#my actual horse riding boots and ranching sun hat

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Gotta admit, I didn't expect this to come up while I was listening to Willie Nelson, but I probably should have

Anyway. #gendershit

[gladiatorcunt]

- # GIVE A FLY SOME HONEY !!

all roads lead to death valley

cw: southern setting & accents, sui ideation/thoughts, protected sex (are you proud of me), dead dove ending and undertones, sort of ambiguous, virgin cowboy!anakin x virgin afab!reader, ROTS coded!anakin, r2’s a horse, the force is in place of the christian God and is referred to as such at times, star wars being a fictional franchise in a star wars au fic, weird mix of a farm and a ranch, spanking, clit slapping, biting, reader’s inner freak has some crazy thoughts, mentions of humiliation and collaring/choking, anakin murders somebody (one scene of violence), what a heat advisory and the south’s sex education does to a mf, implied plus size and neurodivergent!reader, kidnapping????????????, mention of drugs, reader has a lot of internalized shame about where they’re from

wc: 4.2k (unedited)

what if instead of star wars it was called 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 wars

consider commissioning me!

Your unlucky streak rears its ugly head yet again. June was already shaping up to be a hot month, and your junkyard car wouldn’t start. You’re used to driving long stretches of road with nothing but livestock in fields to gawk at, it comes with the territory. But you couldn’t afford gas and decided to push your luck on the way back home, nevermind that the drive would be at least 20 hours. Moving to the city had its drawbacks, the road trip to and back being one of them.

“No, no. Come on, please work. Do you need me to fucking sing to you or something?” You groan, fruitlessly twisting your key in the ignition over and over.

Nope, “Tough shit.” Your engine mocks, death coughs sputtering out one after the other.

“ ‘You havin’ trouble?” A masculine voice shouts from behind you.

You get startled by the sound and gracefully slam your head up into the roof of the car as you turn around. You must look like quite the sight, clutching your now throbbing head and stumbling out of your broken down hand-me-down car on a long open road. Once you’ve blinked enough to adjust to the harsh sunlight, your eyes land on a tall muscular figure riding a horse. The clip clop of the horse’s dirty hooves on the gravel pierce your ears but the gentle sway of the man’s fluffy hair softens the blow.

“Um…. yes, sir. I am actually. My…. my car won’t start and I’m all out of gas.” You burn with embarrassment as you get through your explanation, trying your hardest not to throw up from the sheer social anxiety.

“Well that ain’t no biggy, I think I can help with that.” The man cocks his head and hops down from the horse, a white stallion with a few faded black-gray spots here and there. “Stay here, R2.”

You’re standing there dumbly, ignoring the tiny rocks digging into your shoes and the pounding in your skull as the cowboy wanders up to you. The sun bounces off his dark hat in a way that gives him a sort of halo, and you gape like a fish when he tips it down at you in a silent greeting, reaching out to shake your hand after. The silver spurs on his boots reflect sunlight directly onto your face, so you miss his open palm the first time.

His hand is rough, you can feel numerous old scrapes and cuts when you accept the gesture. But it’s so much bigger than yours, and there’s strange heat coming from his skin that you’re hesitant to pin on the southern summer sun. Too handsome, in a way that just can’t be possible, you quickly swipe a fingertip over his ring finger during the handshake and The Force must be looking out for you because there’s no ring. Not that you’re seeking anything out, but in the town you’re from, you’re lucky if anyone makes it past 18 without having a baby and getting hitched as a result.

Anakin tinkers away at your car for over an hour, finding more problems than just a lack of gas. Eventually he determines that you’ll die in this heat before you can back on the road, so he asks you to accompany him back to his ranch and he’ll send out one of his employees to bring your car around. You try to show him that you’re listening by ‘hm’-ing and nodding every so often, but it’s hard to rip your eyes away from a very attractive man bent over and sweaty while he’s fixing your car. You definitely do not want to cry when his flannel lifts up as he wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his greasy hand, revealing the slight softness over his muscles.

Since your car was no longer an option, Anakin grins as he gestures towards his horse, “R2’s a good horse, won’t give you any trouble. He likes to make a lot of noise and has an… acquired sense of humor, but I reckon we’ll get back just fine.”

He has you practice getting off and on the horse for a good while, the next step is letting you adjust to the feeling of being on one. You’d be embarrassed that Anakin’s having to teach you how to ride but his hands curl around your waist, keeping you steady and whispering in your ear to not be so stiff. Horses can smell fear after all, it’d suck to not only have your car be broken but your bones too. It’s a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind that’s a tiny yellowed book sold almost exclusively in run down gas stations with a cover not far off from a porno.

Your cheeks are burning the entire way to the ranch, you relax as much as you can on an animal that’s a few hundred pounds of muscle with a searing hot body pressed right up against you from behind. It doesn't take long to get to your destination though, and before you know it sprawling fields bracket a mid size homey wooden building. There are some smaller pens for the cows to stay in and you follow their movement as an employee unlatches the gate and leads them out towards the left most field.

“They gotta switch pastures every so often.” He informs you, urging his horse into an energetic trot, “And it’s a good rule of thumb to have about an acre per cow.”

You tighten your hold on the reins and try not to focus on your fear of falling off. The pace of R2 isn’t one that you struggle to match but then again this is the first time you’ve ever ridden a horse in a long time. You’ve always been too skittish to do it regularly, and when you moved you got rid of the hobby entirely. You take a deep breath and let the horse’s movements travel through you, coming to enjoy the gentle jostling as you go. Anakin keeps his hands around yours on the reigns, making sure you don’t panic and seize up. R2’s not really beginner friendly unless he likes his rider, he has a tendency to just whinny and take off when the spirit moves him.

“The Force has done me good and given me a nice house on nice land, but it don’t mean nothin’ if i’m all by my lonesome. Ever since my dad passed and my ma’ died a few years after that, the workers and the cows are all I got, plus R2 of course.”

All right, he sinks into the jargon a little too much, but the way the sun accentuates the scar on his cheek makes it a charming quirk. You want to lick his teeth when he smiles, you think, before blaming it on an oncoming heatstroke. You’re no better than a man in this moment, and if you had seen him soaking up all of the attention in a crowded room in a bar you’d have no business being in, you like to think that you could pull him. You play with the slightly waxy feel of the leather reins, allowing the sensation of coarseness in the stitching to overpower any coherent thought.

“Why’d you name your horse R2?” You ask, ducking your head as you feel him guide the animal towards the stables.

“Oh uh, I was real wild over these sci fi movies from back when I was a kid. The hero had this robot called R2-D2, and I guess it just stuck with me.” He answers you with a shrug and a mild blush, curving his fingers around yours.

Your stomach warms at the feeling, but you refrain from returning the gesture, he probably isn’t even thinking that deeply about what he’s doing. He’s not obsessing over every square inch of skin that comes into contact with his own, not like you. You’re already missing the comforting weight of Anakin’s herculean body when he’s pulling the reins to stop R2 and hopping off, clamping his big hands around your waist and helping you down. You wobble for a bit and find your footing before you can pick up on how he momentarily froze in front of you, anticipating an easy opportunity to touch you again. Force, you really are stupid, bless your heart.

You glance up at him and start to say something but then you hear rustling in the bushes, Anakin must hear it too because before you can tug on his sleeve and tell him, he’s pulling his revolver out from its holster and striding off towards the sound. You’re quick to learn that he has a bit of a one track mind, especially when it comes to indulging the serpent twisting in between his ribs like a switchblade.

“I’ll be damned…”

You’re supposed to head inside and awkwardly linger around until your car is in good enough condition to get you back to Coruscant. The only thing is, you’ve now found yourself without your new security blanket, and your curiosity agrees with how much you don’t fucking want to speak to any of the people here without Anakin to hide behind. R2 loudly chuffs at you from his stall in the stables, either saying “That’s just how he is, leave him be!” or "What are you doing? You should obviously go after him!” You choose to believe it’s the latter, so you wander off into the distance, following Anakin’s lead.

You catch up to him quicker than you thought you would, and you have half a mind to scold him like a child if you weren’t catching your breath. All you can see is his wide shoulders because he’s hunched over something, your heartbeat quickens when you spot his gun being pointed at something. You circle around him to find a man squirming on the ground like a toddler, twitching every so often. Anakin seems almost enthralled by the desperate display, so he doesn’t notice you until you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, soft and looking to soothe. Later you won’t remember the blood on the man’s temple or the matching stain on the muzzle of Anakin’s gun, because you didn’t witness that part.

He snaps out of it, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your knuckles, “ ‘s alright, sweetheart, just a meth head too out of his mind to watch where he’s goin’. Had a knife with him, probably lookin’ to rob somebody blind.”

Your eyes flicker between him and the man, fully aware of how common stuff like drug addicts trespassing is and the old fashioned black and red ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight’ sign. You’ve grown up around guns, you’re more used to hearing them in a hunting or taking shots at beer bottles kind of way, but it’s not like Anakin’s the only one to have that kind of self enforced rule when it comes to his property. Still… killing a human man is different than making use out of a successful deer hunt, right?

“Maybe we should call the cops, he can’t hurt nobody like that…” You try to reason, casting a pitiful glance towards the cowering man.

There’s a scratch on Anakin’s face that’s still bleeding from the knife the guy had used before Anakin took it, it just barely missed his right eye, he could’ve lost it. You’ll ask to help him with it when you get back to the ranch, but you know that there’s no seeing to it right now. You don’t want to risk an infection just so you could brush your thumb across the wound, you’re not even sure why you want to, it’s like the urge just materialized in your head out of thin fog. Anakin gently shrugs your hand off and uses his free one to pull you against his chest, and it’s like you’re back on his horse, that same fear entwined with exhilaration like barbed wire. Your hearts are beating at the same pace, some folks say that’s how you know it’s love, that’s how you know it’s fate.

“You don’t got the stuff in ya to be a killer, that’s just fine, darlin’. ‘Cause I sure do.” His words dissolve into a previously unknown to you cold sneer.

Anakin clamps a burly, sweaty hand over your eyes as he empties the entire magnum into the tresspasser’s skull. The bright sun bounces off the brim of his hat, casting a shadow over his stormy eyes. He may not have let you witness the massacre, but you will never forget the sickening yelps the poor bastard gave to Anakin like prayer. And then he got put down in a more inhumane fashion than if he were a rabid dog. To your gracious host, there’s probably not a whole lick of difference. Between a wanderin’ sap and a deranged mutt, that is.

But there’s a far off expression on his face, maybe he was once at risk of having two bullets in his temple at the hands of someone unforgiving.

“Welp.” Anakin exclaims, making a point of slapping his thigh as he holsters his pistol. “Better head on home now, I reckon. Come on, honey, don’t want to lose you to the coyotes.”

It’s said like “kai-yohtes.” You balk at his teasing and obediently trail after him, a vulnerable duckling staying in line. The storm is hitting hard by the time you’re out of the woods, and you briefly wonder if the Angels up in heaven are gonna start bowling soon. A saying that got passed around in your family, when you and the ones before you would stare up in wonder and shiver in fear at the thundering purple skies as kids. You remember being surprised that one of the Angels’ bowling balls never fell down to earth, maybe it’d be somethin’ like a meteorite.

As is the case with many things, it’s easy to lose sight of the fresh corpse in the dry grass. Once you turn around and thread your finger through Anakin’s, dirtying them, it’s almost like that man never existed. There must be something wrong with you, sure the situation is so unimaginable that it would be hard to cope with, but shouldn’t you be feeling more guilt than you do? You feel bad, of course, but ‘easy come and easy go��� has always been the way of things in these parts. God giveth and God taketh away.

You’re back where you should be, a narrow dirt path going under a wooden fence to the ranch. Grand trees line the road forming a moss green canopy. A few workers are goofing off and playing a very amateur game of football, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Anakin can obviously see them from his place next to you.

It would be a peaceful place to die, a bright and clear afternoon-evening in the way that the world can only be when you’re about to leave it. That’s how you’d want it to feel, like you’re rowing a boat across the lake you used to go fishing at to see people you’d never thought you’d see again waiting for you. Fall leaves, blinding pale sun, a serene and calming quiet. You’d be the happiest you’ve ever been, skipping even though you never could as a kid. There’d be no sadness, only relief and a memento of everything that’ll only make sense when it’s someone’s turn to see you again. No buzzing from mosquitoes or chirping from crickets, only little lightnin’ bugs. Maybe you only get that kinda ending if you’re good, in the godly sense, if you come from something worth remembering.

Anakin raises an eyebrow and gently jostles you, and just like that your train of thought is derailed. He chalks it up to shock, and nods his head towards a clearing behind the building. A change of plans. You follow, as you are wont to do.

“That rat bastard had it comin’ to ‘im, hun.” He tries to reassure and squeezes your hand, imploring you to see reason. “The Force decided it was his time, sweet thing.”

You shake your head, not disagreeing, just in utter disbelief. “I just… most everyone in my life I've known that’s died did it when I wasn't there. I’ve never had to actually be there when they… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And that’s all he says, regardless of the truth.

It’s what you need, somehow he just understands exactly what that is. You’re starting to think that you certainly don’t have a damn clue. You look up at him again, really drinking in every facet of his entire being that you can latch onto and obsess over. You’re remembering why you were so anxious to get out of this sinkhole, it’s a miracle you ever got out of it in the first place. His hair’s all messy, dark curls strewn about like a windswept bale of hay. A storm is brewing in his eyes, like he could Earth to rotate in the opposite direction if he wanted it to. He works his jaw around in a weird way to get rid of the soreness after grinding his teeth.

It’s tantalizing, being the hand holding a man on the edge back from wreaking his God given havoc.

You dot a quick peck on his cheek, scrunching your nose up at the barest hint of prickly stubble.

His eyes widen, and the sun itself shines brighter. The cutest light dusting of pink spreads across his face, so he one ups you by pressing your lips together. It’s exactly how a first kiss should feel, a simple gesture that leaves you breathless and with more butterflies than a flower garden swarming in your tummy. There’s no fireworks, but you can hear wind chimes and birds singing as your lips glide together, the meeting of your tongues is so natural that you won’t be able to remember when his slipped through the seam of your mouth. You want to keen as he maps out your teeth, his spit has to have some kind of aphrodisiac in it.

Anakin works your jeans open and off your legs completely, his pupils expand when he sees your thick thighs in all their glory but he keeps himself from slapping them and acting like they’re the only part of your body. There’s an ever growing to do list in both of your heads, your combined inexperience brings a flurry of perverted ideas and porn scenarios to recreate with it, and you’re sad that you’ll very likely leave with none of them being fulfilled.

He yanks the collar of your tank below your chest, immediately leaving over to bite your cute breasts with all the grace of a rattlesnake. He doesn’t try to make any marks, he just wants to bite wildly and with reckless abandon, like he’s using your tits to self soothe. You’d do the same if he let you at his pecs to be fair, his chest is practically as big as yours if not bigger.

“This means somethin’ to me, hear that? ‘m always gonna remember my first.” He spits, clutching onto your bruised tit like he’s a split second away from sinking his hand into your viscera and dumpster diving for your heart.

He pauses pawing at your tits to reach in his back pocket and pull out a condom. It’s crumpled and the packaging is worn by rubbing against the denim of Anakin’s jeans, you can tell that he’s excited to finally put it to use. You’re glad that there’s some safety measures being taken, but your heart swoops in disappointment at the dose of reality. It’s the kind of thing that calls for the most diabolical, unhinged, strings of goopy fluid hanging from his balls as they slap against your rippling ass, raw sex. You don’t let yourself pout, Anakin’s making good use of the only working brain cell between the two of you. You scoot back on his lap to give him room to pop to button on his pants and whip his dick out. It makes a heavy ‘thwop!’ as it slaps against Anakin’s abs.

Your mouth waters at the sight, so thick with the just right amount of curve, it would scratch your throat perfectly. His hands shake harder as he rips the condom’s packaging open with his teeth and rolls it on his twitching length. You take a deep breath, finding comfort in the tense muscles on Anakin’s shoulders through his warm flannel. He curls a hand around the base of his cock and grasps it tightly, positioning it right under your empty hole. You’re lucky he didn’t have to tell you what to do, because working yourself down every inch would’ve been much more painful if you already needed to be taught a lesson. It’s weirdly sweet, the chaste pecks he presses along your nose and jawline as you adjust to what feels like a tree log forcing your tender folds to stretch around it. Your slutty body tries to twist itself in a pretzel with the way you’re swiveling your hips, trying to get more of Anakin’s dick inside of you when you’ve miraculously already swallowed him to the hilt.

“I want this pretty pussy weepin’ for me, I’m awfully sorry honey but i’m not stopping till it’s gushin’ all over me.” He speaks in between wet kisses up and down the column of your throat.

“Mmm- It’s okay, I want it like that, Ani. Promise- oh my god, so big.”

You make him feel like a man trying to outrun a forest fire only to get swept up in a tornado. Like there’s a fever in his brain that’s gotten into his blood, black tar dripping into his liver. Drives a man to drink so he can have a sliver of that feeling, that scalding need not even God could give you. There’s no finesse or coordination to anything, his lips frantically scurry along random spots on your upper body. His upward thrusts are heavy hitting and wrangle your breath out in stuttered gasps, he moves as if he were riding a horse, following only the imagined scent of old blood. Anakin’s cock is so big your walls could rip if he wasn’t always keeping a sharp eye on how much he’s bullying you. He doesn’t try anything crazy like fucking your cervix, it might shock you so much that you remeber exactly how long it’s been since he’s had your car “taken to the shop”.

His spurs dig into the dirt as he slaps your ass, the material of his gloves adding an extra bit of ‘umph!’ to the resulting sting. Anakin’s jeans are so warm against your ass that it takes a few more spanks before you really get the urge to bend over his lap and tell him to just have at it until you sob. You’re on an ecstatic high, living in the present with a near stranger’s dick balls deep inside of you. His eyes gleam gold when you make eye contact, and you find it so easy to fall down the rabbit hole, letting this man burn away all your responsibilities until he’s the last one left standing in a sea of ashes.

You don’t mind that he stops talking eventually, switching to gruff grunts and harsh yells. ‘Don’t be so stiff, let the movement roll through you.’ Anakin digs his fingers into the meat of your jiggling ass and delivers a final smack to both cheeks. You sigh in relief, but then you snap out of your cockdrunk haze to yelp at the cruel hit to your swollen clit.

“Need ya to keep squeakin’ sweets.” He orders. “Don’t want the townsfolk to think I fucked your brain out your ears.”

It’d be polite to make conversation with the people you meet when Anakin parades you around with his hat on your head later, something of a pre engagement tour. If the Force is good, you’ll be willing, because rope burn isn’t something you want to become your new normal.

“Chin up, buttercup,” He says almost bashfully despite how hard he’s pounding your puffy cunt, “We can get some ice cream at the fair after if ya like, make it a cute little second date.”

You whimper and harshly pull his hair, earning you a throaty moan and another slap to your clit, saying yes to him like you’ve already done a million times. You thought that the pure social anxiety of being around so many of Anakin’s employees would be nerve wracking, it’s nothing compared to having to speak to them AND keep their boss’s cum from oozing down your leg. Anakin’s discarded belt catches your eye when a sharp thrust sends your head falling back, and you picture the scuffed up belt buckle as the O shaped ring of a more traditional collar. The black stains from working on your car only add to the appeal, it scares you exactly how much you’d let the man fucking you with a cheap gas station condom get away with. You’ve already heard him kill a man, finding yourself in a relationship is pretty much the natural next step.

When he cums deep inside with a hoarse growl, there’s the sound of a bear trap slamming shut on an unsuspecting bunny rabbit. Your simultaneous orgasm is the tiny squeal it makes before it dies.

“I forgot to ask, hun, what stuffed animal do ya want me to win for ya?”

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

[aheathen-conceivably]

Antoine’s job at Abraham’s ranch was more difficult than city life had prepared him for. Most days he spent hours on end shoveling hay or cleaning stalls while Abraham trained the horses. For three generations, his family had bred and raised the finest horses to sell to the region’s cattle ranchers and farmers. Antoine found him, and his ranch, surprisingly comfortable despite the constant heat and warm smell of animals that permeated the air. 

The work itself left him sore and exhausted, but at peace. When he had first tried wrangling or taming any of the horses, it had been a nightmare; but slowly Abraham explained to him how to tune his movements to their cues, and he learned how to respond to them as though by second nature. Every day and every attempt became easier, and Abraham allowed him more time with them. Then as they learned to trust him, the horses seemingly came to love Antoine just as much as he had always loved them.

Only for all his weeks at the ranch there was one horse who had never let him come near. She preferred to spend all her time in the darkened silence of her stall rather than outside in the sun like the other horses. Each day when Antoine entered to spread hay, she whinnied from the distance as soon as she smelled him, kicking her feet and backing into a corner until he finished his tasks.

But compared to the unrelenting sun at noon, the hostility of the darkened barn was peaceful. So any minute he had free, Antoine sat there with her, whistling quietly and calmly, as he looked into the distance so that he wouldn’t frighten her with his gaze. As the months went by she gradually became calmer in his presence, eventually coming to sit peacefully on the ground as he whistled for her. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like his whistle was the only thing that calmed her, and the songs overpowered the initial fear she held for him.

He had been sitting there month in and month out during the height of the noonday sun, when he heard the soft rustle of hay that meant she had risen to her feet; but there was no scratching or angry neighing afterward, just the quiet clacking of her hooves that told him she was coming nearer.

She poked her nose over the curve of the gate, signaling to him that she had finally grown to trust him enough to come to him on her own. He moved forward slowly, still whistling the same tune that he did every day. To his surprise, she didn’t move away at the sound of his boots. As he brought his hand close of her face he eased his whistles into words, “Hey there, girl. Abe told me you don’t much like anyone, huh?” He laughed quietly, blending it into another soft, whistled tune so that the sudden sound wouldn’t scare her, “Can’t say I blame you, you know? Knowing what I know about some folks in the world.”

His quiet speech was interrupted by heavy footfall and an impressed whistle. At its sound the horse retreated back into the shadows. “Silver, huh? Must say I am impressed. Only person she ever liked was my granddaddy.”

Antoine turned toward Abraham, following him to the stools facing the stalls and grabbing the cigarette he offered, “She’s the only horse here who ever actually met my granddaddy, God rest his soul. Her breeding days are past her, so I suppose I shoulda sold her long ago. Probably not worth a cent anymore, but I just can’t do it to her, not with how long she’s been here, when she was granddaddy’s favorite horse. I wouldn’t push her, but you get her to let you ride her and you’re welcome to, anytime you like. Promise me you’ll be cautious though, huh? I’ve seen her buck off one man too many to try myself. But then again, she never let me pet her the way you just were.”

He took another drag off his cigarette and then rose to go back outside, giving the horse in the corner a sad look, as though she knew more about his life and his family than he wanted to share with Antoine that day. Then he tipped his hat at her and walked away, telling Antoine that their brief moment of respite was over and there was work still to be done.

[londonbelow]

American Honey

in which Harry is a single dad/rancher and our faceless/nameless female MC babysits for him while he goes on a date warnings: age gap (both parties are consenting adults over the age of 21), a hint of choking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, squirting, nothing too kinky... this is literal shit im sorry ily anyways

I didn’t know how I got roped into babysitting for the man I was completely in love with, but here I was, pulling into his long gravel driveway on a beautiful September day. If you asked me a few months ago how much I enjoyed children, I would have laughed in your face and told you that I didn’t enjoy them at all and that you couldn’t pay me to spend time with them. 

That was until I met Harry. 

My best friend Kelsey was his niece. She introduced me when she began to take horseback riding lessons on his ranch shortly after he moved back to town. He wanted to be closer to his family after his wife had passed away, so he packed up his life and moved back to his hometown. 

The first time I saw him, his strong body mounted on top of a large brown horse, my breath got caught in my throat and wouldn’t dislodge the entire time I watched him ride. That day, most days, he wore a ratty old t-shirt that clung to his muscles and a pair of dirty brown cowboy boots under his tight jeans. He traded off between a black cowboy hat and a backwards baseball cap, one that boasted some sports team I had no idea about. Tattoos littered his strong arms and I knew they spread across his torso as well from all the times I drooled over him as he did manual labor around his ranch. 

He had a six year old daughter named Maisy that looked just like him, one who worshipped the ground he walked on. She followed him around like a baby duckling, excitedly showing him things he couldn’t possibly care much about, but he always reacted in a way that told her he did. It was endearing, watching him smile brightly at a large spider his small daughter caught and decided to name Annabelle. He shivered and grimaced as soon as his back was turned to his child, never letting her know that her affinity for bugs grossed him out. 

He was an angel with her. So patient and kind and goofy. Watching them together made me ache for something that I didn’t know I even wanted—a family. I was far too young to be thinking that way, of course, but it didn’t stop my heart from compressing every time I watched him hoist her up onto her pony to go for a ride. 

He was all rough around the edges but a gentleman nonetheless. The first time he met me, he removed his hat and bowed his head a little and called me honey in his luxurious sounding accent. He’d been calling me by that ever since then, claiming it was because I was “sweet as”. He didn’t call anyone else that I knew at the ranch by any sort of nickname, not even the pretty brunette veterinarian who came to tend to the animals. 

He asked me if I was interested in riding lessons and I lied immediately and said yes, absolutely. I was terrified of horses, actually, but I would have done anything he asked of me, as long as I could stare at him while doing it.

He was around 20 years my senior, not that he looked it. He had little crinkles near his eyes and smile lines from years of laughter. His skin was tanned and freckled from the sun, his arm and thigh muscles bulging from all of the physical labor he did. I knew I had daddy issues, but I had never been attracted to an actual dad until Harry. 

I had spent the last two months taking riding lessons with him, keeping my crush as lowkey as I possibly could, although every time his hands brushed my hips or my leg when he was helping me on and off the horses, I felt like I could just melt. 

We grew comfortable with each other and there were times when I thought he may be flirting with me, but it never went anywhere. I started to think I was delusional, that there was no real tension between us like I thought there was. Especially when he asked me in the shyest of tones if I would babysit his daughter for him while he went on a date. 

So here I was, huffing and puffing in annoyance as I sat in the driveway of his home, angry with him for dating someone else and angry with myself for agreeing to babysit so he could. I felt like an idiot. I enjoyed hanging out with his kid because she was a little weirdo like I was at her age, but I didn’t enjoy knowing he’d be out with some lonely housewife throwing herself at him. 

I let out a loud whine as I banged my head against the steering wheel a couple of times, letting my theatrics empty from my body before I sat up straight and composed myself. 

“Get a grip, he wouldn’t touch you anyways. You’re 25 years old. He’s your best friend’s uncle. Of course he wants someone his age, you’re basically a fucking child in his eyes.” I muttered to myself as I reached over for my bag and lugged it out of the car with me. 

It was filled with things I thought Maisy might enjoy, like my black lipstick and some Halloween decorations I had packed away. The child lived for all things horror, she treated every day as if it was Halloween and nothing scared her. It was one of the reasons I completely adored her, despite never liking most children. 

I looked down at my outfit as I made my way to the front door. I didn’t know how late I’d be stuck here, so I dressed comfortably, in little black shorts and a loose crop top. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I reached up to press the doorbell when the door flung open. 

My breath got caught again at the sight of him. His cheeks flushed red as he looked at me, a slow smile tugging on his mouth as he reached out to grab hold of my arm. 

“Hi, thank god you’re here, I need your help.” Harry tugged me into the house quickly. 

His hand on my skin sent goosebumps all over me. He pulled me with him through the corridor and the kitchen, toward his large bedroom. I felt a thrill run through me at his urgency to get me in there, but it settled as I remembered quickly that he wasn’t dragging me there to ravage me like I wanted him to. 

My eyes took him in as he pulled me behind him. He had on his usual jeans and a t-shirt, his usually unruly curls set into a more tame hairstyle. He hadn’t shaved, which I was grateful for, but he smelled fresh and clean and looked like he might be sick at any moment. 

He pulled me to where he had three different outfits laid out on his bed, gesturing to them and then looking at me helplessly. 

“Mr. Styles, I—” 

“Harry, darlin’. I told you to call me Harry.” He corrected me, his hand sliding down my arm, making my stomach flip around, “Now… which one?” 

“Where are you taking her?” I asked, reaching out to touch the fabric on one pair of pants. 

“The Lodge?” He said, sounding as if he were unsure. 

I made a face, impressed with his expensive selection but annoyed that it was going to another woman. He took my reaction the wrong way, assuming that I thought it was a bad choice for a first date. He put his head in his hands and groaned loudly. 

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” He breathed out, “I should just cancel. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not ready for this.” 

“Woah, hold on, I didn’t say that. It’s a nice restaurant. If you really like this girl…” I trailed off, swallowing hard over the lump in my throat. I looked down at the outfits he selected and smiled at his effort. I touched the edge of one of the more casual ones, “D-do you? Really like her?” 

“Well, I… like her. I don’t know if it’s worth a ‘really’ yet.” He smirked, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Wear this one. You’ll look great.” I pointed to the outfit. 

“Yeah?” He breathed out, moving closer to me so he could reach down to touch it as well, “You think?” 

His arm brushed against mine as we stood next to one another, looking down at my selection. I felt like I couldn’t breathe every time he touched me, even if it was accidental. I reached over and squeezed his arm, feeling my stomach clench up again when I did. This man did something feral to me. I wanted to get naked and display myself for the taking. I wanted him to take and take and take. 

“She’s a lucky lady.” I loosened my grip, letting my fingers brush down the length of his arm gently. 

He turned to look down at me, so close that I could feel his breathing against my forehead. He was much taller than I was, so much so that I had to crane my head back to look up at him. I saw his eyes slide down over my frame, so quickly and discreet that I almost missed it. He averted his gaze back to the clothes on the bed, nodding. 

“Thanks, honey. I should, uh… I should finish getting ready. Don’t want to be late, do I?” He reached up and scratched the back of his head, “Maisy’s in the living room watching the Addams Family again.” 

“Of course she is.” I laughed, moving to his door, “Hey, if she tells me you said it’s okay for her to watch Halloween, she’s lying right?” 

“She’s absolutely lying.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smile, “Nothing above PG-13.” 

“She’s six years old.” I stated dryly, watching him smile brighter as he reached for the bottom of his shirt. 

“Try telling that to her.” He joked, peeling his t-shirt off right in front of me. I felt saliva gather in my mouth at the sight of his tattooed torso, his muscles flexing as he moved. 

I stood there like an idiot, just staring with my lips parted, feeling as if I might start drooling any second. He looked at me, an amused expression on his face, lifting his eyebrows. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked. I reached up immediately and touched my mouth, forcing my lips closed and checking for drool at the same time. 

“Yep, sorry. I’ll give you some… privacy.” I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks heat up as I forced myself to leave his room, yanking the door shut behind me. 

I leaned against it and sighed heavily, composing myself before I went out to the living room where Maisy lounged. 

“Hey scream queen, you watching the Addams Family again?” I plopped down onto the couch, looking over at her. 

She was spitting image of Harry. Really, if I hadn’t seen photos of her late mother I would think he cloned her to look exactly like him. She had the same soft brunette curls, the same green eyes that looked blue in certain light, the same pouty pink lips and the same little accent as him. The only difference was the streak of temporary purple dye in her hair, which I put in for her a week ago. 

“Yep! When daddy leaves, do you wanna watch Halloween?” She whispered the question to me, smiling slowly like the little evil thing she was. 

“I will not be held responsible for your nightmares tonight, little one.” I reached over and brushed her hair out of her face. 

“Please, please, please.” She begged, grabbing onto my face with her tiny hands, squishing my cheeks together, “I won’t tell him, I swear! You’re my favorite babysitter ever, nobody else is as fun as you are.” 

I narrowed my eyes at her buttering me up, “You are good.” 

“I know.” She giggled loudly as I began to tickle her sides, watching her fall back against the couch cushions and squeal with delight.  

I didn’t notice Harry walk over to the living room at first. He just stood there, silently, watching me tickle his daughter with a smile on his face. I stopped when I finally noticed him, wondering how long he had been watching us. He seemed perfectly content to stay right there, his eyes steady on me and his daughter. 

He lifted his eyebrows and pushed himself off the door frame when he realized I had noticed him. 

His cheeks went slightly pink, “Alright, girls. How do I look?” 

We both watched him as he did a slow spin, showing off his outfit. I felt my heartbeat quicken at the sight of him. He looked incredible—wearing tight black slacks with a matching button-up shirt under a suit jacket. He left a lot of the buttons undone, showing off his chest where his shiny crucifix necklace was teasing me. I could have gotten down on my knees right then to pray. 

His eyes darkened slightly when they took in my reaction to him, so much so that I swore he could read the arousal I felt all over my stupid face. I swallowed hard, averting my gaze from him as my cheeks went up in flames. 

“You look nice, daddy!” Maisy said, rushing over to him and into his arms. He picked her up into his arms and gave her a toss into the air that made my heart stop for a second, but he caught her with ease and she screamed happily. 

Harry grinned at her, leaning down to rub his nose across hers, giving her their special bunny kisses. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. 

“You smell good, too!” She said, wiggling out of his arms and back down to the ground, “Will Miss Casey smell you tonight?” 

I almost laughed, but the reminder that Harry was going on a date with the local kindergarten teacher—a beautiful 30-something year old who was fantastic with children—made my heart drop into my stomach.

“I’m sure she will at some point.” Harry said in a bashful tone, reaching up to nervously scratch the back of his head. 

Maisy called my name, running back over to me and grabbing my hand, dragging me to her father, “Smell daddy!” 

“Uh, Maisy, I don’t think…” I started, but Harry smiled and shook his head to stop me. 

“I’d actually like to hear if you think it’s too much. I don’t wear cologne very often, only on special occasions.” He said sheepishly, “Do you mind?” 

Special occasions, like the date he was about to go on. My heart made another leap into my stomach, making me frown. 

“No, I… I don’t mind.” I said breathlessly, forcing a smile and stepping closer to him. 

I placed my hand against his shoulder even though I didn’t have to and then I leaned in close to him. I shut my eyes as I inhaled his scent, trying to force the moan down my throat. It came out as a soft “mmm” instead. 

He smelled delicious. Just the perfect amount of spicy and sweet mixed in with his natural musky scent that was so familiar to me after all the time we’d spent together. I wanted to nuzzle my face into his neck and inhale it again but instead I forced myself back from him, nodding like a crazy person. 

“She’ll love it.” I said quietly, watching his soft eyes follow me as I stepped backwards, my hand reaching out to take Maisy’s, trying to anchor myself back down to earth. She squeezed my hand tightly once before letting it go and running back to her movie. 

“K, bye daddy!” She called out, once again glued to the TV screen as Wednesday Addams tortured her brother for fun. 

I walked Harry to the door, my eyes scanning over him as much as I could before he took notice. I wanted to tell him not to go, to stay here with us instead. I wanted him to see how badly I ached for him and to take me up on the offer. I knew the idea was a complete delusion, I knew that he could never see me that way, but I couldn’t help my fantasies. 

He turned to face me at the front door, tapping his fingers gently against the edge of it as we looked at one another. There was so much staring between us, it felt like longing. He’d drape his slow gaze over me, not saying a word, making me tingle all over. 

“Okay, um, call me if you need anything. I shouldn’t be out too late. You know her bedtime routine…” He trailed off, patting his pockets to ensure he had his phone and his wallet, “Are you… are you sure I shouldn’t cancel? Stay here with you and Maze and watch Halloween movies instead?” 

Yes. Cancel. Forget her and stay with me, please. Please. My throat felt like it was closing up at my thoughts, too scared to say them out loud. I shook my head to him, forcing a smile.

“You need to go. Put yourself out there. You deserve to be happy, Harry.” I said to him, reaching up and patting his shoulder. I let my hand linger there for a long moment, just rubbing him in what I hoped was a comforting manner and not creepy. 

He reached up and put his hand on top of my own, squeezing it gently as he looked at me in a way that I hadn’t seen before. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as he pulled my hand from his shoulder, his fingers tightening around my own just for a moment before he dropped it. I clenched it into a fist, desperate to hold onto the feeling of his skin on mine. 

“You are something else, honey.” He said quietly, shaking his head slightly, “Thanks again for watching Maze, you know how much she loves you.” 

“Anytime.” I murmured, smiling, “Have fun tonight. Call if you’re going to be late, okay?” 

He smiled and nodded, taking another long moment to look me over. He flipped his car keys in his hand and let out a loud sigh before he turned away from me for good. I watched him leave, waving from the door as he backed out of the driveway, heading off to the last place I wanted him to go. 

I sighed heavily and locked the door, heading back to Maisy, who was digging through my bag greedily, giggling in delight at every new treasure she found. 

“I see you found my bag of goodies.” I said to her with a grin. 

“Are these for me?!” She squealed and I laughed, nodding as she pulled out a big stuffed bat that I picked up from Target. 

“They are, you little sneak. You could have waited for me to give them to you myself.” I laughed as I sat down behind her. 

“So…” Maisy climbed up to my lap, smiling, “Halloween?” 

I sighed and smiled, “You can’t watch that movie, Maisy.” 

“I’ve already watched it!” She whined. 

“How about Casper instead?” I suggested. 

She made a face, offended, “That wimpy ghost?” 

I laughed loudly, breathing out a sigh, “Okay, fine. But you’re covering your eyes for the bad parts.” 

Maisy rushed off my lap, clapping her hands in delight and jumping up and down next to me, “Can we have popcorn too? Can I have juice? Can I have candy?” 

“You are an absolute terror.” I grabbed her shoulders to stop her from jumping, listening to her laughter. I scooped her up and carried her to the kitchen anyway, unable to say no to her. 

“How about we make my famous brownies? That way your dad has something sweet to eat when he gets home.” I suggested to her as she climbed up onto one of the bar stools, starting to pull out all of the ingredients I needed. 

“Daddy doesn't need sweets when you’re around, on a count of you being honey and all.” She asked me, kicking her feet out over and over again as her eyes carefully watched me. 

“Oh? Is that so?” I laughed, raising my eyebrows. 

“I heard him talkin’ to Mr. Davis about it!” She nodded confidently, smiling at me at her knowledge of her fathers private conversations. 

Mr. Davis was Harry’s closest friend and one of the ranch hands. They were always shit talking and shooting the breeze whenever they had free time. I had no idea that Harry mentioned me at all to him and I couldn’t help but probe Maisy for further information. 

“And what exactly did your daddy say to Mr. Davis?” I narrowed my eyes, pulling different ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the countertop. 

“He said that he bets you taste just like honey, sweet as can be. He told Mr. Davis that he’d love to try it some time.” She squinted, “Do you have lots of bees at your house? Can I come see them?” 

I had to force my laughter down at her misunderstanding of what her daddy meant. I felt my face heat up at the confirmation that Harry thought about me in the same way that I thought about him. I had to press my hand against my chest to try and calm my breathing before I turned to face the little girl who was talking to me.��

“I do have lots of bees, but you better watch out, because they’ll sting you!” I turned and poked at her sides, tickling them and sending her on a laughter frenzy. 

“Now, back to business. We need a mixing bowl…” 

Maisy and I spent the rest of the night baking brownies and decorating them for her father. Then she ate way too many of them and passed out from a sugar crash about five minutes into Halloween. I carried her into her bedroom and tucked her in, starting to clean up the living room and the kitchen. 

It was still early when I finished up in the kitchen and I flicked the lights off, figuring I’d settle into the dark living room to finish watching Halloween by myself. I curled up onto the couch and shut all the lights off, stretching my body out.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Maisy told me, her little innocent mind not even realizing that Harry was talking about going down on me. I wondered if she heard him right or if I’d make a fool of myself by making a move the next time I saw him. 

I must have dozed off thinking about it, because the next thing I knew, I heard Harry’s key in the door and listened as he quietly shut it behind him. His gentle footsteps made their way into the living room and I barely opened my eyes to look at him. 

He stood by the entryway, staring at me, his eyes roaming over my body carefully. My breath got caught when I realized he was checking me out. He took his time, drinking in the outline of my body in a greedy manner. He ran a hand through his hair and started toward me, looking more and more full of want as he got closer. 

My eyes fluttered open as he pulled a blanket off the couch, intending to cover me up with it and leave me. I wasn’t ready for him to leave, I wanted to spend more time with him, so I made it known that I was up. I reached over and touched his hip, watching him pull back to look down at my face. 

“Hey…” I said sleepily, stretching my body out, a quiet moan releasing from my throat. 

Harry swallowed harshly at the sound, shifting on his feet, “Hey, sweetheart. You must have dozed off.” 

“Yeah, sorry.” I sat up slowly, once again stretching my limbs out before I stood up from the couch, “How was your date?” 

We were standing insanely close to one another, so much so that my chest nearly brushed over his own. I leaned forward so that my breasts would touch him, just barely, and he didn’t move back from me like I thought he would. 

“Horrible.” He whispered, shaking his head.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. How about I make you a drink and you can tell me all about it?” I offered him, watching him smirk at me. 

“Are you even old enough to drink?” He teased me, to which I gave him a playful shove against his chest. 

“Very funny. I’m not that young.” I said to him sternly, raising my eyebrows, “I’m old enough to do a lot of things. Things you couldn’t possibly imagine.” 

I watched his eyebrows hitch high on his forehead at that and then I smirked at him. I turned and walked out of the living room with that, knowing that he was watching me go, his eyes steady on my ass as it jiggled into the kitchen. I went to his bar, which was a locked cabinet, getting up onto the tips of my toes to try and reach the key that he kept hidden high up. 

I knew my shirt was rising up as I reached, exposing the underside of my breasts, and I swore I heard a small groan from Harry as he watched me.

“Harry? Can you help me?” I said softly, turning to look at him over my shoulder as I continued to try and reach the key. I knew I had no chance of getting it, but I also wanted him closer to me.

He obliged like I hoped he would. He came up behind me, his body pressing against mine too closely for it to be a mistake or a casual thing. He raised his arm to take the key down and I turned my head to look at him as he did this. Our faces were so close, if I moved just a few inches forward, I could kiss him. He could kiss me. I silently willed him to do it, but he didn’t. 

He just watched me, his eyes more intense than I’d ever seen them. He studied my features, moving slow as he handed me the key. Our fingers brushed lightly as he passed it to me, his hand so warm against my own. 

“Thank you.” I whispered, watching his eyes fall to my lips as they formed the words. 

He cleared his throat and backed away from me slightly, but not enough that I wouldn’t bump into him when I bent over to dig around in the liquor cabinet. 

“So tell me… what went wrong on the date?” I asked, carefully turning to bend over, my ass brushing over the front of his pants just barely when I did. 

I swore I heard him let out a gasp, but he didn’t move back from me like I thought he would. He stayed exactly where he was, hips solid as I leaned back slightly on my heels to give him a little more pressure. 

He froze in place as I did this but he didn’t pull his hips back. He did the opposite. It was subtle, but he flexed his hips forward against my body, letting me feel how hard he was for a second before he pulled back again. 

I stood up, turning to look at him with a bottle of bourbon in my hands. I eyed him, keeping my back to him as he moved in closer to me, close enough for his hips to graze over my ass again, his chest touching my shoulder blades. 

“Honestly?” He whispered, moving even closer to me, one of his hands brushing up against my hip as he did. 

“Tell me.” I replied, my voice hoarse, strained from the close contact between us, which made me feel like I was on fire. 

Harry’s eyes flickered down over my face, taking me in, and he swallowed harshly before he confessed, “Couldn’t stop thinking about you all night, honey.” 

My heart was pounding harder than ever before, going wild in my chest. Did he actually just say those words or was I hallucinating? I watched them form on his lips but it still felt unreal. I blinked at him, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth to bite down and make sure I was awake. He reached up and touched my chin, tugging my lip back out. 

He cleared his throat and shook his head, “Not bourbon.” 

His eyes were dark, narrowed down toward me as if he were angry, but I knew he wasn’t. He was turned on. Ridiculously so. I also knew that he loved bourbon, so turning it down meant that he wanted me to bend back over and pick up a different bottle. I didn’t ask him which liquor he wanted instead, I simply bent at the hips again and pushed my ass back into him as I put the bourbon bottle back. 

His hips once again made contact with my ass cheeks, his hard cock pushing up against me in a desperate manner, his fingers digging into the skin of my hip. I pretended to poke around in the cabinet, letting him keep himself pressed to me much longer than the first time. I snagged a bottle of vodka and stood up, pulling myself away from him abruptly. 

“How about this?” I asked breathlessly, licking my lips slowly as I turned my head to meet his stare once again. 

“Not that.” He shook his head, his eyes falling down to my mouth for a long moment. His voice was strained when he spoke again, “Bend back over and try again for me, sweetheart.” 

This time, I smiled slowly at him before I turned away, bending at the hips and jutting my ass out as an offering for him. He did the same thing as before—let me back up against him, let my ass press into his crotch. He was subtle in his movements the first two times, but something came unhinged for him this time. 

Maybe it was the way my loose shirt slid up and exposed my breasts when I bent that time. Maybe it was the way I reached back and grabbed onto his thigh to steady myself on the way down. He lost all sense of self-control, both of his hands now grasping roughly onto my hips and yanking me hard against him. 

A low moan released from his throat as he pulled me into him until my back was pressed against his front, burying his face in my neck. His hands clawed up my sides, hips grinding into me slowly, sensually, like he wanted me to feel all of him. 

“Fuck,” He moaned, “This is wrong… so so wrong.” 

I whined, clinging onto the edge of the counter as he continued to grind himself against me, my cunt dripping with desire for him, “Don’t stop. Please…” 

He grabbed onto both of my arms then, pulling them behind my back and holding them there, bending me over the counter so my bare breasts and my face were pressed to the cool marble. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long.” He slid his free hand around my hips, finding the wet spot at the front of my shorts and pressing into it, “You’re soaking wet…” 

“Oh god!” I cried out when he rubbed a circle against my clit, sending a shockwave through me. 

“Shhh…” He ordered me, “Shh, baby. Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, okay? Can you do that?” 

I whimpered and nodded, willing to agree to anything if only he would touch me again. I wiggled my hips back, needing more contact from him, and he grasped onto my shorts, yanking them down to my ankles. He got onto his knees behind me and I shut my eyes with a soft moan as he palmed my thighs, prying them open so he could get a good look at my pussy. 

“Fuck, look at this pretty little cunt.” He breathed in the scent of my arousal, groaning in pleasure, “I need to taste you, honey. I need to…” 

“Please, Harry…” I gasped out just as his tongue slid up my slit slowly, lapping up all of my juices. 

He moaned again as his tongue went wild, slipping up and down my slit and licking up every drop before dipping inside of me, trying to get as much of my arousal as possible. I couldn’t believe how deeply he was tongue fucking me, the sounds of him slurping up every drop sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head. 

“More, more, give me more…” He groaned against my cunt, the vibrations sending a new flood of arousal through me that he lapped up immediately. 

I was shaking, still clinging to the countertop, my face warm now against the marble. I swore I was going to start drooling soon if he kept diving his tongue deep into me, the pleasure being nearly too much for me to handle. 

“You are everything I’ve dreamed of and more.” He murmured as pulled back, standing up to his full height so he could unbutton his pants, “You gonna take every inch of my cock, baby? You think you can handle that?” 

“Yes, yes… please…” I moaned out, nodding in hazy delusion. 

“Stay still, gonna start slow for ya, since you’re being so good for me.” He panted out, removing his cock from his pants but leaving all of his clothes on otherwise. 

I glanced down, seeing how swollen and drippy he was with precum, desperate to be touched. His cock was beautiful, it was thick and long with delicious looking veins protruding from the sides. He fisted himself carefully, dragging his hand up and down it a few times, precum squeezing out. I wanted to lick it up, wanted to taste every inch of him that I could. 

He lined his hips up behind me and positioned his cock between my slit, pressing against me. He rocked his hips back and forth carefully, letting my pussy coat him with my arousal, getting it slippery wet. The head of his cock bumped up against my clit with every thrust he made and I let out a nearly-silent cry at the teasing. 

He reached his hands around to slip them up against my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples, making them harden at his touch. He buried his face in the back of my neck again, inhaling me, his lips trailing roughly across the sensitive skin there. 

He kissed along every inch of my neck, brushing my hair away from my skin so he could kiss more and more. He pulled me back against his body, his hand moving up over my chest and throat to grasp my chin, forcing my head to the side. I looked at him, craning my neck around as much as I could, offering him my mouth. He leaned in closer to me, our noses brushing, lips parting as we both panted heavily into each other's mouths. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re so fucking young.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against mine, still thrusting his cock up against my wet cunt but not entering me.

Both his hands went down to my hips, clinging to them tightly, his fingers digging into my skin as he tried to control himself. He was shaking as he pressed his cock against me over and over and I could see him unwinding for me.

“So then stop doing it.” I teased him, grinning wickedly. 

“Get over here.” He ordered me, pulling back so he could force me to turn around. His lips found mine right away, his tongue pressing into my mouth and flicking across mine. His large, calloused fingers took hold of my naked hips, shoving me up onto the counter and spreading my legs apart for him. 

“You want me to stop, baby?” He pulled back to whisper, his fingers slipping into my cunt, immediately stroking upward, making me feel things I’d never felt before in my life. 

“Oh fuck!” I cried out loudly, unable to keep it down. 

He slapped his hand over my mouth, keeping his face right in front of mine so I’d maintain eye contact with him. His fingers began to stroke me faster, harder, pressing into what I assumed was my g-spot. I’d never felt anything like it. My stomach rolled in the best way possible and my legs began to shake. My cunt clenched and gushed around his fingers, so wet for him that it was spreading all over my inner thighs the rougher he finger-fucked me. 

“There you go, that’s my girl… give it all to me, honey.” He murmured, tightening his fingers over my mouth when I moaned behind them, “Shh, come for me, come all over me, I want every fucking drop.” 

He began to finger me harder, faster, his fingers jerking up and down instead of in and out and I felt something explode inside of me. My orgasm hit hard, making me cry out from behind Harry’s hand, and he replaced it with his mouth, swallowing up all of my moans and curses. 

A warm liquid gushed out of my cunt and shot all over Harry’s torso as I came hard. That had never happened before. I pulled back from the kiss and looked in a panic to see his reaction, expecting him to be as confused as I was, but he looked overjoyed by it. His mouth found mine again, tongue excitedly taking control of my own. 

He kept his hand firmly inside of me, his thumb brushing through my public hair down to my clit, rubbing it in slow circles. He moaned into my mouth, his free arm going around my waist to tug me to the edge of the counter. 

“I want you to come like that all over my cock.” He murmured against my lips, kissing me desperately again as he removed his fingers from my pussy. 

He brought his wet hand up to our mouths, pulling back from kissing me so he could offer me his fingers. I sucked my arousal off of them, wiggling my hips down lower so my cunt was on full display for him. I spread my legs as far as I could, wanting him to have all of me. 

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you?” He whispered, to which I nodded, pulling off his fingers with a soft pop. 

“Been waiting for you to notice me.” I whispered back, “Took you long enough…” 

Harry sighed against my lips, shaking his head as he smiled slowly, “Crazy, crazy girl. I’ve been obsessed with you since the day I laid eyes on you.” 

“Really?” I whined out, watching him nod, licking his lips and leaning down to kiss me again. 

“Shh now, pretty. Need to be inside you so bad. Gotta be quiet for me.” He whispered, waiting for me to nod at him in confirmation before he pressed forward. 

I felt the swollen head of his cock pressing up against my cunt, begging for entrance. I rolled my head back, exposing my throat to him as he pushed slowly into me, filling me completely. My cunt stretched to accommodate his size and I gasped out at the slight sting of pain I felt as he kept pushing and pushing inside of me. His cock was big, but I had also only been with one guy before who was below average in size.

“God, fuck,” He gasped as he filled me to the hilt, holding still as he reached a hand up to brush my hair back, “You okay, angel? Hmm?” 

“S��full…” I mumbled, my mouth finding his, kissing him deliriously, “Feels so good… need more.” 

“Yeah? You want more? You wanna feel me so deep inside of you, stretching you out?” He murmured against my mouth, tongue slipping out to tease along my upper lip. I gasped when he pulled back, rolling his hips forward into me hard, “I know it feels so fuckin’ good. Look how you take my cock like the perfect fuck toy you are.” 

He grabbed onto my face, squeezing it as he made me look down between our bodies at the way his cock slid in and out of me, shiny with my arousal. We looked back up at each other in unison and I slid my arms over his shoulders, fisting a hand into his hair. I pulled his mouth back to mine and kissed him deeply, only pulling back to gasp for air or moan his name. 

“Made for me, you’re fuckin’ made for me…” He whispered against my lips as he thrust deeper and deeper into me. When he wasn’t kissing me, he’d slide his large hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. 

“This is mine now.” He ordered me as he slipped his hand between our bodies, fingers finding my clit so he could rub quick circles against it, “Tell me, tell me your pussy belongs to me now.” 

I moaned at his hushed tones, at the strain in his voice as he tried desperately to keep his voice down so we didn’t wake his daughter. He laid kisses down my jaw and to my neck, sucking at the spot right by my ear that sent goosebumps all over my skin. 

“It’s yours, I’m yours. Fuck, don’t stop.” I gasped out, clinging to him harder, digging my nails into his back, “You feel so good, I’m gonna… fuck!” 

He began to pound into me, fingers gripping my thighs so tight that I knew I’d have bruises there the next day. I didn’t care. I wanted him to mark me all over, to claim me as his own, to leave me with reminders of what we did in this dark kitchen. 

Harry grabbed my face in  one hand, squeezing my cheeks hard as my lips fell open in ecstasy. He slid his tongue against my own, coaxing it out, licking across every crevice of my mouth in a sloppy manner. I felt consumed by him in every sense of the word, felt completely claimed in a way I hadn’t expected to feel. I knew I’d never get over this, never be able to go back to fucking guys my own age after experiencing him. 

“Good girl… wanna feel your cunt squeezing me, milking every drop outta me. That’s it, baby. You feel like heaven, oh god.” He gasped, his lips brushing mine with every word, “So fuckin’ hungry for my cock…” 

“Harry… Harry, Harry, Harry…” I moaned out as he reached down to grasp the back of my thighs, shoving my legs up until my knees pressed into my torso, bending me in ways that I knew would leave me sore. 

His eyes fell down to watch his cock pound into me, his breath quickening at the sight, “So fucking wet, baby… god. I’m gonna come, do I need to pull out?” 

I shook my head wildly, whimpering at the intense feeling building up in my abdomen, “On the p-pill. Fuck, Harry! Need you to fill me up. Please, please, come inside me.” 

My legs went over his shoulders as he grabbed me by the throat, applying the slightest of pressure as he tugged my mouth to his own, kissing me deeply. 

He stopped kissing me and I let my eyes flutter open, finding his dark green ones staring back at me. He looked so intense, so full of desire, it made me shiver all over. 

“Look at me, sweet girl. God, you’re beautiful. Don’t look away… right there, baby.” He nodded his head and then his mouth fell open, a moan releasing from him that tipped me over the edge. 

I kept my eyes on his own blown out ones as I came around his cock, my cunt clenching over and over with each wave that hit me. I gushed all over him and he moaned louder at the feeling of it. I clung to him desperately, digging my nails into his back as I pushed my hips forward, trying to ride out my orgasm as long as I could. I never looked away as I watched him come, his cheeks flushed and lips shiny with my spit. 

He moaned my name as he came hard, his body shaking and trembling against my own. I slid my fingers into his sweaty hair, watching the way he came undone. He kept eye contact with me the whole time, drinking me in, like he couldn’t get enough.

Harry kissed me, his tongue moving over mine sensually, his fingers releasing their harsh grip into my skin. His breaths came hard against my cheek as we kissed, but he didn’t pull back to catch it until he had kissed me as long as he could. His hold went from rough to gentle, arms slipping around my back, his fingers a whisper against my spine. We stayed like that for a long time, with him nestled inside of me, our breathing and heartbeats both slowing back to normal. 

“Let me clean you up.” He whispered, slowly pulling out of me, rubbing his hands over my thighs when I dropped them down. 

I felt like jello, like I would melt into the countertops if he didn’t hold onto me tight. He massaged my thighs for a long moment before he reached over for some napkins, using them to clean all of his cum off of the both of us. I watched him bend over to pick up my shorts and underwear, which were left forgotten on the kitchen floor. 

He pressed kisses to my ankles and calves as he carefully slid my shorts back on, waiting for me to lift my hips so he could pull them all the way up. I was grateful for the help as I knew as soon as I stood on both legs, I’d be wobbling all over the place. 

Harry pressed his hands to the counter on either side of my body, leaning forward until his face was inches from mine. His eyes were dark, his gorgeous mouth so close to my own that I could feel his warm breath as he let out a long sigh. 

I thought maybe this would be the moment he tells me that this shouldn’t have happened, that this couldn’t continue, that he was too old or I was too young and we were both stupid with lust. I braced myself like I would for a punch. 

But he didn’t say that. He leaned in and he kissed me passionately, lifting his hands to cup my face between them. He brushed my hair back and then pulled my lips from his, his eyes finding mine right away. 

“The next time I ask you if I should cancel a date,” Harry smiled slowly, lips brushing over mine, “Say yes.” 

[leiawritesstories]

prompt but Rowan sees Aelin wearing another cowboys hat and then has to tell her about the rule “you wear the hat you ride the cowboy”

i'm not even sorry. enjoy!

word count: 1,293

warnings: ummmmmm....*cackles* none.

Hop Right On

for an even better oneshot of this kind of prompt, READ THIS by @empress-ofbloodshed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan Whitethorn, Wyoming’s finest cattle roper, had been staring at the woman perched on the fence for at least an hour. And he wasn’t planning to stop staring anytime soon. 

Because the woman was Aelin Galathynius, owner of the local Flamin’ Heart Diner chain, and she was sprawled on his fence with her hair loose and coffee in her hand, watching the sun rise, wearing cutoff jeans shorts, an old plaid flannel shirt of his, and her worn old leather boots. 

Oh, and Fenrys Moonbeam’s cowboy hat. 

Fen was his second in command; he headed Rowan’s land while Rowan was off handling the herds. He’d been friends with Aelin for years, having known her since the two of them were seven and eight years old and in the same class at the elementary school. Rowan met Aelin in high school, where her spunk and her sass caught the eye of just about every guy in the building, but her eye, somehow, had fallen only on him. 

Aelin had taken to spending more time out at his ranch, claiming she preferred the quiet of the open skies as opposed to the noise of Cheyenne, though both of them knew she was a city girl at heart. It was definitely because she was his girlfriend, and honestly? Rowan had absolutely no complaints against the woman he loved staying at his place. 

He did, however, have several (thousand) complaints about her boldly wearing another man’s cowboy hat. 

“Mornin’,” he drawled, strolling up behind her and leaning against the fence, one arm braced behind her back. 

“Morning, Ro,” she hummed, her carefully cultivated city voice in sharp contrast to his rancher drawl. 

“Someone’s up with the sun,” he commented, mischief dancing in his bright green eyes. 

“Only time I can get coffee without worrying there’s ranch hand spit in the pot,” she teased. 

Rowan chuckled, low and raspy. “I wouldn’t put it past Moonbeam to drink from the coffeepot and backwash, no I would not.” His eyes narrowed. “Speakin’ of Moonbeam...” 

“Yeah?” Oh, she knew. 

“That’s his hat, ain’t it?” 

She flashed him a roguish grin. “Yup. Sure is.” 

“Baby,” he drawled, leaning close enough for his breath to fan across the back of her neck in the way he knew drove her insane, “What’s the rule?” 

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” She batted her lashes innocently. 

“Aelin,” he spluttered, not having expected that. 

She snickered. “And speaking of riding the cowboy...here he is!” she chirped, hopping off the other side of the fence and going over to meet Fenrys. “Morning, Fen!” 

“Well hey there, Galathynius,” Fen greeted, smirking at his hat sitting lopsided on her head. “You askin’ me somethin’, Miss CEO?” 

“Give me a ride?” she inquired, all sweetness and innocence. 

Rowan growled low in his throat. Actually growled. 

“My pleasure,” Fen grinned lazily, patting his shoulders. “Hop right on.” 

“Meet me at the ranch house, darlin’!” Aelin called to Rowan. 

And she hopped onto Fen’s back piggyback-style, her legs bracketing his hips as he hooked his arms hands under her knees, to support her. 

“Gods burn me,” Rowan grumbled, loping off after his laughing girlfriend and his second as Fen jogged towards the house, making horse-ish sounds for full comedic effect. Gods above. Was the man five? He sure as hell acted like it. Almost every damn day. 

Fen dropped Aelin off at the porch. 

“My thanks for the ride,” she snickered, placing his hat back atop his head. And squishing it down, much to his outrage. 

“My hair!” he yelped, pulling off his hat and fluffing his hair back up. 

“Such a lil’ diva,” Aelin teased, perching herself on the porch swing as Rowan approached. 

“Aww, is your poor hair flat?” Rowan snarked, cramming Fen’s hat down on his head just for fun. 

“Ass!” Fen shrieked, yanking off his hat again to re-fluff his hair. “Y’all are awful!” 

“We really are,” Aelin smirked. 

“Moonbeam, don’t you have fence to mend?” Rowan leaned against the front door. “Ain’t mending itself, boyo.” 

“Fine, fine, I know a dismissal when I get one,” the blonde man complained. “I expect food, though, y’know.” 

“One favor at a time, Moonbeam.” Aelin blew him a little kiss, then waltzed into the ranch house, swaying her hips more than strictly necessary as she passed her boyfriend. 

Then she snagged Rowan’s hat off its peg behind the door and settled it jauntily onto her head. 

“Much better,” Rowan purred, his eyes lighting up when he saw her don his hat. “Why you had to put Fen’s on, I’ll never understand.” 

“I just had to rile you up,” she grinned. “Y’know there’s nothin’ like a li’l jealousy in the morning.” Slipping back into the ranch drawl of her childhood. 

“Certainly makes a man hungry,” Rowan agreed, striding towards her, the light in his eyes darkening. 

“Which is why I’m making waffles!” she declared, dodging his arms and going into the kitchen. “And bacon, just for you.” 

Damn, but he couldn’t be too irritated when she promised her famous waffles, the dish that had propelled Flamin’ Heart Diner from her side venture into the highly successful chain it now was. 

After breakfast, Aelin barely had time to kiss Rowan goodbye before he took off for the section of his land where the fence needed mending and she left for town to spend the day split between her office in downtown Cheyenne and the Flamin’ Heart locations in the city, the day-to-day of being the owner of the chain a familiar routine ever packed with new surprises. 

Like the freezer malfunction in the downtown location that resulted in half the walk-in being somewhat flooded with a couple inches of water and everything in there rushed into coolers and atop ice to keep it usable. 

That little adventure had resulted in several phone calls and a visit from the technician, who declared that a component in the cooling system had blown out and needed to be replaced. Luckily, it was a part that was easily found, one he happened to have in the shop, so he went and got the part and restarted the freezer, which started running again like nothing had ever happened. Aelin left the staff with strict instructions not to put anything back in the freezer until the next morning, since it had to get to temperature again, and went back to her office shaking her head. 

The things one found in the restaurant business, indeed. 

She drove back to Rowan’s knowing she’d probably beat him home, and sure enough, when she parked in the gravel drive in front of the house, his pickup was nowhere to be seen. 

Perfect. 

Plenty of time for her to set her plans in motion. 

Rowan heaved a deep sigh as he walked into his house, greeted by the comforting sounds of Aelin whipping up dinner. “I’m home!” he called. 

“Go shower!” she returned, the laugh in her voice evident. 

He chuckled. “I don’t smell that bad, baby.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, cowboy.” A spatula waved at him from the kitchen. “I don’t allow cattle smell at my table, darlin’.” 

Grinning, he trudged upstairs to shower, the hot spray soothing his tired muscles and cleaning away the dirt and sweat of the day. He toweled himself off, throwing on an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers, and headed back downstairs, the promise of dinner tempting his nose and mouth with all kinds of tantalizing scents. He strolled into the kitchen, intending to give his girlfriend a bit of a kiss before dinner. 

And stopped dead in his tracks, every thought flying right out of his head. 

Because Aelin sat atop the counter, smirking wickedly, wearing his battered old cowboy hat. 

And absolutely nothing else. 

~~~

TAGS: 

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@nerdperson524

@claralady

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@story-scribbler

@nicolivesinbooks

@mackenzieclutt

@stardelia

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@wordsafterhours

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@irondork

@elentiyawhitethorn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@chronicchthonic14

@whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

@sweet-but-stormy

@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

@rowaelinrambling

@thegreyj

@silentquartz

@backtobl4ck

[bellarkeselection]

Not just benefit anymore

Request from @cockscombkingdom Rip and the reader have a friends with benefits on and off thing that her sister Beth knows about. Walker flirts with her and feelings are revealed.

Pulling my shirt over my head I eyed Rip who was getting ready for work too. For awhile now we've been sleeping together after my best friend started sleeping with Walker. I haven't ever had good history with actually relationships so I'm totally with just dating him to share his bed. Rip was okay with it as far as I know since he's jealous that the girl he's been in love with for years chose someone else. Exiting his cabin I put my cowgirl hat on my head saddling a horse hearing someone else rode up on their own horse. "I must say you look beautiful Y/n." Walker's voice met my ears and I glanced towards him.

"Thanks Walker." I voiced watching him lead his horse closely to mine making me slightly confused. "What'd you say to us spending the night together later?" He suggested with a smirk making me bite my lip. Rip and I had kept our sex life a secret but I guess that didn't matter when he's sleeping with my sister. Yeah my best friend is also my sister Beth. We'd been there for each other since we were the only girls on a ranch full of men. "Actually I'm busy later." I try letting him down easily but he leans close towards me whispering in my ear. "I can treat you better than my boss can." I shivered hearing Rip ride up on his horse towards us, an angry espression written all over his face.

"Walker stop yapping your gums and get your ass back to work!" He threatened glaring at him. "If you don't I make you sleep outside where the wolves might get you!" Walker rolled his eyes riding off into the field and I called over my shoulder riding off for my morning ride. "I'll see you later Rip!" He follows after me so I slowly make my horse walk slower. "I need to talk to you later tonight alright." I simply nod riding off. Rip watched you ride off thinking to himself about how he started feeling differently about your friends with benefits relationship. He never thought he'd love anyone else besides Beth, but indeed had with her sister. It was just eating away at him if you'd want to be an actual relationship instead of just having sex sometimes.

Hours later with the sun setting over the fields I take a seat on the porch waiting for Rip to come back. Lifting my head up I heard his boots hitting the wood watching him remove his cowboy hat and sitting down beside me. "So what did you want to talk to me about?" I questioned intertwining my hands together in my lap staring at him. He rubbed the back of his neck stuttering. "Well I um - wanted to talk about our current relationship..." He doesn't make eye contact with me so I felt like I did something wrong. "Have I done something wrong Rip?" He whipped his head around gasping and suddenly cupping my face in his hands kissing me.

"No Y/n you haven't done anything wrong. I'm trying to say I love you and I want to be in a relationship with you, for more than just sex." Staring into those brown eyes of his I felt happy tears fall down my face. Wrapping my arms around his neck I pulled him in for a deep kiss. "I want all of you too Rip Wheeler. Is that why you got mad at Walker, you were jealous?" I had trouble holding in a chuckle seeing him lightly blushing. "Awe you don't need to be. I only love you." He nods wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me into his chest. Laying my head in the crook of his neck we watched the subset off in the distance. "You're the only one I want too, Y/n Dutton."

Comments really appreciated 🤗

[eyes-of-rock]

Picture This

Part: II -> Part: I

Rick Savage X OC {Casey Spencer}

A/N: Comments and reblogs welcome! Also I’m doing a Sav POV on part of this chapter as the next one don’t worry.

Casey’s POV

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, making me set down my camera for a second to see who’s trying to get a hold of me. Now is a good time because everyone in the band is eating and it’s kind of weird to take photos of people eating.

I glance down at the Home Screen and see it’s a text from my dad. He’s not the biggest on texting, only doing it when he doesn’t want to bother me or he’s sending me a photo of something. I click on the text to open it and sure enough it's a photo. It’s of him and my pure black stallion, who I affectionately named Black Sabbath, Sabbath for short. Yes after the band. It's not that weird, have you heard some of the names of race horses? I promise you Black Sabbath is normal compared to that.

I can’t help but smile at the photo, how I miss both of them, but mostly Sabbath. No offence to my dad who I love very much, but I miss the damn horse so much. So many great times riding him until the sun came down around the ranch. He’s my baby, and I know he misses me too, and I can’t wait to see him again when the tour passes through Montana.

I can’t help but smile again as I read the text my dad sent with it, “Missing our girl.” I text my dad back, “missing you guys too.” Then I lock my phone screen and look up to see Joe staring at me, with an amused look on his face.

“What?” I ask genuinely confused, why the hell is he looking at me like that?

“What are you smiling about?” Joe asks me, “Have a boyfriend back home?”

“God no.” I snort about to burst out laughing, me and a boyfriend from back home? Never, I was always the weird kid, no one ever showed interest in me and most of them are cowboys not my type. “I was texting my dad, he sent me a photo of my horse.”

“Your horse?” Sav asks, raising an eyebrow at me, obviously curious about my comment regarding a horse.

“Yeah, my black stallion, Sabbath.” I tell him, pulling up the photo of Sabbath my dad just sent me. “See, my horse and my dad.”

“He’s a pretty animal.” Sav comments looking at the photo on my phone. “So you own a horse then?”

“No, not technically. My dad owns him, but my dad gave me Sabbath as a birthday gift.” I tell Sav, sliding along my photos to find one of my on my horse.

“Did you grow up on a horse farm or something?” Sav asks, he seems pretty interested in this and I appreciate it, there is nothing I love more than talking about my life on the ranch and my horse.

“No, my dad owns a ranch. He raises cattle.” I tell Sav, as I find the photo I’m looking for and show him. “See, this is me riding Sabbath.”

Of course the photo has me in full cowgirl mode, with my boots, chaps, shades and cowboy hat on, with a rope by my side because that day I was out helping my dad and the boys with the cattle.

“You’re like a real life Cowgirl.” He says, sounding astonished, though I’d hardly call myself that, I mean I’m nothing compared to my dad who’s for sure a real life cowboy. I guess I do look like one in that photo though.

“Did you think I wore cowboy boots for fashion?” I joke, knowing full well it was a massive fashion trend among rock stars in the 80s hell if I remember correctly Joe had some.

“I did yeah.” He admits, “but it’s actually quite interesting.”

“I can assume you kill these cows, correct?” Phil asks, looking slightly horrified, probably because he’s a vegetarian and just found out his new companion grew up raising animals to kill them.

“Yeah, but they had a damn good life before.” I inform him, trying to make him feel a bit better about it. “It’s part of the life of a rancher.”

Phil still looks slightly horrified but at least he’s not giving me some lecture about how my family are murders or something, I appreciate it.

“Wait, Sabbath, like Black Sabbath?” Viv suddenly pipes up looking at me with an odd expression.

“Yeah, I named my horse after black sabbath, i promise you it’s not that weird.” I tell him, “You haven’t seen anything weird till you’ve seen race horse names.”

He still looks at me dumbfounded by that, and I have to say it’s pretty funny to shock everyone in Def Leppard so much by being a rancher's daughter.

“You see now Joe? I wasn’t texting some secret boyfriend, just my dad. Also I wouldn’t want to date anyone where I’m from.” I tell him, “I’m the most single person alive.”

“Good.” I hear Sav say beside me, and turn to look at him confused.

“What?”

What does he mean by good? Like it’s good I’m single? But why the hell would he care? It’s not like he likes me in that way right? I mean he’s nice to me, and we get along well, he even calls me love and I like him a lot. I mean I’ve had a crush on him forever, and he’s so much more amazing then I could have imagined but he’s Rick Savage. He’s the bassist of Def Leppard, one of the biggest rock bands to ever exist and I’m just a girl from Montana. I mean there is no way he’d like me in that way, so it can’t be that, though that’s typically what it would mean. What else could he possibly mean? Maybe he’s happy I’m single because I can focus better? Or maybe it was just unfortunately timed and he meant good for a whole different reason.

“I-I meant this sandwich is good.” Sav tells me, “it’s not good you’re single, love. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I like it.” I tell him, and it makes a lot of sense since it was just unfortunately timed, I mean of course he wouldn’t want me in that way. I can always dream though.

“If you’re happy that’s what matters, love.” He smiles at me returning back to his food.

I jump as I feel my phone vibrating again only this time it’s continuous, meaning someone is trying to call me. I take out my phone again and see it’s my dad, I can’t ignore my own father and nothing too exciting or important is happening, so now is as good as ever.

“I’ve got to take this.” I tell all the leppard guys as I get up and leave the room so I can have some privacy as I talk to my dad.

[demonbanisher]

Alright, y’all wanted more t4t wolfstar cowboy AU so here we go! Here’s Part 1 if you haven’t read it. Gotta make up from yesterday so our prompts are gonna be blooming and camper. Is this a microfic anymore? I don’t know. @wolfstarmicrofic

Bloom

There is something to be said for the experience of becoming yourself, of watching all the other layers melt away until one day you catch a glimpse of yourself in a puddle or you laugh, actually laugh and you just think “oh, there you are. You were waiting inside of me all along.” 

Since being at the ranch, Sirius had found himself blooming. Hard labour turning shoulders broad in a way that made his hips look more square, breasts not disappearing but slipping into pectoral muscle in a way that felt more like home. Somehow after years of dirt and mud, he was finally washing clean. He was finally breaking through. 

Meanwhile, Remus was wilting. The strong confident stranger Sirius had seen on the horse that day seemed to be getting smaller and smaller and when he’d catch glimpses of Remus around the ranch, he was becoming more certain that it wasn’t Remus he was looking at; it was someone else. It was that name some of them still called him.

Sirius was in the middle of lugging another bag of feed into the barn when Remus came barrelling out of the main house, the door slamming behind him. Some of the ranch hands whistled at him as he went which only made him seethe more. He untied Terra from the fence and climbing over her back in one smooth motion before digging his heels in until she was galloping off in the distance. 

Sirius dropped the heavy bag down onto the ground. “Give me a horse,” he said to James, another ranch hand and Remus’s friend, who was watching him go.

“What?” James said, turning back to him. 

“Give me a horse. I need to go talk to him.”

Sirius watched the worry on James’s face replace itself with a smirk. “Okay city boy. You can have a horse.”

Sirius didn’t get what he was being so smart about. Riding a horse couldn’t be that hard. You just got on its back and went, right?

He was wrong. Sirius was so wrong. He was sure he’d never been more wrong in his whole life. He’d barely gotten onto the back of the horse before James was slapping its flank as it was galloping away at speeds Sirius couldn’t keep up with. Before he knew it was clinging desperately to the horse’s neck in a last ditch effort to not end up beneath its hooves.

“Woah!” A voice called and Sirius managed to just make out the blurred figure as Terra as she looped around Sirius’s horse until she slowed down enough for Sirius to let himself slide off and onto the ground with a thud. 

He heard the heavy sound of Remus’s boots and then he was looming over him. His cowboy hat blocking out the sun.

“Are you okay?”

Sirius groaned. “Would you believe me if I told you I was coming to save you?”

Remus laughed but it was a hollow sound and died out quickly. He sighed deeply and flopped down onto the grass next to Sirius. “Why is it so hard for them? They say they get it but I don’t really think they’re trying. I keep telling them about the ranch hands who won’t call me the right name, who won’t listen to me and they just shrug it off like they can’t do anything about it. They own the damn farm. They pay their wages. Sometimes I just want to go somewhere else. Somewhere I can be myself.”

Sirius squinted up at the clouds, shielding his eyes with his hand. “If you do choose to run away may I recommend taking a car that actually works.”

“Sorry,” Remus mumbled.

“Don’t say sorry. It’s shit that my parents didn’t get me at all and it’s shit that your parents have given you the bare minimum. Just cause it hurts differently doesn’t mean the hurt means any less. It’s shit that we have to leave anywhere to be who we are.”

Remus was silent for a long time. Sirius was okay with that. He knew sometimes there are things you can’t say out loud because then they will be real. You can’t say them because they’re too heavy and once they’re finally out in the world you can’t stop them from breaking you anymore. Sometimes you have to hold it together because you can’t afford to fall apart. 

“I think we should go camping.”

“Camping?” Sirius asked. He’d never been before but then again he seemed to be doing a lot of things he hadn’t done before lately.

“There’s this pasture we take the cattle out to sometimes. No light pollution. No roads. No nothing. It’s like the world doesn’t exist out there. Like it can’t touch me.”

Sirius thought that the field by the road where Remus had found him might be another one of those places. Another place where Remus could let himself bloom and he’d give anything to see all of Remus’s petals in their full glory again. After all, flowers can’t just grow anywhere. They need the right environment. They need the right kind of care. They need the right kind of people to care for them. 

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Let’s go camping.” If this place was the right kind of soil for Remus he’d take him there. He only had to hope he could be the right kind of water, a gentle touch, a bit of sunlight, to help him through the drought, to help him remember what it feels like to grow again. To help him look in the mirror and finally see a whole damned garden. After all, everyone deserves the chance to sprout into something new.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part eighteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7450 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part eighteen: A week later Dean and Y/N are training for the Flagstaff Horse Show, a last repetition for Congress. They are enjoying the honeymoon phase of their relationship, until Bobby calls Dean into his office. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music:  ‘Little Boy’ - Barns Courtney (scene Singer house), ‘The Farm’ - Thomas Newman.  Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: I’m excited for this one, y’all! Thank you @kittenofdoomage​, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “More leg, Y/N. Keep rhythm in that circle!”      Dean has climbed up on the fence of the large arena. His hands are folded together and his elbows rest on his knees, the heels of his cowboy boots hooked behind the lower bar. He watches a horse and rider in front of him from under his hat, picking up even the tiniest flaw and highlighting what’s done well.      As her trainer gives directions, Y/N pushes her calves a little tighter against Meadow’s flank, her right hand outstretched towards the mare’s ears as they finish their circle at speed. Elevated in her stirrups slightly, she makes sure the circle stays perfectly round while maintaining the constant one-two-three beat of hooves drumming against the earth. She can hear Dean’s strong and clear voice above the noise of the wind.      “There ya go. Nice one!”  

     It’s 6.45 AM and the sun has just risen, its early rays of daybreak warming the headwrangler’s back. The nights are getting colder, even in the valley, so the warmth is pleasantly welcome. Summer has come to an end, which means the ranchers are following a different work schedule now. Downside; their midday siestas are no longer a thing, at least not until spring. Upside, they start an hour and a half later in the morning. When he says ‘they’, he means ‘everyone but him and Y/N’, because they have been training for Congress every day. 

     The perfect final repetition for the big event in Columbus is a local horse show in Flagstaff, coming up this weekend. Gold Canyon ranch is going there with a truckload of horses and both Jo and Dean are competing. The head wrangler  convinced Y/N to sign up as well. They can test the new freestyle and see how Meadow does in competition, since it’s been a while since she last showed. 

     Pleased, he observes the woman who was born to ride. They are ready, no doubt about that. He knows it; the only person who needs to believe it now is Y/N.      “Wanna practise a few stops and call it a day? Wouldn’t wanna overwork her,” he suggests when her horse comes past in a slow canter, or a lope.      “No spins?” she checks, not confident with leaving such an essential element out of her training.      Dean smiles at her eagerness; ever the perfectionist.      “I’ve never seen you two screw up a spin. Don’t worry, they are solid,” he reassures.

     She nods while looking over her shoulder, then straightens her back, following the movements of her horse. When she reaches the short end of the arena, she steers away from the fence, bringing Meadow onto the straight line out of another perfect circle. Y/N doesn’t get the chance to give aid to pick up momentum, because before they are fully straightened out, her partner speeds up already.       “Circle her back. Let her wait,” Dean instructs.      The cowgirl tilts her pelvis slightly and sinks deeper in the saddle, before swerving away from the line. She shakes her head disapproving. Come on, Y/N, you can do better than that.  

     “She keeps taking over,” Y/N ponders, slowing down when approaching her trainer.      “She’s a smart horse. Most of the time that works in your favor, sometimes it doesn't. She wants to anticipate instead of letting you do the thinkin’. You don’t wanna discourage her enthusiasm, so what you gotta do is keep her busy. Give her something to do, vary your patterns. Throw her off her game a lil’ bit,” Dean explains to his pupil, who listens intently.      “Ride down the line again, but don’t do the usual sliding stop at the end. Don’t speed up, don’t even think about the stop, okay? All you’re gonna do is let her wait for your call.”      Y/N nods, feeling a little bit more confident after being given directions. “Okay.” 

     She moves her reins over Meadow’s mane, turning her around, gently aiding her to hustle forward in an easy canter. When she’s back at the short end of the large pen, the rider lets her horse roll away from the fence and onto the line again. She can feel the power under her, so much energy waiting for a release and ready to bolt.      “Steady... Just sit and relax. Let her figure it out,” Dean calls out, loud enough to reach his student’s ears several yards away.      A little confused Meadow pulls at the bit slightly, but Y/N does exactly what she’s supposed to do. Instead of punishing the behavior, she ignores it and lopes down the line, repeating the exercise. The second time around, the American Quarter mare already has her ears perked at her rider, waiting for a cue.      “Change leads. Try the same thing on the right hand.”       Trying to sit loose in the saddle, moving with the thousand pound animal under her, Y/N guides her horse onto the diagonal line and crosses the arena. Normally she would do a flying change in the center, a transition from left to right canter during the brief moment of suspension, almost like the horse is skipping. However, this time the rider decides against it, making Meadow wait until she reaches the other end, where Dean is watching his pupil closely from the fence.      “Smart, well done! That’s riding, Yankee,” the head wrangler compliments.

     With a smile on her face she continues the exercize, working on her horse’s assertiveness and patience instead of the actual pattern. Dean has a point; she can ride the test blindfolded. Hell, blindfold Meadow too and they would still be able to nail it, but only if the mare is willing to wait and follow her lead.      The third time Y/N canters up the simple straight line, the bay mare relaxes, lowering her head a little more and calmly keeping a slow and steady rhythm. It’s exactly the response Dean was hoping for.      “Next straight you do the sliding stop,” he says, just loud enough for the rider to hear, as if he’s worried the intelligent horse might pick up on it and understand what he’s saying. 

     Calm, Meadow turns the corner to the straight line, her breaths even, loose muscles rolling under her damp skin. This time Y/N can give the Quarterhorse an aid before she increases speed, which she does with powerful strides. When the mare is going down the line full throttle, Y/N counts down. Three… two… one…

     The rider sinks deep into the leather of her saddle, pushing her stirrups forward and braces for the sudden stop. She can feel Meadow’s hindquarters lower when she plants her hocks into the soil of the arena. They slide several yards, leaving skid marks in the sand, and when the combination has come to a complete halt, Y/N moves her weight slightly to one side and takes the reins with her as well. The eager horse performs a rollback, a movement right after a stop during which the horse turns on her hind quarters and canters forward in the direction they came from.      “That was awesome!” Dean exclaims. “Cool her down; she’s done for today.” 

     Pleased, Y/N lets her precious four legged friend transition to an easy jog, patting her on the shoulder. She feels beyond relieved that her training went so well. With her former trainer Marcel, the final repetition before a show usually meant bootcamp, pushing Meadow to her limits. But Dean treats her differently. He thinks things through, looks beyond the pattern itself and can really pinpoint what they need to work on, and often it’s not the routine itself, but the preparation and the foundation of horse riding.

     “She felt really good, huh?” Dean looks up at the rider, seemingly content, as they exit the arena and walk back to the tack up area.      “She did. I’m excited for tomorrow,” Y/N returns, halting under the Joshua tree. “Have you seen the starting order?”      Dean nods as he glances up at her, narrowing his eyes when the sun peeks under his hat and blinds him. “I have.”      “I’m fifth on the list,” the cowgirl mutters, not happy about her draw. “Any good riders in my class?”      The head wrangler reads his student carefully, who is clearly fishing for answers. He’s very much aware where this is coming from. It’s a trait of hers, one that used to be much more evident, yet still surfaces every so often, especially in a new situation or uncertain times; she’s insecure.

     “Does it matter?” her trainer reminds her. “Eyes on the ball, Yankee. Flagstaff is just a practice run for Congress.”      “Sure, but I still want to win,” Y/N counters, matter of factly. “Oh, talking about Congress…”       She looks down on Dean, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “I booked our room.”      His brow perks up, staring at his girlfriend for a second. That seductive look in her eyes is giving him all sorts of ideas. “Our room?”       “Yeah, most hotels were fully booked, and this room is one of the few I could find,” she adds, teasingly, swinging her leg over the front of her horse, making sure her spur doesn’t hurt Meadow’s neck. “And you know what? There’s only one bed.”      “You don’t say,” Dean smirks, stepping closer and running his hand up her denim clad legs slowly.      She nods, not dismounting her horse just yet, but taking off her western hat and hanging it on the horn of the saddle. Instead, she seductively keeps her eyes locked on his green ones, the sunlight bringing out a hint of amber in them. “We don’t have to worry about squeaky bunk beds, or waking half the ranch…”      “Or Garth taking a piss,” Dean recalls.      She laughs, leaning forward now and slipping from the saddle smoothly, but Dean catches her, holding her up.

     The cowgirl folds her arms around his neck. “You know, I read this research paper on how sex actually increases dopamines, which results in the athlete performing better.”       “Interesting,” Dean is barely able to stop his trademark grin from showing, the effort creating dimples in his cheeks. “Would you like to test that theory?”      “I booked us a suite with a queen size bed. What do you think?” she chuckles, so comfortable in his arms.       “Well, in that case I’m more than willing to go the extra mile for my favorite student,” he grins, lowering her to the ground, after which he kisses her sweetly.

     Meadow turns her ear towards the pair when Y/N’s back brushes against the saddle. She doesn’t take advantage of her owner being distracted and waits patiently, even though she’s not tied up to the pole yet. If the cowgirl didn’t know any better, she’d claim her horse has been their matchmaker all along, casually walking a little closer to Dean’s horse whenever they rode side by side, even taking a liking to the wrangler, despite that she has never been a huge fan of men. 

     Dean reels the cowgirl in, letting his hand roam over her hips as he deepens the kiss. He can’t get enough of her, especially now that he has surrendered in the battle he was fighting with himself. Ever since he let his guard down and submitted to the feelings that lay deep, the weight he was carrying seems a little less. To have someone to share his life and his passion with, knowing that she’s his and no one else’s, it’s something he never expected to find. It’s certainly not something he feels like he deserves, but he has managed to push that denigrating voice to the back of his mind. They are in love with each other, that’s all he needs right now.

     Dean watches Y/N after he parts from her, in awe by the joy that radiates from the girl who has such a hold on him. He has seen her beam before, when she’s amongst the crew, when he makes her laugh. But he hasn’t witnessed this level of bliss and fulfillment yet. She’s glowing, and damn, it looks good on her.      Y/N blushes when she notices his captivated stare. “What?”      “You look happy,” he comments, leaving a short kiss on her lips again.      She smiles, her gaze drifting away as she lets her hands slip from behind his neck down his chest, analysing this contentment that she’s experiencing. She’s somewhat stunned by the conclusion; Dean is right.

     “I feel like - like I’m finally at a point in my life where things are coming together,” she realizes. “I spent years of my life in books, riding as much as I could aside from classes, just to get better. I tried to find that ‘click’ with so many horses, fell off, failed...”      She huffs, thinking of all the times she almost gave up. Overwhelmed, overworked. School, ride, sleep, repeat. All while Granddad tried to find her the perfect horse.      “Then Meadow crossed my path.”       She rubs the mare’s withers, earning an appreciative purr as the horse glances over her shoulder. The head wrangler watches the two, the unbreakable bond, the friendship that will last a lifetime. It’s an indescribable feeling to have such a strong connection with an animal, one he knows well. 

     Turning her attention to her horse, Y/N undoes the leather strap under Meadow’s chin and removes the bridle, replacing it with a halter. Meanwhile, Dean takes her hat off the horn and places it back on her head, earning a chuckle. He then continues to loosen the sinch and removes the saddle, humid clouds of warm air coming from Meadow’s back.       “I couldn’t believe it when Grandpa bought her. You should’ve seen me; I went out of my mind,” she says, reminiscing while taking off Meadow’s leg protection.      Dean chuckles at that, able to picture it perfectly. Her reaction to qualifying for Congress offers a good indication. Before he turns the faucet on, he hands the hose to Y/N, noticing the smile fading from her face.      “But then he died. It took me a while to get back from that,” she admits, glad to have something to do to keep her mind occupied. Often the tears still prick in her eyes when she talks about her grandfather, but today she manages to keep them at bay.      Mesmerized, Dean listens. He had guessed before that her granddad had passed away, since she used the past tense whenever she mentioned him. He never pushed her to talk about it, though, knowing that if the roles were reversed, he would appreciate the space too.      “You got back up, though,” he says, hoping she can recognize the willpower it took.       She nods, smiling faintly as she puts the hose aside. “I figured that after everything that he’s done for me, the least I could do was make him proud. I won State, I graduated a year early and cum laude.”      “And then you ended up in this dump,” Dean fills in, trying to lighten the mood.      She chuckles at his joke and shakes her head, untying Meadow.

     “Actually, ending up in this ‘dump’ is probably the best thing that could’ve happened to me,” she states, leading her horse to her box, Dean in tow. “I’m learning a lot here, and not just about ranch work. It has grounded me. Plus, I met this very handsome cowboy, too.”      Dean smirks. “Did ya?”      Y/N hums, turning after she shuts the stable door. “Why do you think I can’t stop smiling?”

     His eyes bounce between hers, only now realizing that he has a big part in her happiness. It humbles him, knowing that he makes her feel this way. Never before has he stood where he is standing now, in a relationship, let alone in a relationship with this one hell of a woman. Most of the time he has no idea what he’s doing, his gut feeling his only guidance, but apparently he’s doing something right. She has a spring in her step when she walks, her eyes shine when she laughs, and he is the reason. 

Wanting to tell her she is his reason too, but not knowing the words to that song, he takes off his western hat to fit under hers and wields his lips to hers. The kiss is less playful than the ones earlier, but all the more meaningful. Her lashes brush against his freckled skin, her hands cup his face, fingertips tracing the stubble on his jaw. The cowboy’s heart grows warm, rising in his chest, the sensation having him light headed. She is everything he never knew he needed, and he’s never going to let her go. 

     They hear footsteps coming around the corner, but both the wranglers are too occupied to pay attention, until a familiar voice puts an end to their private moment.      “Really? Could you not? I haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Jo puts her hands on her small waist and halts when she notices the couple. “This is a lot to muster on an empty stomach, y’know?”      Y/N chuckles after breaking away from her boyfriend, Dean rolls his eyes dramatically at his cousin.      “Get lost, Jo,” he scolds, ignoring her request.      “I’d advise you to get lost, because my dad is hot on my heels,” she returns smartly, before opening the door to the cafeteria, which is situated next to Meadow’s box.

     The cowboy’s eyes grow wide as he quickly distances himself from the woman he held in his arms just a mere second ago, before Bobby turns the corner. Awkwardly, Dean fidgets with the brim of his hat as Y/N straightens out her shirt and wipes her hands on her jeans, hoping her tan will hide the blush that heats her cheeks.       “Mornin’, Bobby,” Dean greets, trying not to act suspicious.      His uncle looks at them now as if he only just noticed them, his weary eyes lingering on the intern for a short second before they focus on Dean.       “Can I talk to you in my office?” he asks the head wrangler, even though it sounds more like an order.      “S-sure,” Dean stammers, gulping nervously.      “I’m getting my coffee first,” the ranch owner announces, before he disappears into the cafeteria. “Meet me there. You can let yourself in.”

     Dean takes an apprehensive breath when the door closes, the tight feeling in his chest not so pleasant now. Y/N’s observing him; he can feel her eyes burning in the side of his head.      “Why don’t you just tell him?” she sighs. “It’s been over a week.”      “I think he might be on to us already,” he says, clearly not at ease with that presumption. “I just wanted to ease him in when he’s not… you know, cranky.”       She frowns at that. “It’s Bobby; he’s always cranky. I thought Ellen--”      “- Ellen said he was gonna be fine with us being together - yes - but Bobby specifically told me not to mess around with you,” Dean recalls, returning his gaze from the door to Y/N.      “Well, I hope what we have going on here is a little bit more than you ‘messing around’ with me,” she returns with a tone.      “Of course it is. Hey...” He lifts her chin up with a curled index finger, pleading to look him in the eye. “This, us… It means a hell of a lot to me. Please tell me you know that.”      Her expression softens. She couldn’t be mad at him if she tried.      “I know. I just wish we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore,” she admits.       “I’ll tell him.” He presses his lips to hers quickly, glancing at the door before he does, making sure they will not get caught. “Save some bacon for me, will ya?”      “Will do,” she promises, pushing him off gingerly before she opens the door to join the rest of the crew for breakfast.

     He watches her leave, holding on to the sight of her as long as he can. She’s right; he needs to come clean. It doesn’t feel right to go behind Bobby’s back. Plus, with them leaving for Flagstaff this afternoon, he wants to be able to say out loud that he’s spoken for, aware there’s gonna be a few girls who might want to make a move on him. Not by any means is he worried he will not be able to resist the temptation, because as far as he’s concerned, there is none. But he doesn’t want to have to hide their relationship just because his uncle isn’t aware yet. 

     Dean puts his hat back on as he steps outside into the sun, which is steadily rising in the morning sky. Going over different versions of his announcement, he jogs up the stairs of the house, pulling back the screen door before he steps inside. Out of habit, he kicks his boots off and hangs his Stetson on the coat hanger, like he was taught when he moved in with his aunt and uncle at the age of fourteen. 

     The house is quiet, Ellen cooking up breakfast for the crew in the cafeteria at the stables. He crosses the living room and strolls into the kitchen, taking a glass from the cabinet and pouring himself some milk from the fridge. This place still has the same homey feel to it, it even smells the same as he remembered. He still knows his way around, even though he hasn’t slept under this roof since he was twenty. At a certain age, he wanted to be amongst the crew, hang with Benny and the other guys, and have a little more freedom. Jo joined them in the bunkhouse a couple of years later when she got rebellious and never really left, even though she still has a room upstairs. 

     Dean leans against the counter, taking a few gulps of milk. A smile forms on his lips when he notices some of the old photos on the fridge. Ellen always mixes them up, taking them out of albums and putting them in frames, some ending up on the refrigerator or pinned to the board in the office, others are on display in the saloon and in the cafeteria. One of the pictures portrays him on one of the first mustangs he trained, and next to him Jo on her pony, a little fellow called Ghost. He must have been fifteen or sixteen at the time, his cousin not older than ten. There’s another one of him and both Ellen and Bobby at his uncle’s fiftieth birthday; Dean was twenty-one then. The first birthday besides his own where he was allowed to drink, but he has never been a saint. God knows how many times he and Benny and Gabe started the Saturday shift hung over, before he reached the legal age. He grins at the memory.

     His eyes glide over the photos, all seemingly normal snapshots, freeze frames of a country boy’s upbringing. But that’s it, isn’t it? It wasn’t normal to Dean. His life made a complete one-eighty when his aunt and uncle took their nephew in. They did it without question, never once asking for anything in return. They reminded him what it’s like to feel safe, loved, what it’s like to be a kid again. 

     It took him awhile before he could get past the years of worry, fear, and guilt, but eventually he found his way again. Has he forgotten about his childhood, the time he spent with his father and his little brother? Hell, no. He’ll never forget what happened, how the situation escalated and how everyone gave up on family except him, until there was nothing more the loyal son could do to stop the Winchesters from falling apart. But after all the trauma, the lesions on his soul, the nightmares, and endless regret, he found a place he calls home and is surrounded by people who, by blood or by heart, are his family. 

     The hinges of the screen door squeak and rattle when Bobby enters the house. Just like Dean did moments ago, the old man steps out of his boots, knowing very well that his wife will scold him if she finds dirty footprints on the wooden floors when she returns. He hobbles into the house, noticing his nephew in the kitchen.      “Comin’?” he says, nodding at the office, further down the hall.

     Dean empties his glass and leaves it in the sink, following his uncle. When he enters the room, he notices the stack of papers on the desk, open folders littering the flat surface. There’s an open filebox on the floor, numbers and letters scribbled in a notebook. Bobby has never been the person to keep his office tidy, especially with all the extra paperwork that comes with not owning a computer, but right now it looks like a bomb went off in here.       “Take a seat.” Bobby circles the desk and puts down his coffee mug, closing the blinders to prevent curious eyes from peeking inside. 

     Dean does as told, a frown edging lines between his brows. The vibe he is picking up isn’t a pleasant one and he’s sensing this talk will not be about his relationship with the intern. Carefully, he reads the ranch owner, who sits down, rests his elbows on the oak desk and forks his calloused hands together. Bobby doesn’t look up at him, and it’s only now that his nephew notices how the circles under his eyes seem a little darker, his head hanging low between his shoulders, which carry so much weight.       “We’re taking two of the youngsters to Flagstaff,” Bobby announces. “I need you to decide which ones, so I can send in the information to the auction committee.”      “Whoa, what?” Dean says, confused. “I’ve barely haltered a handful. I thought you wanted them under saddle before we sold them?”      “There’s no time for that.”

     His uncle adjusts the worn baseball cap on his head, still not looking at the young man on the other side of his desk.       “What do you mean, there’s no--” Dean stops when Bobby glares at him from under the hat, silencing his nephew with just a look.       “Pick the two who you reckon would go for a good price. And I need you to compete two extra horses as well. The palomino stallion, you think you can show him in the four year old class?”      “Yeah, I - I guess,” Dean says, realizing that riding five horses in competition is going to be a challenge, especially when it comes to time management, but he doesn’t have the courage to contradict the ranch owner.       “Good. I don’t expect them to come home with us,” Bobby acknowledges, picking a folder from the file case next to his desk, flipping through ownership certificates and taking out a file. “I contacted some buyers.”      “Which one’s the fifth you want me to bring?” Dean asks, carefully.      “Joplin,” Bobby states. 

     Dean closes his eyes briefly, cursing internally. He knows Y/N has grown fond of the feisty mare; it’s gonna hurt her to see the little dark horse leave.      “Joplin ain’t the easiest to ride and I can’t use her for the tourists; she’s the obvious choice. She’s good for ranch work and with the cattle, so I’ll sign her up for the cutting competition.” The ranch owner takes out Joplin’s file as well, adding it to the small stack in front of him. “The intern did some cattle work with her, right?”      Dean nods. “Yeah, rode her on the trail too.”      “Y/N can ride her then, they seem like a good fit. Discuss it with her, let me know if she wants to,” the old man decides, looking up at his right hand when he stays quiet. “I contacted Jody Mills; she might have some clients for Joplin.”      “Bobby, what the hell is going on?”

     Dean’s worried eyes study his uncle, an unraveling stare boring through the rancher’s tough armor, who is unable to hold his gaze. The weariness seeps through the cracks when Bobby rubs his forehead, leaning back with a sigh, the old desk chair creaking.      “We’re in bad waters, ain’t we?” the wrangler realizes.      Bobby still doesn’t look up, but nods quietly, admitting to the painful truth. He seems ashamed, as if he - the head of this family - is failing. The man opposite of him can feel the pressure his uncle is experiencing; he knows it well. Just the sheer thought of the ranch being in much more trouble than he originally anticipated has him anxious, his heart rate picking up. These lands, the company, the horses… could they all be at risk?

     “How bad?” he asks firmly, even though he’s not sure if he wants to hear the answer.      “I just ordered stable bedding, hay and pellets without havin’ paid for the last bulk. I can’t pay you or the boys by the end of the month, unless we make a profit in Flagstaff,” Bobby admits. “Then there’s the mortgage, bank loans, taxes...”      Dean leans his elbow on the armrest of his chair, rubs his temple. “What happened to the money we earned on the livestock you sold Rufus?”      “Used it on the electrical bill I was behind on and paid the city and the bank. I owed Caleb a lot of money too.”      The wrangler’s eyes flick up at his uncle again. “So it’s all gone?”       Bobby nods again. “Yeah, ‘fraid so.”

     Troubled, he reaches for his coffee, taking a sip of the hot brew, wishing it was whiskey. From under his cap he watches Dean process the information, the knowledge doing a number on him, even though he acts tough. Bobby knows his nephew. Hell, he’s been living on his land for so long, he considers him a son. He knows how he values this place and the people and animals living here. He knows how much he craved shelter when he stood on the doorstep fifteen years ago. That’s exactly what this place is for him: his safe haven. And now that a storm is coming, now that his world threatens to cave, he’s losing his footing as well.

     Dean leaves his chair, paces up and down the small room twice, his arms crossed and pondering on a solution.      “You can keep my salary,” Dean says, “I know it’s a drop in the ocean, but I’ve got a roof over my head, that’s all I need. I have some savings too--”      “Dean, I don’t want your money,” Bobby makes clear, his voice less stern. “This ain’t your cross to bear.”      “Hell, it ain’t!” he exclaims, raising his arms up in despair. “This is my home too, and I’m not about to lose it!”      “Do you really believe I’m givin’ it up that easy? It’s my life’s work, damn it!” his uncle raises his voice to level with Dean’s, but tones it down when he continues. “No one is losing their home. We’re just gonna have to save and make money before this spins out of control, stay afloat until business picks up again. That’s why we’re gonna bring more horses to Flagstaff, see if we can make some deals.”

     Dean calms down slightly after his outburst, but is nowhere near at ease. He places his hands on his sides now, focusing on the floorboards. After a deep breath he collects himself.      “We can take the large Pinto and the red dun Mustang for the auction,” he determines.       “Alright,” Bobby writes it down, picking up the phone to make the call. “We’re still leaving at three?”      His head wrangler nods, burdened, taking the que and turns towards the door.      “Son?”       Dean halts in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the man who has been more like a dad to him than his own father ever was. A few strands of light squeeze through the blinds, illuminating the mess they are in, the rest of the room dark, shadows looming over his uncle.       “We’ll figure it out, okay? Ain’t the first recession this ranch survived,” Bobby reminds him, before he dials the number he wrote down earlier. 

     With a forced smile Dean watches him for a few more seconds before he leaves the office, the mask dropping from his face the moment he’s out of sight. With the unsettling information still mulling over, he puts on his boots again and takes his hat from the hall stand, walking onto the porch. He needs a moment to collect himself and let’s a heavy sigh escape his lungs, his eyes wandering over the scenery before him. Gold Canyon Ranch: sacred ground, their harbor, his church. The barn with the high doors through which he walked countless times, the Joshua tree that has watched over the horses for centuries. The saloon where on a good night laughs roar and beer flows. The bunkhouse, the crooked little prairie shed where he has a room and a bed of his own. And the Singer’s residence, where he knocked on the front door in search of refuge when he was fourteen years of age, standing in the exact same spot where he’s standing now.

     The sun hits him when he descends from the steps, the source of light warming the earth rapidly, despite autumn approaching. A faint headache is throbbing behind his eyes already, the conversation getting to him much more than he wants it to. Bobby tried to lessen the blow and reassure his nephew, but he knows very well it’s ten minutes to midnight. He dismisses the possibility of losing everything all over again; he can’t think like that, it will only slow him down. What he can do is think of a way to prevent this train from derailing. 

     He attempts to leave the worry behind, because he can’t let the rest of the crew know just how grim the situation is. Thankfully, the guys have already started their workday. He can hear the tractor pulling up behind the barn and there’s a wheelbarrow in the stable alley. Garth whistles to a country song on the radio as he empties a box with large scoops, while Jo leads a saddled horse to the arena. A quick glance through the window of the cafeteria tells him Ellen already went to the saloon, probably to start on lunch for the group of eight tourists that are currently accommodating the guest houses, but he does spot Y/N, who’s wiping down the table. When he pushes open the door, a bright smile comes his way, her light burning away the dark clouds hanging over him.

     “Hey! I risked my life defending your bacon, but I managed to save you some. Scrambled eggs and two buns too. Want me to heat it up real quick?” she asks, busy putting away the cutlery and dishes she washed.      “Nah, that’s alright,” he says, slumping down in the chair where Bobby usually sits.       “Here.”       She puts the plate down in front of him, the smell of crispy meat filling his nose. He’s not all that hungry anymore, but he starts cutting the bread either way, knowing she made an effort to make sure he had something to eat.

     “How did he respond?” she wonders after a moment of silence, drying off the frying pan.      Dean was about to take a bite when he freezes, only now realizing what she’s talking about. Shit, with everything going on, it completely slipped his mind why he wanted to talk to Bobby in the first place.      Y/N notices the hesitation, followed by a pair of shameful eyes coming her way. She sighs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Dean…”      “I know. I’m sorry.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose while he shuts his eyes, feeling like an idiot. “Something came up. He didn’t call me in because of us.”

     The cowboy glances up warely, noticing her disappointment. If anything, he doesn’t want her to think he just forgot, or worse - that he chickened out. But business is blending with personal life here; he’s not sure if he should share with her what his boss just told him.       “Why did he call you in then?” she wonders, unable to hide the discontent in her voice.      “He, uh - he wants me to take more horses to Flagstaff,” he says. “To sell them.”      “Oh…” Y/N puts away the pan in one of the lower cabinets. “Which ones?”      “Two of the youngsters we brought in earlier this month. Bon Jovi - the four year old - and...” Dean hesitates, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “And Joplin.”

     In shock the cowgirl turns to him, staring at the head wrangler. “Bobby is going to sell Joplin?”      “I wish it could’ve been different,” he half apologizes, feeling sorry for Y/N. “I know you like her a lot.”      She hangs the dish towel to dry and turns to lean on the back of the chair. Her airway is closing, but she swallows down the lump that builds. Dean is right; she grew fond of the little dark Quarter. Not everyone can handle her fiery spirit, but the cowgirl could, forging a strong bond between them within a short period of time. Somehow, she never expected Joplin to leave the premises.       “It’s not your fault,” she says after clearing her throat. “I’m the one who gets attached to horses who aren’t my own.”      The wrangler observes her, well aware she’s trying to be professional about this.      “Bobby hoped you could show her at the competition,” he continues.      “I can do that,” she agrees, keeping her voice steady.

     Dean absently eats his bacon and egg sandwich while Y/N tidies up, giving her hands something to do while she processes what he just told her. He watches her rinse a cloth and clean the kitchen counter, rubbing over a spot to make a stain go away. Not sure if he should say anything, he focuses on finishing his plate, but it doesn’t take long before he can’t stand the silence.      “You okay?” he checks, concerned.      “I guess,” she turns to him, finally taking a second to sit down. “How about you?”      Dean wipes his hands down his jeans to get rid of the crumbs sticking to his fingers and looks at her, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m used to horses being sold.”      “That’s not what I mean,” Y/N returns, not at all surprised that he acts like there’s nothing going on. “What’s bothering you?”

     She reads her boyfriend carefully when he looks at her, dropping his gaze the moment her eyes reach too deep into his soul. For a few short seconds he seems to consider telling her what’s going on, but then he shakes his head. Worry swims in circles in her stomach, his inability to open up once again having her question herself.       “It’s not us, I promise,” he says sincerely, reaching for her hand across the table when he notices her doubt. “And I wanna tell you, but I can’t discuss this with anyone other than Bobby or Ellen.”      “Business related?” she guesses.       When Dean nods, it clicks in her head.       “The ranch isn’t doing so well, is it?”

     As if he got caught committing a crime, his eyes shoot up to meet hers. Shit, has he said too much? She might be his girlfriend, but she’s also the intern. She works for Bobby, for God’s sake! This isn’t information he’s supposed to share with anyone.       Unsure of how to respond, he averts his gaze, but she squeezes his hand to call him back.      “Dean, this is kind of my field, remember? I can see the tell-tale signs,” she reminds him. 

     The head wrangler holds his breath, catching his bottom lip with his teeth, but then exhales burdened, accepting she has figured it out. Self-conscious about his own vulnerability, he runs his thumb over the back of her hand as he stares at nothing in particular, focusing on the motion. Bit by bit, the curtain is pulled back, revealing just how much this newfound knowledge worries him.      “Bobby says we’ll figure it out, but things are bad,” he admits after a long silence. 

     She nods slightly, acknowledging his statement. Honestly, she’s not surprised. She wondered how the ranch was able to run on a handful of tourists and trail rides. With only three horses in paid training, it’s impossible to generate an income that covers the dozen others owned by the family, which can’t be sold for a fair price now that the market is at an all time low. She cannot imagine the mortgage on this enormous place. There’s employees who depend on a salary, animals which need to be fed and cared for, machinery that needs maintenance. Selling stock and letting go workers; they seem like desperate measures to her, measures which will not cut it during the economic crisis this country is currently suffering from, one that might drag on for years. It’s a postponement of execution.

     Dean swallows thickly, allowing her to have a glimpse of his crippling concern. He feels weak to admit it, to admit to her that the walls around him are crumbling. But a joke and a laugh cannot save him this time, there is no way he can dance around the fact that he has zero control over the financial situation, and it scares the living hell out of him.      “If we lose the ranch, I wouldn’t know what to do,” he confesses. “This place is all I have.”      Hell, this place is all that I am, he thinks to himself. Because, let’s face it, when you take away the horses and strip him from the opportunities he’s offered here, he’s nothing but a highschool dropout with an old pick up truck. 

     “That’s not true,” Y/N dismisses. “You’ve got family, ranch or not. And you have me now.”      He carefully glances up at her, taken aback by the comfort in her voice. A pair of soft eyes wait for him, strengthening her words. He mirrors the small smile she’s carrying, eased by her promise.      “What if I take a look at the books?” she offers. “If Bobby is okay with that, of course.”      “You - You’d do that?” Dean returns, stunned, his eyebrows raised.      “Yeah, of course. I mean, don’t expect miracles by any means, but I can shed some light on it. Maybe get an overview of the assets and liabilities, set up a balance sheet if there isn’t one, etcetera,” she states, making it sound like it’s no big deal. “I analyzed several large companies for my thesis.”

     Impressed, the head wrangler takes in the young woman who is so wise for her age. He only now realises the intern might be the one who could steer this ship away from the massive iceberg they are heading towards. Of course she can’t magically make money appear out of thin air, but he doubts Bobby has the skill set of someone with a master’s degree in business.      “You’re awesome, know that?” he huffs.      “Don’t you forget it.” She grins at him, getting up from her seat and taking his plate.      Before she can rinse it and reach for the dish brush, Dean’s arms snake around her waist and pull her against his chest, hooking his chin over her shoulder. He kisses her on the cheek, leaning his head against hers and ignoring his western hat when it tilts to the side.      “Thank you.”      She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

     Y/N turns in his arms, trapped between him and the kitchen counter. She looks up to meet his admiring gaze, adjusting the Stetson on the cowboy’s head and letting her hands linger, wrists crossed behind his neck.      “I’m beginning to understand just how much the ranch means to you. And frankly, this place is starting to mean a lot to me too,” she admits.

     The morning light sheds diagonal beams through the set of four square windows, highlighting her hair and her beautiful smile. Dean drinks her in for a couple of solid seconds, before he dips down and kisses her.       How she is able to vanquish his inner panic, just by offering her full support, doesn’t cease to amaze the wrangler. He’s not getting his hopes up, he knows the financial problems are bigger than she can fix with a run-through and a few budget cuts. But she’s trying. She’s doing her part. She’s here to help, not only the ranch, but him as well. And just like that, the future seems a lot less grim than it did a moment ago. They will figure it out and things will be okay, as long as he has her by his side.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part nineteen here

[doctors-star]

6 &/or 22

send me a prompt

6. hiraeth - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss

“Howdy, Will Williams.”

The dark head flicks abruptly up and round, spine straightening guiltily out of a lazy slouch. As he turns, Will runs a quick hand through his hair to push the longer locks back and then jams his hat on his head, as though likely to be scolded for not wearing it; then he actually notices who the intruder is, and his shoulders relax out of their habitual tension. “Johnny McPherson” he says with a blink-and-miss-it half smile, nudging the bridge of his thin wire-rimmed glasses with the tip of his thumb. “Didn’t hear you coming.”

Johnny spares a moment to be gently, internally amused by this as he slings his leg out of the stirrup and over his horse’s rear, dropping neatly to the ground. He had, after all, ridden over to the man’s campsite at the foot of the rocky outcrop and made no attempt to be quiet about doing so: his horse had huffed and snorted; the hooves had sounded against the beaten earth; Will’s own horse had raised his head from the bag he had been nosing at and whickered at them. And Will, Lord help him, had been too busy watching coyotes to notice a damn thing. How the man ever even found the animals was beyond Johnny; sometimes he reckons a man could set fire to Will Williams’ boots in a darkened room and he’d only move his book closer to the light so’s he could read it better.

He nods in the vague direction of the prairie and whatever had held Will’s attention so thoroughly. “Your coyotes behavin’ today?”

Will smiles again, just as fast as before. All of Danser Town will be damned if they have any idea what, exactly, it is that Will Williams has come out west to do; explanations are offered and eyes glaze over, but Johnny reckons he was told something about animal behaviour and Will hasn’t since told him different. Probably on account of how he won’t listen, or remember, or ever understand why it matters how good or bad an animal acts, but this here is a good enough joke anyhow. “It’s, it’s buffalo, today,” Will corrects gently, pointing at the smudge of brown on the landscape downwind that will, if one focusses, coalesce into a herd of enormous, shaggy creatures with hunched spines and bad-tempered expressions.

Johnny squints under the brim of his hat, and then nods. It is, indeed, buffalo today. “Bought you a present,” he says cheerfully, looping his reins over the same branch as Will’s and turning to his saddlebag.

Will’s eyes narrow slightly in suspicion, but his lips turn up at one corner too, like he’s been handed a riddle he reckons is funny but whose punchline he doesn’t quite have figured yet. “You did?” he says, awful careful.

“Sure,” Johnny says, making the effort to sound slightly wounded that Will would ever expect anything but the kindest friendship from him as he roots in the bag. When he flicks his eye Will’s way, he can see that the smile has advanced into a bitten lip and the dark eyes have narrowed yet further. “I brought you some of Ma Masham’s bread-” he produces a paper-wrapped parcel about the size of two fists and chucks it to Will, watching his eyes light up as he moves to catch it. Ma Masham makes good bread. He allows Will to peel the brown paper back a ways and inhale deeply, and then finishes his sentence. “-’cause she reckons you ain’t eating enough out here and you’re too small.”

Will tips his head back far enough to knock his own hat off and groans. He looks remarkably child-like, sometimes, with his thin frame, and his eyes very dark in his pale face, and his propensity for sitting cross-legged in the dust and watching animals. “I’m a grown man,” he says petulantly. “I’m not getting any taller, now.”

“Well,” Johnny says very reasonably, with a much less reasonable smile, “she reckons you didn’t get fed enough when you weren’t grown, and if you don’t eat it all and grow six inches it’ll all be my fault.” He frowns. “Though I’m damned if I know why.”

Will breaks off a corner of the loaf and sticks it in his mouth. “You’re tryin’ to walk out with Ma Masham’s daughter,” he points out through the mouthful.

“I am not tryin’ to walk out with Ma Masham’s daughter!” Johnny says firmly and indignantly. Will raises an eyebrow. “I’m doing a very good job of walking out with Jody Masham.” Will snorts and eyes him around another lump of bread, awaiting what Finn has taken to calling - usually with a dramatic groan - the inevitable. Jody Masham - lord, there’s a pretty girl. “She’s got eyes like starlight, does Miss Masham,” he sighs, gazing wistfully out over the prairie. “Prettiest girl I ever saw.”

Will mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like this week as he shifts to face Johnny and leans back on his palms. Johnny ignores it.

“Her hair’s softer’n anything,” he says instead, and abruptly his heart is too full; he reckons if the sun doesn’t beat some warm good sense into him he’ll clean float away; and he has to sweep his hat from his head and press it to his chest, face turned up to the light.

“Oh, good lord,” a giggling voice says from somewhere near his knee, but he pays it no mind.

“Gold like the sun and worth twice as much,” he sighs, Jody Masham’s face floating before his eye. What he wouldn’t do to hold her close, breathe her in, press his lips to hers-

Something hits his knee and his surroundings come rushing back to him abruptly. At his foot is one of Will’s gloves; Will himself is angling a particularly severe raised eyebrow his way, but he is also grinning as he squints into the sun behind Johnny. “You come all this way to moon over Jody Masham, or what?”

“What,” Johnny says, collecting himself and turning back to the bag. “You got some cheese from the Wilder ranch, and one of old man German’s good sausages, and I brought you a waterskin but I put some beer in it.” Johnny grins at Will’s expression of surprise. “So. Reckon I earned some mooning.”

“Did the whole town have a, a whip-round for me?” Will says, frowning as he reaches out for the second paper parcel Johnny hands over.

Johnny shrugs, trying to look winning and charming as he leans against the saddle and obscures the still half-full bag. “That’s just Danser hospitality, I guess.”

Will’s gaze flickers over to him suspiciously. “And, and you rode all the way out here, just to fetch me dinner?”

“Sure,” Johnny tries, and knows as soon as he’s said it he’s misstepped; he says sure like that too innocently, always has, and Will’s eyes narrow. “Also I brought you your doctor’s bag just in case-” he says, all too quickly, only getting louder when Will groans. “Might be nothin’,” he wheedles. “Just in case.”

“Do I want to know what you all are going to do?” Will asks, glaring at the leather bag which Johnny guiltily retrieves and places by Will’s very aged, much cleaned boots. “Probably not, huh.”

“Might be nothin’,” Johnny says again, but Will does not look mollified. “Just - would be nice to know you was ready, if it was something. Come on, Doc Dubya.”

Will shoots him an unimpressed look for the nickname. Most folks call him Williams, or Will, but one of the Wilder kids had reckoned Doc Dubya was easier and more fun than sounding out Mister Double-you Williams; it had half stuck, reappearing usually when someone wanted him to come out and doctor for them. “I am not a doctor,” Will says sharply, accent coming out all clipped; all north-eastern, Nova Scotia, old money-sounding, the way it always does when he’s real cross about something. Johnny winces slightly. “This,” Will says, shaking the leather case at him, “is not a doctor’s bag. It’s - it’s an anatomy kit with some old linen scraps for bandages. I’m a naturalist. I can’t - can’t fix you all when you’ve gone and done something stupid.”

Johnny spreads his hands wide and shrugs apologetically. “Ain’t no-one else can do it better,” he points out, running his first knuckle and thumb over his moustache quickly. As nervous tics go, it’s unfortunate; he can only barely pass it off as vanity when he’s playing poker with Diaz, and then only because Diaz is usually too focussed on his own poker face to mind Johnny’s.

Will gives him the stink-eye and he scrambles quickly back onto his horse, patting her dun neck when she dances under him and huffs about the sudden movement. He tries to think of something to say: something that will count as apology and gratitude and, crucially, won’t make Will Williams, the only man even nearly a doctor within a day’s ride of Danser Town, pack up his knapsack and his case and ride for the railway on the other side of the territory and its trains back to Saint John.

Nothing comes to mind.

“Good luck with your buffalo,” Johnny says, offering a hopeful smile.

He doesn’t get more than twenty yards before Will raises his voice. “What time are you all going to be done doing whatever it is I don’t know you’re doing?”

Johnny grins to himself, suffused with warmth and relief. When he twists in the saddle, Will is prodding at the dusty ground with a stick thoughtfully. His brows are downturned in a frown, but there’s a tension to his profile and Johnny reckons he’s doing that thing he does, when the young men of the town are congregated - slightly too many in a space slightly too small - all of ‘em a little drunk and a little loud and making Will more’n a little nervy, but even though he’s tense and awkward and quiet he’s smiling - only, usually with the side of his face that they can’t see. He reckons Will might have forgiven him.

He shrugs. “Nineish, maybe. You’ll get a cut of whatever we don’t earn, doing whatever it is we’re not doing.”

Will huffs in amusement and Johnny doesn’t bother counting over his negatives to figure out if what he’d said made any kind of sense, anyhow. “Alright. I, I won’t see you then.”

Johnny beams. “Will Williams, you’re the sturdiest fella I ever did see.”

And this time, even though he’s already riding away, there’s no mistaking it - “This week!” Will hollers at his retreating back.

--

“Lord,” Finn sighs, chin in one palm and leaning sideways over the table. “I am tired of Corey County. We must be the only territory in the state without a goddamn railway. I ain’t gonna die in some dingey backwater without even a railway.”

Will shoots him a look under his brows but says nothing, just sniffs, pushes his glasses up his nose, and goes on winding clean white linen around Finn’s bicep. Johnny tops up their whisky glasses and pushes one Finn’s way with his fingertips. “Naw, probably not,” he agrees thoughtfully. Finn cocks his head and Johnny spreads his hands in explanation. “Way I see it, you ain’t gonna die horse-rustling, even if you do do something stupid like, say, get yourself all nicely backlit by the ranch lights and then hoot and holler ‘til someone comes and shoots you-”

Will’s head snaps up. “That’s how you got shot?” he says, neither impressed nor gentle.

Finn shrugs awkwardly with only one arm, looking a little embarrassed. “Pascal and Ted were getting hassled.” That about seems to cover it, as far as Finn’s concerned; he drops his chin back into his hand and waits for Johnny to carry on, leaving Will glowering at his ginger curls.

“Alright, well, you ain’t gonna die like that,” Johnny says. “You’re gonna go out doing something truly dumb, like trying to rob a train on your own ‘cause of how you got bored, or something - stands to reason, then, that you ain’t gonna die in a backwater with no railway. You gotta go to the railway, or wait for the railway to come to you, and then you can kick it in some grand old blaze of glory.”

Finn considers this, and then grins. “Thanks, Johnny, you’re a real pal.” Will looks like he’s considering abandoning them to their idiocy; with his almost preternatural sense of when, exactly, he is likely to be denounced as lacking the sense God gave a gopher, Finn twists to beam at Will over his bandage. “Doctor, I’m cured.”

Will glances at him sharply. “Sure,” he mutters. “So long as we never get a railway, and you never go where one is, I can be sure you all will be doing something only reasonably stupid.”

“Y’all know me,” Finn says cheerfully. “Something stupid to be done, I’ll come running.” Will tucks away the end of the bandage and Finn stretches carefully, shaking his head and tidying a few loose curls out of his eyes. Not to be outdone, Johnny works the ribbon out of his own hair and tosses his head like a stallion, shaking shoulder-length, glossy blond waves so that they sparkle in the lamplight. It’s a practised gesture; what, after all, is the point in having well-oiled, lustrous hair the envy of every woman in the state if one doesn’t know how to present it? Even if only for a pair of singularly unimpressed friends.

“You’re not stupid,” Johnny says magnanimously. Must be hard, after all, to be Finn and have hair more inclined to corkscrew outward than lie flat and sleek, or to be Will and have a chin barer than kids half his age.

“No,” Will agrees dryly. “Stupid would be walking out with Jody Masham, making eyes at Peggy West, and swooning every time Anne-Marie Dodds so much as glances your way - all at once.”

Johnny’s jaw drops at this abject betrayal and he gives up on magnanimity. Will doesn’t deserve good facial hair. Finn cackles in delight. “Miss Dodds an’ all?” he laughs. “Peggy West’s best friend - Johnny, you’re gonna wind up with a hole in your head or a ring on your finger if you ain’t careful.”

He snaps his mouth shut and rises manfully above such comments. What do they know, anyway - Peggy West won’t shoot him, and with a bit of luck she’ll keep her pa from doing it either. Sure, she and Anne-Marie are pretty girls, but they’ve made his role plenty clear: he’s to court without expectation, so’s they can avoid courters with expectations. Jody knows; knows, too, about Cathy in the bigger town to the east whom he rides out to see sometimes, and they’re all content as can be. Let Will and Finn say what they like - Johnny walks out with the prettiest girls in the territory, and lord are they pretty.

“We’ve lost him,” Finn says conspiratorially.

Their hair - the clothes - they’re so delicate yet firm - he longs to feel their curves beneath his palms-

“Totally gone,” Will agrees.

Johnny sprawls over the table, chin in one hand. “Girls,” he sighs, and manages no more.

Will rolls his eyes and Finn nudges him carefully with his injured elbow. “That could be you,” he says, “if you’d only look helpless and lonely in eyesight of a lady.”

Will looks at Johnny with deep apprehension. “If it’ll do that, Johnny can keep ‘em.”

“Is there a name for it?” Johnny asks the ceiling philosophically. Ideally, they’d be out of doors and staring at the desert stars; as it is, there’s only peeling paper and discoloured rafters of which to demand explanations. It’ll do. “For wanting so badly to kiss a person, to be with them - so much you burn up with it?”

���Lust,” Will, the good little Methodist says.

“The clap,” Finn says brightly.

Johnny gives them both the stink eye and Finn laughs; Will just ducks his head in a fruitless attempt to hide his bright, broad grin. “Aw, y’all are the worst.”

It’s quiet for a minute as they drink their whisky and relax into the hard wooden seats as best they can. Will’s rooms above the saloon are not awful large, and not at all comfortable, but they don’t cost him much and no-one asks about the occasional bloodied shirt on his late-night visitors. Danser Town isn’t large enough for the general populace not to know that the band of young men with money to spend and no discernable employment are likely up to no good, but no-one asks questions and no-one tells lies and it all shakes out in the end. But - Will’s from out east, and he went to college, and his words have a touch of money about them sometimes. What’s he doing out here, watching buffalo?

Finn must be having the same thought, because he shifts awkwardly before speaking. “Say, Will, why not get some place nicer than this? Get you a ranch, or something.”

Will snorts. “What would I do with a claim? I’m no farmer. Besides, I can’t afford a whole house to myself.”

“Why not?” Finn presses. “Ain’t you one of them rich Yanks?”

Johnny winces a little at the blunt question. Will tips his head on side. “Not - really,” he says. “First - I’m Canadian. Second, all I have is here.”

“But you went to college,” Johnny finds himself saying.

“Sure,” Will says, folding his long, pale fingers into an awkward knot. His shoulders have tensed up around his ears again; Finn notices and bumps their arms carefully together. “But - my folks paid for that. And I left. So.”

It sounds kinda like Will doesn’t miss ‘em. “You ever want to go back?” Finn asks.

Will makes a face. “No. I - I like it here.”

Johnny nods, filled with some sort of strange pride and satisfaction. Will can stay, and be happy here - that suits. “I don’t,” Finn says brightly.

“Why’re you still here, then?” Johnny can’t help asking. Finn’s only been here six months or so and he’d lived in half the states west of Georgia before that; the man seems to move like his feet are on fire. So, either he’s got better at horse rustling in Danser and not been caught so fast, or it’s something else.

Finn shrugs. “Y’all won’t come with me,” he says simply, like it ain’t nothing to be so openly, overtly fond of another person. Will looks like he might fall off his chair in surprise at just hearing him say it. Finn sighs and stretches his legs out before him, crossed at the ankle. “I like moving,” he explains, “but y’all don’t. I don’t wanna stop, but I don’t want - I want to go, but I don’t want to leave.” He spreads his hands as if that ought to pretty much cover it.

“Why do you like travelling so much?” Will says after a quick slug of his drink. He looks a bit unsteady, although if that’s due to the whisky or Finn being kind Johnny couldn’t say.

Finn shrugs. “Feels sometimes like I’m looking for somewhere, you know? Somewhere I never been, but I’m gonna know it when I get there. Where it all makes some kind of sense. Is there-” Finn huffs a laugh and looks at Johnny. “Is there a word for that - sickening after a place you never seen, but you know it’s easy, like when you were a kid?”

Johnny raises his glass to him with half a smile. He’s got no joke for that.

Will blinks, tilts his head like a bird, and then opens his mouth and says something strange-sounding and smooth.

Finn and Johnny blink at him in polite incomprehension.

“My, my mother’s folks were from Ontario, but before, before that Wales,” he explains. “Hiraeth. It means - well, what you said.”

“Huh,” Finn says. Then grins. “Well, now I don’t feel half so special and one-of-a-kind.”

“Oh,” Will says, sounding apologetic, “I didn’t-”

“Lord, I hope there’s only one man like you, Finn Holden,” Johnny interrupts with a grin. “You’re already too much to handle.”

“Aw,” Finn says, slinging his wounded arm gently around Will’s narrow shoulders and squeezing gently until the tension relaxes out of him once more. “Y’all love me, don’tcha?”

Will smiles - genuine, but a little shy. Johnny feels his own face form an answering - and disgustingly fond - smile. “Send us to an early grave though it may,” he says, winking at Will and raising his glass to them all.

[bunny-bts]

Summary: Truth can be harder to bring in than the cattle and spirits can be harder to raise

Warnings: language, angst, mushiness, toxic relationships, mentions of religion, cattle/ranch life, love, drama, alcohol consumption

Authors Note: This one is specifically for me and a friend, I have no idea how many words as always and I'll try to make this a one shot not a series because I just abandon those but if it gets too long I may have to make it a series

Rating: M, no smut but suggestive and mature topics

Characters: Namjoon x reader, Taeyhung x reader's friend

"Morning, Y/N," Namjoon smiles as he enters your kitchen. "Morning Joonie, what are you doing here?"

"oh...uh....your dad sent me over to make a delivery...."

"oh, okay. Come on, sit down and eat," you gesture to the seat across from you at the table and wipe your mouth with the cloth napkin before sitting it beside your plate which was piled over with cheesy grits, sausage, scrambled eggs and some leftover roasted potatoes from supper. You slide your chair out to stand and he comes over to sit as you walk to go grab him a plate. "We had some garlic roasted potatoes last night, want some? The garden out back worked nice for the garlic and the potatoes in the crops came out nice this year so dad brought some home and I made it"

"Yeah, sure. Thankyou.....so the crops are good?"

"Oh yeah, and Mary Lou just had a calf last night and dad says I can keep this one"

"oh yeah? You happy?"

"Totally, you know I try not to get too overly attached usually...."

"Yeah, I know, and I know you've wanted to keep one since you were little," he smiles over at you. You can't help but giggle and jump in place, "I know~," you clap your hands. "You do know you have two horses right?" He laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck, sitting his hat in his lap. "Yes, I love them Cortney and Karen. Shush, let me be happy," you playfully scold him as you continue making his breakfast. "Okay, how're they doing?"

"They're great and Karen has a show soon so I'm getting her mane done and some new shoes-oh! Want to come boot shopping with me? I want to get a new pair so they're shiny, I've been working in mine and they're muddy and I want some more jeans with the studded embroidered pocket designs"

"Shopping?" He makes a face that's a mix of disgust and uncertainty. "Please, it's for Karen's show and my friend is coming to visit"

"Since when do you have friends other than me and Tae?"

"Since about six months ago and haha cute, I'm feeding you," you bring the plate to him and then pour him some juice before sitting back down to eat.

"Maybe, I'm pretty busy but when do you want to go?" "Well, her show is next week and Jeff is coming then too so maybe....Sunday, after church?"

"Yeah, that works, we can go after we leave and get food....Jeff," he did not like the idea of it being a guy. You had all too recently ended a really bad relationship. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Who was he kidding, he didn't like the idea of anyone with you that wasn't him, but, he wanted to protect you after your last boyfriend. "I know what you're thinking, and yes. Jeff needs this"

"Alright then, this is good, just orange juice?" "Yeah, I need to run to the store after work. Want to come with?" "Can't, delivery." "A long one huh, well do you need anything? I can shop for you and take it over"

"Uh no no yes, yes, I need everything, all of it, groceries," he laughs, "do you know where the spare key to the house is?" "My bra, you gave me one last year when you went to Florida, remember?" "Oh yeah, alright," he had already finished, "can I meet the new addition before I start the day?" "Sure!" You were already running out of the door. "Wait, we gotta do the dish-" "I'll do it when I get back!! Come-on!" You grab his hand a pull him.

"This is Mochi," you introduce him. "She's cute," he smiles and pets her and her mother, "alright," he stands back up and stretches. "Hi Karen, hi Courtney," he waves to your jet black Friesian horse with the gorgeous wavy mane, the ever graceful and snooty Karen and the tan Mustang with black from the hooves to the knees like long socks and dark black hair that have a red highlight at the tips in the sun, the ever goofy and stubborn Courtney in the stalls nearby in the barn. "Well, sun is getting up so I should get going. Where are they?" "Uhm, oh! These," you guide him to the cattle he was here to get and he starts loading them up while you wash the dishes from breakfast and put the leftovers away.

"Bye," you wave to each other as you're both heading out for the day. You were already excited for Sunday.

"Morning," Taeyhung scrolls up, he worked with you. "Hey Tae, oh, we decided, she's coming next week on Thursday"

"Awesome, you've been excited. Jeffree right? I have a room ready for her at my place, can't have her stay at a hotel" "Cool, great, thanks you're a sweetheart, I'll tell her"

The next few days passed as always, only now you were excited because you had Karen's show so you got to prepare for that, got her groomed and everything and you were making arrangements for your guest, Jeff, your friend online you met through a mutual liking of a band. As always, days were tiring but Taeyhung made them interesting. The three of you, you two and Namjoon and had been together for as long as you can remember since Taeyhung moved to town when he was six and you all went to the same church. He was a good guy, they both were.

"Night Lil, see you in the morning," he waves goodbye and slips his gloves off as he walks to his truck to go home for the night. The two of you felt like siblings after spending pretty much every day together, you worked most days of the week together then on Sunday there was church where ofcourse the 'golden trio' as the church elders had coined you, all chose to share a pew, and snacks and memes; and after work you would sometimes drink together. You all had other friends from church too, but they weren't as close as the three of you were. You had no idea that Namjoon didn't feel like you were a sibling, maybe he used to, but not for the longest time now. It was Saturday, which meant, going out with them for a drink and something to eat. Taeyhung had insisted he was tired and would see you at church in the morning so you go home, well to the house. You wash up and change into clean comfortable jeans and a clean t-shirt then head out to the bar. You were starving after a days work to say the least, breakfast had worn off forever ago.

"Y/N!" He waves and gestures you over and you skip, for lack of better verb, over to the stool next to him. "Hi Y/N, what will it be?" The server asks, you order your drink first and a appetizer to share with him. That usually was more than enough to fill you both up. "Okay....since the other day....I've been thinking....," He speaks, his hands fiddling with his glass beer mug. "Thinking about what?" You ask curiously and sip yours. ".....Maybe it isn't my place .....but uh....about this Jeff.....I do-"

"it will be fine, relax," you grab his shoulder. "A-Alright.....how was your week?" "It was good, Tae Tae said he was tired so he went home...."

He nods, "that's weird...."

"I know right!? How was your week love?" You were too busy enjoying your drink to look up and notice him change color at the term of endearment. "Oh, I missed you...you guys, I missed you guys," he smiles, those dimples that melt your heart when he has a bashful moment appearing on his cheeks. "Aww, we missed you too. I think Tae is excited about Jeff coming, he has a room ready and everything. Oh, you remember we are going shopping tommorow after work right?" "Yeah, I remember, oh he's happy ab-Jeff is staying with Tae! That's great!" "Joonie ......honey, are you alright?" You ask, raising a brow at him. "Oh...oh yeah, it's just-hotels would be expensive," he covers and is thankful you nod in agreement. It's silent for a bit while you wait on your food, he taps his fingers on his glass and looks straight ahead mostly except for when he steals quick glances at you. His insides were shaking like the leafs on a tree and his foot was tapping like Thumper against the bar on the bottom of the stool as he hears a song come on that he knows is one of your favorite. Letting his eyes scan the room he sees a few drunken couples dancing like complete idiots. "Hey, it's your song......we should dance?"

"You're joking, right? Joonie, seriously"

"no, really," he laughs

"Alright, what the hay?" You shrug and down your drink so you won't care and could actually go through with it.

He chuckles and holds you steady, "feeling brave now?" "Mhm, oh yeah," you nod and giggle.

That Sunday is was a bit of a struggle waking up after the night you had before, Namjoon was sure that you are plenty and drank water but that wasn't enough for him so he drove you home and called Tae to come and get him so he could drive his truck home; he wanted to tuck you in. The shopping after service was fun, Tae even came, he wanted to get a new shirt and some new jeans which he got several of and wanted your opinion on all of them then he proceeded to also get new pointed toe boots. The week seemed to drag for you both as you both got closer to Thursday but it was finally here.

"Tae wake up," you smack him because he stayed over and was going to ride with you to get her. "Hmm?" He sits up slowly and wipes his eyes. "It's Thursday, she texted she's at the airport" "Oh, yeah"

You pick her up together and bring her back to Tae's place and show her around. She seems nervous at first and quiet, shy. "Relax," you laugh as you give her a tour and help her unpack while you wait on Namjoon to come. Tae had seen her pictures online because you had shown him but it was his first time meeting her as well.

"Y/N," he called out for you from the kitchen. "Just a sec, Jeff," you go out to him as he's drying his hands from washing dishes. "Can you introduce us?" "Yeah, sure? Come on," you pull him by his arm.

"Jeff," she turns to you as she is putting her things away on the floor. "Taeyhung is shy, He wants me to introduce you guys."

"Oh, hi," she smiles and you instantly notice his reaction and it all clicks in your head, making you try and hide a smirk. "This is Tae Tea and Tae this is Jeffrene, Jeff"

"H-Hi," he smiles and they shake hands, "Taeyhung," he says, she notices how deep his voice actually is and paired with the shyness has to laugh. You share a look about how adorable it is.

"Hello?" Namjoon calls from the front door. You introduce everyone.

"Jeff is a girl," Namjoon is shocked, you just wanted to see his reaction to thinking it was a guy. Funny, as you suspected.

"There's nothing to do today as far as work...," Tae speaks, directed to you. "Okay? Cool, what should we do?" You ask them. He pulls you off to the side, "c-can I take her to get some boots?" "Some boots?" You cross your arms. "Y-Yeah....," He tucks his hands in his pockets, "I want to show her around...."

You take his body language into account and conceal from him that you see he is crushing on your friend. "oh yeah, that's a good idea, you can take her to meet the girls" "Thanks," he tries to hide how overly excited he is, "h-how do I ask her?" "Okay, it's really complicated," you put a hand on his shoulder, "here is what you do"

"Yeah?"

"You go to her and you," you pause

"Yeah?" You could tell he was falling for your trick. Sweet gullible little Taeyhung, you loved him so much.

"and you say ....do you want to come with me to buy some boots? I want to show you the animals on the farm"

He gives you a squinting glare, "you're an asshole," he says while you're laughing and Namjoon is listening in and kindly restricting himself. You both watch your friend approach his first crush.

"Hi....," He smiles and greets her again, with a awkward little wave, one hand tucked into his back pocket. "Hi"

"Do you want...to come with me...to uhm....to buy you some boots and I can uh....show uh....show you the animals?" You face palm for him.

"That's sweet, sure, that sounds nice," she was happy to go along and as excited as he was, she loved animals.

----you and Namjoon at Tae's house-------

"That's cute, it's good that Tae is finally going for it with someone. I was starting to worry that he's never crushed on anyone before," Namjoon chuckles.

"For real though! I'm so proud but our little boy is growing up, now I'm sad," you stomp and come over to him, hugging his torso to lay your forehead on his chest like a melodramatic distraught wife who was experiencing empty nest syndrome. The action was nothing out of the ordinary. He laughs and pats your hair, "it's okay, we can have s'mores, how about that?" "Oo~ I feel better," the two of you grab the graham crackers and marshmallows but Tae didn't have the sticks or the chocolate so you run to the store for them and come back. Namjoon starts the bonfire then you two get cozy and start eating the s'mores without the other two in Tae's pasture.

"Naa~," Your melted chocolate and marshmallow delight cracker sandwhich is taken away from you. "Hey!"

"Hey! Bad Cleo! Bad Cleopatra! You can't take your aunt's s'mores!" Namjoon scolds the pony. "Now, tell her you're sorry young man," he throws his hands on his hips in a sassy manner which makes you almost fall over laughing. The pony rubs his head against you as a apology. "It's okay baby, I forgive my favorite nephew," you pet his nose and kiss it and he trots away to go to his mother. Namjoon laughs and sits back beside you, looking at them. "Mable is getting old......," you both knew what he meant by that. "Yeah...., I know." "Think Tae will be okay....?" "Let's hope so....."

---Taeyhung and Jeff-----

"What size do you wear?" Tae asks, he insisted on opening his truck door for her, and the store's door. He bought her a pair of boots and gloves before taking her out to your place. "I'll show you Y/N's first, then mine"

"This is Mary Lou and her new calf, she hasn't named her yet," he watches her happily pet them then takes her to your horses, "this is Cortney and Karen," after you've gotten to know them all he shows you all around before taking you home.

"I have horses too, well I have a horse and a pony," he takes you out back.

"Oh, they started without us, I won't let you miss the s'mores," he promises. "Cleo! Mable!" Cleo comes to them and she happily plays with him for a moment before Mable finally gets there and she pets the old horse.

-----

The night is spent enjoying s'mores and getting to know each other by the fire.

Authors Note: This may have a chapter two

[mrcleanheichou]

Forever and ever chapter 2

When two young people fall in love others often call it puppy love. A love so intense that ultimately fizzles out very quickly. No one believes someone so young could fall for someone so fast and have it be genuine until they see it with their own eyes.

Pairing Cowboy!Jungkook x reader

Genre fluff, angst, eventual smut

Word count 2K

Warnings Mention of a boner

Author’s note soooo long time no see lol I am such a bad fic writer, I literally start a WIP and don’t touch it for months. I have 4 WIPs that I bounce between when i get writer’s block. Slowly but surely I want to start writing consistently so I can get better. So I offer to you my Bangtan cowboy yeehaw fic. I really want to read cowboy fics but there’s barely anything so I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world and wrote my own.

Here’s chapter 1

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 week later Jungkook had just finished working on sections of the barbed wire fence with Jimin when he saw his hyung Jin getting the wagon ready. As soon as he put the roll of extra wire and his gloves back in the shed he jogged over to Jin. “Hyung! Are you going to town?”, He asked a little too loud making the horse Jin was hooking up to panic a little. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok.”, Jin says trying to get the horse back under control. Once he gets the nervous animal to calm down he looks toward the sweaty young man. “Yeah, I have to go to the market. Do you want to go?”Jungkook said yes a little to excitedly. “Ok, but go wash up. You stink.”

Jungkook hurried to the room he shares with Taehyung in the large ranch house where all seven of the men who work on Bangtan cattle ranch live. 

**~~~~~~~~~** The whole operation is split four ways between the four older men. Namjoon and Yoongi run the majority of everything between Yoongi finding buyers for their livestock and Namjoon negotiating deals. They are both very knowledgeable cattlemen despite being in their mid twenties. They do not let other cattlemen try to dupe them because they think they’re young and gullible. Multiple times meetings have almost come to blows since the older men don’t like being shown up by the quick witted duo. The other partners are Jin and Hoseok. Jin takes care of feeding six very hungry mouths. He is a very good cook and he is also very skilled at fixing leather. He makes money on the side by fixing bridles and saddles for other people. Then there’s Hoseok who used to be a bronco rider on the rodeo circuit and now he uses his skills to break in young horses. Jimin and Taehyung were a couple of trouble makers that would do little odd jobs and play cards to get money to drink and entertain the women at multiple saloons almost every night. They ended up at the same poker table as Yoongi one night 6 years ago. They got to talking and he told them about needing workers on his ranch. Jimin automatically said no. He was very against that idea since he didn’t want to do actual hard labor in the sun. Taehyung was more open to the idea of a consistent pay check. Yoongi made them a bet. They’d play three rounds of ‘7-card-stud’ and if Yoongi beat them at least two times then he’d stop asking. But if he did beat them then they both had to come work for him. They took the bet and obviously Yoongi won. Although Jimin still to this day swears Yoongi cheated. Jungkook’s story is a little different. He made the 50 mile journey to Coyote Creek from his family’s farm after one of many fights he had with his father. When his mother died his father turned to alcohol to drown the pain. He became a monster of a man and resented the fact that Jungkook looked like his mother. The only time an argument turned physical was right before Jungkook ran away. He accidentally burnt the dinner he was making. His father immediately got up and grabbed Jungkook by the shirt and yelled in his face about how useless he was. He told him he regreted ever having him and that he has never loved him. When Jungkook started crying his father slapped him across the face. That was the final straw for Jungkook. As soon as his father was too drunk to even know where he was, he started packing some of his things and stole some money his father’s stash in his closet. He raided the storehouse for as much essential foods that he could reasonably transport and packed it all up onto one of their horses. Taking one final look back at his childhood home, Jungkook finally stopped fighting his tears. He sobbed, allowing himself to mourn the loss of both his mother and father. Once he calmed down he got on his horse and left his old life behind. At the age of 14 Jungkook set off for a better life. It took him  two days to reach the town where he promptly started asking around for a job. Unfortunately no one was interested in hiring him, even for simple jobs. After six days he was out of cash, hungry and desperate. He went to the horse auctions and was going to sell his horse to survive when a man who was wearing an expensive looking black cowboy hat asked him why he looked so sad. Jungkook told him he couldn’t get money any other way and he had no home to return to. The man gave him a sympathetic look and told him to stay where he was. That he’d be right back. A few minutes later he came back with a shorter man in tow. “My name is Namjoon and this is Yoongi.”, the other man tips his hat at Jungkook “I’d like to make you an offer.” Jungkook was about to say thank you when Namjoon cut him off, “But, I don’t want the horse. We’re looking for a new ranch hand and you look like a hard worker. Would you like to come work for us?” Jungkook immediately says yes. “What’s your name kid?” “Jungkook.” “Where are your parents?” Yoongi asked looking concerned. When Jungkook looked down at the ground trying to come up with an answer Yoongi put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” The two men take Jungkook with them to purchase the two horses they came to the auction for. They then head out for the ten mile ride it takes to get back to their ranch. Namjoon notices that Jungkook’s face looks sunburnt so he asks him if he needs a hat. “No, no it’s ok you don’t have to give me anything, I’m fine.” Namjoon pays him no mind as he takes the obviously expensive hat off his head and places it on Jungkook’s. “Every man needs a good hat.” Six years later Jungkook still wears it. **~~~~~~~** Jungkook took his time looking through his clothes. He finally chose a white button up, the pair of jeans he never wears when he does work and his nice town boots. After he washed up and changed he walked back to where Jin was waiting for him. ”You know we’re just going to town for supplies right?” Jin commented looking him up and down while Jungkook climbed onto the wagon next to him. Jin himself was wearing his work overalls that had leather oil on them. “Yeah, I just felt like dressing up that’s all.” Jin just shrugged and snapped the reigns to get the horse to start moving. When they got into town Jungkook immediately looked toward the school and was disappointed when it seemed like no one was there. Dejectedly, Jungkook got off the wagon and followed Jin to the first shop. “Ok, I made a you a list so we can split up and get it done faster”, Jin said handing Jungkook a piece of paper leaving him in front of the farmer’s market. Jungkook sighed and went into the shop that housed fruits and vegetables and opened the door. He grabbed a woven hand basket from the counter and went for the first item on his list. Apples. Not just any apples either, Jin wrote ‘***GOOD APPLES***’ Which caused Jungkook to stand confused in front of all the different types of apples for a few minutes. “What the hell does ‘good apples’ even mean? I thought all apples were good.” “Would you like some help?”, A sweet sounding voice asked. Jungkook looks to the side and almost gasped when he saw who was talking to him. It was the school teacher, she was stunning up close and her eyes were exceptionally beautiful. She smiles at him and he swears he felt his heart skip a beat. “You seem a little out of your element here.” “Y-yeah.”, Jungkook manages to say while trying to not stare at the woman. He doesn’t know why he’s so infatuated with her. He doesn’t even know her. “Do you know what kind of apples you want?” Jungkook feels his face getting hot because, no. Jin just wrote apples and there’s a bunch of different kinds in front of him. “No, my hyung didn’t write down what kind he wanted.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’m completely lost.” “That’s ok, can I see your list? Maybe I can try to guess what he’s making and get you the right apples for it.” Jungkook handed her the shopping list and their hands briefly touched causing Jungkook to completely stop breathing. The woman started reading the list and mumbling to herself with a look of concentration. Jungkook thought it was was the cutest thing ever. “Ok! I think he’s gonna be making apple pie because he wrote down; flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, and butter. But you can’t get that here today. Mr. Lee only comes to town with his milk and butter 3 times a week so you’ll have to come back for that tomorrow. But we can definitely get your ‘Good Apples’ today.”, she giggled and he looked at her in awe. How could someone so lovely actually talk to him. He almost felt unworthy of being in her presence. “Ok so I’m going to be biased and get you the apples I personally think are the best for pie. If your Hyung doesn’t like them then tell me and I’ll give you money for different ones.” she said looking over her shoulder at a nodding Jungkook. “I love these ones. They’re ‘Pink Lady’ apples.”, she says grabbing a small light red apple “They’re Sweet but not too sweet. They make the pie come out much better than green apples and their name sounds classy.” She handed it to Jungkook and started picking out the best apples from the pile. After finding 6 perfect apples she put them in the basket he was carrying. Once again accidentally touching him In the process. Jungkook completely froze, he felt as if he was shocked by electricity. “I can help you with rest of your things” the woman said looking up at the poor awestruck man. “I mean only if you want me to...” she added when Jungkook just stared at her without answering worrying that she might have been intruding. Jungkook just nodded, he couldn’t trust himself to speak without fumbling over his words. The woman smiled and spent the next 30 minutes helping him with the rest of Jin’s list. After Jungkook payed the two made their way to the wagon. “Thank you for helping me. I would have been lost for a long time.” “You’re welcome” the teacher smiled at him brightly. “It was my pleasure. By the way what’s your name Mr apple pie?” “Jungkook” the woman pondered that for a second before extending her hand. “I’m y/n” Jungkook silently hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hand was. If y/n did she didn’t say anything about it while grasping his calloused hand with her smaller and much softer hand. Jungkook felt ashamed when his thoughts immediately when to a dirty place when he imagined her soft hands touching him somewhere else. Mentally slapping himself he snapped out of it before he, as Jimin liked to call it, popped a boner. “Well, Mr. Jungkook, I’ll see you at the school house bright and early tomorrow” she said while turning to walk away. When y/n was gone Jungkook raised his hand to his face to make sure this was all real. With his luck this would end up being a dream. At least it would has been a really good dream. He must have zoned out for a while because he was startled back to reality by Jin clapping him on the shoulder, “Stop staring into la la land and help me tie everything down.” Jungkook took one last look at his hand, “You were right hyung” ...’love at first sight does exist.’ “I’m always right. I don’t know why you’re barely realizing that now”

[valkyrieofsmut]

Cowboy!Kurt’s Mail Order Bride

Cowboy!Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler) x Mutant!OC

Descriptions:   Old westAU In about 1900 Germany, Kurt has heard stories about the wild west and dreamt about being a cowboy for a long time. When he’s brought over to America and sent to live with Logan he’s excited, until he learns what hard work a ranch actually is. Logan knows a woman will set him straight from his shenanigans, and brings one back. Kurt hopes for love, but they can’t seem to get along.

A/n- I watched the (1964) western movie “Mail Order Bride” and thought it would be hilarious to make a story and stick our favorite blue fuzzy man in! Also... He’s kind of a whiny brat in the beginning... because that’s where he had to be to have character growth! lol. 

Masterlist

Story!

Kurt laid in the back of the wagon, looking up at the night sky as they traveled toward the new place he would be living. 

New York. 

It was a large city in America, but he was hoping that it still had some of its western charm. 

A lot of books about the west had recently come to Germany for him to read, stories of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, wild outlaws, good lawmen, genteel ladies… 

He smiled as the thought came to mind that he may meet one of them. 

The smile turned to a frown, however, when he looked at the three fingered hand he lifted up to look at against the sky. 

Not only three fingered, but blue in the light, and invisible in the dark, except to his yellow-eyed night vision. 

He turned over and looked where Hank, a large man wearing a pair of glasses, was laying back, napping, and he wondered if it was something learned here, since he’d traveled all the time with the circus, but had never been able to sleep, since they all stayed awake in order to set up camp as soon as they landed. 

Or maybe it was the time difference since traveling across the ocean to America. 

He pulled his well worn German copy of “Tales of the wild west” from his bag and started reading. 

.

The sun shone down into Kurt’s eyes, waking him, and he saw that they had stopped moving. He sat up and looked around over the edge of the wagon, seeing a rather large spread of land, larger than what they’d take for the circus, even. He looked around further and saw Hank talking to a man in a wheelchair at the door of what he could only describe as a mansion. 

Kurt hopped out of the back and made his way to the door, knowing that Scott and Jean had probably already gone to “freshen up” or whatever it was city folk did after a journey. 

As he got to the door, Kurt had his eyes down and pulled on his hat so he didn’t have to see the shock/ disturbance in the man he was sure was the Professor’s face as he saw him for the first time, and followed the other two men inside. 

“Hello, Kurt. We are glad to have you here, are you excited to be in America?” The Professor asked. 

“Certainly,” he answered. “I have heard a lot of the cowboys here, and it has become my dream to be one as well.” 

The Professor chuckled. “We don’t have many cowboys around these settlements anymore, mostly settlers.” 

Kurt frowned, his hand holding his bag against him tightly. 

.

Logan was at the feed store, putting in an order when a woman came from the general store next door. 

“Oh, Mr. Logan, I’m glad you haven’t left yet, someone is on the line for you,” she told him, looking a tiny bit harried, but also interested in the happenings of whatever was going on. 

Logan looked up, wondering who it could be and threw two dollars on the counter. “Just load it up,” he told the man before following the woman next door. 

“It’s right back here,” she showed him, making sure the phone was working correctly before she left. 

“Yeah?” He asked into the phone. 

“Logan, thank goodness. It’s Xavier. Listen, I’ve taken in a young man- I’m not sure what to do with him.” 

“Sounds rough Professor, where do I come in?” 

“Well, I was hoping- He is very disappointed that there are no cowboys around here, he wants to be one desperately, I suppose.” 

There was a pause as Logan didn’t say anything. 

“I was thinking; your ranch is away from town quite a ways- he is affected physically- and it’s more like what he was hoping for-” 

The Professor’s voice was a little tight, and Logan knew it wasn’t for only those reasons that he wanted to bring the new mutant there. 

“I don’t know Professor, if he can’t hack it at city life, he ain’t gonna survive ranch life.” 

“I think he would enjoy it much more, Logan, just being there,” came the pressing answer. “And, I will, of course, help with expenses if he needs anything.” 

“Well… Suppose I could use a ranch hand. But I ain’t going easy on him.” 

Logan could practically hear the relief in the Professor’s voice as he said that someone would be around with him shortly. 

Shortly was a relative term when a simple trip to town could take a day, several hours, or just a few, depending on your mode of transport, and it was a mite bit farther from New York to where he was. 

Logan raised a brow, but shrugged it off as he hung up the phone. 

He finished his shopping around town and climbed back onto the wagon before turning his team back to home. 

He was surprised to see a figure standing on his porch, and only relaxed after he could tell that it was Hank. 

“Howdy,” Hank greeted. 

“Hey,” Logan responded. “How did you get here so fast?” He asked. 

Hank smiled his easy smile. “The new boy is a teleporter, and he was very motivated to come here. Took him a few jumps, but we made extremely good time.” 

“Yeah?” Logan snuffed, looking around. “Where is he?” 

Hank gestured to the other side of the house. “Out back. Your dog gave us a greeting.” 

“Hm. Get in,” Logan told Hank and they continued around the house to the back, stopping next to the barn. 

Logan saw his fluffy shepard mix chasing a lithe blue figure back into the herd of cattle that mooed and called to each other. 

Logan climbed down and stood on the fence for a moment before whistling to the dog and the young man followed the dog over. “Keel,” he told the dog and it laid down. 

The blue man stood next to the fence, a huge grin across his face. “Hallo,” he greeted with German accent. “I was just playing with your dog, he is very nice.” 

“He wasn’t playing,” Logan told him. “He was herding you.” 

“What?” Kurt asked in surprise. 

“Buck, tend,” Logan told the dog, and the dog jumped up and ran back to the herd. “He’s a herd dog. He protects them, and anything that’s not a threat in the fence that can be herded will be.” 

Kurt blushed a little and looked away in embarrassment. “Oh…” 

“So, you’re the one who wants to be a cowboy, huh?” Logan asked as Kurt easily slipped through the horizontal slats in the fence. 

“Ja, very much,” he enthused. “My name is Kurt,” he held out his hand as he greeted his new mentor. 

At least, he hoped he’d be his mentor, he certainly looked like a cowboy; a day’s growth on his face, muscles to spare from working his place, he had the boots, clothes, and hat. A real cowboy. He grinned at the man who was a little shorter than him, but he just got a grunt in reply. 

“There’s no time for messin’ around here, we have to unload this wagon.” 

.

Days passed and Kurt was exhausted. 

“But, I want to be a real cowboy,” he complained. “With the gunfights, and stampeeds, and cattle drives, and riding a horse everywhere…” 

Logan pounded on the horseshoe held by the other hand with a hammer. “Ain’t that romantic.” 

“I thought I was moved here so that I could be like a cowboy, but you all lied to me! You just wanted me out here to hide me from the town! I was doing fine at that in Germany, they promised I’d get to be like a cowboy!” He whined as he teleported around the shed rapidly in aggravation. 

“Knock it off,” Logan yelled, startling Kurt into stopping. “They sent you here because you need some training to be a man and not an annoying kid anymore.” 

“What? I’m not annoying,” Kurt denied. 

“Annoying me instead of doing your chores,” Logan told him. 

Kurt huffed and teleported to the ground to kick a rock. 

“Didn’t your mama teach you any manners?” 

“Nein,” Kurt snapped at him sullenly. 

“Hm,” he set down the things in his hands and switched tools to shoe the horse standing by the post. “Maybe that’s what you need, then.” 

“What?” 

“A woman to teach you how to behave like a man.” 

“A woman?” Kurt asked. 

Logan grunted in reply. 

“How is a woman going to teach me how to act like a man? Is she a crossdresser?” Kurt asked as he burst out laughing. 

“Think I’ll go find one,” Logan told him. 

“Really?” Kurt questioned, growing serious. 

Logan tossed his head yes as he finished with the horse. 

“A genteel woman?” Kurt asked a bit softly. 

“Yeah, sure. One that won’t put up with any cud from you,” Logan grumbled. 

”When will you go?” Kurt asked, his voice a bit surer, now. 

“Well, horse is shod. Could head out tomorrow, as long as you take care to milk the cow and don’t let yourself starve to death while I’m gone.” 

.

Kurt lay awake in the room he’d been told to sleep in, his hands unable to stay in one place for long, flitting nervously from his view to clutching the blankets to him to touching the book laying in the bed next to him. 

What would she look like? 

How would she react to seeing him for the first time? 

Would she be like the strict school marms he had read about, or more like a caring mother? 

How old would she be? 

His age, or older to be a mother figure? 

If she was his age, would she like him, or even be able to look past how he looked? 

Those questions and so many more rushed through his mind, unable to be quieted. 

.

The next morning he walked out to see Logan off, surprised at the amount of things he was loading onto his horse. 

“How long will it take to go into town?” Kurt asked. 

“Can’t go into town for this,” Logan answered. “No one is going to let their daughter go out to my ranch alone with me to live. Besides, we need someone who isn’t connected with the town so that it doesn’t raise suspicion.” 

“Oh… How far will you have to go?” Kurt asked. 

“Couple of towns. Should be back by the end of the month.” 

Kurt’s eyes widened. “What will I eat?” He asked. 

Logan shrugged. “There’s enough canned stuff, jerky and cheese to last for about that long, coffee, the well is good, milk from the cow, and some bread as long as you eat it before it goes bad. If you get real hungry, there’s always the horse feed.” 

Kurt looked irritated as Logan kicked the horse and took off. 

“Huh,” he grumbled, turning to the fence and jumping it easily, despite it being as tall as him, running to the dog and chasing it around, playing and rolling around on the ground. 

A/N-  For the next chapter, I also have to make a special note that the oc’s name is Bethilde (beth - ill - duh), because I named her, and then realized later that her name is spelled the same as Bethilde (bet- ill- duh). Basically, it’s just the pronunciation of the h, but Beth is short for (beth - ill - duh) and Betty is short for (bet - ill - duh) lol.

[dolantmego]

94 and 95 with gray plsssss ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: Alright. This is way too long and this the first ask that I have ever done. So hi doll! Thanks for sending in! I hope this is what you were looking for? Sorry it took so long I got carried away. Also this is the first like SMUT SMUT I’ve done so hello hi. Who knew I’d be doing all these things for Gray first? Lord above.

Warnings: Smut? Language? TERRIBLE WRITING????

94. “Saddle up doll.”

95. “Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.”

“Grayson you look like an idiot.” You giggle at Ethan’s words and nod in agreement, giving your boyfriend another once over. He’d forced the two of you to sit in the living room while he went to grab the surprise he’d been planning for the next video. The camera panned between Ethan and Grayson, who had deflated slightly.

“We’re going to the rodeo!” Gray imitates pulling guns out of side holsters and makes small noises while jumping from side to side. The whole ensemble–hat, chaps, boots, belt buckle, the hilarity of it all–struck you all at once. You couldn’t contain your laughter at this point and you start cackling.

“GRAY. THAT IS THE DUMBEST IDEA I HAVE EVER–” Ethan starts.

“ETHAN ITS PERFECT WE GET TO WEAR–”

“GET TO? GRAYSON YOU LOOK LIKE–”

“DON’T BE MEAN BRO ITS FOR FUN!”

“I’M NOT DOING THIS”

You slump back in your chair and listen to the boys argue. It was always funny, when one boy had an idea to do something stupid, the other hated it. And they would go back and forth and back and forth. But as always, lo and behold, a few hours later and the twins were decked out in the most ridiculous rodeo garb you’d ever seen.

Thank god you had chosen to be in the background for this video, because you were able to dawn something a bit more normal. I.e. jean shorts, boots, and a button up. The boys on the other hand–or Grayson rather–had gone all out. Huge belt buckles, colorful boots, chaps with fringe. They really looked dumb, cute, but dumb. But that was half the fun of hanging out with the two of them, they made life interesting.

It took all day to get footage of the boys running around and trying crazy stuff. You just thanked god that the bull had been mechanical. Seeing Grayson on a huge animal like that would have given you a heart attack. Not that both of them didn’t try to get on a real bull. As well as fail miserably on the mechanical one. You had been the one who had made it the longest atop the machine.

“What can I say gentlemen? I know how to ride.” You wink at Grayson, who had been secretly foaming at the mouth for you all day, but after that wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. He pulls your hips against him by your belt loops, and wow were you just now noticing how sexy he actually looks in that hat. Ethan groans in annoyance, and grumbles about definitely NOT putting any of that in the video.

The final activity for the day was the one you were most looking forward to, going horseback riding. Luckily not at the rodeo since the boys weren’t into sticking around for the nightlife part of the experience. Which made sense since they a. Didn’t drink and b. Couldn’t drink. Not that you were complaining. The whole day had been fun, but the crowds of people, animals, and food had started to really unsettle your nerves. So a quiet horseback ride with your boyfriend after the camera shuts off was going to be the highlight of your day.

Both boys had lost the chaps by the time you got to the horse ranch. Grayson’s had ripped on his thighs and Ethan declared that if Grayson didn’t have to wear them than neither did he. So you looked like a relatively more normal crew. Or as normal as three teenagers dressed in rodeo outfits with an entire camera crew surrounding them screaming “PEACE” could possibly look.

As soon as the cameras are down Ethan hops off the horse and hands over the reigns to you. Your eyes go wide at being face to face with the prospect of getting on the giant creature. Had horses always been this big?

“Saddle up doll!” Ethan says chipperly. Usually the nickname makes you feel better–much to Gray’s annoyance–but not this time. You look back and forth between him and the horse, slightly panicked. “Y/N you haven’t shut up about this all day and now you’re not even gonna get on it?” Ethan huffs and tries to force you up onto the horse, but you can’t do it. It’s too big. You’re exhausted. This animal looks terrifying up close. No thanks.

“Maybe another time guys. I don’t think…” You trail off and look up to Grayson–still wearing the jeans, button up, and hat–and the air in your lungs evaporates. The sun is setting behind him and he looks tan and perfect on top of his horse. And he’s staring down at you with heat in his eyes.

“Just ride with me.” He says, holding a hand out to you to join him on his horse. You walk over slowly and take his hand, Ethan disappears to return the other horse to the stables. Grayson helps pull you up behind him and your arms instantly wrap tight around his waist. “ Come on mama. I gotcha.” He assures before flicking the reins so the horse moves toward one of the trails.

Once you get used to riding the horse it is actually really nice. The trail leads back through a wooded area, the sun is slowly setting, and being pressed up against Gray like you are right now? Well you couldn’t really complain. This would fuel your cowboy fantasies for the rest of your life. So much so that you’re flat against his back as you can be, peppering kisses on his shoulders, running a hand up his thigh when you can, and digging your small fingers into his waist.

Grayson stops the horse in front of an overlook and slides off the horse easily. He turns around and holds his hand out to you and you swear you almost swoon. How did he look so hot like this? The goofball persona now gone, and now he was just Gray. Gray dressed as a cowboy, but just Gray. Being himself and knocking you off your feet.

“Ma’am.” He says in a gravelly voice, as he pulls you down off the horse, pressing you against him as he slides you down his body. You turn bright red when you can feel how hard he is through his jeans. This boy could go from goofball to, well, daddy, in two seconds flat and it always shook you to your core. He lets you go once you reach the ground, and tips his hat to you dramatically.

“Why thank you…sir.” You return the small playful language and give him a slow once over and suck your lip in between your teeth. He was sweaty and he looked like every girl’s fantasy. You whimper slightly, and that? That is what does it.

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip?” He growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and jerking you to him. He’d felt you press closer to him on the horse. Felt the bounce you had behind him. Your hands had drifted down to rub his thighs more than once. This boy is turned on and beyond ready to be inside of you. “Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.” And before you can even open your mouth to say anything his hand is in your hair, pulling it back roughly and he is capturing your lips with his own.

You moan into the kiss and that gives him the access he needs to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He tastes like the mint gum you gave him on the drive over, and vaguely of the cotton candy you’d shared at the fairgrounds. He tugs on your hair harder and his fingers dig into your hips. He loves it when you make the little sounds that you do, the pants and whimpers of want. You pull back to breathe and Grayson immediately moves to your neck, digging his fingers into your hips at bruising point now.

“Gray,” You pant, trying to get his attention, he hums into your neck, “Gray please.” He pulls back and takes your hand to pull you back from where the horses are to a tree on the edge of the trail. His tall frame traps you against the tree and his arms, his endless gorgeous arms, trap you between them.

“Don’t worry mama I’ll give you what you want.” He grins cockily and lifts you against his waist and the tree, you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist, a panicked look on your face. He chuckles again and runs his nose down your cheek lovingly, “Where’s my brave girl?” He rocks his hips against yours slowly. Enough so you’re eliciting those little whimpers again. “You looked so sexy up on that bull today. I couldn’t stop thinking about you bouncing like that on my cock.” He bites your neck and sucks the skin there hard enough to make you cry out. “But after that little stunt you pulled rubbing up on me on the horse?” He tisks and flicks his tongue before shoving you against the tree harder, “I just wanna see you take it.”

And with that he’s balancing you on the tree and unzipping your jeans and slipping them down your legs. You’re out on a random horseback trail bare from the waist down. And you’re begging him for it. He groans at the sight of you and you reach forward to help him unzip his pants enough to get his cock out.

Despite the fact that you’re dripping and Gray is beyond the need to be inside you, he still reaches forward to drag his fingers through your heat, swirling around in your wetness almost languidly. His fingers brush your clit each go around and you start squirming against him and the tree, needing more friction than he’s giving you. He chuckles and leads forward to get right next to your ear.

“Look at you Y/N. Squirming around from just my fingertips. You look like such a slut for me right now. You want it so bad you’ll let me fuck you against a tree, mama?” You nod frantically at his question and he nips your ear, “You know better than that mama. Use your words yeah?” He slips one finger inside of you and growls when you tighten around him, his cock gets impossibly harder.

“P-please Gray. Please I need you.” You whine, you actually whine form him. Nothing else has your focus at this moment expect doing anything you have to, to get this man inside of you. His finger feels good, but it’s not enough. Even when he adds a second finger and curls them inside you, you only whimper more. “It’s not enough please please I want to cum. I need you Gray.”

That seems to satisfy his needs to hear you beg because the next thing you know he is pushing into you hard and fast. Two fingers wasn’t enough to stretch you open for him and his pace is relentless. You’re sure his groans and your screams echo through the trees, and the nail marks in his back will definitely bruise tomorrow. But the way he feels inside of you makes you feel so full and tight, its got your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Rub that clit for me mama. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” He groans, knowing he isn’t going to last for much longer. You reach down with the free hand that’s not wrapped around his neck and rub your finger over the hard bundle of nerves, your body tightens as that familiar feeling starts to wash over you. “Fuck Y/N you’re so tight. Cum for me baby. Come on.”

“I want you to fill me so bad Gray. So bad.” You whimper, and his pace quickens, he loved it when you begged for him to cum in you. You rub faster on your clit and finally hit that spot that has you practically milking Gray’s cock while you scream your release. He can’t take the sight of you coming undone for him like that and joins you, latching his mouth to your neck as his cock twitches inside you and fills you up like you love.

After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, grayson easily lets you down and you wobble on your legs slightly. He chuckles and wraps an arm around your waist before kissing your sweaty forehead.

“You’re so good for me.” He grins against your skin, and you smile back tiredly. “You’re a mess right now though.” You scoff in mock offense and shove him slightly. He grins and pats down your hair a bit before you smack him off so he doesn’t make it worse.

Gray, ever your sexy goofball.

[rowan-yourboat]

Pieces of Me

Who: Rowan & Charlie When: Saturday, August 21st Where: Pawsome Animal Shelter What: Rowan shares a primordial part of her life with Charlie. All fluff and mishaps. Warnings: None

Rowan was all smiles as she made her way down the hallways of Erickson. It was still early, perhaps unfairly so, as the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but she was a woman on a mission. At least once a month, she would make the short drive to the outskirts of Brighton, all so she could get to spend the whole day doing volunteer work at a local animal shelter. This time, though, she didn't fancy going alone, and an idea immediately popped into her head. She knew just the person to take along. Knocking twice on Charlie's door, she waited, a small smile still on her face.

Charlizard was having an intensely pleasant dream that involved Hollywood celebrities and deep pits filled with sharks when a persistent knocking noise pulled her from her slumber. Untangling herself from Morgan, she padded to the door in what could generously be called a tank top and opened it just wide enough to peek through the crack. "Row?" she rubbed her bleary eyes with one hand. "What's wrong? Building on fire? Please tell me the building is on fire."

Rowan chuckled at the, dare she call it, adorable sight. "No fires to report; thankfully. I'm here to ask you to go somewhere with me. If you don't have plans, of course." She was quick to amend, not wanting to come off as too pushy. They could barely be called friends, but Rowan had to come to accept that she truly enjoyed the blonde's company, even when said blonde did her best to push all of her buttons. "I know it's early and all, but I promise to make it worth your while."

Charlizard had to blink a few more times to make sure that she was awake and understanding Row properly, but once she'd digested the idea a sleepy smile tugged at her lips. "I'd like that." She didn't even ask what their destination was, something she would have done with just about anyone else. "Just give me five minutes to throw some clothes on and maybe run a brush through my hair. Want to give me any hints to help me decide what to wear for this trip?"

Rowan couldn't help but grin, going as far as to clap once in excitement. "Definitely comfy jeans and boots, stuff you don't mind getting dirty." It wasn't easy to keep herself from focusing too hard on the girl's sleepy smile, and the way the sight tugged at something within her. It was just the excitement, that was all.

Charlizard was struck, even in her sleepy state, by how much Row's excitement made her happy in turn. She was, however, far too tired to figure out just what that meant. "I'm not even going to make the super obvious joke. I'd invite you to wait in here, but Morgan's still asleep and she takes getting woken up even worse than I do." Grinning, she quietly closed the door and found some old clothes in her bottom drawer that weren't long for the world: blue jeans, a little too tight, paired with a button-up shirt that was a little too big. The boots were a sacrifice; not her favorite pair, but ones that made her look good that wouldn't break her heart if she had to throw them out later. Hair and teeth were done quickly, her blonde mane pulled back into a ponytail, and a few minutes later she opened the door with a much more awake look in her eyes. "Acceptable?"

Rowan raked her eyes up and down Charlie's body, taking in the simple, but somehow very flattering outfit. It was really not fair for someone to be that effortlessly attractive. "Not acceptable; gorgeous." She said, and meant it. "Let's get this show on the road, then. I'll stop by McD's to get something to eat. Least I can do after waking you up so early." Twenty minutes later and armed with coffee and breakfast sandwiches, they were well on their way to Brighton. "Question, do you have any animal allergies?"

Charlizard grinned deviously, even if the compliment had also brought a flush to her cheeks. "Look who's talking. At least you've had a chance to actually wake up - then again, I've seen you rumpled in the morning and that's actually better anyway." She perked up immediately at the thought of a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. "You've got yourself a deal." Row's truck was somehow both perfect and ridiculous, much like the girl herself, and a shockingly comfortable ride ensued. Her question took Charlie slightly by surprise, but she swallowed the bite of hashbrown she was working on and shook her head. "Not that I know of. I mean I haven't been around every animal, but I know cats and dogs are fine at least."

Rowan thanked her lucky stars silently. She should've had the good mind to ask first, but since deciding to invite Charlie along had been a spur of the moment kind of thing, there really had been no time. "Well, guess there's no time like the present to find out if you're allergic to chickens. And cows, goats, raccoons, horses; you catch my drift." Winking at the blonde, she took a bite of her sandwich and focused back on the road. It didn't take that long, twenty more minutes on the road and a colorful sign welcomed them to Brighton. Five more minutes of navigating rough terrain and the green truck pulled up into a ranch. "Welcome to Pawsome animal sanctuary.!"

Charlizard still hadn't stopped being undone by that wink, although now her curiosity was raging. There weren't a whole lot of places that one would meet chickens, and unless Row was secretly an urban farmer then it seemed unlikely that it was somewhere she owned. "I guess I will," she agreed with a melodic laugh, washing down the last of her breakfast with a swig of hot, black coffee. McD's actually made some decent brew these days, and her eyes were far wider than they had been when they left the school. She watched for signs, turning to shoot Row an impressed grin when they reached their destination. "An animal sanctuary? That's awesome!" She loved animals, much more than she did most people.

Rowan felt relief wash over her as Charlie's excitement. She had been a little worried that the blonde might not exactly be the type to get down and dirty; literally. "I come here at least once a month. Sometimes it's much easier to deal with animals than people." Reaching behind the seats, she pulled two beat-up trucker hats; shoved one on and passed one to the blonde. "It's feeding time, let's see who's more of an ass; you or the actual donkeys."

Charlizard nodded, knowing exactly what Row meant by that. The trucker hat was almost post-ironic, or meta, or something, but she rolled with it all the same and snorted at the pithy comment from the driver's seat. "I'm sure it'll be a close contest, but we do know that I'm much more fun to pet." It was her turn to wink playfully as she slid down out of the truck and felt the ground give under her feet, just a little. Witty repartee aside, she was more than ready to see some cute animals.

Rowan was even impressed herself when she managed to scramble up a tree in an attempt to escape sure death. Everything had been going well, Charlie took to what was pretty much the role of a farmhand rather well. They fed the donkeys and horses, made friends with the chickens, and even got a heavy dose of love from the herd of dogs as they ran around with them. So, yeah, everything was fine, until they had walked by the chicken coop and she was face to face with her one true enemy. "Charlie, stop laughing and shoo it away!" She screamed, squealing in fear a moment later as the untameable beast made to reach for her. Toto the turkey was out for blood, and Rowan had been wholly unprepared. "I swear I'm going to kill you if you don't help me, Fabray!"

Charlizard had never spent so much time around any animals that weren't plainly domestic, but everything from the donkeys to the dogs were fun to interact with and take care of. For a long while she wasn't thinking of anything but the animals and how cute Row looked in her trucker hat and jeans. It was even better than the bar, because she was casual and relaxed. Nothing, though, topped watching her run from a turkey and climb a tree. It was so hard to stop laughing that she didn't bother, doing her best instead to corral the animal even though she could barely breathe. "Don't worry, Row! I'll save you from the vicious beast!"

Rowan screeched once more, and the ruckus was enough to attract the attention of some of the other volunteers. Everyone knew of the hatred the animal displayed towards Rowan, even when all the other animals had taken to her immediately, and such a show wasn't too out of the ordinary. "I'm going to murder you, Fabray." She said, finally climbing down the tree once Toto was led away from the commotion. She was all pouts and quiet grumbling as she dusted herself off, giving the still cackling blonde a dirty look. "No one will find your body, I promise you."

Charlizard looked innocently at Rowan, gesturing back toward the pen. "I'm sorry," she wheezed through her laughter. "I really was trying to get him back where he belonged, but this is the first time I've ever seen a turkey that wasn't in a roasting pan!" She gathered herself and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. But you can murder me if it makes you feel better." Gesturing toward the turkey, Charlie raised an eyebrow. "What'd you ever do to him?"

Rowan rolled her eyes, though it was hard to keep playing the angry card when Charlie's smile was that stupidly cute. "Nothing. I never did a single thing to him, save for existing. That's enough reason for him to hate my guts." The sun was already beginning its descent west when Rowan looked up at the sky and making a split decision, she took Charlie's hand and pulled her towards the stables. There, a lone man brushed a horse diligently, humming to himself. "Hey, Gramps! Can we take Judge for a ride?" The older man scoffed, but there was affection crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Not without introducing me to this lovely, young lady here." Smiling sheepishly at her slip up, she pulled Charlie forward. "Charlie, this is Gramps, he takes care of the horses and is all around a badass. Gramps, this is Charlie, my friend."

Charlizard looked dubious, but since she had no reason to disbelieve Row's version of events there was no choice but to blame it on the turkey. "In that case, that turkey is a dick. And I'm not going to wish that he becomes thanksgiving dinner or anything, but I do hope he falls over when he's chasing you next time and knocks himself out for a while." She gave the turkey a dirty look, and she was sure she got one back. It wasn't until Rowan tugged her hand that she realized how sore she was after a day's work with the animals...and how little she minded that. "A ride?" she asked softly, looking at the horse and the man taking care of it. "It's nice meeting you," she smiled at him, wondering how long Row had known him.

Rowan smiling placidly at the interaction, Rowan squeezed Charlie's hand before going to press a kiss to the man's temple. "Alright, old man, we're gonna go before you charm my date away from me." Gesturing for Charlie to follow, they made their way to the very end of the barn where a huge, silverish horse with a black mane immediately stuck its head over the gate with a soft neigh in greeting. "Hey there, boy. I missed you." Rowan allowed the horse to nuzzle her hair, then fished a carrot from her pocket and fed it to the horse. She produced another snack, a small apple this time, and passed it to Charlie to give it to the horse. "This beautiful beast is Judge. He's a bit temperamental but his love is easily bought with food."

Charlizard gave Rowan's hand a squeeze in return, wishing the older man well as she was quickly led into the barn. And while she never would have admitted it aloud, the appearance of a giant horse's head over the stall made her jump just a little. It was impressive watching just how easily Row interacted with him, like she'd been born to take care of huge animals that towered over her, and Charlie was more than a little in awe. "It's been a while since I was around a horse," she confessed. "Do I just give him the whole thing, or...?" it was probably a silly concern wondering whether the horse would have trouble with the apple's core, but she still had to ask.

Rowan nodded. "Yup, just hold it out with your hand open and he'll take it." And so the horse did, taking the treat and munching happily, before sniffing and insistently nuzzling Charlie's head. "Told you, he might already be in love with you. Come on, let's go for a ride before going back." Saddling the horse was second nature for her, and once they were ready and out on the field, a thought popped into her head and she looked at the blonde curiously. "Wait, do you know how to ride?"

Charlizard looked from the horse to the apple and nodded. "Gotcha." She lifted her hand high enough for the horse to take the apple and giggled softly as the fruit disappeared from her hand quicker than she could blink. "Hungry boy, aren't you?" she smiled, laughing more loudly as the horse nuzzled her. "I'm sorry, buddy, that's all I've got right now. Next time I'll bring you a whole bag of apples or however many you're allowed to eat in a day." Row's country girl ways were increasingly impressive, and Charlie could only watch as the horse was quickly saddled and led outside. "It's...been a long time," she admitted. "Not since I was a kid. I think I remember the basics, but that's about it."

Rowan shrugged. "The basics are more than enough since we'll be riding together and all. Here, you get up first." Getting Charlie situated was quite the amusing travesty, Judge was simply an imposing animal, but after much laughter and teasing, the blonde was safely on the saddle. "Okay, scoot forward so I can get on." Once Charlie did, Rowan easily jumped on, settling comfortably against the blonde's back and taking the reigns. "Alright, let's go, boy." A little nudge of encouragement and the horse took off at a leisurely pace.

Charlizard knew that whatever riding experience was in her past, it wasn't on anything the size of Judge. Fortunately, the horse was large but not unpleasant, and was more than willing to stand there stoically while she was hoisted from behind by Row and finally got herself in the saddle without immediately falling off the other side; a miracle in itself. She scooted forward as requested, making sure not to fall off in the process, and leaned back a little against her companion's slim form. As the horse began to move she reached for the saddle, holding on with knuckles that were only a little bit white. "Good boy, Judge," she praised, looking around the property as they moved.

Rowan led them towards a stream, far away from the property and into the place where the trees became thicker. It was a beautiful place and exactly what she needed to destress from the constant push and pull of school. Keeping the reigns in one hand, she wrapped he other around Charlie's waist. Nuzzling her neck, she hummed. "Yes, I know you're sweaty; no, I don't care."

Charlizard was impressed by the scenery; unlike anything back home, or around the campus, it was quiet and serene in a way that normally left her with too many thoughts. With Row behind her, though, there was a sense of peace that actually let her mind rest a little. As a soft hand pulled her close, she found her natural objection cut off by Rowan's soft voice. "Hey, if you don't care then I don't care. I'm happy to get you all sweaty too."

Rowan smiled against Charlie's skin. "You really are perpetually horny, aren't you? Is it something in the water fountains at Erickson?" She teased, though her ministrations proved it was her -- yet again -- that was trying to start something they simply couldn't finish at the time. She wasn't that shameless. "In which case, it would explain why I hardly can keep my hands to myself around you."

Charlizard nodded, admitting that without any further argument. "I'm pretty sure it's just me, not the school itself...although you know, come to think of it there does seem to be a lot of sex going on in that place." Rowan's proximity definitely had an effect on her, and the admission that it was mutual made her smile as well. "If you want to use that as an excuse, I'm okay with it. Whatever keeps your hands on me is just fine."

Rowan 's eyes narrowed at the reply. There was something about it that just didn't sit well with her. Maybe she was to different from Charlie, but she couldn't help her next words. "In all seriousness, you shouldn't accept anyone wanting to be with you under dumb excuses. If someone wants to be with you it should be solely because of you, because they want you and aren't afraid of it."

Charlizard turned a little in the saddle, wanting to look at Row in answer to her being surprisingly sweet and protective. She laid a hand against her cheek, smiling. "I promise I'm good with the consent thing. And as much as it may seem like it sometimes, I don't take anyone into my bed just because they want to be there. They need to do better than that. Like you did." There weren't many people who'd worked their way into her life the way Row had.

Rowan resisted the urge to lean into the touch. It was too intimate, in a way their sexual encounters weren't. Still, she didn't pull away or flinched at the contact. The answer made the furrow of her brow smooth out, placated for the time being. "Like I did, uh?" She asked, back to their usual banter and teasing smirks. "And what exactly did I do to earn it, miss Fabray?"

Charlizard laughed softly at being called Miss - the only people who did that were usually school administrators giving her shit for one thing or another. "You dealt with me like a person," she explained plainly. "You deal with my bullshit and call me on it. Plus you have a really good slap," she finished with a grin. "I still have dreams about that slap, and they're exceptionally good dreams."

Rowan snorted. She should've expected Charlie to bring that up at some point. "You're such a masochist, but I have to admit, it was the first time I got a date out of slapping someone." She lead them across the stream and around the edges of the property, the time spent among their usual banter and endless teasing. It was only fair to admit, even if only to herself, that having Charlie like that, being able to be that close without it leading to sex, was nice. She felt good, without worries or ghosts of the past haunting her. Maybe, just maybe... "I think it's better we head back, they're gonna close soon."

Charlizard shrugged. "I mean, I'm not going to deny it. And as far as ways to get me on a date, that's always going to win the prize for the most unique one." The ride was fascinating for her. Charlie didn't do quiet. She was loud, and she kept her surroundings loud to match. Even if she was doing homework or doing something on the computer, then the tv was on or there was music, something that would keep her from getting too far into her own head. She didn't always like that. But this was nice, to just be there leaning into Row's arms and enjoying the moment. "I guess if we have to. We'll have to do this again sometime."

Rowan was all smiles as they walked out of the office and towards her truck, Charlie's hand firmly clasped in hers. Going to the shelter was always a guaranteed good time, made even better by the presence of Charlie. Unlocking the doors, she pushed the blonde against the passenger side, pressing her there with her body and looking a little insecure for the first time that day. "Did you really have a good time?"

Charlizard felt right, hand surrounded by Rowan's as they headed back toward the truck they'd arrived in. She was tired, certainly, as the day had been filled with hard work, but it was the rewarding kind and had meant both spending time with both cute animals and Row. Once she'd been backed up against the passenger side, Charlie met the question with a soft smile. "If there's one thing I'm not going to do, is lie to you. I had a great time, and I'm glad you brought me with you."

Rowan felt relief wash over her when she found no deceit in Charlie's eyes. Much to her dismay, she liked the blonde, she was starting to care about her, and though it was never part of the plan, she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Not when she had finally managed not to think about Jo the whole time they were together. "I am too.

[raeliyah]

Exalted Secret Santa 2018

First, snippet -- with full descriptions, reference pictures, and links under the cut. Anon-asks should be enabled so feel free to ask me anything if you need more info!

If none of these guys strike your fancy, I also have the rest of my exalted characters, with reference images and descriptions, here:

https://refsheet.net/redkite7

Caleb “Wraithshot” Raith Dawn Caste Solar Exalt of the South, longrider lawman, Righteous Devil gunslinger, Badlands Gentleman with a heart of battered gold, giant flirt

Qismet ibn al-Nusar, The Veiled Eagle Night Caste Solar Exalt of the west, self-appointed judge and executioner of corrupt supernaturals, leader of the Brotherhood of the Righteous Death, terse and broody

Zaela Tokari, Queen of Adrelith, of the Meridian Isles Zenith Caste Solar Exalt of the East, friend of Dragon Kings, precious cinnamon roll, youngest daughter, too young to be queen, too young to be Exalted, mousy and self-effacing but will stand up to everything from Deathlords to Elder Lunars in defense of her friends (no art yet)

Caleb “Wraithshot” Raith

Dawn Caste Solar Exalt

Caleb’s Pinterest Inspiration Board

Caleb’s easy. Think of every western trope and smash them all together. He’s a cowboy bounty hunter; a self-proclaimed lawman in a land where there is no law, riding circuit on a handful of towns in the South he considers his and protecting them from whatever evils lurk in the desert.

Physical Description

Caleb stands at 5′11″ and is on the leaner side at ~185 lbs. He’s fit, like a brawler (been in significantly more than his fair share of bar fights) or a ranch hand - someone who works at hard physical labor most days.

Caleb looks like he’s in his early 30s

Being the son of Northern immigrants, Caleb’s complexion is mostly pale, a reddish-burned tan anywhere the sun would shine - arms to the elbows, back of the neck, face mostly.

He’s also freckly across his face, shoulders and upper back, mostly from sun.

His eyes are clear honey-colored brown, more gold towards the pupil from the influence of exaltation.

Hair is black at the roots, growing out into sun-streaked brownish blond. He usually keeps it cut pretty short but if it goes too long without a trim it gets curlier. He likes a clean-shaven face but given his lifestyle he’s pretty much always got a day or three of scruff.

Caleb… basically looks like Chris Pratt.

He’s always got a smile of some stripe - warm, mischievous, leering, insincerely-wide - something.

He’s also very mouthy, and usually has something to chew on, whether it’s a piece of straw, a match, a toothpick, a cigarette (50% chance of it actually being lit), a twig - something. He’s never met a lollipop or chewing gum but he would love them.

Scars, see reference image: He's got a fair few that have never healed all the way. Added to that a nose which was broken in some bar brawl and never healed straight.

Left arm, from wrist to elbow: long nearly parallel white lines.

The remnants of pressure cuts through his right eyebrow, right side of his lips, and the left side of his chin, leaving gaps in the scruff. 

A bullet-scar just above and to the left of his navel. 

The remains of various slashes and stabs decorate his ribs. Most of these fade to nothing quickly, but he’s in fights often enough there’s always something.

The upper portion of his back is a mess of scars look like they were left from him getting dragged quicklike backwards over rock (because he was). A stylized rattlesnake tattoo on his right shoulderblade is only half-seen through the scars. 

Caleb dresses in layers - shirt sleeves, a vest/waistcoat, and either a faded blue or red serape tossed over his shoulders or a brown longcoat. Pants are either canvas or faded denim, and boots are less cowboy-style and more combat- or motorcycle style with a heel for riding. He does wear spurs, but they’re blunted. He’s usually covered in trail dust and sweat, sometimes blood, despite efforts at cleanliness. Feel free to embellish the standard Cowboy gear with arabesque/middle eastern ornamentation, because it is Exalted…

He always carries two modified flame pieces (six-shooters… he’s got six-shooters) on his hips, and the belt’s buckle is large and obnoxious, mostly because he keeps a couple extra rounds of ammunition within it. He also has an artifact rifle (based on a Winchester M1873; lever action, but otherwise unspecified) named Medicine Man that is either slung across his back or is in a sheath on his horse’s saddle. He makes his own ammo for all his weapons. He is a student of Righteous Devil Style, having mastered up to the form charms, but his sifu disappeared and he’s not found another, nor is he skilled enough to pick it up without tutelage.

He does own chaps but whether or not he wears them on any given day depends on how hot it is and how much hard riding he’s anticipating. He has a hat he’s rather fond of, but it’s not anything truly special.

There may or may not be a bandana around his neck/on his person at any given moment, and he often wears a chip of blue crystal with an antelope petroglyph etched on it around his neck on a leather cord. It’s a token from his friend, a springs goddess named Rivela, and a reminder of a partner he lost.

He rides a buckskin warhorse named Dirt who he pretends not to be particularly attached to, but in fact he really really is. Dirt is his horse. Dirt adores him and is always trying to steal his hat. Dirt will also steal anyone else’s hat nearby, but he prefers Caleb’s.

Anima: Caleb’s anima banner is a hailstorm of bright burning metal, like large forge sparks, raining down on him and even appear to bounce off his skin and clothing. Golden smoke and flame rise from the ground at his feet wherever the sparks fall.

Full Description including Personality, History, Art, and links to Fic and Character Playlist Here.

Qismet ibn al-Nusar

Night Caste Solar Exalt Revenge-driven assassin, self-appointed judge jury and executioner of supernaturals who prey on innocents. Leader of a band of mortal assassins with the same motives.

Qismet's Pinterest Inspiration Board

Qismet's Character Playlist

Physical Description:

Qismet is shorter than average at 5'9" built lean and tough like an acrobat at around 150 lbs

he’s kinda touchy about his height

Qismet looks to be in his mid-to-late twenties.

He's darker complexioned, bronzed from a lot of time under the Western Sun

Examples: (Oded Fehr)(Cristian Codrin)(Avraham Aviv Alush)(Francisco Randez-also his face inspiration)

His hair is so dark brown it might as well be black, cut close but still has a bit of a wave to it.

Style example:(One)(Two)* Eyes are the same: so dark brown they might as well be black. Tend to go lighter, almost honey-colored, when he's channeling essence.

Qismet has fairly narrow features, a generous mouth with cupid's bow lips (see reference images) and a crooked nose, somewhat overlong. He would look great if he smiled but he hardly ever does. Eternal Brooding Face

Face Inspiration: Francisco Randez (One)(Two)(Three)(Four)

He has a thin blade scar vertically through his lips on the right side

Tattoos: One, on his right shoulder, the symbol of his assassin's order. Two, on his left bicep: a greenish kraken crossed out by two black swords (indicative of his vendetta against the Lintha).

Clothes and Accessories:

Qismet has two distinct "modes" -- his working guise, as The Veiled Eagle, equal parts vigilante super hero and feared villain, depending on who's looking, and his regular everyday self. The Veiled Eagle's identity is an open secret on his home island but if he's not in 'costume' the folk there know not to bother him as anything more than Qismet.

The Veiled Eagle:

As the Eagle, Qismet wears long open vests and tunics and leather armor (cuirass, pauldrons, greaves) in shades of charcoal to dove gray, with a hood and mask over his face, leaving only his eyes exposed, though the skin around them is usually darkened with greasepaint and charcoal. This outfit is patterned roughly after the Assassin's Creed styles. (Inspiration Images: (Mayan Armor)(Original AC Outfit)).

There is a single splash of blood red among the grays as a sash: normally wound around his waist or crossed from hip to shoulder.

Weaponry:

As the Eagle, Qismet also carries a lot of weapons. Most notable are his two artifact Moonsilver Bracers, the Eagle's Sheathed Talons. These artifacts are made of black siaka leather and covered with moonsilver filigreed plates making the shape of a mantling eagle. They extrude a long knife in combat and also serve as armor for his arms (they're basically Hidden Blades with Exalted flair).

He also wields the paired soul-steel short Daiklaves, Anguish and Agony (see reference image in refsheet.net gallery). He struck a deal with the spirits within when he took them from their former owner. They spend a night and a day of peace within a consecrated temple on the nights of moon dark every month, and in return he will never be chained by sorcery or necromancy until his Task is complete. If he fails to give them peace, they'll turn against him.

As Qismet:

When he's not 'working', Qismet tends towards sleeveless cross-front tunics and vests, loose-cut trousers and short fitted boots, thin-soled for good climbing. He still wears the red sash around his waist, knotted on one side, and always has the artifact bracers.

He tends towards cool, de-saturated colors (because they're cheap), but isn't picky: if it's free of obvious dirt and won't get in his way, he'll wear it. His lieutenant/lover Samira has been slowly stocking his wardrobe with nicer things since ostensibly he's an important figure in their region of the west and should occasionally look it. Really, have fun with clothing design.

He very occasionally wears a shark-tooth pendant, but he's not big on jewelry or adornment in general.

Anima:

A ghost-white and violet sea-eagle, whose head obscures Qismet’s face and whose movements echo the Solar’s. 

Further Reading:

The Eagle and the Marionettist

Infectious - Drabble, features several characters

Silver Sun Era - Storium Game

A History of the Brotherhood of the Righteous Death

Zaela Tokari, Solar Queen

Zenith Caste Solar Exalted - Mousy former-Princess given Divine Power - Too Precious for this world - Too young to be Queen and feels it 

Zaela’s Pinterest Board

Physical Description

Slim and willowy at 5′4″ish and 120lbs-ish - built like a dancer or musician

Medium-brown hair at the roots and lower layers, bleached gold by sun (and anima) light, with those instagram beach-style waves. Comes down to about her shoulderblades

Turquoise eyes, that fade to nearly white when she channels essence

Heart-shaped face with expressive eyes

Her complexion is tan with a bit of a copper tone to it

She exalted at 17 and still looks it

Zaela wears draping gowns in vaguely greek or ancient egyptian-esque fashion, in cool greens and blues and golds and white, accented with delicate jewelry wrought from gold and gems and flowers (natural or artificial). They are usually of light materials, silk,mist linen, and brushed cotton, suited for her jungle island kingdom. 

She usually wears her hair in multiple loose braids, or half-up and adorned with tropical flowers (or whatever’s in season, if she’s travelling far from her home Isle). Nothing in her appearance would mark her as anything other than the favored daughter of a well-off family, but she does on occasion wear the orichalcum, white, and green jade lotus crown of her kingdom. It’s a little too ostentatious for her tastes. 

Anima:

A flock of tropical birds, in jewel tones limned with gold, who spiral and swirl around her. 

Fun Fact:

The ghost of her former shardholder, Prismatic Lotus, used to reside in their royal family chapel, trapped there during the Usurpation. Lotus fled to safe harbor within Zaela when the chapel was attacked and Zaela exalted--she now carries the spirit of her ancestress with her. Lotus acts as mentor, guide, sometime-posessor and obnoxious First Age brat in turn. But mostly she is helpful. 

tagging @shiftingpath for secret santa organizational purposes -- thank you for all the work you put in to this every year; I very much appreciate it! and you!  I will probably be editing this to make sure all the links are working properly and everything’s formatted correctly so apologies in advance