#she’s the original cowboy baby

[vivaciousoceans]

Fin was shocked in the early seasons that Benson went rogue, he was not familiar with her game 😭

[shimomcdragon]

some doodles of my freakazoids (+new oc)

[0mg-bird]

A Tornado Warning~ T. Owens x Fem! Reader

Summary: Domestic life with you isn’t something Tyler could ever get tired of when you’re practically his twin flame.

Warnings: Language, storms, smut 18+

A/n: Inspired by the Turnpike song above. Read as a part 2 to Sunrise.

Laid back in two cheap lawn chairs, both you and Lilly sit in bikinis and jean cut offs, tanning under the Arkansas sun. Sunglasses on, beers in hand, a small radio on the ground next to your feet, the afternoon was coming on just fine.

Inside, Dani is tinkering with something that makes her cuss every ten minutes. You tried to drag her out for some good ol’ sunny D but she fought you on it.

Bringing a cold Coors to your lips, you finish the last few drinks of it and crush the can, tossing it back into the little red cooler before turning the music up.

When the idea was originally brought up that the sum of you should just buy a house and make it the permanent wrangler camp, it was a big uncertainty. Then you came across the charming farm house and all of you were sold.

The barn was the designated research and tinker area, the camper trailer parked in the driveway was where Dexter stayed when he wasn’t home with his family. Other than that, Dani and Lilly shared the large downstairs room, Boone- who would sleep anywhere- finally has his own room upstairs. Tyler and you slept in the upstairs master room at the end of the hall, and to say the least, you were happy it wasn’t a crappy motel.

You still chased, but it wasn’t life on the road anymore. It was a real career now, not just a hobby job. Your crew was a main source of information to local tech businesses that develop advanced warning signals and bunkers. You raise money for cities hit, get hands on when you can.

The viewers love the vlogs.

You settled into the life well.

The rumble of an all too familiar truck doesn’t even make you open your eyes, not until your sunlight is blocked by the form of your boyfriend.

“What are y’all doin’?” Tyler asks with humor in his voice.

You and Lilly pull your sunglasses down to look at both him and Boone who had just gotten back from town.

“Trying to tan before your big head blocked our UV rays.” You answer smartly.

“Why are y’all oily?” Boone asks, swiping his finger down Lilly’s arm, making her smack him.

“It’s tanning oil.” She scoffs.

Boone wipes the grease on his shirt that says ‘Science Is Fun’. “You sit out here and fry like bacon for fun?” He asks.

“Boone, baby, anyone ever tell yuh it’s a good thing you’re pretty?” You ask, confusing him slightly.

“Whatever.” He shrugs and snags the last beer from the cooler.

That leaves Ty.

He wears a stupid smile at the bikini tied around you. It was apart of the new merch line, which meant it had his face printed all over it.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You laugh, leaning your head back, missing the way Tyler pulls his phone out and does just that.

“What’s for supper?” He asks as you wipe sweat from your forehead.

“I don’t know, what’re you cookin’, good lookin’?” You ask, taking your glasses off and checking the time. You’ve been at it for about two and a half hours, it might be time to call it a day.

Tyler hums. “Cowboy chili?”

You frown.

“Burgers?”

You grin. “Great idea.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Go wash up and I’ll get it started.”

You stand, kissing him gently quickly. “You’re perfect. Keep acting like this and I might just marry you.” You tease with a wink.

He leans closer, briefly sniffing you. “You smell like coconuts and Coors Banquets.” He states with a smirk.

“I smell like your dream girl.” You state back, poking his chest before you collapse your chair and grab the speaker while Lilly grabs the cooler.

In the shower, washing oils from your skin and lathering your hair, you have a slight tingle in your gut. When you shut the water off and wrap a towel around you, you go to the window and open it up.

Out in the distance, big thunder heads are forming. You grin like a kid on Christmas and smell the air. It’s damp and tangy, rain should be falling in the next hour or so.

Walking into the connected bedroom, you dress in some shorts and one of Tyler’s college tees. It’s when you comb your hair that you look at the framed photos on the wall of the two of you. Rocky, the dog that is still alive and well, pushes open the cracked door and comes to hop on the bed.

“Did Ty kick you outa the kitchen, buddy?” You pout and scratch his head.

He too pouts and rolls over for you to rub his belly.

“Don’t worry kid, a storms coming, ain’t you excited?” You ask, obviously getting no response.

Trotting down the stairs, your phone buzzes in your hand with the first sever thunderstorm warning.

The weather report is on the living room tv where Boone and Dani sit. You sit on the arm of the chair where Boone is.

“Whatcha’ think about it, Tex?” Dani asks you.

You look at the patterns on the screen. “I’m thinkin’ we’ll get some high winds, maybe a barely registered EF1 at most, but the way the wind is shifting, I think it’ll hit back county roads and dissipate within ten minutes.”

Boone agrees with you. “I say we sit back and enjoy this one.”

“I’m with you there, buddy.” You smile, ruffling his hair before getting up.

You head into the kitchen where Tyler is seasoning the burger patties at the island counter. Your hand runs over his back as you pass behind him to assemble the rest of the things needed for a meal.

“Storm’s rollin’ in.” You say with a smile.

“That explains your good mood.” He chuckles, tossing a towel onto his shoulder.

You lay out burger buns and condiments. “I couldn’t ask for better weather, you know that.” You lightly giggle, opening up the pickle jar and eating one.

Tyler watches you with a look of affection, then kisses the top of your head. “Some might say you’re insane, darlin’.”

You finish up your original task. “Only partially.” You say, going to meet him at the grill on the covered deck outside.

He begins to cook up the burgers while you lean against the banister and look out at the cloud covered sky. A light rain is falling now, getting caught in your hair as it blows in.

Most would be inside to keep dry.

Not Tyler’s girl. No, he knows you’d stand in the flat plains and wait for the lighting to come down.

As he flips the patties, you come lean against his back, your cheek against the fabric of his button down as you take in the scent of him.

“You happy?” You ask, making him reach down and hold one of your hands.

“Like this? Yeah…” He says with a smirk. “But what would make me even happier…”

He guides your hand down past his buckle, and you scoff and pull away, slapping his shoulder as he laughs.

“You pig.” You shake your head. “I meant are you happy with life and how you’re living it.”

Tyler stacks the perfectly grilled burgers back onto the tray. “Of course I’m happy. I’m doing what I love, I have a place of my own and a bed that doesn’t creek. Then, I lay next to you at night and always end up between your legs. Life is great.”

You blush and take the tray from him. “Glad there isn’t anything you’d like to change.” You say, turning for the back door that goes into the kitchen.

“Well, I’d change the fact that the crew sleeps under our roof, but life isn’t fair.” He states, following after you.

“It’s their roof too, you can’t just kick ‘em out. What would Boone do without you tucking him into bed?” You snicker.

“Baby, I’d tell Boone to get lost in a heartbeat if it meant it’d just be you and me, doing it in every single room.” He whispers into your ear, causing you to laugh loudly and shove him back.

“Y’all come eat!” You call out loudly to the cree, then turn back to Tyler. “You behave yourself.”

He pulls the finger you point at him, and tucks you under his arm for a moment.

It’s common for relationships to get slow and boring after being together for a long while. Couples don’t try as hard, the spark isn’t the same.

Tyler can’t imagine that, not when you’re the kerosene to feed the flame. He’s so in love with you, he doesn’t even know a version of life where he doesn’t have the dynamic he has.

Gathered around the wood table, all of you chatter about various things. Lilly frowns as she drips barbecue sauce onto the shirt with your cartoon face on it.

Yet another merch item you designed.

It has the words ‘Tex Knows Her Tornados’ printed on it.

You give Rocky part of your burger and Tyler scolds you, saying you spoil him too much. You just glare and say that Rocky deserves some good food too.

Tyler thinks you’re ridiculous.

Country music is playing in the background as all of you move to the front porch, waiting for the sky to come falling down and watching data streams come in. The house is lit up orange with all the lights on, contrasting against the sky. The rain hits harder now, it’s cold as it blows in, making you curl into Tyler’s side.

“You ain’t gonna go dancing in it?” Boone asks you, camera pointed at your shaking frame.

“Hell naw, I’ll freeze my ass off.” You laugh. “How about you drag your pretty self out there? I’ll record you.”

As you reach for the camera, Boone pulls away and retreats.

Thunder shakes, the pang of the thick rain drops hitting the tin roof is almost its own song.

“Come on, Tex, before you get washed away.” Tyler pulls you back inside with the others.

The crew has a grand time with the music playing loudly and the way you have to yell over the storm. The shadow of you and Tyler two-stepping in the kitchen, moves around the walls like a painting.

You let yourself imagine life further as you follow Tyler’s lead. You’ve been with the crew for so long, would you stay with them forever? Would nights continue to look like this if you and Tyler were married? If you had a kid?

That’s a scary thought.

Marriage and babies.

He looks down at you know when he noticed you stopped giggling. “You tired?” He asks.

You simply nod along, not wanting to yell your thoughts out.

He pulls back, announcing that the two of you were going up to bed. They all shout goodnight and go back to what they were doing before, turning the music down a few notches out of curtesy.

You pass your passed out pup in his bed at the top of the stairs where he likes to guard things. He’s fat and happy, you don’t bother him.

All downstairs sounds are muffled as the bedroom door shuts. Tyler kicks off his boots and watches you pull the covers back on the bed. Shimmying out of your shorts, you fully intend on going to bed.

Tyler doesn’t like that idea.

“Do I dare ask what’s on your pretty mind?” He asks, unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckling his belt.

You sigh. “Just thinking about the next five years.”

He shakes his head in confusion. “Why?” He questions.

You just shrug and slide onto the soft mattress. “Why not?”

Once he’s in his boxers, he joins you. “Don’t think of the next five years when we don’t even know what we’re eating for breakfast come morning.” He smiles. Immediately, his hands are pulling you close, his lips are kissing yours smoothly. He pushes your hair out of your face before moving down to your jaw line and neck.

“What has gotten into you?” You laugh as he rolls you onto your back.

“What? Blame the weather.” He grins as he cages you in.

As he kisses you again, hands pushing your t shirt up, you smirk at the need he’s progressing with.

“The crew is still awake.” You remind.

“The storm’s so loud they won’t even know.” Tyler states, moving to kiss your stomach.

Your hands play with his hair, you lay back and listen to the storm crash over the house as he pulls your underwear off and dives between your thighs.

The subtle anxiety of what life can turn in to is gone now as the warm pleasure washes over you from his mouth perfectly against your core. Your head digs into the pillow, you’re biting your lip at the amount of stimulation coursing through you. You pant out, deciding that you weren’t going to be patient all night.

You drag him back up to you, becoming the needy one now. Your shirt is tossed onto the floor, soon accompanied by his boxers. Anywhere you can touch him, that’s where you do. Fingers gripping into his biceps as he pushes into you, you let out a gasp of relief, matching the one he gives.

“Fuck, this feels good.” You praise, hitching your knees up to lock his hips in, pushing him further into you.

As he completely bottoms out, Tyler lets his head drop onto your chest for a moment while he gathers himself. No matter how many time you two do this, it’s still a crazy good feeling.

He slowly kisses your chest, sucking over the curves of your breasts as he pulls almost all the way out, then sinks back into you swiftly.

Thunder cracks loudly, making you yelp in surprise, then laugh. He looks down at you in humor as he adjusts his pace, making it slow and sweet at first, then moving onto more demanding thrusts that make you moan out loudly. He’s trying to hit as deep as possible, but the way you’re holding him close to you is making it hard to focus.

The way your skin rubs against his makes him feel like he’s on fire.

One hand intertwines with yours and he lays it on the pillow, breathing hard as he thrusts against the walls clenching around him.

You squeeze his hand. “God, I love this.” You say with an open mouth.

He proudly smirks. “Yeah? You love when I fuck you so sweetly?”

You groan out. “I just love when you’re fucking me. Doesn’t matter how…or where.”

“Fuck.” He curses, his dick twitching inside of you. He’s stealing your breath for his own now, you think he might just inhale you if he could, given the way he devours your mouth.

His hips rut against you, the tip of him presses against a sensitive spot inside of you that makes your voice break.

“More.” You beg, letting go of his hand and sitting up.

In an instant, Tyler has you flipped onto your stomach, his hands pulling your ass to him. You look back at him as he slides back into your aching walls, softly whimpering as he hits differently.

He pulls your hair to one shoulder, then leans to kiss the bare skin as he drives into you.

You look to the window, the way rain pours down it.

He’s pulling you back to meet his deep thrusts, his head falls back as he gets lost in the feeling.

“You like it like this?” He asks, making you nod feverishly, voice getting raw from the way he’s drawing moans from you.

“Ty.” You call out, gripping the sheets with a smile as you feel your orgasm building

“Good girl, say my name.” He pants, grip tightening on your hips.

“Tyler.” You breathe, thighs beginning to shake.

He knows your body as well as he knows his own, he knows the way your lower lip quivers and the way you get pulses through you that you’re getting close.

He lets out a whine, a childish grunt when he determines he wants to see your face when you cum.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, barely coherent.

He doesn’t answer with words, just pulls out of you and flips you back over so fast, your head spins. Within a second, he’s already back inside of you where he should be, grasping your thigh as he coaxes you further and further to your finish.

“I need to see you when you cum for me, sweetheart. I need it.” He pants, sucking at your neck, hitting all the spots he knows makes your throat go dry.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” You heave, breathing hard into his hair.

Your toes curl, your hands getting a death grip on his skin. Tyler pulls back to gaze down at you, eyes lit up wide, knowing your orgasm is going to wreck you.

“Come on, cum for me, beautiful. I got you.” He soothes.

One hand on his bicep, the other on his jaw line, you try to ground yourself but the way you’re swept away is out of your control.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” He pants, voice gravely and raw.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the knot in your stomach tight as you finally fall over the edge.

“Ty!” You cry out, the waves of hot arousal finally washing over you.

He strokes your hair out of your face, so close to his own release but guiding you through your own.

You’re coming down with a sob, your bottom lip quivering and your chest heaving as he buries his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you through his own release.

Your head pounds at the overstimulation for a moment, but you’re coherent enough to whisper to him as he comes down from the high.

“I love you so much.” You remind, shaky hands smoothing his crazed hair.

Your swollen lips kiss the side of his head before he turns to meet with his.

“Shit.” He pants into your skin, slowly adjusting his weight on top of you.

Tyler wears the same smile you do, trying to get his muscles to stop buzzing before he slowly lifts off of you.

He looks down, watching as he slowly pulls out of you and sees the mess between your legs. He’s dripping down your thighs, and you’re whimpering that he’s not inside of you anymore.

Pressing a kiss to your knee, he promises to be back in just a second. He cleans himself up, then comes back from the bathroom with a warm washcloth.

Your arm lays over your wide eyes as he cleans the mess gently, the storm isn’t so violent now, it’s settled on a steady rain and softer thunder.

Ty helps you to the bathroom and back, then pulls the covers over the two of you back in bed.

Arm around his middle, head on his chest, you fall into a comfortable silence. His thumb rubs your shoulder, eyes about to shut from the way your warm hand moves to slide up and down his stomach. Then, your loss for words passes you and you’re back to being your normal self.

“You ever scared that you’ll get me pregnant?” You ask, making Tyler’s eyes snap back open.

“What?” He clears his throat.

“You ever scared that you’ll get me pregnant?” You repeat your words.

He tries to find an answer that won’t piss you off, but he isn’t sure what will and what won’t. You know his silence well, so you add onto the question.

“There’s no right or wrong answer, cowboy.”

Ty wraps his arm around a little tighter around your shoulders. “Yeah, sometimes. When we were on the road, I was terrified of it, actually.”

“Really?” You hum. “And what about now?”

He takes in a breath. “Now, I don’t really think about it…I mean, we aren’t doing a lot of things to prevent it.”

You laugh. “The pill thing isn’t important when you have life saving research to do.”

Tyler shakes his head at you. “It made you kind of moody anyway.”

You smack his chest, making him claim he was kidding.

“I guess I could ask you the same question.” He says. “You scared I’ll get you pregnant?”

You move your hand back to its original place on his stomach. “I really don’t know. I mean, we aren’t kids anymore so I guess it wouldn’t be horrible if it happened but…we’re just so busy.”

He agrees. “And we aren’t really married.”

You strain your neck to look at him. “Does that matter to you?”

He looks down at you. “Does it matter to you?”

You hold his gaze, then look away. “I don’t know that either…”

Silence between you, rain above you.

Tyler sighs, letting his thumbs motion on your skin continue despite your goosebumps. “I’m not scared of commitment if that’s what you’re wondering. You want me to marry you? We’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow. You want babies, I’ll give them to you. Anything you want, I promise I’ll give it to you.” He says in such a serious tone, you feel your throat start to swell and your eyes burn.

You smile then kiss his chest. “You’re sweet on me like a bear to a beehive.”

Tyler grins. “I still have no clue what’s coming out of your mouth.”

“That’s okay, cowboy, as long as you can understand me saying I love you, we’re fine.” You say softly.

And you two fall asleep like that, tangled up together. Any movement you make throughout the night, you don’t get too far before Tyler’s gripping you warmly and dragging you back to his skin.

Come morning, birds are singing praise and the wind is gentle. You wake on your side, facing him, legs tangled together. He looks like a puppy when he’s asleep, all calm and soft. The broken morning light paints him a warm golden color, you reach out and push his hair away gently. He stirs slightly, his eyes drag open to see you against a backdrop of a simple shade of blue.

The sky outside the window is clear, you’re looking at him with affection, he wouldn’t want anything else.

“Mornin’.” You smile.

“Good morning.” He says with sleep still in his voice.

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

yeehaw

how spencer convinces reader to stay in rather than go out

MDNI | suggestive fluff!

word count: 1217

warnings & tags & stuff: fem!reader, def some nsfw descriptions of spence, all around suggestiveness, fade to black

author's note: second piece of writing yayy!!! this was originally gonna be smut but i got scared lol. anyway please lemme know your thoughts im DYING to improve. sooo yes i hope you have a wonderful day and here this is ig! 😚

Sitting alone in your room, you tugged on a pair of never-before worn cowboy boots. They were most definitely not broken in, and you knew you were in for an uncomfortable night of baby blisters on the bottoms of your feet. However, life is full of compromises, and these were too cute to pass on.

Especially for a night of line dancing with your boyfriend’s coworkers. Who knew that FBI agents got down like that?

You stand and plug in your earbuds, choosing to absolutely blast ‘Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’ by Taylor Swift. Also known as the only tolerable country music.

Dancing out to the kitchen, you wrap your arms around your lovely boyfriend who was preparing a cup of tea, absolutely not dressed for a night of country conviviality. Spencer looks you up and down, a teasing smile playing on his face.

“Hey cowgirl,” he says, gently removing your earbuds. “Penelope has been texting me on average every 10 minutes about how excited she is for tonight. I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh god,” you laugh. “I wish you were coming too.”

“I know. But that sounds awful,” he says in his matter-of-fact way. “Hey, I do have something for you,” he mentions. You look up at him, and he runs quickly upstairs to grab his bag. He comes down and brandishes his very own cowboy hat. “From the times Penelope didn’t have you to drag along with her and I was her chosen victim.”

“For me?” You ask excitedly. He puts it on you. Although it’s a little big, it 100% completes the look. You look up at him. “Think I would make a good cowgirl?” He peers down at you, trying to tell if you’re joking.

“No,” He goes the serious route and you furrow your brow at him. “You hate the dirt. And the heat,” he explains, emphatically defending himself.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t really do well with horses either,” you murmur.

“You do make a cute cowgirl for the night though, even if it’s not your true calling.” He ruffles your hat.

“Yeah?” You smile. “It’s not too much with both the boots and the hat?”

Spencer blinks.

“Have you met Penelope? She always has a lot going on. More than this.”

You giggle.

“They’ll all adore you, JJ, Emily,” he reassures, stroking the side of your waist.

You had known Penelope for a few months, ever since you started dating Spencer. But you had yet to meet the rest of the girls on his team. You were definitely excited, they seemed really cool. But you were definitely also nervous.

Spencer, jarring you from your thoughts, whips out his very outdated phone that he somehow still manages to operate, and opens the camera.

“Smile.” You do so, showing off all your teeth. You move to look at the picture, and Spencer tilts the screen toward you. “See? Adorable.”

You stand on your tippy toes for a kiss, and he complies quickly. A little too quickly to not have any meaning behind it. Your eyes flit down, and you notice a slight bulge in Spencer’s pants that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him. “Can I convince you to stay?” He whispers, half smiling. You tilt your head.

“Maybe” you say shyly.

“What if I told you that the chances are slim to none that you are actually going to line dance tonight? Penelope and JJ always end up sitting at the bar, and Emily always gives up half a song in and joins them. Without fail,” he says. You purse your lips, heart beating a little faster for whatever reason.

“That could still be fun,” you reason.

“Not in those shoes,” he says, rubbing your hip softly. “I know they must hurt; they’re brand new and you’re already shifting your weight between your feet much too frequently.”

You look down at your feet. He was not lying. “You’re too observant. This is why you basically always have your way with me.” You exhale.

“By caring about you? I could keep going. I know that you hate country music. And no, Taylor Swift does not count. She’s an outlier. And she was born in Pennsylvania. That’s barely real country music. You’d be miserable all night.”

“Yes, you would know about ‘real’ country music, Mr. Las Vegas,” you counter.

“That would be Dr. Vegas to you,” he quips, bending down once again and giving you a kiss. You reciprocate, kissing the corner of his mouth. “What if I told you I really wanted you to stay? Bad?”

“Bad? I guess I’ll stay, if it’s bad. But you have to be the one to text Penelope,” you say begrudgingly. As if you weren’t as releived as can be. And as if Spencer didn’t know that.

He smiles and allows his arms to wrap around your waist. Spencer’s kisses become slower, you could feel every aspect of them. His lips, of course, but also his stubble. The air being pushed out of his nose. The hand swiping it’s typical resting spot, your cheek. His tongue delicately tracing your mouth. It all feels so calculated for you, so measured.

And you, on the other hand, are a mess, trying to keep up. Your heart is pounding and you’re sure your face is noticeably hot. And by the time Spencer leads you to your room and sits you down on the bed, its temperature has only increased.

You kick off your boots. He sits next to you, his hands holding your waist, ever so firm. He brings them up, thumbing the inside hem of your tank top.

“All good?” He checks.

“Yeah,” you say, head spinning with all the good chemicals.

“Deep breaths for me, okay? Gotta keep your blood flowing appropriately,” he reminds you, leaning back and taking you in. “Pretty girl.” You blush and his hands move to your lower back over your tank top, delicately brushing over in a way that gives you goose bumps. You shiver.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You’re sensitive in your lower back. God, there’s still so much more to learn about you.” He breathes out.

“Good. I was scared you’d get bored, with your perfect memory and all,” you joke.

“Bored? The human brain is limitless. Your brain is limitless. I wanna know everything I possibly can that goes on up there. Everything that makes it feel good. It’s the least boring thing I can think of.” You blush and look down.

You lean in for another kiss, this time to his jawline and neck. Your hands slide up his stomach under his shirt a little and and you look up to him.

“Okay?” This time you ask.

Spencer nods. “Okay.” Your hands trace up under his own shirt, and you immediately lean in to kiss him, holding his chin.

All of a sudden he’s everywhere. Even sitting next to you, he manages to take over every ounce of your body. He’s kissing your mouth and forehead and cheeks, one hand is holding your face, and the other is mapping your stomach.

“Can we try something new then? If we wanna do and learn everything?” You whisper. One quick tête-à-tête later, you’re sitting on his lap, shifting your hips softly as he held your waist for you.

“I guess I was wrong. You’re gonna be an amazing cowgirl.”

[netherfeildren]

FABLE OF THE DOG : 2. Sugar, Not so Sweet

Series Masterlist; Chapter: 1,

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Alcohol Use; Allusions to Attempted Suicide; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Parental Neglect; Angst and Fluff; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Possessive Behavior; Brat Taming; Extremely Bossy Old Man; Past Teenage Crush; Yearning and Longing Galore; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family

A/N: This is a deeply, deeply unserious chapter, and I make no apologies—I was taken away by whimsy!!!!

Apologies however, for the French people slander, I went on a truly heinous date with a oui oui baguette loser last month. I’m still working through my anger.

Word Count: 13.4K

Read on AO3

2. Sugar, Not so Sweet

They appear at the break of dawn, the young man and the boy. 

“How many heads’ve you got total?” 

Joel appraises him, the fresh-faced look, a boy just crossed over into the cusp of manhood—though he’s large and strong and earnest in the eyes. He’d be a good hire, if not for—

He glances over at the young boy sitting on the bunk’s couch, snickering quietly with Ellie as his brother tries to barter a place for the two of them. 

“Near to thirty large about now. We’re fixin’ to breed, but we’re pushin’ our limitations.”

“So you need hands,” he says eagerly. 

“We do,” Joel returns slowly, chewing on the mint he’d plucked from out front. His stomach is in knots, has been since—days and days and days ago, last night, and so much worse now. There’s a sick heat settled deep that he doesn’t know how he’ll scourge out and quick. 

“Listen, I know it’s unconventional, but—”

“Where’s his parents?” He tips his chin at the boy, and Ellie peers slyly over her shoulder at him. He’ll get hell for this later, he knows, she knows. 

“Our momma’s down south—by way of Odessa. She cowboys during the summer too, and—”

Joel sits up in his seat. “Texas?”

“Come on, Texas,” Tommy slinks behind him, sneaking an arm over his shoulder to thump Joel roughly on the chest. “Just say yes.” He lets out a gruff sound masking a cough, fucking Tommy, and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ellie rise from the sofa and leave the bunk quietly with a parting pat on the boy's head. 

“You’re from Texas, too?” The young man asks brightly, that look of hope in his eyes that Joel’s about to quash. 

“We’re from Austin,” Tommy says from the coffee pot, his mustache spreading wide over a shit-eating grin. “Southerners way up here, we gotta stay united amongst all these Yanks’,” his brother puts on the drawl heavy, and Joel rolls his eyes. Clown. 

“Listen, Henry,” he says, trying to turn the conversation back to business. He looks at the boy again, the back of the small head bent and silent and something that could, perhaps, be thought of as guilt pulses through him, but to be honest, there’s so much of that moving about Joel’s system right about now, that it’s just one more drop of poison filling his cup. It doesn’t matter. He needs to do what’s right.

For who? He can’t very well tell yet.  

“I’m sure you’re a hard worker, son, and I’d not hesitate to give you a place were we in different circumstances, but I just don’t see how this would work—”

Henry leans forward in his chair too, ready to plead his case, fight for his brother and the generously paying jobs the Kelly’s are famous for. There’s something about the boy newly turned man that reminds Joel of himself. Perhaps during that young and fragile youth of his twenties, when he’d been alone with a newborn baby, trying to figure out the whole world and himself. 

“I know it’s unconventional, but he’s a good kid. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, and it’d only be for the summer, sir. We head back down for the start of the school year. It’s difficult, but it’s harder for my momma to get work with a kid than it is for me.” He trips over his words with the speed at which he’s spitting them at Joel, trying to convince him, and he knows that the fair thing would be to take them in. To give this man a chance the way Joel had been given one so many years ago, the mercy of safe harbor. But he’s got a finite amount of goodness in him now, he’s got to save it all for only one person. There’s none left for anyone else. And Joel doesn't want trouble, he’s got enough of that around here right about now. “He’s got his books and his summer worksheets, and he knows how to manage on his own while I work. I swear, he won’t be in any sort of way. You can—”

And then, amidst the young strangers' rambling plea, Joel's heart falls through his stomach. Here comes that trouble anyways. 

“What’s going on here?” In that soft, lovely voice that haunted his dreams last night. 

All the cowboys rise from their seats at the sound of your presence. 

From over your shoulder, Joel sees Ellie’s face twisted in a grimace at him, the flash of her middle finger and then her tongue. 

“Goddamnit, Ellie,” he growls low. 

You look exhausted, eyes red rimmed and swollen—as if you’d been crying all night, and Joel’s tongue is a swollen, poisoned thing in his mouth—a husk of guilt is all he is. He swallows convulsively, trying to find his words, trying to not scream at the thought of being what’s made you cry, trying not to look down the length of you and failing. Silky sleep shorts end way too high up on the long length of those too pretty thighs, an oversized pullover with Yale emblazoned across the front, a little hole at the neck and a large dark stain marr the front of it. You’ve got on a too big robe, dark and plaid, draped over your shoulders with your hair all a mess. He can see Ellie’s trying to pull it into some semblance of a braid behind your back discreetly while you stare at him with those eyes that, and he’s being damn honest now, fucking terrify him. Those puffy, ridiculous tan boots women wear, the impractical ones that become a sogging mess in the snow or wet despite the fact he understands they’re supposed to be worn in winter, are on your feet, two mismatched socks peek out above the tops. 

He’s pretty sure one of them has bombs with a capital ‘F’ in the tiny centers printed over it. The other, some sort of Easter bunny carrot print. Absolutely ridiculous, and he can’t help it, he notices it all. 

And worst of all, in your grip is that World’s Best Dad mug you’d sent the old fucker for Christmas several years ago, a little holiday fuck you from his best daughter. It’d been one of the years he hadn’t let you come home for the winter break, forced you to spend the holiday alone at that boarding school of yours. The whole ranch had known and whispered about it, and he’d felt embarrassed and offended on your behalf, that they’d all gossiped about the girl you were behind your back when they should’ve respected you for the woman you’d become one day, the one that’d eventually pay all of their earnings. 

And the jackass had the audacity to use the mug all the time afterwards. Joel was pretty sure it’d been his favorite. 

“We were just wrapping up,” Joel says, clearing his throat, finally finding his voice. It’s almost physically painful to look at you directly in the eyes, and the heat of shame and regret claws its way up his throat at the hollow look he sees there. You’re so angry at him, and he deserves it. 

“This is the new Kelly,” Ellie tells Henry, cutting him off, pressing you forward with her hands wrapped around your shoulders. Your shorts are way too short to be in here right now, and Joel feels something else, even hotter than shame, stirring inside him. “If you want work here, this is who you need to talk to. The big boss.”

“Miss Kelly,” Henry says reverently, pulling his cap off to press against his chest. “It’s a mighty fine honor gettin’ to meet you. I was just telling your foreman here,” he motions the cap towards Joel, and he feels like a bear who’s about to rip it out of his grip and stuff it down his throat. Fucking Ellie going and snitching on him. “How me and my brother Henry travel for the summer. I’ve got letters here, I’ve worked at the King before, and have a number your man can call if he needs more references. I’ve got lots of experience and—”

“What will you do with him?” Your gaze is on the little boy, has been the entire time. Joel steps forward and over the back of the couch he sees the kid, Sam, has a comic book in his lap he’s been reading this whole time, while adults who should have no bearing on his life decide what will and will not be for him. “While you work—”

Joel looks back at you, and he knows already what it’ll be. 

Henry’s smile is wide and gleaming, putting on the charm. What he doesn’t see, what Joel does, is that bleak sadness in your gaze that he’d put there himself last night. He needs to speak with you, to explain, to make it right between the two of you. 

“He’s good at entertaining himself. I promise he won’t be in the way or nothin’. He’s got books and summer work, and he’s learning to play the guitar. He won’t be in the way,” Henry says again. 

“What about school?”

“We only travel during the summer. We’re back in Texas for the school year.” And at that, you finally look back at Joel, and his heart shoots from his belly to his throat, ready to be spit up at your feet. 

You watch him for a long searing moment, and there's such sadness there. He doesn’t know what would have been better, what would have been the correct recourse, how to make that look go away. To give you what you want? To do what he thinks is right or what should be right? He’d never thought, never considered anything like this. It’s all too much too fast, and he feels suddenly lost and childlike in the face of you and all you stand for. 

“They stay,” you say only for Joel. 

Henry lets out a whoop of victory, rushing forward to thank you profusely, but Jesse, who’s standing by the door, blocks his rush forward with a hand to his chest before he can get too close to the new boss. You’re for protecting now, above all else, it’s the unspoken word they all suddenly understand keenly. 

You stare solemnly at Joel for only a second longer, those sleep sloped doe eyes, before you’re turning without another word. 

-

“He never did a very good job of hiding the way he treated you, sweetheart. I couldn’t ever respect a man like that.” 

The cricket song is a symphony of sound around the two of you, and you’re suspended for a second, he sees it come on—a rose hued haze, and then blink-of-an-eye donning a look that spells nothing but disaster. He’s thrown off course by it for a single second, that girl fantasy glow, before you’re launching yourself at him, and then it’s nothing but a soft wet mouth, smoked fruit and fired oak, the slick of your tongue against his bottom lip as you kiss him.

You’re kissing him. 

He’s a frozen solid husk, eyes wide open as he stares down at the look on your face—something like agony. The tiny frown between your eyebrows, concentration, and a single diamond tear caught in the web of your lashes, and he can’t help but notice the soft press of your breasts against his chest, you’re not wearing a bra, before he’s shoving you back by the shoulders, scrambling to get as far away from you as quickly as he can.

His back hits the railing before he can get far enough. “What the fuck are you doing?” He spits, but can’t help but lick his tongue along his bottom lip, tasting where you’ve just been. 

His stomach is suddenly hot.

You swallow convulsively, bleary eyed look turning to hurt, pressing your palm to your belly, twisting your fingers in the fabric of your sweater there. “I don’t— I didn’t—” Your eyelashes flutter shut, closing the hurt, confused look away from him for one blessed second. You press your other palm to your forehead, gripping yourself as if you’re trying to hold your very skin together. 

What do you think you’re doing? He enunciates each word like the lash of a whip, and then licks his lips again to soften those same blows for himself. 

Something is about to go inexplicably wrong here. Something already has. A tragedy worse than the death of a father

“I just thought that—” You blink your eyes open and they’re wet, and he’s about to bark at you to not fucking cry or he’ll lose it completely, but he swallows it or loses the thought to madness. He feels incomprehensibly insane, inconceivably triggered. 

This is like nothing he’d ever imagined, and it tilts him on his axis, skews his vision, headlights blinding you in a dead-on collision. 

What are you doing—thinking?

“I— I watched you grow up. I watched you—” You take an anxious step towards him, some word on your lips he can’t even make out because his hearing has gone out, and now he’s all of a sudden deaf in both ears instead of just one. He hardens his voice further. He makes sure you understand. “This is fucking wrong, and you need to get away from me right now,” reversing his movements, taking a threatening step forward, stomping his heavy boot against the floorboards beneath so that you’re jumping, skittering backwards like a frightened little rabbit. 

And Joel, the beast, crushing her beneath his foot. 

You wrap both of your hands around the delicate column of your throat; he imagines you’re holding in your hurt sounds, and it makes him even angrier. 

“Listen to me—” he starts again. 

But you cut him off, shaking your head, the confused sleep-look being blinked away so that now it’s spitting fire that is awake and angry in your gaze. “But you didn’t,” you say. “You barely know me. We’re almost strangers.” A scoff, and then switching again to soft, to girl-like, to hurt: “And I’m all grown up now, Joel.”

“I don’t know what you reckon is happenin’ here between us. Or what you think— what you—” He looks away, can’t bear the sight of it, you, fuck, he spits, again, fuck. “If I gave you the wrong impression, I’m sorry, but—”

Then in a broken little voice grasping for straws, “But we were born on the same day,” and you say it like a question. Like it should mean more. Like, and he realizes it now, like it means the world. 

He turns back to look at you, and he feels full of everything but mercy—too much regret. “And what? What do you think that means? That we’re connected—meant to be?” His voice sounds full of cruelty. “Don’t be delusional. It’s also the day my daughter died. D’you know that?”

A blink. “What?”

“She died on my thirty-fourth birthday.” 

Again. “But… Wh—at?” Broken up word, and your chin does a little wobbling dance, jutting this way and that, and you have a dimple in your cheek that comes out when you’re happy, but also when you’re sad. When you’re about to cry. He sees it now, and starkly. 

He’s ruining something sacred. 

Joel steels himself. “Whatever it is you’ve made up in your mind about us, it’s a fantasy. Something not real that you need to let go of. Are you hearin’ me?”

“I— I think…” You won’t stop blinking, your hands look like they’re about to strangle you, and he steps forward as if to stop you or save you from yourself. “Why didn’t you ever say?”

But instead of saving, “Why would I? Why would I ever tell you that?” He does not want to hurt you, and yet he cannot help it, and Joel wonders if this is how your father felt every time he failed you—like a lesser man. “Wasn’t for you to know—it doesn’t mean the same thing to us.” That day. He makes himself clear: “Whatever child’s fantasy you’re still holding onto, you need to let it go.” 

-

He rushes out of the bunk after you, a growled, you little shit, at Ellie as he passes her. 

“Man, what’d you fuckin’ do?” She calls after him in that tone that tells him that of course she knows what’s happened. You two’ve never been able to keep a single thing from each other. Asshole! She shouts at his back as he catches up to your slowly retreating form. Your movements are sluggish, exhausted. 

He calls your name and tries to moderate his tone from being as aggressive as he feels right now. “We gotta talk.” He follows after you, hot on your heels and then jumping back like a scared mut when you spin around on your ridiculous boot to face him. 

“Speak.” It’s a high-handed tone, that one. One that says he’s the grunt here, and you the queen, that you’d both forgotten it last night, but the battlelines are clearly drawn now. There’ll be no more forgetting. 

And it’s all his fault. 

“You can’t—” His heart thumps and thumps and thumps like a pitiful thing. “You can’t undermine me in front of the boys like that. There’s a reason I was saying no.”

“Which is?”

“That the kid’ll be in the way.”

And you flinch and Joel prays for a gun to the back of the skull. Fucking Christ, but this is difficult.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gruffs. “You know what I mean. This is hard work we do here. I don’t want the kid gettin’ hurt, I don’t want to be responsible for that. What goes on here is on me. The people who get hurt, it’s all on me, and I take that responsibility damn serious.”

You tilt your head at him in that queer, inspecting way of yours. The one he’d watched you pull like a weapon against your father so many times. He finds he hates it now, detests it, being wielded against himself. You ignore his words, “What was your arrangement here—with him? How did this work with the ranch?”

There has been that thought always, and obviously, of you as something higher, that symbol of the family or the safe haven this place has been for Joel. The not-respect he had for your father, but surely the understanding—you've always been all wrapped up in that. He's at times felt grateful for your existence, perhaps, in ways. That something as good, as better, as you could exist in the same world Joel exists in. Perhaps he’d admired you in ways, even as a young girl, for your goodness, your sincerity. But he finds now, at this look of disdain you’re wearing against him, that he hates the feeling of being less than you, of not being good enough to even stand in your presence. 

He’s done wrong, marred it all in ugliness. He’s put himself in this position somehow, by hurting you, by confusing you, by wanting—

“I do what I need to, what the ranch needs. Whatever decision I need to make, I call it and it’s on me. Monthly reports to him and that was it. He understood that what happens out here is different to what can be told and sometimes you can’t plan for certain shit. He focused on the business, I focus on the ranch.”

By wanting what?

Bringing the mug to your lips, you take a long sip, humming. It’s all a taunt. Joel realizes, suddenly, and with painful clarity, that this has all been a grave miscalculation on his part.

As uncomfortable as it is for even him to admit, you are, and undeservedly, a person used to not being wanted, used to rejection. Joel understands this with the quick fire blink of an eye. And he has, in his shock, or— or… he doesn't know—instantaneous awakening—unintentionally alienated you, made an enemy. 

I see, you murmur quietly coupled with a bitter cough of laughter that doesn’t sound anything like the sweet sound he’s used to hearing from you. Yes, a very bad mistake has been made indeed. “Well, you’re practically king here, aren’t you then? Quite the partnership the two of you had.” You smile wide, all bright teeth. 

The coffee sloshes in the mug held in your unsteady hand, and he worries there’s something stronger in there too. 

“Not at all. I’m just good at what I do.” He shoves fisted hands into his pockets, trying to keep patient. Trying not to throttle you, check your drink for himself. 

“And is this how you’d like to continue going forward? I mind my own business, and you do as you please?”

He shakes his head slow, grinds the pulverized mint between his molars, “I want whatever you think’s best. You’re the Kelly now, after all.” You get a look on your face like you don’t like the sound of that at all, and he turns to spit the greens between his teeth, coughing roughly. 

“Yeah, I’m sure of that,” you say with teeth bared, and then whipping your head away from him as if you can’t bear the sight of him a second longer. The coffee sloshes the other way, splashing against your wrist. He hopes it’s not burning you. “You know, you’ve got some fucking nerve, Joel. You—” 

The robe—all of a sudden, saturated by the dark liquid, it grabs his attention. It’s in a plaid print, expensive looking, like something you’d see an older man wearing. A man’s robe? He cocks his head, “Whose robe is that?” Cutting your tirade short. 

What? You spit, all sass, his stomach burns, turning to look back at him as if he’s gone idiotic, grown a second head.  He feels a little bit like he’s in the process of doing so—wracked with growing pains. “It’s my ex-boyfriend’s. Can you focus, please? I’m trying to have a fight with you right now.” And you scrunch your nose too adorably for him to find anything besides endearing. Certainly not intimidating. 

He grunts, displeased. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it—”

“Then keep it to yourself.” You turn, continuing on your way up to the house, coffee flies with your spin, boyfriend’s robe whipping out in your wake as he follows like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. 

A little desperately, like a dog, too. A begging for scraps imitation game he hadn’t intended to play but feels obligated to now, and by his own doing. 

“But I want to say—about last night…”

You turn on your heel out of nowhere again, and he stumbles to not rush head first into you, to not touch you. 

The look on your face is all heartbreak. “Do you remember—when I was away at school—and I fell off the horse? When I came home with that broken arm and couldn’t get back on and you helped me? Do you remember that, Joel? How you reminded me how I was supposed to do it—”

He coughs, uncomfortable, shifting like that same scared dog. “You remember these things different than I do.” The words feel cowardly spilling from his tongue, but he should be honest. Shouldn’t he?

This is what he should be doing, isn’t it?

“I remember that you were kind. That you cared. That’s what I remember.” Your eyes are glossed again, and now it’s Joel that has to look away. 

-

“I didn’t care. It was my job to serve your father. To do as he’d want me to. It was a responsibility.”

It’s happening again. A tale like any other you’ve too often heard. You know he’s not lying, and yet everything he says feels precariously close to it. 

“Why are you being like this?” And you ask it very practically, like you really want to know, like you’ve asked the same sort of question to the same sort of figure before, and so now you’re extremely well practiced, an expert even. 

“You remember these things differently. Wrong—That’s not how I meant any of it—whatever you’re thinkin’. It was just a kindness.”

“No, but I— but you…” That’s the point, you want to say, a kindness, but the words stick. You look away again, colored in shame, can’t bear the sight of him. “Maybe you’re right,” you whisper with that very remembered kindness of your lonely childhood thrown back in your face now. “Maybe I do.”

“Listen to me—I’d like for things between us to be— I’m not… I don’t now what to fuckin’ say to you.”

“Honey—” Dina calls from the porch, your father’s assistant, now yours by inheritance, you suppose. “We gotta go soon—gotta get you ready.”

“I have things to do with Dina. I don’t have time for you—for this. Do what you want, run it how you like,” the ranch, “But the kid stays. That’s final.”

You won’t look at him again, you decide. You’ll learn to want a new thing. You’ll learn to love a new thing. 

If you had it in you, you’d laugh in his face. 

Have you been in love with him? Probably not in any way that could’ve been called mature, it was the girl-fantasy of a neglected child latching on to a man who’d always seemed nothing but steady and kind.

So you’ll learn to grow up now, no choice left in the matter, let the fantasy go.  

-

Despite your desire for debauchery and the three days of bad behavior you’d promised yourself, you’ve got shit to do. 

An hour after your ridiculous non-conversation with the ridiculous man, you and Dina are stepping back  out into the summer sunshine when your phone rings with a call from another ridiculous man for what promises to surely be another even more ridiculous conversation. 

Jacopo.

You’d met through the friend of a friend at the party of someone or another in Monaco. Come from an Italian mother and a French father, you should’ve known he was going to be an arrogant asshole from the get go, but he’d been beautiful and momentarily distracting—things you knew you didn’t really want but told yourself would suffice. Really, all he was, was boring, the same as everyone else, wanting something from you without having to truly return anything in full. 

Jacopo the jockey—sounds like a goddamn cartoon. 

You liked to call him Jack, like he were the same sort of plebeian he saw all Americans as, and which he absolutely loathed with the sort of passion only an uppity French man could possess. 

In the distance, you can see Joel, Frank and Bill propped up against the corral watching as Jesse runs Ellie atop a gorgeous chestnut Quarter. Sometimes she likes to compete, when she can get Joel to stop complaining about it for a second. 

Dina makes her way towards them, “Tell them we’ll take the Ghibli,” you call after her to which she throws a thumbs up. At the sound of your voice he peers over his shoulder, finding your eyes immediately, catching there—fish on a burning hook. And then turns full around, leaning back to rest his elbows on the iron grate as you take French boys call, settling in to watch you. 

“Hi, Jack, sweetie. How’s it hangin’?”

“I do not know what this means.”

Bore. “What do you want, Jacopo? I’m busy.”

“My love, we must speak. I have heard of your father. You should have call me, I will come to be with you now. Tell me where you are.”

“Why the hell would I want you to come be with me? We broke up. Remember?”

Joel watches you as the French idiot prattles on about how he loves you and how you need him and how the two of you belong together, blah blah. Odious man, you don’t know how you ever let him inside of you. 

Across the lawn, he isn’t looking away, and his gaze burns where it touches. You feel—humiliated, hurt, rejected, so angry it’s a physical ache. 

Not surprised. 

Perhaps in some way, his rejection was what you’d wanted, had been looking for. Perhaps, it was your subconscious search for the easy way out. Because, and really, what else had you thought would happen when you’d thrown yourself at him half drunk? That he’d suddenly stop seeing you as the child he’d known you for always, take you as a woman, want you, fuck you right there on your newly dead father’s front deck?

Ridiculous.

You can’t even think about the birthday—about her. It’s a snipped lifeline, a crushed tether. 

“Cherie, I must tell you I am feeling very neglected now by you. You don’t call. You do not love me no longer, or what is the problem?” More nonsense and really, this fuckin’ guy needs a boot in his ass pronto. 

And the one still watching you—something even worse. He’s got his mangy brown cowboy hat pulled low over his brow, the one for the ranch, not the lovely dark one for escorting orphans to the funerals of dead fathers, and his jaw works the mint leaves you know he’s got between his teeth, slow and steady. You should hiss at him. Instead, your tummy smolders with heat and butterflies.

 Stop looking at me, you horrible man, you want to shout. 

Humming and hawing at the annoying voice coming through the phone, you smooth your palm over the silk of your dress. You’d wanted to look nice today, your first Kelly meeting. You wanted to look better than you feel, which is like shit, quite frankly. 

There are tiny green paisleys patterned over the deep blue of the dress, a shock of dark red maroon for the cashmere knit of the cardigan tied over your shoulders, and a little silken kerchief wrapped around your throat, something from your mother’s things you’d gone through last night after Joel had ordered you to bed with your tail tucked between your legs and tears in your throat. 

Twenty four years later, and your father still had all her things preserved in their bedroom as if she’d only stepped out for the afternoon. A veritable mausoleum right there in your house-not-home. 

You’d never even stood a chance. 

-

He watches you begin to pace across the deck, but the look on your face tells him you aren’t quite listening to whatever it is the person on the phone’s saying to you. 

The gold and silver bangles that slide around your fine boned wrists jingle a song of temptation. Siren song, bird song, death march, something he’d follow with blind eyes, recognize deaf. And heavy gold and jeweled rings along your fingers that shine almost as bright as the spilled silk of your hair. Swathed in shades of jewel, you’re all woman, done up and ready to go out and devastate. 

He doesn’t know how any man could ever look at you and not want you. 

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be the same from here on out. 

“Who’s she talkin’ to?” He asks Dina, tipping his chin over at you. He can hear you raising your voice, something about you fucking French moron, and he doesn’t like the hunch he’s got about who it is.

“Boyfriend,” Dina says while she watches Ellie work the horse with hearts in her eyes. 

“Thought he was an ex.”

She peers up at him suspiciously at that, a queer little smile tipping the corners of her mouth upwards. “Well maybe now that he knows how much she’s worth he’ll be coming back, huh?”

Joel swears all these fuckin’ women are conspiring against him, trying to send him to an early grave. “He steps foot on this ranch, and I’ll shoot him in the goddamn ass.”

She laughs, throwing her head back which inevitably draws Ellie’s attention. “You are literally so dramatic.”

“What’s he bein’ dramatic about now?” Ellie calls from behind, trotting up to the corral edge. 

“Ohhh, nothin’. Just Joel being Joel. Right, old man?” Dina bumps her hip against his and he grunts, refusing to be goaded. He’s not being dramatic, it’s his responsibility to take care of you now, to watch over you. 

That’s all.

“I’m never dramatic,” he tells them very seriously. 

On the porch, the spat reaches a crescendo and they all turn to watch the show. 

Why don’t you shove the whole Eiffel Tower up your ass, you fucking dipshit. And don’t you ever call me again!

“Little girl’s got a mouth on her,” Bill murmurs. 

Ellie lets out a long whistle. Deserved, Dina adds. On the porch, you let out a strangled little screech, stomping the high heel of your boot as if you’ve got half a mind to throw a fit. 

Joel feels hypnotized, speared through the gut.

He wants to know what the ex-boyfriend said. What his name is. Where he’s from and who he is and what he does and how he is and every single thing about him and how it was between the two of you. 

He is suddenly desperate to know everything there is to know about you in a way that makes his throat feel swollen with guilt. In a way he didn’t ever think he’d want from you. 

All the things you keep close, all the small intimacies that make you this person you are now, that’s what he wants. 

You stomp down the steps, making your way towards them, eyes directly on his, and you’re too fucking beautiful for his own good, watching you feels like a sin. 

Makes him feel in danger, like prey. 

“All men should die,” you yell over. 

See. 

“I agree,” Dina says cheerfully.

“You know you can have a baby with the junk in your bones from another woman now,” Ellie adds helpfully.

“The junk in your bones?” Joel says. 

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Yeah, like really we don’t even need you for shit anymore.”

“They should all be put in a hole in the ground in the middle of Nebraska and only be let out when a girl wants to bone.”

“To bone—Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ellie.”

“I love that idea,” you say, finally coming to stand right before Joel. He swallows hard, stays silent—feels like the cat’s finally caught his tongue. 

“Why Nebraska?” Franks asks, puzzled.

He’s got to stop looking at you, he’s got to get away from the sight of your eyes, feels like the colors of you seem to pulse brighter, and he feels it all like a touch against his skin. He turns to look at Ellie over his shoulder and with a huge, shit-eating grin she says, “Cause who the fuck knows where fuckin’ Nebraska is, huh?” Her eyes flash to you and then quickly back to Joel, winking, cheeky, knowing. He feels the noose tighten.

They’re definitely conspiring against him. 

The three of you cackle—at his expense. 

“Where’re you two headed?” Bill asks with a frown when the three little hyenas settle. 

“She’s got a meeting in Jackson,” Dina tells him. “First part’ll be quick—she’s just gotta kick some pushy jackass to the curb and tell him we’re not leasing mineral rights to him no matter how hard he begs or how much money he throws at us. Then…” she trails off, throwing you a worried glance, but your eyes are on the far off mountains now, and Joel watches a shaky swallow pass through your throat.

“Then we’ve got the will reading,” you say. 

A sharp ache starts up behind Joel’s left eye, all the easygoing laughter of a few moments ago sucked away with a few words and a single reminder. That you’re not the girl you used to be, laughing and playing with Ellie, that your father is dead, that you have a world of responsibility to face now. 

“You shouldn’t have to go all the way into town. They should be comin’ to you here.”

“I want to get out—see his office.”

“S’only been a few days, honey,” Frank says gently. “You should take it easy.”

“Thanks, Frank,” you reach out to squeeze his arm, flush of emotion across the bridge of your nose. “I’m okay, promise.”

Joel takes you in, in full. You’ve got something shimmery swept across the highs of your cheekbones and glossy lips, the fine grain of your skin—pristine like you're made of sugar and everything good in the world. The silky wisps of baby hair at your temples that look softer than anything he’s probably ever touched in his whole life. And you’re so beautiful it almost hurts the eye to look at you, beautiful in a way that makes men cower at the sight, like you’d be the strongest thing in the whole world. But he sees all the rest too. The delicate curves of your shoulders, the fine swoop of your collarbone and the quick-fire beat of your pulse beneath the fragile skin of your throat. There’s fear all around you in a way, a desperate sort of sadness. 

He wishes there was more he could do for you, that he could bear the burden of all this entirely in your stead, that he could be all you need and want him to be without having to sacrifice his soul to give it to you. 

Your eyes flash back to his, and he worries for a second that you can read his mind. 

Behind you, Jesse pulls up with the sleek black of your father’s favorite car. Of course you’d choose this for today, bets you’ll find a way to turn it into a pretzel before the days end. 

“Take Jesse with you,” he says low at your back as you turn for the car. 

You look over your shoulder at him and his spine throbs. “No.”

Following you around the front of the car, he pulls the door open for you. “You’re not moving around alone anymore. He’s going. Jesse—” he whistles, “You’re going into town with Miss Kelly.”

“Yezzir,” he smiles with the sunny easiness only he possesses.  

“Excuse me,” you turn to frown up at him, stomping your foot again, and you’re a little bit of a brat, he’s realizing. “There’s no room in the car for him. He can’t come.”

“He’ll take a truck,” he says, leaving no room for discussion, but then gentles his voice again, “Things are gonna be different now. You’re the Kelly, you can’t go on all gung ho about your new reality. You need taking care of. Can you not fight me on this, please?”

“What I need—”

“Is to be protected.”

You give a delicate little huff through your nose that he finds to be just about the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen in his whole life. “Then it’ll be my choice how and who.”

“It’s easier if you just do as I say.” Grasping, grasping, praying for patience. 

“You overbearing d—”

“You’ll be okay meeting this jackoff? Don’t need me to come with you?”

You glower at him.

“I’m bein’ serious with you. I know you’re capable,” he puts his hands out, palms up in a conceding gesture, “But this is new, and there’s no shame in asking for support.”

At that, you get a confused little pinch between your brows, softest rose shaped mouth he’s ever seen—felt—all pursed up, and he thinks it’s wrong now, trying to be sweet to you after last night, looking at you this way and seeing the things he’s seeing. He should stay away, go away forever, find a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere to bury himself in like you’d said, but he worries now, and quite desperately really, that he won’t ever be able to leave your side again after all this. 

“I have Dina.”

“I know, but—”

“Can you please just… not. I think— I think it’s better if we just steer clear of each other. If I need something,” you look away now, hazy look from last night back in your gaze again, like you’re remembering, like you’re wanting something else he’s not willing, not capable of giving, “I’ll ask for it. Otherwise you can focus on what’s important to you.” 

Gut punch. 

He soldiers on, can’t help it.

“You feelin’ alright?” 

Your eyes flit back to him for a fleeting second and there’s honesty in your gaze now, maybe something extremely vulnerable too, and then shuttering again, looking away again. He’d demand your gaze if he had the right, insist you tell him everything there is to know with just your eyes if you were his. 

But really, he’s got no right to ask anything. 

So instead, “Tell me what’s wrong,” he begs, praying you don’t say him. 

What’s wrong? A laugh and—nothing. Like your father isn’t dead, like he hadn’t hurt you as he had last night, like you’re looking for answers etched into the mountains or the sky. You bring your thumb to your right temple and his own aches in response, digging there for some unseen pain to be gouged out. “Tired—was having bad dreams.” Your voice sounds full of air, and you’ve got a huge emerald on your ring finger, an even larger turquoise stone beside it, other hand is covered in a row of opals—you’re a treasure of a girl, all the way inside and out, and it’s like he’s staring at a work of art, knowing that if he were to touch, it’d all be ruined. Your voice full of air floats in his bad ear and booms out the good one full of forlorn want. 

It feels like you’re the only two people left in the whole of Wyoming, standing here together under the sweet sun, maybe the whole world, and he’s ridden in guilt, wants to tell you he’s sorry again, beg or something, and thinks that God should give you the chance to rewind time when you’ve made someone feel this bad without meaning to. 

You whisper at the Tetons, and he’s all but forgotten, “I feel a little bit like I’m the real nightmare.”

“You couldn’t ever be, sweetheart,” he tells you and means it with his whole heart. 

It’s all agony swimming in your eyes, and if you don’t stop him, he’s going to take you into his arms right here in front of everyone. You need more than protecting, it’s clear, you need caring for, you need loving—the sort of something he can tell you’ve never had in your whole life. 

“Ready to go, honey?” Dina calls from the other side of the car, her canoodling with Ellie finally come to a pause. 

You’re snapped out of your reverie, looking down at your feet, impractical boots again, these ones sexy and tall and not for his admiring, blinking away the wash of heat that’s bloomed across the bridge of your freckled little nose. 

“Did she eat?” He asks Dina over your head.

“Ehhhhh, but I brought a smoothie,” she pulls out a thermos from her large bag and smiles all beaming and large. 

“A smoothie ain’t food. Get something else in town.”

“You're so prepared,” Ellie sighs dreamily beside her. 

“You’re annoying me,” you grouch at him, tossing your bag into the backseat, sliding into the luxuriously leathered interior as he shuts the door gently behind you, bending down to brace his palms against the open window. 

“Drive careful. Call me if you need anything.”

“You’re kinda a helicopter mom. You know that, Joel?” Dina tells him with that sweet smile of hers. 

“Do not entertain his nonsense,” you snap. 

“She’s just grumpy because Vogue France posted a piece on her and the funeral—the heiress to watch, they’ve called her.”

“I don’t know who they think I am—Kendall fucking Roy? This isn’t HBO, it’s my goddamn life.”

“It’s fine, drink your smoothie, here,” Dina soothes. 

“I don’t got a clue what any of that means,” Joel says. “And do up your belt,” frowning at you and pulling away just in time when you speed off with half the admonishment still on his tongue 

-

The bar is loud and sweaty and crowded enough there’s room for your spite, which he knows, is all this night out is. 

The day had gone from terrible to horrible to heinous, and he’s officially reached his limit now. You’d returned from your late morning in Jackson toting a gray cloud that’d settled over the entire ranch and everyone in it. All work had come to a slow and grinding halt, the mood morose, knowing that the lady of the manor was grieving and angry. 

And then a few hours into the evening, you, Ellie, and Dina had spun into the bunk, already giggling on drinks he was certain were too sugary and way too strong to end in anything good. Looking to rile up the boys into heading back to Jackson and finding a bar to terrorize. 

And so here he now finds himself, stepping through the door of The Mushroom, ridiculous name for a bar if anyone asked him, eyes searching for the gleam of your hair, that tiny fucking outfit you’d draped yourself in. You were hunting for trouble, to aggravate him, trying to hurt him with your, you’re not invited, Joel—no one wants you to come.

Angry, angry as a spitting fire. 

He’d felt like shit about himself and your upset for a second, and then had thought: Well, are you going to cowboy up, Joel? Or just lay here and bleed?

Now, there’s something sick in him that wants more of it, to take everything you’ve got to give, to see how far you can go, to push you just a little bit further too.

A masochist, is what he reckons he might actually be.

He finds Ellie’s bent head whispering into Dina’s ear, giggling and dragging her fingertips up the other girls bare arm, and he feels a thump of fondness for the two—happier than he can say that they’ve finally worked it all out after months of their will-they-won’t-they struggle.

Making his way over to them, he catches Frank in the distance, dancing to the countryfied Abba cover of Chiquitita the local band’s currently playing while Bill stands nearby, serious and menacing, keeping anyone from getting too close to his partner. 

No sign of you, and the backs of his knees itch and burn. 

“Where is she?” He demands when he reaches Ellie at their place against the bar. 

“Oh, dude. She’s gonna be soooo pissed.”

“Where, Ellie?”

Get you anything to drink, sugar? The bartender calls and Joel shakes her away, panic thumping in his gut the longer he doesn’t have eyes on you.

Dina knocks her head towards the end of the L-shaped bar, closest to the throng of dancing patrons, and there in the last seat and partially obscured by someone’s shoulder and ridiculously feathered hat, you sit. 

“Who the fuck is that?” 

“Can you please just leave her alone. She needs to blow some steam off.”

“Yeah, Joel, we’re watching her,” Dina adds, always the peacekeeper.

Or blow someone, Ellie adds in a snicker, and he gives her a death glare. “You need to quit the asshole act,” she tells him, purposefully thunking her beer hard enough on the bartop that some of it sloshes over the lip of the bottle onto his hand braced against the edge. 

Real mature. 

“Changed my mind,” he tells the bartender when she heads back their way, “Shot of Jameson.” 

Beside him, Jesse appears, beer in hand as he leans against the bar to watch you also. “That might just be the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my whole life, honest to God,” he sighs wistfully. 

Joel sees red—this is just too much. “Quit fuckin’ lookin’ at her,” he snaps. 

Ellie snickers knowingly, and Frank and Bill join the group, picking up on the topic of conversation. 

“That little girl can drink a grown man under the goddamn table,” Bill says. 

“And looks good as hell doing it too—”

“Eyes off, you little shit,” Joel sends a threatening glance at Jesse again. 

Ellie ignores them both. “He’s a finance bro or some shit—from New York—here to play cowboy dress up with the group he’s with. Nothing I can’t handle, and you need to cool it and leave or have a drink and let her have fun.”

“She’s vulnerable right now, Ellie—”

“Yeah, you would know.”

Joel’s turn to do the ignoring, “And she needs someone to watch her back.”

“I’m fuckin’ watching it, man. You’re so annoying, and I’ll have you know that—” The fucker’s got a thick lock of your long hair trapped between his probably manicured fucking fingers, smoothing it between his thumb and index and then looping it around and around, drawing you in closer.

Joel’s about to start howling.

You’ve done something to him, knocked something askew inside him, and he needs you to set it back to rights. Let him out of this saw trap he’s been caught in. 

The man says something that has you throwing your head back in an overly eager laugh, loud and melodic in the most hypnotizing sort of way, meant to draw the eye or seduce or send his gut to twisting and aching. 

Ellie’s saying something about how you need to have fun, how you need to find yourself, and all Joel can think is that he can be the one to give you that, to help you do all that while still making sure you’re alright, taken care of. 

Over the wannabe cowboy’s shoulder, he sees your eyes land on him, and you give him one of those serenely beautiful smiles he knows means he’s about to lose his fucking mind and cause a scene. 

A provocation of a smile is what it is. 

You cross one long leg over the other, a flash of hot pink his eyes can’t help but flash to beneath the obscene hem of your skirt and lean in to whisper something, glossy lips right at his ear, and a tick starts up below Joel’s left eye. The fuckwit pulls you in closer, and you tip into him, hand on his shoulder—your eyes never leave Joel’s, and then you’re pulling him off the barstool and leading him into the throng of dancing people. He’s desperate to know what the back of your hot pink underwear looks like—string of lace wedged between the cleft of your ass, or silk wrapping around the full cheek like a perfect present? The man pulls you into himself, spinning you around, and you’re made up of blues and purples and pinks, shimmering like something that shouldn’t exist here amongst all the rest of them. Slinky little top made of silk like water and sparkles, your cheeks, flushed with drink or heat, but he’ll tell himself it’s because of him, because you’re still angry at him, thinking of him, and it soothes the tempest that’s brewing in his gut. 

He spins you towards himself, the man Joel’s about to beat senseless, shooting the Jameson without really tasting anything but the insane jealousy souring to irrational fury on his tongue, it pulses in his throat once, twice, and the fucker tugs you into himself again by a handful of your ass in that too short skirt and sticks his tongue in your mouth. Joel slams the glass on the bartop, not seeing red anymore, something like dark spots now, he’s so fucking pissed off. 

Ellie yelps his name, her and Jesse scrambling after him, but they’re too late and he’s there already, pulling you away, and gently because he might be feeling a little bit like a demon right now, but he knows what you are and how to handle you no matter what—and slams his fist into the fuckers nose, the satisfying crunch of broken bone and a pathetic cry sounds as he hits the sticky bar floor. The people around peer over in nothing more than mild curiosity, this is a cowboy bar after all. 

He watches the man for a second, making sure he stays down, and then turns to look at you and isn’t at all surprised when he finds that look of victory on your face. 

“Ready to go?” Voice all sweet innocence. 

You’re going to kill him. 

Spinning around on the toe of your boot, the hem of your little skirt flutters with your movements and he catches a flash of cheek, mystery of your panties still unsolved. 

“You’re a real dumbass, you know that?” Ellie snarks as they pass the group of them. 

He chooses to ignore that observation. “Don’t stay out too late. And let Bill drive back.”

Following you out into the night, he tries to take control of himself, to lie away the heat he feels sitting heavy in his stomach. 

He wishes he had a mint leaf to pulverize between his molars, he wishes he could pull you over his knee and spank your ass for being such a bad girl. And looming behind you, he knows you’re not even a little bit intimidated by his size as you dance and prance across the parking lot towards his truck.

“I know you’re ticked off because of last night and today, but you can’t lash out just because you’re angry with me.” 

All he gets in response is that head-thrown-back wind chime laughter—the real one, which is something. 

“You need to stop misbehaving,” he breathes down your neck.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” you singsong. 

“Are you drunk?” Refusing to be distracted, he’s going to stand strictly on business, he promises himself. 

You spin around again—always catching him off guard and pissing him off—hooking yourself on his shirtfront, pulling yourself into him like you’re trying to dance some fucked up dance he doesn’t know the steps to. 

“Not at all.”

“You need to not be touching me right now,” he warns, the threads of his control dangerously close to snapping, walking you backwards without putting his hands on you. Chest to chest, he feels like he could breathe fire if he really set his mind to it. 

“Yes, sir,” you say sweetly, dragging your palms down his chest and belly before letting him go, skipping ahead of him, humming an off-key rendition of whatever kitschy, poor excuse for a country song they’d been playing at the end in there. 

The even poorer excuse for a skirt bounces along the curve of your ass, driving him fucking mad—he’s goig to have a heart attack, he’s middle aged, he can’t handle this shit anymore—you. 

Stop that, he growls.

“God, you don’t like anything—you’re no fun,” you pout. 

Coming to the truck, he yanks the door open for you. “Get in the damn truck.” And he makes sure to turn away and not ogle your ass as you hop in, his palm hovering in the vicinity of your elbow if you need him. 

The prospect of an hour and a half of the dark drive and the scent of your musky sweet perfume and sweat soaked skin has his heart pounding. When he pulls his door open, you’re turned in your seat expectantly waiting for him, folded knees up on the seat and pink triangle right there to taunt him. 

“Sit right—put on your seatbelt.”

“You’re so bossy.” An exaggerated sigh and your voice is so fucking sassy, a tiny bit of a needy whine threaded through it, he feels his patience snap. 

Grabbing hold of your damp cheeks he squeezes hard enough to force your full mouth into a pout and giving your head a little shake he says, “And you need managing, little girl. Put your fucking belt on, or I’ll put it on for you.”

Eyes all pupil and gone blurry, you lick your lips and he can smell the sweet fruit scent of your breath. He groans, pushing you back—mistake, mistake, putting his hands on you at all—and peels out of the parking lot, and he is not hard in his jeans for you. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask after several moments of forced silence. 

“No.”

“Not even for last night?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it either.”

“Well, now I’ve changed my mind.”

Jesus, he mutters. “There’s nothing to discuss—already told you what I think and how it’s going to be and that’s final. You need to let it go, you hear me?”

You give a little groaning screech through your clenched teeth, turning away from him, still not wearing your goddamn seatbelt, never doing as he says. 

Toeing your boots off roughly, the little skirt hitches high enough on your thighs he catches a glimpse of the smooth glowing skin of your hip, eyes trying to watch the road and your thighs at the same time. 

“You’re horrible,” you say through a grimace, but your voice cracks a little bit at the end, and you’ve still got your face turned away so that he can’t tell if he’s made you cry or not now. 

“Are you cryin’?” He demands.

“No,” you sniffle, wiping your cheek on a lifted shoulder 

“Yes you are, liar.” Fuck—fuck, fuck.

“Well you’re bein’ mean,” you whine, finally turning to look at him again, and you’re all rose glow, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, lips red as a cherry. 

No man should be tested like this. It’s wrong—unnatural.

He tries to gentle his voice and steady the pounding of his heart, pressing down on the gas, wishing the road would disappear from beneath the tires of the truck and that he could have you home and away from him already. “Not bein’ mean, sweetheart. Just—just…” He sighs, “Goddamnit, just don’t how how to handle you,” he curses, losing the grasp on his gentleness. 

“See—you are angry with me!” A tear slips down your cheek, and Joel’s mouth waters. 

His heart kicks up another notch, hypnotized, “You make me fuckin’ crazy—is that what you wanna hear?”

“Yes.” You turn full in the seat to face him, bent knees against the center console block his view of the apex of your thighs. Fucking Christ. 

“Sit right. You’re flashing your bits,” he tries and fails to focus on the road. 

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I want you to see them, stupid.”

Jesus. “How much did you have to drink?” 

“Only one High Noon.”

“The hell is that? And quit lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?” Your knees shift against each other, and he’s gripping the steering wheel so tight he feels like he could rip it out of the dash. 

“You fuckin’ know like what.”

“Well if you hadn’t been such a cock block earlier, I’d be looking at someone else like this right now.”

And the teasing is too much. The bare legs and the tiny skirt and the hair and the lips and the sound of your voice, the kiss last night replaying in his mind over and over and over again like some lovesick taunt, the look of hurt he’d put on your face and the idea of you bare and slick, taking some other man that isn’t him. It’s too much. 

He jerks the truck roughly onto the road shoulder and into the grass, wheels spinning and gravel flying. Joel—you squeal, being jostled in your seat so that all he can see are soft thighs and pretty tits bouncing in his peripheral. He puts the truck in park, ripping his seat belt off, reaching over to tug you roughly forward by the nape, his fingers twisting in your hair in a hold he knows is too hard for something so delicate, his other hand grips below the bend of one knee squeezing hard. 

“If you think I’m gonna let you spread your legs for anyone fucking else—” he growls.

“Anyone else?” You laugh in his face, eyes spinning with something a little maniacal.

He thought he’d been worried for his soul, that taking you would be the undoing of everything he’d tried so hard to mend back together after Sarah. And really, he had tried so hard—to be good, to be better, to atone for all he’d not done before her, all he’d done after her. He’d tried to make himself into something that was respectful of her memory and the second chance Kelly had given him. 

But right here, and again because anytime he looks at you, is within a mile of your vicinity, it feels like you’re the only two people on the whole goddamn planet, he doesn’t think he really gives a fuck for being good or atoning or souls at all. Not even a little bit. 

He follows your lead from last night and kisses you, is sure to take your tongue this time. Forcing his thumb and forefinger between the line of your molars, he presses down hard enough to hurt the baby soft skin, spreading your jaw open wide so that he can lick into your mouth deep and wet. He wants to scare you, cow you, intimidate you into behaving with this hunger that seems to swallow him whole—remind you that he’s let you have your fun thus far, but the both of you know who’s playing games and who’s not. 

You let out a shocked little gasp onto his tongue, fingers twisting in the fabric over his shoulder, and he tightens his grip under your knee, tugging you just that little bit further forward, and when he pulls back to look at you, spit slick, swollen mouth and wide eyes, tits about to spill out of your top, you push his face away roughly, dragging your nails down the skin of his cheek with a tiny snarling growl. 

Spoiled little brat.

“Don’t be fuckin’ childish,” he snarls back, and pulls you roughly over the console and into his lap. 

“I can’t stand you,” you pant, settling above him, coming in to kiss him again, and he can’t deny it anymore. He’s hard as fuck for you. 

You moan into his mouth, high and throaty at the same time, girlish little sigh at the end that has him gripping your hip tightly, trying to stop himself from thrusting up against you.

“Can you taste him?” You lick his tongue. “He kinda looked like you, didn’t he? That’s why I chose him.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He’s going to stop this now, at any moment. He’s going to push you away and tell you this is wrong and that the two of you can’t do this. 

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your tits high against his chest and grinding your lace covered little cunt against his cock. 

He groans into your mouth, pushed straight over the edge and free falling, cupping your ass to lift you off of himself a little bit, he just needs a second, before he takes a breath and presses you back down harder, rolling your hips against his lap. Little animal sounds, an ah, ah, ah and an oh, coupled with his mewled name. Cupping the soft of your ass in the palms of his hands, his calluses scrape against silken skin, and you fit him as if he’d dreamt you up just for himself; perfectly lush curves he can squeeze as hard as he wants because you’re not getting away from him now that he’s caught you in his snare. He drags his fingertips up the roundness of your asscheeks, and the mystery’s solved, it’s a thong. Catching the lace between his fingers he pulls the flimsy string upwards and tight against your pussy, a pained moan when he pulls even harder, making sure the fabric digs against your skin.

He knows if he cups you there you’ll be wet for him, for him, no one else but him. Knows he could bend you face first over the console, pull the soaked lace aside and suck on your wet little clit, make you come in his mouth. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. 

Joel, Joel, Joel, you hum in a dream voice. 

He can feel two little dimples at the low of your back, imagines what they’d look like with his thumbs gripped there as your ass takes his cock. 

He can’t say it enough—he feels fucking insane. 

“Touch me,” you beg, sliding and pressing against him, long hair like water slipping all over and against him too. 

Oh my God, he whisper moans when you spread your knees as wide as the seat allows, rocking your hips in short little hitches against the ridge of his cockhead. He knows your little clit is right there, cunt a knot of indescribable heat against him, and you pull your mouth away from his, letting your head fall back, hair a tangled curtain. He drags his nails back down your ass hard enough he hopes he’s leaving marks, leaning forward to lick along the salt tracks of your tears, watching you use him. 

“Do not fucking come,” he orders. He can’t—he can’t watch you do it and not be inside you when it happens, and the two of you absolutely cannot take this that far. 

He pulls your hips up again, forcing your movements still and you huff at him, whining. 

“We gotta stop.”

Noooo. “No, Joel. Please,” you cry, trying to pull yourself towards him—your mouth is so swollen—trying to escape his hold and get what you want for yourself. 

Grasping at the last vestiges of his sanity, “Fuck— No. No more.” He lifts you off his lap and back into your seat, sitting back to press himself against the door and adjusting the throbbing erection in his jeans, so hard it’s making him a little nauseous. If he doesn’t stop, he’s going to stuff his cock inside of you right here and now. He tucks the thick head up under his waistband, trying to find any sort of momentary relief. 

There isn’t enough oxygen in this truck. He needs air, space, to taste you. 

“Fine,” prim little nose in the air. You stretch one leg out across the console to dangle over his groin and let the other drop to the cab floor. “That’s fine—I’ll just take care of it myself then,” you tease provocatively, fingertips dragging up the inside of your thigh.

He shoots forward to stop your movement, gripping your wrist in a vice—baby bird bones beneath his fist, and you moan at his touch like the little wanton he’s coming to realize you are, writhing in your seat. “Don’t you fucking dare. I swear to God I’ll put you over my knee.”

“Jokes on you, I’d like that shit,” you sass back, ripping your wrist out of his hold, little socked foot kicking towards his face. He catches it, holding it in his grip and squeezing. “And I don’t really care if you’re not mad at me because I’m mad at you.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” and the mood changes, smolders into something more serious, more honest.

-

“Why didn’t you go today? The lawyer asked you to—” You’d wanted to find him as soon as you’d gotten home earlier, demand he give you an explanation. Cowardice had won over that desire, and going out to find a drink and a replacement man had seemed the easier alternative. 

“Wasn’t my place.” Spreading his thighs wider in his seat to accommodate himself, he presses his hips forward, and you can make out the heft of his cock beneath his jeans—your belly twists all full of heat and bubbles. 

“Did you know he was leaving you something?”

He laughs a bitter bark of a laugh. “No—never thought—” the words die in his throat and he stares out the window, lost to the memory of your father. “No, I didn’t think he was leaving me anything before I got the call.”

“It’ll make a good nest egg.” 

“Don’t want it.”

He won’t turn to look at you now, and you know that this conversation in the aftermath of touching you shames him. 

“You’re taking it. You don’t have a choice.” His eyes flash fire at you and then flit away. “He had all your banking information, it’s probably already there.”

Fucking Christ, he spits the murmured curse, bracing his elbow against the curve of the steering wheel, cupping his palm over his mouth as if to keep his anger and frustration in. The bulge of his bicep beneath his dark hoodie distracts you for a moment. 

You’d spent enough time watching him over the years that you’d learned all the things you knew he tried to hide in plain sight. That gentleness, that patience, that heart—that he is an inconceivably good and honest man. Things that are ultimately impossible to hide. 

Your eyes flash to the temple where a gristle of scar tissues is slashed across his skin. The meaning behind a scar like that, coupled with his bad ear and his green eyed photograph—it’s hard to hide. People can always tell when you’ve tried to kill yourself, you know. 

Which all goes to say—and you’re quite certain of this—that yes, the two of you are strangers, in ways, but in others, or in your own way, you know this man. You understand his nature. You know he wouldn’t have ever wanted it—that he does not want it and never will. He isn’t the sort of man who’d ever look a million dollars in the eye and feel moved by them. 

His humanity means more to him than his life, you’d heard Tommy say about him once to your father when you’d been an eavesdropping little girl. You hadn’t understood at the time, but now you do. 

The dark pullover and jeans, incongruously boyish, the scuffed boots—he’s so himself and so fucking hot and you want him so, so badly, and looking at him sitting here now, gorgeous, hair mused by your fingers, and your slick smeared across his jeans—you look down at your own twisted fingers in your lap, a little ashamed now too—and you can’t fathom why or how he’d ever look at you and feel moved by the likes of you either. 

You’re ashamed that you’re even angry at him for it at all, resentful of this gift your father has given him when really it is not only resentment, maybe not even truly that at all. More so, it’s a complicated mixing pot of feelings that these two men seem to have always been twisted up into knots together inside of you. Resentful, not because you don’t want him to have it. You want him to have everything he deserves or could ever think to want and more, but perhaps, because this was the final nail in the coffin scrap of proof that your father had cared about him in a very real way that you’d never experienced—in a way that was entirely Oswald Kelly’s own choice and not because of dead mothers or obligation or legacy. 

“It’s good he left it for you,” you say gently and mean it. 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, looks away, from under the cover of his palm says, “S’not fair to you.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with me. This is about you and you deserving this, and I’m glad he gave you your due. He should’ve left more.”

His eyes flutter shut, sighing deeply and shakes his head. “You’ve made me into something I’m not. You need to see that.”

“You’re not some sort of cautionary tale, Joel.”

“You don’t know a thing about it,” voice like he could he angry but is being very careful to remain not. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, the reasons why I came here. You should look at me and see nothin’ worthwhile.”

“My father saw something,” you argue. “You let my father see that something. And I do too, no matter what you say, no matter what you do or how hard you push me away; I’m used to it, and you won’t change my mind.”

He gives you a look like you’re hurting him, like your truths hurt him. “We’re goin’ home. This is enough,” he gruffs, pulling the truck into drive again and peeling out of the grassy knoll. 

Fight dying in your throat, you feel suddenly exhausted, shivering coldly, belly an ember of unsated lust, your orgasm is tight and wet between your legs and you don’t want to argue or impose yourself on him anymore. You don’t want to feel like you’re imposing yourself now when he’d never made you feel like that before. 

The night is a pitch dark blur falling away behind your glazed over eyes, and huddling into yourself against the door, you hide your face away in your shoulder, belly swooping with nausea. 

“You drive too fast, I’m dizzy,” you mumble, and he  immediately slows, foot easing off the gas.

“You gonna puke?”

“Yes, all over your face.”

“I’m serious, darlin’. Need me to stop?”

“No. I just want to be home,” said in as small a voice as you can manage, hoping he won’t catch your words, and soon he’s turning off into the long drive to the house. 

When he pulls to a stop, you scramble to grab your boots before he can say anything else, but he’s unnaturally quick for such a large man, out the door and around the nose of the truck, pulling your own door open before you can even get a single boot on. He pulls them from your grasp, and then tugs you bodily out of your seat, slinging you over his shoulder as if you were some sack of nuisance prone potatoes. You screech, flailing, trying to knee him in the gut, but he bands a strong arm across the backs of your thighs, pinning you in obedient place. “Quit.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” You howl, hitting him repeatedly on the ass, trying to wriggle and make his life as difficult as you possibly can. 

This man has absolutely no consideration or respect or sense of personal space!

Technically, neither do you—but that’s neither here nor there. 

You scream like a hyena, shrill and long and he pinches your ass hard, right at the inner crease of your thigh and ass cheek, too close to your still wet pussy for comfort. “I said quit.”

“Everything alright out here?” You hear Jesse’s voice call from the direction of the bunk, they must’ve beat you two here while you’d been trying to seduce Joel into making you come. 

The snap of Joel’s fingers and then, “Mind your own fucking business.”

“You are so rude.”

He bumps you on his shoulder, jostling you on the soft of your belly and making your cunt go even tighter. You hate him. “Quiet, you.” 

Letting himself in the dark of your house, he makes his way up the stairs while you hang quietly upside down now, a little astounded, a lot turned on by how strong he is, lugging you all the way upstairs without even a change in his breathing. 

But as soon as he steps foot into your bedroom, now set to rights from yesterday’s disaster, you feel the change come on him. The shift and deepening of his breaths, the expanse of his ribs going wide and winglike as he sucks in a big gulp of air. You press your palm flat to the center of his back, feeling the whistle of his breath go in and out of him until he’s slipping you off his shoulder to bounce gently backwards onto your soft bed. 

He stands above you for a quiet moment, and you take in the broad shape of him backlit by the moonlight of your open drapes. He’s huge and imposing cast in this darkness, something out of a dream.

Literally—out of your own teenage fantasy dreams. 

Has anyone in all the world ever wanted someone as badly as you want him?

You can feel the press of his left knee against the inside of your right one, and you wish he’d put it between your thighs, join you on the bed.

“Can I ask you something?” You reach your fingers out and he tangles his hand with yours and it’s a small victory. 

“Yeah.”

“Would you come to my funeral?”

His fingers jolt— “What?”

“If I died.”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Tell me that you would—” You tug him forward and he lets himself come, bending over your prone form, braced on one arm and still holding onto your fingers with the other. “—That I wouldn't be alone even there.”

“You’re not alone.”

“Would you?”

“Makes me angry when you say shit like this—as if you don’t believe I’m going to take care of you.” 

“Please tell me, Joel. Promise me—” and you reach up to gently touch the scar across his temple. 

He goes frozen and understanding. “I’d come,” and you know it costs him something to give in to such an imagining and it makes you all the more grateful for it. 

Fingers sliding back into the curls at his temple, silver speckled, you know, you pull him further towards you until he’s close enough to press a softly hot kiss to his mouth. The two of you hold there for a moment, another, another, you can feel the wash of his heavy breathing through his nose, the flutter of his long lashes tangling with yours—you hope he’s searching for you in the dark—and you lift your knee up onto the bed, bending to open yourself to him. 

He pulls back, hand shooting to your jaw to grip you tightly in place, breath ragged, animal being hunted. 

You smile.

“Not gonna fuck you,” he says low.

“Why not?” It’s what you want, you deserve to have what you want. He squeezes your face once, presses another hard, too quick kiss to your mouth and then flips you over onto your belly, turning your skirt up over your ass to expose you. He tugs once on the string of your thong, drawing his finger along the lace wedged between your ass cheeks and then pulls his hand away for a moment before he’s spanking you hard and quick. 

Owwww, you whine, hitching your rump towards him, wanting more despite the sting. He bends his head and bites you even harder at the inner corner of your asscheek, teeth digging hard and long enough to leave a mark. You whine again, high and mewling, trying to escape his meanness and he smacks you again on the other cheek. 

“Go to bed, little girl. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

And he’s leaving you, broad shouldered form slipping out your bedroom door and leaving you aching and angry to scream into your pillow.

You’re pretty sure you hear his deep laugh before the slam of the door sounds below, and you’re slipping your greedy fingers into the ruined wet of your panties, petting away the ache he’s left. 

-

The late May night is cool, despite the daytime heat, and Ellie shivers in her Carhartt, watching as Joel slips out the back kitchen door of the big house. 

“The hell is going on with those two?” Jesse says beside her, pulling long on his beer. The litter of yellow cans around them speaks to his mullish whining that he’d not been able to pull tonight. Sometimes he annoys her, but in that sort of endearing little brother way that makes her want to kick his ass and protect him at the same time. 

“Nothin’, they’re fine—just gotta fuck it out.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Naw—just smarter than you, man.”

“They like each other?”

“God, Jesse, you wouldn’t see an obvious thing if it were a tipsy bison barrelin’ towards you full speed in the middle of the day.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he says a little pathetically. Moping men—Ellie really can’t be assed to deal with them all. 

“It’s fine. You don’t need to understand. I do—I see all, I know all. You mere mortals wouldn’t understand.”

“S’kinda weird, no? Them two—him bein’ so much older, her bein’…well, you know— her.”

“Nope. Makes perfect sense—they need each other, you see.”

He shrugs, I guess—“You’re fuckin’ weird, too. You know that?”

She takes a swig of her beer now also, hoping the two idiots she loves most in the world, after Dina of course, figure each other out before the whole ranch has to suffer for it too. 

“Wrong again, Jesse. Wrong again.”

Chapter 3; Little Freak

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

[urhoneycombwitch]

Eddie Munson

(*) indicates smut

Oneshots + Standalone Fics

hands of love

eddie x greenwitch!reader

honey, i'm home - 2.5k *

evening blurb - 1.2k

linecook!eddie x reader

common tongue of you lovin’ me - 2.5k *

loverboy!eddie x touchstarved!reader

I know what they call you - 11k *

my baby puts his mouth on me - 2k *

hold me like water - 3k *

sky set to burst - 1.8k *

frozen like an angel - 2.8k

eddie x shy!reader

shrine of your lights - 4.8k *

fwb!eddie x reader

imagine being loved by me - 8k *

love light gleams - 3.1k

rockstar!eddie x reader

pre-breakfast rituals - 2.3k *

roommate!Eddie x reader

mean mouth- 3.7k *

sub!Eddie origins

heated touch- 3.4k

lovesick!eddie, summer edition

Series

(link to all series masterlists)

Quickies (under 2k words)

she let me hit 'cuz i'm goofy *

Eddie’s not used to aftercare *

ovulation horny is a different beast *

inexperienced!reader + oral *

husky!neighbor!Eddie x reader *

valentine's depression

which makes you shine

trying a new position with older!eddie *

plan b + part ii (coming soon!)

inexperienced!reader and thigh riding *

cowboy!Eddie barn oral *

like a fern- non-binary reader

marry me! bashful!reader *

[stevethehairington]

daily drabble day 16 Extended Edition™

find the original drabble here!

“Okay, what?” Eddie huffs out after the fourth time he catches Buck’s eyes not-so-subtly flicker towards him out of his peripherals.

“Nothing,” Buck replies, too quick, too casual.

“I don’t believe you,” Eddie counters, narrowing his eyes. They drop down to Buck’s phone, which is conveniently angled away from Eddie.

Nothing my ass.

“What, Buck?” Eddie repeats, more insistent. 

Buck sighs deeply. “Nothing, Eddie,” he says, matching Eddie’s tone.

Eddie resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him. He’s not twelve, even if Buck wants to act like he is.

But… curiosity killed the cat. And it’s not like boundaries have ever existed between them anyway, so, really, if Buck didn’t want him to know, he shouldn’t have sat himself down right next to Eddie before acting all weird.

All that to say — Eddie lunges.

Buck squeaks.

A tussle breaks out.

Buck twists away from Eddie, hunching his shoulders and curling protectively over his phone, which he draws closer to his chest. He flails out his arm to try and throw Eddie off as Eddie scrambles to his knees and practically plasters himself to Buck’s back.

In the fray, however, Buck forgets the obvious: to lock his phone. And Eddie— from his new vantage point, he catches a glimpse.

Of a text chain. A familiar name. Of a photo. Photos.

Eddie freezes, half hanging off of Buck’s neck.

“Oh, shit,” Buck murmurs, and the screen goes black, a second too late.

“How did you—”

“Your sister,” Buck admits, too easily.

Hah, Adriana, Eddie instinctively wants to gloat, sold out so fast, but—

“You’re texting my sister? She’s— sending you baby photos?”

Buck tilts his head, and his grin is blinding. “So many baby photos.”

Horror and embarrassment and the spiked fear of oh god, please, not the tastefully nude cowboy hat one from when I was three flash through Eddie in equal measures, and he opens his mouth to— to what, he doesn’t even know. He closes it, then opens it again, and all that comes out is something strangled.

And then he pounces again. Loops his arm properly over Buck’s shoulder, curling around the front of his chest to try and make another grab for his phone.

A surprised noise slips from Buck, but he had to have been at least half expecting Eddie to make another move. He rolls with it seamlessly, doubling over even further and squishing himself into the side of the sofa.

“You have to delete them,” Eddie says, begs, “all of them. Oh my god, Buck, please. Right now. You cannot have those.”

More laughter spills out of Buck and he shakes his head. “No way,” he says, far too delighted. “I am never getting rid of these. Are you kidding? I am going to treasure them— for the rest of forever, Eddie.”

Footsteps ricochet off the stairs, moving closer and closer, but neither of them notice, too caught up in their squabble. Eddie swings a leg over Buck’s thigh, his foot hitting the ground hard. His other knee digs into the cushion behind Buck, and he looms over him, arm trapped beneath Buck and still grabbing for the phone, which Buck continues to block and parry.

And then a throat clears from a few feet away.

They both freeze, heads turning slowly at the same time.

Chimney stands just at the top of the stairs, squared up with his hands on his hips and a question in his eyes. “Do I even want to know?” He asks.

Eddie scowls. “No.”

He can feel Buck’s grin spread against his bicep. “I have Eddie’s baby photos,” Buck sing-songs. Taunts.

Chimney’s hesitancy turns to absolute glee, and a shit-eating grin slinks onto his face. “Oh,” he croons, “please tell me you’re sharing with the class, Buckley.”

Eddie feels Buck perk up beneath him. “Here,” he says, finally tapping into some of that upper body strength he’d been holding back. “Let me show you my favorite,” he says, then throws his shoulders back. 

“Absolutely not!”

Chimney cackles and shouts over his shoulder, “Hen!”

Eddie, who had already been pretzeled into a precarious position around Buck, half on the couch, half off, teeters on the toe of his foot, but one more shove from Buck and he loses his balance, falling back and almost off the couch completely.

It gives Buck enough time to jump to his feet and dart away, towards Chimney, who immediately latches onto his side, peering over his shoulder as Buck unlocks his phone.

Recognizing when he has lost a battle, Eddie sinks lower into the couch. “You are the worst best friend,” he whines, not even caring how petulant it sounds.

Buck turns his brilliant smile onto Eddie and laughs. “No I’m not,” he says, so confident, “you love me.”

All Eddie can do is bury his face into his hands and groan. There’s really no denying that, baby picture betrayal and all.

[sunflowerwinds]

i have to ofc request current brainworm cowboy ellie/hazel and/or cam girl ellie/hazel 😍

AS A SOUTHERN GIRL MYSELF, i will gladly take this request for some cowboy ellie!hcs for now… lmk if you guys want a oneshot of cowboy!ellie

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE | DO NOT BUY TLOU2 REMASTERED

cowboy!ellie who has a reputation of being an absolute asshole to everyone and anyone who looks her way

cowboy!ellie who wore heavy boots with spurs, thicker brown clothing and jeans that hugged her frame beautifully

cowboy!ellie who constantly wore a red, blue or brown flannel and a cowboy hat everywhere she went

cowboy!ellie who first meets you when she stops by your mom’s little bakery that you work at and gets a bunch of stares and hushed whispers from the people in the shop but you, sweet you, kindly ask her if she needs anything to just let you know

cowboy!ellie who is immediately enamored with your gentle voice and how oblivious you were to how intimating she was to most people — or you did know; you just didn’t care because of how pretty you think she is

cowboy!ellie who originally was just stopping by your town decides to stay around because of a certain kind girl who gives her samples of your famous almond croissants

cowboy!ellie who has a thick southern accent that makes your knees buckle

cowboy!ellie who gives you nicknames like ‘darlin’’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘doll’ and ‘baby’ to watch you fluster and stumble over your words

cowboy!ellie who takes you on your first date on her trusty horse ‘cosmo’ to a picnic she set up in a field for you

cowboy!ellie who (tries) ignores people giving you unsolicited advice about ‘who you were dating’ and how ‘these cowboy folk bring nothing but trouble’

cowboy!ellie who had shown you what its like to be cherished and cared for for the first time

cowboy!ellie who will promise you a good life because that’s what you deserve so you never have to lift a finger again (except to bake your favorite treats)

[reidsglasscs]

COWBOY LIKE ME

✸ pairing: jason grace x cowgirl!reader smau

✸ notes: this is a random ass prompt but i like it hehe 🤭 this was originally gonna be a leo one but then i found the first pic…cowboy wannabe jason it is

…now playing: our song—taylor swift

yn.ln: cuntry 🎀

tagged: j.grace

view all comments

ssmchsizzleee: JASON, SHE’S SOUTHERN AND GREEK, RUN FOR THE HILLS BROTHA 🗣️🗣️

╰┈➤ j.grace: too late 🤷‍♀️

╰┈➤ yn.ln: said the mf from TEXAS 😒

sunshinesolace: YEEHAW MOTHERFUCKERS ‼️🦅

╰┈➤ yn.ln: YEEHAW

j.grace: i think i pull of the princess cowgirl hat pretty well, if i do say so myself

╰┈➤ yn.ln: yes baby, you’re very pretty

╰┈➤ j.grace: 🤭

abchase: A WIN FOR US SOUTHERN GIRLIES 🤞🤍COWGIRL PARTIES 4EVER

╰┈➤ yn.ln: 4EVER AND EVER BETH

annabethsbf: i never wanna see a pair of boots ever again oh my fuck

╰┈➤ yn.ln: life was so much better five seconds ago before you commented this

honey.hazell: SAVE A WHO AND RIDE A WHAT

╰┈➤ annabethsbf: HAZEL NO HIDE YOUR EYES

╰┈➤ honey.hazell: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN

╰┈➤ yn.ln: hazel…sweetie no 😭

piedpiper: still can’t believe you pulled off a rodeo themed party

╰┈➤ yn.ln: you know i love me a good theme 😋

j.grace: SOUTHERN WOMEN ARE THE HOTTEST‼️

╰┈➤ annabethsbf: AMEN TO THAT BROTHER 🗣️

…now playing: stick season—noah kahan

j.grace: if the boot fits then wear it, or something like that

tagged: yn.ln

view all comments

annabethsbf: i cannot believe my eyeballs. she turned our roman yeehawy

╰┈➤ j.grace: yippee ki yay or whatever 🤠

piedpiper: do not country-afi noah kahan jason.

╰┈➤ j.grace: why must you have a problem with every little thing 😒

╰┈➤ piedpiper: i am no man’s peace.

yn.ln: MY CUTIE COWBOY ‼️🤍

╰┈➤ j.grace: I LOVE YOU COWGIRL 🫶

╰┈➤ yn.ln: I LOVE YOU TOO 🤭

╰┈➤ ssmcshizzle: GET A ROOM 🗣️🗣️

ssmcshizzle: don’t think i forgot the time i put MY cowboy hat on your head and you swatted it away like a fly 😒

╰┈➤ j.grace: well she kissed me after she put it there so i wasn’t gonna say NO

╰┈➤ ssmcshizzle: I COUPDVE DONE THAT IF I THOUGHT IT WOJLD WORK

╰┈➤ yn.ln: LEO GET AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND

abchase: the boot definitely didn’t fit but it’s okay bc you tried 😇

╰┈➤ j.grace: annie you’re supposed to be supportive of the country escapades 😔

ghostboy.nico: gods, they’re multiplying

╰┈➤ yn.ln: you love us southerners, we know ☺️

╰┈➤ ghostboy.nico: unfortunately

╰┈➤ sunshinesolace: thanks babe 🤩

j.grace uploaded a story!

@ annabethsbf replied:

SHE HAS YOU SAYING YALL NOW???

shhh, quiet city boy

said the kid raised by wolves

i will bite you.

@ ssmcshizzle replied:

yo is that my hat?

probably, considering i’m wearing hers

WELL CAN I HAVE IT BACK??

🤷‍♂️

@ yn.ln replied:

omg jay you’re tarnishing my mysterious cool girl reputation

you’re as mysterious as a glass window

that’s not true

i’m hot n sexy n mysterious

2 truths 1 lie

you suck

love you too honey 😚

[mydearesthrry]

hayday, braids, and chocolate - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent as fuck. wrote this a couple of hours ago…hope u enjoy as always 😘

wc: 1.1k (shes a shorty!)

cw: fluff. name calling i guess? in a joking and loving way <3, one suggestive sentence ig

summary: sundays with harry <3

A movie was playing softly in the background, Harry and Y/N talking about god knows what as he laid on his back, head resting on the armrest of the couch. Laying on her tummy against his chest, her chin was propped up on the back of her hands as her palms rested on his shirtless chest, neck craned to look at him as they spoke.

About anything, really.

“No, I honestly have t’say tha’ I disagree with you, lovie,” He looked to the ceiling in thought. “How could you possibly even bend that way? I know for a fact that y’aren’t flexible, there’s jus’ no way y’can prop up y’legs behind y’head.”

“Harry, do you actually think that all our millionaire friends stay at every house they own?”

“I actually haven’t thought about tha’, and I have a scary feelin’ that y’might be right. What d’they even put in these things? Like… what is a gusher?”

Or the occasional switch in position, Harry still on his back and Y/N now on hers with her back to his chest. Most likely for a phone break— or, more like Y/N getting stuck on TikTok and forcing Harry to watch with her.

“Jesus Christ, how much red 40 are in those fucking pickles?”

“Holy shit, tha’ dog is so fat.”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

“Yeah, lovie. Tha’s a guinea pig wearing a cowboy hat. With m’initials on it.”

Or… just them sitting in silence. For the most part.

“Harry…” YN sighed, clicking at her phone. Her legs were slung over Harry’s thighs, her back resting against the arm of the couch. They’d switched positions a couple of hours ago, now sitting in complete silence as they became iPad kids and tapped away on their respective devices.

“Yeah, m’love?” Harry said, setting his crops into the dirt before looking at her, his head turned and tilted slightly like a puppy.

“D’you have any corn or wheat?” She asked, needing to plant some on her HayDay farm. She knew he would know what she was talking about, seeing as HayDay had been their new obsession as of recent.

“Were you staring at my phone or summat?” He gasped with a bewildered look.

“...No?” She questioned. She laughed when he turned his phone screen to face her, HayDay opened on his phone as well. Turning his phone back to face him, a few beats passed with them sitting in silence, their noses both stuck in their phones.

“So… do you?”

“Yep, just put them on m’market.”

“And that, is why I love you.”

—

“Ow! Tha’ fuckin’ hurt, babe.” Harry groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s fingers from his hair.

“Oh suck it up, you big baby. You asked me to massage your scalp, you can’t get mad at me since I’m literally doing what you asked.” She grumbled, slapping Harry’s hand away and moving hers back up to his curls, twisting little strands around her pointer fingers.

“I-“ He started.

“Say something, brat. I dare you.” She said, grabbing his chin to tilt his head back.

“Nothing,” Harry muttered, moving his head back to its original position on her chest. “Thank you, baby.”

“Whatever. You’re still a brat,” She kissed his temple three times, craning her neck a bit more to kiss his lips with his assistance of craning his to meet her lips as well. “But, I love you.”

“I love you. Love of m’life, m’muse, m’soulmate,” He placed soft kisses on her lips with every other word, kissing her deeply with his last. They sat in silence for a little, soft breathing and the occasional beep from his phone sounding the room, until Harry broke the silence.

“Lovie?”

“Hm?”

“Can y’braid m’hair?”

“Are you gonna complain if I pull too hard?

“No, but I’ll probably get hard.”

A pause. “Y’know what? I’ll take it. Get me a hair tie then sit on the floor.”

—

“H, come here.” Y/N groaned.

“No.” Harry said, arms crossed as he turned his back to her.

“You’re such a fucking diva,” She said, kicking at the bottom of his back with a socked foot, trying to garner his attention. “Don’t know how I put up with you.”

“Oh, ‘M the diva? Y’just chewed m’out ‘cause I accidentally ate the last bit of your chocolate, even though y’told me last night that y’still had some left!” He whined, back still turned to his girlfriend.

“Oh my God. Are you serious? I said I had some in my desk at work, not at home, you fucking twat.” She said exasperatedly, still poking her toes into his back.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed her socked feet and held them tightly, making her whine and complain about the constriction. “Let my feet go!”

“No. Not until y’apologize.” He said matter of factly, turning the slightest bit so he could hold her feet in his lap, face not facing her, but instead watching the movie that was now on mute on the TV.

“Do I have to?” She asked, voice low.

“D’you want y’feet back?” He gave her the same tone of voice, not paying her any mind.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, scooching forward as much as she could to rest her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you for eating my chocolate.”

“Hmm, and?” He hummed, moving to rub small circles into the soles of the fuzzy fabric covered skin.

“And ‘M sorry that I wasn’t more specific. Forgive me? I love you.” She whispered, moving to rest the plush of her cheek onto his shirtless shoulder, her lips brushing against the skin when she spoke.

Sighing, he fully turned to her and raised an eyebrow, letting her feet go and placing a soft kiss onto her forehead. “Of course I forgive you, sweet girl. I’d forgive y’a million times over. I’ll buy y’new chocolate, baby. Jus’ love when y’get all soft w’me. S’ like, m’favorite thing ever. Besides you, I guess.”

He was cut off by a yelp when she used their closeness to her advantage and took a bite out of her shoulder.

“Y’fucking bitch.”

“Twat.”

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 21

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Dagger Squad going away party and then Jake and Daisy say goodbye at the docks

A/N #2: *walks in 3 months late with a dunkin iced latte* sorry, y'all the mental illness got me.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

  Six months. Jake and Bradley were going to be gone for six months. I was pretending that it didn’t feel like my world was ending, helping Penny plan a send off party to distract myself. 

“It’s going to be a fun night, Wildflower,” Jake pressed a kiss to my temple, hands smoothing over the sides of my dress. Even though it was a little cold out to be wearing it, I had put on the green sundress he liked, planning on adding a cardigan for warmth before we left. “Just focus on that.” 

“I know, Penny said to focus on the positives, and Tasha said if I can’t do that, find her and she’ll get me drunk.” Jake chuckled, kissing his way from my temple down to my neck, hands gripping my waist.

“Between our favorite bartender and your best friend, I think there will be plenty of tequila available.” I leaned back against his chest, savoring the feeling of warmth coming from him. Jake looked good, dressed up in dark jeans and a green button down that matched my dress with the sleeves rolled up, and if we didn’t have the party to go to…well, we probably would have been spending every second until he had to report for duty in bed. “Let’s just try to avoid a hangover.” 

“Deal,” I turned in his hold, hugging him tight. “Now let’s get going before Ames starts calling asking where we are.” 

Mav and Penny’s house had been turned into a party venue, with string lights, banners, and lots of drinks all around. The cake Ames had helped me bake was on display in the kitchen, which Rooster was eyeing while talking to Mav about the plane they were fixing up.

“Drink this,” Tasha greeted me with a hug and a shot, Javy close behind her with a beer in his hand and a smile on his face. They were good together and it made me happy that Tasha finally made things official. Tasha had gotten a kick out of Operation Sitcom, especially the original plan that involved handcuffing them together and locking them in a room. “Tonight is about celebrating, I don’t want to see any tears except tears of laughter and joy. Got me?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” I took the shot, shaking my head at the burn. “Did Penny manage to hide the karaoke machine from Ames?” Just the look on her face was enough to answer.

“Karaoke?” Jake sounded nervous, “Why would there be karaoke?” Javy chuckled,

“Come on, man. Haven’t you told Daisy that you’re an ace at karaoke?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jake said flatly. “I don’t sing.” Had I really never told him about mama ratting out his talent show exploits? I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. 

“Even if I ask you to?” I batted my lashes at him, “I know exactly what song I’d request.” 

“And what would that be, baby?” 

“Should’ve Been A Cowboy,” Jake groaned, letting go of my waist to cover his face, making all three of us laugh. “I’m pretty sure you know it.” 

“Who told you? Helen or Caroline?” I looked at Tasha, feeling lighter than I had since being given the news about the deployment.

“Let’s go convince Bob to sing too,” Jake made a noise of protest as Tasha led me away. 

Bob and I got side tracked, looking at pictures of his sister’s dog for a while, debating if it would be a good idea for him to get a dog or not.

“Girls love dogs,” Tasha pointed out. “You could get a dog and then the dog will help you get a girlfriend.” 

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Bob shook his head with a smile. “But now that you’re starting to sound like my mom, I’m going to get another pop.” 

“We should find him a girl,” Tasha sighed, sipping her drink. “Bob’s nice, he’d be the perfect boyfriend.” 

“A thousand percent, he’s boyishly cute, polite, and endlessly thoughtful. Why aren’t we dating Bob?” 

“I think we were tricked,” Tasha snorted. “Come on, let’s get your boyfriend to sing for us.” 

Jake did end up singing, which I had dutifully recorded and sent to his sisters, much to their delight. Caroline had especially loved Jake and Rooster’s duet of Eye Of The Tiger. Tasha and Bob had managed to keep me in good spirits, which meant I didn’t need that much tequila to get through the night. That made the next morning just a little bit easier. 

Jake and Rooster had to report to the docks before sunrise, his alarm going off far too early in the morning for my liking. I tried to bury my face in Jake’s chest to block out the noise, whining when he pulled away.

“We’ve gotta get up, baby. Come on,” Jake’s voice was deep and scratchy from sleep, “I’ll give you kisses if you get out of bed.” 

“What if I want kisses in bed?” I knew it was childish, delaying the inevitable, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted Jake to stay. I wanted to go to sleep beside him every night and wake up with him in the morning. I wanted him to come home from work and tell me how good the dinner I was cooking smelled. I just wanted him. 

“One kiss in bed,” Jake chuckled, leaning down and kissing my forehead. “Now, out of bed for a real kiss.” He took my hands and pulled me out of bed and into a long kiss.

“I love you,” I whispered, kissing his chest right over his heart. Jake whispered it back, kissing the top of my head. “Get dressed, I’ll make breakfast.” 

“Or you come sit on the counter while I get ready,” Jake’s eyes softened. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can.” My heart broke and I had to bite my tongue to hold back tears, nodding my head.

Jake led me to the bathroom and lifted me onto the counter, serenading me with country songs as he showered, and giving me kisses between swipes of his razor as he shaved. The domesticity that I loved was tinged with sadness but I tried to stay in the moment, focusing on how much I loved him and he loved me. 

X

The truck was quiet as we drove to the base. Coyote was riding with Rooster so that someone could drive the Bronco back and take care of while we were away and Phoenix was riding with us as emotional support for Daisy. It was going to be hard, being without Daisy for six months but at least it wasn’t a year long deployment or one that required them to be no-contact with their families, that probably would have killed me. 

The whole squad had already promised to take care of Daisy while Rooster and I were deployed, which made me feel at least a little bit better. Helen and Caroline had also talked about coming for a spa weekend, something that I knew Daisy would enjoy.

“I’m going to say goodbye to Rooster,” Phoenix patted me on the shoulder, “Don’t be a dick out there, Hangman.” Of course. I smiled a little, giving her a nod. 

Daisy had tears in her eyes when I looked back at her. She was wearing her pajamas, with her hair in a messy bun, and I knew beneath her sweatshirt were the dog tags I had bought for her. One day, hopefully soon, she’d be wearing my ring too. 

“If you asked me to stay, I would,” The words left my mouth without thinking but they were the truth. I loved the Navy, I loved flying, but I would give it all up if I never had to see Daisy cry again. Daisy flinched, blinking in confusion,

“Absolutely not,” She cupped my face between her hands. “This is your dream job, you love it, I’d never ask you to give it up.” Daisy fixed me with a serious look, eyebrows scrunched together. “You’re going to come home to me, it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” 

“Marry me?” Daisy laughed, tears spilling down her pale cheeks.

“Ask me again when you get home.” I kissed her hard, tasting the syrup from the pancakes she had made for breakfast. I was going to marry this girl just as soon as she let me.

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @nervousenemyduck @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @hookslove1592 @closetspngirl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @closetspngirl @shanimallina87 @owenniasstars @cevansbaby-dove @caitsymichelle13 @bigstrongblackheart @mrsevans90 @djs8891

Next Chapter

[iz1331]

More Funko Pop! ideas for Beetlejuice and Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.

Be warned. It's a long-ish post.

I made one earlier:

Spoilers if you haven't watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice or Beetlejuice. I'll add gifs and pics for reference later, but if you're a fellow Juice box and have watched the films, then you'll know them.

Here's a chart/guide for the types of Funko Pops:

Note: "A Chase is a rare variant of a common Funko figure, whereby its design differs slightly to the original figure it's based upon."

Beetlejuice (1988)

Pop! Deluxe: Delia getting trapped by her art statue (the first time when they were moving their stuff inside the house)

Pop! Common: Lydia with her camera and maybe also holding the polaroid of the "No feet" (hopefully, this is the design they'll release for the upcoming Beetlejuice Funko Pops that have been leaked)

Pop! Moment: Wedding clothes Betelgeuse and Lydia, they're first wedding, with that alien priest and the altered chimney (kinda repetitive using their wedding clothes, but they're freaking iconic outfits)

Pop! Ride, Moment or Premium: Betelgeuse's commercial, him as a cowboy, with the cow and lasso spinning and his sign

Pop! Common: Betelgeuse's cowboy outfit

Pop! Common: Betelgeuse in his robe, the one he was wearing when he met Lydia in the attic

Pop! Moment: Lydia dancing Jump In The Line mid air

Pop! Common: Juno

Pop! Commons or 2 Pack: Adam and Barbara Maitlands in their wedding outfits (possible Chase variants would be their decaying body, or Barbara with the zipper mouth or steel plate)

Pop! Common: Adam in normal outfit with a long nose

Pop! Common: Otho (possible Chase variant would be the outfit Betelgeuse put him in, the pale blue suit)

Pop! Moment: Betelgeuse about to be eaten by the Sandworm

Pop! Moment: Betelgeuse in the waiting room between the witch doctor and the shrinker hunter

Pop! Deluxe or Moment: Betelgeuse floating after the Maitlands dug him out of his coffin

Pop! Town: Lydia and the Winter River model

Pop! Common: Betelgeuse with a cigarette or at least just holding it (let me have my smoking Betelgeuse 😭)

Pop! Common: Lydia with the veil (the outfit she wore on their first dinner after moving in)

Pop! Ride: Barbara riding the Sandworm

Pop! Common: Sandworm

Those for now.

Betelgeuse as a snake, Betelgeuse w/tombstone, Beej w/shrunken head and Here Lies Betelgeuse (Deluxe) are already rumoured to be the new designs from the leaked next line up.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024)

Pop! Commons or 4 pack: Delia, Astrid, Lydia and Rory outfits at Charles' funeral

Pop! Moment: Lydia and Betelgeuse in the attic after she summoned him (the Winter River model in between them, Beej floating on the other end of the table)

Pop! Moment: Lydia, Rory and Betelgeuse therapist scene

Pop! Town: Astrid with the Winter River model

Pop! Common: Delia holding the asps

Pop! Common: Rory in his poor excuse of a wedding outfit (possible Chase variant is him wearing that shirt Betelgeuse put on him, "I ❤️ Delores") 😆

Pop! Common: Rory holding the cardboard boxes over his head

Pop! Moment: Betelgeuse injecting Rory with the Truth Serum

Pop! Common: Wolf Jackson in his suit holding a paper cup filled with coffee

Pop! Common: Wolf Jackson in his leather trench coat holding a gun (possible Chase variant would be when he was covered in cake when he fell into it) 😆

Pop! Common: Delores when she was alive (possible Chase variant would be her wearing the plague doctor mask)

Pop! Common: Betelgeuse when he was alive, the one he wore while grave robbing (possible Chase variant would be after he got poisoned, foam on the mouth)

Pop! & Buddy: Lydia or Betelgeuse with Baby Juice (I'm sorry 😭)

Pop! & Buddy or Moment: Lydia with miniature Betelgeuse playing the guitar

Pop! Common: Bob disguised as Betelgeuse

Pop! Moment: Lydia at the set of Ghost House sitting on her chair, and across from her is Betelgeuse in an audience chair, munching on pop corn

Pop! Moment: Sandworm chase scene with Lydia and Astrid

Pop! Deluxe or Moment: Betelgeuse sitting on a stool, microphone on hand about to tell his backstory

Pop! Moment: Lydia and Betelgeuse in the attic, Lyds holding the Handbook for the Recently Deceased and Beej holding their marriage agreement contract

Pop! Common: Betelgeuse with his hands together in a prayer position (possible Glow in the Dark Chase variant would be him getting caught on fire)

Pop! Deluxe: Betelgeuse reading a newspaper while sitting behind his desk

Pop! Common or Deluxe: Delia screaming in front of the camera ("Why?")

Pop! Common: Astrid in her school uniform

Pop! Commons: Astrid and/or Lydia holding Betelgeuse's new and updated flier

Pop! Common: Richard

Pop! Common: Jeremy Frazier (possible Chase variant would either the clothes he died in or his James Dean costume)

Pop! Common: Betelgeuse wearing the Immigration staff uniform, complete with hat

Pop! Common: The Janitor (love me some more Devito Pops!)

Pop! Common: Father Damien (preferably in the robes he wore for the wedding, Burn Gorman is freaking hilarious in this film 😆)

Pop! Common: Baby Juice (Betelgeuse Baby or his inner child)

Pop! Common, Deluxe, Super or Jumbo: Inflating or blown up Betelgeuse

Pop! Moment: Lydia and Betelgeuse in bed together after the nightmare dream (freaking indulge me, let me daydream 😭)

Pop! Common or Moment: Betelgeuse and Lydia in the attic, a wall with a bomb drawn on it and the tip of Betelgeuse's thumb is lit

Pop! Commons or 8 Pack: Bob, Al, Brad, Chuck, Dave, John, Phil and Tom the Shrinkers

Pop! Common: Betelgeuse in his El Matador outfit (might become an Exclusive, to be honest, a lot of the designs above are Exclusives types, too)

Every scene that Betelgeuse and Lydia are in together is worth being made into a Pop! Moment, the "Let's go, honey", "We're like Bonnie and Clyde, but without the bullet holes", "I'm gonna make you so happy", "You want me to marry you; I thought you'd never ask", "That was you stalking me; If stalking means trying to remarry the love of my life, then I'm guilty as charged, c'mere", half of these I don't even know how to make into a Funko scene, but all of them are just too good 😭 I WANNA MAKE EVERY PART OF THE WEDDING A FUNKO POP MOMENT!

Anyways, that's it for now. Some of the scenes I have in mind probably can't be executed properly in a Pop! Moment.

[spnbabe67]

Island

Kinktober Day 7: Pool Sex (T.O.)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, PiV

Summary: In an unnatural heatwave, Tyler and Loretta find a way to cool off when neither of them can sleep.

Word Count: 1331

Authors Note: Title and fic inspired by the song Island by Florida Georgia Line

It was hot. Growing up in Texas Loretta was used to the heat. But goddamn was it hot. The last she’d checked, the temperature was well into the triple digits and with the dew point just as high it was hell. Thankfully the hotel the Tornado Wranglers booked for the next couple days had a new A/C unit, the managers had repaired it in preparation for one of the hottest heat waves in Oklahoma history. Despite the cool air pouring from the vents, sweat coated her skin making her feel like a basted chicken in an oven despite her laying atop the duvet in just her underwear. The incessant heat bore down on her, making it near impossible to fall asleep. She looked over to where Tyler was passed out on his side of the bed. Lucky bastard. 

She gently eased herself out of the bed, wincing as the floorboards creaked under her weight as she stood. Lord knows that none of them got enough sleep, drifting between hotels, motels and oftentimes sleeping in their vehicles. She would love to be off in dreamland where Tyler was now, but if she wasn’t asleep by now, she knew she wouldn’t be any time soon. The neon green of the alarm clock read early in the morning, too early for any sane person to be awake. Hmm. She shucked off her underwear, pulling on the one piece that Lilly and Dani had convinced her to get when they were in Lincoln. The light blue fabric sat high on her hips, wide swaths of fabric crisscrossing her body, set over her chest and tied at the back of the neck. 

Loretta peeked her head out of her room, the humid air smacking her in the face. The night dark but silent as Loretta creeped out of the hotel, towel slung over her shoulder. She’d clocked the outdoor pool towards the back of the hotel that afternoon when they’d gotten there, tired and dusty from a long day of chasing. Her, Tyler, Lilly and Boone all were up late drinking, Lilly and Boone smoking that acrid smelling herb well into the night before they’d all parted ways, finding their way into their rooms. Loretta assumed that’s where they all were as she tossed her folded towel onto one of the chairs making her way to the stairs leading into the clear blue water. 

Loretta hummed as the cool water lapped against her feet, then her ankles then her thighs and over her hips as she sank into the pool. She felt her breath catch as the cold shocked her system as she dove under the surface, fully submerging herself. Her legs propelled her from one end of the pool to the next, surfacing with a breath. Loretta pushed her hair back from her face, blinking the chlorinated water from her eye lashes. She sighed contentedly as she let herself float on top the surface, staring up at the star flecked sky.

“So this is where you slunk off to.” Loretta startled as Tyler drawled from the deck. 

Loretta coughed as the water spilled into her mouth as she flailed to right herself, eyes falling onto Tyler chuckling at her. “You alright there, Doll?”

“Fuck you, Ty.” Loretta swam up to the side of the pool Tyler had crouched down on. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No, baby you didn’t wake me.” Tyler said, shucking his shirt off. “Mind if I join you?” 

Loretta bit her lip watching Tyler slide into the pool, his swim trunks clinging to his body. She grinned as Tyler swam towards her, pulling her into him. His skin, feverish from the excessive heat, was slowly cooling down under her hands as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Hi, cowboy.” Loretta whispered, stroking Tyler’s head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“My girl.” Tyler mumbled against her neck as her buried his face into her skin, running his hands up and down her back and her sides. “So pretty.” 

Loretta hummed as Tyler laid open mouthed kisses along her shoulder and up her neck, his hands drifting down to cup her ass, kneading the plush of her ass and upper thighs. 

“Tyler, we can’t. Not here.” Loretta guided Tyler’s back up to hers, sloppily kissing him.

“Mmm, I think we can.” Tyler said between kisses. “Everyone’s asleep. Just you and me, Doll.”

Loretta knew she shouldn’t, it was too public for her liking. But Tyler and her hadn’t touched each other in almost a week beyond kissing, it was too hot to do anything else. But in the cool water of the pool, it was just right. 

“Let’s make it quick.” Loretta relented, rolling her hips against the hardness she felt poking against her inner thigh before slipping out of Tyler’s embrace.

She slipped a hand down the front of Tyler’s shorts, kissing him to quiet his moans as she gripped the base of his cock, slipping him out the top of his trunks. Tyler chuckled into the kiss as he pulled Loretta back in, rolling his hips against her belly. She smiled against his mouth, feeling the rush of adrenaline of doing something wrong as she slipped the crotch of her swimsuit to the side as she wrapped her legs back around his waist, feeling the head of him nudge against her entrance. Tyler swept his tongue into her mouth as he thrust his hips upwards, sliding into her in one go. Loretta threaded her fingers into his hair, Tyler's hands on her ass steadying her from falling backwards, guiding her on his cock. 

The steady flow of adrenaline added a thrilling edge to her arousal. Everytime her mind wandered to what would happen if Boone or Lilly came out here and saw them, Tyler seemed to recognize her hesitation, kissing her harder, guiding the way her hips rolled on his cock.

“That’s it baby.” Tyler cooed, speeding his thrusts up into her, the head of his cock brushing against her g-spot everytime he bottomed out in her. 

Loretta whimpered into Tyler's mouth, the water gently splashing around them as she moved up and down on him. Her orgasm built slowly, slower than when that calloused thumb was making delicious patterns on her clit. But it was nice, feeling her orgasm grow on nothing but Tyler's fat cock stretching her out. Ever since that first time with Tyler in her bed at home, she couldn’t get enough of how he felt, not just his cock inside her, but the way his soft edges felt under her hands and how happy he made her when they weren’t ruining the neatly made sheets in the hotels.

“Tyler.” Loretta whimpered, feeling herself clench around Tylers cock as she teetered on the edge of her orgasm.

“I know baby, I know. I got you.” Tyler whispered into her mouth as he kept up that pace that had her arousal building and building until she let out a keening moan as she came around his cock, nails digging into his shoulders.

He could feel the way her walls clenched around him, so fucking tight. Tyler's grip became tight as he came inside her warm walls, spilling his cum into her. Loretta cursed as Tyler let go of her, his rapidly softening cock slipping out of her, loosing that warmth of him. She shivered, grinning up at Tyler as she giggled.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” She bit her lip in a grin, cupping his face.

“Come on, sweet girl.” Tyler pressed a kiss to her palm before taking her hand and dragging her back out of the pool. “Let's go back to bed.”

“Mm.” Loretta giggled as she followed him out of the pool, snatching up her towel and Jake’s shirt. “Is that a euphemism or?”

She shrieked as Tyler grabbed her, throwing her over his shoulder, smacking her ass for good measure. 

“Owens let me go!” 

“Not a chance, Doll.”

[watercolourcritters]

Hey folks, just a little note to share that I have now put most of the stickers that I sell up on my Ko-fi shop! I've been migrating stickers (and eventually maybe other things) over from Etsy, and from now on Ko-fi will be my main sticker shop. I have 30+ designs, including encouraging stickers, funny ones, loads of cute animals, pride stickers, and some OFMD fanart stickers!

Note - for the pronoun possum stickers, I have she/her, he/him, they/them, it/its, and any/all available, and you can also order it with custom pronouns!!

Check it out here!

[ID: ten photos of my stickers, all of which feature original art. They include, in order:

Cowboy ghosts with pride flag themed bandanas, including bi, trans, rainbow, and lesbian pride flags.

A vulture with text saying "I'm going to be a huge bitch about this."

A quokka with text saying "I'm glad you're still here."

A toad with text saying "I will love this world fiercely, with my whole fucking heart."

Pronoun opossum stickers, with he/him, she/her, and they/them pronouns.

DnD dice showing a natural one with text reading "fail with pride." The dice are in pride flag colours, including bi, lesbian, trans, nonbinary, ace, and rainbow pride.

An orca with text reading "thick hips sink ships."

A sleeping fox with text reading "you deserve safety."

A chicken with its mouth open as if screaming and text reading "Time to scream AAAAA (repeated A's indicating screaming)"

Two stickers of toads - the first one is a toad over pink background with text reading "hello lover," the second is a toad wearing a cowboy hat over red background with text reading "hey baby."

End ID.]

[hornyhornyhimbos]

can we get a glimpse into the future of how cowboy steve and reader are doing? do they still own the bar he bought for them and do they have kids? it would be cute to see steve have a mini him that loves to ride bulls

so so sorry for just now getting around to posting this!! more on that later but for now, i hope you enjoy!!!!

"When She Says Baby" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: Excitement is high as the Harringtons celebrate the two year anniversary of opening their little bar. But for Reader, anxiety is also high as her yearly gynecologist's appointment rolls around…

Pairing: Bull Rider!Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,285

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) unprotected piv sex, creampie, oral f!receiving, fingering f!receiving, breeding kink, daddy kink, sorta cockwarming but not really, sorta dubious consent (they're in an established relationship but were both tipsy beforehand), dirty talk, explicit language, alcohol consumption, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i haven't really written a breeding kink before so if this is bad, i apologize // also really could've sworn i queued this yesterday so let's all pretend it's still filthy friday, ok??

Based On: the rest of this series and the ask mentioned above!

Originally Written: 06/23/2023 through 06/28/2023

filthy fridays | stranger things masterlist

Your veins had been burning all day with some mixture of adrenaline, excitement and anxiety.

It was the two year anniversary of opening Harrington's Honky-Tonk, which Steve had reluctantly agreed on calling it, and the day had been filled with preparation for the big party that night. Fans had come from just about anywhere in Indiana and the surrounding states when they heard Steve Harrington was celebrating the momentous occasion with half-off drinks and a big announcement at the end of the night.

Your day, however, started to go a little differently when you arrived at your gynecologist's office for your yearly check-up.

You weren't necessarily nervous because of something potentially bad. It wasn't like you were pregnant, you and Steve used two different types of protection nearly every time you had sex. And it definitely wasn't like you had an STI, considering you and Steve had been loyal to each other for so many years.

No, what had you anxious was the fact that you needed your IUD replaced. Or, maybe you didn't…

Every part of your brain knew you should've talked to Steve before the appointment about what route to take. You were a hundred percent positive that getting pregnant was nowhere in the cards for the near future. Still, some part of you knew having the IUD replaced wasn't what you wanted. So, instead of getting it replaced, you decided to simply have the old one taken out.

Some weird jumble of both guilt and relief fluttered around in your stomach the whole afternoon and into the night. The only time you'd found a tiny bit of solace was in the two shots of vodka you'd downed at the party, but toward the end of the night, it had certainly worn off and the feeling from before quickly returned.

Steve must've noticed, pulling you away from the bar and into the back room. You were tempted to down a whole bottle of vodka from the rack beside you rather than admit your secret to him, but thought better of it.

"You alright?" he asked, his hand brushing yours as if asking permission to hold it. Despite being married for over a year now and having been together for five years in total, he was still a gentleman. Holding doors for you, giving you the last of his fries, and asking permission on almost everything were practically daily occurrences with Steve around.

You nodded softly, despite being the exact opposite of that seven letter word he'd just used. "I'm okay, just stressed about tonight."

Steve's big announcement was the whiskey brand he'd been working on, and while you weren't all that nervous about the fans' reactions—you knew it would go over well, the way his fans adored him—part of you had still been a little scared about the financial aspect of it. Starting a new company was difficult—you'd both experienced that firsthand.

One of his hands moved up to cup your cheek, distracting you from your current train of thought. His thumb rubbed soft lines along your skin. "Hey, whatever happens happens, right?" he reassured you. He pulled you up for a soft kiss on the forehead, greeting you with an even softer smile when he pulled away. "It'll be okay, I promise."

'Whatever happens happens,' his words rang through your head like an alarm you wanted so desperately to turn off. Your mind wandered back to your secret, and hoped that those words would apply once again whenever you told him.

The rest of the night went by surprisingly fast and smoothly, you and Steve loosening up a little over some Jack and Cokes and a round of line dancing that neither of you were sure how you'd gotten roped into. His announcement even went over well—considering all the excited shouts and whooping that rang throughout the bar in response—and Steve seemed to be at an all time high when he pulled you toward the staircase.

In fact, you were sure you'd never seen a smile as big as the one Steve was sporting as he picked you up bridal-style, carrying you up the stairs and into your shared apartment.

The two of you had originally planned on buying a house in a nearby neighborhood, but when things fell through, you both realized just how much you liked the idea of turning the upstairs area of the bar into an apartment. Flash forward two and a half years and now, the place was transformed into a cozy little one bedroom apartment, littered with Steve's various awards and many, many pairs of cowboy (and cowgirl) boots.

Your arms were wrapped tight around his neck, a gentle smile tugging at your own lips as he kicked the door shut with his foot. Seeing Steve so excited was almost enough to distract you from the impending news you had yet to deliver.

Steve set you down on the floor, his hands making their way to your hips while his mouth locked on yours. "Did you know I love you more than anyone has ever put into words?" he asked between kisses, one hand traveling from your hip to your ass. It had been so long since Steve had gotten tipsy, you'd almost forgotten how frisky alcohol could make him.

Guilt twisted into a tight knot in the pit of your stomach. Pulling away, you decided it was best to just rip off the band-aid. You couldn't hold back any longer, you felt like you'd explode if you did. "You can't say things like that when I'm about to tell you something that'll make you hate me forever."

His face softened as he stepped closer to you. A gentle kiss brushed over your forehead before his eyes greeted yours. "I doubt you could ever do that," he countered, his hands moving back to your waist.

Your eyes parted from his, looking down at his boots and wondering just how you of all people got lucky enough to marry the best man in the whole world. A deep sigh left your mouth before the words you'd been dreading followed. "I went to the gyno today."

"Oh, yeah, your yearly appointment was today. How'd that go?"

You forced your eyes to meet his, and the remorseful feeling in your stomach twisted and writhed even harder when you saw the soft honey color that had settled in them. After that, the words tumbled out so fast that even you couldn't believe he had that much of an influence on you. "She took out my IUD! There, I said it! Stop looking at me like that!"

A string of chuckles tumbled from his lips as he bent down, his mouth melding to yours again. You couldn't lie, you were definitely shell-shocked from this unexpected reaction.

"Don't you get it?" you all but screamed as your mouths parted. "She took it out! As in, she didn't replace it! Doesn't that make you the least bit angry with me for not asking first?"

Steve shook his head as the grin from earlier made its way back to his mouth. "No, it doesn't. It's your body, you can do whatever you so please with it. It does mean a lot though that you care about my opinion so much."

Guilt was overpowered by the biggest wave of love you'd ever felt for this man. "You do realize we have to be extra careful now, right? Like, no going without a condom, taking morning after pills, the whole nine yards of precaution."

The honey color that swirled in his irises quickly turned to a lustful black. "Who said?"

You felt like you were experiencing whiplash from the amount of different emotions you'd felt in the past five minutes. You couldn't lie, you weren't opposed to having kids, but you had been absolutely positive Steve didn't want them right now, so his words definitely took you by surprise.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, but not a second later, Steve kissed away the confused crease between them. "But-"

He shook his head, already knowing exactly what you were going to say. "I never wanted to wait. Sure, a lot has happened in the past few years so the timing wouldn't have been great, but not for one second did I not want to have kids with you."

Happy tears filled your eyes as you pulled him down for a long kiss, adoration flowing from the top of your head all the way down to the tips of your toes. His hands slipped into your back pockets as he deepened the kiss, his tongue all but forcing its way into your mouth.

You pulled him ever so close, your limbs entangling like they belonged to one another. His mouth moved away from yours and down to your neck, sucking on the pulse point and eliciting a moan. Steve chuckled, pulling you toward the bed but not once removing his lips from your body.

Somewhere along the way, he kicked off his boots before pushing you back on the bed. He tugged off your sneakers, tossing them toward the shoe rack, then making quick work of your jeans. "What do you say?" he asked, kissing you again, harder and needier than he had before. "Do you want that?"

"Please," you all but begged, your hands meeting his back, nails raking the skin beneath his shirt.

"Please… what?" he asked, tossing off the skin-tight tee shirt he'd been sporting. After seeing the way it hugged the muscles of his arms and the dips of his chest and stomach, you'd been desperate for him to take it off since the moment he put it on.

Your breathing sped up as you thought about your answer. "Please," you repeated, "wanna make you a daddy. A real daddy."

His eyes were completely lust-blown by now, his fingers drawing tantalizing circles on your thigh as he leaned down to meet your still-clothed core with a soft kiss. "I like the way you think, princess."

He made quick work of your panties, his lips immediately connecting to your clit. He hummed in pleasure, the vibration only pushing you closer to the edge. Over the years, Steve had found all the perfect ways to unravel you, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you were cumming.

"Steve," you whined, your hands intertwining in his already messy hair. You guided him to where you needed him most, his tongue dipping inside you while his nose bumped against your clit. Your legs wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer.

He parted from you with a low laugh, your eyes rolling in both frustration and want. "Can't help it," he said, kissing your pussy again, "Gotta make sure she's ready for me."

His tongue slipped back into your hole, your wetness surely soaking the stubble that covered his cheeks. Moans and whines tumbled from your mouth, one after the other, until you were on the brink of falling apart. Your veins burned with arousal, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of their sockets when his mouth moved up to your clit, replacing his tongue easily with two fingers.

Fingertips grazed your G-spot, and in an instant, you were coming undone, all but screaming his name as you came on his tongue.

Slowly, he pulled his fingers out before holding them up to your parted lips. "Suck," Steve instructed, dark eyes meeting your glassy ones. You didn't hesitate, swirling your tongue around the digits and taking in the taste of your essence.

You worked to control your breathing as his fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head, his eyes nearly popping out at the sight of your breasts and the way they all but spilled out of your bra. "Just think," he started, pulling one of them out of the cup and palming at it, his fingers twisting the bud and drawing out a mewl from your lips, "Gonna be so pretty and big." Steve was a huge fan of your boobs anyway, but you knew he was going to be utterly obsessed with how big they'd get if or when you got pregnant.

His lips wrapped around your nipple while he palmed at the neglected one. Your eyes rolled in desire, a small, "Fuck," falling from your lips.

Steve forced himself to remove his lips from you, knowing he'd stay there for hours if he didn't. He shoved his pants and boxers off in one swift motion, throwing them in the general direction of the bathroom. His cock sprung up, and you swore you'd never felt as carnal for him as you did at that moment.

"You ready?" he asked, being ever the gentleman. You nodded and in a second, he was pushing inside you. Groans and expletives tumbled from Steve's lips, his head falling forward as he slowly slid in. "Fuuuck," he sighed heavily, "I love you."

"Not as much- shit- as I love you," you exhaled, shifting your hips and chasing down the rest of his length. The crescent moons of your fingernails dug into his back, surely on the verge of making him bleed.

He slowly pulled out and pushed back in, beginning to create that perfect rhythm only he knew how to provide you with. "Yeah? Love me so much you're gonna- fuck- carry my baby around? Let everyone know who got you in that state?"

A soft whimper slipped from your tongue as you managed a nod, rutting your hips in an attempt to speed up Steve's motions.

"So needy," he teased, canting his hips faster, fast enough to catch you off guard. His cock brushed your sensitive spot, your back arching off the bed in response. "Just so ready for me to fill you up, huh?"

You whined, pulling him down with one hand while the other still scraped at his spine. Your mouths connected in a messy kiss, surely leaving your lips swollen when he pulled away. "Please," you begged again, "fill me up, daddy."

A guttural groan rolled off his tongue as his hips pistoned harder, his heavy balls slapping against you as he chased down his high. "Your wish is my command, sweetheart," he replied, his lips meeting the dip of your breasts. "Gonna get you all pretty and full, over and over again. Gonna remind you of the only man that can fill you like that."

Your pussy fluttered around him, your orgasm quickly approaching. "Fuck, Steve!" you exclaimed, surely loud enough for the people downstairs to hear. "I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me, baby," he said, somehow making the phrase sound encouraging yet filthy at the same time. "Cum all over daddy's cock, yeah?"

Whimpers and moans tumbled off your tongue as you fell apart underneath him, your hands grasping at his shoulders to steady yourself. Your toes curled, digging into his hips and pulling him even further inside you.

His hips rutted in a sloppy rhythm and you knew it wouldn't be long before he was cumming too. He sucked a harsh kiss on the dip of your neck, surely leaving a hickey in his wake. "God, you're gonna be so pretty. All knocked up with my babies. Showing everyone how willing you were for me to fill you up and fuck you right."

His name fell from your lips like a record stuck on a loop, a mantra you needed in order to survive. The overstimulation was too much and not enough all at once, your eyes crossing in pure pleasure as yet another orgasm built within you.

One of his hands gripped yours, lacing his large digits in between your smaller ones, his thumb rubbing soft lines along the back of your hand. Steve stopped mid-thrust, his previously dark eyes turning to gentle ones, and you swore you saw tears forming in them. He took a deep breath before leaning down to kiss you, a soft kiss so different from the rough, longing kisses from before. A smile pulled at his lips when he moved away, his eyes meeting yours.

"You sure about this? Last chance," he kidded, but you could tell there was some seriousness hidden behind his playful tone.

You nodded before kissing him again, your opposite hand slipping into his hair again and giving it a gentle tug. "I'm ready," you reassured him, now nearly on the brink of tears yourself. "Been ready since the day I laid eyes on you, cowboy."

He pushed back in, slowly building back up his pace and working both of you back to the brink of orgasm. His lips parted into an open 'O' as he thrusted one last time, emptying all that he had inside you as you climaxed for a third time.

It was by no means the first time you'd gone without a condom, but something about this time was different. Maybe it was knowing that you no longer had an IUD, maybe it was the risk of it sticking this time. Whatever it was, it had you feeling a closeness to Steve that you weren't sure you'd ever felt before.

He flipped the two of you over, allowing you to fall limp on top of him. Your chests heaved in lousy attempts to calm your breathing, the only noise filling the air being that of your exhales. His palm abandoned yours, moving up to your back and sliding soft lines up and down your spine. Parted lips greeted your scalp with a gentle kiss, before they moved down to your forehead, finally stopping at your own lips as he turned your face towards his.

"Stevie?" you said, looking up at him through previously mascara-coated lashes, the makeup surely having been sweated off by now.

"Yeah?" he answered, grazing another peck across your forehead.

You hated to ruin the moment but… "I need to pee."

A goofy grin formed on his face as he rolled you back over, gripping his hands around your thighs and keeping you wrapped around him. His cock was still buried inside you, still pressed against your sweet spot, still finding a way to make you moan despite barely having moved. "Sorry, can't do that."

Your head fell back against the mattress, a frustrated growl falling your lips. Sure, you weren't really all that frustrated—you could eat, sleep, and breathe with Steve's dick buried inside you and it still wouldn't be enough—but you really did need to pee, and you knew this was the only way you'd get him to pull out. "I'm gonna piss all over you and the bed if you don't let me move."

A sly smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Kinky," he chuckled, "I like that in a woman."

You couldn't help the snicker that he elicited out of you. Still, you shook your head in protest. "Please? I really do need to pee."

"Gotta make sure it sticks," he countered, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible.

This time, a smirk pulled at your lips. "I doubt it won't stick, considering how hard you just fucked me," you argued. "But I'll tell you what. If you let me go pee, you can try again," you paused, kissing his neck, "and again," a kiss on his earlobe, "and again," a final kiss on those plump, pink lips you loved so much, "until it finally does stick. How 'bout that?"

He slowly pulled out, low mewls exiting both of your mouths in sync. Steve moved just enough for you to stand up, his palm slapping your ass playfully as you began to walk away. "You wanna know something?"

"What's that?" you asked, flicking on the bathroom light.

He followed you into the bathroom, his eyes turning dark once again. "I like the way you think, cowgirl."

So... surprise??

I really did mean to post this however many months ago when I got the request. But I guess I was just never really happy with this fic and I wanted to re-write it or just trash the idea and start over but nothing really ever felt right. So I'm sticking with the original and hoping you guys enjoy! I have so much more to come for this cowboy and his girl but for now, this is where they are.

To the anon who requested this, I hope you're still around. Sorry I kept you waiting for so long. I hope it was somewhat worth the wait ❤️

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe @wifeyreid @serenity-lattes-reads

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request for dalton lambert and prompt 17?

congrats on 100 followers, your work is amazing <3

Thank you so much!! I hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, Dalton likes nicknames, teasing (with love). 0.7k+ words.

A/N: There are new Dalton gifs, so now I must write enough fics to use every single one of them (I don't make the rules).

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Prompt 17: "Get your own nickname."

As you accompany Chris and Dalton back to the dorms, you listen to their bickering with a smile. Since you met Chris, you’ve never heard her call Dalton anything other than Dolphin. He doesn’t seem to mind the nickname, and since you’ve been dating almost as long as you’ve been at school, you feel that you’ve earned the right to call him something other than his name. Chris says she has plans and waves as she walks past the dorm. Dalton guides you to his room and lets you in, sighing as he sits at his desk and looks through his bag. You sit on his bed, watching his back, and decide to see how he reacts to a nickname.

“Well, looks like it’s just you and me for once. We could finally have another date night.” You can’t hide your smirk as you ask, “Right, Dolphin?”

Dalton freezes, then slowly turns to face you.

“What did you call me?” He asks quietly.

“Dolphin.”

“Come here.”

You stand, then take a dramatic step to stand by Dalton. He looks up at you from his chair, cocking his head as his jaw ticks.

“What’s wrong?”

“You called me Dolphin.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding as you rest your hands on Dalton’s shoulders. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” You pull your hands back and put a little distance between you and him. “I’m sorry, I just thought, you know, Chris calls you that and I didn’t know you had a problem with it.”

“I need you to do something,” he interjects, leaning forward to close the gap you created. You nod, which he takes as an agreement, and makes his request. “One, don’t apologize. Two, don’t ever call me Dolphin again. It’s not a problem when Chris does it and I’m not mad at you or anything, but…”

“You don’t like me to call you that,” you finish quietly.

He grabs your hips, pulls you back into your original position, then raises your hands to his shoulders. When he has you where he wants you, he looks back up to you and smiles.

“Get your own nickname,” he demands.

“That’s your problem? You want me to give you a pet name?” You ask with an incredulous laugh.

“Absolutely,” Dalton confirms seriously, nodding.

“Fine.” You bend over slightly to look into his eyes. “Baby, honey, handsome, love, puppy, stud muffin, darling, handsome.”

With each nickname you suggest, Dalton's smile grows, and his face inches closer to yours. When you see he’s about to kiss you, you stand up so he can’t reach you. Removing your hands from his shoulders, you begin walking backward to the door and watch as he pouts.

“Cupcake, cookie, cowboy, prince, lovebug,” you add a name with each step back. “Which one do you like?”

“It’s your nickname. You get to choose,” Dalton says, watching you closely.

You nod and raise a hand to your chin, tapping your finger against it as you pace in front of his door.

“What if I like Dolphin?” you ask, looking over.

“Not your nickname.”

“Raphael?”

“The ninja turtle?” Dalton asks, his surprise overpowering his previous emotions.

“No, the artist.”

“Oh. If that’s what you like.”

“I hate it.”

“Me too," Dalton agrees, relief in his voice.

You laugh as you sit on the far end of Dalton’s bed, collapsing onto it. “So, Chris’s is a play on your name. Dalty?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Daltinator.”

“That’s somehow worse.”

You hear him take a step, and then the bed sinks beside you. As he reaches his hand toward you, you have another idea.

“Lamby, or Lambo? For your last name.”

Dalton is silent, and his hand hovers above your leg. You look to the side and see him staring at the wall.

“Dalton?”

“Those are workable,” he says, letting his hand fall to your leg.

“You like them,” you accuse playfully.

Dalton shrugs and moves closer to you.

“My next one was muffin,” you add as you close your eyes.

“Why?”

“Hungry.”

Dalton laughs and offers to take you to dinner, but you decline and roll over to face him.

“Let’s stay in tonight, Lamby, I wanna see if you blush every time I say it or just the first few.”