#rodeos-writing

[righteous-r0de0]

slow down, partner

hiiii

i’m liza, rodeo, or cowgirl/boy (it don’t matter :p)

i’m 21 (almost 22 ☝️) and any pronouns are fine, if it comes down to the wire, i prefer masculine terms (but seriously, any is fine)

i mainly post about redacted audio, with some other stuff thrown in for good measure <3

i’m on ao3 under my old username (@radiant_cowgirl)

hey! i’m gonna start doing my own tags! or trying to

#rodeos-roundup - just general, basic posts

#rodeos-writing - anything to do with my writing

#rodeos-restricted - anything that might be inappropriate or sexual in nature, appropriate mdni tags will also be included when necessary

#rodeos-radio - anything to do with music!

#rodeos-rainbow - for the (rare) times i post my art

that’s all for now!! k love u <3

[q1ngqve]

plspls do smut fic with dr ratio x reader

yk the one that you reblogged, the one with the “fuckfuck” sub x “watch your language “ dom? DO SMUT OF IT PLSPLS

link

your chest rise and falls as you try to catch your breath, and the position you’re in is not helping at all. your mouth falls agape slightly as dr ratio angles himself into you, the tip of his cock rubbing deliciously against your g-spot.

your legs shake on his shoulders, and you shy away from his intense gaze. he has you in a mating press, your legs close to your head, dangling on his broad shoulders as he leans down to give you a kiss. embarrassing noises leave you as his hands grip at your ankles, forcing himself further into you.

“fuck fuck fuck—”

strings of curses fly put uncontrollably from how good he feels stretching you out in his position.

“careful, now. use such words again, and see if you get to cum tonight.” his brows furrow down at you, clearly displeased at the use of such foul language.

another cry escapes you as he plunges harder into you, and more uncivilized words roll of your tongue.

“what’d I say?”

but these warnings only spur you on.

he groans when you clench around him, tight enough for him to know that it was intentional. “or what? you’ll fucking—” your words cut off as he kisses you again, roughly this time, sticking his tongue into your mouth, shutting you up.

“then I’ll show you what it means to fuck.”

[princesssmars]

no because when i found out a cowboy putting their hat on you was a form of “claiming” you my brain chemistry changed….

so yes im imagining you and rodeo abby who are seeing together but aren’t official official, but she’s jealous at heart so when she sees someone flirting with you at the bar she just comes up behind you and putting her hat on your head, staring the person down until they walk away 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[fiveredlights]

old habits die screaming - chapter 1

(alternatively known as the daniel team principal au)

Visa Cash App RB @/VisaCashAppRB • 1 Nov 2027 Ricciardo Returns! Visa Cash App RB is excited to announce that former Red Bull & RB driver Daniel Ricciardo will be taking up the helm as team boss from 2028, following current team boss Laurent Mekies reduction into a part time role. Read more at the 🔗 in bio.

When Daniel’s Zandvoort injury turns out to be much worse than it first seems he officially retires at the end of the 2023 season. Five years later, he’s announced as the new team boss of RB and many people in and out of the paddock have lots of thoughts.

Told through social media integrated through work skins.

(read here)

[dallasgallant]

Defining Rodeo-

I’ve been to a few rodeos in my life but I could not tell you a single actual term or rules. And the fandom doesn’t utilize the fact that rodeos are a decent part of a few characters, as they really should. So I wanted to look up and define a few terms that are used in hopes we get more lol

Jockey/Pickup rider-

Dally is described as ‘jockying’ for Slash J, which from what I can figure out must be Buck’s company or ranch. Jocky/pickup rider is someone works in roughstock competitions ; bareback, saddle bronc and bull riding.

Dally might do bronc but Cherry has a remark about his bull riding! So he’s doing the most dangerous thing you could possibly do, which- yeah that’s Dally.

Roughstock/Saddle bronc-

Both Dally and Soda compete in Roughstock events but Soda specifically was saddle bronc. Which is self described, specifically a horse and not bareback.

Barrel race-

Cherry and Marcia.

Mostly women with the occasional man though typically on youth levels. The goal is to go in a pattern around the barrels the fastest and is one of the harder events.

Team roping-

I had a particularly hard time in figuring out if this was relevant to the outsiders or not. As there’s multiple things pointing to it being the case but I’m also not certain.

Dally is partners with Buck- and while that might be business(who’s to say it’s not both), this is a team/duo aspect of rodeos and would be likely due to his nickname(Idk if this was intentional as his name IS Dallas but it’s funny).

BUT there’s mention of rigged races and “Jockey” (which is lesser used in a rodeo sense than an outright race sense but still used) which confused the hell out of me because the only race is a barrel race or wild horse at some rodeo’s. Which didn’t seem to fit right to be— unless he also does traditional racing on the side? OR they mean “race” as competition broadly as one could argue a lot of stuff in rodeo is a race because it’s against the clock? -> if anyone has a more solid idea please let me know!

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

So I done goofed, and my brain wasn't happy until I wrote a sequel to my little Barbed Wire Hearts snippet/ask/prompt thing from yesterday. So here ya go!

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs this is very much for you because we all needed this to happen

I recommend listening to this while reading, it had me all up in my feels while writing this:

Walking into the hospital parking lot and seeing his old beat up red F150 still sitting there, like a silent vigil awaiting his return was almost a surreal experience for John. As much as he would have found the thought ridiculous in any other situation, he'd almost forgotten it existed in the time he had spent cooped up in the sterile environment of the hospital, mind awash with more pressing matters. Coupled with the stress and worry that had oozed from every single one of his pores like a sickness, the outside world other than room number 13 and its occupant was the only thing he had been mentally able to put any real energy into.

Curt and a few of the other boys had stopped by every few days to slink their way into the wing, jeans and boots and cowboy hats sticking out like a sore thumb amongst scrubs and white coats and had brought him a duffle bag of spare clothes and toiletries so he could use the visitor's showers. He'd made it pretty clear in the first days that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon, not even to pick himself up anything to eat (when he could remember to).

Curt had been an angel in that sense, too. He'd brought Bucky dinner a few nights in a row in the fortnight he was there, some cheap takeaway from one of the diners in the middle of town, burgers and such. And those nights he couldn't make it in to check up on things John had very helpfully been informed by one of the nurses on shift that she was to remind him to eat, even if it was from one of the crappy vending machines dotting the hospital corridors at the behest of a very worried friend that had called the front desk. The soft amused smile the woman had flashed his way alerted him to the fact that none of the nurses were bothered by Curt's mother-hen phonecalls. Especially when Bucky hadn't turned his phone off of silent since he'd been there and one too many calls had gone to voicemail. He knew he'd be getting an earful off Curt and the other boys once he had made it back to the grounds, but he also knew he'd be quickly forgiven his neglect, given the current circumstances.

As he got closer to the truck, pulling his keys out of his coat pocket and twirling them around his index finger, Bucky took a quick glance back over his shoulder at the figure not too far behind him, making sure they were still following him.

Buck still looked like he'd been hit by a semi truck, blue eyes cast down to the pavement as he diligently followed Bucky on auto-pilot, bruises still stark over his face, albeit slightly faded now, but still evident. Still sore looking. His left arm was cast from the hand all the way up to his elbow, held up gently in a sling over his good shoulder. Bucky had no doubt the other man could still feel the telltale ache in his left shoulder-socket where it had been popped completely out in the accident, features wincing every now and then if he stepped too heavily and jostled himself.

His blond hair was in a messed up disarray, bed-hair born of two weeks of laying in an uncomfortable hospital bed for hours at a time, sticking up in some places and falling softly across his forehead in others. The nurses had helped him up and into the room's private bathroom the night before and had helped him finally have a shower before he got discharged the next morning, an awkward affair that Bucky knew the blond didn't necessarily want to talk about if the blush that had painted his pale cheeks when prodded was anything to go by. Better than having to be given a spongebath though, by a long shot, and Bucky couldn't have agreed more.

He also couldn't help the small smile that pulled up at the corner of his lips as he raked his gaze over the smaller man's body, taking in the soft grey over-sized sweatpants (Bucky's) tightened as much as the drawstrings would allow around thinner hips, tucked loosely into worn Twisted X square toe boots. A good idea in hindsight when there was no way Buck would have been able to get himself into a pair of his usual jeans with the soreness of the bruising up his thigh and over the jut of his hip bone, matching his face in colour albeit a bit more angrier looking.

The nights were a bit cooler than they were a week or so before, so at Bucky's insistence Gale was also draped in one of John's massive Ariat puffer jackets, only one arm able to fill the sleeves while the other hung uselessly at Gale's side. With the collar pulled up around his ears, John felt a sense of pride and slight satisfaction knowing he was wearing his clothes. Everything but the plain white tshirt underneath the draped layers.

Walking over to the passenger side quickly after shoving the key in the driver's side door and unlocking it, Bucky opened the passenger door and swept his other arm out in a low gesture, a smirk on his face.

"After you, princess," he drawled, delighting in the unimpressed lift of an unbruised brow shot in his direction, but no real heat or disdain behind it.

He patiently waited with the door held open, allowing Buck to gingerly hoist himself up into the truck's cab knowing if he tried to assist in any way he'd get sworn at for his trouble, ever the independent hard-headed idiot Buck often was. Once the other man was seated comfortably, only a few winces and sharp intake of breath painfully hissed through clenched teeth, Bucky carefully shut the door and trotted around the front of the truck to climb into the driver's seat. He gave a double glance into the truck bed at his and Buck's bags he had tossed in a little while earlier before he'd gone back in to help with the discharge papers.

The old truck roared to life without much protest, and he couldn't help the self-satisfied little chuckle that escaped him, patting the dash like the vehicle was a loyal old dog at his heels. As much as he'd nearly forgotten about her amongst the chaos, he was happy to be back behind her wheel, even if the leather was peeling just a tiny bit from sun damage. It added more character, he thought.

He looked over at Gale, noticing the younger man sitting still and almost stiff, eyes zeroed in on the dash but glazed over in thought and what was probably left over sedation from the heavy painkillers he was given. His expression was blank, nothing giving away even the slightest hint at what was running through that pretty head of his, and Bucky felt that telltale tightening in his throat creep up again. But before he let it get a permanent grip, he reached forward, grabbing the black felt hat that had been sitting on the dash since the previous day (thanks, Curt) and picking it up before turning and dropping it perfectly over Buck's head.

The other man flinched in surprise, ripped out of his thoughts and his bright blue eyes coming back into focus as he turned to look at Bucky, a confused frown creasing his brow as he brought up his working hand and felt the hat underneath his fingers. He straightened it a few centimetres, eyes looking between Bucky's in a numb sort of questioning expression.

"My hat," he said dumbly, voice quieter and still that hint of lost that had Bucky swallowing back emotions that he didn't want to put a name to, instead letting a bright smile grow from his smirk in the blond's direction, teeth bright.

"Well, can't be much of a cowboy without your hat now, can you?" Bucky smiled, watching every minute change in Buck's expression like a hawk. He was rewarded with a swooping sensation in his chest when he noticed the smallest grin colour Buck's face, eyes flickering away from Bucky's with a small huff of a laugh to focus out the windshield.

"Don't think I'll be much of a cowboy for the next couple weeks, Bucky," Gale muttered. As if in stark reminder, he winced as he shifted slightly in the worn leather seat, obviously jostling one of the many painful areas littering his body.

"Ahhh come on," Bucky joked, leaning forward slightly to grip the ancient clutch and put the truck into gear. "You're still one of the best cowboys around, even if you are bruised and battered to high heaven."

Gale huffed out another light breath of a laugh, lifting his good elbow up to rest it against the open window, hand and fingers dangling on the outside and tapping a gentle beat against the metal of the door as Bucky pulled the vehicle out and towards the end of the parking lot onto the main road.

The next half hour of the drive back to the rodeo grounds was silent, just the monotone hum of the local radio turned down to barely audible from the truck's old speakers and the quick whoosh of another vehicle every now and then, passing them on the highway on the way back to where they'd just came from. The sun had dipped low enough on the horizon now that the reaching expanse of the county they were in painted a picture through the slightly dirty windshield, sky lit up in oranges and reds streaked through by a few stray clouds.

Bucky would hazard glances from the corner of his eyes every now and then at Gale, who sat still and stoic beside him, chin now rested in the palm of his hand against the window, eyes cast out to the scenery that rolled by. Bucky could tell that under the surface there was something much more sinister and harsh squeezing at Buck's heart and thoughts, spiraling down deep into a void that he worried he wouldn't be able to pull the younger man out of, even if he lassoed him like a runaway steer.

At some point, with a nervous swallow, Bucky reached his free hand out, covering Buck's thigh with the expanse of it, feeling the tension in the muscles and gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze, gentle and barely there, but a reminder he was right there with him all the same. He counted it as a win when he noticed Buck's face turn to him slightly with a soft smile, eyes very obviously still avoiding John's own before turning back to the view from the window. It had Bucky releasing a long breath he hadn't realised he had been holding hostage in his chest. He didn't attempt to remove his hand, and Buck didn't make any effort to shift out from under it. If anything, he leaned into the touch, knee swinging softly towards the gear stick in Bucky's general direction after a few moments. A silent thank you.

Bucky couldn't help the gentle self-satisfied smile that graced itself onto his face.

By the time Bucky turned the truck off the highway and through the big open gates of the grounds, the sun had dipped that much further underneath the distant mountains that everything was washed in a barely perceivable darkness. What was left of the sunset was slowly turning itself to the deep blue of the night, stars beginning to reveal themselves against the quickly fading orange glow.

As the beam of the truck's headlights lit up the dirt road further into the grounds and towards the still set up camps close by the back of the arena, the familiar sight of gooseneck trailers and camper trailers, awnings folded out and a pit fire settled in the middle amongst them came more into view.

They could see the silhouettes of a dozen people, Curt and Dougie and Brady and the rest all chatting away circled around the fire, beers in a few hands as Bucky slowly pulled the truck to a stop up beside Crosby's trailer. It wasn't until he had turned off the engine, hopping out of the cab with stiff knees and moved around to Buck's side that Curt's voice cut through the night and reached them through the other voices.

"Ayyyy, the great Champion returns!" Bucky couldn't help the grin from painting his face as he looked up, mid opening Buck's door and seeing Curt walking in their direction, back lit up in orange from the fire's warmth and arms lifted above his head, beer bottle in one hand.

Buck had only just planted his boots on the ground with a slightly pained grunt before he was swept up in a happy but very careful embrace by Curt, the other shorter man being incredibly cautious as to which parts he touched, but none the less enthusiastic in his greeting. The curve of Buck's own smile, teeth glinting in the half darkness caught Bucky's eye and he couldn't help the weight that lifted from the centre of his chest.

"It's good to see you, Buck. They finally release you from that hellhole, huh? Thought our good ol' Bucky here was gonna rot himself to that chair by your bed if you didn't get outta there soon."

Bucky couldn't help the bashful way he rubbed at the back of his neck at Curt's words, hoping the slight colour that rose to his cheeks wasn't too obvious in the lowlight when Buck shot him a soft glance from his peripheral.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away, Curt," Buck joked back. It was light-hearted and jovial, appeasing Curt's attention on him, but Bucky could see that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a blank faraway look behind those baby blues, and it made Bucky's chest restrict uncomfortably as he watched as more of the boys made their way over. They all stepped forward to squeeze the blond cowboy's good shoulder or shake his good hand, some like Brady and Jack and Crosby mirroring Curt and pulling Buck into a gentle embrace, ever careful of his injuries.

Once they had all made their way over to the fire's warmth, Curt all but forcing Buck into one of the fold out camper chairs in his usual mother hen ways, everyone took their turn updating him and Bucky on everything they had missed while they had been in the hospital. Buck more-so, considering the first almost week the man had been unconscious for most of the time and had missed more than Bucky had.

Curt took a few moments to admonish Bucky like he had expected at having had his phone on silent for nearly the entire time, but Bucky just waved him off with a cocky smirk. He kept glancing at Buck every few minutes, taking note of every small change in the blond's expression, the way he joked with the others, the small smiles and tilt of his chin when he laughed as much as his broken ribs would allow him to in their process of healing. To any of the others, everything was normal, Buck's gentle quiet nature and injuries the reasoning as to why he wasn't quite himself yet, why there wasn't that normal spark in the shine of his eyes. But Bucky could feel the tension, the exhaustion that was more than just from pain and injury radiating from Buck like he was melded with the man's very mind himself. Could see the way he tucked himself further underneath Bucky's jacket every now and then with a faraway look on his face before he made himself more alert to the conversations around him.

Bucky just sat and boded his time, happy to not have to make too much small talk amongst the other boys as the night further darkened and the numbers on his watch got later and later.

When most of the conversations had died down and a few of the boys had retired to their trailers for the night, a few still milling about with the happiness that both Buckies return had caused and talking amongst themselves, voices slightly slurred from alcohol, Bucky stood from his seat against the wheel of one of the goosnecks and shoved his slightly chilled hands deep into his pocket. Making his way over to where Buck was still seated in the camper chair, staring blankly into the fire which wasn't as fierce as earlier in the evening now.

Leaning down, his lips close to Buck's ear from behind he whispered a low "Come on, Sunshine, follow me for a sec. Got something I wanna show ya."

He smirked when Buck jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of his voice so close, obviously so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Bucky make his way over. Craning his neck backwards so he could look up at Bucky's face, blue eyes trying hard to focus on him upside down, he frowned in question.

"Come on," Bucky repeated, smile soft and obvious as he stepped to the side a little and held his hand out to Buck in an offer to help hoist him to his feet. The blond almost looked like he wasn't going to move, body language hesitant and lips pursing into a tight line, before he sighed and reached out with his good hand, gripping Bucky's offered firmly and allowing himself to be lifted into standing, a small grimace of pain fluttering across his features at his ribs obviously screaming in protest.

Once Bucky was sure he had recovered, he tugged at their joined hands gently, tilting his chin in the direction of the arena with a small smile. Buck looked at him, still questioning in his gaze before he allowed himself to be lead through the cluster of trailers. He didn't drop Bucky's hand, but instead almost hesitantly thread their fingers together. Bucky couldn't help his heart from soaring as he gave Gale's hand a gentle squeeze in silent comfort.

Like second nature he guided Gale out of the gathered maze of trailers, the sounds of the other boy's voices growing further and further behind them until the arena was not far in front of them, only just visible by some of the smaller flood-lights that were still on around the barriers. When they got closer, and Bucky turned towards the holding yards, he felt Gale falter slightly, his hand pulling back subconsciously but he didn't drop their hold.

Bucky looked back at Gale's face, seeing the blond's eyes focused out onto the sands, expression blank but taut like a frayed guitar string on the verge of snapping, and he slowed his stride.

"Hey," Bucky spoke gently, like he was approaching a ready-to-spook horse. When Buck still didn't look at him, he gave their still joined hands a squeeze and a shake, until Gale finally snapped his eyes back to Bucky's. They were wide and had a look of slight fear buried deep behind, flickering over Bucky's face trying to look for some semblance of comfort. Bucky held their gaze for a few moments, both men having stopped in their journey, and waited until he knew Buck was partially back in the present. "Hey it's okay, I promise. Trust me."

Gale's expression was still one of veiled panic and grief for a few more seconds, before he found whatever he was looking for in Bucky's own face and let his shoulders slouch and relax, breath exhaling slowly with a small nod.

With a comforting smile, Bucky tugged at their hands gently until Gale fell back into step behind him, eyes still glancing over to the middle of the arena every now and then like he was seeing invisible monsters advancing towards them.

Bucky could only imagine what was going through the smaller man's head, still often privvy to his own torturous memories and images from the day of Buck's accident no matter how hard he tried to forget and push them back. Every now and then the picture of Gale's face, bright red blood flowing down one side of it and slack in unconsciousness, pale and looking for all intent and purposes dead kept haunting him. But he stamped those thoughts down, focusing instead on the feeling of Buck's thankfully now warm fingers between his own, the slight sensation of his fluttering pulse.

Making it to the holding yards out behind the bull chutes, Bucky carefully made his way through the maze of yards, keeping a firm grip on Buck's hand as the two men threaded their way in and out between metal gates and runs in the dark.

Gale's voice, hushed and urgent, reached him from behind, and the smile only grew on his face. "Bucky I can't fucking see. We're both gonna fall head over tit if you don't slow-"

"Shhh!" Bucky answered back, only pulling Gale further into the pens.

Gale made an affronted noise, mouth parted. "Did you just fucking shush me?!"

"Sure did, now if you'd just shut your pretty mouth and look."

Gale gave his hand a harsh squeeze in retaliation. "Did you forget the part where I just said I can't see? What the hell am I even supposed to be looking a-"

Buck froze in his following of Bucky, the taller man allowing himself to be pulled to a complete stop when Buck's hand pulled against his as the whuffled knicker of a familiar horse finally reached the blond's ears in the darkness.

Bucky turned, facing Buck so he could catch sight of the smaller man's face in the dim light, and he couldn't help the genuine warm smile that split his face, noticing Gale's eyes focused somewhere off behind him, shock evident and an obvious glint of wetness beginning to form against dark blond bottom lashes.

His lips moved silently, stuck on actually producing any noise, until he glanced up at Bucky, brow furrowing into a look of pain. "John.."

"She's been waitin' for you," John said simply in response, still smiling brightly and allowing Buck's hand to drop from his as the blond stepped past him towards the last square pen at the end of the lane.

Almost as if he was seeing a ghost, Buck walked up carefully, eyes flickering over every inch of the palomino mare's body, taking in every inch of her as she walked up to the rails and shoved her head through and pushed her nose into Gale's chest, still murmuring at him. He couldn't help the way his breath rushed out of him at the contact, good hand lifting up shakily until he rested it on the white of her blaze. She nudged at him again, a questioning sort of move and lipped at the cast around his other arm. A silent question of 'what the hell is this thing? Why do you have this?'

Bucky slowly walked up to stand beside Buck, reaching up and resting his arms onto the higher rails in a casual air of relaxtion, and watched, transfixed as Gale just stared at the horse, hand still on her face, the younger's breathing jagged and coming in short bursts. Shock, relief.

After a few more moments, Buck seemed to come back to himself, a disbelieving breath escaping parted lips and turned his gaze back to Bucky. John could see the tears still evident in the other man's lower lashes, glittering and growing and threatening to fall to the dust underneath them.

"H-how..?"

Bucky smiled at him, resting his forehead against his folded arms and looked at the mare in question. "Curt's been looking after her while you were gone. Made sure she was real pampered, 'til you got back and did the pampering yourself."

"But she.. Bucky, I thought she was.."

Bucky chuckled, low and easy, and nudged his shoulder against Gale's. "What, dead? Nahhh, barely got a scrape on her. Tiny little cut just above the front hoof. Vet didn't even have to wrap it."

At John's words it was like a dam broke from within Buck, and he could only watch helpless as the tears gathered in the blond's eyes finally fell down his cheeks in silvery lines as he squeezed them shut, body bowing over at the waist with his good hand braced against his knee before straightening again. Buck tilted his face to the sky for a few seconds, breathing ragged, a barely audible sob hitching from his lungs painfully.

"I thought she broke her neck. God, Bucky I thought she was fucking dead, I thought she'd broke a leg, and she had to be shot. Fuck I- As soon as I woke up, that's all I could... that's all I could fucking-"

John stepped up to Gale, reaching up and pulling the smaller man against his broad chest and held him there, feeling the small tremors that wracked Gale's broken body. He put a hand against the back of Gale's head, fingers threading through golden strands, hat getting knocked off kilter and falling onto the ground.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. Everything's okay. Baby's okay. She's as tough as her goddamn rider," Bucky shushed him gently, resting his cheek against the top of Buck's head and just allowing the other to cry all but silently into his neck. He could feel the air chill the wetness there and looked up to the stars himself and thanked whatever was watching over them that Buck was still here, that he was still alive and able to be held in his arms like this. He felt his own eyes begin to gather tears at the fragility of the man in his arms, and swallowed harshly against them.

Bucky inhaled deeply, Gale's good hand clutched desperately in the side of his jacket, a warm weight sitting there as he pressed his lips into the crown of Buck's hair.

"Think she came out of it a bit better than you did, though," he whispered as an afterthought, lips curving into a smirk when he felt Gale clench his hand into a fist and thump it into his ribs in reply. He couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, only slightly moving back so that he could look down at Buck, his smirk melting into a soft smile at the sight of Gale now looking up at him. Tear stained cheeks and lashes clumped together, a defiant glare but with no real malice directed at him, eyes bright and blue and more reminiscent of the Buck that John knew and adored.

Gale's eyes flickered from his down to his lips and back, frown easing into something much softer and more vulnerable, and Bucky thought his heart would explode at the pure emotion he could see mirrored in Buck's irises. His breath stuttered, smile slipping off of his lips and heart thundering like a freight train behind his ribs.

Everything fell into a syrupy slow motion as they stared at eachother, Bucky's hand that had been gently cupping the back of Buck's head slowly slipping around to cup the other man's cheek, slow and careful, thumb sweeping over the sharp line of his jaw in a barely there caress.

He swallowed thickly, noticing Buck nudge into that hold, eyes lowering back to his lips. He felt like his entire world was tilting on its axis, narrowing down to just the two of them standing out in the middle of the stock pens behind the arena where he nearly lost the one thing he had ever truly cared for more than the feeling of being perched up on a raging bull's back. Even riding a bull made his heart thunder less than it was right now.

Carefully, giving Gale the chance to pull away, he sighed, breath ghosting over the other man's lips. "Buck, I-"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me John before we both die of old age," Gale whispered harshly, good hand that was gripping into Bucky's jacket tugging now and John couldn't help the surprised smile from lifting his lips.

"Sure thing, cowboy," John laughed silently, revelling in the familiar exasperated roll of Buck's eyes towards him before he surged forward and ever so gently pressed his lips against Gale's, eyes closing against the absolutely overwhelming sparks that ignited in his chest like someone had just lit fireworks behind his sternum.

Gale's lips were soft, just like he'd imagined a million times, pliant and warm and so gentle it stole his breath away, and it wasn't until Buck's good hand reached up and threaded through his dark curls that he allowed himself to deepen the kiss, tilting his head slightly. His lips parted, allowing Buck the access to slip his tongue carefully along his own, insistent and starved but always gentle. He could feel the taut guitar string tension like a mockery of earlier in the night behind Gale's kiss, a long awaited hunger like a man starved and then unleashed among all the sustenance he could have ever wished for.

It wasn't until Buck made a small sound in the back of his throat, a small needy gasp that Bucky allowed himself to pull back slightly, letting his lips linger as he allowed Buck a few more soft kisses before he gasped himself, pulling air into his starved lungs and it was only then he realised that at some point he had stopped breathing all together.

Buck didn't chase, happy and content with what had just happened, but still comfortable to stay wrapped up in John's arms, no sign of regret or fear in any way, and Bucky let his eyes open slowly and wander over the ruined and wrecked expression on the other man's face. Kiss swollen lips were still parted, breath huffing sharply, body still trembling but for entirely different reasons than before now, and Bucky didn't think he had ever seen anything more perfect, more beautiful in his life. Nothing, not even winning the PBR in Vegas could make him feel as elated or wonder-struck as this moment right here, having just kissed Gale fucking Cleven in some random rodeo grounds.

Trying for a few moments to catch his breath, Bucky let his thumb graze over Gale's jaw again in a gentle gesture, watching half lidded blue eyes peer up at him in wonder. He couldn't help the breathless laugh that escaped him, forehead bumping against Buck's, tips of their noses touching shortly after.

Baby knickered from behind them, shocking them back slightly into the present and John laughed again, the mare reminding him of something.

"By the way," Bucky panted, grin curving even further "Curt may wanna demand some compensation looking after your girl. He's down one half of an ass-cheek as of two days ago. She's got a nice pair of chompers on 'er."

Buck realed back, shock evident in his eyes and the gape of his mouth. "She fuckin' what?"

[rodeoxqueen]

Warm Little Heavens.

Dante/Reader

Summary: You shower with Dante.

Under the hot water streaming down your face and back is where you and Dante find a little heaven on Earth. After a long day, he’ll come back to your place, exhausted and covered in demon blood.

“Water off at yours?” He finger-guns and nods. You’re in your pajamas, lounging around waiting for him to come back after a “Home in 2 hours. Can I shower at urs?” text you get from him. He wants to scoop you into his arms and give you a big old kiss but he’s unshaven and bloodied.

So he abstains, let in and quick to take off his leather coat on your chair.

“Ugh, I reek.” He says, raising his arms to yawn. You agree, demon blood smelling like absolute filth.

Dante always showers first after a job, getting rid of all the oily impurities of devil gore. He undresses and leaves his clothes in a messy pile on the floor. The water is turned on and steam soon settles on the ceiling from how hot he likes it. Scalding even.

Hands quick to scrub his body down, the streams of water turn from black and crimson to clear. You’re in the bedroom, laying on the bed and watching a sitcom, waiting for Dante to finish up before you join him.

That time comes quickly, and he calls for you.

“Babe, come in before the water gets cold.”

“Of course it’s gonna get cold with you rifling through all my hot water.” You tease.

His sweet voice echoes in the room when you enter, “hey, you’re the one with a working heater.”

“This is true,” you muse, pajamas joining his pile of clothes on the cold tiles.

You can feel the humidity with how hot the water is just from outside the shower. It’s okay, you like a good soak that leaves you with a reddened hue to your skin at times.

As you strip does Dante wolf whistle from his view.

“Move over, doofus.” You sigh at the heat.

Dante is looking down at you in his naked glory, chiseled skin with that dangerous v-line around his hips.

“My eyes are up here, sugar.”

“I know, give me a kiss. I haven’t seen you all day.” He puckers up comedically, interrupting the falling water from wetting your hair and face. Every kiss makes you swoon always.

Clicks of plastic bottles opening and the drip of soap on a loofah, you start to wash yourself, Dante just enjoying the show.

Strong hands trail up your back, little lightning strikes of touch along your skin, tracing to your tired shoulders after a long day of your 9-5. He presses down, massaging your muscles and kissing your neck, stubble tickling you.

“Mmm. I should be massaging you, you’ve been slaughtering demons all day.”

“Just trying to save up to take you out to dinner later this week.”

“Ooh, that sounds nice.”

He chuckles, knowing that there’s that little Italian restaurant that just opened up.

“Yeah, and I can see you wear that outfit again.”

The outfit in question which always ends up thrown in some random corner of your bedroom after a night out.

“Let me scrub your back, Dante.” You offer, holding up the sudsy loofah. It’s your favorite task, hands all over his wide back and his impossibly narrow waist.

He purrs loudly, deafening the sitcom still playing in the bedroom, as you work out the knots in his back.

Dante is so strong but you know like a sword, he could really use some care after a mission. Your boyfriend deserves so much love and care, the world is harsh on his body. Although he can take it, there’s no shame in pampering him.

You put pressure on a rather tight spot, and you feel his body just decompress.

“Ooh you’re killing me baby~”

His moan sends flutters in your stomach.

Afterwards, he squeezes the shampoo bottle into his palm to wash your hair. The air smells of strawberries and lavender.

You lean back to his addicting touch.

Shower time is a long time together and you enjoy it to the fullest, with your lover finally.

It’s a love that makes you greedy, asking more and more of him. Wanting to be so close until you can feel the heat off his skin from how hot the water is.

Dante bends down so you can return the favor, white hair in your hands to clean of spare splashes of blood. You also use your hair mask, knowing he loves how soft and shiny it makes his locks.

Eventually, you’re done and you simply press your face against his chest, positively melting from how comfortable you are with him. Slick skin and firm flesh.

The lovers leave the shower, dripping water on the floor and grabbing their respective towels. Dante wraps the towel around his waist and slicks his hair back, spare droplets descending down his throat. You want to lick them off his skin and taste lust and yearning.

You do your skin care routine side by side, Dante’s considerably less steps than yours. Damn demon genetics keeping his skin so clear.

He does that thing of his again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing up and down your neck and the side of your face. You watch him adore you, his own blue eyes peering at the mirror to see that pleased look on your face. He smells your face cream and lotion, a pheromone of your own that leaves Dante craving of the softer things in life.

You two retire to your room, now both in pajamas. The sitcom credits are rolling and an ad plays after.

Dante practically collapses on the bed, ushering you into his space, your face snuggled close to his chest.

“Grab the remote to turn the lights off.” You ask.

“Where’s it?” You point to the table next to his and he lazily reaches over and shuffles his hand to find said remote to the lights, leaving the LED lights on your ceiling on. He turns off the lights, leaving you in a slow-changing array of colors.

At the same time, you shut off the TV, opting for the ambience of midnight conversation and the outside world.

Bedtime, Dante’s limbs are tangled in yours. In your touch does Dante find himself complete. Your gentle breaths of sleep swiftly taking you sweep him into the lulls of rest too.

There isn’t much in life he asks for, but just these warm little heavens makes all the labor and hardship more than worth it.

[mostlyvoid-partiallyflowers]

Andreil rodeo pleasies :3

❤️❤️❤️❤️🦇❤️❤️

Absolutely anon! Thanks for the request <3

WIP Wednesday 9/11/2024 | Andreil Rodeo au

Andrew leans back against the fence outside the arena with Renee. He’s got a cigarette tucked between his lips as they debate which movie Batman would win in a fight. She’s making a rather good argument for Robert Pattinson’s Batman when Andrew sees him walk in. He’s got auburn hair and piercing blue eyes tucked away under a scuffed up cowboy hat. He’s rough around the edges, the blue of his jeans fading to white at the knees, his boots scuffed and worn. Andrew’s never seen this man before and he can’t look away. Andrew knows another runaway when he sees one, watches the man twitch, clearly uncomfortable standing still, looking over his shoulder and watching everyone who passes. His scarred face, his ice blue eyes, his palpable discomfort, all of it pulls, drags Andrew towards him. Renee sees his distraction, follows his gaze and smiles.

“Wymack told me we’d have a new bronc rider soon,” she says, brushing a lock of rainbow tipped hair behind her ear. “That must be him.”

[alientoastt]

long time no mechs art. lil nas x lyf faceclaim thats it thats the post

[scionshtola]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt 1 - Steer

pairing: Corisande Ymir/Y'shtola Rhul rating: G | word count: 854 words notes: some rodeo au to start us off :> Part of Y'shtola's first day on the ranch

“Is this really necessary?”

Y’shtola looked down from her seat in the saddle—were horses usually so tall?--and met Corisande’s friendly gaze. Their arms bracketed Y’shtola, one hand still holding the reins and the other resting on the horse’s body behind the saddle, which made her feel somewhat more secure.

“You’re working on a ranch, miss,” Corisande replied. “You should know how to ride a horse on your own.”

“Are there no other ways to get around the ranch?” She had seen several pickup trucks on her way in this morning. Surely they were just as capable of getting them around the property.

“Riding’s the easiest. Besides, the Haillenarte’s own a lot of land, and some places you can only get to by horseback. With all the research you talked about doing on grounds, Miss Rhul, I know you’ll want to see them.”

Y’shtola narrowed her eyes at them, and only got the same friendly smile in return. But the sincerity of their expression, framed by soft red fringe and two braids that hung sweetly in front of their shoulders, and their polite but firm insistence on referring to her as “miss”--which, to her surprise, she found rather charming—set her at ease. 

The appeal to her work on the ranch grounds did not hurt, either, which Corisande seemed to know, as she held the reins out to Y’shtola before she had given her assent. Y’shtola took them and squared her shoulders.

“There’s no need to worry, Pepper is a sweet horse,” Corisande said gently, patting the horse’s flank. Her black coat was flecked with a yellow that glinted in the sun. “She’ll do most of the work, once you learn how to steer her.”

For the next forty five minutes, Corisande taught her exactly that. She showed Y’shtola how to hold the reins properly between her fingers; how to guide the horse into a turn by opening her arm in the direction she wanted to go, keeping the other steady to avoid drifting as they walked around the paddock; how to use her legs to do the same. 

“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” Corisande said the next time Y’shtola pulled Pepper to a stop at her side. She gestured for Y’shtola to follow her across the paddock on horseback, opening the gate and letting them through. Y’shtola watched as she loaded a few small bags onto Pepper’s saddle, before taking Y’shtola’s own backpack and slinging the straps over her shoulders. “I think you’re ready to see the whole ranch now.”

Y’shtola only had a moment to feel satisfied at how quickly she had learned before Corisande pulled herself neatly into the saddle behind her, her hands politely on Y’shtola’s waist as she settled in.

“We’re to share?” Y’shtola said in surprise. “Don’t you have your own horse?”

“This is my horse,” Corisande replied, her amusement evident in her tone. 

Y’shtola fought the urge to roll her eyes, even though Corisande could not see her. “You know what I mean. Why did you teach me to ride, if you were going to ride with me anyway?”

“It’s a good skill to have out here,” Corisande said. “What if something happened to me, and you needed to get back for help on your own? Cell service isn’t particularly reliable out here, you know.”

“Do you anticipate becoming incapacitated? Is there perhaps another, more competent hand to guide me in your stead?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Corisande said. That the statement was not itself a question, and that they sounded far more amused rather than irritated, strangely pleased Y’shtola. 

She pushed the feeling to the side before she answered. “Yes, I do.”

Corisande laughed, and the gentle sound of it in Y’shtola’s ear brought a slight smile to her lips. 

“You learned to steer a horse at little more than a trot. For now, if you want to see as much as you can today, it’s best you let me take the lead. If that sounds alright to you, miss, then we will be on our way.”

Y’shtola couldn’t argue with that—she had been able to make her way around the paddock with no assistance, at a speed that would not take them very far around the property. And now that she had gotten over her surprise, she could admit to herself that Corisande’s earlier point was equally valid—it was good to know, in case of an emergency.

“It sounds fine to me,” she acquiesced, and relinquished the reins to Corisande. 

Their hands brushed hers for a moment, a warmth in the touch that did something strange to Y’shtola’s stomach. She tried not to think about it, but with their arms around her, she had no choice but to lean into their chest. With unfortunately heated cheeks, she realized she was very aware of all their points of contact. Their chest to her back, their legs fitted together, their biceps framing her waist. 

When Corisande nudged the horse into motion, Y’shtola took a steadying breath, willing the warmth in her face to fade, and let her guide them to their destination.

[thewolvesof1998]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley and @wikiangela

Bear with me...Since Halloween's over I think it's time for a change of picture, now its too early for anything Christmas so I thought I would change to my drawing of Rodeo Star Buck as I finally finished drawing it:

And since it's Wednesday, here's a little bit I've been working on today from Chapter three of Alright, Cowboy, Go Get 'Em:

Eddie watches as Buck pulls away, not physically, he stays lying next to Eddie, but he pulls away mentally and it hurts more than it should. It leaves a sour taste in Eddie’s mouth and it makes him want to chase after Buck, kiss him until it washes it away. It can’t end like this, on this sour note with Buck further away from him than when he entered this hotel room.  Eddie rolls onto his side facing Buck, props himself up on his elbow and reaches out towards Buck before he can think better. His hand connects with Buck’s shoulder first before sliding down over his chest and down to sit low on his stomach. He’s so warm even with the T-shirt between them.  “What are you doing?” Buck asks “We have an hour before I have to leave, we could you know, if you want?” Buck raises a single eyebrow, “Fuck?” Eddie blushes, he doesn’t know why he’d said worse things last night, “Yeah, I suppose that’s a word for it.” “I wanna hear you say it.” Eddie meets Buck’s gaze, his blue eyes practically glowing in the early morning light, leans until his lips brush against Buck’s ear and whispers, “I want to fuck you.” He almost says 'I want you to fuck me' but he's not sure he's ready for that yet. Buck swallows, “Yeah, yeah we can do that.”  At the permission Eddie slides his hand down and under Buck’s shirt, he lightly brushes over the skin above the waistband of his boxers, teasing and teasing until Buck is squirming.  “I thought you said you were going to fuck me?” He asks already a little breathless, his bottom lip in what Eddie would call a pout.  Eddie chuckles, “Always so impatient.” “We only have an hour,” Buck says and it’s a harsh reminder of the little time they have left together, something Eddie doesn’t want to focus on right now.  He pulls the covers off of them before returning his hand to Buck’s waistband, he’s already straining against the thin black fabric. Eddie slips his hand into his boxers and wraps his hand around Buck’s dick. His breath hitches in Eddie’s ear and he turns his head and catches Buck’s lips in a chaste kiss, the first of the morning. His lips are dry and he tastes slightly of morning breath, it should not be as cute as Eddie is finding it.  Buck pulls back, “We should brush our-ah-teeth,” Buck says somewhat distractedly as Eddie moves his hand along Buck’s length as best he can within the confines of the shorts.  “I don’t care if you don’t,” Eddie says, watching the challenge register on Buck’s face.  “Come here then,” He says, lifts his hand, slides it into Eddie’s hair and reels him in until their lips are brushing each other but no further. Eddie closes the distance, pressing into Buck, lips moulding together. He sucks in Buck’s lower lip, biting down until he’s gasping into Eddie’s mouth. He takes advantage of it to slip his tongue into Buck’s mouth, tasting the stale morning breath, it’s kinda nasty and so goddamn intimate and Eddie moans into Buck’s mouth. He chases the taste, sucking on Buck’s tongue in a sloppy kiss, that dissolves as Buck's gasps increase in frequency as Eddie’s hand continues its ministrations on Buck’s dick.  “Eddie,” Buck whines Eddie nips at the edge of his jaw, “You want something Darlin’?” He feels Buck shiver at the term of endearment, “You said something about fucking me.”

Masterlist of posts about this fic- 18+

Read Chapter One and Two on ao3- 18+

Tagging: @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz​ @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @forthewolves @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammy-souffle @smilingbuckley

[cthulhusstepmom]

The Horsegirl-ification of Gideon Coal

“Kremy, are you absolutely certain this is a good idea? I think it would be fairly obvious to anyone with a brain that these are simply mundane horses.” 

Leaning against the only mostly unstable temporary fence that the hands had constructed for this stretch, Kremy offers Frost a sharp toothed grin where he paces off to his right. 

“That’s the thing you gotta understand Frost: it doesn’t matter if they’re real or not. The kids will believe it and the parents will pay for it.” 

“Yeah and some people are just stupid plain man!” Gideon adds, leaning back on the inside of the fence.

“That’s exactly right! Even the halfway intelligent folks will pay just to see how fake they look.” 

Frost grumbles but seems to acquiesce, eyes turned away as the pattering sounds of bear feet and bare feet approach the paddock.

“Gricko! Did you bring what I asked for?”

“I did indeed, but first and most importantly-” the goblin pauses for dramatic effect. “Look at how precious Hootsie is with her little unicorn horn! Ooh aren’t you the most precious unicowlbear!” And she is precious, toddling behind her father with a bulging satchel and a headband with a unicorn horn attached to it. Allowing Gricko his moment, Kremy steps forward and retrieves the satchel from Hootsie, making a mental note along the lines of ‘mule and enforcer, pay in rats’. Within the satchel is a selection of wooden horns, ranging in length from about six inches to eighteen, each with varying texture, weight, and stain. 

“Gricko this is incredible! You did all of this last night?” Kremy asks, only half paying attention to any answer he may receive.

“I told you I was good with my hannnds Kremy.” He slurs slightly, wobbling just the smallest bit.

“I had taken that for a sexual euphemism. I apologize.” Frost says, taking one of the horns and examining it. 

“Well I did have a lot of Trice Melon.” 

“The fuck is a trice melon?” Gideon cocks his head.

“A try smellin deez nuts.”

“You’re fucking dead as soon as I’m over this fence you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you, you’re brain’s gonna splatter all over this fucking-”

“Gid Gid Gid!” Kremy placates with a hand to Gideon’s already heaving chest. “Gricko’s just tired, let’s not destroy all of Turblek’s or whatever his name is hard work and torch the paddock while we’re at it hmm? Frost, would you kindly take Gricko to bed?” 

“Yes, that would seem to be the best course of action. Come along Gricko, I’ll let you finish today’s sudoku puzzle.”

“Eugh you can keep it Frosty, you know I hate the number ones.”

Turning away, Kremy startles for a moment when he realizes his hand is still on Gideon’s chest; quickly dismisses how Gid hasn’t protested its placement. 

“Right, now we can get some fucking work done. You have the glue?” 

“Right here.” He smiles, gesturing to a glass filled with a viscous amber substance. “And I already tested it, it washes right out. Frosty may be missing a few patches of hair from tries one through four.” 

Kremy puzzles for a moment. “Where?”

“You don’t want to know man.”

The horses in the paddock are serene, grazing and mingling amongst each other with nary a care in the world. After a long week of travel they’ve certainly enjoyed the day of rest while carnies run to and fro setting up the tents and attractions. They’re a motley crew, ranging in size from a couple of ponies all the way up to a handful of old drafts. Kremy isn’t sure where most of them came from, being perfectly honest. 

When they’d first upgraded to wagons over tents he had allowed Gideon to guide the majority of the purchasing. Walking in lock step, trying to understand all the technical things he had to say; Offering his own input where it mattered and then haggling the price down as Gid loomed over his shoulder. He hadn’t had the slightest idea where to get horses beyond a livery stable and that wouldn’t do if they were to be moving long distances. Gid had disappeared into the crowd at a pub one night before returning with a grin and leading Kremy to an auction house on the edge of town. Kremy had felt like a sore thumb as they’d perused their options, Gideon occasionally stopping to run his hands over one horse or another, asking questions or sharing jokes that flew completely over his head. When it came to the actual auction, Gideon had leant down beside him, breath steaming in his ear as he instructed him what to bid, when to fold and when to press. That night they walked out with eight horses and two mules and, Gideon assured him, good deals on all of them.

Since then their little herd had grown, not from any auction house trip however. No, some days on his free nights, when he wasn’t tinkering with his rigged games, lounging in their shared wagon while Kremy did paperwork, or out on the hunt for a good time, Gideon would simply wander off. Never so abruptly that it would be hard to follow him necessarily, but gone all the same. And he’d come back with another horse. Usually it wouldn’t be much to look at, skinny or scarred up or old or lame. But over time and under Gideon’s watchful care, dull coats would turn glossy and haunted eyes would turn warm. 

So Kremy doesn’t need to know where they come from, only that they’re theirs now. 

Such a saccharine sentiment doesn’t do much to make this any easier however.

“Fuck!” he yelps, yanking his hand back as the little pony nips at him once again. “Would you kindly fucking stand still and let put the stupid horn on your stupid head!” 

If horses had eyebrows one of them would certainly be raised in defiance as the pony most decidedly does not stand still, kindly or otherwise.

“Woah what’s going on over here man?” 

“My patience is being tried.” Kremy tries not to sulk, defeated by an undersized horse.

He can see the laugh bubbling in Gid’s chest as he runs eyes over the situation. Hands covered in sticky glue, bleeding from a cut that feels worse than it looks, shirt certainly ruined, and a defiant pony staring him down like he’s the bad guy here.

“Alright Witch Stomper he’s had enough. C’mere let’s get you sorted.” And like magic the pony turns and trots up to his partner like a dog fed from the table; allowing him to affix the curling black horn to its forehead with little difficulty. 

“I’m telling you Gid something’s wrong with that animal, it has evil in its eyes.” He growls, straightening his clothes as best he can without sticking anything together. 

“Ah c’mon you kidding me? Stomper’s a good boy, he can just tell you’re not comfortable with him. Taking advantage of your inexperience, that's all man.” A single piercing blue eye glares into Kremy’s soul for just a moment too long before the pony tosses its head and moves off to continue whatever nefarious deeds it was in the midst of before Kremy came along. “C’mon we’ve only got a couple more to do.”

And so it seems. While Kremy was engaged in his battle of wills, Gid had gone through most of the other horses. Following close behind the larger man, all the while keeping a watchful eye for a vengeful pony, Kremy admires the ease that Gideon has with the animals. Hulking beasts eagerly offering their noses for a quick pat or snuffling into pockets for treats, letting this man walk among them and accepting him with zero hesitation. 

“Lady and Stormy should be it, you have the bag?” He hands the second to last horn over to Gid, offering the glue with it. “There we go, s’all right girl. It’s okay, it’s okay.” He continues, voice low and comforting as he approaches the mare.

Lady is their newest acquisition, or Gid’s newest acquisition to be more accurate. A pinto with patches of russet and a bold white stripe running up her face. She’s a pretty thing, even to Kremy’s untrained eye, but she’s skittish and along her coat he can see patterns of scars that would probably point to something if he knew more about horses. She’s been in their company for about a month but she’s still tentative at best and downright flighty at worst. None of the hands can even get close to her when it’s time to get hitched up and ready to go, leaving her instead solely to Gid and their wagon at the head of the train, paired up in a team with an old mule Kremy thinks is named Rusty, one of the originals that they’d purchased at the auction.

Looking at her now you wouldn’t know it, with how calm she is as the horn is carefully glued to her head.

Gideon looks over his shoulder, stroking the mare’s flank while the glue sets up.

“C’mere, give her a pat.” He holds out a hand, beckoning insistently. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Gid, you know horses don’t like me.” Kremy crosses his arms in front of himself, it’s something in his gator heritage he’s sure. The scent of a predator or some such thing. 

Gid huffs a laugh.

“This look like a horse to you? You are looking at a 100% bona fide unicorn.” 

Kremy huffs if only to stifle a laugh. “Gods are you stupid.” 

Still he moves forward. Tentatively at first but when the mare stays in place a small bit more confidence creeps into his step. He’s just a step past Gideon when Lady blows a worried breath through her nostrils, pinning her ears back and pawing at the soft summer grass with one hoof. Hurriedly he begins to take a step back, only to collide with a wall of warmth as Gid steps forward behind him. It stuns him for a moment, robs him of words as his head is filled with hot air and thoughts of warm laughs and cigar smoke. 

“That’s it, it’s okay.” 

Kremy’s not sure if he’s talking to him or the horse. 

“Gimme your hand.” As if saying no was an option at this point.

His hand fits well in Gideon’s but that’s no surprise; he’s watched those clever hands long enough to do the arithmetic. His brain nearly leaks out of his ears like a poorly sealed shepherd's pie when he feels another hand on his waist, guiding him with gentle pressure to take another step forward; and another. Until he’s standing so close he can smell the scent of horse sweat and well oiled tack leather, a scent that follows Gideon. Gently, mostly of his own initiative after a little encouragement, he lays one hand on the flank of the mare, brushing over it with an almost delicate touch. When she doesn’t make any move to startle away he scratches through the short hairs of her hide like he would a dog. It’s relaxing, oddly: simply petting this animal, feeling the rise and fall of its great billowing lungs. Admiring the power of it, the beauty. Absorbing Gideon’s heat at his back. 

“Ain’t that something.” Kremy doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to, can feel a pair of dark eyes on his face. 

“You know Gid, horses aren’t really my pot of gumbo so to speak. But, I think I might come around to unicorns.”

anyone else notice that line at the end of ep. 48?

Kremy, approaching the unicorn, "What does Gid do?"

just me? amazing.

[sakuradeservedbetter91]

Title: talk to me

Pairing: Sakura/Shisui

Rating: T

Day 2: "Have you completely lost your mind", written for ShiSaku week 2024 hosted by @shisakuweek

Tags: mutual pining, unresolved romantic tension, slight mention of broken bone, Anbu au, team dynamics

Summary: Sakura has to heal herself in the middle of a skirmish on the border if Konoha, and her team captain isn't happy she didn't communicate her need for help.

Snippet:

He held her gaze as her lips twitched, and she tilted her head as she smiled up at him. “Aw, were you worried about me, Captain?”

Shisui rolled his eyes as she giggled, but she stopped when he said, “Yes. Of course I was."

“Shisui,” she said, her heart clenching in her chest as they stared at each other.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56718523

[bugwardclown]

player two red-haired shanks joins rodeo au

[chlorophyllcrimescene]

waist deep in the still born day, been practicing for this moment, been running our fingers through it for months. do you see the vision? the silent saloon and the archaic factory? you and me with engine oil on our cheeks and callouses on our palms. hello my name is harrison and i got my face smashed into the loading dock last week. flask at my breast, oblivion at your hip.

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

Heart of Gold (5 Times Gale's Heart Gives Out And +1 time Ken's Does) Barbed Wire Hearts Universe - Chapter One

God I can't believe I can finally publish this after so many problems preventing me from both writing and editing it, it feels like it's been too long! But here's the next instalment in the BWH universe. Only one chapter written and edited so far, but I'll be updating when I can with more. This is to add some much needed little details and lore for upcoming plot fics in this series.

For now though, enjoy! This chapter is only a short one, just to give the general start to the fic, but following chapters will be a little bit longer as the story continues (and don't worry, the big plot fics will be longer as always haha)

@swifty-fox @onyxsboxes @stoneinyourshoe @carnevol @trashbag-baby666 @slowsweetlove

Ken stared at the little box that Curt was brandishing in front of himself with a raised brow, taking in the self-satisfied smirk behind still fading clown paint from the day before on the other man’s face. He let the exasperated sigh escape him from where it had been building since Curt first showed him the box.

“You can’t be serious, Curt.” 

Curt wiggled the box at him, the item inside rattling gently in response as Curt’s smirk grew. “Oh I’m deadly serious,”

Ken eyed him, judgment clearly written across his own expression as he snatched the box from Curt’s fingers. He looked down at the box, eyes scanning over the words with another sigh, albeit gentler than the one before. 

“You’re gonna give Gale a Fitbit, because you wanna, and I quote ‘record the uptight bastard’s stress and heart rate because it would be funny’?”

Curt shrugged nonchalantly, reaching out and plucking the box from Ken’s fingers with the tip of his tongue caught between his front teeth.

“Yes. I think you’re missing the whole point here, Kenny. Have you seen the guy? Man is one big walking ball of stress, especially around Bucky and his bullshit, and all he says is that he’s ‘fine’.”

“So you just wanna prove him wrong so that you have something to brag about, basically?”

Ken raises one eyebrow at Curt and watches as the other gapes slightly, expression turning chastised but no less mischievous underneath Ken’s scrutiny. A hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Basically,” Curt affirms, looking slightly sheepish, and Ken can’t help the knowing smile that curves his lips. 

“Uh-huh,” Ken hums. He stares down at the box again where Curt is starting to peel the edges of the tape holding it closed with the edge of his fingernail. 

Curt pauses and glances up at Ken through his lashes, scanning over Ken’s face before his shoulders sag and he rolls his eyes.

“Look, I’m not trying to be a dick. Call it genuine curiosity and slight worry for the sake of one of my best friends and his well-being.”

“With bragging rights,” Ken tacks on with his own answering eye roll.

Curt laughs, goes back to picking at the tape again with a wide grin. “Exactly! See? Now we’re getting on the same page here, Kenny my boy.”

Ken breathes out through his nostrils, watching Curt work away at the tape until he flicks the opening flap upwards and starts to extract the packaging holding the little black watch from its confines.

Curt holds it up, like a prize dangling from his thumb and pointer and looks at Ken with no less pride on his face. “You can even hook it up to your work phone so you have 24/7 access to Gale’s heart rate. Just in case there ever is actually cause for concern. It’s got a little alarm setting and everything.”

He waggles the device towards Ken’s face, eyebrows rising and falling in a suggestive gesture until Ken once again snatches it from Curt’s hold.

The little watch is cool in his palm, and he turns it over to observe it before glancing up at Curt again, lips pursed.

As much as Ken wouldn’t put name or face to it, he couldn’t deny that there had been a few times through the course of getting to know the men in their circuit that he had observed and noticed that Gale, in particular, had a bit more weight sitting on his shoulders in comparison to most of the others. 

When he had first met the blond cowboy, all done up in his roping get-up with his stoic steel-hard expression and sizeable buckle sitting on his belt, Ken could admit that even though he wasn’t a competitor himself, that he couldn’t help but be a little bit intimidated by the air that Gale often exuded. Especially when in competition mode.

Despite only being a rodeo EMT, it was hard to come by anyone involved in the circuit that hadn’t at least heard of the great Gale Cleven and his achievements in the arena. Coupled with the known talk that the guy was ‘all work and no play’ and advice of ‘just don’t get in his way and you won’t have to worry’, Ken had truthfully dreaded the day that he would have to meet the man and have him under his jurisdiction of care and medical expertise. 

The day he had met him, Ken felt like the world was trying to swallow him whole as he was faced with meeting most of the crew that he would be looking out for and tending to if any of them sustained injuries in the arena. He had shaken hands and introduced himself a number of times, friendly smiles and warmth being directed at him as easy as breathing before the group had all but parted in the tail end of their greetings and Ken was faced with Gale.

The blond cowboy had walked up to Ken with his shoulders straight, blue eyes questioning while also exuding an air of careful scrutinization as he’d looked Ken up and down, and Ken had felt like he was about to be snapped up like a bird between the jaws of a cat and crushed between sharper than needle fangs. 

He’d stared at Gale, not game enough to break eye contact as the other thrusted his hand out in Ken’s direction, still adorned with worn but expensive looking brown leather gloves. The strength and power behind Gale’s grip alone once he’d taken his hand in to a firm handshake was enough to have him shivering in his sneakers. 

But as Gale had introduced himself, Ken had watched as a slight look of warm fondness had broken through Gale’s expression, lips curving upwards in to a perfect smile full of straight white teeth directed at him, and felt his shoulders relax from their timid posture.

“Welcome to the crew, Ken,” Gale had said to him, words soft and sweet and dripping with unintentional charm. “Heard you’re one of the best we could possibly ask for. You might have your work cut out for you though, with this band of hooligans.”

Ken couldn’t help the smile that had slowly crept its way on to his own face in answer to Gale’s obvious attempt at easing his nerves, and he had felt his shoulders sag as Gale had dropped his hand, but feeling no less welcome. 

It was from that point forward that a sort of easy friendship had blossomed between Gale and himself, the terrifying tales of strict and hard-faced Gale Cleven all but melting away in his mind until any time he heard Gale’s name whispered with unease from the mouths of any of the other competitors from different circuit teams made him smirk knowingly. 

The guy was all bark and no bite, as far as Ken was concerned. At least when it was towards his own team, and he had come to realize that whenever Gale would be the first one to comfort or build up the confidence of the other boys without a second thought. 

It was all a structured hierarchy, and Gale had been appointed the unquestioned leader of the group and the overseer to most of the happenings and organizing both between and during the rodeos that they travelled to and from over the course of the season.  

It was with that unsanctioned leadership, though, that Ken could also see the immense strain heaped up on top of the cowboy’s shoulders in the thick of it all. And he would be unhesitant to admit that there had been a few times that he had observed Gale in the quieter moments where the weariness and need to keep on a brave noble façade was obviously eating away at him. 

Especially once Ken realized that the group’s main bull rider John Bucky Egan was more than just a friend to Gale, and every time the man went in to that arena and sat on one of those great muscled animals, Gale turned a few shades whiter every time Bucky’s dismounts were a little less than graceful. 

Ken had also noticed, through several different interactions both with himself and with other members of the group, that as much as Gale would unthinkingly dole out support and softness and strength, that when it came to himself, it was a completely different story.

He had noticed on more than one occasion the cowboy shying away from support directed at him, waved it off with a strained smile or an off handed comment that left Ken with a sour taste on his tongue and a worry settling in deep in his bones like a festering flame. 

As much as Gale gave it, receiving it was a whole other ball game, and was met with such a conditioned resistance that Kenny often wondered what was laying in wait underneath Gale’s carefully composed surface. What scars were carefully concealed under a strong expression.

He was thankful for John in those moments, seeing Gale respond to Bucky’s carefully extended supports more than anyone else, but even then it was barely a sliver of open acceptance to the gentle touch, cards still close to his chest and roped back against him and away from prying eyes.

Ken looked back up to where Curt was still standing in front of him, now holding out the charger for the Fitbit and Ken’s work phone that had been sitting on the counter being waggled in his direction underneath an imploring look. 

He stared at it for a few seconds, mind running through all the pros and cons and the precarious thought of ‘what could possibly go wrong’ cycling through his head, and let his shoulders sag with an exasperated sigh. He tried to ignore the gleaming smile Curt shot him as he took the charger and phone from his hand. 

“Fine,” Ken gave in, switching on the phone and opening up the app store to download the accompanying app that would sync with the watch. “But I’m doing this purely for Gale’s well-being, and to give myself some piece of mind.”

Curt laughed, a smug but joyous lilt to its tone as he walked up to Ken and patted his shoulder. “Yeah you keep telling yourself that, Kenny.”

Ken rolled his eyes, a small smile working its way on to his lips as Curt pressed a loud smacking kiss against his cheek as the other made his way to the door of the trailer, swinging it open and stepping out to leave Ken to hooking up the devices. 

“You’ve still got paint on your face, by the way!” Ken called out behind him as an afterthought before looking back down at his phone. 

He could hear Curt’s laugh echo back to him from a small ways away outside. 

“All part of the charm, baby!”

–

Surprisingly, Gale had accepted the watch from Ken without so much as a second thought, albeit a small look of question directed at him as the watch was passed into his hands. He had turned it over in quiet observance a few times, lips pursed and brows furrowed before he’d carefully pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and fastened it to the surprisingly delicate circle of his left wrist.

Ken couldn’t help the way it lifted a nervous air from his body and mind at Gale so trustingly taking the watch paired with Ken’s words of professional reassurance, and had to remind himself that as much as Curt had palmed the whole endeavour off with the pretense of it being a joke, it also gave Ken some peace of mind to now have a bit more of an insight into the medical signs of one of the most important cowboys in the team. 

He also couldn’t deny that Curt’s curiosity had bled into him as well in the face of the act.

“Can’t say I ever really put much thought in to actually using one of these things,” Gale confessed to him, eyes still curious as he looked down at the face of the watch with interest. The time flashed back at him as he turned his wrist, experimenting with the movement of it a few times. 

Tapping the face of it, the small screen cycled through his steps, distance travelled, energy burned, and finally the rate of his heart, which Ken couldn’t help but notice was currently sitting at a steady 89 as they spoke.

“You can thank Curt for that,” Ken chuckled, pointedly and casually adding in Curt as the culprit as well so he wasn’t the only one being thrown under the bus. “He figured it’d be a good idea to keep an eye on you fellas, your health and what-not seeing as how you’re all meant to be tip top athletes. And you’re one of the only ones who doesn’t actually have one.”

Gale looked up at him, a knowing smirk on the blonde's lips as he quirked one brow. “You mean Curt’s morbidly curious and just wanted something to brag about to John when I blow my top at him.”

Ken couldn’t help but laugh at Gale’s words, the sound punched out of him in surprise as Gale hazarded the guess and got it as close as he possibly could. He had had a feeling long before he’d even set up the watch that Buck would be clued in to exactly what was happening, especially once Ken name dropped Curt in the scheme. 

“It’s alright Ken,” Gale assured him, smile still colouring his face as he winked. “I won’t let him know I’m on to him if you don’t.”

“Sweet,” Ken grinned, holding out a fist towards Gale in a silent ask for a fist bump which the cowboy gladly reciprocated without a second thought. 

Gale gave another small look down at the watch as he let his hand fall back to his side, carefully pushing his sleeve down over it as it went to hide the little device from view.

“I’m actually a little curious myself,” Gale added on as an afterthought. “Might actually come in handy.”

Kenny nodded, casting his gaze over his shoulder towards the arena where Brady and Rosie were currently trotting their horses around in circles around a fake practice rig shaped like a steer. He could hear them laughing good-naturedly as they threw their ropes over it, joking amongst each other in friendly competition as Brady missed and Rosie whooped in triumph, arms coming up high in celebration. 

Jack, Benny and Everett were perched up on the rails watching with smiles on their faces and chatting amongst themselves, Meatball at their feet chasing something in a patch of tall grass against one of the posts. 

Ken pointed his chin in their direction. “This lot seems in a good mood today.”

Gale looked up to where Ken’s gaze was directed, and Ken couldn’t help but note the small fond smile that slipped on to Gale’s expression. Likened it to that of a proud parent looking at their unruly bunch of teenagers.

“Yeah it’s a lazy day today. Figured with more than a week until the next rodeo I’d back off and let them have their fun. Don’t need me breathing down their necks 24/7.”

Ken looked back at Gale with a questioning expression that he hoped Gale didn’t notice. Underneath the pride, Ken could sense a sudden hint of doubt mixed in Buck’s words, smile still evident but more muted as he stared over at the others. His blue eyes were slightly distant, and Ken felt his chest constrict just a little at the sight.

“I’m sure they’ll need your instruction sooner or later with how that’s going,” Ken tried, grinning as he turned to watch Brady expertly lasso Rosie around the middle with the other cowboy’s laughing squawk of offense. Brady’s replying laughter reached them seconds later with a shouted insult barely audible, and Ken could see the fond smile return to Buck’s expression. 

Buck rested his hands against his hips with a gentle sigh, smiling up at Ken before dropping his eyes towards the ground. “Yep, yeah, I’d say you’re right.”

Ken saw a suddenly questioning frown pull at Buck’s brow as the other looked back up towards the arena, eyes scanning over the expanse of it, the stands behind and then flickering around. “Speaking of, you seen Curt or Bucky anywhere since earlier?”

Ken felt his eyes slightly widen in realization as Buck’s words sank in and a pit of innocent fear started to curl its way in to his gut. 

“I can’t say I have, and I don’t know how I should be feeling about that,” Ken confessed to him with a grimace.

Buck blew out an exasperated breath, shoulders squaring as he tipped his hat at Ken with a smile before making his way past him. “Terrified, would be the correct term, I reckon.”

Ken couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him at Buck’s words as he watched the blond walk casually over to the others. 

–

The sounds of the crowd spectating the rodeo from a small distance away reached Kenny as he took a long drag of his cigarette, smoke curling its way out in to the air on his exhale in a wispy array of patterns before disappearing into nothing. He adjusted his seat on the step at the back of the med van, the back doors open to reveal the sterile and organized inside, medical equipment stored carefully and tucked away ready at a moments notice if needed while the current rodeo was in full swing. 

This one had been going on without so much as a hitch so far, which Ken and a few of the other EMTs were thankful for, leaving them meandering around outside the van without much to do to occupy their time besides talking amongst themselves or scrolling on their phones to pass the time. 

They knew at some point they’d probably need to patch up a knee or do the mandatory check over for concussions or other types of damage, but they were taking the peace while they could and being lax in the moments they were afforded. 

It left some room for a tiny hint of boredom to thread its way through, but Ken would rather feel that unconcerned drag of time over doing vital signs on a bull rider that got too big for his chaps or be knitting together another cowboy’s split open brow while trying to stem blood flow with a stern hand and hint of exasperation. 

The audience noise crescendoed in to a flurry of whoops and hollers by a few octaves, but being where he was Ken couldn’t quite see what event was currently happening around the edges of the towering bleacher seats. It was only still halfway through the rodeo so he knew that nothing truly spectacular was happening at this point, and he was content to sit, sneaker propped up on the tow-ball of the van and scroll for a few moments on his socials while sucking down the last few dregs of what he guessed was his third cigarette of the day. 

Thought on the disapproving glance that Curt would be sending his way if the other wasn’t currently out behind the bull chutes painted to the nines in clown makeup and baggy shorts and suspenders waiting to run in and save the day once the bull riders were performing.

Also thought on the way the other would tut in disgust but still pluck the still burning cigarette from his fingers before stealing a drag in the face of Ken’s knowing smirk. 

Almost too lost in the depths of his thoughts as he brought the cigarette up towards his lips for another inhale, Ken couldn’t help the way he jumped, startled and nearly losing grip on the burning stick as a sudden continuous beeping blared at him from the pocket of his jacket.

Frowning, he propped the cigarette in between his lips and reached down to clumsily fish what he realized was his work phone from the deep pocket and pull it out. 

It was only when the bright words of warning that the current connected device was picking up irregular rhythms did he also manage to look up in time to see Buck, pale faced and looking a little worse for wear stumbling from somewhere over towards the camp grounds in the distance before leaning one shaking arm up against a telegraph pole.

Distress was obvious in the tense line of the cowboy’s shoulders, shuddering on a deep inhale and face pointed towards the dirt with tightly squeezed eyes, and Ken quickly stubbed out his cigarette in to the grass by his shoe and flicked it away as he half rose, alert.

“Buck! You okay, man?” Ken called out, worry tainting the tone of his voice, hand that was holding the still beeping work phone tightening until he could feel the plastic creak underneath his grip.

He kept his eyes trained on Buck’s figure, worry seeping even further in to his awareness when the other only managed a haphazard glance in Ken’s direction, a gloved hand waving out in dismissal before he turned his eyes back to the ground at his feet, arm falling back against his side.

With a groan of effort, Ken hoisted himself up off of the step of the med van and started in Gale’s direction with purpose. He turned off the work phone, silencing the noise and shoving the device back in to his pocket without a second thought. 

The closer he got to Buck, the more he could hear the ragged exhales the blond was attempting to get under control and see the trembling shudder wracking the other’s taut shoulders.

Ken reached up one hand, resting his palm on Gale’s shoulder and leaning down to try and catch Gale’s line of sight where it was currently still trained downwards, brows furrowed in obvious distress.

“Talk to me, buddy. What’s happening here?” 

The professionalism that bled into Ken’s voice in the situation finally reached through to Buck, blue eyes glancing up to Ken’s face with a blank look that morphed into a humourless smile for a second or two before falling again. 

“‘m fine, Kenny,” Gale huffed, shoulder trembling more violently underneath Ken’s hold for a fleeting moment. “Don’t gotta get all serious on me, now.”

Ken chuffed out a laugh, a bit disbelieving as his eyes raked over Gale’s shaken form. “You sure? Because from where I’m standing your words aren’t exactly hitting home for me, Chief.” 

Gale flicked a dismissive hand in his direction again, body straightening marginally like he was trying to put Ken’s mind at a little bit more ease if he showed less weakness. It made Ken frown in reply, the minute beeping originating from underneath the cuff of Gale’s shirt where he knew the watch would be reaching his ears amidst the ambient sounds of the rodeo around them.

Gale sniffed, eyes flickering towards Ken again in what he could only name as chastised. 

“Was wondering though,” Gale started, tilting his chin towards his sleeve as he brought up his other hand to pull it back and reveal the Fitbit. “That ain’t normal, yeah?”

Ken gave Buck an exasperated look before turning his attention to the face of the watch, and felt his eyes widen marginally but managed to conceal the sudden unease in his expression so that Gale wouldn’t pick up on it.

Knew he had failed when Gale shot him a frown with accompanying worry reflected in his own eyes.

“I’m guessing no,” Gale grinned, forced and fake as he swallowed underneath the scrutiny of Ken’s expression. 

“No, not so much, man.” Ken answered, simple and direct. He adjusted where his hand was on Gale’s arm, moving it more up underneath in a concealed attempt at support as he tugged slightly. He was still very aware of the shudders wracking through Gale’s frame, the beads of sweat sitting on the cowboy’s upper lip and across his brow underneath the brim of his hat on an ashen pallor. “Why don’t you just come over to the van with me and I’ll give you a quick look over, yeah?”

Gale shot him an unreadable look, but allowed himself to be guided back to the open back of the med van thankfully only a short distance away. 

Ken helped lower him down so that the blond was occupying the seat against the low step that Ken was only on a few moments before, movements a little bit stiff and uncomfortable and made sure that Gale was comfortable before he stepped up in to the van. 

He glanced back at Gale’s figure, reaching out and getting the vitals pack hooked up on the far wall and snatching the blood pressure cuff off of the built in bench as he turned.

Jumping back down onto the hard packed dirt, Ken knelt down in front of Gale who was still looking pale but not as frantic as the younger man started retrieving different equipment from the bag that he sat in front of him.  

Gale eyed everything speculatively with that ever present frown still evident on his face. “I’m fine, Ken. Really.” 

Ken glanced up at him with a strained smile as he pulled the velcro of the blood pressure cuff apart with a stark ripping sound, reaching up to secure it around Gale’s upper right arm with perfect and practised precision. 

“Just taking precautions.” Ken assured him. He started manually pumping the small decompressor attached to the cuff. He unlooped the stethoscope from where it was draped over the back of his neck and lifted Gale’s sleeve up enough to be able to press the cool metal against his inner elbow gently. “Alarm went off for a reason, Buck.”

Gale rolled his eyes at Ken good-naturedly, but Ken could see the hint of worry reflected in the blonde's eyes as he flickered his gaze down to where Ken was listening to the thrum of his blood underneath his skin, wincing at the tight restriction of the cuff around his bicep. 

“Dumb is what it is, I don’t even feel that bad any more.” Gale grumbled. 

A few moments of silence went by as Ken listened intently to Gale’s pulse, holding his breath but allowing it to pass back out in a gentle exhale as everything seemed to be normal at least as far as blood pressure went. 

Pulling the stethoscope away from Gale’s skin, he rolled the cowboy’s sleeve back down to cover cool but clammy skin and ripped off the cuff from further up. “Yes, well, as true as that may be right now, I just want to check you over in case. False alarm or not. I don’t particularly feel like having to explain to Bucky why you keeled over dead from a heart attack on my watch.”

Gale let an amused snort escape him at Ken’s words, lips curving up into the semblance of a smile as he kept his focus on Ken’s rummaging around in the med bag below. 

“Point taken,” Gale mumbled, and Ken felt his own lips quirk up in reply. 

The next few tests went by without so much as a suspicious blip or reading, and as much as Ken was confused, he was also incredibly relieved that Gale didn’t seem to be suffering from anything life threatening. As a small after thought, he reached out and gripped Gale’s wrist wearing the watch gently and turned the face of it towards himself, eyes scanning over the lit up surface and feeling satisfied when no warnings or alerts glared back at him. The heartrate had also gone back to a steady pace, and he let Gale’s hand drop with a sigh.

“Well, whatever was happening, you seem to be fine now,” Ken informed him. He looked up in to Gale’s face from where he was still crouched in front of the other, taking in the now more normal looking complexion and clear blue eyes staring back at him in curiosity and their own brand of confusion. “It might have been just a false alarm.”

Gale sighed, peeking down at the watch hidden back underneath the sleeve of his shirt with a blank look, posture relaxing that small increment more so he was slouched in a lazy lean, an elbow propped up against his knee.

“Fat lot of good a false alarm is,” Gale grinned. One of his hands came up to wipe the remaining perspiration still sitting against the ridge of his brow underneath the rim of his hat. That same hand then rose up to point an unthreatening finger in Ken’s direction, a mock expression of seriousness moulding on to his features. “But not a word of this is to be spoken to Bucky, under any circumstances.”

Ken chuckled, pushing himself up to stand and wincing at the ache that accompanied the movement from being crouched down in the same position for so long. He stretched out his back with a groan. “For once, I do agree with that statement.”

Gale looked affronted, mouth gaping slightly as Ken’s words but Ken could see the humour reflected there. “For once?”

Ken raised his hands in mock surrender, feeling something in his chest warm at the sight of Gale’s barely concealed amusement as he reached out a hand in Ken’s direction for help. Ken gladly accepted, gripping the other cowboy’s hand and pulling him easily to his feet until the other was standing tall and firm in front of him. The other did sway slightly, and Ken held out a hand in concealed readiness in case he needed to keep the other balanced, but in a blink any tilting had disappeared.  

The sounds of the rodeo pierced back in to both men’s awareness, and Ken watched as Gale’s focus turned out towards the arena with a sharp turn of his head, the small smile that was there slowly slipping back into something that Ken couldn’t quite put his finger on. He allowed his own gaze to wander over in the same direction as Gale’s before pursing his lips and glancing back towards Gale’s face. The other looked lost in thought, blue eyes far away amongst whatever was running amongst his thoughts as the sound of cheering echoed across the grounds in a muted distant roar. 

Licking his lips, Ken hesitated for a few seconds before parting his lips and letting the words that were sitting on his tongue escape in to a more simple question than the true ones he had. 

“You sure you’re okay, Buck?” 

Gale seemed to come back to the present at Ken’s words, face whipping back to look at Ken with a blank numb expression before his lips pulled up in to a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Though they were soft as they looked at the younger man.

He reached up and let his hand fall in a friendly comfort against Ken’s shoulder, patting it twice before allowing his arm to fall. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You don’t gotta worry, Kenny, promise.”

Ken let himself smile back in reply to Gale’s words, but he knew that it didn’t quite reach his own eyes either as the image of Gale only a small time before all but hyperventilating and looking moments from death leaned up against that telegraph pole flashed through his mind in vivid technicolor. He could almost hear the ghost of the beeping of his work phone buzz behind his ears. 

He almost asked again, taking in the way that Gale had suddenly started gnawing at his bottom lip between perfect white teeth until the plush skin was red and looked moments from breaking apart underneath the ministrations, but something squeezed in his ribcage and he swallowed the words down.