Part 1: Meeting Simon Riley
Western AU; Mail Order Spouse Trope!
WC: 3,224 CW: None
AN: Sorry this took so long! I wanted to have a good amount of writing as I cycle through everyone's beginnings, plus, 3k seems like a good starting point to get us settled in. Would love to hear your thoughts and comments. I hope ye enjoy <3
Please see the following for the explanation and precursors to the scene!
Introduction, Biography
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Going home a bit late in the night and dodging your now passed-out parents, you quietly and quickly got set to writing your correspondence letter to him. After deliberation of not wanting to scare him away, you leave out the main reason why you had even looked at the ad in the first place. You described yourself, and your work ethic, trying to resonate with the little amount of words placed in his ad. You included your hopes, wants, and wishes for the future, before sealing the letter up and placing it in the mail the next morning.
When you received a letter back from him, it felt ethereal that he had taken the time to scrawl out a response in the interest of yourself.
The letters were sparse but you poured your heart out to Simon and sent a picture of yourself. During the weeks of waiting and reading the correspondence, you set an image of the man in your head. Granted, Simon declined to send you a picture of himself and stated that the image of him in the ad was sufficient and promised his word that he speaks in truth about himself… Even though he wore a bandana that covered half of his face- nor did he give any reason as to why.
Through the letters, he described himself as a respectful man, one who is more stoic and reserved to the locals, but feels that he has plenty of love to give. He wants to provide for and protect you, with a desire to start a family, of some sort at least, soon. It was a rough to attempt to hide the letters, write them, and send them out with full secrecy. But after a wait of a full month, cutting it far too close to when the politician would be arriving back, Simon finally invited you to the new frontier as he proposed to you in correspondence.
From the moment you read his words of invitation, you packed two small bags of your most favorite, and fondest items. Acting as if nothing was wrong during this time under your parent's eyes, you head to bed, feigning innocence while figuring out just how to get out.
Simon, ever the gentleman, had given you $25 for the long train ride and sleeping car that you would need to make it to him. With the money and the amount you had slowly held back from giving to your parents from your job, you were determined to leave and start a new life.
In the dead of the eve before the politician's carriage would be arriving at his manor, you left through your bedroom window, managing to even steal a bottle of your father's finest whiskey as a present for Simon.
The journey took a week by train, lucky enough that you lived on the outskirts of a city that had a transcontinental train station- a hub for many people who were excited and looking to head West, wherever the train tracks ended. Your stops were along Topeka and Santa Fe before you had to find a different line that diverged from Albuquerque towards El Paso, before heading into the Arizona Territory.
When departing the train, you hopped into a stagecoach and using the last of Simons's money, ready for the final and short journey to find his estate. Watching the land and people pass by through the small window, you take in the surroundings of your new life that is finally within a breath's reach. Towards the end of the town, you spot a house that is on the expanse of desert plains; a secluded but well-sized house made of wood and stone masonry sits atop a hill, the Arizona sunset shining down as a gold beacon of heaven.
Once there and stepping out of the stagecoach with your belongings, you find yourself in front of the property when your eyes are drawn to him.
On the porch stands a tall and rugged man with a sturdy frame of muscles, evident in his build. The clothes he adorns are tight fitting and dirty, conclusive that he had just been working within his forge; dirtied denim jeans, an off-white long-sleeve shirt, clean where a smock would hang on his front.
A black bandana covers the bottom of his face while a black cowboy hat adorns his head, leaving the sliver of skin from the ridge of his nose to his mid-forehead to be shown.
As the stagecoach pulls away back into town, eyes are locked between you two for a long moment before he finally pushes off the pillar of his porch. A low and appreciative whistle escapes from underneath his bandana, accompanying the thuds of his footsteps walking down his porch stairs to you.
“Well, I’ll be damned... Please tell me you're who I think you are…” He simpers out, eyes trailing over your form. The sound of his voice strikes a flame to your heart, a match sufficiently lit as you hear the low and resonating tone- it’s enough to send a tremor through your lungs.
Swallowing, and a nod of your head, “If you’re Simon then yes, I’m who you’d be expecting.” You smile shyly as you watch him take a few strides to stand in front of you.
As he draws closer, his deep brown iris' make themselves apparent, a crinkle around the edge of his eyes makes you believe he’s smirking. "You got it right, darlin'. I'm Simon, but most folks around here call me Ghost. Pleased to finally meet you, sweetheart." His voice is deep and resonant, carrying a hint of gravel, as he extends his calloused hand towards you in greeting.
His touch is firm, your smaller and slightly softer hands a comparison of the lives you’ve lived. As you take his hand and give it a firm shake, Simon's grip tightens for a moment, his gaze locked with yours.
There's a spark of recognition in his eyes as if he appreciates your strength.
"Reckon I lucked out with you, that picture you sent didn’t do a damn justice." He chuckles softly, eyes lingering on your form before meeting your gaze once more. "Come on, let's get you settled in. There's plenty to see 'round here." He gestures towards the house, hand outstretched for you to take after grabbing one of your bags.
“Thank you, and I could say the same ‘bout you, sir. Was nervous when you didn’t send me any photos but now I can put my worries away.” You smile, intrigued and slightly apprehensive as you now place your hand in his, granting him the reigns to hold the fate of your new life.
While he leads you up the stairs of your new home, you take a curious glance up to his figure before trailing up to his eyes that are uncovered.
He hums at your comment, "I reckon I wanted to leave a little mystery for ya, darlin'." He gives you a playful wink before leading you up the porch steps and into the house.
“Would you prefer I call you Ghost, sir?” You ask after a moment of thought, moving to follow him into the house as he opens the door while your eyes flick back to take in his profile. He gives a light chuckle as he closes the door behind you, the interior of the home having a bit of style and small added luxuries in its design.
Once inside, you're greeted by a cozy and rustic interior; The living room is adorned with wood furnishings and a stone fireplace that crackles with warmth. The dining room is off to the left side, and straight in front of the door is a hallway that leads to doors at the end. He walked towards the living room, the scent of freshly cut wood fills the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of metal from the forge out back that carries through the house.
He leads you out of the entryway and into the main living area of the house. The rustic charm of the place is evident, with wooden beams on the ceiling and a large stone fireplace dominating one wall. The room is warm and cozy, with a worn leather sofa and a few mismatched chairs arranged around a rough-hewn coffee table.
Simon turns to face you, his eyes softening as he considers your question. "You can call me Ghost if you like. It's what most folks 'round here call me. It’s grown to be natural, y’know?" He pauses, a considerate expression crossing his face. "But if you prefer Simon, that's fine too. Whatever makes you comfortable, darlin'."
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of your hair back. "You've traveled a long way to be here. I appreciate that, and I want you to feel at home. This here is your home now too."
Upturning your chin as he moves his fingers to lightly trace your face, your eyes close for a long moment before opening back up to him.
“Thank you for inviting me out here- taking the chance on me. I do owe you my life.” You add, feeling a bit bold in the way you elude to something but brush it off as a docile sense of gratitude while his hand falls to his side.
“I’m excited to be in our home, please let me know if I’m ever a bother for you, sir.” You include, shifting the conversation back to the present and a prospective thought.
You don’t notice the way his eyes stop to stare into your own for a moment, as he flags the previous sentence to come back to later.
"You ain't ever gonna be a bother to me, honey. Quite the opposite, actually." A hint of desire mixed with light amusement, his gaze flickering to your lips before returning to your eyes. "I've been alone for too long, and I'm eager to have you by my side. To share this home, this life, and everything else that comes with it."
He takes a step back, gaze still locked with yours. "Now, how about I show you to your room, first? There's more to see, and want you settled in.” The movement of his arm to gesture to the house accompanies his deep rumble, and as your eyes gaze toward the bedroom hallway, you can't help but feel the heat rise to your cheeks.
With a nod of your head, feeling almost absent-minded while your thoughts race with scenarios, you move to pick up your bags. “Lead the way, please.” You answer with a warm smile, trying to convey your warm innocence in the moment.
From the crinkle around his eyes, Simon's lips curl into a small, satisfied smile as he watches you gather your bags. "Alright then, follow me." He says before moving to swoop a handle of your bag out from yours, then placing your free hand into his.
Turning to look back, his eyes wander over you again, before stopping in front of a door to the right side of the hallway; Opening the door, he ushers you in with a hand to the small of your back.
Stepping in, you face a window that overlooks the grassy planes of the desert. To the right of the room, a small cot is pushed against the wall, a wooden nightstand on its left side. To the left of the room, was a closet and desk. The room was a little decorated, giving off an inviting feel, and you can sense that in a rugged and manly way, he tried his best for you.
"Here we are... Your room." He drawls out from the doorway before settling his right shoulder against it. His eyes, which you don't see as you survey the room, take in your body language and facial expressions, looking for any sign of displeasure.
To his surprise, you're ecstatic.
The reality of even the minimal amount of effort and having a room that was not falling apart, or dirty, and had a bed off of the ground via a wrought iron bed frame was an extreme luxury compared to your previous home.
Walking over to the window with a smile and bright eyes that reflect in the orange sunset, your jaw drops at how peaceful and comforting it is to be in something that is now considered yours.
“This is… this is much more than I could have ever asked for, Simon.” You say while taking a step to turn around, dropping your bag down by the closet before turning back towards him. “Thank you, this is incredibly sweet of you to do this.” The pull of your cheeks is evidence enough that you must look like a fool at how hard you smile, but the look in Simon’s eyes in response is worth it.
His face- eyes, light up as he sees the reaction, a warm feeling coming over him as your excitement melts his heart, and he lets a light huff escape. "’s no problem... But, I did have a question to ask you first before anything else..." He spoke softly, arms crossed in front of him as he waited for your acknowledgment, his deep brown eyes holding a depth to them.
Clearing his throat, he looks as if deciding between something. A moment later, he pushes off the door frame and walks towards you, still leaving some distance.
"Now, I will always respect your independence and autonomy, but as a man and your husband, I expect some things of you, and I'll make it known..." He let out a sigh before continuing.
“Since we're living together and going to be newlyweds, there are a few expectations I have for us, and I want to ask you how you feel about those expectations." He asked quietly, his tone remaining calm, and you begin to figure that in his way, this is Simon acting soft in nature.
You nod once, giving him the signal to continue while remaining quiet, hands laced together in front of your lap as you watch him with rapt attention.
"I am not forcing you to agree to them. But I do expect that you will spend time with me, that you will not lie to me, and that you will be monogamous to me. I want our communication to be open and straightforward, none of that tip-toeing around each other." He paused, his tone serious for a moment as he wanted it to get across. He smiled after his words as he turned. "Any questions?"
Oh.
That’s it?
You expected something a tad more… unjust and harsh from a man who comes off as intimidating as Simon, the man known as Ghost amongst the town. But, there was one question you had in response to what he expected of you; monogamy.
“Just one, If you don’t mind me askin’” Your voice comes out smooth and sweet, more soft and timid than you’d like to present yourself in a situation worth garnering the level of respect entrusted to each other. “Will you remain monogamous to me, or do you spend time with others?”
With a huff and shake of his head, he pushes the fabric of his bandana away by a small amount of air from his mouth.
"No... I will only be monogamous to you. You're the one I decided to marry, and I intend to make this marriage work." He spoke firmly. "And I do not spend time with others... I can promise you that you're the only one I need.”
There is a pause in his answer as he takes a step closer, head now looking down at you while his hand glides up to land underneath your jaw, taking you by slight surprise as he holds it with his large and rough fingers.
“Does that address your concerns?" He ends the question with a deep and more serious tone- his voice makes your mind bring up what his mouth looks like while saying it.
The sound that escapes you is classically embarrassing, showing how much you are not the experienced one in this scenario. You swallow before answering. “It does… and I agree to these expectations.” You reply before taking a deeper inhale- the scent of fire, ash, and an unfamiliar smell of what could be his musk mixed with metal, one that vaguely reminds you of blood.
“May I ask something, sir? It may be rude to ask if right now but since we are setting boundaries I’d like to know.” The moment of closeness is something you hope will shield you from any backlash from asking what you’re curious about.
"You may, there is nothing you could say that would be taken offensively." He spoke softly, looking at you as his eyes traveled over your face; he looks over the ridges, pores, and even seeing a few small scars here and there along your soft skin.
Your eyes are drawn to his face similarly: the pores that seem dirty from the day of work he had, scars that are random in placement but more than a small amount litter his forehead, and the top of his cheekbones that flow underneath the bandana. “May I ask why you wear the mask, or at least, will you be wearing it around me if I am to be your spouse soon?”
Your eyes find the telling features that his jaw is ticked, and a rush of anxiety flushes through as your stomach drops in fear that this was not supposed to be asked.
He drops the hold of your jaw, looking down with a nod of his head as if he was expecting the question. Taking his own deep breath and looking back up, his tone is surprisingly gentle, not allowing any shame to come out of him.
"I am afraid my appearance is a bit.. unsettling... I will remove it in our bedroom while we sleep and make love, but... I am not one to show it off as I do find people make too many assumptions." He spoke truthfully.
You can’t control the movement of your eyebrows furrowing up in confusion. Unsettling…? Is that his own belief or was he told that? You want to diffuse the situation before you make it more uncomfortable, yet your mouth works faster than your mind.
“You can deny me the answer, but, may I ask what happened?” You surprise yourself while talking with a level voice, social context be damned.
He stays silent as he thinks on whether or not to answer, his face shifting slightly to show some emotions. You curse yourself the longer the silence ticks by.
"I had a... scar left by an incident a while back... And it's one thing I like to keep private until I am able to completely trust someone." He spoke, a shrug of his shoulders makes his clothes rustle as he dismisses his answer and wanting to leave it behind.
Clearing his throat, he tips his head towards you and the cowboy hat obscures the visibility of his eyes for a moment. “Well then, I’ll let you get settled in darlin’. Call for me when you’re finished.” He states resoundingly, and with that, he turns to exit from your room and back down the hallway.