#mud farm man

[imthursdaysyme]

most people always have modern merlin dressing like. stylish. but i just believe that man wears the same pair of steel toe work boots every day. that man came from a farm. he’d wear work boots and thick jeans and a busted up old carhart tan jacket that has seen better days.

He shows up to class in old overalls with a hoodie over the top of it with mud crusted work boots and everytime Arthur sees him he's distraught at his choice of clothing

#bbc merlin #merlin #modern day au

[riacte]

"It's rotten work," Ren says. His tail swishes nervously. He has the demeanor of a sad scolded puppy even though no one's scolding him.

False looks up from where she's placing down mud blocks in accordance to the roads that Ren lined out. Ren's theatre kid behaviour must be kicking in now, because to call her work rotten is dramatic and almost insulting.

"It's not rotten to me. There's stuff I would call rotten work, but this is no where near it."

False places down another block. Ren obediently shuffles out of the way.

"Rotten work is when I'm at a tourney and no one's listening to my strategy so I'm left all alone, but then they use my strategy and we actually win while everyone ignores me. Rotten work is when someone sabotages me and I'm the one left to sweep away the pieces. Rotten work is when someone attacks me on purpose and I'm the one who has to apologise for being mad and pacify everyone else. This?" False pulls out another mud block, "is building. And building is not rotten work."

Ren cautiously observes what False is doing, then also pulls out his mud blocks. He moves a few steps forward so he's placing blocks, but out of her way. "It's still work," he admits. "A lot of work, in fact."

False is nonplussed. "But that's what builders do, don't they? And I am the Minister of Transport."

Ren laughs, but it's a quiet laugh. He pauses like he's hesitating, then he mumbles,

"I'm a lot of work."

Now it's False's turn to pause. Her hands continue with placing the blocks, because that's what she does. Building. Grinding. Helping friends out. So on and so forth.

"It's peculiar work for sure," False says, her tone light. "Picking up your stuff when you spontaneously explode. Bugging you about MCC. Teaching you basic colour theory. You can't get orange from blue, Ren. It sadly doesn't work that way."

Ren chuckles at the jab. "Worth a shot, eh?"

False coughs. "Yeah, like I said, peculiar work. But it's fine. I like doing peculiar work because I'm a peculiar person and you're a peculiar person. But together we are normal. Very normal indeed."

Ren considers it. "What if I don't want to be normal?"

"Then we won't be normal."

"What if I want to be normal?"

"Then we'll be normal. Or at least pretend to be."

Ren laughs. "That doesn't make any sense."

False smiles wryly. "Come on now, Ren, when have I ever made any sense?"

He shoots her a grin. "But you're like the most sensible person in the Neighbourhood!"

False lets the silence hang between them for comedic effect. "... No."

"No?"

"If I were sensible, I would've left the Neighourhood long ago."

"Hey!"

"Just kidding. That's why I'm not sensible. That's why I like not being sensible. Besides, I'm not the one who organised the ministry or planned the roads. You did. You're the one with the vision. I'm just following it."

Ren looks around the paths and his tail wags in excitement. "But you're contributing to the vision! I saw the bits and pieces you added! It looks great, by the way!"

False nonchalantly continues placing. "Yeah, you see, that's part of the peculiar work. You draw up the canvas and I edit in the details. It's like how we did the raceway last time."

"Yeah, but I haven't grinded as hard this time around. Too busy with my permit, my dude."

False giggles. "Would you call getting the beacon permit drawing a short straw?"

"I mean, I was the second to die in Demise, but you won and everything worked out in the end, so I don't mind." A pause. "Also gives me a chance to kill those dastardly withers as revenge for all the times they defeated me."

"Right, it's a lot of work to kill them, never mind farm them."

Ren sighs deeply. "There's definitely a lot going on. Especially those buttons, man."

False glances up. They're both still doing the roads. She watches Ren shift up a step and place down a mud brick slab.

"Yeah, but it'll be worth it. I'll buy your beacons. Actually, you can go do your buttons. You can kill some withers. I'll take care of this."

She can almost hear his apologies— sorry that she's doing the roads that he was supposed to do, sorry that he didn't reply to her messages, sorry that he's the way he is.

(And maybe he picks it up too— the way she actually means "I'll take care of you". He always seems to instinctively know what she means under her contradictory and confusing words. In the same way she instinctively knows what he means.)

Ren softly chuckles. "It's peculiar work."

"It's peculiar work especially if it's me, and especially if it's you—"

False sets down a mud brick slab right next to the one Ren placed. Just one slight push, and the pattern of the bricks align like they'd been inseparable from the get go. The corner of her lips quirk up.

"— but that's why I do it."

#ria.fic #hermitfic #falseren #<- platonic #i started writing this waiting for my salmon to steam. lesson of the day: dont steam a thick piece of salmon. #the big salmon voices in your head are EVIL. thin salmon for steaming #also if this reminds you of another fic that's bc i wrote the other fic. self plagiarism is always moral 🔥 #what if we were silly. together #hermitcraft #rendog

[cuprohastes]

The chant.

The Varshan Invaders had this thing: Unity.

They dropped Anjax, which was mostly just thirty farms raising the local safe-to-eat animals nicknamed Argnu.

The farmers had all read the briefing packets: If it's the Xss, the Dormavir, the Jince... run. Run n' hide. They'll eat you, literally eat you and that won't do you any good.

The Twon-hai, Gir and Tsush, they're slavers, they'll give up if you stand up to them. Expect up to 68% losses. Still better than what they'll do to you.

The Vershan, the On-dotir, the uHown or the Kelth... Jsut surrender, don't annoy them the Terran Colonial force wills how up and sort it, and there's a chance you can jsut persuade them to be chill and mark you down as Not For Conquering.

So anyway. The Varshan. They'll only take over if they think that the population are disUnified. It's their holy mission to reduce entropy via unity or something. They're pretty chill about it - Nobody gets sacrificed to the dark god, or put in the Castigation Pit - but it's a huge pain in the ass when you really need to be shipping Argnu Beef and not e.g. nonconsensually being inducted into an alien religion.

So they dragged everyone into one area and did their Unity Chant to show that they all were unified.

Then they sent thier guy out and planted a flag.

The next part is they grab some rando and tell them to "Show their Unity". This works well usually because you pick anyone form even a fairly smoothly integrated society and put them on the spot, they'll panic.

Which was why Jacinta Omura, 45, admin, completely bewildered, was dragged out in front of everyone she knew.

So she looks at the aliens who are all looking smug having done thier weird Haka, looks back at the crowd of farmers, and shippers and what-not... And it's her time to shine.

She strieks a pose, head down, one arm up, wide stance.

Everyone in the front row behind her are like OK Jace has flipped her burger here.

But then she starts to sing... Well chant. Not well, not nearly loud enough...

"Buddy, you're a boy," she says, voice breaking. She swallows and adds "make a big noise... Playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday."

Now her voice is getting a little more confident.

About this time the crowd behind her has started to pick up on what she's doing, and there's a ripple of people starting to back her up: The rows behind them catching on.

"You got mud on your face, you're a big disgrace - Kicking your can all over the place, singin'..."

She lifts both arms like she's conducting, and behind her there's the entire colony: clap-clap stomp, Clap-clap stomp, shaking the ground, singing, as one:

"We will, we will rock you! We will, we will rock you"

Well the Vershan were kind of impressed, because hey that ticks the box, and also, style points there. So they loaded up on Argnu meat at a good price so show no hard feelings and went off on their holy crusade to annoy everyone.

And that's how Freddie Mercury saved Anjax.

#humans are weird #humans being weird little guys #Freddie Mercury #Humans are space orcs #Humans are space australians

[ghouljams]

Love horse farm Konig! Would he still be wearing his hood do you think? If not I can imagine him constantly touching and rubbing down his face when he talks to his darling while he feels exposed.

Much like Ghost he's improvising! He's got a bandana and that feels enough like his hood that he isn't self conscious. He really only wears it when he has to go into town or meet people so he isn't wearing it when he meets his darling.

Fantastic news for her because she gets to stare at him while he carries her around and tries to wrangle her horse. oh wait, I can write this hold on:

When your sweet -horrible- beautiful -horrible, horrible, you hate this damn thing- filly jumps the fence between her pasture and you neighbor's you feel like that must be the icing on the cake. Your life has fallen apart and now your horse is gone. She prances happily through your neighbor's pasture, hardly giving you a glance as you throw on your boots and jump the fence yourself.

As soon as you do she takes off, making a bee line as fast as she can towards who knows what. You're forced to chase after her, thanking God that it hasn't rained recently enough for you to get trapped in the mud. She stops a little ways ahead of you and waits before taking off again right when you get close. You're exhausted by the time you notice she's pranced her caramel ass over to the biggest damn horses you've ever seen. She's barely half their size, and absolutely thrilled to be making such large friends.

You are significantly less thrilled. Those horses look far too big and far too wary of her to be safe. You run towards her, absolutely breaking a very good rule of animal husbandry, and are unceremoniously lifted off the ground almost as quickly as you spook one of the closer giants.

Thick firm arms wrap around your waist, scooping you up and holding you high as a voice gentles the agitated horse. "Sich beruhigen," He says, transferring you to his shoulder with far more ease than you would like, "hör auf auszuflippen." You're too surprised to say anything as a large hand holds onto the back of your thighs. You stare down at the grass, it is very far away. Should you be panicking? You don't feel like you should be panicking.

"Come here little one," He mumbles, and ooh that does something to you, makes something warm settle in your chest. He rustles with something in his pocket, thumb stroking the back of your thigh like he's trying to gentle you. "That's it, nice and easy, I won't hurt you," He clicks his tongue and you know he's not talking to you but shit. Shit! Shit, fuck, this man is corralling your dumbass horse and you're thinking absolutely impure thoughts about this kind stranger.

A stranger that probably thinks you're a dumbass for running at his horses. His hand leaves your thigh and you press your hands against the deliciously firm muscles of his back to keep yourself from falling off his shoulder. A shoulder you can feel moving under you, like it doesn't even notice you're still on it. Christ.

When his hands touch you again it's to settle you back on the ground. He's careful to make sure your dress doesn't ride up in the process, even averts his eyes politely as you sort out your skirt. When you look up from your fussing he's holding out a makeshift lead with your horse on the other end of it (looking far too pleased with herself you might add). You look from his offering hand to his face, and then you are just... staring.

His eyes are so blue, and despite the nervous crease in his brow he looks at you like he can't take his eyes off you either. Strong nose, pink lips, fuck he is easy on the eye. You wonder if he knows how expressive his face is. The lovesick look he fixes you with when you hold your hand out for the lead, it makes your stomach burst with butterflies.

"Let me-" He starts, before clearing his throat and fixing his face, "Let me help you get her back, in case she breaks loose again." And yeah, you could do that.

#Cowboy!Konig #waow new cowboy we love to see it #give it up for Konig he is really going to get to be soft in this one #meeting his future wife and she is a disaster #he is smitten #konig x you #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig fluff #konig modern warfare

[thebadboyfanclub]

What Are You Waiting For Then? (Daemon x Reader)

Hey guys sorry for keeping you waiting, one of my friends was visiting so I was all day doing tourist activities, this was actually so exciting and refreshing to write!

-

“Nathaniel! Mother come quick Nathaniel is back!”

All Daemon saw was young woman ran barefoot heading towards his fellow soldier, Nathan was a man that got recruited to fight alongside Daemon to the Stepstones, he was a brave and honourable man that was shipped to the Stepstones under the fellow banners of the noble house resided in Lys named “Fyresteel”, they were the first to respond to the call for aid, the young strong man truly embedded their words

“None shall be left behind”.

The woman crushed her body to the knight almost knocking him over, she had wrapped her arms around him like her life depended on it, her clothes were semi tarnished and the hem of her dress dirty from the mud.

A few moments after she pulled away in arms length, examining Nathaniel with her eyes, the look she had on her face showed how close of a bond they shared, tears clouded her eyes as she gripped on to his biceps.

“You are back, safe and sound”

“If I died there would be no one to mess with you dear sister”

The woman did not respond, she only hugged him one more time to which the knight responded with the same warmth. Daemon was astonished by the tremendous declaration of emotions, he loved his family yet he had never been that close to his brother, if Daemon were to be back Viserys might share a hug however there would be no engulfing nor tears shed for his safe return.

“My boy! Oh my boy is back!”

A middle aged woman paced in their direction with her arms wide open. The younger woman reluctantly pulled away from her brother to make room for what Daemon guessed was the boys mother, she wiped her tears with her hands as she sniffled.

“I apologise, it is just we have not seen our brother in such a long time, I am (y/n)”

“Daemon and no need to apologise, you should be proud of your brother, he fought fiercely and was one of the most trusted soldiers in battle”

“You should thank me for that, Nathaniel always liked to wrestle with me in the mud when we were children”

“Come on, don’t stand there they are probably hungry, come inside”

Daemon was stunned by their hospitality, they had no idea who he was, no clue of his heritage yet they welcomed him with open arms to feed him just because he appeared with their family member.

It was a small cottage, mostly made out of wood and stone, it was warm from the fireplace that burned under a big pot, the smell of home made food hit Daemons nostrils like a brick, his stomach rumbled with anticipation and his tastebuds begged for something warm.

“Does your friend like goat?”

“Goat is excellent my lady”

“Oh bless you young man, I have not being called lady since I gave birth to Nathaniel”

“Mother please!”

“What? This tall handsome boy was at the same size of a little kitten when he was born, he gave us all a fright we thought he would not survive”

Daemon chuckled at the comment that made Nathaniel hide his face behind his hands. Nathaniel was the only man that followed Daemon at his crazy plan of invasion, now he had to withstand his mother ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks with endearment.

To be honest Daemon did not care much about that, his eyes were set on (y/n), the girl had the same energy of her brother, noble, altruistic, bright, as supper was served he got caught in a trance that was her voice, he could listen to her speak about anything all day, the affability that radiated off from her was addictive to say the least, if you combine it with the earthy scent he was in true bliss, surrounded by people that took care of one another and honoured the word “family”.

Daemon had stayed with them until the moon turned, he would go around the farm with (y/n), not allowing her to lift a finger or doing her daily chores, to see a Targaryen prince milk a cow and gather chicken eggs was truly a surreal sight for anyone, Daemon felt at peace with being just Daemon, he was not “the rogue prince” nor “prince Daemon Targaryen”, his name sounded the best when it rolled off (y/n)s tongue.

“I will marry you one day”

“Will you take me back to the castle? be a princess of the seven kingdoms while I twirl in pretty dresses?”

“No, I will give you your own castle, you will be the queen of my heart and the ruler of our family”

“What are you waiting for then?”

-

Daemon flew to Kings landing at dawn, to bend the knee in front of the iron throne and beg for his marriage to be annulled, to humbly request to wed another now that he proved himself worthy and honoured the kingdom.

“Annulment? I thought you were a bit loose in the brain but this is a new type of madness even for you brother”

“I won the war against the crab eaters, I led the army to victory”

“And you assumed that it would make you invisible, you swore to be with this woman until the end of your days”

“Your grace, I am sure you are aware that the wedlock I am under was not a burden I chose to carry”

“Burden!? The lady Rhea is a respectable lady, you stand there and ask me to make Runestone our new enemy so you can marry a common beggar?”

“She is not a beggar”

“She is nobody!”

“She loves me! I do not know why but she chose to love me”

-

“My starlight, you are ravishing”

“Daemon, we are to attend a funeral”

“You will be ravishing at the funeral”

“I hope so, this is the only dress that fits me”

(Y/n) had given birth to 5 children already, to squeeze out children one right after the other meant her body had changed since they got married, her breasts had swell from breastfeeding their youngest son and the weight had managed to get comfortable.

Daemon could not keep his hands off of her, he found her new curves to be tempting, she looked like a well taken care of woman, the woman that blessed him with creating a home and children inside her, the goddess that put herself in danger to expand their family.

After moving to Pentos to elope against the kings wishes Daemon wanted to fulfil his promises, give her a castle and make her his queen.

(Y/n) was a marvellous wife and confidant, Daemon had spend all his life fighting for a place at the table, to be seen as worthy as his noble brother, the heavy weight of competition was suddenly lifted by (Y/n)s magical touch that showed him what it truly is to be accepted, to be nurtured and cared for with compassion and respect, Daemon would often watch her sleep while she rested her head on her pillow and just admire her, how could she be so… good to him?

“You are the most wonderful woman I have ever laid eyes upon”

“Seems like you are the only one that thinks like that, they are all eye balling us like we are their lunch”

With that mention from how beloved wife Daemons focus shifted from the diamonds (y/n) held for hues to observe what was behind him, to his displease he found the people from his bloodline gawking at his family, to the point that the eldest son Maelor of theirs clung a little closer to his mother, grasping her clothing with his fist for comfort and protection.

“Listen to me, stay close to your mother and myself and everything will be fine, understood?”

“Yes father”

The second born child, their first daughter Melody responded, Melody had a soft spot for her father, ever since she could walk she would wobble behind her father and wait for him to pick her up and spin her around. Daemon pinched her cheek before he took his wives free hand -since she was holding their youngest babe Aelor with their other arm- to lead his family to the place the ceremony would be held.

Daemon had promised his wife that he would not leave her alone, he guarded his partner and offsprings during the whole ceremony, choosing to stay far back than get close to his immediate bloodline members Viserys and Rhaenyra, he was content with sitting down on the bench and play with their fourth child their daughter Hera on his lap.

“I know my sweetling, I know”

(Y/n) cooed at the babe that was starting to get fussy, (y/n) had done her best to keep the babe comfortable however no one can predict when the babe wants to feed, only thing we know it’s babes are hungry often and they do not like to wait.

“What is the problem starlight?”

“I must feed him”

“Go on then”

“Daemon we are not home, if I start feeding him-“

“You will be a mother that is taking care of her babe and does not scoff in the natural way by having other woman nurse your kin”

“We know that stands true, they do not”

Daemon puffed out a breath before he reluctantly let his daughter off his lap to stand up and take (y/n)s cape to create a little curtain around his wife, as a way to assist her with putting her mind at ease so she can breastfeed that youngest member of their family.

“What is happening?”

“She must be feeding the babe”

Ottos face squirmed up in disgust at the sight of the babes own mother pulling her breast out for the babe to suckle on and in such a prestige setting, Alicent on the other side was certainly intrigued to say the least, not for the feeding part but to how attentive the rogue prince was to her, the man that had a heart made of steel was now pulling silly faces to make his children laugh and shielded his lover from invasive looks of disapproval like the one her father had.

“I think he is finished”

“Let me do the rest starlight”

Daemon had done this multiple times, their children had been very close in age so sometimes Daemon had to do the digestion process while the older one was in their “I only want my mother” time of age, so in order to relieve his wife he gracefully took his youngest son in his arm to pat his back so he can digest his food.

“Father, why is mom a starlight?”

“Often times I had to travel at night with Caraxes, the light that came from the stars gave me hope and guided me to safety”

Their daughter was a sucker for fairytales, so to listen to her father talk in such a poetic way for her mother compelled a weak smile dance on her lips, (y/n) reached to tuck a small strand of the toddlers dark hair out of her face until Melody wrapped her arms around her mother to hide her face in her mothers neck.

“What a beautiful scene, you have grown to be a wonderful father”

Viserys interrupted the precious moment by slowly approaching with his cane. Daemon instinctively took a step to stand in front of his wife, his natural need of protecting her kicked in and even though Viserys was his brother he did not take the chance.

“You honour me your grace”

“we are brothers Daemon”

“Mayhaps, long time ago we were”

“Daemon”

“Maelor why don’t you take your mother and siblings to play at the shore? I’ll be with you in a moment”

“Oh yes! Come on mother let’s go”

Maelor was smart but not witted enough to figure out why his father allowed him to lead his mother away from this interaction, the young boy was too excited to notice the stern look (y/n) shot to her husband as she took the small babe from Daemon to give him and his brother some privacy.

“I know we had our differences howbeit I come with good intentions”

“I am sure you do, until Otto whispers accusations against me”

“We mustn’t hold grudges, I am here to offer a sumbol of peace”

“Which is?”

“Your children are unfortunately considered illegitimate, I own up to the mistake of not treating your lovely wife as equal, after the funeral I shall announce to the court that we affirm your wife and children as such, let us become a family again”

“My children are my family, my wife is my family”

“And your brother is willing to acknowledge that”

Daemon let his gaze fall upon his children, (y/n) was chasing around their children while they laughed along, all of them adored their mother, every time he would watch their faces light up and (y/n) smile it was equivalent to floating around the clouds, that was the reason he took them to Pentos, to ensure they were safely tucked away in their own world, no harm, no ill minded people, just pure and utter bliss.

“I would deeply appreciate that, I however have nothing to offer you in return of that favour”

-

Daemon was rudely awakened by his wife bursting in their room, clearly disheveled she stared at him as tried to catch her breath, (y/n) would often wake up in the middle of the night to make sure her children are alright, this time it seemed she was right about it.

Daemon was on his feet in no time, silently he followed her and she was making it difficult since (y/n) was basically running.

“Maelor!”

“I am alright mother, I cannot say the same for Aemond”

“What happened?”

“I wanted to go for a ride and I found them fighting so I called for help, I did not get involved I promise I just called the guards”

“I am not mad at you sweetling you did the right thing”

“Right thing? He ran away when my son was been beaten”

“He called for help”

“It was too late for that”

“What would you rather have him do? Fight off all the others and risk his own life”

“So it is better than my son is the only one that got injured?”

“I did not say that-“

“Stop! All of you. We are family”

“It was my sons that were forced to defend themselves your grace”

The young woman spoke up as she stood in front of the two brunette boys and one of them was also stained by blood. If she had to be honest she did not care about what happened, only that her children had no part in any of it.

“He called us bastards”

The young one explained, the room grew cold all of a sudden, like someone had stolen the light out of everything. Daemon stepped a tad bit closer to his wife, the word scratching his heart enough to irritate him, it stand true but unfortunately his children could technically be called such ridiculous words.

“Where did you hear such lies Aemond?”

“It was Aegon”

All eyes were on the boy with the king white hair who was somehow dumbfounded by the accusations. The king, even though he was frail and had almost withered away approached his son, Daemon could detect some type of fury on his weak and dissolved face.

“Now you tell me… boy, why did you say that? Aegon!”

“We know father, everyone knows. I do not understand why is there a problem with it, prince Daemons children are also bastards”

“Careful now young man, we do not want you to miss an eye as well or a tongue”

Daemon was taken back by his wife threading a prince, he also noticed how her hand clenched Maelor shirt compelling him to get closer to her. (Y/n) was his wife, his love, his body, mind and soul belonged to her, she was aware of how devoted Daemon was to their family, still to hear such vile insult made her blood boil.

“My father offered for your children to become legitimate, so for the time being and the past few years they were considered b-“

The only thing that interrupted the prince was Daemons footsteps that approached Aegon, he did not touch him, he just stood right in front of him and eyeballed him right into his soul. Aegon by just pure instructed had shrunk as much as he could and avoided making eye contact with Daemon.

“Finish your sentence, go on”

“Daemon I can handle my son”

“I disagree brother you can allow your children to dig their claws into one another until the only thing that is left of them is bones but I refuse to let this idiot speak like that about MY children. With that, we shall bid you goodnight, we will be departing at dawn and hopefully we will not hear from you ever again

Requests are open!

#daemon x you #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd fic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd season 1

[callsignvenomcod]

a soft life

Prompt: Retired! Simon Riley. A slow life in a Manchester farm.

warning: mentions of PTSD, mentions of cartel related violence, mentions of violence, MDNI.

PS: Opening line is from the book "Jarhead" (2001) by Anthony Swofford.

______________________________________________________________

A story.

A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterwards he returns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

For a long time, it was hard to convince himself he deserved to grow old. It might have been a given fact to some other people but not for those in the military, not for Ghost, at least; not after Tommy and Beth, or Las Almas or Johnny. It took him a lot of time to be grateful to be almost 40. For several reasons, he never saw himself living past 20.

And now he was opening up the crates of the chickens he kept in his very own farm, a piece of land he actually owned, without a mask on, very far away from the bullet sounds and a barrack, from the mud and the camo, away from everything and everyone, not sound in the horizon but the chickens and Riley, the border collie dog he got, barking at a three somewhere in the distance.

He retired the summer he turned 40, there was a ceremony and everything, with Laswell and Price and he got more chest candy that would eventually end up in a wooden chest, never to be seen again, under the bed. There wasn't a reason, he just had to. He was in his prime, physically, but his mind was made of glass lately, everything rubbed him the wrong way, couldn't even train recruits without snapping too hard at them, making them quit, yell at them too much, scare them too much, beat them up to a pulp too much.

Every man in the military had a story. A life before, a life after. And in the middle, sand, or mud, or just camo. A war that last years, a mission that lasts hours. Silence and nosie.

He, like other recruits, like other Sergeants, Lieutenants, Colonels, had shadows over them. It took months for him to stop looking over his shoulder while doing the big shop on a sunday, started going to those overnight groceries store to shop alone instead. The butcher's reminded him both of his adolescence and the carnage he had caused, flinched whenever he saw a mohawk kid walking down the street, looked twice sometimes only to find a stranger.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets, aye.

He turned in his paperwork and retired silently with lots of medals under his name, lots of dead men and probably women under his knife, missing friends, missing nerves and too scarred to be a model now. Ha.

Oh, and Y/N's wanted to get away at some point anyway.

Y/N. The last drink he never should have had, the cut that made him hide his face, and the party that made him feel his age. Pulp's words, not his. All it took was a few nights shopping at the Tesco she was working in as a cashier, late night shift, for them to become acquainted.

A year of mutual pinning, a single night in which Y/N placed the bourbon bottle and the batteries inside of the paper bag and looked up at Simon, change in hand (because he paid in cash always, no traces behind) and smiled at him. COVID had made it easier to transition from the skull balaclava to a medical mask and then to a bare face, so Simon looked at her behind the black medical mask and stared at her while she opened her mouth.

-Why do bees have sticky hair?

Simon blinked, looking down at her. -Pardon?

No line behind him. It was the first time the cashier talked to him other than "Goodnight" and "Drive safe", or "It will be 5.66, please". There was a faraway sound of some sort of 80's American pop music, something to pass time by. Simon had noticed her since the first time he came into this very same Tesco a few months ago, had noticed how she sang along whatever music was on, how her Tesco blue uniform looked too big on her, making her look insanely small and slinky. He noticed how she was always almost without a medical mask and whenever she used it, it was laced around her chin; he noticed short, clean nails, and a heart necklace over her chest, a pair of dazzling dove eyes, full hips, a belly.

He really noticed the full hips.

The girl fucking giggled and repeated. She must had a bit of Irish in her judging by the sound of her accent. Simon felt as awkward as a teenage boy in front of any girl ever -Why do bees have sticky hair?

The man shook his head, still confused, a quid in his hand.

-Because they use a honeycomb.

Ah, a woman after his own heart. Such a lame joke.

He snorted out a laugh.

It simply slipped and he memorized the name tag before grabbing his shopping bag and shaking his head, hearing her giggle behind him as he exited the store, and he came back two days later after convincing himself he needed two jars of red bean jam instead of the usual one.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

And now she sleeps here; and Simon had stared at her sleeping form wondering how much time it would take for her to start hating his way of loving, of being, how many times he would go silent on the phone, a bad texter, a worst caller, how he hated crowded places and loud noises and most of their dates happened in her flat, when her roommate was out, staring silently at a film on TV, her friends thinking she's getting her brains fucked out by an experienced, older, lust thirst Vet when in reality, Ghost was gathering up the courage to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

And now she sleeps here.

In the crook of his neck, his thigh over his hip, wild hair all over the bed, sometimes inside his mouth because he stopped using a mask a while ago.

In the mornings, tangled in their bed, warm sheets, the soft breeze of Riley sleeping under the bed, her sweet sweat and vanilla scented skin under his, it took Simon a few seconds to realize he was sleeping in the company of someone; in the arms of a woman and in his own bed, a king size bed with soft white sheets that were washed and changed every 5 days, not a twin bed in a barrack, that his years of active service were over, not forgotten, as if, but that he could allow himself to become whatever he might end up becoming if the 141 didn't happened.

-Come here, boy. Come here, Riley. Yeah, yeah...- said Simon scrunching down to caress right behind Riley's ear, the dog sticking out his long tongue and barking of joy mixed with the hyper sense of his breed, the soldier being careful not to break the eggs he held in a small basket. Simon had found him a puppy a few months ago, seemed like years really, in a litter box with 6 of his brothers and sisters, a beat-up cardboard sign reading "For adoption." And Simon picked up the only one with a lazy ear. He knew deep down that Y/N would appreciate that and simply put him in the passenger seat of the black Bronco truck he owned and drove all the way back home. -You're up early, eh? You having breakkie with us?

He had fallen into a comfortable routine now. He would wake up, crawl over Y/N's sleeping figure, careful not to wake her with the crack of dawn, 5AM with the BBC on his headphones, a 6'2 shadow jogging through the hills of the outskirts of Manchester, for an hour only the dark of the road, the eventual baby blue of the sky, the warmth of the sun. Sometimes Riley was up for it, sometimes he stood behind cuddled up in their room. And upon his return he would work out in their driveway for another hour, noticing the growing presence of what the media now called a "Dad Bod" (Y/N's words, not him) and eventually hearing soft barefoot steps coming from the room.

There was tea for two before he had to head out, get some tasks done, and a soft kiss hanging from Y/NS plush lips, and he would always try to push it, try his luck. He would smile against it, whispering "Good morning..." with a lazy voice, hands on Y/N's full hips, kneading them, in need of them, and Simon would press up with hard on against her stomach, while deepening the kiss.

It never failed to make her wet. It never failed to make her forget the kettle on the fire for a minute and simply give into his kiss, his embrace; him, overall. Simon would pick her up, easily, laid her on the counter, and her robe would open for him, with or without his help, and she was always so wet for him, so ready to do it.

-Simon...- she will say. - Breakfast...

And he wasted no time into twisting her words, dropping to his knees as if he was in the presence of a saint, of a virgin, of the end of the world, staring at her glistening cunt first thing in the morning, looking up with the adoration she deserved; she would gulp and argue it was not what she meant but she would recoil and whimper when Simon stuck his tongue inside his cunt anyway, overlapping her folds, blissfully eating her out before the sun was completely out.

The dog kept barking all the way down to the house, past the barn and the driveway, the small stable with the one horse they had, the pen he was building to eventually own sheep, and Simon felt the cold breeze of the early morning seeping through his black knit sweater and his jean jacket, as he walked all the way across the grass fields and into his porch, the swinging chair Y/N liked to read in, in a need of a reparation.

-Right...- he whispered to himself seeing the hammer he left outside to remind himself to fix the damn chair, bloody hell. Riley's nose peeked through the front door, opening it with ease and technique allowing themselves in, and the cold of the outside world was quickly gone.

Simon stepped into a cozy home, with a color palette he would have never picked, all warm yellows and oranges, pinks and whites, and soft cushions, warm blankets, a picknick turntable in the coffee table; and music, soft music he didn't recognize coming from it, a spinning record on it with yellow and pink lyrics, a girl signing about a loved one, and another voice, a present one, horribly trying to sing along.

He snorted out a laugh when Riley started barking and the voice was interrupted abruptly.

-Simon?...- Radio silence. -Babe?

Oh, the sound of his name in her mouth.

He crossed his living room, stepping into the kitchen, holding four eggs in a small bowl, one from each hen they owned, and he stood in the door frame, just a tad taller than him, admiring the view. He had endured white missions in the Russian winter, literal months of the gruesome torture and gory tasks and they all suddenly made sense because there was a girl.

Ah, there was a girl, alright.

Today was English breakfast. No peas for him, no sausages for her. It was stereotypical but easy to make and no one was around to judge them anyway. Next house was a few miles down the road, and even the road was far away, the town was a 30-minute ride. It was their little bit of heaven. The man stepped in, handing her the basket like every other day and kissed her temple, as she grilled some tomatoes slice ups leaning back against him. His hands would find her hips again and she would yawn with intimacy, hair still a mess, thighs still sticky. -Teas on the table, love. It's gone get cold.

-Ah, it's alright...- he said, hugging her tightly, as she kept leaning on him. -Slow morning today, eh...

She had been there and stuck around whenever the PTSD started acting up. She was the one that loved him when he started going fucking mental; and stuck around when she found her burning up SAS gear, a lost look in his eyes as he did so. He would throw in a Ghost mask and watch it burn for a moment, before murmuring a shocked sob and reaching out into the flames to retrieve it. She stuck around while he drank too much bourbon sitting on the porch, skull mask on, his dogs' tags held so tightly his knuckles will go white with force. Y/N even stuck around when the nightmares came, and she would wake up to Ghost whimpering on his side of the bed, breaking a cold sweat, his jaw tight and her brows furrowed, screaming out "Johnny! Johnny!" before waking up in tears, in raged hot tears down his cheeks, short of breath, his head a full of bullet noises and sirens wailings, pictures of his team and the blood and the grease paint. A mess. A shaking shadow.

Every October 11, she will make sure to hold him a little tighter, kiss him a little softer, love him, if it was possible, a little louder.

And she was here now, cooking breakfast, no peas for him; now he was living a soft life, with tea every morning, and a dog named Riley, with soft hands that wondered around his chest whenever he thought about Soap too much, about Gaz and that helo. But she was here now, and she had no sausages today, as they sat down on their small chair in their small kitchen in their small farm. He was living a soft life, and he didn't think of himself as worthy of it, but he must have been done something good to have her cooking breakfast and sleeping in their bed and caressing their dog under the table.

Tomorrow, Ghost would ask her to come out to the porch to find her reading swing fixed and a wedding ring.

She's going to say yes.

He didn't heard the bullets anymore.

_____________________________________________________________

Hello! Venom here.

Thank you so much to anyone that's been liking my story.

Happy 2024!

#simon riley #cod headcanons #cod mw2 x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #cod x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost cod #modern warfare #mw2

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

No More Hiding

Summary: When accused of stealing chickens from Mr. Sherman’s farm, Steve brings Bucky to investigate but ends up learning more about his friend’s private life. 

Rating: Everyone

Pairing: Alpha Bucky Barnes x Omega Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 900+

A/N: Not Beta'd. Some fluff to counter the angst I posted earlier.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Rogers, get out here now!”

Steve stalked to the front door. Jerking the handle with a huff. This wasn’t the first time someone complained about his pack. Most of the humans were against a pack of wolves living so close to their homes. While the humans bared their guns, Steve opted for peace.

“Mr. Sherman,” Steve greeted. “What can I do for you?”

The old man scowled. “A couple of my chickens are missing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that now, would you?”

Steve frowned, crossing his arms across his chest. Mr. Sherman was an old farmer who lived a few miles down the road. A few chickens went missing here and there over the last month and each time Mr. Sherman paid Steve a visit.

“You should invest in a better chicken coop. I already told you; my pack has nothing to do with your chickens going missing.”

The old man took a large step in Steve’s direction, his finger crooked. “Don’t lie to me. I have proof. There’s prints the size of a wolf’s paw all over the coop.”

Steve was stunned. The first time Mr. Sherman complained, Steve called a pack meeting to settle the tension between the pack and farmer. Each of them swore up and down that they hadn’t stepped a foot onto Mr. Sherman’s property. Steve believed them. He had no reason not to. They had everything they needed.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’ll show you and that brute who’s always stealing my game. If you don’t punish the thief, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

Steve nodded. “I didn’t find anything last time I checked. I’ll bring Bucky by the coop. He’s got the best nose in the pack. If anyone can find the culprit, it’s Bucky.”

Mr. Sherman didn’t spare a word as he turned his back on Steve. His footsteps echoed along the rickety porch steps.

It wasn't much later that Steve confirmed Mr. Sherman was right. The prints in the mud belonged to a wolf. The pack leader examined the paw prints as Bucky looked inside of the chicken coop. Every once in a while, Bucky’s nose would twitch but he never said anything. 

“Well?” Mr. Sherman snapped with his hand on his hips.

Steve pondered if a neighboring pack crossed into their territory. That would cause bigger issues.

Bucky brushed past Steve and the farmer on his way out of the chicken coop. “You’re wrong. Must have been a dog. Do any of your neighbors have one?” Bucky casually asked, his hands tucked into the pockets in his jeans.

Steve raised an eyebrow in Bucky’s direction.

Before Mr. Sherman could answer, Bucky headed into the woods separating the farmer’s land from the pack’s home. Steve apologized to Mr. Sherman, then chased after his friend. 

“You know who it is, don’t you, Buck.” Steve didn’t need a verbal confirmation. The way Bucky’s eyes focused like they did when he hunted, and his nostrils flared told Steve they were tracking someone. Keeping up with Bucky’s large steps, Steve questioned, “Is it one of ours?”

Bucky grunted, occasionally stopping to sniff a leaf or a branch. “Omega.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “How do you know?”

He made a sharp right, plowing branches in his path. “Smaller prints and sweeter scent.”

The prints made sense to Steve, but he hadn’t smelled anything. Steve hung back and observed the way Bucky stormed the woods like a mad man. That's when realization hit him. It was the only explanation for his best friend's behavior. Bucky Barnes found his omega.

When Steve finally caught up to Bucky, he tread carefully. It didn’t matter. Bucky’s scent alone was strong enough to draw the omega’s attention to the pair.

“Alpha?” The omega pushed herself into a sitting position on the porch. The cabin in the woods wasn’t the most luxurious house, but it was theirs.

Bucky dropped to his knees on the steps below his omega to be eye level with her, to be equal. “It’s me ‘mega.” Bucky muttered, his palm enveloping her cheek. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into his touch. The moment was short lived when Steve cleared his throat. Y/N’s startled eyes locked on Bucky’s. She knew about Bucky’s pack, but he never brought them around. He never brought her to them either. The couple basked in the idea of it being just the two of them for a while.

Bucky asked, “Someone’s been terrorizing poor Mr. Sherman. Stealing his chickens. Do you know anything about that?”

Y/N knew she’d been caught. She also knew which buttons to press to get her way with her alpha. She tucked her chin into her chest and stared back at Bucky with doe eyes. “Of course not, Bucky.” She batted her lashes. 

Containing his laughter, Bucky plucked a feather from Y/N’s hair. Pinching the feather between his fingers, he tossed it over his shoulder toward Steve. Bucky cupped Y/N’s cheeks planting a soft kiss to her lips.

Steve frowned, “She can’t keep stealing Mr. Sherman's chickens. You know if he finds out he’ll have the whole town after us.”

Bucky stood, holding his hand out to help Y/N to her feet. Turning his head to Steve he replied, “I’ll take responsibility for her. She’s my omega. I’ll take care of her.” Turning back to Y/N, he squeezed both of her hands. “Come on ‘mega, no more hiding. Time to take you home.”

#bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #alpha bucky x omega reader #alpha bucky x reader #alpha bucky barnes #alpha!bucky #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x reader au #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #a/b/o au #a/b/o lifestyle #james bucky buchanan barnes

[merakiui]

*DIGS YOU OUT FROM THE MUD* MOOOOOAR!!!! HDJSJSK once azul find out the secret behind his fave milk, floyd takes him out back and forces him to breed u to keep quiet and jade omg jad has the biggest balls and loves to put them on ur face aaaaaaa

AAAAAAAA YES YES YES OTL THANK YOU FOR DIGGING ME OUT.......... allow me to describe The Vision because I had more thoughts while I was trapped under the mud.

(cw: nsfw, female hucow reader, breeding, pregnancy, bull hybrid jade, lactation, there's really no plot here; just pure horny >_< )

✧ floyd has the biggest crush on you and it's so obvious, but he's not allowed to touch you because boring farm regulations and blah blah blah. >:( it wouldn't be good if another male's scent was on you when they're trying to pair you and jade together, and floyd thinks that's a stupid rule because you're his girl!!! he definitely doesn't follow it. maybe he promises to be good and pull out each time, maybe give you a bath to wash his scent off, just to keep things safe. he's so stupidly in love with you and it shows. orz his favorite thing to do is milk you because you make the cutest little sounds. he's painfully hard the entire time and he can't stop looking at your heavy tits, admiring the feel of them in his hands, or the way you tremble, your body alight with arousal. he's down so bad. he has to cap all of the bottles and stock them in the fridge first before he's going off to deal with his erection. T_T

✧ and jade......... he's a sly bastard. he knows floyd's in love with you (anyone could tell) and he takes every possible opportunity to stir up drama just for the fun of it. floyd threatens to send him off to the slaughterhouse if he keeps acting like an ass, but that's jade's specialty. <3 he just loves pressing you against the fence and rutting into you from behind, loves to drink straight from your tits, loves to fuck you in broad daylight so that everyone on the farm knows you're getting your guts rearranged by him. and floyd hates it! it's just not fair. why did they have to bring jade in? can't they just leave the breeding up to floyd? he'd gladly knock you up. but you and jade are so compatible and jade's so possessive of you, and the last time floyd tried to enter your pen he was swiftly kicked in the stomach. ;;;;;

✧ and azul!!!! he loves, loves, loves the milk from this farm. it's just so delicious; it's made the dishes at his restaurant taste even better than before. since he's an ambitious man, he originally visits the farm with the intention of purchasing whichever dairy cow is responsible for producing such high-quality milk just so he can get it straight from the source without having to go through the hoops of shipping and whatnot. but floyd's so evasive with answering his questions and as azul's leaving in a huff he passes the barn and spies you inside and...... now he needs you!!! he'll pay any price; he's desperate. floyd's dying inside because no one's supposed to know about you, but this loud-mouthed businessman knows and..... he allows azul to milk you so he can take a few bottles home for himself in exchange for his silence, and azul is so good at rizzing you that he ends up fucking you. and jade lets it happen because it's another fun way to watch floyd shrivel up and die. T_T he's so mean,,,,,

✧ and when you're pregnant, your milk production seems to double and you have to be milked multiple times a day because your tits get so heavy and full. floyd's living the dream, even more so when you weep and beg him to just fuck you already because you're soooo sensitive and soooo horny and you desperately need to be filled with cock; and jade's busy napping, so he can't do it. floyd gladly takes his place and he's the happiest in the world because after so long he finally gets to fuck you. he cums so much, all of it stuffed inside, and he cradles your belly so sweetly and tenderly.

✧ the alternative to this idea is that azul kidnaps you from the farm and keeps you captive in his home so that he can always have your milk for himself. not only for personal enjoyment but for the mostro lounge as well, and you hate him so much because he took you away from your home and friends and he keeps you shackled and collared with a little bell so you won't run away or escape. you've spent so long with him and you're months into your first pregnancy with him and he's been nothing but sweet and soft and he fucks you so good; and he's always so eager to milk you and he praises you constantly. stockholm syndrome kicks in and suddenly he's not so bad. suddenly you don't hate him anymore. suddenly you're riding him into the sheets with reckless abandon and coming apart on his cock because it feels so good and you love him so much and this is where you've always wanted to be. this is your home.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #tw: breeding #tw: lactation #tw: pregnancy #tw: hybrids #i might have to write something for that last plot with azuzu....... #i do not write about stockholm syndrome enough but the idea of hucow darling being conditioned to rely on him for everything is so good orz #because he's the one who does everything for you #and he's manipulated you so well that you no longer fear his touch and why should you when he's been nothing but kind and helpful and !!!!! #(burying myself under the mud this time because these thoughts are plaguing me)

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Farmboy

I hate grocery shopping. Usually I make whatever dumb chick I'm seeing do that crap, but I'm between hoes right now. Hopefully the cashier is hot enough to flirt with.

Dragging the cart down the aisle, I almost run into a giant oaf studying a rows of cans. The guy is tall, fat, and severely sunburnt. I can tell he's got some impressive muscle beneath his chub; probably from all the labor he does on his farm. Wearing denim overalls and a straw hat, he's essentially a walking cliche.

"Hey move it, redneck," I snap.

"You have a problem with me, son?" he slowly turns and peers out from his dirty beard.

"Not you," I answer annoyedly, "Just your fat ass. Move it."

This guy has to be slow because he just doesn't seem to get it. Instead of getting out of my way, he takes lumbering steps towards me and grabs my cart with his meaty paws.

"Try again, son."

"Man, let me through already!" I roll my eyes, "Are you dumb or something? All I want to do is pass! Then you can get back to shoveling crap and humping cows, ok?"

The hulking farmer staggers towards me until his fat stomach almost bumps me over.

"You think I shovel crap and hump cows all day?" he quietly growls down at me.

"Sure. You probably sleep with the pigs too big guy," I add.

"That sounds more like something you would do, kid," he slowly retorts.

"Man, look at me," I cry, "Do I look like a filthy redneck?"

"Actually you do."

His response catches me off guard. I'd just wanted to get the shopping done, but now this guy is straight up lying to my face. No one could ever mistake me for a country bumpkin with my stylish hair and $300 sneakers.

"You look exactly like a farmboy," he continues to grumble, "Just take a look at your hands, kid. See how worn they are; how filthy they are. That's the sign of hard work right there."

I can't help but hold my hands out in front of me.

That can't be right! Just like he said, dirt and dust cover my palms all the way up my arms. They're somehow riddled with callouses even though I rarely used my hands for anything.

"What'd you-"

"And look at what you're wearing, kid," he keeps talking, "You've been tracking dirt all through the store with those boots."

"I have $300 sneakers..." I nervously glance down.

I almost scream when I don't see my favorite kicks. My shoes have somehow been replaced with big rubber boots. I don't even own a pair of these, and yet they cover my feet all the way up my shins. Like the farmer had said, they were caked with mud, and it looks like I had created a messy trail of footprints across the store.

"Stop," I beg quietly.

"Stop?" he laughs and each bellow echoes through the store, "I'm just getting started, kid. You haven't even looked in the mirror yet. You've got the same bib overalls I got on!"

I shudder and turn away, abandoning my cart to run through the store in my awkwardly huge boots. I need to find the nearest bathroom and fast. I can already feel my clothes changing and a pair of straps pulling at my shoulders.

Bursting into the restroom I stare at my reflection.

I'm wearing the same redneck outfit as that farmer freak! Before I start ripping the clothes off, the door slams open and the giant farmer lumbers in.

"Stop whatever it is you're doing to me!" I scream, "Give me my clothes back!"

"Why would I do that, kid," he asks, "You love this getup. You don't want those fancy city clothes anyway."

I cringe as the tall boots suddenly feel very comfortable on my feet. The straps of the overalls on my shoulders are all the sudden very comforting to me. God this thing stinks, but I feel a new kind of pride in that stench. It is after all my own smell. There's nothing wrong with reeking of hard work, right?

"That's it, kid," the big redneck pats my head with his dirty hand, "There's nothing you'd rather do than work on my farm, right?"

God, he's right. All that land, the animals, and solitude sound perfect. I would be happy to work on his farm.

"Alright farmboy, come with me."

I follow behind the giant as he marches out of the grocery store. I notice that the cashier is exceptionally cute when we pass, but a pretty girl like that has no interest in me. She cringes at my smell. Girl probably can't handle the smell of a real man.

Back at the farmer's ranch, he leads me to the barn, and shows me inside.

"You'll live in here with the animals, kid," he explains, "I'll teach you the routine of feeding all them, but I have other chores for you to do right now."

The farmer hands me a shovel and bucket. Both things are covered in mud and who knows what else, but I don't mind. I already can guess what my job is.

"Picking up crap and humping cows, huh," he chuckles, remembering words I said a lifetime ago, "Well you can get started by shovelling all the crap. We'll see about the cows later."

"Awesome," I smile, happy he's already trusting me with his animals.

I get right to work, shovelling up the piles of dung. I can't help but smile with joy. This work just makes me so happy. I should probably keep my mouth closed though if I don't want any flies buzzing in, but I just can't help myself. Boy, am I glad I ran into the guy.

#gay hypnosis #mind control #hypno story #male transformation

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ɪᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ☽

ᴬ/ᴺ: Nobody has asked for this, but here is my take on what happens when Sam falls off his skateboard. This is my first attempt at this after a long time, please be kind. I hope whoever reads this can enjoy! Thank you for your time. ✧

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam x Reader (afab)

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of injuries, oral sex (male receiving), face-fucking, deep-throating, sloppy blowjob, name calling, cursing, cum eating.

As harsh as it sounded, you wouldn’t expect any sense of balance or grace from your boyfriend Sam, a man that managed to trip over his own feet and run into every single piece of furniture in your house. But when he stepped on a skateboard, he managed to prove you wrong every single time. That man could absolutely move. Every time he stepped on a skateboard it seemed like all his clumsiness - that you certainly found adorable - had been left behind.

It was a warm day, it felt like summer was already in the air, approaching swiftly, Sam had asked you if you would like to watch the new tricks he had managed to master on his trusty old skateboard, which he adoringly called ‘Samsalot’. Even though the words he had used had been more like: “you gotta check this out, baby, pleaaaaase.”

And so you were sitting near the ramp Sam had built up himself using some wood you had lying around the farm, watching the blonde shine in his area of expertise as you liked to call it. Moments like this made you fall in love with him even more, though you wouldn’t have taught it possible. The way he moved just did something to you. He simply had such control over the situation, calculating his every move so confidently. “This is my favourite!” he suddenly called, ripping you from your thoughts and making your vision focus again. You watched Sam roll down the ramp, getting ready to jump and do another trick, when his left front wheel seemed to hit something, abruptly slowing him down. Sam, not expecting such a rough stop and the sudden force working against him, tried to scramble for an ounce of balance, but failed miserably. “Fuck!” was all you heard, followed by a thump and the sound of clothes scratching against wood as his body slid over the ground. “Sam!” You gasped, jumping to your feet, and rushing over to your boyfriend, who now seemed to kiss the ground. Sam was lying hurdled over on his knees, butt still in the air and eyes closed, still bracing himself from the impact. “Ow, what the fuck?” he snarled with a groan, opening his eyes slowly.  “Are you okay?” you lifted one of his arms from the ground, yet the man slowly shook his head, pushing himself up carefully to get into a sitting position. “Just a few scratches,” he murmured, blush on his face as rubbed over it, if to hide the red colour or to check for bruises, you didn’t know. “Fuck, that’s so embarrassing. If Sebastian saw that, it would already be uploaded on YouTube.” You cooed quietly, gripping your boyfriend’s hands, “don’t worry about it, love. I don’t think it’s embarrassing at all; it was an accident. You should’ve seen me when one of my cows pushed me in mud. I tried to get up, slipped and fell into the puddle again.” There was a brief smile on the man’s face, but it was gone in a flash. “Sam…are you sure you’re not hurt?” you already began to feel for bumps or cuts on his head and legs, causing him to blush yet again. “No…No, not really. It’s just…” You looked up at him, eyes quietly urging him to speak his mind. “It’s just…I enjoy impressing you. This is the only thing I can impress you with. The only thing I have real control over. And what do I do? I fuck it up and smack my fucking face into the fucking ground.” Biting your lip, you gripped his face, making him wince a little as your finger touched a small cut. You quickly removed your hand, making a mental note to clean that up quickly. “Oh, Sam. There’s so much you’re good at,” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his, “playing the guitar for one. Writing songs.  Making people laugh. Loving me. Making our relationship what it is. You are good at being you. And by Yoba, do I love you.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, calming a little when you felt a small smile against the plush of them. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

You led Sam into the bathroom of your house, urging him to take off his pants, and sit on the edge of the bathtub so you could clean and bandage his cuts and scrapes. However, as you settled down on your knees and carefully began to run a wipes over the different wounds you found, you could see that Sam was still lost his head. He didn’t even do his dramatical whining whenever the disinfectant came in contact with his skin like he usually did. Placing your hands on his knees, you gave them a gentle squeeze. “Sam?” “It’s just… I don’t know. I hate losing control like that. It’s just embarrassing.”

You ran your fingers through his hair affectionately, pressing your head against his chest as his words sank in. And then, an idea began to form in your head. Tilting your head upwards, you blinked up at him slowly and seductively. “Do you think that I can kiss it better?” “What do you mean?” “You said you don’t like losing control,” you began, biting your lower lip and letting your hands run up his bare thighs to give him an idea of the thought that danced around in your head, “I know how you could regain at least some of it.” Sam shuddered at the feeling of your rough skin against his soft one, and this time, a bigger smile spread on his lips while he slowly nodded. “I think kissing it better could maybe, perhaps, work.” You chuckled to yourself and leaned up, kissing him gently, your hands still working on massaging his thighs. You gently let your fingernails run along the inside of them, getting a quivering breath as an answer. Being with Sam for as long as you had been, you knew what buttons you had to press to have him melt for you. You settled between his legs again, kissing up his thighs where your fingernails had left their marks, giving your man a blissful sigh. “You know how hot you are? The way you move,” you whispered against the fabric of his boxers that you had reached by now, his hips snapping upwards involuntarily as your hot breath soaked through the thin layer of clothing and met his throbbing cock, “the way you know what you’re doing… Not only when you skate, but also when you play guitar…and when you fuck me- Yoba, it’s hard for me to not fuck you whenever and wherever, Sam.”  He moaned quietly at your words, his left hand sinking into your hair and tugging you towards the tent in his underwear. Usually you would tease your boyfriend, push his buttons until pre-cum soaked his boxers, but today you followed his lead immediately, giving him the control he sought. You pulled down the fabric that restrained your boyfriend’s cock, the both of you moaning quietly as it snapped up against his stomach. You simply loved Sam’s dick; it was long and thick, the tip of it always red and wet for you the veins adorning his shaft adding to the look of it. But the feel of it… Whenever Sam entered your cunt, the feeling of being split in half and the feeling of only being able to stay alive with his cock bullying into you mixed, taking your breath away every single time. The idea made you moan yet again: “Fuck, your dick…just look at it…so perfect…always feels like it’s made just for me and me alone. Never had better,” you rasped, causing your boyfriend’s eager anticipation to grow in the pit of his stomach. His hand grasped your hair tighter, hips bucking up to press the tip of his length against your lips, his other hand wrapping around the base of his shaft to gain better guidance. He rubbed against your mouth, breathing laboured as his patience was running terribly thin already „Look at ya…all pretty ‚n‘ willing for me… Ready to choke on my cock, pretty baby? Bet you are,“ he grunted, pressing his leaking tip against you. „Good girl,” he praised when you opened your mouth willingly, low groan leaving his lips as he felt the wetness of your mouth wrap around him. Sam always was a slut for being sucked off by you; your mouth felt so heavenly, so wet…so addictive. You knew everything he wanted, down to the point how tight your lips had to wrap around you.  His hips bucked up again, and when you didn’t complain, Sam’s mind was gone. You trailed your tongue around the top, sucking at it while pulling your head back. The sound of Sam sucking in air through his teeth going straight to your clit. His hips legs were quivering, leading him to rest his feet against the ground more firmly, staring down at you. He had his lower lip drawn in-between his teeth, wrapping a thick strand of your hair around his closed fist.

You kept licking at him, sticking out your tongue and letting him rub himself all over it, which he eagerly did. He rutted his hips against your tongue as if he was in heat, desperate for the friction he was able to gain through the motion. He tasted so incredibly good, and the sounds he made caused your heart race in your chest. His whimpers were so high pitched, soaked with pure pleasure and lust for you. You loved it when Sam was loud for you, loved it when he enjoyed what you gave him. You relaxed your jaw and allowed him to re-enter your mouth, eyes focused on his pretty face. His brows were furrowed in concentration, tongue tracing over the top row of his teeth. „So…fuckin‘ good,“ he gasped,  allowing you to work his head over him with the guidance of his hand. However, he didn’t allow you controlling the pace for long before he started to move your head faster. “That- that’s my good…oh fuck, that’s my good girl.”  He absolutely adored the way you looked with your face stuffed with his dick; the way you had to work not to choke on him whenever he bucked his hips forward, he loved when your eyes started to fill with tears and how the drool ran down your chin. All because of him and his length. His head was reeling as he tried to regain at least some of his composure upon hearing your whimpers and seeing how much you struggled handling him, but his hips just didn’t stop. Quite the opposite. He fucked your mouth relentlessly now, head thrown back into his neck while he cursed under his ragged breath. “Who’s a good slut? You, that’s right. My lil whore…greedy for cock. Sucking me in so prettily. Look at your face, so full of dick.” He gasped for air when you sucked on him despite his thrusting, his thick girth throbbing against your tongue. He spread his legs wider, eyes squeezed shut and drool at the corner of his lips. Your tongue was pressed against his sloppy skin so beautifully, and the lewd sucking had his heart bursting. He couldn’t take this much longer, and he knew it. But he didn’t want this to stop. You were taking him so well, even though his thrusting became more desperate, more dire. Your mouth felt so wet, so sweet. Pre-cum and spit ran down his length, making the base all sloppy.

He gripped your head and shoved it towards the base of his cock with one swift motion, groaning at the vibrations that were sent through his length because of your choking. He whimpered, his dick thrusting at a fast speed, the embarrassment from before now long forgotten as his balls slapped against your chin. Tears had filled your eyes by now, but you kept sloppily sucking him, whimpering around his fat dick upo hearing him curse. The slapping of skin and the sloshing sounds coming from you made his whole body tense up. His balls were so tight, and he swore he saw stars spinning around the room.  “Fuck, babe, yes, yes, so good. Gonna cum, yeah? Gonna fill that pretty mouth with my cum,” he rambled, still bucking his hips against you, the tip hitting the back of your throat, but all Sam selfishly could think about was the orgasm he was chasing. He humped your face faster, your nose almost connecting to his pelvis bone, a small cry leaving his lips as his cum spilled in your mouth. The load was bigger than what you had anticipated yet there was no chance to pull away; Sam had both of his hands in your hair now, holding you down to empty his balls completely. He was drooling now, tongue sticking out as he panted. His dick twitched in your mouth, slowly growing soft and only then his hips began to stutter. “Yoba,” he hissed, after sucking a big breath into his lungs. His hands slowly dropping from your head, running his fingers through your hair in an attempt to praise you.

You carefully pulled away, tears running down your face from straining your jaw and throat so much, bits of cum mixed with saliva dribbling down your reddened chin. You made a show of swallowing Sam’s cum, licking your lips and then pressing a gentle kiss to the well abused tip that had been bullying into you. “Better?” you asked, voice hoarse, smiling as he nodded slowly.

“All better.”

#Stardew Valley #SDV #Stardew Valley Sam #SDV Sam #Stardew Valley bachelors #SDV Sam x Reader #Stardew Valley fanfiction #Stardew Valley fanfic #Stardew Valley smut #SDV smut #SDV fanfic #Stardew Valley farmer

[tinkerbelle05]

Stepping Up

Stepdad!Clark Kent headcanons about him stepping up to the plate when it comes to Bruce’s kids.

Inspired by this post:

In order to appeal to Damian, he showed him all the pictures of the farm animals back at home. He saw the small smile on Damian’s face even though he insisted that there wasn't any. After Damian warmed up to him, Clark always gives him updates on the well-being of the animals whenever he gets home.

Lex had made a rather underhand comment on Tim’s handling of the company. Something about how a child has no place in a boardroom controlling men twice his age. And him being Lex also took a dig at Bruce (that man is so miserable). Tim ensured Clark that he didn't have to do anything and that things were being handled which was code for “drag this sorry excuse of a man through the mud and back as salt for the emotional wound he’s about to inflict upon him.”

While Tim was ripping Lex into strides about his empty promises to improve Metropolis, to how he’s a supervillain bc it was obvious he wasn't hugged much as a child, to yelling about his failures as a father to Kon. At the end told him to pick a struggle.

Clark was like, bet. So after Tim’s speech, Clark posts his exposé about the mistreatment of Lex’s workers and how they’ve been going on endless strikes to fight for their rights and to unionize. Let’s just say, Lex had to suspend his Twitter account for 3 months as his PR team scrambled to fix his image.

Clark learned how much Dick is trying to reconnect to his Romani culture: re-learning the language, cooking the food, singing the songs. Clark could relate to that, being one of the last Kryptoians ever. So in solidarity, he asks Dick if he could learn with him. So every Wednesday, Dick and Clark cooked a Romani dish for the family. This week was Mămăligă.

Clark and Duke understood each other. Their powers might’ve been different but the sentiment all the same. They feel different, the odd one out from their family. Clark feels honored that Duke feels comfortable telling him this. He knows how much the bats and birds love their secrets.

There was a practice at Cass’s dance class that was optional but basically, all the parents and guardians attended and participated in. Unfortunately, Bruce took a hard hit as Batman and was unable to attend, which sucks since they’ve both been looking forward to it. Clark, who knows absolutely nothing about ballet, went into it nonetheless. Cass was unsure about this but Clark looked really excited to join so she said yes. He was terrible at it, as expected. Cass was smiling because he tried anyway. He was clumsy and stiff, and probably embarrassed but he still showed up and did all of their moves anyway.

Once they were done, they both recounted the experience all while laughing over greasy food and soda. Cass didn't have to say a word either all was in sign language, something she greatly appreciated.

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#superbat #clark kent #batkids #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra wayne #stepdad!clark kent

[percyjavksongf]

𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞☆

➤𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 (𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧) 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➤𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑,𝟏𝟖𝟖

➤𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐭 𝟑𝐚𝐦, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 <𝟑

"𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮"

-𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟

𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜

Your boots had hit the ground hard, flying down the dirt path uncaring of the flecks of mud that stuck to the cream coloured dress that danced wildly around your ankles. The sun was setting over the land and it bid farewell with a kiss of colour. Oranges, yellows, pinks, and blues spread across the sky in a perfect harmony, it truly was your favourite part of the day. You continued on your run, your mother could scold you if she caught glimpse but you just had so much energy in you that you couldn’t help but let it out somehow, and you also delighted in how much your dress puffed up and swirled around with the wind.

Finally landing in the front yard, you slowed down and rested your hands against your knees, gripping the fabric there for a moment to catch your breath, you lifted yourself up and spun around to look back at where you came from, the trees swayed slightly in the breeze but you couldn’t take your eyes off the sunset, it seemed to become more beautiful every time you looked at it.

You walked backwards a few steps before swinging around on your heal, scanning the yard to see if any of your fathers workers were still hanging around this late into the evening, your eyes landed on a man leaning up against the fence, staring shamelessly at you. Your smile was uncontainable as you stared back for a moment before glancing away, you strolled at a delightfully calm pace over and up onto your varanda. You leaned forward to rested your bare fore arms against the fence, making a point of looking away from the man in front of you, who’s eyes you could feel burning into your face. But you had learnt quickly that Billy was as determined as they come, and confident, he was a man who would happily walk the stretch of the farm to come talk to you.

You raised a hand to shield your eyes from the setting sun, struggling to contain a grin at the sight of Billy walking over to you, the way his body bathed in the sun made him look even more handsome then any man you’ve ever seen, his dark hair glowed enchantingly in the dying light, giving off a golden hue. You were completely unable to remove your attention from the man who now only stood a few feet in front of you, internally scolding yourself at the obviousness, as much as you’d love to show Mr Bonney just how much you appreciated his presence around the farm, you knew your father would be no quicker to try shoot the man.

“evening’ Mr Bonney” you spoke, your voice deliciously sweet.

god you were hopeless.

Billy’s smile never seemed to falter around you, it almost seemed to double in size when you started talking to him too.

“evening’ sweetheart” Billy beamed, removing his hat and hanging it off the fence post next to him. The nickname made your heart squeeze, you swear he was a dream. You noted how his face was flushed from a mixture of the days work and the burning sun, it had been a wonderfully warm day and you could only imagine how hard it must’ve been to be out working in it all day.

“do you need anything, Mr Bonney? I can grab you a glass of water if need be” your played with your fingers absent-mindedly, hoping the flush on your face wasn’t too apparent, he had such a way of making you so nervous without having to do anything. Billy let out a small chuckle and you prayed he couldn’t tell how shamelessly you were staring at his oh-so kissable lips

“you’re such a sweet thing, aren’t you? I’ve told you darlin’ call me Billy. No need for the formalities” he spoke light heartedly but the deepness in his tone was breath taking.

You nodded with a small grin “okay, Billy”

it felt strange to call him by his name, you’ve known Billy for quiet some time but you’d always made sure to stay polite, that’s what your mother had always taught you. And deep down you also believed that if you started calling Billy by his first name that you’d never be able to utter another word besides that again.

The two of you watched each other for awhile, paying no heed to the comfortable silence between you, your eyes made their way down his frame before landing on his arm, you sucked in a quiet breath at the dried blood you saw smeared there. Your body moved before your head could even catch up, you had flew down the steps of your varanda and had gently taken hold of Billy’s arm. Billy stood wordlessly as you examined his injury, it wasn’t a deep gash but it was lined with dirt gathered over the day, if it wasn’t sorted it would definatley lead to infection.

“it’s nothing sweetheart, truly. Just a scratch I got earlier this morning” he spoke softly, his much larger hand coming up to cover your hand with his. You shifted your eyes upwards to meet his, you never realised how much taller Billy was then you, and seemingly neither had he, you both soaked up the imagine in front of you. You shook your head slightly in disagreement and to also bring you back to your senses, you were being awful obvious.

“I’ll clean it up for you, it mightn’t be a terrible cut but it’s better safe than sorry Mr Bonney-uh, Billy, sorry” you took a step back but kept your hand intertwined with Billy’s, giving it a small tug of encouragement to have him follow you into the house. Billy followed you instantly but quipped in a few times, saying it was fine and that he didn’t want to bother you truly, each protest you brushed off.

“is your mother home? I don’t believe she’d be mighty happy finding me in here alone with you”

you were glad you had your back turned to him, searching through your cabinet for some alcohol to use as disinfectant and a roll of bandages, he couldn’t see the way your teeth immediately sunk into your lower lip at what he was implying. You gathered what you needed and guided Billy to sit in the chair in front of where you were standing, you dumped everything on the wooden table beside you and got to work.

“no need to worry, Ma’s gone off to town for the evening with a few friends. Daddy’s off in the saloon with some boys from work, I’m surprised you’re not with them” you questioned curiously, Billy’s never turned down a chance to win some quick cash playing poker with your dad before.

“eh just wasn’t feeling up for it today” you eyed him suspiciously, earning a melodic laugh from him “I mean it, I swear. Just had other thing’s in mind that I wanted to do instead” his tone seemed to drop slightly at the end and a shiver ran up your spine, you eyes stayed firmly on the wound before you, marvelling in the way his fingers tapped against the exposed skin on your elbow as you worked.

“this might hurt a bit” you whispered, pouring some alcohol onto a rag, you ran it on the surrounding skin before ultimately pressing it gently into the wound itself, earning a quiet hiss from Billy

“m’sorry” you said softly, finally grabbing the bandages to wrap him up. His fingers had now changed their tune and were drawing small swirls on your skin

“s’alright darlin’, thank you for patching me up, don’t know what I’d do without you”

you smiled to yourself and made a knot with the left over bandage, tucking the knot down and moving to put away the left over alcohol on the table.

“I think you’d be just fine, you know I’ve heard you’re pretty good at taking care of yourself” you tease, reaching up to slot the drink back into it’s original place, you heard Billy shuffle out of his chair and walk over to you

“you talk about me, sweetheart’?” you turn quickly in your spot, your back pressed up against the counter top behind you, Billy stood a mere three feet away, smirking down at you. You rolled your eyes at the sight, he could be such a confident bastard.

“I heard the guys talking about you one day, said you have a pretty good shot. Not sure how much I believe it though” the playfulness in your voice was evident, obviously you knew how good Billy was with a gun, it was all your father would talk about whenever Billy got brought up in conversation.

You’d never get over Billy’s laugh, it was so genuine and heart warming, having you smile without a choice. “I know you’ve seen me shoot, angel, you don’t think I’ve seen you watching from the top window?”

you look away bashfully, wondering how many times he had caught you watching him in the past.

Your gaze shifted down and you watched Billy cross the few feet that rested between you, bring a hand down and lean against the bench behind you, you realised Billy had you cornered and you’d be lying to say you didn’t enjoy it. His free hand made quick work of tilting your head up to look him straight on, once he knew he had your full attention he let his hand wander down to rest on your jaw, caressing his thumb against your warm cheek. You stared up at him starry-eyed, unsure of where to rest your own hands, you opted for holding them against your stomach and fiddling with you fingers.

“this alright, sweetheart?” he spoke, rasing a brow to you. You nodded your head and leaned into his touch ever so slightly, still too nervous to believe this was actually happening. Billy was a big name around town, and from what you’ve heard there are a lot of girls interested in him, so being the one he’s currently pinning against a counter was something you didn’t believe would happen outside of your daydreams.

“I need words, angel” he said, brushing his thumb into the apple of your cheek

“yes, Billy. it’s good” you spoke gently but loud enough for him to hear, worried he’d take his hands off of you. He smiled down at you and you reached a hand up to his belt ring to tug him closer, taking the outlaw by surprise. He welcomed the new found closeness gladly and you relished in how much bigger he was than you, holding you snugly against the counter behind you, all you could see and breath was him.

Your hands drifted upwards and you pushed his jacket aside slightly to mess with his buttons, you felt anxious, unsure of what he planned to do next. Yous spent a couple of minutes taking each other in, his hands explored your waist as he asked about your day, as if he didn’t have you in this thrilling position, you tried answering him with the best of your abilities, hoping the slight shake in your voice wasn’t obvious. You wondered how long he’d do this, you never took him to be such a tease. Your ran a steady hand down his chest and continued playing with the buttons down there, this must’ve done something to Billy because before you knew it he had crossed the basically none existent line between you and you’re standing chest to chest, the position making you have to angle your head uncomfortably, as if sensing your predicament, his hands reached down and gripped at your thighs, pulling you up onto the counter top. You gasp at how easily he’d grabbed you and you noted the smug look on his face at your shock. Billy slotted himself between your legs easily, he made a point of sliding his hands up your thighs painfully slow and you didn’t bother contain your huff of annoyance.

Billy snapped his eyes from his progressing hands to your face instantly

“so eager” he breathed out tauntingly, you could feel his hands holding you tighter, pulling you legs around his hips.

“you’re such a tease” you retorted, trying to settle your breathing which had become more ragged as his hands progressed. A pinch to your thigh through the thin fabric of your dress made you jump, sending a glare to the man shortly after. One final tug had your hips meeting his, you felt like the whole world around you had stopped, his hands had left your thighs and laid flat behind you, either side of your body. Even in this position he towered over you, he leaned his body into yours and brought his head down, now only a few inches away from yours. You stared up at him, spellbound by how little distance was between you.

“you want me to kiss you?” he spoke more so like it was a statement then a question, staring down at your through hooded eyes. You almost laughed at how confident his words sounded but how desperate he looked. Almost.

“please, Billy” you murmured back, your noses brushing against his as you try close the gap between you two, you listen to the shaky breath he exhales before moving his hands to grasp onto your waist

“sweet fuckin’ thing” is all you hear before Billy’s lips come crashing down onto yours, he kisses you like he’s been starved, completely unashamed on how badly he needs you. You let out a small moan which is swallowed up by Billy’s eager mouth, your hands moved to grab at the sides of his face, the stubble prickling against your palms. His hands ran along your lower back, trying to pull you as close as possible. When you broke apart to catch your breath you observed the line of saliva connecting his mouth to yours, you find his awaiting mouth soon after and continue kissing him like he’s your last meal. Billy bit down on your lower lip, earning a whine from you and access to him. Your hands moved up to settle in his curls, you’ve always wanted to know how his hair would feel running through your fingertips, you’d have never imagined what it feel like to pull on them. You tugged his hair in attempts to pull him in deeper and your hands ran quickly back to his face when he lets out a guttural groan.

You’d have stayed perched up on that counter top all night if you hadn’t heard the familiar sounds of hoofs patting into the hard earth, your fathers shouts as he laughed with some of the men he must’ve gone out with. You jumped at the sound and moved quickly, pushing Billy into the corner and peering out the window, fuck, he had come home so much earlier than you thought. You didn’t notice Billy had slid up next to you until you found his head resting on your shoulder, looking curiously around outside until he spotted the source of your panic

“oh fuck” was all you heard before you felt him wrap his hands around your waist, lifting you off the counter and grabbing your hand in his,

“you gotta go-” you whispered, knowing your father would be in the door any minute now

“I know I know, just- wait” Billy’s hands moved to try smother down your hair, in the moment you were only thinking of Billy, you hadn’t even thought of the state you must be in right now. You tuck your hair behind your ears and reach for Billy’s hand, racing him towards the back door. You had to go through the sitting room to get to it so it brought you a few moments more for now, you unlock the door and move aside to let Billy go, you’d assume he’d go running out the door but he continued to look at you

“Billy-” your cut off by his lips against yours and you can’t help smiling into the kiss, letting him press a few more quick pecks before pushing him away again

“come on we’re pushing it here” you laugh, guiding the man out the door. Billy turns around and intertwined your hands once more

“can I see you again, tomorrow maybe? Look, I don’t want you thinking I’m just here to mess around. I wanna take you out” his confident demeanour falters for a moment “well, only if you want to go out with me of course”

“I’d love to go out with you, Billy” you grin, noting how in the sunshine and moonlight, he seems to shine just as bright.

With that you lean up to press one last kiss to Billy’s cheek, he sends you a quick wink and is off into the night. You rushed to shut the door behind him and lean up against it, trying to process what had just happened, and if it had actually happened or you just had the most vivid dream of your life.

“honey, could ya’ come here for a moment?” your fathers voice broke you from your haze and you made sure to walk out calmly to the kitchen, praying to God Billy did a good job at making you look presentable.

“how was your evening?” you smile, letting him press a quick kiss to your forehead. He seemed to be in a brilliant mood so you’re guessing he’s won big tonight.

“it was good, hon. same old stuff-it wouldn’t interest you too much. But um, I was just wondering if Billy Bonney was around this evening?”

the mention of Billy’s name made your blood run cold, you swore no one was around when you brought Billy into the house, you just prayed if your father did somehow find out, that Billy had made it far enough off the property

“I’m not sure, I’ve been up in my room all evening” a horrible lie yes but it was all you could think of.

“nah it’s fine love, just saw his hat on the post outside. Never seems to go anywhere without it that’s all” with that he gave you a pat on the shoulder and walked off into the living room. You let out a heavy breath and made your way upstairs, the events of today taking a tole on you, it was hard to fall asleep though, ever time you’d close your eyes you’d relive how Billy was holding you and smile so hard you’d swear your face would split in two, you’d finally scolded yourself for acting like a love sick school girl and rolled over to face the window. You’d better get some sleep soon anyways, you’d have to be up to find an outfit to wear to your date tomorrow.

a/n: ok I'm in my Tom Blyth era and i'm sorry but i can't bring myself to write a fic about president snow so we're gonna stick with the cowboy alright. Also forgot that billy the kid was a real person in history lol. Anyways i deadass wrote this in an hour and a half, its currently 3am and i have an exam tomorrow so lets goooooooooooooo

#tom blyth #x reader #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy bonney x reader #tbosas #coriolanus snow #ballad of songbirds and snakes

[alrightieaphroditie]

goofy smiles | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ2.6k an *:·ﾟso excited to continue with this series! i swear, i love each new installment more than the last. writing this has also given me more joel ideas, so i have a few wips that i'm bouncing between too that i'll hopefully post soonish :3 this is slightly edited, but if anything jumps out please let me know! comments and reblogs are always deeply appreciated! check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ there's a dance night in jackson, and joel doesn't leave you hanging.

"i swear if we're late to this dance, i'm gonna be pissed." ellie's voice travels to your ears over the wind as she yanks you down the main street of jackson. in the distance, you could see that the patio near the tipsy bison had been set up once again; string lights crisscrossing their way overhead, with potted plants and wooden tables littering the sides, leaving the middle open as a makeshift dance floor. 

you couldn't help but laugh as you picked up your pace, looping your arm through hers and continuing to head down the street. "ellie, hun. you're the one who requested i touch up your haircut five minutes before we were set to leave. i don't know what you want me to tell you." you knew defending yourself to her was pointless, though; once ellie had it in her head, that was it. if she thought it was your fault y'all were running late to the dance, then it was clearly your fault for taking so long to cut her hair. 

as if proving your point, you heard her mutter, "as if that's my fault," under her breath while she ran her free hand through her now shorter locks. she had decided last minute that she wanted it cut just above her shoulders, especially with the summer heat already moving into wyoming. the look suited her, accentuating her sharp features while still making her look young. you were pretty proud of the job you did, regardless of if it made you guys late. 

by the time you reached the fence line surrounding the patio, ellie had already pulled free from your grip and made a beeline to the far corner, where you could see jesse and a few other people mulling about. you watched them all comment on her hair, which made you grin; partly because of your skills, but mostly because seeing her fit in with this community brought nothing but peace to your heart. 

satisfied that ellie was good, you glanced around the layout, taking notice of the tables that had been set up with food and drinks. it was near that table that your eyes came across joel, who was standing off to the side with tommy and another man. he hadn't noticed you yet, so you took that moment to take him in. 

he was still wearing his work boots, having come directly here after helping rebuild something on the farm, and his jeans were lightly streaked with spots of mud and dirt. you had to admit that they fit him quite nicely, though, biting down on your bottom lip while seeing the way the material stretched over his thighs. a casual dark grey t-shirt clung to his upper body, and his hair was slightly messy up top, as if he had been running his fingers through it. 

damn, did he look good. you had half a mind to drag him out of the patio and head back to your house. 

you refrained, though. instead, you decided to make your way near him. the movement caught his eye, and as soon as those big brown eyes landed on your figure, a grin spread across his face. he patted tommy on the shoulder, his gaze never leaving yours, and quickly moved to meet you halfway. you gave tommy a finger wave when he looked over his shoulder to see where his brother went, all while grinning as you watched joel's hand reaching out when you got near, landing to rest against your hip. 

"well, hey there, sugar. almost thought you were playin' hooky tonight." joel muttered, leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. he wasn't really one for the big public displays of affection, but he also liked to remind all of the other men in town that you were his. it was a balancing act that he excelled at. you could feel his thumb gently caress the curve of your hip, could feel his fingers dig into the material of the blue dress you had put on lightly as you stepped up closer to him. 

"me? play hooky? i don't know where you'd get that idea from," you teased, leaning into his touch. it was no secret that you were more introverted than most people in town, choosing to skip out on the social events every once in a while, to stay home and read your books. truthfully, you only started going to these events more often to catch glimpses of joel after he first moved here.

you'd never tell him that, though. his ego was already too big with you around. "i'm late because ellie wanted me to touch up her hair last minute. she might be worse than i am with the whole time management thing." your voice was teasing, and joel's grin grew even wider. 

"baby, don't shoot the messenger, but nobody is as bad as you are with the time management thing." he leaned down to kiss your forehead, chuckling to himself as you slapped his chest. his grip on your hip tightened ever so slightly, and you were reminded of your earlier thought of dragging him home and having your way with him. at that moment, however, your stomach decided to growl somewhat loudly. 

the man at your side let out a snort as your face flamed with embarrassment. joel turned his body to the side, ushering you in front of him and began walking towards the tables spread out with food. "c'mon, misses always-on-time. let's get some food in that starvin' stomach of yours."

you happily obliged, slipping your arm around joel's back as you made your way to the refreshments. joel grabbed one of the plates, holding it out for you as you loaded it up with anything that looked remotely good. you made sure to get extras, too, because joel had a habit of snacking on your plate no matter where you were, despite him claiming to not be hungry every time. you grabbed a couple of the glasses that were set out as well, filling one with water and the other with the locally made whiskey joel liked. 

he guided you to one of the tables, pulling out your chair with his free hand before gliding into the seat next to you. joel moved his seat ever so slightly closer to yours, his knee steadily brushing against yours as the two of you got settled. eventually, tommy and maria came to join the two of you, and you spent a good chunk of the night at that table; conversing about the future plans for jackson, commiserating with maria about how annoying the miller brothers could be, laughing at tommy's stories of the two of them before the outbreak. 

sometime throughout the night, joel had slung his arm on the back of your chair, and you had moved to lean into his side, your hand resting on his upper thigh. his palm was planted on your shoulder, his thumb sneaking underneath the strap of your dress, occasionally gliding back and forth across your skin. he sipped his whiskey, and you noticed him checking on ellie every now and again, too. 

tilting your head back, you took a moment to admire the man sitting next to you while his gaze was focused elsewhere. his skin was starting to get that summer tan again, and the hours of being out in the light had given his hair a few lighter streaks of color mixed in with the dark brown. his beard was growing in more fully too, though you could spot a few strands of grey peeking through here and there. the whiskey had warmed his cheeks, turning them light pink. for a brief moment, the suns setting rays hit joel's face just right, showcasing the different shades of brown within his eyes. 

eventually, when the sun began to sink behind the mountains and the lights were flicked on, a few men crowed up on the side stage, each bearing different instruments. they started playing a chirpy tune, causing the crowd to holler in cheers as the dancing portion of the night started. tommy led maria away from the table, pulling her close and swaying her in the middle of the dance floor. it was always good fun, but tommy loved showing off his moves, so the couple was always at the center of attention. 

you and joel sat comfortably together, your head resting against his shoulder as his thumb stroked away at your skin. joel has never been too big at participating in these events, happier to just sit on the sidelines and observe. you didn't really mind it either, as you weren't really a graceful dancer yourself and wanted to save yourself from potential embarrassment. so usually you two sat just like this, watching the community you've grown to love and accept as your own partake in the festivities. 

joel's gruff voice interrupts your train of thought. "c'mon," he scoots his chair back, offering his hand towards you. with a shocked grin, you accept, letting him guide you from the table to the outskirts of the spot where people had gathered to dance. your eyes widened in surprise as his hands come to rest on your lower back, pulling you closer to him. 

"joel miller, leading me to dance? you didn’t even make me beg," you tease, happily settling your hands on his shoulders, letting your fingers tickle the side of his neck. the begging was a tactic that wasn't totally necessary (joel would give you whatever you wanted the moment you asked for it) but usually, on the few chances you did want to dance, you had to rely on that method to soften him up. 

"not this time,” he clicks his tongue, giving you a smirk. "although i will be havin’ you beg for somethin’ else a little later tonight, sugar." 

your laughter rung out across the patio, causing joel to grin sheepishly as the sound drew more attention your way. his hands tightened in the material of your dress, and you had a feeling you would be paying for that brief moment in the spotlight later, but you didn't mind. the sky was filling with stars, lightning bugs floating around in the balmy night air, laughter spilling in with the music. you were surrounded by your friends, your family, and dancing with your man; you simply couldn't complain. 

hours later, when the band grew tired of performing and most of the crowd had dispersed, it was decided that the night was over. joel had left earlier with ellie, who had managed to sneak a little too much alcohol that night and needed help getting back to his house, but you chose to stay and help maria and tommy clean up the patio. maria was packing up the rest of the food and taking trips to the tipsy bison every now and then, and you and tommy were on table cleaning duty.

you were in your own little world, smiling to yourself as you wiped down the tables and picked up the floral decor that maria had strewn about, feeling so content with the way that the night had gone. before he had left, you and joel had spent the rest of the night dancing together, hiding on the sidelines, talking about anything and everything. your feet were sore, and you knew joel would be complaining about his back later, but it was worth it to you. 

"you sure have joel wrapped around your finger, don't ya?" tommy's voice pulled you out of your mind, causing you to jump a little at the suddenness of it. you both laughed as you righted yourself, cheeks flushed from his comment. 

"well, i don't know about that. he's still a stubborn ass most of the time," you teased, helping tommy gather up the decor on the last few tables while you talked. he chuckled at your comment, taking a second to wipe down the surfaces before turning back to you. 

"honey, he never would've stepped foot into somethin' like this before you. you're bringing him back to life." his face was serious, but his eyes - so similar to joel's - held nothing but mirth. you felt your heart stutter at his words, could feel the prickling behind your eyes from the impact of his words. 

"i think i could say the same thing." your voice was quiet, fingers clinging into your rag at the admission. tommy nodded his head, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder as you wiped away the lone tear that strayed from your eye. it wasn't a lie, either. you were fine with your life in jackson before joel, sure. you had made friends, were easily accepted into the community. after so many years fighting to survive, you finally had a safe haven.

but you didn't know you were missing something until joel showed up. your relationship was rocky at the start; joel really didn't want anything to do with you, or any of the other members of the community. you couldn't blame him, after hearing his story. but somewhere along the line, as joel became more comfortable in town, you fell into a fast friendship that slowly turned into something more. 

whenever you were with him, your soul felt settled; like you had finally found the other half of your heart. he brought a sense of calmness to you that you didn't think existed anymore, a sense of safety and security. he loved you in the way that you always dreamed about as a little girl, before the world turned; deeply, utterly, truly. and you could only hope that he felt the same with you. 

"it feels real good to hear you say that about my brother. he doesn't talk much 'bout his feelings, but shit. every time you walk in his vicinity, he gets this goofy ass grin on his face. sometimes i don't even think he realizes he's doin' it, either. that speaks volumes, honey." tommy's fingers squeezed your shoulder once more before letting go, and you watched him gather up his bag of decorations and head over to maria. her laughter echoed through the night as he planted an obnoxious kiss on her cheek.

you let tommy's words settle into your mind, a rush of heady emotions flowing through your veins. you knew joel loved you, there was absolutely no doubt about that. but hearing that conformation from tommy, a man joel so clearly trusts and loves as well, was just everything to you. wiping your cheek once more, you move to clear off the last table, leaving your own bag of decorations by the entrance of the patio.

later, when you finally reached your house, you zeroed in on joel, who was finishing washing the dishes from lunch. without saying anything, you launched yourself on him, clinging to his back. your arms wrapped themselves around his middle, your cheek squished against his firm back. you could feel him chuckle, could hear him softly mutter, "what's this for?" while continuing to scrub away at the dishes. 

instead of replying, you simply hummed, content against his back. that sense of security enveloped your heart, causing your eyes to fall shut as you tightened your grip around his waist. you heard him hum too, though you knew he was mocking you - he hated when you responded to him with sounds. he wasn't irritated, though. instead, he turned the water off, drying his hands on the towel you had next to the sink. he removed your hands from his middle, pushing you back slightly as he turned to face you. 

joel moved your hands back around his waist, gathering you up in his arms. it was then, with his lips pressed against your forehead, your face buried in his grey shirt, his heartbeat steady in your ears, that you finally felt at home. 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fic #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot

[rainydayz-nstuff]

Scarab, Reader is his co-worker (kinda like Prismo, but maybe in different speciality)

Enemies to lovers, pleaseeeeee

Being honest… I haven’t watched Fiona and Cake yet. Mainly because I’m focused on Moomin Valley and HTTYD.

But I just watched so many clips of him and… ooh-

That man fine~

And enemies to lovers is my favorite!

Hope you like it!!

Your job, like Prismo and Scarab, deals with many universes and dimensions.

This time you were given a task to… follow Scarab.

Like that’s it. Just follow him. But you weren’t told to help him so….. you fuck with him.

And he gets pissed.

Just walking down the path of the Farm World, Scarab could feel eyes on him, and he knew which pair it was.

“Scabby! Hey! Buddy, pal, numbskull, how’s it going?”

He knew that voice from anywhere, and he wished he didn’t. He grumbled under his breath while picking up his pace.

You suddenly appeared next to him, making him swerve out of the way. You floated around him, appearing and disappearing while he tried to get further away.

“Come on, don’t be a stick in the mud.” You teased him.

Once you realized he wasn’t going to stop, you sighed and rolled your eyes. Then you appeared next to him, matching his speed.

“Scabby, baby, sweetie-pie, darling-“

He cut you off by grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down to the ground. You could easily teleport somewhere else, but you wanted to see how this would play out.

“If it weren’t for our boss, I would’ve snapped your neck by now!” He yelled.

You blinked carelessly, not bothered by his outburst. “Scarab, you know you can’t do that. Both in the sense of getting fired and the fact that I’m higher up than you. And by how much? Hmm… oh yeah, by one.”

His grip tightened and you just smirked. You then pulled him close by his collar and he instinctively let you go. He stood tall, brushed himself, then walked away.

You sighed dreamily before giggling, then teleporting away so you could bother him later.

He doesn’t see you again until he tried going spider mode on Farm World Finn.

You just popped out of nowhere and held his two speared hands back.

Everyone was confused, scared, intimidated, and… they thought it was hot.

Like, this guy was easily being pushed down by you, who looked badass and low key attractive.

You swore you heard the cat say you should kiss someone, but you’re still not sure who she was referring to.

Scarab, in an effort to distract you, changed his lower mask like face into a real one.

You raised a brow at the sudden change, then he dove in and kissed you.

You froze at the feeling, but then you calmed down and accepted the kiss.

Your grasp weakened as you tried to wrap your arms around his head.

Then, he pushes you off and leaps towards Fiona, Cake, and Simon.

They all disappeared when Simon used the remote.

Your face, still flushed from the face, brightened more in anger at how he stupidly distracted you.

You stomped a bit before disappearing again into Prismo’s room.

After ranting a bit to your now cubed friend you calmed down and found Scarab in another world.

And he was frozen.

You laughed at his frozen state until the top started to melt.

When his face revealed you yelled at him before teasing him for being frozen.

Before he could free himself, you floated up, grabbed his face, and gave him a Spider-Man kiss. (Something you picked up from a comic in another world)

Then before he could say anything, you disappeared in front of his eyes.

Now he was the embarrassed one with feelings he’s too scared to admit.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you guys think for my first time writing this character.

#cartoon network #adventure time #adventure time x reader #cartoon #imagine #x reader #enemies to lovers #scarab fionna and cake #fiona and cake #scarab x reader #scarab #prismo #prismo adventure time

[viking-raider]

Soothing A Wolf

Summary: Geralt recalls the memories of a troubled time in his life, while visiting a place that always brought him peace.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning: PG - Fluff, Language, Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Soft!Geralt, Character Death, Projecting, Farm Life, Light Domestic Bliss, Anxiety

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I know I've already written this subject, with A Witcher's Soul, but I've become unhappy with it and decided to give it another try. I'm by far happier with this one. Hope you enjoy!

Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

I do remember bits of my life with her.

You had curled up for a late morning nap, after completing all of your morning chores. The sun filtering through the large window above your headboard. It was warm and pleasant, as you drew to the surface of the waking world. You tried fighting it, wishing for a few more moments of rest, before you had to rise and begin the task of the afternoon chores around your quiet, little farm. However, you were drawn out of your slumber, at the sound of someone's approach into your dooryard.

Sighing, you sat up, taking a moment to fix your hair and smooth your skirts, before standing and going out to find who had decided to visit you. You froze on the porch, watching a huge, black Friesian horse come charging up the well-worn path to your cottage. A muscular, broad shouldered man clad in all black clothing in its saddle, his silvery-white hair tied back in a Rivian style flowing in the breeze created by his haste.

“Geralt!” You called out, as the Witcher dismounted from the horse, Roach. “What are you doing here?” You asked, as he stamped through the drying mud towards you, his pale face pinched and set in an expression more agitated than usual, with a tint of something more you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

The two of you had met nearly fifteen years prior, when you had heard of the White Wolf being in the area and enlisted his help to rid your property of a Graveir that had been threatening it. Not wishing for the alternative, which was moving off the property. You had little to pay him with, offering him the small amount of gold you had. Instead, Geralt had simply asked for a hot meal and permission to camp on your land for the night and use the water from your well, to bathe with after the bloody business of killing the monster.

Naturally, you agreed.

However, after he had killed the creature and washed up to join you for supper, a tension grew between you that popped before the meal ended. Leading to the pair of you being intimate. Ever since, when Geralt was in the area or was taking time off the Trail, he would come to spend time with you. But, you were surprised to see him now, knowing that he should be with Ciri, keeping her safe from Nilfgaard and the Wild Hunt that dogged their heels at every turn.

Instead, he mounted the porch steps towards you, catching you up into his arms.

She smelled like embers.

Geralt buried his face into your neck, taking a deep breath of your skin as he did, drawing in your scent. Your skin had a natural earthiness to it, accompanied by the fresh and calming, citrus-y snap of lemon balm and sweetness of licorice root. He wished many times on many occasions that he could bottle it and take it with him. Always finding comfort, calm and desire in your scent.

Like he had in almost no one else.

“What are you doing here, Geralt? I thought you were with Ciri.” You asked, breaking the silence as you embraced him, pressing yourself against his solid body, feeling the dampness of his clothing, from the sparse rains that had been occurring off and on all week.

“She's safe enough for now.” He mumbled into your neck, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. “But, I needed to see you.” He said, pulling away from you, his hands grasping your shoulders.

“Well, here I am, my wolf.” You cooed at him, resting your hands on his sides and staring up into his face. “I didn't know seeing me was such an urgent thing.” You teased, pushing up on your toes to kiss him, knowing there was something deeper bothering him, but knew better than to press the Witcher for information.

Especially in the matter of his thoughts and emotions. He would tell you in his own time.

“Are you staying or are you riding back off again?” You inquired, looking towards Roach, who was grazing in the damp grass of your dooryard.

“I want to stay the night.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders. “If that's all right with you?” He added, softly.

“Nonsense!” You chuckled, slapping him on the chest. “You know you don't have to ask, Geralt.” You assured him, clicking your tongue. “Are you hungry? I was just about to make lunch for myself. I can add a plate for you.” You said, moving away from him, to go back inside.

She used her magic to create elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.

“I could eat.” Geralt replied, following you inside the cozy home, that always brought him peace. “Especially if it comes with a slice of one of your home-made sweets.” He added, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you move towards the kitchen.

You looked at him over your shoulder, an impish sparkle in your eye. “I don't have any made.” You told him, coyly. “But, if you behave yourself, perhaps there'll be something after dinner.” You teased with a wink, before rounding the corner into the kitchen.

Going into the pantry, you grabbed a large, earthenware jug, carrying it out and set it on your counter, removing the cork. Taking a whiff of the contents that were inside, your nose was greeted by the sweet aroma of honey and blood-orange mead. You had brewed it yourself. You took down a cup and filled it, taking a wee nip for yourself, before taking it out to Geralt, who had made himself at home. He'd taken his shoes off, but stood before the fire, tossing a log into it.

“You don't need to do that, Geralt.” You frowned, holding the cup out to him. “I could have done it.”

“I know.” He answered, watching the strong flames catch the edges of the wood, before he took the cup from you, taking a deep gulp. “You really should sell your own spirits.” He commented, licking his lips and looking into golden liquid.

“Ha.” You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “I have enough to do around the farm, Witcher.” You quipped, going back into the kitchen.

Geralt chuckled at you, taking a seat before the fire, flexing his sore toes in the glowing warmth with a soft and tired sigh, while sipping his mead. He listened to you bump about in the kitchen. The opening and closing of the pantry, the thud of cabinet doors shutting, after you searched through their contents. He finished off his mead and set it on the table beside him, before standing and going to the threshold of the kitchen, knowing better than to go into your kitchen, while you were active in it.

You'd chased the Witcher out more than once, with either the rolling pin or a dish towel.

I would have done anything to make her smile.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, cocking his head around the corner to look at you, seeing you wielding a large knife to cut into a small wheel of cheese. “Do you need anything?”

“I need you to sit your butt down.” You answered, turning to look back at him. “You rode, god knows how far, to here. So, you need to relax.” You told him, adamantly.

And yet, the day she left me, she was sick. She needed water, so I went to get her some.

“But, I want to help.” Geralt insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

You sighed softly, giving him a gentle smile. “All right, Geralt.” You conceded, nodding. “My other big brute needs to be fed. So, why don't you go out and do that for me, while I finish getting our lunch done.”

“I can do that.” He nodded, daring to step into the kitchen to kiss you on the cheek, chuckling as you popped him on the bum on his way out.

“That, man.” You giggled, smiling to yourself as you turned back to your task.

Geralt tugged his boots back on and went out, heading towards the small fenced off area to the right of your property, where the few farm animals you had lived. He found the bucket beside one of the fence posts and snagged it up by the rope handle, heading towards the grain storage that was around the other side, filling the bucket.

“Hey, Martigan.” He called out to the brown and white dairy cow, standing in the center of the pen, nibbling on a bale of hay with an expression of no care on his face, but twitched his ears to the sound of Geralt's voice. “And you.” Geralt huffed at the animal you had dubbed your other brute, a solid white goat with horns that nearly curved in on themselves, they were so long. “I see you, Goat-Bert.”

The Witcher called to the Goat, who stood clear on the other side of the pen, as he opened the latch to the gate. But that meant nothing, and Geralt knew it. He had dealt with this Goat-Devil before on your behalf. He had even considered taking one of his potions to increase his odds in dodging that swift, easy to anger, creature. Not even Little Bleater was a match for this fiend. So, keeping one golden eye on the Goat, Geralt moved towards the feeding trough and dumped the bucket of grain into it. It wasn't a split second later that Martigan let out a loud, agitated moo and Goat-Bert bleated with his evil intent, setting his head downward as he charged across the muddy pen towards Geralt's shins.

“Fuck!” Geralt barked under his breath, tossing the bucket over the fence and himself with it. “You damned Goat!” He cursed at him, fuming at Goat-Bert rammed his head into the trough, at full steam. But it was your howls of laughter from the porch that drew Geralt out of his choice words for the farm animal. “You find that funny?” He asked, picking up the bucket and moving towards you, as you grinned and giggled.

“I find it hilarious!” You wheezed, wiping tears from your face. “Watching a Witcher jump a fence to get away from a little goat!”

“Now, you know damn well, what mischief that demon can cause.” Geralt told you, but smirked at your amusement. “I don't need Lambert or Eskel busting my ribs, because I got a broken leg because of a wee goat.”

“Well, no harm done.” You said, catching your breath. “And lunch is ready and waiting for us on the table.” You told him, turning to go back inside.

Following you, Geralt was greeted by a laid out table, containing a round and fluffy loaf of bread with a blossom score on the top of its beautiful, caramel-brown crust. Beside the loaf, was a glass decanter of the mead you'd served him earlier, half a roasted and glazed ham hock, that glistened in the light of the fireplace, and a plate of the cheese slices you'd cut. There were other tidbits, to make lunch more pleasant and filling, as well.

“It looks delicious.” He commented, pulling a chair out and sat down.

You looked at him with soft surprise, cocking a brow as you sat beside him. “Ciri and Jaskier must really be leaning hard on your lessons.” You chuckled, picking up a knife and cut a slice out of the bread, laying it on Geralt's plate, before cutting another and putting it on your own. “Would you like a second piece?” You asked him, knife hovering above the loaf.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth, before reaching for the decanter, pouring you both a tankard. “I appreciate this.” He said, watching you cut thick slices of juicy ham from the hock and set them on the edge of his plate, allowing him to build his own sandwich.

“Of course.” You answered, brow creasing as you placed the ham and cheese on your bread, closing it with the second piece, using your knife to cut it in half. “I can't let you starve, now can I? Silly Witcher.” You chuckled, taking a bite.

Geralt hummed, putting together his own meal and allowing the table to fall into a comfortable silence as the two of you ate. Nothing, but the pop and crackle of the fire with the occasional moo or baa of the farm animals outside filled the space. Neither of you moved, once you had your fill, but you watched Geralt, smirking as you saw his lids struggle to stay open and his chin from falling against his chest. You stood, causing Geralt to start and look up at you with wide molten-gold orbs, but you just offered him a sweet smile, as you started to clear away the table, putting things in the pantry, sink or scrap barrel.

Once you were finished, you moved to your bedroom, fluffing your pillows, fixing and folding back the blankets, then pulled shut the curtains, plunging the room into darkness. Satisfied, you returned to Geralt, smirking as you found he had lost the battle with his sleepiness. His breathing was slow, coming out in gentle huffs, arms crossed and chin resting on his chest. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, the muscles under the loose black material of his tunic were slack, making the various scars pull taut. Biting your lip, you moved around him and knelt, taking one of his booted feet in your hands, eyes still trained on his face. In case you startled him, knowing it could cause him to burst into defending himself, when startled awake.

But Geralt didn't stir, as you carefully pulled his muddy boots off, setting them in front of the fireplace. You stood, moving around him to open the knot of the string that held his silvery-white hair tied back out of his face.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his ear, resting your hands lightly on his shoulders. “Geralt.” You said, a little bit louder.

“Hm?” He hummed back, taking a deep breath and shaking his head, causing his loose hair to fall forward.

“Why don't you come lay down?” You suggested, patting his shoulders and kissing the back of his head. “You'll be so much more comfortable in bed.” You persuaded him, gently.

Geralt sighed, licking his lips and stretching his legs for a moment, before standing up and allowing you to guide him to your bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into a chair in the corner and dropped into the bed, looking up at you, as you stood before him.

“Lay with me.” He cooed, resting his hands on your hips.

“I have chores to do, Wolf.” You smirked at him, cupping his neck and caressing his stubbly jawline with your thumbs.

“They can wait until tomorrow.” Geralt said, pulling you between his legs. “I'll do them for you.” He smiled, making you sit in his lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Before, I go.” He promised, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

“Very well.” You conceded, breaking the kiss and rubbing noses with him.

“Good.” He rasped, laying down and pulling you against his chest.

And when I came back... she was gone.

Geralt woke up sometime later, feeling refreshed. He hadn't slept well or very long in the weeks since he and Ciri left Kaer Morhen, with the Wild Hunt and Nilfgaard after them, worried that every moment his eyes were shut, was a moment they'd come and take Cirilla from him. He reached out for you, wanting to feel you against him, but you weren't in bed any longer.

I called for her.

He got out of bed, calling your name, as he searched the house for you. The fireplace was still roaring, telling him you hadn't been gone long. But where could you be, that you wouldn't hear him calling. He yanked the front door open and stormed into the yard, uncaring that he had no boots on, yelling your name even louder, as he turned in circles. His only answer was the breeze through the trees, Goat-Bert, Martigan and Roach.

Not a peep or appearance from you.

But she was gone.

Geralt felt his chest grow tight and his slow heart skip a beat, then another. The dooryard started to spin and blur, a rock-like lump formed in his throat. He flexed his hands and shook his head, trying to get a handle on himself. He wasn't supposed to act like this. He wasn't supposed to show his emotions, let alone allow them to take control over him.

“Geralt!” You frowned, coming out of the treeline, a basket resting on your hip as you found him standing barefoot in the muddy dooryard. “What's going on?” You asked, setting the basket down and hurrying over to him, as you watched tears drip from his sharp jaw. “What's happened? Are you hurt?” You asked, looking him over, searching for a wound you felt you had failed to notice before.

“Where is it? Show me!”

“I'm not--” He rasped, swallowing at the lump and shaking his head. “You were gone.” He said, pressing his lips together and pushing his jaw forward, trying to bring up his walls against the raw feelings he was being crushed under. “I woke up and you were gone. I called for you.” He said, failing miserably. “But you didn't answer. I thought--” He choked, looking away from you.

You blinked up at him, confused and afraid, never seeing this side of Geralt before. “You thought what?”

He chewed on his lip, his face hardening as he slowly started to gain control of himself again. “I thought you left me.” He admitted, deciding not to shut you out.

“Left you?” You echoed softly, blinking up at him with surprise. “No, Geralt. I'd never leave you. I didn't leave you.” You told him, taking his hand in both of yours. “I just woke up from our nap before you did, and you seemed so tired that I didn't have the heart to wake you. So, I went out to pick some blueberries.” You explained to him, half turning back to where you'd set your basket, full of plump, indigo orbs. “I plan on using them to bake you a pie.” You said quietly, looking back up at him.

Neither of you said anything for a long while, before Geralt looked down at you, a sad look in his eyes.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, bending his head to rest his forehead against yours.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” You assured him, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

Nodding, Geralt pressed his lips to your forehead and sighed, looking down at his muddy feet. “I'll rinse my feet off.” He said, moving away from you and towards the well.

Watching him go and drop the bucket into the well, you knew the Witcher didn't have the easiest of lives, that he had a lot of trauma in it. But, he would tell you what was bothering him, when he was ready. It seemed too raw, at the moment. So, you went back for your blueberries and carried them inside to the sink, so you could rinse them off, prepping them for the pie.

Deciding to be there for Geralt, when he was ready.

#Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt #witcher season 3 #Geralt x Reader #Geralt x You #Geralt of Rivia x You #Geralt of Rivia x Reader #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix #Fluff #Parental Loss #Loss #Witchers have Emotions #Soft!Geralt #Hurt/Comfort #Hurt #Comfort #Viking-Raider Fics #Soothing a Wolf #Soothing a Wolf *Fic*

[slippinmickeys]

I have always had this idea of writing a fantasy-like AU where unbeknownst to her, Scully is a witch and Mulder has been cursed as her familiar, spending his nights, ‘Ladyhawke’-like, as an animal, and his days as a man. I doubt I’ll ever write a full-length fic, but wanted to exorcise the demon, and I had a few rare, free hours this afternoon.

Familiar

Dana wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and looked up at the dark underbelly of the canopy. The oak leaves were still, but there was fluttering movement not high above her head. Feathered things flew in the daylight, but she knew other things, darker things, flew at night. With a swallow of unease, she began to walk more quickly.

There was an old crofters cottage by the edge of the wood past the Roman road that she could rest in if she could get to it. The roof would no doubt leak in the rain and it would be damp as a toad’s foot, but she didn’t feel comfortable out in the open—not with that creature following her. Not with the shouts of “witch!” still ringing in her ears.

She turned to look behind her and saw nothing, but she could sense the animal there, hiding in the undergrowth, biding its time. Patiently stalking her, she thought.

It had been following her for the last three days, glimpses of movement on her periphery, too quick to be human. It had been following her since she’d been run out of her village, since Alexander had whispered “conjurer” to the men as they worked in the fields, to the women as they combed the wool. It had followed her like a shadow, like the rumor that had made her leave.

She spit into the duff. Alexander . He had been her friend, but she had refused his advances. His proposals of marriage. She hadn’t explained that she wanted more from life than to be a brood mare to a villein, working a landlord’s farm, but he knew and the love he’d carried in his eyes turned quickly to hate.

A branch snapped not far behind her, and she cursed her wandering mind, her hand flying to the dagger at her belt. The blade, long and old as the Norsemen who used to land on their shores, seemed to hum as she touched it. She’d named the skean “Bite,” and like the teeth of a cat, it never needed to be sharpened.

The animal, whatever it was, was growing more bold, no longer satisfied with following her at a distance. She was tiring of being stalked, and whipped around on the old game trail, her cloak twirling dramatically around her legs. As she turned, she caught a flash of amber in the moonlight.

“Out then!” She shouted. “Show yourself and let us have it out! I have a shadow already, I have no need for a new one!”

Nothing answered her but the dull hooting of an owl.

She sniffed the air, but caught no scent and turned slowly, having no choice but to continue her lonely sojourn through the wood.

She had no idea where she would go. It had to be far, far away from the village where she’d come of age, left as a babe on the doorstep of a country peasant, wrapped in quality wool with Bite tucked into the bottom of the creel in which she lay, the basket thatched together tightly with river grasses that did not grow anywhere in the whole of the county. The mantle of “conjurer” would follow her like stink clung to the hide of a pig.

She was already the odd orphan with hair like fire, where everyone around her had pelts the color of mud. Perhaps she could lose herself in one of the bigger cities. Though how she would feed, clothe and shelter herself was another matter altogether. She had only the coin she’d sown into the lining of her cloak last autumn.

Ahead, there was a break in the line of trees with dull moonlight shining on a field of barley. The light beyond the field was the grey of twilight; dawn wasn’t far away. If she could make it to the crofter’s cottage without being seen, she could sleep the day away there, rest her head and her sore, aching feet. Leave behind the feeling of being shadowed, of being shunned.

Through the field of barley she walked, a low stone wall just west of the field in a long, unending line, the barrier denoting where one landowner’s property ended and another’s began.

She looked over her shoulder. She saw nothing. A tingling at the base of her spine, however, told her that she had not lost her shadow. Whatever it was was still behind her, though she could not see it. Perhaps it was pressed to the ground like a slinking cat. Perhaps it was something that couldn’t be seen.

The barley was still green. There were tight knots of plaited beads at the tops of its stalks that would be harvested in a few months time, the rough seeds surrounded by long, thin whiskers that grazed along the skin of her arms as she walked, like a lover’s caress.

Or what a lover's caress might feel like if she’d ever granted a man her consent. Alexander was not the only young man in town to have looked at her a bit too long, but her adopted mother had been protective and had warned her of what they might do. She’d raised Dana to be strong and quick, to be aware of her surroundings. Especially when the milites came through, collecting taxes of coin and wool. Those were the men you needed to be careful of, Old Mildred had warned her. Local men could be just as dangerous, but they would think twice being that everyone knew where they laid their heads.

“Any man who touches you without invitation,” she’d tell Dana loudly whenever a villager would look at her with want. “You wait until he sleeps and slice off his cock!”

With a pang, Dana thought of the woman who had found her on her threshold as a babe, who had raised her as her own, though she’d never married, preferring the company of milking goats and chickens. She had been dead not five months, and oh how Dana’s life had changed in that short burst of time.

Over a hill and through a field of rye she walked, ducking under a stile as the light in the sky turned grey, the last of the night’s stars winking off. There at the bottom of the dale stood the crofter’s cottage, surrounded on two sides by thick, old elms.

She picked up her step, letting the pull of the earth carry her more quickly down the hill toward her salvation. The feeling of the creature behind her was even closer now and the urge to draw Bite from its scabbard at her waist and thrust it into the night behind her was nearly overpowering. Instead, she pushed on.

She was almost to the cottage with its thick oaken door. She would be behind it momentarily and safe. But of course that’s when she stumbled over a hidden root.

She fell hard on her side, wrenching her shoulder and bruising her hip. Before she could get to her feet came the sound of heavy padded feet and another crack of branch stepped on. Raising her eyes, she finally caught sight of her pursuer. A large fox, thick of pelt and red as her own hair, darted behind one of the elms just as the rays of the sun rose over the horizon behind it, blinding her momentarily. She blinked several times. And when her vision cleared, it wasn’t a fox that stepped out from behind the old tree, but a man.

Scrabbling to her feet, she whipped Bite from its sheath despite the pain in her shoulder and held it up, the sharp tip pointed at the man who stood before her.

He was young, she saw, perhaps only a year or two older than her. With the blaze of the newly risen sun behind him, his hair looked as fleecy and golden as the fox he had replaced, though when she looked more closely, she found that his hair was brown. She couldn’t discern eye color, but could see that his chin was strong, with a longish nose that leant his face character. He was tall, too. His head nearly as high as the local Sheriff’s gelding.

“Hullo,” he said, his voice light.

She did not gift him with a reply, merely flicking her blade with a quick movement of her wrist. He would know she knew how to wield the weapon she carried.

“You’re the one the villagers call Dana,” he said. His voice was like a low mumble, though pleasant enough.

“I’m the one the villagers call ‘witch,’’’ she hissed, hoping to scare him. Instead of stumbling back in fear though, the young man merely grinned.

She stared at him a long moment, waiting for him to approach or attack, but he leaned against the tree instead.

“You’ve been following me,” she finally said, lowering Bite a bit, though only a bit. She wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

He shrugged, lackadaisical. She felt her hackles raise.

“You don’t deny it?”

He shrugged again. “It is more an act of self-preservation than ill-intentioned pursuit,” the man explained.

She was losing her fear of him. Or the fear was turning into vexation.

That she had been convinced that her pursuer was an animal rather than a man was not helping. When the fox had walked behind the tree and the man had emerged from the other side with the very breaking of dawn, she had been confused. And confusion always turned her angry. You are too intelligent, Old Mildred had always laughed. Stupid people are always happier, smart people frequently vexed.

“You are Dana, are you not?” he asked.

“You plan to turn me in to the witch slayers?”

“I plan nothing of the kind.”

“Then I am Dana,” she said, and, on a gut feeling, re-sheathed her blade.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said, looking relieved.

“You now know my name,” she said. “I ask you to tell me yours.”

Now that the sun had risen further, he was easier to see. He had kind eyes and was wearing a tightly-woven flaxen garment dyed the color of leaves in the winter.

“I only know what they called me in the village,” he said, a wistful, almost lost look on his face.

“And what’s that?”

“Fox,” he said, with a sheepish tilt to his head.

Her stomach dipped and goose flesh spread over the skin of her arms. Still, what he said was intriguing enough. “Have you no memory?”

“I have knowledge,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He knew unknowable things, she could somehow tell. “But I have no past that I know of.”

“You sound similar to me in that way.”

His eyes sharpened. “You have no past?”

“I have a story that lacks a beginning,” she said simply. “And lately am called only ‘witch.’”

“The villagers don’t know what a witch really is,” he said. “You are not what they think you are.”

“I am not,” she agreed, standing up taller and thrusting forward her chin.

“But a witch you are,” he said, taking a small step toward her. “And I? Am your familiar.”

#the x files #fanfic #my fic #au #fantasy #ficlet