girllock-writes

[girllock-writes]

Supernatural Oc hub

Montana May Morgan

>> Truck Norris :)

[girllock-writes]

"Try and keep up, Rust-Bucket."

"Say that when you're biting my dust, Baby."

[Just my spn oc's truck (Truck Norris) x the Impala. AU where Baby and Truck are the hunters and Dean and my oc are their dogs 🤷‍♀️. Should I turn this into a real fic or leave it in my imagination?]

[girllock-writes]

"Boyfriend"

Pairings: (modern au) Molly O'Shea x f!reader

Summary: Your best friend's boyfriend ditches her at a party. You just can't stand seeing her by herself.

AN: I personally need to sing this song to Molly so badly. Gender of reader isnt really mentioned but its definately another girl. Idek if people like her on this site, but she's my baby girl. (Should I do a Chappel Roan one next?) Also, next chapter of Martyr is happening. Had a long weekend. [Warnings?: Language, mentions of Dutch]

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Your heart sank as you stopped at the door. Molly stood on the other side of the room, nervously checking her phone.

The party was loud. Flashes of deep red and blue LEDs flickerd purple as the music blared some ugly pop song. You stood by the door, coat already on. Anger bubbled in you chest. That was your best friend.

Just out of Molly's line of vision her boyfriend, Dutch, was dancing with some trashy looking brunette. You usually weren't one to judge other women so easily, but you were more than happy to shit on any soul who even remotely hurt Molly.

You only paused because the feelings of deep seeded rage and jealously clashed in a dangerous fury in your mind. You could admit that Dutch was good looking, that some part of you understood Molly's fascination with the guy (you'd dated men just as bad as him), but this was different. No one was allowed to hurt her. Not even some sweet talking douche with pretty eyes.

Boots trodded across the floor. It was impossible to hear over the noise. You grabbed Molly's wrist and pulled her towards the door.

"Hey!" The girl resisted, but you didn't listen.

"Need air!" You called over the music.

On the porch outside, the bass still rattled the house. Thankfully it was much quieter. The gentle breeze was refeshing.

Molly looked at her phone again.

"Feels like ages since I've gotten you all alone," you half joked, nudging her. Ever since she started dating that bastard, you'd hardly seen her. You cursed at yourself mentally for almost going home. Almost not noticing. Because you always noticed Molly. Unlike Dutch...

She gave a snort. Her shoulders fell slightly. "I know." Her quiet voice was almost heartbreaking.

You missed her. Rage bubbled in your chest again. How dare Dutch? Molly was perfect. She was loyal and beautiful and stubborn and smart and perfect. You leaned against the railing, facing her. "What are the chances," you started, leaning slightly to meet her gaze which was trained on the ground. "That everyone in that damn party is dancing, having a good time, and Dutch isn't with the prettiest girl in the entire state?"

She didn't answer.

"Hm?" You hummed. "What's that?" You cupped a hand to your ear, listening to an imaginary voice. "A hundred to one?"

You could tell she was upset. Usually your banter cheered her up, but it didn't seem to be working.

But here you were. Here she was. Finally alone. Her soft eyes downtrodden, her usually straight shoulders slumped, her feet shifting awakwardly on the ground. And she looked so pretty. It broke your heart. Molly meant more to you than anyone. Through drama and boys and high school - it was always you and her.

The universe must have divined it.

Your hand reached out to take her wrist. Gentle skin against gentle skin. To let her know you cared. That no matter what you were with her. She knew how you felt about Dutch. You were hoping she was starting to see that you were right.

"You know I don't gotta tell ya twice, Molly," you said softly.

The humming yellow light of the porch reflected like gold on her red curls. Her eyes finally met yours, embarrassed pink creeping across her freckled cheeks.

"That's he's no good," Molly chided, remembering your words from months ago. "Blah blah... manipulative... this that... manwhore... he can't suffice." She looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, but the doubt in them seemed to stop her. You could tell she was annoyed.

"Yes, that."

Molly gave a small smirk before looking down again. "He just needs another chance..."

Something posessive in you snapped. "Bullshit." You didn't let go of her. "Since when do we give men like him second chances? Thought we decided against that after those 9th grade crushes." You shook your head. "No, Molly. No second chances."

It broke your heart to see her so desperate for his love. You knew it was something he would never really give her. He was passionate. Molly deserved passion. But he was also dismissive and rude and stuck up and controling. Those were things Molly didn't deserve.

You nodded your head towards your car, which was parked on the side of the road. "Let's get out of here. He won't even notice."

Molly's head snapped up as her eyes frowned in his defense. "Yes he would," she huffed, crossing her arms. "Don't say that. He's a good boyfriend..."

A laugh rolled in your throat. It was almost funny, that she would call him good. Jealously bubbled acidicly in your throat. "I could be a better boyfriend than him," you almost spat.

"Buying you flowers, texting good morning, paying for your food, providing emotional stability, paying you attention... I could do all that shit that he doesn't do." The words just spilled from your lips. It wasn't really a confession. She was your best friend. Of course you would do those things for her. But you weren't just saying it to be nice. Behind the comparison was the deep need to do those things for her.

Molly only stood for a minute as the silence hung heavily. She knew you'd be there for her in a heartbeat. You could only hope that she knew just how much you cared.

I bet he can't even keep her up all night. I could. I wouldn't quit.

You bit your cheek, trying to keep that thought pushed down. Right now, it was about Molly. As her eyes met yours again the noises of the house party seemed to fade. Let me steal you from him, Molly.

"You look cold."

You quickly shed your jacket, handing it to her. It wasn't unusual for the two of you to share clothes. You pratically lived together sometimes. But you knew in your heart that this was different. At least, for you it was.

The night air had quickly turned cold and the breeze was making goosebumbs on Molly's arms. She took the jacket and wrapped it around her. I can be a gentleman too.

She was just too cute, with her curls falling over your jacket. Plus all my clothes fit her.

"Molly..."

You quickly ran your fingers through your hair as she checked her phone again. "You're my best friend. I'd never leave you alone. Especially not at a house party where you hardly no anyone and have to spend the rest of the night glued to your phone. I'd never leave you for some else to take you home. People who actually care about you don't ditch you."

Your arms crossed your chest. "Forget him, Molly. There's so many better people who love you."

Molly looked back at the door. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but maybe if you could get her away tonight, she would start to realize Dutch was no good.

"C'mon, Molls," you smiled softly, tapping her arm. "Just tonight. We could go get sweet treats and watch the Princess Bride..."

You knew your offer was too good to resist. Just like when the two of you were younger... going for late night snack runs and watching your alltime favorite movie. Molly's lips turned into a sad sort of smile. "Alright."

You grinned, linking your arm with hers. "It's a date," you joked, leading her towards the car. Your eyes glanced down as she pulled out her phone again to shoot Dutch a text. You rolled your eyes. "And no texting boys."

Molly gave a small chuckle. "I'm just tellin him I left." She put her phone away and you didn't see it again the rest of the night.

As you approached the car, you unlocked it with a beep from your keys. Grabbing the handle on the passenger's side, you swung it open a bit dramatically. "Ladies first, baby," you cooed with a smirk. "I insist."

Molly rolled her eyes with a smile. She was already looking happier. "Why thank you, kind sir," she quipped back. The door shut heavily and you rounded the car.

Once you had aquired sugary drinks and candy, the two of you were curled up on the couch, the Princess Bride flasing on the screen. Molly was half curled on you. It wasn't irregular to see the two of you cuddling at any give time, but you felt yourself settling into the embrace with an almost devious sort of pride. Dutch was off somewhere, probably getting wasted, probably cheating, probably doing something dumb.

But you? You were cuddling with the cute redhead, eating snacks, and enjoying eachothers company. Why Dutch would ever compromise something like this, you'd never know.

Half way through the movie, Molly was asleep. Your fingers ran gently up and down her arm as her breathing matched yours. A smile tugged at your lips and a content sigh left your chest as you relaxed under Molly.

The universe did devine this.

"I'm a way better boyfriend than him."

[girllock-writes]

“Jack is actually __’s son!” I’m going to eat you.

[girllock-writes]

Supernatural OC:

Montana May Morgan

A hat don't make you a cowboy, Winchester. Dreamin of open skies, livin free, fightin like hell for peace... that makes a cowboy.

But the hat definitely helps.

Aesthetic/Character Inspo:

Outfit Inspo:

30 | 5' 7 | May 13, 1976 (Taurus) | ENFJ

Born and raised in Muleshoe, Texas, Montana Morgan grew up on her father's cattle ranch. From a young age, she rid in rodeos, helped out around the ranch, and learned to line dance before she could walk. When she was eighteen, her father went missing. Her mother went to search for him, leaving Montana to live with her "Uncle" John at his small horse ranch in Dalhart. While she was there, she attended a local community college to study history and archeology. She met a boy named Jack Gentry and they quickly became close friends before dating. Nearing the end of her senior year, she found out that her father was killed by a skinwalker and her mother had left to track it, also dying in the process. After she graduated, she traveled with Jack around the western states trying to learn as much about the creatures as she could. She was able to make friends with many believers in the supernatural, as well as a few hunters she would meet in local areas.

Set on revenge, she and Jack ended up in Utah. They were staying with some of Jack's relatives who were a part of the Navajo nation. She attempted to capture a skinwalker to learn more about them, but it was a complete disaster, and a large group of locals, as well as Jack, was killed in an attack. Montana blamed herself entirely, returning to Dalhart for a while. After a few months, she semi-returned to her hunting habits, mostly chasing local monsters and anything that sounded remotely close to a skinwalker attack. Over the years, she became quite proficient in dealing with what are typically more "western" cryptids. Though she is a capible and hunter, she has only been hunting off and on for about eight years when she first meets the Winchesters.

When Montana isn't hunting, she helps her uncle maintain his horse ranch and takes up odd jobs around town. She often vollenteers at the local library and museum, as well as sometimes entering county riding shows. She had two dogs, Pancho and Lefty, as well as a horse called Bohannon. She is hardheaded, witty, easily angered, and energetic. Though she has introverted tendencies, she never half-asses anything and puts all her effort into whatever task she has her mind set on. She is quite smart and has a sharp eye, which is helpful when fighting monsters she knows nothing about. Compared to our favorite brothers, her methods are a little homegrown and unorthadox, but she makes do with what resources she has. She is an amazing line dancer, a tallented horse rider, and a hard worker. Always busy, Montana is always ready to prove herself. She's often insecure about her ability to make and keep relationships (platonic and romantic), especially since her fiance was killed. She does have a bad temper and is prone to bitterness when crossed. She drives her trusty 1984 Dodge D150 pick-up, which she named Truck Norris, and carries a Colt SAA as her main weapon of choice. She likes westerns and long drives on dirt roads and sunsets and loud music and apple flavored/scented things and large mugs of hot coffee in the early morning. Despite her often snarky and gaurded attitude, she loves deeply and fiercely. And she never ever ever loses her hat.

The Winchesters:

Montana first meets the Winchester brothers toward the beginning of season 2. They are tracking the same wendigo and begrudgingly decided that it would be easier to help one another than argue.

Though they are reluctant friends at first, Montana quickly learns that she can trust Dean and Sam in a hunt. After they part ways, they stay somewhat in contact. Mostly short calls or texts, swapping knowledge about hunting. She hears regularly from Dean, who sends outrageous facebook style memes and links to whatever song he's got stuck in his head. (HC he's just a wild texter, he gives the 'friend who sends reels instead of having a job' - but his humor is actually funny.) As she grows close with the two, they become some of the few people she considers to be her family. She doesn't see them very often, but will (and has) dropped anything at a moments notice if they were to ask for her help.

Dean - They have this weird frienemy relationship, especially at first. He can't stand her constant annoyance and she can't stand his insistent cockiness. They both respect eachothers abilities as a hunter, but their ability to get along takes a while to develop. They constantly compare cars and taste in music and who has better hair. To Sam's dismay, when they are teaming up they are pretty unstopable. An imovable force and an unstoppable object can work together, but it often ends with Sam having to bail them out of trouble. Dean shows her up in his hunting knowledge and ability to deal out insults. Montana shows him up by holding her own in a fight and being effortlessly badass, both during and after hunts. They end up bonding over their ability to make obscure references at one another.

Sam - Never put to study nerds in the same room. (Dean learned this the hard way.) Montana and Sam will talk about anything and everything. While she's a very hands-on person, Montana loved going to school and appreciates that Sam, too, is bookish. They also like to make fun of Dean together, it makes for good entertainment. They do research together all the time. And she got him hooked on iced caramel lattes (Dean too but he refuses to admit that theyre good (he likes them more than Sam).) She's the bossy older sister, he's the bratty younger brother. Combined, their work is calculated and feirce. On the other hand, they most often butt heads about what is the right way to do things. Both, being rather smart, get into a battle of mental superiority every once in a while.

Playlist:

Family Tradition (Hank Williams Jr) - Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to Be Cowboys (Waylon and Willie) - Renegade (Styx) - Saddle Tramp (Marty Robbins) - Neon Moon (Brooks and Dunn) - Cowgirls Don't Cry (Brooks and Dunn) - Thriller (Michael Jackson) - A Horse With No Name (America, Geroge Martin) - Ghosts of Mississippi (The Steeldivers) - You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive (Brad Paisley) - Cowboys Like Us (George Strait) - Folsom Prison Blues (Johnny Cash) - The Ballad of Boot Hill (Johnny Cash) - Horse Soldier, Horse Soldier (Corb Lund) - all-american bitch (Olivia Rodrigo) - Redhead (Caylee Hammack and Reba McEntire) - Gunpowder and Lead (Miranda Lambert) - Couldn't Make It Any Harder (Sabrina Carpenter) - Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Big and Rich) - Friends in Low Places (Garth Brooks)

List of nicknames (mostly given by Dean):

Texas/Tex - Annie Oakley - Butch Cassidy - Red/Ginger - Ginger Snap - Freckles - Horsegirl - Cowgirl - Tana/Monty - Her Royal Highness The Rodeo Queen - Apple Bottom Jeans - Bonnie Parker - Puss in Boots

[girllock-writes]

"Martyr"

Chapter One:

(John is lost, drunk, and depressed. But, of course, his angel finds him.)

》》 ~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~ 《《

A/N: Tell me why I'm spending so much time trying to make sure I've got the timelines right lolll. Also, probs will make an oc introduction post at some point. We'll see. This bit is also shortish. I promise im a good writer I just gotta get there🙏 (TW: depression, suicidal actions, mentions of Micah.)

》》 ~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~ 《《

[8 years later…]

[1907: Strawberry, West Elizabeth, United States of America]

Everything had more or less gone to hell.

John nursed his wounded arm as his feet thumped on the dusty road. The saloon in Stawberry had never looked so tempting. When Sadie Adler had ridden up to Beecher's Hope just a few days ago there had been no hesitation. John had reached for his gun faster than Sadie could finish saying ‘Micah Bell’.

As he downed his first bottle, John wondered what Abigail might think. He missed her. It was a shame he couldn't kill diseases. They had taken more people from him than Micah had. John Marston was angry. Angry that he wasn't the one to put a bullet in Micah's skull. Angry that Arthur had sacrificed himself for something that was falling apart before his very eyes. Angry that he couldn't shake his past. Angry that he couldn't save Abigail.

Maybe he was mostly angry at himself for not being the man Abigail always hoped he could be.

He wasn't quite sure. It was getting harder and harder to tell as the harsh liquid burned his throat. And another bottle was gone.

John Marston wanted to forget. He was a lost cause. Hopeless. Just another sinner, destined for damnation.

The gang couldn't save him. Abigail couldn't save him. Arthur couldn't save him. He couldn't even save himself.

Another bottle gone.

The sounds of the saloon started to give him a headache. A godawful pianist plunked at the keys, laugher and excited shouting rumbled in his ears. Everything was foggy.

Maybe another bottle gone? John couldn't remember.

It was late when he stumbled from the saloon. The bartender was suprised he could even stand up, but John Marston was no stranger to the demon drink. He was less angry now. Something worse settled into his bones. Hopelessness. That empty vat that turned men into monsters.

His footsteps drug down the street. He didn't know where he was going. Just on. Like he always did. No direction. No purpose. Just forward.

“Hopeless,” he muttered to himself, his legs starting to feel wobbly. His head hurt like crazy, his vision was blurry, he was starting to get dizzy.

His hand brushed agaisnt the gun on his side. It was usually just a habit. 'Be prepared to fire first.' But this time... we wasn't looking to protect himself. His mind was drowning in darkness. “What's the point?” He asked no one in particular. “I'm living in hell. I'm going to hell.”

As his boots kicked up dirt, he stopped as something tall cast it's shadow across him. His eyes rolled up, only half able to focus on the scene. The full moon was slightly blocked by a tall white steeple. The church almost shone in the night sky.

It stood at the edge of town near a field. Simple, clean, quiet. Three things John Marston had never really known.

A breeze swept up from behind, almost pushing him towards the holy place. Despite his drunken state of bitterness, something stirred in John's chest. A cold and longing feeling, a sad sort of hope which had been torn apart by the jaws of fear and terror. John was not a religious man. The had no beliefs. He had no god. He didn't want one. He was starting to think it was easier to reject purpose and hope; and that hatred and wallowing were all he was good for. The peace that seemed to radiate from the building was unsettling to him. The idea of rest was forigen to him.

He scoffed. “Salvation ain't for men like me.”

But his feet approached the church anyway.

His hand brushed his gun again. He stopped, staring up at the building and the wooden cross that was set atop the steeple. His gun was in his hand now. He was sure a woman like Abigail wasn't desitend for the same place he was, but it was worth a shot. And even if he didn't see her, he'd find that rat bastard Micah Bell and kill him all over again.

His fingers gripped the handle as he paused. He was truly alone. No family. And certainly no god. Not even his demons held him in this moment. He was left with his bitter self.

“Sir?”

The voice was soft.

It tore through the horrors and the darkness. Like the first light of dawn or the spark of fire on a cold winter night. John turned, feeling woozy from the alcohol. “Huh-” His feet tripped over themselves as he stumbled forward. Gentle hands pressed against his chest, keeping him upright.

“Are you alright?”

John couldn't see very well. “M'fine.” He tried to straighten up, but almost fell again.

And yet he was caught steady. Careful fingers slid the gun from his hand. Arms much too light to be able to hold him upright were firm around him.

“Let's get you inside.”

John tried to focus on the stranger, but all he could see were honey golden eyes. They looked into his soul. He felt suddenly vulnerable. Like they could see every scar and sin. And they were kind. Maybe it was the fact that he was drunk. Maybe the eyes weren't earthly. Bright and sad. The eyes almost spoke to his:

‘Come and rest.’

He was through the doors of church and lying on a cot somewhere in the back. He couldn't tell. His head was hurting too much. He tried to ask a question, but he only muttered nonsense as he slipped into unconsciousness.

》》 ~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~ 《《

Ruth had recognized him instantly.

The scar on his right cheek. It was the same as she had seen all those years ago.

Her heart almost cried out when she saw the gun in his hand. She didn't even know him, but her soul hurt for him. The loneliness in his eyes. The pain etched into his face. He was older and more worn, but it was him.

She wasted no time taking him inside. He smelled of gunsmoke and whiskey. It was awful, but Ruth didn't care.

She set the man down on the cot in the back. He slumped over, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Ruth stood over him for a long minute, studying him. She was curious. She was also worried. Men like him didn't usually stumble into her little church. If he didn't look half dead, she would almost be excited.

The man from all those years ago- who needed a friend, who needed hope. God had brought him back to her.

Ruth knelt by the cot, resting a hand on his arm as her head bowed. “Give him peace just this one night.” Tears stung at her eyes. She only felt sorrow. What burdens he must carry...

“Let him rest. For Your house is a refuge for the weary."

His shoulders sank into the cot. Ruth let out a long breath of thanks.

“Amen.”

Ruth stood and moved quietly to the door. Closing it behind her, she retreated to the attic of the church, praying over him the whole night long.

And John didn't have nightmares. The darkness was stilled in his mind; he slept well. After all, his angel was watching over him.

[girllock-writes]

"Martyr" Masterlist :)

• Prologue

• Chapter One

[Will be updated as needed]

[girllock-writes]

"Martyr"

Prologue:

(In which John meets a young girl who gives him hope.)

》》 ~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~ 《《

John Marston has never believed in anything. He thought he had when he ran with the Van Der Linde Gang, but even that let him down. Weary from trying to run from a past he just can't seem to shake, John meets someone he can only describe as an angel. But having faith can be hard when his past wants to turn his saving grace into a martyr.

》》 ~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~ 《《

[John Marston x Rdr Oc (Ruth McAdams), slow burn, age gap, lots of eventual angst (its John what did you expect), idk what else I'll think of it later.]

A/N: This came to me in a dream. (No it didn't I lied, I'mjust dramatic). Anyway, hope this is fun. Updates every week maybe? We shall see. This one is short, but later ones will probs be longer. Just wanted to kick start this one that's been bouncing around my head for a while. Enjoy all!

》》 ~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~ 《《

[1899: Blackwater, West Elizabeth, United States of America]

She was only a young girl of fifteen when she saw him the first time. She was still living with her mother in Blackwater then.

The girl wandered by the docks, watching as the rippling water flow downstream. It was nearing the evening and a few yards away a young man sat in the grass. He looked lonely.

Ruth was not an outgoing girl, but she was a kind one. She bent down picking a lovely purple flower from the grass. “Dear God, let this flower bring that man some happiness.” Her simple prayer almost made the flower like magic.

She approached the man slowly. He stared at the water, looking deep in thought. “Excuse me, mister.”

He turned his head. Dark eyes met honey brown ones. Nasty scars stood out on his right cheek. To his suprise, the girl wasn't frightened.

She held out her hand, the flower in it. “This is for you.”

The man looked at her curiously. He was too stunned to say anything. He reached out a gloved hand and took it gently. She smiled at him in a way no one ever had before. Like there was something about life worth hoping in.

“Ruth!” The girl quickly turned at the sound of her mother's voice. Her golden strawberry curls bounced as she rushed off.

John Marston blinked, wondering if that had really just happened. He looked at the flower. The soft purple petals were a reminder of the beautiful things that could exist in his ugly world. His mind and heart were torn over the recent events. He thought about the gang, the only family he had ever known. How they were slowly falling apart.

Even in his dark moment, the simple act of kindness gave him a strange feeling of hope. He almost wondered if she had been an angel.

[girllock-writes]

"Risk"

Pairings: cowboy!bucky x rancher's daughter!reader

A/N: i had coffee way too late so here's some late night thoughts, sam and steve show up but i just like excuses to be silly, no warnings? they kiss ig

A/N pt 2: the update: Lol, apologies to everyone who read "Risk" last night and was super confused. Half the fic didn't copy over and the spelling errors were crazy. (Can you tell i'm dyslexic ahaha) My bad all, ive updated it so its right now. x_x

Summary: Cowboy Bucky convinces you to take a risk and live a little. You find out cows are soft and so are Bucky’s lips.

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The sun was not merciful to the western plains. On the BlueStone Ranch, you stood in the shade of the barn as you watched the ranch hands try to tame one of the new horses.

You laugh to yourself as Sam fell off the bucking horse, dust flying up around him.

“You gotta stay on longer than that!” Steve laughed, as he jumped over the fence to help his friend up.

The men began to discuss the wild horse. You wished you could tame horses. You could ride fine, but your father had practically banned you from going near the untamed ones. You understood his concerns about your safety, but you had been kept from doing the “hard” ranch work all your life. You were an adult now, you should be able to do something more than stand around the ranch and look pretty.

Heavy footstep made you turn your head. Bucky Barnes, another ranch hand, made his way from the back of the barn. His dark hair was glued to his temples by beads of sweat. “Ain't it a little hot out here for you, doll?”

You shrugged. It was rather warm. Even in the shade of the barn, you could feel the heat forming sweat on the back of your neck. You had chosen to wear a light skirt and blouse to keep yourself cool, but it did little to help. “It's not much better in the house.”

Bucky gave a laugh, leaning against the wall.

You eyed him “Do you ever think they're gonna figure it out?”

He smiled, watching as Steve helped calm the horse so Sam could get back on. “I'm just glad I work with the cattle instead. They're much nicer.”

Bucky gently touched his right hand to his prosthetic left.

Realizing you was staring at him, you quickly looked away. You wanted desperately to say something, but didn't want him to think you pitied him.

“Aren't cattle dangerous? I've seen some of the roundups you do,” you say finally, trying to break the awkward silence.

“I suppose,” Bucky replied, looking over at you. “But what's the fun in it if there's no risk?”

Meeting his gaze, you saw a glint of playfulness in his blue eyes. You swallow dryly. “I wouldn't exactly be the right person to say.”

Bucky scoffed with a grin. “What? Ya never done a dangerous thing in your life?”

“I think my father would kill me before I could,” you laughed, looking down.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you as Steve cheered on his friend as the horse began to buck again.

“C'mon then,” Bucky stated, taking your hand. He guided you around the barn and toward the grazing pasture. As you left the shade, the sun blazed on every inch of your visible skin. You were glad you had worn a hat.

Bucky hopped on the fence that kept the cattle enclosed on the ranch. Still holding your hand, he nodded for you to join him.

You tried to pull away, looking down at your skirt. “I dont think the fence is going to agree with my choice of dress…”

Bucky shook his head. “You’ll be fine.”

Looking around to make sure no one would see, you slowly grasped the wooden frame and hoisted yourself up. You hadn't sat on a fence since you were a little girl. Bucky jumped down and lifted his hands to help you. You leaned forward and he grabbed your waist, lifting you down.

There was a brief moment where you lingered in his arms. Your heart skipped a beat and you pulled away.

Bucky turned and strode toward one of the cows grazing nearby. He walked around to the front of the beast and gently reached his hand out.

“C'mon!” He called.

Taking a minute, you watched as he stroked the nose of the cow; it's tail waving contently. Walking slowly, you kept your distance.

“She's soft,” Bucky assured. “And she's not gonna run ya over… Unless you plan on spookin’ her.”

Stepping back, Bucky placed a hand on your shoulders and pushed you toward the cow. He took your right arm and stretched it out, his body hot against yours. Your hand met the surprisingly soft hair on the cow's nose. You realized that it was odd, you having lived on a cattle ranch your whole life and having never touched a cow. You turned to look at Bucky, his face surprisingly close.

“And you thought it was dangerous,” you joked.

He smiled. “Sure, doll.”

You looked back at the animal, scratching it gently. Your ears pricked as you heard Bucky inhale deeply. You felt your shoulders tense as his hand on your upper back moved slowly to your waist.

Instinctively, you took a step forward and away from him. “I should probably get inside before daddy realizes I'm out here.”

Bucky straightened up. “You've taken one risk by coming out here… Why not another?”

You eyed him. “I don't know what you mean,” you say. The heat began to ring in your ears.

His blue eyes twinkled. “Yes you do.” His hand reached up, grabbing the hat off your head. Your hair began to frizz and you swipped at him.

“Bucky!”

He lifted it high in the air, well out of your reach. Glaring, you lunged for it. On the very tips of your toes, you fell forward and onto him, your hand still reaching for your hat. “Give it back,” you demanded.

He raised an eyebrow. “Say please.”

Unable to reach higher, you lifted one foot to try and jump with the other. Bucky’s free hand was wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly. You glare ay him. “Please,” you say finally.

Bucky paused. He lowered his hand, you hat still in it, but didn't give it back. Still pressed against him, you hoped he couldn't feel your heart pounding in your chest. The sun was blinding and it was much too warm for two people to be standing so close together.

Bucky stared at you for a long while. “Did you know you have the prettiest eyes either side of the Mississippi?”

If your cheeks hadn't been red from the heat, they most certainly would have darkened by his compliment.

“Why don't you live a little, huh?” He asked smoothly. “Take a risk every now and again. It's healthy.”

Your mouth went dry. “I… You don't know what you're saying.”

“I ain't much of a talker,” he grinned.

He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against yours. The wave of shock ran like a chill through your body. For a moment, you could have sworn you were cold. When he finally pulled away, you could only blink in surprise.

“Y/n!” You heard a voice call from close to the house.

You pulled away from Bucky. His eyes pleaded with you to say something. Looking between him and the direction of the voice of your father, you felt your heart doing somersaults in your chest. You pointed at him. “No one gets to know. Not yet.”

He smiled. “Good enough for me, doll.”

You squared your shoulders and walked away. You were halfway back to the house before you realized…

Bucky still had your hat.

[girllock-writes]

"Daddy's Money"

Pairings: cowboy!bucky x rancher's daughter!reader

Summary: Bucky notices someone from his past and it's distracting him in church.

AN: Based on the song Daddy's Money by Ricochet, I needed more cowboy Bucky, so here yall go ig. No warnings, just me being a fangirl :)

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Bucky sat in the wooden pew, barely paying attention. The small church was warm and crowded as the small town of Montgomery gathered on a particularly sunny Sunday. Reverend Cole spoke enthusiasticly about whatever passage he was preaching on, but Bucky didn't care.

Up in the choir loft, the robed figure looked like an angel.

It was y/n l/n. She was back in town. Her father, one of the richer ranchers, had made sure she always had the best of everything. She wasn't the type of person to advertise it, but her daddy had money.

Her hair curled around her bright smile. She was twice as pretty as her mama. There was no question as to where she got her good looks from.

Bucky rememberd the last time he had heard her voice. She had made a joke about their mutual friend, Sam Wilson, being more difficult to tame than a wild horse. He remembered almost spitting out his water. Sam, being known for his charm with the ladies, was a hard one to tame. She wasn't just well off and pretty, she was funny too. He remembered her getting into trouble for sneaking out when they were younger. She had never liked to stay in when all her friends were riding out to the lake in the middle of the night. Wild was another word Bucky would use.

Y/n l/n had been away at college for the past six years. Bucky had heard she had visited a few times over breaks and holidays but he had never seen her. She had done a dual program with a bachelor's in history and a masters in agricultural science and administration. Smart too.

He wondered how many of the other young men in the congregation were distracted by her. She had everything. A deadly combination of beauty and brains. He'd seen her fish, she was damn good at it. He'd seen her kiss too, she had been no stranger to the local teen hangouts. She was dynamite. Country through and through.

Bucky’s mind began to wander as he reminisced about y/n. He hadn't seen or spoken to her in years. How was he supposed to now? Her second cousin had been his thrid grade teacher, but that side of the family had moved out of town about a year ago. That was probably no good. He remembered doing her grandmother's lawn a few times back in highschool, but that wasn't much to go off of.

Bucky gave a small smile, remembering how y/n had looked as a high schooler. A little lanky and awkward, sure, it was high school, but she had always been the life of the town. Getting into trouble then turning around and helping out more than anyone at the annual hoedown. He remembered how she had grown much more quiet after her sophomore year. She got into less trouble, but got better at hiding her wild side. He wondered how much she had changed.

She was really gown up now. Grown into herself, that's to say.

And she was gorgeous.

“Let us pray,” Reverend Cole said, snapping Bucky from his daydream.

As everyone bowed their heads, Bucky closed his eyes tightly. *Lord… if you happen to have an extra miracle or two, spare me one. Let me walk down the isle and say “I do” to Y/n l/n. Please…*

“Amen!” Cole boomed, as the congregation followed in suit. The choir began to sing the last hymn before the church was dismissed.

Bucky's mouth moved, but his eyes and mind were fixed only on one thing. The angel in the choir loft. Y/n.

He grinned as her eyes met his, her voice ringing out with the others. It was heavenly. She didn't look away. There was a sparkle in her eyes.

The service ended and Bucky made his way to the far side of the rows where Sam and his family had been sitting.

“Did ya see who's back,” he said lowly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “L/n? Yeah, I heard she was commin back from her cousin.” Bucky looked over to where y/n stood, greeting a fellow choir member. Sam laughed at his friend. “Looks like she's got her daddy's money and her mama's good looks. Looks like you'll have a challange on your hands with that one.”

Bucky smiled as y/n met his gaze again. He leaned over to Sam, not breaking her eye contact. “Yeah, but look who's lookin at me.”

[girllock-writes]

WIP blurb

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Here's part of a quick scene I wrote the other day. I'm currently obsessing over my slow-burn cowboys.

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“I cannot stay,” she breathed. “No matter how much I might want to.”

Avery met her gaze. She did want to stay. She did want him. It was his selfishness that blinded him to her predicament. He knew that. He understood she had to go. He knew she was making the right choice. Yet his body ached to feel hers next to it. His soul strained to be close to hers.

“You’re right,” he admitted, not realizing how long of a pause there had been. “Go. Save your family. They need you, Moonshine.”

Though Clio gave him a small smile, her eyes told a much more heartbreaking truth.

“Thank you,” she said. Moving closer to him, she leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Maybe if I survive…” She held her breath for a moment. Avery inhaled her scent for what might be the last time.

She gave a sad smile. “See ya later, cowboy.”

[girllock-writes]

Hey howdy hey

@glittergelpensherlock here :)

I decided to have a second blog for my writing. I probably won't be on here a ton because I'm at school but if and when I write it'll be here.

Fanfic prompts are welcome. Can't promise I'll be able to get around to everything very fast but I'll try loll 🫡

Wip generas-

fantasy, mystery, western, action, crime, fiction, si-fi, oc fics

Fanfic- (probably)

doctor who, marvel, hell on wheels, ncis, star wars, lotr, downton abbey, red dead redemption (more to be added, i cant think of any more rn lol)

Masterlist:

Martyr - John Marston

Boyfriend - Molly O'Shea

Daddy's Money - Bucky Barnes

Risk - Bucky Barnes

Oc Stuff:

Supernatural

[pending ig...]