#welcome home wild west au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kedsandtubesocks · 4 months ago

Text

blood on your name

Cowboy!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: Texas 1885 - the town’s ranching competition brings in new souls out from the desert, one unfortunately happens to be a ghost haunting you & he’s still as handsome and dangerous as ever

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY. MDNI, old Wild West AU, slight enemies to lovers, very morally!gray Ezra, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, one moment of spit kink, allusions to p in v, scoundrel but soft!Ezra, themes of violence & reader enacting violence on another, use of guns, blood & injury, morally!gray reader, time period views of marriage & shaming women (brief use of derogatory terms against reader), minor character deaths, light gender language usage, use of nicknames

word count: 7.2k

a/n: here’s to finally putting my 7th grade tx history lessons to some use plus I’ve been really missing west texas so here we are lol! Fun history fact - Pecos prides itself as the birth place of the rodeo so this competition is the inception of that! It took me a while to get here & this truly wouldn’t be here without @gasolinerainbowpuddles @julesonrecord & @perotovar i can’t thank you babes enough, and to you, if you decide to read this too, thank you so much ♡

The newcomers that blew into town stand around the edge of the fence.

Pecos had become famous for hosting this rope wrangling event, and you’re not surprised it’s brought others in to observe the spectacle. Just last week it seemed like more wagons wandered into the edge of town.

You’ve been living here among the desert’s harsh eyes with your aunt for a few years now. When your mother unleashed her wrath after she found you with an unmarried man who had drifted into town, you fled with the caravan heading out west. So far west it brought you to the Pecos River. You’re thankful your aunt welcomed you with open arms. The desert proved to be a harsh host. But you’ve managed.

The actual event in town wasn’t taking place until the end of the week. Except so many already want to see the cowboys proudly warming up, showing off.

It’s why you even stop on your way home from the tailor shop.

Duke Williams currently tries his hand at practicing. The handsome young star all the way from Austin shows promise while he maneuvers his threadbare rope with ease.

He lands a solid catch against one of the practice sheep running around, and the crowd claps already impressed.

His bright face, angelic almost, brightens when he smiles triumphantly. When he spots you among the on looks, he beams even wider. You smile back politely.

However, Martha, the mayor’s youngest daughter, nudges you.

“I don’t know why you haven’t let that man swoop you up yet?” She giggles with a slight tease however, her words sting.

Duke’s been pursuing you ever since he came into town last spring. He reminds you of a newly built chapel, lovely coated in pristine and full of holy hope.

Yet, you don’t care for him.

You understand you should be married by now. Especially at your age, you’re becoming a dusting antique on the shelf by the town’s whispers. You even understood your mothers anger after discovering the man she caught you with had simply scurried away without another word.

Everyone in town seems to see Duke almost as your god blessed savior on a white horse sent to rescue you from a desolate destitution.

But you don’t hold any sense of attraction towards Duke. Even as you watch how handsome and sturdy he looks, a fierce cowboy among the other competitors, you simply admire his skills. And that’s it.

You wonder if you’re simply destined to the life of a happily secluded cactus like creature.

Something tickles against your skin, a sensation of being hyper aware of being caught in another’s gaze. Living in the desert has brought you a heightened awareness to make sure no critters lurking among can strike you.

So your eyes flicker around and find the crowd still enthralled by the sight of the cowboys.

Until you find one man isn’t.

One of the newcomers.

Sun kissed skin, an absolutely striking hawkish nose, sparse facial hair and then, the deepest dark earth eyes you’ve ever seen stare straight at you. The dusty black cowboy hat he wears casts a strange shadow across his features, cloaking him almost sinister.

Your breath hitches fast like it’s stolen from you.

You know this stranger.

One of the other newcomers nudges against him drawing his attention away from you. But your face stays stuck on him.

The men discuss with each other low and close, clustered together like a pack of desert weeds sprouting fast.

Except after the mystery outsider relays something back to the group, his eyes flicker back to you.

There’s a simmered wildness to him.

The commotion of spurs clinking comes and so many giggle around you, drawing your attention away.

Duke moves towards you with a shining grin on his face.

A desire to scurry away tugs at you. So with a polite smile, you silently duck away and decide to head home.

“Hey! Why ya leaving so soon?” He calls out. “Did you see me?”

His voice is so bright but also, so slightly arrogant, as if he can maybe keep you from leaving.

“Yes, you were incredible.” You’re truthful in your words.

Thankfully the others all around begin greedily vying for his attention.

As you turn to head home, that strange itch crawls over you again. Someone’s watching you.

So glancing around you think it must be Duke, but his attention is preoccupied.

However, it’s the handsome black cowboy hat stranger who again blatantly stares so direct at you.

A moment passes of you simply staring back at him.

However you break the contact first, needing to head home. But the entire way you sense his eyes blazing a hole on your back.

By the time you hit the edge of town towards your aunt’s cabin, the day creeps into early evening.

Above, vultures circle around high. However… there isn’t any sign of decay nearby.

- ☾𖤓 -

Your walk towards the tailor shop passes by the large stretch of land where the cowboys practice. Duke cries out your name excited. Politely you turn to greet him good morning only to find he’s not alone.

Other cowboys of course have come to wrestle in their skills. One of them surprises you.

The man you saw a few days ago is here.

His deep midnight eyes flicker to you immediately. That handsome face of his stays entirely composed.

Duke rattles on about his day. Yet you pay no attention as the new cowboy has stolen all your focus. The black cowboy hat he wears is dusty, weathered, and for some reason, you feel as if it both does and doesn’t suit him.

Duke chirps out your name again. Apologizing, you blame your dazed attention on lack of sleep.

Your night has been restless

“Hope ol’ lady Julie isn’t working y’too hard at the tailor shop.” He grins boyish and charming.

“Oh, Duke.” A smooth twang of a voice floats out. Waltzing in besides the cowboy, the newcomer arrives.

“You didn’t tell me your bird was so lovely.” His voice is curled with a smile and his voice, a deep drawl, draws an acidic venom in your mouth.

“I’m not his bird.” You politely reply.

“Not yet.” Duke adds warm, shy. But that only causes your stomach to squirm even more.

“Name’s Ezra, dear honeysuckle.” The newcomer introduces himself with a tip of his hat.

You nod back quietly giving him your name.

“Ezra came for the competition, traveled all this way just to try his hand at it!” Duke, ever the competitor, explains excited for the new competition.

Your eyes unfortunately stay on the newcomer rider.

Compared to Duke, Ezra’s frame is lithe. Then again, Duke with his incredibly tall stature is built like a terrifying boulder. Ezra’s broad shoulders and his striking sleek build makes you think of a river, fluid yet quietly powerful.

As unfortunately handsome as he is, his frame does not seem like a cowboy’s build.

Instead he reminds you of the traveling con man you once knew.

Duke continues rattling on and on about how proud he is to show off the town and this event.

You however hate the way Ezra’s eyes still on you make your skin tighten.

Excusing yourself with a soft nod, wishing them both well, you return on your way to the seamstress. Your body burns the entire way.

The day goes by slowly at the shop. After working on a few ruined blouses, Julie, the elderly shop owner, keeps you busy with tidying up. When the sun starts setting, the door clings open, and you wonder who’s coming in so late.

Ezra saunters in, and your throat tightens.

“Welcome in, newcomer!” Julie greets with a grandmotherly grace. “What can we do for you, good sir?”

Ezra smiles with all the charm of a gilded cactus.

“Seems I am in need of a new stitch for these gloves of mine.” Ezra explains pulling out worn gloves.

Leather frayed along the straps speak of the weathered and worn attention they’ve been given. But they seem too big for his hands. You even swear you’ve seen them before on his old business partner. But you don’t want to think too much on it.

Good dear sweet Julie chatters with the man. You simply stay quiet, not even turning to greet or address him.

You don’t even work on his gloves, deciding to let Julie handle them.

You even hide out in the back room, not even listening to when Ezra leaves.

Julie ends up heading home, and you’re left to close up. The sun sets a dusty fading apricot against the shadow of the tailor shop.

As you pass by the alleyway, suddenly you’re handed into the dark shadows. You’re about to scream, maybe even yelp, until a hand goes flying across your face, silencing you.

“Now now, pidge, don’t need you making too much of a holler.” Ezra.

Anger seethes in you, boiling. Violently and with a harsh yank, you tear yourself away from his grasp. You’re almost tempted to storm away.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be graced by your beauty again. That mother of yours still got that shotgun she threatened me with?” He smoothly asks with the amount of dangerous charm a rattlesnake would carry.

“What? This your last attempt at selling that watered down snake oil you call elixirs and tonics?” You snap back razor sharp.

When you first met Ezra, which now feels like lifetimes ago, he was a smooth talking traveling salesman. A drifter, as your mother so harshly called him.

Instead of the cowboy hat he wears now, he looked more stately in his bowler type cap.

He charmed so many of the women in town, trying to sell them the secrets to youth, vitality, beauty, and anything else he could promise in his elixir vials. You however, were not interested, saw right through his ruse.

Though, you realize now you were just as foolish as the others in town rapidly buying his lies. Because you had been just as charmed and fooled as they were.

This man, who’s sharp wit intrigued you, who spoke to you as an equal, became so dangerous because you were willing to give him everything.

Your heart, your body - all of you should have been reserved for your husband. Instead you freely gave everything to this thief.

The swindler swore he would take you with him, make you his wife. But when your mother’s fury came, he fled like a petrified jackrabbit.

You suppose he is more coyote than jackrabbit, greedily stealing anything he can then sneakily moving on.

Ezra’s composed grin on his face flickers, like all the history resting between you and him resurfaces within him.

“Didn’t you hear, pidgeon? My elixirs were plundered. Even my poor partner, god rest his dear soul, was shot down in cold blood!” Ezra explains with sorrow.

You had heard about that. At the edge of town, on the dirt road leading out into the hills, one of the sheriff’s found the large carriage and Ezra’s associate dead. The carriage crashed, run off the road. The damage screamed of the work of bandits. However, Ezra was nowhere to be found.

“I’m just supposed to believe you miraculously made it out of there alive?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

You don’t want to say it, but your instincts twist dangerously in your stomach. You wonder if Ezra did the deed himself, killed his partner and took the valuables.

Ezra shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s the way the desert works, honeysuckle. It’s a harsh landscape that only protects those who can survive its wrath.”

You forgot how much he spoke like a preacher sometimes, so elevated and otherworldly. You hate how badly your heart races just being this close to him again, hearing his voice again.

“So you’re telling me you came all the way here just to try your hand at the competition? Never even seen you ride, much less thrown a rope. Can’t imagine a con-man like you being a cowboy.” You reply skeptical.

He barks a laugh. “You'd be surprised. I’m a man composed of many unrevealed talents.”

You knew that very well.

Cautiously, treading like he’s approaching a mountain lion, Ezra steps closer to you. Out of instinct you step backwards closer to the other shop beside the tailors.

“Now don’t tell me you’re pondering the idea of telling everyone about my past life, pidge?” His voice is low, calm but brewing like an approaching storm.

“Because it pains me just imagining the repercussions that could arise if ya did.” He mutters, and your throat gets tight.

There's an underlying threat below his words.

Fiercely, stubbornly, you glare at him, refusing to speak. But you know you won’t say anything. He must know it too. You’ve left your past far back at home. And you don’t want him reviving your ghosts either.

Suddenly the back of Ezra’s hand gingerly, barely touching your skin, grazes against your cheek. He whispers out your name.

“The years out here have made you bloom, like a beautiful desert petal.” He mumbles with hazed eyes.

Out of spite you snap your face away and scowl even harder at him.

“I have to get home.” You snap angrily, managing to finally remove yourself from him.

“The motel houses me for the time being,” he declares from behind in the shadows.

“Unless that blonde Galahad cowboy of yours is keeping your bed warm now?” Ezra adds almost amused.

Rage bursts a furious fire in you, and it consumes you in its heated path.

“Rot in hell.” You snarl whipping back to him.

“As long as you keep me company, beautiful.” Ezra replies coy.

You’re about to curse his soul when he stomps towards you, fast and steady. His hand flings to your face, pulls you back to the shadow of the tailor shop.

He kisses you with the fierce intensity of a sudden dust storm. It even shakes your soul, spins you around, as if you were caught in an actual twister.

He tastes like the faint hints of a cigar, but something still so deliciously sinful and him. Your knees want to buckle when he easily slips his tongue inside and immediately coaxes his against yours.

You whimper, don’t even realize he’s maneuvered you to the wall of the shop, until your back gently hits the cool wood building.

It’s like your body is imprinted to his, completely answering his call, willingly and wanting to be closer to him while your hands clutch at his broad shoulders.

His body pins you firm against the building, and already he grinds his hips into you.

Then the laughter nearby bursts the bubble, snaps your attention clear.

You scramble and rapidly shove Ezra away. You don’t say another word and simply walk away.

However your lips continue to sting, as if bitten by a bee. Your hands ache empty like they’re missing the presence of his body in their grasp.

You can’t fall for this trap again.

But by the time you arrive back home, greet your aunt warmly, the lie spills from your lips before you can stop it.

“Julie wants to start the inventory sooner. So I’ll be heading back and staying over at the shop.”

Your aunt doesn’t question you, simply grins sweet and wishes you a safe trip back to town.

The sun barely sets in for the night over the horizon. The sky is a dusty blue, the softest color before bleeding into a dark midnight. The desert at night is another creature entirely. Even as you walk into town, you try to stay aware and low from any curious eyes.

The motel approaches fast. The caretaker gives you a curious look but before he can, he’s called away.

Ezra already waits for you at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows but still so distinct among them.

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t even greet you. His presence seems so different with how intense he stares at you. Simply moving to intertwine his hand with yours, he guides you to his room. Inside it’s like the world melts away. It’s only you and him.

He devours you, ravenous, like trying to both make up for lost time and also feel like not a day has passed. Your hands run through his hair, knock off his cowboy hat.

You hate how badly you’ve missed this, missed him. He’s the only man your body has known, and the nights you’ve ached for him your fingers never did him justice.

When you’re bare among his bed, and his fingers slide into your wet core, you whine against his lips.

“This cunt still mine, pretty girl?” He asks mutter.

You wearily nod then all thoughts shatter when he rubs against that certain spot you can never reach. Your body crashes in a climax so shakily fast you have to catch your breath against him.

Ezra kisses the top of your head over and over.

“That’s my sweet peach,” he says in awe.

You greedily now pull him towards you, aching even more for him to be inside.

But he’s not finished with you. Ezra greed swallows your sigh before his lips move down your bare body to your core and kisses you with reverent devotion.

Your body melts into the sheets feeling his tongue trace paths among your wet cunt.

Ezra firmly calls your name. It sounds like your soul is being brought back. Wearily you sit up to see him peering up at you between your legs. Slowly he lifts himself away from your cunt, his face glistening with your arousal.

Those obsidian eyes of his blazing in the candlelight lock you in their gaze. Keeping eye contact with you he suddenly spits down to your wet aching sex, and your mind spins.

It’s obscene, you should be disgusted and horrified. You even wonder if you’ve been transported to the brothel a few ways down the road. But it feels absolutely divine especially when he does it again.

“Oh she likes this.” Ezra coo’s then presses ever the softest kiss against your soaked throbbing pearl. “This pretty little cunt, my lovely lady, ache for me huh?”

You don’t argue with him. You don’t want to. He makes you come again and a creature raw and hungry awakens in you. You claw at him, now needing him inside.

It’s like a piece of yourself returns when Ezra slides into you. It’s hot, heavy, frantic but feels sacred.

Ezra must sense it too, because he doesn’t last long. When he spills over your tummy, his hands become claws and keep you caged in his grasp. Your con artist kisses every inch of you he can.

Sweaty and tangled in him, you still feel a tinge of sadness creep in.

“You left me.” You whimper against his lips.

“And it will haunt me until my dying breath.” Ezra sighs back, his voice weighing heavy. “I was planning to come back for you, my bird. But your mother…”

She had put a bounty out on your drifter, managed to get the sheriff on her side. You knew even in your anger at Ezra leaving, it was smart of him to escape.

His hand cradles your face, and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. Those endless eyes shimmer in the low light.

“But I’m here now, pidge.” Sincerity radiates from him.

You’re now able to bask in his beauty - his gorgeous jaw, his beautiful nose, the striking streak of blonde hair that has been hidden under his hat and you’ve been dying to see.

You nuzzle your face into his palm.

“What are you doing here? Truly?” You ask.

“I told you,” Ezra says, drawing your face towards him to kiss you tender again. “I’m here to try and prove myself victorious.”

You’re not sure you believe his words.

But you end up staying with him. Early morning, before the sun reaches over the desert, his fingers trace your face waking you up.

“Dawn bathes you in her glory.” He mutters. Embarrassed at his words you burrow your face into the pillow.

He doesn’t chase you, but instead lets his fingers draw aimless shapes against your shoulder.

“There wasn’t a day where you did not occupy my mind, even after all these years.” Ezra admits low, as if he didn’t realize those words escaped him.

Slowly you turn towards him and discover those deep eyes hazed over staring at you.

“I hate you.” You tell him without any malice. In fact an emotion something very opposite of hatred soaks your words.

“I know. I’d hate me too.” Ezra agrees muttering then leans down to kiss you gingerly.

You have to leave before the town wakes up, and to seal your alibi.

With a final kiss goodbye, you head to the tailor shop.

Julie finds you in the shop when she arrives and applauds you for your diligence and wanting to get a jump start on inventory. You’re thankful the lie worked out this way. You even manage to convince her to let you finish inventory the rest of the week. Of course she happily agrees.

Ezra drops by to pick up his riding gloves and winks at you shamelessly. You roll your eyes but hate how badly you fight against a grin.

The next few days are spent between the shop and the motel. You already brace your heart for Ezra’s departure approaching once the tournament is over, but you try not to face that.

“You’ve been in a rather good mood.” Your aunt notices when you stop by to drop off goods for her.

“Thought you hated inventory.” She comments.

“Guess not.” You reply with a shrug.

This blissful cloud you’re walking in however does cloud your mind. It makes you sloppy. Instead of taking the longer path to the motel, the one that kept you away from the views of the main road and town, you walk straight into town.

Running right into Duke Williams.

He says your name bright and clear. Dread dawns on you fast.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round. Heard Julie’s got ya working extra hard.” Duke smiles.

You hate this small town and the small whispers that spread like wildfire.

You reassure Duke you’re fine and are even glad you can help Julie.

All his friends, in their sleek cowboy hats, and dusty spurs, stand off to the side snicker. They crowd around each other like an ominous pack of wolves.

One of them even calls your name.

“Might wanna enjoy this freedom while it last!” He proclaims, and your stomach twists.

The other guys snickers, shushing him playfull, and even Duke turns around to reprimand him.

“What does he mean by that?” You cautiously question.

Duke simply waves the conversation off instead offering to walk you to the tailors.

You politely decline.

“Aw come on, sweet thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” Duke smiles but even with his sweet eyes you’re reminded of a crocodile now.

“Well gentleman, that’s why i’ll accompany this lovely bird to her destination.” Emerging from the shadows Ezra grins warm.

He must have come to find you after you hadn’t shown up at the motel.

The men including Duke go eerily silent. Ezra is older than Duke and the younger men. So he holds seniority now. But besides that, Duke now seems wary, and you don’t blame him. Ezra is a man that radiates a sort of unpredictable energy.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk ya back now?” You almost appreciate the slight genuine worry leaking into Duke’s voice. But shaking your head you move to walk with Ezra by your side.

You do hate how all eyes are on you, even walking away from Duke and his mindless followers.

“Just remain calm.” Ezra mutters.

You do especially with him by your side. By the time you open the tailors you thank Ezra, worried Duke and his men are still watching.

You whisper for him to meet you behind the shop, and he does. Your swindler willingly steps into the back room with you.

“Not my ideal choice for our evening, but I do love a good change of scenery.” Ezra comments amused browsing around the storage. Playfully, you throw a ball of yarn at him.

You’re surprised he even helps you with the small bit of inventory you do.

“That young buck…” until his voice comes out low. “He’s fond of you.”

“Unfortunately.” You reply back unamused.

“Earlier at the saloon…he was boasting.” Ezra continues with the same serious tone.

“About enjoying the last days of being an unmarried man.”

That causes you to pause.

“Must mean he’s gotten over me.” You sigh, thank goodness.

“No pidge…” Ezra stops to turn towards you. “He was proclaiming how you were to be his bride.”

Your stomach drops.

You think of the way the boys just now snickered almost knowingly, and that strange comment one of themselves said -

All of it makes your stomach sick, and you have to sit down.

No. There was just no way.

“I’d never accept his proposal.” You snap out hating how badly your body feels frantic, almost skittish like a cornered road runner.

Ezra kneels before you rubbing your hand with his, a strange solid comfort.

Eventually he gathers you into his arms and calms you with soothing soft words.

“We’ll figure out a solution.”

You still don’t know if you can trust his words. But that's all you have. Your drifter stays with you overnight in the tailor shop. You even feel sinful fucking him in the back room but it’s deliciously sinfull all the same.

Sitting and resting against the work desk you fade in and out of sleep. Tender fingers brush against your fingers, ghost like. Ezra is gone by the time you wake up and Julie’s entering the shop jolts you awake.

Her eyes are frazzled.

“Did you hear? Mister Johnston’s eldest son was shot down early this morning.”

You hadn’t heard. Dread fills you fast when you realize Johnston's boy was the one who had made the joking comment to you last night.

There’s talk about postponing the competition. But others in town, especially Duke, argue to continue the tradition in a way to honor the fallen young man.

An ominous terror looms in you.

Later that night, you return to the motel. Too many thoughts swarm in your head, and Ezra even seems distant. He even slides his duster jacket one before kissing you.

“I have some personal matters to attend to, pidge. Get some respite here.”

His boots echo down the hall and then down the stairs.

You can’t sleep. So you move to slide open the window and let some of the night air in.

The faint mutter of discussion very close outside in the alleyway floats into the room.

It’s muffled at first, but once you step closer and concentrate, you pick up the very familiar cadence of a certain drifter.

“No no, I have it covered. As long as you make sure to double the bets on me tomorrow.” Ezra explains in a hush.

The others with him explain the different amounts they’ve collected, and it hits you.

He’s gambling on the competition.

That’s why he’s here.

You knew the men at the saloon often bet, but this feels heavier.

A new clicking of spurs arrives.

“Y’know, you fellas look like a dangerous bunch all here hidden in the shadows.” Duke.

Panic prickles all over your body.

“Now young buck, we’re just here partaking in a fun and friendly wager.” Ezra with his smooth talking skills deflates the tension easily.

“Waggerin’ on what?” You’re surprised Duke immediately quickly jumps in to gamble.

Ezra and the other men begin conspiring on how to make sure Duke wins to favor the odds of their bets.

“I like the sound of that.” Duke grins.

He makes a hefty wager on himself to win, the price even makes someone whistle.

They offer to place their wagers on him as well and with Ezra even in the competition, he’s argued to be an even better reassurance that the outcome falls in their favor.

Ezra even swears by this.

They’re fixing the match, going to cheat. You don’t know how to feel about any of this.

They end their discussion, and you quietly slide back into bed. Before long Ezra returns, the smell of tobacco and the cold air lingers in the room.

His fingers dance against your shoulders while your back stays to him.

“You’re only here… to make money, and cheat.” You mutter hollow.

His fingers stop.

“You overheard.”

You don’t reply to him. Ezra sighs.

“Indeed I am. But I’m no different than the gentlemen that place simple wagers on a game of horseshoe.” He explains low, under the whisper of the candle flicker.

“But it’s like you’re wanting to play with a weighted or lighter horseshoe.” You argue back.

“Is it not in our best natures to make sure Lady Luck favors us by any means possible?”

You don’t know how to reply to him.

“…I’m doing this for you, for us.” He adds.

You turn to him, your face scrunching up in fury.

“Bullshit.” You tell him.

“Believe me a liar, but I’m honest in my endeavor.” His face becomes a firm steeled frown.

You can’t look at him anymore, turning your back again to Erza in bed.

“My hope was to gain enough funds to pay for the bounty your mother placed on me, return for your hand, and make our way into a new life together.” His voice is steady.

“Unless you wish to stay here and wed that Duke.” He offers.

You whip back to glare harsh at Ezra.

There’s a silence heavy and ancient like the desert that settles between you. But it doesn’t last long before Ezra leans down and sweeps in to capture your lips

The discussion dies immediately as passion burns in its place.

You don’t think of gambling cowboys, or of your mysterious drifter, only of the moment consuming you now, and you almost pray you never leave it.

- ☾𖤓 -

Late in the night, wearily half sleep, the bed shifting jolts you awake, and you even hear the door creak open. Before you can ask Ezra if he’s alright, your eyes so sleepy flutter close for a moment. Then he’s sliding back into the warmth pulling you close into his arms. You fall right back to your dreams.

In the early hours of the morning, Ezra kisses your jaw.

“My lucky charm, are you going to observe our tournament today?” He mutters.

The competition was today.

“You nervous?” You had never seen him ride much less try ranch hand work.

“Never.” He says smoothly.

Eventually he slides out of bed and lets you get ready. But soon Ezra walks over and places something in your hands.

The pistol weighs heavy, cold. And your eyes snap open wide now fully awake.

“Why-”

He cuts you off gently. “You know how to fire, yes?”

You nod weakly.

A small smirk tugs at his handsome lips. “Figured as much, after seeing your mother.”

It’s an attempt to tease, but too much terror bubbles in you.

“I just need to know you’re protected.” Ezra reveals, but with a croak you ask why.

“Cause unfortunate as it might be, it’s even more dangerous for a criminal like me to cherish something.”

Your eyes water. There are too many questions in your head, but the day will be starting soon. You need to leave before you’re spotted.

“Tell me you have another gun.” You snap at him.

Ezra simply taps the side of his head. “Don’t need another firearm when I have this weapon.”

You angrily throw the pistol down back to the bed, refusing to take it. That’s when he snaps your name, hard and serious.

You’ve never heard his voice raise like that.

“Take it.” He grabs the firearm and hands it back to you. His midnight eyes are ominously serious with no room for argument.

His hand grabs your face firm in his hand. Your eyes search his endless midnight lake eyes.

“I call you pidge, my little pigeon bird. But I’ve known right from the start you’re a fierce creature. Don’t ever forget that.”

Ezra’s words are beautiful but barbed. They rip up tracks in your heart. He kisses you quick, fierce and short. You hate how it feels like a goodbye.

With shaking hands and confusion, you slide the gun into your satchel. You walk back to your aunt's cabin in a daze. So much so that you barely notice she’s already awake when you sneak back in.

“You have fun at the motel again?” She asks, and fear freezes you.

“I wasn’t-”

“Mac, your uncle’s good friend, gave me the heads up.” She cuts you off softly.

Mac, the innkeeper. God damn this small town. Venom, anger, indignation, they all swirl violently in you.

“Whatever you’re doing there, you’re only gonna find danger.” She says somber, and you stay quiet.

Your aunt sighs.

“You’re lucky this hasn’t gotten out yet. What would young Duke say if he found out?”

Frustration bursts in you, and you snap furious about why would you even need to care about that man’s opinion of you.

“Because he plans on weddin’ you, and I plan on letting him.” Your aunt fires back and her words shoot right through you.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, even have to steady yourself against the nearby chair.

You thought your aunt understood. She’s been alone, a widow since she was around your age, longer than your mother had been a widow. You thought she’d never fall into the trap of forcing marriage.

“It’s for your own good.” She argues, watery urgent m. “You need protection, a home, a husband to provide for you.”

You rush out of the house even ignoring the screams from your aunt.

You’d have to think of a plan fast. Maybe leave with Ezra once the competition ends today. It’s all too much. You swallow back a sob and walk back into town.

The competition was today after all.

The day at the shop is very short. Julie doesn’t even notice your somber atmosphere as she’s completely caught up in the excitement of this day. So many more wagons stretch around the edge of town.

Pecos flutters alive with life.

But there’s already commotion, a dangerous kind that chokes the competition tense.

Duke yells loud and furious. The sheriff along with his deputies are nearby. Thankfully you spot Martha and quickly move to ask her what’s going on.

“Duke’s horse is missing.” She whispers.

From what Martha says, when Duke went to the stables this morning the gate was open and his horse was nowhere to be seen. His trusty companion, you even knew how serious an issue this is.

“Well young buck, if you’re that upset then maybe you shouldn’t partake in the festivities.” Ezra, out of thin air, offers.

He looks confident as he strolls up.

“Or you simply ride with another mare?” He proposes with a coy optimism.

“Fuck you!” Duke snaps at Ezra and even looks as if he’s going to lunge.

Your heart hammers hard in your chest. Thankfully the sheriff settles the commotion down.

Angered but stubborn, Duke declares he’s staying to compete and will simply use another horse. He is favored to win after all.

Other cowboys from out of town have blown in like packs of tumbleweed. So many of them are excited to participate and try their hand at showing off their rancher skills

Some are good.

But it is Ezra who proves to be the dark horse, the surprise underdog.

Watching him on his stallion, your throat goes dry seeing how effortless and strong he manages his horse. You never knew he could ride. The way he maneuvers and stays a quiet presence, he reminds you of an outlaw.

“Moves like a bandit.” Someone in the crowd even whispers.

His rope throwing skills however surprise everyone, including yourself. The calf he manages to wrangle takes you by shock. A dangerous lust slithers over your body watching him wrangle the animal with his strength and sturdy form.

But you realize -

This wasn’t what had been planned. From the discussion given last night, Ezra was meant to perform poorly to make sure Duke did better.

But this is exactly the opposite.

He’s the lead runner for champion of the competition.

And then Duke’s turn arrives. The crowd mummers curious, on edge waiting for the favored cowboy to make his move.

The horse he uses is not cooperative. Duke screams, unable to hide his frustration in wrangling the creature.

But once he stabilizes a manageable ride, he goes to lasso the calf. His rope lands and the crowd cheers. He’s already faster than Ezra.

Until the frayed rope snaps and the calf yanks itself free.

The crowd gasps.

It’s not an immediate disqualification, but it doesn’t look good. Duke argues that his rope was frayed and that someone must have slowly started cutting at it. However it’s a long shot argument. There’s no way to prove that and even the sheriff seems a little wary of the accusation.

“That’s just the way rope is son, you just gotta keep an eye on it.”

Duke screams in anguish canyon splitting anger. You’ve never once seen him like this. It’s like it’s a whole new man, or maybe, his true self being revealed.

He’s offered another rope, but it’s almost horrifying to watch that one as well snap. The crowd again gasps.

This wasn’t the outcome meant to happen.

“Duke’s cursed.” Someone mumbles.

The crowd is in disbelief, you even are. The last remaining competitors try their luck, but none can beat Ezra’s speed.

You can’t believe it. But he won.

And Duke is livid. The crowd tentatively applauds Ezra’s win because of the somber mood clashing.

“You bastard! You goddamn cheated!” Duke screams at Ezra while the deputies try settling him down.

“Poor boy,” Ezra says sympathetically before turning to find you in the crowd.

There’s a gleam of something proud shimmering in his dark eyes.

You don’t question it, don’t want to.

Ezra truly is a man of many facets, dangerous ones, like looking at a raw gemstone that could cut your fingers.

The competition spills into the nearby saloons, and the festivities only seem to intensify as the sun starts setting. You can’t even reach Ezra from the groups swirling around him and want to get as far away from Duke as possible.

So you return back to the tailor shop. Julie urges you to join her and the other women at the mayor’s large property, but you decline.

You simply sit in the store trying to muster up a plan. But in a blink, the night arrives and you have to find Ezra.

So after locking up the shop, you head to the motel.

Until the sound of Duke’s screaming and the rage of violence roars nearby.

You freeze, terrified.

Until someone wearily coughs. “That’s what ya get for gamblin’ with bandits, boy.”

Your swindler’s distinct twang drawls smug and now your body rushes to the secluded alleyway.

You swallow back a scream at the sight you stumble upon. Duke with blood fists has Ezra pinned against the wall, like a mythological creature, terrifying and large looking over with violence in his wake.

Ezra’s face is bloody and one of his arms even hangs limp.

“Pidge.” He coughs, and your heart aches.

Duke whips around to see you and barks for you to leave.

Shakily you snatch down to your bag, and whip out the gun to point it to him. Duke’s face falls a bit confused.

“Honey this man wronged me, I’m only enacting my justice.” He argues.

You snap at him to let Ezra go or else.

That’s when a sinister evil darkens Duke’s golden boy face.

“So, ya little god damn whore…you’re workin’ with this man aren’t ya? I knew I should’ve listened to all the rumors about a slut like you.” He spits with venom leaking from his voice.

“Don’t you touch her.” Ezra snarls, but Duke pays him no mind keeping his sinister eyes on you.

“What?” Duke slowly mutters. “Do ya really think you’re gonna shoot me?”

Tears fill your eyes. You don’t want to, but the way your heart races like a terrified Jack rabbit it screams at you to flee. But… you also wonder if your heart races because it’s urging you to attack, to bare your fangs.

Instead of releasing Ezra, Duke moves to grip his coat harder. He slams your drifter hard and fast against the wall. A painful crack-like smack comes, and you scream.

You fire the gun instantly.

Duke blinks, you even wonder if you landed a hit.

Until deep dark crimson, almost the color of dark sludge, leaks across Duke’s side. He crumbles like a fall leaf.

You cry scrambling to Ezra who thankfully is still standing. Duke wheezes out obscenities and even tries hollering for help. You’re however too worried about Ezra.

“M’fine,” your drifter reassures with a wheeze.

“Hand me the gun, dearest.” Ezra somberly mutters. When you do, without hesitation Ezra fires the gun point black down at Duke. And your eyes shut hearing the pistol strike. Duke goes quiet and stays silent.

“Come on, we gotta hurry.” Ezra urges.

Supporting his body, you manage to get him into the tailor shop to tend to his wounds.

Ezra coughs out your name. “M’dearest, I need to make my escape out of town once more.” His breathing his heaved, he needs to rest.

“Don’t leave me.” You cry sharp, unable to focus on anything now.

His hand slides to your face and he cradles you tenderly. You clutch at his wrist as you blink back tears starting at him now.

“It will not be a pleasant life, staying with a devil like me.” He mumbles.

Doesn't he realize, you’re just as tarnished as him now? Blood is on your hands. You simply turn to kiss the palm of his hand feeling more reassured than ever.

“I’d rather be with the devil than live without him.” You speak soft into his skin while tears dry on your cheeks.

He barks a hollow but watery thick laugh as he says your name. “You foolish bird, my lovely dangerous creature.”

The desert is unforgiving to those who do now learn to grow fangs or become just as fierce as its landscape. You wonder if that’s what has become of you. But you don’t question it. You simply gather all you can, steal one of the horses from the saloon and keep Ezra close to you on the saddle.

If Ezra is a devil, then you’re grateful he saved you from your hell. And for him, you will gladly stain your soul.

Under the eternal eyes of the desert, you wander into the night keeping your bandit close to you.

In the distance a lone coyote howls aching at the moon.

You don’t look back once.

#hi howdy yeehaw if you’re reading this cowboy Ezra & I think you’re the bees knees and I thank you truly!!#cowboy!ezra #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra x you #prospect fanfic #Ezra 🤎#pedrostories

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daemour · 1 month ago

Text

Welcome to the Outlaw [K.HJ]

☆ Pairing: outlaw! Hongjoong x f! businesswoman! YN

☆ Word count: 4717

☆ Genre: wild west au, fluff, some angst

☆ Warnings: cursing, mentions of weapons (guns, knives, etc), violence, death (non-major character)

☆ Summary: When a stranger decides to stay for an indefinite amount of time at your inn, you find yourself more entangled in his life than you expected to be.

☆ #CallMeDjango collab with @sanjoongie (Sunset Outlaw), @flurrys-creativity, @mingsolo

this is uh,,,kinda trash LMAOAFOGHJDGHKDSGHKDS so i do apologise. theres a few more plot points i was gonna add but i was running behind deadline so if u want a part two with the rest of it lmk!

It’s been a long while since a newcomer had come to the little town of Utopia. The last one had been the young farmer Jongho, who now has a life for himself just outside of the town’s edge. Not many people choose your town as their new home, temporarily or permanent.

He showed up at your inn in the dead of night, hat pulled low over his eyes. Out of fear, you kept a hold of the pistol you kept under the counter as you greeted him. But despite the initial aura surrounding him, he smiled at you so kindly, an unfamiliar accent pulling at his words.

“Got a room to spare, ma’am?” he drawls, leaning over the counter to wink at you.

You flush red and turn your eyes up to let your burning cheeks cool down. “You got the money to pay for it, cowboy?” you parrot him, and the stranger chuckles.

Without another word, he places a stack of bills on the counter top, his smile growing crooked. “Is this enough for a room that ensures total privacy?”

You’re almost scared to see how much it actually was, and you’re not too embarrassed to admit you gasped out loud. It was almost enough to buy your inn three times over.

“Let me show you to your room,” you offer, immediately grabbing one of the keys off the hooks behind you. “I’ll make sure the staff won’t bother you.”

Leading him to the room way up at the top floor was quiet save for the clink of his spurs. Even the ‘thank you’ he said to you was quiet, and as he closed the door behind him, you felt any energy you had left drain out of you and you decide to retire quite early into the night.

In the morning, it almost feels like a fever dream. You completely forget about the handsome stranger occupying your inn. It’s only when you wander into the kitchen and see the cowboy, hat gone and dark hair messy and you gasp out of shock.

The cowboy turns leisurely, a smile just as crooked as the one last night on his face like he didn’t just give you a heart attack. “Mornin,’” he greets you easily, “fancy some coffee?”

You shake your head, attempting to regain your breath. “N-no thanks. Can I ask why you’re in my kitchen? Breakfast is served in the dining hall.”

The cowboy shrugs. “I like my breakfast the way I make it. The cook let me in.”

Your eye twitches. “Oh, he did, did he. Well, I can’t let you waltz into my hotel’s kitchen any time you please. Hell, I don’t even know your name. If you want coffee, you’re gonna have to wait in the dining hall like everyone else.” You sigh, bringing your hand up to pinch the bridge between your eyes. “Look. If you really are craving a coffee by your own hand, at least ask me first and not my cook.”

The cowboy shrugs and nods. “Fair, fair. I’ll come ask you next time.” He picks up his coffee cup leisurely, tipping his hat.

You’re left to watch his retreating back, a mixture of confusion and amusement swirling in your stomach. You’re not sure what to make of this stranger, but something about him intrigues you.

“Coffee?”

You nod and reach out without looking up from your deposit ledger. It’s become a routine for the strange guest to offer you a cup of coffee he made that morning, and although you were a little suspicious at first, now it’s just casual and natural.

Although he’s been here for a while, you still don’t know much about your guest other than the fact he requires total privacy. You don’t even know his name. All the townsfolk warn you about letting him stay for too long, but you’re sure he doesn’t mean any harm. Your cook likes him, and that’s about all you need.

“Sure, thanks,” you beam up at him, reaching out to take the mug from his hands, your fingers brushing against his.

“What are you working on today?”

Conversation today? What a treat. You look up, smiling at the sight of him leaning atop the counter. “Just some finances and reports. Boring stuff, really. I have to stop by the bank at lunch and make a deposit on the mortgage.”

The guest hums, head tilting ever so slightly. “You wouldn’t mind if I tagged along, would you? I have a couple errands I need to run, and I don’t know where anything is in this town right now.”

You glance down at your papers, and then back up at him. “I wouldn’t mind. I can show you around a bit, too. But first…a request.” The guest looks a little confused, but gestures for you to continue. “What is your name? I have to put you down in the guest book, and I also can’t quite possibly only refer to you as ‘The Guest’. It’s the polite thing, you know.”

The guest laughs, throwing his head back and showing off a row of perfect teeth. “You can call me Deuce. And you are?”

Smiling, you reach out a hand. “I’m YN. Good to meet you, Deuce.”

To your surprise, instead of just shaking your hand, he leans down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The pleasure is all mine, YN. I will see you at lunch.”

Your eyes follow him as he walks back upstairs to his room, and after he disappears from your view, you can’t seem to keep your mind off him. There’s something about him that draws you in, whether it’s his light accent or the way he focuses all his attention on you when you’re speaking. You lightly smack your forehead, willing yourself to focus back on your paperwork. You don’t have the time to focus on a pretty boy cowboy.

Before you know it, noon has arrived and the telltale sound of his spurs are approaching you. “Ready to head out?” you ask, looking up to see Deuce smiling at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him without one, and you’re not too sure how you feel about it. “I’ll show you around first, get lunch, then stop at the bank last. Sounds good?”

Deuce nods, smile never wavering. “Lead the way.”

You stand from your seat, picking up your light skirts and making sure your apron is on straight. “Now, the town isn’t large by any means, but there’s a good many people who live here. We’re all pretty close, and every first Sunday there’s a town dinner. You’re welcome to join us as long as you bring one dish,” you start talking, pointing out the church where the dinner is held. “Our first stop will be the general store—I need to pick up some earrings.”

Deuce seems perfectly happy to just listen to you talk, but you’re not one for carrying the conversation. “So, what brings you to this town anyway?” you ask as you step up on the front porch leading to the general store. “It’s not often new people wander through here and stay for longer than a few days. It’s been almost a week and a half, hasn’t it?”

“Just about,” Deuce confirms. “I’ve been trying to find a new place for me to live. I’ve stayed in my hometown for a very long time, and this little town seems very homey.”

You can’t help but feel a swell of pride in your chest at how he describes your hometown. “It is. All the townsfolk are like family. I’ve lived here all my life, and I can’t imagine being elsewhere.”

“You’re pretty young to own and run your own inn, I commend the work ethic,” Deuce compliments you. “What made you want to start it?’

And just like that, the warm feeling in your chest is replaced by painful memories. “Oh. Well, the inn was actually run by my family for generations. I just had to take over much sooner than expected. I don’t hate it though, meeting all the new people always makes me happy. Plus, I’m old enough.” You try to direct the conversation to a happier tone, and thankfully, Deuce seems to understand.

“I see.”

Before he can say anything else, the general shop owner approaches you with a smile. “Little bluejay, good to see you. Here to pick up your earrings?”

“Yes, sir,” you smile, leaning forward to give the old man a quick hug. “Hope business is doing well.”

“Good as always,” he replies happily. “Yunho came in with a new shipment, and brought his sweet wife along. Did you hear that they’re expecting already?”

“I did. Yunho and his family have lived here for generations, I’m pretty sure the Jeongs will be staying here for years to come as well.”

“Now that I can agree with,” Mr Jon agrees. “Now, here are your earrings. Straight from the East Coast.”

He hands you a package wrapped in linen, neatly tied with a pink ribbon. “Thank you kindly. I’ll be sure to wear them during the next dinner.”

Mr Jon raises an eyebrow. “You better. You didn’t pay a fortune for shipping just to not wear them. Now, anything else you’re looking for today? Or how about you, Mr…”

“You can call me Kim, no titles necessary,” Deuce offers. “I’m not looking for anything, really. YN is just showing me around.”

“I see.” The owner has a twinkle in his eye you pointedly ignore. “Well, have fun you two. And it was good to meet you, Kim.”

Quickly, you pull Deuce out of the general store, warmth rushing to your cheeks. “So that was the general store,” you change the topic. “We’ll go to the saloon next. Wooyoung is the owner and the pianist, and he knows everything about the town.”

“Sure, sure.” A pause. “Bluejay?”

You raise an eyebrow, meeting Deuce’s curious gaze. “Kim?”

“Okay, okay, fair. You have your secrets, I have mine,” Deuce concedes. “Earrings from the East Coast, huh?”

You snort, smacking at his shoulder. “As the front of house for the inn, I’m sure you understand I must always be presentable. Take it as a business expense.”

With a shake of his head, Deuce doesn’t push it any further. “I see, then. But you know, you’re pretty and presentable with or without earrings. Now, Miss Money, what is the plan for the saloon?” He changes the subject so smoothly you almost don’t catch his compliment.

Although heat rushes to your cheeks, you keep your demeanour cool. “I was thinking lunch. Wooyoung is the second best cook I’ve met, you know, with the hotel cook being number one, of course.”

Deuce chuckles. “Jisun is indeed phenomenal, so I will have to go into the saloon with high expectations.”

You shoot him a sly smile. “And I’m sure Wooyoung will exceed them. I have excellent taste, you know. After all, I did let you into my inn.”

“Not sure if letting a stranger pay for utmost privacy is in excellent taste, but I’ll take your word for it,” Deuce teases. “After all, it does benefit me.”

You raise an eyebrow in challenge. “That’s right, Mr Kim. Watch what you say. I could very well kick you out.”

Deuce chuckles. “Duly noted, Miss Bluejay.”

“What are you doing this evening?” Once again, you look up from your paperwork to see Deuce smiling at you. It’s become a common occurrence in the past few weeks for him to come sit by you while you worked on paperwork, but it’s a first that he has decided to initiate conversation.

“Nothing of importance. May I ask why?” You set down your pen to look at Deuce, noticing a hint of something you can’t place in his eyes. “Is something happening?”

Deuce winces at the tone of worry that leaks into your voice. “No, no, not at all. I was…I was just wondering. If you would like me to cook you dinner.”

You blink up at Deuce. “Cook me dinner?” you repeat blankly.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want me to! I just noticed you seemed to be a little more stressed these days and thought I could show you my appreciation for being so kind to me,” Deuce tries to redirect, waving his hands frantically. You don’t think you’ve seen him so flustered before, and the sight of it makes a smile slowly grow onto your face.

“I’d love that, Deuce. I do appreciate it.”

“Sit tight for a few hours for me, then, okay?”

As if his nervousness wasn’t even there in the first place, he throws you a wink before sauntering into the back. You’re not sure how he will convince your cook, but you’re willing to bet that Jisun would gladly take the time away from work to go visit her lover.

You know that you absolutely cannot focus on your paperwork, because every time you turn your eyes to the numbers, all you can see and hear is Deuce’s smile and the polite little giggle he offers you whenever you make a bad joke.

The curiosity you’ve had surrounding him has slowly morphed into attraction each passing day, despite the way you know next to nothing about him. But he’s never tried to harm you, and he’s only ever treated anyone he interacts with with the utmost kindness.

He is so ingrained in your thoughts right now that you don’t even notice the cloaked figure swiftly approaching your table. When your gaze finally raises, you’re met with the gleam of a knife pointed straight at your face and your heart drops into your stomach.

“I–”

You don’t even get to say anything before the knife is waved around menacingly and the figure tsks. “Just give me all the money!”

Your hands move under the desk, but the gun you usually keep there is missing, and belatedly you remember you put it in your room to clean it properly but forgot to put it back. “Uh–”

“Are you stupid?”

“No, but are you?” The words fall out of your mouth without you thinking. “I mean, trying to rob someone with a knife? What if I have a weapon under the counter? Or a gun? It wasn’t a very thought out plan, don’t you think?”

You’re running on autopilot, and the only thing keeping you going is hoping that Deuce would hear the commotion or finish his cooking soon enough and come help you. The door leading to the kitchen is out of the robber’s vision (yet another rookie mistake he made), and although you can’t see down the hall either you hope and pray you can stall for enough time.

After Deuce had paid you for his stay, you know you have enough money squirrelled away to cushion the robbery, but all sane thought has escaped you in this moment and all you want is Deuce’s presence.

“Just shut up, okay?” The thief yells, his grip tightening on the knife, knuckles white with strain.

You could see the beads of sweat on his brow, smell the stale odour of his breath. The air crackled with tension, thick and suffocating. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Would Deuce appear in time?

Lost in your thoughts, a cold blade pressed against your throat, the sharp point a chilling reminder of the man’s presence. The metallic scent of blood flooded your brain, memories of a fateful day almost five years ago. Then, a deafening blast shattered the silence.

Instead of the stabbing you expect, all you hear is a gunshot and the residual ringing in your ears, deafening you for minutes before you finally muster up the courage to open your eyes.

A body is slumped onto the desk in front of you, blood pooling around the stranger’s head. Your jaw drops open, a soundless scream escaping you as your back stiffens. You can’t seem to take your eyes away from the body, even as warm arms wrap around your shoulders and the familiar presence of Deuce fills your senses.

“YN, look at me. YN.” He repeats himself a few more times until you finally are able to rip your eyes away and turn your head towards his direction. His voice is too calm, but you can see the pain in his eyes. “YN, are you okay? I need you to talk to me, okay?”

“He had a knife. He was going to stab me,” you say, although you don’t know if you’re even aware of what you are saying. “But who shot him?”

“I did, YN. I just wanted to keep you safe, okay? I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new desk.”

You can’t help but bark out a short laugh, but the outlandishness of that statement brings your mental back just the little bit that you needed. “That’s what you’re worried about? I don’t care, Deuce. You saved me from a pretty nasty fate back there.”

He nods, although the worry in his eyes doesn’t cease. “Let’s go get the sheriff, okay? I already told Jisun not to let the guests downstairs in the meantime, okay?”

You nod. “Okay…will you talk to me though? Anything, really. Just to keep my mind off of it. Please, Deuce.”

Deuce sighs. “I suppose. You know, my nickname is Deuce because in my town, I was a sheriff, and I always wielded two pistols. I don’t think my people were very good at titles, but the name stuck, and now it’s like a piece of home that I carry with me everywhere I go.”

“It suits you, I think,” you state, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I like it.”

If you squinted, you swear you saw redness appear at the tips of his ears, but you’re not sure if you’re just imagining it. “Thank you, darlin’. It means a lot coming from a pretty lady like you.” Deuce offers a half-smile.

You chew on your lower lip for a minute before sighing. “I also have a story behind Bluejay, as I’m sure you’ve heard the villagers call me. When I was younger, my parents ran the inn. I actually wasn’t supposed to run it until I got married or turned thirty. But one day, there were bandits who came roaring through.”

The memory makes you shudder, and Deuce rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to…”

“No, I should.” You shake your head with resolve. “I’ve kept it under wraps for so long, what better time to spill my dark secrets. The sheriff, Mingi’s father at the time, was away on county business and Mingi had only just become the deputy at that time. There wasn’t much he could do. They raided everything. Seonghwa’s parents were killed in the raid. As…as were mine.

“But when they decided to make me their next ransom victim, I was in such shock, I couldn’t do anything but talk. And talk I did. I didn’t shut up, no matter how hard they tried to make me shut up.” You let out a mirthless laugh. “In the end, it bought me enough time that Mingi was able to gather enough men to save me.”

“YN…”

“Well, there’s my life trauma for you to unpack. I hope I didn’t scare you away from staying at my inn.”

“YN. I wanted to cook dinner for you. Hell, I shot a man for you. I think I should be more worried about you being scared of me.” Deuce shakes his head fondly. “Come on, we’re almost at the sheriff’s. Let’s get this behind us and have that squash soup I slaved over.”

As he leads you up to the sheriff’s office, he pauses. “Deuce?” you question, and his eyes twinkle as he looks up at you.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Bluejay.”

“Hello,” you greet the newcomer. You’re vaguely surprised another mysterious person has come within six months of Deuce just as late as he had, although at this point he’s just as much of a part of this town as you are, even though his name is still unknown to you. “How can I help you?”

“Can I have a room?” Jumping straight into business, huh. Reminds you of a certain someone you’re keeping at your inn. You look up and down the young lady carefully. She looks like trouble, with a large gun and a pointed wooden stick by her side, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn away a guest.

“It’s a dollar for the night. Twenty-five cents more if you want hot water, but you have to go to the pump yourself to get it,” you say, looking down into your ledger and marking out a room for her. Not many other guests in town, so you take the liberty of placing her further away from Deuce’s place of residence.

As you’re preparing her keys, she continues talking as if you were interested in a conversation with her. “I’m a bounty hunter…have you seen this outlaw? Kim Hongjoong? Miss…”

“The townspeople call me Bluejay,” you offer her your alias, unwilling to give your proper name to a bounty hunter. Taking a glance at the poster, you struggle to keep your face calm, and pray to God that you succeeded. Your own guest, Deuce…no. Kim Hongjoong stares right back at you on her poster. There’s something fishy going on with him, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions, and although it may be a bad idea, you resolve to keep him safe. “Never heard of him. Sign here, and I’ll give you the key to your room.”

With a hasty scribble, the new guest writes down her alias. Red Hawk. Before you can say anything else, she throws down a few crumpled bills totalling ten dollars. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town. Call that a downpayment on my room.”

“Be my guest,” you hum. How it played out was amusingly similar to how Deuce paid for his own room. “Your room is on the first floor, straight down the hallway.”

You carefully watch her retreating back, and as soon as she disappears, you turn around and start heading towards Deuce…no, Hongjoong’s room. You may not have blown his cover, but now he owes you some explanation. You don’t want to host an outlaw at your inn without good reason.

Quietly, carefully, you make your way up to the third floor and knock on his room. There’s a long moment where you’re not even sure if he’s actually in, but soon a soft “come in” is heard and you swing the door open.

“Hey, I need to talk–”

Mid-sentence, your brain decides to short-circuit at the sight of Hongjoong’s waist. It wasn’t a very long glimpse, the cowboy in the midst of putting his shirt on, but you’re a proper young lady. You’re not usually in such situations.

But first things first. You shake your head, ridding yourself of such thoughts. “What’s up, YN?” Hongjoong’s voice helps to bring you back to reality. “Did you need to tell me something?”

“Right. Look. Someone—a bounty hunter—came in…and they showed me your Wanted poster. I don’t think I can house a true outlaw, no matter how kind and peaceful they have been. But I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. I just want you to explain. Hongjoong, right?”

Hongjoong’s smile appears much more strained, but yet again, it does not falter. “I suppose I owe you a story, then. Why don’t you have a seat?”

You carefully make your way over to the bed, sitting down and waiting for Hongjoong to start his story.

“Now,” Hongjoong starts, “you’re not obligated to believe me, but I swear on my mother’s grave whatever I say is the truth. I once was a sheriff in my own right as you know. I kept my town safe. But the more outlaws and robbers and kidnappers I put behind bars, the more they held grudges. In the end, they framed me and I had to go on the run. If I stayed to wait for a trial, they would’ve won. The lawforce was weak without me. Now I’m just playing the long game to wait for my name to be cleared.”

You frown, leaning forward. “But why would the bounty hunter be hunting you? They’re not bound to a law, why would she try and capture you? Aren’t you basically the same as her now?”

Hongjoong shrugs. “Yes, well, bounty hunters need to make money somehow. Maybe she’s been on a long stretch of no bounties, maybe she’s stuck on a different trail and I might be some easy cash. But the hunters never stay in one spot for too long. I’m sure it’ll be within the week I can be less wary. And I can leave the town if you’re still not comfortable with keeping me here. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

You sigh, leaning back, much more relaxed. “Look, I’ll be straight with you, Hongjoong. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and to the townsfolk. I can’t see any issue with continuing to house you. It also doesn’t seem like your case is widespread, as the sheriff hasn’t said anything about it and the hunter’s wanted poster was the first I’ve seen of you. I’ll keep your secrets. You…you’re important to me.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Hongjoong’s expression shifts to one of relief, and before you can react, he wraps you into a hug. “Thank you,” he sighs, his chest heaving with a breath of relief. “I know I try to sound cool all the time, but it has been weighing on my chest. As I got closer to you, I didn’t want to keep secrets, but I was scared of how you would react.”

You laugh, letting your body relax against his. “Hongjoong, I think we’ve been through enough that you don’t have to be worried about how I react to things like this. But why don’t you talk to Mingi about this? I’m sure he can work to have your name cleared without needing to put you behind bars. And he’s fond of you too.”

Hongjoong chuckles. “He’s fond of me because I’m not scared of killing scorpions. How a guy can be a sheriff but too scared to sweep a bug out of the house is beyond me.”

“Hey, now, Mingi could be your next chance of getting your name cleared. Let’s not bully the guy if he’s not even here.”

You can feel his shrug as Hongjoong sighs. “Fair. There’s something else I’d much rather do, anyway.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

Without warning, Hongjoong positions himself to face you so close that you can feel his breath on your lips. “I’d like to kiss you senseless.”

He’s waiting for your response, but instead of gracing him with one, you lean forward and let your mouth lightly brush against his. As if you unlocked a new side of Hongjoong, he immediately deepens the kiss and his hands move up to cup your face, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

A long moment passes before the two of you finally part, lips red and swollen like you’ve been kissing for hours. “Been waiting to do that, you know. Ever since that lunch you took me out on my first two weeks here,” Hongjoong admits. “But I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

You heave a sigh. “This is the absolute worst timing to bring this up, Hongjoong, but the answer is yes. I know what this entails. A time of uncertainty until your name is cleared. But I don’t care about that. Any relationship comes with trials, and this is just one of them. I’ll stay supporting you, as long as you do the same for me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hongjoong confirms softly, eyes glistening as he leans in again. “Okay, YN. I’ll have you as long as you’ll have me.”

“And I will have you. Gladly. Now, can we continue?” Your hand trails down Hongjoong’s chest and as he presses his lips against yours, you can feel the smirk forming on his face.

“I believe we can.”

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