literatecowboy

[literatecowboy]

Kinktober 2024

5. Bondage

warnings: Soap x Ghost x Reader (throuple); face sitting; nickname 'pup'; fem reader; its reader's present;

“A wee bit tighter…there ye go, LT. That’s perfect,” Soap said, double checking the knot and giving it a tug to ensure it would hold. 

“Sure you don’t want me to put a bow on your head? Think it’d look cute on you, Johnny,” Ghost said, picking up one of the other ropes from the pile. Johnny offered his wrists, and Ghost took them, tying them carefully behind the Scot’s back. 

“Nah, don’t want to wait on her to unwrap me. Besides, there’s bows on all her other gifts,” Johnny said. Ghost snorted. 

“Impatient pup,” he murmured, taking one of the ropes that crisscrossed Johnny’s chest into his fist and pulling the Scot close, pressing his lips to his. Johnny groaned into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. He rolled his shoulders, and Ghost pulled away slowly. 

“Comfy?” Ghost asked, running his hands down Johnny’s sides. 

“Very. Help me get into position and then go get our girl, Simon,” Johnny said, rising awkwardly from where he sat. Ghost helped him arrange himself on his knees on the bed before stepping away. 

—

“Just a few more steps, love. Keep coming,” Ghost murmured, guiding you by your hands as he lead you into your bedroom.

“Okay, one more guess. Is it a puppy?” you asked, a smile on your lips. 

“In a manner of speaking,” Ghost said, shutting the door behind you. “Go on, take the blindfold off.” 

You gasped as you lifted your blindfold off and it fluttered to the floor. Johnny knelt before you on the bed, smiling, his cheeks tinged pink. 

“Happy birthday, bonnie,” he murmured. You felt heat rush to your face, and you giggled. 

“You’ve always wanted our pup tied up and begging for you. Now’s your chance,” Ghost murmured, embracing you from behind and gently sliding one of his hands up your shirt. 

“Oh, yes. And you’re okay?” you asked Johnny, shivering from excitement as warmth stirred in the pit of your stomach. 

“More than okay, bonnie. Come sit on my face,” Johnny whined, squirming on the bed. Ghost squeezed your breast tenderly. 

“Go on, give him a go,” he murmured into your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. He guided you onto the bed and you knelt before Johnny. Though you’d been with your boyfriends a dozen times before, this new arrangement was incredibly arousing. You leaned forward, running your hands over the ropes that crisscrossed Johnny’s body as you kissed him. 

His cock throbbed against his stomach at your touch and he groaned. Ghost ran his fingers through his hair before sliding his hand down his back and squeezing his ass. 

“Poor pup, all worked up,” he cooed, and you smiled, taking the head of Johnny’s cock between two fingers. 

“Such an eager toy for me,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You made short work of your clothes, your nipples hardening in the cool air and making Johnny whine, writhing where he knelt. 

“Pretty, isn’t she, pup?” Ghost cooed, stroking Johnny’s cock slowly as they watched you undress. 

“Please sit on my face,” he whined, doing his best to lay back despite the ropes binding him. You helped him get situated before crawling up over his body, dragging your fingers over your clit before lowering yourself onto Johnny’s face. 

His cock twitched as his moans were muffled and you gasped as he shoved his tongue into you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your back arched as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently and making you writhe with pleasure. 

“Johnny!” you moaned, grinding down against his face as he devoured you, pushing his face deeper into your wetness. 

“Think you deserve a reward for making our girl feel so good, Johnny,” Simon purred, tugging his shirt over his head and sliding his pants and boxers off. He crawled onto the bed, tugging his hard cock as he settled between Johnny’s legs, spreading lube over his fingers before sliding one into Johnny. 

Johnny’s back arched and he moaned into your wetness. The vibrations against your clit made you gasp, and you trembled as that in combination with Johnny’s devourment of you made you cum. Pleasure washed over you in waves and you jerked and trembled, slumping forward and crawling off of Johnny’s face as you caught your breath.

Ghost slid another finger into Johnny and kept pumping them in and out, making Johnny moan and writhe on the bed. 

“Fuck…!” he cried. He turned his head to where you lay, your wetness drenching his face. 

“Lass, please. Ride me while Simon fucks me,” he begged. You pulled him in for a sloppy kiss before straddling his hips, nodding. 

Ghost slowly pulled his fingers out of Johnny, making him whine, but his whines turned to moans again as Ghost guided you onto Johnny’s cock. You both moaned in tandem as you sank onto him, the stretch sending waves of pleasure through you. 

Ghost pressed slowly into Johnny after you reached the base of his cock, making the Scot writhe and moan beneath you. 

“Fuck, yer gonna be the death of me. Both of ye,” he gasped, trembling. You slowly rocked your hips against him, grabbing the ropes that bound his chest and using them to pull yourself down into a kiss. 

As you rode Johnny, Ghost fucked him, sending you both sliding up the bed. You slammed your hips down into him, grinding your clit into his pelvis. As you moaned, Ghost reached around you and gently thumbed your clit, biting tenderly into your neck. 

“Fuck! I can’t last like this,” Johnny whined, his body trembling under the pleasure of your bounces and Ghost’s thrusts. 

“Let the lady cum first, Johnny,” Ghost said, picking up speed as he rubbed your clit. 

“Go on, love, cum on Johnny’s cock,” he purred in your ear. You fell over the cliff of pleasure, falling forward onto Johnny’s chest, your body spasming and your cunt tightening around his cock as you came. Johnny came almost immediately after, coating your insides with cum as he bucked his hips up into you. 

With a few last, deep, thrusts Ghost came last, his groan deafening as he came inside Johnny, leaning over your shoulder to kiss the Scot tenderly. 

You caught your breath together. Ghost was the first to step away but he returned quickly with a blade, cutting Johnny free and helping him massage the areas that had been bound. 

You pulled Johnny into an embrace as Ghost spooned you, sandwiched comfortably between your boyfriends as you came down from your highs.

[literatecowboy]

Kinktober 2024

4. Sensory Depravation

Warnings: Price x Reader; they're married and in love and it's adorable; wholesome sex; blindfold; headphones; talking through the kink beforehand

“Do you want me to put music on? In your headphones, I mean?” Price asked, fiddling with his phone and looking up at you from where he knelt on the bed. 

“Static might work. Nothing intense or loud, just like…a dull noise to drown out anything that might get in,” you said, putting your eye mask on and letting it rest on your forehead. You reached over to the nightstand and grabbed your glass of water, taking a sip.

“I wonder what it’d be like to have sex in a sensory deprivation tank. The only senses we can really do away with here are sight and sound,” he said with a chuckle, choosing an audio track and setting his phone aside as he adjusted the headphones. 

“I think we’d get kicked out,” you said with a laugh, putting the water back in its place. 

“So, you won’t be able to hear me, but if you want to stop, just tell me, love,” John said, crawling over to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m excited to see what it’s like. Seems…thrilling. I don’t know what you’ll do next,” you said, cupping his cheek. 

“I get to wear the blindfold next time, love,” John said, winking at you as he gently put the headphones over your ears. He helped you maneuver them into a comfortable position, and as you raised your hands to pull your blindfold down, he mouthed the words ‘I love you.��

—

It was as thrilling as you thought it’d be. You couldn’t help but smile as John helped you recline, laying back on the bed as he pressed a kiss to your lips. He trailed kisses down your neck, pausing to kiss each of your breasts before continuing downward. You parted your legs expectantly, already wet from the excitement.

And then John pulled away. You were left confused for a moment before he pressed a kiss to your clit. A gasp was ripped from your mouth and your back arched as he flattened his tongue against your bud, and one of your hands flew to tangle in his hair. You accidentally glanced off of his ear and you could feel him laugh a little as he guided your hand to his scalp. 

He plunged his tongue inside of you and you writhed, moaning and raking your fingers through your hair as he pushed it in and out. When he came up and gently sucked your clit, you’re sure you screamed in pleasure, though you were unable to hear it. Without sight, without the ability to hear, everything was amplified. 

You came hard and quite unexpectedly, and as John came up and kissed you, you could feel your wetness in his facial hair. He settled between your legs as you gasped for air, palming your breast and grinding his hard cock against your entrance. The cool metal of his wedding ring brushed your nipple, and you shivered. 

“John, I need you,” you gasped, wrapping your legs around his hips, trying to pull him into you. He obliged you with a kiss, lining himself up before pushing in slowly, making you moan as you adjusted to your size. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, your body jolting as he reached down and thumbed your clit. Pleasure ripped through you and you pushed into his hips to meet his heavy thrusts. You could feel the vibration in his chest as he moaned, draping himself over you and pulling you into a tight embrace as he picked up the speed of his thrusts. 

Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around John’s neck, pulling him down and kissing him. You missed his lips and your kiss landed on his cheek. His chest vibrated as he growled, burying his face in your neck and biting down as the speed of his thrusts picked up. 

You raked your nails down his back, leaving scratches that spurred him on. He bit down harder on your neck, sucking roughly enough that you were sure he’d leave a mark. 

“Gonna cum!” you gasped, reaching down and frantically rubbing your clit as you neared your peak. John kissed you then, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. You came hard on his cock, your body jerking and seizing as pleasure coursed through you, overwhelming your senses. John’s hips stuttered and he thrusted deep into you, his forehead coming to rest on your chest as he spilled his cum into you. 

As you both panted, coming down from your highs, John gently reached up and took your headphones off, tossing them to the side. 

“Going to take your blindfold off, love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You nodded and he helped you slide it off, untangling the back from your hair that had become messy. 

John hovered over you, smiling, his cheeks tinted pink. He leaned in and kissed you as he pulled out of you, and you cupped his cheek tenderly. 

“Was that as good as you hoped?” he asked, laying down beside you and pulling you into his chest, stroking your hair with gentle fingers. 

“It was lovely. You’re lovely,” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Good. Let me get you some water,” John said, pulling away and reaching for the nightstand. You whined, clinging tighter to him, and he stopped. 

“Not yet,” you murmured, nuzzling into his chest.

[literatecowboy]

Kinktober 2024

3. Public Sex

Warnings: Johnny x Gaz (my beloved) ft. Price and Ghost; audience sex; orgasm control; poly!141 hints at ghoap,

“Bloody hell, they’re insatiable.”

“It’s a good idea, letting them tire each other out.”

Price and Ghost watched as Gaz squeezed Soap’s hips, pulling him into each, rough thrust. The two were in a tangled heap on a sparring mat, lips locked as they desperately pawed at each other. 

Soap broke away from the kiss, his head falling back and his mouth falling open. Gaz clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his moan, slowing his thrusts and leaning down to whisper into the Scot’s ear. 

“Quiet now, Johnny. Don’t want the rest of the gym to hear you moaning like a slut,” he growled, biting Johnny’s neck just below his ear and sucking. 

“You heard him, sargent. Keep it quiet,” Ghost barked, nodding toward Gaz, who took the direction and stuffed Soap’s boxers into his mouth before pulling out and roughly thrusting in again. 

“Ought to take him back to your quarters when Gaz is finished with him, let him get some noise out,” Price said. Ghost nodded slowly, not taking his eyes away from the sargents. 

A muffled groan pulled them from their conversation. Gaz had his fist wrapped around Soap’s cock and was pumping him slowly, perfectly in time with each of his thrusts. 

“Think Captain will let you cum for me, Johnny? I know you want to,” he purred, leaning over and licking a long stripe up Soap’s abs to his neck. 

“Please,” Johnny begged, his voice muffled through his gag. “Please let me cum, sir,” he pleaded, his head falling to the side as he stared at Price with glazed, pleasure-filled eyes. 

“What do you think, lieutenant? Think he deserves it?” Price asked, turning to Ghost. He pondered the question for a moment before nodding. 

“You can cum, Johnny. But let Gaz cum first,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. Gaz picked up the pace, his deep thrusts causing Johnny to side up on the mat. 

“Fuck, Johnny, you’re so tight,” he hissed, yanking the gag from Johnny’s mouth before dragging him into a long, deep kiss. His hips stuttered and he tensed, burying himself as deep as he could inside Johnny as he came, moaning into the kiss. 

Johnny came almost immediately after, cum shooting up and coating his abs. He wrapped his legs around Gaz’s waist, desperate to keep him in for as long as possible. They lay together, panting and enjoying each other’s embrace.

---

[literatecowboy]

Kinktober 2024

2. Voyeurism

Warnings: Gaz x Reader; voyeurism, masturbation, fem reader

The pit in Kyle’s stomach grew heavier day by day. The weight of the many sins he’d committed weighed heavy on his shoulders, he had not yet been crushed beneath him. This sin, though, was more burdensome to him than the world was to Atlas.

He palmed his stiff cock through his pants as he leaned against the window, binoculars raised. The apartment under surveillance was still and dark. The neighbor, on the other hand…

Since he’d first seen you step from the shower, cloaked by steam, he’d been enamored. Kyle watched as you dried yourself, watched as you lotioned your beautiful legs and bent tantalizingly over to pick up your dropped towel. 

He was in love, though he’d never met you. It was a love that bloomed as he watched for weeks as you cooked, bundled up under a blanket with a book, returned tired from work. He’d seen you cry and laugh and kiss your cat and put your groceries away, and his heart had hammered in his chest each time.

Kyle cursed as the soft light of your lamp illuminated your body in your bed. He watched as you slid your hands down your body, reaching between your legs. You were putting on a show for him tonight.

“Fuck,” he hissed, using his free hand to unzip his pants and work his cock free. He bit back a moan as he squeezed himself at the base, watching as you touched yourself. 

He thought about how good you would feel around his cock. How you’d moan and writhe beneath him as he fucked you the way you deserved. Kyle pumped his cock roughly, wishing only that the sounds of your sweet moans would carry across the road and drift into his window. 

Kyle watched as you squeezed your breast, your back arching as your fingers worked faster at your clit. His eyelids drooped, heavy with lust as he worked his fist faster up and down his cock. 

You would take it so well. You’d beg him for more, beg him to make you cum over and over again. On your bed, you twitched once, twice. Kyle picked up the pace. 

“Come on, love,” he murmured into the empty air. “Cum for me.” 

You did so on command, as if you’d heard from so far away. Your body jerked and trembled as you came, pleasure crashing over you like a wave, a warm feeling spreading over you.

“Fuck,” Kyle swore, his own orgasm hitting him quickly. He came into his hand, panting and unable to drag his eyes away from you. Beautiful you, laying in the warm light, basking in the glow of your orgasm. Beautiful you, unaware of Kyle watching you. Unaware that he was more determined than ever to pay you a visit.

[literatecowboy]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Handjobs (Soap x Reader)

Voyeurism (Gaz x Reader)

Public Sex (Soap x Gax ft. Price and Ghost)

Sensory Depravation (Price x Reader)

Bondage (Ghost x Reader x Soap)

[literatecowboy]

Kinktober 2024

1. Handjobs

Warnings: subby!Johnny x reader; sex club infiltration; handjobs; audience; allusions to human trafficking; drug mentions; nicknames are pet; no y/n

When you’d signed onto the 141, you hadn’t been expecting an easy job. You’d expected uncomfortable, tense situations. Blood. To take lives to protect the innocent and defend the world from an insurmountable number of threats. 

You’d never expected a sex club, though. 

Johnny whined from where he knelt on the floor and pawed at your leg, squirming. Music pumped all around you, doing little to drown out the noises of pleasure all around. 

“Down, boy,” you chided, loud enough to make your target chuckle. She leaned forward, taking Johnny’s chin between her fingers before trailing them down and yanking his collar. 

“Your pet is awfully needy,” she cooed through a thick Russian accent. “And awfully handsome.” You scoffed. 

“He has his uses. One of my favorites, I’ll admit,” you said, leaning back against the leather sofa and allowing the target to admire Johnny. 

“Our deal is not yet finalized. What is his price?” she asked, tracing her fingers down his chest and toward where his cock bulged in his boxers. 

“He is worth more to me than all of the cocaine I manufacture,” you purred, running your fingers through Johnny’s hair. You leaned forward and tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free. 

“Everyone has a price,” the Russian cooed, running her finger down his shaft and collecting a drop of precum, which she licked off. 

“Please, ma’am,” Johnny whined, squirming on the floor and burying his face in your thigh. 

“What do you think, pet?” you asked, tugging his leash harshly. He stumbled as he crawled onto the couch and into your lap. You spat into your palm before wrapping your hand around his cock, giving a rough tug that made Johnny cry out. He bucked his hips into your hand as he fell into your lap, gazing up at you with lust in his eyes. 

“Show her what you’re worth,” you cooed, running your fingers through your hair as you continued to work your fist up and down his cock. You thumbed the tip and Johnny cried out, his back arching in pleasure. 

“I suppose I could throw him in with the rest of the shipment I have for you,” you purred as you kept working Johnny, staring the target down. She watched, entranced, as Johnny writhed and moaned, his hips stuttering as he bucked his hips into your hand. 

“A most expensive gift. I hope you will remember it and consider me your primary supplier for the rest of our relationship,” you said. You squeezed the base of Johnny’s cock, dragging a strangled cry from him. 

“Ma’am, please let me cum!” he begged, his hips tensing as he tried to delay his orgasm. 

“Go on, pup. Show the woman what you’re worth,” you purred. With a strangled cry, Johnny shot ropes of cum across your hand. As he came down from his high, panting, you shoved your stained fingers into his mouth and he licked eagerly. The Russian woman met your eyes. 

“We have a deal,” she said. 

—

At your request, Price destroyed the security tapes from the infiltration of the sex club immediately upon the completion of the mission, though that did nothing to extinguish the flames of the romance that sparked between you and Johnny afterwards

[literatecowboy]

I headcanon Ghost and Gaz as the biggest phone addicts in the 141

Quietly sitting across from each other and sending each other reels and tiktoks and YouTube shorts with headphones in

Gaz is rather popular on social media for his good looks among men and women alike. He’s the only one of the 141 who would make tiktoks, though Soap would occasionally star in them with him

Ghost is completely anonymous on the internet and loves goofy animal videos. Soap would have to wear an eye mask to sleep because the light from Ghost’s phone would keep him up at night

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist.

5. Twenty-Five

The only noise on the ride back to town was the baying and stomping of steers. 

Price fumed at the head of the pack and the others gave him a wide berth as they herded the cattle back to Mr. Marshall’s ranch. Once the gate was closed and all of the livestock were accounted for, Price waved off his companions and clomped up to the porch to join Mr. Marshall. He was greeted not by the rancher, but by the man in pastor’s vestments that he had seen before. 

“Hello, Sheriff,” the preacher said, nodding stiffly and offering a smile. “Mr. Marshall has retired for the night, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you, sir. I suppose I’ll have to return in the morning,” Sheriff Price said. His anger had waned and he was exhausted, the weariness evident in his voice. 

“Might I trouble you for a talk?” the preacher asked.

“Of course, sir. What troubles you?” Price asked. The preacher smiled wanly. 

“I am more interested in what ails you, Sheriff. I cannot help but notice that your pretty companion was not with your men when you arrived,” he said. Price stiffened. 

“We have parted ways. Her services are no longer needed,” he said. The priest tutted. 

“A good choice, sheriff. Some sinners are…beyond saving. Undeserving of god’s love,” he echoed. Price’s head snapped up. 

“Surely a man of God would not say such things?” he asked. The pastor’s smile vanished.

“It does not take a man of god to know the true nature of the human race. The true question is this: why would the lord send such a sinner to you? Why would he embroil you in such troubles? A man as knowledgeable and honorable as you surely has no love for a god that allows his children to suffer without intervention?” the preacher asked. Price rose. 

“I am wary of what you speak. My faith in God is unshaken. Goodnight, sir.”

The preacher watched him go until he disappeared into the distance. A rattlesnake slithered out of the bush he stood before and coiled around his boot before slithering up his side and curling around his torso. 

“In due time,” said the preacher.

—

Price was surprised to find Simon, Johnny, and Kyle waiting for him when he got back to the office. Before he even made it through the door, Kyle had risen and strode toward him. 

“Joanna is devastated. Had to break the news to her, so thanks for that,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. 

“That was a bad move, mate,” Johnny piped up, slinging back the last of his whiskey before pouring himself another. Price scowled and yanked the bottle away from him, plopping down in a chair before drinking directly from it. 

“She’s too dangerous. Almost got herself killed. It’s just better if…if…” he trailed off with a sigh, taking another swig of the whiskey. It was quiet for a moment. 

“You’re a fool,” Simon said from the corner of the room. “Saved your life twice, and you push her away because you’re scared she’ll get hurt. She’s out there right now, chasing down Gimley on her own. Still chasing danger, still might get hurt. And you’re on your ass here.”

“Fuck,” Price choked, tossing the whiskey bottle away. He looked out the window at the moon, mulling it over. 

“Go get your girl, John.”

—

You hadn’t bothered to make camp that night. 

Following Gimley was easy enough. He hadn’t gotten that much of a head start and you were hot on his heels. At some point he’d passed through a town and you were fortunate enough to find he was wanted there with a bounty worth $25. You snagged the poster, intending to turn his body in for a tidy profit once you put him down. 

It was noon when you found his camp. You rode up on him without caring for stealth, so he watched as you approached. 

“You’re worth twenty-five, Gimley. Dead or alive. Normally, I offer bounties a chance to choose, but on account of the fact that you shot me, well…” you trailed off as you dismounted, hitching Whiskey before approaching Gimley slowly. He rose as you came near and you circled each other warily, hands over your holsters. 

“Don’t have to be this way, miss. You could come work for me. Could work for those who could pay you a lot more than twenty-five per man,” he said, his duster fluttering in the wind. In a heartbeat you drew and put two bullets into his chest. He staggered backwards, gurgling, before falling to the ground, dead. 

“They couldn’t afford me,” you scoffed. 

—

After dumping Gimley’s body in the Sheriff’s office back in town, you collected your pay and stepped onto the plank walkway to drink your sorrows away. You scarcely believed it was possible, but this place was even seedier than Rattlesnake Point. It was so seedy, in fact, that you were startled to see a man in a pastor’s vestments coming toward you down the plank walkway. 

“What was the price of that man’s life?” he called. You lit up a cigarette. 

“Twenty-five. But I don’t have a habit of wasting money tithing to churches,” you said, taking a drag and turning to walk away. 

“And what is the price of your life?” he asked. You paused. 

“I’m a pardoned woman, if that’s what you’re asking. You won’t get a dime from hauling me in,” you said with a chuckle. 

“In the eyes of god, there are no pardons. Your soul is worth its weight in gold to Hell,” the pastor said, a thin smile crossing his lips. 

“Don’t really know about all that, mister,” you said, the disinterest evident in your voice. 

“God punishes sinners. He will punish you. Do you believe that to be fair, Wildcat? Why should such a god be worshiped as he is? Should people not turn their backs to such a god?” the preacher asked. 

“Leave me be, you old coot,” you said, waving him off as you mounted Whiskey and took off, deciding not to drink after all. This place gave you the creeps. 

—

Price followed your tracks for as long as he could, but lost the trail when he entered the town. It didn’t take long for him to learn of the death of Gimley, and he learned from the sheriff the direction that you had gone following your collection of the reward. 

Once outside of the town again, he was able to pick up on hoofprints once more. Hoping they were Whiskey’s, he followed them down the Colorado for a time before ending up in a lightly wooded canyon carved out by the river. A fire flickered across the canyon walls, smoke drifting up to the stars. He dismounted, not wanting to startle the camper if it wasn’t you, and called out. 

“Wildcat, is that you?” he asked. You were startled from where you were dozing by the fire and sat up, reaching for your gun. 

“It’s John,” he called. Your body relaxed but your chest tightened at the thought of him being around you once more. 

“What are you doing here?” you called, standing slowly and padding to the edge of your camp. John approached from the darkness, having hitched his horse beside Whiskey. 

“I couldn’t leave you, not after those things I said. I was wrong, Wildcat. I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“Come, sit down. It’s late,” you said with a sigh. John joined you beside the fire and you sat in silence for a minute. He reached up and gently caressed the wound on your cheek. 

“You took a bullet for me,” he murmured. You laughed. 

“Not really. It’s just a graze,” you said. 

“You saved me life. You’ve killed for me. You’ve been nothing but loyal and helpful. I’m sorry, I really am,” he said, leaning forward. 

“John,” you breathed. “Shut up.” 

You closed the distance, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. He seemed surprised at first but kissed back, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. You shifted to straddle him, deepening the kiss, and could feel the hard bulge in his pants pressing up against your clothed entrance. As you started to grind down against him, John pulled away and took your hands, leaning back to look at you. 

“Do you want this?” he breathed, squeezing your hands as he gazed into your eyes. 

“More than anything. Ever since we sat in the shade in the barn together,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again. He kissed you back and stood up with you in his arms, making you gasp and giggle as he carried you back to the tent. 

He laid you down on your bedroll and you tugged off your shirt, grateful that you were already undressed for bed, and tossed it to the side. John did the same before crawling on top of you and kissing you, slotting his hips in between your legs and grinding down against your core. You wrapped your legs around his hips and he growled into the kiss. 

His fingers fumbled at the hooks of your bra before undoing it and pulling it away, your nipples hardening as they met the cool, desert night air. John leaned down and pressed a kiss to one before wrapping his lips around the other, making your head fall back as you gasped from the stimulation. 

You fumbled at John’s waist, managing to pull his belt off and unbutton his pants. You whined, unable to get the zipper down and he took the hint, yanking his pants and boots off before tossing them to the side. 

You kicked off your pants and wiggled out of your panties, laying before him. He looked up at you, his eyes hazy as they searched over your body and took you in. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, sucking in a deep breath as you playfully parted your legs. 

“Come here and do more than just look at me, John,” you said with a smile, heat rising to your face. He was on you in an instant, kissing you almost ferociously on the lips before trailing kisses down your body.

He wrapped his powerful arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him and spreading your legs as he kissed down to your core, leaving one lass gentle kiss on your clit before licking a long stripe up your entrance, savoring your wetness. 

You moaned, your head falling back as he lapped up your wetness, circling your clit with his tongue before gently sucking on it. His eyes were closed and his blush reached from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, making you smile as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

He was distracted, though. One of his arms had left your leg. You bit your lip, heat rushing through you as you realized he was palming himself through his underwear. 

You pulled away from him and as he looked up in surprise you took the opportunity to push him down and pin him on his back, kissing his cheek gently. 

“Poor thing, you must be so hard. Let me help,” you purred. You threw one of your legs over him and wiggled back until you were comfortable, slowly lowering yourself onto his face. To your surprise he grabbed you by the waist and yanked you down, pushing his tongue into you and making you moan. 

You reached forward, rolling down his underwear slowly until his cock sprang free. You licked your palm and took hold of it. It throbbed in your hand, thick and heavy and you pumped it gently, making John moan, which sent vibrations through your lower body. 

You leaned forward and took the head into your mouth, moaning around John’s cock as he pulled his tongue from your pussy and lapped at your clit. 

“You taste so good,” John grunted, giving your hips a squeeze before slipping a finger into your entrance. You groaned, pausing from bobbing your head up and down on his cock. 

“Give me more!” you gasped. John bit your thigh with a growl and hefted you off of him, tossing you back into the bedroll and climbing on top of you. You parted your legs eagerly for him, wrapping them around his waist. 

“Impatient little thing,” he murmured huskily, sliding his hands up and down your body, squeezing your curves and teasing your clit. 

“Brat,” you whispered, capturing his lips in another kiss. He notched the head of his cock at your entrance and pushed in slowly. You dug your nails into his back, groaning into the kiss. The stretch of him was delicious, and you bucked your hips up to meet his. 

“Give it to me or I’ll take it,” you growled into his ear, biting at his neck. John growled, burying his face in your neck as he set a slow, deep pace. You raked your nails down his back, hissing in pleasure as he reached down to rub your clit in time with his deep thrusts. 

“Insatiable, impatient… you’re feral,” he murmured, his hips snapping forward, each punctuated with breathy grunts and moans. “Feel so fuckin’ perfect, love.”

Blinded by pleasure, you were unable to respond. John kissed your open mouth, swallowing your moans of pleasure and savoring each one. He kept rubbing your clit as your pleasure built until you were sent over the edge of orgasm, twitching and writhing beneath John. He slowed his thrusts after you came, gently petting your hair and kissing your sweaty forehead. 

“Okay, love?” he asked, peppering kisses to the side of your neck.

“Perfect,” you breathed. “Don’t stop on my account.”

John picked up the pace once again, but you were still unsatisfied. You pushed him up and off of you and climbed on top of him, straddling him and shoving his cock back inside of you. Steadying yourself with your hands on his chest, you rode him at a fast pace, using gravity to achieve deliciously deep thrusts that made you moan with each buck of your hips. 

“Wildcat,” John hissed, thrusting up to meet you halfway. “I’m close.” You didn’t slow your pace, panting and moaning as your second orgasm built. You and John came at the same time, hips stuttering and bodies seizing.

You collapsed onto his chest as you came down from your high, feeling warm spend drip from between your legs as he gently pulled out of you. You laid together on the bedroll, catching your breath as John held you close to him. You were almost asleep when he spoke. 

“I hope that - I hope I mean something to you, Wildcat. You mean a hell of a lot to me,” John said, stroking your hair tenderly as he pulled the thin blanket over you both. 

“Most meaningful man in my life. Don’t plan on being chased off ever again,” you murmured, tracing the scars on his chest. 

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you slowly fell asleep.

---

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Eventual smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist.

4. Deal's Off

You were eating breakfast with Price and Gaz at the kitchen table when the call came. Hooves thundered up the road. The door flung open and a messenger stumbled in, falling to her knees and gasping for breath as you raced to her side. 

“Up at Mr. Marshall’s ranch,” she gasped. “There are men there. Deputized, they said. They’re seizing all of the horses and the entire herd of cattle,” she panted. 

“Take a breath, Joanna. Gaz, get her some water!” Price called. Gaz dashed to the kitchen and came back with his canteen a moment later. The messenger took a long swig, pulling back to keep catching her breath. 

“Deputies seizing his livestock? What kind of deputies?” you asked, kneeling down beside the girl. She shook her head frantically. 

“Not - not deputies. Deputized men,” she said. She took another swig from the bottle. “Mr. Sutherland and Mr. Cavendish’s cattlemen made lawmen.”

—

Moments later you were up on your horse, thundering down the road toward Mr. Marshall’s ranch. Price rode on your left and Gaz beside him. Mr. Riley and the messenger, a young woman called Joanna Sun, had been left to man the sheriff’s office. 

Mr. Marshall’s ranch was reached more rapidly than Mr. Sutherland’s. His fields were empty. Gates were left wide open, fresh hoofprints leaving divots in the mud leading away from the property. 

“Sheriff!” Mr. Marshall called, stepping out of his house and striding forward to meet you. A man in pastor’s vestments left the house behind him but hung back on the porch, a wide brimmed hat shading his face. 

“I’m told men came and took your stock. Where did they go? Did they produce a warrant?” Sheriff Price barked. Mr. Marshall shoved a stack of papers into Price’s hands. He flipped through them, his scowl growing. You watched intently. Whiskey pawed at the ground and snorted, tossing her head. 

“It’s a warrant. Says here it’s signed by a Justice of the Peace, Mr. Dolan,” Sheriff Price said. 

“That low-down son of a bitch,” Mr. Marshall growled. “Dolan is a cousin of Mr. Cavendish. This warrant accuses my cattle of being stolen property - and they’ve been stolen alright!” he exclaimed. 

“If he deputized men to serve this warrant and gone above your head, he’s handed power to the Old Kingdom. They need to be stopped,” Gaz said, shaking his head. 

“Mr. Garrick is correct. Stay here, Mr. Marshall. We’ll return the cattle to you,” Sheriff Price said, handing the warrant papers back to Mr. Marshall. “But we’re going to need some assistance.”

—

“We’re wasting time going back to town. We should have followed the tracks from the start,” you shouted, looking back to glance at Mr. Marshall’s ranch as you galloped down the road back to town. 

“Won’t do any good just the three of us. We need backup. This operation is going to take a few days,” Price called back to you. You turned to glance at Gaz and he nodded. 

“It’ll be quick and we’ll be back on our way. Don’t worry,” he called. 

Once you made it back to town, Gaz rode on to collect Johnny as you and Price stopped outside of the sheriff’s office. 

“Need you to ride with us, Simon,” Price said as he pushed open the door. 

“Always,” Simon said, getting to his feet in an instant.

“Can I come, Mr. Price?” Joanna Sun asked, rising from where she was sitting. It was then you noticed how young she was - she couldn’t have been older than thirteen. Price smiled at her.

“I’m sorry, but you need to stay here. You need to stay close to your mother, and I need someone here to keep an eye on the town. What do you say to holding down the fort until we get back?” he asked. 

“Deal,” she said with a smile. 

“Wildcat, keep an eye out for Mr. Garrick and Mr. Mactavish, please. Mr. Riley, would you join me in the kitchen to prep provisions?” he asked. As they headed into the kitchen and out of earshot, Joanna rounded on you. 

“You’re an outlaw, but you’re friends with Sheriff Price and Mr. Garrick,” she said, scurrying over to stand in front of you as you pulled out a chair and sat down. 

“Not sure if they’d call me a friend,” you said with a laugh, lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag. 

“But you have their ear. Would you talk to them for me? About me becoming a deputy?” she asked hopefully, clenching fistfulls of her apron as she gazed at you. 

“You’re a little young to be roughing it out in the wilds, chasing down people like me,” you said with a chuckle. Joanna rolled her eyes. 

“Not right now, obviously! But I don’t want to work doing laundry like my mom when I grow up. I want to be a deputy. Please, will you ask for me?” she begged. 

“You can ask yourself, can’t you?” you asked, leaning back in your chair and sizing her up. 

“I’m afraid they’ll say no,” she admitted with a shrug. You got to your feet, putting out your cigarette. 

“Can’t be too afraid to talk to folk when you’re a deputy, kid. Come on now, practice on me. Pretend I’m Price, ask me for a job,” you said, standing up to your full height and folding your arms across your chest. Joanna grinned, standing up straight and tilting her chin up. 

“Sir, I’d like to be your deputy. Will you hire me?” she asked, continuing to fiddle with her apron. You hummed, reaching out and pulling her hands free. 

“No fiddlin’ with this, now. Can’t show any sign you’re nervous. Men are like beasts - they’ll smell fear on you from a room away. You did a good job standin’ tall and askin’ - go again, but more confidence. Tell me what you’re gonna do, don’t ask,” you said, letting go of her hands. Joanna nodded, standing straight and letting her arms fall to her sides. 

“I’d make a fine deputy, Sheriff. You should hire me, I won’t disappoint,” she said. You grinned and clapped her on the shoulder. 

“Great job, kid. I know you can ride, but can you shoot?” you asked. 

“A bit. I mean, I have - once or twice,” she admitted. Her hands went to her apron but she pushed them down. 

“Practice. Practice all of your skills, and learn new ones. Lawmen need to be experienced, can’t shy away from fights when it comes to protecting folk. You’ve got a good shot. I’ll talk to Price for ya,” you said. 

“Oh, thank you!” Joanna shrieked, charging forward and wrapping you in a hug that took the wind out of you. You awkwardly hugged her back, chuckling. 

“Anytime, kid.”

—

Price watched you talk to Joanna from the doorway to the kitchen. His heart seemed to skip a beat, and there was a warm stirring in his stomach. A smile crossed his lips and remained as he turned back to helping Simon.

“You like her,” Simon said, buckling shut his saddlebag and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Hard not to. She’s so…different than I expected her to be,” he admitted. 

“What do you mean?” Simon asked, leaning against the kitchen table. 

“She seems…kind, beneath that cold exterior. Loyal. Smart. Even a bit vulnerable. Guess I’m having a hard time reconciling those traits with someone I nearly hanged,” he said. Simon shrugged. 

“World’s strange like that,” he said. 

“Is it wrong of me to want to get to know her better? To want to kiss her in the shade when she’s taking a break from doing chores she wasn’t even asked to do?” Price asked, slumping down in a chair at the kitchen table and burying his head in his hands. 

“No sense in not trying,” said Simon. 

—

Gaz and Johnny arrived a little while later and all of you gathered in front of the Sheriff’s office before setting off. You were stood in the yard, helping Joanna shoot bottles off of the fence with a borrowed rifle as the men loaded the horses. Whiskey had seemed to warm to Gaz and let him pet her on the nose, but still only tolerated the rest of the men.

“Good shot, kid. You’re a natural!” you exclaimed, clapping her on the shoulder as she shot the last bottle off of the fence. She grinned and you helped her unload the rifle before Price called out to you. 

“Time to go! Joanna, bring your mom up here to the office while we’re gone. Keep an eye out on the town, too,” John called. Joanna hugged you goodbye before you stepped away and mounted your horse. 

—

The five of you rode side by side down the street and toward Mr. Marshall’s ranch at an medium pace. Once there, you picked up the cattle’s tracks and followed them northeast. 

“Ain’t never been in a posse before, only ever been hunted by them,” you remarked with a laugh. The sun had begun to set, and you were gaining ground on the herd. 

“Proud to have taken yer posse virginity, lass,” Soap called out, which made you snort and earned him eye rolls and groans from everyone else. 

“When this is over, do you plan on putting your criminal past behind you?” Gaz asked. You shrugged. 

“Probably. Might go back to bounty hunting, that was decently lucrative,” you said. 

“Bounty hunting. Now that’s dangerous,” Price said. “Did some in my younger years, before the war. Wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing how you fight whilst on your side. You’re a hell of a shot” you remarked. Price felt himself puff up with pride, but did his best to not show it. 

“Likewise, Wildcat. Hopefully it won’t come to that, though.”

—

You set up camp that night on top of a cliff that looked down upon the valley below. You could see far with your binoculars and had spotted the herd in the distance. The men driving them had set up camp for the night and you could easily spot their fire from your vantage. 

Price decided not to set a campfire and the others agreed - the light might have drawn too much attention to your position. 

Johnny and Ghost slunk off into a grove of trees to set up their bunks together and Gaz elected to sleep by the horses so that he might be as far away from them as possible. When you raised an eyebrow, he muttered something about “noises” which convinced you to sleep by the horses as well. Price, ever dutiful, spent an hour watching the cattlemen’s camp before coming to bunk with you and Gaz. 

—

Price roused you before dawn. You sat up and joined the others in quietly packing your things before mounting up and setting off down into the valley towards the herd. The deputized cowboys had only just begun to wake up and you could smell cooking bacon from a half mile away. 

The cowboys watched as you rode up on their camp, suspicion in their eyes. You watched as Price fixed his gaze upon one of them in particular. 

“You’re the one called Gimley, are you not?” he asked, stopping his horse and climbing down from the saddle. 

“I am. What is the reasoning behind this intrusion?” Gimley called back, approaching Price as he waved his companions back. A lawman’s badge glinted on his chest and 

“I believe the warrant you served to be unlawful, and I have come to cease its execution. These cattle must be returned to Mr. Marshall, from whom they were taken,” Price said. Gimley chuckled. 

“You misunderstand, sir. I am deputized, I act under the orders of Justice of the Peace Dolan and only mean to serve the law,” he said. You stepped down from your horse and walked to Price’s side, hands on your hips

“I understand, but on account of the fact that I have served the law far longer than you, I must protest. I must also place you under arrest, as a warrant for the attempted murder of Mr. Marshall has been issued for you,” Price said. 

In an instant Gimley drew, the barrel of his gun aimed at Price’s nose. At the same time you drew your gun on Gimley, causing his men to aim at you, Gaz, Johnny, and Simon, which provoked them to aim back. Price raised his hands. 

“There is no need for blood to be shed here,” he cautioned. “Give yourself up and allow the cattle to be returned to their rightful owner. The law can still be upheld. It is the Christian thing to do,” he said. 

“You are no longer the law, Sheriff.”

Time seemed to slow as Gimley’s finger tightened around the trigger. You turned to your side and leapt for Price as the hammer fell, sparking powder and sending a bullet screaming out of the barrel of the six shooter. It grazed your cheek as you tackled him to the ground, his life saved. 

The shooting well and truly kicked off then. You dove for cover behind a boulder before kneeling up and returning fire. Price picked himself up from the ground and charged Gimley as bullets whizzed around him, but he was too slow.

Gimley leapt onto the back of his horse and took off, tearing into the desert amidst the chaos, leaving his three companions behind.

Gaz, Johnny, and Simon gunned them down swiftly, but before they could go after Gimley, the cattle began to stampede, terrified by the noise. 

“Let him go, just round up the herd!” you called as you holstered your gun, running over to Price as he knelt in the dirt. 

“You alright?” you called, picking up his hat that had fallen when you tackled him and offering it to him. He took it and put it on as he rose, taking your face in his large, calloused hands. You blinked in surprise and winced as he traced the wound on your cheek, blood coming away on his thumb. 

“You were shot,” he said, his expression unreadable as he gazed at you. 

“Good observation,” you said, taking his wrist and gently guiding his hand away from your cheek. He flushed, stepping back. 

“That was fucking stupid,” he barked, turning away and wiping the blood on his pants. You scoffed. 

“I saved your life,” you growled, folding your arms over your chest. 

“And it almost got you killed!” Price exclaimed. 

“Says the guy who tried to hang me a week ago!” you cried out, throwing up your hands. 

“This was a stupid fucking idea. You’re dangerous. I never should have let Marshall provoke the Old Kingdom. Never should have made a deal with an outlaw,” he spat. The herd had been calmed by now. You saw Kyle, Johnny, and Simon watching you from a distance. 

“Well, you fucking did. Can’t exactly take it back now, can you?” you scoffed. 

“You know what? Deal’s off, Wildcat. Get your shit and get out of here,” Price growled. You physically recoiled, your chest tightening. You could feel tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. 

You didn’t say a thing as you mounted Whiskey and took off into the desert in the direction Gimley had gone. The wound on your cheek stung, a fresh reminder that you had unfinished business to attend to.

[literatecowboy]

Gasolina y Adrenalina Masterlist

The 141 break into your house. Whoops! A Gaz x F!Reader fic Warnings: violence, guns, human traffickers, eventual smut, home invasion, fast as fuck cars, dead parents, angst, misunderstanding to lovers

A Little Less Boy Next Door, A Little More Home Invader

[literatecowboy]

Gasolina y Adrenalina

The 141 break into your house. Whoops! A Gaz x F!Reader fic Warnings: violence, guns, human traffickers, eventual smut, home invasion, fast as fuck cars, dead parents, angst, misunderstanding to lovers

1. A Little Less Boy Next Door, A Little More Home Invader

“...okay, I have an address for you.” Laswell’s voice crackled through Price’s comms. He sat forward in the driver’s seat of the stolen sedan, making Ghost glance at him from the passenger’s seat. 

“Direct me,” he said, one hand leaving the wheel as he passed Ghost the small, handheld GPS. As Laswell recited coordinates, Gaz sat forward in the backseat. 

“What should we expect to walk into?” he asked, concern in his voice as he glanced over at Soap, who was bleeding and half-conscious in the seat beside him. 

“Old mentor of mine from the CIA. He’s been retired for a while but is always willing to lend a hand. I tried calling ahead, but there was no answer. I have on good authority there’s a key hidden at the base of the birdbath in the front yard.” Laswell said. 

“Captain Walker? I haven’t seen him since he walked without a cane and his daughter was little. It’ll be nice to see him again, despite the circumstances.” Price said.

The GPS settled on a route, and Price pushed down harder on the gas pedal as they hurdled across the night. 

—

You couldn’t sleep. 

As shuffled through the living room on your way back from the kitchen to get a glass of water, a glint of light caught your eye. Your heart broke all over again as you reached on top of the fireplace and gathered the simple urn containing your father’s ashes in trembling hands. 

You’d picked him up earlier that day. At least now he’d be able to be beside your mother once more. 

You put his urn back into its place, scooting it closer to your mother’s. Being alone in the world was suffocating. A car wreck had snuffed him from existence just two weeks ago and you could still hardly stomach your new reality. 

In less than a month your life had collapsed. Your fiancee was the first to leave, along with most of your former friends. You’d lost your job, your apartment. And after moving back in with your father, you’d lost him too. 

You padded back to your room, the great weight that you carried seeming to become even heavier. As you slipped into bed once more, you shut your eyes and tried to shut out the world. 

A noise pierced the darkness. Your eyes cracked open as two car doors slammed outside. The sound of male voices, indistinct and far away, drifted through your open window. 

You sat up and swung your legs over the bed, foregoing your slippers this time. If the cops found your dead body stuffed into your dad’s old novelty fish slippers, you’d be embarrassed. Crossing the room in an instant, you flung open your closet. 

You had a shotgun loaded and were halfway down the stairs in the blink of an eye. Even though he was gone, you were still your father’s daughter. 

You tensed as the sound of a key slotting into a lock echoed from the front door. There was a twist, then a click, and the door swung open. Coyotes began to yap and yowl in the distance. They were chasing prey. 

Boots clomped across your threshold and your breath caught in your throat. This had never actually happened before. You made it to the bottom of the stairs, silent as a kangaroo rat, and took a deep, shaky breath. The boots kept clomping toward you. You rounded the corner and aimed the shotgun at the head of the boots’ owner. 

“One more step and I’ll-”

He grabbed the gun, forcing the muzzle up toward the ceiling and slammed you back into the wall, knocking your head into a picture frame and sending it to the ground where it shattered. You wailed in pain, the fight leaving your body as you tried to slide free from his grasp, letting go of your shotgun. Your assailant tossed it aside and pinned you to the wall by your wrists. 

“Who are you?” he yelled as you shied away from him, not daring to look him in the face. 

“Just take what you want and leave!” you wailed, tears falling from your eyes as you did your best to squirm away from him. 

“Where’s Captain Walker?” he shouted. 

“Dead!” you screamed, your vision blurring as your knees gave out. The man holding you to the wall let go of you and you collapsed to the ground, sobbing into your hands. 

“Gaz, what’s going on?” a voice echoed through your entryway. Another man joined the one who’d pinned you. You shied away as he knelt beside you. 

“Came at me with a shotgun. Says Captain Walker is dead. Don’t know what to make of her,” Gaz said, picking up the shotgun he’d tossed aside before clearing the chambers. 

“It’s alright, love. Not going to hurt you,” the other man said. He offered a hand but you didn’t take it, wiping the tears from your eyes to take them in. As the second man got a good look at your face, recognition flashed across his features. 

“I’ll be damned. You’re Walker’s daughter, aren’t you?” he asked. You nodded stiffly, your eyes snapping to the doorway as a large man came in, a second man in his arms. 

“I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. We were expecting your father. Has he…passed?” the man asked, drawing your attention back to him. You heard the door shut and lock in the entryway. 

“Two weeks ago,” you said, your voice breaking as tears rushed into your eyes again. “Who are you? What do you want with my dad? Why did you break into my house?” you asked, sniffling as indignation began to seep into your voice. 

“I’m an old friend of your father’s. He offered this place as a refuge should any of his friends ever need it. I have a man hurt and we need a place to lie low for a little while.” he said. You stood shakily, looking around your living room at the chaos. 

“The damage is…done. But I want proof. Who are you?” you asked. 

“John Price of the SAS. I can put you in contact with a former subordinate of your father’s to confirm everything. Do you know Kate Laswell?” Price asked as he stood with you. 

“Laswell. I…never called her,” you breathed. Price’s brow furrowed. “After he passed.” you explained. He nodded. 

“I’ll take care of that. Right now, rest. You’ve had an eventful night,” Price said, turning to Gaz. “Can you help get her settled?” he asked. You flinched as your gaze met Gaz’s. He nodded, and as Price stepped away to help tend to his wounded, he approached. 

“I’m sorry, love. You gave me quite the fright there,” he said with a small smile, offering his hand. You took it reluctantly. 

“You scared me too,” you said, unable to meet his eyes as he lead you into the kitchen. 

“I am sorry. Don’t quite know what to say, if I’m honest. I’ve never mucked up a first impression on a woman quite so badly,” he said, pulling a chair at the kitchen table out for you. The lights in the house had been turned on and you watched as he snagged a few bags of frozen peas from your freezer. 

“It’s not the worst first impression I’ve ever had of a man,” you offered after a minute to break the silence. 

“There’s a story there,” Gaz said as he settled the peas onto your bruising wrists. 

“My financ-- ex fiance and I met when he collapsed on my desk at work and threw up on my brand new shoes,” you said, unable to stop the giggle that slipped from your lips. Gaz laughed, returning to you with a glass of water. 

“Christ, that’s horrendous. Was he drunk?” he asked, pushing the glass into your hands. 

“Nope. I used to work at a pharmacy in a hospital. He came to pick up medication after being discharged, but apparently wasn’t ready to go yet,” you said, picking up the glass in a shaking hand. As soon as you’d downed it, you rose. 

“I’m going to get some rest,” you said, turning to go. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Gaz asked, surging forward to be at your side. You flinched, doing your best to keep the peas balanced on your wrists. 

“No. Thank you,” you said, offering a wry smile as you headed for the stairs. 

As soon as you were out of sight, Gaz sighed. There was a weak chuckle from the living room and he caught Soap’s eye. 

“Ye think she’s bonnie, don’t ye?” he teased weakly. Gaz felt blood rush to his face and his ears felt hot. 

“You’re on pain meds, mate. Noticing things that aren’t there,” he said. He fiddled with the shells he’d taken from your shotgun absentmindedly, sitting down on the couch that was the furthest away from Soap. 

“It’s true, though, she is bonnie. Almost as bonnie as you, LT,” Soap slurred, his hand coming to rest on Ghost’s thigh. Ghost merely stood, glaring down at the Scot before going to sit beside Gaz. 

“Tough crowd,” whined Soap.

—

You woke the next morning to light streaming in through your windows and knocking at your bedroom door. Sleep had hit you hard the night before and you sat up, rubbing your eyes and struggling to adjust to consciousness. Your wrists were sore and the thawed bags of peas had dropped to the ground. The knocking came again

You slid your feet into the fish slippers and padded to the door, opening it and gazing at your visitor. Gaz stood before you, a plate in his hands. 

“Did I wake you?” he asked, stepping back as he took in your sleepy form. You nodded. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You took him in. He was still wearing the clothes he’d been in the night before, sans gear. He was covered in grime and dried sweat and smelled a little. 

“You didn’t shower?” you asked. Gaz paused, taken aback. 

“Suppose we didn’t think to,” he said. You stood in silence for a moment, awkwardness filling the hallway. 

“I made breakfast. I thought you might want some,” he said after a beat, seeming to remember why he’d woken you in the first place. He held out the plate as if in offering to a god - almost timidly, with great reverence. You smiled and took it, snagging a slice of apple from the edge. 

“Of course I want some. Who in their right mind turns down breakfast, even if it is from an intruder?” you asked. Gaz laughed a little and followed you as you left your room, headed for the kitchen table.

The rest of the men seemed to have already eaten, and you noticed that like Gaz, none of them had showered. You cringed internally at the thought of the sweat and grime permeating your furniture. 

“Good morning,” Captain Price greeted as you sat down at the kitchen table, tucking into your food. 

“Morning. You know, if you guys are going to be here, you might as well make use of the entire place,” you said. “I’ve got guest bedrooms - there’s no need to sleep on the couch and the floor. There’s four bathrooms in this house. Go get cleaned up, you can throw your clothes in the wash. My dad’s closet is yours to raid,” you said. 

“Think she’s sayin’ you stink, Ghost,” the wounded man with the Scottish accent wheezed from the corner. You felt heat rush to your face. 

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…if you were friends of my dad, then I want to treat you how he would’ve - with open arms,” you said, embarrassed. 

“You dad was a good man, love. I’m sorry to have barged in on you like this. Would’ve left right away had we any other choice,” Price admitted. 

“Honestly? If you’re going to keep waking me up to freshly made pancakes, you can stay as long as you want.” 

—

You dressed after breakfast and brought out some of your dad’s old clothes. The boys had showered one at a time, and much to your amusement, Captain Price seemed to take a liking to your dad’s Hawiian shirt collection. Paired with his boonie hat and a pair of your dad’s cargo shorts, the resemblance was striking and made your eyes misty for a moment. 

When the big man in the skull balaclava left to take his shower, the Scot beckoned you over conspiratorially. You sat beside him curiously, leaning in to hear him as he spoke in a low voice. 

“What do ye think of Gaz, lass?” he asked, a pain medication induced twinkle in his eye. You laughed nervously. 

“He’s…kind of scary, like the rest of you,” you admitted. There was no denying the aura of danger that each of the men in your house radiated. You imagined your father was once the same, but you’d never seen that side of him. You’d never been exposed to his job like this. 

“Between ye and me, he thinks yer bonnie. Don’t tell him I said tha,” the Scot slurred. 

“I don’t know what that means,” you admitted with a laugh. Noticing his bandages had become a little grimy, you stood to fetch your first aid kit. When you returned to him and started removing his old bandages, he wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

“Don’t let Kyle see ye touchin’ me or he’ll be jealous,” he teased. You rolled your eyes. 

“What’s your name?” you asked curiously, focusing on cleaning his wounds and redoing the bandages. 

“Johnny to ye, lass. The big fucker in the shower without me is Ghost,” he pouted. 

“You can clean up if you want to. I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind helping you,” you said. Johnny’s eyes shot open from where they were half lidded. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” he cried, startling you. He glanced around, eyes searching the room frantically before they settled back on you. “How did ye know?” he hissed. You closed the first aid kit and shrugged. 

“Just…guessed, I suppose. But don’t worry, my lips are sealed,” you promised. 

You left Soap to his own devices and he fell asleep rather quickly. You went outside to work in your dad’s garden after lunch, wanting some space from the home invaders and some peace and quiet. The hours slipped by, and you reluctantly came inside when the sun slipped below the horizon. 

The fridge, which had been stocked with enough groceries for one, was mostly emptied. You sighed and started making a list of what you’d need to get at the store the next day. The groceries for one had become groceries for five. 

---

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Eventual smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist

3. Coming Home to You

You woke late the next morning. The sun fell in from the window and draped itself across you, warming your body just past the point of discomfort. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. The clock read half past nine. 

Dressing yourself, you pulled your boots on and tromped downstairs. You found Gaz in the jail, working at one of the desks. Price was nowhere to be found. 

“Morning. I’ve got something for you,” Gaz said, rising from his chair and fishing for a key in his desk. He crossed the room and you followed, watching as he unlocked one of the several gun cabinets in the room.

“Sheriff Price asked me to return the rest of your things to you. He went to serve a warrant and didn’t want to wake you,” Gaz said. Your face lit up and you smiled as you fastened your gun belt around your hips and reloaded your sidearms. 

“Thanks, Gaz. A warrant on who?” you asked, tucking your guns into their holsters and taking stock of your ammo. 

“One Mr. Gimley. The last alive of the men who attacked Mr. Marshall yesterday,” Gaz said. You stiffened.

“He went alone?” you asked. Gaz nodded. 

“He’ll be fine. Neither Mr. Cavendish or Mr. Sutherland would dare kill a lawman,” he said, locking the gun cabinet and sitting back down. 

“Doesn’t feel right,” you said, shaking your head and peering out the window. “How long ago did he leave?” you asked. 

“Not long, but you shouldn’t go after him. He requested we stay here and await any news,” Gaz said, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not his subordinate,” you muttered, pushing out the door and heading to the barn. Gaz called out behind you, but you were gone too quickly. 

It felt good to ride Whiskey over the untamed west again. You followed the fresh hoofprints in the mud around back of Rattlesnake Point until they disappeared into the Colorado. On the other side you picked them up again and followed the track across wide grazing land until a stately house appeared in the distance. 

—

Sheriff John Price had scarcely passed the front gates of Sutherland Manor when he was stopped by a group of armed guards.

“This is private property, sir,” their leader sneered, staring up at Price where he sat on his liver chestnut quarter horse, Judge. 

“I do not mean to disturb you gentlemen, and I surely will be out of your hair in a moment, if you would allow me to speak to Mr. Sutherland about a warrant I possess for one of his employees?” Sheriff Price asked. The guard was about to respond, but the doors of the big house swung open then and a well-dressed man stepped into the sun. 

“Sheriff Price! To what do I owe the pleasure? Gentlemen, this man is of no danger or consequence to this place. Why do you treat him so?” Mr. Sutherland asked, chuckling. Price stepped down from his horse and approached the man, who gestured for him to sit on one of the chairs on the porch. They sat together, and a servant brought drinks, which Sheriff Price declined politely. 

“‘Tis good to see another Englishmen out in this wild country. I have brought with me as much refinement as I can, but such things are lost on these simple people,” Mr. Sutherland said, pouring milk into his tea and stirring it. “Now! To business. What have you come to my ranch for? The ride is surely far, and you would not have come unless a serious matter was afoot?”

“Serious it is, I’m afraid. Three men who I believe to be in your employ attacked me and another man yesterday, and though two are now deceased, I cannot let the matter rest. I bring a warrant for the arrest of the third attacker,” Price said. 

“What a dreadful affair! I can assure you, sir, that I do not employ men who would behave so savagely. Perhaps Mr. Marshall was attacked by his own men - disgruntled by their wages, perhaps?” Mr. Sutherland suggested. 

“It is curious that you know the man attacked to be Mr. Marshall, sir,” Price said, doing his best to hide his suspicion. “I would never accuse a man of your standing as being a liar, but might I perhaps interview your guards to see if they know of such a man?”

“I do not feel that to be necessary,” Mr. Sutherland said, setting his tea on the tray and rising. “And I do have a cattle deal to attend to, so I am afraid I must ask you to leave, sir.”

The guards which had dispersed before shifted, seeming to come alive at Mr. Sutherland’s words. They made their way toward Sheriff Price as he stood on the porch, blocking his way to his horse. 

The sound of a lone rider galloping down the road and toward the property made several of them turn. Mr. Sutherland watched from the entryway to his manor as you appeared on horseback, charging through the gates to the property. 

“Sheriff Price!” you called, refusing to dismount. The guards parted and let Price through, and he met you before the fountain in the drive. 

“It’s good to see you,” he muttered, taking the reins of his horse before mounting up. You glared down Mr. Sutherland’s guards as Price rode up to you by the fountain. 

“Let’s go,” he said, turning and leading the way off of the grounds of Sutherland manor. You followed. 

—

Once the house was but a speck in the distance, you slowed your horse and turned to look at the Sheriff. 

“That was stupid of you,” you said, riding side by side with him toward town. 

“Mr. Sutherland wouldn’t have allowed me to be harmed. My intention was to make a peaceful arrest of the fugitive Gimley to see how he would react. His denial means he’s committed obstruction of justice, which legitimizes our cause,” Price said. 

“Still shouldn’t have gone alone,” you said, shaking your head and casting a glance back down the long driveway as your horses crossed the river. 

“Who else would you propose I take?” he asked incredulously. “MacTavish and Riley are no lawmen, and leaving the town unguarded by taking Deputy Garrick with me could have been disastrous.”

“I know you still don’t trust me. You hate what I am. But we’re in the thick of it together, Sheriff, so I advise you put my skills to good use,” you said. 

It was quiet for a while. You and Price left the river behind as you rode closer to town. All seemed quiet outside of the saloon despite the skirmish the day before. Mr. Riley came storming out of the saloon doors, a myriad of Gaelic curses following him as he untied his horse’s reins. 

“Mr. Riley! Is there trouble?” Sheriff Price called out. Mr. Riley mounted his massive shire and fell into step with you and Price. 

“Only in paradise,” he grumbled, fixing his mask. It had been pushed up slightly and he yanked it back down, glowering at the road as you ride. Sheriff Price softened. 

“Is Johnny okay?” he asked. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Simon said, waving him off and patting his horse’s neck. It was pure black except for its bald face and white stockings, and you marveled at its size. 

“Where’d you get that horse?” you asked, marveling at its size. 

“Found ‘im as a colt, fed him from a bottle like a wee babe,” Simon said, visibly relieved by the shift in subject. “Ghost’s a good boy. Don’t let his size fool ya, love.”

“Your horse gave Gaz a good bit of trouble the other day. A mustang, correct?” Price asked. You nodded. 

“Whiskey’s a mean old girl, but I would never replace her. Bought her off a rancher who couldn’t break her and didn’t know what to do. She once bit off the ear of a man who was giving me trouble,” you said proudly. 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Price muttered. 

—

Your group split when you neared the Sheriff’s house. Price and Simon went together into Simon’s home, which was attached to his workshop and across the wide street from the Sheriff’s house. You rode around the side of the house to the barn, dismounting Whiskey and calling out a greeting to Gaz as you brought her into a stall. 

“How’d it go? Where’s Price?” he asked, looking up from where he was grooming his horse. 

“Went to Simon’s for a bit. Didn’t make any arrests. It seems that Mr. Sutherland is resistant to all cooperation,” you said, patting Whiskey as she lowered her head to munch on some hay. 

“Pretty horse,” you said, leaning against the fence as you exited Whiskey’s stall.

“Thanks! This is Athena,” he said, carefully running his comb through the mare’s mane. She was a beautiful palomino pinto with white patches and big blue eyes. You watched him work for a while before standing. 

“Got chores?” you asked. 

“A handful. Can’t escape them I’m afraid,” he said with a sigh. You picked up a pitchfork from where it leaned up against the wall. 

“Where should I start?”

—

Price was startled to find you lugging a bale of hay from the shed to the stable when he came around the side of the house leading his horse a few hours later. Gaz straightened up from pouring a bucket of water into a trough and waved him over as you finished laying down new bedding for each of the horses. 

“Good to finally see you, you old chore-dodger!” he called out with a grin, making you laugh. 

“I’m more impressed at how much you’ve already gotten done,” Price said, looking around. Shit had been shoveled, chickens had been fed, the horses had been watered and gotten their lunch, and a myriad of other chores had been done around the yard. 

“Wasn’t all me, cap. Wildcat’s a hell of a hand,” Kyle said, carrying his bucket back to the water tap and leaving it in its place. “I’m off to get lunch.”

“Turns out outlaws can do honest work,” you said with a laugh, taking some sugar cubes from your pocket and feeding them to Judge. The edges of Price’s eyes creased as he smiled. He put Judge away and joined you as you sat on a bale of hay, looking out at the river. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to help with chores. Didn’t expect you to come after me this morning, either.” 

“You’re a good man, sheriff. Your cause is just. I…I don’t want anything to happen to you,” you admitted. You gazed into Price’s eyes, silence settling comfortably around you as you sat together in the shade. 

He gazed back, smiling at you, his cheeks lightly flushed. He seemed to think something over for a moment before sighing and standing. 

“Go get some rest, Wildcat.”

—

Later that evening, there was a knock on the door to the guest room you occupied in Price and Gaz’s house. You rose from the chair where you’d been dozing and answered the door, smiling at Gaz when you saw him. 

“All those chores we did earlier made me thirsty. What do you say to a drink down at MacTavish’s?” he asked, grinning at you. 

“You, sir, are a genius,” you said, grabbing your hat from the desk and putting it on as you followed Gaz downstairs, passing Price on the way out. 

“Coming?” he asked, pausing with his hand on the door handle. Price shook his head. 

“Go, take a load off. I’ve got business here,” he said, waving his hand.

You and Gaz mounted up and trotted down the road. The night air was warm and draped around your shoulders like a thick blanket, and you took a deep, contented breath. The saloon was close enough, and you hitched your horses beside each other before heading in and taking your places at the bar. 

“How did you come to be Price’s deputy?” you asked, rolling your beer bottle between your fingers idly as you gazed out the window. 

“Was adopted by him when I was young. I was born here, but lost my ma and pa to smallpox during an outbreak. He took me in and the rest is history,” Gaz said. 

“Seems like a good man to me, maybe a little misguided,” you said with a shrug, lifting the rim of the bottle to your lips and taking a swig. Gaz shrugged. 

“I’d face down the devil at his side,” he said. 

The night passed quickly as you got to know Gaz a little better. Past midnight, the saloon was mostly empty. You were rising to leave when familiar Scottish shouting erupted from a room on the upper floor. You and Gaz were on your feet in an instant, charging up the stairs and down the long hallway they lead to. 

“-and if ye think I’m not capable-!” Johnny’s voice echoed through the door of the room on the left. Gaz hammered on the door with his fist, reaching for the handle with his free hand. 

“MacTavish, you alright? We’re coming in!” he called, twisting the knob and throwing the door open. You and Gaz stumbled into the room and froze. 

Johnny stood at the foot of the bed in his underwear, gesturing angrily at Simon, who was sat up in the bed shirtless, his lower half covered by the blanket. He reached for his mask and yanked it over his nose and mouth, shoving his hat on and pulling it low over his eyes. You averted your gaze and Gaz quickly shut the door behind him. 

“Can your lover’s spat be any louder?” he hissed, glaring at Johnny as he glared at Simon. You looked between Johnny and Simon, bewildered. Johnny rounded on Gaz next. 

“And ye! Do ye think I’m incapable of fighting my own battles too?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. You blinked, and your eyes darted between Simon, Johnny, and now Gaz once more. 

“What the fuck are you talking about, MacTavish? And put some damn pants on,” Gaz grumbled, rolling his eyes and folding his arms over his chest. 

“Simon says I can’t help you and Price anymore. Says its too ‘dangerous’ for me, whatever the fuck that means. This thing with Marshall concerns me just as much as it concerns the rest of ye, thanks,” Johnny growled, snatching his trousers up off the floor. 

“Nobody said that. What do you mean, Simon?” Gaz asked, exasperated. Simon glared down at the blanket, the tips of his ears red. You grabbed Gaz by the elbow and tugged him toward the door. 

“Come on, deputy. We’ve outstayed our welcome,” you said with a grimace, doing your best to avoid further eye contact with any of the men’s bodies. You pulled open the door and shoved Gaz out before he could protest before slipping out behind him and closing it. 

The shouting didn’t resume as you walked down the stairs and exited the empty saloon in silence. As you mounted your horse and waited on Gaz to do the same, you spoke. 

“They’re fucking?” you asked, doing your best to forget what you’d seen minutes ago as you rubbed your eyes. 

“That’s a simple way of putting it,” Gaz said. 

—

Back up in the room on the second floor of the saloon, Simon took Johnny’s hands and squeezed them gently, guiding his lover to sit back down on the bed. 

“Didn’t mean to say you couldn’t fight your own battles,” he said, pulling his mask back off and tossing it to the floor. Johnny gently lifted his hat off and set it aside. 

“Si, I’m not going tae give up. This is the best chance we’ve had in a long time,” Johnny said. 

“I wasn’t trying to ask you to. I’m sorry, Johnny,” Simon said. He lay back on the bed, pulling Johnny into his arms to lay with him.

“You’re what makes me life worth living, Johnny. I don’t want you to…” Simon trailed off. Johnny ignored the crack in his boyfriend’s voice and rested his head onto his chest, tracing soothing lines onto his forearms. 

“Won’t get hurt, Si. Not a scratch. Nothing would dare stop me from coming home to you.”

---

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Eventual smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist.

2. No Angel

Sheriff John Price lived in a house attached to the jail. It was a big wooden thing that stood at two stories and backed up to the Colorado river, which bent awkwardly around the town. 

You discovered this after the skirmish. Mr. Marshall had very quickly left to ride home after repeatedly assuring Price that he would make it there safely, leaving you alone with a man who abhorred your existence. You had mounted your horses and set off back for his home, as he still did not trust you to flee if you were not tethered to his side. 

As he busied himself with chores in the home you slipped out the back door and wandered down to the river. It was secluded enough - surrounded by trees and out of eyeshot of other people - so you elected to take a bath. 

You stripped as the sun went down, kneeling by the water and giving your clothes a thorough washing before hanging them to dry on the outstretched limbs of a nearby tree. As you returned to the water’s edge and waded in, the cool water rushing around your ankles, your throat constricted and your chest tightened. 

You were unable to stop the sob that ripped from your throat as you fell to your knees in the cool, waterlogged sand, clutching your throat as tears poured from your eyes. The noose you’d narrowly dodged cinched around your neck and pulled tight. You squeezed your eyes shut, gasping for breath as you tried to will away your panic, but the tears would not stop. 

The sound of your sobs was faint up at the house. John noticed them first, some time after you’d broken down, and stepped to the window, rifle in hand. Gaz joined him and they studied you as you knelt, naked and crying in the river, your back turned to them as it heaved with the force of your sobs. 

“Put the gun away, sir. She’s not doing anything wrong,” Gaz said, guilt tinging the corners of his voice as he pushed John’s rifle away from the window. 

“Don’t trust it. Could be an act to lure us down there,” John said stiffly. Gaz shook his head. 

“Well, it’s a damn good one if it is. I’m going to get her a towel,” he said, pushing past John and heading deeper into the house. He grabbed a spare towel from the shelf in his room and headed out the back door, marching with purpose down to the river.

You didn’t hear him approach, and when he called out to you, you were startled. At least you had finished bathing, you thought - you were about to be pulled away from your solace.

“Miss? Are you alright?” he asked. You whirled around, thankful that the water of the river was dark. He approached with a hand loosely covering his eyes, head turned toward the ground. The towel in his outstretched hand surprised you. 

“I’m okay,” you sniffled, eyeing him warily as you wiped your tears away. 

“You should get dried off, it’s going to get cold tonight. You can have this,” he said, setting the towel he’d retrieved on top a large rock on the beach. It was close enough for you to take a few steps forward and grab. Once he placed it, he backed off and gave you space. 

“Thank you,” you said. Your voice was as raw as the skin around your eyes and as rose from the river, taking the towel and wrapping it around your body. 

“You can uncover your eyes - and thank you, for not staring,” you said softly, stepping onto the sandy shore with weak legs. He did so hesitantly, but gave you a smile once he met your eyes. 

“There’s dinner, up at the house. I live with John here, being his deputy and all. We still need to fix you up a place to sleep, but you’re more than welcome to come in and eat while you wait,” he said, turning to walk back up the hill. 

“I think I will,” you said softly. 

—

John watched as Gaz headed back up the hill. As soon as his deputy made it inside and you were alone again, you dressed yourself, pulled on your boots, and set your hat on your wet hair. You went to pat your gun belt, and looked disheartened when you remembered it wasn’t there. 

“She didn’t kill me,” Gaz called as he headed for the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of stew. 

“I saw. I’m surprised,” John said, turning away from the window as you started to head up the hill. 

“Find somewhere for her to sleep yet?” Gaz asked, as he pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, sticking his spoon into the bowl. 

“The cell. Until she earns my trust,” Price grunted, fetching his own bowl and fixing himself a healthy portion of the stew. 

“That’s a little harsh, sir.” Gaz said. 

The door swung open and you stepped in, peering around with a wary gaze. Price jerked his thumb back at the stove. 

“Eat up. Won’t be more until breakfast and we’ve got things to discuss tonight.” he said.

—

You’d watch the sun set as you ate, pushing the carrots and chunks of meat around in your bowl until Sheriff Price left the table. Gaz had done his best to make conversation and you had engaged him, finding yourself warming to his kindness. 

As the night grew deeper and the fire in the hearth died, Price summoned you to the jail at the front of the house. He sat at his desk, which faced the cells, and you pulled up a chair beside the door to the kitchen where Gaz leaned in the doorway. 

Mr. Riley was the first to arrive and Mr. MacTavish came in not long after him. You listened as the four spoke between themselves, discussing the fight outside the saloon earlier in the day. 

“Not surprised they’re callin ye Wildcat, lass. You fight like a cornered tiger, I’m glad you’re on ma side!” Mr. MacTavish exclaimed, clapping his hands together and grinning at you. Mr. Riley rolled his eyes. Despite the fact that he was among friends, he still wore his black bandanna above his nose and his hat was pulled low over his eyes. 

“Stop flirting, Johnny. Don’t think she appreciates it,” he said, clapping a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and giving him a shake. Gaz snorted and you leaned forward in your seat. 

“Who were those men?” you asked. “What did they want with Mr. Marshall?”

John sucked in a breath and you turned your attention to him. 

“It’s a long story. This here’s a livestock town - cattle, to be specific. Mr. Marshall is a new player in this territory and some dislike competition.” he said, rising from his desk and drawing the shades of the window behind him. 

“Those thugs told him he should’ve sold when they came at him. I take it a larger rancher wanted to buy him out and force him out of town?” you asked, a frown splitting your features. 

“It’s a wee more complex than that,” Mr. MacTavish said. “See, James Marshall is an Irishman. Comes from poor stock in tae countryside, he does. Left home and caught tae boat over here as a teen, same as I did. Took up ranching and decided tae make somethin’ of himself. 

“There’s old English money in this county, ranchers the same as Marshall. Some folk don’t leave old world politics behind, and these folks don’t like the idea of a successful Irishman. Nor a Scot, for that matter!” Mr. MacTavish said, laughing and leaning back in his chair. 

“It’s more complex than that. I wager it’s about money. Money and control. They own everything in these parts and keep the townsfolk under their thumb, and they want it to stay that way,” Gaz said. 

“Truth is, it’s nuanced. But there’s two men who run two very large ranches in this county, and when others do business here, they’ve come to expect a piece of the pie.\,” Price said. 

“So they think they own the place,” you said, mulling everything over in your head. 

“Rattlesnake Point is theirs. The Old Kingdom has a hand in most everything around here from agriculture to politics,” Mr. Riley said. “That needs to be changed.”

—

Mr. Marshall came in not long after the conversation had switched to lighter topics. When he saw the gathered group, his face lit up. 

“Gentlemen, good to see you!” he said, shaking each man’s hand as he breezed through the room. He paused when he reached you, the smile widening on his lips. 

“My lady, you look lovely,” he said, taking your hand and raising it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the back. You pulled away quickly and offered him an awkward smile. 

“I’m afraid your affections are wasted on me, Mr. Marshall. I am no fine lady,” you said. 

“Exactly. No lady would do as she does. Now, we must get to business. You are in grave danger, Mr. Marshall.” John said. You shot him a glare but he ignored you. 

“The deaths of the men who attacked you earlier will be seen as direct provocation, regardless of the fact that we were defending ourselves. We need to find a way to stop the Old Kingdom from retaliating,” John said. 

“We shouldn’t be on the defense - we need to hit them before they can hit us,” James urged, sitting down across from John at the desk and holding his hat in his lap.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. These men are corrupt and they play dirty - provoke them more and they’ll do more than just run you out of town. They’ve already made an attempt on your life!” John exclaimed. 

“Mr. Marshall, we’d like to keep a rotation of trusted men on your farm. One of us will be there each day and night to protect you in the event of an attack on your ranch,” Gaz said, stepping forward. James shook his head almost violently. 

“No, I already have men in my employ who can protect me. We need to go for the head of this organization - we need to kill Mr. Cavendish and Mr. Sutherland!” James exclaimed. 

“That wouldn’t stop the loyalists from killing ye in retaliation. They’ve got men who’ll be loyal, even in death. Others will take over. I’ve heard talk, bold as all, in my saloon. The suffering will continue no matter what,” Mr. MacTavish said, rising from his chair and joining the other men in the heated conflict. You leaned back in your chair as the room erupted into arguing. 

Gaz had given you back your satchel after dinner, and you fished out your last, half-smoked pack of cigarettes. Producing one, you held it between your lips and struck a match on the heel of your boot, lighting it and taking a long drag. 

You stood, ground the match into an ashtray, and pulled the cigarette from your lips, exhaling with a long sigh. At the peak of the shouting, you slammed your fist down onto the desk, startling the men into silence. They watched you as you pondered for a moment, taking another drag on your cigarette. 

“You’re too quick to rush to the extreme option. Cutting the heads off the monster won’t accomplish anything,” you said, nodding your head at James Marshall. John looked pleased, and was about to speak, but you rounded on him. 

“You’re far too worried about doing anything dishonorable or illegal. Sticking to the letter of the law and doing nothing other than sending out a few men with guns won’t help anyone,” you said. The room was quiet now - all eyes on you. 

“We need to cripple the outfit. Burning, stealing, destroying - killing - is what we need to do. Then we kill it for good. And we need legal and illegal means of doing it.” you said. 

“It’s not just about James. It’s about all the people in this county that those big bastards have fucked over with their dealings. We need to end the reign of the Old Kingdom for good.”

—

A firm agreement was reached in the early hours of the morning. Long after the others had departed and Gaz had retired to his bunk, you found John in the kitchen nursing a whiskey. When you came in, he poured a healthy amount into a second glass handed it to you. 

“It pains me to admit that you were correct in what you said back there,” Price said after a long minute of drinking in silence. 

“Why does it have to pain you?” you asked, studying the sheriff. 

“Because I nearly killed you,” he said quietly, gazing into your eyes. There was a shine to his - the drink had revealed his softer side. 

“You were following the law. I am no angel, I–”

John laid his hand over yours and squeezed it, silencing you. 

“None of that, now. Go get some rest, Wildcat.”

You set your empty glass down and slunk off to your bunk.

---

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War Masterlist

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Eventual smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist

Part 1

Hanging Offense

No Angel

Coming Home to You

Deal's Off

Twenty-Five

Outside of the Law

Burn

More to come

Additional Information

This fic will have two endings that you can choose between - the "Hollywood" ending (aka the happy ending) and the "Spaghetti" ending (the bittersweet, major character death ending). Links to all parts will be labeled accordingly.

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Eventual smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist.

1. Hanging Offense

1869, Somewhere on the Colorado River

“Cattle rustlin’ is a hangin’ offense, miss. You know that?”

You sat straight-backed in the back of the prison wagon, hands shackled, as it bumped down the dusty dirt road.

“So’s horse rustling,” you shouted over the rattling of the wagon, looking pointedly at the sheriff’s deputy as he walked beside the wagon, leading your horse. He was a young Black man who wore his hat low over his eyes and showed respectful deference to the muttonchop-toting Sheriff who drove the wagon.

“One horse - which mind you, we’re taking along for safekeeping, in comparison to one thousand head of cattle. Does that strike you as being equivalent?” the sheriff asked, turning back to look at you. You fixed him with a stony glare.

“You took the lives of my men and the rancher got his cattle back, so yes, I’d say this is unfair. I’d like my horse back so I might go on my way,” you said. “My guns should be returned to me as well.”

“You put a shot in between my legs, miss. Not sure if arming you would be beneficial to my health.” the deputy piped up, tugging on the reins as he walked and making your horse, Whiskey, balk.

“Learn to control a horse, asshole.”

“That’s Deputy Garrick to you, miss.”

As the prison wagon rattled into town, the dirt of the road became mud. Men lining the wood plank sidewalks gawked as you were paraded by. You noticed few women, and those that you did paused to gawk. The sheriff laughed.

“With how few decent women there are around these parts, half of these men might ask you to marry them yet. Welcome to Rattlesnake Point, miss!”

—

Hours later, you sat in your cell on the threadbare cot, watching the sun go down through the windows. The door opened and the sheriff looked up from his desk, a smile crossing his lips.

“Ah, Mr. Riley. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” he asked, rising from the desk and extending his hand. The two shook hands and Mr. Riley produced a wound measuring tape before stepping toward your cell.

“Good evening, Sheriff Price. If you would permit me, I would like to measure this women for the coffin I expect will need to be constructed for her, given her charges.” Mr. Riley said, offering you his hand.

“Miss. Would you mind standing for me?” he asked, unwinding the measuring tape. It uncoiled like a snake waiting to strike, its end brushing back and forth against the brick floor.

“Go fuck yourself.” you spat, your heart thumping in your chest at the thought of death so close.

“Now, miss, that’s no way to speak to Mr. Riley. He’s a fine undertaker, the finest this town has ever seen. Find it in your heart to make his job easier, or else I may have to enter your cell and measure you myself.” Sheriff Price said.

“Come in here and it’ll be your coffin Mr. Riley constructs.” you hissed. Mr. Riley smiled and rewound the tape, slipping it into his pocket.

“You seem to have imprisoned a wildcat in place of a woman, Sheriff. It is of no consequence - we can bury your body wrapped in canvas.” he said, turning to leave with a tip of his hat.

“My apologies, Mr. Riley. If I might ask a favor - if you see Deputy Garrick, would you ask him to return to me? I’ve no doubt he’s at Mr. MacTavish’s watering hole, but our work is not yet done. I would like an extra guard on watch tonight - I suspect this one to be a flight risk.” the sheriff said.

“Of course.”

—

The night passed, but not without event. The walls of the jailhouse were brick, as was the floor, and try as you you did you could not dislodge them. The bars in the window were sturdy and did not budge when you tugged. The ceiling was too high for you to reach, even standing on the flimsy cot.

The Sheriff merely sat and watched you, not lifting a finger to stop you as you searched out every avenue of escape you could. He had bested you. Your men were dead - not a soul could come to your rescue.

You slept for a few hours before being awoken at dawn by the cell door opening. The Sheriff was gone. Deputy Garrick stood in his place.

“Miss, it’s time. Please, come quietly so that you might die with your dignity.” he said softly, almost gently, reaching out his gloved hand. You stood slowly and stepped cautiously from the cell, your gaze finding the window in the wall near the front of the room. Sheriff Price stood leaned against the prison wagon outside, and his gaze met yours. He offered you a pitying smile as if you were some hapless little woman who needed to be disciplined.

With a growl, you turned and launched yourself at the deputy.

—

It took the combined might of Sheriff Price, Deputy Garrick, and Mr. Riley to wrestle you into the back of the secure wagon, kicking and screaming and spitting and biting and clawing. By the end of it they looked thoroughly unkempt and to your chagrin, thoroughly amused.

“A wildcat indeed. It’ll be interesting to see if she can fight a rope,” Mr. Riley mused.

The ride to the hanging tree was over quickly. A crowd had assembled to watch, despite the early morning, and you glared silently at them all, having been muzzled following the earlier scrap. You were not given the chance to walk - Sheriff Price hefted you over his shoulder and marched you beneath the noose, standing you on the flimsy chair before slipping the rope over your head. The Deputy was entrusted to watch you as he climbed onto a barrel and fished a paper from his pocket to read your charges.

“While unfortunate that such a beautiful member of the fairer sex feels the desire to engage in criminal behavior unbecoming of Christianity, it is imperative that she be punished for her crimes as any other…”

As the Sheriff droned on, dust was kicked up in the distance and the sound of hooves on the dirt road pounded closer. Before you could fully make out the figure riding hard in your direction, a hood was pulled over your head and all you could see was black.

“…and may God have mercy on her soul.” the sheriff finished. Your heart tightened, as did the noose around your neck. The noise of approaching horses was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in your ears. This was the end.

“Stop! Stop this execution, now!” a voice shouted out. “Those were my steers she stole, and I am commanding this to stop!”

You tensed, awaiting weightlessness. The deputy behind you froze - you could feel his hands tighten on your arms. Sheriff Price called out to the figure.

“Mr. Marshall, what is the meaning of this?” he called out. You could hear him jump down from the barrel he stood on and pass by you, leaves crunching as he approached the man.

“I don’t wish for her to be executed. Her men are dead, her gang has been eradicated. My steers are safe. There is no need for this - and I have many things to ask her.” the voice, who you assumed to be Mr. Marshall, said.

“You would ask me to set free a livestock rustler - why?” Sheriff Price asked. Their voices quieted - you could no longer hear what they were discussing. The bag was lifted from your head, then the rope pulled from your neck. You sucked in a deep breath, stumbling down from the chair and falling to your knees in the grass.

You caught sight of a young, attractive man standing before you. He offered you his hand, but you ignored it and stood on your own. Your boots left indents in the dirt.

The deputy cut your hands free and you stretched your wrists, looking around. The crowd had largely dispersed, heading back to town and grumbling about missing out on the promised entertainment. Your knees wobbled.

“I’ve been told that you might be the solution to a…problem Mr. Marshall and I are afflicted by,” the Sheriff said, folding his arms across his chest as he eyed you, obviously unconvinced.

“So you delay my execution? So I can be a tool for you to use and then discard? Hang me now and get it over with,” you demanded. Price sighed.

“As much as it pains me to say it, this…opportunity would earn you a full pardon,” he said. “I’ve been around long enough to know that if you want to bring the Lord’s justice to sinners, you don’t call upon a saint.”

—

You passed back through town sitting proud on your own horse this time. Whiskey, your large, strawberry roan mustang, was a mean mare. She had given the Sheriff and each of his men trouble as they brought her to you, only calming when you offered her some sugar from your pocket. Deputy Garrick had earned his first bruises from her after she had thrown him the previous day when he tried to ride her out of your sight.

Mr. Marshall and Sheriff Price rode on either side of you. As you passed the jail, you slowed Whiskey to a stop and gave the sheriff a pointed look.

“My guns?” you asked. Mr. Marshall seemed to be about to speak but the Sheriff shook his head.

“You’re lucky that you’re even on horseback, miss. You get your guns back, there’s nothing stopping you from putting lead in between my eyes and running off again,” he said. You sighed.

“I’m a woman of my word, sheriff. Mind that I might not be able to assist you as efficiently without my guns at my side,” you said, urging Whiskey on once more and riding in front of the men, who glanced at each other warily.

—

Mr. Marshall had lead you to a saloon.

Sheriff Price looked hesitant as you hitched your horses out front but did not leave your side regardless. As Mr. Marshall was about to pass through the swinging doors, he grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Here? Are you sure?” he asked, glancing around. You watched curiously, leaning against the saloon wall, arms folded across your chest.

“Where do you think I’ve been getting my information? Men from the Old Kingdom come here all the time, but the owner’s got no love for loyalists like them,” Mr. Marshall said. “Feeds me info from time to time.”

Pulling free from Price’s grasp, he shoved his way into the saloon. You followed without sparing the Sheriff a glance.

It was rowdy in the saloon for the mid afternoon. That morning’s work was done unusually early for the cattlemen and they sought to pass the rest of the day with drink. The piano sang from the corner as men stumbled about, finding their places at the bar or at gambling tables. Women of ill repute lined the railing overlooking the first floor from the second level, fanning themselves or smoking as they sought their marks.

The presence of Mr. Marshall had caused a mild stir, and you quickly realized that the men of this bar were no friends of his, though Sheriff Price’s presence seemed to dissuade the clientele from approaching him. You observed as a table of men, upon catching sight of Mr. Marshall, stood and exited the saloon. They mounted their horses outside and rode away rather quickly, which raised the hairs on the back of your neck. Something didn’t feel right.

“Barkeep! Where’s Mr. MacTavish?” Mr. Marshall called out as he approached the bar, tossing the bartender a coin.

“Cellar, sir. Does this have to do with the spirits you requested for your dinner party?” the barkeep asked. Mr. Marshall nodded. The barkeep eyed you up and then Sheriff Price, his brow furrowing.

“Very well. Head on downstairs,” he said, turning to fetch another drink.

—

The cellar was large which only slightly surprised you. A town containing as many cowboys as it did needed to be well-stocked with drink. As you followed Mr. Marshall deeper into the cool, lantern-lit depths, the sound of a thick Scottish accent boomed off of the kegs.

“James Marshall! It’s good tae see–” Mr. MacTavish froze when he caught sight of Sheriff Price. “You brought the Sheriff? And a lass? What’s going on?” he asked, how brow furrowing and his head cocking.

“I think she’s the perfect solution to our problem, Johnny. I let John here in on it too, and he agrees with me. There are others counting on us - we’ve never had an opportunity like this before.” James Marshall said, gesturing to you as you stood with your hands on your hips.

“Hold on, now, I still haven’t been told what exactly this problem you keep mentioning is,” you said, your brow creasing. John shook his head at the other two men.

“Not here, too many ears. Later tonight, let’s meet at my office. The others will be there too. In the meantime, I’ll explain to our…asset…what’s been going on here,” he said, turning to leave the cellar again.

“I’ll be there. See ya later, gentlemen. Lass,” Johnny said, tipping his hat to you. This made the Sheriff scoff, but he said nothing as you climbed the stairs back up to the saloon. You were the first to push through the swinging doors, and as you fiddled with your saddle, a shout sounded from down the street.

“Marshall! Get over here, boy!”

Sheriff Price’s head jerked up at the same time as yours. You watched as a big, burly man, one of the men who had hurried out of the bar earlier, stormed up to Mr. Marshall. Two other large men flanked at him.

With one punch from the burly man, Mr. Marshall was sent to the ground, hollering and clutching his nose. The man wasn’t done, though, and aimed a hard kick at his ribs. The other two flanking him were quick to join in.

You were quick to the defense of the man who’d saved your life, rolling up your sleeves as you stomped over toward Mr. Marshall’s attackers. You aimed a punch at the big one, clocking him hard in the chin and sending him stumbling back a few steps as you flexed your fingers, eyeing the others.

“You vagabonds! Stop, now!” Sheriff Price roared, surprising you with his speed. He pulled you away from the fight, shoved you to the side, and stood over Mr. Marshall, glaring down the attackers. One of them laughed, making the others chuckle too.

“You ain’t got no authority here!” he laughed, shoving Price in the chest. He staggered back a step, his chest heaving as his hands balled into fists.

“One more step and I’ll put you in the ground,” you growled, surging forward and putting yourself in front of Price and Marshall. The big one grabbed for you, but you took a step forward and swung at him, landing a strong punch and stepping up to land another. This set them off again, and someone swung at you, connecting with your nose and sending you falling onto your ass beside Mr. Marshall as he groaned, blood gushing from his nose.

The three turned on Price then, aiming punches at him and trying to grab him to force him to the ground. As you scrambled up to rejoin the fight, Mr. Marshall grabbed your hand and shoved a hard, leather-bound handle into it - a knife that had fallen during the crisis.

“Should’ve sold your land, Marshall! Should’ve left before you died in the fucking dirt!” someone yelled, making someone else laugh. You were on your feet in an instant and plunged the knife into the back of the neck of one of the men who was getting the better of Price. He gurgled, dropping to the ground as blood gushed from the wound.

This made another one of the attackers whirl around in surprise, but this time, you were ready. You yanked the knife from the dead man as he toppled to the ground and plunged it into the man’s throat with a scream as you tackled him.

The Sheriff and the remaining man were stunned still now, but the third attacker regained his composure before the Sheriff and bolted for his horse. As you tried to yank the knife free from your victim’s neck unsuccessfully, he mounted up and tore off leaving only dust in his wake.

You stood up slowly, your chest heaving. Before you could recover, Sheriff Price grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you fiercely, the blood of your victims rubbing off onto his hands.

“What the fuck have you done? You just started a war! You killed them!” he roared, shoving you back into the dirt and drawing his pistol. You scrambled away from him as he aimed at you. James was in front of you before you could blink, his hands up.

“Lower the gun, sheriff! They would have killed me. This woman saved my life!” he yelled. Sheriff Price, looking disgusted, shoved his gun back into his holster.

“And she’s just doomed countless others.”

---

@sprout-fics

[literatecowboy]

That shirt sent me I need one so bad

domestic ghoap. again. (posted this on twitter last month)

[literatecowboy]

Love, Peace, and Cows

Author’s Notes: Happy (soon to be) Valentine’s Day @ontheoddoccasioniwritestufff! This is my submission for the Valentine’s Day event hosted by the lovely @bunnyreaperer - thank you so much for putting this together! Don’t forget about all of the candy discounts tomorrow y’all. This piece features a GENDER NEUTRAL reader. Fluff only. No instances of y/n.  Synopsis: It’s a lovely day on your little farm whenever John is home.

—

It’s…odd to have John inside in the morning when he’s home. Rarer still that he sits on the couch with the TV on and a mug of tea warming his hands, a blanket over his lap. The sight of it, of him relaxing for once, makes you happy. It’s just a shame that it had taken a broken leg to get him to sit the hell down. 

You toed your boots off carefully after you came through the door, doing your best to contain the mud outside. The dog that John had begrudgingly let you adopt and then fallen in love with cared not for keeping the floors clean and bounded inside, tail wagging and eyes bright as he leapt up onto the couch and tried to climb into John’s lap. 

“Oh, no, you little bastard!” you giggled, unable to contain your laughter as you watched the dog plaster kisses all over John’s face. He laughed and pushed the dog away playfully before scratching the pup behind his ears.

“Did you track mud in, you naughty thing?” he asked, turning to look up at you as you set the box of freshly collected eggs on the kitchen counter and came into the living room. 

“Just a bit, but I was going to mop later anyway. Eggs and toast for breakfast? Got five from the lovely ladies today,” you said, kissing John on the cheek and glancing at what was on the telly. 

“Thought I might cook this morning, if you don’t mind. Knee’s been feeling better so I want to be up for a bit, give it a stretch,” he said, pushing the blanket off of his lap as your dog jumped to the floor. 

“That sounds lovely, actually. I haven’t finished in the garden yet. I’ll bring a few tomatoes in to go with it,” you said, picking up your glass of water from where it sat and taking a long drink. John grabbed his crutches and hauled himself slowly to his feet. You were quick to help him steady himself and earned a kiss in thanks. 

“What do you think about going into town to see a movie later? We haven’t been out that way in a while. We could get dinner, make an evening of it.” John suggested, making his way toward the stove with the box of eggs you’d retrieved from your hens. 

“John Price, are you asking me on a date?” you asked with a smile, fetching a pan for him so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. 

“I am, actually. Is the venue a little too cliche for you, my love?” he asked, setting the pan on the stove and turning the burner on. 

“No, I’m just happy that after all these years we’ve been married that I still get butterflies in my stomach when you ask me out.” you said, wrapping your arms around his torso and hugging him from behind. He took your hand in his and raised it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. 

“I love you,” he murmured. You rested your cheek against his back, tracing the fingers of your free hand up his torso. 

“I love you too,” you said, smiling. 

—

The rest of the morning passed as peacefully as you could hope for. John hobbling about the kitchen to make breakfast, your dog running excited laps around the backyard in between barking at birds flying overhead, and the clucking of your hens as they scratched at the dirt in search of bugs all made quite a bit of excitement, and you found solace in your garden. 

In order to avoid boredom when John was away for long periods of time at work, you’d taken to caring for the little farm that had sprung up from what had once been a few scattered tomato plants in the yard.

Eventually, with John’s blessing, you had left your job to make it a full-time endeavor. You sold fresh bread and preserves along with produce and eggs and all of the other little productions that had resulted from your farm. It was a small operation, but one popular with the locals, and not a day passed that you didn’t have visitors at the farm stand. 

It operated on the honor system for the most part, but on weekends and after school your young niece May would bound over to assist the influx of customers for some pocket money and sweets. She and the dog were beloved by your customers and her parents, who lived in town, were happy to see her spend so much of her childhood outdoors. 

John coming home was always an event heralded by your neighbors. The man who lived next door was an elderly world war 2 veteran, and as soon as he saw John’s car in the driveway, he’d invite you over for tea and at the end would always promise to keep you and the farm safe when John was gone. You and John thoroughly enjoyed his company.

—

In the evening after the movies, you pulled back into the driveway. Not ready to end the night yet you sat on the porch swing together, his arm tucked securely around your shoulders. He smoked idly, chewing on the end of his cigar as he studied the horizon. 

“You alright, love?” you asked, leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at him. He nodded. 

“Was just thinking, sorry,” he said, running his fingers through your hair and smiling at you. You smiled back and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“About what?” you asked, settling back into his side as he pulled you closer. 

“Starting to think about retiring - what life will be like. I…I want to spend more time with you,” he said. 

“It’s up to you, John. You do good work, but I won’t lie - having you home more often would be lovely,” you said.

“Was thinking, when I retire and am back here for good - what do you think about expanding the barn a bit? So we might add a few dairy cows to the little zoo you’ve started here?” he asked, gesturing out past the barn and toward the muddy clearing. 

“Could make a good paddock back there. I wonder if cows would get along with the goats? I’m sure all of the animals would appreciate more space to roam.” you said, doing your best to picture it in your head. 

“Two or three at most - can’t just get one without getting it a friend, though. It was like getting you that pup, couldn’t leave you without a friend,” John said, ruffling your hair. You laughed and elbowed him gently, making him smile. 

“Very funny, mister. But yeah, I like that idea quite a bit. You know, May’s been asking for a pony for a little while. Think we’ve got space for one?” you asked teasingly.

“That’s more of a Christmas present, I think. And I think your brother and sister-in-law would kill us,” John said with a laugh.

You settled back into silence together, listening to the chirping bugs and hooting owls as you gazed up at the stars, basking in the love of your husband.