#i tried to make the box he is holding look like one of those cowboy hat ones sorry if it looks weird

[vh4mp]

i celebrate the anniversary of my cuties very seriously. happy anniversary to tack and lux

this better get a lot of love i spent like 6 hours on this one and my eye was killing me. this was a tough labor. of love

i just realized i forgot luxs horns so she's hornless in this one. her horns haven't grown yet ignore that

reblogs>>>>>>> likes

#my singing monsters #msm oc #msm #vhamp #galvana #tacklux #galvhamp #celestials msm #i tried to make the box he is holding look like one of those cowboy hat ones sorry if it looks weird

[jadewritesficshere]

Sitting Pretty

This is just pure filth like barely a plot ok 😫🥴

Eddie Munson x Female!reader

18+ONLY

Warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), slight degradation and condescending language (use of slut) (this really isn't degradation in my mind but that's cause I'm used to a lot worse so technically it is but), boot riding, squirting

Eddie dropped the box on the coffee table with a loud thud. It landed next to the other boxes he had carried, and the one you had. After a long day of work, he was tired. He wanted to sit down, relax, and do absolutely nothing. Of course, when you called and said you needed help moving boxes, he came. He knew he was entirely fucked. Wrapped around your fingers. You could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high.

Eddie pushed a strand of hair out of his face, it briefly getting caught on his fingers, making him shake his hand to get it unstuck. He glared at the partially grey hair still wound around his fingers (you said it made him look distinguished and metal. He couldn't complain too much at that). You set your own box on the table and smiled at him,"Thanks Eds, I know you're tired. It means a lot to me you would do this." Eddie hummed,"mhm. What is this stuff anyways?" "Oh, my uncle and aunt were getting rid of a bunch of stuff, so they gave it to my parents, who got rid of more stuff, aaaannnd dumped it on me," you shrugged," I'll go through it and see if there is anything good, then send it to the secondhand store."

Together, you and Eddie started going through the boxes. Eddie pretended to be wounded finding a dungeon master's guide, you found a harmonica and attempted to play a Corroded Coffin song (which had Eddie wheeze laughing and joking about adding a harmonica solo to their next single), he had tried on a pink jacket at your insistence while you had put on a hat that didn't fit (both of you traded items and agreed they looked better on each other then yourselves before promptly tossing the items back in the box), and then you struck gold.

You pulled out a pair of light brown leather cowboy boots. The intricate stitching on the side had caught your eye at the bottom of the box. The tips of the shoes slightly pointed and squared off. You blink at them and hand them to Eddie. Eddie looks at them before scoffing," Nope, those will squish my feet. You see the ends of them?" You roll your eyes," Eddie, if they hurt people's feet why would cowboys wear them? They work on their feet all day!" Eddie was tempted to tease you and say cowboys aren't real, but then you pout at him. The pout making your lips stand out caused him to hesitate. "Please?" He sighed and couldn't help but give you a quick kiss before grumbling and sitting to put the boots on. He could hear your faint cheers as he sat on the recliner.

Your focus was on the box in front of you until you heard Eddie clear his throat and ask,"Well, what do ya think?" You turned and-

Damn.

Eddie stood there with his hands on his hips. Your eyes trailed over him. His curly hair was frizzy from the humidity and a long day of working and sweating at the auto shop. His skin pale, save for a smear of oil on his cheekbone. His tank top showed off his arms beautifully, muscles straining, his bicep wrapped from a new tattoo he had gotten. The tank top tight against his skin, showing you his waist. You could see the bump at his belly button where his piercing was. His jeans were slightly loose, the only light wash pair he owned that he threw on when he hadn't done the laundry. Those stupid cowboy boots sat on his feet, the slight heel giving him extra height. He turned and held his arms out, striking a few poses. They weren't heels, but they made his ass pop (God, now you wanted to see him in heels). The light jeans making his ass look bigger, perfect to hold. Slap even.

"Ya know, they actually are kinda comfortable," Eddie turned back to face you with a smile," they don't- oof!" Eddie lands on the recliner with a grunt from you pushing him. He glares at you," you have to quit doing that! You're gonna strain my back or some shit." "Hm...stop being so fuckable then," you climb on top of his lap and lean close to his ear to whisper," besides, you like it." Eddie clears his throat and grasps your hips. You roll your hips slightly into his, watching him inhale sharply. The scruff of his unshaved jaw beckons you forward, kissing it lightly before trailing down his neck.

You nip and suck at his neck, smirking as he tilts his head to give you better access. His hands that firmly grasp your hips, shift to grab your ass instead. You hum as you pull back, staring at the glistening neck and the lovely purple mark you left. It may be childish to leave a hickey, but you couldn't help but want to mark Eddie up, adding shades of purple and red near his existing tattoos. Eddie's eyes are blown, his pale face flushed a deep red. You shift on top of him, rolling your hips into his again, feeling his hardening length. The feeling of you grinding against him makes him groan. Unbuttoning his jeans, you awkwardly try to unzip them, leaning back into Eddie's hands. He takes that moment to squeeze your ass. You whimper at the feeling and lean forward to kiss him, thoughts of removing his pants forgotten.

His lips are soft, slightly chapped, but still so plush against yours. Your mouths move in tandem, tongues darting out. Eddie licks into your mouth, groaning as he takes control. He sucks on the tip of your tongue before pulling back. Both of you taking deep breaths. "Take these off baby," Eddie mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You nod and clamber off him.

You push your shorts and panties down, balancing a hand on Eddie's knee as you step out of them. You go to get back on Eddie but he stops you," Now hold on, baby." You let out a whine in annoyance. Eddie chuckles and clicks his tongue at you," You seem all pent up, what's got you like this?" "You, now let me on-" "Nah, I think it's something else. Like my boots, Baby?" You nod emphatically, attempting to straddle Eddie again, but he puts his leg out in front of you. The sole of his boot presses against your stomach, and he pushes you back lightly. "Prove it pretty girl."

You pause and tilt your head slightly before grasping Eddie's boot covered ankle. Eddie nods to his foot and taps your stomach with the sole. You step back and bend at the hips, eyes locked with Eddie's, and kiss the tip of the boot. He chuckles and motions you with a finger to continue. You give the boot another kiss, and another. The leather firm against your mouth. Eddie smirks," You can do better then that." "I'm not licking the boot." You stand up and drop Eddie's foot with a thud. Eddie relaxes back spreading his legs, "Who said anything about licking? What's that saying...save a horse, ride a cowboy?"

You blink at him as your mouth falls open. Eddie taps the boot against the hardwood ground, causing clicks to echo. "Go on pretty girl." You can feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs at the thought of Eddie's request. It was demeaning, dirty, and damn if it didn't delight you. You slowly kneel at Eddie's feet, lowering yourself until your core hit the leather.

The fabric was stiff and slightly rough against your pussy. Your arousal dripping onto the boot, causing it to slicken and make it easier to move. You look up from where you're situated to look at Eddie. You can't help the moan that escapes at the site of him. The once slightly baggy jeans are now very filled out from his bulge. One hand resting on it, squeezing lightly. The top of his unbuttoned jeans showing off his happy trail. The opal belly button piercing glinting in the light. The tattoo of the dragon above the jewelry moving with every deep breath he takes. A hickey on his pec from last week. The rest of his tattoos scattered about, glistening from sweat. The scruff on his jaw and neck. The grey hairs at his temples. The smirk on his face, even though it is flushed. The demeaning look he gives you.

You grind against the boot, faltering slightly under his gaze. "Look at you, sitting pretty," Eddie coos at you, patting your head. He knows you hate that, making you feel small. Stupid. "Such a good slut, making my boots all wet." His words make you clench around nothing, throbbing with want.

You buck your hips quicker against his boot. You shift angles slightly and moan as the boot rubs against your clit. The sensation is too much. The pleasure invades your brain, coherent thoughts gone. You feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. A tingly warmth spreading out from your core. "Fuck I'm-" your breath hitches and your hips fumble losing rhythm. "Come for me baby," Eddie grasps your jaw firmly, tilting your head up to face him," Drench my boots like the good slut you are, pretty girl." You gasp as the pressure builds to a crescendo. Your eyes close and you moan head falling back in pleasure. Lights flash behind your eyes as euphoria spreads throughout your limbs. You distantly feel the wetness gush as your hips buck wantonly. Your brain goes fuzzy with static from euphoria. You briefly hear Eddie moan a fuck.

You come back down to earth, loosening your grip on Eddie's thighs. You hadn't even realized you were gripping them. You scoot away from his boot, still on your knees. The light brown leather is soaked, turning a dark brown. A puddle of your release is on the boot, making you feel warm from embarrassment.

"Fucking hell...you squirted," Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. You stand on shaky legs, Eddie helping hold you in place. You glance down at the puddle slowly dripping off his shoe and onto the floor. "Can I ride you now?" You ask saccharinely.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute," Eddie's eyes dart away from yours, clearing his throat. He shifts and you glance at the movement. His jeans are slightly loose again. The light denim jeans having turned dark at a wet spot. "Made me come like a fucking teenager," Eddie stands grabbing your hand. He tugs on your arm, leading you towards the bedroom.

You were definitely keeping the cowboy boots.

#Is this the same Eddie from Wrecked yes yes it is will I ever write a part 2 to that uh maybe #I love this older Eddie with a belly button piercing he has invaded my brain and taken up residence in my heart #I realized after I finished this you are basically doing a Winnie the Pooh in over half of this #You really did soak his shoes making them shine #Anyways no Eddie isnt a cowboy but he could be he has the swagger for one #This isn't even really degradation in my mind but I know it is to some so #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson/you #Eddie Munson/reader #Eddie Munson x female!reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson/female!reader #Stranger Things #Also please go read and enjoy cowboy Eddie fics cause they are so good #ALSO if anyone is reading this I did try to make like a header picture thing but it kept deleting paragraphs when it was added #So I went without cause really we dont need that we need the words #Is this well done no but it is done and I am well so #Jade is Talking

[ghoultrifle]

There's a First Time For Everything Chapter 3 - Pleasure As It Was Intended

WC: 5k

Previously on FTFE: Dewdrop wants to try penetration. He has a few toys in mind but struggles to get the courage to buy them, fearing it will invalidate his gender. With Rain's support, he finally purchases the toys.

Summary: The toys arrive and Dewdrop gets to work, after a quick hyping up from Swiss

Notes: I am incredibly proud of this chapter and hope you all like it as much as I do. It's my first time writing porn with feelings so please hype me up :')

CWs: Sexual content, toys, gender dysphoria

And a big thanks to @v-ternus for being my sounding board <3

Read below the cut or on AO3

Dewdrop hears a knock, a brief rap on his bedroom door. He glances at the clock that sits crooked above his desk, mail time, he thinks. Peering through the peephole he can see Special walking away, making his way through the ghoul dorms, stopping occasionally to drop a parcel.

A small, nondescript box sits outside Dewdrop’s door. Imposing, menacing. It’s been carelessly thrown to the ground, evidenced by the rugged angle it sits at. He’s… angry. Angry that it’s been treated with such disregard; the contents of what must be assumed by Special to be another bong, or perhaps a new outfit, merely chucked outside his door like it has no significance to the fire ghoul.

The parcel quickly finds its way inside Dew’s room as he removes it from the doorstep with the same care as one might handle a bomb. He treats it like it’s a feral cat, holding it by the scruff of its neck lest it bite him. Inside the box, as far as Dewdrop’s concerned, are the items that determine if he’s worthy as a ghoul. That if they don’t end up inside him by the end of the day, he’ll be a failure.

Dewdrop decides he won’t let it get on top of him, he can’t afford to, doesn’t quite trust himself to sit alone all day with the parcel. So he throws himself into his duties. A couple of hours with Mount helping him re-pot his ever-growing plants. Lunch with Cirrus, Dewdrop laying in her lap as they watch some shitty reality show.

He spends the afternoon with Swiss, supposedly for band practice, but that never happens when it’s just the two of them scheduled. Sure, they do some practise but it’s mostly Dew dicking around with his guitar as Swiss vocalises with the disjointed sounds. They’ve been at it for a few hours when Dewdrop’s mind fades back to the parcel, still unwrapped, waiting for him on his bed.

“Howdoyouusesextoys?” Dewdrop blurts out.

Swiss isn’t sure he heard right, there’s no way Dewdrop doesn’t have a kinky treasure trove full of toys. “Woah woah slow down cowboy! What did you say?”

He’s met with another mumbled string of sounds that vaguely sounds like it mentions toys. It’s Dewdrop’s demeanour that leaves Swiss worried, though. The ghoul that minutes ago he was having to wrestle the guitar off as he played some shitty meme song, now taking shaky, uneven breaths and avoiding eye contact like Swiss is Medusa.

“Hey, droplet, I’m not teasing you, I just need to hear what you said… I can’t help you if I don’t know what you want,” Dewdrop opens his eyes, tries to take deep breaths. But deep breaths don’t help when it feels like he’s suffocating. He feels a grounding palm smooth over his stubble, sees those big golden eyes shining back with nothing but love for him, he remembers why he chose Swiss.

He inhales, looking away briefly to ask, “Bought sex toys for Rain to use on me. Dunno what to expect, I guess. Thought you might know,” the room is still as both ghouls take in what Dewdrop just said, before he remembers to clarify, “They’re uh internal toys like dildos ‘n vibrators ‘n shit. I’ve never put anything up there before, figured a whore like you would’ve though,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood as Swiss stares on in a mixture of confusion and offence.

“Ohh I see, come to the resident slut for advice? Well you’ve come to the right place. Whatcha worried about? We both know Rain’s been around, it’s not like he doesn’t know what to do.”

“No, I know Rain’s gonna be fine with it, it’s me that’s worried. What if it feels weird or if it hurts or if I like it so much I detransition?”

“What if?” Swiss poses, something Dewdrop hadn’t considered, what if? “You and I know full well Rain won’t do anything if you’re not enjoying it.”

“Swiss!” Dewdrop groans in frustration, dragging out the ‘s’ at the end of his name, “I just wanna, you know,” he motions vaguely at nothing with his hands, “get some pointers, some tips?”

“Well you’re right, they do have tips!” They both laugh at Swiss’ poor attempt at humour, “I do faintly remember the first time I used a dildo, if you wanna know about that?” he asks. It’s becoming clearer that Dewdrop just wants assurance that it’s going to be alright, even though he knows in his heart that it will be. The multi ghoul receives a sheepish nod in return.

“Alright, well I was on my own so all I had was ‘ol faithful to warm me up, get me nice and open,” he smirks, doing jazz hands showcasing his thick fingers, “I really took my time getting myself nice and wet. I was pre-T so there wasn’t much to get hold of but I did the best I could, really stroking myself until I was basically leaking. Then I just lubed Glenda up and put her in, wasn't much resistance. I played aroun-”

“Hold up, your dildo’s named Glenda?!”

Swiss scoffs, “What about it? I’m not the one that’s too scared to put Glenda in my pussy,” it’s all in good humour, they both know it. And hearing about Swiss talk so honestly about it has put Dewdrop at ease. He feels like he can laugh now, like he can breathe again, deep breaths full of all life has to offer. “Anyway, I played around with the angles until it hit that fucking dynamite spot, you’ll know it when you hit it,” Swiss promises, a smile creeping across his face as he reminisces, “and the rest was history. A lil bit of thrusting here and some stroking there and I came so hard I cried,” he deadpans, as if he’s not recounting a story of him masturbating.

“Seriously, spitfire, you’ll love it, I’m sure,” and it’s all Dewdrop can do to pray to Satan below that Swiss is right.

Dinner runs without a hitch, Dewdrop eats a respectable amount for a guy so nervous about his imminent gut-rearranging. And more importantly, he thinks he’s managed to keep it a secret, Rain still doesn’t know the toys have arrived. The water ghoul is living in blissful ignorance to the sweet, tender sex that will follow their usual post-dinner makeout session. That for the first time, Dewdrop will be an active recipient of pleasure, and he’ll enjoy it; at least that’s what he hopes.

It starts as it does most nights, Rain playing footsie with Dewdrop, sliding his scaly foot up and down the fire ghoul’s shin, making those dumb heart eyes at him. Dewdrop swears if Rain was a cartoon, his eyes would spend half the time booming out from their sockets in adoration for his mate, it’s endearing really. Following their adolescent flirting, Rain excuses the pair of them from the already emptying table; if the way Aurora looks at Cumulus is anything to go by, they’re not the only ones with evening plans.

They get as far as the dorm corridor before Dewdrop boxes Rain against the cold, stone wall. The taller ghoul freezes, a forward move from Dewdrop. He can’t quite bring himself to move when Dew begins to mouth at his neck, angling for Rain to bend down and kiss him. Instead he basks in the heat on his jaw as Dewdrop sinks his teeth into Rain’s pale flesh. He moans and the vibrations in his throat only further encourage the shorter ghoul.

“What’s gotten into you, spitfire? Normally you can at least wait until we’re back at yours,” Rain asks as he brings a hand down to knead at Dewdrop’s barely-there ass.

Between sucking and bruising the ghoul’s neck, Dewdrop speaks up, “Hyping myself up.”

“For…?”

“Toys,” Dewdrop whispers, seductive yet laced with a tinge of worry.

Before leaving that morning, Dewdrop had the foresight to at least unpackage and clean the toys, even he was smart enough to know that cleaning toys is a real mood killer, especially for a ghoul already on edge about the whole thing. If there was anything that Dewdrop could prepare for in advance, he was going to do it.

So, laying bare to the world on his bedside table were the toys, sitting proud. Rain didn’t notice them immediately, too focused on the fire ghoul attached to his neck, trying to manoeuvre them into Dewdrop’s room without either of them tripping or stepping on each other. They catch his eye as his mate backs him up towards the bed until his knees give, ungracefully stumbling onto the mattress. Hurried hands fly between them to undress each other. Dewdrop’s fingers filled with nervous energy, struggling with his jeans and Rain, the ever helpful boyfriend gently undoing the button and sliding them down, taking in Dewdrop’s form, just a binder and boxer briefs now. “Fuck he’s handsome,” Rain thinks, verbalising his thoughts to the grinning ghoul above him.

“Wanna use ‘em on me? Was thinking get the dildo out the way tonight?”

“Fuck can’t wait baby, gonna make you feel so good. How do you want to do this?”

Dewdrop answers with a gentle push to Rain’s shoulders, settling him down in the middle of the bed before shedding his underwear and climbing atop the water ghoul, back to chest. The weight of Dewdrop is really nothing to complain about, spread over Rain’s body, it’s barely uncomfortable, more of a weighted blanket if he had to compare it. Besides, if it’s what his droplet wants, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give him exactly that.

With him, Dewdrop brings the toys, laying them carefully by Rain’s hip alongside a bottle of lube. Once settled, he takes a moment. What for, he isn’t really sure. Maybe to calm himself down, but he feels an odd sense of relief, of readiness. He isn’t scared anymore. He wants it to happen, he’s excited even. Perhaps that’s why he’s slowed down, to appreciate and bask in the feeling.

As he lays on Rain, his golden hair resting perfectly on the water ghoul’s neck, Rain lifts his head up to meet Dewdrop’s scalp pressing long kisses into it. “So proud of you baby,” he whispers between them, hand idly thumbing the silicone toy by his side. Rain was truly happy with the idea that Dewdrop would never try penetration, he was content to live out their lives as they were. With that, he could sense Dewdrop’s hesitation, how he became disengaged during sex if Rain’s hand ever veered too low. But the way he acted didn’t seem to be fear, no, Dewdrop’s face would turn pensive, as if he were pondering what if? A poignant question the fire ghoul now knew the answer to. Well perhaps not the answer, but he’s certain he’s explored his feelings enough to know he wants it and he wants it now.

The binder still clinging to his chest is becoming uncomfortable at best with how Dewdrop’s sweating at Rain’s sweet words of encouragement and that familiar cold hand roaming his stomach. It’s itchy and riding up at the bottom but he doesn’t care, he’s too caught up in the moment, something he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced. To not be hyper aware of every sensation but instead to be dialled in on a specific feeling, it’s bliss.

Against him, Dewdrop can feel Rain pulsing, leaking onto the small tuft of hair at the small of his back. It feels odd, to be the one selflessly experiencing pleasure, Rain gladly putting aside his own needs in favour of pleasing his mate.

“My sweet baby boy, I can feel you leaking, may I?” Rain asks, bringing deft fingers to Dewdrop’s entrance, hovering, waiting for permission. Dewdrop need only bring his hand over Rain’s before the water ghoul gently swipes over his folds, bringing his slick-soaked hand to his mouth. “Oh Dewdrop you taste divine. Thank you for sharing this part of you with me.”

It’s not even an attempt at dirty talk but it makes Dewdrop’s stomach jump nonetheless. He’s finally starting to believe Rain loves him as he is. While Rain is preoccupied salivating over the taste of the fire ghoul, Dewdrop flicks open the cap on the lube as he squirts a generous amount onto the head of the light purple toy

“Would you do the honour?” Dewdrop asks weakly, offering the slicked up toy to the water ghoul.

“Want to let you have this moment Dewdrop,” Rain replies, this is Dewdrop’s journey, he’s just along for the ride. Dewdrop teases his entrance, letting the purple head get even wetter as he drags it along his folds, collecting slick as small whines escape his lips. It once again surprises him how at ease he feels. After years of turmoil, worrying that he’s faking it all, he’s never felt as sure of his identity as he does in this moment.

“Whenever you’re ready droplet”, Rain coos, placing chaste kisses on Dewdrop’s neck. And with that Dew pushes in, slowly but steadily moving the toy until his hand lies flush with his skin. It’s an odd feeling, a completely new, foreign sensation but it doesn’t feel wrong. Far from it. It brings with it an overwhelming sense of familiarity too, an instinctual need. He knows exactly what to do. It’s not rocket science, Dewdrop knows this, but he’s still taken aback by just how easy it feels. It’s with that realisation he cautiously begins to pump the cock in and out of his dripping cunt.

As Dewdrop lay atop Rain, knees bent and feet planted on the mattress, the fire ghoul finds a respectable rhythm, butterflies in his stomach every time he thrusts the silicone deep inside him. He can’t believe he’s put it off for so long, denying himself divine pleasure. Filling the room along with the slick sounds of Dewdrop fucking himself are the sweet words of encouragement spilling from Rain’s lips like a burst dam.

“So proud of you, droplet, can hear just how much you like it.”

“That’s it, keep going, fuckkkk just like that.”

“Feel how hard you’re making me? Shit- that’s all you, spitfire. You and your insatiable body, such a good boy.”

The words imprint themselves on Dewdrop’s brain, burned in forever. Rain’s not telling him how pretty he is or groping his chest, he’s appreciating Dewdrop for exactly who he is, a man. And for once, he’s not jealous that Rain has a dick, doesn’t spite him for it. Because he, too, is experiencing pleasure and he got it all wrong, he doesn’t need a penis for that. Sure it would be nice but right now he feels pretty fucking incredible. Rain’s words have such an effect on Dewdrop that he’s becoming too worked up to keep a steady rhythm, the stimulation is too much to concentrate on keeping it going. He crooks his head back, asking silently, and Rain just knows what he wants.

The dildo changes hands, Rain now in charge of Dewdrop’s pleasure, entrusted with making the fire ghoul feel good, and boy does he deliver. Pressing pretty kisses to Dewdrop’s neck, his hand fumbles for the toy. The transition is near seamless and Dew melts. It felt good before but shit Rain knows what he’s doing, angling it just right to make Dewdrop cry out a choked moan- Swiss was right, Dew did know when he hit that spot. The spot that makes his stomach churn in the best way as he listens to the slick nosies and the sound of Rain’s skin slapping against his inner thigh as he pumps Dewdrop full.

He’s writhing on Rain’s tense body now, hips canting towards the stimulation, rocking into the water ghoul’s cock, smearing pre against the small of his back. Dewdrop can’t bring himself to care about the torture he must be inflicting upon his mate. He’s been so selfless all these years, he’s giving himself tonight to be completely selfish about his needs.

His orgasm starts to build and he vocalises, “Oh fuck I- I think I’m close fuck please don’t stop. Please. Keep going. Fuck. Rain. Ah. Keep-” Rain shushes him to give his permission. Not that Dewdrop needed it, but to let the fire ghoul know Rain’s not going anywhere.

“Lean into it darling, let go for me. Such a good boy, taking it so well. So proud of you, baby,” and with those words Dewdrop is clenching around the toy as his cunt spasms and he whines high and reedy, uncaring about pitching his voice lower, he doesn’t need to perform for anyone, not right now, anyway. Rain can feel Dewdrop’s release coating the toy in such copious amounts it’s running off and onto the water ghoul’s digits. 

Dripping onto his balls, Rain can feel just how wet Dewdrop is as slick gushes out of his hole. Rain wants nothing more than to gather his boy’s slick and jack himself to an almighty climax, but not tonight. There’ll be plenty of nights for that to happen. Tonight is all about Dewdrop. Rain would truly be happy to never cum again if it meant Dewdrop could finally live in pleasure instead of pain. Rain’s had his good times, he’s lived his life; Dewdrop’s is only just starting.

Dewdrop’s still in a state of awe. He did it. He got off. On just internal stimulation. A feat he truly never believed he’d be able to do, despite his years-long curiosity about it (okay, the base of the dildo relentlessly hitting his clit might have been part of it, but still, it’s all connected, right?). As he comes down from the first high of the night, Rain babbles nothing but praise, eager for his love not to drop after such an intense high. He knows how easy it would be- post nut clarity is no joke and Dewdrop’s worked himself up about this so much, it wouldn’t take a lot for him to spiral. To feel that shame creeping up, enveloping him in a thick coat of inescapable humiliation at him, a man, enjoying being fucked like a woman. So Rain doesn’t let it happen, showering him with enough praise to make anyone blush, rocking his dick against Dewdrop every so often to remind him that he’s desirable.

Hair sticks to Dewdrop’s face as he pants, still overcome with euphoria from the intensity of his orgasm. He suddenly feels himself clenching around nothing, opening his eyes to see the toy in Rain’s hand. Fuck- it’s dripping in cum and oh Rain’s bringing it up towards them, past Dewdrop’s face and he’s moaning as he takes it hungrily in his mouth, to the hilt, moaning into it. “Wanted to test the theory it taste even sweeter after the event, my love,”

“And…?” Dewdrop probes.

“What do you think, droplet?” The water ghoul smirks, brining the toy to Dewdrop’s swollen lips, “See for yourself.”

A tentative tongue makes its way to the tip of the dildo giving an exploratory lick. It’s not nice per se but there’s something about being able to taste his own release that makes it that much nicer. Still, he’s not sure it tastes divine but perhaps Rain is really that in love with him.

“Ready for round two?” Dewdrop questioned, a grin adorning his blissed out face.

“Fuck- really? Anything for you, Dewdrop. How do you want it? Want me to pump you full again, or I could eat you out? Perhaps you-”

“-m not ready for you to touch me there yet I don’t think, sorry,” he blurts out and Rain’s heart sinks. Not at Dewdrop’s sentiment but that he feels sorry for it.

“My spitfire, that’s more than okay. You don’t ever have to be ready, this is already more than I ever imagined we’d do together. Satan, I��m so lucky to have you. Want to try the vibe instead?”

And just like that, Dewdrop’s inspecting the vibrator, hands travelling over the plane of the toy, feeling the ridges before testing the mechanism. Slowly twisting the dial at the bottom, wondering if it’s broken until- buzz. It’s intense, the blood being drained from his fingers as the toy throbs in his hand.

“Easy, Dewbug, we’ll start off slow and build up to that. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” and Dewdrop does trust him. It’s finally sinking in that Rain truly does have Dewdrop’s best interests at heart.

Dewdrop spreads his legs once more, cool air hitting his clit despite it being almost hidden beneath his curls. He clenches on instinct, cringing when he feels another glob of his release make its way to the pool collecting on Rain’s lithe body. It surprises him. He doesn’t feel disgust or shame at his body’s response to the fucking incredible action of Rain’s hand, he feels proud he was able to cum for Rain, to be a good boy.

“Fuck baby, still leaking, huh? So good for me,” Rain whispers.

With that, Dewdrop hears the familiar rumble of the vibrator. A sleek, black thing, phallic in size but not in aesthetic. The mechanical whir fills the room, though it’s not as overbearing as when Dewdrop cranked the dial all the way, it’s a more subtle hum.

Rain hesitates, bringing a hand up to rest on Dewdrop’s stomach, “Droplet, can I touch you?” he asks.

“You just fucked me silly with a dildo, of course you can do it with the vibe,” Dewdrop replies, enamoured by his mate but slightly confused nonetheless.

“I mean- your uhm chest, Dewdrop. Want to feel your heart beat as I take you apart.”

He ponders, the purr of the motor a backdrop to his thoughts. It’s not like Rain would see his chest, or even really feel it, hidden behind the thick wall of his binder. And thinking about it, even if he did, Dewdrop’s not sure he’d mind. Rain’s carved out their time together as a place for Dewdrop to truly be himself. The offer has always been there to not bind, to raise his voice back to its natural pitch, Rain made it unequivocally clear that he doesn’t mind. But Dewdrop always has, until now.

A small nod accompanied with a hushed yes is all Rain needs to start. After years of spending almost every waking moment together, Rain knows when his mate is being sincere. Enthusiastic consent is the only consent is a great general rule but their connection goes deeper. The non-verbal signs, the way Dewdrop’s breathing steadies when he feels safe and his eyes search for Rain’s to ground himself. The way his eyes scrunch and his lips curl up almost imperceptibly when he’s around Rain. It’s not apprehension, it’s nervous excitement about experiencing yet another new sensation, even if it is through the plate of his binder. And Dewdrop knows Rain would never go further than he wants, not without explicitly asking. So he lies there safe in the knowledge that creeping fingers won’t find their way under the hem of his binder, but will freely roam atop it, mapping out Dewdrop’s contours.

Whimpers accompany Rain’s renewed movement, vibrator making feather light touches to Dewdrop’s dick as his other hand plants itself over the fire ghoul’s chest, the wide span covering him almost entirely. It’s like being jacked off by The Flash, the plastic beating down on his clit with an unrelenting pace while Rain keeps his hand steady, letting the toy do all the work. Moans fill the room as Dewdrop squirms atop Rain.

“Does it feel good, baby? Yeah? Keep making those noises for me, fuck.”

All the apprehension, the years of turmoil, only for Dewdrop to be a whimpering, writhing mess within an hour of getting his (and Rain’s) hands on himself. It’s funny really, in hindsight. And he’s glad he can finally indulge himself in these fantasies, that his mind allows him to enjoy himself.

With that thought, Rain’s deft hand cranks the dial, the buzz turning to a roar as the vibrator near shakes under Rain’s digits. Bringing it back down to Dewdrop’s clit, the fire ghoul shouts, “Oh fuck Rainy- shit- I- awgh- so much- I,” he’s trembling under Rain’s touch, hips bucking into the vibe, desperate to get off on the stimulation that’s both far too much and not enough.

The hand on Dewdrop’s chest begins to roam, firm touches tracing his body, committing it to memory. The first time of many, Rain’s sure, if the wanton moans leaving Dewdrop’s lips are any measure to go by. His hands brush over the light smattering of hair on Dew’s stomach and Satan below Rain wants to worship Dewdrop’s body forever, remind him each and every time just how fucking hot he is. It would be an endless back and forth of Rain smothering him in compliments and Dewdrop not believing a word. But perhaps with enough time, he’d come around.

Rain’s hands continue their ministrations as the squirming ghoul above him becomes louder with each circle of the vibrator around his dick. The water ghoul is just about to check in when Dewdrop interrupts him, “Close! Ah- shit- I’m about to cum- please- don’t stop- just like th- ahh fuck,” he hisses. It only spurs Rain on, increasing the pressure and finally turning the vibe up to the maximum intensity. Drawing circles around his clit, occasionally dipping below to gather Dewdrop’s pre and cum from his first orgasm. The slick noises that fill the room, combined with the insane amount of stimulation Dewdrop’s receiving, have him spilling almost instantly with a cry, “-m cumming, fuck Rainy thankyouthankyouthankyou fucking ahh.”

A minute passes, at most, before Rain is turning down the dial and smoothing his hand over Dewdrop’s binder, fixing it’s twisted state on his chest. Sure that his mate is finally satiated, now is definitely the time to make sure his mental state doesn’t drop in that post-orgasm haze. Cum-drunk is the best way to describe Dew, a wide smile on his face, eyes barely open, and chest heaving as he recovers from one of, if not the most, intense orgasms of his life.

“How are you feeling, droplet? You were so good, took it all so well.”

“I feel… like I want to go again. Want you to fill me up, fuck, that was so hot. I think I said it a moment ago but thank you for indulging me Rainy, there’s no one I’d rather pump me with a toy,” he finishes with a kiss blown to his mate.

Rain giggles at Dew’s sentiment, ever the romantic, “Maybe not tonight, sweetheart, already gone stiff, not sure I could guide you through another orgasm. And wouldn’t want you getting greedy, hmm?” He jokes.

Stiff, Dewdrop thinks, shifting in place to confirm his suspicion, shit he’s still hard. “Wait, don’t you want to get off? Only feels right after what you gave me.”

“I’ll be fine, handsome, there’s always tomorrow.”

An idea worms its way inside Dewdrop’s mind, “We could use the vibe, could jack you off, make you fuck my fist?”

And how could Rain so no to his puppy-eyed boyfriend and his incredulously horny suggestion. Dewdrop sits up, kneeling over Rain’s legs. Vibrator in hand, he starts it up and closes his fist around Rain’s weeping cock. Rain shudders at the sensation, at finally having something more than the friction against the small of Dewdrop’s back. It’s intense, the fire ghoul wasting no time in jacking the vibe up to the maximum setting, hell bent on just getting Rain off, and he isn’t complaining. “Oh Dewdrop I love you so much, fuck- don’t know what I’d do without you in my life- ahhh keep going, ‘m already close,”

“Aww baby, can’t keep going just a little longer? No? I don’t blame you, the show I put on was fucking hot, wasn’t it?” 

All Rain can do is nod fervently in response to Dewdrop’s questions. His ruddy head sliding through the fire ghoul’s slick hand, sliding up against the hard plastic of the vibrator. The mix of hot and cold drives him crazy as he utters more confessions of love to his mate. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s said it, but it feels so much more real, knowing he’s seen this vulnerable side of Dewdrop. The smaller ghoul always feared that if he let this side of himself be seen, he’d be left, upset and alone for eternity. Seeing that Rain still loves him after tonight, well fuck if that doesn’t encourage him to make Rain scream his name.

“Wanna hear you,” he mutters.

“Oh yeah, baby? What do you want to hear? You’re being such a good boy for me, gonna bust all over your hand.”

“Want you to say my name,” Dewdrop says, unsure if it’s a question or a statement, but Rain knows exactly what to do.

Dewdrop braces himself on Rain’s chest and the heat of his palm pushes Rain over the edge, “Oh Dew, fuck you treat me so well my Dewdrop, I fucking love you, don’t you ever forget it,” he cries out to anyone who could be listening, and he’s sure there are people getting their fix on the sounds emanating from the room. Dewdrop keeps his hand steady as ever, watching Rain’s cock spurt thick white ropes, seemingly endlessly, twitching as the water ghoul cants his hips with an ever waning intensity.

“Fuck, I love you too, Rain.”

And Dewdrop means it with no hesitation. He’s not sure any other person could have made tonight as incredible as Rain has. He’ll never understand what he did for Satan to reward him like this, but he doesn’t need to know, just having Rain is enough.

#trifle writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fanfiction #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #trans ghouls #raindrop #cw dysphoria #spicy tag

[anthrofreshtodeath]

32 or 37 maybe? I dont know about you but I could use happy Rizzles

(32) Under a cut because it's a little naughty. 1) Playoff football is fun 2) Jane and Maura would totally be that obnoxious couple to subject all their loved ones to their lovey dovey nonsense, given that they subject them to all their platonic nonsense in the show 😂

Jane looks over at the bouquet of flowers in her passenger seat, along with the chips, bakery box, and case of beer on the floor in front, and wrings her steering wheel. It’s cold - not snowing, but cold enough for her teeth to chatter while she waits for the car to warm up.

Her heart is pounding, too, but that’s not because of the temperature. The flowers remind her - Friday had marked the sixth month of a torrid romance between her and Maura, begun right in the middle of summer when Jane’s AC had broken and Maura came over to help fix it and they instead spent the entire afternoon fucking the sheets off the bed in Jane’s oppressively hot room. 

Maura’s place, not hers, is actually where she’s headed now, where she’d been all morning before realizing that about five more people than they originally thought would be coming over for championship weekend. So, instead of distracting Maura in the kitchen while she tried to ready food for the Rizzolis and their football loving friends, Jane decided to make herself useful and go for more alcohol. 

When Jane pulls up to the home, finding a parking spot just a few feet away, it hits her again. Thoughts of legs tangled and wet kisses and Maura’s feigned annoyance at the fairly large mark Jane had put on her neck in the heat of the moment, contrast with the fact that Maura is currently hosting all the people Jane loves the most to watch a sport Maura disdains from both a medical and moral perspective. The domesticity and the raunchy memories swirl together and distill into something potent enough to make jelly of Jane’s insides. There is a slithering coil of heat in her belly when she balances all her purchases on her way to the door, and rings the bell because she can’t reach her key. 

Frankie opens up, and his eyes dance when he sees the beer. “You got the good stuff, Janie!” he exclaims, grabbing her face and kissing the side of her head. “Lemme get that; I’ll put it in the cooler.”

Jane smirks. “How mad you think Maura is that we got a cooler full of beer on her nice antique floors, huh?”

“I dunno, I haven’t had the heart to ask her,” Frankie jokes back, their voices quiet and conspiratorial. “Flowers should help, though.”

“That was my thinking, yes,” Jane snarks. She closes the door behind her, considerably less burdened now that her brother has taken the beer over by the dining table and is unloading it into the cooler. 

Frost, Tommy, Vince, Angela, cousin Danny from their pop’s side, Susie and a few more crime techs, and three of Frankie’s best friends from high school huddle together around the TV, the Cowboys and Vikings just beginning their battle for the NFC crown. Maura, however, bustles around the kitchen island, wiping down surfaces and checking the oven window. When she pops her head back up and sees Jane, she smiles.

“Are those for me?” she asks, when Jane crosses over the wood flooring to the tile and holds the bouquet out.

“The tart, too,” Jane answers. They’re both in dark jeans, but somehow Jane’s feel plain while Maura’s look painted on, inviting, the perfect sexy complement to the gray cashmere v-neck sweater she wears. Jane gulps when she sees it, frowns like she’s in pain when the shine of the diamond pendant over Maura’s sternum brings Jane’s eyes up to that burgundy splotch over her carotid - not necessarily like Maura’s proud of it, but definitely like she doesn’t care who sees it. Jane sniffs loudly. “I figured you shouldn’t be subjected to all our cussin’ and hydrogenated oils without a reward,” she approaches, and before she can let Maura reply, she kisses her lips softly, soundly, and full of pressurized want. 

Maura whimpers into that kiss just as Jane’s hands slide around her back, thumbs swiping under her sweater on heater-warmed skin. Jane plays in the dimples there, just above Maura’s hips, and shifts to kissing along Maura’s jaw. “Speaking of, I’m shocked your mother let me convince her to try an oven-baked wings recipe,” says Maura.

“Mmhmm,” Jane hums distractedly into Maura’s hairline, nips just behind her bite from the night before. 

Maura shivers. “And thank you, by the way, for the artisan treat,” she says, testing a theory. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“Mmm,” Jane half-acknowledges, just before she presses her lips against Maura’s again. She is lost. Completely and utterly floundering in the feeling. Maura assumed as much.

She wraps her arms around Jane’s shoulders because she knows it only intensifies things, the way Jane likes to be held both like she’s taller and stronger and like Maura will take care of her. 

They’ve struck quite the balance in these last six months.

And even though Maura does not care if the others can see their little makeout session over here, she still whispers her next statement when Jane gives her enough room to breathe. “I know what you’re thinking about,” she says, just loud enough for Jane to hear the singsong in it.

Jane pulls back just enough to curl one eyebrow. “Oh, do you?” She taunts, as quietly as Maura had. 

“I do,” Maura tells her, fingers splaying against her cheek. Thumb rubbing the corner of her wet mouth. Jane takes that thumb between her teeth, eyes closed, right as her brothers shriek at an intercepted pass from Dak Prescott. “And it’s thinking about you, too.”

Jane’s eyes fly back open. She drops Maura’s appendage and stares right at her. “It is?”

Maura takes the time to pull Jane close, to keep one arm around Jane’s shoulders and thread the other under one of Jane’s like they’re dancing, burying her nose in the scent of Jane’s hair and sighing there. “It is. And it’s wet for you. But you’re going to have to wait for two whole football games before you find out just how much.” She seals it all with a kiss on a sharp cheekbone.

Jane stands, immobile, hard - straight up and down with Maura in her arms. Everyone carries on like they didn’t just fucking hear that. Which, now that she thinks about it, they probably didn’t and she’s glad. “I love you. So fucking much. But that is the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me,” she whines.

Maura just shrugs and breaks up their entanglement to pull the wings out of the oven with a smile.

#ask anthrofreshtodeath #otp prompts january 2023

[probablygoblins]

A Comprehensive List of my F/Os

Hello Tumgle.Cum :)

Here, I will document all of my F/Os, and why I decided to wife them up. This is absolutely an excuse to yell about my blorbos, and you couldn’t stop me if you tried. All of this is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of the following characters. Canon can suck my dick :)

Ghiaccio

Ah, my original Best Boy! Husband Prime, if you will. I was barely into JJBA the first time I saw this idiot. I took one look at him and went “Yep, that’s him. He’s the one. That’s my next hyperfixation.” And I never looked back. Did I even know his name at the time? No. Did that stop me from thirsting after him? No. I needed that ice dick like I need air.

First of all, his design is amazing. I love the mostly monochrome design with the pops of red! It looks like he’s wearing converse, which is amazing in it of itself. He looks so cute in his glasses. And the hair? The hair is immaculate. Ghiaccio’s curls make me wanna run around my room banging my fists on the walls and floor and my desk. They look SO SOFT. If I ran my fingers through that man’s hair I would be RUINED. And I know, canonically, he’s always making ugly faces. But I think they’re so endearing. And when he’s not making gremlin faces, he’s so damn handsome.

Personality-wise? That man is the biggest tsundere and you CANNOT convince me otherwise. He is an enraged wet kitten hiding under a box. I am picking him up by the scruff of the neck and holding him as he takes swipes at me. Angey lil boy makes me go doki-doki. Ghiaccio strikes me as the type to be super cold when you first meet him, no pun intended. He doesn’t like to engage, and he doesn’t like to get close to too many people. But if you can get past the icy exterior, he can be so warm and sweet in his own way. His love language is definitely quality time. He’d just love to sit next to me and play games and bask in my presence.

Hol Horse

Can someone say HIMBO? First time I laid eyes on him, I knew. This man is a big fucking idiot. And the further I got into SDC, the more it solidified my opinion. Thing is, I love idiots, and I am also a bit of an idiot, so we’re a match made in heaven :)

Hol just looks so... dusty. A dusty crust man. A stinky ol’ cowboy. Probably a bit older, but has none of the wisdom that comes with age. He has 3 braincells. Two are dedicated to guns and horses, and the remaining one is always thinking about ME >:D His color scheme is really pleasant, and his pants? Exquisite. They may not be assless chaps, but I adore them anyway. And his weird double shirt thing he has going on is charming. And the FUCKING SIDEBURNS. AWOOOOOGA.

Overall, Hol is just so funny and charming. He may be a villain, but he’s a villain I adore. Nothing ever goes right for him, and he doesn’t exactly take it in stride, but he presses on nonetheless. Whatever antics he gets up to never fail to make me laugh. Love me a big goofy, dusty cowboy. I’m always thinking about the good western-style romance we could have. Going on long horse rides together, where one of us falls of and has to rescue the other. Dancing under the stars. Drinking on the front porch and making of fun of each other, dying of laughter. Deep down, Hol’s a big mischievous golden retriever. And he’s perfect.

Prosciutto

I blame @jellyluchi for this one. She exposed me to a hot old man, and I am left to wallow in the consequences of her actions. In all seriousness, I didn’t used to be that into him. I thought he was kinda mean. After consuming way too much fanfic and art of Prosciutto, I still think he’s mean, but now I’m SUPER INTO IT. He is so SEXY and MEAN and DOMINANT and I want him to STEP ON ME with his OLD MAN BOOTS.

I mean, have you SEEN HIM. He’s just so dapper!!! The colors of his suit? SEXY AS FUCK. The ascot? I want to pull it off him, and then I want him to tie my wrists with it. Or maybe tie his wrists with it. Whatever works. The deep V-neck is so fucking slutty, and I can do nothing but stare at those glorious boobies. I love his hair, too. Prosciutto’s hair is so unique. I’ve never seen anything like it, but it’s so pretty. 10/10 Old Man design.

Like I said before, this man is MEAN. He is NOT USED to being emotionally vulnerable, and covers it up by being a dick. He would definitely make me cry a couple times, but he’s so old and rich and emotionally stupid, he doesn’t know what to do. So he just... throws money at me. And I can laugh at how awkward he is trying to apologize. And when he’s not being mean and awkward, he’s so tender. And sweet. And cuddly. He’d wrap me up in his arms and lay me on his chest, telling me how beautiful he thinks I am. And if that’s not what I get in an IRL relationship, I DON’T WANT IT!!!!!!!

Cioccolata

Oh boy... this bitch... another man I got into because of fancontent. If you don’t know already, I am the biggest fattest slut for pet play. It’s in my top 3 kinks. And then I read a series of headcanons about being Cioccolata’s puppy, and it was all over for me. His is moldy and gross and a terrorist. But he’s my moldy gross terrorist.

Idfk what to say about his appearance, he’s just.. mold. His hair looks like mushroom, or perhaps seaweed. He’s hot weird green face paint. His eyes are funky. He wears half a thong. And yet... he just looks so fun. It’s a fun design. I wanna pull on his mushroom hair and call him Doctor~

Cioccolata is a nasty, terrible man. But my brand has sort of become simping for awful terrible men, so there’s really nothing new here. His voice is sexy in both sub and dub. He may be insane, but he’s sexy. And I love when a crazy insane evil guy has their Person(or Persons) that they’re soft for. Just... Cioccolata who’s so crazy and evil in public. He’s still kinda crazy and evil in private, but he’s more of a crackhead than anything. Random headpats. Staying up til 4am watching horror movies. Participating in whatever weird experiments he’s doing, and bantering about it. I love villain love <3

Secco

What’s better than ONE pet play-obsessed thot? TWO OF THEM, OF COURSE!!! I knew a little about Cio before watching Vento Aureo, but I had ZERO INFO about Secco. And as soon as I saw him running around like a feral possum and fucking shit up, I knew. That’s my soulmate.

Secco’s design is pretty simple, all things consider. You only ever see him in the suit, but the suit is honestly... kind of sexy. What little we can see of his face is big and fucked up. But I LOVE big fucked up eyes and hyper-detailed teeth. Like, sir? Sir??? Please bite me. I need it. Without the suit, I think he’s just a fairly skinny, pale dude. He’s probably got a lot of scars from Cio doing experimental surgery on him, but he’s a freak and he’s into it. I’m a proud part of the Blue Hair Secco Cult. He has indigo hair and it’s messy and curly and falls down his neck and it’s FUCKING HOT.

I love the duality of “acting as a man’s dog” and “striving to be better and important”. He’s a fucked up little guy. He’s feral and loves to go crazy and tear shit apart. But he’s really smart in his own right, and probably has trouble articulating it, cuz he’s so used to being a dog. But he loves letting go and being a little creature. I’d love to just lose all my inhibitions and go batshit with him. I wanna wrestle with all night long, and get dirty in the garden. He loves to do stuff with his hands. But he’s also happy to just sit next to each other and draw. And I love that.

Hazamada

So... uhhhhh.... hmmm... *sweats* I just... I saw a really good piece of art of him, from before Araki babygirlified him. Not, like, BUFF Hazamada, but just a real cool-looking, skinny alt Hazamada. That was it. That was all it took. I am weak for greasy alt boys. Don’t look at me.

Hazamada is literally juts Some Goth. He looks like a wet greasy napkin. Hasn’t slept in his entire life. Spends all his time watching anime and drawing fucked-up questionable shit. But, y’know? That’s part of his charm. I love the sleek glossy black hair. His coat looks badass, and his stand is super cool. There’s not much to his design, but I love it all the same. Dumbass Edgy Alt Hazamada supremacy.

He’s just so weird and unhinged. We didn’t get a lot of him in the series, and what little we got was rather violent. But we love that for him. Love me a fucked up little guy. Fucked up little weeb men own my heart. I HC him to be kind of depressed, and with deep-seated anger issues from loneliness. He needs a hug. Therapy, mostly, but also a hug. And I am happy to hug him and inhale the smell of paper and ink. I just know he’s an artist. Draw a lot of surrealist art, and scenes from his favorite anime series. I’d love to sit and watch him draw and talk about nothing for hours. And afterwards, we can binge watch his favorite series, and I can watch how his eyes light up at the climactic scenes.

Mikitaka

EIRIAN, ANATA NO EIIIIIRIAAAAAAN!!!! God, I loved Miki from the first episode he showed up in. He’s so weird. And so very Gender. Clueless Non-Human is one of my favorite tropes. Sometimes he’s a little awkward, but aren’t we all? And I would absolutely eat the ice cream made from his fingers.

LOOK. AT. THIS. MAN. He is TOO DAMN PRETTY. The hair. The eyes. The nose ring connected to his elegant ears. I could swoon right now. All the charms on his outfit are so well-designed, and I’ve taken the time to study each of them. My favorite flavor of Miki is in the Super Fly episode where his hair is all curly. HE IS JUST. SO. PRETTYYY!!!!!!

And oh my God, he’s adorable. He’s so sweet and awkward. He just wants to make friends and do the right thing. He’s not quite sure how to act just yet, but he’s doing his best. Whatever he does, he puts his whole heart into, and I admire him. I could teach him so many things and take him so many places. Get him a milkshake. Stargaze with him. Tell him about Earth constellations while he tells me about the stars he recognizes. Pet dogs with him. I want to show him everything and watch him grow.

Keicho

Hehe... well, I did say I liked terrible men, didn’t I? But I’m a slut for a redemption arc, and I WILL make it happen. WATCH ME. I honestly fell for him watching the live-action DIU movie(which you should totally watch btw). Not because I like Actor Keicho. I actually think he looks kinda funny. But that got me thinking about how cool manga and anime Keicho were. And, well, now I love him. So that’s that.

His design actually isn’t all that cool to me. He looks like a dork. But who’s gonna teach him how to dress? His dead mom? His weird goblin of a dad? It’s not his fault he looks like a goober. The ‘BADCO’ logo on his collar is a nice touch, though. Oh, and DON’T get me started on the hair. His hair is a disaster. Wtf is it even supposed to be??? Keicho. Sweetheart. Love of my life. Please go outside. Look at a normal person. DO YOUR DAMN HAIR LIKE A REGULAR GUY.

Keicho’s personality shown in the series isn’t what really draws me too him. It’s the potential hidden in that personality. Imagine if he got to live and had to deal with the grief of all the death he’s caused. And knowing that there’s still part of his dad left in what DIO created of him. He thinks he’s a monster, and perhaps he is. But he doesn’t have to stay that way. He needs a good mix of comfort for his mental and emotional wounds, and a kick in the ass for his arrogance and stubbornness. But I think he could come back. I’d hold his hand until he could walk confidently on his own, and even after that.

#self ship #self ship community #jojos bizzare adventure #jjba headcanons #f/o imagines #my f/os #f/o stuff #ghiaccio #prosciutto #hol horse #cioccolata #jjba secco #mikitaka hazekura #toshikazu hazamada #keicho nijimura #jjba stardust crusaders #jjba diamond is unbreakable #jjba vento auero #GoblinsWrites

[eclipsethemagic]

CH 1. "Who are you?" (1)

"The season full of you is special even when it comes again."

⇆ ◁ ❚❚ ▷ ↻

The phone rings bring Yoongi out his thoughts as he stares at the the box television in front of him. The black and white images blinks from the screen, his mother walks over to the phone hanging against the cream wallpaper. The radio playing from the kitchen as she was getting ready to make dinner for the night. Kimchi fried rice, Yoongi's favorite. His mother has a short conversation, the only words Yoongi can make out is "yes." "No." "I haven't started." Which lets him know that she's taking to his father and he's on his way home.

Yoongi's lucky he lives the life he has. His parents work a lot for him, and the family they do have. He always felt like he had to work harder than others, him only being the only Asian kid in his class all his life with a few other people. He had a reputation to hold. His older brother on the other hand? Well he moved back to Korea, finding him a nice job in Seoul, working in a office like his father. Yoongi trails his eyes back to the television watching a show he never seen before but it takes his mind off of things before dinner.

Yoongi helps his mother set the table, his father walks in with his bag of papers, he sets his brown leather bag on the hard wooden floor and goes to take his brown hat off. Mr. Min was a good man, he had beautiful looks and a good brain. He worked hard, and so did his wife. "Welcome home dad." Yoongi says when his dad walks in the kitchen. His father smiles and ruffles Yoongi's dark brown hair and then goes to greet his wife with a kiss. They sit down for dinner shortly after, then they head to bed.

Yoongi walks to his room, after he got out the shower putting on his shorts and a shirt he found in his drawer. It was snowing outside, the first snow touching New York was breathtaking. The beautiful white snow covered the sidewalks, making Yoongi smile. He made a mental note to bring his gloves so him and the boys could build a snowman for the first time this year."Yoongi?" He hears his mother call his name. He turns away from the cold window and looks at his mother in the doorway. She was already in her sleeping gown, her black hair was up into some curlers and her silk bonnets over her head. "When you come home from school can you stop at the store and grab some more milk, oh and some more cigars for your dad." He gives a nod and she tells him good night closing his door for him.

The next morning wasn't easy as Yoongi walked to school. His book bag on his back, his hands inside his coat. The bitter New York cold made it hard for him to walk to school. Cars passed as people was on their way to work, the snow never stopping them for getting the money they needed for the coming up holiday. "Yoongi!" A voice yells from behind the pale boy. He stops walking and turns his head seeing a tall boy with dragon like eyes with bridge wide glasses on his face. His pants looked looked like high waters and the gray sweater he had on looked tight around his thin waist. He boy runs up to Yoongi, his thick boots crunching the snow at ever step he took. "Oh you waited? That's good for a second there I thought you'll treat me like one of those Drugstore cowboys." His friend says and they began walking again. They don't talk much, only asking each other how the others day was but nothing too serious.

"Are we going to build a snowman today Namjoon?" Yoongi ask his friend after they are close to the school. Namjoon shrugs and digs his hands into his pant pocket. "Last time we did that Hobi almost got Dip, and I don't wanna have to fight a Bruno again. Ma almost killed me." The image doesn't leave Yoongi's mind. He remembered it clear as day, that was the last time they actually played in the snow. Him, Hobi, and Namjoon was trying to build a snowman, it didn't snow hard enough but they still tried to do something. A guy, who they never met before came up to them and tried to take Hobi money. Namjoon stood up for him and let's just say it didn't end as peacefully as Yoongi hoped. As an Asian, you are targeted, everywhere you go, you become an instant outcast.

They walk to class, nothing saying a word. They had a rule, and rule one was when they walked in those long crowd halls was that they never talked. The more they blend in the better. Around Yoongi's second bell his other friends come around, which makes Yoongi feel calm. Rule two was that they could talk if everyone was around, if no one else wasn't then you couldn't. Why? Because if they said anything I'll make them an target. Yoongi didn't want to get jumped in the hallways again. Him, Hoseok and Namjoon walk into the cafeteria. It wasn't loud as it normally was, kids filled every area, music playing, girls talking loudly and food filled the big room. They go to there regular seats, eating as they begin to talk about random things that came to their minds. "Movies this weekend?" Hoseok ask his two friends as he goes to grab his water. Namjoon nods and Yoongi shrugs thinking of an answer. His eyes trail around the room and land on a person he never seen before. His heart beats, his pale cheeks feels hot as he stares at the boy down the cafeteria.

He had on a dark brown sweater, earrings in his ears. His eyes was dark brown and looked like you could get lost in them. His dark brown hair looked so fluffy and when he smiled Yoongi heart melts. "Who is that?" He mumbles never answering Hoseok question. Both his friends turn there heads meeting their eyes on who Yoongi is looking at. A little glee leaves Hoseok lips as he looks back at Yoongi. "That's Taehyung. The kid that bumped into you that one day on accident." He answers and Namjoon nods looking at his friend. "Why? You seem..lost in his eyes." That's because he was. Yoongi was lost in the poor boys eyes that he didn't know how to look away.

"You gotta look away yoons, he'll think we are being weird." Hoseok says and that makes Yoongi look at him. "Weird? Us? Stop being such a Beezer." Yoongi simply rolls his eyes and looks at his lunch. Maybe he wanted to get to know Taehyung. But how? Taehyung was bubbly and vibrant, while Yoongi was quiet and never talked much unless it was with Hoseok and Namjoon. You have to try Yoongi, it's not like you wanna date him. Right?

#bts #chapter 1 #90s

[banditcoyote]

Wrangled and Tangled

Sasuga stood by the sink washing the last of the dishes from tonights meal. She smiled softly to herself as her tail flicked behind her, happy about the sets of cups and plates she had picked out, feeling domesticated and settled looking over the two sets of dishes her and her lover had shared, something about them in the drying rack felt almost romantic to her. But maybe it was just the way the sunset was showing so pink and purple over the water that was making her feel that way, the cool summer breeze blowing in from the open Lanai. She hummed to herself a little as she dried her hand and reached for the first plate, ready to dry them herself, when the dish cloth was plucked out of her hands swiftly.

“Let me take care of that.” Simon said perching himself onto the counter and starting to dry one of their plates.

“All the left overs put away?” she asked leaning against the counters and bringing her wine to her lips.

“Most of them.” he said with a nod. “Except for the second helping I couldn’t resist, which is now residing in my stomach.”  

She laughed lightly, brushing her hair back behind her ear “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She said with a nod, moving to cozy up to him just a little bit, her eyes full of warmth, and maybe a bit of mischief. “Maybe we can enjoy some other things when you’re done putting those dishes away.” She said with a curl to her lips.

Simon returned the smile and took a moment to lean down to kiss her easily, drawing back with a little hum. “I can think of some things for sure.” He added. “But before we get too distracted.” He placed the clean plate down on the counter and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small ring box and placing it on the counter next to her hand. “Happy Anniversary.”

Sasuga froze at the sight of the small velvet box and her large eyes went wide, slowly looking up into Simon’s face, searching for the meaning.

Simon at once realizing what she might have thought smiled and blushed. “I know we’ve talked about it, but this is just a promise ring.”  Sasuga let go of the breath she was holding with some relief. He picked the box up and opened it. “See?” inside was a thing gold band with a small rose quartz crystal cut into the shape of a heart that side horizontal to the finger. He reached for her left hand and slid it on to her ring finger kissing it into place. “I love you Sasuga, I know that this might not be perfect, but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me.” Sasuga looked to the ring on her finger, feeling tears pull at the corner of her eyes. He hopped down from the counter “Oh no….is it too much? I know we said we weren’t going to do anything, that dinner was enough but-“

She shook her head “Don’t be stupid.” She said choking back her emotions. “I love it. I love you….Thank you.” She looked at the ring again before reaching up to tug on one of his horns pulling him down into a kiss. “Forget the dishes….come on.” She said, her tail already snaking up around his waist to guide him toward their bedroom.

Coyote woke up with a start, staring up into the dark ceiling above him. He contemplated for a moment what that dream could have meant, and his jaw tightened in his face. Did Sasuga sleep with Simon while he was away, it was the only rule he had given. Or maybe that had made the whole thing more enticing for the two of them. Still, why would Sasuga end up with Simon, he had the feeling he was absent, that house not looking familiar to him in the slightest. He closed his eyes again, almost willing it to come back to him, but some of the finer details were already fading from his memory, and all he remembered was the way the pair looked longingly at each other before they kissed. He gave a little growl and pushed himself up quickly to throw on some jeans and a shirt.

“Coyote?” Shishi asked lifting his head from where he was curled up on one of the pillows. “Where are you going?” he asked rubbing one of his eyes sleepily.

“I’m heading back to the Makai” he told Shishi as he pulled his shirt down over his torso.

The imp eyed the view appreciatively before his senses snapped back to him. “Should I be worried?” he asked knowing of Coyote’s sometimes prophetic dreams, and he wondered if he had some type of vision of Sasuga’s fights. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Coyote shook his head. “No. No. It’s nothing like that it’s….” only he wasn’t entirely sure he could begin to really understand it himself. He shook his head “Sasuga’s fine. I just need to see her. I only had that one other show at the end of the week anyway, stay here, I’ll go tell Russell to pack everything up and head on home. You’ll be fine finding a flight right? I mean, stay the night, don’t leave on my account.”

Shishi laughed “Oh it was that kind of dream was it?” he grinned. “Okay, Well, tell her I said hello and get back safely.” He said as he yawned and laid back down to sleep. “I’m sure Kurama and Gatlin will be happy to have me home, if they haven’t torn each other apart yet…”

Coyote slapped on his cowboy hat and grabbed a jacket though he felt his skin burning. “And you remember what we said about this right?” he asked as he headed toward the door.

“My lips are sealed.” Shishi murmured. “Not a word to anyone”

“Especially to Sasuga.” He confirmed hand on the door.

“Especially Sasuga.” Shishi promised “She’d probably be more upset with me than you anyway” and waved him off.

Coyote found himself easily at his ring manager’s trailer, pounding on the door. He felt bad to be waking Russell up like this but he knew he couldn’t just disappear in the middle of the night and leave Shishi to explain for  him, things looked weird enough having him around. Russell answered the door, looking as if he was still blinking back sleep. “Coyote, everything alright?” he asked looking around.

“No…Um no, there was a fire back at the ranch.” He said lying on his feet. Thinking easily of the fire at Thom’s he could use as a cover even if the time line wouldn’t match up. He figured it would never get back to Russell anyways. The manager looked concerned. “It’s nothing big, a small one thank god, no one hurt, but I really should get out there, I know we only have the exhibit at the end of the week so I was just going to head home now. Would that be too much of a pain for ya’ll to handle?”

Russell cleared the sleep from his eyes with his hand “Yeah, yeah I can handle it no problem. Take care, hope it’s as small as you say.” He said and headed back to his bed.

Coyote made one more stop, saying farewell to Poncho in his trailer, before he headed towards the nearest portal in the woods, which was still pretty far, and Coyote had to be careful no one saw him as he slipped into the woods and transformed, having to sprint as fast as he could to reach the portal before daylight. He was glad he had the foresight to try and keep his motorcycle as close to him as possible, as the only other way he could have gotten there was to fly back home and then race to her, and he wasn’t sure he could stand being on a plane the way he was feeling.  All cooped up without being able to run or move, or do anything. It would have been torture, not like the past few weeks hadn’t been. The time away from Sasuga had been harder than he’d like to admit, and he already knew he would never plan on being away from her like this again. All the time away from her he had felt like pulling his skin off. He had helped Thom around her house before he left, and at the rodeo he did more of the manual work than anyone really wanted him to. He ran Poncho as often as he felt he could without causing the poor animal too much strain, and then would run laps as fast as he could as long as he could well into the night. But it was never enough, the women that tried to greet him as soon as he stepped out of the rodeo corral still enticed him to the point he had to nearly run back to his RV. All that hair, perfume, and how the hell where they making such good bras now adays? Though he was sure that some of breasts out there weren’t only held up by a bra but maybe some type of surgery, that didn’t sway him away any. Then the fact that in some of the more populous areas there were actual demon women in the crowds, and those he really had to avoid. He was sure they’d sense something about him, and he was doing his best to be incognito. Luckily his prior years of fooling around with plenty of the women at these things rarely had any of his crew spotting him being social, so now that he was hiding out on his own it went unnoticed. Coyote tried to run himself ragged, exercise, the rodeo, his variety of plants and a few sex toys paired unironically with the body pillow he had snuck on board, none of it had done the exact trick. Which had then led him to call Shishi. It had been a long shot, but it didn’t take much convincing getting him to come out to see him in secret, even if he was a bit miffed at having to mostly stay hidden at the events. Coyote let him have the pass into where the wives or girlfriend’s normally sat, and he posed in his refinery during the events when it fancied him. It had helped tire him out, but he still hadn’t been getting enoug

He thought he could remain out here for the full month, and they had gotten so close, it was almost silly to run now. But after the dream with her and Simon he just couldn’t deny the ache he felt for his mate any longer and he had to find his way back to her. Dawn was just about to break as he reached the portal and he wasted no time heading through it and heading towards where he had hidden his bike. He felt like a dog that had gotten a scent, and he wasn’t going to rest until he got to her. **** Four days later still hours from dawn, Coyote stashed the bike behind the hotel, barely taking care to hide it, and stumbled into the lobby. He had all the faith in the world that Sasuga was still in the tournament, and held the most hope that meant she was still in the hotel room that he had the key stashed for. He limped into the lobby where the clerk paled at the site of him. “Sir….” He said rushing around the desk and towards him. “Do you need a medic?” he asked looking him over.

Coyote didn’t waste the energy to speak to him and only shook his head as he stumbled forward before catching his balance again. He knew what he looked like, but wasn’t stopped as it was clear the clerk in his pristine uniform was afraid to touch him at all.

“Is there someone I can call?” he said walking along side him as Coyote shuffled to the elevator, bracing himself against the lobby wall and causing a smear of blood to press into the wall paper.

Coyote considered it for a moment, but shook his head again. If Sasuga was still in the tournament this late in the game there was a chance she was injured as well, and he wanted her to save her strength for fighting. He’d be okay. He just needed a shower, some stitches, and her.

The clerk did not follow him into the elevator, being the main hotel for the tournament he was surely not the only injured guest they received, and he retreated back to their desk, probably to call for maintenance to clean up whatever other mess Coyote had left behind him. He leaned against the wall as it started it’s ascension toward the upper floors, again leaving a smear of dirt and blood where his shoulder braced himself. A few droplets of blood dripping from somewhere onto the floor. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to reach it’s destination, the doors pausing once as a couple was about to get on, but after seeing him let him go on without a question. Coyote almost passed out, unsure if it was from blood loss or exhaustion, but the dinging and wooshing of the doors riled him, and he staggered out into the hallway. Knowing he was so close to Sasuga spurred him on, and he was relieved to find that the card key still worked. He let himself into the hotel room, finding it dark and quiet and he did his best to move with stealth into the bathroom. He passed the bed and spotted Sasuga sleeping peacefully by herself, he was grateful for this because with the rage that was still somewhat in his veins if he had found Simon with her he might have taken a regrettable action. In that moment iat took everything in him to not simply cover her with himself, though with how dirty he was he knew it would only concern her more. There was blood in his mouth and under his fingernails, matting his hair down and sticking to his hat. Better to clean himself up first, and he shut the bathroom door behind him before turning on the light.

He did his best not to look at himself in the mirror, but finding it a necessity to assess some of the damage. If he had made it this far like this it couldn’t have been too bad. Still he was in rough shape. Not only was his face cut, bruised, and swollen, but he had also lost enough weight that he appeared gaunt under the torn and dirty clothes he wore. He slowly undressed, assessing each wound, fresh bruises forming on top of old ones, some cuts that were still bleeding every time he moved, gashes that would no doubt need to be closed up. He hissed as some of the clothing stuck to him where blood had dried, let his effects fall to the floor, his gun empty and tucked back in his holster, and stepped into the shower letting the water strike at his feet until it was warm enough to step into. He braced himself against the wall, letting it flow over his hair and down his back, feeling the sense of relief start to fill him as well. He had made it, he was close to resting, and he was close to his mate, that was all he could ask for right now.

#cut for length and posting

[marbleheavy]

I did Nico so here are some Will Solace headcanons that have bouncing around my brain for a while now

He goes through a sweater phase where he wears almost exclusively slightly too big, brightly colored, knit sweaters with thick collars and cinched sleeves

He read that fact about how if your tongue sticks to a rock it’s actually a bone, and now he licks every rock he finds because “What if it’s the bone of a dinosaur? What if I’m licking part of a T-Rex right now?” (and Nico just lets him do it even though he knows they aren’t bones)

REALLY into pinkie promises. Like, he takes them so seriously. Pinkie promise > swearing on the Styx

He takes a lot of chaotic self timer pictures and always ropes everyone else into them. They always end up looking like an album cover and he looks like he’s the lead singer. It’s not even that he’s always front and center, it’s just the way that he’s holding himself in every picture. When he gets his own apartment or house or whatever, he makes a collage of them all and he has every one of his friends choose a picture and write what the name of the album would be on it.

Going off of that, he is really into crafts but specifically memory crafts (does that make sense???). He makes keepsake boxes and friendship bracelets and so many things because he feels like it doesn’t matter if those things actually look good because the most important part of them is the memory attached.

He uses either 🤠 or ✨ (sometimes 🤪) in almost every text and uses them to convey any emotion. Rachel is the only one who ever understands exactly what he means.

A million friendship and bead bracelets just all the way up his arms. Probably some silly bands too.

He carries a backpack with him almost all the time and it somehow holds every possible necessity but always looks nearly empty. Obviously a first aid kit, but also like snacks and a hat and sunscreen and a million pens and the list goes on and on. It’s kind of in a mom friend way but more of a thing where someone sees “i need x item” and Will just hands it to them wordlessly without even stopping his sentence.

He adores the face masks that are supposed to make you look like an animal but they’re mostly just scary. They make him giggle like a toddler. (Imagine him and Nico with the fluffy headbands with the ears and then the face masks and Will just absolutely losing his shit)

Hozier!! Will loves Hozier!! Also country music (but he has a whole spiel about new age, american exceptionalist pop country because he h a t e s that). Also, and this is the really important one, 80s music but the really synth-y stuff (see my 80s cover band au for more details)

His ideal outfit is a chunky sweater, a jean jacket, jeans that don’t match the jacket, and rain boots. He loves rain boots. He’s got multiple pairs and at least one of them have frogs on them. If he can’t wear rain boots, flip flops in the summer and vans in the other seasons (He’s definitely got a pair of these yellow Vans)

He dresses like a dad but a dad that was born in the 80s and is also three years old

Will has at least three flavors of chapstick on him at any given time

Will Solace with a gun is wonderful, truly. I would like to add to this by introducing the concept of him wearing the side holsters on either this legs or his arms. He wants to go on quests so he can live his dreams of being a cowboy with thigh gun holsters and a hat and boots and all of it. (Also, Nico with knives strapped to his thighs and Will with guns) (Also, also, there’s a Cards Against Humanity card that says “Shooting a wizard with a gun” and that screams Will Solace)

Will is very much a “Let’s not resort to violence” person but in a way where like, Person A tries to punch B and Will is like “hey, we can talk this out” but then B doubles down and says something really out of line and Will just backs up and is like “You know what? Never mind, you do what you need to do” (And also in a “Let’s not fight… except for Nico because isn’t he so pretty with his sword?)

speaking of pretty, Will l o v e s to be called pretty. It makes his sweet summer child heart go brrr

He is obviously very into nicknames and terms of endearment but calling someone “Hon” or “Sweet pea” is always passive aggressive (that’s less of a Will thing and more of a Southern thing)

I would like to bring up the licking rocks thing again because I really do just believe it with my whole heart

For a while, the idea of Will’s grandparents (obviously Naomi’s side) being French has been bouncing around my head and I really do love the idea of Will speaking French fluently but not at all formally. It’s a lot of slang and has a Texas drawl mixed in with it but it’s definitely French (and it definitely makes Nico melt). He will just deadpan look at someone and go “Quoi?” and he counts the infirmary inventory stock in French but only up until sixty, then he switches to English (soixante-dix can suck it, sorry if you’re french but like, just make a new word. there’s no need for me to have to do math while already counting. don’t even get me started on anything in the 90s. quatre-vingt-dix-sept?? excuse me??)

Will and Persephone being buddies!! They just get along well and very much understand being summer people in love with anti-sun people and just, ugh, family dinners in the Underworld and Will always, always brings a gift for her. Will and Nico come in and anyone can hear Persephone yell “Is that Will? Is Will here?” and Will just grins and calls back “Yes ma’am, and I brought you some brownies from my Mama and some of the flowers from her garden”

Also, Nico knows all the deities and Will brings them cookies because they’re a team like that

He either plays soccer or lacrosse but either way he’s very good at it and it’s honestly intimidating (jock will solace <3)

Not to say Will isn’t his fair share of chaotic, but he’s friends with a lot of very chaotic or at the least eccentric people (Cecil and his pranks, Lou Ellen and her pig balls, Rachel and herself, Nico and himself, etc.) so he’s very good at turning on the Southern charm and just smiling his way out of any situation so he can get himself and everyone else away without any consequences

I think that’s all for now!! If you have any additions, please feel free to add them on, I love seeing other people’s ideas!

#will solace #will solace headcanon #nico di angelo #solangelo #pjo #i have so many thoughts about will #jock will solace <3 #will solace licks rocks

[bellarkeselection]

Part 5 - Dutton Spoils

Part 6

Falling for my Bestie

@stellarosedutton co - author

Kayce's POV 

"Can I open my eyes now Kayce?" She giggles as I make her keep her eyes closed coming back from the store earlier. Today is Christmas Eve so I can't think of another better chance to spoil her. Sitting a box in her lap she squints her eyes open slowly opening the box pulling out a onesie. The first one reading "It's not easy being the cutest cowboy around" for a boy. "Daddy's Little Cowgirl" for a girl written on a pink onesie. "Kayce, I thought I said not to buy anything until we got closer to knowing the gender." She groans a smile on her face nonetheless. Plopping down on the living room couch beside her I drape my arm over the back, my hat sitting on my lap. 

Resting a hand to her cheek I try to control myself from blushing at her looking more beautiful in the glow of the burning fire in the fireplace. My dad already went to bed so we are the only ones up late tonight. "All I have is love to give you Y/n." She lightly blushes but it's hard to catch when she raises a brow at what I said. "Love to give me?" I feel my cheeks turn a light red hearing her say it, noticing our noses are almost brushing. I messed up. Suddenly I tilt my head away from hers, clearing my head. I stutter out rubbing the back of my neck still blushing. "I uh - I meant for this child…" 

"Kayce I- I gotta puke…" Y/n started to reply until sickness took over. She stumbles to her feet rushing to the bathroom downstairs puking in the toilet. Right on her tail I bend down on my knees holding her hair away from her face finally feeling my blush disappearing. We'd scheduled a doctor's appointment in two months to find the baby's gender seeing her belly growing bigger. I wish my mom was here to make her famous biscuits to ease her pain. Those biscuits always made us better no matter what pain we were facing. "I'm glad you're here. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here…" She breathed out, wiping her mouth burying her face in the crook of my neck, my arms gently wrapped around her as we sat quietly on the bathroom floor. My love goes to you too Y/n. 

Y/N's POV 

I was laying in bed, morning sickness took a lot out of me since i got further along in the pregnancy but Kayce was there every step of the way and helping me through everything including the doctor’s appointments, since we were one step closer to finding out the baby’s gender but I had gotten a text earlier that said Walker was out of prison and looking for me as i called Kayce’s phone. “Hey Kayce, think you can come to the house. I need to show you something, and I don't know what to do because apparently, my ex is coming to this ranch and working. Rip is bringing him back right now. I am nervous, what if he is angry with me and tries to hurt me” I say, speaking into the phone as I heard a truck pull up outside the main house.  

Kayce's POV 

Slamming my truck driver's side door I bolt into the house in panic searching for her in the house only to end up finding her sitting on the couch. Hugging her legs to her chest, slightly shaking fear present in her eyes. "Walker's coming here Kayce!" She sniffs in tears as I toss my hat across the room with my tan jacket bending down to pick up her phone reading the text. My father had sent Rip to go pick him up wanting some more cowboys in the Bunkhouse. But I don't trust Walker, he's been in prison. How can someone like that be a good father to a baby "Kayce...what if he hurts me for keeping the baby?" She whispered low where I almost didn't hear her. Dropping her phone on the couch I pull her into my chest burying my head into her neck and clearly she needs it when her arms wrapped around my neck. "I won't let that happen. If he lays a hand on you at all or hurts you, he'll go to the train station." 

Comments welcome 🤗

#kayce dutton #kayce dutton x reader #luke grimes #john dutton #kevin costner #rip wheeler #cole hauser #yellowstone #wattpad fanfiction #stellarosedutton #ask box is open for anything

[extremelyblackandwhite]

illicit affairs

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: smut (18+), cheating, age gap

a/n: i love perfumes which smell of daisies so i made the reader use something like that. i do imagine her going for a very much female appearance and aura despite her personality and i can see lee fancying that sort of fragile femininity look paired with her independency. this song is based of illicit affairs from taylor swift but i was also listening to all too well at some points so i think some of that passed onto the writing. hope you enjoy xx

> DRESS

Leave the perfume on the self that you picked up just for him so you leave no trace behind like you don’t even exist. Take the words for what they are a dwindling, mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times ... And you wanna scream don’t call me “kid”, don’t call me “baby”, look at this idiotic fool that you made me. You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else. And you know damn well for you I would ruin myself a million little times ...

The snow settled onto the ground, a view she could see from her white window. Sprawled against her window pane, the blue soft fabric of her dress cascaded down her body as she watched the snow fall and become one with the mass of white covering the once green grass of her home. Her feet dangled in anticipation, hair cascading into hairdresser set curls, held away from her face with a pearl barrette. Her fingers dangled across her collarbones, feeling the cold matching pearls which unlike her barrette clip, had been offered to her by Lee on thanksgiving. “A pretty girl like you deserves her own pearls” his voice echoed in her mind whenever her feeling felt the smooth irregular circle shapes of the pearls laying against her collarbones. There was nothing more than she wanted than to wear those pearls to the police winter ball, to show up wearing something he had bought for her with what money he gathered from his fickle Captain position, but she couldn’t. Everyone knew what she had, what jewellery she had, it was all valued at the insurance centre downtown and the pearl necklace definitely wasn’t. Her own pearls rested inside her ivory jewellery box along with the ribbon she was wearing around her waist when she first kissed him, and the comb that held her hair in place whenever she met him during windy nights. 

Her grandmother had left before her, leaving with the grocery shop owner as her date for the ball but she had stayed behind. She had told her she’d rather go alone, blaming her loneliness on the fact all the boys her age were either engaged thus going with their wives and the single ones not wanting to do with her. Of course that was further from the truth and as she watched the snow fall, she imagined Lee’s cruiser driving through the snow, stopping in front of her home and knocking on her door to take her. But those were nothing but impossible scenarios created from the deepest part of her psyche. Looking over her shoulder, the clock on her bedside table shone 9PM into bold red letters. She should get going before her grandmother got worried. Her eyes lingered across her beauty parlour to the silver platter with her perfume, the one she’d picked just for him after hearing how much he loved the smell of daisies. She had to leave it, she couldn’t put any perfume on, she couldn’t take her pearls, she doesn’t exist. At least, she as Lee’s lover does not exist for all that everyone could know and nothing hurt more than the sound of her pearls returning to her ivory box. It was were they belonged, away from everyone, hidden, a mysterious sin secret. 

With her white fur wrapped around her arms, she entered her glossy yet dull red car, pulling the hood up despite the weather. She wanted to feel the cold, she wanted that numbness to hide what she had been feeling for the last months. It was all so exhilarating when it began; the summer walks, laying in the middle of the forest in an old towel as he feed her ripe strawberries, escaping from her grandmother’s house at night and meeting him up under the apple tree in light dresses. However, at time wind down, she started to crave the rest of a relationship, the holding of hands. Instead what she got was clandestine meetings in parking lots, behind the bars or in the middle of the forest when no one could see them. She constantly told herself it was going to eventually be her turn, he was gonna leave Jane for her. Yet, she seemed to constantly fall on the same error every mistress before her did, the mistake of forgetting her place. Stopping in front of the old town hall where the ball was being held, she could see the soft lights, hear the laughter and it made her sick. She didn’t want to go in, she didn’t want to see those happy couples but she had too. She had to put up a show, be the little pedestal trouble starter woman she was expected to be and so she would. 

Stepping into the hall, her eyes immediately found Lee in the corner speaking with the Sheriff, arm draped over Jane’s shoulder while the other hand held a clear cup probably with his favourite drink. Her heart sunk to the same place it always did as she got lost in the dance floor. She knew everyone in this town hall, from the first boy she ever kissed Jonah and his third wife Elizabeth to Billy whom had been prom king with her. There was nothing new anymore and what once felt new and true was now anchoring her inside a fishbowl of images of her own mistakes and unfulfilled life needs. 

      - Hey, Y/N. - Billy called out for her attention. She held onto the fur wrapped around her for comfort as she prepared her facade of a happy girl at a happy party. - Your grandma told me you ain’t gotta a partner for tonight. Could’ve told me, I would’ve taken you. 

      - It’s ok, ain’t like I need a man. - she replied, almost angrily although he deserved no anger from her. - What’s the stage for? We’re getting a band tonight?

      - No, the new sheriff candidates announcing themselves tonight. Prepare for the blood bath. 

      - Sounds interesting. - she spoke out, her voice getting mumbled out as the mic’s sound hurt her and everyone else’s ear. The police chief stood there in his best attire, holding a small piece of papers, his fat thumbs hitting the mic to gather everyone’s attention. He already had their attention merely by wearing a cowboy’s hat with a formal suit. 

       - Now folks, we all now how much we gonna miss our good old Sheriff but it’s time to elect a new one. - his southern accent was pronounced, too pronounced, cartoonish even. Y/N remembered laughing as a child when she first heard him speak only to immediately shut up when her grandmother looked her way with a look which left room for no questions. She herself had barely developed an accent, her grandmother still very keen on instilling in her the education she herself had gotten. However, the longer she spent with Lee, the more it would sometimes slip; one or two words, nothing major. - Of course, Leroy is running again.

     - I don’t know why he tries. - Y/N whispered to Billy, concealed laughing smile behind her hand. 

     - You gotta admit it’s a good thing to imagine. Damned Leroy and his prostitutes running the town? We’d be forgotten by God.

     - We’re already forgotten by God. We were banished from the garden of Eden, don’t you remember? - she teased, always enjoying to toy around with the religion Knockemstiff was so hang up on. - We’re probably direct descendants. 

     - You ought to keep that mouth shut if you don’t wanna get in trouble. - he warned yet it went through deaf ears. Y/N liked stirring it, specially when it came to things which were so analytically flawed. 

The regular list of candidates continued to go from officers to common folk who all believed they could make the town better. At least that was all they said they wanted to get some votes but at the end of the day, they just wanted to control the town with an iron fist. Do what they wanted without anyone question it. She couldn’t blame it, humans are hardwired to go crazy for power and let it consume them so she just let it pass. She knew all the candidates, they were always the same. Leroy, Matthew, Edwards ... all the common ones, she even wondered why they kept announcing it. Those three competing for the sheriff position was as certain as the sun coming up each morning. 

      - The last candidate is our cap’tain Bodecker. - her head snapped to the stage as every sound seemed to dim until she was surrounded by pure silence. All she could hear was the buzz from her ears as she watched him climb up the stairs to the stage, shaking the chief’s hands. 

Everything seemed to be stuck in slow motion yet her mind was running faster than a shot bullet. The clapping was slow, everything was silent yet she could see their hands slowly clap and their lips moving in whispers. Her eyes roamed the crowd finding Jane right in front of the stage, looking up at him with adoration at the possible place she could possible hold; the sheriff’s wife. The slow motion ended with a loud crash and suddenly everything seemed just too fast. She ignored Billy’s pleas for her attention and moved straight to the small plastic tables covered in burgundy towels to make it look fancier where all the drinks and food were being held. One of her only friends from high school Mary was the one in charge, happily serving food and drinks to anyone who asked.

     - Hi Y/N. - she always looked like the perfect housewife and that was always what she wanted to be. Beautiful, bountiful blonde hair with a few flowers matching her pink dress. Despite it all, she was always nice to her even with their different life goals. 

     - Hey Mary. How’s Paul? I heard from rumours you two had quite a nice honeymoon. St.Louis, right? 

     - Yes. He booked us a nice honeymoon suite, it had flowers and those heart shaped beds and chocolates. It was real nice, I’m hoping to be pregnant soon. What about you? Your grandmother said you came alone. You could’ve told me, my brother would’ve taken you.

    - That’s alright, Mary. I don’t intend to stay for long ... Uhm, can I have a drink?

    - Of course. Sidecar, as per usual? 

    - I think I’ll just have a double cognac, please. Or maybe some gin ... whatever can make me dizzy the fastest.

    - Everything, okay?

    - Just need to forget some stuff, it’ll be okay. - she forced a smile. At least half that phrase was true. Mary served her up with her best gin and she returned to the dance floor, trying to blend with the rest of the attendees, however her baby blue dress was much too different from anything else in town. 

Y/N thought she’d be best outside where no one could see her and so she left, avoiding Billy who kept asking for her. She leaned against the old wood of the town hall, mascara running down her cheeks, and gin glass on the other one. She looked like the perfect warning tale of why you should not mess her married men. She knew better, she knew so much better but she still did it, like the idiotic little fool she seemed to be. Y/N sighed, the air condensing in the air as she drank from the glass.

     - Pull yourself together, Y/N. - she looked to see side, her grandmother standing outside with the look she used to give her when Y/N embarrassed her as a little girl. - What did you expect?

     - I’m just not having a good day, nana.

     - You’re hanging around with Captain Bodecker that’s what you’re doing.

     - What?

     - Don’t play innocent with me, Y/N. You’re just like your mother and I’ve raised your mother so I’d know. I saw you leave in his car last week. Do you want to defend yourself?

     - Is it even worth it? - she took a sip out of her drink. - What do you want me to say? 

     - I want you to pull yourself together and go inside. You better have this finished off before those elections start. I will not have my granddaughter be a home wrecker.

Y/N ignored it. There was nothing her grandmother could say that hurt more than what she was already feeling. She watched the snow fall from the cover of the banner covering the town hall, cold and icy yet somehow warmer than her. The drink didn’t last forever and although it was much stronger than what she was used to, she didn’t feel the slightest bit dizzy. It was if the universe was punishing her for her choices. She shook her head, leaving the glass onto one of the windows. She’d be better off at home and she’d already made her appearance. If someone asked where she was, she could’ve blamed it on their drunkness. Opening her little clutch, she started fishing for her keys through a sea of change, makeup and receipts. 

    - You better not be thinking of driving after you just drank. - she turned her head to see Lee with his hands on his waist, playfully smiling at her. His smile faded as he noticed the streaks of mascara from her eyes to her jaw. - Did that shithead Billy say something? 

     - No ... Lee, I wanna go home okay. - she sighed. - Can you just pretend you didn’t see me drink?

     - I was hoping we could spend the night together. Rent a hotel room outside town. A real nice place, with a pool and some room service. My treat of course.

     - I ... We can’t, Lee. Your wife is inside as she’s gonna notice you’re not there and you’re not home. 

     - She’s going home early. Jane’s been taking a few sleeping pills. She’s down for the night, won’t even notice. - he took a few steps closer to her, knowing everyone was too drunk to even remember. - I was waiting for you to come greet me, congratulate me. I can’t believe my girl wanted to leave before showing me how pretty she looked. 

     - You didn’t tell me you were running for Sheriff. - he cupped her face, thumb caressing her cheek. - You said it was a silly position.

     - Yeah but ... it’s a Sheriff. I could become Mayor, ya know. The old sheriff thinks I’d be good for it. - he scratched the back of his neck, something he always did whenever he was nervous or was confronted by something he did not expect. Y/N had learned to read him and knew him better than her own favourite books. - C’mon, kid. It’s a night worth celebrating, don’t you think?

     - Don’t call me kid. - she shot her head his way, his word hitting a particular hurt spot which she didn’t realise she had. 

     - Hey, I’m not trying to mock ya. - he rose his hands. - What’s wrong, huh baby? Hm? Tell me sugar, I hate it when you’re upset. Besides, if it was that Billy kid I’ve been wanting to give him a good beating.

    - Don’t call me baby, either. - she sighed, throwing her purse inside the car, before turning to him. - Billy didn’t do anything I’m just ... tired.

    - I’ll drive you home, then.

    - I don’t wanna go home either. - she pushed her hair from her forehead, looking at the ground. The snow engulfed her feet and her shoes, yet it might as well have engulfed her entire being. Lee noticed her lip trembling and how her free hand was trying to stop tears from falling down. He looked behind him, the town hall door shut, before taking his jacket off, draping it over her shoulders, and opening the car door for her. 

 Y/N daren’t look him in the eye, instead sitting in the passenger seat as he pushed the hood of her car up. After all, most people did not enjoy driving in the snow with the hood up. She didn’t know where he was taking her and for all it mattered she didn’t want to know. If he was driving her to her killing location, it sounded much better than having to work out through the bubbling feelings in her tummy. Y/N didn’t even noticed how much she was crying until the tears started streaming so fast they were falling onto the palms of her hands like diamond daggers. She leaned her head against his shoulder, watching the road ahead through the blurry orbs of her own eyes, trying to find some warmth through him. The drive seemed endless and her mind rushed in an even more endless way as she considered all her choices til now. She found it unbearable how not guilty she didn’t feel about it. She could still remember the feeling of the cold water against her body and his lips against hers, being tangled in his bed sheets while he drank a beer, his grunts as he thrusted into her inside his patrol car. She remembered every detail either it being lust or romantic but most importantly she remembered how he looked at her. It was almost as through rose coloured glasses, most of the times agreeing with her pessimist view of the town she was in. Lee looked down on her, watching her perfect hair break through the gelled curls she had set down. He never liked the polished look anyway, he loved to see her walk in her white dresses and freshly washed hair flowing with the wind. This woman sat next to him was gorgeous but he preferred his Y/N, he preferred the woman who would poke fun of casualty and rush into the woods with her nightgown. This woman next to him was pretty yes but she seemed tainted by a sadness he could see yet couldn’t help. He didn’t want his Y/N to be the slightest bit sad. She did not deserve it. She was too pure, too young to be consumed by the loneliness, darkness and sadness that came with being an adult. Yet again, he had to start learning the young woman she was wouldn’t stay young forever. He wanted to know how to help. he wanted to be the man who wakes up next to her on summer mornings and winter evenings but life is not how we plan it out to be.

She watched the snow fall from her window as “You are my sunshine” played on the background from her radio. Looking up to him, his eyes were glued to the road, the sign of leaving Knockemstiff way past them and the hotel on the horizon. She called it the Heartbreak hotel, with its red walls and luxurious nature. A more fancy place for those who wanted to give a better night to their mistresses but that was not why she called it the heartbreak hotel. It was due to the fact she ended up crying every time she or he left. While inside those walls, she could pretend they were Mr. and Mrs. Bodecker, young couple moved out of Knockemstiff on a romantic getaway yet she wasn’t Mrs. Bodecker, Jane was. She had seen who the future sheriff’s wife was and it was not and it would never be her. He stopped the car in the parking lot, looking at her who was lost in thought, leaned against his shoulder.

   - Come on, sugar. What is it? - Lee kissed the top of her head. - The heck happened in that Town Hall?

    - Just being silly, Lee. - she shook her head, faking a smile. - Just don’t like parties one bit.

    - I hate ‘em too, sugar. All show no action. Besides no party is a party without my baby. - he hooked his ring finger under her chin, softly pulling it up. She tried not to look at the moonlight illuminating the silver band around his finger, a symbol he belonged to someone else and she knew it. She had seen the wedding photo on his secretary, a much younger Lee with a much younger Jane with the facade of a happy marriage. Thinking about it always made her sick and ever since seeing that picture she couldn’t bring herself to do so. - Come on, let’s get you a bubble bath, yeah?

She followed him into the hotel almost in a zombie like state until the reception. The talk was a dance she had danced before, it was all the same. Lee would present money in cash so it wouldn’t show up on his credit card statement. He would sign in with a fake address but with his own name and no one would question it. After all, the staff wanted money, they didn’t care if it was an illicit affair or not. To be honest, she didn’t care much anymore.

     - Mrs. Bodecker? Mrs. Bodecker? - the receptionist called out to her but it didn’t even register until she was looking her into the eyes. Mrs. Bodecker, she was definitely not. - Would you like a complementary tea? You look cold.

     - No, it’s okay. - she smiled while Lee grabbed the keys. His hand wrapped itself around hers, leading her over to the elevator.

God, she wanted him. She really did, he thought to himself. It was an unbelievable feeling to have someone who loved him back, someone who always had encouraging words to tell him, someone who would stay after a fight. He thought and imagine what it would’ve been like if she was born earlier, god he would’ve courted her and would’ve married her the second they were out of high school. Sadly, the woman he loved was born 10 years after and he met her when he was married. He led her to the 13th hotel room and closed the door behind them.

     - Things are gonna be different when I’m sheriff. No more sneaking around, no one will dare  say a word. I can move to Brewer Heights, heck, I can buy two houses, one just for you and me.

    - Lee ...

    - Where are your pearls, sugar? You know I love to see you with them, makes you look so pretty.

    - You know I can’t wear them in public, Lee. I am not your ... - she shouldn’t say that, she should not let those words out. - They’re not insured under my name, people would comment about it.

     - You worry too much. - he pushed the fur that covered her arms down, placing a small kiss on her elbow. - My little over-thinker.

     - One of us has too, Captain Bodecker.

     - How about some champagne? - he pointed towards the champagne bottle in the ice bucket by the dresser before walking towards it, raising it so he could inspect the brand. He longed for the finest things in life, no longer wanting to be that middle to low class man he’d been forced to be. Being Sheriff, Mayor someday was going to be really something, it’d be his chance.

    - I’m not 21 yet, Captain.

    - Only a month til you are, kid. - he filled two long crystal flutes, handing it over to them. - By then I should stop calling you kid, huh?

    - You shouldn’t call me kid, now. - she took a sip of the golden liquid, hoping it would take away her jealousy. Lee hummed, leaned over to kiss the crock of her neck, climbing up to her jaw in a move that was sure to leave marks. It was okay for him to leave marks on her, she was unmarried, young but on him? Sometimes she wanted to, sometimes she wanted to mark his pale plump skin as a possession, one that screamed Jane might have the wedding ring but she had the man. Yet, she couldn’t. - You look so handsome tonight.

    - You’re my worse critic. - he smirked, placing his glass on the bedside table before pulling her chin towards him, placing a soft kiss on her plump, painted lips. - God, you can’t even imagine how fucking hard I got when you walked in.

    - Such gentle behaviour. - she teased, fingers lightly tracing the skin of his face. He moaned, leaning in to kiss her again. - I wore it just for you. Blue. I knw you like it.

    - You’re always such a good girl for me. - he started to remove his jacket, pushing on her chest lightly so she laid against the luxurious bed.

The alcohol sure did a better job than her about making her forget what she was doing it. The alcohol and his kiss, his touch on her skin made her forget the clench in her heart when she saw Jane Bodecker clap once they said his name. It made her forget she couldn’t hear perfume around him unless he showered, it made her forget. Both of her moaned through the kiss, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that it was a sin. Maybe that’s why it taste so sweet, the sin, the thrill. None of them cared really and all he wanted to do now was hold her, touch her, look at her.

    - You are so beautiful. - he spoke, more to himself than to her specifically, leaning down on the bed as he spread her legs, taking his place in between them which was so familiar to him. Lee ran his knuckles through the middle of her folds, cold hands making her shiver. - Ev’ry darn day I wake up and I think, I got myself the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her eyes were glued to the ceiling, the white paint of it engulfing her as his hands caressed her thighs. All she could feel were his cold hands massaging the skin of her thighs, spreading them apart and giving him full access to her. His lips attacked her core, always chapped which made her feel so good, it made her know it was him giving her that pleasure. She moaned out loud as he dwelled in like a starved man, her head relaxing against the pillow. There was never any mercy with him, he teased her like he owned her, focusing on her clit while licking her folds. He had her exactly where he wanted her - starving for him.

   - You’re gonna see. - he mumbled out while he relentlessly ate her out. - When I’m sheriff there will be no more hidin’. No one gonna dare say anythin’ about it.

   - Lee, please ... no foreplay. - she whined, begged even as he stopped his motions. His eyes curiously searched for hers, hands pulling his body up as he stood on top of her. - I just want to feel you.

   - Weren’t you feelin’ me, sugar?

   - You know what I mean, Lee. - she wrapped her hands around his neck, head cocked to the side. - I don’t want any foreplay today.

    - Oh sugar ... - he chuckled leaning down to kiss her collarbone. - You’re just a cock slut for me, aren’t ya? Can’t just wait for me to treat ya right ain’t it, baby?

     - Lee, please. - she whined, hands wavering over his police issued chunky belt. Lee smirked, holding her hand before she could do anything. Y/N pouted, head leaning against her shoulder. - C’mon.

   - But baby, you look so pretty when you’re begging. - he returned to kiss her neck, leaving marks which were sure to become hickeys tomorrow but she didn’t care. No one was going to see it. - I was expecting you to come congratulate me in the way you always do, maybe in the back of the town hall. Hoping someone would catch us so they’d see you’re my girl.

    -  Lee ... -  she whined as he kept kissing her neck and collarbones. - Please.

    - Tell me what you want, baby. You know I do everything you want. - he rose from her neck, toothy grin as he leaned down to kiss her plump, pink painted lips. - Tell me you want my big fat cock. I know you do, baby. Tell me how much you need it. 

  - Lee ... please, need you.

  - You have me, baby, tell me what you need. Tell me what you want. - his knuckles ran through the middle of her folds again. - You’re so wet, baby. Just tell me what you want, c’mon

  -  Lee ... please. - she looked at him with those wide eyes that could get someone to commit murder for her, as he pushed down his trousers. - I want you to fuck me with your ... big fat cock, Capitain. 

  - Oh, baby ... - he leaned his forehead against hers as he pushed his cock past her entrance, eyes shut tight  as he tried to keep himself sane at the mere feeling of her walls contracting against him. His lips found hers as he shed himself fully into her. Her hand searched for his, as Lee slowly rolled his hips against hers, basking in the mere high that was being inside of her. - You okay, baby? 

  - Yeah. ... fuck, move. - she whined as he removed himself from her and pushed back in, slowly starting to rock into her as he always did. The little tease. Her hand clenched his as he speed up his thrusts, lips returning to hers in a messy, moaned filled kiss. All she could hear was the sound of skin against skin and interrupted breathing. - Lee, fuck.

  - I know, baby. - he laughed, returning to kiss her the way he liked as her walls started to clench more forcefully against his member, milking him for all he was worth. His free hand grabbed her hip as he further sped up against her, bruising her skin as his breaths got more raggedy. He bite onto her neck as he felt his control over his own orgasm disappear. 

  - Lee, fuck! - she moaned, almost raising off the bed as her own orgasm washed over her. Her head fell against the pillow, sluggish as he continued to thrust into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. He chuckled mid grunt, holding her against him as he turned around in bed. 

  - You all fucked up, aren’t ya, sugar? - he kissed the top of her head. - You’re gonna see, sugar. Things are gonna be so much better.

  - Right ... - she cuddled against his chest. - Hm ... Lee can you drive me back home early on?

  - Early shift?

  - Yeah.

  - Okay, sugar.

The morning was a harsh breaker of dreamy hazes and just like that she was back to the place where she always was, in her home, surrounded by the scent of the perfume she had bought just for him. She sat on her dress, taking the necklace he had given her from the little mother of pearl seashell shaped box and holding them against her chest. She loved him, she really did. Some people had their downfalls and hers was painted onto her neck and held by her hands. He was her downfall. 

The sun was high up on the snowy midday in Knockemstiff and once again Lee had been resigned to desk duty after the Sheriff not taking it too lightly he decided to run without his permission. Normally he would’ve been upset but he knew, he knew he was close to winning and then he could throw away those stupid hotels and just get her a little house close to him. God, he couldn’t fucking wait.

    - Captain Bodecker, someone here for you. - his secretary knocked on his door. - Mary Gillies, sir. 

    - Mary Gillies? - he knew her to be a friend of Y/N’s, perhaps her only friend other than that punk Billy. - Send her in.

    - Good afternoon, captain. - she said as she walked into his office. - I’m so sorry to be bothering but Y/N ...

    - Is she alright? - he interrupted her.

    - Yes, well ...  - she rummaged through her bag to find a cushioned envelope with his name on it. - She told me to give you this.

   - What is it?

   - I don’t know, captain. I must get going, my husband is waiting for me.

   - Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Gillies.

He waited for the woman to be out of his office and for the door to be shut for him to open the envelope. The minute he opened the envelope, pearls fell into his desk, the same pearls he had given Y/N followed by a small note in the dusty pink stationary that normally laid on her dresser. Turning it around, he saw the words he’d been dreading to read or hear ever since he met her. I’m sorry, Lee. He threw the letter on his desk before getting up from his desk as fast as he could, ignoring the calls from his colleagues as he got into his cruiser. Damned, Brewer Heights, why couldn’t it be closer?

He approached her home fast and closed the door as fastly as he ran up to the door. Her hag of a grandmother was possibly at church and he had learned where they kept the spare key; behind a violet pot. His heart was beating as fast as a deer on a hunt as he climbed up the stairs and found the once filled room was empty, with only a perfume bottle on her empty dresser. He observed the whole room as if he were in a nightmare, sitting on her bed as he clenched the pearls he had given her not so long ago, the smell of daisies in the air as some song played on the still turned on radio.

You never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away ...

taglist: @lookiamtrying​ 

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sheriff lee bodecker #sheriff lee bodecker x reader #sheriff lee bodecker x you #sheriff lee bodecker x y/n #sheriff lee bodecker/reader #sheriff lee bodecker/you #sheriff lee bodecker/y/n #sheriff lee bodecker smut #sheriff lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker/reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker/y/n #lee bodecker/yoou

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 2: Legends Never Die

Read on Ao3

-

Billy was watching porn when Steve texted.

He’s never clicked out of a video so fucking fast in his life.

The message just read hey, this is steve :) which like, of course, the fucker uses little emoticons. Of course , he types out little smiley faces. It’s so dumb. It’s so cute.

And Billy just stared at it. One hand still on his dick, the other hovering over the keyboard.

What the fuck does he reply?

Obviously, Steve knows it’s Billy. Like. Duh.

So he just tapped out a little Hey.

Steve texted back almost immediately.

you have a good day? Billy found himself grinning maniacally, so he rolled over to hold his pillow close to his chest, burying his chin into it. He didn’t wanna deal with the fact that this stupid adorable cowboy was making him smile and flush. Stupid.

Yeah, it was nice. Way too hot, but nice.

lol try wearing jeans in that heat. sweatin through my damn saddle. Billy laughed into his pillow.

Jesus, you’re such a fuckin hick. Billy bit his tongue when he pressed send.

And Steve just sent back >:(. And God. He’s so cute. Billy. Hates him.

And then Billy’s phone buzzed twice, another brand new text from Steve.

One that made Billy’s heart fucking stop.

i have the day off tomorrow. no tiedown on the schedule. you should come by and we could hang

Which sounded like. A date. It sounded like a fucking date. And Billy wanted to ask. If Steve’s invitation was for a goddamn date.

But like, he can’t just ask. Can he? Is that weird? Okay, maybe he’ll just-

Should I bring Max?

Right? Like if Steve says to bring his little sister, then there’s no way it’s a date. Because, who would want their date to bring their little sister? People who are just hanging out as friends, that’s who.

was hoping it'd just be you and me

And hoo boy. Hoo boy. That’s. That’s a fucking. That’s a date.

Then yeah. Just you and me.

And Steve sent him another little :) because the fucker loves his emoticon smiley faces. They’re not even, like, actual emojis. Steve doesn’t take the time to use fucking apostrophes, but he does type out little faces.

And maybe Billy’s spending too much time thinking about the smiley little shits.

But, like. It’s just. It’s Steve. And it’s a cute fucking thing that Steve does.

Billy’s pretty much obsessed with him by now.

And maybe Billy should ask for, like, a time to meet. But he was halfway through a video and his cock’s still hard and kinda starting to ache, pressed against the mattress where it was. He rolled over, slid his hand back into his shorts, and wrapped his fingers around the base of himself.

So it’s easy just to, slide it up. Run his fingers along his length. Pretend his rough hand is Steve’s rough hand. Pretend the tight vice grip is Steve’s mouth. Hot and slick around him.

He could picture Steve, on his knees in the dirt, those tight fucking jeans beginning to stain at the knees, those big pretty eyes looking at him so reverently, so softly.

And he came all over his hand, pictured those pink pretty lips covered with cum. Imagined scooping it on his fingers, pressing them into Steve’s mouth, making him lick them clean.

It wasn’t even the most depraved fantasy Billy’s ever had. But it was for sure in his top five best orgasms. No doubt about it.

He wiped his hand on the sheets, turning onto his side, staring at the short little conversation with Steve.

Thinking about their fucking date tomorrow.

Max was on his ass the second he woke up.

She cornered him as he was coming out of the bathroom, making him startle and nearly smack her.

“The fuck you doing out here, Shitbrid?”

“What are we doing today?”

“ We aren’t doing shit all. I will be heading out. Soon.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, jutting her jaw in a way he absolutely knows she learned from him.

“Are you going to the rodeo?” she hissed through her teeth at him. “Are you going to see-”

“That’s none ‘a your fuckin’ business.” He pushed past her, lumbering down the hall, almost making it into his bedroom before she slipped inside with him, slapping his elbow and kicking the door closed.

“Are you going on a date ?”

Billy glared at her. He clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Pretty sure we agreed not to fucking talk about this shit here.”

She pursed her lips, shifting her jaw.

“Just nod or shake your head.”

Billy kept his head very still.

She kicked him once in the shin before stomping out of his room, nearly slamming the door, catching it at the last minute, and closing it quietly.

Neil didn’t approve of doors slamming in his house.

It was rule number. Three probably. First rule was don’t be a smartass. Second rule was don’t be Billy. That was kind of an unspoken rule. But it was there.

And Billy was faced with his newest dilemma.

What does he wear?

Because it’s gonna be another hot fucking day, and his typical date outfits have more, more.

He’s got one clean pair of cut-offs left. Okay. Yes. And he puts on a printed button-up shirt. Leaves it almost all the way unbuttoned, because, like, of course, he does. He’s got a good body. He wants Steve to see it.

He’ll be mostly cool, and he looks better than he did last time he saw Steve.

Black Converse complete the look, and he maybe spends more time than he usually would putting his hair into a ponytail, using one of Max’s bright scrunchies.

She’ll get pissed if she notices it but. Whatever. He steals them from her all the fucking time.

He hasn’t looked at his phone all morning, figured he could head over to the rodeo, and whenever Steve texted, he’d play it cool and act like he wasn’t already there.

But, cowboy hick Steve was obviously an early riser. As the most recent text Billy has is from that cowboy hick Steve. At six. In the morning.

you wanna meet up around ten?

It was currently just past nine.

Does Billy head up there now and wander around the grounds for a bit?

Yes. Yes, he does. Because frankly, he looks gay as fuck in this outfit and he should probably dip before his dad sees.

He sends Steve a thumbs up and the three dots show up almost immediately, showing Steve typing.

you got a car right? can you pick me up outside of the parking lot? i gotta get outta here

And Fuck. Billy knows that feeling.

No problem. You wanna get breakfast? I know a good diner if you’re into that kinda thing.

hell yeah im into that :)

Ah, yes. There was that little happy face just in time to give Billy lots of nice heart palpitations.

Great. That’s what he needs. To get sappy and gross over Steve’s emoticons. Again.

He slipped out of his house without interference, taking a lap around the block just to kill time before setting off to the fairgrounds.

He was trying to make his car look presentable, shoving the few gum wrappers Max left by the gear shift into his pocket, brushing off any stray cigarette ash with one of the baby wipes in the glove box.

And by the time he reached the fairgrounds, he saw Steve skulking along the front of the parking lot, hopping over cracks in the sidewalk like the cutest little bunny.

It was the most adorable thing in the fucking world.

Billy pulled up next to him, blaring the horn and watching Steve startle at the sound.

He was wearing cut-off denim shorts like Billy’s, and a goddamn crop top. It had the silhouette of a horse on its hind legs, its mane flowing in the wind behind it, and Harrington American Rodeo brandished across his chest. It was cut just at his waistline, where his body nipped in right above his hips.

Steve smiled his pretty smile at Billy, just about skipping around the front of the car to slide into the passenger seat.

And Billy tried not to think about how fucking good Steve looked in the passenger seat of his car, those long fucking legs all on display, his thighs, thick and pale, covered in dark hair.

“Hi,” Steve was leaning with one elbow on the center console, putting himself in Billy’s space, and Billy was thankful for his dark aviator sunglasses, as his eyes went wide and probably panicked with Steve moving in so close.

Because if Steve was leaning in to kiss him, that kinda feels like a lot. And Billy’s not a prude, not by any means but he's, he’s got lines, and rules, and-

Steve just knocked his head into Billy’s shoulder, leaning back to buckle his seatbelt, like headbutting Billy’s shoulder was casual and normal.

And fuck.

Billy’s in so deep for this guy he barely fucking knows.

All he could do was push the car forward, and will away the flush on his cheeks. And pretend like he hadn’t jerked off to the person sitting next to him less than twelve hours ago.

“So. Billy. Tell me about yourself.” Steve shifted in his seat, turning to look right at Billy. “All I know is that you’ve got a kid sister, a cool car, and that you’re really hot.”

Billy smirked, turning to look at Steve over his glasses, found Steve biting his bottom lip demurely.

“Well, there’s not much else to know .”

“Oh, come on. Where are you from? How old are you? Shit, probably shoulda asked that sooner. Please, tell me you’re not fifteen or something.”

“I’m literally driving, right now. And relax, Pretty Boy. I’m eighteen next month.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I’m eighteen, by the way. Just so you know, that I’m not fifteen.” Billy shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile. “But I still want answers to the other questions.”

“Well, I’m from here. Born and raised in San Diego. Uh, I graduated high school in May. And I work at the diner I’m about to take you to, which might be the lamest shit in the world, but they have good pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.” Steve was fiddling with some of the knobs in the car, turning the air conditioner up and down. Billy was just resisting slapping his hand away.

And then he reached for the volume knob on the radio, turning up the Ratt Billy had playing, and audibly scoffed.

“God, I should’ve known you liked this .”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Just, you know. Sex charged drug-fueled hair metal.”

“Oh my God. What in the fuck ?” He gave Steve as incredulous a look as he could muster. “Are you a housewife from the fifties?”

Steve gave one of his excellent bright laughs at Billy, and Billy’s gut got a little bit gay and a little bit fluttery.

“Alright, Stevie. I’ll bite. What kinda music are you into? And if you say country I’m blowing my fuckin’ brains out.”

“Well, unfortunate then because, yeah. Fuckin’ country, man. Although, I prefer folk.”

“See, you call my music sex-charged and drug-fueled, at least I’m not listening to posers rant about their tractors.”

“Oh, no. I hate that shit as much as you do. I mean like, Johnny Cash. Willie Nelson, you know? Emmylou Harris, Marty Robbins, Miss Dolly. The good stuff. There’s like, a few modern artists that are doing the same kinda thing that I like. It’s all just stories and good music.”

“That’s all my music is. Stories set to music. And, you say my shit is drug-fueled, you do know that Willie Nelson is famous for being a stoner? And that Johnny Cash publicly dealt with addiction and all that?”

“Well, yeah, but they’ve got class.”

“Okay, Cowboy. I’ll let you die on that fuckin’ hill while I party it up on mine to some eighties metal.”

And Steve reached out to shove Billy lightly, laughing while he did it.

“Agree to fucking disagree then. Just take me to pancakes and don’t try to reason with me about shitty music.”

“Then change the subject. Tell me other things about you besides your terrible music taste.”

Steve leaned back in his seat, blowing out a puff of air.

“Uh, I mean. Jeez. I don’t do much besides the rodeo, you know? Just movin’ all over the country.”

“That must be. Exhausting.”

Steve reached out to brush his fingers against the dashboard mindlessly.

“It’s not so bad. I try to make friends in the towns, you know? Makes it kinda fun.”

“Where were you born?”

“Indiana. Really small town. My mom and I stayed there for three years while my father traveled around. I’ve been on the road since.”

“Holy shit. Since you were three? Did you, like, go to school?”

“No. Uh, I actually have a tutor that’s on the road with us, and I’m. You know. Supposed to get my high school diploma soon. I’m behind schedule since,” he waved his hand flippantly. He was staring at his lap, playing with the frayed hem of his shorts. And Billy was grasping for another subject as Steve’s cheeks went red. Because obviously school, had struck a nerve.

“What kinda horse is June?”

“She’s an American quarter horse. That’s the usual type for most rodeo events. They’re good ranch horses because they’re a little more compact. I’ve been with June for five years now, and she’s a beast. I’ve got two others with me, on rotation so that none of them get too tired doing the shows over and over. June, Patsy, and Loretta. They’re all quarter horses, and each one is only about fourteen and a half hands tall. I like my horses a bit smaller for tie-down.”

“I understood, honestly, like, nothing of what you just said.”

Steve tossed his head back, laughing loudly over the radio at Billy’s confusion.

He laughed a lot.

Billy liked it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you rodeo slang. You’ll be a natural,” Steve said, reaching out to where Billy’s right hand was resting on the gearshift, wrapping his finger’s around Billy’s wrist.

“What about their names?”

“All ladies of country. Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, and June Carter. Carter-Cash, I guess. She married Johnny but had a career in her own right.”

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ hick.”

“You’ve said that before. Just because I’m in the rodeo-”

“No, it’s because you’re in the rodeo, and listen to country music, and wear fucking cowboy boots -”

“They are literally made for riding horses, okay? That’s why they were invented .”

Billy rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling brightly as he pulled into the diner parking lot.

It wasn’t too busy for a Sunday morning. Billy bets it’ll pick up in an hour or so for the brunch crowd.

He began working at the diner three years ago, bussing tables and washing dishes, getting paid under the table because technically, he was too young to work. He was a server now, usually taking the evening dinner shifts to miss that time when his dad was home from work.

The bell jingled above their heads as Billy held the door open for Steve, and Billy stuck his tongue out at the kitchen staff, leaning over the counter to swipe a few menus from the stack.

He led Steve to a booth in the back corner, waving at Lorraine, the older woman who was working their section, gesturing to the booth for Steve to take a seat.

“Wow. You’ve totally got this place on lock.”

Billy grinned at him, leaning against the wall to stretch his legs up on the booth next to him.

“I’ve worked here a few years. Kinda done all the staff positions. It’s a nice place.”

“Well, then what do you recommend?” Steve carefully opened the laminated menu, his big eyes flicking over the pictures on the side of every dish.

“Pancakes are good, so are the waffles though, if you’re into that. I like the full breakfast. Eggs, bacon or sausage, hash browns, pancakes, or toast. Kinda the best of everything.”

Steve snapped his menu shut, smiling softly at Billy.

“I’m trusting you with my breakfast here. It better be good .”

Lorraine approached their table, already pouring Billy a cup of coffee and sliding it to him along the table.

“You really love us that much you find your way in here on your day off?”

“Only you, Lorraine. Everybody else can fuck off for all I care.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at Billy.

“You want the usual cook-up?”

“Yes, please.”

She took his unopened menu, turning and smiling brightly at Steve.

“What can I get for you, Darling.”

Steve’s eyes were wide when he looked up at her, his cheeks starting to flush.

“Uh, just, the same as Billy, please.”

“You want a coffee?”

“No, Ma’am. Just a water for me please.” He handed his menu back, giving her a bright smile, his cheeks a soft rosy red.

Lorraine winked at Billy, nodding her head once in Steve’s general direction. Billy waved her off before she could say something embarrassing.

“Sorry, I get kinda weird sometimes.” Steve had pulled a napkin out of the dispenser on their table and was looking down at it, tearing off little chunks and rolling them into balls.

“That’s okay. Lorraine gets it. Plus, you were polite, and that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you if you were an ass to servers.”

“Oh, God. My dad is such an ass when it comes to, really any staff. Like, servers, or, frankly, most of the people that work for him. Don’t even get me started on the animal carers. I mean, that’s probably the most important job at the whole rodeo, and he’s been trying to dock pay left, right, and fucking center.” Steve rolled his big eyes, huffing like Max.

“Wait, so your dad is like, the head of the whole operation?”

“My name is Steve Harrington,” and Steve pointed at his shirt, the name Harrington emblazoned over the horse.

“Oh damn. I thought that name was familiar when I saw the shirt. Figured I had just seen the rodeo name or something.”

“Nope. That’s me. A whole Harrington. My great-grandpa started the rodeo. He was, like, an actual ranch hand. Started one in the town we’re from. My grandpa was the one who got the idea to take it on the road. My dad came up through it like I did. He was in steer roping. And basically, his end goal is that I start running the whole show in a few years. Take over for him.”

“And, you don’t want to?”

“Nah. I don’t really have a brain for business. Don’t have a brain for much other than riding and tie-down, honestly. Don’t know the first thing about how to run a traveling rodeo.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes seemed sad, and his smile was tight.

“You got plans for next year? College or anything?”

“Nah. I think college is, on the horizon, but I’m taking a gap year. Saving up to move out and pay for school and everything. Probably gonna go to community college to save some money. And then maybe grad school?”

“That’s smart, you know? Finding ways to save up. My dad is debating pushing college on me. Like, if I do run the business, there’s some shit I should know going into it, right? But I think he also sees that I’m way too dumb for college, and, like, I don’t need a degree to get hired. I’ll just,” Steve made an upwards sweeping gesture with his right hand. A gesture that Billy understood to vaguely mean nepotism.

“What would you rather do? If not run the thing.”

“I like tie-down, and I could feasibly do it for a long time. I could branch into other events, too, like steer roping and all that. Same idea as calf roping but a different animal. Literally. It’s a steer. But I’d be content just doing the events until I croak. I have absolutely no desire to rise through the ranks, or whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes, balling up the little napkin wads he had made into another napkin from the dispenser. Billy appreciated it. He’s had to clean up crap like that from this very floor. “I just love being around the rodeo. The animals and all the people. I don’t really wanna be anywhere else.”

“At least you have something you love. Like, you’d be happy to do that for the rest of your life, and not in an I’ve got nothing better to do way, but in an, I’m passionate about this way. A lot of people don’t really. Get that.” Billy included.

It’s not that he doesn’t have passions, it’s just that they’re not necessarily sustainable to him.

He knows he’s dangling by a thread with his father. Knows after his eighteenth birthday, he should be ready to be kicked out or asked to pay rent at any time. He needs a career that’ll get him some fucking money if he wants to get out and cut off his dad entirely. He can’t be forced to go crawling back to him because he wanted to self-publish his gay ass poetry that never took off or drum in a rock band that went nowhere.

To name a few.

“Yeah, I mean. Sometimes I think that I probably would’ve never set foot in a rodeo if I wasn’t literally born into one, so I kinda wonder who I’d be if this wasn’t everything I knew, but I still really love doing it, and it’s something that I’m actually good at, which speaks volumes.”

They were interrupted by Lorraine returning, placing two identical plates in front of them, a glass of water for Steve, and pulling hot sauce and ketchup out of her apron pocket.

“You two let me know if you need anything else.”

Steve beamed at her, thanking her softly and Billy’s heart fluttered like a stupid idiot.

They tucked in, Steve shoving food into his mouth until his cheeks were bulging, chewing aggressively. It made Billy laugh and nearly spew coffee all over the table.

“I figured you’d have better manners, being the heir to a rodeo dynasty or whatever.”

Steve pulled a face, showing Billy the chewed-up food in his mouth.

“How’s that for manners?”

It was actually fucking funny watching him try to swallow everything stuffed in his mouth.

“It’s borderline painful watching you eat.”

Billy laughed as Steve flicked a piece of scrambled egg at him. It landed on his shoulder. Billy slurped it right off his shirt.

“See! Now, who's the one with no table manners?”

“Still you, Sugar. Still you.”

Breakfast was, like, actually fun.

Not that Billy was expecting it to be shitty, but he wasn’t expecting it to be as carefree, as easy, as it was. He and Steve just, kinda, clicked.

Steve was easy to talk to. He was easy to listen to, easy to laugh with, and even easier to look at.

He’s kinda, everything Billy has ever wanted in a person.

He slid his hand into Billy’s as they were leaving the diner, smiling shyly at Billy when he looked over at him.

And Billy stopped in his tracks, right there in broad daylight, tugging Steve by his hand closer to Billy’s body, sliding his hands up his arms, feeling over Steve’s shoulders, and down his back to settle on his hips. Steve wrapped both arms around Billy’s shoulders, leaning closer to him, almost pressing his whole body against Billy’s.

And it was easy. Kissing Steve was just as easy as talking to him, as laughing with him, as looking at him. It was simple and nice and made Billy feel something he really didn’t want to put too much thought into.

Something that was decidedly not easy.

They pulled away from one another, both their lips red and slick.

Billy opened the passenger door, and Steve folded himself into the seat with a ridiculous amount of grace.

And as Billy drove them aimlessly through the city, he tried not to think of the expiration date on this whole thing, on the dates listed on the back of Steve’s t-shirt.

They’ve got a little under a month together.

And Billy was determined to make that the best goddamn month of both of their natural lives.

#yikes writes #show pony #rodeo au #lemons #i got hit with a fat wall of Sad and decided to post ch 2 to see if i get a lil serotonin from the response #we will SEE #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

[ohheyitsokay]

classic

pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: none, tropes on tropes on tropes, weird descriptions of things

summary: good, old fashioned fan fiction chaos

notes: there’s no getting around it - everything I write with Jack is inevitably influenced and inspired by @scribbledghost s version of him, particularly her neighbor!whiskey. I tried not to, but I still feel I should give credit!

>>

It was the kind of razor your grandfather would have used – more of a knife than anything, because of course it was.

Of course this would be edge that your housemate used to slide along his jaw and chin and cheeks to make that perfect mustache before work in the mornings. He was the type to love old fashioned, traditional, dangerous things - it made sense. After all, that was why you were staying in the guestroom of his ranch home while your apartment was being renovated. Old fashioned courtesy between friends, of course.

Dangerous.

Jack had caught you watching him, impressed in spite of yourself as the sharp blade scraped over his neck, neatly slicing the hairs on his throat, and pushing your heart into yours. It was unnecessarily intense, dramatic, the touch of risk for the sake of vanity. It made you swallow, awed that he wasn’t covered in little cuts, and almost aroused at how casually he used something so akin to a weapon. And that alone made him smirk, cocky, as though he had been waiting for you to notice, hoping to impress you.

A few days later he’d coaxed you to him, settled in a chair with his legs spread wide with confidence as he handed you the tool, smug with confidence – almost a challenge. He had gotten wrecked at work – he actually had, and it was the perfect excuse to draw you close, make you bend to his will. Schoolyard tactics, really, but all of this was, and it was worth it to have your eyes on him alone, face a breath away from his.

It was about trust more than anything. Not that you would ever hurt him, but the power of being over him was heightened by the intimacy as you lathered the cream over his skin.

His deep eyes bore into you, not flickering to the blade as you tried to focus on your task. If he had asked you a different time, another day, you maybe could have refused, but somehow his wanting your steady hand felt heavy with implication.

Ignoring the quickening steps of your heart, your fingers grasped his chin, shaving away the stubble he’d let grow just for this. Each slice of smooth skin revealed left a thick line of froth and hairs on the blade, and you got to breathe as your turned away to wipe it off. You could feel his gaze, still, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. Hovering over him while he was seated, touching his jaw, leaning close, and meeting those brown eyes would have been too much.

Your denial was as a solid as a wall with half sunk into the ground with cement – almost rooted in your fear of rejection.

It was a challenge to ignore the shots of adrenaline that filled you when he’d reach around you to grab something in the fridge, his chest against your back, hand on your hip. Already you had shoved down the butterflies in your stomach when he’d offered you a place to stay, carried your boxes, and called you sweetheart. You had spent far to long ignoring the way he hadn’t brought a single girl home since you’d been there to fold now and admit anything. Because if you did, there was a chance you would lose your friend forever, and that was out of the question.

You kept your eyes down to keep your hands steady.

For his part, Jack’s plan was only half working. He liked your attention, liked the way your breath hitched as you wiped him clean. But you were closer than you had ever been, patting in the aftershave and you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t open the door for him to push the tools and towels aside and kiss you. All he wanted was to grab hold of you and pull you into his lap and make you melt against him but there wasn’t a moment.

You’d been friends for a long time, been there for each other countless times and he had yearned for you almost as long. At first, he tried to deny it too, grabbing at random women and hating himself when he imagined they were you as he pulled them into his room.

Then he’d given that up, stopped pretending anyone could replace you, that anyone else occupied his dreams, anyone else could be as good a fit for him, and went after you full speed. It had honestly been innocent to invite you to stay, instinct instilled in him from his childhood. Still, he had begun to see the opportunities for the two of you to enjoy intimate domesticity right away, when he’d cooked you dinner and you’d talked at his table for hours, finally not worried about having to drive home. He ached for that – not ever really having to leave you, and he spent more nights than he’d like to admit thinking of knocking on your door.

Only… you were still in your denial phase. Not sleeping around just pretending it was normal to sink into his arms after a bad day, to let your friend play with your hair until you fell asleep, to watch his lips as you gently helped him shave.

It was too vulnerable, to high of a risk to go after you with the chance that you weren't ready. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away.

-

“What, really?” you said, genuinely surprised. When you’d accepted to stay, he’d promised you there would be no problems, but now you felt guilty.

His mama was coming to town, and would more than likely be staying with him.

“I’ll find somewhere else!”

Jack was already shaking his head at you, like you were missing the joke, but he looked… almost nervous? You couldn’t tell, it wasn’t something you saw on his face often.

“Actually, sweetheart, I was hoping you could do me a favor,” he was asking, but it’s not like you could actually say no you him, when he shot that winning smile your way. It was like not petting a puppy – and you were the opposite of allergic to cowboy secret agents.

“You know Mama Daniels,” he said and you smiled, having spent many a summer helping her in her garden, and being thanked with dinners heavy with butter and love. “She’ll like you here, she’ll be over the damn moon.” And you conceded. It would be more than nice, to spend time with such a wonderful woman, an Jack had invested in a very comfortable couch. For a week you enjoyed a hopeful bliss, that she would help remind you Jack was just your friend.

The sun was shining through the windows, the winding almost singing a quiet, breathy song, and everything was as spotless as you could manage. Well worn quilts were clean, and you had set up a little station for yourself in the living room determined to make it your home for the week.

Then she came with a jacket that matched her slacks and shoes with little buckles and a paisley suitcase full of presents for her son, who she insisted wasn’t really grown. She hugged you and scolded you for being at work instead of coming to pick her up, and finally settled at the kitchen table, her intentions clear. You were to sit and catch up - Jack was already pulling the sweet tea you’d made from the fridge and a reused sewing tin filled with butter cookies appeared out of her purse.

Meekly, you sat, knowing if you didn’t eat the cookies in quantity, she would pout her whole visit. You could feel Jack settle at your side as she talked, warm and solid, a comfort, despite the heat of the day.

The cookies disintegrated on your tongue, melting with a burst of sweet before the bite was gone. They were full of love and maternal affection and things that you hated to spend money on and made all bad thoughts disappear. You were thankful your mouth was full of one when she mentioned, offhandedly, how plum delighted she was when she found out the two of you were finally dating. Abruptly, you remembered just how wrong your previous hope was.

The sweet lady had been hinting for you to marry her son since before he’d mastered his first lasso, and apparently, she was sure that moment was well on its way.

“And living together, no less!” she was beaming with pride, tradition apparently irrelevant as she chatted happily about it.

Turning to the man by your side, you found him choking, trying to breathe through the cookie he’d accidentally inhaled. There was a white ring around his irises as he stared at you, panicking and aptly confused. Sure your face matched his, you jerked your head at his mother, a silent argument ensuing.

Did you do this?

No!

What do we do?

We can’t break her heart!

It went unnoticed. You felt helpless, drinking your tea and trying not to have a small meltdown in front of a very misinformed lady who had brought you cookies.

He was your friend! And sure, you liked the weight of his arm around your shoulders or could get lost in the drawl of his voice but that was normal! It was normal to be so comfortable with him as the beginning, end, and highlight to each of your days.

Sounding weak even to yourself, a crack, solid and formidable, formed in the wall you created to protect yourself and the friendship you had built.

“Ma’am, I’ll be back in a moment,” you whispered, grabbing your phone as you grasped at air, hoping beyond logic that you could pretend it was an important call.

You didn’t exactly run away, but you walked very quickly outside, mourning the loss of your little guestroom, and the privacy it offered.

Jack would never, ever smack his mama but he did want to say some choice words. Nothing could have prepared him for the last two minutes of his life, first the embarrassment of the misunderstanding and then… the fear in your eyes.

He hated it, hated it so much more than he ever thought he could, hated that it was probably his fault it was there. And he hated that it shrouded the longing he had begun to see there, these past few weeks. Long strides carried him after you, hearing his own voice distantly saying words, explaining maybe, as he left the table.

There was a tree, trunk too wide to wrap your arms around, thicket of leaves creating bean-shaped shadow on the ground, by one corner of his home.

You were behind it, almost like a child, letting the bark press lines into your forehead. The dappled lighting did wonders for you – you looked the perfect picture of a storybook wanderer in distress.

Jack slowed, overwhelmed with the desire to encompass you in his arms, slay your dragons, and whisk you away. Now was not the time.

He kept his voice soft, reaching for you in place of his hands, trying hopelessly to find the root of your panic.

You were just as quiet, telling him it was fine, you would pretend, as long as you’d talk tonight, after she went to sleep. His heart was creating dramatic movie scenes where you would float into his room, declaring your love for him, before settling in his arms, but he shook them away, agreeing.

Smile over-bright, you touched his smooth cheek a moment too long, before pushing past him back towards the house.

He allowed the afterglow of his daydream to wash over him only a moment before he jogged go catch up with you.

-

The quilt on Jack’s bed had chickens on it, of all things. It was one of those that had clearly been homemade, years and years ago, taken care of, but worn at the edges with memories and use. One pillow had a dent for his head, the other was squashed into an unrecognizable shape

You didn’t know that it wasn’t like that, before. That his arms had only started searching for something to hold onto since you had been around.

All of his room was new to you – it made you feel strange, realizing that for weeks you’d been in his home but not this part of his space.

The afternoon his mother came, he’d been called into the field. You had never quite seen the look on his face as he reasoning fell on deaf ears – desperation and frustration like ants ruining honey on a picnic. The flannel across his back bunched as his shoulders had filled with tension before he stripped it off to change into his work clothes. Jack kissed his mothers cheek and spewed instructions for the both of you, some apologies spilling out and others kept just behind his eyes as he grasped your hand.

His final command was for your ears alone -  that you take his room, and you’d been too panicked to refuse. The last three days, the smell of him and the memorabilia  scattered around the space kept you company when his mother went to sleep and you slept in his bed for the first time, alone.

It was surprising how sentimental he was. His hooks had another cowboy hat on them, a little wider, brown, and considerably more worn. There was a stack of printed photos in a little box by his bed – it was open, and some of the photos had oil-worn fingerprints along the edges. You found ones of you, and your heart flipped inside your chest.

You should have realized it was impossible to deny yourself, your feelings, with him surrounding you like this. Each thing you learned, each reminder of him practically reached off of the walls, as if he were there, coaxing your heart into his hands. It felt silly, almost, that you even tried to ignore it - you had missed him the moment his hand left yours. Now you had all the time to process, surrounded by his neatly folded shirts and the line of his favorite boots.

The idealized illusion of your relationship had only lasted half a day of living with his mother. Her warm brown eyes were too much like her son’s – you couldn’t lie to them. It was good though, for her to hold your hand a listen to you talk as the birds gossiped outside the window and steam seeped out of the pie you helped her bake. Miraculously, she wasn’t disappointed with you, commending your honestly, and explaining that if she was patient until now, then she could certainly continue to do so.

The more you talked to her, the more you suspected that she was right, all along. She helped you dig up the walls, her kind determination the shovel you needed for those concrete roots.

You would work and talk and tuck yourself into his chicken-clad blanket at night and finally, finally let yourself think of him, allow yourself to be in love with him.  You didn’t know he had started actually living in his room again, when he’d started letting himself love you. That he thought of your smile when he’d found his old quilt. Still, the more you thought, the more you could admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe, he loved you too.

That was how Jack found you - absorbed in your thoughts - the whiskey in his hand as forgotten as the mission and the agent he’d played for the past seventy eight hours and twenty one minutes.

He watched through the half open door, words failing him as you sat up, startled and the way your eyes searched for injuries made him want to eat you alive. 

There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for the sight of you in his bed, even though he had told you to be there and three days to daydream about it. It was intensely intoxicating, having someone care for you so intimately. 

With his sheets sliding down around your waist, you looked as good as the pie on the counter, as if a single snapshot could encompass everything he wanted home to be.

You were wearing a shirt he’d given you, years ago, and he swallowed, hard.

“Are you up for that talk?” his voice was rough. It would have been nice, to relish in the feeling of you checking him over, attention on him as he unwound, but he couldn’t wait. This moment was three days overdue.

“I told your mom we aren’t dating,” you blurted and he smiled, having guessed as much. Smoothing the blanket, your hand patted the spot next to you, your legs crossing.

In that, Jack knew something had changed since he left you. The flickering fear had fled your eyes, and you seemed settled into your skin more than ever before.

He sat next to you, having played over how this talk would go a million times, and still not finding the right words. Confidence was easier to find when he was flirting, poking at you, but seemed foreign in the din lights of his bedroom. Instead he shifted trying to lean back with his arm along the headboard, hoping he didn’t seem like a teenager trying to buy himself time.

You began to talk, saving him, and all the things you’d processed with his mama tumbled out of you before you were realizing that you were confessing how much he truly meant you. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been strange how comfortable you felt, but in the moment, you were in awe.

Jack was as handsome as always, if a little roughed up, like he’d worn the same clothes a few days in a row. You wanted to run your fingers over the short, patchy beard he had going, and without a second thought, you did, feeling his cheeks move as he smiled crookedly and leaned into the touch.

There was only a moment of quiet, crickets outside, before he said, “I missed you, too.” And then, “Will you stay, sweetheart?”

When you whispered, “Where else would I go?” he kissed you.

It was late, and there were still words unsaid, questions to be answered, but you both let yourselves get lost, exploring each other. Long moments passed, letting all the pent up yearning overflow like cool water after a long, hot day. Then the next steps came out, whispered between kisses and as he moved over you, shucking the final walls between you, you found yourselves actually dating, and maybe even actually living together. 

Old fairy tales and historic romances played in the back of your mind, inserting their logic into your life like had never quite made sense before.

And you wondered if you had time in the morning, and his mama didn’t give you too much grief, if he would let you help him shave, and eat pie for breakfast. Because for the life of you, you couldn’t think of a single reason why not.

<<

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @0celestialbitch0 @beautyagegoodnesssize

#this got away from me #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #kingsman #maybe i don't know people

[joshstambourine]

Greta Van Fleet and Their Kid’s First Day of School

Y’all seemed to love my GVF as Dad’s head canon so I thought I’d continue on the same line with something else cute~ I’ve had this idea since I mentioned it in a fic I recently wrote (A Girl Named Ivy) so I thought I might as well throw a head canon together for it as well... SO I STOP THINKING ABOUT IT LMAO.

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart @babydxll​

Josh

He strikes me one of those dads who is actually really excited for his kid to start school. Not that he doesn't want them around, or that he doesn't realize its the mark of the beginning of the end... but because he knows this is a part of growing up.

Josh can tell while they are out shopping for new school clothes that his kid is excited. They are beginning to feel grown up, even if its just in a small way --- and Josh is proud of them for that.

I just can't imagine him being the kind of parent that struggles with letting them go, instead I see him being the kind of parent that just wants to nurture their growth in everyway.

"What about this shirt for your first day? You know what we should get you?? A set of wheelies!"

"Josh they don't allow those in schools anymore..."

*Whispers* "We'll get you some wheelies, just don't tell mom."

He'd make sure he goes through the checklist the school had sent out multiple times, trying to make sure they have everything they could possibly need.

When the big day finally comes, he would be talking with his little one all morning making sure they know they are going to have a great time and make lots of friends.

He would want to help make their lunch but instead just spends all his time drawing a picture of a rabbit with a cowboy hat riding on a goats back to put in instead.

Josh wouldn't be able to stop himself from looking in the rearview every few minutes to look over the little ones face. Trying to make sure they didn't look nervous at any point. If they do he'd find a way to reassure them.

"You remember that nice lady that gave you that cool cat sticker a few weeks ago? She's going to be there all day today! She's actually your teacher, isn't that cool?" Josh would just want to do everything in his power to keep them feeling relaxed.

"You give 'em hell today, okay?" Josh would say when they stood outside of the classroom, watching the little one nod. "Before you know it I'll be here to pick you up."

"You promise?"

"Of course I promise... I need someone to go get ice cream with!" He would say as he'd move to give them a tight hug.

"I love you."

"I love you too Dad."

As soon as the classroom door shuts, Josh won't be able to stop smiling the rest of the walk back to the car. He would be just so proud that he raised such a fearless kid.

The first thing Josh would ask when he picks them up at the end of the day,

"So? Did you learn how to move things with your mind yet?"

"No but did you know squares have four sides...?!"

Jake

Oh god.

Jake is going to be having such a tough time.

He wants to be a big strong man about this. "It's so silly... why would I be sad about them going to school?! That's ridiculous."

He would pretend like he didn't care.

Anytime his little one asks about what school is going to be like, he gives very quick pointed answers so he doesn't have to think about them being grown up enough to go.

"Is it too late to home school them...?"

"Yes Jake it's too late to home school them."

Jake just wants to hold hands the whole time they are school shopping. He doesn’t want to let them go.

"Jake, you have to let them go so they can pick out what they want."

"They can bring me where ever they want to be. I can help them reach what they need.”

The moment his kid puts their backpack on their shoulders, even just to test it out, he’s going to need to take a moment. When did his baby get so grown up?!

He thought that was bad but then the school assessment kills him.

Jake wants to be the one to make their lunch for their first day, its a special day, this little one deserves something special. He'd hide candies and other treats at the bottom so Mom won't see.

There is no way Jake isn’t driving his kid on their first day of school. He’s going to talk with them all the way to class with their hand clasped in his.

I think despite how well he covers it over, his kid can probably tell that he’s having a hard time letting them go.

“Dad?”

“Yeah...?” 

“I’ll be okay.”

Hearing them say that would make him smile, trying so hard not to cry. Jake would lean down and immediately give them a huge hug. “I know.” He’d tell them.

“I’m just going to miss you lots.”

“I’ll miss you too.” They’d say, “But. Mom says that I’ll have time to draw pictures probably. Would you like a picture Dad?”

“I’d love a picture.”

As soon as Jake gets back to the car he’s a sobbing mess. He’s so proud but its so hard to see your baby grow up.

Sam

Sort of like Josh I think that Sam is excited for his little one to start school. He has so much confidence in his kids abilities.

Sam would just assume that whatever task is sent his little ones way will be accomplished with all of their effort.

He feels like the kind of parent to hype up school any chance he gets for his kid. He wouldn’t want his kid to be nervous, so he’d say just about anything to keep them from being scared.

When Sam brings his kid in for the assessment he is just going to be absolutely beaming with joy.

He’s just such a proud dad. Getting to see his kid answer questions and have so much fun is going to have him over the moon.

“Buddy you did so good with those shapes! When did you learn those??”

Sam would be on the ball for school shopping. Everything that’s on the school given list and then some.

“Sam... they don’t need a dictionary --- they can’t even read yet.”

“Just incase! You never know!”

*Insert Sam looking for dirty words and snickering to himself*

He’d also want to practice so much with his kid before the big day comes. Going over their numbers and ABC’s so they feel nice and prepared.

When the big day does come around he is immediately going to have his camera out, ready to take some nice first day at school pictures. Whether they are waiting for the bus or he’s driving them to the school.

There are going to be like a million pictures. 

So many.

“You’ve got your crayons?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?! I just want to make sure. Oh and you’ve got your lunch box?? Mom made you such a good lunch.”

“Yup! I’ve got everything!”

“Excellent work~” He’d hum, “You're going to have an awesome first day!”

Danny

Danny I could imagine feeling a little nervous for his little one to start school

He would never tell his kid this of course; I feel like he would understand how well attuned kids can be to feelings, especially nervous feelings.

So he tries to bury his worried feelings.

They’d come out a little every time his baby shows any concerns about school. But he will stuff them down and try to be as reassuring as he can.

“You’re going to make so many friends, buddy! You aren’t even going to notice Mom and Dad aren’t there, y’know? They also have lots of cool toys.”

Danny seems like the kind of Dad that would want them to feel confident. So if that meant lots of new clothes, or cool school supplies. He’d get it for them. Above everything he just doesn’t want them at any point to have a hard time in this process.

In all honesty though he’s the one having the hard time.

His kid is probably hella excited.

Danny sort of strikes me as a parent who would pack a really nice lunch for his kid. Like. This kid isn’t just going to have a ham sandwich like the rest of the loser kids in their class.

#AestheticLunch

The scene I sort of keep running in my head is with Danny standing at the end of the driveway holding his kids hand, they're both just leaning out waiting for the school bus to come around the corner.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah?”

“...I’m sorta scared.”

“Buddy, it’s okay to be scared. This is a new thing for you. It’s totally okay to be worried about it.”

“I know...”

“Is there something that’s scaring you a lot though?”

The kid would nod, “...I’m going to miss you.”

Danny’s heart would just melt, and he’d pull them up into his arms for a huge hug. “I’m going to miss you lots too! But. As soon as you get home we can play as much as you want, okay?”

Watching his kid get onto the bus is going to be such a scary thing, but he knows it’ll all work out.

I feel like he would plan something fun for afterwards. Whether it be like going to get ice cream, or taking them out to a movie. Just something to celebrate!

Well that’s all of those! Sorry they’re a little bit more briskly written I sort of wanted to get those out of my head so I can focus on the next part of What Friends Do. As always if you guys want an actual full fic written for one of these, let me know~ 

Fun note! My first day of school was proceeded by going to an amusement park on the Friday. Going to a friends house and dislocating my elbow on the Saturday. Having major surgery on the Sunday. And then sobbing my whole first day, the Tuesday.

#Greta Van Fleet #josh gvf #jake gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf #gvf fanfiction #greta van fic #greta van fleet roleplay #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet hc #gvf hc #gvf imagine

[babbushka]

Burnt Bridges and Goodnight Kisses

Flip Zimmerman x Reader x Kylo Ren 

5k, cw: ANGST (severe depression, grief, mentions of the war, Flip going away to war, hurt/comfort)

(A/N: This is much more melancholy than my usual sort of writing, so I completely understand if it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. No pressure at all to read, I’ve just been Going Through It, and needed to get the sads out of my system. I won’t be tagging anyone because of the subject matter, but I hope that if you read it, it’s cathartic in some way.)

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

It’s a sunny day, and Kylo’s at the shop. Elbow deep in the engine of a motorcycle for a customer that doesn’t deserve it, he huffs and puffs around a cigarette to keep the nerves in his skull from going on the fritz. They’ve got the windows open, too good of a day to be completely holed up in the garage, they’ve got the front door open too.

When a shadow falls over the engine, in the shape of a tall man with broad shoulders, Kylo doesn’t bother looking up to greet him. He’s sure it’s the customer, and he wasn’t supposed to be there until three – it’s not even a quarter past noon, who the fuck does this guy think he is?

Against his better judgement, Kylo squints into the backlit silhouette of the man before him, and his brain takes a moment to process what the fuck he’s looking at. The face is familiar, the stature even more so…but this, that couldn’t be…was it really?

“Flip?”

He’s bald, hair shaved down as close to his skull as they were able to get it. His face is bare too. It’s the first time Kylo’s ever seen Flip without his goatee. The man in front of him is Flip, but it’s wrong, it’s not the Flip he knows. Could be a twin brother for all Kylo fuckin’ knows, but that’s not his Flip.

Until this not-Flip sighs, and his shoulders sag in the way that Kylo has seen too many times for it to be refutable, and the not-Flip becomes Flip and Kylo’s stomach clenches, because what the fuck have they done to him?

“Don’t laugh.” Flip says, still standing there in front of Kylo, blocking the sunlight. He’s got his arms at his sides, hands fidgeting. His thumb rubs against the inside of his wedding ring, and it’s only then that Kylo takes in what he’s wearing.

Instead of the flannel and jeans and those cowboy boots of his, Flip’s in a matching green number with black combats on, and he’s bald and clean shaven and that means it’s really happening.

Kylo’s going to be sick.

He doesn’t laugh.

He can barely muster anything at all as he stands up, only able to choke out a pitiful, “Are you…?”

“Yeah.” Flip knows what he asking, knows that he’s asking if Flip’s leaving. There’s a hardness in Flip’s eyes that didn’t used to be there, and the room spins around Kylo.

“I’m sorry.” Is all Kylo can manage, hating himself for not being better at this. He never was good, at this, at the whole talking thing, communication. You had always teased him for that, teased the both of them.

Flip wasn’t very good at it either.

“I uh,” Flip makes an automatic move to scratch at his goatee, but then aborts the mission halfway through when he realizes that there’s nothing to scratch. Kylo wonders when he got that scar on his chin, how it happened. “I came here to say goodbye and...to ask a favor.”

“Anything.” Kylo finds himself breathing around his cigarette. Flip watches the movement, and almost without thinking, Kylo passes Flip the zippo lighter that he keeps in his pocket. Flip accepts it gratefully, lights up a camel and mulls over it in his lungs for a moment or two.

“I need you to take care of her for me.” He says quietly, on the exhale.

“Flip —” Kylo’s eyes widen, his stomach dropping. He has to brace himself, because this can’t be happening, it has to be a dream, some fucked up nightmare. He pinches himself hard on the muscle of his arm, certain that he’ll wake up with your body sandwiched between the two of them but the more he pinches himself the more frantic he starts to get.

“I mean it, Kylo.” Flip steps out of the light, walks around the bike that’s separated their bodies, puts his hands on Kylo’s shoulders and steadies him. Flip’s always been the one to steady the two of you, what the fuck is he going to do without him? “I...I need her to be okay, understand? I need to know she’ll be okay. When I’m gone.”

“You know that she won’t be.” Kylo blinks back tears, furiously denies ever letting them well up in his eyes. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, devastation or red hot anger. He’s not sure it isn’t both, as he clenches his jaw and his hands shake, “Has she seen you like this yet?”

“No.” Flip’s voice is quiet quiet quiet and it freaks Kylo the fuck out, how can a man so quiet go off to fight in such a loud war? Flip sighs, he looks tired already, exhausted. “I said goodbye before getting the cut, I didn’t want her to have this be the last memory she might have of me. Wanted her to remember me the way I always looked.”

“You’re talking like you’re not coming back.” He settles on angry, his voice starting to raise, his cheeks starting to grow hot.

“I don’t know if I will.” Flip responds with a tight pain constricting the back of his voice that has Kylo shouting, has him starting to make a scene.

“Shut the fuck up —!” Kylo throws the wrench he’s holding, throws it hard enough to shatter the one fucking window they left closed, everyone in the garage looking at him.

Flip does the thing he’s always been so good at doing, grounding Kylo. He drags Kylo into a hug, tight and firm and sturdy. Flip’s always been so fucking sturdy, steady. Kylo hates him for going away, he hates him.

“Kylo you have to listen to me. This war is fucked up, and nasty, and some boys don’t come back. Most of us won’t. I’m going to do my goddamn best to come home but there’s a chance I don’t.” Flip tries, but Kylo doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want any of this.

“No you listen to me!” Wrenching out of Flip’s grip, the tears have starting to sting hotter now, and Kylo almost wants to hit him, wants to knock some sense into him as his vision blurs around wetness on his lashes. “You’re not allowed to fucking die over there, okay? You’re not. You can’t.”

“Will you do it?” Flip closes his own eyes, still not having gotten an answer from Kylo.

Kylo’s heart begins to pound, begins to thud dangerously loud in his chest. He can’t say yes, he doesn’t want to say yes, because the second he says yes then Flip will leave. If Kylo can just keep him here, maybe if Flip misses the bus to the airport, maybe if Flip misses his flight he won’t have to go overseas and can stay.

“She doesn’t love me the way she loves you.” Kylo admits, and it’s an admission that hurts. He’s known it for a long time, he’s known it ever since the day you chose him after that boxing match all those years ago. It still fucking hurts.

“But she loves you.” Flip licks his lips, starting to get desperate in his own right, starting to grow tense when he scowls, “Don’t you love her?”

“Don’t you?” Kylo shoots back, rage coming in full force again, a dangerous and nauseating see-saw. Everyone has cleared out of the garage by now, it’s just the two of them. Somewhere in the back of Kylo’s mind he can hear the door clicking shut, everyone giving them privacy, and so Kylo starts shouting again. “She’s your fucking wife! Don’t you love her enough to not go?”

At the insinuation that Flip could be something other than completely devoted to you, he grabs Kylo by the collar of his black-tshirt, shoves him back against a wall, shoves him hard. Flip’s face is two inches away from Kylo’s, and Kylo wants to kiss him so badly that he could cry. Maybe he is crying. If he is, Flip doesn’t say anything, he only bares his teeth in a snarl.  

“Look! I’m sorry that I’m not the son of a senator who could afford to put me through college so I could sit around and fucking tinker in a garage all day. I got drafted I didn’t sign up for this fucking war, I don’t want to fucking go, and I don’t appreciate you making it sound that way.” Flip snaps, shouting back, face shaking from it.

Kylo sees it then, the terror, the sheer and utter fucking terror in Flip’s eyes. Something about that, something makes him break, and suddenly Kylo’s doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to hold himself up with the force of his own fear; because if Flip – sturdy reliable formidable Flip – is afraid, then who among them wouldn’t be?

“I’m sorry.” Kylo cries, and Flip holds him, even though Flip’s crying now too.

“Will you take care of her for me?” Flip asks again, and Kylo’s still not willing to give him the yes, not yet, just a few more minutes.

“What exactly does that mean?” Kylo demands, vision going spotty as he tries to get a grip on himself. He can feel his sinuses going, and he sniffles and sniffles and sniffles until he just fucking wipes his nose with the sleeve of his tank-top, not giving a shit anymore.

“Just...keep her safe. Make sure she’s okay, happy. Love her.” Flip says it so quietly that Kylo thinks he’s imagined it.

“Love her?” He presses, and the two of them look at each other, really looking. Kylo frowns for a minute, before he catches Flip’s real meaning, and he’s afraid he’s going to be sick all over again, this time with shame – because he’s wished for that before, wished that he could have you all to himself late late at night when he was sure no one was listening.

He never meant like this, he doesn’t want it like this.

“If she wants to.” Flip nods in confirmation, “I’m not going to make her suffer and be starved of touch just because I’m gone fighting for Uncle Sam.”

“And what happens when you come back?” Kylo emphasizes on the when, not an if, because he has to believe that Flip’s coming back. He has to, it’s going to break everyone in this fucking town if Flip doesn’t come back.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Flip decides, as the clock strikes one-o’clock. When Flip looks from the clock, back to Kylo, there’s an urgency in his voice as he asks, “Will you do it?”

That’s it, Kylo thinks, he can’t drag it out any longer.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Kylo whispers. He looks down, watches as one of his tears lands on his reflection in the mirror shine of Flip’s boots. He hates them.

With that, Flip’s done what he’s come here for, and there’s nothing left. There’s nothing left but for him to hand back the zippo lighter that Kylo had handed to him, so he does, and Kylo takes it even though his fingers have gone numb.

Flip’s walking away then, and Kylo watches him go, watches him for a minute or two before he’s sprinting out of the garage and into the sunlight, the dizzying bright yellow golden sunlight. It bathes everything in a glow that it doesn’t deserve, the world doesn’t deserve to be so beautiful when it’s taking Flip away.

Kylo sprints, a desperate last ditch effort, asking for something he doesn’t even know he needs, using a name he’s never called Flip before, shouting out, “Phil?!”

Flip stops walking, turns to face Kylo, only to get tackled by the biker in a hug so fierce and tight that it makes Flip grunt. Flip holds him back, the two men clinging to one another in broad daylight, right there in the driveway in front of the shop, out in the open, sun washing all around them.

“She’s not the only one who loves you.” Kylo whispers, face shaking, eyes flicking down to Flip’s lips for a split second.

Flip grabs Kylo by the face, a hand on his jaw, and crashes his mouth against Kylo’s. Their eyes close, and for a moment, Kylo can pretend they’re back at the big house up in the mountain, or in the little motel a town over, or even on Kylo’s own couch. But they aren’t, because you’re not here with them, and the reason you’re not here is because he’s leaving.

Something cold presses into Kylo’s palm – it’s the zippo. They break the kiss, and now there’s tears in Flip’s eyes too. Kylo can only wonder what the conversation must have been between you and him. If Flip’s crying in front of Kylo, Kylo can only imagine he had a nervous fucking breakdown in front of you.

Kylo pushes the zippo back into Flip’s hand and before he watches Flip walk down the sidewalk, headed towards a bus that will head towards a plane that will head overseas, Kylo tells him to, “Give it back to me when you come home.”

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

That had been a week ago.

He feels shitty about it, about the whole thing. He should have gone to you that same day, right after work. He should have gotten on his motorcycle and driven to your house and held you like he knows you need.

He hadn’t done any of that. Instead, when the work day had ended, and that customer picked up the fucking bike, Kylo went home. Maybe…Kylo didn’t know. Maybe he thought he could pretend everything was alright. That it was normal. Going home after work just like any other day.

When Friday comes around the calendar again, Kylo has almost forgotten that Flip’s gone. He had almost forgotten, until he started getting dressed for Shabbos dinner, and then remembered that there wasn’t going to be a Shabbos dinner with Flip for a long long time. And when he checks the calendar, he realizes it’s been a week since Flip left, and he hadn’t checked on you.

So he’s furiously ripping through the streets, half-dressed and terrified of the state he’ll find you in, blowing red lights and cutting around cars like the asshole he is, hating himself for not even so much as giving you a fucking call. The trip up the mountain is the same as it always is, but it’s different at the same time, different because he keeps expecting to see Flip pass him in that truck of his and it doesn’t happen.

The truck is under a tarp, when he finally makes it to your drive-way, the mailbox is filled with letters that you haven’t brought in. That’s not a good sign, none of this is a good sign.

There’s leaves on the porch, they crunch under Kylo’s heavy footfalls as he makes his way up to the front door. Knocking once, twice, three times in the little pattern that’s all his, Kylo tries not to chew his lip until it bleeds.

“Sweets? it’s me. Can I come in?” Kylo stands outside the front door, tries jiggling the handle. It’s locked, no give.

Kylo knocks again, this time a little harder, even goes so far as to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N?” He calls, this time a little louder.

Still no answer from you, and he begins to panic. Your car is in the driveway so he knows that you should be home, you should be. You didn’t like to go for walks by yourself in the woods, always worried about mountain lions, always teased Flip that one day he was going to get eaten. They used to tease you for your fears. Kylo wonders if Flip getting drafted had ever been one of them.

Kylo breaks into the house, breaks the window on the side of the house that he knows leads into the living room. He doesn’t break the glass, just the latch that keeps it locked, and manages to shove himself through the small square opening, crawling through the space headfirst, toppling onto his chest as he pushes himself into the living room.

“Fuck.” He sucks in a breath when he sees how much of a mess the place has become.

It looks like everything that was once on a bookshelf, table, credenza, desk or counter has been shoved to the floor. There’s boxes all around the living room, stacks and stacks of case files, of clothing. It smells like camels, there’s one smoldering still in a little ashtray on the coffee table. It doesn’t look like it’s been smoked once, just simply left to burn steadily, the ash long and undisturbed.

You’re on the couch, face tucked against the cushions, facing away from him. Despite it being bright outside, the living room is pitch black, all the shades drawn.

“Oh sweetheart.” Kylo sighs softly, as he very gently so as to not scare you, sits down on the floor next to the couch.

He switches on the little lamp on the side table, and you wince against the light, curling in on yourself. Kylo begins to rub soothing circles to your side, and you let out a shuddering sob, something wordless that catches in your throat. Kylo hates himself for not coming to see you sooner, he wonders how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve been on the couch like this.

“I know baby, I know. I’m here.” Kylo whispers, before trying to coax you up. It’s telling that you let yourself be manhandled without much resistance, too out of it to care. It breaks Kylo’s heart, he’s never seen you like this, not even when you were sitting by his bedside in the hospital after the big crash. A stab of guilt rings through him; you had sat by his bedside every night for a month then, and it had been a full week since he had even called you. “Baby we gotta get you put together, okay? C’mon.”

Kylo swallows the guilt, and stands, guiding you up up up with him. The moment you’re on your two feet, your arms cling to Kylo, your face shoving itself into his neck. Kylo just holds you, kisses the top of your head, tries not to wrinkle his nose at how your hair is in desperate need of a wash.

“I — what day is it?” You shiver around a hiccupped sob, red hot sorrow branding his throat.

“Friday.” Kylo responds, wondering what day you think it is.

“Oh, shit.” Is all you say, and that’s all that Kylo needs to hear.

“C’mon, we’re going to shower.” He tells you, but when you try and take a step forward it’s hard for you to stand up without his help. He makes the mistake of not supporting your weight and you go teetering over to the side, stumbling out from under yourself like you’ve forgotten how to use your legs. Kylo catches you, holds you close close close, deciding, “Fuck — okay, bathtub instead.”

You sit in the dark, in the bathroom. Kylo goes to turn the light on but you panic and stop his hand, not wanting him to see you, the state of you. You don’t say it, but Kylo thinks you’re more afraid of you seeing yourself. He doesn’t say it either, but the both of you know it. Kylo keeps the light off.

He sits behind you in the bathtub, your face away from him, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. You brush your teeth, and Kylo doesn’t even care when you spit the toothpaste out.

Carefully, gently, he washes your hair, uses all the products you’re too sad to even think about right now. Carefully, gently, he listens to your sighs as he washes your back, your arms and legs, soapy hands sudsing up the water. Carefully, gently, he cradles your body as you lean back against him, his legs bracketing your sides.

He tries not to scream.

You try too, but you fail.

He’s got his arms wrapped around your chest as your head thunks back against his shoulder and you wail wail wail. Your body shakes and trembles until you have no more tears, until the water’s run cold, until you let out a sigh that sounds like you’re done. Kylo unplugs the drain.

The two of you sit in the tub for a long time still, long after the tub has drained. You’re both too scared to stand, unsure if your knees will hold you up.

Kylo doesn’t know how much later it is when the two of you get up and get dressed. Kylo ties the sash of your robe tight enough but not too tight. He puts himself in a pair of sleep clothes that he’s left at your house for impromptu sleepovers like this, even though this isn’t nearly as happy of an occasion as the sleepovers usually are.

When the two of you are dressed, he takes you by the hand to your bed, tucks you in. It’s bright, in the bedroom, the late afternoon sun dipping behind the mountains. It’s golden hour, Kylo realizes, and once again everything is too bright. In the sunlight your face looks…awful. You look like you’ve been crying for a week straight, and Kylo knows it’s because you have been.

Your stomach rumbles, and you look sheepish about it, which worries Kylo. Everything about this worries Kylo.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” He asks, not accusatory, just concerned.

“I don’t know.” You shake your head, voice just barely above a whisper. Your hair is wet, and in the moonlight, he can see your eyes shining.

Your stomach growls again.

“I’m going to order something from the deli.” Kylo announces, and you nod, a small good sign.

Kylo knows your order like the back of his hand, always brings you over a big hero when he passes the deli, likes to bring you and Flip things. It’s only after he hangs the phone up that he realizes he ordered Flip’s hero too, wonders what the fuck he’s going to do with that.

Flip’s sandwich has extra pickles.

Neither of you like pickles.  

You burst into tears then, because you’ve just realized it too, and your face is buried in your hands now, and Kylo feels like he’s going to scream. Maybe he does, this time. Maybe he takes one of the pillows on Flip’s side of the bed and shoves his face into it and screams. He doesn’t know, he’s so out of his fucking depth.

Not for the first time, shame bubbles up inside Kylo’s chest. He remembers an argument that he had once had with Flip about his late undercover nights, how you had been so worried about the danger he puts himself into when he goes out like that. Kylo remembers shouting red in the face, veins popping out of his neck, that if you had picked Kylo, if you had been Kylo’s girl instead, if you had married Kylo instead, then maybe you wouldn’t be so worried all the time.

He remembers Flip throwing it back in his face that you hadn’t. You hadn’t picked him, and Kylo had to deal with it. Kylo had been bitter for a long time about that, he thinks. He’s not so sure now though, he’s not sure now what would have happened. There isn’t a man alive who loves you more than Flip, and not a woman who loves Flip more than you. Kylo sees that now.

You had picked Flip, and now Flip is gone, and Kylo is filled with shame, and you’re miserable.

“I’m sorry.” You’re crying crying crying, and Kylo doesn’t even know what you could possibly be sorry for, when all of this is his fault.

“Don’t you dare,” Kylo shakes his head, pulls you against his body because you’re shivering, and you’ve always teased Kylo for being so warm. “Hey, hey look at me. Don’t you dare apologize.”  

“I just miss him so much.” There’s a tremor in your voice, and your pitch goes higher and higher that way it does when you’re starting to spiral, as you shake harder and harder, “He’s out there alone, and god knows what he’s doing, if he’s okay, if he’s going to come back — fuck what the fuck do we do if he doesn’t come back? How do we live without him?”

“He’s okay.” Kylo cuts you off, because that’s a line of thinking he hasn’t even let himself go down yet, and he can’t deal with that, not right now. So instead he wills it, he puts it out into the universe, “I promise. You have to breathe, stop holding your breath.”

You shudder out a breath, not realizing you’d been holding it until he said something.

“You can’t know that.” Your chin wobbles, and Kylo envelops you, smothers you with love. He’s not sure it’s the right thing to do, but he hopes that if he just…if he just holds you tight enough, it’ll be okay.

“I do though, I do know. I promise you, he’s going to come back. I’ll go over there and get him myself, if I have to.” Kylo tries to joke, but it falls flat.

You’ve stopped crying, at the very least.

Kylo doesn’t let himself think about how he’s going to keep this up for as long as he might have to. It’s only been a week, but what happens when you’re still sad a year from now? What happens when Flip isn’t back in two? What happens if he really doesn’t come back at all? How do you move on when your entire world is built around the one person you love more than anything?

Kylo doesn’t have you the same way that Flip gets to have you, but at least Kylo gets to have you in some way. At least you weren’t taken from him and put on a plane, taken far away, not knowing if you’ll ever return. How does anyone ever recover from that?

They don’t, he supposes.

But he can’t think about that that, not now. Especially because you’re turned towards him, and for the first time Kylo sees something other than misery in your eyes.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” You ask, voice soft, apprehensive and hopeful.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.” Kylo promises, knowing that at the very least this is one promise he can keep.

“Will you kiss me?” You whisper, and Kylo’s heart breaks. You never used to ask before, would just pucker your pretty lips and smile at him and he’d give you one without thinking.

You pucker your pretty lips now, but there’s no smile, and Kylo’s heart breaks. He presses his lips to yours, and the sigh that pours out from your chest has Kylo guilty all over again – he knows for a fact that Flip kisses you at least a dozen times a day, and because Flip was gone, because Kylo was too terrified to do anything about it, you’d gone a whole week without them.

The kiss isn’t heated in a passionate sense, it’s longing, yearning. Kylo’s mouth opens and his tongue slides against yours, tastes the minty toothpaste that lingers there. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Kylo wraps his arms around your middle, and you kiss and kiss and kiss one another, until your breathing evens out and you’re no longer taking those shuddering shivering gasping breaths.

“He asked me to, you know…” Kylo smears the words against your mouth, smudges them with his lips, making them all fuzzy.

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing what he means.

“Yeah. If you want.” Kylo swallows around a lump in his throat, unsure of whether he wants you to want it or not.

“I don’t think I do.” You say, hushed hushed hushed like he can hear you, like someone is listening, “It doesn’t feel right without him.”

“I know. I just thought I’d mention it.” Kylo finds himself relieved, he doesn’t know why. He does, but he doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to say how much he misses Flip too.  

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and Kylo shakes his head, telling you not to be with another small kiss. This one feels closer to normal, and even though there’s food on the way, you’re starting to fall asleep. Kylo wonders if you’d been awake this whole time, waiting and waiting for a goodnight kiss. Your grip on him begins to loosen as you mumble out, “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.” He promises, and this too is another one he can keep.

He doesn’t know how many others there will be, but he knows that at the very least, this is one that he can keep. You fall asleep in his arms, your hair on the pillow, shining in the last of the sunlight. Kylo lets one of his big scarred tattooed hands rub against your back, and he begins to hum out a little tune. Something soft, gentle under his breath, hoping that wherever you are in dreamland, the music will soothe you.

And if, when the delivery guy leaves the food out on the porch some time later, when Kylo extracts himself from your arms to bring the heroes inside and pay the kid, if he brings Flip’s hero into the kitchen and eats it so he can start getting used to the taste of pickles so that you’ll have someone to give yours to, then that’s his business.

And if, when he strikes up a cigarette and finds that he’s missing his zippo, wishing he had it back again, wishing he had Flip back again, wishing and wishing and wishing, wishing so hard that you must hear it upstairs because you come down to hold his hand and rest your head on his shoulder as he lets big fat tears slip down his cheeks, well.

Kylo decides he’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

#kylo ren x reader #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader x kylo ren #angst #modern kylo ren #yes this is set in the personal au lol #but its also just a regular ol angsty fic too #adam driver fanfic #adcu #my writing

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The Cowboy - Part 9

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol)

Word count: 2332

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

“Just one more,” you murmured, pressing your lips into Jaehyun’s before he could object.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, chuckling softly when he separated. “You’ll have me late if you keep this up.”

“It’s not even light out yet,” you complained groggily, your hands blindly searching for a place to anchor onto.

“That’s the point. I need to get home, so I’m back in time to start the day when dawn arrives,” he reminded, reaching for those travelling hands and taking hold of them.

Your eyes had since adjusted to the dim lighting in the bedroom, and you noticed the embers from last night hadn’t yet been put out within Jaehyun’s gaze. You stoked the fire a little more, shifting your leg to nudge his.

Jaehyun groaned. “You’re tempting fate, Y/N.”

“I’m attempting something,” you mentioned demurely and shook your hands that Jaehyun still held.

“Not even my Mum has made me turn up on that yard late, I’ll have you know. I can’t be having you ruin my good reputation.”

You pouted, but nodded the further your slumber rolled away and your mind became alert. Unhooking your leg from his, you sighed. “Your career is important. Go be the best cowboy you can be.”

“You’re so cute, you know that?” he breathed, grinning from your supportive statement.

“I aim to be everything you need,” you announced and Jaehyun, who had pulled himself to the side of the bed and reached for his jeans, halted his movement, glancing over his shoulder in thought at you. You reached for your hair, assuming he was taking in your abominable morning state. “What? Do I look ugly?”

“No. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

“You better go before my heart starts ruling over this head of mine and I take back about being supportive of your needs and aim to satisfy mine,” you confessed, and Jaehyun shook his head, discarding his attempt to leave and kicked his pants off.

Crawling back to you, he gathered you up in his arms, a giggle leaving you when his hands brushed along your sensitive sides. Once fully captured within his arms, he kissed you passionately.

“Even if I’m late, you’re well worth putting in the extra effort this morning with.”

After Jaehyun had gone, with a final kiss exchanged at your front door and a warning about not answering the door looking like that to anyone but him, you headed back to your bed, nestling in under the warm covers in just one of Jaehyun’s t-shirts.

You were extremely happy right now.

And had been for the past month too. Everything was working well. You woke up most mornings feeling warm and appreciated, kissing Jaehyun off to work before eventually getting up and starting your own. You so far had acquired two signatures of landowners in Blayne over your proposal for redevelopment and was certain you’d have three more by mid next week.

You had chosen to go this path first before confronting Mr Jung with your proposition. Word travelled all too easily in these parts for you to rely on what was spoken was kept confidential. Part of you hoped for this to happen. If you got enough people talking about the redevelopment positively, you believed that would shape the head of the town’s opinion too.

It was a gamble, though, and the longer you spent racking up other names and parts of the land as opposed to the one Pierce instructed you to get meant you would be running out of time to convince Jaehyun’s father if he initially rejected your proposal.

You had confidence in your decision.

And that confidence clearly shone in other ways now too. “You know, I haven’t seen you this dressed down since you came to Blayne, Y/N.”

Glancing up at May as you stopped in for lunch with Reg, one of the landowners you were meeting with, you laughed lightly. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You finally look like one of us, is what she means,” Dorothy, from the table over, chimed and you grinned at her.

“Do I? I wonder how I managed that, being a city-slicker and all.”

“I don’t think it’s about how, but rather whom,” May concluded, and you bit your bottom lip, trying not to smile with the image of Jaehyun surfacing in your mind.

“We had it pegged that it’d be Avery,” Reg chortled, and you spluttered on the water you had taken in, looking up and apologising profusely. The older man held out his hand to May. “Well, it’s not him. Pay up.”

“Not my boy? Surely it’s him that has you enjoying Blayne. Out of us all, he’s the most understanding to newcomers.”

“Are you making bets on my relationship status?” you asked, and the patrons of the diner all chuckled in one way or another. “Well, I’m sorry May, but I’m not dating Avery.”

“You didn’t deny dating someone else,” Josie, the only waitress, piped up and there was immediate silence as everyone stared at you.

“I’m dating Blayne,” you answered cheekily, and they all groaned with protest. “What? Call me a sucker for what I’m trying to do out here, but this place has changed me.”

You left out the part about a certain cowboy that had as well.

Word travelled too fast around this place.

“Avery is disappointed, you know,” Jaehyun mentioned when he stepped through the front door of your home later that evening. You glanced up at his arrival, dropping your laptop onto the couch and moved into Jaehyun’s waiting embrace.

After kissing Jaehyun in greeting, you smirked. “Word sure doesn’t struggle to get around here yet mobile data does.”

“You completely ruled my cousin off your it-list. The elders are scrambling about trying to figure who’s left to catch your fancy.”

“Have they suggested you at all?”

Jaehyun grinned and shook his head. “Not Jung’s boy.”

“Because you’re so exclusive.”

“I’m destined to marry a Blayne Belle, apparently.”

“So you’re either going to wait another six years until Melody is legal or pick up Josie? I mean, she looks great for forty.”

“Don’t!” Jaehyun exclaimed, encircling your waist with his palms. They felt hot against your barely covered skin. “Where are your clothes by the way?”

“I’m used to the summer weather being removed by air conditioning in my apartment,” you admitted, gesturing to your singlet and shorts with a sly smile. “And this is more than what I had on when you last saw me.”

“Wicked woman,” he stated and went over to a panel on the wall.

You followed Jaehyun and pointed at it. “I tried to turn it on, but it’s ancient and doesn’t have any instructions.”

“You’d be lost without your damn instructions, wouldn’t you?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, peering around him to inspect his efforts.

“Do you know where the toolbox is in the truck?” he soon asked, and you nodded. “Can you get it for me?”

“Why, are you going to be Mr Handyman instead of Mr Cowboy to me now? Perhaps Avery might be a better option after all.”

“Har-har. If you want to learn how hellish this summer is going to get in the countryside when the heatwave hits next week then-”

“Toolbox. Onto it!” you cried, dashing outside into the humid evening and over to Jaehyun’s truck. After spotting it nestled just behind the passenger seat, you went to reach for it but stopped, your eyes travelling to the papers sitting on the chair you had just leaned over.

Picking them up, you read the contents and returned inside with the toolbox in a daze. “Thanks, Miss City. I’ll have you feeling cool in no time.”

“Were you going to tell me about the rodeo tour?” you queried in a small voice a moment later, and Jaehyun stopped looking through the box for what he needed and up at you.

He shot you one of his lopsided smiles, though his eyes were hesitant. “You’re concerned already? The rodeo season is basically over for this year, don’t worry.”

“I know. This is for next season, but the qualifiers are tomorrow.”

“I was planning on telling you tonight.” Standing back up and wiping his hands on his jeans, Jaehyun gauged your expression. “You know I do them from time to time. Old Joey from the county over popped by and offered me a horse to ride. It’s a real nice horse, gave him a test-”

“What about Blaze? What will he think?” you cut in and Jaehyun frowned. “He’s your riding horse.”

“He’s a work horse. And horses don’t really get offended if you ride another. You’re being weird about this.”

“I’m just confused. This morning I woke up thinking this weekend we’ll be going to the farmer’s market and maybe ride over to the lake and take a swim or something. Now I’m going to be on the sidelines of some rodeo? What do they call them? Rodeo Bunnies? Don’t expect me to become one.”

Jaehyun laughed heartily, scooping you up into his arms in a warm embrace. “You’re coming?”

“Of course. I have to.”

“Why?”

“Why are you asking why? I’m supportive of your endeavours,” you answered, puzzled by the smile spreading Jaehyun’s lips out further. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like a girlfriend would support me?”

“Girlfriend?” you echoed and let out an awkward laugh.

“Is it more for you now, Miss City? A whole month of you and me having this secret rendezvous and you might be feeling something deeper than my skin for me, huh?”

“Do-don’t you have to fix the air-con? It’s hot in here.”

“Stifling.”

“And if you’re going to some rodeo thing, don’t we need to sleep early or something?”

“Are you flustered, Y/N? You’re awfully good at not answering my question.”

“What question was that now?” you diverted, slipping out from under his strong arms and over to the toolbox. “Which one do you need?”

“All of you. That’s all I need,” Jaehyun confirmed, coming back to your side, kissing the top of your head before taking the tool you held in your left hand and got to work.

You arrived on the Jung’s property around six the following morning, travelling in your car separately. Whilst June was aware of your ruse, and no doubt Avery had strong suspicions, Jaehyun had asked to keep your relationship on the low for now. At first, you had agreed. You had a job to complete and complicating that with personal affections could ruin your credibility.

Still, it was hard to keep your hands off of Jaehyun when he came out from his room above the stables. “Wow, you know I’ve been calling you a cowboy from day one because of the hat and boots but I didn’t realise just how much this shirt was missing from the picture until now.”

Jaehyun glanced at his rodeo shirt, tassels and all, before shooting you an embarrassed smile. “Get a real good look at it today, Miss City. I don’t dress up like this often.”

“Another reason why he’s single, I’m sure,” his father gruffly mentioned, patting his son on the shoulder. You realised the older man was proud for some reason. All this time, you assumed he only cared for Jaehyun by the level of work he did around the farm.

Perhaps that was because Jaehyun was adamant that was all he cared about. However, as you watched the interaction fondly, you realised the man had a lot of love for his son. Jaehyun mentioned he had been on the sure-fire track to going pro as a teen on the rodeo circuit last night. You wondered if Mr Jung wanted that for him and felt guilty for needing him to help on the farm.

Either way, it warmed your heart to see a nervous Jaehyun, and his father equally acting out of character for once.

“Don’t you go worrying about marriage for our son today,” June fussed, straightening out Jaehyun’s collar as you had been itching to do. She smiled up at him. “Come home in one piece.”

“Of course, he will. We can’t be having Y/N’s first rodeo dashed with any hospital visits,” Avery commented, arriving at your side and slinging an arm over your shoulder. “You and I need to do some talking about the earful I got from my mother last night.”

You giggled awkwardly. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You’ll be sorry when they start trying to hook you up with all the eligible men in Blayne. Dorothy is convinced you’d suit her boy, Jacob.”

Jaehyun snorted. “Y/N’s a little too high maintenance for Jacob.”

“Am I now?” you retorted, waving off Jaehyun’s parents who were staying behind to look after the farm. Hopping into the cab of Jaehyun’s truck and looking at Avery who got in after you, you scoffed loudly. “If I was too much high maintenance, I’d recommend we take my vehicle over this one. At least, I’d be convinced we’d get there on time, for one.”

Jaehyun glared at Avery’s somewhat stifled snort before patting the steering wheel of the truck. “Don’t you worry. This old beauty of mine will get us there with ease. It’s you we have to concern ourselves over.”

“Me?” you wondered, and Avery nodded. “Why me?”

“Rodeos are a whole other world, Y/N. I bet you won’t be ready for what’s about to happen.”

“It’s people riding horses and taking on cows or something with ropes. I’ve seen it on TV,” you assured the cousins, who looked at one another with loose grins forming.

“She’s not ready for this.”

“Nope. Not a chance.”

“Would you two just shut up, and Jaehyun, start driving. Watch me prove how-”

“Adaptable you are,” both boys chimed, and you rolled your eyes, trying not to smile as Jaehyun finally threw the truck into reverse and headed down the driveway towards your first rodeo.

_________________

Part 10

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Star & Stunt Masterlist

Previous

My collab with @unicornscotty 

Taglist:  @milk-carton-whump @cowboy-anon, @getyourwhumphere, @lave-whump, @cupcakes-and-pain, @justabitofwhump, @tears-and-lilies

CW: Pet whump; dehumanization; cage; power imbalance; slapping; favoring one whumpee over the other; collar;

The pets followed Blaze into a small room on the backstage. Both of them were relieved to leave the crowded place behind, and into the small, well lit room, full of mirrors. There was a pretty dog bed in one corner, and a dog cage on the other.

Blaze held the shoulder of the more outgoing of the twins – the one the director called a star – and pointed at the dog bed.

“That one is for you. You can rest there when not on set” he turned to the other brother “…You stay on the cage, and out of trouble. Try not to bother your brother, his job is very difficult”

He promptly nodded, and Braze picked something up: A pair of boxes. He crouched in front of them and gave one to each brother.

…One of them received a pretty, thin leather collar with a tag attached: on it, the name Castor. The other one got a plain leather collar, thick enough to dig on the pet’s skin. It didn’t even have a name tag.

“So, Castor and… Mutt” Blaze looked at each of them “Did you enjoy your gifts?”

The pets nodded. Such generosity, so many gifts, on their first day! They even got names.

“Good. Now, can you read?”

“Yes Sir, we can '' Castor spoke for them. Blaze nodded, sorting through his stuff and pulling off two stashes of paper –one much bigger than the other. He gave the big one to Castor, and the other to Mutt “…Castor, you need to learn all of the lines that are marked in Blue in this script. You need to be able to do and act them perfectly. I know it’s a new thing for you, so we will give you two hours to memorize it. Focus on pages 12 to 46, those we are shooting today”

And then he turned to the brother, which had a smaller amount.

“See how much easier you’ll have it, Mutt?” Blaze offered a smile “Your script is way simpler, but you still need to have all the actions memorized. See those notes on yellow? Those are the instructions on how to make the stunts safely. Read it carefully”

He got up, cracking his back.

“I’ll be back for you in two hours”

…He shut the door.

Castor and Mutt stared at each other, waiting, till they were sure the steps were away.

When they were sure he was gone… Castor immediately fell apart.

“Brother how am I supposed to learn all of this? It’s too much” He hugged himself “I-I can’t”

“C-ca-calm down” Mutt tried, holding his brother’s shoulder for comfort “Y-you have to try. W-we can’t, can’t disappoint them o-on our first day!”

Castor cleaned the tears and nodded, his brother was right… But they never get to read a lot. They could, but it would be hard…

“Co-come o-on. I-I’ll help!”

“Will you?” Castor looked at his brother “How?”

“I-its –like a movie i-isn’t it? W-we can, can le-learn the, the things you need, need to s-say and I-I’ll do them with you, so, so y-you’ll remember b-better!”

Castor smiled. Brother was being really kind… And he felt somewhat hopeful. Maybe he could do it, with brother’s help!

They nested together on the dog bed. It was Castor’s – but he didn’t mind sharing with Mutt. As they went through the script, Mutt helped Castor learn and try most of his lines until they were coming out decently…

And completely forgot his own script.

He realized it as the door bolted open, Blaze stepping into with his terrifying boots, frowning deeply at the scene. He walked to them, as the pets curled up, and slapped Mutt across the face.

“…That’s Castor’s bed. You are not allowed in it” he turned to Castor “…Did you manage to learn the lines?”

“Yes sir!”

…Blaze offered an approving smile.

“Good boy. I knew the director had a good eye for this… And how about you, Mutt?”

He kicked the forgotten script on the floor that Mutt hadn’t even looked through. He whimpered an apology, but only served to get him slapped again.

“…Well, getting in the bed, distracting your brother, and not even doing your job properly…” Blaze shook his head “…We don’t have time now, but you will be punished later, Mutt. I know it’s your first day, but we expected better. Especially seeing how well your brother did”

…He let his head hang down. Blaze was right, of course. Mutt got distracted, neglected his chores. He was being a bad pet, bad. He was just happy at least Castor was being praised. He worked hard after all!

“Well, let’s go!” Blaze pulled them both up, whispering on Mutt’s ear “…Trust me, you should have learned the script”

#Star and Stunt #whump #pet whump #film whumpees #whump writing