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hetaliatrashlife · 2 years

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Fear of the Unknown - (Aph!America x Reader)

Hey guys, a longfic here I decided to fix up from my drafts! - 3,500 Words (Will hopefully be a second part if wanted!)

WARNING - Foul Languages and depictions of Kidnap, proceed with caution!

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Awaking to the feeling of warmth, knowing that where I laid my head the night before definitely wasn't a warm and comforting place, sitting up quickly on edge as you were on a serious under cover mission and couldn't risk dawdling around. Throwing the covers off of you feeling around what you assumed to be the motels bedside table for your glasses, putting them on quickly, you felt the arms of someone wrap around you and snuggle into your back. You stiffened up, throwing the assailant out of bed and onto the floor, pinning his arm behind his back and shouting, "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" with a grunt, he turned to face you, vision still blurry due to the dim light, "(Y/N)...it's me? " Your eyes widened, how was your target here in bed with you? A literal hitman you'd been chasing most of your career, was just underneath you, you picked him up and pinned him to the wall, his back hitting with a loud thud as he winced, his face covered in concern and confusion, "Don't play dumb Jones, why in the world are you in my room huh? You're coming with me! " He grabbed your wrists before you could even try to begin placing the cuffs on him, "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I am a cop-", She looked at him and began laughing, "Is this another ruse? Another ploy huh? Impersonating a cop, what sick games are you up to now? " You ripped yourself from his grasp, disgusted by his touch. Alfred could do nothing but analyse the woman before him, she looked exactly like his partner (Y/N), but there was something about her...the usual vibrance in her eyes diminished to nothing but anger and hatred, Alfred knew it was directly pointed at him, his heart ached a little even amidst the confusion he disliked the thought of you hating him, "(Y/N)...I think you need to sit-", "STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE THAT! You don't get to be sweet with me you prick." Her words oozed hatred, with each glare Alfred felt his heart pang, "Please, can I explain something to you! " Her gaze didn't soften, but her grip on him sure did, especially when she began analysing the room, it definitely wasn't the cheap run down motel she had been staying in the night previously, this was more homely and sweet, "Did you genuinely kidnap me Jones? Trying to live out some fantasy? " She crossed her arms, still standing infront of him still cornering him into the wall, Alfred had never seen this sort of look from his partner, let alone the woman he loved and he knew that she was serious, the thoughts of amnesia quickly dissapated out of his mind when he saw your clothes, a shaggy black hoody, black ripped tank top stained to high hell, black skin tight jeans and scuffed combat boots laced up to the knee. You looked exhausted, almost worn down but there was still that fire in you, a fire he knew all too well. Alfred lifted his hands up slowly, moving to turn the light on and as he did you blinked a few times, to accustom yourself to the brightness, "Look (Y/N)...I think you're (Y/N) anyway, I'm Alfred Jones yes, but I work for the NYPD and I'm far from a wanted man..." You scoffed at him, "I hate liars." You grabbed your gun and pointed it straight at him, he waved his hands infront of him as he rushed into the draw from the cabinet you'd just picked your glasses up off, he grabbed a badge and slowly handed it to you, "Please just look, it's all legit you can even call my superior..." You raised an eyebrow as you snatched the ID badge, still holding the gun with one hand pointed at him, "Do you mind putting that do-", "No. Until I can prove you're some sort of replica and not the actual Jones I'm looking for you'll deal with it, okay? " Her words weren't questioning in any sense, they were orders...commands and the emotion behind them made Alfred shut up real quick. As you inspected the ID, he drank you in, your nails were chipped...brittle almost, your hair unkempt in a messy poytail, Alfred wondered how he'd allowed her to just over power him like this but then again...she was YOU...she even answered to your name, he couldn't bring himself to harm you even if it wasn't the you he remembered.

Peering down at the ID, your eyes widening in shock as he must've been telling the truth, all the details were there...but you couldn't trust him, thinking it could be a fake ID badge you knew you had one last safety check, making your way over to the side table next to Alfred once more and picking up the phone, dialling with one hand the number to his super intendant, "Hello, is this Mr Kirkland? " A british tone made it's way through the speaker, "Hello, yes it is. What can I help you with? " Your eyes shot wide, this was your...boss? But he sounded sweet, almost soothing, not like the rough englishman you grew up with, "E-Ermm...", "(Y/N) is that you? What's bloody happened? " Thinking exactly the same you shook your head, eyes darting straight at Alfred, "I'm not (Y/N), I bumped into your colleague and I just wanted to make sure that a Mr Alfred Jones is employed with you? " Her heart raced, head spinning almost as she came to the realisation that this...this wasn't her reality, it couldn't be. Things were too bright, too nice it seemed. "Well yes, of course he is why would you ask? " It felt like your world had been shattered, you were in some dream it seemed, the same man who had brutally killed people all over the USA was employed by the NYPD? Your hardened gaze fell slightly, the fear apparant as you placed the phone on the reciever, "I-I...I don't know what to think..." Your world had shattered in seconds, pinching yourself to make sure this was real and not some deluded nightmare your brain had convuluted from forgotten past memories. You walked up to the man still stood by the wall, your hand reached up to his face and gently rubbed his cheek, he seemed to invite the warmth of your touch but before he could reminisce you pulled back, "I...I don't know what sort of fucked up place I'm in, but me and you we're enemies...I've been hunting you down since I was eighteen, it's been eight years of constant under cover work and still never being able to stop you...you killed so many people...the piece of you I had from childhood died when I took my first case..." Alfreds eyes widened in horror, disgust even and he couldn't fathom ever being a cold hearted killer, let alone one that does it purely for money. You threw yourself down on the bed, defeated and more than a little torn. Alfred sat next to you, making you jump slightly he waved his hands infront of him once more, "Hey, I know the Alfred you deal with is like that but I seem to be the complete opposite...I understand you might be a little scared of me, but I want to help you find where you belong and I'd also like to find my (Y/N)-" He heard you laugh sorrowfully, "Your (Y/N) huh?...It's hard to imagine myself ever getting with you, no offence..." He smiled slightly, "None taken dude, now let's get changed and sort some kind of game plan out yeah? " You still couldn't believe this was Alfred, I mean you could because it reminded you of the piece of Alfred you hid deep down and kept under lock and key, the sweet caring boy he was before whatever happened snapped him into the evil monster he was now. But looking this Alfred up and down made your chest heave, "This is what I could of had huh? " You whispered to yourself, your eyeline boring into the carpet beneath you with so much intense sadness Alfred couldn't contain his emotions as he wrapped you in a hug, his hands gripping you so tightly as if he was scared you’d slip through them, your body once more stiffened up against his touch as it was so alien to you, "S-Sorry, it's just you look almost identical to my (Y/N) and I would always comfort her...if you don't like it, I can get off? " You felt tears prick at your eyes, they fell in heaps landing on clenched hands beneath you, succumbing to the comforting warmth of his touch, almost envious that another version of you got to enjoy each and every moment with him. Your eyes soon made their way to Alfred, noticing the man was..."E-Ermm...I am so sorry, but would you mind getting some clothes on?..." Your face heated up within seconds, the mans chiselled body so close to you, with each scar telling a story that you could only begin to imagine. "O-Oh I'm so sorry, of course!" He quickly parted from you, his touch lingering on your skin making it yearn for more. Seeing Alfred be this kind to you sent you into a whirlwhind, after spending most of your career chasing after the same man stood before you...but this wasn't him was it, it was the better version...the version you desperately begged for all these years, you couldn't help but satiate this fantasy for just a little while longer. You watched as he grabbed a couple of things from a dresser then throwing them at you, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him, "You look like you need a change of clothes and i'm more than sure you'll both be the same size..." You nodded quietly, unable to meet his gaze whilst he was still practically naked, "Thank you...", "You can call me something like a nickname if it's more comfortable for you? How about Alfie?" Eyes widening at the nickname, "I-I can't...Jones seems just fine for now..." He scratched the back of his neck, guessing that you had nicknamed your Alfred that too before he went all psycho killer, "Well I'll leave you to get dressed, meet me downstairs in the kitchen and I'll cook us up some breakfast." You nodded again, thoughts still whirring around in your head, 'What's happening?' 'When will I wake up?' You heard the door softly close and lock into place, as soon as it did you finally allowed yourself to breathe a deep sigh, painful almost gasping for air. You couldn't fathom that this is what your life could've been, you peered around the beautifully decorated room stroking your hands across the plush bedding beneath you, knowing that you hadn't felt linen this smooth in a long time. Your eyes stopped on a framed picture on the bedside table, shakily moving your hand towards it knowing just what would be peering back at you...there it was, you and Alfred on a date in a different country, holding eachother close and smiling like the world didn't matter. You watched as drops hit the glass, wiping them away as you stroked Alfred's face, you took a double take at the smiling woman looking back at you, this (Y/N) had shorter well kept hair, she wore brighter clothes and her nails looked so perfectly primed. You stared at yourself in the reflection, not understanding how you drew such a short straw, "She got it all huh? " You chuckled grimly to yourself, placing the picture back on the bedside once more, standing up to assess the clothing you'd been given, a white off the shoulder top with a pair of blue high waisted jeans, "Damn, she really is different..." You hurriedly got dressed, grabbing a pair of socks and your boots as you made your way into the hallway.

Eyes immediately drawn to the hundreds of photo's littered around the place, your heart ached at the smiling face looking back at you...no she was looking down on you, 'You never deserved this...' Your thoughts seeping in again, you shook your head slightly and gave the bridge of your nose a pinch, "I look...so happy..." Your words thickened the air, the envy almost sickening to you...what you would do for this sort of life, one that seemed ever so perfect and happy. Making your way down the smooth carpeted stairs, you turned a corner to be met with another hallway, a certain picture stood out amongst the rest making your stomach churn and bile shoot into your throat, "That's...-", "Oh yeah, that's when we-...I mean me and my (Y/N) went on a camping trip in highschool, she always kept that picture even though I hated it...but now I can't help but look back and see our beginning you know?..." He quickly stopped himself as he saw your body language, you looked defeated and broken, all's the blonde wanted to do was wrap you up in a blanket and protect you, you may not of been his realities (Y/N) but you were still a (Y/N) and he couldn't understand what went so horribly wrong with himself that he left you like this, a shell of a woman who used to be so vibrant so hopeful, your eyes looked bleakly as you grabbed a wallet out of your pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper to reveal the same photo Alfred described to you, "You mean this one?...Yeah I do treasure it, more than he'll ever know..." The picture was stained and slightly torn at the edges, showing just how much use you got out of it, "I...I'm so sorry..." He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, he expected you to flinch away or push him off but you just kind of accepted the gesture, it had been a long while since you'd felt the touch of someone, the feeling of human contact was so rare to you especially with the whole undercover thing, you couldn't make friends and whatever family you did have thought you were probably dead. Your hand reached up slowly and cupped his, squeezing it almost like a lifeline, just wanting to know someone cared about you. "She's very lucky to have you...." Your smile didn't portray happiness, bitter jealousy if anything but the only thing Alfred saw was pain, you turned yourself towards the kitchen doorway as not to see the cherished memory you had once lived through. Alfred's hand pulled back slowly as if he wanted you to know he cared, that he was there for you. "I was lucky...I am lucky...you saved me-" He heard you chuckle dryly, making your way to the pristine modern kitchen you placed yourself at the breakfast bar, "If only you knew what happened in my reality huh? You wouldn't think so highly of me..."

Other Reality (Y/N):

You awoke, the stench of vomit and sweat instantly filling your nostrils like a pungent wake up call, "W-Where am I? " You muttered out, grabbing your glasses and swiftly placing them on your nose, you searched your surroundings. "A Motel? Why an earth would I be here? I must've been kidnapped..." You used your detective skills to assess the room, make sure if it was a kidnapper he wasn't still in the room or on the premises, then the fear set in, "Alfred...he wouldn't of ever let this happen so what if they've got him?!" You couldn't calm your beating heart, everything felt dark and gloomy especially without his bright smile to awaken you, his laughter was always your favourite melody. "No, he's fine. I have to be hopeful, I know he's got this and that whatever's going on he'll save me! " Making your way to the bedside cabinet you spotted some things, a mobile phone and keys, you thought this was your bingo until you saw the password protection, "Shit, they don't even have a background..." Then a text flashed on the screen from a private number, "You're getting colder little mouse, I'm waiting." The tone of the text was sinister, repulsive even. It was like they were hunting you down like prey, a wild animal and this was their hunting ground. You made sure to search the room for supplies, knowing that anything could be left in this godforsaken hell hole. Finding a duffel bag, you ripped it open and saw, "Ammo?...Guns?...Freaks got a whole travel bag, but...if they're leaving it for me are they expecting me to play? I-" You sat yourself on the side of the bed, backtracking everything that happened the night before, falling asleep in Alfred's arms to the feeling of him playing with your hair was the last you remember and then this...you couldn't wrap your head around it, but you knew you had to get out and find your way back to him. Another buzzing sound came from the locked phone, the text reading, "428 Hampton Boulevard. 30MINS." Having no choice but to grab the duffel bag and meet this maniac at his desired location, you knew that with them you'd more than likely find your answer's to the other questions that have been plaguing you. Your eyes fell onto a pile of clothes, grabbing them without hesitation you saw, "Women's?...They're my sizing, they must really have it out for me...to know this-" You shivered thinking of all the times you'd haphazardly left your clothing in places it could be easily picked up and from the looks of it this person knew a lot about you. Throwing the clothes on as quickly as you could you grabbed the duffel bag, throwing it over your shoulder seamlessly, grabbing the keys on the side knowing that if you got pulled over you could always call in to your boss, "I'm sure Artie won't mind covering for me if theres a psycho after me..." Making sure to take the burner phone with you, in case things got too much for you and you had to call the emergency number, Alfred would be so proud of you for facing such a feat head on but you also know he'd be angry for endangering yourself if you have him, you thought to call him but the motel didn't have a phone and the mobile you had wouldn't make calls unless unlocked. You speed walk past the receptionist who gave you a weird look, 'Yeah I'm sure seeing a kidnap victim would make my head turn too love...'

You grabbed the car keys in your hand placing the key between your fingers just in case this creep decided he would rather meet you here, you surveyed the area and didn't spot anything too out of the ordinary. You examined the keys to try and identify what car they'd be used for, they looked eerily similiar and seemed to belong to a car you owned back when you were a teenager so you recognised the car almost immediately..."Red Honda...95 plate..." Eyes widening in shock, this couldn't be right? It looked exactly like your old car down to the busted tail from where you got rear ended by Alfred after he'd just learnt to drive, shaking the thoughts out of your head you pressed onwards not being someone to stray away from a fight especially when it meant you getting closer to being home again, safe in Alfred's arms. Starting the car up was easy, remembering how to drive manual was not though, the brain fog was over bearing from being in fight mode and you honestly couldn't think straight but for some reason as soon as you'd clicked in that belt and revved the car to life, it's like you were teleported to being that sweet naive eighteen year old again, not a care in the world. Staring at the clock you knew you had fifteen minutes left to get to your destination, but fortunately you were perfect with directions and from patrolling that area in downtown new york so often you knew exactly where you were headed. Not bothering to check the car out, knowing that being superstitious would get you nowhere but trouble you headed for the place. The tires screeched beneath you, the car coming to a halting standstill the phone barely alive but just enough in case you needed to dial in an emergency.

Scanning the area for this unknown assailant you couldn't see a thing, it may have only been 7am but it was downtown on a Sunday no one was going to be up and around just yet, atleast not the people you'd want to bump into anyways. You felt something- no someone staring holes into you, your eyes widened spotting a hooded figure in the alleyway, grabbing a gun cautiously you made your way towards the spot, "Hello?..." Quietly you made your way towards the person, gun pressed firmly behind your back finger on the trigger waiting for the perfect moment. This was presumeably a man by the build and height, you heard a chuckle but the feeling of fear was now overcome with that of confusion, you began shaking as you'd only ever heard one person with that specific laugh, "Alfred?..." Before you had time to react or to question the person before you, you felt a rag slam into your face the sweet stench of chlorophorm filling your every sense, your gun shooting as you pulled the trigger almost on instinct, pain searing up your leg knowing full well you'd just shot yourself, your eyes began to glaze over in realisation, this was Alfred...but it couldn't be? Struggling with the man as he kicked your newly bleeding leg, dropping the gun shaking you used the last of your strength to throw your hands up and around his face, knocking his hood down to show his face...you froze with fright shaking uncontrollably now, this was Alfred...but he didn't look the same? He was glaring daggers at you, grinning from ear to ear, a large scar adorning his once fresh face, the beautiful cerulean eyes that gave you peace of mind now dim with zero emotion, he pulled you against him tightly almost suffocating you, "I've got you my little mouse..." He almost purred into your ear, your eyes welling up with tears as darkness overcame you. Awaking what felt like moments later, your eyes shot open darting across the scenery before you, your arms writhing beneath the sturdy ropes that pinned you into what seemed to be a chair of some sorts, your eyes landed on the man sat infront of you still grinning like a cheshire cat, "Naughty girl, I didn't think you'd come running...you never usually do but then again you don't look how you usually do..." He stood up, distain spread across his face as he ripped your mouth piece off with little to any thought, "Who...who the fuck are you?!" He leaned in close, the smell of booze permeating his breath as he spoke, "Why...I could ask the same of you? "

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Thank you for getting this far, I posted this as it’s the first thing I’ve written in a long time that I’m actually proud to post, I’ll be sure to add part 2 as it’s already written if people want it!

I hope you have a wonderful Evening // Morning! ;3;

#aph! x reader #aph x reader #x reader insert #country x reader #aph!america x reader #alfred f jones x reader #angst fic #long fic #anime x reader #fanfiction #anime #manga #hetalia #aph hetalia #hetalia world stars #hetalia world twinkle #hetalia axis powers

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wriothesleybear · 1 month

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Outlaw!Boothill x Saloongirl!reader headcanons

~warnings: slight mentions of jealousy, stealing, and western stand offs that involve guns, shooting a man. Otherwise, mentions of flirting, nicknames, cheesy pickup lines from our favorite robot cowboy, pre-release Boothill, fem!reader.

~a/n: Just a quick little something due to @the-guardian-kitsune wanting me to share my thoughts on Mr. Robot Cowboy. Boothill's leaks are invading my mind while I wait for the update today. His ultimate...omg its so good! Is it bad that I get tingles when I hear the whip in his animation?

Outlaw!Boothill is the most fearsome outlaw in the town. Everyone runs to close their shops and doors when he comes into town. He's usually harassing the town sheriff with his buddies or robbing people. If someone gets on his nerves and actually has the guts to try and stand up to him, it likely ends in a stand off.

Outlaw!Boothill spends his time flirting with you when he's not busy stealing and holding up stagecoaches and trains. Always goes to your saloon, specifically for you. No one else really captured his eye except for you. Plus most of the other saloon girls are scared of him. For some reason, you're not. Hence, making him take interest in you. While everyone usually steers clear of him, you aren't afraid to talk to him.

How you guys met was he stomped his way into your saloon one day, looking for some whiskey. Seeing the most wanted outlaw, your other customers immediately fled. He plops himself down in a chair, kicking his boots up onto the table, waving his hand for a drink. "Hey little lady, you mind gettin' me some whiskey. Neat." You were already annoyed at this cowboy storming his way in your saloon, scaring your customers off and ruining your business.

Boothill looks up and notices you haven't moved from your spot behind the counter. Instead, you're crossing your arms and giving him an annoyed look. He glares at you. "Did you hear me darlin'? Whiskey. Neat." You don't move an inch, returning his glare and simply say no. He's caught a bit off guard for a second. He's used to people being too scared to stand up to him. "No?" He gets up, slowly walking towards the bar where you're at. "Do you know who I am." He points to the wanted sign on the wall nearby, his face adorns the flier. You glance at it. "Yeah. And? I don't serve rude customers. Either learn some manners or get out." Now he's thrown off his high horse. He's never had someone call him out like you did. You expected him to become more hostile, but instead, he just laughs. "Alright little lady." Since that day, he's been attracted to you. He likes the way you aren't afraid to stand up for yourself and speak your mind, especially towards him. He likes the 'feisty little lady that you are'. His own words that he used when he first asked you out.

Outlaw!Boothill teases you to get you worked up on purpose. If you really want to get him to shut up, call him "Bootie". The first time you called him that, you swear you saw his cheeks go red. Knowing the effect the nickname has on him, you use it when you're not in the mood for his teasing. But the times when you get so annoyed at his teasing that you angrily walk away, he uses his whip to grab you, pulling you right back into his arms and dipping you. Your heart skips a beat as he lowers his head to yours. You hold your breath while at a loss for words as he says, "Now where do you think you're going little lady?"

Outlaw!Boothill gets jealous when other men try to swoon you or check you out in your little saloon outfit. He is a protective boyfriend and is the type to defend your honor. So when he sees someone harassing you, he either challenges them to a stand off or he just straight up takes care of them right there in the saloon. Ugh just imagine: watching as the two men take 10 paces in opposite directions as everyone watches from the sidelines. Nerves invade your senses, worries cloud your mind about the men fighting over you. You don't want anyone to get hurt especially Boothill. Then, at the end of the countdown, both men quickly turn to each other, guns raised and they go off. Boothill is left standing as the other man falls to the floor. He walks over to you as you're left in shock. "Now darlin'. How about a kiss for your cowboy?"

Outlaw!Boothill who spoils you with his attention and gifts (which he probably stole). He gets a bit annoyed and offended when you don't accept his gifts, saying how he shouldn't steal things from others. It just goes over his head and he says "Darlin', I think you're the real criminal here since you stole my heart." This usually shuts you up. Your cheeks turn red as he smirks. Turning away from him, you quietly say, "Just.. go easy on stealing gifts for me, Bootie." He ignores your signature nickname for him and turns you to face him. Pulling you close to his chest, he says, "Whatever you say, darlin'." He gives you his signature shark tooth smile. He would never admit it but he's whipped for you. No pun intended.

#boothill #boothill headcanons #boothill x reader #Country boy I love you uwah

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joelssgirll · 2 months

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day dreamin’ about everyone’s favorite old man.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou #country #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #moodboard #dark and moody #joel miller one shot

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madelynraemunson · 12 days

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— along for the ride ☆

🐃 the tag team (co-writers): @joshlmbrt @swiss-mrs @mediocredreams 🩶

eddie x fem!reader

a/n: reading flight of icarus and finding out eddie is from tennessee REALLY husked my corn 🤠 also, this may or may not have been inspired by the bull fight scene in hoard

cw: daydream p in v sex, riding, eddie gets a hard on watching reader ride, innuendos, play on words

Stamina. Strength. Strategy. Safety. The Four Important S’s when it comes to bull-riding.

‘Support’ is your unofficial fifth. You’ve generated quite the following after showcasing your riding skills at Whisky Jim’s every Saturday night, the ooohs and aaahs of your spectators filling the air as the spotlight drenches your cute… calculated… perspiring body.

Bull-riding at the dive bar every weekend has become a favorite hobby of yours. It’s a perfect outlet for all the stress, the rough-and-tough of it all perfectly counterbalancing your slow-as-snails, but somehow busy and draining 9 to 5. Riding gave you something to look forward to.

“Look at her go,” an onlooker coos in admiration. “She’s got life by the goddamn horns.”

You toss your head back, glossy lips parted in excitement as the crowd’s appreciative hoots and whistles filled the air. You could get used to this. You have gotten used to this.

Even with the world at your feet, things were starting to get boring again. And you are constantly craving something wild, something new. Something or someone that will make like the bull by sweeping you off your feet and taking you out for a spin.

Someone like Eddie Munson, perhaps.

Eddie isn’t sure what drew him… here out of all places. But something about the rowdiness compels him as he climbs out of his van, Halen and into the bar, boots scuffing the hard wooden floor. But the flight-risk metalhead is determined to find out, itching for adventure as he saunters with feigned confidence into the southern saloon.

He flags down the closest bartender, a country heartthrob of a man with black hair and blue eyes. The Casanaova places a coaster down in front of him as Eddie steps up to the plate. “What’ll ya be havin’?”

“Anything local,” Eddie replies, more of a question, unsure of what exactly is available. “Anything hoppy.”

“Bottle or Tap?” the man follows up after a curt nod, mindlessly running a hand over his thick mustache.

“Tap. Pint, please.”

The bartender gives another nod before disappearing to fulfill Eddie’s request. Meanwhile, the outcast takes this short window of time to look up and down the bar at the different patrons.

All from different walks of life. But all here for presumably the same reason.Whisky Jim’s is decently packed, but for the most part, the crowd is congregated either in booths, at tables, or in the middle of the floor.

A glass is placed onto the coaster. The same deep country twang effectively regains Eddie’s attention.

“Wanna start a tab, brother?” The older man asks with a polite grin, eyes crinkling up at the sides as he does.

Eddie offers a polite smile in return.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

The bartender studies him intently this time, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“First timer?”

Eddie clears his throat uneasily, kicking at the peanut casings at his feet to avoid contact with the John Wayne of a man that was in front of him.

“Obvious?”

The man cackles at Eddie, the slight patronization of the old-timer’s demeanor making him want to evaporate. But the amused blue eyes and downturned smile indicates it’s all in good fun, much like his uncle Wayne who always liked giving him a hard time whenever he made himself too small.

“Son, you couldn’t stick out further if you were a dog’s balls.”

A fellow bartender laughs at the man’s remark. Then Eddie joins in. It was pretty funny.

“You just don’t really look like the kind to be into square dancin’, is all,” the bartender remarks as he narrows his eyes at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, slightly wincing as the first sip hits him.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Just thought I’d explore a bit outside of my usual.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie.”

“Greg.” The bartender gives him his hand to shake. “You from around here or you comin’ from outta town?”

“Hawkins.”

“Not too far from home then. And it seems you came on a good night.”

And as if on cue, the crowd towards the middle of the building erupts in cheers. Eddie briefly glances over his shoulder in the general direction before turning back to Greg with a curious head tilt.

“What’s happening?”

Greg nods his head over in the direction of the crowd.

“Bull Ridin’ Night.”

Your thighs are wrapped around the firm leather seat as you’re whisked around in one fluid motion. You turn to give your rapt audience a wink. The crowd eats up your presence, evident by the adorn kisses they blow your way. You buy into the theatrics, pretending to catch them before putting them in your back pocket for later. It only riles the audience up more.

“They bring that thing out on Saturdays,” Greg explains. “Between the Karaoke Nights and the Hoedowns, Bull Ridin’ is one of the most popular.”

Eddie tries another glance in that direction, but due to the crowd, he doesn’t have the best view of who is actually riding.

“You gon’ give it a try?”

Eddie’s head whips back around to the older man to find a teasing smirk on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“I… don’t think so.” He chuckles. “I’m not the most balanced or coordinated person.” He admits that with a grimace and another sip of his Hawkins Pale Ale.

“I’m just teasin’ ya, boy. HEY!” Greg whistles at the bartender next to him. “Who’s up there now?”

The coworker throws a quick glance over their shoulder before replying. There’s a bashful smirk when they reply,

“Who do you think?”

The crowd erupts again, cheers and whistles alike. Who else gets this kind of crowd engagement? No one else other than you, of course.

“Looks like my girl is up there breakin’ hearts again.” Greg lets out a soft laugh.

Eddie gulps as his breathing shallows. A girl? Up there? On that thing?

Eddie, once again, nearly strains his neck trying to get a glimpse of the rider. When he fails, Eddie turns back to the bar, downing the final quarter of his pint, before looking back at Greg.

“Fetch me a bottle for the road, yeah?”

Greg issues him a chuckle, grabbing the empty glass and handing him a bottle version of that very ale, while Eddie sets off on his curiosity journey to the middle of the floor.

“Boys will be boys.” Greg’s female coworker remarks with sassy pursed lips.

Eddie closes in on the crowd, slipping through the few empty spaces between the onlookers with half-assed ‘Excuse me’s. Though no one was paying him any mind. And when he settles by the barrier, just a mere two rows behind, he finally gets the perfect view of you.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face at the sight of you working the crowd. He watches as you give a practiced flick of your hips to get the crowd going and the enticing jiggle of your breasts under your tight shirt. Drew in Eddie’s eyes like a laser beam. The thin material was stretched taut, giving a hint of the perfect tits underneath as you arched your lower back and thrust your chest forward to keep your balance.

“Christ,” he exhales sharply, in awe of your natural performance, the boisterous, unpredictable gravity of the machine whirling you around as you wrestle to hold on.

His eyes drink in the sight of the soft, rounded curve of your ass that peeked out of the bottom of your faded Daisy Duke’s as you lean forward to steady yourself in the saddle.

WHOOSH!

The bull jerks sideways and you flex your thighs and circle your hips in the saddle to keep yourself astride. The plush skin of your upper thighs press tightly against the seat and your upper body sways in rhythm with the bull’s movement.

You were born to ride.

“That’s how you do it, Indiana!” a spectator hoots in adoration as you cling on for dear life. “That’s how you do it!”

You give a deep roll of your hips to meet the thrust of the machine, causing Eddie to run the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip before sucking in a shaky breath. Your hips… the way they roll… is almost hypnotic, and Eddie’s brown doe eyes can’t help but linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out, black, intricate swirls of cyber-sigilism that tease him slightly.

Fuck.

“God, she’s so pretty…” he thinks to himself. “And she knows how to ride.”

Eddie’s eyes trail to the white of your knuckles, his own fingers gripping the bottle of his beer when his eyes slide up your arm and land on your face.

The front of his pants start to feel uncomfortably tight. Eddie adjusts himself as discreetly as he could, but even the soft brush of his fingers against the strained denim causes him to hiss under his breath.

“Ride it, cowgirl!” an audience’s comment centers Eddie once again. “LET ‘EM KNOW!”

The way you matched the bull’s gyrations and anticipated its every move made him weak in the knees, and as he watched you swirl your hips in the saddle like a modern day Annie Oakley he couldn’t help but wish it was him straddled between your shapely thighs instead.

As Eddie stood there watching, the dull roar of the crowd faded into the background. At that moment it was just you and him.

In his mind he’s already lassoed you to his bed; and you’re sat astride him like a cowgirl in your saddle, hands splayed on his chest for balance as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. And you’d bite down on your plush lower lip and let out a soft moan as you sank down onto him slowly, taking your time and adjusting to his size.

“Oh, Eddie,” he could almost hear you purring. “It’s so big.”

And he’d chuckle with false modesty and rub a hand tenderly along your thigh as if to soothe the delicious stretch of his thick girth.Then once you adjusted, you’d move, meeting each unpredictable roll of his hips with your own as you mastered the rhythm of your very own long-haired bucking bronco.

And he’d be gripping you tight with each deep thrust, pistoning, plowing himself into you while watching his cock disappear into your slick pussy over and over with each forceful snap of his hips. And with every strained mewl he milks out of you he’d press you down by the hips and drill into you further, your weak cunt just about ready to tap out on top of him. This handsome bull’s sure a challenge, you’d be thinking to yourself. Eddie is a ride you wouldn’t be able to survive.

———

The crowd disperses when the show is over. Eddie stands a bit straighter when you finally leave the middle of the floor, eyes darting towards the plush smirk that your soft lips create. If it’s even possible, he thinks you look even more heavenly. He’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him.

Little does he know that for you, he’s taken that same effect. You’ve grown so accustomed to everyone here that a new face has captured your attention. And you felt him staring at you, with a gaze so impassioned that you just about almost lost your footing up there. But you pulled it off real well, attempting to shake off the redirection in the form of a dramatic bounce of your tits.

It perplexes you. A man making you that nervous? Up until late, it’s become rather unheard of. You want to know this man and see for yourself what his energy is all about.

Eddie finds himself fixing his appearance when he notices your legs striding over, clearing his throat as his palm slides over the stubble that he had been trying to grow.

“You know it’s kinda rude to stare the way that you do,” you remark.

“How so?” Eddie challenges. “Everyone else is doing it. What makes me different from everybody?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” you smile at him.

Eddie shifts his weight onto the counter, bringing the bottle up to his lips, taking another gulp. His eyes dart everywhere -- the metal buckle of your belt, the skin that was shiny with dried sweat, your hands that tap at the sticky countertop of the bar, the way your lips wrap around the tip of your bottle and the liquid that slips out and down your chin that he greedily wanted to tongue away.

“Funny,” you observe. “I’m here every Saturday and I’ve never once seen your face.”

He thinks he’s looking over at an angel, really, heart beating faster when he realizes it’s him that you’d made an effort to come up to. Made an effort to get to know.

“Interesting that you saw me.”

“I see everything from up there. And you’re a newcomer, I can tell. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the best way.”

You invite him into your energy, closing up the distance between the two of you with a graceful stride in his direction.

“You were amazing,” Eddie says to you. “Really know how to put on a show, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists. “Spotlight loves you. Killer crowd engagement as well.”

“You a performer too?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” you sigh dreamily. “Just a fellow performer lookin’ for some tips and pointers.”

Not much needs to be said to know that you two ache for each other, judging by how the intimate dive bar grows non-existent for as long as you two are captured in the forcefield of each other. Eddie thinks that there would be absolutely nothing better than giving you some pointers, his hand leaving the bottle, some of the liquid sloshing around the precipitating glass, heart pounding in his ears as he nods quickly. One rowdy night wouldn’t hurt anybody, he thinks to himself. And it’s very apparent that, the stunner that is you, wants take him for a spin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t we ride off into the sunset, just you and me?”

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more @saradika @mikeykuns

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #country!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4

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ventique18 · 6 months

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King 🐉 who uses you to get tf off work.

🐉: "You have ten minutes to discuss."

Some official: "My king? This is a long topic--"

🐉: "Then be present first thing tomorrow."

Official: "Pardon my rudeness, however the line to your audience is always long--"

🐉: "Queueing at three in the morning will surely land you first ten, I'd wager."

Official: "I beg you, just an hour of your time--"

🐉: "An hour! Surely you jest? What would my spouse say? Or do? Can you imagine! An hour of overtime!"

🐉: "My sympathies go to you, though you must understand that my hands are tied. I am sure you empathize. Spouses can be terrifying..."

Official, defeated: "Yes, yes..."

🐉: "Eight minutes."

Official: "Y-yes!"

From then on, anyone who wants an audience with the king has learned to practice thoroughly before the scheduled meeting date. They learned to discuss so concisely and quickly, in fact, that it paved way to the emergence of a brand new entertainment scene in their country: Thorns and roses rap, where participants try to decimate each other with the most eloquent, rhythmic and thorny phrases they could within a short given amount of time.

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realangelahernandez · 26 days

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When he’s written by Lana del Rey

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marieslittlecorner · 10 days

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Old man Rust

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spacexseven · 1 year

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Fyodor would be a family man that’s good at hiding his true intentions from his family such as the decay of angels and rats house along with his s/o just nurturing their son and having a peaceful side along with Nikolai being a family friend who would entertain Fyodors son. One happy family

anon i could kiss you senseless rn...literally one of the best things i've ever had the honor of seeing in my inbox. this idea has ruined me i swear it's Perfect

fem reader, reader is married to fyodor and has a son w him

cw: yandere character, deceit, manipulation, mentioned murder

fyodor dostoevsky makes for a wonderful husband—loving, ordinary, almost suspiciously so, but you married him knowing that he was an ordinary man. you loved him knowing that he was an ordinary man.

an ordinary man with some extremely unsettling secrets, none that you knew about.

the fyodor dostoevsky you knew and loved was the man who kissed the palm of your hand, and if he was feeling particularly affectionate, your forehead, every morning before he left for work, with a half-smile on his lips and a fond gleam in his eyes. you weren't quite sure what he did, except that he worked for a company of some kind, but you didn't like the way his face hardened when you probed, so you left it at that. it didn't matter what he did, anyway, so long as he came back to greet you every night, safe and unharmed.

the man you married was the one who'd come home to greet you with a tired nod and a warm embrace, entertaining your son's excited rambling over dinner. he held you close when he read before sleeping, stroking your hair with a light touch. as far as you were concerned, he was an amazing husband and lover.

though he was not necessarily a good person otherwise.

you were so easily blinded by the tender warmth he showed his family, that you hardly cared for his uncharacteristic slip-ups. like when he scowls, ever so slightly, when the news broadcasts some detective agency receiving an award, or when a ghost of a smile lingers as you wonder out loud how a casino could be floating in the sky.

you never once questioned the times he came home in an entirely different coat from when he went out, or when he was away for days on end, not calling you or leaving you a single message. was it because you trusted him wholeheartedly, or because you were afraid of what the truth really was?

but even if you had your own suspicions, it would have never even come close to what fyodor was really doing. how were you to know that the same lips that whispered sweet songs of praise to you with a coquettish smile were the same ones that uttered a death sentence to his countless victims? and how were you to know that the steady hands that caressed your body so intimately had also touched numerous corpses? the husband that spoiled you on anniversaries and birthdays could not be the same man that was actively planning to cover the world with the blood of sinners.

for the most part, you liked nikolai too. he was a little odd, considering his getup and his tendency to seemingly pop out of nowhere, but he was good friends with your husband—dos, as he called fyodor—and your son loved playing with him. he didn't tell you what he did, either, though he let it slip that he worked very closely with your husband. he refused to explain fyodor's unexplained disappearances, though he would often stop by to show your son a new magic trick when fyodor was gone for a little too long, just to reassure you a little.

nothing really gave it away; not the amused expression when you told him to stay safe on his way, nor his eccentric coworkers. you were just happy that your husband always came home to you, and never failed to remind you that he loved you. there were, perhaps, more things that should have worried you. the way fyodor insisted that you keep your social circle small, or the frustrated look in his eyes that was beginning to appear more and more often. even the peculiar things he was beginning to tell you.

you're lying in fyodor's lap, mind drifting between sleep and consciousness as he looks at you with an unreadable expression. then, perhaps noticing that you weren't completely asleep, a little smile appears on his face. "tell me," his voice is soft, but every word feels strangely heavy, "will you ever leave me?" you frown slightly, and he chuckles. "even if i did something you don't agree with?" you shake your head, "what's this about?" his smile widens, and he gently pinches your cheek. the look in his eyes is unnaturally cold. "it doesn't matter. either way...you don't have anyone else to turn to."

and you could have continued the way life was, with your mostly ordinary husband and your wonderful family. at least, until he turns up at your door after an especially long period of disappearance. you would be thrilled, normally, but you're much too shocked at the sight of your husband in what looks like a prison uniform to feel any relief.

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riaki · 4 months

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hii! yk that trend on tiktok where the girl asks her man to name a woman and gets suspicious when he says a name beside hers? i would like to request that with gojo please! thanksss

name a woman | satoru gojo x f!reader thanks for ur req! here u go <3 slightly different from what u asked but i hope it works | cw fem reader + petnames, slightly suggestive, he's kinda a scumbag lol

it's a lazy saturday afternoon when you get betrayed by your boyfriend.

you're sitting at the round table on the patio of satoru's place; you always forget just how rich his parents are whenever you're around him. if not for that stupidly expensive cologne he wears and that one time you happened to see the price tag on the new pair of sunglasses he bought himself, you would've been blissfully unaware. after all, for a rich kid, he's pretty grounded. at least, when he isn't tooting his own horn.

but being here on the gojo estate, it hits you in the face like a ton of bricks; forces you to accept the fact that your boyfriend is loaded.

the breeze is gentle as it runs through your hair, but satoru's absentminded touch as he drums his fingers along your arm is more than you could ever ask for. it's the little things like this; habits of his that make you love him all the more. the way he'll throw his arms around your neck and latch onto to give you a big hug from behind, or carry you around like you're a little kid when you're worn out and you can't feel your feet from a day's worth of walking.

there's seven empty juice boxes littered across the table and a half-empty one in your hand; the paper straw is already folding in on itself, which makes it much harder to get any of the remnants at the bottom of the carton. at least the drink is nice and sweet; refreshing lime on a sunny day.

"why did they stop giving these things plastic straws? it's so soggy now," you complained, shifting in your seat as you shook the juice box. it did not relent, or give up any of its juice. you make a face, and you could swear it makes one back.

satoru glances up at you, tearing his attention away from his phone as a small grin appears on his lips. "don't you know? it's good for the environment. obviously, you're not in tune with nature like i am." he snickers, adjusting his shades on the bridge of his nose before turning his attention back to the screen between his fingers, withdrawing the hand that was on your arm to form a cushion for his chin on the crook of his elbow.

"oh, [name], [name]! you're hurting us! woe be upon thy and thou foul plastic tomfoolery." your dignified lover puts his phone down, straightening up to wave his arms about as if he's one of those inflatables you see in front of car dealerships. you think he's trying to be a tree, but you're not entirely sure. "hear that? the plants are calling you," he grins, pausing his arm waves to nudge you in the shoulder.

"stop doing that, satoru. you look stupid. the maids will think you've lost it," you chuckled, kicking his leg in jest as you leaned back in your seat and took another sip from the juice box.

"you're one to talk." he scoffs, and you glare at him, giving him a pointed look. he just giggles, sticking his tongue out before making a grab at your juice box. you swipe it out of his reach before he can wiggle his fingers any closer, and the way his expression falls an apple from a tree makes a laugh bubble from your throat. unlike the apple, it's not gravity that's pulled him down; you never indulge him, because you like making him chase. he enjoys it— he thinks it's good that you're playful. but it's annoying when he's thirsty and it's not his fault those juice boxes are so damn small.

"toru, i have a question for you. answer well and the rest of this is yours," you said, shifting in your seat to cross your legs and face him, propping the juice box on your knee. there's not much inside, but you know he'll scavenge for every last drop, like he's some raccoon. it's cute, you think.

he perks up immediately, turning his phone off and mirroring your position in his own seat; his limbs are slightly too long and too lanky to fit proportionately in the seat, but he doesn't seem to mind when his knee bumps against yours.

"yes? what is it, my sweetpea?" he grins, enjoying the sour expression on your face. it seems the lime juice has worked its way into your system.

you scowl. "sweetpea? what kind of nickname is that?" it's cute, though, so you don't say anything more. you stare at him for a moment, taking in his features; the wide smirk on his lips, the way his hair gently ruffles around his face like passing clouds.

you sigh; resigned, as you roll your eyes.

"name a woman."

"...what?"

he tilts his head to the side, staring at you through his lashes, an inquisitive squint that makes him look a lot like a white cat.

you laugh a little, and his grin widens. "you heard me. name a woman. any; the first that comes to your mind."

he hums in acknowledgement, making a show out of tapping his chin with a finger in deep thought, a mock pensive expression twisting his lips down before he looks at you again, a teasing glint in his azure eyes that gives you a terrible sense of foreboding.

"kuroki meisa."

...

now it's your turn to ask. "what?"

he shrugs, a shit-eating grin on his face yet again as he tilts his shades down to give you a look that he knows will get you bothered.

"you heard me, princess. i named a woman. the first that comes to my brilliant mind, right? now how about giving me that juice box—" he starts, reaching forward and leaning in his seat to make another grab at the box perched on your knee. you yank it away from him just in time; his fists close around cool air and he groans loudly.

"you're no fun." he pouts, biting the inside of his cheek.

"satoru! who the hell is kuroki meisa? you were supposed to say me! or your mom, at least. or shoko." you glared at him, turning your nose up and refusing to acknowledge him as he pouts and crosses his arms over his chest like some petulant child who got his ipad confiscated.

"i did what you told me to do! you can't be mad at me for that." he protests, squirming in his seat.

a lightbulb goes off in your head; normally, that'd be a good thing, but the way you're gritting your teeth so hard he thinks your jaw might crack doesn't bode well. "wait, don't tell me. is she another one of those models? satoru, i swear—" you start, but he cuts you off hastily, making a mad grab at the juice box and coming out successful and surprisingly unscathed.

"she is." he says sheepishly, toying with the sad paper straw before attempting to take a sip. he struggles, but eventually you hear the tell tale sign of liquid moving up the hollow straw. you're too busy seething to notice, though.

"gojo." you say his surname, and he flinches a little, an overwhelming sense of icy dread sinking its claws into his shoulders as his grin turns into one of nervous panic. it's familiar; the one he experienced when you'd found one of your missing bras in the drawer compartment underneath his king sized mattress (that he always complains about feeling ten times emptier without you in it).

"yes, my sweet?" satoru's about to face you when something hits him square in the face— with all malicious intent and cutting cardboard corners. seven juice boxes on the table plus one half-filled one has now become six on the table, a half-filled in his hand, and another on the floor. you're glaring daggers at him, still posed to strike in your chair. he rubs his cheek, grinding his teeth together and grumbling before he looks at you again with an extremely disappointed expression on his face. "the plants, baby! if they didn't already dislike you, they sure do now." he huffs. but with the way you're looking at him, he wouldn't put it past you to throw the table at him next.

"give me my juice box back, you brat." you hiss, and he laughs, staring down at you like you're some cute little zoo animal. he wants to dote on you; he can't help it! you're so adorable, with your cheeks all red and your bottom lip sticking out in a little endearing pout. he wants nothing more than to drop the juice box, drag you onto his lap and squish your pretty face until you start complaining and stop him with a kiss.

satoru knows he won't get anywhere if you're still pissed at him, though, so he at least has to try and make amends.

"aww, don't worry, baby! you're the only woman i think of when i—"

"that's enough out of you, traitor."

satoru just grins and finishes off the juice box, relishing in the look of mild anguish on your face as you watch the cardboard crinkle inward like some black hole sucked it in; a telltale sign of what was half-filled a moment ago becoming completely empty; a dry well that was once your reservoir of life. you retreat back into your seat, hugging your knees to your chest and putting on your best, heart-tugging frown. it doesn't take long for satoru to notice when you do, and he immediately melts, tossing the juice box aside to the poor plants and leaning forward to cup your cheek in his palm.

"what's wrong, love? you know i only did it to see you upset," he chuckles, and you can't help but smile before remembering you're supposed to be pissed.

"that was the last juice box, satoru. and i'm still thirsty. and a little hungry." you sighed, rubbing your forehead. you felt a little guilty. "but it's okay."

satoru sighs, before pulling away and standing up, stretching his arms and cracking his back with exaggerated movements, like he's making letters out of his body.

"alr-ight! up with you, then. let's go to the market." he grins, lending you a hand and nudging your foot with his. you stare up at him with those sweet big eyes, and he feels himself melt a little.

"are you sure? they're expensive—“

"shut it, sweetpea. it's all on me. how does katsu sound?"

your face lights up, and so does his. after all, he'd do anything for his sweet girl— no model could ever compare to the very sun of his life; the brightest star in his sky.

not proofread i hope we’re not surprised my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

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chrollohearttags · 5 months

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y’all hear me out rq…a black!fem country singer with southern boy!jean as the love interest in her video and the tension is brazy cause he finer than a bitch and you finer than a bitch too..y’all touching all over each other so he handles it once y’all are done shooting—

#forgive me I got reyna reynolds + tanner adell on repeat so I’m delulu #the country bumpkin in me is jumping out #but imagine #him in them tight ass wranglers #grabbing her throat and pouring liquor in her mouth #and reader wears grills in her videos + and puts him in one too—#cherry chats 🍒#I’m shutting the fuck up now #but just imagine #aot x black reader #jean x black reader #jean kirschstein #black reader #aot au

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hungharrington · 1 year

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no thoughts head empty just steve being completely fucked out and pussy drunk that he's rambling and shaking as he fusses to line his cock with your entrance because he's just so goddamn desperate to be inside you!! ugh

- 🪐 heading to bed hope u have a good day :)

drooling at the very thought… you all know by now that i like my men whiney and god, if steve wouldn’t be all whiney by this stage. there’s a tremble in his thighs as you sit atop him, your silky folds just soaking his cock, wet enough that you’ve been pleasurably sidetracked because fuck, when you roll your hips that way your clit catches on the head of his cock and sparks of pleasure catch in your stomach. it’s warm in his room. your hands are planted on his chest as you rock back and forth, chasing your own pleasure, it takes a particularly loud whimper from steve to realise you’ve pushed him over into completely pussy drunk :( he’s just so worked up :( so fucking hard beneath you and it’s so so good and not fucking enough. “pleasepleaseplease” he begs, eyes scrunched closed in a poor attempt to keep himself together, but when you’re so wet and hot and dripping over his cock it drives him mad, “please honey, y’gotta— y’gotta let me put it in :( she’s just crying for it, please” and he drags your hips forward with his hands, letting your hear just how turned on your are, how absolutely soaked you’re getting his cock- and how can you refuse that pouty little face? you shift up, lifting one knee so you perch on the bed beside him and in the same moment you sink down, steve’s sitting up and pouncing— he hovers above you, a bulging bicep from his tense forearm pressed into the bedsheets beside your head and the kiss he gives you is searing, burning, pure lust melted into his love. he leans back, one hand trailing down your thigh to push it out, spreading you wider and beginning to line himself up. normally he’s such a tease, all tantalising taps of his heavy cock on your clit to make you squirm but tonight he fumbles for a moment, torn up in the hot wet heat of your cunt that the moment he can inch in, he’s sliding all the way in with a gutteral groan, head bowed as he tries not to cum too soon :( then it’s all, “thankyouthankyou,” as he finally starts to fuck you, already all fucked out :)

#🪐!!#hello!#thank u for ur thoughts ur doing a GREAT service to ur country 🫡🫡#pussy drunk steve is actually all i want #jay writes #anon #ns/fw #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #🪐 anon

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maximotts · 7 months

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Free use cowgirl Wanda 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Going to the grocery store because Wanda’s been so busy lately only to find Wanda there and you’re like “omg hi Wanda 😊 But wait I thought I was doing the shopping this week?” and you check your phone to see if you’ve missed something. You haven’t. Wanda just couldn’t wait to bend you over 💞💞

My phone is doing the ios17 update and I'm just remembering I needed to finish answering this ask whoopsies

This got longer than expected (it's only like 600 words tho), but I simply cannot apologize for free use cowgirl Wanda content uhmmm cws for public sex and typical farm Wanda dirty talking, 18+ obvs

I don't think I've said it before, but Wanda does errands to shops in town to drop off farm goods every week because shopping local is good and cute! So there's a very high possibility you'd run into her at the grocery store and you're always so giddy when you see her, the shop owner thinks you two are just precious!

He doesn't even notice Wanda holding your hips so tight you're squeaking or how she's taunting you by pulling the ends of your pigtails! When you excuse yourself to finish the rest of your shopping, Wanda follows oh so innocently until the two of you are out of eyesight... and maybe she spots you stretching to reach the flour at the very back of the shelf, flowy dress riding up to show off your legs, how's Wanda supposed to do anything but pin you against the shelves?

"What right do you have to look this damn beautiful all by yourself back here?" And you can barely get a word in between Wanda's kisses, particularly when she takes your tongue and sucks, leaving your mouth an absolute mess.

At the sound of Wanda undoing her belt, you startle, trying and failing to wrench your thigh from where your girlfriend was shamelessly hitching it high around her hip. "Are you crazy? Someone's going to see us!"

"Now bunny, don't be like that," Wanda's totally unbothered by your struggles, knowing you'd settle as soon as she gets her hand up your panties— and she's exactly right. "I believe we have an arrangement, or did you forget?"

You couldn't possibly forget, your mind always racing with thoughts of how and when Wanda would decide to fuck you again. Sometimes you baited her into it, not wanting to wait, but being taken in the back of the town's only grocery store was an idea that'd never dared crossed your mind. Wanda's either until about five minutes prior.

"Good girl..." Wanda's smile is stunningly bright as she feels you relax against her, arms winding around her shoulders while she lines up her strap, opting not to prep you for the sake of time. "I'd guess we have about ten minutes before Steve finishes counting the jars I brought and writing me a check so behave and be quiet."

It's the shortest ten minutes of your life, the time flying by under Wanda's praises and the knee-buckling orgasm she gifts you. Your teeth desperately bite into the shoulder of Wanda's coat as she continues to fuck you, pumping your full of her cum until she's satisfied.

Pulling out was bittersweet, the brunette loving your impish whines but hating to have to leave. She did have to exercise some self-restraint, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick up where she left off later... "You'd better keep every last bit of my cum in that sweet pussy or I'll drag your ass right back here and we'll start all over again. Understand?"

"Uh huh..." It's terrible how quickly Wanda takes all your thoughts with such a quick fuck; you can tell how spaced out you sound, but you don't have anywhere near the coherence you need to mask it. You'd have to go straight back to the house after this, could only hope you remembered the rest of what you needed to get for dinner.

"I have a few more stops to make so I'll meet you back at home. Text me if you need anything, love you." Wanda sends you off with another kiss and a pat on the ass and before you know it, she's gone and you've never done your shopping more dreamily.

#I simplyyyy love her your honor #country bunny au.#wanda maximoff x reader #motts writes.#maximotts.

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fandomnerd9602 · 2 days

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Inspired by a story found here

Country!Wanda approaches Y/N at a booth…

Wanda: what’ll it be, darling?

Y/N: I’ll have the steak and eggs for dinner, thank you kindly.

Wanda: mmm…what’ll you have for desert?

Y/N: how offended would you be if I said you?

Wanda: my shift ends in an hour, baby. I’ll wait up for you

Wanda gives a wink and turns to head back to the kitchen…

For @lifespectator

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #country Wanda #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch

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beloved-blaiddyd · 26 days

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Reconteur || Yandere!Dainsleif x Reader by @harmonysanreads fanart <3

Prompt: You've been under his radar for years but now that he's tracked you down, an unknown child who mirrors his blue Khaenriahn eyes guards you with his small and very fragile life. Those eyes... They're eerily familiar.

#$ s-support = dainsleif #Broooooooo!!!!!#Dain get inside it's COLD #Actually pretty hot in my country rn but itS RAINING COME INSIDE.#dainsleif x reader #yandere dainsleif x reader #dainsleif #dainsleif fanart #harmony a true G for writing this brainrot HAHAHHAHAHA thank you thank yo-#yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere imagines #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere gi #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #dainsleif x you #yandere dainsleif x you

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kedsandtubesocks · 2 months

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dance away your cowboy blues

Country Singer!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: who knew the man with the voice of an angel could break your heart this bad?

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, modern/no outbreak AU & Joel has both his daughters, exes to lovers with eventual husband!Joel, angst followed up by good sweet fluff, concert venue, light drinking mention, Joel being stubborn & bad at feelings, hints of spice, fools in love, reader is addressed as ‘honey, darlin,’ use of song lyrics in fic, Pearl Jam & Taylor Swift song mentions, soft & heartbroken!Joel, lovesick!Joel

word count: 6k

a/n: here we are - the last installment in our ‘Let’s Rodeo’ series & I’m so incredibly grateful to finally make it here, also this is my mini tribute to our boy and his SAG award! The main song Joel sings is this one and I highly recommend! Thank you to my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you for letting me scream about plot holes & aiding my Joel brainrot, @tightjeansjavi for always being down to chat about Joel, and to @lowlights & @ahauntedcowboy for being my ever guiding forces for this series, thank you all… And finally to you reading this, thank you so much ♡

A year ago, Joel broke up with you on a warm early spring morning.

He arrived at your apartment, sat you down and shattered your world. You felt every range of emotion as he simply stood there like a man of steel.

So upset and angry, you wanted to rip your heart out and throw it at him.

Then later that week you found out his record was officially getting picked up and you crumbled.

Ending your relationship simply because he was about to step into true proper fame - you never took Joel to be a man so somberly callous. However, you began wondering if that’s what fame sometimes did to people.

When curiosity gnawed too hard, you’d Google him or even check Spotify. Simply catching glimpses of how big he’s gotten sent you spiraling. Last Thanksgiving, your favorite aunt threatened to lock your phone away when she found you upset in the bathroom after discovering Joel was performing at the Dallas Cowboys holiday game.

From that point on you refused to even check any amount of social media or update on him.

A few clunky first dates and a couple of ghosting experiences later, you’ve now decided to simply work on yourself and embrace the selfcare of being single.

It’s why when your best friend called you earlier today eagerly explaining how her parents had extra tickets to the Rodeo tonight, she playfully teased how she knew you didn’t have anything planned for this Saturday night.

You almost hung up on her, but you excitedly scrambled to get ready.

Now the smell of fried foods, popcorn, and beer cloud the air. The fairgrounds hold a chaotic but controlled lively energy. You never knew so many cowboy hats could exist in one space.

Once you meet up with your best friends' parents, you’re transported to a whole new area you never believed could exist during a rodeo. Lux and cozy, the VIP lounge gleams with its elevated experience. You knew your best friend’s mom worked for the construction company managing the arena. You just didn’t realize how big of a hookup it was. The VIP tickets allowed for full premium dining along with a couple of free drinks.

More importantly - it came with the best concert seats.

“In the dirt” is how they’re described because the tickets are literally stationed on the floor, in the dirt of the rodeo stadium, right by the stage.

Ecstatic and bubby energy now fills you. The food being served is divine and you gladly enjoy the free various drinks.

“So wait, did we figure out who’s performing?” You ask curiously while you lounge taking advantage of the nice seating area.

“Uh, I think my dad said it’s that band named Midland is performing today.” Your friend answers but then is quickly pulled away to meet more of her mom’s coworkers.

You’ve never heard of the band, but for a free concert you’re open to enjoy some live music.

It’s a trait you gained from Joel.

Because of him you grew to love music performances, the energy that comes with hearing the band, being among the hum of the crowd. The trips around Austin seeing not just him perform, but enjoying other concerts with him, let you appreciate and admire live shows.

Waiting for the concert allows you to enjoy some of the actual rodeo event. But the main performance of the evening soon arrives.

“You kids go enjoy! We’re getting a little too old and are just gonna stay back and enjoy the free food.” Your best friend’s mom grins with a wink.

The ticket advertisement wasn’t joking when it said close to the stage. The ground level truly sits on the dirt floor. The arena swallows you whole surrounding you like a strange fishbowl. A small crowd already lines the front railing closest to the stage. However sneakily you find a nice open spot by the side that gives a clear sight to the stage.

Even if you don’t know the band, giddiness bubbles in you electric.

You take in the massive general admission floor section already packed full. The band must be popular. So you take plenty of pictures and happily enjoy the time with your dear friend.

The lights dim and excitement crackles in the air. The stage lights up. The large backdrop screens on the stage flutter to life beginning to showcase different picturesque black and white shots of Texas.

Midland, you remember, is a city in Texas so the images make sense. A low strum of a guitar begins playing. The melody dances soft but in a quick beat, a hypnotic tune trying to rev up the crowd.

The tune brews up its intended magic that you even get swept up in the anticipation. The sound gets faster and the strumming is rather simple but so striking.

Then the music stops. Suddenly the lights of the entire stadium shut off. Wild galvanized screams erupt.

The lights brilliantly dance forth back to light. They all focus now on the performer who, like magic, now appears on the stage with the rest of the band.

And the lead singer is Joel.

Your knees almost give out.

Dressed in the most dangerous plaid green button up, it so simple yet beautifully compliments him. More grays pepper his beard and highlight his tousled curls. The brilliant stage lights bask him in a heavenly glow.

Your soul momentarily leaves your body the minute his voice sings his first note.

Instantly your best friend whips towards you panicked. She rapidly screams asking if you’re okay as she apologizes over and over.

“My dad must have gotten the dates wrong! God I should’ve fucking doubled checked or some shit!” She cries deeply apologetic and hurt.

You earnestly tell her it’s not her fault and it’s alright. It was just an unfortunate mixup.

“Do you wanna leave?” Your friend leans closer to you. Her eyes shine understanding and considerate. “We didn’t pay for these tickets and I promise you my parents will completely understand. We can say fuck it and bounce.”

You haven’t even completely processed it’s Joel. It’s like your brain went cloudy and now blinking out of the fog, your eyes return to the stage.

Joel isn’t an extroverted man. He’s reserved, quietly charming, even holds a gruff but poised grace. But right now, he’s an absolute sun on the stage. He’s radiant, naturally swaying to the music while singing his soul soul.

Maybe it’s the piece of you still horribly in love with him, or just the curiosity to see how this goes, whatever it is - you shake your head no.

“We can stay.”

Your best friend’s eyes go wide as saucers hearing your answer.

“Are you sure?” She presses and you nod your head.

“Yeah, let’s stay. Afterwards we can laugh about how old he’s gotten.” You laugh bitterly about him looking more aged even after a year.

When truthfully the stronger wrinkles around his face, the vibrant grays, all of his aging only intensifies his striking looks.

A canyon wide sized hole rips through your heart.

The song flutters to an end and the crowd claps with a thunderous roar. With a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder your dear friend nods then turns back to the concert.

You pray this isn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.

Then Joel speaks.

“Howdy everyone,” his voice is still so devilishly thick and smooth as a shot of moonshine. His accent does his home state proud. The crowd absolutely adores him, screaming loud just hearing him speak.

“Thank y'all for comin’ out tonight. I’m Joel Miller and m’here to sing y’all a few songs.” So simple, casually eased, and it’s so Joel.

His gruff southern charm made you fall in love with him so fast and now it’s a unique brand of magic charming everyone under his spell.

Joel strums a few notes, rapidly shifting the tune and transitions into the next song.

You now fully soak in Joel.

He seems otherworldly, a god of music reincarnated as a Texan cowboy. You think back to the days sitting in his living room and listening to him play. You were honored to see that side of him, to hear him strum to life so much magic.

During the holiday’s Joel’s daughters, Ellie and Sarah, would often pester him to sing silly songs. He’d grumpily obliged but you knew he basked in their attention and love.

He loved to sing. You always knew he was destined for the stage like it was woven into his veins.

You still remember the day one of Joel’s acoustic performances blew up online gaining so much attention. The excitement and absolute joy you felt then still lingers in the corners of your heart. Although, those feelings have been gathering cobwebs.

There’s of course a bitterness seeing him, but also, an unbearably small twinkling pride knowing he’s here living his dream. The song finishes and again the stadium rumbles in applause.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” Joel asks and your heart jumps hearing his voice again.

The crowd cheers back at him.

“Good good, let’s keep it goin’.” He yells back and then strums the guitar sharp.

That’s when the stage slowly starts moving.

It’s slow but with the surprise purpose to look out to the entire crowd. For some reason you almost laugh thinking of that man, who couldn’t even remember how to FaceTime on his ipad, on a full rotating platform.

However, the lyrics start and you realize he’s singing a heartbreak ballad.

If you’re going out with someone new, I’m going out with someone too…I won’t feel sorry for me, I’m getting drunk but I’d much rather be somewhere with you…

It’s hard hearing him now with how exhilarated the crowd screams at the stage moving. But you try to hear how the rest of the song unfolds.

At the chorus, your throat tightens.

I can go out every night of the week, can go home with anybody I meet, but it’s just a temporary high… ‘cause when I close my eyes, I’m somewhere with you

The words sting every inch of you, but you believe it has to be just a simple heartbreak story and isn’t about you, isn’t directed at you. Yet the words feel like sharpened edges of a broken mirror that seem to reflect every moment of your time with him.

Then the stage rotates to your side of the floor.

There’s no way he can see you or will even spot you. There’s a whole crowd stretching before him. You’re just a fish in a sea of fans.

Joel continues strumming, allowing his voice to so beautifully carry the emotion.

The stage, in its slow movement, is now front and center to your line of sight. Some girls at the very direct front of the railing scream and wave frantically at him.

A small smile tugs at Joel’s lips as he waves back. Joel’s eyes scan the rest of the crowd -

And that’s when he spots you.

Quickly, you rationalize he could be staring out behind you at someone else alongside the side railing.

But Joel’s eyes even narrow trying to focus more. Your gaze stays on him, like something inside of you refuses to waiver.

His eyes flicker with realization then turn into full moons.

He knows it’s you.

Joel continues singing the chorus but emotions cloud his face. His brows are furrowed hard, almost confused like he’s trying to really comprehend what’s going on.

You understand. You’d be so confused too if you were in his position. You’re still even baffled as to why you stayed in the first place.

The stage starts shifting back to the main center direction

But Joel cranes his face to the side, refusing to have his eyes leave.

His focus stays on you.

It’s obvious enough that your best friend now shakes your body.

“Is he staring at you?!” She tries to whisper but she ends up partly screaming.

You think maybe it’s a hallucination.

Yet Joel’s deep inky eyes stubbornly stay locked on you as he sings now.

If you see out on the town and it looks like I’m burning it down, you won’t ask and I won’t say… but in my heart I’m always somewhere with you…

Your world twists warped, melting into a sea of so many emotions you can’t stay afloat.

Joel finishes his song and the crowd enthusiastically cheers. Yet, it sounds muffled as a numbness crawls over you like a thick soupy fog.

You should leave. You need to. But you’re here now. And decide to see the end of this. If he’s singing about someone lingering within him, then you might as well make true to those lyrics.

Joel lowers his face for a moment and shakes his head. The mic faintly picks up his cough of a disbelieving laugh and your heart sinks.

“Alright folks, let’s jam.” He announces composed and brings his guitar to life.

He’s beautiful walking around with it. Strums effortlessly until he shifts from one guitar, his classic, to a more sleek all black styled one.

Joel lets the music and band take over while he makes the switch. He also leans in to whisper something to the stage hand.

Then as if nothing, Joel steps back into the limelight and illuminates the stage.

He walks around freely now that the stage stopped rotating. The current song is lively with a great beat and you hate how badly you want to bounce around to its infectious sound and the way Joel’s voice elevates the tune.

Caught up in the melody, you don’t notice until it’s too late. Joel walks over to the side of the stage directly facing you.

The guitar carries a large piece of this song’s bridge allowing his eyes to flicker across the crowd.

Until they return to your gaze. Stuck in his stare, Joel suddenly cocks his chin towards you.

Most of the crowd around you screams at his simple action. Even your best friend yells out a loud ‘holy shit’ but you stay quiet.

Not knowing how to react, all you do is stupidly shrug.

It’s awful, not even the best reaction you can give.

But Joel barks a laugh, a true laugh that thankfully happens at the tail end of the song, but your knees go weak.

You made him laugh.

On stage.

Heartache finds its way back into your system fiercer than ever and it poisonously tastes of adoration as well.

Joel transitions into another song. This time moving around the stage more towards the other side.

Yet, either his eyes flicker back to you, or he ends up walking to your section.

A part of you wonders if he’s doing this now to mock you, almost showing off how good he is knowing you’re here. You don’t believe Joel would be that heartless, but you hate how that option still lingers.

“He’s been walking over here a lot.” Someone even behind you even notices.

“Well he is old.” Someone yells back. “Maybe he’s just trying to keep his joints in shape.”

You almost want to snap back that he’s looking damn good for his age and in good enough shape that he kept you bent like a pretzel for practically a whole weekend, but you swallow back the protective bite.

You simply go back to enjoying the show, and it’s fantastic. You can’t deny that. Joel is a performer, keeps the crowd focused and engaged. He isn’t showy or dramatic but takes control of his presence on stage.

You think of the days seeing him at small bars around town, sitting on a stool playing till his heart's content.

Then he booked Stubb’s in Austin and when you watched him own that stage - you knew this was meant for him.

You’re reminded of that so vividly tonight.

“Alright, gettin’ to the end here.” He announces and the crowd sounds heartbroken.

“I know, i know,” he coos back soft and low. “But just wanted to say y’all have been lovely.”

So many shrill shrieks crack in the room and you almost roll your eyes.

Your best friend snickers beside you. “Gotta give it to him, man can work a room.”

She’s right of course. Though it’s still so surprising for a man grumpily reserved and introverted at times.

“This next one I hope maybe some of y’all will know.”

He strums the cords to Pearl Jam’s ‘Alive.’

What gained Joel traction online was his renditions and covers of various songs. He added his own country twang and twist to all the songs he covered.

Pearl Jam happened to be one of Ellie’s favorite bands. A hollow nostalgia rip through you, thinking of the two girls you miss.

The crowd ignites recognizing the familiar rock ballad now turned into the tune of a country song by Joel’s touch. He owns the solo and his husky voice melts into the lyrics beautifully.

Under your breath you sing along. You used to sing along when you cooked breakfast at his place or during drives with him and the girls.

It’s a beautiful fondness, yet one still barbed and so aching.

The song ends with the intense but small burst of fireworks that has the stadium cheering. You even clap.

“Appreciate y’all.” He addresses the crowd. “That’s a one of my daughter’s favorites so always means a lot when I get to play it.”

A smile you can’t fight tugs at your lips at the mention of Ellie.

“Now my daughters, they’re like night ‘n day.” Joel continues and your heart fills up so overwhelming fast for those girls.

“One of them, like I said, loves some Pearl Jam. Now my other daughter…” Joel pauses.

“She’s a big fan of someone by the name of Taylor Swift.”

The crowd absolutely explodes and you think you even feel the arena shake. Sarah honestly was a big fan and Ellie loved to tease her about it so much.

“Normally for this next and final song, I’d play ‘‘shake it off.’” Joel had a few songs of hers that he covered. That one was a fan favorite.

“But tonight, I'm itchin’ to play somethin’ else.” He continues.

You even perk up curious.

“So let’s end this on a high note, yeah? Sing along if you know this one.” Joel concludes.

Then the drums begin and the song bursts to life.

The stadium swims in a dizzying frantic energy.

The way Joel sings, he’s pouring his heart out. He’s memorizing. Utterly heart wrenching.

This is the finale, the end of this strange unreal dream you’ve wandered into. You wonder if he feels it too.

The song’s chilling bridge comes and Joel walks to stare directly at you.

I thought I had you figured out, can’t breathe whenever you’re gone. Can't turn back now, I'm haunted…

His eyes never leave yours.

The lyrics sear through your heart. You think about screaming the song to back him. He’s the one who left, the one who’s ghost lives among your ribs.

Then Joel hits the final high note, lets his voice carry the powerful finale, and the crowd roars in earth shaking excitement.

It’s magical, magnetic and utterly devastating in both the best and worst ways. Another few sets of indoor fireworks go off and the show ends.

Joel wishes the crowd a beautiful night and you’re left in a tangled web of emotions.

Your best friend immediately turns to see if you’re okay. While the crowd starts leaving, you and her take a moment. Out of the edge of your focus, you notice a crew member of the arena approaching the side of the rail. You don’t think anything of it.

“Excuse me,” until that crew member stands in front of you on the other side of the barrier.

Blinking absolutely confused you turn towards the man.

“I’ve been asked to escort you backstage.” He explains and your best friend gasps.

You wonder if the ground opened below and dropped you into a free fall.

Quickly you stammer out that you couldn’t. There's no way. Maybe the man must’ve mistaken you for someone else.

“Mr. Miller said you’d say something like that.” The crew member says reaching into his pocket to hand you something.

It’s a keychain.

Not just any keychain, but the one you gave Joel.

It’s a cartoon armadillo, dressed up as a cowboy, holding a guitar. When you first saw it you immediately thought of Joel. His daughters got a kick over it, giggled at how cute it was, and your heart had bursted when you saw it constantly among his keys.

Now the worn little cowboy creature sits waiting for you. It’s sweet marble like eyes stare up at you like a day hasn’t gone by since you gave Joel this.

Your best friend gasps, maybe not fully recognizing the keychain but understanding the significance.

You ask the crew member if your friend can maybe accompany you backstage, but he shakes his head a sad no.

“Then I…I can’t.” You shakily breathe out.

“Yes you can!” She interjects. “You gotta at least hear him out!”

You turn to her and find determination fiercely burning in her eyes as she nods.

“But what about you? I don’t want you or your parents waiting around for me.” You urge.

“Don’t worry about me or especially about them!” She reassures, even offering to wait for as long as you need.

You’re grateful, unbearably so and embrace her tight.

“You call me if he gets stupid. I don’t care backstage or not, I’ll go get you.”

You laugh watery at her well meaning threat and thank her. With a quick sweet goodbye, you follow the crew member along the rails until exiting.

The walk out to the backstage area fills you with a hurricane of emotions. What else could Joel say to you? A part of you wonders if he’s going to be cruel about this, having you simply show up to his dressing room just to laugh so arrogant and smug about how wonderfully famous he is now.

No, Joel isn’t that type of man.

Or you hope fame hasn't warped him into that type of man. Arriving at the green room door, your heart races loud in your ears.

The crew member knocks and before you can compose yourself, Joel opens the door.

He’s bathed in the golden amber light of the backstage room. It highlights all those grays again but also illuminates more of the time passed on his face. More winkles line against his eyes and when he fully stares at you, you wonder how different you might look in his eyes.

A jackrabbit like urge rushes over you to maybe flee, call your best friend to come get you.

“Thanks for comin’,” he mutters out. “Was worried ya wouldn’t show.”

You want to bitterly joke that you didn’t want to, but the armadillo keychain you hang onto holds the truth.

The door closes leaving you and Joel alone. Awkward stale air chokes the space.

You simply keep your attention on examining the room. His classic weathered jacket rests thrown over the couch. The rider is stacked with so many classic Joel snacks like his favorite jerky, popcorn, and even a few familiar favorite treats his daughters love.

Then your eyes catch the mug on the counter and you grin softly.

It must be filled with Joel’s classic drink - chamomile and ginger tea with honey for his throat.

“It’s…yeah. That’s it.”

You didn’t even realize you said anything out loud until Joel replies casuing your heart to jump. Finally your eyes find his.

It's a curse that your greatest heartbreak is this handsome. Exhaustion weighs in you and feels ancient, like if you carry the sum of so many lifetimes before.

“So…You wanted to talk to me?” You speak first, trying to keep yourself strong.

“I…uh yeah.” Answering so cryptically, his shoulders deflate. “How ya been?”

“Good.” You answer simple, curt almost.

There’s too many things that could’ve slipped out if you said anything more. Like how you selfishly kept one of his shirts and hate that the smell of him on it has faded like a wistful memory. Or how you can barely listen to Dolly Parton or Johnny Cash anymore because you’re reminded of Joel singing along to their songs.

So you turn the conversation back to him.

You ask how the girls are and Joel perks up, eyes shimmering with fatherly pride.

“Good, yeah they’re good. Uh, Ellie’s playing softball for the school again ‘n Sarah’s busy with student council. They’re still just bossin’ me all around.”

“As usual.”

You both say the same line at the same time and it chokes you up.

Joel inhales and his lips press tight, a hard line. The air tightens. No one says anything and now annoyance, frustration and maybe even a bit of panic claw at you.

“Joel, why am I here?” You ask him again.

Sighing, so weary and tired, he looks down.

Feels like ages pass between you and him. The faint noise of the stadium leaks into the room muffled.

You think of your best friend waiting and of your own heart waiting to end this.

“Look, it was good to see you,” you half lie. “You did great, hope you and the girls take care”

You turn to walk out.

That’s when he blurts out your name and you stop.

“I miss you.” He exhales.

“Miss ya so g’damn much. Every fuckin’ day.” He mutters.

When you turn back around, he stares at you unwavering. You don’t know what to say.

“Seein’ ya out in the crowd…thought m’heart was gonna give out.” He barks a weak laugh.

“Almost stoppin’ the fuckin’ show just to make sure it was you… y’look beautiful as ever.” His eyes haze over slightly, almost nostalgic.

Suddenly a heated spark rips into your chest, jagged edged and angered.

“You broke up with me.” You snap, voice already raw.

“I know,” Joel nods. “Worst damn decision of m’life.”

Your lips tremble. Everything hurts like a live wire is burning up your veins.

“Then why? Why did you do it?” You croak. You want to scream, maybe even storm out and not even give him the chance to speak.

“What? Did Mr. Big Country Star hate having a partner that wasn’t famous too?” Venom leaks bitter and poisonous in your mouth, choking your throat.

“Y’know god damn well that ain’t it.” He snarls back hard.

“No actually I fucking don’t know Joel.” You reply with a fierce bite. “You so conveniently left out any real damn reason why you were breaking up with me.”

“I said our paths were going in separate directions.” He glares hard at you now.

“And that’s about it!” Your voice raises and you hate it.

The tears come quicker than you hoped for and you hate that more.

“No real explanation,” you exhale, wanting to stay as calm as you can. “You couldn’t even give me that…what else am I supposed to think?”

Even dabbing away your tears, your composure is slowly slipping.

“I couldn’t do this to you,” he breathes out and it’s broken. His eyes are shimmering obsidian pools.

“This life, all the fuckin’ mess that comes with dating someone in the limelight, I couldn’t just throw that on ya.” He explains and the truth rings out a quiet hum.

“And you didn’t think to talk to me about this?” You whisper out now hurt. “Joel, I thought we were a team.”

“We are- were.” He slips and corrects himself fast. “I just knew if we fuckin’ talked about it you wouldn’t have understood.”

“Understood what?” You’re frustrated and it leaks into your voice.

“That I didn’t want ya fuckin’ hatin’ me!” He finally screams the weighted truth.

Stunned quiet but still slightly confused, you ask Joel what he means.

Pain travels across Joel’s handsome face as his jaw clenches hard.

“This shit…it takes away a lot.” He croaks out. “Hell I’ve even missed things with the girls. Didn’t want ya sacrificin’ your life or wakin’ up one day and realizin’ how much you’ve lost ‘cause of me…couldn’t let myself do that to you.”

Your chest aches like a rocket got shot into you. You’re angry he took that chance for you to decide, but you understand.

Joel never wants to be the cause of pain to others, especially those he loves.

He agonizes so much over his decisions and how corrupting he believes he is. When in reality every action he takes you know simply stems from his endless deep devotion to keep those he loves safe.

His decision to end your relationship was him, in his own frustrating Joel way, trying to keep you safe. Even if it was from himself.

Your lips tremble and you cuss bitterly hard under your breath.

“You damn stupid man.” You hiccup. “I didn’t…I don’t care what life fame would’ve given me with you. I would never resent you. For better or worse I just wanted a life with you, that’s all I ever wanted.”

Through a few sobs, you wipe the tears fogging up your sight.

Before you can see it happening, strong sturdy arms suddenly wrap around you and shock you breathless. Curled in Joel’s arms, it’s like a sad coming home party and you cry even more.

“M’so sorry, my darlin’.” Joel whispers against your forehead.

“I hate you.” You don’t. Even on your hardest days, you never could.

“I know, hate my fuckin’ ass too.” Joel replies.

His arms squeeze you tighter.

“Never stopped lovin’ you. Never will.” His voice wavers and now your arms wrap around him.

“You left.” You whisper back so small while tears continue to prickle in your eyes.

“I know honeydew, ‘n I’ll never forgive myself for it.” He replies fiercely like a strike of lightning with its bright force. “Been a fuckin’ mess without ya. Tommy would be the first to agree and the girls too.”

You absorb his words, basking in the safe haven that is Joel. Hours, maybe days pass just in his arms.

“Please forgive me, baby.” He whispers hoarse against your head.

You nod a soft yes.

Because even the part of you that wants to yell and stubbornly say no knows the ultimate answer is, and always will be, him.

“Of course…I love you.” You mutter half dazed against his strong chest. “Love of my life.”

Pressed so close to him, you feel how hard he swallows and his arms squeeze you impossibly tighter against you.

He says your name and you hum out a soft noise.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes, which have sort of glazed over, snap open wide.

“What?” You mutter out, maybe think you misheard him.

“Marry me.” Joel repeats himself.

You practically squawk like a confused bird and scramble in his arms.

“Joel Miller, you can’t be serious?!” You shriek through the tears still lingering in your voice.

Your face snaps up to him. His face is composed, almost serene in a way as he look at you with molten eyes.

“Serious as that g’damn ring I bought ya.”

His words are a mumble but so soft and unwavering. Your soul leaves your body like you were thrown into a cold lake.

“You what?” You stammer out.

“Y’heard me.” He nudges his chin to you. “A ring. Bought it after you dropped everything to go take care of the girls when they got sick.”

Too many emotions overwhelm you and the tears return with a vengeance.

Joel, like a steady man in the storm, places his warm hand on your face to gather you back into his embrace. He places the softest kiss to the side of your head.

“We gotta have a chat about discussing your feelings with me more, Miller.” You manage to chide him through your tears.

“I know.” He mutters against your skin while he continues softly kissing you with utter tenderness. “‘N I’m not lettin’ ya go again.”

You squeeze him hard, trying to burn his memory into your arms worried you’re going to wake up and find this is just a heartbroken hallucination.

“Baby,” he begins.

“Hm?”

“Stay with me for the night.” He urges. “The bus got plenty of room-”

“Ooo, is this what you say to all your groupies, Mr. Miller?” You tease with a snort.

“Behave.” His hand playfully squeezes your hip but his underlying somber tone even with his chuckle ignites a familiar heat brewing in you of the times he’s reprimanded you like that before.

“No groupies.” Joel reassures you. “Only you sweetheart, only ever gonna be you.”

His words flutter into your heart and make a nest there.

Gently you draw back to stare at Joel. Your hand moves to his face, aching to just touch him. Even in his arms you’re waiting for him to vanish from your touch as if he’s a figment of your wrecked heart, a ghost of lovers past haunting you now.

But his stubble tickles against your palm. Running warm as usual, his face feels like a soft morning sun. Your thumb strokes his cheek and his eyes close, melting into your hold.

Gently you place a soft kiss against the corner of his lips.

Joel now tilts his head so he can deepen the kiss before you can even draw away.

It’s not a consuming passion that you expected. No frantic fierce clash of lips or an overflow from a year passed between you two.

Instead it’s a soft welcome home. It’s a kiss you’ve given him when he’s come home late or when you leave for work.

Because his blood, his soul, you believe are simply stitched into the very fabric of you. It’s like a piece of you is returning back to you, or maybe back to your other home with him.

“So you gonna stay with me?” He mumbles against your lips.

“I don’t know Miller, you haven’t even offered to sign anything for me. What kind of famous country singer are you?” You smirk against his lips.

He laughs, hearty, a true wild deep one sweeping you into its joy.

“Hell yeah I’ll fuckin’ sign something for ya, our marriage certificate.” He snaps in classic grumpy Joel fashion and you almost think about dragging him to a courthouse.

You text your friend a million apologies and even take pictures of all the signed merch you’re bringing back to her.

Now in the cocoon of Joel’s cozy bed on his tour bus, among the warmth sheets, you hold the ring up in the dim light inspecting it. Because of course your secretly romantic man kept the ring with him.

“You sure you weren’t keeping this around for someone else?” You ask.

“Fuck no.” He growls low. “S’yours…only yours.”

From behind his arms slide around you and you’re encompassed by his swallowing presence. His beard scrapes against your shoulder.

“If ya don’t like it, can get ya another one.” He mutters casually but hesitant softness peeks out from under his gruff tone.

“It’s perfect.” You reassure him.

It’s the ring Joel got you then and it’s the ring you want now and always will. You even tell him that.

The kisses places on your bare shoulder whispers of his devotion.

“Honey.” However, his voice now is hesitant and makes you pause on your ring inspecting.

“I gotta ask…but do ya have my armadillo keychain?” Joel asks with an utter somberness.

You burst out laughing and it shakes your body.

“Honeydew, I’m being serious!” He growls out. “Want that lil’ fella back!”

Wheezing with giggles you lean back against Joel, floating so blissfully floating in renewed adoration.

Twisting in his arms your lips find his.

“Tryin’ to distract me ‘cause you lost him, huh?” He mutters.

You snort, shaking your head.

“No I just love you so much, you dumb cowboy.” You tell him.

“Your dumb cowboy. For better or worse.” He vows, kissing you back firmer now.

“For better or worse,” you nod breathing into him.

In this carved out slightly cramped space it feels holy, sacred, chapel like. You’re even afraid it might be gone tomorrow morning. However, the ring on your finger is the steeled reassurance it isn’t going anywhere.

But, just in case, you gather this glory and Joel into your arms with the promise of never letting go.

#my heart is so full and I can’t thank yall enough I wish country singer Joel could perform for you personally in your living room #let’s rodeo fic series #country singer!joel miller #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller fic #Joel miller fanfic #Joel 🤎

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