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vivwritesfics · 6 months

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Horse Girl - LN4

High school sweethearts Lando and Y/N are very in love (she also happens to be Flo's best friend and they met through their yards) (any words you don't understand are probably just unimportant horsey terms dw about it) (also idk anything about flo's riding journey, so i made it mirror mine)

Lando Norris x reader

2.3K

"Flo," Y/N called as she appeared at the stable door. She had Gismo's bridle over her shoulder and her riding hat already on her head. "Think I borrow your martingale?"

Flo left her brush on her horses back and turned towards her friend. "I have conditions."

"Give them to me."

Flo held out her hand, checking things off on her fingers. "You clean it for me at the end of the week, you muck out for me tonight and we go on a hack."

Y/N let out a sigh. "I'm going out with Lando tonight," she said.

Being in a long distance relationship with an F1 driver wasn't easy. Y/N had to stay in England to take care of Gismo and Sooty while Lando was living in Monaco and travelling the world.

When Y/N could, she got somebody to look after the horses and spent a week with Lando in Monaco. When Lando could, he spent the week at Y/N's, visiting his family and watching her ride.

Y/N tried to spend as much time over the summer and winter breaks with him. But this year Y/N began competing Gismo. Lando travelled with her when he could during her competitions. He always had his camera with him, posting her on the jpg account.

Lando and Y/N had been friends for a bloody long time. When Flo started riding lessons, she was stuck behind a girl on a fat little pony that refused to do more than a walk. When their lesson activity had them riding side by side, Flo and Y/N became fast friends.

They went from a weekend lesson together to being at the yard every single day. They loaned the same horse, Y/N riding him for half of the week and Flo riding him for the other. Most of the time they'd be there on the same day, mucking out his stable together and cleaning his tack together. On Flo's day's to ride, Y/N was the one who sorted the jumps and picked up the shit.

When they were younger, when they'd spend all day at the stables, Y/N would sleep over at the Norris house. Flo lived closer to the yard so it just made sense.

Staying at the Norris house meant meeting Flo's big brother. Y/N had heard stories of him before, stories of his karting and his dreams of being in F1.

And then Y/N met Lando. He was the kind of boy who, when Y/N slept over, he wouldn't leave them alone. He was the annoying big brother that stopped by to make a comment on the film they were watching, steal some of their snacks and run off to play his PlayStation.

When they were teenagers, Y/N fifteen and Lando seventeen, things changed. He kept on with that whole annoying big brother image until he was around fifteen. And then he didn't care about teasing the girls - he was too busy winning in F3.

But at seventeen, he started to see Y/N a little differently. She was fifteen, almost sixteen when she watched him win around Silverstone. When he saw her afterwards, he saw her in a new light. Maybe it was that post win haze. But no, because the feelings didn't go away.

Lando waited two and a bit years before he made a move. He was in F2, then, waiting to take his place on the McLaren F1 team. Y/N and Flo were show jumping at the lower levels and Flo was Y/N's show groom for when she tried her hand at eventing.

Lando came up with every excuse in the book to join Y/N and Flo when they went eventing. He offered to drive the trailer for them, offered to groom and tack up Sooty for her. Of course, Lando had no idea what he was doing when it came to grooming and tacking up.

Flo was heavily judging her brother, but she let him come with them. He stood by the trailer, feeding Sooty mints while Y/N and Flo tacked up.

Before Lando entered F1, he knew he had to make his move. Y/N had agreed to help Flo with her horses for the night while she was off doing something unknown. It was November and Lando had just turned 19. It was now or never.

Lando made his way down to the stables. It was dark and freezing, the stables lit by floodlights. Y/N had mucked out Flo's horses and had moved onto hay. Her own horses hadn't yet been taken care of; she could deal with them once she was done with Flo's horses. Lando walked across the yard, trying to avoid getting mud on his shoes. "Y/N?" He called, looking from stable to stable.

Y/N emerged from a barn. She was in her black riding pants, mud splashed up the side. The mud disappeared under her coat and she wore a knitted beanie on her head. "Lando? What're you doing here?" She asked as she walked out of the barn with hay in her arms.

Lando let out a laugh when he saw the mud up her side. "Did you fall off or something?"

She let out a laugh as she threw the hay over the stable door. "Yeah, Sooty decided there was a gremlin hiding in the corner of the arena and freaked out," she answered as she bolted the stable door shut.

With Flo's horses done, Y/N started looking after her own. As she mucked out, Lando talked to her and gave Gismo attention. "So, McLaren, huh?" Y/N asked as she moved Gismo away from the stable door. "You excited?"

"You know it, baby!" Lando cheered. But his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he scratched at the back of his neck. "Are you gonna come to any of my races?"

"Yeah I'll go with Flo."

But that wasn't what Lando meant. He cleared his throat and rocked on his heels. "What if Flo doesn't go to any? Will you?"

Y/N stopped and put her broom against the stable wall. She crossed her arms over her coat and turned towards her best friends brother. "What are you trying to say, Lan?" Because there was clearly something he wasn't getting across.

Lan. He loved it. He loved when Y/N called him Lan. He somehow went even more red as he looked at her. "I want you to come to my races with me, whether Flo is there or not."

Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh holy shit, Lan. I'd love to." She looked back at Gismo. "But I can't. Not when I've got these guys."

"Let me take you on a date then, before I go."

That was five years ago. Now, everybody was waiting for the couple to get engaged.

They were in the process of trying to move in together, but that meant Y/N moving the horses with her. Trying to find a stables just outside of Monaco that wasn't over the top expensive seemed too be an impossible task. Lando was happy to pay any amount of money to have his girlfriend and the horses there with him.

But Y/N didn't want to do that. She didn't want to have to rely on Lando to pay for everything. She was going to make it to Monaco, to be there with him, on her own.

Until then they were stuck with the odd date night whenever Lando could come back to England. If Y/N could, she paid somebody to look after Sooty and Gismo while she went to Monaco or to the odd race.

"Is he meeting you here?" Asked Flo as they walked across the stables, towards where they kept their equipment.

Y/N nodded her head. "Should get here just before I'm done with Gismo," she answered. "Pretty good timing if you ask me."

Lando was an incredibly supportive boyfriend. He had to be, with Y/N supporting his Formula One career. Whenever Lando could he came to one of her shows. No matter if she was eventing or jumping or doing dressage, Lando was watching with his camera.

Flo let out a sigh as she passed the martingale to Y/N. "You know, it might actually be nice to see him," she said as she and Y/N made their way back over to the horse.

Y/N quickly got herself and Gismo ready. She led him out to the arena and mounted. She rode him around the arena, warming him up and sending him flying over jumps as she waited for her boyfriend to appear.

Boyfriend. It had been weird saying that at first. After he and Y/N had their first date Lando was whisked away into the world of Formula One. They called a lot in that time, but it was strange. Their dynamics had changed but they weren't together yet.

It was a while before they got to have a second date.

A month after the second they had their third. That was when Lando officially asked her to be his.

That was five years ago.

As soon as Lando turned up to the stables, he knew white trainers had been a mistake. Actually, bringing such an expensive car had been a mistake. But, he got out anyway, locked it, and walked to where he knew he would find his girlfriend.

Lando was in awe every time he watched her ride. He couldn't tear her eyes away as she sent Gismo flying over the jumps, throwing her hands forward to let his neck stretch.

Lando had sat on Gismo before. He was the calmer of the two horses, the only one Y/N trusted to take care of Lando.

When Y/N finished jumping and brought Gismo back down to a trot, Lando clapped. Once upon a time he had whistled for her, but Sooty had spooked and Y/N had fallen off. Lando hadn't done it since.

"Lan!" Y/N called as she steers Gismo towards him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," said Lando as Gismo put his head over the fence, searching him for treats. When he discovered Lando didn't have any, he resorted to getting attention instead. "Missed you as well, Gremlin."

Y/N took two minutes to cool Gismo down before she jumped off. She took him back to the stable and untacked him in record time, all while Lando watched. It was incredible watching her do the thing she loved, he realised. She must've felt the same way about him.

As soon as she was done, it was time for date night. Y/N finally managed to wrap her arms around Lando, holding him close. "You're gonna stink of horses," she said as Lando squeezed her even tighter.

"I don't care," he answered before he kissed her.

Keeping one arm around her waist, Lando walked her out to the car. Her boots were muddy on his cars interior, but Lando didn't care. She could have walked shit into his car and he wouldn't have cared.

"I brought that dress you like," Lando said. Before he'd gotten to the stables he'd stopped at Y/Ns apartment to get something for her to wear.

"You're the best, Lan," she said as she sorted the music.

I won't bore you with the details of their drive to their drive to the restaurant. Once they pulled up in the car park Y/N tried her best to get dressed in the not very spacious car, since their was no way she was getting in in her state. She combed her fingers through her hair, brushing out any hay.

"Goddamn," said Lando as she stepped out the car. Y/N slipped her hand into his and she walked in.

The restaurant was nice, rather fancy. The pair shared a candle-lit Italian dinner, with music playing softly in the background. Y/N listened eagerly as Lando spoke about his last race. "I really wish you were there, though," he muttered as he finished his dinner. "I can't wait for you to move to Monaco."

"I know, Lan. I can't wait either," she replied. They were making progress. Y/N had found a stables near enough by and it wasn't too pricy. She had a key to Lando's apartment, where she was staying for the weekend while he was away at another race.

As soon as they were finished eating, Lando asked for the bill. "No dessert?" Y/N asked with a frown. Lando loved his dessert, but today he was rushing.

"Nope," Lando answered as he paid. "My trainer would kill me."

As soon as he had paid, Lando escorted Y/N out of the restaurant. He walked her over to the car, stopping half way to do up his laces.

"Thanks for tonight, Lan," she said as she turned towards him.

But, when she did, Lando wasn't doing up his laces. He was down on one knew, an open ring box in his hand. Inside of the ring box was, well, a ring. It was simple, a band with a small stone, just the way Y/N liked it. "I know we haven't moved in together yet, but I really wanna marry you."

There was a moment where Y/N couldn't answer him. She was in complete and utter shock. The only talks of marriage had been tabloid speculation, no indicators from Lando himself. "Holy shit, Lan," she said, because that was all she could say.

It wasn't a question of whether Y/N wanted to marry him. Of course she did. She wanted that more than anything.

"Holy shit Lando Norris. Of course I'll marry you."

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mindibindi · 5 months

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Fourteen is just gonna turn that second TARDIS into a library, isn't he? It's gonna grow weeds around the bottom as it sits there in the backyard next to Rose's TARDIS. He's gonna dig through all of his outer space logs and find the weirdest creatures in the universe and then he's gonna sprint across and shove a picture in her face and say: Hey think you can make THIS one?? And all her customers are gonna be like: WHERE do you come up with this stuff?? And she'll tell em her uncle helps.

Over time, the TARDIS will learn to chill out too, grow smaller and slower and dimmer. The Doctor will get special issues and old tomes and otherworldly pamphlets delivered to Wilf's old newsstand and he'll wheel Wilf down to collect them and get a sneaky pie while Sylvia isn't looking. Sylvia is gonna say the TARDIS is too chilly (even though she barely steps inside the thing for fear of it flitting off with her) so she's gonna bring CHAIRS and pillows and throws and cups of tea. Mostly because Rose and her Dad like to hang out in there. Definitely not for the Doctor himself. (Although he does like her tuna madras better than anyone else does, so maybe she brings him some of that. Just so it doesn't go to waste). Sean will build the Doctor a desk and a little patio around the TARDIS perimeter so he can sit outside and sun himself. And when Donna comes home from a hard day's work at UNIT, he's gonna throw thick volumes at her, saying: oh I know what that is, read this, that'll help. And Donna will be like: WHY do I gotta read a big ole book when YOU can just TELL ME what we're dealing with? And Fourteen's gonna be like: oh no, I'm retired. And I'm working on a full written history of [insert weird alien name -- probly the horsey alien thing from "Wild Blue Yonder"]. But now and again, when things get really dire, she will persuade him to come to UNIT as a consultant. The TARDIS will stay put tho, it'll just keep growing grass around the bottom and gathering leaves on top. Instead, he'll chuck Donna the keys to the car and say: You're driving (and then he'll complain about her driving the whole way as he is scrunched up against the car door because Donna now has full license from UNIT to be a hoon).

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lenoraah · 5 months

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𝙘𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨

pairing - alex albon x reader

summary - just a relaxing day between Alex, reader and the cats spent with tea and kisses

a/n - my first Alex piece 🤍 also the cats in this will be….. Gucci, Horsey and Looky (also i am unsure which cats live with Alex soooo) and reader with have cats; Rapunzel, Cinderella and Aurora (am inspired by Disney princesses)

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Y/n smiles at the snow white kitten purring by her ankle. Cinderella mewls, rubbing her head against Y/n’s dinosaur print socks.

Alex stands in the doorframe, holding a cup of Y/n’s favorite tea, smiling at the sight. His mouth parts open as Looky walks through his legs, passing him to sit next to Cinderella.

Alex sighs, watching Gucci jump into Y/n’s lap. Y/n closes her book, putting it on the wooden table. He quietly walks in, setting the mug of tea on the table next to the book.

“Hey you,” Alex stands next to her, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Hey you yourself,” Y/n hums, gently stroking Gucci’s head.

The rest of the cats pile into the room, nuzzling against the couple.

Horsey and Aurora hug Alex’s legs, making him unable to move. He laughs and the cats mewl in response.

Rapunzel and Looky do the closest thing a cat to do to a frown, gently patting Y/n’s calf for attention. Y/n smiles, leaning down to pick up the other two cats. Cinderella tilts her head to the side, Y/n sighing before picking her up too.

“It’s like we’re parents,” Alex laughs, trying to pick up one leg but failing.

“Yeah,” Y/n sighs.

“Could we be parents one day?”

“Maybe, but today is not that day.”

Alex sighs sarcastically and Y/n smiles, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips.

#alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon imagine #alex albon fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #original post #original writing

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

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𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: as a horse girl/equestrian, this story is very special to me. I hope you all enjoy Joel+Clove/Clover (bc you’re his lucky charm) and their cute lil horsey love story ♡

~word count : 2.3k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, eventual established relationship, single! Father Joel, protective! Joel, he’s so sweet your teeth will hurt! Joel, eventual smut, some angst, no y/n, +18 minors dni !

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

Joel Miller, 34; single father and a total softy, only for his kid of course. Sarah was his absolute sunshine. His baby girl. After her mom was no longer in the picture, Joel took on the full responsibility of being a single father, with the help of his brother Tommy too. Sarah was an adventurous kid. She always wanted to be outside. Whether it was hiking with her dad, playing soccer, or any other sport she could fathom. Joel would do anything and everything for his daughter. He’d lasso her the fucking moon if he could. When she wanted to try out for soccer, he became her coach. He researched all the drills, got her the best cleats he could afford, and attended every single one of her practices, and games. Yeah, you could say he was easily the most unashamedly supportive dad out there.

It came as no surprise to Joel when Sarah came to him one day after school going on and on about horses. Her class had watched the movie ‘Spirit’ that day, and she was absolutely hooked. It was the only thing she wanted to talk about when he picked her up. Joel loved to see his kid talking about the things she loved, so passionately.

“Dad, the movie had me in tears! It was such a beautiful story, I can’t stop thinking about it!”

He chuckled, bringing his arm around the back of her seat as he backed out of the parking spot he was currently in. “Yeah? Think i’ve heard of that movie before kiddo. It’s a good one.”

“Would you watch it again?”

“With you? Absolutely!”

She had rolled the window down, letting her arm rest on the side. She had purple nail polish on, her favorite color. “So Dad, what if I said I maybe wanted to look into taking some horseback riding lessons? I already grabbed like 6 different horse books from the school library! Did you know that horses can sleep standing up? They only lie down to sleep when they feel safe, and there’s usually another horse watching over them just in case!”

“I had no idea about that kiddo. You got any more horse facts for me?” He tapped his hand lightly against the steering wheel, Linda Ronstadt’s ‘Long Long Time’ crackled through the old radio in his truck. “You wanna look into getting some horseback riding lessons? Sure, sweet pea. I’ll look into it for ya.

Sarah was already pulling out one of the horse books from her bag, flipping through the pages. “Oh! Here’s one, did you know that horses have a nearly 360-degree field of vision? They have two blind spots, one directly behind them, and other directly in front of their head.” She looked over at her dad in the passenger seat, she was beaming when he said he would look into riding lessons for her. “Really? Thank you dad, you’re the best!”

“Is that why you’re not supposed to stand behind ‘em cause they’ll spook? No problem kiddo. Might have to take an extra shift with Tommy but it’ll be alright.” He spoke while pulling into their driveway and as soon as he was parked, Sarah was unbuckling her seat belt and giving him a big hug and kiss on the cheek. “I think so? Bet the book I'm reading will have all the answers! I’ll do the dishes extra this week and anything else you need help with, okay?”

He hugged her back, giving her a soft kiss on the side of her head. He loved his daughter more than anything in the world.

“I appreciate it kiddo. Whad’ya want for dinner? If you say pizza again I swear–”

She giggled as she pulled away from his hug shortly after and hopped out of the passenger seat. “I was gonna say that we should switch it up a bit, so how about some chicken fingers and fries?”

“Kiddo, you gotta get some vegetables in there! How about broccoli?”

She made a weird face at him. “Broccoli? Really dad? That stuff is nasty!”

“What if I smother it in butter and cheese?”

“Now we’re talking!”

He chuckled to himself, cutting the ignition and hopped out of the driver's seat. “Damn kid never wantin’ to eat her greens.” He muttered to himself.

Sarah had cooped herself up in her room with her horse books spread out on her bed. She barely even heard her dad hollering that dinner was ready because she was that immersed in it. The second time he yelled, she closed up the book and headed downstairs.

After dinner and a couple episodes of ‘The Saddle Club’ were watched, Joel had carried a sleeping Sarah up to her room. He gently tucked her in under the covers, kissing the top of her head before he gathered up all her books and quietly placed them on her desk. He took one last look at his baby girl, who was peacefully sleeping before he softly closed her bedroom door.

Joel found himself sitting in his makeshift office, looking up horseback riding facilities in their area. He got distracted by this neat little website called, ‘breyerhorses.com’ There he found that the website was for toy figurine horses called model horses. As soon as he recognized the two horses from the movie ‘Spirit,’ he didn’t hesitate ordering them for Sarah. He ordered one for himself as well, a Quarter Horse in a sliding stop position. He admittedly had no idea what the horse was doing, but he recognized it from a rodeo he attended way back when.

After the model horses were ordered, he was back on the hunt. Most of the horseback riding facilities in their area were way out of his budget. They also came off as being elite, a little snobby, and definitely not for beginners. He was just about to give up when he stumbled upon your website. Thank the heavens, he thought to himself as he clicked the link. Right away he was liking what he was seeing just based on the words, ‘family owned’ and ‘non-profit’ The title of your facility was ‘Dream Riders.’ He read in the bio that every horse on the property was rescued, and that you were big on horsemanship skills. He also liked to see that lessons were offered for all ages, skill level, experience, and riding style. What really sold him was how affordable the prices were, and thank fuck for that because all the other hunter jumper barns he looked at, had a starting rate of $60-$100 per lesson. Who in their right mind was spending that much on a horseback riding lesson? Not Joel Miller. Each of the horses had a little bio as well including their breed, age, and personality. He admittedly skipped over that section and went right to your bio.

He could tell just from your smile alone that you were a decent person. You had kind, soft looking eyes. The photograph you had posted was you with your horse, your arm draped around his neck, giving him a hug. Joel couldn’t deny that you were pretty easy on the eyes as well. Not that it really mattered. He was only looking to make sure that his daughter would be in good hands. It just happened to be a bonus that you were attractive. Nothing more, and nothing less. He scribbled down your name and phone number onto a torn piece of paper.

He called you the following morning after dropping Sarah off at school, holding the phone against his ear as it rang. He tapped his fingers along the steering wheel as he waited.

You had just finished bringing the horses in from being out in the pasture all night when your phone rang. You had reached into your back pocket pulling it out to answer it and of course, Javi P chose to be a dickhead to his brother, Javi G, yet again. The tall, chestnut OTTB, (off the track Thoroughbred) let out a mean squeal over the side of his stall door. His ears were flattened against his head as he pawed at the wood aggressively. “Would you cut that shit out man? You’re gonna get your grain in a minute, pal. Eat your hay and stop making faces at your brother, dickhead.” You walked over to Javi G’s stall and reached your hand up and gently gave his velvety nose a gentle pet. “He’s always so grumpy in the morning huh? Who took a shit in his oats?” You gave him a quick kiss on the nose before finally answering your phone.

You said your name first before Joel even had the chance to get a word out. “Dream Riders, how can I help you?” You didn’t have a Texas accent like Joel had expected, and he could tell that you weren’t a local by any means.

“Hey, this is Joel. Hope i’m not botherin’ you or anythin’ just was looking to get my daughter some riding lessons–”

Javi P had kicked the side of his stall door, making a loud thump with his heavy hoof.

“Joel? Just gimme a minute, yeah?”

“Uh sure–”

You pulled your phone away from your ear as you gave the tall Thoroughbred a warning look.

“What did I just say? I’m on the phone, can’t you see that? You want me to turn you into glue? Don’t think that I won’t. Kick the door one more time bud, go on. See what happens.”

You brought the phone back to your ear with a small huff. You had no idea that Joel had heard the entire thing.

“Sorry about that Joel. You were saying that you were looking to get your daughter some riding lessons?”

“Yeah, I-uh–I was. Listen, you aren’t actually gonna turn that horse into glue, are you?”

You were visibly mortified, and felt flustered that Joel, a potential new client, heard you threaten to turn a horse into glue. You lifted your middle finger at Javi P then before rubbing your hand over your face.

“Oh god, did you hear that entire thing? I’m so sorry about that. Just was scolding one of our lovely horses. I swear, I will not be turning him into glue.” You nervously laughed.

Joel let out a chuckle as he leaned back against the worn leather seat in his truck.

“Oh, well that’s a relief. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anythin’ like that. Just couldn’t help but hear that part, y’know?”

“No worries at all, Joel. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. Anyway, what skill level is your daughter at?”

“She’s a beginner. Never been on a horse in her life. She just came to me yesterday actually after watching the movie Spirit, and said she really wants to take some horseback riding lessons. I spent all night lookin’ for the right place and then stumbled upon your page. Thought there was no harm in given’ ya a call.”

“Ah, I see. So she got hooked by the horse girl bug right away, huh? Well I'm sure you’ve already seen on our page that we’re entirely inclusive. All ages, skill level, experience, and riding style. I happen to teach all the beginners myself so your daughter would be taught under me. If you are interested, come on by anytime tomorrow and I'll give you both a tour?

“Yeah, that was honestly one of the main things that had your place stickin’ out from the rest. That and the price range.”

“Hunter jumper barns can cost a bitch-in-a-half. I used to take lessons at one years ago. Thought I was gonna have to take out a loan just to pay for lessons alone.”

Joel chuckled against the receiver. You had a mouth on you, that was for sure.

“Well, I think I’ll definitely take up your offer to get a tour of the place. You said anytime tomorrow? We’ll swing by sometime in the late afternoon. Does that work for you?”

“I really shouldn’t swear in front of potential customers, huh? Yeah! Anytime tomorrow works. Just give me a call when you’re on your way and I'll make sure I'm presentable. Looking forward to meeting you, and your daughter, Joel.”

“Perfect, I’ll let Sarah know. She’s gonna be stoked. Thank you again for your time darlin’ and see you late tomorrow afternoon. Take care now. I don’t mind the swearin’ by the way. Got a sailor’s mouth myself.”

Calling you darlin must have just been a Texas gentleman thing, right? So why did Joel Miller have you feeling red hot like a mushy tomato, on a hot summer's day already? You hadn’t even met this man yet, and just by his voice alone, you knew he was attractive.

“You got a sailor's mouth too? Well shit, never would have guessed that. Take care now, Joel. See you tomorrow.”

You ended the call and slipped your phone back into your jeans pocket as you walked down the row of stalls. You stopped in front of your own horse’s stall. Ezra was a 16 hand high Hanoverian. You rescued him from slaughter 5 years ago and you have been inseparable since.

“Hey fella,” You gave him a good pat on his soft neck, reached into your pocket and pulled out a carrot, holding it out for him and he gently grabbed it from your fingers. Chewing the treat happily. “Do all Texas men end first time phone calls with ‘darlin'?”

Your horse nickered in response, rubbing his face against your shoulder affectionately.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was gonna say bud.”

You gave him a good scratch behind his ears and one more carrot.

You were definitely a little too excited to meet this Joel Miller tomorrow. You couldn’t wait to put a face to his name.

Joel was feeling the same way about you as well. Except, he luckily had your website photo to go off of. Man, were you a pretty little thing.

Part 2:

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autism-corner · 6 months

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Sweet tooth, for you

During class you learn an interesting fact about demon teeth, and it takes over your mind for weeks after. What began as pure curiosity grows into something more passionate, but you can't just ask Belphegor to have a feel at his teeth, right?

Belphegor x reader || you/yours pronouns. reader has a dick. reader gets referred to with mr. once but otherwise unspecified gender. || lil bit of both comfort & smut || 3.3K words. || ao3

Usually, anatomy class at RAD discusses the biology of non-demons, striving to educate their demographic on bodies that are different from their own. The bodies and its functions of werewolves, ghosts and even humans have been thoroughly discussed. But, with the upcoming exam, a revision of their own person was needed.

Of course, demon’s anatomy wasn’t the only topic to be revised, so they only spent about two hours on it until they moved on. Still, despite having done a fair share of your own experiments with certain demons’ bodies, there were a few new neat things you picked up on. Their blood gets darker depending on general power and rank, horns need to shed and regrow every couple of centuries, et cetera, et cetera. The one thing that really stuck with you though, was the fact that, apparently, teeth slowly shift into a form closer to their respective animal over the years.

It was strange that you never noticed. Even though Levi rarely opened his mouth (and when he did it went too fast to take a proper look), he did seem to have longer and sharper canines, which closely resembled a snake’s fangs. Satan, although you’d never say this out loud, did also have a rather horsey (unicorny?) teeth, especially evident when he was once again grinding them down in his fits of rage. All the other brothers’ animals didn’t really have teeth at all, so they all have pretty regular mouths. Well, all, aside from Belphie. Cows had teeth for sure.

—

It’s been a couple of weeks. The exam had gone by, and it went okay, you guess. There’s not much reason to care about grades if you’re stuck here anyway. What you do care about is the thing that still hasn’t been able to leave your mind for all those weeks. You watched and watched, but nothing about Belphie’s teeth seemed much more fundamentally different than, say, Beel’s. It kept you constantly awake at night, and your entire search history was filled with research on cow’s teeth. You even tried the oldest books on bovidae you could find in the library. Nothing mentioned how these animals affect an associated demon’s teeth.

What you also didn’t understand was the reason for your fascination with his teeth. You and Belphie had been more than platonic for a good bit now, so it wasn’t like it’s weird to be interested in him. But this enchantment, spending day and night thinking about such a specific part of him, it felt strange. Too strange to just ask him about it.

As days and weeks continued, your interest never diminished. No, it grew stronger the longer you held off simply asking him. Now, anytime he decided to nap near you, you couldn’t keep your eyes off that mouth of his. A few times temptation got the better of you, and you moved closer to get a better look. It wouldn’t be rare to walk into a room where you and him resided, and to find you with a finger in his mouth. Just to get a better look of course. Nothing more. Simple curiosity. Or so you kept telling yourself.

—

You didn’t know how you managed to hide your interest from Belphie for this long. Maybe he was just too stupid, or maybe he was too enamoured with you in turn to notice. Beel picked up though. How could he not. He just didn’t think anything of it. It wouldn’t be the first time he walked in on something strange, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. You don’t know what finally made him bring it up to Belphie, but you did know that a very amused cow is now standing in your doorway, and will not leave until you spill your not-so-secret-anymore passion.

—

“Ugh” You groan. You knew it would eventually come to bite you in the ass, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared.

“Hi!” Cheerfulness is a scary look on Belphegor. You just know he is up to anything but good. “Beel was telling me about a little thing you’ve been doing to me…” The smile turned into a frown, clearly played up. “Why didn’t you ask me about it? I am very hurt you know…. Won’t you comfort me right now?”. Christ. He won’t let you get out of this. If you absolutely had to discuss this with him, better to do it in private. You huffed, grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside. After pushing him on the bed, you made a quick trip to lock the door. Better safe than sorry.

When you turned back to the bed, Belphie had made himself plenty comfortable. It’s a mystery how he does it this quick, since the door can’t be more than two metres from your bed, but there he was. Somehow already under the blankets, unashamedly sniffing your pillow. For some reason his boots and pants were already thrown on the floor. You were entirely grateful for choosing to lock the door immediately.

As you stood there, admiring the likely half-naked man in your bed, you had to force yourself to move. Prolonging the topic wouldn’t do you any good, and you were all too keen to reach the ‘good ending’ that has been so clearly presented to you by the demon in your bed. So, you sat down on the edge of your bed, way more nervous than you have ever felt in your own room.

“I-. Look.” Belphie didn’t move. You don’t mind. You needed to have your say, and a pair of piercing eyes on you while you did so was not going to help. “I don’t know how much Beel has actually told you, but all of it is probably true.” You couldn’t bear to look at him either, shame endlessly growing with intensity, but the warm hand that had reached out to hold yours helped. A little.

—

You told him everything. The anatomy class where it all started, your ever-growing curiosity for his teeth specifically, and the eroticism that started to develop for them as well. You decided to let out the details of your nightly pleasures to him, but he got the gist. The idea of big molars, and teeth in general, was very hot to you. Alright.

During your spilling of the embarrassing obsession, small tears had started to form in your eyes. You know Belphegor loved you and he had his own kinks as well, but this felt too weird. You couldn’t find anyone at all that shared your interest, and there were only a few videos online to satisfy your needs. Imagination was becoming harder to use, always having to be more aware that you could just ask the object of interest. But, in a way it felt good. Better. Halfway through your ramblings Belphie had gotten up and next to you, draping a blanket over the two of you. He hadn’t interrupted. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. Feelings weren’t really his strong suit.

Once you were finished with most of your difficult feelings, your tears having dried a bit, you gathered the courage to look at your boyfriend. Your voice was a bit sore, but you managed to talk again. “So. Have I turned you off with my weirdness?” It was a half-joke. Something like this couldn’t stop Belphie loving you, but you couldn’t shake the fear off you that easily. Luckily, the one thing regarding feelings that Belphegor was good at, was affirming his admiration to you.

As his fingers continued fidgeting with yours, like they had for the past while, he responded softly. “You really think something like that could stop me from being with you?” His eyes reached yours for the first time today. “Darling. All of us have little secrets like that. If anything, I’m more upset that you've waited this long to tell me.” A small smirk formed on his face. “Do you know how much fun we could’ve had with this already? I know you see me as your little pillow princess, but I do want you to enjoy yourself as well. I am totally not opposed to you getting a feel, yaknow.” His face inched closer, his soft lips pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Are you up to satisfying your curiosities right now?”

You felt a bit stupid for doubting he wouldn’t be eager to please you as well. So, as soon as you gave him a smile and a nod, his coyness dropped and a huge smile came to his face. “Awesome!” Within the next second, he put his arms around your neck in one swift movement, and pulled the both of you down to lay on the bed. In a poor attempt to not put your entire weight on his fragile-looking body, your legs put you in excellent position to straddle Belphegor. He let out a sweet giggle at the feeling.

“So, Mr. Curious-About-Teeth, care to tell me what you want to know?”. The look he gave you was addicting. His arms were still around your neck, keeping you close, and forcing you to put all too much weight on the arms you have braced around his head. Unfortunately, you have a little too much dignity left in you to fall limp all over him by the mere mention of his teeth.

His teeth…

As soon as you were brought back to reality, you returned to being very aware of the situation and everything it held. But, all the fantasies you had really didn’t prepare you for the real thing. Hmm. Where to start?

As you pondered over the next best thing to do, Belphies expression softened. His lustful gaze never lessened, but it became clear to him that this was still difficult for you. Understandably so. Neither of you had ever been this unprepared for a new ‘experiment’.

Finally, you grunted. “Argh. Listen, I don’t know.” The thinking was too energy-consuming, and you begrudgingly let your arms give in, making all of your weight fall onto the man below. If it did hurt, Belphie didn’t let you know. “Just. Let me do my thing. Please?” You had to start somewhere. And thus, comfortably splayed out on your demon, you began where you had left off a couple days ago. Getting your fingers all in that hot mouth of his.

Now finally being awake during your indulgence, Belphie immediately opened up obediently for you. With his mouth wide agape, you finally got to look at that which you so desperately longed for. Your fingers, which were already close to his lips to begin with, were able to properly slither in at last. Your eyes were instantly mesmerised by the look of you, reaching into that holy place.

Your fingers reached his molars before your eyes were able to get a proper look at them. You made sure to remember to ask Belphie again later for another look and proper, non-horny research. Despite the current hard-on that was slowly developing in your pants, you were still fascinated by the entire concept from a scientific standpoint. Not right now though, no. Any logical or reasonable thought had long left your mind.

They were pointy and flat. Anything you thought they would be. Grinding your finger against them, you could only imagine what your dick would feel like in those same dangers. God, they felt divine. Even better than you ever could have hoped. How can a demon like this feel this good? Although that would probably remain a mystery, you were all too keen to keep exploring.

As you marvelled in his sharp wetness, another one of your fingers joined you. They travelled along either side of his jaw. You started at the front, with his smooth incisors. Not too much different from your own teeth. But, continuing to where you would have expected some canines, it turned into a smooth transition to his premolars. The premolars were a bit sharper than the molars farther back, and gave a very nice resistance. At this point though, the two fingers were getting a bit much for Belphegor, spreading his mouth out more than comfortable. Although he was known for his big mouth, you guess that this wasn’t what they meant.

Too entranced to notice, WAY to turned on to stop, you decided that the least you could do was give him something to pay with as well. So, alongside the two already in his mouth, another two fingers went in. It took a bit of shuffling to fit it in proper, but your index and pinky finger were now on either side of his jaw, your ring and middle finger keeping his tongue pressed down.

As you continued, your focus finally able to shift to his molars fully, you let yourself go again. Bephie seemed a bit more contend as well, now leisurely licking and playing with the long forgotten fingers formerly resting on his tongue. You asked yourself later how he was even able to handle so much business in his mouth, but you guess there’s indeed plenty more to learn about demons’ anatomy. For now, back to the teeth.

The molars had been the most fascinating things for you. They are the teeth anyone sees when asked to imagine one. Big, square, pointy bits on the bottom (which were now still in his gums, luckily enough). The classic. Oh how you had longed to feel his like this.

They were bigger. Longer. One could have mistaken one of Belphie’s molars for two of a humans. It was hot. You couldn’t help but wonder how far back they went. So, your hand wondered, without any regards to the man whose mouth you were currently evading.

It had gone too far. The molars kept continuing, and your hand wasn’t going to stop by itself. But despite his unusual physique, Belphegor still had a gag reflex. Somewhere far back.

He bit. You thought you heard a bit of a moan, but you weren't sure. It hadn’t ~hurt~ per se. If anything, your pants got impossibly more tight. But it couldn’t have been pleasant for Belphegor. So, regardless of your own burning needs, you retrieved your hands out of his sharp warmth.

You merely looked on while Belphie coughed and tried to get his breath back. You noticed that his eyes were a bit dazed, like they usually were after an eventful night, and was happy it wasn’t all that bad for the other party. Still, he clearly needed some space to wheeze for a moment. While he got his breath back, you got up and quickly slid off your pants. Those would not be necessary for anything that would follow.

—

It’s unclear how you got here. One moment you were hurrying your belt off, and the next moment you were sat on belphie’s chest, the demon under you already licking at your tip. Did he manage to pull you back here somehow? Reaching for a bit of stability in your new-found position, you placed your hands next to his head. As you did so, his eyes reached you once again, and he flashed you a smile. “Ready for the ride?” he asked with a sultry tone. At least, you think he did. Despite the loveliness of it, you couldn’t really focus on his voice. Everything you’ve longed for over the past months was right in front of you, and nothing but those pearly ivories could inhabit your mind at the moment. Belphie didn’t mind your absence, pleased enough to pleasure you for now. This time, he didn’t cover his teeth as his enveloping warmth embraced you once again.

It was rough. The scraping and tugging wasn’t exactly like what you tried to imagine so many times, but it felt good. Way too good. Something you hadn’t considered before but was certainly a plus, was the danger surrounding it all. You knew all the better that if Belphie really wanted to, he could properly bite down right now, and snap off your entire dick. The signs of thrust and love surrounding it all made you appreciate it even more.

Up till now, Belphie had been giving you the regular ol’ blowjob. Definitely nothing wrong with it, especially so with the added roughness of his teeth, but you wanted, no, NEEDED more. You grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him to look up, shifting your hips to be in a position with more controle. “Belphs,” Fuck. His eyes met yours, and you were once again reminded how addicted to him you were. You smiled. “I’m gonna take charge for now, alright?”

He couldn’t respond of course, your dick still halfway in his mouth, but he managed to give a slight nod, accompanied with a little smile. Adorable. “Please, if it gets too much, tap me somewhere twice, alright?” It’s important to set up safeties, especially since you weren’t sure how aware you could be when things got further. He smiled again, a look of determination settling on his face. It’s a shame that in your current position, you weren’t able to kiss his face. Oh well. There were more important things at hand right now.

As your hips slowly started up again, Belphie placed his hands on your thighs. He pulled you closer, encouraging you to let loose. He knew what he was getting himself into.

You manoeuvred your hips a bit, searching for the delicious points and dips of his molars your fingers had explored so well earlier. As you found your place, sandwiched between your lovers teeth, you noticed them bite down on you. As they did so, shivers went up your spine. It didn’t hurt at all. Alright, maybe it did a little bit, but it only added to the pleasure. It made you long for more, harder. Would Belphie like the taste of your blood? That’s something to find out later, you didn’t want to go that far this first time.

While getting used to the frankly weird and strangely hot situation, your hips gained movement again. You couldn’t focus on anything but grinding against this foreign sensation, hoping to remember every nook and cranny, and make them yours. It was delicious.

Belphie’s teeth provided the perfect amount of resistance to rut against. With each movement of your hips the feeling increased, and so did the pressure. As your tip dragged along the sharp edges, you let out moans like you hadn’t ever before. And Belphie’s own grunting, as much as he was able to do so, only spurred you on. Slowly, you felt yourself get lost in the sensation, chasing and relishing in endless pleasure.

—

You don’t know how long you used Belphegor. You came twice, thrice maybe? And he must have swallowed it all, since you definitely did not stop after your first round. Admittedly, all your memories of it are a bit hazy. You remember quick movement and relentless bliss, but not much more. All the more an excuse to do it again someday. But for now you were spent, and the boy sound asleep next to you clearly was as well. Come to think of it, had he even cum? Were you really too lost in your own thrill to care for his needs?? Surely that wouldn’t do, and you made a mental note to make it up to him extensively, once he woke up. Later.

As you pulled your demon closer to you, you placed a sweet kiss on his forehead. “Thank you” you murmured softly. Subconsciously, Belphegor moved closer to you as well, and you closed your eyes. Content after a night well spent you went on your way to join him in his dreams, hoping to give him more love there.

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

HI thank you for reading!! its a pretty niche fetish so I need to make my own contend for it but im pretty happy with how it turned out =w=b just another reminder that I also posted this on ao3, and to comment and like/reblog if you enjoyed my silly lil teeth groping & fucking <3

#obey me belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me #sillyposting #my work #obey me smut #x reader #teeth #ig??#YAY #my first title was 'anatomy class' as a reference to tma bc i love that eps but ig its better to have one that directly references teeth...#so cavetown song it is!! i love that song sm it really hits hard. plus it fits pretty well for this so!!! <3 YAYY #im finally coming out and saying it directly.#dude i just wanna fuck some teeth oml......#oml do NOT get me started......#i just need some pretty boy who has strong molars and lets me put my fingers in his mouth for hours.#augh you wouldnt understand......#anyway =w=bbbb #YIPPEEE finally belphie cowdentrues my love......

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

Text

I ║ Palomino

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2: Buckskin }

Rating: M (will be E in future chapters)

Summary: Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you'd booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need.

Warnings: Extremely self-indulgent solo travel romance, flirting, yearning, language, matchmaking themes, lots of horsey details, mention of breakup, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: This story encompasses a lot of firsts for me - first new series since Consent, first time writing Jack, first time writing something so action-heavy and close to my heart. While I'm not 100% confident I got everything right, I am so excited about this fic. I hope you're ready for the ride (I apologise in advance for all the horsey puns incoming)!

I want to call out (affectionate) LJ @prolix-yuy for lighting a fire under my ass for cowboy Jack with her incredible Westworld AU Cognitive Dissonance. I also need to thank Ani @deadhumourist for the idea of a company retreat that I used in this chapter, and for sharing with us her amazing Jack fic Under Marula Trees. And of course, Ash @mandoblowmybackout for enduring my almost non-stop screeching about Jack ❤️

More notes in the Series Masterlist on horses and travel, etc!

Palomino: a pale golden or tan-coloured horse or pony with a white mane and tail, originally bred in the south-western US.

The door creaks long and loud on its hinges as it opens, barely letting through a bustling figure before slamming shut so hard it rattles on its heavy oak frame.

At the long-suffering frown sent his way from across the reception desk, Champ holds his hands up in apology and tip-toes in exaggerated fashion to his desk. Ginger shakes her head fondly - being quiet is not one of her employer’s strong suits.

She presently returns to the phone call she’s in the middle of, using her most placating tone on this customer. ‘Look, we have regulars coming in the same week as you. They come every year for a company retreat, and they are just the loveliest people you can meet. I promise you’ll have a great time.’

The vintage Chesterfield groans under his weight as Champ settles down, and with a practised flick of his wrist, his cowboy hat lands on its designated hook on the wall. He turns to the ledgers Harry left on his desk two days ago - he can’t keep putting them off much longer…

His mind quickly wanders. He’s a people person, and he’s always been more interested in the dude ranch holiday part of the business. However, Ginger is so good at her job that she’s made him redundant, banishing him to the whiskey distillery side of things.

It doesn’t stop him from keeping half an ear on the ongoing phone conversation though.

‘I’m so sorry, ma’am, it’s not our policy to offer refunds. But I promise you’ll have the best birthday with us on the trip.’

Champ steeples his fingers and leans back in his chair. Ah, a customer wanting to cancel. Always tricky.

‘Tell you what - since you’ve already paid a 40% deposit for two guests, why don’t I waive the 20% balance for your holiday for one party?’

Champ arches a grey eyebrow in curiosity.

‘Alright, perfect,’ chirps Ginger brightly. ‘We look forward to seeing you in a few weeks. Bye now.’

‘What was that about?’ he asks as soon as she hangs up.

Bringing up the reservations system on her computer, she types busily as she replies, ‘A guest booked a holiday with her boyfriend, but they broke up, and she wanted a refund for both their places. I convinced her to come alone instead with the discount. She’s here the same week as the Kingsman so she definitely won’t be lonely.’

Champ gives her a double thumbs up. ‘Nicely done, Ginger. And did you say it’s her birthday while she’s here?’

‘Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll give Poppy a heads up to bake a cake in advance.’

‘Do you have a photo of her?’

Ginger’s fingers pause and hover over the keyboard, a warning in her voice. ‘Champ.’

He blinks innocently. ‘What? I’m a nosy bastard.’

With a sigh, she pulls up a Whatsapp profile picture and holds up the phone to him.

He puts on his reading glasses to look at the screen, and proceeds to nod thoughtfully. Finally, they haven’t had any single guests at the ranch for months on end. Surely, she’s his type…

‘Champ?’ Ginger’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. ‘Stop meddling!’

He feigns ignorance. ‘Whatever do you mean, ma’am?’

She rolls her eyes affectionately. ‘He’s a big boy, he doesn’t need your help.’

Champ barks in laughter. ‘Like hell he doesn’t. Call the Kingsman and reschedule them, Ginger. I have a plan.’

You’ve never travelled on your own before.

Now that you’re speeding down the empty country roads towards the Bighorn Mountains - windows down, dust flying, radio blaring - you honestly don’t know why you waited so long.

You’re glad that the woman at the Statesman stood firm when you called a month and a half ago, asking for a refund. The discount sweetens the deal too.

To be honest, the week-long dude ranch trip you booked months ago had completely slipped your mind in the aftermath of the breakup. There were more pressing matters, like - what were you going to do with the house you bought and remodelled together?

You’d just finished tiling the backsplash with the vintage Italian mosaic you found at a flea market when you were informed that he didn’t feel the same way about you anymore. In fact, he hadn’t for some time.

You were only reminded of the trip when you started clearing your stuff out of the attic, finally having found an apartment you could afford on your own that is also not a shithole. You found the riding gear that you’d stashed away, gathering dust since you two started dating.

You should be thankful that at least there’s no costly wedding venue deposit to forgo or a pet custody battle to muddle through. He’s always hated animals - you really should’ve known.

But you can’t bring yourself to not be bitter about everything. Not yet.

Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re going on this trip. That lazy bastard can start pulling his weight and sort out the house viewings for potential buyers for this week. He’s been dragging his feet - just because he can afford to pay both the mortgage and rent at his new bachelor pad doesn’t mean you can too.

You shake yourself out of it and crank up the stereo. Fuck it. You’re not thinking about him or the house or anything this weekend. It’s your solo birthday getaway and you’re gonna enjoy the fuck out of it.

And who knows? If you’re lucky, you could be rebounding with a handsome cowboy, like one of those awful Unicorn Club novels you used to read over and over again when you were fifteen.

You laugh, the pull of the muscles in your cheeks unfamiliar after weeks of disuse. A girl can dream.

You switch off the ignition, hands gripping the driving wheel tightly, and you take a moment to compose yourself.

‘You can do this,’ you murmur, giving yourself a reaffirming nod in the rear view mirror.

Hopping off your rental truck, you shut the door behind you and start towards the only building you can see, a rustic lodge with a red roof. Statesman is blazened in iron letters, nailed proudly above a wraparound porch with welcoming rocking chairs and armchairs scattered about.

The gravel beneath your sneakers crunches loudly. You can hear in the distance sounds that you haven’t heard for a long time - clip clop of hooves, the drag of a barn door on rusty hinges, the low whinny of horses. You breathe in the mountain air scented with a whiff of sweet hay. Things that were familiar once upon a time. Your chest constricts at something blooming between your ribs, and a small smile lifts the corner of your lips.

There’s a bark out of the blue, and a border collie comes zipping towards you, wagging his tail so hard that his whole bottom wriggles from side to side. You coo excitedly and crouch down to give him a cuddle when a man with grey hair emerges from the lodge. It’s a warm day, but he’s wearing a suit with a cowboy hat.

In a booming voice, he calls your name in greeting and makes his way over to you. ‘We’ve been expecting you, young lady! The name’s Champ. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

You stand and shake his proffered hand with a smile. ‘Nice to meet you, Champ. It’s good to be here.’ You gesture to the empty parking lot. ‘Am I early or something?’

‘You’re our only guest this week, actually,’ he replies in a thick Southern accent.

You scratch the back of your neck, taken by surprise. ‘Umm, but the lady I spoke to on the phone - she said that there are regulars joining? A company retreat or something?’

‘Sadly, they rescheduled. It’s just you, my dear. You’re our VIP!’ he grins and claps you on the shoulder. ‘Come! Walk with me. I’ll have someone take your bags to your room. You can leave the keys in the car, it’s safe - but you keep any food to yourself or Jameson here will run away with it!’

The border collie barks at his name and Champ scratches him behind the ear, dispatching him with a wave of his hands.

Your host starts at a brisk walk. ‘So, how was your journey, young lady?’

You have to power walk to keep up with him as the gravel fades into firm sand. ‘Long, but glad to be here. I’ve been really looking forward to getting away.’

‘First time travelling alone, I assume?’ Champ smiles at you kindly.

You nod sheepishly. ‘I’m a bit nervous, to be honest.’

He laughs. ‘You’re entitled to nerves, but I promise you, you’ll forget all about that in three, two, one -’

Right on cue, you round the back of the lodge and you can’t help the gasp that slips out as you stumble to a stop.

The full landscape of the ranch comes into view beneath your feet. A picturesque river cuts through the green sweep of land, small lodges with matching red roofs are dotted all over one side of the bank, and bigger barn-like structures stand on the other. The Bighorn Mountains tower over the entirety of the property. You see horses grazing in a huge, fenced field, tails flicking lazily at flies.

Champ practically glows at your reaction. ‘It’s taken thirty years to get to where we are. I hope it will stand for many more decades to come.’

‘It’s - stunning,’ you say rather inadequately.

Champ winks at you. ‘Wait till you go into the mountains, my dear. Come along, now.’

You resume walking side by side, and he continues, ‘Now, since you’re our only guest this week, I can give you two options for your trip. We can do day-long rides with you, and you spend the nights here at the ranch. It’s more comfortable, but it does mean that you don’t get to go as deep into the mountains.’

Champ stops to take a breath. ‘Alternatively, you can go on a week-long pack ride with our cowboy and camp along the way, just the two of you. It's a magnificent journey, I can promise you.’

It’s a lot of information to take in so quickly, and you hesitate. ‘Um - ’

He holds up a hand at you and pauses abruptly, something catching his eye. ‘Ah, speak of the devil. Before you decide, you need to meet our cowboy. He'll be your guide for the week.’

You’re craning your neck to catch a glimpse when Champ bellows so loudly that you nearly have to take cover. ‘JACK! Son! Say hello to our guest for this week before you take the horses to pasture.’

Your ears still ringing, the silhouette of a man on horseback comes into view halfway across the yard. The dust seems to magically settle and part, and a handsome face framed by a cowboy hat, a tidy moustache and a wicked sharp jawline comes into focus.

‘Whoa.’

You belatedly realise that you said that out loud when Champ wriggles his eyebrows at you.

‘Howdy, ma’am,’ the cowboy calls back, tipping his hat politely. His voice rings brightly in the space between you, but the delicious lick of his Southern drawl makes goosebumps chase across your skin. You manage a weak smile and a wave, not trusting your power of speech at the moment.

‘Be back at four to take the lovely lady on her orientation ride, alright?’

Jack gives him a two-fingered salute. ‘Got it, boss. See you soon, ma’am.’

You watch unashamedly as the cowboy smoothly steers his horse around, and with a whistle, the dozen or so horses follow suit as he canters out of view.

‘So? What say you?’ Champ interrupts your thoughts with an expectant look.

You can’t help the stupid grin that breaks upon your face. ‘The pack trip sounds good.’

Champ claps his hands together so loudly that you jump. ‘Your wish is my command, ma’am. Or rather - Jack’s.' He winks. ‘He’ll pick out a horse for you and take you for a short ride to make sure you’re comfortable before the trip starts tomorrow. Sounds good?’

‘Perfect.’

Stopping outside one of the lodges near the river, Champ sweeps his arm in a flourish. ‘There we go, this is your lovely room for tonight, with the best views of the mountains. Poppy’s left some lemonade and sandwiches inside if you need a pick-me-up, and your bags will be with you shortly. Just make sure you’re ready by four. Got it?’

He holds up a hand to you, and you give him a high five. ‘Got it, Champ.’

‘Welcome to the Statesman, my dear.’

Watching you bound up the stairs with a spring in your step, Champ gives himself an imaginary pat on the shoulder. Well done, old chap. The plan is in motion.

You lay your outfits on the large bed as you chew on a delicious sandwich, weighing the options for your afternoon ride. You packed according to the list the ranch sent in your orientation email, but you wish you’d brought something nicer. They really should’ve included a hot cowboy warning.

You wanted to spend some time on the porch and enjoy the magnificent views of the mountains from your doorstep before the ride, but by the time you’re finally happy with your choice of clothes, you’re startled by rapping on the door.

Sucking in a steadying breath and smoothing back your hair, you turn the knob.

Fuck me sideways. This man is devastatingly good-looking on close inspection.

‘Hi, again,’ you smile, hoping your words didn’t come out as squeaky as it sounded in your head.

The cowboy returns your smile with teeth and tips his hat at you - black suede with a leather band - then offers you his hand. ‘Jack Daniels. Pleasure to meet you properly, ma’am.’

You give him your name and your hand. His grip is firm and assured, the slide of his palm against yours feels weathered and rope-worn. You cross your arms self-consciously, but the words that come out are bolder than you feel. ‘So, Champ says you’re my own personal cowboy for the week?’

He chuckles and plays along, giving you a small bow. ‘I’m at your beck and call, darlin’.’

His rich voice curls around every syllable, dipping and climbing with each inflection, but the languid cadence doesn’t waver. You decide here and then that this man can call you darlin' any time he wants.

He hooks one thumb through a belt loop, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He runs his eyes up and down your body, both professionally assessing and not, lingering on your breeches, riding boots and half chaps. He arches an eyebrow at you and says in a playful tone, ‘So, I see you’re one of those fancy English riders.’

You gesture at the flannel shirt you’re wearing, the ends tied in a knot to give it a cropped fit. You think you look cute - hopefully. You choose to crack a joke, ‘Give me some credit, cowboy, I’m trying to fit in.’

He holds his hands up in surrender, pushing himself off the door. ‘My apologies, darlin’, where are my manners? The illusion is perfect. You ready to go?’

You grab your riding hat. ‘Absolutely.’

Jack takes one look at your helmet and tuts, plucking it from your fingers. ‘Oh no, that won’t do. That is one thing I don't allow on my rides. We’ll find you a real hat.’

It’s a short walk to the stables. You hang back with all the subtlety you can muster to quietly study the cowboy you’ll be sharing close quarters with for the next week. His walk is deliberate, he almost prowls, narrow hips undulating with the rhythm of his strut. When he reaches up to adjust his hat, his shirt strains over his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up in the afternoon heat. Your eyes are about to dip a lot lower when he turns back to look at you, and you duck your head like you’ve been caught with your finger in the pie.

Are you imagining the touch of self-satisfaction that’s crept into his warm eyes?

‘So, how long have you been riding?’ he slows down so you can catch up with him. You’re relieved he doesn’t call you out on your very obvious appraisal of him.

You shrug. ‘Since I was a kid, but I haven’t been on a horse since - ’ You pause to rearrange your words. ‘- for almost five years. And I’ve always ridden the English way, so I don’t know how well I’ll do with Western riding.’

He brushes away your concern. ‘Western is easy, it’ll be a piece of cake for you, I’m sure.’

The stables are large and airy with rustic beams framing a vaulted ceiling. Utility barns are clustered outside in close vicinity, but all is still in the mid-afternoon hour. Your footsteps echo as you make your way down the concrete corridor, Jack’s sturdy cowboy boots treading heavier and louder than your riding boots. Large and tidy stalls line either side, some empty and some occupied.

‘The horses spend most of the summer outdoors,’ explains Jack. Stopping in front of a huge chalkboard nailed to the wall, he gestures at the daily schedule listed next to each name, written in a neat hand. ‘We keep them on a weekly roster to make sure their workload is evenly distributed.’

Resuming your slow course deeper into the stables, Jack asks conversationally, ‘What are you looking for in your horse for the week?’

It’s a broad question that you don’t quite know how to answer. You purse your lips. ‘To be honest? I don’t know, it’s been a while.’

‘Ok. Let’s put it this way - what’s important to you?’ He ticks off the options with his fingers. ‘Character? Temperament? Speed? Stamina?’

Is it just you or did his voice dip an octave on that last word?

Flustered, you struggle to come up with a reply. ‘Um - ’

Seeing that you’re overwhelmed, he wipes the slate clean with a wave of his hand. ‘I apologise, I didn’t express myself well.’ He changes tact. ‘Why don’t you tell me about your favourite horse?’

That you can do. You think about the last horse you really loved, before you met your ex, casting your mind back to long weekend afternoons at the local stables. The answer comes easily to you as your eyes fall to the tips of your black boots.

‘I like a horse that's forward-going but responsive to contact, and on the hot-blooded side with a bit of an attitude - I like a challenge.’ Feeling his eyes on you, you lift your gaze to his apologetically. ‘Sorry, was that way too vague or way too specific?’

‘Not at all. I appreciate a lady who knows what she wants,’ he reassures you, seemingly pleased at what he’s hearing. ‘I got just the horse for you.’

You must be in the middle of the stables structure now, when Jack makes a sharp right turn into a spacious room. Your eyes widen at the rows and rows of beautifully polished Western saddles, bridles and an assortment of other tack, some of which you don’t even recognise. Eyeing the signs above each saddle, you remark, ‘I see there’s a recurring theme in the names.’

Jack hoists a gorgeously embossed tan saddle off its rack on the wall, holding it against his side as if it weighs nothing, then grabs the bridle next to it and a saddle pad. ‘What do you expect from a ranch that also runs a distillery?’

Your eyebrows shoot up. ‘A distillery?’

‘Whiskey,’ he replies, making his way to the exit. ‘I’ll show you when we ride up the mountain, it’s on the other side of the ranch. Champ spends most of his time in the distillery nowadays.’

‘Can I help with anything?’ you ask, your hands feeling very empty as you trail behind him.

‘Not a chance, darlin’, you’re the guest. But you can watch if you want,’ he adds mischievously.

Lord have mercy. This man has gotten you more wound up in the last fifteen minutes with a few cheeky words than anyone has in a long time. Pull yourself together, woman.

You pass at least another dozen stalls - this is easiest the biggest stables you’ve ever seen - before Jack’s long strides ease, and at his whistle, the handsome face of a palomino pops up from behind a door. He nickers and nudges the cowboy familiarly on his arm, ears pricking up in alert when you come into view behind him.

‘Meet Scotch,’ Jack says in introduction, giving him a firm pat on the neck. With an easy swing, he rests the saddle on the top of the door and unlatches it, leaving it ajar for you to shuffle in behind him.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ you can’t help but coo, running your palm from his forehead - painted with a fetching white star - to his grey, velvety muzzle. ‘He’s sweet.’

‘Wait till you get him on the open road - he’s a speed demon.’

You must have let your nerves show, because Jack reassures you, ‘But only if you want him to be. He’s just as happy going steady.’

You lean against the wall as Jack makes quick work of tacking up. You admire the gentle way he fits the bridle over Scotch’s head and the bit in his mouth. Reaching out, you help untuck his white mane from the browband, etched with pretty flowery patterns, and brush out the tangles with your fingers as Jack fastens the clasps.

You can’t help but catch your bottom lip with your teeth when, with a soft grunt, the cowboy lifts the saddle over Scotch’s back. His shirt, tucked neatly into his jeans, stretches taut and you eye the hint of a soft belly underneath. It rests above an almost obnoxiously large belt buckle in the shape of - are you shitting me - a flask with Statesman spelled out in capital letters.

You quickly look away before you’re consumed by the want to reach out and check if it’s a real flask.

The Western saddle has far more bits and bobs than you’re used to, but you’re too far gone to pay attention to what Jack is doing with his nimble fingers anymore.

‘There.’ He straightens, dusts off his hands and places them on his hips, one dark eyebrow up. ‘I hope you were paying attention, ma’am, I might quiz you later.’

Oh shit. You stammer, ‘Um, I mean, you were quite quick -’

Jack crosses his arms and smirks. ‘I’m pullin’ your leg, darlin’. You’re so easy to rile up.’

Before you can restrain yourself, you take a step forward and give him a playful shove in rebuke. The joke’s on you though - the pectoral muscle underneath your palm is lean and hard, and your push makes no impact at all.

‘Employee of the year, ladies and gentlemen,’ you jest, retracting your hand reluctantly.

He leans in close and gives you an almost insolent smirk, voice dropping intimately. ‘Stop distracting me, darlin’, or we’ll never make it out of this stall.’

Fuck’s sake - your cheeks literally flame. You’re about as subtle as a bucking bronco.

Taking mercy on you, Jack herds you out of the stall with no further teasing, and Scotch follows obediently behind. You’ve barely scraped your brains back together when he stops by a doorway at the end of the stables, holding up a hand that brings the gelding to a smart square halt.

‘Stay,’ orders Jack in a stern voice as if Scotch was just a very large golden retriever - he has the colouring after all. He then nods at you. ‘Come on in, darlin’.’

Stepping into the small room, you gasp in delight - every conceivable surface is covered with cowboy hats of all colours and materials.

‘Let’s see what your size is,’ Jack mumbles to himself as he plucks some options off the wall. There’s no mirror, and you hold your breath when he steps into your space, putting one hat after the other on you as he narrows down the sizing. His face is set seriously, the bow of his upper lip drawn downward, brow wrinkled in concentration.

Eventually, you run out of oxygen and you breathe him in - summer grass, leather and smoke. Your tongue darts out and wets your suddenly dry lips.

In the minutest of glances, you catch his eyes flickering to your mouth for just a second. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t have spotted the fleeting stutter in his movements as he fits you with a cream suede hat with a brown leather braid. It sits snugly on your head without any pinch.

‘Try tipping your head forward and back,’ he instructs you, breaking the quiet tension. The hat doesn’t slip, and with a tap on the brim and a smile, he declares, ‘I think we’re good to go.’

Stepping into the open air, the bright afternoon sun makes you wince, and you pull your new hat a bit lower to shield from the light. You follow Jack across the yard, heading towards a chestnut with white stockings, fully tacked and waiting at a wooden post. Ruffling his thick mane, Jack says proudly, ‘Darlin’, meet my horse, Whiskey.’

‘How very fitting,’ you remark, smoothing a hand on his strong neck. ‘Hi, Whiskey.’

Scotch, who has been following you two dutifully, bumps noses with his friend in greeting. Reaching for his reins, Jack looks at you with a question in his eyes - all the tacking up, prepping and joking around is done. Suddenly, the likelihood of falling off your horse and flat on your bum in front of the cowboy seems extraordinarily high. Maybe you really didn’t think this through -

‘Hey,’ Jack cuts short your thoughts, chucking you gently under the chin. ‘Don’t be nervous. It’s all muscle memory - like riding a bike, you can’t forget. You do know how to ride a bike, don't you?’

Your shoulders quake with a laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood.

He tilts his head at you. ‘May I give you a leg up, darlin'?’

At your silent nod, Jack brings Scotch around, and you hope he doesn't see you wipe your sweaty palms on your breeches. One hand on the saddle horn, the other on the cantle you bend your left calf up and back by the hinge of your knee.

Jack steps in right behind your heels, his frame dwarfing you even as he leans down at the ready. One strong hand closes around your ankle and the other just below your kneecap. His voice is deep and brushes against the shell of your ear. ‘On three, darlin’.’

He hoists you up so easily that you nearly go all the way over the other side of the saddle, but you grasp the horn just in time and land squarely in the seat, albeit a bit clumsily. You can’t help but wonder what else he can do with his easy strength - a whole lot of other things, you reckon -

Scotch shifts underneath you as he adjusts to your weight. The basic instincts of being on horseback kick in slowly but surely. You gather the reins in your non-dominant hand, put the tip of your toes through the stirrup irons, push your heels down and sit up tall. You inhale deeply and smile at Jack, who’s checking the tightness of the girth and the length of your stirrups.

‘All good?’ he asks you.

‘Yes,’ you reply, relieved that you feel less like a fish out of water than you’d feared.

Jack unties Whiskey from the post. Slotting his foot in the left stirrup, he effortlessly pushes off the ground and swings his leg over the saddle, settling gently into his seat. It’s really not fair that he’s able to do it so easily in jeans that tight.

Whiskey starts leading the way towards the back of the property and Scotch follows, obviously not pleased to be left behind. Jack holds Whiskey back so that you’re walking alongside him. ‘You’ve seen people ride Western?’

‘I get the general idea. Reins in my non-dominant hand. Leg aids are similar.’

‘If you want to turn to the right?’

‘Reins to the right and shift my weight the same way,’ you reply, recalling the research you did before the trip.

Jack nods approvingly. ‘Sounds like you’ve got it sorted, darlin’.’

Going up a gently sloping path, the ranch disappears behind you as you begin to climb above the property, and the landscape dramatically opens up. Your breath catches at the sight of the rolling plains that stretch too far for your eyes to see, towards the Bighorn Mountains. Scotch’s ears prick up in excitement at the space, nickering and chomping at the bit. You keep your contact on the reins light even as he prances underneath you, mindful not to pull on his mouth.

Jack smiles, and you hope you're making a good impression. ‘Wanna warm up with a little lope?’

‘Lope? You mean a canter?’ you retort jokingly.

He chuckles at your cheek. ‘Alright, ma’am, look at you with your fancy words.’

With a stern finger pointed his way, you warn him, ‘You’re not allowed to laugh if I fall off, deal?’

‘I know you won’t, but for your peace of mind, I’ll cross my heart,’ he jokes and traces the motion over his chest with his thumb. ‘After you, darlin’.’

With the lightest nudge of your heels, Scotch steps straight into a smooth canter. The sudden movement jolts you forward in the saddle and out of balance, but you quickly adjust, and your hips begin to follow the flow of the familiar four-beat motion. The wind sings in your ears over the steady rhythm of hooves hitting the earth, the mountainscape blurring into green and blue.

Jack is keeping pace next to you from a safe distance, meeting your eyes when you send the biggest grin his way.

For the first time in months, you feel joy.

The sun sets on a mild evening, so you agree to an al fresco dinner by the fire when Jack poses the question to you on your return from the afternoon ride.

After a quick shower and changing into casual jeans and a sweater, you meet the rest of close-knit Statesman team at the dinner table, and Champ explains the logistics of the pack trip to you.

‘Since it’s just the two of you, you’ll only need one packhorse. You’ll sleep outside for the first two nights, then on the third, you’ll get to the Halfway House.’

The peculiar name piques your interest. ‘Halfway House?’

Champ chuckles. ‘Halfway as in halfway through the trip. We’ll drive out to stock up the house, bring you fresh clothes and anything you’d need for the second half of the trip back to the ranch. We’ll also collect your dirty clothes and have them laundered by the time you’re back. So make sure you pack two bags, we’ll sort them out tomorrow.’

Turning to Poppy, he starts discussing the provisions for the trip, and you take the chance to shuffle closer to Ginger. Jack is at the far end of the table, deep in conversation with a man introduced to you as Tequila (you didn’t ask), so you’re sure he can’t overhear you. You clear your throat. ‘So, I was wondering what the… lavatory arrangements are like out there?’

She gives you a encouraging smile. ‘It’s all au naturale, I’m afraid. But there are plenty of bushes so privacy won’t be an issue. We bring a portable shower for guests for the days you camp out, and there’s running water and electricity at the Halfway House. But at this time of the year, Jack usually just washes off in the river.’

Your jaw drops at that revelation, and before you can close your big mouth, you babble, ‘Wow… um, by wow I meant… bathing in the river must be… cold?’

Ginger gives you a knowing grin and clinks your glass. ‘I think you’ll have a great time on this trip, honey.’

It’s early, as the first day of a pack trip always is. The chill from daybreak still clings to the thin mountain air, but the glare of the sun is already strong, even from behind his sunglasses.

Jack runs through his usual checklists. Vetting the horses, triple checking the tack, bedding, food, supplies, first aid kit. He’s collected your bag from your doorstep and loaded it on the packhorse. You pack light, which he appreciates.

He spotted you at the breakfast table earlier, almost done with your toast, when he crossed the yard with the horses, so he reckons you’re on track to make a punctual start. With the heat forecast, he wants to make it to the cover of the forest path before midday. If you make good time, a sunset dip in the lake is on the cards.

As he double checks if all the straps on the saddle bags are properly buckled up, his routine is disrupted by a firm pat on his back.

Champ is a bundle of energy even at this early hour of the day, his suit on just the right side of presentable despite the wrinkles. ‘Have a good trip, son, and make sure you show our guest a good time. I like this one.’

‘You like everyone, Champ,’ retorts Jack, but there’s no real bite in his words. ‘Not sure it counts for much.’

‘I got a good feeling about her, I’m telling you.’

The younger man sighs, one hand on the rump of the packhorse and one on his hip as he braces himself for the usual spiel. ‘C’mon, boss - ’

‘You’re young, you’re single! If you insist on hiding away on this ranch in the middle of nowhere, you might as well at least try to have a good time when the opportunity presents itself.’

‘Why don’t you bother Ginger about it? She’s young and single too,’ grumbles Jack as he resumes his checks.

‘Because I know she can take care of herself. But you?’ Champ makes a face.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss,’ he grumbles. ‘Just so we’re clear, I’m not hiding from anything. I actually like this job, but half the time I think you’re just trying to get rid of me.’

Spotting you over Jack’s shoulder, Champ gives him one last clasp on the arm. He leans in and says in a low voice, eyes sincere. ‘You don’t have to punish yourself forever, son. Live a little.’

Jack shakes his head as Champ moves away and calls out to you, his boisterous voice carrying even further in the cold air. He knows Champ means well. It’s not the first time he’s tried to set him up with someone, and he can confidently wager it won’t be the last.

He knows for a fact that his boss rescheduled the Kingsman’s annual trip to engineer this one-on-one pack trip - they’ve been coming to the ranch the same time every year without fail since he started this job. He has no doubt they were more than delighted to be in cahoots with Champ in a scheme like this.

Jack huffs a dry laugh to himself. He must be coming off as really fucking sad for Champ to go to such lengths this time.

He straightens his well-worn denim jacket as you approach, looking almost shy this morning. You’re wearing a light fleece over what appears to be the same outfit from yesterday, hands tucked into pockets, hat dangling from the chin strap looped around your wrist.

He gives you a smile. ‘Mornin’, darlin’. Sleep well?’

‘Morning. Probably not as well I should have, considering we’ll be sleeping on the hard ground for the next couple of nights,’ you answer with a yawn, leaning on the post where the horses are waiting. You rub their noses affectionately. ‘Morning boys, how are we this fine morning?’

Jack gestures at the third horse. ‘This is Bourbon, our packhorse.’

‘Hey Bourbon.’ You give the pinto a firm pat, smoothing out his matted forelock.

‘You ready?’ asks Jack.

You put on your hat and nod determinedly. ‘Now or never.’

‘It’s not too late to back out, you know, ’ he jokes as you both start untying your horses from the post.

‘Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me now, cowboy,’ you quip.

When you’re both mounted, Champ and Ginger make an appearance, waving and beaming from ear to ear as you ride by. Champ grins, ‘Have fun, we’ll see you in a week! Don't come back unless you have plenty of stories to tell!’

You retrace the same path you took yesterday, up the back of the ranch and into the mountains. As the orange sun crests the top of the Bighorn, it dawns on Jack that he hasn’t spent any amount of time alone with another person for a long while, let alone seven continuous days with someone like you.

He shakes his head. You’re a guest, that’s all. One who hasn't lost your gentle hands and soft seat despite not having spent any time in the saddle for years; who is quick on your feet yet easy to fluster; who laughs at his jokes and poorly concealed innuendos - but a guest. It’s his job to keep you safe this week, and he’s good at it. He’s done this for years and years.

Sometimes, he thinks that it’s all he has.

Something like anxiety gnaws at his chest. You’re quiet, and he picks up on the stiffness in your shoulders. He clears his throat. ‘Nervous?’

You turn to him at his question, sucking in your bottom lip. ‘I suppose. Not about the riding, but… I’m a bit nervous about spending the week with you, to be honest. No offence.’

Well, at least he’s not the only one.

‘None taken,’ he shrugs nonchalantly. ‘And don’t worry, darlin’. Ol’ Jack doesn’t bite.’

His pulse skips a beat when you send him an almost impertinent sidelong glance. ‘I hope you do a little bit, cowboy.’

It takes him a second to let out a bark of laughter, and your whole body relaxes at the throaty sound. ‘Maybe I’m the one who should be nervous, then. Shall we stretch our legs? Start the day with a lope?’

Scotch recognises the word and whinnies, tossing his head excitedly.

A gentleman at heart, Jack adds, ‘Or later, if you prefer. We can go as fast or as slow as you want, darlin’.’

A slow heat burns under your skin at his words. Surely he must know what that sounds like, especially in that raspy drawl of his.

It must be the altitude that’s throwing your judgement out of the metaphorical window. Brazenly, you drag your eyes over him. His left hand grips the reins loosely, resting casually on the saddle horn, thick fingers of his other are splayed on his firm thigh, hips rocking to the pace of his horse.

You meet his curious stare in a challenge, imbuing your words with as much meaning as you could, letting a coy smile stretch your lips.

‘Let’s go fast, cowboy.’

As soon as your heels touch his sides, Scotch takes off at a lively stride, and Jack watches you go with a chuckle to himself.

‘Careful what you wish for now, darlin’,’ he mutters under his breath, and then he comes after you - fast.

Notes: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this first part! Comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated. If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please fill in my taglist.

If anyone is interested, there are some more horsey notes below (if it's boring, please let me know and I'll shut up lol):

About 'gentle hands' and 'soft seat': a kind rider uses 'quiet' aids to communicate with the horse (i.e. no pulling on the bit or flapping legs), and follows the horse's movements with their hips (i.e. their seat) to be gentle on the horse's back. It's a very subtle skill and you use a lot of core strength that is built over the years - sitting quietly on a horse is much harder than it looks!

If you can't tell, I ride the 'English' way and have never ridden Western. I've done as much research as I could, but if there are any inaccuracies, please let me know!

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