#two roosters in the same barn

[sunshine-gumdrop]

Kovalchuk vs crosby...

I love how petty they were! The battle of two roosters 🐓🐓

So, roosters can coexist in large flocks, but it can be riskier in smaller flocks. In fact, some breeders keep one rooster for every two or five hens. However, if two roosters face off, the submissive rooster may be injured if he doesn't have enough room to get away.

[princessbrunette]

HOLD ME, KISS ME ♡

♪ the little dippers — forever ♪

WANTED: JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE - SUSPECTED MURDER - $1000 REWARD - DANGEROUS! IF SPOTTED DO NOT APPROACH!

pairing: outlaw!johnb + sheltered!reader ⋆₊⊹♡

synopsis: your wishes come true when a beautiful boy is found sleeping peacefully in your barn. much to his surprise, you don’t care about who he is or what he has or hasn’t done — you just want to ensure he stays forever.

cw: mentions of prayer, religion and god (for plot purpose) reader has two parents, western!au, innocence kink, slight manipulation, mentions of crime, breeding kink, smut ♡

“Please deliver me a man, save me from this loneliness. Make him kind, and strong, and handsome. I vow to make him the happiest man alive.”

Your forehead rests against your clasped hands where you kneel beside your bed, speaking out loud as there was no one else to speak to. Your parents had gone on a trip for two weeks, leaving you in charge of the farmhouse all by your lonesome.

Isolated didn’t feel like the correct term. You were grateful, happy to live off the fat of your father’s land in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes you wished you had someone to share it with. Someone your own age who was there to see you. You had become the perfect host, thrilled when your parents would bring home guests once in a blue moon. You’d tie ribbons in your hair and pick the perfect dress and set the table like your mother taught you. You often imagined setting the table for a family of your own.

Your own farm house. The thought sent you off to sleep each night, walking through the home in your mind as if it were really real, feeling the creaking of the painted wooden porch beneath your feet as you enter, the distant cooing of your baby being comforted by your husband in the next room. White shabby-chic panels across the walls with oak furniture and knitted throw pillows and lots and lots of warm light. The kitchen table would have the perfect lace floral embroidered table cloth draped across it which you’d serve the heartiest dinners on each night. The babies room would be painted mint green, no— maybe pastel yellow, with handmade toys and a music box that played your song and oh, the master bedroom… where you and your husband rest your head would be flooded with natural light. A haven. All yours.

The details to the decoration often changed, new inspiration plucked from the papers that father would bring home and new favourite colours integrating themselves into your home plans but one thing remained the same each time. Your husband. He never had a face, but it wasn’t important. He was warm, strong without having to prove just how macho he was, kind— you could feel his love from the next room on. That was all you really wanted. You could forget the house, forget the land, live in a barn for all you care — you just wanted to experience a love like the ones in the fairytale books stacked high in your room.

It had been a week already of this routine you’d grown used to. You wake up, feed yourself and then the chickens, come inside, clean yourself and then the house, paint, crotchet or read — however the mood takes you, eat lunch, tend to the crops, brush the horses, maybe milk a cow, come inside and cook dinner, bathe, think about your dream husband and grind your wet messy cunt into a pillow, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness and then sleep. It was an easy life, and you couldn’t complain— but you couldn’t help feel the world had more to offer.

Your mother often told you that gifts from above come when you least expect it, you just had to keep your eyes open. You always wondered how one might find these gifts with no idea where to look.

Your gift arrived bright and early the next morning.

Well, not technically as early as it should have been, infact you probably nearly missed it. The roosters calls at 6AM each morning, but on that very day you had decided to sleep in. A few hours wouldn’t kill them, you think as you pull a plush white pillow to lay over your ear— it’s not like the chickens would starve.

At 11:45AM, you stumble bare foot onto the grass outside, setting out on your walk to the barn a little way up the land. Your pert nipples harden, awakened by the cool morning breeze as the thin white fabric of your nightdress blows in the wind. With the sunlight shining directly on it, it was sure to be totally and utterly see through— and you suppose that was one upside to living in the middle of nowhere, yards upon yards from civilisation. No one would see you. Sigh.

You feed the chickens, totally blind before it even occurs to you that anything might be astray. Infact, you don’t even seem to notice that the barn door was left ajar, as opposed to how you usually leave it bolted by a wooden slab to prevent the animals from wandering off or being massacred by foxes. You suppose that’s the price you pay for sleeping in, you live in dreamworld for the next few hours.

The Earth seems to stop turning for a moment when you see him.

You’re more curious than anything, wide eyed, holding your breath as to be totally silent despite having been humming and speaking to the chickens only a moment prior. You tiptoe through the hay, shards of straw sprouting between your painted toes and pin-needling your sole as you draw closer to the man. A fallen angel, your first thought.

He’s half curled up onto his side in the hay behind the stable for your white pony. He has thick-ish arms crossed over his chest, his hat laying over his face seeming to be serving as a purpose to block out the light. You figure as you hadn’t woken up him before, a closer inspection couldn’t hurt. Unhurriedly, you sink down into a squat beside him, knees pointed upwards and feet taking your balance. A real man, in your barn? It couldn’t be. You chew on your bottom lip, goggle-eyed and inquisitive as you cautiously lift the hat away from his face.

He doesn’t wake and you’re for some reason thankful. It gives you time to observe him, the breath all but knocked from your body as you take in just how beautiful he is. He was perfect, and just like what you were hoping for when you wished to be delivered a husband.

Dark eyelashes kissing at the rim of his closed eyes, pale lips and freckles, sunkissed across his nose. Your eyes trail over and across him, now with his face in mind taking in account what he looks like as a whole. You were still in disbelief, a real man sleeping in your barn. But then again, as your eyes skim lower and you notice the blood seeping through his shirt over his stomach — you wonder if he was sleeping. Surely he wasn’t dead? Only God could be so cruel to deliver you the perfect man without a pulse.

So, you press two cold fingers to his neck, searching for the rhythmic beats signifying life. As soon as you do so, the man jolts awake — wide brown eyes meeting yours.

“Jesus.”

This is where the stare off commences— you were sat in a squat giving him a straight shot up your night dress with dome like eyes and parted lips, observing him like he was some sort of alien life form that had happened upon your barn infront of your very eyes. Your chest rises and falls, and his gender fails to betray him as his eyes fall there for a moment, subconsciously noticing the way your bare tits strain against the thin fabric with each exhale. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can’t help but acknowledge that you’re a pretty thing, totally his type. In any other scenario, he might’ve seen you at a local tavern and introduced himself, getting you tipsy and loose, making you giggle beneath his soft gaze and coarse hands in some dimly lit booth before realising he’s far too respectful to take advantage of you like that.

With his eyes open, the picture is complete — and he truly is as beautiful as you thought. He had a puppy like quality to his eyes, they were big and brown but from the sunlight streaming in you could see specks of orange which intrigues you. You wish to look closer, but you feel it’s not the time. His adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow and he tears his eyes away from yours to look around, still disorientated from sleep. He touches his wound with gentle fingers and he winces, going to push himself up on his elbows.

You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, warm deep voice raspy from rest as he dives into a sequence of begging.

“Does anyone know I’m in here?”

“No, I—”

“Okay, that’s— okay, please — hey, please don’t tell anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m in a little bit of trouble with the law, nothing super bad I swear just — I needed somewhere safe to sleep so I ended up here. Didn’t take anything and uh— and I’ll be out of your hair now that I’m up.” He rambles, continually glancing at the barn doors, expecting Sheriff Shoupe to bust them down and take him in at any moments notice. You say nothing for a moment and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squeezing shut at the soreness of his injury. “Think it’s easiest if I just—”

He cuts himself off this time, because you slip your hand into his— stopping him from going anywhere. His eyebrows jump up and he freezes on the spot, staring down at your doe eyes with a wide and confused gaze of his own.

“…Hi?”

“You just got here? Why’d you have to go?” You sound sad, and he actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only did he break into your barn, on private land — but he’d totally overstayed his non-existent welcome, and now you didn’t want him to leave?

“P—pardon me? Ma’am?” He tries to be respectful, when what he really wants to ask is along the lines of ‘What the fuck?’.

You scramble to stand up and he helps you using the hand that you’re grasping. “Well, you won’t get far with a wound like that. It could get infected. Maybe you could come inside, let me dress it. You can refuel… maybe stay a few days?” The last part sounds wrong coming from your mouth. He’s a stranger for goodness sake— everything your parents had taught you about safety went against this and plus you were practically begging. You might have been embarrassed, if there wasn’t such a nagging feeling in your stomach telling you that this was meant to be.

He scoffs out a chuckle, because he thinks there’s no way you’re serious— but when he sees your wide eyes bouncing between his own, searching for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on— he realises you’re being completely genuine and his expression melts into a more worried gaze, shuffling a little closer on his feet.

“Look, I really appreciate your hospitality, but you have done more than enough, really. Just the fact you didn’t have the sheriff busting in to drag me away is something I will be very grateful for. Believe me. But I can’t drag you into this. Anyway, don’t you have family? That you live with?”

You sigh, looking down at your intertwined hands that you had yet to release, staring as if you were trying to memorise the feeling of a man’s touch incase you really couldn’t convince him to stay.

“Well yes, but they’re on a trip you see — and they’re going to be away for another week and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m awfully lonely, and I know you’re a stranger and all but I could really use the extra set of hands… plus it’s the least you could do… for breaking in…” You feel you’re pushing it with that last part, but decide to proceed with it anyway, any means necessary to get him to stay. He bites his bottom lip in thought as you stare up through your lashes and he thinks screw it. He’s sure you’re not setting him up, a little thing like you would be far too weak to pull that off.

“Okay, I… don’t see why not then.” He doesn’t sound certain, but you make such a good offer he’d be a fool not to accept. He bends down and swoops his hat off the floor, holding it to his chest and you take his hand once more, guiding him out of the barn.

He presses his lips together in an awkward smile at the way you confidently lead him, almost having to break into a jog to match your eager pace. Once nearing the house, you tell him your name and he nods — taking in the scenery.

You’re sitting him down in the living room before he can blink, and he takes in the setting around him. A real cozy place, a family home for sure — with a pale blue couch, a scratchy patchwork blanket draped over the back and floral cushions. There’s photos of you in multiple spots around the room, an only child — he gathers. The main photo sits on the mantelpiece, framed, a set of parents curtaining your smiling face in the image. You seem to be a few years younger, fuller in the face, still cute as a button.

He doesn’t quite realise you’d gone anywhere until you’re returning — the contents of an old first aid box rumbling in your grip. You give him a reassuring smile and lower to kneel by his feet, opening up the container and fishing around for some cotton pads.

“Do you have a name, mister?”

He clears his throat, trying to gage your reaction once he speaks, attempting to work out if the name rings any bells. “Uh, yeah. John B. John B. Routledge. You might’ve… actually heard of me. If you have, uh— I’m sorry.”

You don’t seem to react in any kind of alarming way, a smile grazing your face as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a soft white pad.

“Heard of you how? Are you famous?”

“…You’ve never seen those big ‘Wanted’ posters up in town? Kinda got my picture up on one of them.”

You peel up his shirt revealing tanned, toned skin and a wound that had crusted over with blood. You press the pad to it and he winces, knuckles turning white in his lap and head lulling back against the seat for a moment.

“Sorry.” You furrow your brows apologetically before continuing to mop up all the dried blood. “Oh, and I’m not allowed up in town. Not by myself anyway. So, I don’t keep up to date with all that… stuff.” You pull away, rifling through the box for another clean pad. He nods, eyes jumping to look at his wound and then back to you, watching your face for any discomfort regarding his presence. Oddly, there was none. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s wildly apparent now that you’ve truly been sheltered your whole life. There was this innocence you carried that was hard to come by, a lack of judgement that was sweet but made him worry for you slightly. You were lucky he had a good heart.

“That’s… probably for the best, actually. You know, they like to tell lies. I’m being falsely accused.” He speaks a little slower, and enunciates the last part as if you might not understand, and as expected— you hang onto every word, lips a little parted and wide eyed. It’s pretty cute, albeit inappropriate considering he’s a stranger.

As he speaks, you wrap his wound, pressing the sticky part down onto his skin before gently pressing the cotton covering his injury. “Well I’m really sorry about that John B. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You chirp, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss over the dressing, pulling back to offer him a sweet smile. The lines on John B’s forehead smooth out, his concerned expression melting into his own gentle smile of disbelief.

He wonders what the odds are that he’d stumbled upon a real life angel. Well, it was that — or you wanted to chop his body into tiny pieces whilst he slept and add it to your cauldron. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but you were pretty — and he was a total loverboy, so stupidly he was willing to take that risk.

He pulls his shirt back down over his now dressed wound and you begin to clear your things back into the first aid box.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, anything you need help with around here?” He offers and you look up at him, brows furrowing with adoration.

“Goodness, no— I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Said you needed an extra pair of hands earlier.” He challenges with a smile.

“I only said that to get you to come inside. With your injury, I couldn’t possibly put you to work.”

He scrunches his face a little with a half scoff, half smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Please, this thing? It barely even stings. Come oooon.” He croons with a smirk, and you really feel the full effects of his charm now— the warm timbre of his voice headed straight to your clit giving it a heartbeat of its own.

“Fine.” It comes out airy with a giddy smile and you take his hand yet again, almost getting distracted by the coarseness against your palm, the sight of bulging veins along the backs of them.

Your bare feet are treading lightly over soft wood chip once more as you lead him toward the destroyed fence round the left side perimeter of the farm.

“So… I suppose you could carry all the planks back from the fence that fell down in that awful storm last week. I was gonna wait for my daddy to get home to get him to do it ‘cus I’m much too weak for something like that.” You point, and John B’s brown fluffy head follows your finger to the destination at hand. He nods, a doable task.

“Well a girl like you shouldn’t be lifting a finger anyway.” He turns his head back to face you with a smile, eyes squinted in the sun. He looks radiant, no sign of pain anymore and you look down at your night gown, scrunching it in your clammy hands with an uncontrollable grin at the floor, harbouring such an innocent crush on the boy already that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His gaze stays on you for a tick whilst you step quietly and he speaks up again, tilting his head a little inquisitively. “I really, really hope this doesn’t sound rude… ‘cus I don’t mean to be. But… are you not… married?” He trails off, thinking of all the times he’s been walloped round the head in taverns for asking questions of a similar nature. Your smile doesn’t go away, your gentle nature not retiring for a moment.

“Oh no, no. I don’t meet boys often. Thats why I’m happy you came!” You chirp, hand reaching out to softly squeeze his arm. “Can be like husband and wife whilst you stay round.”

He just laughs in response. Not necessarily in a mean way, but the same way you laugh when a child tells you they’re going to be an astronaut when they grow up.

The brutal beating of the sun does nothing to stop the honest work you’d put the self proclaimed outlaw up to, he seems to be deep in thought often — carrying the planks to and fro. You slip inside for a while to change into something more appropriate, a sweet and floral sundress that ties up at the straps and hugs you in a more womanly way. You’d rubbed your lips together as you fixed your hair in the mirror before bringing him a sandwich in the early afternoon. “You are adorable.” He grins when you do so, and it wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for on your dress but it still made you warm in the face. He simply brought out a true primal bodily reaction from you— that’s why you’d skipped the panties under your dress. He was making you excited and slippery down there and you just didn’t see the point. You stay out for hours at a time to chat with him. Your affections grow.

John B. Routledge finally returns back to the house when he’s all finished and you let him lay down for a nap on your couch, finally getting some real rest in. Whilst he does so, you spend hours preparing a hearty meal — the type you reserve for when mama and papa have guests round. As the pie browns off just a moment longer in the oven, you come to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and stroking his fluffy hair back.

“I made dinner. Sure you’re really hungry.” You whisper and his eyes flutter once more, the arms that were crossed over his chest stretching out as he wakes. You sit back to give him space, and when he opens his eyes you’re there with a smile — the orange beam of sunset haloing your head. Something about an angel drafts through his mind once more and he stretches.

“Oh boy, I slept longer than I was meant to huh?” He sits up and you shrug, leading him through to the kitchen where you’d laid the round table. Steaming seasoned vegetables in a bowl, freshly picked by you. Warm bread, baked and scored by you with flowers the centrepiece of the table. A jug of gravy there too. There’s a tray of mashed potatoes waiting, creamy and delicious looking. Routledges stomach audibly growls and he chuckles at this as he sits down, taking in the scenery you’d laid out. “You… have spoiled me. All this for someone who breaks into your barn?” He chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat.

You follow him round the table with a giddy smile. “Told you I like havin’ guests.” You perch your bottom on his leg, an arm wrapped around his neck as your feet swing. It felt right. You’d always wanted to sit with a man this way, you’d seen it before in the picture shows. Man and wife, domestic bliss. His brows jump up and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh… sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that. I am a— a stranger, after all.” He tries to do the responsible thing, even though there was something about your innocent brashness that was turning him on beyond belief. Your eyebrows knit in the centre, a line between them and your bottom lip seems to have doubled in size from how it pushes out.

“But I like you?” You mewl, rejected. It all seems so simple to you, which is probably feels super unfair. No one had taught you how to address men because you were so sheltered, and now it was giving you all of these complicated feelings that John B would have to deal with.

“And I like you — a whole bunch. You know I’m super grateful for you taking me in and… all that good stuff. But sitting right here is gonna… make me excited. Because I’m a guy. Go ahead and hop off for me.” He taps your lower back gently and you huff, feeling upset and rejected about the whole thing. His eyes are all wide and hopeful as he stares at you, like he wanted to make sure you were okay. The way he handles you so sweetly made your stomach stir despite your current mope.

You drag your feet to the oven comically and he stifles a chuckle at how dramatic you were, despite his sympathy. You place your hands into oven gloves and take out the pie— perfect and golden. You walk it to the table and John B sits up a little straighter, eyes darting between you and the food.

“Did this all by yourself? You have got a real knack for cooking. Should put you on the TV.” He grins, switching on the charm to attempt to loosen up your silent sulk. You nod, eyes casted down childishly and he reaches out to touch your arm. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

A small smile slips out, and he flickers his eyes over to the heart shape you’d scored onto the pie, his own lips twitching up into a smirk. “That for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

You end up giggling, his smile too infectious and your bad moment is all forgotten as you serve him a slice, plating up for him and then yourself before you eat. John B digs in ravenously, it’s almost erotic — the way he’s groaning at how good it all tastes, gravy dripping from his lips as he licks more off his fingers. He was clearly less proper-mannered than you, but you liked that. Table manners were for boring old people anyway. Maybe everything about him got you going, but you had to really concentrate on getting some food inside you instead of just watching the show of eating he was putting on.

Once you’re finished, and he’s finishing up on his third helping — you let your giggles die down from the wild goose chase story he relayed for you, one where he of course wound up the hero which only made your heart beat harder for him. Your socked foot begins to prod at his ankle, sliding up his leg until it rests in his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind, the food having lowered his guard just that bit as he leans back in his chair, undoing his belt. He adjusts his hips on the seat as he does so and your thighs clench.

“So what did you think?” You ask, though you think it’s clear that he liked the meal from the empty plates and unbuckled belt. He lets out a long satisfied sigh, gazing at you for a moment with a kind smile.

“I think, whoever gets to marry you is a lucky son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together, almost like he was disappointed about the idea of you with another. You blink, the hands resting beneath your chin dreamily slowly falling to play with eachother on the table.

“Why not you, John B?” You question sadly, giving him those eyes again. The ones that tug on his heart and made him wanna give you everything and anything you ask for. He lifts a napkin, bringing it to his mouth as he shakes his head dismissively, closing his eyes with a frown.

“Mm—mm.” The tissue fabric muffles the sound. “You don’t wanna marry me, believe me — okay, I’m an outlaw. Your parents would never in a billion years accept me. Anyway you… you deserve someone less rough and tumble, you know? Like a prince from a storybook. A bubblewrap life. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures to himself, more so the browned blood stain on his shirt.

You sigh, determined. “My parents would understand. They’re — they’re generous people.”

“Really? ‘Cus they don’t even let you leave the house.” He quips quickly in response, smirking at your naivety and you fall silent for a moment. His face flattens just a tad from guilt. You were far too soft for that kind of tone.

When you look up at him again, your face is more solemn — wide eyes searching his for a shred of understanding. “You don’t understand, John B. There are actual scary, dangerous men out there that would take me and do terrible things to me.”

The outlaw leans his elbows on the table, his lips stretched into an amused smile at the irony. There wasn’t an inkling of threat about the gesture, pure amusement coursing through the energy between you from his side alone. “And how do you know I’m not one of those scary, dangerous men. Hm?” His voice is warm, it seems to rumble straight from his chest. You release a shaky sigh.

“Well you haven’t hurt me yet?” Your voice lilts out, and you engage in a long stare off. There’s a different kind of tension in the air now, it’s hot and feels heavy on you. It oozes into the nooks and crannies of your balmy skin and slithers between your thighs. You can’t take the heat and you stand, beginning to bring his dishes to the sink to wash. It’s quiet for a while, John B watching you with this thoughtful and almost knowing smile as you tidy up around him. Even he couldn’t run from how good ‘domestic bliss’ felt.

You let yourself indulge in the fantasy too. Wife cleans up, husband sits behind at the table and sips at the drink she poured him. You wanted nothing more than to experience this everyday, and your heart sinks sadly at the fact that this will probably be the last. You lose yourself to thoughts and daydreams as you scrub away, to the point you nearly don’t hear him stand up, slowly walking to lean against the sink beside you.

You smile at him politely as he eyes you, and return your gaze to the plate in your hand. You mustn’t dwell. He moves, and soon he’s behind you, a hand resting against the sink beside your hip, head craning round to look at you from the other side. “You’re really serious about this husband and wife thing, aren’t you?”

“Very serious, sir.” You bat your lashes at him earnestly and his cock stirs in his pants at the title, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Bless your heart, you were only being courteous. He presses his lips together in thought and the side of your face warms with his slow exhale. Turning your body, you face him fully now. “I just think it was divine intervention that you wound up in my barn. You’re like an angel sent to take away my loneliness.” You’re shy, a little bashful about your beliefs and without thinking he cups your cheek in reassurance, thumb swiping slowly over the skin.

His eyes take in your every detail, and your lips part with a wobbly breath, nervous. “May I kiss you, John B?” You address, just as his thumb strokes the delicate skin below your eye. He grins, slightly amused by your formality and simply nods his head.

You stand on tip toes to reach him, socked feet almost knocking at his boots as your body presses to his, lips meeting. You’re a little messy, inexperienced— which comes as no surprise to the boy as he tilts his head, welcoming your mouth at another angle and taking control in order to guide you. You’re mostly a quick learner, slowing your pace to something much more sultry and he nearly can’t contain his excitement. He wants to be a gentleman, but as soon as he introduces his tongue — you lose composure, needy and all but panting into his mouth right then and there in the kitchen. He pulls away and breaks the string of saliva that connects your lips with his thumb, stroking it over your moist bottom lip as you stare at him readily.

He tilts his head, eyes wide and almost innocent as he gestures away. “You… want me to show you what husbands do with their wives?”

You nod so hard your eyes nearly roll back like one of those baby-dolls.

John B is the one to take your hand this time, leading you slowly and carefully through the house. You partially think he’s giving himself time to rethink what he’s about to do, but from the way your pussy is drooling into your panties — it feels set in stone. He finally reaches your bedroom and you watch his head move left and right as he takes it in, cheek lifting with a smile at the China dolls on the wall and the frilly white bedsheets. It’s clear your room hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. The sun is just starting to disappear behind your lace curtains and he switches on the lamp, sitting you down.

The man joins you, easing himself down at your side and cupping your cheek as he begins to kiss you again. He takes it slow, but the passion and need only grows as the splayed hand on your back begins to slide upwards until its cupping the back of your head and he’s beginning to slowly lower you to lie down like you’re made of glass.

Naturally you shuffle up the bed and he follows, hovering over you and leading with his tongue this time — the wet muscles wrapping around eachother languidly making you moan, legs falling wider apart.

“I wanna make you feel really good, okay? That okay with you?” He asks gently and you nod, sucking in a breath. You’d waited for something like this since you knew what pleasure was, craved the touch of a man with strong coarse hands and a wet mouth. Routledges thumbs swipe across your tits through your dress, massaging them until your nipples were poking painfully through the fabric as he burrows into your neck, licking and sucking.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he tugs gently at your dress, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?”

He tugs the garment up and over, puffing out his cheeks as he blows air out his mouth, brows raised at the sight of your naked body. You look so soft, so pliable beneath him. He was already hard just from kissing you, but this made him feel like he might combust. “Took your underwear off?” He smirks, pressing kisses to your stomach and between your tits before bringing his face up to eye level with you, same kind but teasing smile on his face. “Have you been needing me aaall day? Hm?”

You turn your head to the side, flustered and clammy with a whine— eyes screwed shut. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

“No, s’just — when you speak like that— n’say stuff like that… makes me hurt…” You’re breathless, hips twitching and bucking slightly as he grins, pearly whites showing.

“Aw.” Is all he manages before continuing his descent down.

He’s a real tease, spending an ungodly amount of time on your tits— sucking, licking and biting your nipples until you’re arched off the bed, teary eyed and wincing from sensitivity. It’s then, and only then he starts to kiss lower, pushing himself down your pristine sheets until he’s settling between your legs, gently easing your ankles upwards so that your knees faced the sky, your cunt fluttering and open right infront of his face.

“Well she’s very pretty.” He smiles up at you, thumbs coming up to spread you. He leans in slowly, hot breath fanning over your heat before he simply presses the softest kiss to your clit. He draws back again as you whimper, running the pads of his thumbs up along your spread folds. “Hear that? So wet, pretty girl.” He marvels in a whisper.

“Just want you to make it better.” You mewl and he nods slowly in understanding, tongue swiping over his lips as he observes you.

“That I can definitely do.” He confirms before leaning in, licking and sucking at your clit as his thumb automatically rolls downwards to massage your hole. You gasp, knees shooting up towards your chest as he eats you, similarly to the pure fervour and passion he only recently devoured the meal you cooked for him. You wondered how any appetite remained.

When he sinks his middle finger inside you, your stomach tenses — a high pitched noise of relief and utter devastation leaving you. You had no idea how badly you’d craved fullness to this very moment, and you weren’t even halfway there. He’s smiling against you, glancing up as you flutter around his single digit and make plenty of noise for him. “Yeah? Think you’ve really been needing some of that, little girl.” He nearly laughs at your extreme reaction. He had to admit, it was fun doing this with someone so inexperienced. Everything to you seemed like the best thing ever.

He eats and eats away, proving himself to have quite the monstrous appetite for your slick . Your feet rest on his shoulders at one point, lost in pleasure as you whine and writhe and to keep you out of the way, the outlaw pushes your legs up and pins them there, nose deep in your gloss.

“Feels too good— feels— hurts!” You cry, because you don’t know how to put that you’re simply aching to cum.

“Doesn’t hurt, sweet girl. Just let it happen.” He corrects in that low reverberation that you’ve grown to love. After a series of ‘Uh’ and ‘Mm’s, you feel yourself hitting that peak — the one you usually reach all over the soft cotton of your pillow, but ten times the strength.

As soon as he senses this happening, he doubles down and continues repeating the same action with his mouth over and over until you’re squealing and pushing him away, curling into a ball as your completion dribbles out of your quivering hole.

He grins, real proud of himself as he pushes up on his hands to near you, gently shushing you the same way you would to soothe a baby to sleep. “I know, that was a lot huh?” He coo’s, rubbing your back with his warm hand as you suffer the aftershocks, clenching and whimpering, a smaller clammy hand reaching out to his shirt to grab a fist of it.

He forces you softly onto your back, stroking a hand over your warm forehead. For someone so convinced the two of you shouldn’t be together, he sure did look at you like you were his entire world. By the gaze shared, you would never know the two of you only met that morning.

“What now, hm?” He smiles, quiet. You open your mouth to speak, and your voice rasps from the loud and explosive release that had you calling out.

“Wanna… make you feel as good as you made me feel, John B.”

He licks his lips, thinking over it. If it wasn’t already clear, his dick was throbbing in his pants just from pleasing you— and had you wanted to end things there he would be sure to take a trip to the bathroom to finish in his hand. Maybe swipe a pair of your underwear from the basin for inspiration, but that made his stomach tense with guilt.

“Think I can manage that, yeah.” He nods before reaching slowly for his belt. “Sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.”

His belt is still undone from after dinner so he slides the snakey leather from its loops with one hand, the act more attractive than you anticipated which made you clench once more with need. He sits on the edge of the bed and you usher up beside him, pressing your naked body to him and ghosting your drooly lips over his jaw line as he sighs, working his length out of his pants.

“Oh my.” You breathe, as soon as you look down. Now you hadn’t had much experience in dealing with the male anatomy, clearly — but you knew for certain John B had to be miles larger than the average man. His cock stood tall, straight — slightly mauve towards the tip with a beautiful blue vein drifting down his shaft like a river on a mountain. His balls sat beneath, heavy and pink — inviting in a way that made your mouth water primally.

“Yeah? This is… what m’working with.” He chuckles, sounding a little nervous.

“How do I…” You mutter after a moment and he’s quick to take your hand, pressing your fingers so that it forms a cup and bringing it to your mouth.

“You wanna spit for me, pretty? Right here.” He encourages and whilst you don’t understand, you do as he wishes, letting a bubbly glob of saliva drool out into the cupped crevice of your hand. You look up at him with wide unsure eyes, searching for praise or reassurance that you’d done as he asked. He presses his lips together at the sweet and submissive expression, shifting his hips a tad in excitement. “Mm, fuck.” He punctuates with an airy chuckle, ticking his head in a single shake.

He brings your hand down and begins to smear it all over himself, releasing a shaky exhale as he does so. “So, uh… you’re gonna wanna move your hand. Just like this.” He sighs as he works your hand up and down his shaft, slowly jerking him off. Your eyes flicker between his face and pretty dick to make sure you were doing it right. As you do so, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muttering a “So sweet, bubba.” Against your mouth.

This only encourages you to gain confidence, doing whatever feels right. You twist your hand— squeezing just a tad harder towards the tip as that seemed to be what made him release that heavenly groan, jaw constantly agape as he watches your hand.

“Theeere you go sweetheart. Easy right? Like milking a cow.” He kisses your temple briskly once more before his eyes screw shut, chest heaving with quicker breaths. You get carried away, fascinated by the pearly precum that seeps from his slit as you work him with your hand and following your own judgment you lean down. You figure if he used his mouth on you, you could return the favour.

His eyes open with a loud shudder when you tentatively wrap your plush lips around his tip, working your hand up and down to try and squeeze more of the interesting salty flavour from him. You let out a long drawn out moan of your own as you feel your clit throbbing with desire, liberating his precum from your mouth to let it dribble back down his shaft in messy bubbles.

He winces, placing a hand on your shoulder and removing you with such an abrupt speed that you nearly flew off the side of the bed. You sit up straight, slick mouth pouting as your eyes flicker between his, worrying that you’d done something wrong. There’s a second of just looking at eachother, before you stumble over some words.

“S—Sorry. Did I hurt—”

“No, no God no. I uh— I just wasn’t sure if I should make a mess all over that pretty face just yet.” His wide eyed expression melts into a reassuring smile, thumb rising to swipe lovingly at your cheek. You lick your lips, savouring the taste of him and nod — not quite sure where to go from there.

Your silence makes him question, and he eyes you. “Is there… anything in particular you want now?”

You think, blinking your doll-like eyelashes off into the distance before nodding once more— pushing off away from him and scurrying to the head of the bed where you lay yourself gently on the pillows.

“Hm?” He follows up in confusion, craning his neck round to watch you.

“Would… like a baby now, please.” You spread your legs a little, shy and bashful in your request like you wasn’t sure if you’d asked impolitely. His face falls as he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes, rubbing over his face with an exasperated chuckle, elbows on his knees.

As you stare at him with with an upset little pout, already ashamed by your forwardness. “Like husband and wife?” You try to justify and he sighs out his nose, turning his body fully to you.

“Oh sweet girl.” He tugs you gently lower toward him by your hips, rubbing his thumbs at your waist. “We just met.”

You launch into full fledged begging, whiny and high pitched with tears threatening to dive over their trough. “I’ll make you so happy John B, I’ll make all your problems go away and you won’t have to run anymore. Please?” You were deadset on this man giving you your dream life, and you’d officially pushed shame to the side in order to get this. His brow is permanently creased, staring with those big wide puppy dog eyes, continually stroking your skin in hopes to calm you.

“Are you… sure that’s what you want? You’re still young. So much time for all that.”

“Just want it now. I’d never be lonely again.” You sound defeated, staring down away from him now. He felt bad, he’d always hated disappointing people. Once upon a time he was a fixer, always running to his friends aid to make their problems go away. That urge never died, just burned low and quiet like an old candle flame. He wanted to make your problems go away too.

“Okay.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He watches your devastated expression lift into a radiant grin, and it was like watching the sun appear from behind a grey cloud after weeks of downcast weather. “Yeah?” You chirp toothily as he crawls over you, leaking tip grazing your tummy and then your folds as he buries his face into your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

When he pushes his tip inside, John B says a prayer for the first time in his life.

He’d never really followed any religion. His father had been the type to say it was all a bunch of ‘Mumbo jumbo’ and that he should believe in the human psyche instead, or something like that. But as your wet folds swallow him and you release that high pitched mewl at the inevitable stretch — he finds himself asking God — please, please don’t let me knock this young girl up.

There’s a warm blanket of chills that cover his spine as he slowly sheathes inside of you, feeling like he was pushing deeper and deeper into a black hole that would selfishly keep sucking him inside for the rest of his life. It felt too good, calming — like falling asleep. He was euphoric.

“So — so big inside me!” Your cry knocks him out of his thoughts and he kisses your shoulder before looking down to watch himself push in all the way to the hilt.

“Feel okay, gorgeous?”

You nod, a pained whine falling from you as you dig your nails into his skin, walls fluttering around him like they were constantly trying to accommodate for this thickness. “Fuck.” He groans, before sliding back a little and starting to thrust. Yeah, he wasn’t gonna last too long— he needed to get to work on you fast.

As he gently fucks into you, your plush tits recoil with the movement and he can’t close his mouth, sounds and sighs leaving him without permission. A hand slides between the two of you, the other pulling his shirt up to grip between his teeth— giving himself a better view of the way he strokes at your clit — your legs being spread exposing it, making it easier for him.

You clench, and shudder — that sweet face contorting with each time his tip ever so slightly grazes your cervix, careful not to bruise it. You really were beautiful, that type of homely beauty he’d thought of marrying in his lonely nights of travelling through desert and grass. The type of girl you work for, the type that deserves spoiling, princess treatment. The more he fucks, the more he’s convincing himself that impregnating you might not be the most awful thing after all. Why should he chase away security?

Your fingertips grace his chest, and he takes your hand — pinning it to the bed as your fingers intertwine, using the grip to aid his rolling thrusts— speeding up the pace and force now he knew you could take it like a champ. His mouth opens to speak, and his shirt drops out of it.

“Taking me real good baby. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” He coo’s and you can only nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes before rolling down to your temples. Poor thing, lost for words.

There’s a wet slapping sound with each thrust, your cunt equally gushing as it was thirsty — hungrily welcoming each inch of his, and even demanding more by locking your ankles around his lower back. Perhaps you did it for comfort, or perhaps because you suspected a hesitance, the threat of him pulling out last minute too much for your baby-crazed brain.

“Jesus. Sweet little puppy.” He breathes like it’s a revelation beneath your ear, the curly tuft of hair above his shaft tickling you as he continues to rub your clit.

“S’gonna happen again, John B. The big feeling.” You strain, eyes clamped shut and sniffling— too overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. He kisses each eye lid and watches you closely, experiencing you unfold once more.

“Thats my good girl. Let me have it, pup. Gimme a good one.”

You’re an explosion of whimpers and moans, thrashing under his firm grip once more— and he’s not sure when your orgasm ends, if it even ends at all— he doesn’t care, the release pushing him close to his own. He speeds up his pace, hand that was at your clit now wrapping around your lower back, forearm pushing your lower half up and against him, forcing you to just keep taking him.

He was like a beast from a fairytale book, fucking wildly into you with a primal determination that had you struggling to breathe. You’re crying now, full out crying because it’s just so much. There’s still one last thing you require, and only he can give you it.

“You wanna make me daddy, huh?” He demands, that gentleness in his voice gone. It’s nearly unrecognisable from him, and you preen beneath the rough touch.

“Mhm!”

“Words.” He barks. He didn’t mean to be mean, he just got a little bossy when he was close. You’d come to learn that.

“Please give me a baby. Please just — make you a daddy! Need it!” You’re squealing, voice shaking from the hard ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls slapping against you. You feel you might pass out if this goes on much longer.

He releases with a long groan, lips dropping to the centre of your chest and back arching upwards. You register his sounds before you feel it, hot slimy ropes of him— shooting up inside you, warming your walls. You moan too, because it feels so good to be full. It feels right, like this was what had been missing after all.

Everything is a blur for the next few minutes. It’s like you black out a little, because maybe you forgot to be breathing like you should have been. You briefly recall John B scooping you up and helping you through that, ignoring the gooey seed dripping from you to cradle you like a baby, humming a calm “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. With me, c’mon.” Your gentle boy was back, and through your haze you smile.

Once you’re tucked at his side beneath a soft cotton blanket, his hand stroking over your head after cleaning you up, a whispered conversation ensues.

“Do you really like me John B? Like, you really think I’m beautiful?” You inquire, gazing up at him with stuck together black eyelashes. The question was so innocent, yet he could tell it was so meaningful.

His expression doesnt falter, a gentle smile sat comfortably on his lips as he continues to pet you. “Baby, I think you’re the ponds swan. Just… gotta get to know you a little better, okay? ‘Specially if I really did put a baby in you.” Only then his smile falters, brows knitting as the reality sets in. Oh Lord.

“Okay.” Your eyes flutter closed, happy to leave it at that, happy to fall asleep right by his side under his watchful eye. It was unnerving how safe a lonely girl could feel with a stranger.

“Okay. Good girl. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” He quietly reassures, watching you drift off. He’s not sure if he’s trying to dispel your fears, or his own.

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 5

SUMMARY: A casual day on set takes an unexpected turn when Glen brings his parents to the hair and makeup trailer. As you bond with them over shared interests and playful conversation, Glen watches with a fond smile, clearly pleased with how well you're getting along. Later, when Glen invites you to join them for lunch, the conversation flows easily, but Glen can’t escape a few embarrassing childhood stories his parents share.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4

WARNINGS: None. Just Fluff in this one!

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You step into the hair and makeup trailer, the familiar scent of hairspray and cosmetic products already filling the air. It’s early, but the trailer is quiet, the rest of the team having not arrived yet for the day. You move about the space, setting out your tools and products in preparation for Glen’s arrival. He’s due any minute, and though it’s become routine by now, there’s always a flutter of anticipation when you know he’s on his way. 

You glance in the mirror, making sure everything is in place, when you hear the door open behind you. But as you turn, ready to greet Glen, you notice he’s not alone. His warm smile spreads as he steps inside, flanked by two familiar faces—his parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., visiting him on set.

"Hey, hope you don’t mind," Glen says with a grin, motioning toward them. "Thought I’d bring some backup today."

“Not at all,” you smile as you look past him to see where his parents are. Their presence catches you slightly off guard, though not necessarily in a bad way.

He introduces you with a smile. "Mom, Dad, this is the makeup artist I’ve been telling you about," Glen says, gesturing to you.

His mom, Cyndy, smiles warmly as she steps forward. "It’s so nice to finally meet you. Glen has mentioned how great you are."

You exchange greetings, shaking her hand. Glen Sr. gives you a polite nod and a friendly, "Nice to meet you," before sitting on the nearby couch.

As you start prepping Glen's hair, Cyndy sits down nearby and strikes up a conversation. "So, how do you keep up with all these actors? I imagine you’re running around all day trying to keep them camera-ready," she says, laughing lightly.

You smile, nodding as you work through Glen's hair. "Yeah, it can get a little crazy, especially when the weather isn’t cooperating. But, I’ve been doing this long enough that I can manage a few stubborn heads of hair."

Cyndy chuckles and nods. "You sound just like me trying to wrangle Glen’s hair when he was younger. He had the curliest hair when he was younger. Honestly, his curls were a challenge. I learned so much about products just trying to keep it from looking like a bird’s nest!"

You can’t help but laugh, glancing at Glen through the mirror as you apply a little styling cream to his hair. 

"I can imagine. He does have a head of hair that keeps me busy," you say, playfully teasing.

Glen raises an eyebrow in mock offense. "Hey, I thought we were on the same team here," he says with a grin.

His mom rolls her eyes affectionately, clearly used to this kind of banter. "He’s always been fussy about his hair," she says, leaning closer to you. "You know, he used to let his sisters test makeup and skincare products on him.”

Glen Sr., who has been quietly observing, throws in a comment. "Yeah, Glen's always been particular about how he looks—don’t let him fool you. I’ve never seen anyone take so long to get ready for prom. He was taking this really cute girl he liked and he must have fixed his hair twenty times before she showed up."

Glen groans in mock embarrassment while you laugh with Cyndy and Glen Sr. It’s so easy and natural, and you start to feel completely at ease around his parents. The friendly dynamic between them makes it feel as though you’ve known them much longer than a few minutes. As you finish up Glen’s hair and makeup, you catch a glimpse of him in the mirror, watching the exchange with a soft smile.

"Alright, I think you’re good to go," you say, stepping back to inspect your work.

Glen stands and turns to his mom. "What do you think?" he asks, gesturing to his styled hair.

Cyndy nods approvingly. "I think you’re in good hands."

He meets your eyes for a moment, and there’s something unspoken but meaningful in the look he gives you. 

"I think so too," he says softly.

As Glen and his parents make their way out, Cyndy pauses by the door, turning back to you. "It was really nice talking to you. Hopefully, we’ll see you again before we leave."

You smile, feeling something like a mix of warmth and nervousness swirl in your chest. "It was great meeting you both."

As they head out and the door closes behind them, you feel the weight of what just happened start to sink in. Glen’s parents. Not just a casual meeting—but a glimpse into the world of someone who’s beginning to feel a lot more significant to you.

A few hours pass, and you move through the rest of the morning on set with a steady pace, trying not to think too much about your earlier interaction with Glen and his parents. 

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re back in the trailer, scrolling through the DoorDash app, absentmindedly debating between a sandwich or sushi when your phone buzzes with a text.

Glen: "Hey, do you want to join me and my parents for lunch? We’re heading to this restaurant a few minutes away."

You stare at the message for a moment, feeling a slight flutter in your stomach. Lunch with Glen and his parents? It seems casual enough, but something about the invitation feels… different. After a brief pause, you type back a reply.

You: "Sure, sounds fun. Where should I meet you?"

A few minutes later, you're on your way to the restaurant, mentally preparing yourself to be around Glen’s parents again. 

When you walk into the restaurant, you’re met with warm smiles from both Cyndy and Glen Sr. as you approach the table. Glen stands and gives you a small, friendly hug before he pulls out a chair for you, the gesture making you feel even more welcome.

The restaurant itself is laid-back, the kind of place that feels homey and easy, with rustic wood tables and simple decor. As you sit down, the conversation picks up naturally. Glen’s parents are charming, easy to talk to, and it quickly feels less like a formal lunch and more like spending time with friends you’ve known for years.

The conversation is peppered with casual jokes and stories, and soon enough, Glen becomes the focus of a few playful teases.

"So," his dad starts with a knowing grin, "did Glen ever tell you about the time he got stuck trying to climb out of his bedroom window?"

You turn to Glen, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, but he groans, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Dad. Please don't," he says, though you can tell he’s being a good sport about it.

His mom, clearly delighted, jumps in. "He thought it’d be a good idea to sneak out to see a girl when he was sixteen. Climbed out the window but got his foot caught in the gutter. I’ve never heard someone yell 'Mom!' so loud in my life!"

You can’t help but burst into laughter, and Glen, though slightly embarrassed, can’t help but laugh along with everyone else. 

"I was young and stupid," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, but there’s a good-natured smile on his face.

Throughout the lunch, you notice little things—how Glen keeps glancing your way when his parents speak to you, as if trying to gauge how you're feeling, or how his hand brushes yours briefly as he passes you the salt. The atmosphere is light and comfortable, yet there's something deeper simmering beneath the surface. It’s the way Glen is with you—always aware of your presence, always making sure you're included.

At one point, his mom turns the conversation toward you. "So, how are you liking it on set? It must be exciting, working on a film like this."

You smile, taking a sip of your water before responding. "It’s been a lot of fun. There’s definitely a lot of running around, but the whole cast and crew have been really great. It doesn’t really feel like work most days."

"I’m glad to hear that," Cyndy says warmly, then leans in slightly, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Glen’s been talking about you a lot, you know. Telling us all about how talented you are."

You glance at Glen, who immediately groans and rubs a hand over his face. "Mom, seriously?" he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

But you find it kind of adorable, the idea that Glen has been talking about you to his parents. You meet his eyes, and there’s a shared moment of understanding—something unspoken yet clear in the way his gaze softens when he looks at you.

You smile, giving Cyndy a grateful look. "Well, I’m flattered."

As lunch wraps up and the four of you head back to set, the dynamic between you and Glen seems to have subtly shifted. There’s more ease, more awareness of each other. Glen walks beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both chat quietly about the upcoming scenes for the day.

While Glen’s parents walk ahead, you catch him glancing over at you a few times, something tender in his expression, as if he’s just starting to realize something. Maybe it’s the way you got along so well with his mom, or how effortlessly you fit into this part of his life that he usually keeps separate from work. Whatever it is, the thought lingers in his mind, settling deep as he realizes that this—whatever it is between you two—is becoming more important to him.

The conversation between you and Glen is light, but the feeling of something growing between you is undeniable. And as you part ways to get back to work, there’s a weight to the goodbye—a lingering thought that perhaps this connection is becoming more than just casual, more than just friendly. Glen’s smile lingers a little longer, his gaze a little softer, as he watches you walk away.

[vivwritesfics]

Love cowboy Rooster so I have idea,

Rooster and reader taking a trail ride (with others horses if you want) to a lake to have a picnic date while the horses are going crazy in the water :)

Also I love how you did a mixture of both the ideas, I loved it 🥹

-🐎

in my multipart baby of a bob cowboy fic the callsigns are nicknames they got from the rodeo -- same applies here

Bradley would never get sick of the sight of this. Of her in the barn, wearing a sundress and his fucking Stetson. All she was doing was leaning against a stable door, feeding Goose a sugar cube.

(Goose was Bradley's dad's horse. They'd gotten him at two years old from auction just months before Nick Bradshaw sadly passed. Bradley had kept Goose going for the better part of twenty eight years. He was too old to ride now, and nobody loved him more than Bradley's girlfriend).

Bradley couldn't stop himself from sliding his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss. "Ready to go?"

"Let me say goodbye to Goose," she said and pulled the Stetson from her head to place it on his own.

The way Bradley watched her, it could only be described as having hearts for eyes. He watched as she held Goose's nose and lifted it, giving the little pink patch on his nose a kiss. "We'll be back soon, buddy," she said as his nose came to rest on her shoulder.

"C'mon," Bradley said and gently pulled her away. If he had any competition in this world, it was Goose.

Bradley helped her get into Bo's saddle. He didn't have to help her, but he always liked to. As soon as her feet her in the stirrups and she had leaned down to kiss him, he moved on, easily swinging himself up into Rusty's saddle.

They set off, riding side by side away from the Bradshaw ranch. It had been his parents before his. When his father died, Pete Mitchell (who had earnt the nickname from the rodeo) stepped up for a few years. Bradley couldn't remember when Pete left, he didn't even remember him being there. But Bradley had been the man of the house for damn near twenty years.

When his mother died, he was all alone on the ranch. Well, until she came along.

She, who brought that sparkle of light back into his life. She, who Bradley loved with everything that he had. She rode beside him, barely holding onto Bo. She didn't need to, not when he would loyally follow Rusty.

When they got to the lake, there was a series of whoops and hollers. Bradley jumped down from Rusty first. He knew she didn't need help getting out of Bo's saddle; he just liked standing behind her, pulling her against him for a brief second.

"Nice hat!" Jake 'Hangman' Seresin called towards her.

There was a time where she would have been so embarrassed that she rushed to place the hat back onto Bradley's head, but she just grinned at Jake. "Thanks," she said, tongue poking between her teeth as Bradley tied the horses up. "Stole it."

Jake rolled his eyes, but there was no malice behind it. She took her seat beside Bob, gratefully accepting the water he offered her. It wasn't often the squad got to do things like this. Jake and Natasha were both on the rodeo circuit and Bob, Javi, Mickey and Reuben all worked on ranches in the area.

Bradley sat down beside her and immediately pulled her closer, planting a kiss to her cheek.

"Are we gonna see you on the circuit this year, Bradshaw?" Nat asked from where she laid in the sun, her own hat covering her head.

Although Bradley (Or Rooster, as they called him on the circuit) was born and raised for the rodeo, he gave it up. Once his mom died and he was alone running the ranch, he just couldn't. There was far too much to do. Besides, he didn't miss the buckle bunny's begging for him to take them back to his Bronco.

"Yeah, Bradshaw," his girl said, but it didn't take him by surprise. She loved watching him do what he did best.

He finally took the hat from her head and placed it on her own. "You want to watch, pretty girl?" He asked, his mouth close to hers. They kissed and, well, a little more, only pulling away when they heard the group of late twenties/thirty year olds shouting 'ew!'

[shadowdaddies]

can i please request rowaelin x reader, where reader has a secret store/secret house where she disappears once a day to and they have no idea. The house is filled with adopted pets, baby goats, kittens, puppies, all you can think of. She is their caregiver and is stressed one day when she’s stuck in a meeting and can’t leave to feed them. Reader decides to sneak out and is secretly followed by rowaelin who sees what she’s up to. They confront her and decide to open up a real shop together instead.

Puppy Love

poly!Rowaelin x Reader fluff

The orange glow of the dawning sun spilled upwards through the sky, shades of pink blurring like watercolor paint. The morning air was crisp as you breathed into your hands to warm them on your brisk walk towards the abandoned barn. 

A wince escaped you as the hinges on the wooden door creaked, looking over your shoulder for any watchful eyes as you slipped into the building. A nip at your heel had you gasping in surprise, turning to find one of the puppies tugging on your shoelace. “Good morning,” you cooed, picking up the naughty pup. You giggled as the tiny beast wriggled in your arms, eager to play. “We’ll have to find out how you made it out of your pen,” you murmured to the puppy, giving its head a scratch as you walked over to the stall, smiling at the dogs as they yipped at you in greeting.

Gently placing the pup with his brothers and sisters, you turned to start feeding the rest of the animals. It was a challenge keeping up your makeshift home for these animals, but your heart swelled as you looked around at the sweet eyes of the puppies, the kittens, the ducks, and- 

Hand to your chest, you attempted to catch your breath after the shock of the goats bleating. “Alright, alright. I’m getting your food,” you grumbled. It was too much work for one person to take care of all of these animals, but you couldn’t bear the thought of burdening your mates with anymore responsibilities. Aelin and Rowan had an entire kingdom to run - they didn’t need to worry about the stray animals you had adopted.

A rooster crowed in the distance, signaling to you that the sun had fully risen. In your hurry to finish feeding the animals before your mates awoke, you missed the sound of the door creaking open behind you. 

A familiar, deep voice rumbled, “well what do we have here?” You whipped around to see Rowan smirking at you, arms crossed as he leaned next to the puppy pen where Aelin stood holding the same mischievous puppy from earlier. 

Nearly dropping the pail of food for the ducks, you scrambled to find words. “Wh-what are you two doing here?”

Aelin held the puppy’s nose to hers, laughing as it tried to nip at her. “We’d been wondering where you were sneaking off to every morning.” Scoffing at the look of shock that crossed your face, Aelin asked, “did you think we didn’t notice?” 

She shook her head, mirthful eyes tracking your reaction. “I will say, I wasn’t expecting a full animal rescue,” she admitted, gesturing to the barn full of creatures surrounding you. “Why would you keep this from us?”

Suddenly feeling ashamed, your shoulders caved in, cheeks flushed as you confessed everything. “I couldn’t bear the thought of burdening the two of you with anything else. I was going to tell you once I had figured out a solution of what to do with them.”

Rowan let out a rough laugh, his eyes searching the space as though he were taking a mental tally of every pet you had acquired. “And how many animals would you have acquired before you came to us for help?”

Noticing the defeat on your face, Rowan moved towards  you, but stopped in his tracks as you held up a hand. “I thought I could do this one thing, on my own.”

Aelin set the puppy down, bounding towards you. She took your hands in hers, light shining in her beautiful eyes leaving you mesmerized. “I know you can do this on your own, but Rowan’s point is that you don’t have to. We’re your mates, you shouldn’t worry about burdening us with things like this. It’s what we are here for.”

Rowan nodded, his boots crunching against the hay on the ground as he moved slowly towards you. With a smile, you pulled him in, embracing the both of them. “Thank the gods, because I do need your help,” you admitted, a breathy laugh escaping your lips.

Pressing a kiss to your temple, Rowan pulled back as he surveyed the space once more. “Do you want to keep them all?”

Your eyes widened as you shook your head vehemently. “No, no - I don’t think so. As much as I love them, I would rather them find loving homes with people who can give them the attention they deserve.” 

Rowan nodded his head. “I think we can find you a store front in town, then. We could hire some people to help out - make this much easier, so the weight isn’t all on you.”

You smiled appreciatively, reaching up to peck his cheek as Aelin disappeared from your side, only to return shortly with the pup from earlier. “Maybe... we keep this one? As a friend for Fleetfoot?”

Rowan groaned as you laughed and nodded, leaning down to scratch the dog’s ears as it licked your nose. 

Rowan wrapped an arm around you, Aelin coming to lean against your opposite shoulder as she held her new puppy. “Let’s go get breakfast, and then we can go to town and get started on our new adoption center.”

[gothicallybright]

SHE GETS THE JOB DONE! (2)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

you and chappell are left alone in the house, leading to some intimate activities.

w: smut. (it's down there don't worry, you just have to scroll.)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The next morning, sunrise slowly painted the sky with hues of orange and yellow. The soft sun rays streaked through the cracked open barn door, casting a stream of light into the dim interior. The rooster's crow echoed across the quiet countryside, signaling the new day.

You slowly awoke, but not to the sound of the rooster, rather to the sound of a harmonica playing from the barn, its sound adding a touch of peace to the morning. Your husband was thankfully away at work, leaving you alone with Chappell finally.

The morning light grew stronger, illuminating the surrounding countryside. A gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. You sighed softly, inhaling the countryside smells, pushing a stray loose strand of hair over your ear, and approached the barn, your steps softer and calmer now.

You quietly walked to the barn, pushing the door gently. Your eyes fell on Chappell sitting on the hay, harmonica in hand, her hat casting a shadow over her face. You stood there, a soft smile tugging on your lips, watching Chappell play the harmonica, the quiet barn filled with the soft, mellow tune. The soft tune of the harmonica paused, and Chappell looked up, noticing your presence. She stopped playing, her fingers still resting gently against the harmonica. The soft sunlight illuminating the barn, adding a warm glow.

You stepped farther into the barn, your footsteps hushed against the hay-strewn floor. You reached Chappell and lowered yourself down next to her on the hay. You sat quietly, your hands clasped gently over your knees, the atmosphere in the barn feeling more… intimate. You both stayed quiet for a few moments, simply listening to the faint sounds of the countryside and the distant song of birds.

''My husband left for work.'' you said softly, a hint of relief in your voice. Chappell asked to shower quickly, and you nodded. ''Yes, of course you can. I'll show you the way.'' You told her, getting up from the hay and offering her a hand which she accepted. Chappell fed her mare before following you into the house. The echo of her boots hitting the wooden floor brought you great comfort. You took the lead and guided Chappell towards the bathroom. The house was quiet, and soft morning sunlight streamed through the window. You opened the bathroom door for her and turned on the light, indicating where the towels and toiletries were. She lowered her hat and smiled, a simple thank you gesture before leaving outside to take her spare clothes she brought with her.

As Chappell began showering, you decided to make breakfast for the two of you. A little appreciation of her hard work. You moved around the kitchen, starting to prepare breakfast, the smells of bacon, eggs, and coffee filling the air. The clatter of kitchenware and the sound of sizzling bacon filled the home, making it cozy. You worked diligently, your moves familiar in the kitchen, humming softly to a country song, your attention divided between the cooking and the water running from the bathroom.

The breakfast was finished and ready to be served. You carefully placed the two plates opposite of each other, serving the same amount of food on them. You placed the two cups from the cabinet and filled them with coffee. Chappell stepped into the kitchen, her reddish curls still wet from the shower. She was dressed in a clean set of clothes, her outfit simple yet stylish, a hint of country charm. The scent of soap mingled with the aroma of the food, her skin still a bit damp, and her curls a little wilder from the shower. Water droplets clung lightly to her shirt, adding to the just-showered look. You turned and looked at Chappell, the heat instantly flashing on your cheeks. You watched, her clothes clinging slighting to her damp skin, perfectly shaping her figure. Your eyes widened slightly, expression a mix of surprise, admiration and subtle attraction.

''Breakfast? Oh. You didn't have to do that, ma'am.'' Chappell said, a nervous laugh escaping her mouth. You smiled, looking slightly flustered, still holding the coffee machine in your hands. "Oh, it's no trouble," you said, your voice light and sincere, your eyes still tracing Chappell gently. You sat down at the table, shaking your head gently. "I thought you might appreciate something to eat before you start your work," you added.

''Thank you.'' Chappell expressed her gratitude, a soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She took a seat at the table, appreciating the food laid out before her. You two ate in a comfortable silence, the quiet only broken by the clinks of silverware and the soft sounds of chewing, the only other sound the murmur of birds outside the window. The sun streamed in, casting a soft, warm glow over the table.

You finally felt at peace while eating breakfast. No yelling and complaining, just silence.

''No antlers on the walls?'' Chappell pointed out, gesturing towards the empty spot on the doorway. You chuckled slightly. ''No. Mating doesn't call in this house.'' Chappell raised an eyebrow, ''How so?'' ''Well, I guess it's just that… he can't satisfy me enough.'' You looked to the side, remembering how disgusted you felt during intimacy with him. Chappell shrugged. ''He just doesn't get the job done.'' She said, wiping her hands on a rag and getting up from the table. She picked up her dirty plate and brought it to the sink, washing it clean and placing it on the dish drainer. You were stunned. Your husband never did that. You always had to wash his plates. Chappell noticed your surprised stare and smiled. ''It's just manners, ma'am.'' she says in her usual accent. You watched her quietly, your eyes following every movement, feeling a strange flutter in your chest.

Your eyes slowly trail away from her and onto the colorful sticky note placed on the fridge door. Your eyes narrow with curiosity as you peel it off, reading the words. It was from your husband.

''Bussiness trip. Will be away for 2 days. I better not see any trace of the carpenter by the time I'm home.''

Your eyes sparkled up with joy and a smile quickly replaced your curious expression. You quickly rushed over to Chappell who was swaying her hips to the songs on the radio, washing the dishes. ''Chappell, Chappell!'' Chappell looked up, her blue eyes meeting yours. You could see a hint of curiosity on her face. "Ah, yes?" she replied, her voice carrying a hint of interest. You took a moment to compose herself, your heart beating slightly faster, anticipation coursing through you. "My husband will be out of town for the next two days. He's on a business trip." You said, your eyes watching Chappell, awaiting her reaction. Chappell tilted her head slightly, a mix of surprise and curiosity in her expression, "Your husband's going on a business trip?" she mused out loud. You nodded, your excitement barely contained, a smile threatening to widen on your lips.

Chappell stared at you blankly, and the next thing you know, you're outside with her, laughing your asses off, your old vintage camera in hands, taking pictures. ''God, you're such an idiot!'' You said through laughter as you hit Chappell playfully. ''What??'' She exclaimed, a confused happiness on her face. ''What even is that face? You look like a duck!'' Chappell pretended to be offended, letting out a scoff. ''Ma'am… it's called duck face for a reason.'' You rolled your eyes with a smile. ''Whatever.''

You started to flip through the other pictures you took, noticing how happier you looked with her than your husband. As you continued to flip, a picture of you came up that you took a few months back. It was a picture of you sitting on top of your favorite cow, Bessie. Chappell's eyes light up, pointing out how cute that is. You suggested that she also takes a picture like that, and she gladly accepted.

With a good-natured grin, you led Bessie into the backyard. Chappell, with her nimbleness, quickly climbed onto the cow's back and posed, balancing herself perfectly, camera in hand ready for the perfect shot. Bessie, usually calm and docile, suddenly seemed to have a change in mood. Her head jerked around, her eyes narrowing, and she let out a low grumble, as if annoyed. A moment later, she abruptly began to toss her head and body, trying to shake off Chappell.

She yelped as she was suddenly set flying off of the cow's back, landing on her ass, the cowboy hat she had been wearing fell off her head. You were taken aback by Bessie's unusual tantrum, but when you saw Chappell laying on the ground, hat knocked off, you burst out into laughter.

Chappell, still laughing softly despite the slight pain in her ass, slowly got up from the ground. Her unruly red curls were even more disheveled now, pieces of hay tangled within them, making her look like she'd just finished a wrestling match with Bessie. You quickly picked up the camera that fell on the ground and snapped a picture of Chappell, hay in her hair and her clothes stained from the dirt. The candid shot captured the moment perfectly, freezing it in time. Chappell, realizing you had taken the picture, pretended being annoyed, pretending to pout. She crossed her arms, a mock frown on her face. "Ay, you took a picture of me when I looked like a mess," she protested, although the playful tone of her voice betrayed her true feelings. You laughed slightly. ''Well, I like that mess.'' You winked at her and her pretended pout was replaced by a grin.

''Oh? I'll give you a mess then.''

She grabbed a handful of hay. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the hay at you, aiming it to land in your hair and on your clothes. You let out a surprised laugh as the hay dusted your hair and landed on your clothes. You placed the camera on the ground and began to frantically swat at the pieces of hay, trying to get them off, but the hay seemed to cling stubbornly, sticking to your shirt and hair. The grin on Chappell's face broadened, her laughter ringing out as she continued to throw more hay, clearly enjoying your 'suffering'. As you were distracted by swatting away the hay, Chappell took the opportunity, grabbed the camera and took a picture of you in a total mess. ''There ya go! Now we're even, miss!'' She teased you as you were shaking your head at her, still swatting away the hay.

Time was passing by fast and you continued to hang out with Chappell outside as the afternoon slowly turned into evening and the sun slowly set, casting warm, golden hues across the sky. The soft, warm light of the setting sun added a cozy ambience to the whole property. You and Chappell, still giggling and covered in hay, decided to retreat inside as the sun was close to setting now. You walked back into the house, the warm, familiar interior awaiting you, still carrying the same laughter and high spirits from the time you had just spent outside.

As dinner concluded, Chappell and you moved to the upstairs bedroom, the warm, gentle feel of the room creating an intimate setting. You settled yourselves on the bed, the television in front of you displaying a show, the artificial light from the screen casting a faint glow on your faces. You were now lying next to each other, your bodies dangerously close, a hint of thrill in the air as your shoulders occasionally brushed against each other.

Your heart was beating fast, your breath rigged a bit. The wedding ring on your finger weighed heavily on your conscience. You were married, but you didn't care about that now. You took off the ring and placed it on the nightstand table which caught Chappell's attention. ''You okay?'' She asked. The gentle smell of soap filled your nose due to the shower you both took a few minutes ago, her hair still a bit wet. The tension between you was palpable, building up like a storm. You noticed Chappell leaning closer to you, your lips now inches apart. Without another moment's hesitation, you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips to hers. You could tell Chappell was taken aback at first, but she quickly deepened the kiss, her hands roaming over your body like a map. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer as your bodies began to sway against each other. You ran your fingers through her hair, feeling the wetness of it as she climbed on top of you. The kiss deepened, your tongues intertwining in a sensual dance. Chappell gripped you tighter, your bodies melding together.

Her hands continued to roam, exploring every curve and line of your body. Chappell's lips descended from your lips to your neck, claiming it in a searing kiss. She sucked gently, relishing the soft skin beneath her lips. You arched your back, your nails raking through her hair. She increased the pressure, leaving a hickey on your delicate skin. When she was satisfied, she unbuttoned your shirt, kissing down your chest, lips trailing on your stomach. The sounds from the TV were slowly getting muffled out from your aroused moaning as Chappell kissed her way down to your inner thigh, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin. She paused, her lips hovering over your core, hot and tantalizing. You squirmed beneath her, your hips lifting, begging for more. She slowly slid the barrier that was sealing your sweet spot and her tongue began circling your most sensitive spot, causing your eyes to water in pleasure and your hips to lift, seeking more of her touch. She noticed your desperation and increased the pressure, her tongue applying just the right amount of pressure on your spot, driving you wild. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly, your cries of ecstasy echoing through the room, completely drowning out the TV sounds. You felt a knot forming in your stomach, and the moment she slid her fingers in, the knot untied, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You exhaled loudly, your eyes closing in a bliss, your hands slowly releasing the bed sheets which were left disheveled.

After the passion had ceased, you found yourself in Chappell's arms, your bodies still intertwined. Soft, comforting words and whispers filled the air as you gently caressed each other. Chappell would trail delicate kisses along your collarbone or neck, a soft murmur of "I love you" accompanying the tender touch. Your fingers would gently trace the contours of her body, a soothing pattern of touch and connection. The atmosphere was warm and intimate, the room filled with a gentle, comforting energy. You snuggled up to her as close as possible as the TV began flashing your favorite TV show.

[x22817]

Hek and I went to the farm down the street for a bit before it got too hot. It was still too hot.

Most stores we usually go to aren't really big training opportunities anymore. Our heel has gotten really sloppy doing all the socialization we have been blessed with lately. I am grateful, but it has shown us where our weaknesses are. This is why I am trying to find moderately difficult environments to practice.

At the farm, we have food, sculptures, flowers, and animals all at eye level for Hek. This includes a giant rooster named Foghorn who is allowed to wander freely around the property. He is a very kind rooster with a very small personal bubble (never thought I'd say that about a rooster).

We left side heeled the whole time. I am having her get out of the car the same way, so she stays between me and the car until we get to a non car area. The remaining time she stayed on my left.

It was a little difficult for us at the beginning. I say us because I am still getting used to her being on my left in public. I am reaching for a treat bag that is now on my left side, and I walk on the left side of the path rather than the right. Hek is also so programmed (for lack of a better word) to be on my right that she does bump into me sometimes when we are turning.

We started in the greenhouse where Foghorn hangs out. Hek is always fascinated by him, so we made lots of laps around him while he was walking around. It took us two passes for Hek to automatically leave him be.

Once we really nailed the rows of the greenhouse and left turns in small spaces, we moved out to the barn. I let her have one lap in the grassy area around the goats and ponies to sniff before asking for one heel around the same route. Hek needed two reminders to stay in a heel (I thought it was interesting because that's exactly what she needed by Foghorn, too). The barn is out in the sun, so we were done really quickly with that.

In the store we walked past two people in wheelchairs and several toddlers all on Hek's side without so much as a sniff to any of them.

hot puppy + cold floor = 😋

[nykie-love-anime]

Marry Me

Inspired by the song Marry Me by Thomas Rhett

Marry Me ~ Jake x Reader - Platonic Bradley x Reader

She wants to get married; she wants it perfect

You just wanted to have the perfect wedding for you and Jake. That is why it is almost taking two years to plan but you could not be more excited to marry the man of your dreams.

She wants her granddaddy preaching the service

Yeah, she wants magnolias out in the country

Not too many people, save her daddy some money

The wedding will be small out it in the countryside with just close family and friends. The perfect Rustic Wedding you have been dreaming about all your life. The barn with be filled with pink and white magnolias because that is Jake’s favourite flower.

As a promise from early childhood between granddaughter and grandfather, your grandfather will be preaching the wedding along with walking you down the aisle.

Ooh, she got it all planned out

Yeah, I can see it all right now

And everybody knows what you want you will get because Hangman is so in love with you, and he just wants you happy. Rooster could see it from the beginning of their second week being back at Top Gun, where Jake fell in love with you and Bradley fell even more.

I'll wear my black suit, black tie, hide out in the back

I'll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask

I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees

The day of the wedding you could not be happier as you were walking down the aisle with your grandfather. Your grandmother in the front row was smiling with tears in her eyes - her thoughts being filled with how happy your parents would have been to see their little girl walking down the aisle to the love of her life. But knows that they are watching down at you with smiles on their faces.

Rooster in the back not wanting you to see him pushing back the tears threatening to spill. His hand in his black suit pocket to get the flask he was storing for this moment. He doesn’t want to show everybody how be feels but as he feels a hand on his shoulder the first tear spill.

Maverick sighed knowing how his best friends son feels, seeing the woman you love marry someone else he experienced all those years back.

Yes, she wanna get married

But she don't wanna marry me

Bradley let out a sad sigh knowing you wanted to get married and have a small wedding with close friends and family. He knows you wanted a soulmate to grow old with, but it would not be him. Even if it killed him to be here, he wanted you happy.

He knows he will never the one who gets to marry you. Never the one spending your nights with anymore all because he was too scared to say something earlier.

I remember the night when I almost kissed her

Yeah, I kinda freaked out, we'd been friends for forever

And I always wondered if she felt the same way

When I got the invite, I knew it was too late

As he thought back to his and your last day of high school at the after party he could kick himself for not kissing you then and there. It freaked him out to have the thought of kissing you because you have been best friends since you were small kids. Growing up together as just friends changed his adolescence thoughts that you have cooties to wanting your cooties all to himself.

As he snapped out of his thoughts he wondered if you have ever felt the same way. And when he got the wedding invitation, he knew he was too late to confess how he has been feeling. It was too late to kiss you with all his might.

And I know, her daddy's been dreading this day

Oh, but he don't know he ain't the only one giving her away

Bradley know your grandfather is very happy for you, but he is dreading the day of giving his only granddaughter away. But what he does not know is that he is not the only one who is giving you away.

I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees

Rooster once again listens to your grandfather hoping nobody sees him silently crying for a love that was never his and never will be his.

But she got on her dress now, welcoming the guests now

At the reception party he saw you. He saw you in your beautiful white dress with small magnolias in your hair smiling at the guests as they congratulate you and Jake and wishing you a long and love filled marriage.

I could try to find her, get it off of my chest now

But I ain't gonna mess it up, so I wish her the best now

Rooster wishes he could go up to you and get it off his chest how he feels about you. How long he have been in love with you. But he knows he cannot mess this friendship up over something he did not have the courage to get off his heart all those years back.

As he congratulate you and Jake it takes everything in him not to break down. You pulled Bradley into a hug and smiled at your best friend, him wishing you and Jake a wonderful marriage. As he walks away, he went straight to the bar.

So, I'm in my black suit, black tie, hiding out in the back

Doing a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask

I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees

Hiding at the bar is all Bradley could do not to cry, his crumbled black suit and tie matching shows how he feels now. Taking a strong shot of whiskey to get rid of the lump in his throat.

Yes, she wanna get married

Yes, she gonna get married

But she ain't gonna marry me

Whoa, but she ain't gonna marry me, no

All Rooster had on his mind as he watched you and Hangman dance was that you wanted to get married to your soulmate and now you are married. You are never going to marry him; you are never going to love him in the ways that you love Jake.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[sarahsmi13s]

Lieutenant Rogers - pt 2

Push Your Limits

pairings: romantic!neil ‘omaha’ vikander x rogers!reader, platonic!dagger squad x rogers!reader, plantonic!sam wilson x rogers!reader, platonic!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

characters: y/n rogers, neil vikander, the entire dagger squad (admirals and captain included), sam wilson, bucky barnes, james rhodes (this chapter only), john walker, lemar hoskins, misc. characters from both universes

warnings: language, blood, fighting, sexual inuendoes, john walker, cannon dangers, cannon deaths, suggestive themes, hangster?, if i miss any please let me know

word count: ~3.2k

a/n: if you couldn’t already tell, i’m OBSESSED with crossovers. reader is the daughter of steve rogers, and has the super soldier serum as well

sources: Top Gun: Maverick (2022) , The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)

series summary: 13 pilots were called back to Top Gun in 2023. at the same time, Lieutenant Rogers learns that her father’s shield was passed down to John Walker.

chapter summary: after learning of the shield’s new owner, star must press on with her duties as a naval aviator and start her training with her new team.

pt 1.   pt 3  pt 4  pt 5  pt 6

*************

The next morning, you woke up before the sun and Omaha tightened his hold on you. “Why? Why are you already awake?” “Because it’s wired into my being to be awake at ungodly hours, Neil. I thought you knew this.” “But after the events of last night, you shouldn’t be awake before my first alarm,” he nuzzled into your neck. You laughed and shook your head. “Come on, let’s get a run in.”

You pulled yourself from his arms and got up. “Or,” he sat up, “Or we could do another kind of cardio.” Omaha wiggled his brows, making you laugh and you decided to give in. “Alright, well, meet you in the bathroom then.” His face drops for a second, as he watches you go to your bathroom. “Wait seriously?” “Don’t keep me waiting, Aviator.”

After your ‘work-out’, you both ate breakfast in your underwear before getting dressed in your flight suits. “Come on, let's go. I don’t want to be late.”

*****

The tables in the hangar were arranged so that solo pilots sat alone and duos sat together, but not wanting to have an uneven number of rows they made two solos share a table. Which today was you and Rooster.

“Morning, Star.” You gave him a smile as he sat down. “Good morning Rooster. You have a nice run?” He laughed, “I did, but my running buddy never showed.” You nodded, “Ah, I’m sure she would have shown, she just got a little distracted this morning. But I can guarantee that she got her morning cardio in.” You smirked and glanced back at Omaha where he was in deep conversation with Halo.

“Attention on deck!” 

Chairs scraped on the concrete floor as you all stood up at attention. Cyclone and Warlock walked into the hangar, Warlock going straight to the podium. “G’Morning. Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated.” You all sat down and relaxed into your seats. 

“I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You’re all TOPGUN graduates. The elite. The best of the best.” Everyone had proud smiles and confident smirks on their faces.

“That was yesterday.” Well, there goes that. You sat up a little straighter and leaned in to focus. 

“The enemy's new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box.” You watched Hangman turn to look at Phoenix who subtly flipped him off and then he turned back to you. You just winked and sat back in your chair.

“Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve.” Hangman once again turned towards you, but this time he was looking at Rooster. 

When he turned back around you leaned over, “God, you can feel the sexual tension in DC.” Bradley whipped his head to look at you and he scoffed, “Shut up.”

“Your instructor is a TOPGUN graduate with real world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary.” 

You picked up the sound of boots first, but didn’t turn around until they got closer. “And he’s considered one of the finest pilots TOPGUN has ever produced.”

When you did turn around, you smirked at the man you saw. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Hangman’s face drop as he pinched his nose and turned around. “What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death.” You noticed both Coyote and Payback’s reactions as he walked past them.

“I give you, Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: ‘Maverick’.” You smiled a little, having admired his flying for quite some time, but you dropped it when you saw the disdain on Rooster’s face. You didn’t quite understand their history, but you knew it didn’t end well.

Maverick walked up to the podium and smiled, nodding to Hangman and Payback, “Good morning.” They both nodded back awkwardly, a little embarrassed. He scanned his eyes and found Rooster, but Bradley avoided eye contact and looked away.

Pete held back a sigh and continued, holding up a book, “The F-18 NATOPS. Contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft.” You inhaled, furrowing your brow as you wondered where he was going with this. “I’m assuming you know the book inside and out.” 

“Damn right.” “Yeah.” “You got it.” “Damn straight.” 

Maverick nodded and looked around, promptly throwing the book in the trash.

You let out an amused huff and glanced back at Omaha to see his mouth opened a little in shock. You turned back and made eye contact with Mav. “So does your enemy.” 

He glanced around again. “But what the enemy doesn’t know is your limits. I intend to find them, test them, push beyond.” Rooster rolled his eyes beside you.

“Today we’ll start with what you only think you know.” He looked at your table, glancing from you to Rooster, “You show me what you’re made of.”

******

Whoever wasn’t flying was in the ready room. 

“Good morning, aviators. This is your captain speaking.” You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “Welcome to basic fighter maneuvers. As briefed, today’s exercise is dogfighting. Guns only, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of 5,000 feet. Working as a team, you have to shoot me down, or else.” 

Payback challenged him, “Or else what, sir?” “Or else I shoot back.” You let out a low whistle and a chuckle. “If I shoot either one of you down, you both lose.”

Bob’s eyes were a little wider as he looked up at Phoenix then to you. “This guy needs an ego check,” Hangman said from his spot on the couch while twirling a model plane in his hand. You scoffed and shoved his shoulder, “Said the guy who needs an ego check.” “I heard that.” “Good, I wanted you to.”

“What do you say we put some skin in the game?” Payback challenge again. “Oh no, what do you have planned this time?” You mumbled as you stood next to Bob, leaning with one arm on his shoulder. 

“What do you have in mind?” Mav asked. “Whoever gets shot down first has to do 200 hundred push ups.” “Guys,” Rooster chimed in. “That’s a lot of push-ups.” “They don’t call it an exercise for nothin’, sir.” “You got yourselves a deal gentlemen.” 

Everyone in the room groaned. “Seriously Payback!?”

You shrugged, “That’s not that bad.” Harvard scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully at you, “Shut up, Rogers.”

*****

When it was your turn, you were in the air with Phoenix and Bob. 

“So, you two seemed pretty friendly at the Hard Deck last night?” “We went to the Academy together and then flight school right after that,” you explained, turning to try and find Maverick. “We’re basically best friends,” Bob piped up from the backseat. “‘Basically’, you wound me Bob. You truly wound me.” All of you laughed.

“Bob, you see him?” “Not-” “Shit!” Maverick came up and split you and Phoenix. “Fights on!”

You and Phoenix were engaged with Maverick. Eventually you broke from Phoenix to get the shot.

“Star, get him off me!” “Where’s your wingman, Phoenix?” Maverick chimed in.

You had a plan but couldn’t exactly communicate with her without Maverick hearing you. “Phoenix, when I give the signal break left!” “Got it.”

You took a deep breath and flew under Mav’s left wing. “Come on Star, don’t leave your wingman! Where’d you go?” “On your left,” you smirked and sped in front of him. “Now Phoenix!” She quickly broke off and Mav lost her.

“Effective, but you know that cost Rooster right?” “Oh, I’m aware. But I’m also aware of what cost Hangman.” You kept climbing in altitude, right in the light of the sun. Mav knew what you were doing but humored you anyway. “You think you can pull what I pulled on him, on me?” You hummed, “Not exactly, sir.”

Mav shook his head as he got tone, “That’s t-” He was cut off by his own tone going off. “What?” “That’s a kill, sir.” Phoenix chimed in. Mav sighed as you all flew back to the tarmac. 

“Who’s idea was that?” “Star’s, sir,” Bob said, pride in his voice. Maverick turned to you, and you gave him an assured smirk. “See me on the ground, Lieutenant.”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Once your plane landed, Phoenix and Bob gave you pats on the shoulder. “Hey, that was amazing. Hopefully the Captain’s not too hard on you.” You shrugged, “Nothing I won’t be used to.” You gave them a pat on the back and they went inside.

“Lieutenant Rogers!” You turned to see Maverick and Hondo walking toward you. “Yes, sir.” “That was some damn good flying up there.” You nodded, trying to hide the smile on your face, “Thank you, sir.” “And that was a pretty good plan… but it got you killed.” You tilted your head, “We got you though, didn’t we?” “But you put yourself in the line of fire, Star.” “Is it not a dogfight, sir?”

The group in the ready room watched your conversation with Mav from the window. Seeing you stand toe-to-toe with your instructor. 

They could tell you were a Rogers, there was no doubt. It was in the way you held yourself, standing your ground and shameless in your actions. “My girlfriend is such a badass,” Omaha said proudly. Hangman shook his head, “She’s so much like him…” 

“Star, you sacrificed yourself-” “And I would do it again, sir.” Mav clenched his jaw, he was also seeing what the rest of the squad was, your father. 

“Is that all, Captain?” He just nodded and walked away, leaving you with Hondo.

“I think he’s supposed to push your limits, Lieutenant,” he chuckled as you got down to do your push-ups. “Who says I have limits?” “Everyone’s got their limits, Rogers. Even you.” You just shrugged and started your push-ups.

******

“That’s 200!” You sighed and sat back on your heels. “Star, you barely broke a sweat! That’s so not fair!” Halo shouted, chuckling at the end. “Yeah, 200 hundred is nothing for her!” Coyote agreed. Omaha laughed and held a hand out to you to help you up. You just shook your head and swatted it away, smirk on your face. “I’ll do another 200 hundred, make it fair.” “Babe, you don’t have to do that.” “Yeah, Star, we’re just messing with you.”

Hondo just rolled his eyes, “Come on, Star, get up. You’re up soon with Payback and Fanboy.” You sighed and took Omaha’s still outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. You patted their backs, “Good luck.”

***** *two days later*

“So, Rooster? Mind if I ask you a personal question?” You rolled your eyes, arms crossed as you leaned on the window. “Would it matter if I did?” “So what’s the story with you and Maverick? It seems like he’s got you a little rattled.” 

You groaned, “God, Jake, don’t start.” 

“That’s none of your business. Now where the hell is he?” “Been here the whole time.” “Holy shit…” “You see me now? Come on, let’s get it over with.” “Fight’s on!” “What is with these two?”

You couldn’t see what the were doing, but based on the heavy breathing it was something stupid. 

You pushed off the window sill and moved over to the radio, leaning back onto the foosball table.

“All right, you put us here. How you gonna get yourself out?” “You can bail out anytime!” Your breath hitched, if they didn’t stop soon it wouldn’t be pretty. “How low you wanna go, Rooster?” “I can go as low as you sir, and that’s saying something!” 

You shook your head, “Their egos are gonna get them killed.” 

“What’s past is past. For both of us!” “You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you?”

Hangman chimed in, “Hard deck is 5,000 feet, fellas. You are running out of room!” You stood up straighter. “Come on, get out of it Rooster,” you mumbled. “Your strategy is about to run us into the ground. What’s your move?”

Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure everyone could hear it. 

Finally, they got out of the cobra maneuver. 

“Now you got it. Don’t think, just do.” “Come on, Rooster, you got him! Drop down and take the shot!” 

You sucked in a breath, hoping that someone could finally beat Maverick with both planes in the air. “It’s too low!” You groaned and ran a hand down your face. “Too late. You had your chance.” It was quiet for a moment before the tone was heard. 

“Damn it, Rooster.” “That’s a kill. Knock it off.” “Damn it!” “Same ol’ Rooster.” “Go see Hondo about your push-ups.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you walked away.

You were done for the day after that stunt and you decided to go to the gym.

“Star! Y/N, hey!” 

You sharply turned, “What?” Phoenix held her hands up, “Woah, sorry.” You sighed and rolled your shoulders. “No, I’m sorry. What’s up?” “I just wanted to check on you, you looked a little upset.” You gave her a small smile, “Thanks, Phoenix. But I’ll be fine, Rooster’s stunt just upset me.” She nodded, “Yeah, me too.” You sighed and gestured behind you, “I’m gonna change and then hit the gym, I could use a spotter.” She smiled and nodded, following you.

*****

Today you would actually be working on the practice course for the mission at hand.

“Time is your greatest enemy.” He turned to the board, “Phase one of the mission will be a low level ingress attacking in two plane teams. You’ll fly along this narrow canyon to your target. Radar-guided surface-to-air missiles defend the area. These SAMs, they’re lethal. But they were designed to defend the skies above, not the canyon below.” You tensed in your seat beside Hangman. “That’s because the enemy knows no one is insane enough to try and fly below them,” Rooster acknowledged.

Hangman glanced down at you, smirking a little bit. Mainly because you were insane enough to fly through a narrow canyon, you had done it before. But at that time you were alone.

Maverick turned and looked at Rooster, “That’s exactly what I’m gonna train you to do.” 

He looked at everyone, “On the day, your altitude will be 100 feet maximum. You exceed this… radar will spot you and you’re dead. Your air speed will be 660 knots minimum.”

You side-eyed Hangman as he straightened in his seat, smirking a little and folding his hands together. You could already tell he had a plan and you weren’t sure you liked it.

“Time to target: two and half minutes. That’s because fifth-generation fighters wait at an airbase nearby. In a head to head with these planes in your F-18s, you’re dead.” 

There was something in his voice you recognized, fear. 

“That’s why you need to get in, hit your target, and be gone before these planes even have a chance of catching you. This makes time your great adversary.”

As Maverick began to explain the training, your fingers twitched in both anticipation and worry. 

“You’ll fly a route in your nav system that simulates the canyon. The faster you navigate this canyon, the harder it’ll be to stay under the radar of these enemy SAMs. The tighter the turns, the more intensely the force of gravity on your body multiplies… compressing your lungs, forcing the blood from your brain… impairing your judgment and reaction time. So for today’s lesson we’re gonna take it easy on you. Max ceiling: 300 feet. Time to target: three minutes. Good luck.”

******

You pinched your nose as you watched the replay of your run with Omaha and Halo. You were better than that.

“Why are you dead?” He was looking at you, brows raised. You sighed and looked up at him, “I was going too fast, turn was too tight.” 

Mav crossed his arms. “You’ve flown a canyon tighter than this one-” You nodded, jaw clenched, “Yes, sir.” “So, why are you dead?” “I made a mistake, sir.” 

He watched your hand flex as you looked down. “A mistake that should have gotten you all killed,” Mav looked back at Omaha and Halo before back at you.

“You’re wingman lived, but not you. Why?” Omaha spoke up, “She communicated, sir. Warned us to decrease speed, she knew she wasn’t gonna make the turn but she didn’t have time to slow down herself.”

It actually didn’t take Maverick long to get a read on you. He knew you were a sacrificer, that you were the one to lay on the wire. 

It both impressed and terrified Maverick at how okay you were with the idea of dying. He honestly couldn’t really understand why you were that way, not until now.

When Omaha, your boyfriend, told him why he and Halo were alive because you did communicate and made sure they had time to save themselves rather than save yourself, he really put the pieces together. The reason why in the dogfighting exercise you made yourself the bait if it had to come down to it. 

It was because you couldn’t bear the thought of someone dying when you had the opportunity to save them. Call it a hero complex but it was true, you were your father through and through.

He looked at you and he wanted to say something, but saying it in front of everyone probably wasn’t the best idea. “Can I talk to you, Lieutenant? Alone.” You nodded, “Yes, sir.”

You both walked out into the hall. “Why are you so keen on saving everyone but yourself?” You furrowed your brow, “I’m not sure I follow, sir.” “Star, you’ve barely made it out of an exercise alive. You’re sacrificing yourself. Do you want your teammates to face your family at a funeral, knowing that it should have been them?” He said that last part breathlessly, and you picked up on it. 

“My family is gone, Captain. I would rather them come home alive, than have to come home and face their devastated families knowing that I could have done more,” tears stung the back of your eyes and you looked away from him.

Maverick knew that look. 

You had already been through it before, facing a family with nothing but guilt and regret. 

He sighed, “Your father would be proud of you.” You looked back at him, letting out a breath and a hushed, “Thank you, sir.” 

“But I need you to worry about yourself just as much as you worry about everyone else in there. I don’t think Captain Rogers wants to see you so soon.” You cleared your throat and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

****** *Later*

You glanced at Rooster’s face as you held him back, “Rooster! Bradshaw!”

He was furious, but his strength didn’t match yours. 

Hangman step up into his face, “He’s not ready for this mission.” He looked at Maverick, “You know I’m right.”

You caught his eye as he left and your blood boiled.

You looked at Rooster. “Hey, hey, he’s just being an ass.” Rooster shook in anger under your hands and shook you off before stomping away after being dismissed.

******

“Hangman, that was way out of line!” You marched into the locker room, eyes blazing. 

“I wasn’t wrong,” he turned around, smirking like he did nothing wrong. You got up in his face, “That was unfair, and just flat out cruel, Jake.” “He needs to let go of the past. It’s gonna get him killed. Every time he’s in the air, he is flying against a ghost. A ghost not even you can save him from.” 

You knew he was right, Rooster needed to settle whatever this was he had with Maverick. But Rooster wasn’t the only one that was hanging on to the past.

************

first week of training down! LET’S GO! 

but maverick has picked up on our tendency to sacrifice ourself, has that already fueled his decision reguarding our participation in this mission?

can we save rooster from his ghosts?

tags <3: @milesdickpic​ @luckyladycreator2​ @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

<3 love ya babes

comment if you want to be tagged :D

[bestiarium]

The Ovinnik [Slavic mythology; Russian myths]

Slavic and Russian folklore has several domestic spirits, such as the Domovoi and the Bannik. They could be either kind or malicious, but the most dangerous of them was the Ovinnik.

This creature resided in threshing barns, which is where the straw is separated from the edible grain. These buildings were highly flammable and therefore associated with danger and death, which is possibly where the idea came from that a dangerous spirit lives there (or perhaps, and this is just conjecture, the Ovinnik was made up by parents to dissuade children from playing there). In northern Russia, the threshing barn was located a good distance away from the rest of the farmstead, to prevent it from lighting the other buildings on fire should the barn’s furnace accidentally ignite the straw (note: the furnace was used to dry the grain).

Usually, an Ovinnik took the form of a particularly large black cat. Its eyes were red and glowed like burning coals. Other times, these spirits appeared as large wolves. In other sources, the Ovinnik is often portrayed as a human-like creature sitting close to a furnace.

It was the Ovinnik spirit who oversaw the use of the furnace: he forbade the people from lighting it on certain holidays, as well as days with a particularly strong wind. If the people ignored his warnings, he would burn the entire thing to the ground. One story, for example, is about a woman who beat flax on a sacred day and was burned to death as a punishment. In another tale, a farmer outsmarted the spirit and cast it into a burning fire, giving the Ovinnik a taste of its own medicine. But the creature survived and returned years later. Out of vengeance, it killed the farmer’s son.

Aside from burning farmstead to ashes, the Ovinnik had the ability to see into the future and could be consulted at the start of a new year. The spirit received offerings from the people, such as roosters that were decapitated and their blood sprinkled over the corners of the barn.

Although these beings were undoubtedly dangerous, they weren’t always evil. In one story, the spirit found a child who was being chased by the undead ghost of an old woman. The Ovinnik fought the ghost to protect the kid, and the two spirits clashed until the sun rose. In other versions, the spirit is sometimes called Rigačnik and this version offers protection from evil wizards. While this is a different version of the same being, its appearance differs a bit: a Rigačnik appears as a man with short, curly hair dressed in stained, torn clothing. He actively helps the owners of the farmstead.

Eventually, Christianity influenced the local folklore and mythology and the tale of the Ovinnik was among them. The Christians tried to change the public opinion of the Ovinnik by making it into a bogeyman that could only be seen during the morning service on Easter Sunday. However, people kept making offerings to the Ovinnik as a spirit of the furnace. Eventually, the Ovinnik was changed to a kind of Christian protective spirit, and that is why he forbids people from using the furnace on (Christian) sacred holidays, such as Saint Thekla Zarevnica’s holiday, which is the 23rd of September. Eventually, the Domovoy (which is possibly the most popular and well known Slavic household spirit) adopted the traits and functions of the Ovinnik and other similar spirits.  

Sources: Ivanits, L. J., 1989, Russian Folk Belief, M. E. Sharpe, 249 pp. Haase, F., 1939, Volksglaube und Brauchtum der Ostslaven, Georg Olms Verslag, 428 pp. Лисина, Е. A., 2020, ТРАДИЦИОННЫЕ РИТУАЛЫ В СОВРЕМЕННОЙ РОССИЙСКОЙ МЕНТАЛЬНОСТИ, ЕВРАЗИЙСКИЙ ЮРИДИЧЕСКИЙ ЖУРНАЛ, 2(141), p.491-492. (image source: Ivan Bilibin)

[jungle-angel]

A Rancher's Best Helper (Miles Miller x Reader)

Summary: A farmer's best friend has always been his canine companion

Tagging: @floydsmuse Meggy I think it's safe to say this is gonna be our thing (lol).

Miles, Otis and the other hands herded the last of the cattle into the pen at the back of the barn. Miles held onto the horse's reins with one hand and protectively held two year old Benny with the other, the little one all bundled up in his little tan Carhartt jacket, knit hat and mittens. It was barely three in the afternoon and the snow had already started, but amidst the sea of loudly mooing cattle, Miles saw a blob of grey, black and white darting in and out and behind them.....Shaggy.

Miles, Otis and the hands whistled and commanded the cattle towards the pen while Shaggy did his part and herded them in. As soon as the bolt had been thrown across the fence, the most arduous part of their workday was done.

"That's it Shaggy," Miles called to the dog. "You're all done."

Shaggy barked and stood on his hind legs, eagerly accepting the homemade bacon treat that Miles had pulled out of his jacket pocket.

Miles dismounted first, adjusting his black cowboy hat on his head before lifting Benny off the saddle and onto his hip. One of the hands took the horse and brought her back to the stables before Miles sauntered off with Shaggy beside him to go and finish the rest of the chores before sunset.

"We gonna go get eggies again daddy?" Benny chirped.

"Yep," Miles told him. "We've gotta go get eggies for the morning."

Miles lifted the latchkey on the door to the chicken coop, taking the black wire basket that hung on a nearby hook. Inside was full of the hens clucking to each other, some huddling together in the nesting boxes to keep warm and their chicks nestled beside or underneath them. The rooster had been feeling particularly broody the last few days, often allowing a few chicks to sleep in his end of the hut while the head hen had been feeling the same. Sure enough, in the nesting box were seven unfertilized eggs which Kathy would no doubt, be using to make the egg casserole for Christmas morning.

A few of the hens that remained outside were quickly herded in by Shaggy, loudly clucking and flapping their wings from having been suddenly startled. "Good boy," Miles said, giving him another one of the bacon treats.

Once the work in the coop was done, Miles let Shaggy run for a good long while, before going to close up the rabbit hutch for the night. The hutch had been built from an abandoned shed on the property, now repurposed to house the rabbits whose shedded hair could be used to make soft wool and fabric.

"Uh oh, uh oh," Benny suddenly chirped. "Daddy! Daddy where's Peter?!"

"Aw shit," Miles swore. He counted again to see how many bunnies were in the hutch and had counted only thirteen, the fourteenth nowhere to be found.

Shaggy came running back with something in his mouth a moment later, a tan and cream colored little bunny with long ears, holding him gently by the scruff of his neck.

"There you are you little shit," Miles chuckled. "You know Peter? This shit's gotta stop sooner than later. There's coyotes, bears and a bunch of other creepy stuff in the woods."

He wasn't lying, not at all. Montana wasn't particularly known for its friendly variety of wildlife. Miles had learned quickly that if you were a rancher in the field, it was always best to carry a rifle, feeling much less antsy about doing so ever since a grizzly bear had tried to sneak into the pasture the previous winter. The bears had been the reason he hated when it got dark early. That first encounter had scared him so shitless that he and Otis had agreed it best to have the critters in before dark.

Peter was promptly put with his brothers and sisters for the night and the rabbit hutch firmly and doubly locked up for the night, the fresh sawdust bedding having been laid down the night before after Otis had cleaned up the woodshop.

The goats, the sheep and the pigs were the last ones to go in for the night. Unusually enough, the poor little runty piglet had been left behind, trying to keep up with his brothers and sisters, but luckily Shaggy had caught him the same way he had Peter.

"Alright buddy," Miles said, scooping the piglet up and tucking him into his jacket. "Let's go in."

Miles brought him into the section of the barn where Bertha and Hamlet tended to their own brood of piglets. The big boar came right up to Miles as he stooped to his level and let him sniff the little piglet before the runty little thing dove from Miles's hands and right to his sire. He tried to push his way in to nurse with Bertha shoving aside some of the more well fed ones so that the runt could have his share.

With everything done at last, Miles brought Benny back to the cottage and Shaggy with him. It felt so good to at last, get out of the freezing winter evening and into a warm house. Christmas Eve would be the very next day with family and friends coming from all over the states to spend the holiday with you and Miles.

"Well good evening o' husband of mine," you chuckled.

"Hi sweetpea," Miles said, kissing your lips and then Baby Jesse's little head before stripping off his jacket.

You very gently handed two week old Jesse off to Miles, having just fed him a half hour ago, his soft coos filling Miles's ears as Miles rocked him gently.

"Sweet, sweet boy," Miles softly cooed. "You and your brother are so loved......yes you are."

Miles could have swore he saw a little smile on Jesse's sleepy face as he went and seated himself on the soft green sofa in the living room. Shaggy jumped up beside him and began sniffing Baby Jesse before Miles snapped his fingers. "Down," he commanded. "Lay down."

Shaggy laid right down, his paws stretched out in front of him as he yawned, sniffing Jesse a little gentler than before. You snuggled in beside Miles as the fire crackled away and Benny joined you. You were so happy and so grateful for the family that you had, especially a furry companion who had made a huge amount of difference for you both.

[harleycao]

hiiii. im here to ask you some unnecessary and completely random questions//make you list something

: ̗̀➛ opinion on turtles?

: ̗̀➛ do you like roosters?

: ̗̀➛ does it snow where you live?

: ̗̀➛ do you have a painting or poster in your room? if so, what is it and why do you have it?

: ̗̀➛ tell me 3 random facts about you that you've never said online

(FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS. MY FRIEND (MARE OR @/STVRLIGHHTT) DOES THIS AND SHES NOT ON TUMBLR ATM SOO)

happy holidays my beloved mutual <3

Hi! I'm more than happy to answer these!

1. Opinion on turtles?

I think they're cute and kind of interesting. I actually remember finding a turtle in our driveway once when I was little and my mom had to stop me from trying to play with it. A friend got it out of the driveway so it wouldn't get run over or anything.

2. Do you like roosters?

I mean, I don't really have an opinion either way. I definitely wouldn't like to be woken up by one every morning. (Is that really a thing?)

So, ambivalent, I guess.

3. Does it snow where you live?

It used to snow once every few years or so. But it doesn't ever really snow nowadays. I'm okay with that, though.

4 do you have a painting/poster in your room?

Dude, i have so many! I have some pantings. Two, I believe. A ballerina because....actually, I'm not sure why I got that one. i think my mom got it for me or something 😅

I also have a mermaid painting by the same artist as the ballerina. I actually commissioned that one.

I have a doctor who poster, at least 3 Harley Quinn posters, a bucky Barnes poster, a captain America poster. I also have some other decorations. I really love being able to decorate my room (before the house I live in now, we were renting and I couldn't do anything like that). So I went crazy with it.

5. Three random facts I've never said online

Fact 1 - I have a guitar, but I don't know how to play it. I want to learn, but I have a problem with procrastinating and that sort of thing.

Fact 2 - You know how some kids have an imaginary friend?

I had, and i mean this literally, an imaginary multi verse. I would literally switch "worlds."

Fact 3 - This is kind of embarrassing but it's the only thing I can think of.

I first started listening to Taylor swift at 6 years old. Just have to preface with that. But first yearswhen i was younger, when anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew ip, I would answer "the next Taylor swift" and later on "a singer."

And I'd even show off and sing. I took an embarrassingly long time to realize that I don't sing well.

Nowadays, I know better about stuff, but I still love to sing along with my music.

(I still cringe when I think about this, lol).

Also, thank you so much for sending me this ask! I love interacting with people!! Feel free to do this/something like this whenever! 😁😁😁

[vivwritesfics]

I'm back with something fluffy :)

Hayloft cuddles after a long day with Rooster

or

Sending the night in the barn in the hayloft by the window thingy some barns have, looking at the stars

Have a good day:D

-🐎

Nonnie ily so much -- cowgirl cowboy shit is my favourite

Bradley was running late. Like the gentleman he was, he let her know that he was running late.

She wasn't mad. No, Bradley running late meant that she could take care of a few things. She mucked out the horses in the barn, gave them fresh hay, food and water. She threw some hay into the field with her two new, feral mustangs and set up the hayloft.

Normally, Bradley was taking her out to dinner or something nice like that. Even if he loved being on the ranch, he still made sure to take her out, to give her a reason to get dressed up.

But this date was her idea. And Bradley was only more than happy to go along with it.

While she waited, she set up the hayloft. It was almost empty, with less than half of the bales of hay she usually had (she was expecting a delivery in a few days anyway). She swept hay away from where they would be laying and set up the pillows and blankets. She placed her laptop on top of the box full of extra feed supplements and turned her attention to the window.

From the window she watched as the Bronco came down her driveway. The windows were open and she could hear him singing along to his music.

He parked the Bronco, climbed out, and looked up at the hayloft window. "Hi, pretty girl!" He called and pulled his sunglasses from his face.

"Come on up!" She called.

Bradley did just that. He pulled the barn doors shut behind him and climbed up the ladder, joining her in the hayloft.

He scooped her up and kissed her. "I missed you," he said as he put her back down.

"Missed you too, Roos," she said and pulled him into the floor with her.

They watched a movie on her laptop until the sun started to set. When it did, she pulled Bradley out of the barn and into her little farm house for dinner.

As much as Bradley wanted to ask her to move in with him, he'd never ask her to give up all of this. It had been her dream for years, even before they had met.

They got back to the hayloft in time to see the stars appear through the hayloft window. She leaned against Bradley's firm chest, his arm wrapped around her as they pointed out made up constellations. He loved this, even more than he loved taking her to fancy restaurants.

He kissed the top of her head as she pointed up at a cluster of stars. "Roos, it's in the same shape as your moustache," she said and giggled.

Bradley tickled her sides and kissed her again.

[janeelyakiri]

Mhh what diety would the farm boys be?

Oof that's tough... lemme see...

Pheasant- Good weather. Pray to him for a season that makes your life. Sun when you need it, rain when you need it, frost to stay at bay. He likes potatoes and his temple is a simple wooden shack filled with hay, alfalfa and root veggies.

Shepherd- Bountiful harvest. You pray to him to get the max amount your plants can grow. His price might be considered steep though- gotta prove you worked *hard* for it. His temple is more like a stage, and he loves being gifted prize winning crops.

Rooster- Sort of a fertility one? But for livestock. Pray to him for a good breeding season, for healthy baby livestock, for no diseases amongst them. His temple is an old barn, and he loves pictures of chicks, calves, lambs... MAINLY piglets. Bonus points if their names are written on the pictures.

Mastiff- Justice. Pray to him for protection from bandits and thieves. Safety of your family. His shrine is an old Sheriff Office. He loves offerings of old keys and also fresh gardenias.

Quail- Same as Mastiff, but he takes care of the shrines when people can't reach the temple. He likes blueberry anything.

Collie- Protection for Livestock. Similar to Rooster but covers those who drive the herds too, not just the animals. He keeps rustlers at bay, coyotes and wolves as well. Touch of fair weather and healthy grass borrowed from Pheasant and Shepherd too. No temple, but you can make a shrine anywhere with some stones and hay, and offer honey. Or... you know, tobacco or weed...

Hawk- Minor deity, he used to bring luck and health to those in Coal Mining but he got sick. He's more a trickster spirit now. Trying the patience of Mastiff and Quail. Mainly Mastiff. He has no shrines or temples, but loves beads and feathers. Shiny things too.

Coyote- Trickster Deity, shared his power with Hawk to keep him 'alive'*. Though he causes little trouble anymore, relaxing as he let Hawk run amuck. He loves wool and fleece, along with tobacco and certain herbs as well.

*Since they share power, any offerings made to one boosts the other.

...

...

???- Two brothers forgotten. Of the mountains and lost souls.

[kaleuh]

Chanticleer left the yard the very same day he came to us a few days ago, and we didn't know where he went. It seemed like he'd been yard hopping. I built a makeshift coop out of my swingset's treehouse and some soft shavings that this barn place was selling. I put some rooster feed and water there but I never heard from him. I was really worried the past few days that maybe something got to him, and even worse, there was a huge storm ALL day long two days ago. I felt so awful thinking about him in the cold and rain.

Yesterday, I was laying in a hammock reading my Don Bluth autobiography, and one of my housemates came outside. I said, "You know what, for the hell of it, lets check if there's any evidence he was in the coop," and immediately when we start walking over he APPEARS RIGHT THERE!! OUT OF NOWHERE!!

We gave him corn and he went absolutely bananas. Serendipity is all around!! Rock-a-Doodle (1991) is a story about a rooster who makes the Sun come up with his crowing! He leaves home, and when he leaves, it storms and storms, but when he comes back!! The world is sunny and beautiful again.

I think Don Bluth sent him to me to tell me everything's gonna be okay.

[ozarkfleajunksales]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Pair of 2 Rooster Plates Round Checkerboard Rim Country Farm Home Chicken Decor.