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l3viat8an · 10 months

Note

Okay- this is my first time on someones asks but…

imagine riding Cowboy!Beel- im honestly curious about how that would go, also the nickname ‘sugar’ has me ABSOLUTELY WEAK (i love it so much omg)

Nsfw content MDNI

Omgg first ask~ how fun! ‘n sugar is honestly so self-indulgent I fuckin’ love it as a pet name!!- this is straight smut cuz I’m lazy XD (also this isn’t the actual ‘riding’ fic that’s already longer then this and they ain’t even fuckin’ yet hdjshd)

Beel hisses through his teeth as you straddle his lap, lining his cock up with your dripping cunt and starting to sink down on to him.

His grip tightens on your hips, as he groans out “Slow, sugar…..I ain’t going anywhere….’m all yours.”

All you can do is nod silently, Beel’s cowboy hat tips back on your head revealing the beads of sweat that started lining your forehead.

You move your hips forward, sinking a little lower down his shaft, and pause for a moment, trying to collect yourself, slowly rocking your hips back and forth until his cock is fully inside you. Setting a slow, shallow pace….

Beel’s breathing becomes ragged, his eyes wide as he takes in the sensation of your warmth around him, eyes locked onto where his cock is sliding in and out of you. His lip turn up in a grin as he just admirers you for a moment, before he speaks up again.

“Ya feel so good, sugar. Already takin’ me so well.” and suddenly you’re gasping, your hands grabbing onto his shoulder as he thrusts his hips upwards, burying himself inside you again. “I just can’t get enough of ya.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock hits that’s sweet spot inside of you, moaning loudly as you dig your nails harder into his shoulders, trying to grind back against him.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air as Beel takes over.

Thrusts become harder, faster, his breathing even more ragged. He’s completely lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his cock, the way you respond to his movements drivin’ him crazy.

"’M all yours, Beel.” you gasp out, leaning forward for a very messy kiss, "Take me, claim me, make me yours."

Beel groans in response, holding onto you even tighter as his hips thrust up into your. Beel just can’t help himself, as the pleasure builds inside him, "That’s right, all mine. My sweet sugar…” he grunts out, his eyes locked onto yours. "All mine."

and with one final thrust, Beel lets out a loud moan of pleasure, his body shuddering as he spills himself inside of you. You follow soon after, your own orgasm hitting you like a wave.

You both collapse back onto the bed, panting and sweaty. Then Beel sees something behind you and laughs a bit, picking his hat up and setting it (somewhat awkwardly) back onto your head, presses soft kisses to your cheeks, before moving to your lips for a slow kiss. His hand tracing lazy patterns against your back, as he pulls you even closer on top of him.

"Let's stay like this for a bit.” he murmurs, his voice drowsy as he kisses whatever skin he can reach. "I don't wanna let ya go yet.”

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star-suh · 7 months

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Hi there! I was just wondering if you are comfortable doing a Johnny x Dom! Reader? If you are, I would just like maybe some sort of mix of goofy and rough? Like biting and laughing at the same time, spanking and praising, something like that? I understand if you don't want to, and if that's the case, please just disregard this. If you do this request, then thank you so much. :D

-🍓

ride a cowboy!

johnny suh x male reader

cw: sub top johnny, dom bottom m reader, some degrading, pwp, idol au, y/n is a member of nct, handcuffing, edging, cockwarming, cum eating, biting, bruises.

an: sorry for taking so long in doing it strawberry anon 😭

edit: i just realized i didn't do it like anon asked i'm sorry again 😭😭

edit 2: kinda fixed it :)

—

wet sounds filled y/n's and johnny's shared dorm, thankfully they were alone in the building. moments before they were doing the nct 2020 resonance photoshoot, watching johnny dressed as a cowboy make y/n so horny that when they finished with the photoshoots y/n whispered to johnny in the ear "i want to fuck right now" and the taller just obeyed.

johnny was handcuffed, both hands, while y/n was riding him, moving up and down, his hole swallowing all of johnny's thick fuckmeat, balls deep.

"who's a good toy huh?" asked y/n slapping gently johnny's face "m-me i'm a good t-toy" he answered quickly, who was already overstimulated because y/n has edged him two times already.

"now that's a good boy. and only good boys deserve to cum you know that. right?" said y/n and the older nodded making y/n smile. y/n start to sit hard on johnny's cock feeling the tip of his dick brushing his prostate "hng.." moaned y/n "you fill me so well johnny". johnny was hypnotized by the sight in from of him, y/n with hooded eyes, blushing like a slut and drool coming out of his mouth just make him hornier "go on whore, pound me like this was our last fuck" said y/n who leaned on johnny's shoulder allowing the taller to rail him into oblivion. johnny grabbed y/n's ass cheeks and squeezed them as hard as he could letting his handprints on them, thrusting at an animalistic pace just wanting to fill y/n up all that while sucking and biting y/n's neck. then both kissed, tongues intertwined exploring and tasting each other's mouths.

"c'mon weren't you bitching before because i didn't let you cum? what's taking so lon-" y/n was cut out when johnny slapped his ass so hard as a sign that he was gonna cum soon, he did one last hard thrust, painting y/n's insides in white, the bottom rolled his eyes while cumming on johnny's abs "fuck~ you make me cum hands free" y/n kissed johnny. "am i a good toy?" asked johnny, the younger scooped his cum on his hands and gave it to johnny to lick it "yes you are and you're the best, you did so well".

both were so tired so they decided to just sleep, with johnny as the big spoon and his cock inside y/n to make sure his sperm don't slip out of his hole.

#johnny x male reader #johnny seo x male reader #johnny suh x male reader #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #nct 127 #nct x male reader #nct 127 x male reader #nct smut #johnny suh smut #seo youngho x male reader

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braidlottie · 4 months

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forever is the sweetest con.

pairing: cowgirl!lottieshauna x transmasc!cowboy!reader

summary: your car breaks down on the side of the road, but luckily two friendly cowgirls help you out and give you a place to stay for the night.

tags: no smut! the wild west au :3, lottie and shauna are dating, guns, lottie smokes, lottie and shauna’s southern accent feature, transmasc!reader, top surgery, lottie asks about your scars, stupid cowboy crew names that i made up, shauna is a flirt

wc: 1.4K

a/n: i don’t know how to end fics once again im Sorry 🙁 also @antlerbf without u this would’ve never been written 😄😄

title inspired by cowboy like me by taylor swift

moodboard :3

“fuck!”

you hit your head on the steering wheel. your car picked the best time to break down on the side of the road, when you’re in the middle of nowhere, and it’s night. you decided to ditch the car and hitchhike, grabbing all your things before walking down the asphalt.

you walked for about ten minutes until you saw a ranch on a side road up ahead. there were two horses sitting down in the hay, and the small house stood alone farther down. you took the chance, hoping that whoever lived there was kind enough to let you stay, or at least fix your car.

you had to hop the fence to get in, throwing your sack over and trying not to wake up the horses. when your sack hit the dirt, the horse immediately jumped up, neighing loudly and shaking itself off. you hopped down from the fence safely and started walking towards the house, you thought you were in the clear.

until you saw a light turn on in the house. it was too late to turn back, and hopping that fence took you a while. so you just decided to hide and hope for the best. you hid behind a hay bale, peeking your head out to see who was there.

a woman in a white tank top came out with her revolver drawn, looking for any intruders. “oh, shit!” you whispered to yourself, wishing you would’ve just slept in your car. she looked your direction, making you duck your head down. you stayed like that for a while until she was gone. tiptoeing carefully now, you made your way towards the house, looking for any signs of the armed woman.

the dirt crunched under your boots with every step, making your way to the porch. “freeze.” you heard a woman’s voice behind you. “drop the sack and turn around. put your hands where i can see ‘em.”

you obeyed, putting shaky hands up in the air. you turned around to see the same woman you were hiding from, the barrel of her gun pointed straight at you. “you make one move, and i put a bullet right between those pretty eyes.”

“please-”

“what’s the name of your gang?”

you gulped, all your words leaving your brain. all you could think about if your life was going to end or not. the woman cocked the revolver back when you were silent for too long. “the razortooth snakes!” your voice echoed through the night.

“you must be lyin’. you? in the razortooth snakes?”

“i can show you my badge, i swear.”

“pull it out. slowly.”

you pulled your badge out of the back pocket of your jeans, giving it to the woman. she snatched it harshly, her cigarette almost dropping out her mouth. “well, i’ll be damned.” she dropped the badge next to your sack. “what’s a little thing like you doing in there, huh?”

the razortooth snakes was the toughest gang in the wild west, the woman couldn’t even believe a member dared to step foot on her ranch. “i’m not sure, ma’am, i- w-what gang are you?” you sputter, her gun still raised. “the bronze serpents, ever since i can remember.” she pulled up her tank top, showing a tattoo of her gang in cursive on her stomach.

“well, that makes us rivals, don’t it?”

you nodded, sweating bullets. “please don’t shoot me.”

“explain why you’re on my ranch and maybe i won’t.”

“my-my car broke about half a mile down from here, and i’m really far from home. i just needed some tools for my car, or anything to fix it. that’s all, please ma’am-”

“don’t call me ma’am.” you flicked her cigarette on the dirt, squashing it with her boot. “it’s charlotte.”

she put the safety back on the revolver, slipping it in the back of her sleep shorts. “you got any weapons on you?”

you forgot you did have your revolver in your holster, but it wasn’t loaded. she opened up your denim vest, but you spoke before she even opened your mouth. “it’s not loaded. i used the last of my bullets today.”

“for what, exactly?”

lottie knew you couldn’t kill anyone, even if it came down to life and death. she took your gun, beginning to walk back into the house. “you coming or not?” her voice faded as she went away. you grabbed your sack and trailed behind her, your vest blowing in the desert wind.

“you woke my girl up.” charlotte closed the front door behind you. “oh, god, im so sorry-”

“don’t worry about it. gotta let her know we have company. take a seat ‘n don’t go nowhere.” she pointed, going down the dark hallway to the bedroom. you took a seat at the table, hugging your sack. you looked around at all the the decor, they even have a little fireplace. the whole house was just so cozy.

you heard another woman’s voice get closer and closer, but it was a little higher. she stopped in her tracks when she saw you. “this is shauna.” charlotte introduced and you did the same, tipping your hat to her in a polite manner. “what side of town ya from?” shauna leaned against the wall. you stared blankly, trying to think of a way to say this. lottie soon pulled her aside, walking back into the hallway.

“lottie, you brought a razortooth snake in my house?”

“keep your voice down! this one right here, wouldn’t even dare hurt a fly, shauna. i promise you.”

they talked about you like you weren’t even there, the hardwood floor slapping against shauna’s bare feet when she walked back over to you. she stared you up and down, putting her hands on her hips. “so, yous is really a razortooth.” shauna was warming up to you faster than she thought.

“is it that hard to believe?”

“oh trust me, it is.”

the woman walked closer, taking a seat in your lap. she put your hat on your head,

“what’s a hot piece of ass like you doin’ with them, darlin’?”

your mouth dropped, in shock and because of how embarrassed you got. “shauna,” lottie grabbed another cigarette out of her pocket, and her lighter as well. “let’s ask our guest something that’s a lil’ more pg rated, you got me, sugar?”

“what? it’s fine. you don’t mind, do you, punkin?”

“uh, no, it’s alright.” you smiled, telling them how you came up as a cowboy and what it’s really like as a razortooth. “it’s gettin’ late, now. time to hit the hay.” lottie looked at her watch, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray.

“y’know, you can sleep with us.”

“shauna-”

“lottie, we can’t leave him sleep on the couch out here, he’ll freeze. he can’t sleep with us for one night?”

“that’s why we have a perfectly good fireplace, hun.”

shauna just rolled her eyes, getting off your lap and leading you to the bedroom. the bed was in the middle of the room, scattered clothes and a pair of boots on the floor. “don’t listen to her. you can sleep here, darlin’. oh, you gotta take all those dirty clothes off. lottie’s not a big fan of dirty clothes in her bed.”

shauna was right about lottie’s rule, but the truth is that part of her wants to see you in you naked. “oh, yeah, no problem,” you buckled your pants and took off your vest, only leaving you in a tank top and your briefs.

“i got some tools to fix up your truck, i’ll give ‘em to you first thing in the morning.” lottie walked into the bedroom now, looking you up and down. “what’s those scars for?” she looked at your chest in curiosity, knowing she definitely meant no harm.

“bull fight.” you lied, scratching the back of your head. “must’ve been quite a fight.” she smiled, hanging her hat on the hook on the wall. “you gettin’ in or what?”

you stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the two women. “uh, yeah. yeah, i am.”

“well, what the hell are you waitin’ for?”

you crawled into the middle of the bed, sandwiched perfectly between the two. “comfortable?” charlotte turned off the lamp and you smiled, nodding in return. “thanks for this. really.”

“if this ever gets out, ya might be a dead man, mister. doesn’t that scare ya?” shauna whispered. “a little.” you were more than scared. you were petrified of your group ever finding out that you got friendly with the bronze serpents.

but you decided to enjoy this moment instead, curled up beside two (very sleepy) cowgirls.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #shauna shipman #shauna sadecki x reader #shauna shipman x reader #adult lottie #adult shauna #lottieshauna #lottie shauna x reader #lottieshauna x reader #lottie x shauna x reader #lottie x shauna

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anitalenia · 2 months

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𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙀 𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙈 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆‎♡‧₊˚

꒰ঌ definition ໒꒱ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠. 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑥 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ below you will find sub genres under this category, as well as some useful pairings for this trope. for educational writing purposes — contains dark content <3

note: several of these can also be used in other tropes as well, just depends on how you write it and interpret it. Also, this is strictly woman x multiple men because reverse harem is just that. Harem is man x multiple women, ergo reverse harem

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A being hunted by a group of people — the circumstance can be interpreted in many different ways (can be a game between them as to who gets her first)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A being passed around a friend group

₊˚⊹.* ♡ multiple yandere loving person A

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A lost somewhere and taken to the home of person B, where multiple suitors await to take care of her

₊˚⊹.* ♡ demon brothers and their love (person A) — obey me! anyone ???

₊˚⊹.* ♡ kings and their favorite princess

₊˚⊹.* ♡ multiple boys at school wanting person A (like in anime’s where every boy has a vastly different personality / social status)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ enemy vampire clans wanting person A

₊˚⊹.* ♡ werewolves sharing person A in the pack

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A’s professors find other ways to help her grades

₊˚⊹.* ♡ men of different species wanting person A (dark fantasy au) — like elf king wants person A, rogue werewolf wants person A, vampire lord wants person A, etc.

₊˚⊹.* ♡ stuck in a house with your captors (kidnapped au)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ biker gang x waitress who serves them

₊˚⊹.* ♡ angels x demons fighting for person A

₊˚⊹.* ♡ kings x maid

₊˚⊹.* ♡ rivaling princes of different nations x princess of one — they come together in their want for her (can be kings too ig)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ criminal x cop partner x best friend wanting cop!person A

₊˚⊹.* ♡ its mating season for monsters and they all want person A

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is the only human in the monster clan

₊˚⊹.* ♡ queen x servants (where person A is the one in control / the dominant one)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A and her group of boys she grew up with

₊˚⊹.* ♡ sorceress x her creations

₊˚⊹.* ♡ servant x princes ( can be demon brothers, any kind of royalty, where person A is hired to be their servant)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ multiple psychos playing a game with person A to see who can get them first

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is a criminal being hunted by multiple bounty hunters / cops

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is stalked by a group of men then later taken by them

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is the new farm hand or new to a farm x cowboys

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is the creation of person B, but she gets passed around to his partners with his permission — maybe her needs need to be met by more than just one person (person B is the main partner, but lets others use person A)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ bouncing off that idea, person B is the main partner of person A but person B’s partners / brothers / friends also want person A so he allows it

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A and all her step brothers

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x her step brother and his best friends

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x her step dad and his best friends

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x her bosses

₊˚⊹.* ♡ succubus x demon men who love offering their services (can be human but humans die so do what you will)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x incubus men who always come to her

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x vampire coven

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A on house arrest x her security guards ( a lot of ways this can be twisted — different species, different circumstances, etc. )

₊˚⊹.* ♡ princess x her bodyguards

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is a scientist studying alien life forms — they take turns using her so she can “study better”

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is traded to a dark king in return for her kingdoms safety (whatever reason you want), only to be shared between him and his royal court (including brothers & best friends)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A is a highly fertile woman in a dystopian world, shared amongst lords in hopes to reproduce

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x the men sent to kill her

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A passed around between the Zodiac (as in the twelve Zodiac signs — dark fantasy)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ omegaverse — person A is passed around between the Alpha and his betas

₊˚⊹.* ♡ omegaverse — person A is passed around multiple Alphas

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x powerful gods who want her for themselves

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x dragon princes

₊˚⊹.* ♡ princess who gets kidnapped by pirates (doesn’t have to be a princess obvi but regardless she getting passed around the ship)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ villain x the men sent to watch her and keep her in check — bonus if at least one of the men is strongly on the hero’s side but can’t deny his attraction to her

₊˚⊹.* ♡ alice in wonderland au — person A is new to the world and taken under the care of person B. person B takes them home and is introduced to all the men there. some are also just introduced at some point and want person A (like white queen and red queen are really sexy menz, werewolf boy, twin boys, yk yk. Im trying not to make this too long but I already did)

₊˚⊹.* ♡ person A x the lost boys — person A is lost and/or new to the world and is found by the lost boys (lowkey dark fantasy peter pan au)

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artficlly · 10 months

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me & the devil (one-shot)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x saloon girl!reader

The Diamondback Saloon and Hotel has always attracted bad men, and Bucky Barnes happens to be one of them.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of guns, swearing, sex worker reader, lots of talk of sex work, vague mentions of past non-con and abuse, lots of angst, sexual tension, breaking law, bank robbery, lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 11.2k (whoops)

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've been working on. i started this a month back while watching west world. i love westerns, rdr and all thinsg cowboy so this was so fun to write. i was thinking of maybe a part two just due to how long this got lol. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was still morning when trouble walked in. In the two months you had been working at The Diamondback Saloon and Hotel, it had taken you only days to figure out who was trouble and who wasn’t. There was an energy to them, something more clinging to their bodies than the grime and grit of the wilds. The saloon would fall into a hush, an unspoken knowing between all within. It wasn't just the guns on their person, but the way they held themselves. A swagger and a smirk, bruises on their knuckles, a twisted nose from a fight long forgotten An essence of something deeper, a whisper that hissed in warning.

That intensity screamed danger, and all those inside knew to obey it or face its wrath.

“Them boys look like trouble.” Charlotte hummed, echoing your thoughts entirely. The two of you stood leaning back against the bar, examining your new patrons. There were three of them, young and deadly. They had that energy and that intensity. With just a flick of your eyes, you could read it – fatality written into the dirt under their nails to the subtle splatter of blood along the cuff of a shirt.

“Maybe that’s reason to steer clear for once.” You muttered back to the woman, your fan fluttering as you eyed her with a frown. “The last lot didn’t even pay you.”

Danger didn’t often walk into Silverton, but when it did, it always stopped by The Diamondback for one final drink and fuck before facing the open wilds. Danger had different faces; some returned, some didn’t. The three men who now took up a table in the back were certainly new to you.

“The ride was payment enough.” Charlotte giggled as she batted her lashes. “Them boys always have a lot packing.”

You rolled your eyes with a huff. "Yeah, and half of em’ don’t even know how to use it.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Charlotte announced with one of her coy smiles you had grown to know so well. She strutted off in the direction of the group of men, hand dragging across shoulders and cleavage pronounced in her posture. The men looked at her up and down like a meal – predators and prey. You often couldn’t tell the difference between the two – who was prey and who was predator. Considering how much coin Charlotte would often fish from her corset after a day’s work, maybe she was the predator. You had learned a lot from her in your short time at The Diamondback.

After a moment of consideration, you turned to face the bar. The barkeep, Crowley, had his eyes fixed on the trio. With a tut, he returned to cleaning the glasses lined along the bar. You were barely able to hear his low voice over the piano. “I swear that girl ain’t got no fear.”

“I guess that’s what comes from workin’ in a job like this long enough.” You replied simply, abandoning your fan on the bar as you snatched up one of the clean glasses.

“I swear I seen them boys' faces on a poster up north in Rustler’s Grove.” Crowley muttered, eyeing you disapprovingly as you slid the glass in his direction. “You drinkin’ this early already?”

“Be a gentleman, won’t you?” You replied with a beam, elbows propped onto the bar. “Whiskey. The stuff from the back, not that watered-down shit for the guests.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Crowley grumbled, abandoning his post to rummage around for your request. You took the brief moment to cast a glance back across the room.

Charlotte was now perched on one of the men’s laps; he had a darker complexion, and curls of dark hair were escaping from under his hat. You noted how one of his hands gripped Charlotte’s upper thigh, squeezing the exposed flesh. Her hand explored his chest as he whispered in her ear. Across the table, his two companions seemed deep in a hushed conversation, completely oblivious to the table of men eyeing them suspiciously nearby.

You ripped your eyes away, instead putting your focus on your hands, which you had clasped tightly together. You never wanted this life; you assumed no whore truly wanted this life. Instead, you all stumbled into it one way or another. A broken family, a dead husband, a lost soul – each of you had a story that led you down this path. All you could do was put on a smile and tell yourself that you liked it, pretending that you had some kind of freedom or power over your situation.

Your eyes fluttered upwards, watching Crowley through your lashes as he returned and poured the liquor into the glass. “You’re thinking too much again; all you’re gonna end up in is a whole world of pain.”

You considered his words, turning them over in your mind before speaking. “That’s what the drinks for.” You hummed with a weak smile. “No thinking if the whiskey drowns it all out.”

Crowley offered you a hollow smile, more of a grimace, as his weathered skin pulled tightly at the corners. “Damn right.”

You shot the whiskey back in one swallow, with a moment of silence following as you allowed yourself to feel the burn in your chest. It was a familiar sensation, one you had relied heavily on to get through the past two months.

“Whiskey this early? A woman after my own heart.” A deep, husky voice spoke from beside you. Trouble. There he stood. It seemed one of the trio had escaped Charlotte’s clutches; if it had been to talk to you or simply drink at the bar, you could not know. You couldn't help but notice the intensity of his gaze as it bore into you. He was taller than the other two and broader, with large shoulders and a chest that seemed to fill out his shirt in all the right places.

Your eyes quickly swept back across the room, seeing Charlotte still occupied. A few of the other girls circled nearby like vultures, searching for the coin they knew was just under their nose.

“Buy me another one, then we can talk.” You replied easily, plastering on a sickly-sweet smile. You wondered if he saw through it and whether he knew how much you hated yourself. You knew it was foolish to think so.

The man silently motioned two fingers at Crowley, and your glass was quickly refilled. You swirled the amber liquid, eyeing the man as he examined you in return. He seemed to live a rough lifestyle, with skin weathered from the sun, sand and dirt clinging to flesh and clothes alike. His knuckles were bruised and swollen, and there was a scar above his left eyebrow. Strings of brunet hair poked out from beneath his hat, paired with piercing blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. The muscles in his chiseled jawline flexed as he swallowed back the liquor with a stoic look. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip as you watched his adam’s apple bob. He had a rough, handsome charm to him, despite everything telling you to run. It always seemed to be that way with troublemakers.

“How’d a girl like you end up in a place like this?” He hummed, placing his glass back on the bar. You smile at him from behind your own glass, keeping eye contact as you finish the liquor with ease. Whiskey made you comfortable, and whiskey made you fun. Most of all, it made you forget.

“How do you think most girls end up in this place, hm?” You reply boldly, watching as Charlotte ascends the stairs with her new client in tow. “Sad stories, bad stories. Every whore has a sob story; do ya really want to hear a sob story?”

“You’re new here; ‘least you weren’t around when I was last in these parts,” he chuckled in response. Another round of liquor was poured into your glass with a quick flick of the man's callused fingers.

“New…” You hum, your fingers tracing along the sticky, dark wood of the bar. The man’s attention was fixed on your every movement. “How new do you consider... new?”

“I was ‘round here about a year ago now.” His gravelly voice replied, and another shot of liquor was swallowed. Your eyes briefly danced back across the room, a table of patrons shouting over a game of poker stirring your attention. The man next to you didn’t even flinch as a glass was shattered and chairs screeched as they tumbled to the ground.

“I guess I am new.” You finally spoke, sending another perfectly empty smile in his direction. He ran his tongue over his teeth with a chuckle. “What’s your name?” You ask.

“James. But most people just call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” You hum in thought, drinking yet another shot of the amber liquor.

“You wanna head upstairs, sweetheart?” He asks, watching as Crowley abandons his post behind the bar to clear out the poker table, the group having resorted to whipping out their guns. You ignore the chaos, shrugging with a simple smile.

“Sure thing, cowboy.” You say as you hook your arm around the back of the bar, stealing the bottle of whiskey while Crowley was distracted. Bucky followed your movements with a grin, following you up the stairs wordlessly.

—

Finding an empty room was easy; most of the girls had unspokenly claimed a room they reused throughout the day. The rooms in the Diamondback were modest, as expected for a small town. A double bed with fresh sheets, a chair next to an unused fireplace, and a dresser near the door with a bowl and pitcher of water placed atop it.

Your back was turned to Bucky, and you could hear the creak of the bed as he sat down. You dared to look up through your lashes, meeting his eye through the mirror that sat atop the dresser. Bottle of whiskey forgotten, you turn to face the rugged man. You can't help but feel a little weak in the knees under his intense gaze. A hand runs over his stubbled chin briefly before removing the worn leather hat from his head. His hair, a rich, dark brown, emerges from beneath, his hand running through the messy strands.

You step forward, carefully taking the hat from his large hands. The remnants of sand and dirt prickle your fingers as you brush the pads over the fabric. You had come to learn how much the men who frequented the Diamondback valued their hats; there was an unspoken lore or story attached to each one. With his hat delicately placed on the bedside table, you return to Bucky’s side.

With the whiskey doing its work, you smooth your hands over the dark fabric of his shirt. Your hands looked so small, delicate, and clean next to him. You found him handsome; if you were younger, you probably would’ve been intrigued or charmed by his looks as well. You knew to avoid trouble like him, but under different circumstances, at a different time?

The thoughts bubble in your mind as you seat yourself close next to him, breath fanning across his skin as you lean in. Your movements are slow and deliberate. You test his response with a quick peck of your soft lips against his before quickly closing the distance. He was so rough in comparison to you; his body was sturdy as a rock. His lips were chapped from days spent in the sun, and his stubble was coarse against your smooth skin.

His hands gripped your waist tightly, pulling you closer as you licked into his mouth. A breathless chuckle rumbled in his chest, his lips hungrily consuming yours. Your hands explored lower, feeling the defined muscles beneath the dark fabric. Your hands wrapped around his suspenders and guided them over his broad shoulders.

Bucky pulled away, his mouth instead traveling towards your neck. You tilted your head, feeling his hot breath across your skin. Squirming in his hold, your eyes fluttered shut as his lips met your ear.

“As much as I appreciate it, sweetheart, I’m just lookin’ to chat.” He breathed. You were so concentrated on his hot breath and his squeezing hands that you could not understand what he had said. You opened your eyes, heavy lidded as you gazed at him in confusion.

“To chat?” You question, your faces still pulled closely together.

“Maybe I do wanna hear your sob story, darlin’.” He hummed through a smirk. You felt heat rise in your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your system as you realized he was laughing at you. With one strong push, you wrenched yourself from his grasp with a huff.

“Don’t waste my time.” You hiss at him with a scowl, shooting to your feet.

“I’ll pay you for your time; don’t worry. I ain’t lookin’ to put you out of business.” Bucky defended himself, raising his hands in the air as if in surrender. You hesitate near the dresser.

“You want to pay to talk to me?” You question him, your skepticism clear in your tone. There were always men trying to get out of paying what they fucked; you’d seen all the different types of scams. Some would run, some would get violent, and some would promise to ‘save’ the girl from this place. You could imagine trouble like Bucky running that type of scheme, saying it was just a chat to get out of payment.

“I ain’t got many other people to talk to; why not a pretty lady?” He hummed, leaning back onto his muscled arms to view you properly.

“If you’re messin’ with me–” You began to grumble.

“I ain’t, darling. Just wanna talk.”

You stared at him for a beat, weighing your choices. Go downstairs and let another grubby man get his hands on you, or stay up here and chat with a handsome troublemaker who may or may not pay you. With a sharp exhale, you retrieve the bottle of whiskey and take a swig from it. “Fine. Alright then.”

Bucky watched your actions with an amused expression, his body language cool and collected against your outward annoyance. He reached over to his leather coat, which he had abandoned next to him on the bed, retrieving a box of cigarettes and matches.

“You have a real sad look to you.” He commented as he placed a cigarette between his lips. “Standing down by that bar like you don’t wanna be here, I bet it attracts a certain type.”

“What do you mean?” You question him as he strikes the match, taking a long drag once the cigarette is lit.

“The type of men you attract,” he begins to explain. “Type’a of men who want a girl who don’t want it. Cruel bastards, you know.”

You pause at his words, recounting all of the men you had serviced. Charlotte usually attracted the young ones, the boys who wanted a story to brag about to their friends. The men you attracted were older and quiet. They came to you, drawn in by your melancholy. The whiskey burned your chest as you took yet another swig. Memories best left buried. “And are you a cruel man?”

“No, well, some might say, but not in that way. I ain’t a mean bastard with a fantasy of being with a girl who don’t want it.”

“What type of man are you?” Your voice is low, a sense of unease crawls under your skin at his words.

“What do you think?” He asks, his body growing still. Predator and prey. A part of you enjoyed the thrill of watching him assess your every move. Another part of you was terrified, screaming that you knew trouble and should know better than to get tangled up in it.

“A dangerous one. An outlaw.” When you say those things, you mentally brace yourself for him to take offense and respond badly. Instead, to your surprise, he chuckles, eyebrows raising in delight as if you had hit the bullseye.

A gleam tugs at his lips, the chuckle catching in his chest as he takes another drag. “An outlaw, eh? What do you know about outlaws?”

“I know the type.”

“Hah. I suppose you do, workin’ in a place like this.” He comments, hands gesturing to the room around you, the cheap linen and scratched wooden floors. Somewhere down the hall, you could hear Charlotte putting on one of her shows, the paper-thin walls barely covering the moans. “Places like this breed evil; I suppose that’s why I frequent them so often.”

Your back met the dresser as Bucky stood, his frame towering above you even from a few steps away. It only took a couple strides for him to be in front of you, plucking the cigarette from his lips as he took the whiskey from your hand. Smoke engulfed your senses, and the sense of danger grew with his closeness.

Whoring was a risky line of work; like he said, saloons often bred evil. You weren’t a stranger to a man who got too aggressive, leaving bruises and blood in his wake. Bucky didn’t seem angry; he seemed amused by you, if anything. But you had to remind yourself that he was an outlaw, and most outlaws weren’t strangers to bloodshed.

“Are you… Are you gonna hurt me?” You asked, your voice weak as you pressed yourself harder into the dresser. He gave you a look and coughed a little, as if bothered by your assumption, as he downed the whiskey.

“What? No. I just wanna talk. I might be a bad man, but I ain’t the type to hurt a defenseless girl.”

You visibility deflated as he backed off a few paces, placing the whiskey next to his hat as he ran a hand through his hair with a tense expression. You exhaled a sharp breath, watching the conflict cross his face. Maybe he didn’t mean to scare you; maybe he just needed someone to talk to. You’d heard of big, bad men who couldn’t be vulnerable to anyone. They were so afraid of betrayal that they ended up isolated in a room full of people.

You could imagine Bucky like that; you almost felt sorry for the handsome man. He just wanted to talk; that couldn’t hurt, right? Your skirts swept across the creaky wood floors as you strode beside him, seating yourself between him and the bottle of whiskey. His azure eyes assessed you with a look of mild surprise.

“What… What do you want to talk about?” You finally cut into the silence.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? How you ended up in a place like this?” He questioned, taking a seat beside you. Your thighs bumped together through the fabric, yet you didn’t lean away. “I always see girls like you in these places – gentle women who fell off at some point. Most of the time, it ain’t even their fault. I guess that’s what happened to you, sweetheart.”

You contemplate his words, plucking the still-smoking cigarette from his lips. He doesn’t protest as you inhale the smoke, tilting your head in thought. “It ain’t a happy story.” You confess.

“Don’t need to be. Sometimes I just need a reminder that whatever god is watching over us is just as cruel as us men can be.” His arms brushed yours as he leant over, retrieving the whiskey from beside you. Careful not to exhale smoke directly in his face, you turn your head to watch out the window as you wonder where to start. The sky was so blue outside, just as blue as Bucky’s eyes. It was alluring in a deceptive way; the summer heat beat down on Silverton relentlessly. Sometimes you were glad to work inside instead of out in that brutality.

“My momma died when I was young. Cholera.” You begin, “Broke my daddy’s heart. He was a doctor, good one before momma died. I guess not being able to save her broke him. He fell into drink, gamblin', and whorin’. Barely made his appointments, so I had to help him run the office, cleanin’ up and sometimes stitchin’ up the fools that came in when he was too drunk to do it himself. Eventually he couldn’t afford to feed me no more; he could barely care for himself, let alone a child.” You pause to extinguish the last of the cigarette on the bedside table, the scorch mark joining a collection of older ones. Ghosts and memories of the place you sat in.

“So, my daddy, he sent me away to live with my uncle and aunt. They had a homestead not too far from here; my uncle and cousin were ranchers and moved cattle mostly. I liked it out there in the open; I would go ridin’ and watch the sun rise and set. My aunt would worry I would get robbed or worse, ridin’ alone out there. I was still a girl, really. I didn’t care nor really know how evil this place could be.” Bucky hummed in acknowledgement as you spoke, fingers brushing off some ash that had fallen onto your skirt.

“I would help out on the ranch too; I liked that work. It felt like real work. Good, rewarding work. I liked the animals, playing with the dogs and ridin’ the horses to move the cattle.” Your gaze pulled away from the window, instead turning your head to watch as Bucky took another long drink from the whiskey.

“Then, my uncle died. Gored by his own bull one morning, I tried to save him, but he lost too much blood. It was all so sudden, weren’t nothing we could do. My aunt, she couldn’t bear to live there no more, decided to sell the place. She said she couldn’t take me wherever she was going with my cousin. They were using the money to buy a new ranch back east and couldn’t afford to keep me on no more. She said to write to my daddy and continue working as his assistant until I found a man to marry.”

“What happened to your pa?” Bucky asked, the liquid sloshing in the bottle as he swirled it in his hands. You took a moment to shamelessly stare at the way the veins bulge over the muscles and tendons.

“Don’t know.” You finally admit with a sigh. “Never replied to my letter. Either didn’t want me back or is buried somewhere and no one thought to tell me. So I went to the nearest town to find a job; ain’t no one want to hire a woman ‘cept for in this place. I decided whorin’ was better than starvin’.”

“Real shame. I bet a sweet girl like you could’ve made it in one of those cities back east. Married some big shot, lived life comfortably in one of those fancy city manors.” Bucky hummed. You knew the type of places he was talking about – massive manors filled with staff and shiny, expensive things. Hell, you could imagine Bucky having robbed a place like that while the inhabitants were out at social evenings with the rest of the upper class.

“Maybe. I don’t think I could ever live in a city.” You confess with a shrug. “I like the open air, the emptiness of it all. I don’t get to see it much in this place, but I remember what it was like when I used to go ridin’ all those years ago.”

Bucky’s eyes trailed across your face. “I understand what you mean. I don’t stay in places long, get cold feet. I live in the open; I like traveling without being stuck in one spot.”

“How did you end up livin’ the way you do?” You ask hesitantly, watching his thoughtful expression flicker into a more somber one.

“It ain’t much of a clear story like yours. Absent pa, my momma had it rough raising us kids by herself. I got caught up in bad business, thievin’, killin’ and such. Once I got into it, I didn’t know how to get out. I made friends with similar stories; we all wanted to stay doing what we do so we could look out for each other. All of us just wanna stay out in that open; just keep headin’ west, knowin’ we’ll be buried in a place civilization has yet to meet.” His words were brief, and it was obvious to you that he had more of a connection to the outlaws he surrounded himself with than he did with his own blood.

“Don’t you ever want to settle down some day?” You ask.

“Nah. Once you got the west in your bones, you’re lost to that life.”

You consider his words in silence, drowning out the sounds of other girls working in the surrounding rooms. You understood what he meant; it felt like you hadn’t left those open plains since you first discovered them. You missed riding without a care, the wind tangling your hair as you navigated the emptiness of it all.

“Well. When you’re out there ridin’ in the empty, you’ll think of me? Some sad saloon girl who just wanted to ride out in the open?” You ask, eyes dipping behind your lashes as Bucky flashes you a genuine smile.

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

—

Bucky and his friends hung around longer than both you and the other girls expected. Men like them usually only hung around for a few days or less. From Crowley’s muttering, it seemed the law didn’t show interest in them. Either that or the boys were keeping their heads down.

Most mornings Bucky would come visit you, his two friends switching between drinking and sampling the other girls. Bucky’s eyes never seemed to stray from you, always finding you at the bar with a ‘hey sweetheart’ muttered with the scent of whiskey and leather. You started to enjoy his company, the stories and thoughts the both of you shared.

Every time he visited, he would pay, neatly stacking the coins on the dresser. He always gave double your rate, a rugged smirk and wink sent your way as he slipped out the door. You found yourself waiting and looking for him each day, lingering near the bar until he and his friends sauntered in.

Today was no different than any of your other meetings. Half a bottle of whiskey down, the two of you were talking about thoughts and worries you’d never thought to voice. The summer heat was worse than usual, and the saloon was crowded with working men slick with sweat and tempers to match the scorch outside.

You sat now perched on the windowsill; the window cracked open despite the lack of wind. With your skirts and petticoat bunched up to your thighs to fight the heat, you dangled your legs through the air nonchalantly. A cigarette hanging from your lips as you carelessly stared out at the stretch of blue skies beyond. Bucky had carefully placed his hat on the dresser; his coat peeled off as he watched you from across the room.

“Do you know what time the law go on their lunch break?” Bucky asked into the silence. Often, when a lull presented itself, the outlaw would break the quiet by questioning you about your clients or the townspeople of Sliverton.

“One o’clock, sometimes two if they’re dealin’ with trouble.” You respond easily, exhaling smoke out the window. It took you a beat to think about his question, your eyebrows drawing together. “Why?” You question.

It was an obvious conclusion to be suspicious: why was an outlaw asking about the law’s schedule? You’d noticed how Bucky’s interest often peaked at the mention of the law, the bank tellers, and sometimes even the gunsmith. You had mentioned how the manager of the bank was a cruel man, often leaving the girls with bruises. The group of you would draw lots when he came in, that or hope he would get too drunk to perform.

As for the law, they often mixed business with pleasure. During their lunch break, they would often call down the girls to the sheriff’s office to work while they drank over a game of poker. You had been invited a couple times and mentioned it to Bucky off-hand a few days ago.

“I heard some rumors about a bounty in this area, wanted to stop by when they weren’t… busy.” Bucky replied, a small amount of guilt growing in your chest at your unspoken accusation. The two of you had been open with each other these past weeks.

“A bounty?” You question. “What are you doing gettin’ involved in that business?” You look over at him. The outlaw chuckles under his breath, his callused hand sweeping through his hair as he leans back further in his seat.

“Takes an outlaw to catch an outlaw sometimes, sweetheart.”

You chew on his words for a moment, shrugging with acceptance after not much thought. You could see what he meant; only outlaws were generally cocky enough to risk their lives for coin. That, and they would probably know where another might hide, having lived in their shoes.

“You do that work often?”

“Sometimes,” he hums in reply. “Only when we’re tight for coin.”

You swing your feet down to the wooden floors, your bare skin sticky against the warm wood. Once more, heat envelops your figure as your skirts descend to your shins. Bucky watches with interest as you put out your cigarette, stalking towards where he sits.

“If you’re short, why are you out here spendin’ double on me?” You ask softly, pausing in front of him. His eyes dart upwards, examining your face with a gentle look.

“Sometimes you gotta make sacrifices for a pretty lady.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his words. Normally compliments made your skin crawl and your mouth turn sour, but Bucky had grown on you. Your hand moves towards him before you can think, resting gently on his shoulder.

“I might regret sayin’ this but… I ain’t worried about the money. I do like our chats for other reasons than the coin.” You stumble over your words, a smug smirk growing on Bucky’s face.

“Now, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be putin’ ya out of business talking to a fool like me–” Bucky doesn’t get to finish his words, much to your disappointment. Instead, you jerk back in surprise as the door is thrown open.

In the doorway stands one of Bucky’s friends; you recognized him from his time in the saloon. His face was pink from the heat, and messy blond hair poked out from under his hat. A boyish grin spread across his cracked lips. You noted how large his stature was, nearly taking up the entire door frame. His chest must have been muscled beneath his dirt-stained shirt, his forearms bulging where the fabric had been pulled back to his elbows to combat the heat.

“I see why you spend so much time here, Buck. She’s a pretty little thing, ain’t she?” Steve comments. You swallow thickly, glancing at Bucky, who sighs through his nose in annoyance. Any tenderness has left his expression, replaced with cold annoyance.

“This is Steve.” The outlaw explains to you, getting to his feet. “What is it?”

You recognized that name; Bucky had mentioned Steve over the past weeks. Steve had been one of his childhood friends who had followed him down the path of an outlaw. Bucky had told you how the two would pickpocket so they would have enough to eat. They had robbed and shot their way west; they fucked their way too, apparently. Bucky had mentioned how the two of them enjoyed their ladies, sometimes taking them at the same time in the same room.

You couldn’t help but let your mind linger on that thought as you studied the blond man. His eyes were looking you up and down eagerly, lingering on your pronounced breasts due to your corset.

“Sam… er, Sam needs to talk.” Steve finally responds, hesitant and careful with his words, as if he didn’t want you to know the true meaning behind his interruption. As you look back over at Bucky, who has crossed over to the dresser, he nods at Steve in silent understanding.

You bite your tongue as the two outlaws share an unspoken conversation, Bucky returning his precious hat to his head. As usual, you watch as he stacks double your rate on the end of the dresser, a secret, cocky smirk sent in your direction as he slips into the hallway.

“Why is he payin’ you that much? You got gold between your legs or somethin’?” Steve questions, having glanced at the pile left behind. You simply huff at him, slamming the door shut in his face. Through the door, you can hear him bellow out a laugh.

—

It was a lazy Thursday afternoon when the first shots were heard. Silverton was not unfamiliar with a bit of violence; the occasional exchange of bullets was easy to grow accustomed to. That Thursday was no different, you’d thought, that was until the bullets grew more frequent. Shots rang through the town, sending people scattering into nearby buildings or braving the streets with revolvers in hand.

That increase in sound blasting through the swelteringly hot afternoon was what made you pause. You were upstairs fixing your updo after a client. Placing the last pin between your strands, you moved to walk cautiously into the hallway. Glancing over the staircase railing, you look into the main bar area. Silence had fallen over the saloon, with chairs and tables empty as if the last patrons had fled.

Your eyes land on Charlotte, who stood next to the bar, exchanging a worried conversation with Crowley. Quickly, you glance back down the hallway, noting the girls and guests who peeked their heads from their rooms in similar morbid curiosity.

It felt wrong to linger upstairs listening to the massacre below; instead, you found yourself opting to join Charlotte and Crowley. As you descend the stairs, carefully lifting your skirts so as not to trip on them, Charlotte peaks up at you.

“Somebody’s robbin’ the bank.” She quickly explains, catching your nervous expression. A bit of relief floods your veins. As loud and violent as that could be, the robbers weren’t likely to hang around for a drink.

“Sounds like a slaughter out there.” You grumble in reply, finding your usual spot by the bar. Crowley looked mostly unphased, shining his glasses with a faint shake of his head. “You think they’re gonna get away with it?”

“Old man Billy ran by and said they ambushed the sheriff's office before they headed to the bank.” Crowley cuts in, placing the now-clean glass down. “Guessin’ there's still a few of them alive if they’re still shootin’. Pretty smart of them robbers to get them while they were on lunch break.”

A pit of dread grows in your stomach, your eyes glancing to the clock above the bar. Quarter past one.

“Were any of our girls down that way?” Charlotte asks with worry, but your focus was instead turned to the dusty road outside. You hoped, if not prayed, that if you caught a glimpse of those robbers, it would not be Bucky and his friends. You couldn’t help but feel a crawling guilt, the possibility that maybe you had been duped into giving an outlaw information. You could not handle the deaths of so many on your shoulders. You knew if your careless words had caused it, it would be squarely your fault.

“No, thank God. Law sent word they didn’t want girls today. Maybe they knew somethin’ was up.” Crowley replies, but you are hardly present in the conversation, instead shifting closer towards the window. You knew it was dangerous, but the pit of worry and guilt was growing in your stomach; you just needed confirmation.

Charlotte let out a sudden and piercing scream as one of the saloon’s windows shattered, a stray bullet richoeing and landing in one of the tables with a thud. “Get away from the windows!” she shrieks at you.

Only as your brain recognizes the danger do you move away, rigidly walking to Charlotte’s side once more. The woman grabs at your arm, beginning to tug you behind the bar as you cast one last glance out the windows.

Nausea crawls in your stomach, and bile rises in your throat as Charlotte tugs you to the floor behind the bar. Amongst the gunshots and dead bodies, you saw the group of masked figures emerge from the bank onto the streets. Just a brief moment, a glance, and your world was left spiraling as your breathing grew faster and ragged. Any other person may have looked at those figures and been oblivious, but you had spent weeks tucked away in the upstairs room with Bucky. You could recognize him even with a mask on, with his muscled form and leather hat. Bucky was out there, standing over dead bodies with a shotgun in hand. And it was all your fault.

Conversations long past swirl in your mind; how many times had Bucky shifted the topic to be about the law, the bank tellers, or the townsfolk of Silverton? How many times had he tricked you into revealing information that wasn’t supposed to go beyond your ears? So many times clients had confided in you, and you had just passed on the information like it were some inside joke between the two of you.

Charlotte flinched and trembled beside you as the gunshots and shouting grew louder. You could only stare at the clock above and spiral. Crowley remained in place, cleaning glasses with a cold expression as if he alone could ward off any evil.

Outside, the voices grew louder and angrier.

“Well, it ain’t me who shot the doctor!”

“He can’t ride like this!”

“You better be fuckin’ right about this Barnes or we’re all dead!”

Charlotte's hands dug into your arms, pulling you closer as the wooden planks of the boardwalk outside grew alive with the sound of stomping boots. Crowley’s glass cleaning paused as the saloon doors were slammed open in a hurry. Crowley’s mouth opened, meaning to speak to the men who had just stormed in. No words came out; instead, the spray of blood, chunks of flesh, and skull decorated the surrounding area as a bullet was fired directly into his skull.

Beside you, Charlotte shrieks once more as Crowley's body slumped to the floor with a hollow thud. You clamp your hand over her mouth, shushing her as you pull her closer. Your body is trembling, and bile is still stuck in your throat. You try not to focus on the way that Crowley’s brain matter had sprayed across your skin, dewy drops of crimson like a mist. You could feel the moisture, smell and taste the copper in the air. All you could do was try to keep as quiet as possible as the armed outlaws prowled only feet away.

The next thing to catch your attention is the sound of groaning and hissing, the unmistakable sound of someone in pain. Chairs and tables screech as if they are being pulled together while bullets still rain outside. You try to blindly piece the scene together in your mind, trying to understand why the outlaws had gathered here with lawmen so closely on their tail.

“They can’t hold them off for long out there. One of the law got away; we reckon he’s headed up Deadwood way to get back up.” A woman's voice shouts over the chaos.

“Where’s your girl then, Barnes? Better be worth it.” A male voice snaps. Through Charlotte's panting and the gunshots, you can hear the thunder of boots storming up the stairs.

“Someone get me some fuckin’ whiskey.” The injured man speaks through gritted teeth. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, hoping whoever goes to retrieve the liquor doesn’t spot both you and Charlotte quivering in the corner. You press your back harder against the bar, pulling Charlotte closer into your side as she lays her head across your chest while silent sobs shake her body.

“Barnes! Hurry up!” The woman shouts up the stairs in annoyance, only to be met with no reply. The gunshots outside began to slow, the law seemed to be losing this shootout.

Heavy boots fall closer, a large figure rounds the corner of the bar. To your horror, he spots the two of you immediately, and even worse, it’s Steve. You recognize him quickly, with his sunburnt cheeks and blond hair and a mask still tied around his neck. His expression was one of relief but also of worry. When you last saw him, he was all smirks and flirting. You imagined it was probably a sight to see both you and Charlotte trembling behind the bar, covered in the contents of Crowley’s skull.

“She’s here, Buck.” Steve called out, your blood turning to ice.

A few days ago, you wouldn’t have been afraid of Steve or Bucky. Foolish, you now realize. It was foolish to get so close to danger and not feel her power. You didn’t know what these outlaws wanted from you, but you weren’t going to give it easily.

Steve stepped over Crowley’s body, and you shake your head. Beside you, Charlotte began to sob loudly, her nails digging into your skin. Between her panicked breathing, you could’ve sworn she was chanting, ‘Please God, I don’t want to die.’ under her breath. The woman you had once known was gone, in complete submission to fear. No more coy smiles and soft touches; no more fearlessness in the face of dangerous men. Charlotte was terrified, and so were you.

“Don’t touch me.” You warn Steve, but he ignores your request. His large hands wrap around Charlotte’s waist, tugging her away. She let out a terrified scream, grabbing and scratching at your arms in an attempt to hold on. Steve’s arms proved stronger, finally wrenching Charlotte away and ushering her away.

Steve’s attention now turned to you, a gruff sigh leaving his nose as he noticed your defiant look. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, pretty girl.”

You shove his hands away, the two of you briefly struggling before Steve finally finds a grip around your waist and hoists you to your feet.

“I said don’t fuckin’ touch me!” You shout at the blond, shoving and hitting at his chest. He grumbles in annoyance, trying to grasp your arms to stop the movement. Behind you, Charlotte is making a noise somewhere behind a sob and a scream as one of the unfamiliar men drags her out from behind the bar.

You back away further from Steve, still shoving and pushing him away. Only when your back meets something warm and solid does he stop his advance. Spinning around, you stand face-to-face with Bucky. His scent is the same: leather, but this time with a dash of gunpowder. Small blood splatters decorate his skin and clothing. As he grasps your wrists to stop your struggle, you unconsciously note how his knuckles are bruised and split.

“No...” is all you manage to utter, Bucky tilting his head with a frown as tears begin to streak down your face. You had been foolish enough to trust him and his rugged, handsome looks. You had blindly answered his questions without a care for the consequences because he had been kind and mysterious. He had told you himself he was an outlaw, a bad man. Now how many lives weighed on you too? Even Crowley’s blood was on your hands, literally and metaphorically.

Bucky’s hand reached up tenderly to wipe the tears from your cheek, his frown only deepening as you flinched away from his touch.

“As touchin’ as this is, we don’t have the time for this, Barnes.” The woman’s voice from earlier spoke up. Now that you are standing, you could look over to see her. She had a wicked look, messy red hair, and a cut across her cheek. A rifle slung across her shoulder, a revolver, and a knife at her hip. She assessed you with a look of annoyance, a scowl painted across her sharp lips.

With an annoyed grunt, Bucky obliged the woman’s request. His hand wrapped around your wrist as he tugged you back onto the main floor. You tried to ignore the hole in Crowley’s face as you were forced to step over his body, your shoes slipping in the pool of slick blood gathering on the wood floors.

“What do you want? You comin’ in here to kill us all too?” You ask, your voice raspy from the tears. Charlotte lingered near the staircase, still sobbing, as a younger man growled in annoyance at the sound.

“You think I’m here to kill you after everythin’, sweetheart? No. I need your help with somethin’.” Bucky questions, sounding a bit dismayed at your sudden fear. You swallow hard, trying to contain the tears that continue to freely stream down your face.

“Crowley is dead.”

“Yeah, well, that was unfortunate.” He grumbles, displeased.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” You snap at him.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I need ya to stitch up my friend here.” Bucky shrugs off your insult, instead tilting his head in the direction of a bloody sight. Your body shakes with each step, and you feel as if you are only held upright by Bucky’s firm grip, guiding you to a set of tables that have been pulled together. On top lies a man, older and with greasy black hair. Blood stains his shirt, and there is an obvious bullet wound in his lower abdomen. Sweat beads line his brow, his eyebrows drawn together as he battles the pain. You stare at him speechless, watching as Steve returns from behind the bar with a bottle of whiskey.

“Here ya are, Stark.” The blond mutters, shaking his head, as the injured man eagerly chugs the liquor down. For the pain, you think. He’s drinking it for the pain. You try to attach yourself to thoughts and knowledge you recognize, distracting the noise in your brain in the hopes that your hands and legs will stop trembling. You can barely think, and Bucky wants you to stitch him up?

Charlotte’s wailing doesn’t help your case, nor does it seem to quell the tempers rising in the room. Stark speaks up between gulps of whiskey. “Someone, for the love of God, stop her wailing or shoot the damn woman!”

The younger, twitchy man makes a loud noise of agreement, revolver in hand, as he points it directly at Charlotte’s forehead. Charlotte’s sobbing becomes uncontrollable, curling in on herself as she wraps her arms around her middle in defense. Your breath comes short, and your shaking hands grip Bucky’s bicep for comfort as you watch in horror.

“Her daddy was shot–” You suddenly blurt out, capturing the attention of the younger man. “He was shot in front of her; this type’a stuff upsets her. You understand?” Your tone was desperate, near begging. You don’t know why you said it, but you hoped maybe the man would have sympathy for her. Charlotte had confided in you about nightmares once; you didn’t know who else knew about the darkness in her life. The young man stares at you for a moment, his hand running over the non-existent stubble with an irritated sigh.

“You women are so fragile.” He mutters, raising the gun and striking the metal across Charlotte’s face. You gasp involuntarily, ducking your head so your cheek is pressed against Bucky’s chest. Charlotte’s wailing finally comes to a stop; instead, she only sniffles quietly as she holds a hand to her face in shock.

“Leave it, Parker.” Steve growls, prowling across the room, placing himself between Parker and Charlotte. Parker throws his hands up in surrender, instead stalking across the room to where some of the other nameless outlaws had gathered to keep watch.

Stark growls in annoyance from the tables once more, the mixture of pain and whiskey elevating his rage. “Trust pretty boy Rogers to be a fuckin’ gentleman. I’ll shoot the bitch myself even with this bullet in me.”

“Barnes.” The red-headed woman warns, sensing the rising tension and passing time.

“What do you need to stitch him up?” Bucky pressed with questions more urgently; it was clear time was running out and stalling would end in bloodshed.

“I can’t–” You mutter over your panicked breathing.��

“Your pa was a doctor.” Bucky interrupts. “You told me yourself that you used to stitch fools up when he was too drunk to do it himself.”

“It’s been years–”

“What do you need?” Bucky’s voice was more firm, demanding even. You note how the other outlaws lingered nearby, twitchy and ready to pull the trigger at any moment. If you continued to stall, you would surely die. So would Charlotte. You would just have to stitch Stark up as quickly as possible, and then danger would finally leave your home.

“Clean water, cloth, and a sewing kit too.” You gasp out. “They’re upstairs in my room; the sewing kit is in the dresser.”

“Good girl.” Mumbles to you lowly, your stomach twisting as the gravelly sound. Bucky’s gaze raises to meet Steve, who quickly bounds up the stairs to retrieve the objects.

“Must be the end of times if we’re trustin’ a whore to stitch me up.” Stark grumbles from below, you sigh heavily through your nose, trying to calm your shaking hands. Beside you, Bucky tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, as if trying to comfort you. Somehow, it gives you the courage to breathe again.

“You’re gonna want to lay off that whiskey.” You instruct Stark with a small sniff, fishing the bottle from his grip and wiping your tear-stained face. “You don’t wanna be chuckin’ that back up with a bullet in your gut, trust me.”

Stark barks out a pained, drunken laugh in response. “Alright, little lady.” His eyes swept over to Bucky. “She always this commandin’? This why you like her in bed, Barnes?”

Bucky lets out a sound resembling a snarl, but Steve's arrival bearing the requested items muffles any retaliation. You willed your hands to stay steady as you approached Stark, who was still writhing in pain on the table. Your father had called it ‘the calm’ or even ‘God's will’ when a doctor could quieten his worries to have a steady hand while stitching. You’d never believed in his spoutings until that moment, burying the anxiety of the situation as you instead focused your attention on the injury before you.

With the bloodied shirt pulled up, you turned him slightly to inspect his back. No exit wound. A sharp sigh left your nose as you realized you’d have to dig around and find the bullet yourself and pray it hadn’t burst into more than one piece. Wetting some of the clean cloth, you use it to wipe away the blood from the skin, giving yourself a better view of the entry. Stark tenses and squirms involuntarily beneath your touch, hissing through clenched teeth.

Your eyes flicker upward toward Bucky and Steve, catching their attention. “I need help holdin’ him down; he’s not gonna stay still even if he wants to.”

Stark seems irritated by your assumptions but keeps his mouth shut. The men are quick to assist you, with two men holding down his legs while Bucky and Steve take his arms and chest. You keep your eyes downcast as you easily unlatch Stark’s belt.

“Bite.” You guide the injured man, placing the leather belt between his teeth. You’d heard stories of men biting through their own tongues, even shattering their teeth in the height of pain. Best not to take the risk.

You take the bottle of whiskey, splashing the liquor over your hands before pausing before the wound. You glance over at Stark’s face; there is a look of determination in his eye as he nods for you to proceed.

Stark’s body reacts instantly to the liquor, jerking against the hands that held him in place. His groans and screams are muffled through the belt as he bites down, his face growing red. Your hands are steady, and your fingers are nimble and quick as you blindly dig through the wound. Muscle constricts around your fingers, hot and sticky against your skin.

Your heartbeat is in your ears as you search, drowning out the muffled screaming and the puffing of the men as they use all their might to restrain Stark’s squirming and jolts. Your fingers dig deeper, and a small worry grows in your gut that maybe you might not be able to locate the bullet. Blood spills from the wound, slippery copper sliding down his side and splashing onto the tables below. Your heart is in your mouth, the screams growing worse–

Your finger brushes something solid and hard; the object is slippery and small in comparison to the muscle and organ. It takes a few tries to grasp it between your fingers, with the sleek metal proving difficult to grip.

A sharp sigh of relief leaves your body as you successfully fish it from the wound, the metal clattering to the table. Thankfully, you note that the bullet is also whole. Blood paints your skin; all you can do is wash it away with the water while Stark pants in relief.

“How much longer?” The redhead woman asks; she has moved to linger near the doors. Outside, a few men hover with guns, as if expecting more law to turn up at any moment.

“It is small; it won’t take long to stitch.” You explain, your hands remaining steady as you begin to thread one of the larger needles.

The woman nods. “Make it quick.”

You follow her demands, quickly dousing the wound once more with whiskey. Stark groans, his head lulling from the mixture of drunkenness and exhaustion. If he were one of your father’s patients, maybe you would’ve comforted him and told him it was nearly over. But you were reminded of Charlotte still sniveling by the stairs, Crowley’s head blown open, and his body still slumped behind the bar.

Empathy evades you as you dig the needle into his flesh, your mouth set into a line as you easily pull the skin together with each stitch. Stark continues to jerk and shake, his body still held steady by the outlaws who watch your movements with interest.

Within minutes, you have tied off the thread, successfully putting Stark back together again. The outlaws seem silently relieved, if not surprised, by your efficiency as you wrap one of the clean strips of cloth around his middle like a bandage.

“He will be able to ride?” Bucky asks as you turn back to the bowl of water, cleaning your bloodied hands.

“The stitches will hold as long as you don’t ride too hard.” You respond, not quite meeting his eye. “If the wound keeps bleedin’ or starts festerin’ don’t give him whiskey. You can find yarrow and greasewood herbs out in the wild; they’ll help him best.”

The redhead woman makes a sound at your words, swinging around to face you. “What does a whore know about herbs? Your doctor daddy taught you that, or ya tryna poison us?”

You pause your movements, biting your tongue at her harsh tone. “I read it in a book.” You admit sheepishly.

The room is silent before Stark surprisingly roars with laughter, clutching his wound as he wheezes with pain at the sudden movement. “A whore that can read? Now that is a treat. What’s next? You can do arithmetic?”

You ignore his quip, instead drying your hands on the remaining cloth. Your father had made sure you could read, though that was before he spiraled into an early grave. Your cousin had helped you as well, the older boy providing you with stories and adventures to consume. You missed the simplicity of those days, riding the horse and moving the cattle without a care for the real world.

You were pulled away from your thoughts as Bucky gently touched your arm, seemingly having forgotten your new-found distaste for him. You flinch away from his touch like a skittish animal, sidestepping as you quickly depart his side in favor of Charlotte’s. The woman was still crouched near the staircase, shivering, with a large bruise developing across her cheek and her lip split and bloody.

You can feel Steve hovering nearby, his expression cold as he watched you usher Charlotte to her feet. You knew his irritation wasn’t with you or Charlotte but rather with Parker, who had struck the woman.

“Is she going to be–” Steve begins to question as you guide Charlotte up the first few steps. You look back, scowling over your shoulder at the outlaw.

“Don’t.” You hiss at him, watching as he nods in meek surrender.

Charlotte is slow to walk; her footsteps are clumsy as she shivers and whimpers in your arms. The redhead woman watches the both of you with an expression of distaste. Below the men gather their wits and guns, Stark teeters in place as he gets to his feet with a cocky expression. His gaze follows the woman's, dark eyes landing on the both of you, lingering a few steps up.

“Hold on there, little lady!” Stark booms up, his words still slightly slurred from the liquor and exhaustion. Charlotte freezes in place, hands clasped rigidly on your arms. You glance back at Stark, hoping he means to just announce their departure instead of demanding your skills once more.

“There ain't no doctors out in the wild; what am I supposed to do if this wound splits open? Get one of these fools to stitch it up?” He asks, his mouth curled into a cruel smile. The outlaws shift their weight, as if they are also unsure as to where this is going.

“Find another town to terrorize?” You suggest tugging Charlotte so she is positioned behind you, hidden from their view.

“Nah…” Stark drawls, staggering a few steps, a revolver swinging on his finger. “I think… it would be easier if you just came along with us.”

“What?” Bucky and the redhead woman bark in unison before you can react. Your grip on Charlotte tightens, blocking out the bickering between the outlaws below as you tilt your head to whisper to her.

“Run.” You mutter, dragging Charlotte up the stairs behind you. You had no plan other than to escape. There was no point in fighting out the front door, instead you would have to risk climbing out one of the upstairs windows–

A shot rings out behind you, and Charlotte's body suddenly becomes a dead weight. You can feel the spray of moisture across the back of your neck, but don’t dare turn to see the sight.

“Did you really need to do that?” Steve shouts from somewhere below, the sound of unfamiliar, wicked laughter carrying up the stairs. Your heartbeat is so loud you can’t hear anything else, only the distorted voices of the outlaws below. Your mouth tastes like blood as you top the stairs, gripping the railing as you turn to race down the hallway.

A pair of hands grasp around your middle, tugging you backward. A scream, louder and more violent than any of Charlotte's, leaves your throat as you thrash in the grip, scratching and kicking as the chuckling man carries you down the stairs.

“You sure you want her, Stark? She seems like a handful.” The unfamiliar outlaw carrying you asks.

“Don’t look so pressed, Barnes. My aim’s good enough not to shoot your girl. You got a real thing for her, haven’t ya?” Parker remarks with a grin.

Sobs escape you as you struggle in the crushing grip of the outlaw, any sense of your father’s mythical ‘calm’ or ‘Gods will’ leaving your body. Animal instinct takes over; Charlotte was dead. Crowley was dead. In a blind panic, you bite down on the arm of your captor, the man yelping in pain and dropping you instantly.

Your knees bite with pain as you slam into the hard, wooden floors. After stumbling to your feet, you turn to resume your escape. Your attempt is short-lived, as you are stopped by a familiar body. Leather and gunpowder. You bury your head into his chest, exhaustion and fear taking over as you silently beg Bucky to protect you.

“See! She’s got the spirit. We’ll make an outlaw out of you yet.” Stark remarks with another cruel laugh. “And if your stitching proves useless, you can always prove your worth with what's between your legs.”

The redhead woman lets out an annoyed grumble at that, and over the cackling of the men, you hear her march out of the saloon to ready the horses.

“Come on,” Bucky mutters to you, guiding you towards the door. You dig in your feet, nausea rising as you watch the men mount their horses through the windows.

“I don’t want to.” You sobbed quietly. The brunet outlaw sighs, his movements hesitating as if he were conflicted.

“I can’t do anything to change Stark’s mind–”

“And when you deem me useless? Are you going to shoot me like Crowley, like… like Charlotte?” Your voice quivers and shakes; your vision blurred from the tears streaming down your face. You had hated this place; you had felt its evilness and oppression. But it was your home; it held your friends. You weren’t ready to leap into the unknown or trust these men who had hurt you. To trust Bucky, who had tricked and betrayed you.

“This is not how this was supposed to go.” Bucky mutters under his breath, then, without asking, scoops you over his shoulder to forcefully carry you from the building. Through sobs, you squirm, his shoulder digging into your stomach as you watch the saloon slowly be ripped away from you with each step.

“Put me down.” You gasp at him as he finally exits the building. “Bucky– Bucky please just put me down–”

The outlaw obliges, dumping you on your feet next to a horse. “Get on.” He instructs.

You shake your head, pushing at his chest. “No.”

“Get on the horse.” He demands once more, guiding you towards the horse’s side.

You begin to push him away harder, with the other outlaws watching as you sob between hitting and struggling as Bucky tries to persuade you to get on the horse. His patience seems to quickly grow thin, and the watchful eyes of his peers grow equally impatient with hateful sneers.

His hands move quickly, grasping your wrists and tugging you closer to his chest. You freeze as he lowers his head, his hat brushing your hair as he whispers in your ear.

“If you don’t get on, these boys are gonna tie you up and drag you behind. We don’t want that, do we now? So what is it, all tied up or sitting pretty, sweetheart?” His gravelly, low voice sends a shudder down your spine, your eyelids fluttering shut briefly.

“I’ll get on.” You mutter back quietly, pulling back. Bucky nods, pleased, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek.

“Good choice.”

With a shuddering breath, you grip the horn of the saddle, swinging your legs over to mount the horse. It had been months since you last rode, but the muscle memory remained embedded deep in your mind. Bucky was quick to mount up too, his body sliding in behind you while one of his hands lazily wrapped around your waist, reins in the other.

The band of outlaws were quick to move once everyone was situated, with fearful townsfolk peering out their windows as the herd moved past in a cloud of dust. You tried to ignore the dead bodies that lined the street, their blood staining the loose dirt. You couldn’t let your brain slip into a dark place, thinking of Crowley and Charlotte still warm in the saloon. A nauseous feeling of dread consumed your being as you noted the blood still splattering up your arms and dress, the rocking motion of the cantering horse beneath you not helping.

You found yourself leaning back into Bucky, the only sturdy thing nearby. Your head lay back against his shoulder as you looked up at the blue skies above, the heat beating down on your exposed skin.

The pace only slowed as the outlaws felt they had traveled far enough to evade any lawmen acting as backup. The heat had grown unbearable the further you drew from civilization; these wilds were not the ones you had frequented as a teen. There were no rivers, forests, or grass. There was only dirt, sand, and heat. These were what men meant when they spoke of the west, pure, untamed country.

Bucky had hardly spoken, leaving you alone in your grief and sickness. He held you steady as you silently cried. Even when you could cry no more and your eyes rolled back from the heat, he continued to hold you steady, ensuring his horse kept an even gait.

The silence was finally broken as Steve slowed his horse, falling in step with the two of you at the back of the party.

“She ain’t looking too great, Buck.” The blond commented, leaning in his saddle to inspect you closer. You shied away from his eyes, pressing closer to Bucky.

“It’s the heat.” Bucky murmured in response, his gaze fixed ahead. The redhead woman had slowed her own horse, glancing back at the interaction with interest.

“Here.” Steve says, retrieving a waterskin from the pack on his saddle. Unscrewing the top, he passes it to Bucky, who in turn offers it to you. You groan, pushing the offer away. At that moment, you’d have rather become one with the bleached bones of the desert.

Bucky huffs sharply, lifting the waterskin to your lips.

“Drink,” he commands. “You lost too much energy crying and wailing back there.”

As soon as the earthy, warm water graces your lips, a survival instinct kicks in, and you greedily take a few gulps before finding the strength to push the waterskin away. Bucky seems happy enough with the amount you have taken, passing it back to Steve.

The blond man shakes his head while screwing the top back on. “I don’t know what Stark was thinkin’ Buck; I don’t think she’s gonna make it out here.”

Bucky seems to sigh at that, giving Steve a sidelong look. “She’ll be fine.”

Steve shrugs, nudging his horse forward to catch up with the redhead woman. Through your squinted eyes, you make out the two of them exchanging some hushed words.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Steve don’t know what he’s talking about.” Bucky reassures you, one of his large hands patting your thigh.

“What if he’s right?” You question, your voice cracked and raspy.

“There’s no need to worry.” He says it with a hum, accompanied by a small squeeze of your thigh. “I’ll look after you, pretty lady.”

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fic #james buchanan barnes #marvel au #marvel #cowboy au #western au

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gabessquishytum · 10 months

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The year is 1889. Hob Gadling is a realtor in London who because of the death of his wife has drunk himself into a small amount of debt. One day a letter held closed by a wax seal picturing a raven in flight.

The letter explains that a Transylvanian Count named Dream is hoping to purchase Hobs most expensive estate for double the price. The only caveat is that Hob will have to make the journey to the Count’s castle to help him with the paperwork. While the Count gives many good reasons why he himself can’t come to London or simply have Hob mail the documents to him, Hobs gut reaction is to simply burn the parchment and carry on with his day. But the fare has already been paid for by his potential client and his coffers are nearly empty. So off he heads for the back country of Transylvania.

After a montage of travel shenanigans including: meeting an American cowboy named Ollie (who absolutely blows his back out), the inn keepers wife giving him a rosary, and a blond carriage driver with darkened glasses who seems quite comfortable with the pack of wolves that run along side the buggy, he finds himself stepping into the gloomy castle.

And on the steps of the grand staircase holding a tarnished candelabra stands a willowy figure, dressed in fine black clothing covering skin as white as a pearl, staring at him with eyes the same shade as the ruby jewel hanging around his neck.

The regal man speaks after a moment “I am Dream.”

“Oh” breathes Hob taking off his hat, his gazing transfixed on the ethereal creature before him “It- it’s really good to see you.”

“I bid you welcome.”

A sexually tense week later finds them sat in the parlor celebrating with cigars and wine for completing the paperwork, Hob begins to tell the Count his life’s story, why he became a realtor after being a soldier in the queens army, and how after the death of his entire family and then his wife his greatest wish was that he never had to die.

Suddenly Dream leans in close, lips mere inches away from Hobs own. “What if I told you I could grant you that wish?” Dreams nails begin to trace along the veins in Hobs neck “All ask is for you to stay by my side, fear me, love me, obey me, and I will be your slave.”

Enraptured by Dreams eyes Hob can do little else but nod. The next thing he knows Dream is biting into his neck, yet somehow with every mouthful of blood Dream takes from him he feels more and more pleasure consuming him. Just as he is about to die from blood loss Dream slices the palm of his hand and allows the black blood to trickle into Hobs mouth. That night, they consummate their unholy matrimony both covered in blood with Hob tied to the bedposts being made to come on Dreams cock over and over and over again.

Hob returns to London, having left a barely middle class man he now attends parties only available for the highest of society, dressed in full silk and satin white dress, arm and arm with a handsome gothic benefactor.

No one dares to question the litter of bite marks and scars that cover Hobs neck and shoulders after seeing how sharp the Counts teeth are. Anyone who tries shame or insult Hob about his choice in fashion are found dead in some dirty alleyway the next morning. And the one man who dared to try and flirt with Hob was found strung across London bridge with the words mine carved into his chest.

Dream couldn’t stop fucking Hob to reinstate his claim for a whole two nights after that incident, filling Hob with his seed and shoving a crystal plug in to make sure none of it could leak out during the opera they are to attend.

Hob is just happy to have found his calling as Dreams eternally devoted and throughly fucked spouse.

-☘️

I gotta say, I ADORE the way you've written this! Who doesn't love a Dracula AU! I love how you've stuck close to the book, it really does work!

I love the image of Hob is his beautiful white dress, enjoying the fanciest parties. Wearing long white gloves and glittering with diamonds. He never lets go of Dream’s arm for a minute, and Dream really does take care of him with the most devoted care.

At one of those parties, they happen to come across Ollie - no longer in his cowboy gear but dressed in his finest and making his way as a society artist. Although Dream usually hates it when any man pays Hob an ounce of attention, he seems quite taken with Ollie's southern charms. He even asks Ollie to paint him and Hob as a celebration of their anniversary.

It's the first time Dream allows anyone to get involved in the action of their bedchamber. Turns out, Ollie isn't quite as human as he might appear (if vampires exist, Hob realises, it only makes sense that there are other creatures of the night. I'm imagining Ollie as a werewolf, but he could be something else). He watches in rapture as Dream feeds Hob on blood and cum, fucking him so hard that Hob’s legs tremble when he tries to stand up afterwards. Ollie gets a chance to eat him out and lick the cool, delicious seed from inside Hob’s raw, sloppy hole.

But in the end, it's Dream who owns Hob’s newly immortal heart. They live in debauched luxury, feeding mainly from the criminals that lurk in the shadows of London. Hob likes to think that he's keeping the streets clean and doing the locals a favour. Dream frankly doesn't care - as long as Hob is his, nothing else matters.

#☘ anon #the sandman #dreamling #hoblethros #hobstruction #nsft #cw blood

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ghouljams · 5 months

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winter weather is making me super soft and needy, even though I live alone 😭

could you share which excerpts in any of your pieces that mean a lot to you? could be just the writing itself or its significance to the story

Yes absolutely I can. This is going to get long I can just feel it lol

The entirety of "A Small Quiet Moment" for Cowboy!Ghost means a lot to me, I think it's an excellent moment in his story of growth. It's a solid healthy change. But more specifically: "There are no bullets flying at him here, no mercenaries to betray him, no bombs or end of the world scenarios. Just his boots, and his hat, and a well worn mask that he seems to wear more out of habit than necessity these days." Is just so *chef's kiss* to me. Like he's safe, and he's comfortable, and he's accepted that it's what's best for him.

In that same cowboy vein: "I could do it with you," he tells you, and your heart could burst at how soft and honest he sounds, "I'm better with you." Is my favorite line I've written for Ghost. It's so core to his story in the au, and it speaks volumes to just who he is as a person. He's someone that's always claimed to work better alone, but somehow always has a partner. I think about him telling jokes with Soap in MW2 and wonder if Ghost knows how desperately he wants to belong to someone. He gets that with Goose and he is truly better with her. "Better together" as they say in the baby fic.

Fae!Price and Witch's whole story is just near and dear to my heart but I do have pieces that I cherish above others, and things that I consider to be steps in their relationship that I don't think anyone else noticed.

There's a short exchange in "Testing the Threshold" that I particularly like:

"Why do you do that?" Price asks, and again you feel the threshold almost... part for him. It seems to thin at least. You'll have to fix that.

"Do what?"

"Disagree with me."

Which feels very much indicative of their relationship up to that point. Because it isn't just that Witch disagrees with him it's that she always disagrees with him, even when he's talking about her. He calls her overprotective and means it as a joke but she refutes it immediately. She's almost playful with him up to this point, she doesn't take him seriously and Price sort of realizes that here. He lets his smoke slip free, shows her that he can get his magic into the garden, that he's obeying her rules for her not himself. At the same time there's this sense that he knows she's disagreeing with him because she likes him, she's comfortable with him. IDK it's such a short fic but I have so many thoughts on it.

Then in the follow up fic we have more of Price begging Witch to realize he likes her:

“It shouldn’t do that,” You look up at him finally, moving closer to inspect the air between you, “Are you doing something to it?”

“What would I be doing?” He asks, and you don’t really have an answer for that. You hum, upset that you don’t know. “Come on smart girl,” Price mumbles, you shake your head.

That short "Come on smart girl" fucking KILLS ME. HE WANTS HER TO KNOW. He wants her to know that he's pushing her wards, that they're starting to let him through. He wants her to figure it out, she's smart, he knows she's smart. But it's again this sense from Witch that she doesn't see Price as a threat. And if he were smarter he'd see that as the compliment that it is. She likes him, even when she's warding against him she likes him. Her magic likes him, it wants him close. Witch's magic is always more honest than she is and it responds to her wishes even when she doesn't know what those are.

Also Price mentally calling Witch "wickedly clever" is just... god he's in love with her. Yet at the end of the fic he goes back to thinking with his dick, he can't fully conceptualize that he wants her more than just physically. He's never been in love before but it's there, his feelings shine through in every interaction with Witch.

This isn't exactly a fic quote but every Witch fic where she leans over and Price peaks down her shirt. Good great, she doesn't realize it the first few times but by the end she's doing it on purpose. IDK just that small appreciation from Price literally every time makes me giggle.

This line from "Invisible Claims": "He kisses you like it's special every time, like he'll never get another chance for it." Just drives me insane. Like fucking of course he does, of course Price grabs Witch every time like it'll be the last time. He's so far gone for her.

Last I'm going to grab something from fae!Ghost. Love giving him her last name that soft "you can take mine." Is so lovely to me. Just the unthinking care behind the gesture. The assurance, the claim over Ghost, the "it doesn't matter what happened in the past you're mine now" that it signifies. I feel like it says a lot about Love's character and that was before she was "named." That to me is where Ghost and Love are truly shown to be in love. It's not just obsession, it's not just codependency, they're truly in love. Much like Price with Witch, Love is offering to take Ghost's burden, she's offering him salvation and a fresh start. Here's her name, he can be something new, he can be something loved for the rest of his life.

Anyway there are my thoughts and faves. <3

#ghoul speaks #writing analysis #for my own dumbass fic no less #I have a million favorite things #The Price/Witch sex fic is my favorite too but I don't want to analyze that rn #too much to analyze lol

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l3viat8an · 10 months

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Thinkin’ about more cowboy!au but with Belphie

Lil bit more nsfw this time

Belphie groans as he jolts awake, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He glances up at you through half-lidded eyes and grumbles. "What do ya want? Can't a guy take a damn nap around here?"

He sits up and stretches, before settling back into the pile of blankets. He looks up at you and tilts his head to the side slightly, a small smirk on his face, when he see you getting ready to saddle your horse. "Or did ya come to ride me instead of yer horse again?" (cuz ofc he’s sleeping in the horse barn lol)

“Belphie shut up!” You turn away from the horse and are about to walk over and slap him (never hard and he’ll catch your hand before you can, but you always try) but instead you just shake your head and turn away again. “Aww, c’mon now sweetheart. Yer always so sweet to Beel and so mean ta me.”

Belphie stops talking for a second and then you can hear a light chuckle, so you look back over at him asking, “What? What are you thinking about now?” “Well, yer always so mean ta me until yer underneath me with those pretty little tears in yer eyes.”

The smirk never left his lips and he obviously enjoyed watching you turn red, “Belphie just shut up!” you shout and he finally stands up.

Making his way towards you, “Make me sweetheart~”

Cowboy! Beel here

#he’s a bit of an asshole 🤭#obey me cowboy!au #obey me!#obey me #om!#obmswd #obey me x reader #obey me belphie x reader #obey me belphie #obey me belphie smut #obey me smut #obmswd belphie #obmswd belphie x reader #om! belphegor #om! belphie #om! x reader #om! smut #obey me belphegor #roro writes

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bidisasterevankinard · 7 months

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Wip Wednesday 👑🔥

tagged by @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @daffi-990 @forthewolves thank you <3333333

more from king Eddie and Lord Buckley au

Eddie lets the moan from the idea and his light stimulation slip from his mouth and he sees how Buck tries to turn to him. “Do not look at me. Only at the stars,” Buck’s head stays half turned for some seconds and Eddie is ready to think about punishment Buck would receive for obeying his order right now, but blue-eyed turns away again and Eddie smiles in approval knowing his lover can not see it so he speaks. “Obeying to the orders you were given is so good, my love. You look so beautiful in this position. But imagine someone seeing you from the street,” loud moan escapes his lover, but he does not try to touch himself, knowing too well he can not without permission. And even if they both know there is no street under this balcony, it does not mean he is going to stop making this fantasy. “Imagine someone going out too late and see their Lord, second most powerful man in this kingdom, being bent over the balcony completely naked. Do you think they would suspect it is me behind you? Would they think you in this position because what is how you had this job? Do you think they would gossip that Lord Evan Buckley, King’s right hand, is just King’s courtesan?” The moan which spreads from the sea and goes into the distance, absolutely falls into the collection of the sounds that his lover ever made. This is a loud moan in which desire and desperation are heard, and Eddie just strokes himself more.

tagging @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @eddiediaztho @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @pirrusstuff @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @buddierights @911onabc @fatedking @mandzuking17 @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @rogerzsteven @cowboy-buddie @lover-of-mine @housewifebuck @spotsandsocks @devirnis @spaceprincessem @wildlife4life

#apparently i can only write smut with feeling recently #cause well i believe it's the only thing i wrote recently #anyway this fic is 4k #and i finally understood how writing helps my anxiety #fic: you rule my heart(I am your royal slave)#my wips #i'm sleepy #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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scarisd3ad · 7 months

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Superstar | football player!Joel miller x popstar!reader

One - sparks fly

Previous >> next

Masterlist

Taglist

Warnings - cursing, fake dating? Age gap based off of Taylor swift and Travis Kelce kinda hard launching their relationship last night, Joel has his both his daughters but they are way younger in this (Sarah being 9, and Ellie being 5), Joel is 37 and reader is 26, no outbreak au, and modern au (its around 2022 or 2023)

Summary - when you find out about a certain football player showing up at your tour you decide to reach out just because of all the dating rumors, but what if thoughs rumors turn into reality?

‘Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile’

I don't think I've ever cleaned so hard as I did today, I made sure anything not child appropriate was put up, I made sure all the rooms were cleaned, the floors were mopped, and the carpets were vacuumed. I also made sure ollies litter was fresh. everything was ready for when Joel and his oldest daughter arrived. I even made sure to wear a kid appropriate one-piece bathing suit with a pair of shorts pulled over it. ollie somehow knew I was expecting visitors, so he was being way more energetic than he normally is, running around, jumping on and off things and scratching up the side of the walls.

knock, knock knock.

I look down at my phone it was only 12:50 they were 10 minutes early. I take a deep breath in; my heart was pounding against my chest. just act normal, I can't make this kid and Joel think I'm weird. "Act normal, just be me" I whisper to myself as I walk up to the front door. I open the door to see Joel in a pair of swim trunks and a shirt that read 'Dallas cowboys', the little girl stood next to him looked to be about 9 she had curly brown hair, and the same deep brown eyes her father has. "Hi oh my god your early" I laugh, Joel smiles and nods "yeah per Sarah's request she said we needed to be here early" Sarah smiles shyly up at me "hi Sarah im-"

"y/n l/n I know who you are daddy and I listen to your music in the car" I laugh as Joel bites his lip and laughs "yeah my mom bought her your album for Christmas didn't she Babygirl?" Sarah nods "yup grandma bought it for me after I showed her my poster of you." I love all my fans, but the little kids will always have a special place in my heart because I remember being their age and listening to my favorite artist's hoping id be just like them when I grew up. now I'm just like them and little kids are looking up to me hoping they'll be like me.

"How about you two come in I've got some chips and drinks sittin' out by the pool waitin' for you" I say as I open the door wider so they both can walk in. "oh my god kitty" Sarah falls to her knees in front of ollie as he walks up to her. "Aww daddy look its purring" Sarah exclaims as she rubs her hands down ollies back. "His name is ollie" I say, "aw ollie you're so pretty" she coo's.

"c'mon Sar lets go swim" Sarah frowns but obeys her father and rises back to her feet. "Daddy, I want a cat, can you get us a cat?" she whispers to Joel as we walk back to the backyard. "Maybe Babygirl." ollie follows behind us meowing for attention. we walk out into the backyard and Sarah immediately pulls her shirt and shorts off before jumping into the pool. "Daddy! get in!" Sarah shouts. "One second Sarah let me talk to y/n for a little bit."

we both sit down at my little patio table while Sarah swam around. "So, why'd you wanna hang out?" he asks his voice just low enough for me to hear but so Sarah couldn't. "Wanted to know if you we're serious?" I say with a laugh, "of course I was, don't lie bout shit like that."

"So wanna give me your number now?" he chuckles before placing a small, beaded friendship bracelet on the table. "Oh my god" l laugh as I grab the bracelet and examine it. it did indeed have his number on it in small white number beads. "Daddy!" Sarah shouts "alright, alright I'm comin'" he mutters as he stands up and pulls his shirt off of his body revealing his torso that looks like a normal 37-year-old mans and not a professional athlete. he had more of a dad bod than a sixpack and I can say I find a dad bod way more attractive. my eyes widen as I try not to stare. he makes a running start before jumping in the pool. Sarah squeals "daddy! you splashed me!" as he resurfaces. "You comin'?" Joel shouts which snaps me out of my daydream. "Oh yeah! yeah!"

I pull my shorts off before getting in the pool with them. "Daddy! daddy throw me!" Joel picks his daughter up and raises her over his head before tossing her. she giggles as she fly's through the air and lands on the other side of the pool. Joel swims over to me and leans himself against the pool wall. "So, when's your next show?" he asks as ollie saunters over to the edge of the pool and lays down. "Um next weekend in Maryland" he nods as he drags his wet hand down ollies back which ollies isn't too fond of. ollie shakes the water off of himself before moving farther away from Joel. "Maryland's far away" I nod, one thing I didn't really like about the whole popstar touring around the world thing was not being able to stay in one place long. this weekend I was in Texas which was good because then I could stay at home but next weekend, I'm all the way in Maryland, and then the next weekend I'm in Pennsylvania. "When do you get a break? from tourin' I mean."

"Oh, um I think late September, but might be later" I was only really off once I was finished with the US leg of my tour, but I only got 2 or 3 weeks off before the international leg of the tour. "hm" he leans his elbow against the side of the pool as Sarah swims up to him. "Daddy again! again!" he shakes his head as he takes both of his hands and places them on the edge of the pool before pushing himself up and onto the ground. "No Babygirl m'gonna take a break" she pouts as she lets out a quiet "aw man" before swimming off. he shakes his head, signaling for me to get out of the pool too. reach my arm up and he grabs it pulling me out. "You got anything to drink?" I had put all the alcoholic beverages up and out of reach just in case his kid was the type who likes getting into things. "Yeah, yeah they're inside though" I whisper.

"Hey Sarah stay in the shallow end for me k? y/n and I are gonna go inside and grab something" Sarah nods and then we both walk back into my house. I walk into the kitchen and open the cabinet I had stored all the alcohol in. I step up onto my tip toes as I grab a bottle of whiskey. "I've got this" I say turning and showing the bottle. he grins "my favorite" there's a weird feeling in my belly knowing I had picked his favorite on the first try. "So, what do you want to do?" I ask as I grab two small glasses and place them on the counter. "bout what?" he asks, as he leans against the counter next to me. I pour some whiskey into both glasses before handing one to him. "Bout the rumors" I say. he brings the glass to his lips and shrugs. "wanna post a picture, to fuck with'em?" I ask as I swallow down a big gulp of the whiskey. it wasn't right, but sometimes is funny to fuck with the fans, have them fangirling over a relationship that is obviously fake is funny.

"Sure c'mere" he takes his phone that he had grabbed off of the table as we walked in. I scoot closes, he taps his cheek and whispers "kiss my cheek" my breath hitches as I press my lips to his cheek. I can smell his cologne and strawberry ChapStick he must've stollen from one of his daughters. the cologne was woodsy, and manly something you'd expect a man like Joel miller to wear. he adjusts the camera so it's able to get both of us in the frame. he snaps the photo "tag me" I whisper. he types in my username before posting the picture on his story. almost immediately his phone begins to go off.

we both go back out and swim a little more, deciding to totally ignore our phones and just get to know each other. when they leave Joel tells me to text him and that we should definitely do something like this again.

I'm lying in my bed with ollie curled up next to me. I'm mostly ignoring all the notifications I'm getting from every social media platform but sometimes I'll get a glimpse of a comment or tweet that's along the lines of 'holy shit are they actually dating?' and I smirk to myself knowing that it worked.

bringgg brinnggg bringggg

the loud ringing of my phone wakes ollie right out of his deep sleep making him look around eyes wide and confused. "it's alright honey" I coo as I pet him. I answer the phone and I'm immediately met with a loud scream "holy fucking shit! are you two actually together???" Kailey shouts, I roll my eyes realizing my best friend is just as gullible as the rest of the internet "no he just came over and we hung out. she screams again "SOOO are you going to date?" I let out an annoyed sigh "no we're just friends, but I'm going to bed I'll text you tomorrow love you."

maybe Joel miller

me - hi

maybe Joel miller - y/n?

me - Joel?

maybe Joel miller - yup

you have changed maybe Joel miller to Joel miller.

me - wanna keep doing this?

Joel miller - what?

me - keep fucking with them

Joel miller - why?

Me - idk it’s funny ig

Joel miller - ig?

Me - I guess

Joel miller - ohhh okay yeah that sounds fun.

me - yeah, it's fun, even my friend believed it💀

Joel miller - same my momma called asking if I'm dating someone.🤣

me - soo? u up for it miller?

Joel miller - sure maybe we should meet up at a restaurant?

me - maybe you could pick me up and take me to a restaurant??😑

Joel miller - yeah yeah more believable ig

me - so how bout next Thursday 5?

Joel miller - 👍👍👍

Taglist

@taylarxse @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @ktheunready @camixkami @skysmiller @mars743 @romeestrvjds @lightxzhan @alyhull @jenna-mcgraw19

#fanfics #x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #sarah miller #ellie williams #x fem!reader #fem!reader #female!reader #popstar!reader #taylor swift #travis kelce #no outbreak!joel miller

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yeehanfrf · 1 year

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Week 11 Recs: He's a Magic Man

The Week 11 theme was "He's a Magic Man," or recs featuring the mystical, the magical, the fantastical, and a lot of werewolves, apparently! (If you missed your chance, monsterhuggers, don't worry: we'll have a monster-centric theme when spooky season rolls around!)

Behind the cut, you'll find the recs gathered from the Yeehan community, organized by rating and then alphabetically by title!

Not Rated

What Lies Undone by AsheRhyder [8,117 words]

There are rules to this sort of thing. Not the common sort, made to be broken and bent and outright ignored, but the old kind, made for dealing with dangerous things.

And they are all dangerous things, in Overwatch.

McCree survives by knowing which rules to break and which to obey and when to do the opposite of what he usually does. Dangerous things stay dangerous because they can change - he knows this all too well.

General Audiences

And Time Passed by Tevokkia [4,108 words] Reccer comment: "Sweet and innocent; will make you cry in a good way. Vimeddiee did art for it too"

A small cowboy in a large hat wandered out of the mist one day, and asked a lonely young dragon to be his friend. Such requests hold great weight out on the edge of reality, where the dragon kept his cave. The dragon and the little boy shared secrets and adventures.

And time passed ...

... until the little boy grew up.

Teen and Up

Fool's Gold by leoandlancer [193,940 words] Reccer comment: "I REMEMBERED ANOTHER MONSTERS, DRAMA, & EERIE THINGS BEYOND OUR MORTAL COMPREHENSION"

A vast and powerful dragon hires a surprisingly lethal monster hunter in order to kill an upsettingly big bug. It's not ideal, but they work on it. (Hanzo is pretty sure McCree can kill anything and both of them are trying not to be quite so in love with someone who can and probably will, kill them. Dragon and Monster Hunter AU)

Heartless by AsheRhyder [6,504 words]

Once upon a time, a wicked sorcerer cut out his heart and sealed it away. He hid it in a needle, put the needle in an egg, put the egg in a duck, put the duck inside a rabbit, and put the rabbit in a box on an island at the end of the world. So long as his heart was safe, nothing could kill him. Or so the legends say, anyway. Nowadays, people know what a silly story that was. Nobody bothers with rabbits anymore.

Cole Cassidy has no heart.

Sideshow by Kestrel_sama [5,414 words]

Hanzo manages to steal a night for himself at an American circus. What he finds there is no ordinary freak show.

So Nice to Meet You by fishpoets [9,142 words]

There it was again, something pale that shifted in the shadows - a mass of pure, white fur. Jesse stared. The wolf – for that's what it was, a huge, white wolf, sprawled out in front of the kitchen doors – raised its head, and stared right back.

(Five times Jesse interacts with Hanzo's daemon, plus one)

The Looking Glass by firefly_quill [9,509 words]

Hanzo lives a quiet life in his small magical antiquities shop, just far enough off the beaten-path. Quiet, at least, until Ana arrives with a magic mirror and a request. Modern fantasy AU.

Written for the McHanzo Reverse Bang 2018.

Turn Around, Lie Down (Come Home) by AsheRhyder [17,455 words] Reccer comment: "i loved this werewolf au fic"

In the dark, snow-filled night, a wolf howled.

Run with me. Eat with me. Sleep beside me. Be pack.

Mature

Cast No Shadow by PersonalSpin [46,029 words] Reccer comment: "a HDM-esque daemon AU"

Jesse McCree knows better than to trust a man without a soul. A His Dark Materials AU about things said and unsaid, and those you stay and those who leave.

(Not that kind of demon, this kind of dæmon.)

Death's Best Man by deliciously_devient [Series; WIP; 16,901 words] Reccer comment: "The Death's Best Man series by deliciously_devient is a must. It's one of the first I read when I got into the fandom"

Jesse is fifteen years old when he earns a favor from Death.

Kelp(ie) by Wulpia [5,734 words] Reccer comment: "Achingly poetic"

When biologist Hanzo goes on a trip to a remote reservoir in Scotland to study the flora of a lake there, he finds something far more interesting, ancient, and potentially deadly.

Not Another Moment by Author of Kheios [30,431 words] Reccer 1 comment: "a harry potter au, a small nsfw scene, is a long oneshot and cole is a single dad, mutual pining. Not Another Moment by author of kheois"

Reccer 2 comment: "The OW-HP crossover fic none of knew we needed"

Years ago, Cole retired as the Defense Against Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts to raise a little girl. Now, she's old enough to get accepted, but she dislikes the professor who took his place, and he has to intervene.

Hanzo has heard so many stories about the the man, the myth - nay, the legend - whose post he took at Hogwarts, yet not in a single one of them did anyone say anything about how attractive the Deadeye Cowboy is. But even if the man's daughter didn't hate him for no apparent reason, Hanzo can't afford to fall for someone who would kill him on the spot if he ever found out Hanzo's true nature. So of course, he falls head over heels.

Explicit

All That We Were, Are, and Will Come to Be by Dracoduceus [Series; WIP; 30,894 words]

His instructions were deceptively simple: visit the planet Hanamura and bring back two of the sons of the famous Shimada Clan.

McCree, captain of the Santa Fe and an independent contractor that worked with the Overwatch space station, should have known better than to think that anything about this would go according to plan.

Away by Vimeddiee [29,154 words] Reccer comment: "Light on the magic lore, strong on the feelings"

Hanzo awakens to the feel of grit in his eyes and the crunch of sand between his teeth. This in itself doesn’t rudely force him into consciousness, but the insistent flicking against his nose that he groggily attempts to bat away, does.

“High tide’s coming, you better nap someplace else.”

AKA I wanted to write Cassidy as a slappy boy so I DID.

Call of the Wild by deliciously_devient [Series; 4,712 words] Reccer comment: "Pretty sure the Call of the Wild series is the actual, literal first OW fanfic I read"

The moon is full, and the air is full of....promise.

Clipped Wings by Vashoth [14,631 words] Reccer comment: "possibly the first magic AU I read in this fandom, and the intrigue of it has stuck with me ever since"

Any hunter worth his salt knows that you should take all possible precautions to avoid messing with the Fair Folk. Most of the Fair Folk, however, don't really give a rats ass what precautions are taken and delight in messing with anything unlucky enough to get within arms reach.

Or: Hanzo is in way over his head and Jesse is loving it.

Dangerous Phases by Vrunka [13,593 words]

There are eight phases in a moon cycle. Eight phases in thirty days. And then it repeats. Over and over. Hanzo Shimada never really saw a reason to care. The moon comes, the moon goes. Hanzo Shimada also never really saw himself getting into an explicit sexual relationship with a werewolf. But well...these things do happen.

The Epic and Wondrous Tale of the Librarian and the Demon Hunter by annella [47,403 words] Reccer comment: "Hands-down one of the best AUs I've ever read, and I want desperately for the author to turn it into a series of books"

Jesse's got a pretty good job as the librarian in a magical library. He spends his days cataloguing, tracking down rare titles, fixing up the occasional spell gone awry, and dealing with the smoke monster in the basement.

Then Hanzo Shimada, Demon Hunter, shows up to turn his world upside down.

Freedom's a Funny Thing by robocryptid [4,940 words] Reccer comment: "a deliciously unnerving trickster Cassidy with a side of sex magic"

Once a year, magician Hanzo must perform a ritual to bind the dragon spirits to himself. This year, something about the ritual doesn't quite go right, and he summons a trickster along with the dragons. Now he's stuck with the stowaway until he can figure out how to dismiss him. Luckily Cassidy seems mostly benign, if irritating and predisposed to dressing as a cowboy.

—

Originally for the Myth//Legend zine, but now with a couple bonus scenes. Consider this the director’s cut.

Ghost Stories on Route 66 by Nagaina [210,058 words] Reccer comment: "Monsters, drama, & eerie things beyond our mortal comprehension."

Hanzo Shimada is an expatriate student of the Fine Arts, attending college in what he assumes to be a reasonably sedate corner of the American southwest. Jesse McCree is an occasionally leather-clad NPS ranger whose duties extend somewhat further than shooing lost tourists back onto the clearly marked hiking trails. Something weird is going on in the desert south of Santa Fe and their lives unexpectedly come together in the middle of it.

In the Woods Somewhere by CorvidFightClub [WIP; 3,946 words]

Hanzo has spent years of his life a captive werewolf, fighting in underground dogfights for a master that values his ability to kill and nothing else. One night he's stolen from the back of a transport van and wakes somewhere new.

A small farm in the woods somewhere.

[The Big Long E-Rated Version of the fic of the same title I wrote for the Rising Moon Fanzine.]

Licensed to Slaughter by ChillieBean [16,910 words] Reccer comment: "ChillieBean's "Licensed To Slaughter" (explicit, 16K words) features vampire Hanzo and werewolf Cassidy caught in the midst of a small-town murder mystery. It has a great plot and is excellently written. 10000000/10!"

Hanzo, an author who is struggling with his murder mystery draft, decides to move across the United States, trading the bustling city for quiet mountain life for inspiration.

Little does he know that he lands right in the middle of a real-life murder mystery and is suspect number one.

Never Saw it Coming by Kestrel_sama [WIP; 12,794 words] Reccer comment: "a cute modern-with-magic AU"

Fortune-telling was just supposed to be a way to make some money for Genji's business. It was easy enough with the dragons whispering secrets in his ears, and the outfit certainly helped bring in customers. But it was a skeptic named Jesse McCree who turned everything on it's head.

Possess by sciencefictioness [3,978 words] Reccer comment: "This week's theme covers half my bookmarks, but this is the first story that came to mind."

Jesse closes his eyes and he is not at home anymore.

He is not alone.

Jesse is in a large, open room with a high ceiling full of exposed wooden beams and what looks like straw mats spread out on the floor. Some of the walls are solid, others are made of paper. Words come to Jesse to unbidden like memories that aren’t his own. Dojo. Tatami. Shoji. The characters on the pillars are kanji.

Jesse is in Japan. Parts of him, anyway.

There are people lingering along the edges of the room. There are two figures in the center, one of them older with his eyes flashing eerie red, black hair greying at his temples. In front of him is a boy about Jesse’s age— seventeen. Eighteen, maybe. He’s kneeling with his eyes downcast, long hair pulled up into a messy bun, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His clothes are hanging down off his left shoulder to expose an intricate tattoo, dragons and storm clouds and lightning in blue and grey and gold.

He’s beautiful like nothing Jesse has ever seen, a tangle of contradictions. He looks delicate.

He looks powerful.

He’s breathtaking and he’s afraid and oh, fuck.

He’s Jesse’s.

Resonant by sciencefictioness [6,473 words] Reccer comment: "Resonant by sciencefictioness is pretty sexy"

The table seems endless stretched between them; polished wood, incense filling the room with smoke, ceremonial cups of sake. Jesse stares across the length of it, his gaze locked on Hanzo with an intensity usually reserved for the hunt, except he’s never been interested in any prey the way he is now; voraciously.

Savagely.

Teeth curve long out of his jaw, and his body rolls into the half-shift all on its own. Ears pricked, tail sprouting from the base of his spine, eyes lit up red. Hanzo is doing no better.

His eyes are black, pupils blown wide, nothing but a thin ring of gold set in an impossibly dark sclera. Jesse watches Hanzo’s horns lengthen, watches his claws extend. Watches his cheeks turn red, even more pronounced against the blue of his skin.

Everything goes sideways, as Jesse always expected it would.

It just doesn’t go sideways the way he expected.

Jesse had been ready for a fight.

Survival Instinct by mataglap [36,482 words] Reccer 1 comment: "OH, ha, also monsters, drama, & eerie things beyond our mortal comprehension"

Reccer 2 comment: "Survival Instinct, by mataglap, is one I've read multiple times"

Cassidy takes a new monster hunting contract. It's pretty decent as contracts go: the pay is good, the perks even better, and he's got two competent companions to fight at his side when the monsters come.

Then a third companion arrives and ruins everything.

Watcher in the Woods by Kalikuks [84,072 words] Reccer 1 comment: "Kali does a lot of monster and magic/fantasy fics, but if I can only choose one, this is it"

Reccer 2 comment: ""Watcher in the Woods" by Kalikuks 🥰 (explicit, old name for Cass) Blind Hanzo and eldrich being Cassidy. Buckle up cause is a long one with sequels!❤️"

Hanzo gets the uncanny feeling that he’s being towered over and instinctually tips his head up, even if he sees nothing.

“You can’t see me,” a deep honeyed voice rumbles from above, a good few feet above, Hanzo guesses.

“I—“

Hanzo’s reply is drowned out when the hunting party crashes through the foliage behind him and the screaming begins.

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

AU Where Hanzo is Blind and Jesse is an eldritch being of sorts that drives men mad when they look upon him. They fall in love.

---

And that's it for the Week 11 recs! Thank you so much to everyone who submitted a recommendation.

If you happen to find a fic you love using this rec list, be sure to leave the author kudos and a comment! Even "I found this fic because someone recced it" is a lovely thing to say.

Come back next time for Week 12: "Simple Pleasures," or all the smutty PWPs your heart desires.

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 10 recs here, or check the full list of past and future themes here.

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itookyoudown · 7 months

Note

Are you still doing DVD commentary? Cause if so I would like to request the Entirety of blood work please? I tried to see if you'd done it or been asked about it but couldn't find....

“Where’d you serve?” Tim smiles, tight-lipped. “And where’d you die?”

Colt grins back. “A field in Helmand.”

Both the shady tree line and the pair of shades on his face protect him. Wards off the sun’s judgmental glare. And hides his eye color, red as the poppies where he fell.

“Who’s your maker?”

Colt chuckles and shows off his fangs. “You looking for one?”

“Not quite.”

The cowboy werewolf returns, interrupting their little chit-chat. Tim smiles at the alpha with dull teeth. Obeys the alpha’s call to leave with moon-struck eyes. They’re pack.

Raylan Givens’ sidekick? More like his bitch.

Of course! This ask game has been a lot of fun, I'll answer whatever anyone sends my way.

I'm so happy you brought this one up. I haven't gotten to really speak about this fic. March Madness drabble event my beloved! I'm still so thankful to @sublightsleeper to hosting it for us.

I love love LOVE paranormal/supernatural/urban (or rural) fantasy AUs and the setting/themes of Justified lend so well to the genre so I instantly knew I wanted to do something with vampires or werewolves.

I went with a Colt POV because I decided to experiment with a character I'd never written before and thought a drabble would be a great way to test out his headspace.

“Where’d you serve?” Tim smiles, tight-lipped. “And where’d you die?” Colt grins back. “A field in Helmand.” Both the shady tree line and the pair of shades on his face protect him. Wards off the sun’s judgmental glare. And hides his eye color, red as the poppies where he fell.

The opening of this was really tricky to write. I ended up re-writing the dialogue a few times because it was important to me that Colt and Tim actually have a conversation. I thought Tim's inquiry about where Colt served in canon would be a great way to jump into it without having to lay down any scene setting.

Every word counted for this challenge so I had to treat each one as a precious commodity lol.

Tim being tight-lipped and not showing his teeth was a leftover idea I had about Tim being a vampire too. I ended up discarding that idea, but I left this detail in as I enjoyed it as an early hint that Tim is hiding something AKA the implication that he and Raylan are sleeping together.

Helmand, of course, is the Helmand Province of Afghanistan. I debated between Colt dying in Helmand VS Korangal for quite a while. I went with Helmand in the end as I really liked the potential symbolism options better (red for poppies/opium/drugs/addiction, red for vampires, red for blood, red for war). Also yes, the implication here is supposed to be that Colt's military service is different from what we got in canon he probably wasn't a cage kicker.

And of course I just liked the idea that as a vampire in this verse, Colt's use of the sunglasses helps him hide from the sun.

“Who’s your maker?” Colt chuckles and shows off his fangs. “You looking for one?” “Not quite.” The cowboy werewolf returns, interrupting their little chit-chat. Tim smiles at the alpha with dull teeth. Obeys the alpha’s call to leave with moon-struck eyes. They’re pack. Raylan Givens’ sidekick? More like his bitch.

I don't really technically ship Colt/Tim because, well, I am a petty and Colt's hair is TOO LONG SORRY. I like the idea of them in theory, but in practice, I just can't go through with it myself. But I'm still fascinated by the dynamic he and Tim had in the show and love to see that explored further in fic.

They are the sidekick/henchman version of Raylan & Boyd! It kills me how alike they are, they're two side of the same coin. Colt could have been Tim and Tim could have been Colt! And I wanted to throw the rarepair of Colt/Tim a bone because it is rough out there I know how that is. Colt having an attraction/interest in Tim, even if it's one-sided, is why Colt turns from friendly/flirty to aggressive and disapproving on a dime. Also hinting at potential vampire clan VS werewolf pack drama.

The final line is just a perfect call back to Colt calling Tim Raylan's sidekick in canon so I had to bring it back around and tie it into the supernatural setting. And Colt's cut down of calling Tim a bitch is just meant to highlight his jealousy that Tim has potentially been mated by werewolf Raylan.

(author commentary ask game)

#tooks.txt #justie games #justie author commentary #colt rhodes #colton rhodes #colt/tim

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