

She busied herself with the horses for a bit while the men laid out their plan, she gave Hosea and Arthurs horse a treat and was about to start brushing his horse when he approached her again. Startled, she backed away from his mare, she didn't want him to think she was snooping in his saddle bags. 

“You can keep brushin’ her, she loves attention,” he half smiled reaching up and petting her snout. “I just came to tell ya’ we’re gonna wait till it gets dark. Less chance of getting caught that way.” 

“Smart,” she replied, for whatever reason she suddenly felt very shy in his presence. 

He stood a few feet away from her and she could see more of his features. He was around her age. He had short dirty blond hair under his leather hat, and bright blue/green eyes. Her eyes lingered over his body. He was big too, more than a foot taller than her and well fed and muscular. His bicep had to be the size of her head alone, and she could tell by the fabric of his button down he had a bit of a belly hidden behind his gun belt. 

“What’s her name?” His voice broke through her awkward silence. 

“Who?” She asked and looked back at him. 

He chortled, “the black beauty you got over there,” he nodded to her horse. 

Oh, duh! “Her name is Lorena, she also loves attention but she’s nervous around new people.” Kate answered, still a bit lost in her thoughts. 

Arthur made a clicking sound with his tongue, reaching out a hand and slowly walking toward her horse. “It’s alright girl,” he cooed while she sniffed his palm. He pulled out a peppermint and gave it to her, which Lorena happily accepted. 

Kate smiled at the interaction, “you introduce yourself to my horse before me?” she teased. 

“My apologies ma’am,” he turned to face her, “names Arthur Morgan.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan, I’m Kate McCanon.” She reached out her hand and he shook it. His grip was firm but polite. 

“Likewise, Miss.McCanon. That’s Belle your brushin’, and that’s Silver Dollar.” He pointed at Hosea’s horse. “I saw this beauty when we first rode into Emerald ranch, had no idea she was yours tho.” He was talking about her horse again, “told myself I’d inquire about buying her if she was available.” 

Kate smiled at the affection he was showing for her horse, she knew Lorena was a beautiful mare. She often received compliments on the road, and many have offered to pay for her purebred. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she’s not for sale.” 

“Well I can certainly see that,” he laughed, “she seems happy though. You must take real good care of her.” He said, his attention still on her mare as he scratched under her chin. 

“You some kind of horse breeder Mr. Morgan?” Kate asked. 

Arthur laughed, “no no. Nothing like that, though sometimes I wish I was.” He smiled as he said it but Kate noticed there was a sadness in his tone. “I just think they’re neat is all.” 

They had only just met, and while Arthur was not initially the most pleasant, she found it incredibly cute how enraptured he was by her horse. 

“I should probably also apologize for my rudeness earlier, it’s been a rough couple weeks for us and we uh- don’t always take too kindly to strangers.” Arthur took off his hat as he spoke and held it to his chest, a sincere gesture. 

Kate was shocked, the man she met at Emerald ranch not even an hour ago seemed like a completely different person than the man before her. His cold demeanor was gone, or at least reined in at the moment. 

“No apology needed Mr. Morgan. I understand,” She answered. “Although I wouldn’t call it rude, you were just skeptical. Rightfully so, can I ask what brings you to Emerald Ranch?” 

Arthur looked away from her as he spoke, choosing to focus on her horse. “We’re just stayin’ in the area for a few weeks. Passin’ through and tryna make money.” 

“By robbing stagecoaches?” Kate said in an amused tone, “you a bunch of outlaws or something?” She continued, half-joking. 

Arthur looked at her with surprise, “What? No, we uh- got laid off from the railway. Up-north. Just looking for money so we can find a place to settle down again. That’s all.” He looked away again, avoiding her gaze. 

“I’ll say it again, by robbing stagecoaches?” She kept her tone playful, but wasn’t entirely convinced by his story. But it felt good to be the intimidator.

“Wasn’t our idea, Seamus asked us to rob his cousin!” His voice rose slightly with anger. 

“By marriage,” Kate retorted. 

Arthur was about to speak again but only stared at her. 

“I’m just pulling your leg Mr. Morgan.” Kate laughed. “It’s no business of mine. I’m only passing through here, same as you. What you do here and how you earn your money is your business. As is mine.” 

Arthur scoffed, suddenly amused, did this woman just tease me?

He went to speak again before another voice interrupted them, “Arthur! Get over here!” Called Hosea. He pointed a finger at Kate as to say this isn’t over and walked away. 

Amused with herself, Kate grabbed an apple and sat down against a tree. Watching the sun set as she waited for the cover of night so the two men could pull off their heist. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate woke suddenly to the sound of horses moving. She quickly got up and looked in the direction of the ranch. Sure enough the stage coach was steadily moving down the path away from its place in the barn. She quickly mounted her horse and trotted over to them. 

“Nice work! Follow me back to Emerald Ranch and try to keep it in one piece.” She called up to Hosea who was driving the coach. With that she clicked her tongue and took off ahead of the coach at a steady but quick pace. Not wanting to get themselves caught. 

Before Hosea could crack the reins he looked to Arthur as he was about to get in the coach, “you ride ahead with her. I got this.” 

Arthur looked confused, “why wouldn’t I ride with you? The horses will follow.” 

Now Hosea was giving him an amused look, “I heard you with her earlier.” 

“And?” The cowboy replied slightly annoyed. 

“You’ve never fumbled our cover story so bad!” He quipped, “it was like listening to a child tell it!” 

Arthur shook his head, “now you’re playin’ match maker old man?” He teased, trying to hide his smile.   

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to go talk to her son."

Without another word Arthur nodded and dismounted the coach, getting into the saddle and riding off to catch up to Kate.

[katsigian]

✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘊 𝘈𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘊𝘚 ∘₊✧

(A bit over a year ago, I was tagged in this tag game and when I tried to find the original, I couldn't. All I found were a copy of some of the aesthetics in a server, so I decided to fill it out some. I edited it slightly and added some new things. If anyone knows the original creator of the game or where it began, please let me know so I can put credit.)

𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘢𝘸‧͙⁺˚*☾

I'm going to do this for him <3 my daywalker boy

✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘊 𝘈𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘊𝘚 ∘₊✧

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

𝘙𝘜𝘓𝘌𝘚: 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴; 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored sno-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloody trail into an old tent

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛

bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

I'm going to tag some pals, but there's zero pressure to share it publicly if you'd rather not <;3 @rindemption @noirapocalypto @uldwynsovs @nuclearstorms @aartyom @devilbrakers @reaperkiller @noonfaerie @halsin @spicyraeman @gelvaan @serenedy @nokstella @cybersmallz @trashkingnyx @strafethesesinners @thefrostyshepard @arcandoria @holofishes @pinkydude @jaymber @saintemarvel @fleetwoodmoth @saevus-brutalis @elvenbeard @baldurians @swanfey @cyberpunkaddict @serenedy

✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘊 𝘈𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘊𝘚 ∘₊✧

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

𝘙𝘜𝘓𝘌𝘚: 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴; 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored sno-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloody trail into an old tent

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛

bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

[thiswasinevitableid]

The Ballad of Bigfoot (Sternclay)

The runner up of the location poll was : A Quaint Bed and Breakfast in the Woods. It's NSFW. I asked tumblr followers to pick a follow-up setting, and they chose the universe from my Lonesome Moth western AU

The morning after losing his left eye, Joseph thinks about quitting. 

Seven years later, he finally pulls the trigger and resigns from his post as a U.S Marshall. 

A day after that, he’s on a train headed Northeast towards Wyoming, carrying an advertisement from one Mr. Capra saying the small town of West Yellowstone is in need of a sheriff. When he’d wired two days ago, someone had confirmed that the position was still open. Too remote and strange for many people’s liking, apparently. 

Forty-four’s no age to start again. But it’s this or grow more miserable with each passing year. 

The line ends at his destination, the town clustered among the hills and laid out along the roads as if placed there by someone playing with a model train set. 

City hall is not much bigger than the surrounding buildings, though it sports some stunning wood carvings on either side of the front entrance. 

The interview is perfunctory, Mr.Capra and the mayor, a blonde woman going by Mrs. Little mainly trying to be sure he’s who he claims to be and that he understands just how isolated the town becomes once fall fades to winter. 

When he’s signed the papers saying he’s now the sheriff, Mr. Capra asks if he needs to send for his possessions, as the city can arrange to pay for their delivery to town. 

“No, thank you. Everything I own I brought with me. But could you direct me to somewhere I could rent room while I look for a more permanent home?”

They both give him names of places to try, along with a warning that since it’s late summer, there are still lots of visitors to Yellowstone, making rooms harder to come by. 

Unlucky for him, this is not an exaggeration. He hunts through town for the entire afternoon and can’t turn up even a cot to sleep on. As he’s in Amnesty Lodge, the oldest building in town by far, explaining his plight to the young man behind the counter, he’s already resigning himself to sleeping in a barn for the night. 

“You could try the Willow Creek Bed and Breakfast. It’s just up the road into the woods there” he points out the window, “he only has a room or two at a time, but most folks don’t know to look there, so he might have space.”

Joseph thanks him, trudges with his trunk up the road as dusk blankets the sky. The bed and breakfast is a three-story house with lamps shining from clean windows, making the whole clearing seem homey. When he knocks on the door, he’s expecting an old man to answer, the kind who likes to have someone to tell stories to at breakfast. 

What he gets is a fucking Adonis. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a handsome face Joseph has to look up to see make for a dizzying combination

“Evening” Full lips smile from a coppery beard, “you looking for a room?”

“At this point I’d happily take a floor.”

“Won’t need to. Room across from mine is open. You staying for a little while or a long one?”

“I’m not sure. I found out today that I’m moving to town.”

“Let’s call it two bucks a week.”

“Done” Joseph holds out his hand, “I’m Joseph Stern.”

“Barclay” good god his hands are big, “kinda honored to have the new sheriff living in my place.”

Joseph doesn’t even ask how he knows; news travels like lighting in a place like this. As he follows his host inside, a different question floats into his mind, 

“Have we met before?”

“Might have. I was a doctor for a time, down in silver country. Patched up plenty of people on both sides of the law.” He gestures to a door on their right, “kitchen and dining room are through there; hot breakfast is at 7:30, but I leave out a few things to munch on if you sleep late. Here’s your room, washroom is attached and there’s extra bedding in the closet” Barclay wipes his neck with a kitchen rag, “know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it gets cold here come winter. Cold and boring, if you ask most people.”

Joseph glances at the bed, big enough for two, and wonders if in another life he could have shared it with someone, “I could use a little boredom I think.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph rises at six, shaves his face and combs his hair to the sound of unfamiliar birds and the rustle of leaves. He pulls on his eyepatch and walks a slow circle of his room, something he was too busy unpacking to do last night. The walls are painted a gentle yellow, the linens–and more surprisingly, the furnishings–are all a pale blue of early spring skies. Venturing into the living room, he finds the rest of the house in a similar state, cozy and well kept. 

Unless there’s a Mrs. Barclay hiding somewhere, his host has the makings of an excellent homemaker. 

Frame art hangs on each wall, some sketches in color and others in black and white, all done by the same artist. He pauses at one, Hercules with the hydra, and wonders why the hero looks so familiar. 

“Morning.” Barclay wipes one hand on a checkered apron while the other holds a wooden spoon, “breakfast will be ready soon. It’s just us today, so it doesn’t take as long.”

“It smells amazing.” He follows him into the dining room, “did you draw all these?”

“Nope. Friend of mine did. Coffee?”

“I never heard a better idea.”

Breakfast includes the fluffiest biscuits he’s ever eaten and blackberry jam sweet as a first kiss. Barclay tells him a little about the town, mentions that he might be gone some nights to help tend bar at Amnesty Lodge as a favor to Mama, the owner, and that Joseph is always welcome to stop by for some after-work relaxation. 

After his first day as sheriff, Joseph is sure relaxation is the last thing he needs. Nothing required his attention. Nothing needs it the day after, or even a week later, and he’s wondering why Mr. Capra went out of his way to mention that the job could still be dangerous. The most he’s had to do is help retrieve some horses that spooked and jumped the fence. 

His excitement comes exclusively from his lodgings, where Barclay’s practiced hospitality is gradually giving way to genuine friendliness. Tonight, he and Joseph have ridden into the park proper so Barclay can show him some of his favorite spots. 

The land around them is all sheer drops and sulfur bubbling from the earth, wolves howling in the distance and owls calling from the trees. Joseph wonders, after seeing a waterfall plummet a hundred feet, if this place was set aside purely to remind people that nature can and will kill you.

“Here we go” Barclay ties his horse to a tree, waits for Joseph to do the same before leading him over to a pool. The water is morning-glory blue, deep and so clear they can see all the way to the bottom. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Right? Just don’t try to take a dip; it’ll burn you and bad. You need to soak somewhere, the springs behind the Lodge are where to go.”

“I thought that was guests only.”

“I’ll sneak you in sometime.” Barclay winks at him, then turns his face up to the darkening sky and sniffs the air, “it’ll rain soon.”

“Glad I have such good accommodations to protect me…from…Barclay are there bullet marks on that rock?” He points to a stone on their right.

“Yeah. Nasty business; few years ago some boys passing through got upset with one of the park rangers for telling them not to hassle the folks who still live in the park proper, seeing as it was their home first. They didn’t take to kindly to the correcting and, uh, dragged him out here and tried to throw him in that pool. Luckily, his husband caught up with them. Uh. Lucky for him I guess. The two who survived rode outta town like the devil was after them.”

“So that’s the kind of incident Mr. Capra was referring to.”

“Guess so” Barclay unties his horse, “I mean, it is really quiet here most of the time. Once a year maybe something big happens, and we still get troublemakers coming through town.” As Joseph hops onto Nessies back he adds, “and sometimes…sometimes things get strange. Shapes in the woods don’t look quite right, whatever kills a cow seems to have carried it straight into the air, stuff like that.”

“Really?” Joseph grips his reins and hides his excitement.

“That’s what I hear. Doesn’t sound like it bothers you.” Barclay smirks. 

“No, I have to admit it doesn’t. The more I traveled as a marshall, the more I was positive I was seeing things we didn’t have explanations for. Monsters in the lakes, ape men in the mountains, all kinds of things that most people dismiss as campfire stories. But there was so much evidence sometimes, and I wanted to investigate and I never could.  Just one more reason I decided I was done with that job.” His voice bounces of the rocks and so he clears his throat and says, “what made you change from being a doctor.”

“Lots of things. Climate where I was got a little too hostile to some folks for my taste, and at the end of the day I prefer cooking to blood and guts. Cooked the Lodge for a long time before we bought Willow Creek and Mama suggested I make the place my own. It suits me.” He smiles, “Guess I like looking after people. Always have.”

A big heart and a beautiful smile. If Joseph gets out of his time at the B&B without falling like a tree in a storm, it’ll be a miracle.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks into his new job, Joseph locks the sheriff's office and turns to cross the street. There, on the opposite corner, is a man in conversation with Aubrey, the mayor’s wife. A man with silver hair and red glasses perched on an angular face. 

He’d know it anywhere. 

When he gets to Willow Creek, Barclay is scanning the paper in his easy chair, reading glasses on his nose. 

“Barclay, I don’t want to worry you, but are you aware the outlaw Indrid Cold is in town?”

Barclay chuckles and turns the page, “People make that mistake now and then. Indrid Cold the outlaw died in a gunfight, years ago. That Indrid Cold is an artist; did all the stuff on the walls.”

“Did he…” Joseph muses, crossing to the illustration of Hercules. He has seen that face before. 

“I remember now, We have met. You were with Duck Newton when he brought the evidence to exonerate himself and prove that Indrid Cold hadn’t murdered one of my fellow marshalls.”

Brown eyes regard him for a long, long minute. Then Barclay folds the newspaper and sets it aside, “Yeah, that was me. Mama too.” He removes his glasses, tucking them in his front pocket, “And there’s no point in trying to convince Indrid isn’t who you think he is. Quite frankly, I don’t feel like insulting your intelligence that way. He gave up that life a long, and mean long, time ago. He’s not a threat to anyone in town, and he’s my friend, so if you’ve got any bright ideas about trying to arrest him on old warrants, think again.”

“Understood.” 

Joseph is still thinking about whether he’s morally obligated to arrest the former outlaw the next evening. He’s taking the scenic route back to his room when a black-clad figure falls into step beside him. 

“Good evening, sheriff. It is nice to see you again.” Indrid Cold’s voice is looking-glass smooth. 

Fuck. Did Barclay tell him that Joseph recognized him? 

“There’s no need to be alarmed.”

“If memory serves we didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

A sharp laugh, “True. All the same, I bear you no ill will. If I held a grudge against everyone who ever arrested me, or tried to, it would be a waste of my precious time and interfere with my marriage in more ways than one.”

“I still doubt you followed me just to say hello.”

“An apt conclusion. I remember you being a man willing to admit he was wrong. So I ask that you employ that same capability to whatever conclusions you have drawn about my being here. I followed Duck here to continue building our life together. This is my home, my people, and I will never harm it. Nor allow others to. And without putting too fine a point on it, I repaid whatever debts I owed to society. Ask Barclay if you do not believe me. Do we have an understanding?” He extends his hand, every inch the gentleman save for his smile, where a glint of his old self remains. 

Joseph has nearly died on many pointless hills. He’s not interested in adding one more to the list. 

“We do.” He shakes cool fingers. 

Cold gives a slight bow of the head and turns back toward town. Then he pauses and turns back to say, “Barclay’s birthday is next Monday. He is very fond of the morning buns from the bakery.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, bemused, but nods, “I’ll be certain to get up early that day.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Sylphs age slower than humans. One Sylph year is between three and seven for humans. Even with that, Barclay is now middle aged by both standards, grey shining in his beard and in the fur of his chest, depending on which form he takes. 

Funny, then, that he feels younger than he has in decades. And all because a certain sheriff is still sleeping under his roof. 

That Joseph Stern is handsome is obvious to anyone with eyes and sense. This casual observation didn’t give way to desire until he saw the human practicing his marksmanship a few days after moving to town. He lined up rows of empty tin cans on a log behind the house and then shot them down without missing his mark once. Then he reloaded, switched hands, and repeated the feat. Watching from the kitchen window, Barclay had a sudden urge to fan himself. 

Tonight, he’s feeling much the same way. 

Joseph is leaning on the bar at Amnesty Lodge, chatting with Moira. Every now and then he casts his blue eye over to Barclay, sizing him up like a bull he fully intends to ride. The longer he’s in town the more confident he becomes, which has the added benefit (or curse) of him being more flirtatious with Barclay when they have the house to themselves (if there are other guests, he’s polite as can be).

“You really ought to ask him to dinner.” Indrid looks at Barclay from behind his cards

“Yep” Duck says from the rocking chair where he’s whittling what looks to be a boat hull, “you’re clearly moonin’ over him. And he’s decent enough that he even tracked me down to apologize for setting a posse on me all those years ago. Meant it too.”

“You think he’d say yes?” Barclay raises. 

“Of course. In all futures he agrees to it. And in the majority the night ends with at least one kiss, if not more. Ah, it seems I win again.” He lays down a full house. 

“Remind me again why I play this with you?”

Moira excuses herself and Joseph raises his glass in goodnight. Now’s his chance. 

Just as Barclay reaches him, three men shove open the doors, pistols drawn. 

“Nobody move. We’re here to relieve this fine establishment of all its currency.” The leader makes straight for Barclay, who already has his hands in the air. 

“You heard me, big man,” he rests his elbows on the counter, “get to it or I’ll make some holes for the worms.”

“Of course” Barclay moves to the cash drawer. The robber tips his pistol back with a grin. Then two of his teeth scatter on the bar as Joseph grabs his wrist with one hand and decks him with the other.  Two more shots land two more pistols on the floor and two robbers bleeding from their hands. 

“Jake, please go get deputy Owens. Thank you.”

Joseph keeps his gun trained on the robbers until back-up arrives, at which point he turns to Barclay, the first flicker of worry on his face, “Are you okay?”

“Incredible. Have dinner with me? As a thank you?”

“As soon as I’m done with work, big guy.”

—-------------------------------------------

The first snow comes the week before Halloween, which strikes Joseph as unfair since the town supposedly celebrates Halloween in elaborate ways. 

There are no guests, and none coming any time soon, since the snow has closed off the roads. That means there’s nothing for him and Barclay to do but tidy the inn, play chess, and keep the fire going. 

As night falls, they’re tied at two games each, and Barclay suggests they settle in with a warm drink by the fire for a change of pace. Joseph concurs, unfolds the blankets and feeds the fire as Barclay moves through the kitchen.

He raises a hand to fidget with the strap of his eyepatch and finds it’s not there. Right, he’s taken to wearing it less around the house, as Barclay has never batted an eye (hah) at how he looks without out it

“You can ask about it if you want” Joseph, seated in the washroom, lets Barclay clean mud from his face after the two of them had to help Vincent round up the goats that escaped from their pen. 

“I mean, I figured it came from something that happened when you were a marshall.”

“Got it in one.” He sighs, ���a rancher told us there was a massive cattle rustling ring in town. Turns out there was, but only because he basically ran every place in town, from the railroad to the farms, and paid people chicken feed. Folks were stealing his cows to try and make ends meet. I didn’t put that all together until too late; they’d caught me. They were afraid to kill me because it would draw more lawmen to town, so they decided to do this as a warning” he taps the patch, “reason I didn’t lose the whole eye was because they were squeamish and stopped once I started screaming.” He sighs, winces as Barclay raises the patch to clean a stray bit of mud, “I never got to tell the others what I found. By the time they let me out of bed, they’d caught and hung the ringleaders.”

Barclay brushes a thumb over the scarred patch of cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

“Here we go.” Barclay sets a mug in front of him. It’s hot chocolate, made with imported chocolate from France. Barclay only uses it on special occasions. 

It tastes divine, gets even better when Barclay adds bourbon to each glass. Soon they’re shoulder to shoulder, tipsy, as the snow sticks to the windows. The living room is like a painting in a magazine meant to sell a dream that could come true if only you bought the right table. 

A branch breaks from the snow and Barclay jumps with an alarmed yip. When Joseph doesn’t react, his friend laughs, “Man, you don’t scare easy.”

“It’s a skill of the trade. But also I have absolutely been scared.”

“Badly?” Barclay pours more cocoa from the teapot and more bourbon from the bottle into each mug. 

“Once or twice, yes. The worst…well, it was when I was chasing a kidnapping ring. Took forever to get anyone to believe that’s what was going on, but those bastards were picking off people left and right. They were white, anyone they grabbed wasn’t, and I’m positive they were selling people as ‘servants. I was trying to get two people free and the watchmen woke up and spotted me. Ended up tied up with them and, well, you can see I’m not exactly lily white.” He raises his hand, only for Barclay to catch it and hold it comfortingly to his chest, “they thought it was funny to talk about, um, sodomizing me. They even put me on one of their horses the next morning so their leader could grope me and keep talking about it the whole damn afternoon.”

“How’d you get away?”

“I ran him down with his own horse when he stopped to take a piss.” 

“Holy fuck.” 

“That was enough cover to get his gun and take care of the others. It…was not pretty.”

“Whole thing woulda scared me outta my mind.” Barclay scoots closer.

“It was the being sold part that really scared me. I mean, being fucked would not have been fun, but I’d be lying if I said I’d never fantasized about being taken after someone got the upper hand on me. Wait” he looks at Barclay, “is that how Duck and Indrid first, you know…”

“No idea.” Barclay giggles, then sighs and leans into the corner of the couch, “sometimes I really envy them. Loving each other all those years, no matter what, being faithful through every fucking thing…no one ever loved me that much. Which isn’t, I, I get that most people don’t have that kind of love, but” he turns warm brown eyes on Joseph, “you know how you said you quit because you were afraid of dying without experiencing all the other things you wanted? I’m afraid the person for me is out there but I’ll never find them. I’ll make a home for everyone but myself.” He gestures to the inn around them. 

It’s not liquid courage so much as liquor drowning out the last of his doubts that makes Joseph lean forward and bring their lips together. 

“You could make it with me. At least for a little while?”

“Yes” Barclay pulls him down onto the sofa, presses him to the back of it on his side, kissing him like he’s never tasted anything as sweet as his lips. Then there’s a little growl and he says, “there’s, there’s just one more thing I need to tell you. But you have to promise to stay calm.”

“I swear.”

Barclay slips a woven bracelet from his wrist. Suddenly his legs jut over the armrest, black claws prick Joseph's skin, and the face staring adoringly at him has more hair than just a beard. 

“Ohmygod.”

“So, uh, this is how I was born looking.”

“You’re one of the apemen!” His mind bubbles with delighted curiosity.

“Technically I’m a Sylph-”

“What’s a sylph? Are they all like you? Are the other things I’ve seen Sylphs too?”

Barclay pouts, “See, this is what I was afraid of. You’d get too distracted and stop kissing me.”

Joseph is powerless in the face of such pleading eyes, “Where are my manners?”

Barclay lets out a rumbling purr as Joseph kisses him once more, teasing his tongue between his lips and running his fingers up a newly-furry arm. 

“Tomorrow, big guy, I want to know everything.”

A loving bite to his ear, “I’ll explain it all later, baby. I promise.”

—----------------------------------------------

The snow only lets up for a few days before starting again, so Barclay spends most of his time running errands to stock up on what he needs for winter and closing up the spare rooms for the season. The rest of the time is spent next to, on top of, or inside of Joseph.

The lawman kisses him good morning and brews coffee as he cooks, listens intently and asks dozens of questions about Barclay’s past and Sylvain, and falls asleep beside him at night, half the time with a book on chest. 

Barclay wonders more and more each day why it took the universe so fucking long to point him towards the person who makes this house feel like home. There’s nothing for it now but to make up for lost time. 

Sex, so far, has been a divinely slow affair, nestled under the blankets with Joseph’s hand on his cock, or his cock sunk deep into Joseph’s ass. While they both enjoy it immensely, Barclay can’t help but feel that Joseph isn’t enjoying it as much as he could. That there’s a way to make his lover–his mate, some part of him insists–moan like the star attraction in a cheap brothel.

As he’s cleaning up the kitchen after lunch the first Sunday in November, it comes to him. 

“Joseph? Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” His human looks up from his book, relaxing when he notices Barclay’s smile, “especially when it comes to things like that.”

“Then go upstairs and put on the closest thing you have to what you wore as a marshall and lay on your stomach. I’ll be up before you know it”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay takes long enough to give Joseph ample time to wonder what he’s planning. His boyfriend has preferred simple sex so far, so the request for a costume is an exciting surprise. 

When the bedroom door opens, Barclay whistles, “wow, you went all out.”

“You said to dress how I would have.” He blushes into the blankets.

“Guess I did. Boots are a surprise though.” Floorboards creak as Barclay moves toward him, “here’s what I’m thinking. I’m thinking you never got to live out your fantasy of being bested. And that I’ve been dreaming about tying you up.”

“Ohyes.”

A soft, hungry growl, “get on your elbows and knees.”

Joseph obeys, glances excitedly at Barclay when he sits on the bed with a deep blue rope in hand. 

“Had someone bring it over for me from Sylvain. Gonna feel nice and soft. Now” he loops one end around Joseph’s wrist, “close your eyes and just breathe for me.”

He does, sighing at each light touch and tightening of the rope. When Barclay is through, his wrists are connected to his ankles, even as they rest on the bed in front of him, making him feel like a bitch in heat with his ass in the air. 

“There we go.” Barclay kisses his back, “You ready?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. You need me to stop say, um, say red? Yeah lets go with that.”

The cook climbs off the bed, and a moment later a hard smack lands on Joseph’s ass. 

“Ahfuck!”

“Not quite so tough now are you, mr. government agent?”

“Fuck, fuck you, person I’ve definitely never met before.”

Barclay snickers, “You can cuss all you want. Won’t change a thing.” His boots are pulled off, then Barclay starts on the buttons of his pants, “you and me got business.”

“I have zero idea what kind you mean.” He gasps as Barclay eases his pants down and then gropes his ass.

“Guess it’s more I got business with this and the rest of you just happens to be attached.” A jar unscrews, then two, slick fingers tease his ass, “mmm, lookit this. Don’t know why you’re wasting your time chasing people like a trained dog. This is what you were made for.”

“Fuck you” he moans as Barclay presses his fingers inside, lazily fucking with him them as he traces hearts on his ass. 

“Don’t be sore because you got caught. You’re in for too much rough stuff to feel that way before we even get started.”

“I, I am for sure still a u.s marshall. You can’t talk to me like that.”

The fingers fuck him twice, roughly, then Barclay pulls them away, “Let’s get one thing real clear. This” he rubs the head of his dick against Joseph’s ass, “is the only thing you answer to from now on. And I don’t give a fuck what you were before.” He pushes halfway in and Joseph yelps, “far as I’m concerned, you’re a toy I get to use whenever I want.” The rest of his cock sinks in and Joseph moans, trying to adjust to the stretch but unable to due to his bonds. 

“Please.” It’s a feeling more than a thought, and Barclay kisses his shoulder as he slowly fucks him.

“Aww, big tough marshall is already begging. That’s real cute.” He slaps Joseph’s ass twice, “but I’m gonna make you beg even better than that. First” another slap, “I’m gonna make you beg for more. Then I’m gonna make you beg me to stop.”

He whines into the pillow as Barclay picks up the pace, slapping his ass almost carelessly, like he doesn’ care that it’s making Joseph moan louder and louder each time. 

“Fuuuuck, guess I know you didn’t sleep your way to the top, you’re so fucking tight.” Another slap, “might as well be fucking a virgin from how much you’re squealing too.”

“I am notAH, ahhhhnnyes, oh Barclay yes” He pushes his hips back as Barclay’s cock drags in just the right spot. 

“That’s it baby, take it deep, start learning to enjoy that feeling because it’s happening every night whether you like it or not because you are fucking mine.”

Joseph cums on the sheets with a gasp, which only serves to make Barclay dig his fingers into his hips and fuck him hard and fast. His boyfriend pulls out before he’s done, cumming across his ass. 

“You look good like this” a hand smears through the spattering of cum, making a mess of his skin.

“What, what happened to making me beg to stop?” Joseph teases.

Clawed fingers scrape the backs of his thighs, “Who said I was done?”

“OhmyAHfuck” He’s only taken Barclay’s cock like this once, and the stretch is so intense tears well up in his eyes even as he moans. 

His cock brushes the bed and he whimpers, body rapidly becoming too sensitive. Barclay just laughs and whacks his thigh this time, “Not my fault your human dick can only go one round.”

“It’s too much, please-”

“That’s not the magic word.” Barclay slows a moment, giving him time to say red. 

He doesn't want to, no matter how many tears are on his cheeks. All he wants is Barclay.

“Please, I’ll do anything, justAH, ahgod” his arms give out and his chest hits the bed as growls fill the air behind him.

“Say you’ll be a good little mate.”

“I’ll be a, a good little mate.”

“And that this ass is mine” claws prick both sides of it as Barclay’s thrusts speed up.

“Yes, yes, yours, whatever you want” it’s getting harder to form words. 

“Good, because what I want is to cum in it so fucking hard you’ll remember it for fucking weeks” there’s a howlgrowlpurr as Barclay pumps into him, still fucking him even as he starts to soften. 

When the pulls out, all it takes is two tugs for the ropes to fall away, allowing Joseph to roll on his back. 

“Good?” Barclay, still in his Sylph form, crawls atop him, making the needy little sounds that he’s learning are a “thank you.”

“Amazing.” He pets red-brown fur and kisses a fuzzy cheek, “you can be my outlaw any day. As long as you’re my boyfriend for all of them.”

As the wind rattles the shutters on the inn, Barclay kisses him and purrs, “I think I can handle that.

[dreammakcr]

( okay! for new followers, this is a full list of muses that are not on my muse page yet. <3 )

lilith - a court of thorns and roses (OC rhysand’s sister)

medusa - greek mythology

isobel - baulder’s gate 3

vidia - disney’s tinkerbell

balthazar - supernatural

johnny gat - saint’s row

han solo - star wars

leia organa - star wars

padme amidala - star wars

helios - greek mythlogy

nora west-allen - detective comics

barry allen - detective comics

dorothy gale - the wizard of oz

angelica schuyler - hamilton

eliza schuyler - hamilton

olivia pope - scandal

jasper frost - the royals

eleanor hestridge - the royals

alosa kalligan - daughter of the pirate king

eelyn - sky in the deep

mirabel madrigal - encanto

dolores madrigal - encanto

barbie - barbie

artemis - greek mythology

rose dewitt bukater - titanic

alice liddell - alice madness returns

will turner - pirates of the caribbean

elizabeth swann - pirates of the caribbean

nessarose thropp - wicked

penny lamb - ride the cyclone

sandy olsson from grease

betty rizzo from grease

willow rosenberg from buffy the vampire slayer

kal from halloweentown 2

marnie piper from halloweentown

juliet starling from lollipop chainsaw

william gracey from the haunted mansion

sadie adler from red dead 2

arthur morgan from red dead 2

teddy lupin from harry potter

roxanne weasley from harry potter

fleur delacour from harry potter

calliope from greek mythology

richard castle from castle

kate beckett from castle

hilda spellman from sabrina the teenage witch

sabrina spellman from sabrina the teenage witch

jason mendoza from the good place

tahani al jamil from the good place

amren from a court of thorns and roses

jake peralta from brooklyn 99

velma dinkely from scooby doo

fred jones from scooby doo

daphne blake from scooby doo

shaggy rogers from scooby doo

phoenix winchester from supernatural (OC daughter of Cassie and Dean)

miss honey from matilda

matilda from matilda

jessica day from new girl

maxwell sheffield from the nanny

(young) blanche deveraux from the golden girls

merope gaunt from harry potter

janine teagues from abbott elementary

aurora dubois from sleeping beauty

anne sallow from hogwarts legacy

poppy sweeting from hogwarts legacy

tom riddle from harry potter

jeffrey winger from community

troy barnes from community

annie edison from community

river song from doctor who

helena bertinelli from detective comics

dinah lance from detective comics

princess yona from yona and the dawn

clover ewing from totally spies

magdalene defoe from repo! the genetic opera

amber sweet from repo! the genetic opera

shilo wallace from repo! the genetic opera

carmen cortez from spy kids

ami mizuno from sailor moon

gretchen wieners from mean girls

karen smith from mean girls

prince phillip from sleeping beauty

helen parr from the incredibles

rei hino from sailor moon

danielle de barbarac from ever after

deena johnson from fear street

laurie strode from halloween

gale weathers from scream

sidney prescott from scream

samantha carpenter from scream

[therealnightcity]

Tag Game-Summer Goth Aesthetics

𝘙𝘜𝘓𝘌𝘚: 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴; 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺

Hiro

𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored sno-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloody trail into an old tent

𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛 bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere

Tagging: @shinycorvidae @dreamskug @wraithsoutlaws @faepunkprince @onlymeandlife @a-pirate @ghostoffuturespast @morganlefaye79 @gloryride @dustymagpie @wanderingaldecaldo @jaymber @fereldanwench and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it--there's a lot of y'all~, zero pressure tho!

[drunkchasind]

✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘊 𝘈𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘊𝘚 ∘₊✧

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

Tagged by @spicyraeman thank you 😚❤

𝘙𝘜𝘓𝘌𝘚: 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴; 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺

Faye

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored sno-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloodytrail into an old tent

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛

bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

tagging, with no pressure as always @shadesofchaoticenergy

@ugh-my-back @imaginarycyberpunk2023 🖤

[ghostoffuturespast]

Tag Game-Summer Goth Aesthetics

Thanks @therealnightcity for the tag! <3 This is a lovely list! Warms my ghost goth heart...

Rules: bold what applies to your character and their aesthetics; italicise those that somewhat apply; and strikethrough whatever doesn't apply

(I altered the formatting into lists, rather than paragraphs. I think it's easier to read? It's no longer a giant wall of words with a mish-mash of different formatting... idk, I tried. My eyeballs are still not happy.)

Valerie Hye-jin Li

𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels

carnival lights through fog

saltwater taffy and popcorn

tarot card readings

childhood best-friends

thunderstorms over the sea

tear-streaked face paint

chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water

ill-fated games of truth or dare

vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf-men

underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones

darts that are a little too sharp

twinkling lights in the dark

distant and ghostly laughter

blue and pink cotton candy

sunburnt shoulders

cherry flavored sno-cones

switchblades tucked into costumes

a bloody trail into an old tent

𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal

circling turkey vultures

unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time

daddy long legs in rotting logs

distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie

unexplainable antler shrines

coniferous mountain horizons

star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night

nests of infant barn owls

claw marks in tent fabric

soft and distant howls

unexplained lights darting through trees

clawed footprints in the dirt

bomber jackets and hiking boots

an old and well-used shotgun

thunderstorms that darken the sky

a rusted and reliable truck

the smell of petrichor

a voice calling your name from the trees 

𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms

chipping white porch swings

spanish moss

suffocating humidity

faded photographs of lacy weddings

tire tracks in mud

mausoleum angels

family trees

the yellow-green eyes of alligators

repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface

broken porcelain dolls

legs covered with mosquito bites

barbed wire

dark family secrets

stained white button downs

sweat drops down your spine

marshy swamp lands

weeping willow trees

rusted iron gates

cicadas in the summer

moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt

cursed family jewelry

old patina rosaries

fireflies at dusk

𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛 

bloodshot eyes

flickering neon motel signs

aviator sunglasses

magic 8 balls

recurrent dreams of grey aliens

beaded curtains

dusty denim and incense smoke

sepia desert vistas

playlists of 1960s rock songs

coded messages in television static

comets in the night sky

fake ids

gas station snacks

jesus bobble heads

split lips

patchouli

paranoia between friends

ice cold diet coke

ripped jeans and converse

cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window

a 1960's white ford mustang

evergreen air fresheners

thousand yard stares

a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets

something dark following alongside your car

abandoned rest stops

rickety road signs that lead nowhere

No pressure tags, I know it's a long one: @shimmer-like-agirl @vox-monstera @fly-amanitaa @ladykatie512 @maimaiapologist

And anyone else who'd like to do it!

[saevus-brutalis]

tagged by: @katsigian thank you 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ did this for both my babies 😌

∘₊✧ ───── 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄. 𝐕𝐚𝐡𝐧 ───── ✧₊∘

✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘊 𝘈𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘊𝘚 ∘₊✧

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

𝘙𝘜𝘓𝘌𝘚: 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴; 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored sno-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloody trail into an old tent

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛

bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere

∘₊✧ ───── 𝐑𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐧 '𝐑𝐚𝐲' 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 ───── ✧₊∘

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored sno-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloody trail into an old tent

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛

bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

tagging (with no pressure tho): @ne0n-rust @noirapocalypto would tag more people but idk who likes to do theseee 🗣️ lemmie know if you wanna be tagged and shittt

[pinkydude]

🟨 Summer Gothic Aesthetics

Got tagged by @katsigian! 🖤 Thank you (the name of the game itself fits Valen already ghfhgf)

🌑RULES: Bold what applies to your character and their aesthetics; italicise those that somewhat apply; and stikethrough whatever doesn't apply (bonus~ added colors to those that fits really well!)

▶ Haunted Boardwalk

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored sno-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloody trail into an old tent

▶ Solitary Park Ranger

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees

▶ Southern Cemetary

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

▶ Road Trip Burnout

bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere

Wasn't expecting to find fitting elements for this lil sunshine's aesthetic! Without surprises, the Road Trip Burnout category is almost fully bold! 🤏😅 Those type of OC games are always interesting to do- you don't have to think much, go with the flow and what feels right 😤

🔹 TAGGING: @morganbl4ckhand - @itzsassha - @a-pirate - @ne0n-rust - @theviridianbunny - @kittenchrissy - @lokiina - @dreamskug

Tried to tag people who weren't previously tagged already! Also tagging anyone who'd want to do it 😌 as always, no pressure!

[imtryingbuck]

Four

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n becomes Queen of Astoria not that she wanted to. Prince James of Winterfeld meets her and falls in love.

Word count: 1,915

Warnings: angst. fluff. sir jon makes an appearance yay. Bucky baby is in love.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

“Are you following me, Prince James?”

“No… you are following me.”

Y/n laughed at his response, turning around to face the man who instantly smiled widely at her. “What are do you want?”

“I want to ask if you would have a walk with me in the gardens?”

“I am-“

“She would love to” Carlson interrupted. Smiling at her, pushing her lightly towards the man.

“I have things to do.”

“Yes such as taking a walk with the Prince.” Anyone else would have cowered under the harsh glare that she gave him but Carlson knowing her the way he did knew that she didn’t mean it. Much. “Come on.”

“You do know I am the Queen right?”

“I do. Now come on”

Bucky nodded and smiled, holding his arm out for her to take. As they made their way out of the castle Y/n saw Larissa and asked her to join them, the young girl smiled and made her way to stand behind Carlson - who then told her to walk with him.

The sky was bright, birds flying freely in the air, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh as she talked about the time she was running down the stone steps because there was a butterfly flying towards her and she end up tripping over and cutting her knees open, she even showed him the exact spot where she fell.

“Do not laugh, it hurt!”

“I am sorry, but… a butterfly!”

“I was scared of them!”

“Aw the Warrior Queen is scared of butterflies” he laughed.

“Not now I am not. I find them beautiful, I must admit I am envious of the things.”

“How do you mean?”

“They are free and I am not. Oh over there” she points over to one of the fountains. “Carlson and I was play fighting and he pushed me into the fountain and I nearly drowned!”

“You did not nearly drown Y/n/n, you are so dramatic.” Carlson laughed, side eying Larissa as she gasped at hearing him speak to her in such an informal manner. Even Bucky’s eyes went slightly wide.

“I did and you know it! I did James, he nearly killed me!”

“That is terrible!” He chuckled. “And please call me Bucky.”

“Why would I call you that?”

“It is my middle name, well Buchanan so I go by Bucky.”

“Very well, come on I will show you all the places where my so called best friend has tried to un-alive me.”

“Well this tour will be a very long one.” Carlson laughed, winking at the young girl next to him - smiling at her when she lets out a quiet giggle.

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much in his life, Y/n was truly a funny person and was amazing at telling stories - even if they were a bit dramatized. Right now he was sitting underneath a large weeping willow tree with Y/n resting on her knees as she retold a story, Carlson sitting next to her resting on his hands and Larissa also sitting with them - her legs crossed and hanging on to every word that her Queen spoke. He was oblivious to the knowing glances that the knight and servant were giving each other as they watched him staring at Y/n as if she hung the stars and the moon.

“I think he is in love with her” Carlson mouthed to Larissa making the young girl blush and nodding slowly, a small smile playing on her lips.

“So Prince James, are you married?” The knight asked.

“No I am not. Are you?”

“No. Are you looking for a wife?”

“I am not, I would not be opposed to marriage, though I would like to be lucky and marry for love.”

Before Carlson could respond Y/n spoke up. “I must introduce you to my sisters, some are of age for marriage, maybe I could talk with the King and Queen about a marriage proposal.”

“I-oh.” Y/n smiled at him, his heart aching from her words, his smile was forced. Carlson and Larissa shared a look of pity for the man.

As soon as Bucky bid goodbye to the Queen, Carlson and Larissa he went running straight to Steve, finding him in the library, he told his friend of where he had been but most importantly telling him what she had said about a marriage proposal from him to one of her sisters.

“But that happens Buck”

“I know but I wish to marry her.”

“So you can be King?”

“No! Plus I will be that anyway, she is amazing and though we have only spent one day together I already have feelings for her and plus she is my mad woman.”

“Well ask her for her hand in marriage then?”

“I cannot! She will say no and I will die of embarrassment” Steve tried not to laugh as Bucky threw himself back in the chair, sighing dramatically.

“Ask your father to propose a marriage proposal between yourself and the Queen, she is not married and will need an heir sooner or later”

“This is going to go horribly wrong” he groaned picking up a cushion and holding it against his face to muffle his scream. Steve watching with an amused grin, feeling slightly bad for his friend. Only slightly.

Y/n was in the meeting room with her council members as Bucky was talking with his parents and her mother, his heart sunk when he was told that Y/n had already proposed a marriage between himself and one of her sisters.

“I am going to be going in to the town tomorrow and meet with the people, hear what they want and see what I can do to help them” she told them, slightly hoping that they would tell her that she was doing the right thing.

“They are meant to come to you.” One of the men spoke.

“I know but I want to.”

“I think it is a brilliant idea my Queen. You should do it.” Sir Jon nodded, giving his approval.

“Thank you. Is there anything else that we need to discuss?”

She regretted it instantly asking that because they all nodded. All she wanted to do was go to her chambers, change into her training clothes and go with Carlson to train before it got too dark, but no, now she was having to sit there and do her duties.

By the time they were finished a tired Y/n all but dragged herself back to her chambers, her handmaidens quickly moving forward in order to help her undress and ready for bed. They all bowed and saying their goodnights after she said it first to them.

As soon as her head hit the pillow she was out like a light.

*flashback*

Slowly moving through the secret passage ways of the castle her heart pounding in her chest so loudly she was sure that someone would hear her and expose her secret. Finding her way out of the only place that has been her home since she was a babe she kept her head down, her face being covered by the large hood of a cloak she had found, all she needed to do was get to the docks undetected. It was easy.

She knew which boat she needed to be on and as her eyes scanned the rows of boats she sighed a breath of relief when she laid eyes on her freedom. Creeping down towards the small vessel her right foot was touching the wooden slats of the thing that was going to lead her to her freedom when a hand fell onto her shoulder.

“And where do you think you are sneaking off to? Answer me.”

“P-please let me go.”

“Cannot do that. Come on Princess, do not make me hurt you.”

Y/n finally looked up at him, nodding slowly admitting her defeat. Several of her fathers’ guards standing there staring at her, smirking at her failed attempt of escape. “How did you know?”

“I cannot share my secrets Princess, come, your father is waiting for you.”

Sir Jon holds his hand out for her to take, though she doesn’t put her hand in his, no, she pushed him with all her strength, watched as he stumbled backwards and falling into the water. She takes off running straight towards the guards who all charge at her, ducking in between legs and sliding in between their bodies she runs and runs as fast as her legs could carry her. The townsfolk that were still up at the late hour all frowning when they see the Kings guards chasing after a young girl - none realising it was the princess.

“No no no no” she whispered in panic as she took the wrong turn leading her into a dead end.

“Nowhere for you to run now little girl.” A guard taunted.

“Please, please let me go.” Y/n begged with her back pressed up against the wall, her eyes darting to each of the guards.

“Your father will not allow you to leave Princess, now stop this little game and come back with us.” Sir Jon said as he pushed his way through the guards, dripping in freezing cold water.

“Please”

“Grab her!” One of the men move forward and with that he created a gap that she knew she would be able to squeeze past. And she does, once again managing to out run all of the men.

Even though her lungs throbbed painfully as well as her legs she continued to out run all of them, even ignoring the voices screaming at the townsfolk to grab her, not that any of them did. 

*present*

Sir Jon sat at a round table with several members of the council, none of them knew exactly why they had been called to meet with him especially if Y/n wasn’t present.

“What is this all about?” One of them questioned.

“I know all of you hate the idea of Y/n being our Queen, she is not suited to sit on the throne-“

“But she already is. There is nothing we can do about that.”

“Yes there is. Y/n will be going into the town to meet with the people, there will be to many people attending-“

“Please tell me you are not talking about what I think you are.” One of them interrupted, yes he even agreed with Jon that Y/n wasn’t fit to be Queen she was too violent, too young, too strong minded, now if one of the other daughters of the late King sat on the throne they would be able to manipulate her into the way they wanted her to be. But they couldn’t do that with Y/n sitting on the throne.

“Think about it! We have to.”

“Carlson never leaves her side, he would not let anyone hurt her…”

“Then we take him out too. There would be chaos with the dear Queen being killed, no one will notice. This will work in our favour.”

One by one each member of the council nodded in agreement, agreeing to assassinate the Queen - the girl they have known she was an innocent little child. Each one praying to the Gods that Jon was right.

“Are you with me?” Jon asked. The men looked at each other before saying ‘yes’ in unison. “Good. Tomorrow Queen Y/n will die.”

All completely unaware that someone was just outside hearing their plot to kill the Queen.

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @sidraaaaaaaaa | @mrsnikstan | @barnesxstan | @hi172826 | @alexdarkacademia | @supraveng | @baw1066

[alvie-pines]

living in a city is so depressing its literally making me sick. i can feel it leeching my strength. i grew up somewhere i could see the stars and every day i walk over concrete plains i die a little more inside. i need the sounds of wildlife and i need long grass and constellations. i need to lay on my back on a dirt road and watch fireflies twinkle in the moonlight. i need running water and eddies with willow trees and frogs. i need a folding chair and a firepit with smoldering embers drifting into the night sky. i need dirt on my feet and dust in my clothes, and the sound of rednecks in a pickup truck with a whole gaggle of kids in the bed goin out to have a good time on the river. i need piles of bricks we dont have a use for, and the crumbling planks of the barn out back. i need to crawl on top of the heap of rusting junk that used to be some sort of car and watch the sun set orange and pretty over the barbed wire fence. i need to pick mulberries when theyre ripe and make pie. i need to pull burrs out of the bottom of my pants and unhook them from the laces of my boots. i need to struggle with the handle of the water pump for a second before it moves, old rusted thing. i need bluegrass and country music to fill the background of my days, not because i put it on but because the people around me have guitars.

in short i think its some sort of animal abuse for my mom to have moved us to the city. girl put that thing back where you found it

[spicyraeman]

✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘊 𝘈𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘊𝘚 ∘₊✧

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

Tagged by @katsigian & @wraithsoutlaws, thank you both!

𝘙𝘜𝘓𝘌𝘚: 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴; 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺

𝘠𝘷𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦 [𝘝𝘙𝘔𝘕]

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored sno-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloody trail into an old tent

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

────── ✧₊∘ 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛

bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere

∘₊✧ ─────────────────────── ✧₊∘

Tagging @noirapocalypto @jaymber @breezypunk @imaginarycyberpunk2023 @cyberpunkaddict @chevvy-yates @drunkchasind @kittenchrissy and who ever else wants to do it, go ahead and tag me even, I wanna see!

No pressure to those tagged as always!

[myfallbucketlist]

Fall Playlist 2023

Hitch Party - White Silas & Little Triste

Supernatural - Barns Courtney

Dial Drunk - Noah Kahan & Post Malone

Mine - One True God

Antichrist - Holly Humberstone

Overflo - Teflon Sega

Love Is A... - PVRIS

Alone Together - Del Water Gap

Hayloft II - Mother Mother

Godly Behavior - ELIO

Radiohead - Nightly

Heart On My Sleeve - Drake & The Weeknd

Wolf - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

First Time - Hozier

Stoked - Weston Estate

Welcome To The Opera - Grimes

Good Girl - Thomas LaRosa

Weirdo - NoMBe

Heaven Is Here - Florence + The Machine

Slide - Boy In Space

All Nighter - Tiesto

Cold - ELLIANA

Golden - Barns Courtney

Too Cool To Die - Post Malone

80s Song - DRYVE

I'll Be There - Yoshi Flower

Hey Now - London Grammar

Remeber To Forget - Passenger

Eat Your Young - Hozier

Ocean Of Tears - Caroline Polachek

Snake Charmer - SAINT MOTEL

Falling From The Sky - Kailee Morgue

New Ceremony - Dry The River

Nobody Gets Me - SZA

Gibson Girl - Ethel Cain

Essential - Kamal

I Hope I Packed A Parachute - Chiiild

Drivin - Willow Avalon

Seven Bridge Road - Jake Bugg

When I Come Home - Taska Black & Violet Skies

Spotify Youtube

Enjoy XX

[ne--0n]

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘊 𝘈𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘊𝘚

𝘙𝘜𝘓𝘌𝘚: 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴; 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺

Leo | Javier | Both

𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘖𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒

rickety ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and popcorn, tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolf men, underwater caves marked with a skull and crossbones, darts that are a little too sharp, twinkling lights in the dark, distant and ghostly laughter, blue and pink cotton candy, sunburnt shoulders, cherry flavored snow-cones, switchblades tucked into costumes, a bloody trail into an old tent

𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙

the yellow eye shine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric, soft and distant howls, unexplained lights darting through trees, clawed footprints in the dirt, bomber jackets and hiking boots, an old and well-used shotgun, thunderstorms that darken the sky, a rusted and reliable truck, the smell of petrichor, a voice calling your name from the trees

𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘊𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘠

magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes, barbed wire, dark family secrets, stained white button downs, sweat drops down your spine, marshy swamp lands, weeping willow trees, rusted iron gates, cicadas in the summer, moss covered gravestones with fresh dirt, cursed family jewelry, old patina rosaries, fireflies at dusk

𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘗 𝘉𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘛

bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake ids, gas station snacks, jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends, ice cold diet coke, ripped jeans and converse, cigarette smoke drifting out of a car window, a 1960's white ford mustang, evergreen air fresheners, thousand yard stares, a gas station attendant who knows too many secrets, something dark following alongside your car, abandoned rest stops, rickety road signs that lead nowhere