#cowboy!john b

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒟ℯ𝒶𝒹 ℴ𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋ℯ

warnings: they’re both kinda pervy 😭 male masturbation, 18+, MDNI,

Cowboy!au Masterlist

He panted heavily, pulling his bandana from his face and finally letting his horse take a breath. He had nowhere to go, his friends were scattered around, and he knew they’d be fine together. But he was alone, and no civilian would take him in this late.

at least that’s what he thought.

He walked the road, horses reins in his hands. He was getting exhausted, and he knew they would have to hole up somewhere eventually.

He looked around, seeing a poster put up of him on a wood post, his face drawn on with the words “wanted dead or alive. Reward: 5,000.” printed under it. He scoffed, ripping it off the post and crumbling it, throwing it behind him.

“Wow- uhm, sir?!” Your voice called out to him, although he didn’t register it at first. “Sir?” You repeated, tapping on his shoulder. He jolted slightly, turning to meet your eyes.

Even in the dark, he could see that you were beautiful. His mouth went agape as he stared, eyes getting lost in yours for a moment.

“Are you okay? uhm- you have… blood. On your shirt.” You motioned to the stains on his chest, that reached all the way to the back of his shirt.

“Oh! Yeah, I know, it’s not mines. I’m fine.” He told you, snapping out of his daze.

“Oh.” You murmured. “Do you live ‘round here or something?” You asked him, scrunching up your face in the cutest way he’s ever seen.

He was shocked, there was posters of his name and face all around town. “Yeah.. something like that.” He responded, turning his head when he heard his horse make a noise and began to lay down, John b frowning and pulling on his reins.

“Up, girl.” He muttered under his breath, feeling bad about it but he couldn’t stay in the middle of the road.

“Oh, poor thing. How long have you guys been out?” You asked, kneeling down to reach the horses level, gently petting it.

“A- A couple hours now..” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, watching you.

“Well, uhm… I know this sounds weird, but I’m gonna feel real bad if I don’t offer it at least. My pa’s farm is just right there, we have stables and I think your horse could really use some rest. My daddy’s not home for a couple days, so it should be fine-“

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t wanna bother you.” He told you, waving it off.

“I insist. Jus’ stay for a day or two, you look like you could use a shower. And she looks like she can use some food or somethin’.”

He looked down at himself, grimaced and sighed. “Alright.” He agreed, watching you stand back up, leading him over to your house.

“Here’s your room!” You motioned to the guest bedroom in front of you, walking into it to fix a blanket.

“It’s… beautiful.” He told you, looking around the room and the decorations. It was homey.

“Thank you. I decorated it myself.” You paused, looking at him with a smile and walking to the doorway. “You need anything, ask me, alright? Here’s a towel.” You told him, handing him the towel, his hand touching yours for a brief moment.

“Thanks…” he trailed off, watching your hips sway as you moved to leave, eyes on your ass. He shook that thought, this sweet girl was giving him hospitality !! And he was checking you out like a perv.

When he was in the shower, the thoughts didn’t go away. His cock was aching, tip red and angry. He groaned quietly in frustration, glancing around the bathroom, making sure the door was locked before his hand traveled down his body, and down to his aching member.

He ran his thumb over his tip, before slowly tugging on his cock, his mind filled with images of you as he leaned onto the thin walls with a hand holding him up, biting his bottom lip to stop any sound from coming out, only letting quiet and small grunts come out every often when he couldn’t help it.

Little did he know, you had heard every single sound that he made, with your ear pressed against the door.

[soupy-sez]

Midnight Cowboy (1969)

[music-is-my-life-man]

Elton John, 1975

[lildoodlenoodle]

MW2 Western AU comic no.1

[mikelogan]

MIKELOGAN’s 5K FOLLOWER CELEBRATION || GET TO KNOW ME MEME FAVORITE ALBUMS [1/10]

Horse of a Different Color is the debut studio album by American country music duo Big & Rich, released May 4, 2004.

brothers and sisters we are here for one reason and one reason alone to share our love of music i present to you country music without prejudice, hey!

[ruleof3bobby]

THE ELECTRIC HORSEMAN (1979) Grade: B 

Loved the cinematography, the acting (Willie Nelson!) & the music worked well.I don't think they make movies like this now, definitely will have a different, more happier ending. 

[rastronomicals]

May 19:

On the 19th of May, 1972, hard rock/prog synthesis band Uriah Heep laid upon us Demons And Wizards, their fourth album.

On the very same day of the very same year, but in another place entirely, Canterbury band Caravan dropped their somewhat underrated fourth album, Waterloo Lily.

On this date in 1975, Elton John released his classic album that pretty much crushed whatever else 1975 had to offer, Captain Fantastic & The Brown Dirt Cowboy.

Except maybe Jaws.

On the 19th of May, 1992, Neurosis unleashed Souls At Zero, their album.

[schlock-luster-video]

Remembering Liz Renay on the anniversary of her date of birth. (1926 - 2007) Here's some Desperate Living art to mark the occasion!

[princessbrunette]

long hazy days meant plenty of time on your hands with outlaw!johnb — meaning there was plenty of time to take out years of pent up sexual frustration on him — having him teach you everything in the book. when your parents being on a trip went from two weeks to two months — he’d decided that it couldn’t go on like this. at first, he indulged your every desire. hell, he had no complaints and plus he thought his time with you was limited. when it turned out your parents kept on extending their trip, he realised it was time to teach you to have some self discipline.

john b had been doing work in your barn. trying to prove himself enough help so that hopefully when your parents return, you can tell them that with their extended time away you’d hired a ‘farmer’ passing through to run the barn, and he’d been a great help. however, with you interfering every few hours, needing some kind of sexual favour or simply climbing all over him, it was slowing down the progress of his work. you needed to keep your hands to your self.

which is how you wound up on his lap in the living room, the outlaw reclined against the crotchet blanket all strewn along the back of the couch — his cock buried inside you as you’re commanded just to sit, letting him work your sensitive clit over with his thumb.

it had been an hour of this torture, and you’d leaked your arousal all onto his jeans. you’d never felt this way before, been treated so cruel. you hiccup out sobs, snotty and raspy as you burrow into his chest— the boy repeatedly stealing your orgasms just as you’re about to reach the peak.

“y’so mean! so mean! please just let me!” you beg, and he rubs your back, tucking his chin on top of your forehead.

“shh, shh. iiii know, sweetheart. i know. you gotta learn though, okay? this is for your benefit.” he persuades in that coo-ey, warm, kind voice. it was so confusing to hear him talk like that whilst actively being so mean.

“w’nna cum.” you mewl out a pitiful hiccup, and he just hums, getting to circling your sensitive bud once more. you wince, your urges taking over as you start trying to hump up and down his shaft. the soothing hand that’s on your back grips your hip abruptly, pulling back from you to give you a disapproving look. john b tsks, shaking his head.

“only screwing yourself here, lil pup.”

you deflate, screwing your eyes shut as you breathe through it — trying to make it through. just when you think you’re about to start screaming, the outlaw lowers his lips to your ear — unsure if you’re still even conscious at this point.

“okay. go ahead sweet girl. you earned it.”

without second thought, you start to rock on his lap — humping so hard the couch is creaking and the man is wincing, holding on for dear life to make sure you don’t fall off his lap. his delicious groans only push you quickly toward the edge, but what really forces you over is the way he plants his cowboy boots on the floor and fucks up into you, panting.

“yeah. take it baby. that’s it. take it for me.”

you let out a howl, voice cracking and breaking before collapsing onto his shoulder to drool all over the flannel, cunt drooling equally as much around his cock until all he can see is your pearlescent cream. you feel him shoot up inside you and you jerk a little in surprise, the outlaw usually opting to pull out for safety reasons. you hum, enjoying the feeling of his warmth leaking out of you.

“inside.” is all you manage to rasp in observation once you’ve caught your breath, each inhale still violently shaking from adrenaline and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple, seemingly blown away by the moment too.

“yup, inside. deep inside.” comes the regret, due to his own impulsive, lust fuelled decisions.

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

Mister Green, could you give me three segues that will help me spread the word about Tuberculosis at a dinner party?

Yes.

I mean god, yes, if there's anything I can do in this world, it's transition a dinner party conversation to tuberculosis.

Someone brings up the health of U.S. Presidents or Presidential candidates. Things start to get heated. It is uncomfortable. You say, "But of course pre-1958, the health of U.S. Presidents was always more fragile than today regardless of their age. When Franklin Pierce was elected President in 1852, his VP was in Cuba dying of tuberculosis; his secretary of state had just lost a son to tuberculosis; his wife was disabled by tuberculosis; and that he himself was sick with tuberculosis?"

"Speaking of the Eras tour, did you know that the Era of Consumption never ended because tuberculosis is the leading cause of infectious disease death, killing 1.6 million people each year even though it is curable?"

"I notice you haven't taken off your cowboy hat even after sitting down to dinner, which communicates to me that you would like to participate in cowboy-hat-related conversation. Did you know that the Stetson hat only exists because John B. Stetson traveled West in search of a cure for his consumption?"

[gh0stsp1d3r]

the cowboy boys and where they live with reader !!

Cowboy!rafe- lives on a large farm in Oregon with a vacation home in Indiana. Has a shit ton of animals, gets it by a lotttt of dirty money.

Cowboy!pope- lives on a small ranch in Utah. you both have a lil puppy along with your horses

Cowboy!jj- lives in a small lil cabin that always has something wrong with it. But being the handy guy he is, always fixes it. you both have a big dog who loves your horses. You guys travel around a lot though, never in one spot for long.

Cowboy!john b- lives on a old ranch in Wyoming. has a cow and some horses !

Cowboy!barry- lives in a small town in Montana in a cabin. has no other animals but takes care of the rich people’s horses for money.

[harryspet]

I love rafe x reader x jj!

I had a similar idea to the previous anon, an AU where reader is Barry’s sister and in between Barry and Rafe’s schemes, Rafe and reader get friendly. And Barry tries to keep reader out of their business so she’s pretty sheltered and depends on them. And JJ is already dealing drugs with Rafe so he gets close to reader as well. And Barry gets arrested for selling drugs (or maybe Rafe and JJ framed him) and reader has no where else to go but to them! They take full advantage claiming Barry made lots of enemies (somewhat true) and reader must stay with them and never leave their side (not true) to be safe.

[warnings] dark!jj x reader x dark!rafe, reader is barry's sister, little editing 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

a/n: i started writing this idea out, enjoy :):)

word count: 1.4k

When the Chateau came into view, your blistering feet thanked you. Your legs were exposed, your white nightgown only covered half your thighs, and the underbrush from the forest had scraped your skin horribly. You’d never actually visited here, and Barry would have never allowed you, but an hour ago, he’d forced you to leave the house. 

Heart practically beating outside of your chest, you climbed up the porch, your cowboy boots stepping over empty bottles of beer. You knocked on the screen door, probably a little bit too softly, but you had no idea who was going to open the door, “Y/N?” You jumped, your head snapping to the side to find JJ Maybank lying down on an old couch. He takes off the hat that was resting over his eyes, tosses it to the side, and sits up. “What? What are you doing here?”

Your body was already shaking, and your voice started to do the same, “I-I don’t have anywhere–” You wrapped your arms around your body, holding yourself tightly, “I-I d-don’t–”

JJ, shirtless and wearing khaki shorts, crossed the porch, placing a hand on your lower back, “Hey, it’s okay,” He whispered, his tone not able to hide his concern, “Something happened to Barry?” 

You nodded, knowing your voice would just shake if you answered verbally.

“Come inside. The place is empty. John B. has been MIA for a couple of days,” JJ explains, opening the door before smoothly guiding you inside the Chateau. It’s eerily quiet, but you welcome the peaceful sound, finding it much better than the sound of Barry shouting and police sirens blaring, “Come sit, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

He moves a pile of what looks like maps, letters, and a stack of cash before patting the couch cushion. You sit down, still holding yourself to calm your nerves, and watch as he rushes off to grab a glass from the kitchen. You were appreciative – God, he had no idea how thankful you were. 

“You mind if I ask what has you hiking through the swamp this late at night?” He handed you the glass, kneeling in front of you as he began to examine your legs, “You’re lucky the mosquitos didn’t eat you all the way up, kid”

Shakily, you took a sip from the glass, “The cops, uhm, they were coming. H-He told me to go a-and …usually he tells me he’ll be back in a few days. But he was getting … he was getting all his guns out and i-it didn’t seem like … I-I just k-kept–” 

JJ’s eyes were fixed on you, his lips pressed into a thin line as he listened carefully, “Hey, I know you’re scared …I’ve been in your position so many times with my Dad. And I always ran to the Chateau too.” 

You nodded, tears beginning to fall. Gently, JJ grabbed your face, brushing the tears away with his thumb, “You’re going to be okay. I’m right here, you’re not alone.”

“What will-” You hiccupped, “What will I do?”

You couldn’t survive on your own with a tenth-grade education and your ten-dollar-an-hour coffee shop job. You were always a good kid, but you were never book smart, and Barry didn’t force you to go to school after you started flunking your classes. He’s happily taken care of you for your entire life, your parents hadn’t been in the picture since you were five and Barry was ten. You’d never gotten in trouble like Barry had, and he’d made sure of that, never involving you in his business. 

Befriending JJ was a consequence of Barry’s business, but JJ never involved you in dealing drugs either. He was someone to talk to, and he’d always come by Sunset Coffee after the morning rush and ask how your day was going. 

“Let me make a call. Maybe Rafe will have more information about what’s going down, I know he helped him with a huge shipment the other day. We’ll figure this out.”

You thought it was a good idea instantly. “T-Thank you, JJ.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid.” His smile made you forget, for a small moment, your world was crashing down. 

Rafe was around even more than JJ. He could be nice when he wanted to, although you preferred him when he wasn’t acting erratically or getting into screaming matches with your brother. Besides that, you couldn’t even count how many times he drove you home from work and kept you from having an eight-mile bike ride. 

It wasn’t long after you’d finished the glass of water, and JJ had started to clean the dripping blood from your legs, that a truck rolled into the grassy front lawn of the Chateau, “That’s Rafe,” JJ said, although it had only been about ten minutes since he hung up the phone, “He said he’d drive by your place, see what’s up.”

You stood instantly, and JJ followed after you as you rushed out of the front door. Rafe was climbing out of his truck when you rushed towards him, “Did you see anything?” Your pitch was raised, fear laced in your tone. That same concern you noted in JJ’s features, unexpectedly, you saw in Rafe. 

A sigh left his lips, and nervous fingers ran through his light brown hair. “I didn’t see him; they must’ve already taken him down to the station. There were at least five Kildare officers, and I saw a few special agents, too. They were grabbing stuff from the house.”

You felt yourself sink at the information just as you felt JJ’s hand on your back again. Your hand found its way to your heart, and you checked to make sure your heart wouldn’t explode out of your chest: “I-I want to see him. Maybe I can talk to him, and he can … he can tell me what’s going on.”

“They won’t let you see him yet,” Rafe added quickly. 

“It’s also one in the morning,” JJ spoke softly from behind you. 

“It wouldn’t be a good move, princess,” Rafe said, his tone soft but somehow still sharp, “The police would just take the opportunity to try and question you about whatever they’re charging him with. They’ll try to break you down and threaten you with jail time. It won’t be worth it. It’s not what Barry would want.”

“What happened?” You shook your head, not believing that was real, “H-He would’ve warned me i-if–”

“You’re right. He would’ve warned you if he knew, so he didn’t know,” Rafe started, “I warned him that these guys he was dealing with were no good. He thought he was some kind of big-shot, dealing with those cartel guys.”

“What?” You gaped, looking back and forth between the two men. You stepped away, but Rafe caught your wrist. 

“I’m sorry you’re hearing this from us, not him,” Rafe apologized.

“JJ?”

“He was starting to make a lot of enemies …” His voice trailed off like the words were painful for him to stay, “The Kook is telling the truth.”

“We’ll look after you,” Rafe said. 

“Yeah, until this all blows over. It’s gonna take a minute. We gotta, you know, assess the situation. The same guys that ratted him out might be looking for you too. And there are probably people who aren’t happy that the shit they were going to buy off of him is now in police custody.” 

“Y-You’re saying people might want to hurt m-me,” You stuttered out, JJ taking your other arm in his hand. Not only was your brother gone for who knows how long, your life was in danger. You found yourself leaning into their touch, letting them keep you balanced so you didn’t collapse. 

“No–” 

Rafe interrupted JJ. 

“We’re saying we’re going to look after you until all this blows over. We’ve both had our ups and downs with him, but he’s had our backs more than once. We owe it to him.”

“I can’t ask you to–”

This time JJ interrupted you, “Trust us. Let us take care of you, Y/N.”

It was a perfect storm, both of them coming together to save you. You didn’t have the time to ponder how exactly it happened, you only cared whether your brother would be okay, I don’t have anything–”

“We’ll spend the night here. You should get some rest. When you wake up, we’ll go to Tannyhill. Everything you need, we'll take care of it,” Rafe assured you, and JJ seemed to believe it was a good plan too.

“Yeah, come on, kid. Let's tuck you in.” Neither of them were making requests, but honestly, you didn’t want to make any decisions of your own. 

Together, your two protectors led you back to the Chateau. 

+

feel free to send smutty thoughts/ideas for this pairing or anything else rafe x reader x jj!

[elsaellaelys]

The most amazing fanfics about JJ Maybank

(Straight from my collection)

a/n: I was going throught my likes and had an amazing idea: putting all my favorite JJ fics in one post so everyone could enjoy it with me! That's why I'm taking so much to post my requested fics, but they're coming...

I hope you enjoy this as much as I. This fanfics inspired me and helped me throught the last months and I couldn't be more grateful for this lovely community! <333

--★--

JJ in his red cut off shirt

JJ working on his bike

JJ Maybank is a munch

@lilastrocup JJ's masterlist

My angel

Fishing in the dark

Talk fast

The attractive things JJ Maybank does

Happy Anniversary

JJ loves when you leaves scratches on his back

Ouch!

Sugar lips

sub!JJ

JJ and innocent reader

You comfort JJ after a fight with his dad

JJ suck**g on his gf's t*ts

Not her

idcntlikedarness milestone event ?

Cutting JJ's hair

Kook princess and make up kisses

Sea and sand

JJ giving the reader aftercare

JJ calling reader mama

Vulnerable

At last

JJ always moan when you pull his hair

JJ and more aftercare

Sp*t ?

Pinky promise

Tired of rid**g JJ

Magic touch

Lets listen to some music - JJ for I think he knows

Matching tatoos with JJ

Whiny soft!dom!JJ

Good morning sunshine

Home is where the heart is

When JJ accidentally stepped on your foot

Hold back

Now you gotta...

JJ is caught by pogues being the little spoon

Sick

The one where JJ loves your lipstick

Stress relief with JJ

I would wait forever and ever

JJ taking care of you while you're sick...

JJ's too shaggy and grown out hair

Burnt pancakes

Permanent

JJ x John B's little sister

Tease

Peace & Love

Vampire

High s*x

Praise k*nk

Sick day

JJ drying your hair

Scratching

Overthinker

Need any help?

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

@moremaybank : dirty martini with JJ

JJ putting his arm around your neck

Calling JJ dad

JJ helping you relax

JJ comforting you after a break up

Love and blow*es

(Soft) enemies to lovers

Bf!JJ headcannons

JJ gives you flowers

Knight in shining armor

Just read it. You didn't know how much you needed this.

[princessmaybank]

Ride The Cowboy

Pairings: JJ x BestFriend!Fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, riding, creampie

Summary: JJ got a new cowboy hat and reader has no idea about the rule.

Authors Note: I had a smut written for a request. It was JJ and reader with the cowboy hat rule but it got deleted! It was anonymous so I hope whoever requested this sees it and enjoys!!!

(Edit: I changed the gif bc he's got a cowboy hat on 🤭 idk who these belong to but they aren't mine so credit to whoever made these!)

JJ found this random black cowboy hat at one of our shops in town. I didn't think he was serious when he said he wanted to buy it because it's not even his style.

Anyway he's been wearing it for a fucking week, trying to act all country and it's so fucking annoying. He has started using a country accent trying to be funny, but it was just so, so lame.

We were at the boneyard having the time of our lives. JJ and I were dancing together, giggling and having some normal fun, until he started talking like he was from Texas.

I was so fed up. I reached for his hat and threw it onto my head. "Look at me, I'm JJ, all I ever do is talk with an accent and twirl around in my cowboy hat!!" I said, very annoyed with a terrible attempt at a country accent.

JJ was staring at me in awe, which got the attention of our friend Pope, whose jaw went slack as well. Pope walked over and rested his arm on JJ's shoulder. "She doesn't know does she?" Pope looked at JJ with the most dead serious look I've ever seen. What the hell was he talking about???

"I don't think she does." He grinned and started laughing. His cheeks flushed red as he looked at his feet then back to Pope. "What are you talking about?!" I asked frantically. "Have fun cowboy." Pope said patting JJ's back while walking away. I give JJ a questioning look.

He got extremely close to my body, yet he was still towering over me. Damn this boy was tall. JJ took my hands in his. "You don't know the cowboy hat rule?" He asked smirking down at me. "These things have fucking rules too???" He giggled. "Yes but this one is probably the most important." Somehow he got closer, which was surprisingly not as uncomfortable as I thought. "What is it??" I asked getting annoyed because he was playing games at this point.

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

His face never changed from that smug little smirk, but my eyes got wide. I hit his chest, he was my best friend. "No way Maybank, that's probably something you made up to get you laid." He grinned. "It's not I swear, if you don't believe me look it up."

Unfortunately I did, and he was right. It was some kind of sick joke. "Well I didn't know so it doesn't count!" I crossed my arms. "Hey, rules are rules baby." He was holding my hips now. Why were butterflies filling my stomach? I've never thought of JJ this way. It would be so wrong. "So is no pogue on pogue macking!" I say trying my hardest to find a way out of this, but of course he's ready for whatever I say. "First of all, John B and Sarah are right over there, basically eating each other's faces. Second of all, it's not macking, it's riding baby." He smiled to himself because he knew he won.

JJ walked us to the Twinkie, where we wouldn't be bothered. "You just want an excuse to fuck your best friend!" I say fighting the best I could. "I could say the same about you! I didn't tell you to steal my hat! And you're still wearing it!" He laughs so hard after he gets his sentence out. I was blushing when I quickly took his hat off and threw it at him.

I was hovering over him, very anxious. He had a huge grip on my hips. "We do not have to do this if you don't want to." He says while holding me up. "JJ, I'm already naked. Plus you said it, rules are rules." Before I could change his mind or my own, I started easing myself down onto his dick. JJ let out a slight hissing sound as I went lower. Not gonna lie, I did need to get fucked. It was probably why I found him so annoying this week.

JJ helped me move at a pace that made us both feel good. "Come here." He pulled me in with a motion of his finger. "Might as well break a rule while we're at it." He smirked before attaching his lips to mine. JJ sat up and put his back against the seat, never pulling out. I pulled his hands away from my hips and to my tits, making him squeeze them as I bounced on his dick all by myself. I couldn't believe I was riding my best friend.

"Fuck Y/N/N don't stop." Woah. JJ called me by my nickname while I was bouncing on his huge cock. How fucking hot. Can't believe I'm saying this but I think I'm catching feelings in the middle of all of this. "Fuck I'm cumming!" I yell as my body starts spasming, I feel his dick shoot his hot liquid into me after I was done. JJ pushed my hips up and down, helping us ride out our orgasms.

He started spooning me after I put my clothes back on and laid down. "JJ I don't wan-" Before I could finish he interrupted me. "Y/N, I can't handle it anymore. I need to be with you, especially now. Now that I've had a little taste of you, I don't think I could let you go and just continue being just your best friend." He was hovering over me now. "I was thinking the same thing." That made us both smile.

We popped up when we heard the side door slam open. "I'm assuming she followed the rules?" Pope giggled staring at JJ, making him giggle as well. They high fived as I rolled over to hide in JJ's chest.

[sunlightmurdock]

Like This Forever | 0.1 | J. Seresin

masterlist | next chapter

You’re thinking of the past, right as the future is about to change forever.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, childhood friends to lovers, country singer!Jake, smut, pining, blissful ignorance, other warnings to follow. wc: 3k (18+ minors do not interact)

A U G U S T 1 9 7 4 / F E B R U A R Y 1 9 9 1

Driftwood — small town southwestern Texas, situated in Lockheart County. Springs, stony hills, and steep canyons. It’s good land, occupying a tiny patch of earth in the middle of the Edwards Plateu. That’s what they all say: good land, good soil. Large acreages of wheat for miles around, grown annually for harvest and winter through spring livestock grazing. The remaining two-thirds of the region is rangeland devoted to cattle ranching. Ranches in this region often seem older than the landscape itself. Lockheart County’s livestock industry is nationally appreciated, it was, even back then. Ranches here are huge, they’ve been there for generations. The town of Driftwood, itself, sits in a valley. It holds on to the people who settle there just like it holds onto the weight of that thick, summer heat all through the day. So hot that even the trees bend and furl like they’re seeking shade too.

Back then, Driftwood was even smaller than it is now. Post Office, Church, two schools, a fleet of locally owned stores on Main Street and a few other buildings for the fathers who weren’t ranchers or ranch hands to work.

On that day in early August, most of Driftwood’s thousand person population were nestled amongst the pews of St. Augustine’s Church, just outside of town. It’s a mile and a half from Main Street, and a mile and a half from the furthest fence on the Seresin Ranch. Their house is a sprawling thing that Bill’s grandfather had built — they haven’t got that kind of money now, and they didn’t on that morning in August. They’ve got three boys, who were squirming around the front pew, melting into the aged wood below them in their smart white button ups. They’ve got another boy too, standing behind Pastor James, holding a processional candle.

Jake’s their youngest. He was nine back then. Small for his age, especially when you stood him next to his brothers and their broad shoulders and long legs. His hair was beyond blond, lightened from the sun. His cheeks dusted with brown freckles and his eyes always narrowed into a type of John Wayne kind of squint. Jake loved John Wayne back then. He loved the cowboys on his bed sheets, and the fact he could see the cattle from his bedroom window. All he wanted back then was a pistol on his hip and a one-way ticket to El Dorado.

Mary-Lynn Seresin grew up in Driftwood, just like her husband had. She had known Bill since she was a little girl, and she had always known that she would marry him one day. Her nails were polished pink that day, sitting pretty atop the procession card as she fans herself with it. Two pews behind, you could still see a droplet of sweat bead from her neat blonde hairline and trail into the collar of her blue polka-dotted Sunday dress.

On that particular Sunday, the fans had packed up and stopped working. So, all six hundred of you who could make it out to St. Augustine’s we’re trapped in there — not just with Pastor James’ storytelling, but with the thick heat pressing down on the entire valley feeling like it had all been shut in this one room with the rest of you.

At the front, Jake Seresin’s cheeks were red, his hair was beading with sweat and his scarecrow, twig-like arms were trembling around the cross. He struggled with its weight and you had watched his green eyes flash out towards the crowd, briefly landing on his mother. Mary-Lynn gave him a proud nod. Bill was staring at the stagnant ceiling fans above their heads. You, were staring right at Jake.

Eight years old yourself, just eight weeks younger than Jake is, you have known that little grass-stain your entire life. In fact, Mary-Lynn and your mother found out that they were expecting just days apart. They had been in the same high school grade as girls, had married men who were good friends, and back then your mother had worked in the town’s hair salon five days a week. They grew very close through their pregnancies. Your mother was the first one to send flowers when Mary-Lynn went into labour a month and a half early.

Jake’s John-Wayne-Squint deepened through the heavy air, watching you like you were both about to draw pistols and settle this like men — right in the middle of Pastor James’ final verse. Your pigtails and your white Sunday dress weren’t fooling him. His robes and the heavy cross in his hand weren’t fooling you. Clearly following his brother’s gaze, Daniel Seresin turns and peers at you over his shoulder. He’s the closest in age to Jake, but he’s still five years older. Thirteen then and too grown up for childish squabbles like those, he just turned back to the front and shook his head.

The first three of the Seresin boys were all born within three consecutive years. Matthew, Noah and Daniel. They’re each tall like their mother, blonde like her too, and have inherited their father’s linebacker shoulders. Noah was fourteen and about to be a freshman in high school. After he fixed the chain on your bike at the beginning of summer, you were full-blown head-over-heels in love with him back then. You thought you were anyway.

Jake, however, had been in your class since Kindergarten and you had been forced to share your toys with him for even longer than that.

His arms trembled before you and your mouth had twitched. Neither one of you was listening to the service. It was almost over. Just a few more minutes until Pastor James wrapped up and the people of Driftwood and poured out of this sauna and out into the dry, morning sun.

Quickly, you shot a look at your mother sitting at your side. She was listening intently, staring right ahead with her neatly steamed clothes and her hair-sprayed hair. You’ll always remember the heavy smell of her rose-scented perfume. Every time you inhale it, you’re sitting at the foot of her bed, watching her fix her face in her vanity. Then, you looked to your father on the other side of you. Exactly the same. Pleased, you turn your attention back to the youngest Seresin boy.

Scrunching your nose, you had sat forwards just slightly and stuck your tongue out at him. Quite the diss back then. Jake’s green eyes had widened, sweat beading down his back under his white shirt and his service robes.

Driftwood is a safe place. It’s a fantastic town to raise children. The schools aren’t overcrowded and cars don’t speed through the centre of town. Country roads are a different story. But no one bats an eyelid, especially not back then, when their children are out of sight.

Mary-Lynn was busily detailing the events of her dinner party that coming Saturday to a group of women that are invited. She’s quite the hostess still. Your mother stood amongst them. Neither one of them were concerned about where their children were in the slightest. Until, that is, the sounds of muffled screaming filled their ears. The mothers of Driftwood rush to the commotion in their kitten heels and pretty dresses. Your mother was the first around the corner. She would recognise the sound of her baby’s screaming anywhere. But you weren’t the one in trouble. As usual, you had been causing it.

Your white dress grass-stained and muddy, dirt under your fingernails and covering your formerly white, frilled socks. You were kneeling. You haven’t yet noticed the crowd of women rushing in your direction. You’ve got Mary-Lynn Seresin’s youngest son pressed into the dirt, kneeling on his back and twisting his arm uncomfortably behind him.

“Say Uncle!” You demanded.

“You’re so dead! Get off!” Jake struggled under you, screaming with all the force that his growing lungs would allow. His voice must have been audible across the entire valley with how he was hollering. Freckled cheek pressed into the dirt, his white shirt was destroyed and he was in the middle of ruining his shoes with how he was scrambling for purchase in the dried dirt.

Quickly, your mother had grabbed you under your arms and hauled you off of the boy, spinning you to face her.

“What do you think you’re doing young lady?”

“He started it! — He said my dress was ugly!”

“It is ugly, you look like a girl!” Jake huffed from behind you as he had stumbled onto his feet and taken a look down at his church clothes. Slowly, he had lifted his gaze to look at his mother. Sullen and worried looking, he began to pout. It wasn’t working. Mary-Lynn had raised three boys by then, she knew when they were trying to play innocent.

The thing about growing up so close together, is that approaching double digits was a confusing time. It was around that age that your mother began to put her foot down when it came to all of those tom-boy activities. Girls might roughhouse and come home with holes in their jeans and mud on their faces, but young ladies didn’t. The dress was her idea.

Jake’s comment had been passing, just a whisper as his family had headed into church ahead of yours, but he was right — you did look like a girl. Back then, that wasn’t a compliment coming from him. So, you had cornered him outside and pummeled him into the dirt. Fair is fair.

“Mary-Lynn, I am so sorry about her — send me the dry-cleaning bill. I’m sorry, we should go.” Your mother had sighed in a hurry, frowning down at your ruined clothes, then looking towards Jake’s. You’ll always remember the smile on Mary-Lynn’s face after. Not pity, because she knew you were in a lot of trouble for this. Just fondness. She had gently patted your mother’s forearm and shaken her head.

“Let’s finish our chat. They’re already filthy. Let them play.”

Looking up at her, you hadn’t understood why she was siding with you back then. You had just almost broken her son’s arm for sport. As you grew, Mary-Lynn Seresin was always on your side. In her kitten heels and dresses, she remembered being a dirt-covered little girl once too. No one was telling her son that it was time yet, to be a man. There’s no harm in letting you be young a little longer.

Your mother had looked uncertain, but people in Driftwood always looked to Mary-Lynn for advice. She had somehow managed to keep four boys in line perfectly, her parenting expertise was studied by those around her. Finally, she had given you a brief nod.

You remember spinning on the delicate almost-heel of your church shoes, rounding on Jake, ready to brawl. You have no clue where the stick came from, but he was armed when you had turned around — but Jake always fought fair. He tossed you a stick of your own and took aim. Green eyes narrowed, he was trying to look down his freckled nose at you, but you were taller then.

“She’s gonna marry that boy someday.” Mary-Lynn Seresin had huffed with a wistful smile, watching the mud-caked children tear off through the field once again. This time, with sticks in hands and violent intent plastered across their dirty faces.

You’re not eight anymore. Jake’s not nine. This time of the year, you both happen to be twenty-six. You aren’t trying to kill him with a stick anymore either. You’re sitting at your favourite bar in Driftwood — there are four now — watching your best friend up on stage. He’s always confident. He has been since he hit that growth spurt when he was twelve. Since then, Jake has been unstoppable. But on stage is when he really shines.

The Dark Star feels like an old bar. It’s packed every Friday night. It smells like malt and smoke and Jake’s been playing here every Saturday since he was seventeen. This is the last time that it will ever be like this, and you don’t even know it yet. Jake’s in the middle of an original. People around here know him, they know his music. They might not get all the words right, but he always gets people singing.

Jake isn’t small for his age now. He grew into his nose, and he inherited those big shoulders, his skin’s tanned from his days out at the ranch. He’s strong and funny and kind. Sometimes it catches you off guard, when you turn your head and find a man in place of the little boy you once knew.

You’re in a booth, talking numbers. It turns out that you had inherited your mother’s knack for business strategy, and Jake’s way with words had rubbed off on you long ago.

You don’t look like the little girl Jake had once known either. If he was concerned about you looking like a girl before, then you can only imagine how dismayed he must be when he looks at you now. Breasts and everything.

“It’s more than potential, Stu — you saw how crazy people were for him when he was opening for The Ashford Band.” You tell him, fingers curled around a brown glass bottle. This is already settled, the deal is already done. You knew from the second that he walked in that you had Stu Adler suckered.

This is a deal that you’ve been mulling over for a couple of months now. Getting Jake on his first headline tour. His debut album came out last week and it’s doing well, but the record label is tiny and the publicity deal is even smaller. Jake’s making pennies compared to other people in his genre, but you’re about to change all of that.

“Six months is a long time on the road. It’s a different lifestyle,” Stu’s dishwater grey eyes flicker briefly up from the plunging neckline of your top to meet your gaze. He’s an older man, with a once successful career in Los Angeles. Now, he spends his time scrounging small towns for talent. He’s just a stepping stone in your plans for Jake. “You’re sure he can handle it?”

Stretching your legs out, you scoff incredulously at the accusation as Jake’s last song dwindles behind you. The beer bottle is cool against your lips. Stu swallows, watching your lips purse around the rim to drink. You know he’d die for the chance to get his wrinkly, old dick in your mouth — it’s why Jake’s about to get the best deal of his life.

“Jake? — Of course.”

“Can you?” Stu asks. The light on you for once makes you cringe. Even so, your poker face doesn’t falter. Calmly staring across the table at him, a small smile on your face. “Y’know, he’s going to need a manager that I can rely on. I.e. — one that he won’t dump, sweetheart.”

This only makes your smile grow. “Jake is like a brother to me. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

It’s that lie that secures the deal. Six months, a hundred and sixty dates across the US. Mostly small venues, but it’s his first headline tour — and it’s all because of you. Because of that one little white lie. Letting Stu think that he’s got a chance with you. Letting him think that you’ve never fucked Jake.

You have. Twice, already by this point. Once, after senior prom. Your date was an asshole and his was cruel. You’d parked his truck out in the west pasture of the Seresin ranch and got a little too drunk under the stars, and wound up with your legs hiked up over his shoulders. The second time was Thanksgiving two years ago. Your family joined his. All of his brothers have fiancés or wives now. Sharing Jake’s bed in his childhood home that night, neither one of you was drunk. You were just lonely, and maybe bored.

Tonight, there are a couple of different factors at play. Sure, by the time that you and Jake collapse down onto that red, velvet couch in the Dark Star’s ‘dressing room’, you’ve had plenty to drink. You’re not quite as lonely as you were that thanksgiving, though.

You turn your head and he’s grinning at the ceiling, chest heaving from the energetic final song. His arms stretch along the backs of the couch, his eyes closed for a moment. You watch him silently.

“You’re incredible.” Jake’s half-cut on an unhealthy mix of tequila and vodka, but smiling, eyes still shut, chin still pointed towards the sky. He gives his head a small shake. “A hundred and sixty dates.”

A smile plasters itself across your lips. As drunk as you are, it’s nice to be complimented for your hard work. “Yeah, we’ll see if you still think I’m so incredible when you’re living off of burgers and beer and still have eighty shows to go.”

The smell of cigarettes lives within the fibre of this room. Part of the furniture, nestled amongst the cracks in the red painted walls. There’s the couch that you’re sitting on, and an illuminated vanity against the far wall, and then a coat stand. It’s not much of a dressing room, but it’s fine.

You just wish it would stop spinning.

“I mean it.” His fingers rest atop your denim clad thigh, patting platonically. You hear him sigh from beside you. He squeezes at the supple skin under his hand. “Thank you.”

“Jake… since when do you have manners?” You ask him. Both of you are sitting with your eyes shut on this old, probably dirty, velvet couch. It’s five in the morning. The two of you might have gone a little overboard with celebrating. Wayne Mayhew, the owner of the Dark Star might have threatened to kick you both out of his bar if you didn’t finally get off of his damn stage ten minutes ago.

But there’s a high buzzing between the two of you that feels electric. Wordlessly, you know Jake feels it too. That this is the last night. Here, in this shitty hometown bar. Everything is about to change. After this tour, nothing will ever be the same again — for either of you.

Jake’s thumb trails back and forth in just one small pattern, reminding you that it’s there on your thigh.

It’s been on your mind all day, for no reason at all. That Sunday in August in 1974. Your ruined church dress and the fat bruise on Jake’s cheek the next day when you had seen him at the market. The start of it all.

Those late night drives and all the evenings you studied together. Jake’s football games and his band practices — back when he had thought he wanted to be in a band. Him drying your tears and making you laugh. Growing up together, talking for hours and hours about all of the possibilities. This was everything Jake had ever wanted, and he’s thanking you.

Your eyelids weigh double what they normally do — heavy as you blink open your eyes and turn your head. This time, he’s looking across at you. The tips of his fingers brush the inseam of your blue, low-rise jeans. His face is calm, he isn’t saying anything and he’s far from doing anything either.

Scrunching your nose, you poke your tongue out at him. Across the couch, Jake lifts his brows. The corner of his mouth twitches. He’s got stubble now. Stubble, and chest hair and an Adam’s apple. But that look, that glint in his eye that’s just daring you to try him has always been the same.

Jake’s fingers twitch, pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Dim lighting, fifteen year old red paint on each of the four walls, and that perpetual cigarette smell — it’s hardly a romantic fantasy. And this is far from a good idea.

But it’s Jake. Confident, loud Jake who gets shy when he’s around someone he really likes. Funny, smart-mouthed Jake who under it all is a great listener. Goofy, habitual Jake who has the nighttime routines of a fifty year old housewife.

Strong-willed, handsome, Jake, your best friend — who’s looking at you like you’re his next meal.

…

@fia-thefirst @daggerspare-standingby @dempy @v0id-chaos @moonlight-addisyn @grxcisxhy-wp @shakespeareanwannabe @coconut152 @330bpm-whiplash @takemetooneverlanddd @princess76179 @loveofvernonslife @averyhotchner @trickphotography2 @sushiwriterhere @the-romanian-is-bae @atarmychick007 @talktomegooseman @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @roostersforevergirl @buckysdollforlife @abaker74 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @whatislovevavy @lonelywriter10 @s-u-t @topguncortez @callsign-joyride @rosedurin @86laura11 @theenorthstar @mygyn @growup-thatbeautiful @percysaidnever @katiedid-3 @its-the-pilot

[heatwavering]

okay if it was the 80s-90s and i was in Miramar working for the navy and I somehow stumbled across hot and single Tom Iceman Kazansky only to figure out he’s (a) gay and (b) taken by pete maverick mitchell of all people, i would go feral. i would die and have to be revived and then start my john wick revenge arc.

like this man is taken. by another man. he’s getting dog walked by pete maverick mitchell. the same guy who flies his plane like a looney tunes character and refuses to die. bad pickup line artist, 5’7, cowboy boot wearing, scrunkly little pete maverick mitchell put a ring on it. i’d bite the person closest to me and start a Free Iceman movement the moment i heard the news.