#When sheriff John Brown come for you

[tokki1234]

San Antonio Texas

[alnilaem]

you lose your way on the pastures of a hidden farmstead. however, upon meeting the husky owner, being lost quickly becomes the least of your problems.

cw for noncon/dubcon, forced lifestyle puppy play, kidnapping

read on ao3

-

John sees you coming from over the horizon.

He heard the sputter of your van before seeing it. The plume of smoke that follows in your wake, orange and ashy, as you drive down the pebbled road.

He was rounding the house after letting the cattle out when he noticed you. He tips the brim of his hat back and watches, grinding his teeth into the wad of tobacco folded into his cheek, his hackles raised because you’ve decided to ignore the splintery No Trespassing sign in big, black letters pounded into the front of his farmstead.

He wraps a hand around his belt, watching as your camper van slows to a stop in front of him.

The hinges in John’s jaw lock. He’s ready to throw out an expletive, threaten you with the bare metal of his pistol, browned with age, and throw you into the back of his rust-bridled truck. He’d drive you into town and toss you onto the porch of the sheriff’s office, maybe teach you a thing or two about trespassing.

But your engine cuts, and your door swings open, and John’s tobacco turns heavy in his mouth.

He sees your shoes first, pressing tracks into the dirty road as you step out. Frilly socks that end below your knees. You’re wearing tight little denim shorts and a gauzy top that sticks to your chest, knotting your nipples in the summer heat.

You smile.

It’s a little sweet, dewy-eyed. It makes John’s cock chub up, makes him swallow his tobacco on accident, sticking to the spine of his throat.

“Hi mister,” you say. Light and wispy like the breeze that whorls through your ropes of hair. “Sorry to be a bother.”

John perks up. He crosses his arms over his heavily built chest, the hair on his forearms bristling with his newfound flush.

“Just trying to find my way here–“ you unfurl a map and point towards a little dot. “Mind helping a girl out?”

You giggle. It’s coy, John tells himself, just like the flutter of your eyelashes as you hoist your neck up at him, preening.

“Um… sure,” John takes off his cowboy hat and runs a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “Four hours. East. You jus’ follow the road.”

Gooseflesh creeps down John’s skin as you turn around and toss your map into the van, your ass spilling from the bottom of your shorts.

You turn back around and John coughs, averts his eyes to the cattle in the distance. He tightens the reel of his lasso around his knuckles, squirming.

“Thanks, mister,” you grin. “Know anywhere I can top up on gas?”

He gives you another look.

His eyes sweep a trail of flames over your body, making your blood churn. He keens at your nipples and the grain of your denim shorts digging into your cute pussy. He can see the barest outline of it winking back at him. Making his cock pulse.

He decides not to tell you about the gas station a kilometre west of here. Decides that would be too much trouble for a pretty lady like you.

“I’ve got plenty,” John says. Gruff, grizzled, like a bear that’s been in torpor too long. “Follow me.”

All John has to do is snap his tongue against the roof of his mouth to get you to follow him. He takes you into his rustic farmhouse, the place sparse in a red-blooded way, and leads you to the kitchen.

You don’t expect the dog, large with mud-felted paws, that pounces and almost knocks you to the floor.

Its tongue is rough and wet and gnarled against your cheek. You squeal, trying to push it away. It probably thinks you’re playing because it wags its tail, nipping at the divot in your shoulder.

“Aye,” John barks. “Off of ‘er, Dog. Git! Git on out of here.”

John shepherds the dog—aptly named Dog—into his crate by tossing a threadbare toy into it. The golden-haired mutt chases after it, following the toy into his cage.

“No way to treat a damn lady…” John mumbles under his breath. He smiles apologetically at you, his soft wrinkles puckering. He puts his hands on his hips, digging his fingers into his moth-eaten jeans and his sun-bleached flannel. He cocks his head to the side, squints.

“So, sweetheart, how about that gas?”

-

John brings you to a barn out back.

He leads you with a hand split on your lower back, past the stables and the paddocks and the roaming cattle beneath the blaring sun.

He pulls open the large barn doors, his arms flexing with the exertion, and puts his hands on his belt.

It’s an abandoned building. There’s no chicken, no stallions. It’s clear that the barn has been delegated to a storage space of sorts, going by the hay-bales strewn around and the miscellaneous staples of ranch equipment.

John smiles. It offsets his rugged look, makes you disarm a bit.

“Apologies for the mess,” he says, starting to tear through the supplies. “Just wasn’t expectin’ a pretty lady on my doorstep today.”

You stifle a giggle just to be nice, but John, in his time-honoured ways, reads it as coy again. It makes his cock stir against the metal teeth of his jeans, makes his mustache turn hot and wiry against the damp skin above his lip.

John rummages some more. Pretends to nick his finger on a metal steeple. Expels a heavy breath. His stomach paunchy and his chest strong, the hairs pressing against the gauze of his flannel as he rises to his feet and shrugs, hands set on his belt.

“Sorry sweetie,” John grumbles. “No gas here. How do you feel about dinner though?”

The change happens so quick you almost get hit with whiplash.

Your lips pop around stutters, and John’s balls turn heavy. He can imagine your lips parting around his cockhead, all the way down to his pubic bone which is stale with sweat and musky, steel-wooled. It makes him grip his belt tighter, white-knuckled, and undo the first few buttons of his flannel.

“Sir… I really should be getting out of your hair.”

“Nonsense,” John chuckles. “It’s the least I can do for havin’ no gas. I can go into town tomorrow and get some.”

You’re already impaired by the burning, penetrative summer heat. It doesn’t help the way John is looking at you, like a stray predator that made its way onto his ranch and forces him to lock up his animals for safety.

John senses the rumination written into your pretty features. He tacks on, “An old man like me never gets any visitors. None as sweet as you, surely.”

You have to nod, still a little hesitant. You say yes only because there’s a bulky rancher here keen on filling your belly and the sun is beginning to set.

John chuckles and claps his large hands together. He leads you back to the main house and ends up feeding you shepherd’s pie and a cold can of Cola. He pours himself a glass of whiskey and that makes you indignant, as if he sees you as a kid.

Dog stirs at your feet while you eat. Nosing at your ankles and nudging your legs for some food. John flares. He snaps his fingers and snarls, and Dog, moulded by his Pavlovian response, ambles into his crate.

“That’s where naughty dogs go,” John tells him. “You’ll stay there ‘til we’re done.”

You finish not long after that. John gives Dog the plates to lick before soaking them in soap water and shows you your room for the night. His room, actually, but he says he’ll sleep on the couch because he’s a gentleman.

That makes you smile.

But when you wake up the next morning, you’re choking.

Your throat is cinched with nylon webbing. The collar cuts into your windpipe, hindering your sprinting breaths, causing panic to lick up your spine. You sweat and the collar soaks it all up. Makes your skin itchy, flaring, as you chisel at your flesh to try peeling it off you.

You stumble out of John’s bed and hurry outside. He’s herding the cattle when you run towards him for help. Your mind is too scattered to realize he’s the only other person on this farmstead. He’s the one who did this.

“Mister, mister–“ your words come out stifled, cramped against the tight ruck of your throat. “Mister, I dunno what’s happened. Help-“

John puts a hand up and tuts like you’re nothing but a strident, misbehaving mutt.

“Easy,” he grunts around a cigar. “Jus’ calm down, will you? You’re hootin’ and hollerin’ and scarin’ the cattle.”

You choke around your tears. You hang your head, still trying to wrestle the collar off you, your fear ripening into panoramic horror when you look down and see golden fur embroiled into the collar. A bone-shaped tag engraved with a word that makes your blood run cold.

Dog.

It’s John’s name for his pet, but on you, it’s derogatory. Degrades you to a four-legged pup that laps water out of a basin and squats to piss, that needs a handler as rough as John to keep you in check.

He cups your cheek, passes his thumb over your fat tears.

“You don’t like it?” He asks, his voice distorted with a hint of disappointment that, despite you, makes you feel bad. “I took it off Dog. Now he’s runnin’ around the ranch with no collar. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

He curls his fingers under the collar and tugs you close. Your face puckers as he expels a plume of cigar smoke over your face, softly squeezing your bum.

“Good dogs say thank you though. Are you a good dog?” John asks. His eyes darken, eclipsed by something dusky. “Or are y’naughty?”

John forestalls your begging reply, squashing it against your throat as he grips your collar and drags you behind him. Taking his puppy on a walk.

You bridle at the deep-seated embarrassment. John’s other animals seem to have more freedom than you, watching from their pens and pastures as you kick and scream behind him. He pulls you into the main house and takes you to the kitchen. Bullies you to your knees in front of the crate.

He grips the scruff of your neck and forces your head inside. It smells stuffy, stale. The dog bed is moth-eaten and covered in fur.

John pats your ass. He rubs your pussy through your shorts, slowly pulls them off. Kisses your slick clit which is outlined by the dewy gusset of your panties.

“Y’gonna keep cryin’?”

A long cry quivers past your lips.

John’s fingers, although jaded, a testament to working with his hands, make you feel delirious. Makes you curl your pert ass into him, your cunt begging for more.

“Go on, girl,” he grunts. “Go on in. Git.”

He takes you by the collar and shoves you inside the dog cage, since–

“You wanna keep cryin’. I’ll give you somethin’ to cry about.”

There’s barely enough space inside to move around. Dog is a big dog, so you’re able to spin around and face John, but that’s all. You tuck yourself into a fetus position, resting on your knees, the metal grating pressing tracks into your hot skin.

“I don’t reward bad behaviour,” John says. “So for that you’ll spend the night here.”

John clicks his teeth each time you misbehave—clawing at the door, begging him to let you out—his kissing teeth bully the sound of your pleas, until eventually, you quieten, responsive to his clicking tongue.

“That’s it,” John says. There’s a thread of praise in his voice that makes you squirm. “You stay there an’ think about what you’ve done.”

He stands up and prepares his lunch. Eggs on bread and a beer to wash it down. John eats slowly, as if he’s teasing you. Disciplining you further. You don’t think he’s going to feed you, another component of his punishment, until he’s rising from his chair and squatting in front of you, his empty plate in his hands.

Well, almost empty.

Veins of leftover egg yolk are smeared around the ceramic. You look at it, and then at John. He passes his fingers over the yolk and sticks his arm in your crate because the gaps are big enough, waggling his coated fingers.

“Eat.”

You’re shaking. Hesitantly unfurling your tongue, working it around John’s thick fingers, swallowing whatever dregs of food he’ll let you. You become more eager as it goes on—lapping at his yolk-covered fingers as well as the mud and mire crusted into his nails. Sucking at his swollen knuckles, nibbling on his finger hair.

He belly laughs before pulling his fingers out of your cage. John stands up and soaks his plate in sudsy water, turning to look at you.

“Busy day today,” he says. “I’ll see you tonight, pup.”

You find yourself whimpering—not talking—as he turns to leave.

-

That night, you’re woken with a scuffle and John clicking his tongue.

It rouses you immediately. That, and the thin sound of his belt unbuckling.

Sweat sticks to your skin, dewy, when John prods through the crate and gropes you. You can’t see him but you can feel him. Rubbing your puffy cunt, thumbing your clit. Flattening his tongue against your pussy and pulling your lips into his mouth.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he mumbles against your clit. “Knew you were a sweet girl.”

John’s tongue travels up and wets your asshole. It makes you jerk against the metal, makes the cage rattle.

He pulls away and you moan, thinking it’s another punishment. You push your ass against the gratings, presenting yourself, the metal gridwall rubbing against your swollen clit and making you shiver.

John mumbles something about patience. It seems that he doesn’t have any patience either, soft-soaped by your pussy, because he’s pressing his tip against your opening and feeding you his cock.

John fucks you through the holes of your cage.

Your lungs barely have space to stretch. Your knees are folded into your chest and your collar is still biting into your neck. You’re being split open on John’s cock, your arousal turning your thighs sticky. Drool trickling from your mouth and sticking to your cheek.

You don’t know when it ends. When you come, thighs trembling, or when John paints your walls. You also don’t know when it starts again.

All you know is that it becomes a daily thing, lapsing into a weekly thing. You go to bed in your cage but, sometimes, when you behave, John will let you sleep on the foot of his bed. He’ll clip your nails for you and keep you well-groomed. Brushing your hair, cutting it for you. Bathing you in a galvanized tub out back.

Unlike with Dog, John will even let you eat while he eats dinner. He’ll unzip his jeans and let you slobber at his fat cock while he sips away at his blended whiskey and polishes off his meal with his full belly and his soon-to-be empty balls, mumbling all the while about how much of a perfect pet you are, how he’ll never let you go.

Not that he was planning to, anyhow.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

John Wayne (Bandit cowboy! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader) Part 1

Hiii! Inspired by the song of the same name by lady Gaga, and these two(flash warning for this one) edits of Predo Pascal(🤭) Not proofread, enjoy!

Cursing, making out, pet names, Miguel being a big ass flirt, slight nsfw but no smut. Mentions of hanging and death Lowkey highkey very cheesy and cliché but in a fun way.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Word count: 2.1k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

Bandits, cowboys, shoot outs, saloon fights, all things you’ve heard rumors about the Wild West while you lived in the city. Your classmates telling you stories they’ve heard from a long distance relative or from a friend of a friend of a friend.

But as you sit down at your fathers office at his new job, you couldn’t help but think that all those stories were nothing more than that. Stories. Lame, boring, make-believe stories. Who would have know that being the sheriff’s daughter in a dum-fuck nowhere town would have been so uneventful, on an exciting day, he’d lock up a drunk. You wish your parents had just stayed on the east coast as you let out an exasperated huff, dropping your pencil on your school workbook, and you lean back in his chair, letting your eyes wander to the ceiling.

“Alright O’Hara,” The muffled sound of your father’s voice was heard from the outside of the door, followed by some clinking. Causing you to sit in the chair properly before he appeared through the door. “Ima need you to sit tight in this cell for a few days ‘til the state sheriff is able to get down here and give me your reward money.”

To your surprise, a man in cuffs came through the door first. Your eyes widened in silent curiosity as you studied the new mystery man. You've never seen him in town before, because you were certain you would have remembered a man as handsome as him.

He’s getting arrested by my father what the fuck is wrong with me?

Your father didn’t acknowledge your presence, but that didn’t stop the other man’s eyes from falling onto you immediately. The definition of tall, dark and handsome, a towering frame, tan skin, semi-permanent wrinkles in between his brows and at the end of his lips, in indication he scowls too much, and his muscles, they could easily snap you in half if he wanted to. Dark worn out blue jeans, dust brown cowboy boots, a black hat, a flannel that emphasizes his arms with ever movement and-fuck he caught you staring. Warmth flared all over your face as you finally tore your gaze from his, barely catching the small smirk and hmph he let out in amusement. How could he not? When his captor’s daughter is checking him out.

It seems your father didn’t catch your wandering eyes, but he sure as hell caught his mischievous look in his, the rage quickly filling his face as he tossed the larger man in the cell quickly after taking off his cuffs. Locking him in before pointing an accusing finger at him with his right hand, while his left gripped the iron bars tight enough for his knuckles to turn white as he spoke. “Don’t speak to my daughter, don’t look at my daughter, don’t even think about my daughter.” He hissed the threat, before turning over to face you, visibly relaxing as his tone softened. “Ima step out of the room to make a few calls. Yell if he causes you any trouble darlin’.” You nodded, your fathers eyes traveled down to your abandoned work, “And finish your school work, you’re lucky to be attending college.” He added before leaving the room, an uncomfortable silence falling on you and the unknown crook. Keeping your eyes glued to your notebook despite your mind being elsewhere.

“So.” He finally spoke after cleaning his throat, moving to lean against the iron bars of his enclosure. “What’s your name preciosa?” He asked, his head tilting and his lips twitched upwards as he watched you. (Sweetie)

“My father told you not to talk to me.” You fumbled out almost too quickly, the words coming out rushed and almost panicked much to your dismay. Your face warmed up once more as you could feel his eyes bore into you, your eyes remained downwards, your hands balled into fist on your lap as you try not to think about him watching you as if you were in a cage and not him. You were certain if you met his gaze your combust into flash hotter than the sun.

He let out an unamused laugh, shifting his head forward as three of his fingers went to grab the rim of his cowboy hat, taking it revealing his disheveled brown locks, slightly wavy from being covered.

“Does it look like I’m the type to listen to authority, sweetheart?” God the nicknames were making you weak in the knees.

“Well, no-“

“Come on gorgeous,” He cooed, “indulge me.”

You bit on your bottom lip as you mentally battled with the idea, your father probably wouldn’t like the idea, but if it’s just your name, then what’s the harm right?

With a small sigh, you finally gain the courage to meet his gaze, almost dropping it immediately when you notice the look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way your kitten looks at a loose mouse. Like he would pounce on you if he wasn't confined.

“It’s…It’s (Y/N).” You finally utter, it came out meek, soft, you hated how it almost made you sound weak. His brow raised as he brought his hand up to cup around his ear, a silent way of asking you to speak up, but you could tell by the way his smirk pulled up he definitely heard you. With a huff and an eye, you repeat your name, with more confidence this time.

He released a low whistle as his hand dropped again, “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to giggle at the compliment or roll your eyes at the cheesiness, his accident drawing out a bit more while emphasizing beautiful both times. You went with both.

“What’s your name?”you asked, getting up from the chair you were sitting in and making your way towards the cell, not too close but close enough for him to reach for your hand and gently raise it towards his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it, it made your whole body tingle as he threw you a quick wink and a playful smirk.

“Names’ Miguel O’Hara, but you can call me Mig.”

—

Your father had informed you that Miguel would be stuck with him for a few weeks, due to the state chief being preoccupied with the bounty on Jesse James’s head, they were close to changing him apparently and he had all his attention on him at the moment. When Miguel was informed he only scoffed and grumbled, seemingly moody that he wasn’t top priority. You found it funny, it’s as if he wanted a bigger prize money attached to him, coming out a few thousand short of the other man.

You would never admit it, not to your friends, not to your mother and especially not to your father, but you couldn’t help but grow a bit fond of the cowboy. It’s cliché you know, the daughter of a cop falling for the outlaw but it’s hard not too when he’s always complimenting you or calling you pet names, and he knew how to hold a good conversation.

You’ve never acted out too much with your parents before, always did good in school, never snuck out, never went out to meet boys that didn’t ask for permission beforehand. So when you caught yourself sneaking at your father’s work keys in the late hours of the night to sneak out of the house and into the station to talk to the man whose mere existence cost more then the pure-breed horse you took from the stall every night to visit, it was invigorating but also utterly terrifying in the chances of you getting caught. Despite your initial fear, it didn’t mean you didn’t start to get sloppy.

Both with sneaking out, and with the cowboy.

—

A yawn escaped Miguel’s chapped lips as he lazily rubbed his face, trying to fight off sleep as he shifted around in his overly small bed, the only light source he had was the beams of pale moonlight that was seeping from his barred window. Heavy eyelids began to close when they suddenly snapped open at the familiar sound of keys jangling and the rattling of the doorknob opening.

“Took you long enough gatita, though you forgot about me.” Miguel spoke as he watched you with once tired eyes that were now filling with a different emotion as he watched you place your hand lamp on your father’s desk before you head over to him, keys in hand. Although the words seem like a joke, his tone was low and anything but humorous. (Kitten)

“Had to make sure my family was asleep.” You attempted to justify yourself as you unlock his door, not even getting a second to put the keys back in your dress pocket before Miguel grabbed you and pulled you into his room, his mouth greeting yours in a hot needy kiss. The keys drop to the wooden floor with a loud clunk as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck and your fingers tug at the small curls at the back of his neck, only causing him to let out a groan at the pleasurable pain.

You too have been at it for about a week now, ever since your father informed you that the state sheriff would finally head down to your town to take Miguel of of his hands, he would arrive tomorrow morning, meaning tonight was your last with Miguel. He would be taken back to the state capital to be hung the following week.

“Ima miss these sweet lips darlin’…” He mumbled between peppering kisses down your jawline and towards your collarbone. A whine leaving your swollen lips you felt his large hands undo the buttons that cover your chest, leaving another dark hickey on you , before stopping for a second to admire his work. Seven hickeys, one for each day.

Your hands followed his lead, going under his sleeping shirt, wandering against his toned stomach, before he quickly pulled it off, turning you both around so your back was against the wall.

“Can’t get enough of you...”

“Me either…”

“Don’t forget about me (Y/N).”

“I won’t Miguel.”

Your lips quickly reunited with his as he started to drag the cotton fabric down from around your shoulders when the sound of the door office slamming opened caused you both to jump away from each other, a startled yelp escaped from you as you go to over your exposed breast.

Your eyes quickly darted to see who had opened the door, only to felt a lump build in your throat at the sight of your seething father, red face with anger as his shoulders rise and fell rapidly with each erratic breath he took.

“I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter!” He roared as he started to near the cell, making you quickly exit it, closing the door before standing in front of it so he couldn’t get to Miguel. “And you.” His eyes dropped to meet yours, anger, disappointment, betrayal, emotions you’ve never seen him directly towards you, it only made your throat tighter and your stomach drop. “I expect better from you. Do you know how many trains and banks he’s robbed! How many people he’s killed! I don’t want anyone like that near my daughter-“

“But father, I love him!”

Love. You’ve never once said that about a man in your life, you blurted it out without so much as a second thought. But it felt right.

This only made your father scoff. Not even caring about the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You don’t know a thing about love.” He muttered in a low tone that made a shiver run down your back, his eyes narrowing down at you before gripping your forearm as he began to drag you out of his office, despite your best attempts to pull away from him. “It doesn’t matter either way. Tomorrow he’ll be gone, and next week he’ll be dead. You’ll never see him again.” He finished as he dragged you fully out of the building and back towards home, not showing one ounce of pity despite your cries making his heart ache.

—

Once he was alone, Miguel ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He couldn’t even have one last night with you before he’d leave your life forever. A heavy sigh turning into a panic curse when he went to lean against the stall door and to find it not support his body weight as it usually would. Stumbling a bit to regain his balance, it only took him a few seconds to realize that, in your father’s angry rampage, he had forgotten to relock his cell.

—

Taglist: @loser-alert

[bellarkeselection]

Okay how about a Kacey fic based off the song When She Comes Home Tonight by Riley Green

When She Comes Home Tonight

Shutting the truck door I sighed heavily resting my body against the driver door taking a moment to rest from my long hour day. I had taken on the position of working for my father’s department at the sheriff’s office. Meaning that I had to hide some things from my boyfriend’s family. Walking up the stairs I opened the door, shutting it behind me and sitting on the floor until I heard footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. “Hey there, darling. How was your day?”

“Would prefer not to talk about it, Kayce.” I mumbled, staring at the staircase in front of me instead of him.

Kayce lowered himself down to sit in front of me. “What do you want to talk about then? Hey, hey, look at me. Y/n, you okay?” He lifted my chin up so I’d look him in the eye seeing some tears welling in my eyes.

“Just the job being tough on me today is all. Debating on why I didn’t just take your father up on his offer to give me a job here. My father certainly wouldn’t be as worried with my stress level.” I sniffed through some tears wiping them away with my sleeve.

John Dutton and my father have been friends for years. Kayce and I were close and I knew everything he knew about training horses on a ranch. Yet I knew the other side that involved the law. I believed I could help both sides. “Well we don’t have to worry about that now. I’ve got something to show you anyhow. Here, let me..” He got to his feet offering his hands out to me.

“What have you done now, Dutton?” Placing my hands in his he tugged me up to stand.

He only gave me a simple response coming behind me and covering my eyes with one hand and leading me through his family home. “You’ll see in a second, baby.”

“Kayce…what is all this for?” He made us stop walking until he lowered his hand and I gasped at what he had set up on the table in front of the fireplace. He had two beers open with a steak cuff in half for us to share for dinner.

Kayce smiled down at me. “It’s been awhile since it’s just been the two of us here. So I thought we should do something special.”

“Awe. Aren’t you a romantic cowboy?” I smiled sitting down with him on the couch.

Kayce picked up his beer, sending me a wink. “I would hope so for what I was thinkin’ of doing later tonight.”

Raising my beer bottle to my mouth I take a long drink. The bitter taste is not burning my throat as much as it normally did, given the fact that I've had a really long day. Kayce and I sat in comfortable silence between the two of us while we ate our pieces of steak. Placing the second to last bite of food in my mouth I felt his eyes focused on me and nothing else. “Dutton, you're staring. You know some would consider this very rude-” I gasped before his hands cupped my face and he pressed his lips down onto mine causing me to drop my fork on the floor.

It wasn't a foreign concept to kiss the youngest Dutton son. We had certainly had a connection from the first day we met. Anyone in our families or friend groups could see the attraction from a mile away. Moving my hands up his chest I leaned into it. He held my face for a few more seconds until I climbed up into his lap. Kayce then switched his position, snacking his arms around my waist holding me close to his chest.

“Kayce..” I moaned into the kiss threading my fingers into his dirty brown locks that were naturally messy but were going to be even worse if we kept going.

He gently pushed me back on the couch and I didn’t make a move to fight his intentions. “Y/n…”

We didn't care about the food in front of us anymore. Our hands were just moving over the other in every way possible. I’m not sure how we managed to not break any furniture by the point of Kayce getting to his feet and me wrapping my arms and legs around his body. We never broke the heated kiss and made our way up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Kayce, I wasn’t expecting this.” I giggled before we collapsed down onto the mattress of the bed behind us.

Kayce leans down, capturing my lips with his in a deep hungry kiss. I kissed him back gently before he started moving kisses down my face. “You’ve had a long day and I’ve missed you so much. Let me take care of you.” He kissed down, nuzzling his nose into my neck as he went.

“Ohh Kayce!” I moaned, throwing my head back against the pillows. One hand was bawling the fabric of his shirt in my fingers.

He moaned, crashing his lips onto mine again where I wrapped my arms around his neck. “That’s my girl.”

“Don’t be a tease tonight, Dutton.” I warned the cowboy.

Kayce sat up on his knees shrugging his shirt over his head tossing it somewhere across the room. He moved his hands down to my shirt. “I’ll definitely tease you later, darling.” He threw my torn shirt off the edge of the bed.

I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraced me back instantly when my fingers dug into back. He ran his body over every inch of my body he could reach, both of us slick with sweat as he moved against one another, our pants and moans filling the room.

We shortly reached our heights in only a matter of minutes where he drew his head back flipping onto his back while I laid beside him. We both attempted to catch our breaths where I scooted over laying my head on his bare chest. “Kayce?”

“Hmm.” He made a noise as a response.

Lifting my head up to meet his deep brown eyes. “Thank you for tonight. I really appreciate it and love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll always want you to have a good evening when you come home tonight and every night.” Kayce rolls over to face me, cupping the side of my face with one hand. He draws me in for another kiss and I smile into it.

Trailing my hands up his chest I broke it mumbling into the kiss. “How would you feel about a round two?”

“I’m definitely down for that, my darling.” He smirked and I squealed when he rolled onto his back. I kept my hands around his neck and I stared down at him from above…Kayce always made me feel so good every time I came home and he never broke that promise.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

My Cowboy Casanova

Request from @nothingc001 hello! I hope you are doing well, I was wondering if you could do a Kayce Dutton story about the song “cowboy casanova” by Carrie underwood

Everybody always has an opinion about something. Whether they know the whole truth or not. They will always think they know best, especially when it comes to the fact that people know you’re involved with a Dutton.

John and his ranch wasn’t something unknown to the residents of Montana. He would do anything to keep the land his family fought for and so would his children. Specifically his youngest son Kayce that had caught my eye.

“Are you sure you want to get involved with a Dutton?” One of my friends Miranda asked me after we had finished our work day at the sheriff's department.

I held the door opened for her, giving her a look. “Look I know you’re worried about me. But you don’t have to be. I can take care of myself.”

“You heard the rumor around here years ago that he got a girl pregnant and that’s why he joined the Navy. Then when he comes back don’t you find it suspicious that he is divorcing her.” Miranda raised a brow at me.

Shrugging my shoulders, I wasn't following her worries. “Clearly they must not have been able to work things out. Divorce ain’t an uncommon thing.”

“I’m just worried he’ll break your heart. It’s just a matter of time.” She warned me before we turned our heads hearing his truck pulling into the parking lot right up to us to pick me up for our date.

I waved bye to my friend climbing in the passenger seat when he opened the door helping me up inside and closing it before getting back in the driver's seat. “I’ll see you later, Miranda.” He drove us back to his family’s ranch to get some supplies before we made the drive up to what he referred to as the Summer Camp.

Kayce unloaded the camping stuff from the bed of the truck. He laid out a picnic blanket, pulled out two camping chairs and a basket of food before I jumped down from sitting on the edge of the tailgate. “So what were you and Mirdana talking about when I came to pick you up tonight?” He asked lifting me down by my hips putting my boots on the dirt.

“It was actually about us.” I muttered under my breath sitting down on the blanket.

He joined me down on the blanket. “What particularly about us hmm?”

“Oh I don’t know if I should say anything more.” I avoided his gaze, feeling his eyes focused on me until I finally glanced in his direction. “Basically she’s worried about our long term relationship. Considering we heard that you recently broke up with the woman you got pregnant.”

Kayce removed his black cowboy hat and removed his head running his fingers through his curly hair. “Gezz. I knew this would happen after I divorced her.”

“Kayce, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said a word. Look, she's my best friend and is just worried about me getting hurt since you’re my first real relationship that I’ve had in my life. But I’m not worried about our relationship.”

He lifted his head up, raising a brow. “Why aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure. I just think that it isn’t your fault that your relationship with your ex didn’t work out. Certain people think they’ll work out and sometimes they don’t in the end.”

The youngest Dutton leaned forward with his mouth inches from my own. “So what do you think about us? Are we a long term or short term type of thing?”

“I - I don’t know yet. I’d like to imagine that you and I can be a long term thing.”

He smirked, shifting his brown eyes over mine. “Oh yeah. I can 100% agree on that.”

“So what are we thinking of doing on this date night you’ve been planning since the first day I met you.” I teased him with a smirk playing on my lips.

Kayce closed the gap between us, putting his lips over mine. It wasn’t long before I leaned in kissing him back enjoying the feeling. We kissed each other for quite a few minutes scooting closer to the other until I climbed up into his lap.

He moved one hand behind my back when I leaned my body forward against his chest. Threading my fingers into his tousled brown curls, tugging on them, hearing him moan when I did so. Kayce broke the kiss smirking into when he instructed the next one pushing me onto my back on the picnic blanket we were sitting on.

We finally had to break the heated kiss, needing to catch our breath. “How do you feel about keeping this going, hmm darling?” He smirked where some of his curls fell down in front of my eyes.

I brushed them away, smiling up at him. “I ain’t gonna say no to you cowboy.”

“Miranda might be right about this whole possibly dangerous cowboy Casanova. The kind of guy who seems nice but is much more dangerous than you’d imagine.” Kayce ran one hand over my hip and slightly underneath my shirt.

Tracing the Yellowstone brand he had underneath his shirt I wasn’t nervous around him. He had a past obviously, everybody has one. “She said she’d never date a cowboy. It’s a really good thing I’m not entirely like her. So let’s do this thing, Dutton.” Tugging him down by the collar of his tan shirt, drawing his lips to mine.

Kayce chuckled, helping me sit up and shrug my shirt over my head. I unbuttoned his shirt, tossing his down with wherever he had thrown mine on the blanket. “I’d love for your name to be Mrs. Dutton in the future.” He mumbled in between kisses, running his fingers through my hair with his freehand.

“Make me yours, cowboy.” I whispered not saying anything more and just got lost in the other and the area surrounding us. The Dutton name and all the whispers around it didn’t matter to me. My friends could all worry about me but I wasn’t gonna turn back now.

Kayce John Dutton was always meant to be my Casanova.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[sednonamoris]

arsonist’s lullaby

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: With Sean dead and the Confederate gold nowhere to be found, the Braithwaites learn exactly why boys are off-limits.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/gore, canonical character death, arson/fiery deaths, angst, kidnapping, toxic loyaltyyyyy

Word count: 2,777

A/N: Emerging from my absence to post this chapter and fade back into the ether ✌️

Series masterlist • AO3

—

In the end, it’s a perfectly ordinary day when things come to a head.

Midsummer sun has beat down all day, only just now mellowing to a deep orange, early evening glow. Standing halfway up the path to camp on guard duty, nothing remarkable has happened at all, except maybe the number of deerflies you’ve had to fend off. Like the heat alone isn’t enough.

Micah and Sean and Bill rode into town on business earlier. Sean jabbered something about meeting up with Arthur and that Gray sheriff, but he was insistent on keeping the rest a mystery. High profile stuff, you know. Not for old-timers like you to worry about. You just rolled your eyes and sent him on his way.

Other than that, it’s been awfully quiet— Even after Karen and Bill and Lenny and Arthur hit Valentine’s bank the other week. If you were a more suspicious person you might call it too quiet, but it’s been nice to have a bit of a break. You and John have hardly spent a moment apart. Camp chores go quicker together, you tell everyone, but it hardly takes a genius to see you’re more attached at the hip than ever. Moving sacks of cornmeal and haying horses and chopping wood doesn’t usually result in the lovestruck looks stuck on your faces, after all.

Arthur, too, has enjoyed the down time. If he isn’t sharing a cup of morning coffee with his wife then he’s reading storybooks to his surrogate son, complete with ridiculous voices. He puts on a deep, gruff baritone for the bad guys, then pitches higher for a hero that sounds suspiciously like Jack. It’s sweet. The mantle of secondhand fatherhood fits snugly across his broad shoulders, and you can’t help but feel that if anyone ever deserved a second chance at all this, it’s him.

John’s been watching them with the strangest mix of joy and wistfulness and regret and shame. It’s always gone in a blink. You never quite know what to say.

But there’s no time to ruminate further when a slow, steady, thumping lope comes within earshot. You almost miss it, lost in thought.

“Who goes there?”

You’re not sure why you bother asking; the footfalls are too heavy to be anyone but Bill on Brown Jack. When they come into view there’s a tense set to Bill’s shoulders and unease in the whites of Brown Jack’s eyes. You see something slung behind the saddle, unmoving.

A body.

You only register it as Sean when he slows to a stop beside you.

It’s jarring to see the lively young Irishman so horribly, deathly still. His clothes are stained with blood and singed from bullets, but the gaping hole in his head is what turns your stomach and raises your hackles as well as the hairs on the back of your neck. Pulpy brains. Shards of skull. A once-bright eye bulged, crooked and unseeing. A damn good headshot.

Who would be gunning for him? you think. But really, after all the trouble you’ve been stirring down here, who wouldn’t? It’s only been a matter of weeks since you and the boys stole those horses. Less since he and Arthur burned the tobacco fields.

You look up at Bill after a long moment.

“Wanna tell me how the fuck you got the kid killed?” you say, voice low. Simmering. Seething in the summer heat.

Bill’s expression is caught between guilt and resentment. “It was them Gray boys.”

“Them Gray boys?”

“They were waitin’ for us! Arthur… well, he reckons they figured us out. Talked to that Braithwaite woman, I mean.”

“Where is he? Alive?”

“He and Micah ain’t far behind. Don’t expect they’ll be comin’ together.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just shake your head and try to think past the blood pounding through your eardrums. Ringing in your skull. “We gotta bury him.”

“I know,” he snaps.

Where would Sean want to be buried? With a view of the water? In the shade of the trees? Certainly not alone, but there’s little choice there. “We gotta— He deserves someplace decent.”

“I know.” Softer, this time. “...There’s a quiet spot up the other side of the path.”

You nod. “Don’t let the girls see.”

—

The air is thick and stagnant even as the afternoon fades into evening. You’ve always hated digging graves, and this heat only makes it worse. Cicadas hum. Flies buzz. Bill picked a good spot out of the dying sun, but sweat still pours down both of your faces and necks, soaking through your shirts. Salt stings your eyes and the tip of your tongue.

Once the hole is deep enough, Bill does his best to arrange whatever’s left of Sean with some dignity; arms crossed, a coin over his intact eye. It’s still a sorry sight. You take the pistol from his holster to give to Karen and let its dead weight rest in your belt while you and Bill get to burying. When the work is done, he stutters a few insufficient words over a yet-unmarked grave. He looks to you, then, and you fish your flask off your belt and take a strong swig before pouring a generous amount over the freshly turned earth.

“Cheers, brother,” says a hollow voice that sounds like yours. “Save us a seat.”

You don’t bother saying where.

—

Karen hits you when you tell her. A full arm swing. Open-palmed. Then again when you hand her the pistol.

You let her.

Feels like the least you can do.

—

The evening passes in a haze of numb grief. You don’t know what to do with yourself, so you hide, only emerging from your tent when you hear raised voices outside Dutch’s.

“Where’s my goddamn son?” Abigail demands. “They took him, didn’t they? They took my son!”

And Jesus if this day couldn’t get worse. Your eyes scan the camp, like you’d be able to spot little Jack where his mother couldn’t. The sick feeling that’s been festering in your stomach since Sean’s burial twists and writhes and weighs you down like lead. Everyone knows missing is about as good as dead these days, but you don’t dare say that to Abigail.

“Where is my son, Dutch Van der Linde?!”

More and more begin to crowd around the commotion. The girls lay consoling hands on Abigail’s shoulders that quake with anger and fear. Arthur’s face is grim and drawn beside her. John’s is shadowed behind them, torn between guilt and anger. Hosea pushes past the throng to lay blame on the Braithwaites— at least, he says Kieran saw some boys what looked like Braithwaites not far from camp earlier. After what happened in town today, you have to admit it makes sense. Both families have you figured out, and they’re out for their pound of flesh.

As if Sean wasn’t enough already.

“We will find Jack, we will bring him back to you, and we will kill any fool that had the temerity to touch one hair on that boy’s head,” Dutch vows in answer to Abigail’s frantic questioning. “Right now.”

And he turns on his heel and makes toward The Count to do just that. Everyone follows. Bill calls out asking about extra guns that are accepted readily. Micah and Kieran are ordered to protect the camp while you’re all away. Weapons drawn, eyes blazing, you mount your horses and make off into the night.

This is the warpath. The beating hooves and rushing blood. Moonshine canters steadily beneath you, keeping stride with Old Boy and Arthur’s mount on either side. It’s been a long time since the whole gang has ridden out like this, chomping at the bit for a bloodletting.

“I swear, I’ll kill everyone there!” John snarls. He’s settled into his anger now, quicker on its draw than his pistol.

“Easy, Marston,” Arthur says. His voice is low and dangerous like how he warns off strangers. Not family. Not John. “You don’t check your shots, Jack’ll end up dead too.”

“Don’t tell me to take it easy! That’s my—” but John chokes on the word before he can get it out.

Son, he was going to say. That’s his son.

But Jack is as much Arthur’s as he is John’s anymore, and right now neither one can stand it. You can’t bear to look at the fear nor the anger nor the burning blame in either of their eyes.

—

The oaks that line the path to Braithwaite Manor are always imposing, but here in the dusky nighttime you swear you can feel their ancient eyes watching. Bloody roots gorged on bloodstained grounds; twisted, gnarled branches grasping for a Heaven they’ll never reach. There are few stars that shine through the scattered clouds in the early night sky, but you wish upon every one that Jack is safe, and you vow that no one will make it out of here alive if he isn’t.

Everyone dismounts at the gate. Beside you John and Arthur are tense. Mouths set, trigger fingers twitching, eyes aflame with a primal sort of anger and fear that can only come from losing a child. Dutch, too, is furious. The fact that anyone would touch one of his own is normally enough to have him ranting, almost frothing at the mouth, but he must sense that Arthur and John need him calm.

Calmer than them, anyhow.

Ahead, the manor house is lit with a warm orange glow from its pillared porch. The moon casts strange light across the shadowy night, flickering in and out of cloud cover. There is only the sound of gravel beneath your boots and anticipation.

“Get down here now, you inbred trash!” Dutch bellows at the first sight of the Braithwaite boys.

“What the hell do you want?” they call back, like they don’t know.

John makes to aim his gun and you brush against his shoulder as a comfort and a warning. He snarls but doesn’t shoot. Not yet.

Dutch continues, “We’ve come for the boy. You must’ve known we would.”

Arthur is little better off, glaring holes in the heads of every Braithwaite son and cousin and uncle and friend that emerges from the looming house. There’s more of them by the minute. You feel everyone tense around you. Their guns aren’t lifted - not yet - but all it will take is a sign from Dutch.

Not yet.

“That is a young boy. That is not the way you do things. Hand him over.”

“Get the hell off our land!”

Not yet.

Dutch’s eyes darken in challenge. He doesn’t so much as turn his head toward any of you, but the shift in energy is electric. The whole world holds its breath.

“If you ain’t gonna be civilized about this…”

Now.

All at once everyone opens fire. It’s a symphony of gunfire, bullets screaming by from every direction. You pull John behind a crate just as one grazes his ear. He snarls out a curse while you kill the man on the balcony who shot at him. The body tumbles over the railing and stains the steps red with blood and brains.

Dutch calls out marching orders, but through the din he’s nearly impossible to hear. John heads inside. You follow suit. The manor doors swing wide open like the unhinged jaw of a snake, welcoming you into the belly of the beast.

“Jack!”

“Where are you, kid?”

“Jack!”

His name echoes off expensive oak floors and through lofted ceilings. You tear through the lower floor like someone possessed, ripping open mahogany chests and finely stained china cabinets and the couch cushions of richly-rugged sitting rooms. Anywhere a little boy might fit. Then plenty of places he wouldn’t just for good measure.

Somewhere in the rush you lose John. Over the gurgling rasp of a Braithwaite son’s last breath you hear him shout something from upstairs. You make to run up the winding staircase but stop dead in your tracks when you see Catherine Braithwaite being kicked down them.

Dutch sneers, his lip curled with generational distaste for a man who preaches against revenge. She’s sobbing, spewing vitriol with every shaky breath. All her sons are dead now. You can see it in the gape of her burnt ash mouth. In the flames that lick the polished wood floors from their dropped torches. In the fire reflected back in Dutch’s eyes.

—

Jack isn’t there. Catherine Braithwaite uses her last breaths to gloat that he’s been sold to a man in the city.

Sold.

You watch Dutch let her go, then watch still as she runs screaming into the flames. The house collapses over a shrieking phantom of the Deep South with a groan and a sigh. By the color of the flames it’ll burn for hours yet.

The trees stare as you leave, gorged on blood and ash.

—

Dawn comes blood red and brutal, streaking through the sky with its first light warning. Dutch, John, Hosea, and Arthur are all gathered around the camp table to discuss your next moves. Whatever those are, though, you can’t imagine. John didn’t sleep a wink last night, just staring at tent canvas and stewing in blame. He looks awful. Everyone does.

You’re sat next to Abigail by the campfire. She says nothing, but the hunch of her shoulders and the blue-hot flame of her eyes tells you there’s nothing to be said. Her boy is gone. Missing.

You brought her a bowl of porridge for breakfast, but neither of you is up for eating much. She stares into the fire while it sits untouched in her lap. You push your oats around with the spoon and pretend not to eavesdrop.

Of course Marston’s scared rotten, Arthur says in hushed tones. I am too. We killed all them people— for what? For nothin’. There ain’t no gold here.

For living, Dutch corrects him, and you can’t help but think it’s a shame that not all of you got to that part. The living. Sean is dead and gone forever. For all you know, Jack might be too.

But all of that is put immediately to rest when Lenny walks into camp with two Pinkerton agents at gunpoint.

Milton and Ross, they call themselves, swaggering through the whole of camp like you’re not all outlaws and thieves. Killers. Everyone stands as they pass, slowly circling in like vultures to the promise of violence.

The matching felt bowler hats on their heads can’t hide the pockmarks on Milton’s face nor the smug, bristling mustache on Ross’. The government is surely paying a pretty penny for your capture if the fineness of their clothes is anything to go by. Their shoes are shined and polished. You can’t help but notice the way the red Rhodes clay oozes up beneath the soles and paints them muddy.

“This thing? It’s done,” Milton announces when he makes his way to Dutch.

Dutch barely bothers to turn and face him. He doesn’t stand. Everyone else slowly, slowly creeps closer. One step at a time. All coming together. Vultures. Violence.

Things like this are never just done.

Never.

Milton calls Dutch a lot of things. A shepherd of lost souls. A messiah. Sarcasm drips from the syllables, and you wonder how he might react if you told him Dutch was the only god to answer a single one of your prayers. Even Swanson lost touch with Christ long ago. Now when he falters he begs Dutch Van der Linde for forgiveness. All of you do.

“I’m nothing but a seeker, Mr. Milton,” Dutch finally says.

Milton’s eyes narrow. There's a faint expression you can’t quite place on his face when he replies, “You ain’t much of anything more than a killer, Mr. Van der Linde.”

He offers freedom, then. Three days to run and hide and live like civilized human beings in exchange for Dutch. It’s almost laughable.

Dutch steps forward and every gun in camp cocks. Agent Milton seems suddenly to remember how very much outnumbered and outgunned he is.

“I think your new friend should leave, Dutch,” Ms. Grimshaw says.

Milton calls it a mistake, calls you all fools, but the only foolish mistake you can see is letting them live.

—

John and Arthur leave together after all that. They make for a place called Shady Belle and promise Abigail it’s close to the city where her son is being held. A good spot to camp while everyone does what they can to bring that little boy home.

Looking at Karen, miserable and bleary-eyed drunk, you can’t help but think it’s awfully far from Sean’s grave.

[xchxsex]

1 For All and All For 1: Kenny Lacos, Mark Hoffman, John Stone x AFAB reader:

Warning: 4 way, throatfucking, anal, praise, degradation, a costas multiverse, slapping, squirting, p in v penetration, mention of murder, implied stalking, breeding

You were a normal girl. The daughter of the sheriff of your small town, most everyone knew your family and you knew everyone. Being in your 3rd year college studying engineering, you weren’t close to home much. This upset you, but you wouldn’t trade in some of the experiences you’ve had because of it. The few parties, late night drives with friends, wild campus events, college life had really changed you as a person.

It’s winter break, and you’ve returned to your home town, seeing your friends and even a few enemies from high school. That part about coming back always sucked.

“Hey, i was wondering if maybe you’d like to come back and work at the station with me over the break? Could use some extra money to take with you,” your dad suggested.

You had worked there over summer break and actually really enjoyed it. Getting to meet the people that work so close to your father, almost like a second family to him, was a rewarding experience. And as a broke college student, you couldn’t turn down some extra income.

“Sure, that sounds good.”

“Good, grab your coat and we’ll go,” he says.

You enter the cop car, driving to the station as light sprinkles of shimmering snow begin to fall. Being up north, this wasn’t abnormal, especially around this time of year.

Arriving at the station, you are swarmed with people that have known you since you were little, talking about how they’re so happy to see you and asking how this semester has gone.

Reminiscing over the last of the year, you glance up to see your father talking with a certain brown hair, blue eyed handsome man. He must be new, as you certainly would have remembered a man who looked like that walking around. He turns to face you and smiles as your father points his finger at you. God, he has a gorgeous smile too.

They begin to approach you as your breath hitches.

“Y/N, id like to introduce you to my newly appointed deputy sheriff Kenny Lacos.”

He holds out his hand and you take it, noticing how big it is compared to yours.

“Nice to meet you Y/N,” he says, almost looking through you.

“Nice to meet you too,” you barely make out. His eyes linger on yours before a door opens, an angry man walking in.

“Where’s sheriff L/N?,” he asks.

Your father turns to meet the man; heavier set with longer hair, but also with those gorgeous blue eyes.

“I been looking all over for you!,” he says before your father reveals you to him.

“Im sorry Mark, i should have called. I had to pick up my daughter from college earlier.”

He turns to face you. “Oh, im sorry. I try to not raise my voice around a young lady. Im Detective Mark Hoffman.” He also holds out his hand and you shake it.

He also must be new. You notice Kenny look at him with flared nostrils, lip slightly curled, seeing the way Mark is eyeing you like he did.

Before you can introduce yourself, you hear more commotion behind you. You turn to see a man you do recognize, and for good reason.

“I been here 4 fuckin’ hours, you gonna let me go with my fine like usual?,” he groans at the officer next to him.

John Stone was no stranger when it came to the law. He had many DUIs among a few assault charges. You were ashamed that you only saw his broad stature and how handsome he was for an older man.

He notices you standing. “Oh, hi Y/N. Back from college so soon?”

Yeah. He was there so much that he knew you by name at this point.

“Yeah. Winter break.”

“Get good grades this semester?,” he asks. He had a little girl of his own and he was never known to treat younger girls badly.

“Yep, all A’s and B’s,” you say proudly.

“Good girl,” he says.

He said that to you a lot, not like it didn’t make your legs clench every now and then. It also didn’t matter that you would sometimes think of him while your hands worked their way into your underwear, although now you have a few dirty fantasies to choose from.

Your dad takes you into his office leaving all 3 men outside.

“Been a while since I’ve seen a pretty girl like her around here,” Mark nudges Kenny.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, side eyeing Mark,” but um, isn’t she a little too young for you?”

Mark smiles. “Maybe, but i bet Ive bed a lot more women her age than you have.”

Kenny would never admit that he was probably right.

John laughs. “That girl needs a real man, not two immature shitheads.”

Both men purse their lips at John, not wanting to give in to his trolling but also not wanting to be talked to like that either.

“She sure doesn’t need a criminal either,” Kenny finally says.

John smiles. “Bein’ a criminal don’t matter when you got years of experience in the bedroom. She needs a man that makes her back arch and toes curl and leaves her breathless with her legs shaking. Not a boy that climbs on her, finishes in 2 minutes and then rolls off and goes to sleep.”

Their argument begins to attract attention and the men disband.

Later on, you’re back at your house. Your dad had to leave abruptly on a call, leaving you alone.

Watching TV, you hear a knock at your door. Not expecting anyone, you look through the peephole to see Kenny and Mark standing on the opposite side of what seems like an argument.

You open the door and the men collect themselves.

“Hi again Y/N,” Kenny says.

“Hi?,” you ask, unsure why they’re here.

“Your dad sent us to keep you company until he gets back,” Mark says.

This wasn’t surprising. As a sheriff, he saw women in the most awful condition with graphic things done to them. He never liked leaving you alone in the house even for a few minutes.

“Okay, you can come in.”

Now that they’re inside, you can see they’ve both changed; Kenny in a sweater and jeans, Mark in a loose shirt with sweat pants.

You admit that both of the men look even better this way, even though you’ve always had a thing for men in uniform.

They join you on the couch after hanging their coats. You notice them sitting on opposite sides, confirming that they don’t exactly get along.

“You hungry or anything Y/N?,” Kenny asks.

“Oh, no i just ate not long ago,” you say.

You sense the tension in the room, making you a little uncomfortable.

Watching TV, you see out of the corner of your eye as Kenny begins to scoot closer to you, the outside of your thighs touching. The sudden contact makes your cheeks go red, not able to stop yourself smiling at him.

Mark takes notice, not wanting Kenny to get his hands on you before he could, and moves closer to you.

The men have you closed in now. You’re starting to guess what this is about. As you think, Kenny brushes your hair away from your cheek and smiles.

“Sorry, i could feel the hairs tickling me from here.”

You smile with him. He really was a cute guy, and your age. It would be perfect if your dad wasn’t his boss.

Mark moves in closer to you, wrapping his arm around your back and tugging you to him.

You can’t help but slightly bite your lip and smile, knowing that they’re essentially fighting over being next to you.

Suddenly, there’s another knock at the door. Assuming that maybe your dad is back, you jump up and run to the door, pulling it open. But what you see isn’t expected.

John is at the other side, giving you a smile.

“And what’s a young pretty girl like you doing home alone at this hour?”

You can’t help but feel a twinge of fear, not knowing how he got your address or why he’s even here.

“John, what are you doing here?,” you ask, shakily.

“Well, i heard your daddy done left you here all alone. Got a babysitter for my little girl and decided to come over here to keep you company.”

The man that you fantasized about standing in your doorway sends a chill down your spine that goes straight to your heat unexpectedly.

Mark and Kenny peer around the corner to see John, and you sense that this is not going to end well.

“I-I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you say, setting off at a brisk pace.

After you leave, the men exchange looks.

“What the hell are you doing here?,” Mark asks,” leave or I’m calling the sheriff.”

“Go ahead, call him and tell him that you and deputy shithead are trying to fuck his daughter,” John says.

Kenny starts to get aggravated, balling his fists until his knuckles are white. “Like you don’t want to bed her either,” Kenny says.

John laughs again. “Oh i do. Id love to see what she looks like under those clothes and how her sweet little cunt tastes.”

Mark wouldn’t outwardly admit that he longs to rip your clothes off and investigate all the places he wants to grab onto.

“How about this, you let me stay, and i wont tell the sheriff that you want to get into his little girls pants, and you wont tell him that i lay at night, blowing loads to the thought of her taking them all over her pretty face?,” John says.

You peer around the corner and thats the only thing you hear. Knowing the men in front of you all want to take you for themselves makes a puddle in your underwear.

College had led to some experimenting, giving you a fantasy of being taken by multiple men at once. You walk back out and John smiles again.

“There she is,” he says. Mark and Kenny turn.

“You all want to fuck me?,” you ask.

They all go white, not wanting you to have heard that conversation.

“Maybe, but some of us have been wanting to longer than others,” he glances over at Mark and Kenny.

“I think you’re gorgeous Y/N,” Kenny says.

The words and the way he says them in that deep voice make your legs weak. He approaches you, wrapping his hands around your waist. His lips land on yours with a hot passion. Hints of cherry chapstick and mint enter your mouth. He’s soft and gentle, showing his want in the way he holds you.

“Move aside, i want a taste of her,” you hear Mark say as Kenny pulls away.

Mark grabs your face and crashes his lips to yours, a taste of alcohol on his tongue. His kisses are hungry and longing as his hands slide down and grope your ass. He’s much rougher than Kenny.

“Pathetic. Move aside,” you hear John say as Mark moves. The man that you’ve been waiting for the longest is standing in front of you. He wraps a hand around your throat before his lips and tongue hit yours, sliding his other hand around the back of your thigh. His beard lightly tickles your cheeks. You grab onto him as he invites you to jump into his arms.

The way he picks you up with ease makes you even hungrier. He pulls your hips into his, feeling his hard length pressing against you. You whine into his mouth as he puts you back down.

“Alright thats enough,” you hear as John pulls away.

Now the men are standing before you. You’ve gone numb from all of them grabbing you and kissing you, unsure of what to do next.

“So, which one of us do you want?,” Mark asks.

You can’t say you’ve ever had this many attractive men fighting over you before, part of it is really fun.

You bite your lip. “I dont know who to choose, i think i need more information.”

“Id kill both of these idiots to see you naked,” Kenny says. You don’t doubt it.

“Try and fight me. I was in Iraq, see what happens you little bitch,” John says to Kenny.

Mark smiles at the both of them and you, getting and enjoyment out of you pinning Kenny and John against each other.

“Boys,” Mark interrupts,” can i talk to the both of you alone?,” he asks, gesturing for you to leave.

Thinking that it’s a coy for Mark to get his hands on you before anyone else, you walk away into the other room.

You wait outside the living room for what feels like a while before you hear 3 mens footsteps approaching you.

As they stand before you, you notice their demeanors have changed, standing side by side, smirking at you.

“We’ve come to a little realization,” Kenny says, gesturing to Mark.

“Since you think it’s cute to pin us all against each other, i think you need to be taught a lesson,” Mark says.

The men move closer to you, your breathing hitches, unsure what’s happening.

Before you can speak, Johns hand is wrapped around your throat, gently pressing you into the wall. “So you’re gonna be our good little whore and let us do what we want to you, understand?”

You whine, it’s better than you could have imagined. “Y-yes,” you say.

He releases your neck and easily throws you over his shoulder, taking you up the stairs to your room, which he also already knows where it is. Kenny and Mark follow as you’re tossed on your bed. John climbs on top of you, pinning your wrists. Mark wraps his hand around your neck and squeezes. “Your daddy isn’t gonna be back for a few hours, we have plenty of time to play with you, babygirl,” he says.

John climbs off of you, pulling down your pants and underwear, Mark begins to pull your top off, Kenny is running his hands along your now bare flesh.

It doesn’t take long before your naked form is presented to the 3 men. They climb on your bed with you, John rubs up your thighs, pushing your legs up, Kenny is kissing you, sucking and nibbling your neck. Mark is grabbing onto your breasts, biting your nipples between his teeth. You moan into Kennys mouth as your back arches into Marks.

“Mm… wanna taste your pretty pussy baby,” Kenny whispers in your ear, gently biting the soft lobe. He pulls away.

“Move, i want to taste her,” he says to them. They back off as Kenny pulls his shirt off. You take note of his tan muscled flesh, knowing that you’ll get to see more of him later. His head moves between your legs, resting them on his shoulders.

It’s not long before his soft tongue is pressed against you, making you moan.

“Fuck,” you whine, grabbing onto the men beside you.

“Aww. Does having your little cunt eaten feel good?,” John teases.

You see Mark and John starting to undo their belts, your mind exploring the possibilities of what’s coming next. They get their pants undone while Kenny continues to devour you. He moves your hips deeper into his mouth as Mark takes your hand and wraps it around his aching dick.

“Pump it for me sweetheart,” he says running his hands through your hair. You do as he says stroking nice and tight for him.

“Alright now open that mouth,” John says, aligning his cock to enter your lips. You lean up, sucking his tip as he pushes your head further.

“Mmm,” he groans,” thats my girl. Been thinkin’ ‘bout what that mouth feels like for a long while.”

Kenny moves his tongue deeper into you, catching you by surprise as his fingers pass your hole. You moan, gagging on John in the process. Tears fill your eyes as he smiles. “Is it too much pretty thing? My cock too big for you?”

You shake your head no, but you might be underestimating what it can do to you.

“My turn,” Mark says before entangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you over to him. You don’t have time to react before you’re shoved down to Mark’s base, gagging as he pulls you back up. “Got a good throat on her.”

You go to suck off Mark once more, but before you can, your insides start tingling from Kenny’s mouth.

“Im gonna cum,” you whine. You feel Kenny smile against you as John and Mark grab hold of your breasts, pinching the hard buds. Your back arches as you have a mind shattering orgasm, crying out, letting your head fall back and your eyes roll back into your head. Kenny doesn’t slow his movements, prolonging the feeling even more.

John is running his hands through your hair soothingly, taunting you. “Feel good to cum babygirl? Yeah? You want to cum some more?” He glances at Mark and they both smile, knowing that they won’t stop until you can’t handle anymore.

Once it’s passed, Kenny pulls away, letting your legs fall back down. You notice that he’s also taken himself out, pleasing himself as he pleased you. “You tasted so good,” he smiles,” i might have gotten a little carried away.”

You wonder what’s in store for you next. “W-what are you gonna do to me?,” you ask.

“Hmm, let’s see baby,” Mark says,” you got three pretty holes on you, and there’s 3 of us.” He looks up at the men and then back down at you. You get nervous at the thought of your first multiple-men sexual encounter, but with these 3, you know you’ll be taken care of.

“I want her tight pussy,” Kenny says.

“Good, i want to feel more of that dirty mouth. Ill fuck her little pussy on my own time,” John smiles down at you.

“Lucky that i love playing with a pretty untouched asshole,” Mark says. If only the “untouched” part was true. You had been curious as to what it would feel like and explored, but it had been a while since then.

“Pick her up. I want her on top of my cock,” Kenny says. Before you can speak, Mark pulls you up on his shoulder, grabbing your ass tight in the process. Kenny fully removes his pants and underwear, lying on your bed as Mark puts you on top of him.

“Now’s where the fun begins pretty girl,” he says, picking up your hips and sliding you down on his length. His girth stretches you as you whine. You can’t help but start to move your hips on him, grinding in deeper. As you look up, you’re greeted with a swift slap at Johns hand, not enough to hurt you, but enough to get your attention.

“What did I say? You do as we say, I don’t give a fuck how needy that little cunt is, you wait, understand?”

You whimper as more tears fill your eyes than before. “Y-yes.” His hand tightens around your neck. “Yes what?” You swallow, his hand keeping it from passing. “Yes sir.” He lets go of your neck. “Smart girl.”

John stars to unbutton his flannel top, Mark sliding off his top. You notice Johns big, tanned arms and wide chest, only covered by a thin tank top compared to Mark’s, wide, thicker stature. You feel the desire to run your hands around both of them. As you reach out to John, you feel Mark’s cock starting to press into your ass, a stinging pain as he slides it in. “God fucking dammit, you’re tight,” he groans.

“Now give me that pretty mouth.” John pulls your hair back, bringing you to his cock. You start to suck as you hear the jingling of metal behind you.

“Let’s make things a little more interesting,” he says, pulling your arms back and cuffing your wrists behind you. Now, you can’t do anything but stay there and take whatever they give, the thought making you gush and tighten around Kenny and Mark’s cock’s. “Dirty whore likes it,” Mark says.

“You ready pretty girl?,” John asks you. You can’t help but smile a little bit. “Fuck her brains out,” he says to both men. When they all start thrusting into you, the pleasure is perfectly overwhelming. You moan, gagging on John as he presses deeper down your throat.

Kenny grabs hold of your breasts, sucking on one as Mark grabs hold of your ass, spanking you harshly. “Can barely fucking move inside your tight little ass,” he grunts. “Yeah,” Kenny says,” she’s got a tight little pussy too.”

Kenny thrusts up into the deepest spot inside you, making you cry out in pleasure. Mark groans again. “The harder you fuck her, the tighter she gets.”

John thrusts into your throat, making you gag. Tears run down your cheeks. “No need to cry little girl. You’re makin’ me feel so damn good.” You see him smile.

Suddenly Mark pulls you up by your locked wrists, locking his hand around your neck when your body hits his. “Damn dirty whore,” he grunts between thrusts. You see the look of pure pleasure on Kennys face; his head leaned back, mouth slightly open. John is pumping himself to the visual of you getting torn apart by Kenny and Mark.

John comes over to you, now able to actually moan and get your pleasure out. His fingers reach and toy with your clit, causing your legs to start closing on him and Kenny. A swift slap is put on your face by John, another follows on your ass by Mark, whining in pain. “Spread your fuckin’ legs bitch,” John says. You force your legs apart slowly, shaking, barely being able to hold yourself up. His fingers rub tight circles, whimpering as Marks hand silences your needs.

“Fuck,” you manage to make out, about to come undone on both men.

“Gonna cum on me baby?,” Kenny asks. “Be a good girl and make a dirty mess on me.”

You cry out as another orgasm tears through your body. A sudden clear fluid comes rushing out of you, all over Johns hand and Kennys stomach. All of the men speed up their movements. “Pretty girl knows how to squirt huh?,” John teases. Mark tightens his grip on your neck. “Little asshole’s throbbing on my fucking cock,” he groans in your ear. “God baby, so fucking hot,” Kenny moans. His hands go around your waist. Marks hand releases your neck as John puts his soaked fingers in his mouth. “Sweet, good to know,” he smiles before grabbing your hair and putting you back on his length.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Kenny groans. His grip tightens on your waist as his thrusts start to slow.

“Cum inside of her,” Mark says,” she’s getting sweet cum in all her little holes.”

“I second that,” John tightens his hands in your hair,” and she’s gonna swallow every fucking drop.”

It doesn’t take long before Kenny’s grabbing tight enough to leave bruises, letting out a groan as his warm cum seeps into you. Mark thrusting into you causes you to continue to move on Kenny, overstimulating him, milking everything out. “Shit baby, fuck,” he moans.

Mark grabs a tight hold on your ass, spanking it hard. You whine and jerk on John and Kenny’s cocks. It doesn’t take long before Mark thrusts completely inside of you, emptying his seed. “Goddammit you little fucking slut,” he groans. He continues his thrusts, putting all the cum he has to give inside you.

When he’s done, he pulls himself out of you, leaving your hole gaping and full. Mark spreads your ass apart. “Such a pretty ruined hole,” he says with a spank.

Now John’s the only one that hasn’t finished yet. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m almost done with you… for now.” He grabs hold of your head with both hands. “Thats it, keep suckin’ the tip like that and I’ll paint that pretty mouth.”

You shut your eyes, trying to stop yourself from gagging. He pulls your head all the way down before pulling out slightly as his load shoots down your throat. “Good girl, suck it all up for me. Don’t swallow it yet.” You hold all you can in your mouth, savoring the salty taste. He pulls himself out, closing your mouth to keep it in. He smiles, gently caressing your cheek. “Now open that pretty mouth and show me,” he says. You open your mouth, displaying the white fluid to him. “Exactly how Ive always pictured it. Now swallow babygirl.” You do as he says and swallow it down.

You’re instantly exhausted, still cuffed and filled by Kenny, you almost forgot he was there. You hear a phone notification. Mark comes over to you, now dressed. “Your dad says he’ll be back in 30.”

You don’t even care at this point, you just need to rest. He chuckles. “Poor thing is so wore out, let’s get her cleaned up and put to bed.” Mark unlocks the cuffs and frees your wrists, sore from the metal.

Kenny grabs your arms and loops them around his neck, pulling out of you and picking you up. He lays you down on the bed, both Mark and Kenny’s loads start to drip out. Out of your hazy vision, the men dress themselves, grabbing a towel on your bedroom chair to wipe your fluids off of them.

“Hand me the rag,” Kenny says, taking it into your bathroom and wetting it. He comes over and gently wipes the sweat, tears, and whatever John left that dripped down your chin. He then uses it to wipe down your private areas gently, swollen from the rough use. John grabs you a baggy shirt and underwear from your drawer, bringing them over and slipping it over your head and arms. Kenny pulls up your underwear as Mark tucks you into bed.

“Okay well, before your daddy finds me here, I’m gonna go,” John says, approaching you,” you were a very good girl for me. I hope I see you again.” He gives you a kiss before leaving out the back and driving off.

“Well, your dad will be back soon we should-,” you all hear a car door slam,” or he’s here now,” Kenny says. “We should probably go down, we’ll say you got tired and went to bed.”

Both men come up to you. “But you were a very good girl for us,” Mark says. They both give you a kiss on the cheek before walking out and going downstairs.

You can’t believe what just happened to you and you know for sure that you’ll be sore tomorrow, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of, its that you want it with them again.

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Fic Playlist ♫

Summary: Danny shows up at your door like he always does, and you almost believe him when he says he'll stay this time.

Pairings: Sheriff!Danny x Reader, background Jake x Reader | Genres: angst, smut (minors begone!), hurt/comfort | Word Count: 5.3k | Warnings: unhealthy relationships, kind of romanticized cheating, non-graphic smut

A/N: The promised sheriff Danny fic! This is not my usual happy healthy fluff - there's a lot of angst and heartbreak and unhealthy relationships. The title is taken from the song “Bend It Until It Breaks” by John Anderson, and it's fitting for the messed up honky-tonk romance in this fic. I know it's different than what I usually do, but I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope you like it! ♡

He looked the same as you remembered him. From his fitted uniform and sturdy brown cowboy boots to the gun on his hip, from the aviators hiding his eyes to the shiny badge that caught the light of the hot Texas sun, he was the picture of strength, steadiness, dependability. Just as you had the very first time he’d come to your door, you felt like you could trust him.

“I didn’t know you were back in town,” you said. You watched the way his dark curls shone in the sun; you didn’t know how he’d gotten away with such long, pretty hair when sheriffs were supposed to keep their hair short, but you were glad he had. It would be such a shame to cut that wild mane just the color of a raven’s wing.

He tucked his sunglasses up into his curls, showing the crinkle that years of easy, generous laughter had etched around his brown eyes.

“Just got in yesterday,” he said. “I wanted to see you.”

He stood with his Stetson in hand, kneading the brim of it until you thought it might start to show wear. Danny never was nervous in any part of him besides his hands, and he’d never shown it to anyone except you.

“You sure are pretty,” he said. “Even prettier than you were the last time I saw you.”

You made yourself ignore the butterflies brought up by his warm voice. You sighed and leaned against the doorframe, trying to convince both of you that you didn’t want to run straight into his arms. 

“What do you want, Danny?”

“I told you. I wanted to see you.” He took a step closer, careful of the wildflowers that had grown over the walkway to your front door. “I got called in to help with a case right over the county line, and I figured — ”

“You figured you’d come by and get your rocks off, yeah, I know.” You didn't bother to hide the bitterness in your voice.

Something like guilt tugged at his handsome features.

“It’s not like that,” he said. “It’s never like that, darlin’. Not with you and me.”

You gave a mirthless laugh. “Right. You came back because you love me, and you mean it this time.”

“I do love you,” he said.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest. “You’re a liar, Danny Wagner.”

You turned on your heel and went back inside, but you didn’t close the door behind you even though you should have slammed it in his face. Part of you, a stronger part than you wanted to admit, wanted him to follow you inside and prove you wrong.

In the kitchen, you started to fold a stack of newly washed dish towels, brushing your hair back from your face. Sunlight slanted through the window and made the suncatcher cast a broken rainbow across the kitchen; you heard his familiar tread, the sound of his boots on your hardwood floor, and tried to get your heart to stop beating fair to burst.

“I’m not doing this with you again,” you said, not allowing yourself to look back at him. You knew what you’d see, and you knew you’d be weak enough to want it: your kitchen would look smaller, cosier with him in it taking up so much room with his broad shoulders. “It ends up bad, every time.”

Your hair fell in your face again, and he came close to tuck it back behind your ear.

“Not this time, sugar,” he said gently. “I promise.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for the honesty he wore so openly and yet always ended up being a ruse to both of you. That was the thing with Danny: he meant it when he said he wanted to change. He just wasn’t made for settling down, and both of you knew it.

“I can’t, Danny,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You wished he’d kiss you and keep you from telling him no. “It hurts too bad to let you go.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you put your fingers to his lips. He kissed them and looked at you from under his dark lashes.

“And we both know that you’re not the stayin’ kind,” you said, drawing your hand back. “You never have been.”

His expression shadowed.

“I saw that fella who left just as I pulled up,” he said, and there was a jealous edge to his voice that sent a thrill through you. “Looked like a real dandy. I bet you think he’s the stayin’ kind.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. 

“I know he is.” You thought of how good Jake was, how kind and honest and predictable he was, and wanted to defend him from Danny’s disdain. “He’s a good man. He wants to marry me.”

Danny smirked. “Does he know you’re not the marryin’ kind?”

You slapped him across the face. He took it like a man and merely raised a brow when he turned his face back to you, his cheek flushed with the mark of your hand.

“Still a pistol, aren’t you?” he said, the faint color of praise in his voice enough to make you dizzy.

“You’d like it if I never married, wouldn’t you?” you asked waspishly. “You won’t marry me, but you want me to wait for you, ignore all the other lovers you take while I keep myself only for you, pine away for you my entire life while you’re free to run around on me from one side of the state to the other. That would suit you just fine, wouldn’t it?”

You turned back to the dish towels, wringing them in your hands.

“I’m a fool to have wasted so much time with you, Daniel. I’m not going to be made a fool of again. Not this time.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. The strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, and he gently pushed it back up.

“I like this dress, darlin’.” You felt his gaze on you. “Does he know this is the dress you wore the last time you made love to me?”

You turned your face from him. “He knows it’s the one I wore the last time you made me cry.”

Danny sighed and let his hand drop to his side.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. You wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know either, but it still made you want to turn to him and tell him you’d forgive him for whatever it was.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” he said. “I know I hurt you the last time around, but I...” He shook his head. “I had to see you again. I missed you.”

You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that you’d missed him too, that you’d cried for days when he left the last time, just as you did every time he left you behind. You kept from telling him that you’d somehow rather have a lifetime of crying over him than a lifetime of pretending to love anyone else.

“I’ll be in town a few more days,” he said. He gave your cheek a quick, gentle kiss. “I reckon you’ll know where to find me if you change your mind.”

You didn’t turn to him. You heard him leave, taking your heart with him; the same moment the door closed behind him, you whirled around to tell him to stay.

“Danny — ”

He was gone. The silence was deafening, and you gave a shaky sigh like the beginning of a sob.

“Oh, Danny.” You buried your face in your hands and cried.

—

Later, you found yourself putting on a different dress, red with little white flowers all across it. You sat at the vanity in your bedroom and put on the lipstick that made your mouth look dark like blackberry wine.

“Going out?”

You met Jake’s eyes in the mirror, your gaze soft as you saw the way he looked at you. He always blushed when you got dolled up, pink and sweet and nervous.

“Just going to meet up with a friend,” you said. “Maybe have a drink or two.”

“You look beautiful,” he said. He didn’t ask you where you were going, or how late you'd be out, or who you were going to meet. He trusted you, and it was like a knife between your ribs.

You managed a smile. “Thank you.”

You gave him a kiss as you stood, and you knew he wanted you to stay. You wished he’d grab your waist and tell you he wasn’t going to let you out looking so pretty, at least not without him, but of course he didn’t. He let you pull back from the kiss and offered you a sweet smile when you parted.

“Have a good time,” he said. “I have to run back to my place for a while, but I’ll come back over if you give me a call when you get home.”

“Okay,” you said softly. Your throat felt tight. “I’ll miss you, Jake.”

His laugh was soft and a little surprised.

“I’ll come over as soon as you call me,” he promised. “No need to miss me.”

You tried for another smile. “You’re right.” You kissed him again. “See you in a little while.”

You drove without even deciding on where to go, but every turn took you closer to downtown like you were pulled by an invisible string. You stopped across the street from the Lonesome Rose, the old honky-tonk that had been there for decades spilling its neon halo over the sidewalk and welcoming folks in with the warbling strains of Waylon and Willie.

You shook your head. “You’re a damn fool,” you said to yourself as you put the car in park. Your cowboy boots scuffed the worn hardwood floor as you came inside, and you sat at the bar and waited for the bartender to come by.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“She’ll have a Jack and Coke.”

You thrilled at his voice and turned to see him right behind you, moving to bracket you in with one hand resting on the bar next to you. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile.

“Isn’t that right, sugar?” Danny asked.

You sighed and looked back at the bartender. “Yes, please. Jack and Coke. And he’ll have a Mitcher’s rye double on the rocks.”

The bartender gave an amused hum as he looked over the two of you. “Comin’ right up.”

Danny took the seat next to you, propping one boot on the bottom of your barstool. He’d changed out of his uniform, trading it for snug Levi's and a soft rust-colored button-down, and his hair was half-up, half-down just as you’d always liked it best.

“I told you you’d know where to find me,” he said.

You couldn’t help a rueful smile. “This is where the whiskey and pretty girls are, Danny.” The bartender brought your drinks over, and you touched your hands to the icy glass. “I don’t have to be a sheriff to figure out that this is where you’d be.”

He took a drink. “Well, you're right about the whiskey. But the only pretty girl around here I care about is you.”

Your pulse fluttered at the compliment, but you tried to keep yourself in check. Just because you’d made the mistake of coming here didn’t mean you had to make all the rest that usually followed.

You took a long sip of your drink and let the alcohol soothe your nerves. The jukebox played a familiar song, and you hummed along to the words of heartbreak and a worn-out kind of love.

“What did your dandy have to say about you goin’ out lookin’ so sweet and rosy?” Danny asked.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about him.” The guilt was too much to bear on top of everything else, and if Danny wasn’t careful, he’d send you right back into Jake’s arms tonight.

Danny shrugged. “Suits me.” He leaned close and splayed a big, warm hand over your back. “But if I were him, I wouldn’t have let you go out at all.” He trailed his fingers up to the top of your zipper. “I’d have taken this little dress off of you nice and slow, told you how lovely you are, kissed every inch of you.”

A breathless little sigh escaped you when he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Danny.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “I’m right here, darlin’. Tell me what you want.”

I want you. You couldn’t allow yourself to say it, and you shook yourself as you took another long drink.

“I want you to behave yourself,” you lied.

He gave you a crooked smile. “If you say so, sugar.”

You sat together at the bar for a long while, and you tried to convince yourself it was innocent interest in a friend that kept you at the Lonesome Rose so late into the night when you had a good man waiting up for you to call. To his credit, Danny was a perfect gentleman as you let the drinks and the music draw you into a comfortable lull where you were the only two people on earth. You asked about his work and fussed when he told you of the more dangerous parts of his job, and he assured you that he could more than handle things.

“This case you’re working on now,” you said, “it’s not too dangerous, is it?”

He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I mean, it’s not a trip to Disneyland.”

You nudged your arm against his. “You know I’d kill you if you ever died, right?”

He smiled. “Yes ma’am, I do know that.” He kissed your cheek. “Lucky I don’t plan on dyin’ anytime soon. Not before I’ve had you one last time, at least.”

You laughed, the whiskey making you pliant and carefree. 

“You sure think an awful lot of yourself, don’t you?” you asked. “I guess you’re gonna live forever, Daniel.”

He twirled a lock of your hair around his finger. “I wouldn’t be so sure, darlin’.”

You looked up at him, your gaze traveling over the handsome features you’d memorized long ago and thought of during many lonely nights. “You think you’re sleeping with me tonight?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He nodded towards the jukebox. “But I know for sure I’m dancing with you tonight.”

You gave a long-suffering sigh and couldn’t hide your smile as you held your hands out. “Take me to the dance floor, then.”

He grinned and took your hands, drawing you to the space reserved for lovers to wear their boots out to old country songs. He danced you around and kept you steady as you giggled and swayed on your feet, and for the space of a half-dozen love songs, you were perfectly happy. You hung on each other and showed off your tipsy dance moves and laughed until your sides hurt. It was just as you’d always imagined it, just as you always wanted; you found yourself thinking of that old daydream you’d tried to forget years ago, the one where Danny had put a ring on your finger and a baby inside you and had settled down to make you laugh and take you dancing every chance he could. You knew you shouldn’t, but you let yourself pretend it was real, if only for tonight.

“Hank Jr. sure gets you movin’, doesn’t he?” Danny teased, twirling you around like a princess.

You laughed. “You’re the only reason I haven’t gotten kicked off this dance floor,” you said, breathless and beaming up at him. “You're a wonderful dancer, Danny.”

He smiled. “Why thank you, darlin’.” He dipped you low and held you there for a moment, and you were utterly dependent on his strong, steady hands, looking up at him with the kind of desire you couldn’t hide.

“You’re beautiful,” he said when he pulled you back up. “Every time I think you can’t get any more beautiful, you prove me wrong.”

Your sigh was lovesick, resigned to the hopelessness of loving him. 

“Danny,” you said softly. You didn’t know what you were asking for — more words of love? A final blow, both barrels leveled at your heart, to send you away from him for good? You didn't know why you'd thought you could keep from loving him this time, not when you knew he'd hold your heart in his hands as long as you lived.

An old Dwight Yoakam song started to play, one Danny knew you had a weakness for, and he gave you a sweet smile. He pulled you close and swayed you gently to the music, singing along as he held you in his arms. 

“Try not to look so pretty the next time that we meet.” His voice was perfectly suited to the melody, and he stole a gentle kiss that made you blush. “Please don’t look so pretty, and I won’t act so weak.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear, and his touch traced over your jaw and thumbed the sparkling pendant of your earring.

“Why’d you come?” he asked, as if he hadn’t known you would. He could read you like a book; you’d never been able to hide from him, and you basked under the attention of a man who knew everything you had to offer and wanted you still.

“I couldn’t stay away,” you all but whispered. “You know I couldn’t.”

“Even with your dandy waiting at home?” he asked.

You swallowed. Danny knew what he meant to you, knew you would give up anyone for one moment in his arms, and you felt it was cruel of him to glory in it.

He shook his head as if thinking the same thing. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, and you look so pretty, and I can hardly breathe when I look at you.”

You put your hands to his chest, letting him support you with his hands on the small of your back. He studied your face with that look that made you feel beautiful, and you felt like you had the first time he’d held you like this. You’d been young then, naive, so in love with him you thought you might break with it. You had broken with it, as soon as he left, but he’d always put you back together when he found his way home to you.

You looked up at him with dreamy expectation, your lips parted and soft and wanting.

He smiled. “You want me to kiss you, don’t you?”

You shook your head.

“No?” he asked. He drew you closer and ducked his head until his lips barely brushed yours. “Funny. It sure looks like you do.”

You couldn’t help yourself, and you wound your arms around his neck as you kissed him. That self-satisfied smirk of his was short-lived, and he held you and kissed you like a man who knew how to handle a woman.

“Danny,” you breathed.

He cradled your face in his big hand and brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You sure needed a good kissing, sugar. Look at you all pink and sweet for me. You want some more?”

You felt a choking wave of emotion. “I want you.”

He gave you a faint smile. “I know, darlin’. You’ll have me, I promise.”

He kissed you again, and you melted against him. You forgot every reason to walk out the Lonesome Rose and drive home to a good man who was loyal to you; like a wedding vow, forsaking all else, you surrendered yourself completely to the man who would love you tonight and leave you lonely in the morning.

He danced with you for a while, all slow steps and loving looks, and you couldn’t bear to be parted from him. When he stepped outside for a smoke, you went with him, winding your arms around his waist and tucking your hands into his back pockets. You watched as he tipped his face up towards the dark sky and blew out a thin stream of silvery smoke; you admired the handsome curve of his jaw, the bold line of his nose, the dark shine of his curls in the neon lights.

“You’re beautiful, Danny.”

He looked down at you and smiled, and the laugh lines that showed by his dark eyes gave his expression such a tenderness that it took your breath away.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he said. He kissed you, and he tasted like smoke and whiskey, and you stood on tiptoes to get closer.

He chuckled. “Alright, sugar. I hear you.” He took one last drag from his cigarette and put it out, taking your hand as he led you back inside. He settled your tab and took you out to his beat-up Ford pickup truck, a relic from the old days that a mentor on the force had gifted Danny at his retirement. The worn leather was soft and cracked in places and the sheriff’s logo on the door was faded, but Danny wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

“Mine,” you said. He had a John Anderson tape in, and you turned it up a little before you moved close to him, leaning against his arm as he drove.

Neither of you spoke, and the comforting rumble of the engine and the quiet rush of warm night air through the windows wove themselves into a harmony with the music on the crackly stereo. You toyed with his free hand, running your fingers between his knuckles, feeling the wiry angles of hands used to hard work and tender touches.

“Maybe we should just drive,” he said, his voice quiet. “Keep goin’ until we find somewhere that suits us. Settle down, grow a garden, raise a few little ones.”

You closed your eyes and hid your face against his shoulder. You’d known it was coming, this dream of a future together, and you knew it was sincere. Something in him wanted to stay and be good to you, and knowing that part of him was more painful than if he hadn’t wanted it at all.

You looked up at him and brushed your fingers over his cheek.

“Tomorrow,” you promised. It was for both of you, a lie that wouldn’t hurt until it was proven; for now, both of you could go the whole night through believing it was the truth.

He glanced over at you, and his smile was heartsick and sorrowful. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

When you got to your house, you left the front door open behind you like you had that morning. You put a record on, and the strains of music followed you outside as you came out to the porch; you leaned on the railing and watched as Danny studied your flower garden.

“Look how big these are,” he mused, brushing his fingers over the soft petals of a blush-colored peony. “I don’t remember them being so big last time.”

“It’s been a while since you were here, Danny.” Your voice was soft, but there was an edge to it he didn’t miss, and he looked up at you with a gentle gaze.

“I know,” he said. “I was tryin’ to let you go, darlin’.”

The thought of him leaving and never coming back was like a physical pain in your chest.

“You can’t leave me like that,” you said. You came close to him as he stepped up onto the porch with you, and you put your hands to his chest.

“Promise you’ll always come back,” you said, pleading with him. “I don’t care if it’s for one night or for the rest of your life. You promise you’ll come back to me, Daniel.”

He gathered you in his arms and kissed you, soothing the fear of losing him with the tenderness and passion that sang in every movement of his body against yours.

“Hush, now,” he said gently. “I came back, didn’t I?” His smile was rueful. “The one time I ever tried to do right by you, and I ended up back at your door like I always do.”

You put your hands to his face. “I’m glad you did.”

You took his hand and led him to your bedroom, and he was gentle and slow as he helped you undress. Your room was dim and quiet, the window you’d left open sending a cool breeze to ruffle the curtains; a serenade of crickets and gentle birdsong drifted in and mixed with the sound of the record that played.

Danny held you and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You look at me like you love me,” he said softly. “You always have.”

“I’ve always loved you,” you said simply.

He gave a long, low sigh and buried his face against your neck. “I know, darlin’. I wish you didn’t, but I’m sure glad you do.”

He laid you back on the bed and hovered over you, drawing the smoldering ember into a flame with his warm, work-toughened hands. You’d been held by others before, wandering hands under faded calico sheets, but no one ever touched you like Danny did. 

He tucked you into the lee of his body, and there was nothing on earth but the warmth of his skin, the scent of his cologne, the touch of his hand as he pulled you close. You fit together like puzzle pieces, your softness and his strength, the give of your curves and his solid warmth.

“Please,” you said, tilting your head back as he kissed your jaw.

“Be patient,” he chided gently. “I’ll give you what you want, sugar.”

He trailed his kisses down your throat, over your collar, down the swell of your breast. He worshiped you with his touch, murmuring words of love against your skin.

You tangled your hands in his thick curls when he ventured lower. “Danny.”

He smiled, and you felt it against your skin. “I hear you, pretty girl.”

He took his time, running his hands over your thighs as he worked his tongue over every inch between your legs. He gave a pleased hum every time you gasped or moved beneath him; you tugged on his curls, overwhelmed with how much you needed him, saying his name over and over like a prayer.

You unraveled with a pitiful gasp, and when he came back up to kiss you, it was heat and skin and breathless want. His hands moved over you, drawing you where he wanted you, pressing you against him.

“Danny,” you said weakly. You ached with desire as you felt him between your legs, but your body remembered how much he asked of you.

“Take me,” he said, low and breathless. “You’re takin’ all of me, darlin’. I know you can.”

You gave a choked gasp and dug your fingers into his shoulder when he buried himself inside you. You did take him, just as he said, and in the heartbeat he gave you to catch your breath, you knew no one would ever satisfy you like he did.

“Good girl,” he praised. He started to move, slow and deep, and you lost yourself in the feel of him. His hands wandered, reverent and skillful, patiently soothing the ache of him until you bloomed under him like a flower towards the sun.

You shied away from him as he started to bring you to the edge. Suspended in desire, you could keep him here forever; when it was over, you could no more keep hold of him than you could keep water from trickling through your fingers.

He noticed, and he shushed you and kept you close.

“Easy,” he soothed. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t,” you said brokenly. “I don’t — Danny, please, I don’t want it to be over.”

He kissed you. “I’m here,” he promised. “I’m right here with you, darlin’.”

He took your hand and drew it up to rest over his heart; it hammered under your hand, jackrabbiting in his chest. 

“Feel what you’re doin’ to me,” he said softly. “I love you. Can you feel it?”

And oh, if there had been anything you were keeping from him, you gave it over completely. You were his, body, heart, and soul, and he took good care of such a gift for as long as he was able.

After, you didn’t realize until he brushed his fingers over your cheek that you were crying.

“Oh, sugar.” He kissed you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head. His fingers had left bruises against your hips and he’d made you tender and sore, but he could never hurt you. Not that way.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and cried. He ran his hands through your hair, trailing a soft touch over your skin.

“Don’t cry, darlin’,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It breaks my heart to hear you cry like that.”

You tried to steady yourself as you kissed his face, showering him with kisses and words of affection, pressing as close to him as you could get.

“I love you, Danny,” you said brokenly.

He put his strong arms around you and held you close. “I love you too.”

—

Moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a dim silvery glow over your room, over the pile of clothes on the floor, over bare skin half-covered by a tangle of sheets. You put on Danny’s soft shirt and found a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jeans; sitting on the edge of your bed, you smoked and listened to the quiet.

“Thought you didn’t smoke.”

You took another drag. “I don’t.”

He gave a soft chuckle, and the bed creaked a little as he moved closer to you. He skated his hand under the hem of his shirt and gently ran his knuckles over your hip.

“I like you wearin’ my shirt, darlin’.”

It fell open as you turned towards him, and he propped himself up to shower your bare skin with gentle kisses. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

You hummed and brushed a hand through his curls. “Jake called.”

Danny looked up at you from under his lashes. “What did you tell him?”

You turned your face back towards the window and exhaled smoke through your nose. “What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” He sat up next to you and tugged his shirt off your shoulder, pressing a kiss there. “Tell him you don’t want to see him again.”

You breathed a rueful laugh. “Right.” You put your cigarette out in the old, half-empty bottle of water on your nightstand. “I do want to see him again, Danny. I want to marry him.”

The bridge of his nose bumped against your jaw. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to lie?”

You sighed and tilted your head back as he kissed your neck. “Why shouldn’t I marry him? He’s a good man.”

“You’d never be happy with him.”

You ran a hand over your face, feeling the ache of tears again. “I could try.”

He knew you were hurting, and he wound his arm around you and drew you close to him.

“Be happy with me,” he said.

Your throat felt tight. “I am,” you said softly.

“Tell me why you're crying, then.”

You brushed your tears away, frustrated with yourself, frustrated with him.

“I’d only be happy if you stayed,” you said.

“Okay.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “I’ll stay, then.”

You couldn’t help a wobbly smile. You wanted him to, and when he kissed you and held you close, it was the easiest thing in the world to pretend he would.

—

He left before the sun rose, and you lay quietly in your bed for a long time when you woke and found him gone. Early morning sunshine bled over the room and seeped across the note on your nightstand.

Next time, sugar. I promise.

You ran your fingers over his messy handwriting.

“Next time,” you said softly. You almost believed it, too.

danny taglist:@tearsofbri@busybeingtrash@myway-late@gotavansleep@gretavanbri@stardustchxrds@pxppylove @mariegvf @bajabule69 @radmads-gvf @sunnykiszka @audgeppp

gvf taglist:@malany-gvf@spark-my-nature@eearevee@madneedshelp@demonrat444@josh-iamyour-mama @honeyandsweettae @mydarlingdanny@gretavandann@sacredjake@myleftsock@joshskittytickler21@hellowgoodbye@watchingovergvf2@fearfulspirit@mywaysoon@carbondancingthroughtime@caprisunsister @eraofstardustchords @sacredthefran@shesawomaninadream @serendipiti @demonrat444@wildflowerxx-x

@gvfrry@ohhey1293@the-chaotic-cow@mountain-in-springtime@xserenax-13@stardustjtk @brooke-gvf@weightofdreams-gvf@jakeydoesit@gretasmokerising@hayley1623@doodle417@finestoflines@brokenbellz@bowievanfleet@s0livagant@strugglingtodoshit@s-u-t@kay-jordan@gretavanfleas@jakeyboiiiiiii@gretavansteph@gretavanbitches@myownparadise96@luverleaver@weightofdreamz@greatervanfleet@maedesculpaeusoubi@jakekiszkasbestie@pineapple-photographer@baguettejuliette@alexxavicry@levi-wants-ur-bones@carlybubs@cowboysamkiszka@dannyandthekiszkas@jordierama@slutforsteve@starshine-wagner@quartzzzzzzz@edgeofdreams@writingcold @lostoverseer @catharu77 @mackalah @jaketlove @haileygvf @blacksoul-27 @ur-m0ms-blog

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

[fingersinmyhair]

detective/cop reader? Hot on the trail of carvers secret identity. There's only two people in town that has motive, and the time to be John Carver. And reader has the list narrowed down to Eric and his best friend. Hearing that, Eric offers to come over to "answer any questions" the reader might have. Just to "clear his name" ;333€ and obviously reader doesn't tell anyone, he's coming over

It had been months since the last kill, but you were finally hot on the trail of the killer. Or, at least, you'd narrowed it down to two possible suspects, both the only people in town with motive, time, resources, and personality type to fit the crime.

Ironically, they were best friends, so perhaps you were wrong and it was both of them. Or neither. Once you'd narrowed it down, you called your boss from the small side office you had at the Sheriff's department, temporary as you investigated, and informed him of who you'd narrowed it down to.

He was not pleased that you were calling with non-news, so you hung up and gathered your things, rushing out of the room and almost running down the Sheriff in the process. He was holding a cup of coffee for himself, one for you. He gave you a sheepish smile.

"Listen- I'll be honest, I just overheard your phone call while I was waiting and-"

"This conversation is finished."

"No! Wait- I- I wanted to clear my name, if that's possible. I have proof that it wasn't me. I'll bring all of the evidence I've collected on the case-" Sheriff Newlon explained, holding out the coffee for you, but you cut him off.

"You've kept details of the case hidden from me?"

"You don't exactly let me talk to you. At all." He defended himself. You eyed him and took the coffee, sighing.

"Alright, just leave it all-"

"I was thinking I could make you dinner, we could pour over the evidence together, I could make my case, then you could kick me to the curb," he offered, having an entire plan set out for the two of you.

You stared at him. You couldn't be caught fraternizing with someone you had just named one of the lead suspects of the most violent case the town had seen in decades. You weighed your options and eyed him carefully, nodding.

"Fine. Come over at 5, be gone by 7:30, and I'm not cleaning up your mess."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Detective," he gave you a glowing grin, toothy and confident.

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦

At exactly 5:05 p.m., Sheriff Eric Newlon was on your doorstep with a brown paper bag of ingredients. When he knocked, you let him in, still wearing your work attire, but he was dressed down. Or dressed up.

"If I wasn't a smarter person, I'd think you thought this was a date," you warned softly, smiling at the man. He shrugged.

"Why? Because I wore a button-up, brought steak and wine, and hope you get to know me better? Shame on you, I'm trying to clear my name here."

You couldn't help but smile at the man.

"You brought steak and wine?"

"I'm buttering you up, what else would I have brought?" He stepped up to the kitchen counter and put the bag down, pulling everything out. He packed potatoes, garlic, asparagus, steaks, a sweet, decadent red wine.

"I won't be bribed, Sheriff. This is a civil discussion over dinner," you said firmly, sitting at the island in the kitchen, watching him work from behind. He asked where the pans were and you pointed.

"Thank you, Detective," he hummed, looking around, "You have a beautiful home. It's a shame you never get to be in it because of work."

"Thank you. Maybe once I reveal that you're the killer, I'll get a promotion and can stay home in Plymouth for a while," you teased warmly, watching him turn and eye you with caution and something else in the look. Something warm.

"Maybe. Maybe you'll find that I'm good company," he countered.

You smirked at him, watching him in silence before getting down from your chair and retrieving two wine glasses from the cabinet.

You let him make dinner in peace, asking him if he needed any help, but he didn't want any. By the time he was done, your house smelled delicious and you were both a glass and a half in, which was a complete accident. You'd gotten to talking about your lives as he cooked, which is what he'd planned.

He hadn't planned on getting tipsy. Hadn't planned on looking at you over the meal like he'd rather be eating you.

Much to your lack of knowledge, he probably would rather.

You didn't expect the look to stir something inside of you.

The steak was the best steak you'd ever had, succulent and tender, with plenty of garlic and butter. He'd paired the steaks with homemade mashed potatoes and garlic butter-roasted asparagus. And of course, more wine.

By the end of dinner, you were pleasantly full and on your fourth glass, having pulled a chilled bottle of wine out of your fridge to continue the evening in the living room.

"Come. Bring this "evidence" you claim you have," you ordered loosely, pointing at his messenger bag draped over his table chair. He grabbed it on command and followed you to the living room, wine in one hand, forged innocence in another. He was drunk in more than one way, so close to slipping out of your sights as a killer that it felt heady.

He laid out all of the papers he could on your coffee table, handing you a written, organized time sheet of when he was on the clock, times he'd been seen on camera during kills, even helping clear his best friend's name in the process.

You were drunk, but you weren't stupid, "Can I keep these? Just until tomorrow, so I can look them over with a clear mind?"

He nodded, amenable to the idea.

"Thank you, Detective, thank you. For considering my innocence."

"Don't thank me yet, but... You seem to be fine. No need to tie up any loose ends with loved ones, I mean," you joked, eyeing your glass and downing the half-glass of wine.

There was something warm coming to a head in your gut, becoming more and more obvious to you the longer his eyes lingered on you. You caught him staring at where your lips met the glass, caressing it, coaxing him and the wine closer. It was intoxicating, the attention with the alcohol.

"I uh. I thank you for that, then, Detective," Sheriff Newlon cleared his throat and straightened his back, finishing his glass.

"Of course, Sheriff. You've proven your innocence for now, and that's good enough for me," you explained slowly, only just realizing how drunk you were. He smiled at you, a lazy, warm thing directed at you and only you.

"Please, call me Eric, Detective," he said warmly, something close to sultry slipping into his voice.

"Only if you keep calling me Detective like you do, Eric," you said back, with just as much warmth, just as much want.

He leaned in close to you, eyeing your mouth, scooting closer on the couch at the same time as you did the same thing, "Oh, I can promise that, Detective."

"Fuck," you muttered, leaning in, feeling his hand snake up your throat and jaw, pushing into your hair slightly. You bared your neck, leaning into the touch.

His watch went off, alerting you both that it was 7:30 p.m. and it was time for him to leave.

He pulled your head back by your hair gently, kissing up your throat, speaking softly between kisses, "I should call a cab."

"Crash on the couch," you mumbled, head swimming with wine and lust and a need for something more, starved for touch, "Or the bed. Or the floor."

You were slurring your words slightly, snaking a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair, tugging.

"I don't care, but let's not pretend you weren't always going to stay te night," you said boldly, pulling him up by his hair into a kiss. He moaned into your mouth, smirking against you and nodding into the kiss.

"Deal, no more pretending."

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: October 1, 1987

Lyrics:

Bad boys

Whatcha want, whatcha want?

Whatcha gonna do

When Sheriff John Brown come for you?

Tell me, whatcha wanna do? Whatcha gonna do?

Yeah

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

When you were eight and you had bad traits

You go to school and learn the golden rule

So why are you acting like a bloody fool?

If you get hot, then you must get cool

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

You chuck it on that one, you chuck it on this one

You chuck it on your Mother and you chuck it on your Father

You chuck it on your brother, and you chuck it on your sister

You chuck it on that one, and you chuck it on me

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Nobody naw give you no break

Police naw give you no break

Not a soldier man give you no break

Not even you idren naw give you no break

Hey, hey

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Why did you have to act so mean?

Don't you know you're a human being?

Born of a Mother with the love of a Father

Reflection comes and reflection goes

I know sometimes you wanna let go

Hey, hey, hey

I know sometimes you wanna let go

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

You're too bad, you're too rude

You're too bad, you're too rude, yeah

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

You chuck it on that one, you chuck it on this one

You chuck it on your Mother and you chuck it on your Father

You chuck it on your brother, and you chuck it on your sister

You chuck it on that one, and you chuck it on me

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Songwriter: Ian Lewis

Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

SongFacts:

👉📖

[runningfrom2am]

the sea around us; pt.2 chapter seven

Snowy saw no choice but to run- wondering if Rafe will ever understand that the pogues mean everything to her. JJ gets it though. JJ will always get it.

(jj maybank x f!oc)

(rafe cameron x f!oc)

warnings/tags: violence, drug/alcohol use, smoking, sexual content (if you squint), slowburn, brother’s best friend, (these tags are obv not exhaustive but regardless it’s pretty PG13)

wc: 1.8k

my masterlist, series masterlist, requests

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

Sarah talked on the phone with Wheezie last night, I could tell she was just so happy to hear her sisters voice again. I thought about calling my sister too, but I didn't have as good of a reason as she did.

Wheezie told her that their dad was coming down to the Bahamas today, we assumed to move the gold- which Sarah already knew he would after the break in. She got Wheezie to text the phone she called with and give us details on when and how he was going to move it, and the security company that is going to help. It's our last chance to get it after our unsuccessful attempt to rob the empty house the previous night, which ended in all of us almost getting caught.

"We're on." Sarah nods, smiling a little as she sees the text from her sister and I watch over her shoulder, putting my arm around hers and squeezing her in excitement.

I look over at John B, who looks instantly hesitant. "Okay, I guess we're doing this." He says, nodding a little to himself. "Armed robbery, I mean I'm cool with it, but are you sure?" He asks her, glancing between the two of us.

Sarah steps away from me and shakes her head just slightly. "My entire life, Ward has always gotten what he wanted. Everyone jumps for him, and I thought it was respect; but now I realize that's fear."

She stares wide eyed at her boyfriend. "And, John B," she starts, walking over and sitting down across from him. "You know the one person who never jumped for him, was your dad. He wasn't like anyone I have ever met, because he wasn't scared of him. This is for him."

John B looks down at his lap for a moment, and I find myself reaching across my body to hold my other arm, rubbing the now very dirty skin up and down my forearm as I watch the two of them.

"And Sheriff Pete." Sarah continues. "And you, and me, and Snowy, and JJ, and our friends at home."

John B nods, agreement set deep in his brown eyes.

"Then let's do this!" JJ grins, walking up next to me and patting me on the back as he takes a bite out of an apple.

"Where did you get that?" I ask, laughing a little and looking up at him as he just gestures vaguely behind him.

"Over there, that tree." He grumbled through a mouthful of apple.

"Hopefully we don't have one man down with food poisoning, but I agree. Let's do this." I laugh, looking between the three of my friends.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

"The gold is here. At my dad's house." Sarah says, pointing to the house on a map we had on a computer screen while we lay out our final plans. "He's going to transport the gold from our house to a private air freight company located here."

Terrance is sitting next to her, watching closely as Cleo and Stubbs stand by the window behind them. JJ, John B and I are just watching from behind the desk, and I giggle and nudge JJ as he leans over the computer to try and peek at where Sarah is pointing.

"We need to intercept that gold before it ever gets on that plane." Sarah finishes, looking over at the man next to her as he starts to speak.

"Right, there's only two roads that'll take you there. We want to get him in these cane fields right here south of the airport," He points to another spot on the screen I can't see. "That's where we spring the trap."

I recall us going over this plan a million times in my head as we stand on the edge of a deserted road next to tall grass, the cane fields Terrance mentioned earlier. I'm pulled out of my constant repeating of the plan when he speaks to us again.

"They're gonna come from that direction." I watch where he's pointing down the windy road, nodding my understanding as John B uses some binoculars to look out. "Once Cleo and I get daddy on the ground, you four can take the gold."

"Cakewalk." JJ nods, leaning his elbow on my shoulder and putting some of his weight on me. It's only fair after how much he's had to carry me around these last few days.

"Red, are you okay to run over there? You kids are going to have to act real quick." Terrance says to me, and I find myself looking briefly up at JJ.

"I think so." I nod, shifting my weight from foot to foot to test the strength in my injured ankle. I feel a slight burn in it, but other than that it's fine. I'm not sure how I'll be running, though.

"I'll carry you. Like I said, I give a mean piggy back." JJ insists, ruffling my hair in the way he knows I hate.

"Well, whatever you guys decide, don't waste any time when we get him down. Red can wait here in the bushes if she must and we'll get you later." Terrance says. I just nod again. No way I'm going to slow us down on this one, maybe I should wait.

"How you go from livin' in Paradise Island to livin' in the street dodgin' coppa's?" Cleo asks Sarah as the three of us walk down a local street. Our goal is to find and set up our distraction long before Ward moves the gold.

"Fell in love." Sarah shrugs as she answers, making me laugh.

"Big mistake." Cleo replies. "Only got yourself to blame for that one."

"Yeah." Sarah says, squinting at the sun in her eyes.

"What about you, Red?" Cleo asks, turning to me.

"Uh, you know, I've got friends in low places. Myself included." I joke. "My parents kicked me out, then her dad tried to kill me. Twice. Then he killed someone else and blamed me and John B."

"Oh shit, so we're not just jackin' this gold for the money, huh?" Cleo laughs a little bit and me and Sarah both shake our heads. "Vengeance- I like it."

"To be fair, the gold is a nice bonus but I don't care so much about the money." I shrug in response.

"Me neither." Sarah agrees. "It's tearing my family apart, you know? I don't even know my dad anymore, or Rafe."

"Who?" Cleo asks.

"My brother. Her boyfriend." Sarah gestures to me as she speaks and Cleo's eyes widen.

"The plot thickens. You still with him? I thought JJ was your boy."

"Well, I don't really know. I can't imagine Rafe still wants that and JJ is here so.." I reply.

Sarah laughs a little at that. "His problem for not coming." She shrugs. I can't tell her that he begged me to stay.

I look up again as Terrance walks off, and Cleo pats me on the shoulder. "We've got this, guys." She says, smiling at us as she walks down towards the truck behind the older man. "And remember what I told you, girls."

Me and Sarah nod and share a look, remembering what she told us about not trusting captain T. He stays two steps ahead, so she says, so we'll stay three. We hope. Well, we'll try.

JJ gives her a salute as they slam the truck doors and drive off down the road a little bit. "What? What did she tell you?" JJ asks as soon as they're gone.

"Don't trust the captain." I tell him, looking up at him where he stands just next to me.

"Well, alright then." He says, nodding as he contemplates my statement. "Here, sit." He adds, sliding his hoodie off his shoulders and placing it on the ground behind me.

I smile and ignore how my cheeks heat up as I sit down on my makeshift blanket, waiting now for the sun to rise.

"What are we gonna do with all this gold, anyway?" Sarah asks after a few minutes of silence.

"I dunno." John B responds, picking apart a leave he pulled off a nearby plant. "Maybe get a new boat, pay some bills, get a good lawyer for my murder trial. Who knows?"

"I'm gonna pay my restitution, then travel the world, follow the wind, surf in every ocean and on the best waves in the world." JJ sighs, laying back next to me and crossing his arms behind his head. "What about you, Snow?"

I think about that for a second. I really don't know. My gut tells me to buy my family a new home, a nice one, on the cut, but that doesn't feel right. Maybe I should be a little more selfish with it, get a new car and take off and drive back to BC just to see it again. Just because I can. "I think I'll buy a van, like the Twinkie, and drive back up to BC. Just for fun."

"Can I come?" JJ asks and I nod, glancing over at him.

"BC has some great surfing spots, that's what I've heard." I smile.

"What about Rafe?" Sarah asks, and I avoid eye contact with JJ.

"Uh-"

"Who gives a shit about him?" JJ cuts me off, shuffling beside me.

"J, come on..." I sigh a little, covering my face with my hands and letting out a sigh.

"What? You're not together anymore anyways. I doubt he'll be your biggest fan if he finds out you stole half a billion dollars from his dad."

"I'm not talking about him right now." I shake my head. Silence falls over the four of us at that. I feel sick about the whole thing. I feel sick because I miss him, because I hurt him and I know that. Part of me hopes he'll forgive me, but I'm afraid that will only be at the cost of my friendship with JJ.

We all jump when the phone rings after a what must be a few minutes. "Are we moving?" John B answers, putting it on speaker immediately as we all sit up to listen.

"They got a truck and two defenders." Stubbs says, and I look nervously over at JJ who still looks tense. We figured Ward would hire security, but now it's feeling very real.

"But just my dad in the truck with the gold, right?" Sarah asks.

"It's two in the truck." He responds.

"Two?" John B mumbles, looking around at us confused.

"Rafe." Sarah mumbles.

"Rafe?" I repeat, my heart dropping into my stomach suddenly. JJ pushes himself up quickly and tries to pace to vent his frustration in the small opening we've made in the cornfield.

"It's gonna be fine, Snow." John B whispers to me.

"Two defenders, front and back." Stubbs continues as we all internally panic.

"Are they armed?" John B asks.

"To the teeth."

John B loads the gun he was given, looking out to the road while I try and bargain with the dread building in my gut about seeing Rafe again.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

taglist:@boo22sstuff, @madelynie, @username5786451, @peachprairie, @slut4drudy @sadfury, @mutual-mendes, @cecesrings, @winterrrnight,  @bookishbabyyy, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @obxdude, @maybankslover , @redhead1180 , @suzyheartsrafe , (i also tagged some mutuals so message me or reply if you want to be added (or removed!!))

[bombsquad9]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝗼 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞

Hello! I am Ro, and I am 18-21 year old trans man. I write for many fandoms (which shall be listed below). This is indeed my second account, I deleted my last one because I needed to refresh everything (feed, posts, etc). I will try to post frequently, and if I do not then please be patient with me, because it probably means burn out or poor mental health. I also have a new Wattpad account, which the username is also bombsquad09 (it will also be linked below, along with a tag list). Every fandom and character within will be in alphabetical order. Some of the fandoms I do write for will not be listed, and that is due to me not taking requests for those specific fandoms. Thank you!

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐬:

✞Apex Legends

—> Character(s): Catalyst, Caustic, Fuse, Horizon, Loba, Mirage, Octane, Revenant, Seer, Valkyrie, Wattson.

✞Call of Duty

—> Character(s): John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, John Price, König, Nikto, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

✞Fallout 4

—> Character(s): Cait, Codsworth, Deacon, John Hancock, Nick Valentine, Porter Gage, Preston Garvey, Robert MacCready.

✞House of Ashes

—> Character(s): Eric King, Jason Kolchek, Joey Gomez, Nick Kay, Rachel King, Salim Othman.

✞Just Ignore Them

—> Character(s): Brea, Mark, The Sheriff.

✞Mortal Kombat

—> Character(s): Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Noob Saibot.

✞Outlast

—> Character(s): Chris Walker, Eddie Gluskin, Jeremy Blaire, Miles Upshur, Richard Trager.

✞Resident Evil

—> Character(s): Ada Wong, Alcina Dimitrescu, Albert Wesker, Ashley Graham, Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Ethan Winters, Finn Macauley, Jake Muller, Jill Valentine, Leon Kennedy, Luis Sera, Nikolai Zinoviev, Piers Nivans, Sherry Birkin.

✞Subnautica

—> Character(s): AL-AN.

✞The Quarry

—> Character(s): Abigail Blyg, Dylan Lenivy, Emma Mountebank, Jacob Custos, Kaitlyn Ka, Max Brinly, Nick Furcillo, Ryan Erzahler.

✞Tomb Raider

—> Character(s): Lara Croft

✞Until Dawn

—> Character(s): Ashley Brown, Christopher Hartley, Emily Davis, Jessica Riley, Joshua Washington, Matthew Taylor, Michael Monroe, Samantha Giddings.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬:

✞Transphobia, Homophobia, Racism, Sexism, Fetishizing, etc will not be tolerated. If you do anything related to any of those topics you will be blocked from my account.

✞Do NOT request things such as pedophilia, rape, zoophilia, etc . If anything you are requesting is like that you will be blocked from my account.

✞If you send hate in my anonymous inbox then you shall be ignored, and your message will be deleted. If you're going to be hatefully, don't be a pussy and hide behind an anon.

✞Minor shall interact with anything that is not labeled 18+/MDNI/smut. I can't stop you, nor am I going to carry out an investigation to find out if you're 18+. If you're a minor and you interact and see something you don't like; THATS NOT MY FAULT.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝗺:

⚠︎︎Requests are currently open⚠︎︎

✞If you are requesting please be specific about what you want. This includes characters, setting, whether it's ship/xreader/headcanons, and other criteria you want. I can't make it what you want if you don't tell me.

✞I will write smut, fluff, and angst. Headcanons, ships, x readers, preferences, etc are all acceptable within reason.

—> When it comes to smut I will write quite a bit, even somewhat darker themes (Again; I draw the line at things like rape). I may not be good due to having lack of practice from where I didn't write for awhile, my apologies.

—> When it comes to angst, I will write almost anything. I will write (TW) suicide, alcoholism and other addictions, etc. Though, I won't write EDs or self-harm. Similarly to smut, it may not be good due to lack of practice, my apologies.

—> Anything out of reason would be minor x adult in a pedophilic/romantic way, human x animal (no, this does not include monsters) in a zoophilic/romantic way, etc.

✞Be patient, I will want to take my time on requests for various reasons. Sometimes I need breaks, sometimes I don't have any ideas, sometimes I will have writing sprees. It depends on the minute, so again, be patient. If you complain about how long it takes your request will be deleted and ignored.

✞If you want to be tagged for any specific character(s), then put your username in an orderly fashion on the Google doc that I will have linked below.

✞I will mostly write m!reader (AMAB and AFAB), but if you do want f!reader or gn!reader just let me know in your request, and I will do. If you do not specify I will either do m!reader or gn!reader by default. The only exception to this is if it is a lesbian/sapphic character.

✞ Any requested content will be Tumblr exclusives! Anything that is requested on my Wattpad will be Wattpad exclusive. (Excluding alphabets)

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝:

✞ Wattpad

✞ Masterlists

✞ Tag List

✞ Upcoming Works

⚠︎︎This post was last updated: 9/11/24⚠︎︎

[mommalosthermind]

Am I poking through wips to remind myself I am not, actually, shit at words? Yes. Did I make the mistake of flipping through an extremely long sterek WIP I abandoned (redacted) years gone due to “this is at least two books, fuck my life, how do I untangle this to make it coherently two books instead of cramming it all together” insanity only to realize I still love this idea so much I wanna bite things? Also yes.

Am I sharing a chunk that doesn’t even have stiles or Derek in it? Yes again.

Anyway. Here’s uhhh a little over 2k presented with no context other than my brain is itching:

Sheriff’s name is John- Hints of prior John/Chris. Absolutely unbeta’d and unedited because if I start that I’m gonna end up chin deep in the wrong wip again and I! Am! Resisting!

John settled a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Alright, kid,” he said on an exhale, rubbing at his chin hard enough to stretch his mouth. “One more time, okay?”

The kid nodded at his own feet, fingers twisted in the dirty, torn hem of his shirt, but didn’t turn to the map until John took a half step to the side.

Crossing his arm would only intimidate the kid further. Leaning against the desk, projecting as much calm as he could, might’ve been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.

His hands ended up in his pockets as Scott studied the map spread out on the desk for the umpteenth time.

It’d been bad enough when Alice and Jorge came in to declare Erica missing. Knowing that somewhere out in the Preserve, his idiotic, impulsive, big-hearted son—his fingers curled into fists inside his pockets to keep them in place.

Not that shaking him would really give any answers. Scott, for all he might as well be John’s second kid, wasn’t Stiles. He couldn't explain anymore than John himself.

And truthfully? John should have known Stiles would hare off after her the second he found out. Self loathing felt an awful lot like heartburn.

One light brown finger tapped a black line, drawing him out of his useless head. “We went this way,” Scott spoke hesitantly, glancing up at John as his finger followed an old access road. “And parked around here.”

“Looks about right,” John agreed, laying his own finger on a secondary gray line, perpendicular to Scott’s. “We found you over here, ‘bout half a mile away from the Jeep.”

Scott nodded, standing taller with John’s confirmation, face crinkled in concentration. Good. A confidence boost would mean a clearer head.

The boy walked John through their path through the woods, pointing out the general location of all the places they’d looked for her. He indicated the rough areas where they’d found her jacket, her bag, the shelter. But no matter how John phrased his questions, Scott couldn’t come up with any other places Stiles might take her.

“No other forts?” John asked again, already knowing the answer. “Fire pits or whatever that you think you’ll get in trouble for?”

“No, sir,” Scott repeated, firm as his gaze tracked over the map and its maze of pins. “But Stiles knows the trails better than me.”

That stalled him. “Really?” Stiles had all but lived in those woods as a kid, always wandering off with Claudia or Erica. Why wouldn’t he share that with Scott, too? “You boys don’t hang out in the woods?”

Scott shook his head, fluffy hair flying. “I’ve only ever been to the swimming hole behind the Lacrosse field, really. But Stiles was pretty confident out there, so maybe he knows a place that I don’t.”

A quick rat-a-tat-tat on the door jam accompanied a deputy lurching into the room. “We got a ping!” Diana announced, waving a paper in the air.

Throwing a hand up to quiet her, John turned to Scott. “Thanks, son.” He managed to scrounge up a smile that sat wrong on his face, but Scott didn’t seem to notice. “You did good, I’m proud of you. Why don’t you head on home, I’m sure Mel’s half out of her mind by now.”

Scott winced and stepped away, before pausing.

“We’ll find them, Scott. Do me a favor, and stay out of the woods. I don’t need to go looking for more teens, please.”

With a nod and a wave, Scott was gone, and John turned to snatch the paper from Diana’s hand. “Get Summers to give the kid a ride to make sure he actually goes home this time,” he ordered, waving her out of the office. It took a few minutes to track down the right coordinates on the map, but once he’d stuck a bright red pin into the spot, he sagged into his chair.

Knuckles rapped on wood in a familiar pattern- two fast, tiny pause, one.

Everything in him froze. Cursing himself for the tightness of his shoulders and cursing Diana’s inability to shut the damn door, he raised his head. No matter how blank he fought to keep his face, the wry twist at the edge of Chris’ mouth marked it a wasted effort.

He let his own mouth curve, more grimace than smile as he sat up and pushed away the strangeness seeing Chris always brought up. He was a father first, everything else came never.

Across from him, Chris settled into the visitor’s chair, a clunky wooden thing picked for its uncomfortableness, and dropped a white takeout box to the side of the map.

“Uh?” It smelled good, and John’s stomach gurgled.

Chris didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Knew you hadn’t eaten. Figured I might as well get something on my way.” He nodded toward the container. “Bacon burger, no tomato, extra fries.”

Just like that, the tension lingering in his shoulders dissipated. It’d always been hard to stay at odds with him. Well. Until it wasn’t hard at all.

“Don’t think I can eat,” John confessed, even as he pulled the box closer.

“You need to,” Chris said mildly, only a hint of steel in his voice. Two cups appeared on the desk next, one beside Chris, and the other prodded closer to John with one long finger. “Coffee. From the little bakery on Oak.”

When was the last time someone had taken care of John? Not Stiles, not the kid who should’ve been worrying about pimples and grades instead of John’s alcohol intake, but an adult. An equal.

John pulled the coffee to himself, feeling as though it was something larger than a cup of caffeine.

“Walk me through this,” Chris said, getting up to push the food closer to John as he leaned a hip on the edge of the desk, his eyes roving over the map.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he’d downed the entire cup and stuffed half the burger down his gullet, between catching Chris up to speed. He tapped the red pin, shoving the remaining food away with his other hand. “This is the last time his phone managed to make contact with a tower. But it doesn’t make any sense. This is miles away from where Scott left them.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Chris murmured, shifting to get a better look at the map. It brought him another inch closer to John.

For his part, John snorted, and couldn’t decide if he wanted to throw Chris out of his office just for daring to exist, or bury his head in the man’s lap and scream.

“There used to be a homeless camp here,” Chris added after a moment, brushing at a point not too far from where they found the Jeep. “And a huge tree house thing…” He trailed off, eyebrows pulling together as he thought. “Over here. And the dogs brought me to this junction,” Chris tapped at an unmarked part of the map, not too far from the bridge the boys had crossed. “Plus, the river loops in that area. They might’ve gone there, for water.”

Wordlessly, John added a few green pins, before letting one hand drop to the desk. The other rubbed at his temple. The Preserve was enormous. They could be anywhere.

“Hey.” Fingers ghosted along his arm, pressing close only to pull away and leave John feeling more alone than before. “Look at me.”

Bright, clear blue eyes pierced straight into his core when he mustered the strength to obey.

“We’ll find them,” quiet but fierce, Chris’ promise wound into his soul. “I’m not giving up. Ever. We’re going to bring them both home, John. I’ll find your boy.”

Snared in the endless sky of Chris’ gaze, John’s resolve crumbled. “It’s my fault,” he managed to force out, his fingers digging into the desk. “I should’ve known he’d go after her—”

“Stop,” Chris turned to John, his coffee settled down out of the way. Callused fingers, so different from the ones John used to know, slid over his wrist. The cautious pressure of Chris’ thumbs along his skin proved as grounding as ever, and he couldn’t help his shudder, or the way his eyes slid shut.

When he managed to open them, Chris’ face blurred at the edges. He blinked until Chris came into focus, distracting himself for a moment by comparing this new face, with its creases and graying hair, to the one he’d had engraved on the inside of his eyelids since he was fifteen years old. It wasn’t fair that Chris remained as regal and beautiful as ever, the only one of the two of them able to compare to Claudia.

All of the worries and strain in John’s life turned him into a bloodhound, tired and full of jowl.

“That’s my baby, out there,” he found himself saying. He hadn’t meant to, but once he started he couldn’t seem to stop, too caught up in the crystalline understanding, the ghost of something he’d once taken for granted, in Chris’ somber eyes. “That’s my—he’s all I’ve got left, I can’t—I can’t lose him—”

A shadow crossed Chris’ face, breaking the spell. John turned away, his eyes on his desk as he struggled to regain his composure. That wasn’t Chris’ role in his life, hadn’t been for longer than he’d been a father. He couldn’t afford to make that mistake again.

When the rough hands on his wrists fell away, John closed his eyes and breathed through the ache. Stiles needed him. Stiles came first, always. He wouldn’t let this man shatter him a second time.

But then one hand slid into his hair, smoothed the strands back as it made its way down to curl around the nape of John’s neck. Heat along John’s side meant Chris had slid closer, his fingers pressing on the knobs of John’s spine.

Against his will, he gave a splintered noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. Another press of Chris’ fingers, and he shattered, curling until his forehead rested on Chris’ thigh.

“You’re not alone,” Chris murmured, holding tight to his nape, as his other hand scraped soothingly over his scalp. “Not anymore. I’m not going anywhere.” Chris gave an uneven inhale. “Not again.”

It was a promise he couldn’t trust, but one he hadn’t known he craved until he realized the wetness under his face came from his own tears, soaking into Chris’ jeans.

Neither of them mentioned John’s breakdown, or Chris’ careful, vehement declaration. They sat, pressed together, Chris’ hands steady over John’s skull and spine, until his breathing evened out and the need to scream, to break things, to rage until the world resumed its order, passed.

He pulled away first, scrubbing at his face and clearing his throat. Wordlessly, Chris slid off the desk, and settled back into his own chair. He’d always been uncannily good at that, reading what John needed. Sometimes before he’d had time to figure it out himself.

“That’s my boy,” John repeated, exhausted. “God, Claudia would—” He closed his mouth on the rest of his sentence with a click of his teeth.

Chris’ next breath was shaky, and his voice wasn’t quite right when he spoke, but the intensity, the sheer scope of Chris’ ability to invest himself was clear. “She’d be proud. Of both of you.”

When John chanced looking, Chris’ eyes were far away and sad. “Your son went out and found the Reyes girl, and it sounds like he was doing his damndest to take care of her. Kid sounds just like his old man. Claudia—” It was Chris’ turn to clear his throat. “—Claudia would’ve been a damned peacock. Once she was done murdering you both, anyway.”

Those sharp, too knowing eyes lanced straight into John, pinning him into place with a wealth of things John couldn’t parse. “Between Stiles, the BHPD, you, and me? We’ll bring him home, John. Trust me.”

“Always have,” John murmured, rubbing at his temples to relieve the ache in his eyes. “Even when I shouldn’t.”

There was a beat of silence, and then a cool voice he’d hoped to never hear again. “Good to know, Johnnyboy, since us Argents know that land better than the trees themselves. We’ll find those kids, one way or another.”

John sat up in time to catch Chris’ eyes rolling. “Not helpful, Dad.”

Gerard ignored them both, stepping into the office uninvited to peer at the map. One gnarled finger touched the red pin. “Near the old Hale property, isn’t it?”

John grunted his agreement. “Close enough. City tore it down after the fire, though. Nothing there now.”

Gerard hummed. “Well, guess we’ll see in the morning. If that boy has half the sense you two think he does, he’s hunkered down for the night. We’ll head out with daybreak. Let’s go, Christopher.” The old man turned to go, pausing on the threshold to eye his son, both eyebrows raised.

Staring Gerard down, Chris rose, before turning his back on his father to lean over and run careful fingers through John’s hair, smoothing it back out. “We’ll find them,” he repeated, low, blue eyes nearly black as his hand cupped John’s neck.

When he left, John put his own hand over the spot that still bore Chris’ fingerprints. They’d find his kids. There wasn’t any other acceptable outcome.

[bellarkeselection]

Giving Second Chances

Gifs above don't belong to me they belong to their rightful owner

Wattpad request from Silverose365 Reader is a trouble teen the state is having trouble with so after multiple failed foster families the state calls John. The reader accidentally messed up on a job and gets called out until Rip makes a different choice than her previous foster family's.

John and Rip followed Sheriff Haskell out into one of the barns on the ranch. The three stops in the entrance seeing someone peaking their head over one of the hay bails. John slowly walked forward trying to not scare the girl off that looked to be a young teenager reminding him of meeting young Rip. “Hey there, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt you. Do you wanna come talk with us?”

“Where’s the girl from?” Rip crossed his arms looking at Sheriff Haskell.

He responded to John’s right hand. “She’s been bounced from foster home to another. She’s got a bad streak of breaking the law. I got a call saying the foster system was sending her to him until she bolted. Thankfully she ended up where they we’re taking her. Bringing her to John.”

Lifting my gaze up to the older cowboy guy wearing a tan cowboy hat I watched him bend down to her level. “Are you going to send me back to foster care….I don’t do good in that place. They all say I’m too old and reckless.” I had been moved around where I just started running away every time they sent me back in the system.

“I ain’t sending ya back. My name is John Dutton, what’s your name darlin’?” The rancher asked me offering his hand and I allowed him to pull me to stand up with him seeing another guy by the sheriff that was dressed in black with dark hair and hard eyes staring at me.

I nervously responded back to him. “Y/n. My name is Y/n, sir…what are doing now?”

“You come work for me.” John said looking at the man calling his name so I could put it with his face before he left us in the barn together. “Rip, you’re gonna teach her the way I did you.”

It had been a few months since that day and this is the longest that I have ever been in compared to my other foster homes. Placing a dark brown hat on my head I slide my brown boots on heading to the Yellowstone barn. Throwing a saddle on Lioyd’s horse I started tying it on until I heard one of the bunkhouse cowboys coming over to me. I believe Walker was his name. “It looks like a a cowgirl doesn’t know how a saddle goes on a horse.”

“What…what did I do?” I panicked beginning to twist the sterups and the back sinch backwards before I ran my hands through my hair.

Walker came over on his horse. “You put the saddle on backwards kid.”

“Crap, crap.” I mumbled under my breath quickly fixing it until John came over to me seeing that I avoided his gaze mumbling to myself unknown that he could hear me. “How could I put the entire saddle on backwards. That was stupid. I should have known that.”

It wasn’t the first the older rancher had seen her be hard on herself after she made some mistakes or didn’t be s quick as what the cowboys had told her to do something. And she would end up beating herself up over failing. John just hoped the girl saw that she was a good hand like he did. Because she was almost the same way when he found Rip years ago.

Walking through the barn I nodded to my boss Rip Wheeler who was walking with his horse when he noticed me. He climbed up on his horse addressing in my direction. “Y/n, got saddle Mr. Dutton’s horse. You’ll be riding it today with us to learn how to ride.”

Running inside the barn I took the reins of the boss’s horse tying the rope on the side of the wooden fence. Tossing the saddle over the horse I quickly tied it together. Putting me foot in the stirrups up Rip called my name. “Woah you think you’re forgetting something kiddo.” Shifting my gaze down to the ground I hadn’t noticed my hat fell off during the process.

“Ah shit…sorry sir.” Snatching it up I placed it on my head quick climbing back on the horse knowing he didn’t like wasting daylight and I always followed his instructions as fast as he said them.

Rip had me following behind him where I griped the reins in my hands bouncing with the horse watching the others herding the cattle in front of us. Normally he was leading the pack but not today. “Go herd up the ones on the side that get loose. You got that?” He kicked his horse to go when I nodded in understanding.

Running down the valley I followed after one cafe that got loose leading it back to the group. Staying close to the group another one got loose where I grabbed my rope throwing it over it head trying to lead it back but it just picked up sped. I screamed when it managed to pull me off my horse and I fell into the dirt. “No, no,…ah fuck!”

“Woah girl, are you alright?” Lioyd came over on his horse holding the reins of mine since it ran off towards him so he brought my horse back over to me.

Holding my right wrist I winced when I tried to bend it a little. “I think I just tweaked my wrist a bit….I thought I roped it the right way.”

“You roped it around the neck when it should have been around the waist so he wouldn’t run on ya. Climb back on your horse and help us finish this out.” Rip responded sternly beside his older friend.

Scurring to my feet I put one foot in the stirrup using my left hand to support most of my weight than my right. I should have done better, sir.” I apologize when Rip glared at me watching me ride off with Lioyd figuring that she meant well.

Once nightfall had come and everyone had their horses up for the night I didn’t come down to the bunkhouse for dinner since I was staying in the spare room of Rip and Beth’s house. Brushing my hair away from my face I had banded my wrist as best as I could and put everything I had in the duffel bag foster care had given to me. I just needed to wait until everyone went to bed to run rather then wait till morning already knowing what would happen. I had messed up way more than someone my age should. “I’m too old to get adopted….I will be better off just waiting until I’m eighteen. Only two more years left being someone else’s problem..”

“When I said don’t think you deserve this. I meant it literally but I didn’t you’d run from it.” Whipping my head around I gasped through tears seeing Rip was leaning in the doorway of my bedroom.

Croaking through tears I scooted up against the pillow and headband avoiding his gaze. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“Cause you didn’t come down for dinner and you ain’t missed a meal since the day you came here. You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” He presses on with his tone being both stern but went softer when he could hear me lightly crying in front of him.

Hugging my knees to my chest I buried my face into them sobbing even more when I struggle to get the words out already sensing what he was going to say next. “I’m a screw up here, Mr. Wheeler. I can’t do half the jobs you give me right…I don’t have great confidence even when I put in as much effort as I can. You see me exactly like everyone else does…a reckless teenager who won’t make it any longer in getting adopted. Cause I don’t follow directions good….so you’re done with me. You’re going to send me back tomorrow.”

“Where the hell did you get an idea like that, sweetheart?” He blurted out raising his voice in shock.

Peaking over my knees with my hair in my eyes I whispered back to him. “That’s what every family I have been with does. Why would you be any different to me?”

“Because you are the hardest working foster kid I have seen. You’ve got good manners and put in almost more effort than any of those bunkhouse boys do. And you ain’t any reckless than most teenagers are.” He came over and sat beside me on the bed removing his black hat when he went to take something out of his jacket. He unfolded a paper and handed it to me. “You are a darn good kid, Y/n. I am hoping to help you improve your confidence in time being here.”

Scanning my eyes over the paper in my small hands I couldn’t hardly believe it. “You want to adopt me..but I….thank you Rip.” Flinging my arms around his neck he was taken back not used to seeing me giving any kind of emotion like this.

“You’re welcome, darling. But promise you will still work as hard as you would if you weren’t gonna be my kid.” He hugged me briefly until he made me look in his eyes when he barely broke the embrace.

Nodding through happy tears I grinned up at the cowboy and lead hand of John Dutton. “Don’t worry I will..uh dad.”

Footsteps came down the hallway where we both glanced over over shoulders noticing that it was his wife. “You better call me mom and come eat this hamburger helper otherwise you’ll face the bear.”

“Yes ma’am.” I jumped off his lap rushing down the hallway making it to the kitchen table almost shoving food into my mouth overjoyed to actually have a place to call home.

Beth smiled at her husband when he stood by her in the hallway watching you. “She’s our kid now, baby.”

“She’s our second change at one and I gotta say she’s a pretty good one.” He responded looping his hand with hers giving her a gentle and the pair joined you at the dinner table.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[deke-rivers-1957]

Toby's Marvelous Mini Horse

Ah'm sittin at mah desk one day when one a mah good friends Jem comes in.

"Hi. I’m looking for a service animal."

"What kind a service animal?"

"A mini horse."

"Dang. A mini horse'd be great for ya. Ah got a friend who can let us have one cheap. He lives on a horse farm. They got a couple of colts, but we should go there ta pick out what ya really want. Mini horses know their people. They'll pick you out just as much as you pick them."

"Oh wow thanks. I hope I'm not taking you away from anything."

"Nah. Not much ta do today. Let's go now if ya got nothin else to do."

"Sounds good."

"Aight. Let's go then. We can take mah truck."

The two of us get in the truck and make conversation.

Time Skip

Ah look around at the horses once Ah park the truck. There are several horses of different sizes all together in one pasture. We hop out of the truck and begin walkin towards the barn.

"So as sheriff what are the rules about having a mini horse?"

"The ADA rules say they gotta be well trained as ta behave and perform a specific task. Also can't be havin 'em usin the bathroom in public places, so ya gotta make sure they know not ta do that."

"Of course. Any fees I’d have to pay at city hall?"

"Probly just a registration fee, like ya would for a dog, but that's easy. Ah know a lady named Ms. Helen Johnson at city hall. She'll get ya all sorted out for the ADA and city rules and the registration. We'll have it set up proper and all once ya pick out yer horse."

"Thanks."

We walk inta the barn and look at all the colts in the stalls. There're bout eight or ten mini horses in the barn. Some are smaller than the others, some are slightly larger, and they're all different colors. Ah see mah friend come out.

"Hi John, great to see you again. Long time no see."

"Howdy. Are you lookin for a horse?"

"Yes a mini horse. Do you have any that can be a service animal?"

"Got a few colts in right now whose trainin for service. Want to see them?"

"Oh that one there."

Ah look at the one Jem's pointin to. This mini horse's standin in her stall chewin on a pile of hay. She has a brown body and a white star on her face.

"That'd be a great horse. She's playful, smart, and she's very loyal to people. We can give you a little taste of her personality before you actually decide. Do you wanna go in the stall with her?"

"Oh yes of course."

John opens the stall and we all go in. The mini horse starts to sniff the air and slowly approaches us. She reaches out her neck and puts her nose in Jem's hand feelin curious and friendly.

"Hi there."

The horse turns her neck to you and gently sniffs your head as you pet her. She nickers softly, enjoying the attention. The owner nods approvingly.

"What’s her name?"

John points ta the star on her head. 

"Her name is Stella. Like a star."

"Beautiful."

Suddenly Stella gives a little huff and nudges Jem's hand with her nose, demanding more attention.

"You are beautiful Stella."

She nickers softly and nuzzles against Jem's hand, enjoying the praise.

"Is there anything about her that I should know like allergies or injuries?"

"Stella's an exceptionally healthy horse. She's got no allergies or injuries to worry about. She's a strong and agile horse, and she's smart enough to learn quick. Is she the one you want?"

"I’d like to take her out on a walk if you don’t mind."

"Sure, no problem. Take her out and get to know her. She's easy to handle. Just give her a pat on the neck and she'll follow along with you."

"Thank you."

John opens the stall, freein Stella. She walks out and stands by Jem's side, demandin ta be pet.

"Good girl Stella."

Stella gives a little whinny, enjoying the attention. John watches closely, seein how Stella interacts with Jem.

Time Skip

"I think we have a match."

"It certainly looks like Stella is taking a liking to you. Do you want to move forward with the adoption? Stella will have to get trained to be your service animal, but she's clever enough to learn quickly."

"Yes."

"Great. We'll get all the paperwork started, including the ADA registration and the city permit. I'll give you a little care sheet, and I'll check in on how she's doing. Stella is a fantastic mini horse, she'll make a great service animal for you."

"Thank you. How much?"

"Since Stella is a service horse I'm willing to let her go for $800. Normally I'd price her higher than the other horses. But she'll be a perfect fit for you."

"Oh thank you so much. I’m on a fixed income."

John nods compassionately.

"I understand. Stella is a great horse, and she's destined to serve a great purpose. She's just right for your needs and I feel you'll take good care of her. Let's go to the office and finish up the paperwork."

"Of course."

John nods and takes Jem an Stella ta the office.

"Ah wonder just how long this' gonna take."

Time Skip

On the drive back home Stella sits quietly in the back, her head resting on Jem's shoulder as we drive.

"Thanks for driving me Toby."

Ah look over at Jem sittin next ta me. 

"Ah see that you've really bonded with Stella. She certainly loves havin your company."

"That's true. So I just need to take this paperwork to city hall right?"

"Yeah that's right. The city'll give Stella a permanent ID number and a badge. Gotta have that badge on her whenever she's on duty so that other people can tell she's a service animal. You'll also have to make sure to keep her up to date with her shots and check-ups."

"Oh yes."

Ah look over at Jem again. Stella's fallen asleep.

"She must really like ya."

"Yeah. I think she does."

Time Skip

The official at the city hall hands Jem Stella's badge withthe city's permission and ID. Stella stands there proudly, nuzzling against Jem's hand.

"You know Toby I’m really thankful that you’ve been helping me get all this done today."

Ah look over at Jem and smile. 

"It's mah pleasure, Jem. Ah can see that Stella has already become quite attached ta you. It's clear that she'll serve ya well as a service animal."

"Well I better get Stella situated at home. I’ll see you later, Toby."

"Ah had an enjoyable day wit ya. Take care of Stella and yerself. And if there's anything else you need just let me know."

"I will thanks."

Ah watch as Jem leads Stella down the street, her badge shinin in the sunlight. Ah feel happy that everythang worked out and that Stella has found a lovin home and a purpose to serve.

Thank you so much for the request @mercsandmonsters. I know this is an important part of your life so thank you for allowing me to turn it into a story. I wish you a very happy birthday and the best of luck regarding your surgery.

If you liked this story, please give this GoFundMe page a look. Even if you can't donate yourself please consider reblogging to spread the word.

[delicatuscii-wasbella102]

So, Ive been watching ‘Cops’ TV show and this song is a total ear worm lol  “Bad boys, whatcha want Watcha want, whatcha gonna do? When sheriff John Brown come for you Tell me whatcha wanna do, whatcha gonna do?”