#my cowboy outlaw husband

[beabatiny]

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘖𝘯𝘦! 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓆞 Circus - @lani-heart poly!hybrid!ateez x reader (series) 𓆞 𓆞 Drunkteez (Hyung Line) | Drunkteez (Maknae Line) - @atinyslittleworld ot8 x reader (scenarios) 𓆞 𓆞 Opposites Attract - @beenbaanbuun addams!matz x reader (series/universe) 𓆞 𓆞 The 9th member - @byuntrash101 poly!ateez x ninthmemeber!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 The Essence Of Youth Is Summers With You - @eightmakesonebraincell poly!surfers!ateez x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Espresso - @cheeseceli idol!hongjoong x reader (headcanons) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Our Shared Melody | The Babysitter Club - @makeitmingi idol!husband!hongjoong x wife!reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Perfect Little Pet - @armysantiny cruella!hongjoong x assistant!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 The City Of Love - @lividstar fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Your Gentle Hands (They Feel Like Home To Me) | Your Gentle Hands (Please Don't Ever Let Go Of Me Again) - @yourlocaljonghoe dressmaker!hongjoong x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [7:03 AM] - @edenesth non-idol!seonghwa x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Date On The Horizon - @hwashotcheeto non-idol!seonghwa x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 A Lesson Learned - @mulloey outlaw!husband!seonghwa x innocent!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Best Friend's Mother - @hwashotcheeto milf!seonghwa x gn!reader (series) 𓆞 𓆞 Master's Precious Pet - @hwashotcheeto vampire!seonghwa x pet!gn!reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Dreamy Believer - @callmeagardengnome idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Family - @starskq non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Muffled - @desirehorizon non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Outlaw - @pirateprincessblog cowboy!yunho x bartender!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Payment - @starboyyoongi killer!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Contact Names - @daisykihannie idol!yeosang x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Cosplay - @xuchiya idol!yeosang x reader (drabble) 𓆞 𓆞 Lessons In Intimacy - @honeyhotteoks camboy/barista!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Lights, Camera, Smile - @arafilez model!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 My Sweet Boyfriend - @jinisnuggets bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Byeol - @atinyslittleworld non-idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Dolce And Gabbana - @kitten4sannie idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Forever You Are My Star - @alxtiny non-idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Happy Birthday Sannie - @pantherxrogers idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 His Little Baby - @velvetydream dad!san x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓆞 Atlas - @03jyh23 rapper!mingi x non-celebrity!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Cute Manager - @xuchiya volleyball player!mingi x manager!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 How To Cheer Up A Lifeguard - @rems-writing swimmer!mingi x lifeguard!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Killers Eyes | The Other Man - @pirateprincessblog prisoner!mingi x doctor!reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Written In The Stars [Part One] [Part Two] - @edenesth military strategist!mingi x royal physician!reader (two parts) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 After The Game - @pantherxrogers baseball player!wooyoung x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 First Time Dad - @kpoptrashibnida idol!dad!wooyoung x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Jeju Thoughts - @hee0soo idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Let The Heart Love Again - @makeitmingi singledad!wooyoung x danceteacher!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Milkshake - @byuntrash101 husband!wooyoung x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Collide To Your Depth - @littlefireball bf!jongho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Ice Cream Break - @skrrts non-idol!jongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Meet My Chaos - @makeitmingi bf!jongho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Orchard - @sweetiesicheng idol!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Polaroids - @atinyslittleworld bestfriend!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℱ𝓊𝑔𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓋ℯ𝓈

req: for cowboy!jj, I imagined something like reader and him having to host john b for a while (fugitive perhaps?) and since then, they can't have a moment together (I don't know if you see what I mean) I find it amusing then bromance or romance? (Jj must make a choice)

req by @nemesyaaa

Warnings: Suggestive ending, jealousy :3

“Okay, warning, she is a little…” JJ started, standing in front of the door.

“Just say it.” John B sighed.

“Hesitant about this whole hostin’ thing.” He tilted his head to the side, and opened up the door.

“Y/n?” He called out, hanging his hat up on a rack, and motioning for John B to do the same. You came into his vision, eyes widening at what you saw.

The man that the police had put up posters of was in your living room. He was considered “armed and dangerous.” But he looked like neither. He peeked out from behind JJ, clearly hesitating to be inside your home.

“H- hi.” You gave him a little wave, JJ wrapped his arms around you, hugging you and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“He’s fine, honey. He ain’t gonna do nothing.” He told you quietly, stepping away from you.

“I uh- fixed up a spare room.” You motioned to the room on the side.

“Thank you, ma’am.” John B nodded, following JJ to the room.

Now JJ had always been the best husband you could ask for. He supported you in your dreams and decisions, even when it went against a bunch of the towns norms, he was the sweetest, most caring man you could get.

His flaw? He was an outlaw, and tended to get into business with the wrong people.

JJ came back out the room, letting John B get settled in.

“How long did you say was he gonna be here again?” You asked JJ.

“However long it takes to get the sheriff off his back. But you don’t gotta worry about him, swear.”

After a few days, you got used to the man. He was kind, always thankful. You didn’t have to worry about him. At least not in the way you thought you would.

JJ had spent every living moment with John B. More than you, you felt like. Were you jealous? Nope. Absolutely not. Maybe a little…

You pretended to not care, acting like it was fine.

You both sat on the porch, finally getting a moment to yourselves. He sat with his head in your lap, your hands running through his hair, that was until the door opened and he jolted away, looking over to John B.

“Hey, dude!” JJ cheered, you huffed and just leaned back, watching them talk, John B sitting next to him. You played with the hem of your shirt, letting out quiet sighs, hoping JJ would pick up on your feelings. He didn’t.

It was that night in bed, when he said goodnight to John B and went under the covers, that you asked him.

“Are you in love with him or something?”

“What? No.” He laughed at you. “What’s this about, baby?”

“It’s just..” you huffed again. “I feel like since he’s been here, all you’ve been doing is talking with him. I don’t wanna be that jealous annoying wife but..”

He smiled, finding your jealousy amusing.

“He’s my best friend. Sorry if you feel like that, but I ain’t trying to ignore you.”

“It feels like you are.” You muttered, pulling the covers over you, turning away.

“Aw. C’mere, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you, his front facing your back. “I love ya. You know that. No need to feel jealous.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing a kiss onto your skin.

“I know.” You murmured. “Love you too.”

“You’re so cute. Gettin’ jealous over everything and anything. I like it. It’s hot.” He spoke against your skin, his talking muffled slightly.

“Oh, yeah?” You asked, turning to face him with a quirked brow.

“Hell yeah.” He smiled, both of you going underneath the covers.

[slutshamethesquirrels]

All The Sweet Tea In Carolina

Pairing: cowboy!geto x reader

TW/CW: historical inaccuracies, smut, rough sex, choking, gagging, mentions of guns, mdni

Description: Restless and duty-bound, you are set to begin courting with one very handsome Nanami Kento come morning. However, your heart belongs to another, who may change your mind before sun rises.

This work is part of the "Slow It Down, Cowboy" AU, a collaborative effort with @vallification . Read it's sister work, "In My Heart You Pay No Rent" here.

How unfair life could be, truly.

You should've been ecstatic, over the moon even, to have received an invitation to court from one Nanami Kento. He was the son of a blacksmith and a well educated mother, polite, modest, and only four years your senior. Nanami Kento, certainly, would make a fine husband.

”Oh my, how handsome he is!”

Your mother had gushed in the dining room, occasionally dipping her head to peer around the entryway into your living quarters as he discussed his intentions with your father. Marriage, money, children were all topics that had been thrown around. All of which you knew because every time your mama would hear something she liked she’d floundered and flounced as if there were ants under her feet, squealing excitedly at what had to be your worst nightmare. You had to resist the urge to insinuate she was a church bell.

She wasn't wrong, though, the old church bell. Nanami Kento was handsome. The other young women of the town would simply stone you if it meant they could step into your shoes.

And so you’d accepted the proposition with a tight smile, hoping he may have thought your eyes were wide with excitement, not panic.

I am a wretched, ungrateful woman. I will be courted by the very handsome Nanami Kento. When he asks for my hand I will be his wife. I will learn to love him.

Your brain repeated the mantra over and over in your head, trying desperately to convince your heart of it’s truths. All the while, your body seemed to revolt against you as well, taking sides with your heart in this futile pursuit. Every shift in your bed was uncomfortable, the collar of your nightdress too high, the wrist cuffs of that same dress too tight. Your body thought this night would be much more comfortable with a particular pair of arms wrapped around you. Your heart screamed for the return of a certain set of catmint hued eyes. Your brain thought he was a backhanded fly-by-night, and argued with the other two to follow suit.

To the rest of the world, Suguru Geto was an outlaw, a cowhand turned desperado chasing some wild tale of claiming land out west by means of force. Under your bed in an old pine box were clippings from newspapers spinning wild fables of his desperate attempts at gunslinging his way into codfish aristocracy alongside one notorious “Six Eyes Satoru Gojo”, a figure whose name struck fear in the hearts of many.

To you, though, Suguru Geto was a humble farmboy, sent to the dogs by the untimely death of his parents not long after he’d turned 18. 

You hadn’t known him well then, not honestly, but gossip needs no carriage. Rumor in the market paths was that the young man was a bit less of a pony, and more of a stallion. You remembered feeling a blend of emotions everytime it was mentioned. Disgust at the reckless deflowerment of so many young women of proud heritage. Visceral shock at the idea that Suguru Geto, a boy known to live by his charms, with a voice laden with honey and a tender smile, would commit such atrocities. Then, on top of the latter, was a feeling that spurred an immense shame within you, jealousy. The green eyed wretch. 

It was no surprise to you why so many young women had fallen into the bear trap that was his porcelain grin; the one that he would flash at merchants as you passed him time and time again at the market with the furtiveness of a field mouse darting through the grass. Though, with the way you assumed of him, perhaps you were more like the corn snake. After all, who was to say any of it was true? Lies and gossip had long since been wed, after all.

Those girls in their bustled gowns would be floored to know how many times he’d bedded you in the years since then, especially after he’d run for the west and Chicagoed more men than you could count on both your hands and all your toes. Your family would simply be ruined if the coffee-sisters caught wind of all the ways he’d taken you. If it ever happened, you’d already decided you’d publish a pamphlet and then promptly drown yourself in the river to save them from the shame. Tell the emerging nation in its entirety how sure of a shot “Sure Shot Suguru Geto” really was. He’d forgive you for bubbling around, surely. Not like he’d have much of a choice.

After all, it was his own discourteousness that had left you here in your bed on this night, tossing and turning and wallowing in your own delusional sentimentality. What was there to miss, even? He was a landlouper, a vagabond that only stayed for a night, if one could even refer to it as such. He’d come to take you after dusk on the off chance it wouldn’t trouble him so much as he was passing through, and return to his misruled adventures before the sun had even risen. Of course, there were more reasons than his own transgressions that sent him packing so quickly. Once, he’d made the mistake of over sleeping, only to be awoken to your father beating on the door of your room, asking why a horse was posted up by the tree on the farside of the property, wanting to ensure your safety. Admittedly, it was a tad fun trying to distract your Pa while he attempted to back slang it by way of your bedroom window. You almost understood why he chose such a lifestyle.

God be with you, you needed to sleep. Now.

Either by night or by sleight, by fair means or foul, you stomped the images of his broad shoulders and calloused hands out of your mind and attempted to count sheep. But even the sheep, it seemed, were disgruntled. After a fair number they laid down in the field of your mind, refusing to run their courses and instead curling into briskets, having grown tired and lazy. It seems they needed a cattleboy to guide them. A tall, toned, miscreant cowhand with a flair for violence and princess-esque locks of inky silken hair that tumbled down his--

Your eyes fly open, and dammit you could absolutely kill that man for the way he’s ravaged your entire being. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps you should’ve counted Nanami Kento’s jumping hurdles instead, and you can’t help but giggle childishly at yourself, pawing at your weary eyes with balled fists.

“What’s s’funny?”

You jolt upright, catching the crown of your head against the pine headboard as you did so, causing you to yelp a little louder than you should’ve. Clutching one hand over the painsome spot where you’d practically bludgeoned yourself, you lift your eyes to find none other than “Sure Shot” himself, his jaw resting against a closed fist and his elbow against the wood paneling of your open window, his hair loose (just the way you liked it) and toppling into the open air of your room, the light of the moon catching on the locs like sun on water.

You search your soul for every reason to be cross with him, trying desperately to cling to the crumbling remnants of your anger that were slipping through your hands like sand at just the sight of him, but your body– dammit, your body. It betrays you, craving him like sunlight. You scramble out of your bed and to the window, leaning out to toss your arms around his neck, melting into him as he chuckles mischievously, his hands finding your sides to hoist you out of the window, spinning you around like children celebrating a hard won game of marbles.

“Now just how did you manage to snake your way up here without alerting the likes of Archie?” You question, leaning your hands against the broad stretch of his shoulders to look at him. Your father had found the ol’ hound in a burlap sack by the river the summer prior. He grew into a fierce protector, for better or for worse.

“Seems even dogs’r charmed by my delicate sensibilities.” He smirks, and you can't help the soft smile that creeps across your face, your fingers affectionately tracing over the embroidery of his shirt, carefully crafted delphiniums threaded in various lilac hues painted across his shoulders. He did always have a thing for fashion.

“Charmed only by the dog biscuits in your pocket, surely is what you intended.”

He snickers, setting you down in your still-open windowsill so your bare feet don’t touch the moist earth below, stuffing a hand in his pocket as he speaks,

“Cain’t blame a man, honestly-” he produces something from his pocket and expertly tosses it into his mouth, too smooth for you to catch sight of it before it was crunching and cracking between his teeth. “Better’n any human biscuit I’ve ever tasted--”.

You gasp, wide-eyed and astounded at such a disgusting act carried out by such a beautiful man right in front of your eyes.

“Suguru Geto, you truly forget yourself!” your scold carries out over his wheezing, a mixture of hushed complaints about how you were sure to get the two of you caught if you didn’t pipe down intermingled with chuckling. He tries to muffle it by leaning his arms on the window, caging you in by the hips and burying his face in the crook of your neck. The rumble of his chest lights a fire inside you as you attempt to playfully push him away to no avail.

“I mean it, Mr. Sure Shot if you even so much as attempt to toy with the idea of putting your poor misfortunate dog lips anywhere near me--!”

“Shhh!” He begs, cupping your head on either side and bringing your forehead down to rest against his own, still laughing lightly “It’s a mint, I swear! See? I’m only hackin’ on ya’.”. He blows a gentle cooling breath against your face and despite yourself you breathe in deeply, swallowing a lungful of his breath and something distinctly fresh, hoping he doesn’t notice the cheek-ache you’ve gained from the tingling sensation.

You mimic his giggles, though whether it was due to humor or the way he stole your breath so effortlessly was up for debate “You’ve gone mad.”.

“Yes’m, sure have.” He confirms, his smile fading from one of amusement to one of reverence, “T’love an’ be sane ain’t possible, after all”.

Your smile fades as you lean back slightly, shaking your head with a dry scoff, “You, Suguru Geto, do not love me.”.

His brow scrunches in confusion, eyes bouncing back and forth across your face as he chews his cheek. What you’d give to be able to see into his head.

“Now, ‘at dog jus’ ain’t gon’ hunt.” He huffs, displeased with your response to his confession. You roll your eyes and go to slide backwards into your bedroom only to be caught in his hands, one on your waist and one clutching your chin between his calloused fingers, rough from years of roping and riding “If I ain’t earnest, then ‘m dead, y/n. I lov-”.

“Stop it, and stop it now.” You spit, reaching up to grab him by the wrist and toss it back at him “You do not-”.

“Who ’re you to try’n tell me how I feel?” He cuts you off, nostrils flaring and lips cementing themselves into a tight line as he grows increasingly wrought-up over your dismissal. You’d never, not even once, rejected his advances or affections before. Typically you were malleable, pliant to his wills. It was obvious he didn’t know how to handle it.

You hold up a hand to signal him to settle, and he does a bit, finally backing away just a few feet and allowing you some much needed room to breathe.

“My apologies. It might be better to say you cannot love me-”

“I’ll do whatever‘n the hell I damn well please-”

“Suguru.”

He huffs and turns away from you, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “Sorry, I guess. Go ‘head.”. A frustrated sigh.

You set your gaze anywhere but at him, your mouth opening and closing several times as you struggle to say the words you know you need to, your heels kicking softly against the wooden framing of your family home.

“Well?” He prods, growing impatient, and you shoot him a glare, sending a clear signal; that he needs to relax. This is hard enough without him becoming chewed up.

“I am set to begin courting tomorrow.” You breathe, trying to remain steady, your head growing fuzzy as the confession seems to set the reality of it all into stone. You were going to start courting tomorrow. With a man that was the polar opposite in nearly every fashion of the one before you, the one you wanted.

He stills for a moment, hooded eyes widening in shock momentarily before he relaxes entirely, following that with a snort and a chuckle, “Very funny, but don’t yank my chain like ‘at. You got no idea what I almost-”.

“It is no laughing matter, I fear. He talked to my father this morning. They discussed funds and… and the dowry-- a-and, children.” You have to stop yourself and manually fill your lungs with much needed oxygen, hanging your head low and gripping to your makeshift seat until your knuckles turn white, caught off guard by how badly you ache more and more with each passing word.

When you lift your head to meet his form once again, he’s stock-still, entirely unreadable. The once cool and open night air now felt stiff, stale, and impossibly hot. Eventually, he breaks first, huffing and rolling his lips between his teeth, nodding as if to confirm his own thoughts.

“Well, y’just seem plum thrilled, babe. By all means, don’t go lettin’ my nonsense stop ya’.” You’re certain he wants this to come off unbothered, but his voice absolutely drips sarcasm and venom. The sound is almost foreign to your ears. “Who’s the lucky bastard, huh?”.

“Luck?!” You evade answering that question entirely, deciding it better to focus on the relationship he knew versus the one he didn’t. You weren’t callow enough to lose sight of Suguru’s tendencies. You needn't sweet Nanami Kento’s blood on your hands.

“It hasn’t anything to do with luck, Suguru. You could have done it just as easily as he, but the path you chose was different. You just as simply could’ve gone to my father and–!”

“And what?!” He steps closer, his voice barely a harsh whisper, pushing through clenched teeth, “Introduce m’self to the beer bottle? ‘Howdy, I’m Suguru Geto. I got nothin’ to m’ name, dead parents and a barrel’a women under my belt but please force your daughter into allowin’ me to court ‘er.’. You ‘n I both know-”

“I will have you know I am most certainly not being forced into anything-”

“Then why not say ‘no’?”

“Because I cannot!”

“Sounds awful forced t’me.” He deadpans. You hadn’t paid much attention to how close he was again until his breath was fanning your face. 

“You’re impossible.” Unwilling to let him back you into a corner, you slide backwards into the room, fully intent on turning around and slamming your window right down on his ridiculously large hands.

He beat you to the punch, though. Hopping through the open space right behind you, giving you no time to shut him out before you’re chest to chest with him, standing on your tiptoes to try and cut down on the height advantage, much like one would go about handling a bear.

“This is your fault, you know? What’s forcing my hand here is that you’ve-” you jab a pointed finger into his chest “-devalued me! Without Nanami Kento’s consideration I would surely be left to the hands of some- some dizzy-aged cretin with a wad of gold and a lobcock that hasn’t worked since before I was born!”.

He smirks, and you immediately realize your mistake, your eyes widening as he cocks his head and dips down to your eye-level, his body language telling you that your attempts to dominate him were all but futile.

“Nanami Kento, huh?” He questions, smugness plastering his unthinkably handsome features. A tense few beats pass, and he relents, seemingly satisfied with the new information. The moonbeams that cascaded in through the window caught and glimmered on his holstered pistol strapped to his hip by way of his gun belt, reminding you of the weight of your mistake.

“Do not. Suguru, I’m gravely serious, do not do this-” You weren’t sure what you were begging for.

“Nanami Kento.” He repeats the name slowly, his voice coated with malice as he stops and turns to look at you. His eyes were narrowed and sharp, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep his voice low and his breathing even.

“Let me tell ya ‘bout Nanami Kento. ‘At man ain’t ever worked’fr nary a damn thing ‘n his entire life, and when it comes to fightin’? I bet on ev’r dollar I got ‘at prick’s all hat, no cattle. He wants ta take ya from me? Fine. But he’s gon’ have to do a lil’ more for it than just givin’ yer ol’ man a lick n’ a promise.” He nods the affirmative at his own words and turns to leave, but you lunge forward and catch him by the shirtsleeve.

“Just of what exactly do you speak?” You demand, and the smile he gives you could shake the shit from the pants of Satan himself.

“Real simple, peach. He can duel me for it, like a gentleman. Better be grateful, too. ‘Cause the way ‘m feelin’ right now- I got half’a mind to sharpen’at silver spoon he’s graced with’n cut him with it.”

You scan his face with the providentness of a surgeon, blinking a few times before you finally just ask,

“…You can’t be serious?”

“Oh, simon pure, m’afriad-”

“You will ruin me!” You grit your teeth and slap a flat palm against his chest out of pure instinct. He flinches a bit, less in pain and more in pure shock at your outburst. You’d never had a legitimate reason to be cross with him before.

“Accordin’ to you, I’ve already gone on an’ beat that bull-”

“Oh, you rat! You know what my intention is! How am I to explain why Sure Shot Suguru Geto desires to duel for my- my-” You let go of him, your hands flailing as you search for your words. You’re so mad you can’t even articulate.  “Well surely not my honor! If anything, for my-! My madge!”.

By the time you finish your outburst, you’re effectively tied up in knots, your fists clenched at your side and your jaw jutted like a bulldog as your chest heaves with fiery, angry breaths. He’s tense too, but for an entirely different reason. His lips are pressed in a tight line, eyebrows damn near flying off his face and cheeks turning crimson with effort.

“Don’t you dare.” Your warning is the thing that sends him over the edge. It starts with a snort, and then evolves into a fit of wheezing and whickering as he tries with conviction to keep his volume low, doubling over slightly and catching himself with one hard palm on the window frame, the other clutching at his jerking abdomen as he laughs. 

You can’t hold yourself to the conviction of not laughing along with him, tears brimming in your eyes as you cover your mouth with both hands and give him a swift kick to the shin as if he were the one who said the offending comment in the first place. It earns a girlish yelp from him, and then you’re both laughing harder, cascading to the floor in a heap as you  attempt to get the reins back on this metaphorical horse.

“See?” He coughs obnoxiously and draws a deep breath, flipping over onto his back on the hardwood flooring of your bedroom and swiping at some tears that had formed in his eyes “Now how’n the hell do ya expect me to let’cha walk away with a mouth like ‘at?”.

You sit up straight and shake your head at him incredulously, sighing as you feel your hostility leave with your breath. He looks just as mesmerizing as ever, with his hair fanning out across your floor like splattered paint and his face flush from laughter, stripped of his hat, vest, and overcoat. He must’ve left them with Cinnamon, his trusty palomino steed who was undeniably tied up somewhere on the corner of your parent’s property. He claimed that a horse was nothing more than a form of transportation, but you'd caught him draping his over layers across her back more than once before. It wasn't even that cold outside.

You reach forward and grab his hand in yours, running your thumb along his knuckles, noticing the scrapes and fading bruises but choosing not to bring it up. Who knows what kind of hogwash he’d gotten into since the last time you'd seen him.

“I'm serious. You cannot duel with him. The shame it would bring my family would be odious.” You whisper, avoiding his gaze and choosing instead to focus on his hand in yours, his warm skin working wonders to ground you.

He shifts until he's sitting, pulling your hand to his lips for a quick kiss before he's kicking off his boots, an action your body has an inherent reaction to, muscle memory causing your heart to pick up pace and your face to light fire in anticipation.

“What can I do, then? Tell me, y/n. Jus’ say the words an’ I’ll flatten the Appalachians for ya’.” He murmurs after setting his shoes aside, careful not to let the iron spurs clang against the floor. He reaches forward and tucks your hair behind your ear, letting his palm rest against your cheek, holding you in a gaze that could’ve pinned you down without the help of his warm hand.

You lean into him, bringing your hand up to hold him there, lips falling loose and open as you search for words, finding none. What could he do? The damage was irreparable, it seemed. You couldn’t be selfish over the matter. Your head shakes slightly and the hand that cups his own grips at his fingers and attempts to pry him away from you. You couldn’t. You couldn’t--

“Anythin’, doll. Ya want the sun? I’ll bottl’it. I’ll stop the clouds from rainin’ and ‘is ol’ earth from turnin’ if’n it jus’ means I can have ya.” His harsh whisper cuts through you like glass and he refuses to let you go, instead shifting to his knees and bringing his free hand to mirror the one in use. Leaning over you, desperately caging you in that fucking gaze; eyes a somber and honest amethyst. Your hands come up to grip his wrists as you attempt to blink away sentimental tears, silently begging for reprieve from his overwhelming attention.

“Please, y/n.” He breathes, beckoning you to give in, lips so close to your own that you can feel every syllable, “Please let me have ya.”.

You break, of course you do, capturing his bottom lip between your own, your breathing steadily growing heavy as he jerks your body flush against his, guiding your arms around his neck to free his hands. They roam every dip and valley of your frame over your bedtime linens, resisting the temptation to pause and play along the way before trailing their way down over the globes of your ass, stopping only once they’ve reached your thighs. He picks you up with a bruising grip, your legs locking around his abdomen. He stands, as if you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to the bed. All the while he’s swiping, pushing, curling his tongue against your own like he has something to prove; and maybe he does.

The minute he sets you down your fingers make way to his gun belt. Starting at the string around his thigh, you find yourself smirking cheekily as he tenses at the contact.

“Are these those ‘delicate sensibilities’ you spoke of?” You tease, smiling up at him as you undo the knotting, making sure to let your fingers make as much contact with his clothed inner thigh as possible.

“Don’t go stirrin’ up a hornets nest, now-” He teases right back, his smirk only lasting a fraction of a second. You run a flat palm up the inside of his thighs and across the half-formed tent in his pants, massaging over the area before continuing onto his waist buckle. He hisses, throwing his head back in gratification “Shit, baby, I mean, how long’s’it been now? Four months? Six?”. His fingers dance into your hair, clinging to the locks for some sort of purchase, and the way he seems so desperate for you has you clenching your thighs together.

“Now, do you expect me to clean-handedly believe you travel like you do and don’t bed women when you’re gone?” You ask, rolling your eyes as your fingers dance upward to tug at his waist buckle, the plum stained leather smooth against the pad of your fingers. He shoots a look down at you, tutting disapprovingly.

“ Wh’Kinda guff is ‘at?” He fusses, “Ain’t ever been no other woman. Not since the first day I had ya.”

The words cause your cheeks to flush deeper red than they ever had before, and you have to fight yourself not to loose sight of the task at hand. “No?” you ask cheekily, finally wrestling off his gunbelt and sitting it off gently to the side, iron still in the holster.

“Why would I?” He asks, clenching his teeth and hissing as your hands find his waist and your lips place hot, open mouthed kisses across the front of his pants, loving the way you can feel him twitch and grow harder beneath the confines of the fabric.

“You’re spinning yarn,” You accuse, running a flat tongue against him once, twice before continuing, “Not even have you stopped at a brothel?”.

“Ain't no need, when I got my own right hand ‘nd yer mem’ry.” He’s losing all reverence, the deft fingers on his leftmost hand gripping tighter against your scalp and hips rocking in time with your movements, his right hand coming up to undo the buttons of his shirt, seeking reprieve from the heat that had washed over your tiny little bedroom.

“You are the slyest of stray alley cats.” You can't allow yourself to believe his words, though the thought of him satisfying himself under a blanket of stars makes your pussy throb. Sweaty, dirty, one hand covering his mouth so that he doesn't accidentally call out for you and wake his associates. Jerking himself hard and fast, hips rutting into his fist--

“Dumplin’. On m’ iron n’ what tiny bit’s left o’ my honor; the fuckin’ Virgin Mary ‘erself could offer t’bed me an’ I’d turn ‘er down for you-- shit!” He cuts himself off with a gasp as you take the opportunity provided to you by his freshly unbuttoned shirt, not even allowing him a moment to shed the off-white fabric from his shoulders before you’re running your tongue along the thin trail of hair along his lower abdomen. You unbutton his tight-fitted trousers, whimpering against your own will as his toned muscles twitch and jerk beneath your lips. His body was confirming his convictions. He wanted you.

Hooking your fingers under his pants and underwear, you pull them down until they’re hugging his thighs, squeezing the toned flesh there just right. You're practically panting as his cock springs free, slapping against his abdomen with a wet thud.

For a moment, all you can do is stare with heavy lidded eyes and parted lips. This is why sex was a sin. There was no earthly explanation why something could make you feel such elation; it had to be unholy by nature. Shaky fingers reach up to stroke him, nimble pads running through the coarse tufts of hair at the base before tracing up, up, up the underside of his shaft. You try not to think about how this is the last time you’ll ever see this view, focusing instead on committing every fat vein to memory, hoping you can recall it on the off chance you ever get a bed to yourself again following your dreaded marriage. Your index reaches the very tip and you find yourself swiping away the bead of precum that's formed there, bringing your finger to your mouth and closing your eyes as you do the same with the taste.

“Angel-” A raspy voice from above you has your eyes snapping open, looking up to find Suguru panting, sweating, swallowing hard and desperate “M’an outlaw, not a priest. Ain’t got patience like ‘at-.”.

“My sincere apologies, handsome.” You wrap your hand around him and stroke him in earnest, drinking in the way his face falls open from satisfaction. “I assure you, I didn’t mean to tease you so.”. You hang your mouth open, tongue hanging out and swiping upward against him from base to tip, absolutely adoring the way he sucks air through his teeth. You’re ready to take him in earnest, just as soon as you explain yourself:

“Simply ensuring I can remember, for when I-!”

You’re cut off by his fist slamming your head down on his cock, and low growl leaving him as he bottoms out against the back of your throat, loosening slightly as you slap at his hip, wordlessly reprimanding him as you choke and gag on his girth. He mumbles out an apology, pulling you back halfway and allowing you to pull air back into your lungs through your nose.

“Y’ain’t gon’ half’ta remember anythin’, baby - shit, ah-!” He’s all but face-fucking you, but at least he’s being gentle, shallow little thrusts and much slower than he originally started with. “J-just, fuck, y/n, ya’ cain’t leave, ‘kay? I’ll figure it out, I-”.

It’s your turn to shut him up, taking him deeper and bobbing your head faster, ignoring the tears in your eyes as you watch him slowly lose his composure above you, shedding off his shirt and tossing it behind you as he pants and grunts, his pupils blown wide and a slick sheet of sweat beading on his forehead, causing little strands of hair to stick to his face.

You know you’ve won when his hands grip the side of your face and one leg gets thrown up on the bed bedside you, his mouth open in a silent moan as he takes back control of the pace, bobbing your head up and down on himself erratically as he gasps for air.

All that loose jaw he was spitting is now replaced by a whispered little mantra of “Yes! Yes, Yes- fuck, baby. S’good. Always s’good f’me-”. You hollow your cheeks and flatten your tongue as much as possible, trying desperately not to gag and ruin his pleasure as a mixture of spit and pre-cum drips form the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

A string of curses escape him as he pushes you all the way down until the tip of your nose is buried into the dark hair at his base, holding you still there as his cock jumps and writhes in your throat, your fingernails digging into his hips in protest. Surely they were cutting into his skin by this point.

Just when your vision starts to go dark around the edges, he pulls out of your mouth, cooing at you as you suck in air like you were hungry for it, looking up at him with vulnerable eyes as you swallow thickly, the tears that had been pooling in your eyes finally slipping down your face. He catches them with his thumbs, guiding you backwards on the bed and shuffling out of his pants in tandem. Once he's fully nude, he settles between your thighs on his knees.

“Y’okay?” He asks, and you nod, smiling weakly up at him as he cards his fingers through your hair, pushing it back away from your face with the gentleness of a sunday morning rain, like he hadn’t just bruised your esophagus. He smiles, honey sweet, and leans down to kiss your forehead first, and then your lips, groaning lowly as he tastes himself on your tongue, hips rutting as if he couldn't stop them.

Leaning back on his haunches, he taps on the outside of your knee twice.

“Strip f’me, doll.”

And so you do, trembling fingers trailing up your body to undo the buttons on your nightgown one by one, starting at the top and working your way down, your eyes studying his sharp features and wandering gaze as he gathers his hair and secures it back with the elastic band he forever kept on his wrist. You couldn’t remember a time before them, but your mother swore tying hair with silk ribbon was a pain when she was a girl. You pondered now if he'd look just as mesmerizing trying to wrangle all that hair up with a ribbon.

His cat-like eyes trail down your body as you work, and he sucks on his teeth when he realizes your barren underneath the white cotton of your bed clothes. Once your gown has been properly parted, his hands roam their way around the new expanse of your exposed skin, starting at your thighs and working their way up, pushing aside the fabric with his wrists as his rough hands tend to a garden he’s harvested time and time before.

It was by his own design, the way your body reacted to being tended by him. Goosebumps erupted along your skin and flames danced in your abdomen. Your core dripped with anticipation, every swipe of his rein-worn fingers reminding you that he'd yet to touch you where you desired him most. His hands meandered up your sides until he was cupping your breasts, rough thumbs languishing over the feeling of your stiffening nipples beneath him as they swiped and toyed with the flesh. Your back arches from the corn husk mattress and your hands try their best to quell the sparks he was lighting in your tummy; one of them gripping at your sheets above your head and the other covering your mouth to stifle the whimpers that escaped you.

“I ever tell ‘ya how pretty y’are?” He half-murmurs, half-whispers as one hand leaves your breast to traverse back down across your abdomen, never ceasing until he reaches your core, one thumb shallowly dipping into your entrance and stretching your folds apart so he can watch the way she winks at him with every movement, spitting clear arousal with every clench.

“Perhaps only every-- ah!” His fingers shift to pinch and roll your nipple, “-chance you’ve gotten. Still though I am-- nngh!” His thumb pushes deeper into you, “-certainly honored to receive such praises!”.

He smirks at your inherent tendency to keep your wording polite even in the most devilish of circumstances, and he must’ve decided he could take it no longer because before you can blink he’s hiking your legs up and across his sun-kissed shoulders, practically folding you in half and lapping away at your pussy like a man starved.

You would've complained about his so-called “delicate sensibilities” when it came to handling your body in such a manner, but your face was frozen in an open silent moan, your eyes blowing wide and struggling to keep contact with his in the way you knew he liked. If you so much as dared to let any sound escape you, you'd wake not only your parents, but the entire town! 

He knew you too well, everything about his conduction of your body had been fine tuned. The way he toyed around with your clit in his mouth had your body temperature rising to concerning levels, your arousal absolutely coating his face in a matter of moments. Not that he didn't expect it, you knew. In fact, it was probably precisely why he'd pulled his hair back. He adored it too, this you could also tell. From this angle, you got a front row seat to how his eyes rolled back in his head as he flicked and swiped his tongue against your core, up and down and back and forth and something you couldn't care to ponder on- stars, maybe? Never the matter.

A familiar tightness was building in your stomach, your panting growing faster and more needy as you think to yourself,

My god, please help me! How am I to go the rest of my life without this wrong I do?

Suguru pushes a flat hand against your mouth before slipping two fingers inside of you, and praise heaven for the man as well as his forethought because you lose your battle with your own throat the second he begins pumping in and out of you in perfect harmony with his tongue, crying out into his hand as your hips begin to rut against him in a desperate plea for faster, harder, more.

He happily obliges, curling his fingers against that god-forsaken spot inside you you’d never been able to find on your own in all your nights waiting for him, leveraging into you with a pace and force that reminded you of his deviant side. This version of him wasn't Suguru, the man who brought you rocks and flowers and exotic wines from his travels. This was not Suguru, the boy breezing by you at the market with sharp features and tempting eyes. No, this was Sure Shot Suguru Geto, the man who robbed and killed and gambled. Save your soul, you loved him.

Your hands fly into his hair as your hips betray you, all but humping his face in time with his movements as the tension inside you rises to a boiling heat, your knuckles gripping his hair beneath his bun so cruelly but you know he doesn't mind, not only from experience but from the way he groans directly into you as his eyes flutter shut. He transitions from licking to suckling on your clit and it's the final nail in the coffin for you. Your orgasm fires off like a gun shot, sharp and unfathomably intense as you scream into his hand, your legs absolutely spasming around his head with the force of it alone, your whole body tensing and jerking so hard that you fear you may have torn something as he continues his ministrations to push you through your high, never ceasing until you bite at his hand and kick at his shoulder.

He makes his way back to your face, chuckling as he captures your plush lips with his own, not leaving even a breaths span of time before he's nudging his tip into your tight entrance, swallowing your gasps and whines as if he may never taste them again.

“More, baby, more- please?” You manage to choke out between swipes of his tongue. He stills momentarily, pausing to scan your face, something unreadable plaguing his sweat lined features. You attempt to rut your hips and give yourself some reprieve, but one rope-warn hand grips you at your bare hip, holding you against the mattress effortlessly.

“Suguru!” You scold, and his lips quirk in the slightest of ways.

“Call me that again.”

“...Your name?”

“By god ‘m so glad yer pretty.” He giggles and pushes into you a few more inches harshly, his smile growing wilder as you yelp, both of you immediately pausing to listen for noise from the other rooms. 

Silence.

“Not m’name, peach. ‘At lil’ thing you said before-” His voice is quieter now.

“Baby?”

He pushes into your further, more gentle this time, the hand that was on your hip snaking up to grip your face and hold your gaze “Atta girl. You keep callin’ me that and I’m gon’ put a baby in ya’, swear solemn.”.

Your face contorts as his words hit you and he bottoms out, tip pressing against your womb and girth stretching you so wide. It burns, it hurts, it feels so good-- and his words? You knew they held no weight but the thought had you gushing around him. You needed him to move, and move now.

“Always naggin’ ‘bout my mouth, but look at ya’ now, darlin’- droolin’ on my cock all’f’r some nasty words.” He demeans as he begins to roll his hips into you, smirking as your hands grip at his biceps and your legs fall open wide for him, “Mmm y’like’at idea, huh? Stuff ya so full’a me that ol’ fuckin’ Nanami Kento has t’ raise my kid if’n he wants to take my wife?”.

You don't reply to that, you can’t because he’s steadily picking up pace, fucking you with determination that you knew was coming from somewhere other than his cock. No, of all the times he’d taken you prior, this one was different. Stubborn, vivace, and oh so frantic. You find yourself biting down on his shoulder as he slams against your soft walls, each time pulling almost entirely out before pounding back into you again, bruising your cervix like he wanted to mark you from the inside out. He’s spewing guttural rumbles and low moans from above you, and each one only makes you want him more. Not just here, not just now, but forever and then some.

“I love you, y’hear me?” His voice is deeper than usual, husky, somewhat of a moan in your ear, “Don't’cha ever tell me I cain’t ever again.”.

Each word is accentuated with a sharp thrust, desire and want and desperate prayer rearranging your very being. All you can do is whimper his name in response. He trails kisses along your neckline, they almost feel apologetic.

How absolutely inhumane time was, only the night left to claim every part of each other before it was ripped away, burnt to nothing but a memory of a flame that once shone so brightly in the darkness. Despite the way every stroke has your mind melting away, you find yourself realizing that perhaps this wasn’t Sure Shot at all, but instead just Suguru, a helplessly enamored man on the verge of losing his love on top of everything he’d already lost in the past few years. You choke out a sob, unsure if it’s the pleasure or the pain or the realization that has you blubbering, but it didn’t matter all the same. You were still adulterated, he was still taken with you, you were still duty-bound to marry another, and he was still hammering into you like his life depended on it.

You feel your body begin to contract, thighs starting to squeeze around him as he beats against your favorite spot so deep inside, the feeling almost tormenting you into another release.

“Aht, aht, now don’t go tensin’ up on me, babydoll.” He doesn’t stop his arietations, though, as he leans back to encase your tender throat with his fingers. The simple action is enough to have that coil inside you winding tighter at an exponential rate, “Ya’ know by now it’s better when ya relax f’me. Thought I had ya well trained, mm? Now be good f’me and loosen up- atta girl, atta girl-”.

You do your best to let your thighs fall slack and all you can feel is the way he’s piledriving into you, closing your eyes and zoning in on that place inside where his cock is shooting sparks across your body over and over and over. His fingers begin to tighten around your sensitive throat and your pussy follows suit around his shaft. You think you hear him breathe out a string of whispered curses, but you can't tell with the way your vision is beginning to go white and fuzzy. His free hand reaches around to flick across your clit in quick, frantic motions, and you’d be so appreciative of his hand on your throat if you could think anything at all. You gargle out a strangled noise as you come undone beneath him for the second time that night, your hands coming up to grip at his wrist, your head pounding backwards into your sheets and hair bouncing wildly as his thrusts become somehow stronger, but all the while more erratic. He was close behind you, this you knew.

A few more pumps and he’s pulling out of you, letting go of your neck to lean back on his haunches and fist his cock with ferocity, hissing as his seed splatters across your abdomen, hot and sticky. You gasp for air, feeling like you’d just run a few miles in the summer heat, gargling and sputtering as you attempt to re-ground yourself.

A tender hand finds your cheek, and your eyes flutter open to find his dark features gazing at you longingly, his bottom lip pushed out in a small pout.

“M’okay.” You assure, turning to press a kiss into his palm and smiling up at him lazily. He mirrors that and leans down to plant a gentle kiss against your lips, mumbling an apology for being so rough.

“Thank you most kindly for refraining from sowing your oats in me.” Your brain feels numb.

He lets his head fall into your shoulder to stifle his giggles “C’mon, ditz. Let's get ya’ cleaned up and light us a hand roll.”. A tender kiss against your shoulder.

A few minutes later you're curled up between his spread legs on the floor just by your window, him in nothing but his pants and you wrapped in his shirt. You watch over your shoulder as he produces a single cigarette from his pocket, striking the match he’d stolen from atop your armoire against the rough grain of your window, marveling at the way the light paints his skin orange as he puffs a few times to get the stick lit. When he’s done, he shakes away the flame and disposes of the match on your windowsill, draping one arm around you and pulling you backwards until your back is flush with his bare chest.

He is careful when he blows the smoke away from your face, but you’re not as you snatch the cigarette away from him as soon as he’s finished the first drag, bringing it to your lips and drawing in a breath of smoke just as big as his own.

“Woah, Nellie!” He teases, resting his cheek against the crown of your head, “Didn’t know y’was such’n avid smoker.”.

“I most certainly am not!” You tease right back. “I only do such unfavorable, unladylike things in the presence of scoundrels such as yourself.”.

He chuckles, leaning forward to puff on the cigarette as you hold it up for him. You scold yourself for craving the plush of his lips again so soon. Not only did you just finish bedding him, but you also could never do so again. Well, at least not after the night was through. For a while, the two of you stay like that, silently watching the stars and smoking your cares away to the best of your ability. The eastern crickets sang a song of farewell as you sat comfortable in the quiet serenity of your darkened room, a place that had been only for the two of you to share for so long, but would be no longer come dawn. Neither of you, it seems, wants to acknowledge it, savoring the calm before the raging storm of forever comes for you with the rise of the sun.

It’s just after he’s lit the third hand roll of the night that he suggests something so foolish, so childish and stupid, that you aren’t sure you heard him correctly the first time.

“Come away with me.”

You shift so that you’re setting sideways in his lap, looking up at him like he’d sprouted a third eyeball right in the center of his suntanned forehead. A beat, and then two passes, and you realize he’s serious.

“Surely you’ve gone mad. Out west?”

He nods “Yes’m.”.

“And just where shall we sleep? Eat? Make love?” If your eyes were to grow any wider they would certainly pop out of your head.

“Wherever the wind carries us, that’s’a best part-”

“Suguru!” A scoff and a laugh of disbelief escapes your gaping mouth, shaking your head at him in such unconvincibility.

“ ’M stone cold, baby. On my Ma-!” His tone sounds pleading, and he’s smiling hopefully, like a child who really hopes that Santa will leave a tommy gun under his tree.

“Good thing she's already under, bless her soul.” You snatch the cigarette from him and puff like your life depends on it. Truly, he would be the death of you.

“You hush’up.” He laughs, taking the hand roll back and clenching in between his teeth, using one hand to pull you by the bicep until the both of you are on your knees, elbows resting on the window as he speaks.

“Y’ain't ever gon’ know the things I’ve seen ‘less-n ya light a shuck with me. Baby there’s deserts, canyons, caves that shoot right down t’hell itself and fields a’ clovers ‘n wildflowers just as far’s yer pretty lil’ eyes could ever see-” As he talks, his hands make dramatic gestures in front of the two of you, as if he could physically paint the views into the open air before you.

“There are also snakes, and bears, and bandits-” You argue, but he cuts you off with a wink and a nudge.

“That's why yer com’n’ with me, cain’t no varmint catch ya’ if you're tucked under my arm!”

A defeated sigh escapes you, uninterested in playing these childish games of possibilities with him, “Pray tell, does your jaw ever ache from how much you jabber on?”.

His face falls slightly, but he’s still smiling. Softer now. Begging.

“Only for you, if’n ’m honest.”

You glare at him with knowing eyes, trying your best to simply look some sense into him, but of course your attempt is unsuccessful, the both of you erupting into giggles.

“Oh,” You take a long sigh as you calm yourself, “How am I to carry on without you?”.

“Y’ain’t. Because yer comin’ with me.”

“Suguru.” Now you sound like the one pleading, looking up at him with sad eyes as you steal the cigarette directly from his mouth and take another drag. And then, on the exhale; “My family, hopeful lover. Why is it can’t you understand I have a responsibility to-”

“I do.” He reaches forward and grabs your jaw, leaning inward, “I can acknowledge the corn. Ain’t claimin’ no ignorance here. But to see ya’ sell yerself for the good graces of society? I cain’t hang my hat on ‘at. I’m beggin’ ya, baby. ‘N Imma real proud man. Be selfish, just this once. Come away with me.”.

For a moment, all you can do is stare, your stomach sinking as you realized he was right. Your whole life you'd been a proper young lady. Honing your craft with your mother in the kitchen while the neighborhood boys played soccer in the fields. You learned to cook, to clean, to play piano forte in hopes to one day secure a rich husband, not for yourself, but for the hope that one day he could provide them more than this cottage on the outskirts of town. Sitting here now, though, you realized that was never what you wanted. It was what everyone else wanted of you.

“...Tonight?” You whisper, and immediately he’s lighting up from the inside out, his grin wild and wide as he surges forward and captures you between his arms, squeezing the life out of you as you giggle and do your best to hold the lit cigarette away from the two of you. He captures your lips in a kiss, and then another, and another, until you’re fussing at him to answer your question.

“Not tonight, tomorra. Gotta get some things’n order. Stock up on sum fixin’s. Shoot a letter to ‘ol Six Eyes out west and pray it arrives before we do-”

Oh, right. You scrunch your face up. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.

“Ya have my blessin’ t’shoot him.”

Okay, you’re excited again “I get a gun?!”. 

He snorts and steals the cigarette back from you, drawing in the last of it and nodding hesitantly “Affirmative, tho I gotta wonder if it’ll be the death a’ me.”.

You hum, your eyes wandering out into the night as you ponder aloud.

“If I am to be completely vulnerable, I do not wish to shoot anyone.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek “The gun ain't f’people, peach- it's for ‘em bears n’ snakes ya’ mentioned. I'll handle the people, don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head over’it.”

***

You couldn’t sleep after he left that night, a sure case of the morbs settling over you as you packed according to Suguru’s instruction. That is to say, lightly. A simple change of clothing and a leather bound journal for writing was basically all you would leave with.

This house, though not one of grandeur, had held you since you were but a babe. Your first steps were taken on this very hardwood, your height from every year notched into the frame of your bedroom door by your Pa’s pocketknife- up until you stopped growing at sixteen or so, that is. The crops from the garden had nourished you, the trees from the wood line knew your deepest secrets. You’d chased and caught frogs here, learned to read and write here, laughed and cried here, been bedded by a ill-fated outlaw here, and ultimately decided to make haste with him on westward winds. Here.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think to hardly on your parents, reminding yourself of Suguru’s words:

“Be selfish, just this once.”

Right. He was right. From now on, you are living life for you. Not for your Mama and Pa. Not for what the pew regulars would think of you. Not for the coffee-sisters, nor the gossip in the marketplace.

…That was, until you snuck as silently as possible through the door of all you’d ever known, only to find your Mama leaning against the wooden railing of the porch, watching the sky ever-so-slightly lighten with each passing moment.

Your heart plummeted through the floor as you nearly dropped your bag from your shoulder in despair. Suguru would be arriving any moment. Surely if she were to see him she would simply fall dead.

“The coffee-sisters at tea last Saturday were just gushing about how there's quite a bit of wide open space out there in the unclaimed west.” is her version of a ‘goodmorning’. She doesn’t even turn around, keeping her stare set off into the distance.

You swallow thickly, trying to keep as normal as possible, “Mama? Why are you awake at such an hour?”.

She ignores you, staring, staring, staring still into the horizon, boring holes into the mountains in the distance. The same ones that hand held you, and her, and her mother, and the mother before.

“You know what's so grand about so much open air?”

You deflate, tears welling to your eyes as the realization dawns upon you that she must know. The one day you decide to run away with a vagabond outlaw is the one day she happens to be up before the sun, standing on the porch, waffling poetic about the unclaimed west? Nonsense. You could only hope this didn’t end in a shootout between Suguru and your father. Anxiety builds and pressurizes in your chest and you stay stone silent, trying to think of a way to de-escalate the aforementioned confrontation before it had even begun.

“There's so much space to grow. A gentleman at the market mentioned to me of his brother who ranches cattle out there. In his most recent letter, he spoke of cacti that grow to three times the height of your average man. Isn't that lovely, my girl?” Finally, she turns to look at you, smiling gently. Her face looks so much like your own but older, wiser.

Your brow dips in confusion. Was this or was it not the part where she was supposed to call you a harlot? Was she not to disown you? To tell you the very thing you’d been telling yourself since Suguru first bedded you; that you were a wretched, wretched, woman and surely when the roll is called on high you will be sent southward?

“Mama, of what do you speak?” The tears brimming your eyes are threatening to fall, but you tell yourself you must remain brave. You were a grown woman, making grown woman choices now.

“Add to that wonder, if the rumors are to be believed they grow flowers! Big, beautiful vibrant blooms from the toughest of plants this world has to offer. I thought unto myself; ‘My good Lord, how fitting. It must be by design.’. Do you understand me, daughter?” she cocks her head at you, and you come to lean beside her on the railing.

“No, Mama. I’m afraid I’m terribly lost.” You aren’t sure why it is you’re whispering, you’d already been caught, after all.

She takes your hand in her own, smiling at you, chuckling lightheartedly, as if she were watching a baby child dance about, “I'm saying to you, girl, that good things come from sharpened situations. There may come a time that you prick yourself to find something brighter than your eyes have seen… but you know of that already, no?”.

The tears begin to fall from the corners of your eyes and you mimic her smile back at her, elation washing over you like fresh spring rain. She was giving you permission. She knew, and still-

“Ma, how did you discover me?” you breathe, and she laughs genuinely, patting your hand.

“I take night strolls in the garden when your father's fog horn snoring keeps me awake. It was just this time last year that I turned to see a rather handsome young man leaned against your open window.”

Your cheeks go red and you hold a palm to your face, shaking your head lightly before you wipe at your tears.

“I must admit, I considered waking your father. You're the upmost of lucky he sleeps like a rock, by the way. A word of advice from an old maid? Tuck a pillow between your headboard and the wall to still the bed--”

“Mama, please! I never meant to bring you shame, of this I swear-!” You cut her off, taking both of her hands in your own, threatening to fall back into the treacherous place your mind had been just moments before.

“My love, everyone beds before they're married these days. They simply do not speak of it, and then there is nothing to say of the matter. I myself was two courses missed when I married your father. The world kept spinning, much contrary to the belief of your Nan.” She shrugs dismissively as you let go of her hands, and all you can do is stare at her; awestruck. Who was this woman standing in front of you now?

“Anyway, If I may continue. I stood out there for quite some time, weighing upon my options. The two of you never even noticed me, so lost in each other that I think I could've marched right up to him and pinched his tight little ass cheeks before either of you took note--”

“Mama!! My word!!!” You gasp, and bark out an incredulous laugh at her words. Your mother, never once in all your live days, had been so crass in front of you.

She laughs too, slapping at your arm and hushing you, “Hush, child! You’ll wake your Pa!”.

Your laughter settles into tender smiles. You were going to miss her most furiously.

She grips both of your shoulders as she speaks.

“I knew that the clock had been set in motion by the way he looked at you. What I saw that wonderful night was the sweet smile of a man that had made up his mind standing by the window in the moonlight. And what of you? Oh glory in the highest, I hadn't seen that look on your face since you were a babe! Not since before this world had taught you it isn't polite for ladies to laugh with no regard for looking proper.”

“I love him, Mama.” You admit, chuckling lightly with watery eyes, “And he loves me, too. Of this I am most certain.”.

“I know.” She pats your shoulder, and then continues, “I had never seen you look so miserable until Nanami Kento showed up on our doorstep, either. A shame, but your heart is already tucked deep in someone else's pocket, I fear.”.

You nod, slow and grave. “If there’s one thing of which I must apologize, it is that. I am terribly sorry for poor Nanami.”.

“Do not be so. Perhaps I will strike lucky and your father will keel over when he wakes to find you gone. More for me.”

“Oh, do not curse him so!” You both snicker again.

She pulls you into a tight hug, squeezing you for all you’re worth, which is maybe more than you knew. It’s around that time that you hear a familiar sound, both of your heads turning to watch as Suguru slowly fades into view, the steady thump of Cinnamon’s hooves against the soft earth growing rhythmically louder as they approach in a slow trot.

You turn back to your mother, your eyes apprehensive. She grabs your head and presses her lips to the center of your forehead, “Go now, child, before your father wakes. Do not forget to write, we will be here should you return. We will be here until the roll is called on high. As for you, though, adventure awaits.”.

With her graces, you step away from the porch, and it feels like you’ve stepped off a ledge into something beautiful. You run to meet him, your shoes padding against the grass and your dress billowing against the motion, never ceasing until he’s bringing Cinnamon to a halt so he can dismount and catch you as you fly into his arms, wrapping you in a hug as if he hadn’t just seen you a few hours prior. He looks good, he always looks good, but it’s a rarity for you to see him in his full get up. You wonder if you, too, will require such gear, and even more so if your bandana and gun belt will be stained purple to match.

He eyes your mother from the considerable distance and she waves. He returns the greeting by way of removing his stetson from his head, pressing it to his chest and bowing lightly in her direction, revealing his hair had been wrangled back into two tight plaits on either side of his head. While he’s distracted, you snatch his hat from his hands, plopping it on your own head, an action that has him laughing, his eyes crinkling up and twinkling with lovesomeness.

“Ya’ wear it much better’n I ever could, dumplin’. Now lets brush th’ breeze ‘for someone decides ‘ta kill me for this.”

***

“Y’know what ‘at ol’ Six Eyed bastard tells pretty young things like you?” Suguru asks through a mouthful of apple, and you’d chastise him for his manners if he wasn't graced with such beauty and you weren't cursed to be so sleepy.

You’d made it about twenty miles before Cinnamon needed to rest. You're all shaded by a tall oak tree, you and Suguru leaning against its base, your hands holding onto his bicep and your cheek rested against his shoulder, his hat still on your head.

“Mm?” You question, barely lucid, and he chuckles, holding the core up for Cinnamon which she's more than happy to accept, crunching almost as obnoxiously as her dear handler had been just moments before.

“He tells’em, ‘You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy--’.” 

You lift your head to ensure he sees you roll your eyes, and he laughs, dipping beneath the brim of his own hat to steal a kiss from you, soft and slow.

[jjoongstar]

❝LOLA'S LIBRARY❞✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

my personal list of all of my fav fics that i really love and would like to reread again for fun. i'll always continue to add more on this list. NONE OF THESE WOKRS ARE MINE!!!

smut🔥| fluff ☁️| angst 💧| most fav & highly rec❤️‍🔥

★¸.•☆•.¸★ ATEEZ ★⡀.•☆•.★

love you goodbye 🔥💧[psh] breakup sex, i legit cried

intertwined☁️[psh] mermaid y/n, siren seonghwa

sleep talker🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] enemies to lovers, one bed trope, vacation au, love the tension & plot

royal library🔥☁️[psh] royalty au, plot twist, legit ult fav, mak lurve giler

(not so) sweet dream☁️[psh] very fluffy, snuggling hihihshs

Red Dress🔥☁️[psh] enemies to lovers, amazing plot

You Come First🔥☁️[psh] drug dealer, dom!hwa went too far, y/n used safe word

Make Me Water🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] friends to lovers, lots of giggling

prefect and t(h)reats🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] harry potter au, slytherin hwa x hufflepuff y/n

I Know It's Over☁️💧❤️‍🔥[psh] historical au, tragic ending, cliche storyline but i cried anyways

The General's Wife☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] possessive military general husband hwa

The Way To His Heart (series)☁️💧❤️‍🔥[psh] joseon era, general sh, arranged marriage, amazing plot, scrumptious storyline, sngt lurve gilerr frr

She's a regular here... (pt.1)🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] drug dealer, legit fav, trilogy

Use me like a drug! (pt.2)🔥☁️[psh]

Baby we're high on you. (pt.3)🔥☁️[psh, khj]

opposite attracts🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh,khj] addams!matz, love the plot

One Day At A Time☁️💧[psh, jyh] royal au, most heartbreaking fic ever, i legit cried ffs, there's comfort at the end

mafia☁️[khj, jwy] mafia au, love the part where she slept on hj's bed

pretty🔥[khj] pure steamy smut, no plot

training wheels🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[khj] prof hj x student y/n, taught her how to suck his cock, ft. woo

Ugh, As If🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[khj] ult fav, y/n has insomnia & he helped her , sngt lurve yurr

Loyalties☁️[khj] criminal hj x detective y/n, love the chemistry, had me giggling, kinda reminds me of sanzu

Dreamy (series)🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[khj] dilf hj, bestie sh's daughter, legit ult fav ever, literally drooling, i love this sm istg, the best one ever, they finally fuck at pt. 6

5:04 am☁️[smg] he help lulled her to sleep

just between friends🔥❤️‍🔥[smg, jyh] pure filthy smut, love all the consents

principia (pt.1)🔥☁️[jyh] prof yuyu x student y/n, got my heartbeat racing

opticks (pt.2)🔥☁️[jyh]

Teacher's Pet🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[jyh] college au, prof yuyu x student y/n, heavy angst (my heart ached sm, i legit cried), "it reopened wounds it never healed", (will reread when i feel like hurting myself again)

outlaw🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[jyh] cowboy yuyu x bartender y/n, amazing plot

cry for me🔥[jyh] pure smut, crying kink, aftercare

whichever way🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[jwy, cs] threesome, has plot, amazing chemistry, kinky

Hardcore🔥☁️💧❤️‍🔥[cjh] teacher jh x student y/n, heartbreaking frr, "you like me...but you love her-", the other women

oh shit, are we in love?🔥☁️[cjh] romcom, college au, bestie to lovers, virgin jh

Ateez Reactions: When You Use Safeword🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[ot8] tbh, idk how to desc this cuz i like seeing them immediately changed from rough & full in lust to soft & concerned

boyfriend!ateez discovering you write smut☁️[ot8] fake text, they're just so funny i giggles too much & accidently banged my head on the wall

★¸.•☆•.¸★ SEVENTEEN ★⡀.•☆•.★

emails i can't send💧[ot13] istg its so devastatingly heartbreaking, highly rec to read during the bloody season

step by step☁️[jww] softie but they were talking bout sex tho

the wolf and the fox☁️[kmg] spy au, the tension btwn the two tho

★¸.•☆•.¸★ P1HARMONY ★⡀.•☆•.★

cinnamon banana pancakes☁️[keeho] soft, fluffy, making breakfast

★¸.•☆•.¸★ OTHERS ★⡀.•☆•.★

idk which category these should go, so i'll place them here:

the better man🔥☁️[san, mingyu] threesome, college au, they fight for y/n

seeing double🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[seonghwa, wonbin] college au, red flag fwb hwa, soft shy wonbin

dividers are by @roseraris

[diorgirl444]

From one matt dilly girl to another...🤨

cowboy!dallas how do we feel

Like full on texan accent omggg- 🤭🤭

you get it oh my godddddd. maybe bcs i’m english but this is so mouthwatering to me i can’t even lie to you!!! so much that i’ve written a few cutesy lil hcs for it xxx

cowboy! dallas winston x farmer’s daughter! reader

warnings: bad writing! (girlies i’ve never kissed anyone or flirted so my expression only comes from writing fanfiction so it may not be the most realistic i’m afraid), fem! reader, very self indulgent, unspecified time period. poor understanding of american history i’m english please go easy on me, idk how many words <3

• okay so i see your cowboy! dallas winston and i raise you runaway outlaw! dallas winston posing as a farmhand on reader’s family farm

• i’m thinking he’s an outlaw because after getting in a fight with his alcoholic father he ran away with their horse and in order to survive he stole from carriages and things. a regular billy the kid you know?

• except it’s not easy for a seventeen year old out on his lonesome on all that land and with the law looking for you. but he has no choice so he keeps running till he reaches a farm far, far out west. that night he is so, so tired that he hides in their barn planning to wake up early so he doesn’t get caught.

• but he hasn’t been able to sleep properly in days so he fully crashes. he wakes up that morning with a girl leaning over him pressing her cool hand to his forehead, the sunlight from the open barn makes her hair like a halo and she’s in a beautiful white nightdress and so he briefly wonders if he’s died and she’s one of heavens angels.

• the allusion shatters when she’s realised he’s woken and she calls “daddy he’s alive!” and then his eyes widen and he realises there’s a whole family crowded around him. he excepts to be shouted, to be threatened maybe even hit but instead the wrinkled old man who he assumes is the father of the house says in a gruff but not unkind voice “you got a place to stay son?”

• dallas is vaguely aware that he doesn’t know these people that they could report him to their nearest sheriff or worse eat him or something gruesome like that. but something about the apple cheeked girl, the twin little boys in mismatched plaid and the kind eyes in the wrinkled faces of the parents has him feeling at ease and so he admits “no sir”

• the mother nudges her husband who nods before speaking “well sonny you’re in luck. i’m in need of a farmhand. can’t pay ya but i can offer ya food and board for you and that horse of yours. does that sound like a deal boy?” dallas nods, hardly believing his luck.

• the girl smiles widely and softly whispers to him “i told daddy we should keep you” he decides not to tell her that she could keep him forever if she wanted. maybe it’s a bit early for that yet.

• he falls into a routine pretty quickly at the farm. he does all the hard labour that the father of the house is too old to do now like cutting firewood or rounding the cattle up. he always catches sight of the girl picking fresh fruit and prancing around the farm in her cute little cowboy boots and his heart aches.

• what he doesn’t know is the parents have noticed the way him and their daughter look at each other or ankles press together under the table so they’re always trying little things to get them together. like sending her out to give him glasses of sweet iced tea or getting him to ride their horses with her.

• it finally happens though late one hot august evening. the farm is lazy for a change with most people napping trying to beat the heat. she’s eating cherries and staining lips and hands on the porch swing whilst intently a very sweaty shirtless dallas work on the farm.

• he catches her looking and grins saying “you know what they say about cherry stems?” she shakes her head, batting her lashes at him absentmindedly and he seems to grin even wider.

• “well if you can tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. means you’re a good kisser” his honeyed southern tone drawls out.

• almost in a trance she hands him a cherry stem and flushes bright red when he cockily sticks his tongue out flashing the knotted up cherry stem. “my turn” she tells him trying to distract herself from the growing butterflies in her stomach.

• “nah doll i got another way to check for you” before she can ask what is, he’s leaning over the porch railings and kissing her. she eagerly kissed him back letting her cherry stained fingers grab onto his hair and he’s groaning slightly against his lips. they probably would of gone further has it not been for the cough behind them.

• they awkwardly pull away, her with red cheeks and dallas with red ears and they meet her fathers gaze “happy to see you two finally pulled it together but if you’re gonna act like dogs in heat do that where the lord can’t see you, hm kids?” he gives them a knowing smile as he walks off.

• and well they listen to him and disappear off the barn hand in hand just as they one day will leave the local chapel dressed in white….

[nayomi247]

Save a horse, Ride a cowboy𐚁

(My version)

A/N: @heart-of-the-morningstar has inspired me to do my own version of the save a horse ride a cowboy smut that she posted, so this is a full one shot. Make sure you guys go visit @bat-boness and give them love and support. As this fic was based off of their drawings. This also is based off the game Red Dead Redemption 2 because that's the only way I'll be able to format this and make it look good. (TAKES PLACE AROUND THE SAME TIME RDR2 DOES)

Pairing: Cowboy! Outlaw! Lucifer/F!Reader

Contents: Smut, established relationship, p in v sex, bondage, biting, orgasm denial, dirty talk, sub Lucifer, light angst, cowgirl position, spanking, hand jobs, dom and sub undertones, blow jobs, praise kink, Lucifer for once isn't short (only because of his boots lol)

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️: THIS ALSO IS NOT PROOF READ, IT'S SOMETHING I THREW TOGETHER IN THE SPAN OF A FEW HOURS

As always, work under the cut🤞🏻

Your husband, Lucifer, wasn't always the kindest man. Of course he was to you, but others weren't quite as lucky. There'd been multiple times where he'd come home with blood covering his hands and shirt.

Though it wasn't something you liked particularly, you still loved your husband, despite all the wrong he'd done in the world.

So there you sat in your shared kitchen, waiting for him to get home. It was well after the time he normally got back. You assumed the job just took a bit longer to handle.

But as time went on, you started to get more worried. He'd never taken this long before. You stood up from your chair, completely forgetting about the plate infront of you and walked over to the door. There, you slipped on your boots and went to grab the door handle.

As soon as you turned the knob and went to walk out, you immediately stopped. There stood Lucifer, coughing and dusting off his muddy clothes, not even noticing that the door has opened and you were standing there. His eyes finally moved up to meet yours.

He smiled brightly. "Oh, my love-" He started, then confusion took over as you leaped at him, almost pushing him off the porch.

"Where the hell were you!?" You practically cried. He fumbled back, both confusion and worry washed over his face. "Honey, what are you-" He started once again, but you had cut him off. "You know exactly what I'm talking about Lucifer. I waited for hours! I thought you were dead, or stranded somewhere!" Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks.

Realization finally hit him and he knew he had fucked up. "L-Listen, the job took longer than I was expecting, but I got out fine, see?" He spinned around, showing that he didn't have a single scratch anywhere. "And," He said, reaching into his satchel. "I brought home a lot of money." He smiled, hoping that would be enough for an apology.

You sighed. You were still annoyed, but glad he was okay. "Go inside." You said, stepping to the side to let him in. "Of course my dear." He said with the stupid, but handsome smirk he'd always use when he got his way. As he moved past you, he placed a kiss to your head. You swatted at him and he laughed, walking over to the coat rack.

"Your food is probably cold." You said, picking up the plate and walking over to place it on the stove top. You were one of the few lucky places to get electricity at this point in time. You walk back over to where you had previously sat. He stood by the door, taking off his boots and jacket, now left in black jeans and a red collared over shirt.

He walked over to the table, sitting in his designated spot, across from you. There you sat, looking like your mind was running a mile a minute. Silence filled the room for a few minutes. Lucifer was becoming more nervous with every ticking of the clock. No one spoke, except for him.

"I'm sorry." He said. You looked up to him, for the first time since he sat down. He looked guilty, and you felt a bit bad. You flashed him a small smile, which calmed his nerves a bit. "Go upstairs." You commanded, and he immediately knew what you meant by that.

"S-sweetheart-" He fumbled over his speech, trying to convince you that he didn't deserve this. "Now." You said sternly. He got up from his seat with a nod, then made his way upstairs.

You sat there for a moment longer before you cleaned up and started up the stairs as well. You made your way down the hall to your shared room, the floor boards creaked loudly with every step.

You walked up to the door, stopping for a second before turning the handle and stepping in. You looked over to the bed, and there sat your beautiful husband. He looked like a mess.

You couldn't help but pity him. He smiled nervously at seeing you enter. His thumbs twiddled together to keep himself somewhat calm. "H-Hello, my love." He said. You made your way over to him, placing a hand on each side of him and leaning in for a kiss. He allowed you to do so, groaning a bit at the way your tongues danced together.

You found him following your face, more like chasing your lips once you pulled away. You smiled at him, and he made his best attempt to smile back.

"I assume you know what's going on Luci?" You asked him. He slowly nodded in response. "Good," you continued. "Take everything off, I'll get your rope." You pulled away, walking over to a dresser on the other side of the room. As you rummaged through the drawer, you heard the sound of clothes hit the floor. The thought of how he looked made you sweat.

You turned around, rope in hand. You slowly made your way back over to the bed where he sat again, this time clothesless. Except for the white hat that sat atop his head.

Your gaze made its way to in-between his thighs, there laid his half hard cock. You smiled to yourself and brung the ropes to his now together wrists, then tied them above his head.

"Too tight?" You asked, pulling at the restraints lightly. "No." He said. "It's okay." You pulled yourself back and threw the rope towards the dresser, leaving the mess for later. You leaned into him again, using one hand to cradle his cheek, the other to stroke his hard on.

He moaned into your mouth and bucked his hips up into your hand. You immediately pulled away. He whined at the loss. "You should know better sweetheart." You stated, and he mumbled an apology. You brought yourself down so you sat right infront of his cock. You looked up before taking your tongue and licking from the base to the tip.

He whimpered and tossed his head back. "F-fuck angel.." satisfied with this reaction, you brought yourself down completely onto him, his tip hit the back of your throat. He moaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. You set a steady pace as you bobbed your head up and down pulling a variety of sounds from his throat.

You felt his cock begin to twitch in your mouth. He was close. "Shit-! D-don't stop, please, please don't." Right as you felt he was about to release, you pulled off, leaving him a mess and unsatisfied.

He whined like a child and groaned. You grabbed where the rope was connected to the top of the bed and untied it. He thought you were letting him go but boy was he wrong, very wrong.

"Scoot back." You instructed. He reluctantly did what you said, still whining about being denied. Once he was by the headboard, you tied him up once again, but now he was more comfortable.

He sprawled himself out before you, showing every part of his beautiful pale body. You got off the bed and started to take your clothes off as well. Once you were naked, as he was, you got back up onto the bed.

Sat on your knees infront of him and leaned forward, grabbing his hat off his head and placing it on your own. "So pretty." He praised as you brought your hand down to your pussy and slid your fingers in between your wet folds. Lucifer couldn't help but be in a trance at the sight infront of him. You were so beautiful, you could make him cum just by the way you looked at him.

You pulled your fingers away. They were now covered in your slick. You took those fingers, and placed them in Lucifer's mouth to suck, which he gratefully did. He moaned at the taste of you, wanting nothing more than to eat you out till you couldn't think straight.

Keeping your fingers in his mouth, you crawled your way up so you hovered right above his hips. Without a second thought, you slammed down onto him. He cried out, biting down on your fingers and squeezing his eyes shut.

You moaned too, his tip hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Good boy.." you whispered, bringing your free hand to run your hand down his chest. "You look so pretty like this." His cheeks flushed and you smiled warmly at him.

He bucked his hips up, and in response, you brought your hand down to his thigh, hard. This resulted in him crying out. You pulled your fingers out of his mouth, refusing to move.

He began to plead with you. He already was denied before, he couldn't handle this too. "Please baby," he whined "Please please please, I promise I'll be good. I'm so so sorry angel. Please fuck me."

Seeing him such a pleading mess infront of you turned you on more than anything could. You did as he asked and slowly sat up, feeling him drag inside you before slamming down again. This continued, moans and other sounds coming from you both. You quickly began to speed up.

"Yes yes yes yes, don't stop." He cried, "W-wanna touch you." Sweat dripped down his features as he tried everything he could to get loose.

You yourself also felt that coil starting to tighten, your pace brutal and quick. You had to bring a hand to your head to make sure the hat stayed on. "S-shit Luci, gonna.. cum." You said, tossing your head back in pleasure. "So, close.." You both said, each orgasm hitting at the same time. Your body shook and he rutted into you, a deep groan coming from his chest as hot ropes of his cum painted your insides.

You collapsed onto him, still having tiny spurts from the after-effects. His gasps as well as your pants could be heard. After about a minute or so, you sat up and smiled weakly at him. He did the same. You leaned down and grabbed him by his face.

"Promise me that you'll never keep me waiting like that again, okay?" You said sternly. He loved when you were dominant. "Yes darling." He whispered and you placed a peck to his lips before grabbing his wrists and untying him.

His arms shot out towards you, and pulled you down onto his chest, the hat falling off in the process. He peppered your face with kisses, holding you so tight that you couldn't get up even if you wanted too.

You giggled and laid your head on his chest, his cock still embedded inside you. He flipped the pair of you over so he was now laying on you. He buried his face in your boobs with a giddy grin on his face.

"I love you so much my darling." He mumbled from your chest. You smiled and kissed his head, your hand rubbing his back.

"I love you too, cowboy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This definitely isn't my best work, but I used past tense, which I normally don't use. I hope it still sounded decent regardless of how unput together it was. Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed! I have another fic in the works that'll hopefully be out within the next week. Love you guys🫶🏻

Here's the original drawings

[brujahinaskirt]

look i love john marston once and true i really do but listen if i were ms. abigail roberts

i would have shacked up with arthur so fucking fast after john ditched me his lil possum-man head would have been spinning on his neck way out in whatever hole he was hiding from the smoking ashes of my broken heart in. "stand by your man?" "give him space?" "take a chance that love exists?" no. i would not. i would have simply turned around and brought The Big Hoss to stable with EXTREME marston-negative malice. i know i know, arthur is sooo loyal he wouldn't leave dutch but yes he fucking would. we are not talking about some copypasta y/n buckle bunny here with no distinguishing features. this is ABIGAIL FUCKING ROBERTS. are you telling me if abigail "The Best Person Alive" (Arthur Morgan, "Abigail You're the Best" speech, 1899) roberts walked up to this babytalking Fatherhood And Other Dreams-addicted wifeless Wifeguy with a cooing toddler stuck under her arm and said "arthur you're jack's daddy now. arthur he's soooo small arthur. he's the size of a single grapefruit. arthur we have to protect your microscopic pea-sized incredibly tiny son" he would not have said Yes Maam and split that camp like the ass crack in a pair of Forever 21 jeans. i'm sorry to this woman but if i were Miss Thang the Van der Linde Princess Herself I would never have waited on a man (J*HN M*RSTON) to come crawling back to me. wait for what?????? i would have waltzed up to that sad sagging open concept tent, outstretched my gleaming ex girlfriend eagle talon and snatched mr I'm-a-Lonesome-Cowboy by his barely concealed raging domesticity stiffy and we would have blown that fucking outfit in two shakes and a holler. i would have ZOOMED onto that orhter-mahrrgahn-shaped gravy train at such fucking velocity you would not believe it. dump ME like a rusted can of peaches. oh no no no. could NOT be me. me and MY peaches would have been out of that whole marston sitchuation and making nice with big brother on a little homestead somewhere at mach 1 (one vindictive bitch) speed. leave me with a fucking baby sleeping on the grass. kiss my outlaw ass. not if I'M ABIGAIL FUCKING ROBERTS. john would have come stumbling back a year later dragging his jaw behind him like "huh??? wuut??? MY BABYCAKE IS WHERE??? WITH WHO" and the revelation that the bad bitch he tossed out with his toenail clippings was now eating bon bons or whatever on his brother's knee in callyfornya would car compact john's world into the size of a soup can. but i wouldn't bat one pretty eyelash about it because i would be spending my enormous devoted husband's train robbing funds on exotic fruits and fancy $15 token mugs and other dumb shit. john fucking god damned linguini legs marston. break my goddamn heart?? bet. arthur knows how abigail takes her coffee. jack would not even know who tf john marston is.

[staytinyville]

OUTLAW (30)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz). UPDATES HAVE BEEN CHANGED. Due to me having ADHD and not being able to stick to one story until I finish (lol) Updates will now be on Monday and Thursday. It gives me time to catch up with the writings as well.

You hummed quietly to yourself as your eyes glanced over the produce that were on display. Wooyoung skipped at your side, picking up things himself to view them. You had gone out to the market with some of the boys to get supplies for the camp. Hongjoong had given you some coins that you would gladly use. You wanted to cook tonight–it was the least you could do for them. You wanted to feel useful, even if Seonghwa or Wooyoung would shove you out of the way. 

“Do we have cabbage for kimchi?” Wooyoung asked you as he looked over the vegetable. “We need to make more.”

“Not that I remember.” You answered him. “I'll get the other ingredients.” You told him, moving along the stalls. 

Wooyoung was quick to turn up at your side, humming at each food available. As you smiled in thanks at the merchant, you heard someone call out your name from behind you.

“(Y/N)?” Your sister called.

“(S/N).” You smiled at your littlest siblings as they made their way towards you. Your eldest brother was trying to break through the crowd, trying to keep up with your younger siblings. 

“(Y/N)!” Your 6-year-old brother screamed, running into your legs. 

It had been two days since you last saw them. You had spoken with your parents at the hotel the day before, who only told you that if the marriage was what you wanted, they would respect your choice. You hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with your siblings again, though. 

“Hi, (B/N).” You giggled, softly petting the boy’s head. “How are you, hm?” You asked. 

“I'm doing good!” The boy smiled up at you, a gap in his teeth on full show. “Where's Yeosang?” He asked, looking around. When his eyes landed on Wooyoung, who was wiggling his fingers in greeting, he tilted his head. “Who's that?”

“This is Wooyoung.” You smiled. “He's one of Yeosang's friends.”

“Hello.” Wooyoung greeted, crouching down to see your brother. “Aren't you just the handsomest.” He complimented him. 

Your brother giggled, hiding behind your skirts from how shy he had gotten. You grinned, patting his head. “Wooyoung, these are my siblings.” You told him.

“Hello.” Your sister shyly greeted, nodding her head at the handsome boy.

“It's nice to meet all of you.” Wooyoung smiled. “(Y/N) talks about you all the time.” He added. 

“What are you doing out?” Your 20-year-old brother only gave Wooyoung a glance, frowning when he noticed it was just the two of you. “Where's Yeosang?” He asked. 

You took a deep breath, feeling annoyed with how your brother was talking with you. He was thinking like a man who needed to own their wife. “I'm just grocery shopping.” You rolled your eyes. “Wooyoung and San are accompanying me while Yeosang gets something done in our home.”

“Who's San?” Your brother frowned. 

“That's me.” Your brother and sister’s eyes went wide when the wide shouldered man came from behind them, holding some bags full of groceries. “I got your things, Darling.” He spoke to you.

“Darling?” Your sister whispered to herself, looking at the two men suspiciously. 

Her eyes squinted at how close they were standing near you. Wooyoung’s shoulder was touching yours and San’s chest was practically glued to your side. She pursed her lips to keep her brother from noticing it as well. He was a man, he didn’t see things the same way. 

“You're living with Yeosang now?” Your brother asked. 

“I guess so.” You shrugged. “He is going to be my husband.”

Your sister looked at you skeptically. The way you spoke so nonchalantly made her worried about why you were doing what you were doing. With how the two boys looked at you only made things worse. 

“(B/N) can you take these home?” Your sister told your older brother, giving him the groceries she had. “I'll meet you all later.” 

“What about you?” He asked your sister. 

“We'll take care of her.” Wooyoung smiled at him. “She's Sweetheart's family, so she shall be under our protection.”

“Not to worry.” (S/N) smiled at your brother, hoping he would give up. 

“I'll stay with her, (B/N)!” Your 6-year-old brother exclaimed, pulling on his older brother’s pants. 

“Big man's got the right idea.” Wooyoung grinned, poking into (B/N)’s side. The boy giggled, starting a small poke fight with the older man. 

“Alright.” Your brother sighed deeply. “Please be careful.” He looked at your sister, giving her a pointed look. 

She nodded her head, giving a smile before moving to link her arm with your own. As your brother walked away from you all, Wooyoung took your other brother into his arms. 

“Come on, (B/N). Let's go check out the river and see if we can get fish.” He pulled San along, allowing you and your sister to walk alone. 

You smiled, thinking about how Wooyoung was able to see that your sister clearly wanted to speak to you. The two boys would have left you alone, but you found it nice to see how they were all for it to take care of (B/N).

“Be honest with me, (Y/N).” Your sister started. “Do you love Yeosang?”

“Of course. I wouldn't be marrying him-” You answered. 

“(Y/N), I'm your sister.” She stopped you. “We might bribe and blackmail each other, but I've been with you longer than anyone else. We've shared rooms for my entire life.” 

You watched as her eyebrows pulled together, her eyes full of worry as they looked at you. “Please be honest with me.” She stopped you both from walking forward. “Does he make you happy at least?”

Her question caught you off guard, but a smile was quick to make its way onto your lips. Yeosang was someone who didn’t enjoy partaking in violence unless threatened. He was someone who knew how to take care of himself as well as others. Even if he wasn’t at his best. 

They would all go to the extreme if it meant protecting each other. It was what you admired about them. There was so much to look forward to with them, but the passion they put into everything was what made you notice them. They made you feel much more than happy.  

“More than I would ever be able to find in Cromer.” You spoke absent mindlessly, smiling over at Wooyoung and San playing with your brother. 

(S/N) took a glance at where you were looking, finding San holding your brother upside down as he laughed loudly. She felt a smile slip onto her face as she watched them. Looking back over at you, she was quick to see the sparkle in your eye. 

She knew for a long while you were involved somehow with the cops. And when Seonghwa and Yeosang started working at the hotel, it was clear they had taken a fancy to you. She wasn’t going to judge you–you were her sister. She would trust everything you say and know that you didn’t do anything that went against your morals. 

Your sister knew you and found something within those boys, and seeing you with Wooyoung and San, it was clear you found something more. 

“I want to meet them.” Your sister said. 

“Yeosang?” You tilted your head. 

“The boys who make you happy.” She smiled. “You don't think I haven't noticed how happy you are when you talk to those boys who came into town months ago?” 

“I know you aren't marrying Yeosang because you love him. You just want a way out from all this. If you trust them enough to do that, I want to meet them.”

Tears welled in your eyes at her announcement. You had always been close with her, even if she was years younger than you. But you took care of her when your mother couldn’t. You were there for all her firsts and watched as she grew up. It meant so much to hear that some of your family believed you. 

“Okay.” You smiled softly at her. 

So you took your sister and brother back to meet the rest of the boys. Wooyoung and San were more than willing to go along with you. Your brother rode with Wooyoung as San had let you and your sister ride on his horse. It wasn’t that long of a walk to get to the camp, seeing as the boys were back in town. 

As you all came up to the camp, your brother gasped from seeing everything. 

“Pretty girl!” Seonghwa exclaimed, skipping over to you. He gave your sister a greeting when he noticed her, bringing her into a side hug. 

“Hello.” Yunho spoke up. “It's nice to meet you.” He told your sister. 

Wooyoung brought your brother down from his horse, laughing as the boy quickly ran around the camp. 

“You guys live in tents!” He exclaimed, eyes wide as they took in everything. He began to snoop, which made you frown, about to tell him something. However, San told you it was alright, Wooyoung watching over him. 

“Look at what they have!” Your brother yelled, holding up some hourglass he found in a chest. 

“Okay, let's put that down.” Hongjoong walked out quickly, taking the object from your brother's hand and setting it back down. 

“You guys are super cool!” (B/N) yelled, running around once more. 

“Who's this?” Hongjoong asked, giving your sister a polite smile. 

“Captain, these are some of my siblings.” You spoke up. “Guys, this is Hongjoong–the captain.”

“Hello, it's nice to meet you.” Your sister spoke up, holding her hand out. 

Hongjoong gave a bow of his head, shaking her hand. 

“I'm Yunho.” The tall man took to introducing themselves. 

“Jongho.”

“You guys are the cops at the hotel.” Your sister shook their hands, making the observation. 

“Hello, I'm Mingi.” The boy spoke from behind your sister. 

She quickly turned around, nodding up at him. Your brother ran up to the little group, bumping into Mingi’s legs. Mingi held onto the boy’s back to keep him from falling over. As your brother stared up at Mingi, he tilted his head. 

“Hey, you look like that one guy on those wanted posters.” He pointed at Mingi. 

Your eyes went wide as you looked at the others. They, too, had worried expressions, hoping your sister wouldn’t say anything. But you already knew her–she was just as observant as you. So when you saw her look at you with raised eyebrows, you cleared your throat to avoid her stare. 

“How unfortunate for me.” Mingi told your brother. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you guys.” You were thankful your sister hadn’t asked more about Mingi. 

The boys seemed to get along with your siblings just fine. You were happy to see them interact with each other. Your sister had laughed so hard, it was amazing she didn’t have an asthma attack. And your brother had so much fun playing with Wooyoung and San, who kept him entertained. 

You had a smile on your face the whole time, laughing along with the boys and giggling when they would poke fun at you. It was clear how different you were when you were around them. You allowed yourself to feel emotions you hadn’t before. Your sister could see that as she watched you. 

“Come on, we better get them home, (Y/N).” San told you, rubbing your lower back. 

You hummed, moving along with him to get your siblings back home. They both said goodbye to the boys–your brother even giving them hugs. On the way home, though, you could see your sister had a thoughtful expression on her face. 

“Everything okay?” You asked her. 

“They all make you so happy.” She started. “I've never seen you smile so much. (Y/N), maybe you haven't thought about it yet, but I really believe you'll love one of them someday.”

Your lips pulled together as you thought about her words. It was clear she still only thought about you ending up with one of them. But at least she wasn’t going to say something about you marrying Yeosang but falling in love with one of the other boys. 

You couldn’t think about choosing just one of them, and they knew that too. You were excited to go with them and find where you would turn up. They weren’t going to let you down if you were a part of their group. You were going to be someone they cared for, and you were happy about it. 

“I can only hope to have that.” She added. 

“You're still young, (S/N).” You told her. “You're a wonderful person and I'm sure you'll find a boy who will love you.”

“You found yours. And I'm so happy for you.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory , @mommahwa1117 , @sunnyhokyu , @cloudieclair , @araknoid , @starjoongi1117 , @chel-awingcherry , @puppyminnnie ,

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 7: My House of Stone...

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: sorry this took so long i got such bad writers block Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

When Arthur didn’t show up after a few days, you tried to not let it get to you. He was a busy man, no doubt even more busy because of the job involving your husband. You ignored the fact that he proved that he would fight everything to come and see you, consequences be damned. It was almost out of character that he hadn’t come to see you, or had reached out to you in some way.

When a few more days passed with no sign of the outlaw, you found yourself going back over your last encounter, when he had taken you out on Bear. You don’t recall any hesitancy or doubt in his eyes when he was with you, or maybe you were too blind with your own desire to see it. That thought made you reel, panicking that you made him uncomfortable and scared him off. 

But you didn’t let that thought fester for too long. You spent your days doing menial tasks with no real passion, trying to just pass the time. It worked, mostly, but you were getting antsy. How you wished you had an easy way to leave the prison that had become the house. 

Even more days passed, each day becoming more and more anxiety ridden. Instead of worrying that you’d scared him off now, you were worried that he was dead, or in shackles, about to be hung up in the town square. Your nights were becoming restless, images of his dead body haunting you when you closed your eyes. You’d wake with bloodshot eyes, even more tired than you were when you went to bed. 

You eventually stopped counting the days, not wanting to know how long he’d been gone for. You tried to spend more and more time outside of the house, bringing blankets and books from Hans’ office to your garden, waiting to escape the confinement of the walls around you. It helped, for a bit, yet you still found your mind wandering, constantly worrying about Arthur. 

But no matter how hard you tried, you found that you couldn’t hate the man. Upset, sure, angry, definitely, but not hateful. No, your heart wouldn’t allow it. You were still in love with him, and the lack of contact from him was hurting you, both physically and mentally. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard to find it in yourself to take care of your body. You knew it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. He had wormed his way into your very being, and left a hole that couldn’t be fixed. You just hoped that he’d return soon and make you feel whole again. 

It was during this time that you decided to draft a letter to your family, hoping that it would alleviate the loneliness that was once removed by Arthur. You sat in Hans’ office, pen shaking in your hand as you stared at the blank piece of paper in front of you, the task proving to be more difficult than you imagined. It had been two years since you’d last spoken to them, and you had no idea what to say. How much was too much? How honest was too honest?

You decided to keep it simple, and you began to write. It took a few tries, but you eventually produced a letter that you were satisfied with. 

My dear family, 

I have missed you all, incredibly so. Words don’t even begin to do it justice. I apologize for not reaching out earlier, but my circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I do so hope to hear back from you, and perhaps have the pleasure of seeing each other in the flesh soon. 

Your daughter,

You finished it with your name, but just your first name. Tucking it into an envelope, you addressed it with the address Arthur had provided you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw Arthur’s handwriting, rereading the note he left you.

Making sure to leave the office as you found it, you made your way downstairs, setting the letter on the kitchen table, ready to grab for whenever you decided to go into town. You spent a few days at home after writing the letter, hoping that one night you’d hear the familiar hoofbeats of Bear, but were left disappointed each night. 

Eventually, though, you needed to leave, if just for a short bit of time. It had been roughly three weeks since you’d last left the house, and if you had to look at the same things again you were going to snap, leaving the house as a pile of ash. So, with a small purse with some cash, you took the letter and yourself and left. 

If it weren't for your current mindset, the walk to the main road would’ve been relaxing, enjoying the noises of animals and the cool breeze against your skin. But everything is annoying you now. The wind was causing your hair to blow in your face, and if you had to hear that birdsong one more time, you were going to lose it. Or maybe you’d already lost it. 

The sun blinded you as you left the shade of the thick forest, stepping out onto the main road. You always hated doing this, but you were desperate. Slowly, you began to walk towards Rhodes, keeping a close ear for any riders. 

It took a few minutes, but you eventually heard someone approaching from behind, and you perked up, putting on your friendliest face as you stopped and turned. It was a carriage, and you began to wave them down, but they ignored you, not even bothering to glance in your direction. Rude.

Still, you kept on, not letting one bad interaction deter you. A few more carriages and wagons passed, with similar responses. Everyone looked grim, you noticed, stone-faced and somber expressions. Now you were starting to feel dejected, and you debated just heading back to the house; you weren’t that far anyway. 

Before you could come to a decision, a single rider passed you, glancing at you even though you didn’t wave him down. Something like recognition flashed across his face, even though you’d never seen this man in your life. He had longer, black-brown hair that was tied into a small ponytail, with a mustache and goatee, and a bowler hat protecting his tanned skin. He had a blue denim jacket on, with a red handkerchief around his neck, and you noted that he was surprisingly well dressed for being an alone traveler on the road. 

“Mrs. Kerrigan?” He asked, almost in disbelief, like you were a creature from folklore, pulling his gray and white horse to a halt beside you. 

You braced yourself, ready to bolt as you stared at the man. “Yes?” You asked, suspicious. It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize who you were, but they’d never acted like they knew you personally. You dove into the deep recess of your brain trying to remember who he was, but drawing a blank; he was a stranger to you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, which was a tad bit off putting from a complete stranger. Still, you couldn't detect any malicious intent in his words.

Sighing, you answered truthfully. “I’m tryin’ to get to Rhodes. You… you don’t happen to be goin’ there, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered, truly sounding regretful, but then his face turned thoughtful. 

“Ah. No worries then. Have a good day.” 

You tried to continue moving, but his smooth voice made you halt again. “But it’s close enough. I can only bring you to the outskirts, though.”

“You’d do that?” You smiled when he nodded. “I can pay, too. Thank you, Mr…?”

“Escuella. But you can call me Javier.” He extended a hand to you, helping you on to the back of his horse. You sat sidesaddle, keeping an appropriate amount of distance between your bodies, your hands resting on his sides.

Javier. You remember Arthur telling you about someone with the same name, and although you highly doubted that this was the same Javier, you wished that he had a drawing of him. “Thank you, Javier.”

“Of course, Mrs. Kerrigan.” Javier gestured his horse forward, setting an easygoing pace; not too fast, not too slow. A small pang hit your heart as you remembered the last time you were on a horse, your body pressed up to Arthur’s, his rough voice in your ears, the playful glint in his eye. God, you missed him. 

“I’ll pay you when we get to town,” you repeated after a few minutes of riding, and you felt Javier chuckle. 

“I appreciate it, but I think Arthur would kill me.” Your blood ran cold, and your heart began to race just at the mention of him. So this was Javier, the one Arthur traveled with in the mountains to rescue John. It makes sense then, why he seemed to recognize you.

“Well, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” you commented. 

“He’s talked about me, then?”

“All good things,” you reassured, and he just shook his head, not believing you. You desperately wanted to ask him about Arthur, if he was alive or not, but you weren’t sure if any answer he gave you would hurt less. “Does… does he talk about me?”

Javier snorted. “Yes and no. He’ll talk about you, sometimes so much that we want to kill him, but then refuses to answer any of our questions. Some of us even doubted your existence,” he laughed, “but I’m glad to see that we’re wrong. You’ve made him real happy. I haven’t seen him this… optimistic in a long time.”

You were glad he was facing forward, so he couldn’t see the way those words broke you. Biting back tears, you kept your voice steady. “How is Arthur?”

“He’s fine?” He responded, very clearly confused as to why you didn’t know. “He’s been, well, ‘helping’ your husband.”

Oh. “So the names he got led to somethin’?” 

“Sure did. We were able to track down suppliers, and disrupt his business there. He’s yet to reach out for help, but Dutch doesn’t think it’ll be long now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” You weren’t lying. “But he’s well?” You couldn’t help but ask about him again. 

“Yes. It’s been a crazy couple of days, but we’re pulling through.”

Only a couple of days. You refrained from asking what he’d gotten up to earlier, not wanting to appear desperate, even if you were. “I’m glad. And don’t make me regret saying this, but if anyone ever needs a place to lie low for a bit, point ‘em towards my house. At least when my husband isn’t there.” Even though you’d barely met any of the members, you couldn’t help but feel protective over the gang because of how deeply Arthur cared about them. If there was anything you could do to help them, you would.

“I’ll be sure to let them know. Thank you.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Arthur was right about you; you’re too kind for this world.”

You murmured a small thanks, and the two of you fell into an easy silence for the rest of the ride. When the familiar outskirts of Rhodes appeared, you felt Javier begin to grow nervous, his head moving back and forth, like he was on the lookout for something. “We can stop here,” you said once you reached a long abandoned house, the yellow paint chipping and peeling. 

Red dust kicked up when your feet hit the ground, and you quickly took out a few bills, handing them to Javier. “Again, I can’t take this,” he held up a hand, a small smile on his face.

“I ain’t payin’ you for the ride, though. I payin’ you to deliver a message to Arthur,” you countered, but he didn’t relent. Sighing, you tucked them into the saddlebags before facing him with your hands on your hips. “Tell him to come see me. Please.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. Do you have a ride back home?”

“I can arrange something’. Now go; you look uncomfortable just being here.”

He chuckled, not disagreeing with you. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

“You too, Javier. Stay safe.”

He nodded, smiling kindly at you before turning, taking off back down the road you’d just been on. Turning toward the town, you began to make your way to the center of town, right to the post office in the railroad station.

It was eerily quiet, more like a ghost town than anything. There wasn’t a single soul lingering on the porches or the street, and the shutters of most of the buildings were shut, which was extremely unusual for the middle of the day on a weekday. There weren’t even any animals out; it was just you and the dust. 

After a few tense minutes of walking, you eventually climbed the stairs of the railroad station, the creak of the old wood almost making you jump. It was just as empty on the inside as it was outside, the other person in the building, the person behind the counter, who smiled tensely as you entered. 

“Good afternoon, missus,” he exclaimed, the chip in his voice far too forced. “Say, can’t say I’ve seen you ‘round here before.”

“You’ve probably met my husband, Mr. Kerrigan,” you responded, making your way to the counter, pulling the letter from your bag. 

“Ah yes. Well, how can I help you, Mrs. Kerrigan?”

You slid the letter across to him. “I’d like to send this, please.”

“Not a problem at all. That’ll be five cents.”

Sliding him a nickel from your bag, you looked around as he stamped the letter, putting it in the appropriate mailbox. “Is there anythin’ else I can help you with?”

“Why is it so… dead?” You glanced back at the man, who had visibly paled at your question. 

“Interesting choice of words, ma’am. Let’s just say we had an… incident yesterday. Nothing befitting a proper lady like yourself.” He explained, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

Ominous. Realizing you weren’t going to get far with him, you wished him a good day before leaving. You made your way to the general store; Mr. Banks would let you know. 

The bell chimed as you entered, and you called out for the older gentleman, and you heard the sound of crashing from the back room, clearly scaring the poor man. A disheveled Mr. Banks peeked around the corner, visibly relaxing when he saw it was just you. You opened your mouth to try and apologize, but he cut you off. “You didn't bring that ‘deputy’ with ya, did you?” He asked, growing tense again.

“Arthur? No, he’s not with me.”

“Good. I’ll kill him on sight if he even dares to step foot in Rhodes again. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Physically, no. “Mr. Banks, what in the world-”

“Him and his buddies shot up the town yesterday. Killed the good Leigh Gray, Lord bless his soul,” he shuddered, and you halted in your tracks, your somewhat amused smile at his ramblings falling. 

“What?”

He pointed to a newspaper on the counter, and you cautiously stepped toward it. Bloodthirsty Gang Kills Dozens was the headline, a few paragraphs of text following below it. Your head spun at the new information, blocking out the words of Mr. Banks. You couldn’t gauge what you were feeling; you weren’t disgusted, or revolted, even though you knew you should be. You weren’t surprised; you knew that Arthur had done things, unspeakable things, and would continue to do so. You weren’t angry at what he did, but you were angry at him for putting himself in harm’s way like that. 

“I’ll take the paper,” you cut Mr. Banks off, sliding him a few bills, and he slid the paper to you. You barely mumbled out a ‘good day’ before you left, nose deep in the paper as you headed back to the railroad station, sitting on the bench waiting for the carriage services, and you read as you waited. 

You read all about the way the gang played both families, something you had no idea was happening. You weren’t hurt that he didn’t tell you; you knew that some things had to remain secrets. But you didn’t care much about the detail, eyes scanning for any telling of death or injury to the Van Der Linde gang. You knew that Javier probably didn’t lie to you, but you still needed to be sure. 

Your heart dropped when you saw that there was indeed one confirmed killing of a member of the Van Der Linde gang, but you didn’t recognize the description they provided. The others, it seemed, were still at large, and unhurt. Knowing how deeply Arthur cared about each member of the gang, you knew that this death was probably weighing heavily on him. If only he would come and see you, just so you could help him.

The sound of a carriage approaching had you standing, tucking the paper under your arm. Getting in, you directed the driver to your house, and you quickie got lulled into the rocking rhythm of the vehicle. You ignored the paper under your arm, even though it felt like a million pounds.

The ride felt like forever, but eventually you pulled into the familiar forested area of Ringneck Creek. The driver helped you out, and after you paid him you headed inside, feeling like you were just going through the motions. Despite everything you’d learned, there was one thing that really bothered you. The shootout had only been yesterday; what had stopped him from seeing you during the previous three weeks?

Even though it wasn’t late, you found yourself getting ready for bed anyway, keeping the paper on the table downstairs and grabbing a book from Hans' office before curling beneath the sheets. Your eyes skimmed the words, not processing them, your brain too distracted by today’s events.

You weren’t quite sure how you “read” for, but you must’ve fallen asleep at some point. A loud noise, like a door being slammed, had you bolting upright, pulled out of your uneasy slumber, the book luckily not hitting the ground. When you didn’t hear anything for a few moments, you thought you had just imagined it, and you went to try and go back to bed. 

That was until you heard the sound of heavy footfalls. Shit. Tearing off the covers, you padded lightly across the wooden floor, wishing that Hans wasn’t so opposed to keeping guns in the house. You had nothing to defend yourself with, so kept to the shadows as you left the room. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you flinched when you saw the shadow of a man making its way toward the stairs. You began to back away, back into the safety of your room, until you recognized the familiar silhouette of the man. Don’t tell me…

Cautiously, you made your way downstairs, barely making a noise. You had to stifle a gasp once you reached the bottom, your suspicions confirmed when you saw Arthur standing in your dining room, back to you, glancing over the newspaper you’d set on the table. His hair was longer, his clothing unkempt, but it was still the same man you had fallen for.

Too many emotions ran through you, from anger to longing to desire to sadness. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face, and so you just stood at the bottom of the stairs, shocked. 

Eventually, Arthur turned, the only sign of him being startled was his eyes widening. Those beautiful blue eyes that had haunted your thoughts, that you longed to see again. You let out a small gasp then, audible only to you. It was really hard to remain still, every fiber of your being craving to be in his arms again, to feel his lips on yours. 

Neither of you knew what to say, just staring at each other. Even in the low light, you could see that Arthur looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and his shoulders sagging. Being on the run would do that to a man. “So Javier wasn’t kiddin’. You’re alive.” You didn’t care that your voice was scathing. 

Javier must’ve said something to him, because Arthur didn’t seem surprised that you mentioned the other man. If you ever met him again, you’d have to thank him for sticking to his word about delivering a message. “I…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’ll leave.” Oh, how you missed his rugged voice. 

Arthur turned to head back out the front door. “Stay. Please.” You called out, making your voice softer, stopping him in his tracks. Don’t leave me again. 

He took a deep breath before turning back around, somethin like guilt on his features. “It’s been three weeks, Arthur.” You sighed out.

“I know, darlin’.” You nearly broke then, his name for you crumbling your resolve. Yet you held, fingers gripping the railing with a death grip. “There was an… incident-”

“The shootout in town,” you cut him off. “Don’t sugarcoat things. I know what you get up to. I know the things you’ve done.”

Arthur didn’t bother to try to disagree, and you were thankful for that. “After the shootout in Rhodes, I couldn’t risk comin’ over to see ya’.”

“I understand, but that was only a few days ago. Arthur, it's been three weeks.” You didn’t bother to hide the pain in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.”

“Then where’ve you been?” He didn’t respond, and you laughed bitterly. “I thought you were dead, Arthur. Or you were about to be strung up in the gallows. Or you… I was worried sick, and the only reason I knew you weren’t dead was because Javier told me.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your apology, I want an explanation.” You let go of the railing. “Why?” Arthur hung his head, and you began to step towards him. 

“You deserve somethin’ better, darlin’.”

“And you thought the best thing for me was to leave me alone and heartbroken. And who is this ‘someone better’ I deserve? Hans? No, I don’t think so.”

“I ain’t much better! You said it yourself, you know the things I’ve done. I’ve killed people, so many I’ve lost track. Hell, I was the one who killed Sheriff Gray. My whole life I’ve tricked and duped and betrayed people; I ain’t a good man’. You’re too sweet, too kind. You deserve somethin’ better than that, than me.”

“You think I didn’t know that you’ve hurt people, Arthur? You didn’t think when you said you were an outlaw that I wouldn’t, I don’t know, realize you’ve done some unlawful things? I know what kind of man you are, and who you claim to be, yet when I think of you I think of a man that is also good, generous, sweet.” You continued to move towards him, even as he shook his head. 

“A man that would come check up on a sad woman in the woods just ‘cause she asked, that would find her family’s address so she could write to them.” You were close enough to him that you could reach out and touch him.

“A man that’s made my miserable existence feel worthwhile, that has become the best goddamn part of my life.” His hands were shaking, you found when you took one of them in both of yours. Those familiar calloused fingers were oh so comforting, and you brought them close to your heart.

You took a deep breath. “A man that I’ve completely fallen in love with.”

His hands stopped shaking, or maybe yours were. You couldn’t tell. 

Arthur was speechless, but you could tell that he didn’t oppose your confession, because he pulled you closer. His free hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You shouldn’t…”

“Too late now, Arthur.” You breathed out. “I… I love you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He repeated again with more edge, but you could see how conflicted he was. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from it.”

“How can you be so certain?” 

“Because every damn good thing in my life gets ruined. Every person I lo- care ‘bout, I make their lives worse, and they regret ever openin’ their hearts to me. Did ya know I almost married a girl, then I ruined that. I- I had a kid,” his voice grew thick with emotion, “and he’s no longer with us. All because of me, and the life I lead. All because wherever I go, someone’ll be huntin’ down the people I care about, no matter how innocent they are. I couldn’t live with myself if somethin’ happened to you ‘cause of me.”

Oh. You were speechless now, and your heart ached for the man in front of you. “Arthur… I can’t guarantee that somethin’ won’t happen to me, but do you really wanna live your life in fear, pushing away those who care about you?”

“I can’t lose you, darlin’. I can’t.” 

“But you almost did, pushin’ me away like that. What then?”

“I…” he took a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck gently. “I don’t know.”

“So don’t push me away. Yes, it’s terrifying, caring about someone like this. You don’t think I worry ‘bout you every time you’re not here? That I don’t worry that we’ll be found out, and this whole thing will come burning down around us? But isn’t it worth it? ”

He sighed, before resting his head against yours, his hat sliding back a bit. “It is.”

“Then mean it. To yourself. To me.” His lips were so close now, and you wanted nothing more than to close the space between them. You let go of his hand, choosing to rest your hands on his chest instead. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under your fingers, just as fast as yours was. “I love you, Arthur, and there isn’t a damn thing you can say that’ll change that.”

Arthur exhaled shakily, and even in the dim light you could see a small smile on his lips. “And I’m grateful for your stubbornness.” You chuckled lightly at his words. “I’ve been a fool-”

“None of that. You ain’t a fool, Arthur.”

“Maybe not. But I’m a fool for you.” You rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, knees growing weak at the now grin on his face. That dazzling, beautiful grin. But his expression sobered, and you temporarily feared the worst. “You should know that I do feel the same, darlin’. I really do. It’s just, I can’t…”

“You can’t say it back,” you refrained from sounding too crestfallen. You could be content with the fact that he agreed he felt the same. For now. He shook his head, looking ashamed, and you forced his gaze back up to yours when he tried to look away. “Then show me. Show me that you love me.”

“I could spend every last minute of my life showin’ you, and it still wouldn’t be enough time,” he chuckled, his thumb brushing just below your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, and something darkened in them. “But I can certainly try.”

He leaned in, finally closing the distance, and you felt like you could cry with relief. His lips felt even better than you remembered, more desperate than you’d ever felt them. You dropped his hand, arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to kiss you, his hat falling to the ground as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, the hand still holding your face brushing your cheek. “Darlin’, you’re cryin’,” he murmured, his brow creasing with concern. 

“Good tears,” you laughed, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “I just missed you, so much.”

Another flash of guilt appeared on his face. “You promise?”

“Promise.” He regarded you for a few moments, and you nearly pulled him back down yourself, desperate to feel his lips again. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait too long, because he was kissing you again, weeks of pent up longing, fear, and love being poured into it. It made you dizzy, and your fingers tangled further into his hair, eliciting a groan from the man. 

Arthur’s free hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he kissed you. They gripped even harder when you ran your tongue against his lips, not expecting you to take control of the kiss. He willingly let his lips part, letting you explore him with ease. 

You hadn’t even realized Arthur had moved until you felt your back hit a wall, the back of your head cradled by his hand. It made you groan, breaking away from the kiss, and Arthur wasted no time trialing his lips down your neck. Your head rolled back, letting out pleased sighs and light moans as he littered kisses across your neck, his facial hair ticking the sensitive skin.

“Arthur,” you groaned, hands still in his hair, and you felt him hum in response. 

“My beautiful girl,” you heard him mutter, more to himself than anything, and you were grateful for the stability the wall provided. The hand on your waist moved down, securing under your thigh and lifting it so that your leg wrapped around him. You inadvertently began to rock your hips, eliciting another delicious groan from Arthur.

“God, Arthur, I need you.” You didn’t care if you were pleading. You’d been plenty patient; you were allowed to be greedy. 

“I’m takin’ my time with ya. We’ve got all night.”

Another groan tore from your throat. All night. “You promise?” You asked, echoing his previous words. If he was promising all night, then you could be patient for a little while longer.

You felt him grin against your skin, nipping lightly at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Promise.”

Author's Note: surprise javier appearance bam!

[catsfor2]

out west II (ellie x reader)

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut wc: 1.8k, unedited tags: @champagnelovers101@intrnetdoll@me-and-your-husband

a/n: i............i havent written smut in a while. cut me some slack.

western slang!("sakes alive" - like 'oh my god!' or something, horse feathers - nonsense/ridiculousness, "line rider" - cowboy, lunk-headed - dumb, "make tracks" - leave, bristled - angry, rattling - worrying, "pop your corn" - say your words/spit it out, poppet - term of endearment like "sweetie" and stuff)

-j

She'd came in the night.

Garbed in the evening's clothing, blurred into the sticky silence of twilight. Ghostly. Exactly as she came before.

Her fingers had fumbled with your shutters for a minute, eventually just snapping the mechanism that kept them locked.

You hadn't heard it.

Her leather-laden hands, clutching the edges of the window frame, hoisting herself over the small ledge into your bedroom.

You hadn't heard it.

And then, her thoroughly dusted boots, clopping at your creaky wooden floor, steps miniature and slow.

You still heard nothing.

For you were sleeping. Achingly peaceful, still and vulnerable. Your hair, a halo around you, arranged gently across your pillow. Your lips parted, light breaths puffing out of them consistently. Your hands, clutched closely inwards with your blanket laced between your fingers. An angel, the outlaw thought.

And then she sees it.

Her hat.

Neatly rested atop the pillow next to you, almost propped on display like you knew she’d be coming.

It was cleaner. Dusted off. You had undirtied it properly and meticulously for the gunslinger, delicate hands conditioning the suede for hours and hours until it finally felt right.

The outlaw warmly smiles, shadow looming darkly over your sleeping body as she imagines it. You, sitting pretty all alone in your lace trimmed bedroom, brushing grime off the leather of a hat that belongs to a criminal.

She wishes she could’ve been there to watch you do it.

The outlaw stills, realizing something, and reaches into the band of her holster to pull out a burlap sac. The size is small enough to hide easily in her palm.

Her fingers tug the strings and widen the top, before digging inside and plucking out a pink, soft looking peony.

It reminded her a lot of you when she’d first seen it.

She steps lightly, bending over your figure, and creeps up the brim of her hat to place the peony under it.

She knows that you’ll find it eventually. The difficult part, to the outlaw, is being unable to see your face when you notice it.

But it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

As the next time the outlaw would visit—tomorrow night—she had a different plan.

She’ll wake you up instead. Brush the hair out of your face, cup your cheeks gently and lay a soft kiss to your sleep-heated skin.

She’ll reveal a lilac from her burlap sac this time, closely watching the blush rise in your face as she places it in your hands.

And then she’ll steal you.

Steal you far, far away from this place you’ve been forced to call home.

And never let you come back.

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

Night has fallen over town, and the outlaw couldn't be happier.

Her lilac is plucked.

Her boots are freshly polished.

And she approaches the same window confidently, enthusiastically, and opens the shutters.

Oh.

Her eyes widen subtly, glossing over as she sees inside.

She quickly realizes that she cannot enter.

Because you are...occupied.

Thoroughly occupied.

Gasps escape your lips in fluttery exhales, so quiet and so soft that the outlaw could barely hear. Your arms, daintily motioning under your blanket, are about hidden completely. She almost pities you, right then. Seeing the pure need color your cheeks as you help yourself. Almost frustrated with pleasure.

And her hat. Her damned hat.

Sat dearly next to you, superbly clean. Resting in the same air you breathe out so sweetly, so beautifully. Close enough to see the wetness of your eyes. Feel the warmth of your skin.

The gunslinger heats, hands starting to moisten the inside of her gloves. She swallows.

Her fingers fidget, still clasped around the shutter, as she raises the other hand, already drawn into a fist.

She knocks.

Immediately, a shrill shout escapes you, limbs messily fumbling under the covers and hands frantically grasping them up to your chest.

"Sakes alive!—it's—I—it's you!" you stutter in disbelief.

The gunslinger subtly nods.

"D'you—" you take a breath, having to collect yourself before you talk again. "D'you have any idea what time of night—this is—this is just horse feathers! Just—just showin' up?! I don't even—" you look away, breaths coming out harshly. "I don't even have words for you right now."

"Darlin', I—"

"Don't. And while you're at it—put that—that damn bandanna over your eyes," you say, voice getting a little quieter. "...I'm...indecent."

The outlaw only obeys, hands tugging the bandanna up and over her brow bone. You continue.

"I should've never trusted some—some line rider crook like yourself. My mistake."

She steps forward, hands steadily in front of herself.

"I'm no crook sweetheart, I already told you—"

"I can't trust a crook's word on bein' a crook! You lunk-headed—"

The outlaw interrupts you with her movements, arm extending to snatch her hat and place it on her head. She adjusts it slightly, fingers pinching the brim, before talking.

"Tell me you want me gone. I'll make tracks darlin'. I don't wanna hurt you. I can..." she glances at the window. "...take my hat and go. If it's what you want."

Your body tenses, freezing at the notion.

"That's not what I want." you blurt, anger starting to subside.

The outlaw's voice had you remembering how caged and hot you felt when you first had met her. It was distracting.

"Yeah?" She asks. "Enlighten me then."

You pause, feeling strangely watched despite her vision being blocked by the fabric.

"I want—well, I wanted...you. And I didn't know if—if I'd ever see you again. I couldn't..." your skin colors. "...I couldn't wait."

The only expressive part of her face you could see—her mouth—quirks up into tiny smile.

"You only had to wait a small while longer honey. I was down the road."

Your legs shift under the covers, restless with warmth.

"You can—you can take the bandanna off. I'm...fine now." you utter, still unable to face her directly.

Her hand moves to grab it, before she stops.

"Are you sure? I don't mind—"

"Just take it off." you cut, words even louder.

She finally does, exposing her eyes to you and your bedroom. Her grin widens as she looks at you.

"Not so bristled anymore?" she questions.

Your hands brush up and down your thighs.

"...No."

She tracks your movements closely, eyes flicking.

"...Somethin' else rattlin' you then?" she tries.

You stay silent, simply not able to conjure a clean way to word your thoughts. The outlaw talks again.

"I think I know." she assures. "You weren't quite...done yet, were you? Is that it?"

Hotness blooms, showering your insides in something dangerous and heady. The outlaw won't stop talking.

"You're just—just itchin' for it under there aren't you?" she murmurs.

She sits on your bed, body leaning deftly close to yours. Her head inches near your neck, lips curtly brushing you for a moment.

"...Do you think you'd let me see?" she whispers even lower.

Your feel your eyes abruptly dart up, focusing on hers. Your hand moves meekly, finding her own and guiding it towards you. You draw her under your covers, slowly letting her fingers pad their way down your sternum.

The glove is missing, as you feel her skin on yours, and it causes you jump slightly. You hadn't even seen her take it off.

Her hand is shaky, excited, as she feels your bareness for the first time. It starts to ravage, pulling at the hem of your panties wildly.

Her hat knocks into your forehead as she clutches your neck, bringing your face to hers swiftly.

She takes, mouthing heavily on top of your lips and inside your mouth, groping at your inner thighs. Her hand cups your cunt, forcing a dizzy amount on pressure onto you instantly.

"I—oh," You partly gasp, the outlaw's fingers starting to rhythmically circle your clit without warning. You feel her tongue leave your mouth, start spanning the length of your neck and tasting.

Her hat knocks into your chin this time, tumbling it off her head and onto the mattress. Her teeth start to nip, scattering painfully pleasurable bruises across your skin.

Her body climbs over yours, bulky clothing scratching you as she does so. Her hand still rubs you dearly, fingers now curiously prodding inside.

Your hips start to shift, jittery and wanting, and the gunslinger grinds down with the whole of her bodyweight, thrusting her hand harder against you.

Her hips keep bucking like that, pounding her own hand, with such force that you feel your bed start to wobble.

"That's—hah—I—ohhh—I need—" you breathe, words broken.

"What's that? Gonna have to pop your corn a bit louder darlin'," the outlaw chides, hips only slamming harder and faster as you struggle to talk.

"I'm—ooh—your—your name! Tell me your name!" you exclaim, voice airy.

She grins, eyes fixed. "Williams—Ellie Williams."

A hand moves to your breast, squeezing and tugging in time with her hips. You feel her fingers reach deeper, farther, evoking molten rushes of heat straight from your belly. It's becoming too fast to keep up with.

"El—Ellie—"

She groans, the metal belt buckle she wears knocking even more vigorously against you.

"Again sweetheart. Say it again."

Your eyes are glassy, barely gazing at the figure on top of you. Your legs are clutched around Ellie's waist, taut as the sensation of her fingers overwhelm you. You hear your own voice meander out of your parted lips, unable to really control how you sound.

"Ellie, Ellie, Ellie—oohhhh, Ellie, I'm—" your voice cuts into a moan, high and breathless. You feel your body jerking, an insane amount of energy burning to be released.

"I know poppet, I know. It feels so good, don't it?" she softly speaks into your shoulder.

"Yes, it's—mmm—it's—it's good," you groan, your own hands weakly clawing at her hips to slow down.

It was a tide of sparks, a wave of relief, a terrifying wall of pleasure that hit you so violently, sending you flying and soaring, essentially drifting in the haze of climax.

Your thighs flinch together, knocking inwards even tighter as your body racks with leftover tremors and sparse shivers.

The outlaw just watches.

You both sit silently for a moment, enjoying the stuffy air and sweaty sheets for a while longer.

Her hand departs and snakes into her empty hostler, where she digs for a bit and pulls out a small brown sac.

Her fingers delve into it, bringing out a tiny, tiny flower.

Your face brightens.

"Is that—is that for me?" you ask sweetly.

"Who else?" Ellie says, tucking the flower in between some strands of your hair.

She moves, rolling over to lie down in the spot next to you. She gazes up at the ceiling, face slightly scrunched contemplatively.

"You thinkin' about somethin'?" you quietly ask.

Her head turns to yours.

"No."

But that was a lie. She was thinking hard.

Because the outlaw hasn't given up.

She couldn't steal you tonight. That time has passed.

But tomorrow night?

A rose, she thinks.

I'll bring a rose.

[retrospacejelly]

A Western Love

Pairing: Ex-outlaw!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Talking to Miguel about her failed marriage brought up feelings that she swore to herself she’d never show. Luckily, Miguel is by her side in an instant, and everything seems right….right?

Warnings: Angst, Guns, Mentions of the devil’s tango, typical cowboy things, language

!This chapter is a little steamy!

Part: 3/?

Part: 1, 2, 2 1/2, 3

Not proofread

A/N: I had this idea brewing for a while, and character AI helped push the plot!  (Thank you Monstera for letting me expand on the plot!). 

Reach out if you want to be on my taglist!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where you goin’ darlin’? Weren’t you sayin’ you were aimin’ to get some sleep?”

She lets out a huff. “Yea, in my room.” Her door slams shut. 

____________________

Well, that certainly wasn’t the reaction he wanted to get. And far from the night, he thought he would have.

Miguel stares at his mother’s rosary, running his hand over the string of pearls. He’s so deep in thought, that he almost misses the muffled sobs coming from Y/N’s room.

He quickly stands, fearing the worst. Has she hurt herself? Has someone broken in?  His heart drops at the thought, and he quickly picks up his gun, practically running to her room. 

He doesn’t think as he slams open her door, looking around for any sign of danger. 

“Where is he?! Y/N!” he trips over himself as he makes his way to her bed, dropping his gun on the linen next to her, holding her shoulders.

Silence surrounds the two as they stare at each other.

“What…?” she asks, her sobs now soft hiccups. Miguel’s face is painted with panic and another emotion she can’t quite pin down. He’s panting, his grip on her not tight, but protective?

“Miguel? Who are you talkin’ ‘bout? Hey, Miguel…!” she says, placing her hands on his warm cheeks, rubbing under his eye. 

He snaps out of his panicked state, shaking his head. He stands at his full height, rubbing his forehead. 

“ ‘M sorry, Princessa…I heard you crying and I….I thought you were in trouble.” he finally responds, not wanting to look at her. 

Y/N slowly nods, trying to meet his eyes. His actions weren’t those of a concerned friend, but something deeper. But now was not the time to ask any questions.

“I just,” he starts “I only just met ya, but I care for you, and I, I would die if I let anything happen to ya.” he confesses, coughing softly.

“I, I beg your pardon…?”. 

He quickly backtracks, finally looking at her. “Forget what I said. Are ya, okay?”

Y/N looks down and wipes  her face. 

“If I’m bein’ completely honest with ya, no I’m not. I haven’t told no one about my um, failed marriage besides my parents. I thought I was over it. Oh, but I a fool!” she exclaims, slamming her fists into the linens.

She tears up, “I’m a fool for wanton’ to feel a man’s arms ‘round me! I hate…I hate that I wasn’t good ‘nough for him.”

He scowls, wishing her ex-husband a long and painful death. Placing his gun on her nightstand, he sits next to Y/N. He gently caresses her face.

“Don’t ya dare think for even a minute, not one god damned minute, that you ain’t good ‘nough, Sugar. Don’t let what that coward did to ya, ever make you feel like you ain’t worthy of a husband. He’s the fool, Darlin’. Not you.” he whispers, wiping her tears.

She can’t help but frown even more, glaring at him. “Then why hasn’t a man showed up yet?”. She takes hold of his wrist, leaning into his touch.

He can’t help the small chuckle that leaves his mouth, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know many fools, Honey, but any man who wouldn’t marry you sure is one.” he replies, smiling softly.

Y/N blushes at the statement, drawing patterns in the skirt of her night dress. “You’re jus’ sayin’ that. Tryna butter me up…”

His smile widens. “There’s my girl.” he says, bumping his forehead against hers. “But no, I ain’t tryna butter you up. I mean it. I don’t know how a lady like you doesn’ have a line of bachelors lined up at your door.” 

She looks into his eyes, before glancing down at his lips, and quickly looking up again.

Miguel’s other hand slowly smooths over her leg, leaning in.

Everything around them disappears when their lips finally meet. Fireworks go off in Y/N’s head, as she slowly wraps her arms around his neck.

He’s the first to pull away for air, staring lovingly at her. “Well, that sure was…somethin’. And it was a good somethin’.” he says, kissing her cheek. “I really care for ya, Y/N. I wouldn’t hurt you like that no good ex o’ yours did.”

Y/N wells up, practically tackling Miguel onto her bed in a hug. He hugs back, running his hand up and down her back. 

She raises herself up, caging him between her arms. They meet for another passionate kiss, the action soon heating up.

The night ended in a way neither had expected. 

____________________

After hours of their steamy rendezvous, Miguel and Y/N lay cuddled under the blanket, sleeping in each other’s warm embrace. 

The sun started to rise, the brightness waking Y/N up. She nuzzles into Miguel’s chest, enjoying his body heat. Not long after, he begins to stir, tightening his arms around her waist.

After a wave of peaceful silence, Y/N speaks. 

“I’ll fix ya up some breakfast in the mornin’. Then you can get on with your trip.” 

She says, already regretting last night’s activities. She knew he would be leaving in the morning, and yet she still got attached. Damn feelings.

“Kickin’ me out already? I haven’t even fixed up your fence yet.” He tries to joke but soon frowns, turning his head to gaze down at her.

Before he can say anything else, she climbs out of her bed, slipping on her discarded night dress. 

“You don’t got to worry ‘bout that fence. I can handle it. You only wanted to stay one night anyway, right? Wouldn’ want ya to stay later than ya have to.” 

Y/N doesn’t look at him and instead slips on a cardigan. He slides off the bed, finding his own clothes.

“Yea, yea...um, I guess you’re right. S’pose I should get my stuff then…” he walks past her, making his way to the guest room. 

Y/N tries to hide her disappointment, wrapping her arms around herself. She walks into the kitchen and brews some coffee. She hears Miguel’s footsteps behind her and finally turns around.

“Ya know…I can stick ‘roun  longer…if ya want me to…” 

Y/N shakes her head.  “No, you don’t have to. You’re a busy man. Don’t feel like you're indebted to me or somethin’ I ain’t that important.” she jokes, smiling sadly.

He grumbles. “You don’t needa worry ‘bout my business. And I don’t feel like I owe ya. I…I…”

I want to be with you. I want to marry you!

Suddenly, his mother’s ring felt like it was burning through his breast pocket.

Y/N shakes her head, setting her mug down. “See? There’s nothin’ for ya here. Not even me.”

No! That’s not true! He wants to shout. 

“Maybe not..but I…I can’t help that…”. Why was it so hard to tell her? I love you! Bam, done. But it really isn’t that easy.

“Can’t help what Miguel?” 

He says nothing, his voice now non-existent. Y/N holds his shoulder.

“ ‘S okay, Miguel. I’ll be okay.”

He shakes his head. “Will you, Darlin?” he asks.

She knows she won’t be. But he can’t live his life without boring her.

“ ‘S not nothing I’m used to, Miggy. Go find a gal that’s meant for ya.” she says.

You’re the gal that’s meant for me!

“If you say so, Darlin.”

She nods. “Sure ya don’t want a bite to eat?”

Miguel shakes his head. “I’ll manage.”

Y/N nods again, looking down. “Have a safe trip. Take care o’ yourself.” 

He tips his hat, “I will, Darlin’.”

With that, Miguel walks towards the front door and clicks it shut, not looking back at her house.

An eerie silence hung in the air, Y/N’s coffee now cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I’m sorry for the late chapter, I’ve been a bit busy.

Reach out if you want to be on my taglist!!

@codenameredkrystalmatrix @slushycoookie @slut4oscarissac23@actuallyscarlett

[maddie-grove]

Most Common Problems Faced by My Childhood Dolls (Grouped by Type of Doll)

Baby/Companion Dolls: life-threatening diseases; bullying by other dolls at school; my dubious discipline style; my divorce from my imaginary husband Jake.

Groovy Girls: bullying by other Groovy Girls; life-altering gymnastics accidents; feet too unwieldy for go-go boots.

Barbies: false witchcraft accusations; real witches; tuberculosis; kidnapping; the time Ken and his brother Adam started a polygamous cult; bullying by other Barbies (whether in a normal high school or a beauty pageant or a cult); basically anything bad that happened to female movie stars in Hollywood under the studio system; the challenges of raising a million Chrissies and Kellies and Stacies and Skippers and similarly sized off-brand child dolls with little help from Ken or Adam; sibling rivalry (including an East of Eden-style mess between Ken and Adam).

Dollhouse Families: my friend Emily C. (I was Emily S.) stealing the mom doll from my old Fisher-Price family, leaving John (the dad) a widower, so when I got a new family a few years later, I decided that John should marry Patricia, the mom of the new family, which made it necessary for me to interpret Robbie (almost certainly meant to be a dad doll) as Patricia's teenage son, which was obviously very emotionally confusing for Robbie and exacerbated the usual tensions of a newly blended family.

Clothespin Dolls: Nancy, Alice, and Lily, the three charming clothespin dolls made by my genuinely talented great-aunt Beth in the 1960s or 1970s, were grown-up sisters who had a complicated dynamic (both Nancy and Lily had serious psychological and/or substance abuse issues, so Alice had to take care of them and Nancy's children and her own children) and also experienced nineteenth-century-literature-style problems, like diphtheria and ice-skating accidents and bear attacks. The clothespin dolls that I created myself as a tween/young teen were not as well-made, but their problems were generally limited to normal high school bullshit (not even the kind where you get poisoned or kidnapped!).

Miscellaneous Medium-Sized Figurines (mostly fast food toys of Disney characters and mini-Barbies): various passive-aggressive rivalries between groups (mini-Barbies vs. movie/TV characters, Disney vs. non-Disney, movie vs. TV, protagonist vs. non-protagonist, etc.); a lack of eligible bachelors (leading to unwise marriages, such as Belle from Beauty and the Beast marrying a temperamental Space Jam monster); ennui.

Playmobils: the Playmobils had a nearly utopian society, relatively free from poverty and class snobbery, and generally this diverse group of Union soldiers, stuffy Victorians, pirates, outlaws, royalty, horse girls, milkmaids, and fairies were able to work out their differences peacefully. However, all that progressive modernity had a dark side, most clearly illustrated by the Kafkaesque ordeal of Oliver, a boy who was imprisoned for no discernable reason by an evil psychiatrist and his social worker girlfriend despite the desperate efforts of his mother to free him. Intense wartime romances and infectious disease outbreaks were also common themes.

Fisher-Price Great Adventure Action Figures: these rather hideous but very fun toys (consisting of an anachronistic mix of knights, pirates, cowboys, and Robin Hood's Merry Men) belonged to my seven-years-younger brother, so we would play with them a lot while I was looking after him. Naturally there was a lot of military conflict and criminal activity built into our play (will Robin Hood and his friends be able to steal the treasure from the castle? Will the golden knights or the black knights win the big battle? Who will stop the stagecoach robberies?), but, to entertain myself, I would introduce storylines such as "the Golden Sword Knight is tired of being bullied by the other knights, so he runs away and goes to live in the forest with Robin Hood's gang, where he falls in love with a female outlaw" and "Little John starts a AC/DC-style rock band with two of the black knights and everyone hates it."

Fisher-Price Little People: easily the most provincial of the doll groups, the Fisher-Price Little People struggled with extreme class/wealth inequality, widespread adultery, child abuse, teen homelessness, practically non-existent resources for the disabled, sexual repression, a character known only as "The Pervert," and a killer clown. Every day they went to school and work, and every night they tried to find someone to hook up with and maybe got kidnapped. I only wish my brother and I had been in possession of the motel playset. Think of all the extramarital affairs and drug deals that could have happened there!

Polly Pockets: the Polly Pocket community was dominated by two wealthy factions, a nouveau riche pair of brothers with a beach party house and the royal family. Due to a severe job and housing shortage, plus the local men's habit of not acknowledging their natural children, ordinary Polly Pockets had to struggle and scrape. Compared with the Barbies, there was a lot of solidarity among women (and also Josh, the one working-class boy Polly Pocket). Many of the Polly Pockets were very fragile, including the alcoholic Cowgirl Becky and the agoraphobic piano player Penny.

Paper Dolls: intense status jockeying over who had the most/best clothes, mainly. They also fought about friendships and (if there were any of them) boys, but it ultimately came down to clothes.

[hmshermitcraft]

(This is a wild west/cowboy setting)

Pearl is used to people making passes at her. She's gotten used to someone entering her shop while she's working and trying to flirt, promising that their horse is big enough for the two of them. She has to be polite and lie, say that she's got a husband that would be none too pleased with his wife running off with a stranger.

One day, a man (an outlaw, she's seen the posters) a bit shorter than herself enters and immediately and pathetically tries to rob her. She keeps an eye on him as she watches him stalk around corners and nervously looks at her over the top of his bandana. She's also, unfortunately, grown used to people trying to steal from her.

She waits and pretends to not notice until he's almost out the door, grabbing the back of his poncho and pulling him by the scruff like a bad cat. She yanks him over the counter and interrogates him, seeing that he grabbed a container of medical supplies and horse feed. He awkwardly and shakily pulls a knife from his belt and points it at her, begging to just have his things and leave. Pearl is quickly than he is, though, and she snatches the knife from his hands.

He yanks his bandana down and pleads "please, my horse is hurt, she needs help, she's— she's good. You can turn me in for a reward after, but please, she needs help." Pearl had... not expected that. Once she gets a good look at him, she releases his not very threatening for an outlaw. He's not terribly short, a bit less than the average man she sees, but he's thin and boney, with hollow cheeks. She can't quite bring herself to turn him in, especially not with an injured horse, but she doesn't quite let him go. She fetches his horse while he stays at her shop and prepares.

It's a lot of work: Pearl has to help lead this hurt horse (who is very good and polite, the outlaw didn't lie) back to her shop, lead it around back to the dinky little pen she has, then she has to help the outlaw with tending to her. She lives in the building above her shop, and the outlaw gets to use the guest room.

She almost expects him to flee and leave her with the horse but he doesn't. He's with her everyday helping, and when they're done with that he helps at her shop. It's a little obvious to sheriff Xisuma that there's something about the man in the back of Pearl's shop that seems familiar, but he lets it go.

The outlaw (Grian, she learns after one night, over a meal) is happier. He's cute, with thick stubble and a pout as he thinks, or when he helps her cook and clean, or awkwardly thanks her for the help.

When his horse, Sunshine, is good to move again, Grian sheepishly offers to take her for a ride. She's never ridden horseback, let alone such a big horse. She declines, she's got too much work to do, her shop needs her. Grian gives her a nod and another 'thank you' before he's off.

He comes back a week later. With a new cloak for her to wear in the beating sun. And then again the week after, with new shoes and a fancy belt for her nights out. The week after that, dropping off some corn and potatoes he managed to snag for her to plant and eat so she'd have more.

By the 8th week in a row, in the pouring rain as she helps him get Sunshine in the pen (that she and Gem fixed up for future use), she teases that, if she didn't know any better, this handsome outlaw has fallen for a simple city lady like herself. She really lays her works thick, pretending to fluff her hair and fanning herself with her hand.

Grian seems to almost die as he explains, well, no, she's very kind and beautiful, a mind that rivals the scientists, but she's got her hands full with her shop and farms, and she's not got time for romance—

It's about halfway through his little rant that she notices he's got very kissable lips and holdable hands.

It doesn't take much to reach forward and take those hands into hers. She doesn't kiss him - it's not the right moment. Not quite yet. But she raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to say her words back at her again. After all, she said that about riding his horse, not about romance. And certainly not about Grian.

And maybe at the time, she meant it about all those things. But now, looking at him, hands gripped in hers... The rain is rolling off both of them, gathering between their fingers and dripping from her hair and Grian's chin.

She thinks she can make time for both.

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

Transformers Cowboy AU

So my husband asked me what my HC's would be for the bots in a Western time. And I decided to just make an AU about it. So thank you for giving me the idea about this.

I couldn’t choose between having them be their bot selves or be human formers, so I am choosing both. I am headcannoning them bot or human when I feel like it. And some hc’s change depending on if they are bot or human. Also, it's sort of BayxTFP because I just wanted to add all the bots I wanted into it.

~~~~

Optimus - Sheriff 

Bumblebee - Deputy sheriff 

Ratchet - The town Doctor

Hot Rod - Ranch owner, used to be a law Marshall but gave it up to take on the Ranch as it was bestowed to him by a friend after their death. 

Hound - Gunsmith/Armorer/owns the gun store 

Crosshairs - Cowboy/ Ranch hand for Hot Rod, but he dreams of becoming a bounty hunter

Drift - Pastor/teacher

Daytrader - Shop owner 

Jazz - Saloon owner/entertainer

Ironhide - City Marshall 

Sideswipe - Hotel owner

Arcee, Elita, and Chromia - Together they own the largest livery yard(horse ranch), and own all the horses. Anyone who wants a horse goes to them.

Jetfire - Ex outlaw, now owns and runs a small mine nearby.

Wheelie - Multi-use hand/works at the saloon and the store.

Brains - Helps Ratchet with whatever he can

Sentinel - Deputy sheriff, angry that he wasn't given Sheriff over Optimus 

Ultra Magnus - Retired sheriff, he handed it down to Optimus.

Cliffjumper - Cowboy/ ranch hand on Hot Rod’s Ranch

Cogman - Bank owner

Skids and mudflap - Miners 

The wreckers(including Wheeljack, Bulkhead, Roadbuster, Leadfoot, and Topspin)- They own the biggest brewery/farm and make most of the Energon(alcohol) sold in the saloon and have most of the stock in the store

Dino - Cowboy/rancher on wreckers farm

Smokescreen - works at the bank but wants to become a Marshall.

Megatron - Outlaw/Owns the largest mine in the country, a farm and ranch that competes with the Autobots. His Decepticons steal for him to further increase his ranch, but the Autobots can't quite prove it/catch him.

Starscream - Outlaw, second hand to Megatron. Helps oversee and run everything. 

Soundwave - Outlaw/farm owner/store owner he runs a competitive distillery to the Autobots.

Shockwave - Dr/scientist trying to move the times forward by experimenting outside his time, but specifically does experiments and requests for Megatron.

Barricade - Farm/ranch hand. Does most of the robberies. 

Knockout - Doctor for Megatron

Blackarachnia - Traveling sales (snake oil) woman/thief

Lockdown - Bounty hunter

Vehicons - Miners and farm/ranch hands.

Ravage - The farm cat, also protects the animals from other hunters. 

Lazerbeak - Does surveillance to track people/bots to steal from.

~~

The Autobots live in a small town, that was started by Ultra Magnus and a few other older bots. Eventually Ultra Magnus retired and the other older bots died or moved away. Optimus took over being Sheriff and appointed Bumblebee as his Deputy. Ironhide became their Marshall. 

Hot Rod used to be a Marshall but left to take over a ranch from an old friend of his. 

They often get new bots going to and through their small town. 

They use their farms and ranches to sell products to larger towns and cities that surround them and that is how they get enough money to keep the town going.

Megatron owns a large piece of land outside the town. He runs a farm, brewery and ranch that the other cons work on, as well as the largest mine around. He's in high competition with the Autobots. He also does a lot of robberies, especially stealing from travelers that try to go to the town. Optimus suspects Megatron of the robberies but has never gotten concrete proof in order to put them away. 

So for now they live in somewhat tense, harmony. 

Every year they hold a shooting competition. Games vary from who has the best aim for using a sniper, who can hit the most targets in a certain time and of course who has the quickest draw. Hot Rod has won the quick draw event every year, some say he slows down time in order to win. But no one has proved such a thing. Ironhide can hit the most amount of targets, and Lockdown has the best aim for a sniper. 

They also have other festivals and competitions, such as rodeos, animal wrangling, fishing and they have Energon contests to see which brewery makes the better tasting Energon. The wreckers have won every year, and have the best Energon known for miles around. The cons try very hard to steal their secret recipe, but have yet to accomplish it. 

They have horses, cattle, dogs, cats, and Energon crops.

 Cliffjumper is the best skilled with a lasso. Skids is the best fisherman. 

The wreckers instigate the most amount of bar brawls. Usually not in a vicious manner, just friendly banter that gets out of hand. But a night in the cells sobers them up for work the next day. 

They play a lot of poker, Ratchet and Crosshairs are the best players with the best poker faces. They have a few wins each. 

Jazz plays the piano in the saloon, as well as serving the drinks. He also gets Wheelie to help tend the bar.

Crosshairs wants to be a bounty hunter. But that would mean he would have to leave to go to one of the other cities to get the bounty jobs. And as much as he wants to, he hasn't yet. Some say it's due to a loyalty he feels to the town even though he tries to deny it. 

Bee can't speak, he lost his voice in a gun fight. For bot Bee since there are no TV’s or radio he records other people's voices and sentences and uses them to talk. For human Bee he knows sign language, taught to him by a city folk that traveled through. Some Autobots know sign language, like Hot Rod, Ratchet, Sideswipe, Drift and Optimus. Barricade and Shockwave also know sign language. The others only know basic Sign, not enough to hold a full conversation.

Sideswipe used to be a Marshall but lost his legs after an accident. He now has prosthetics and runs the hotel. He also has a gap tooth after losing it in a saloon brawl.

Please feel free to ask me about this AU, I would love to talk about it and come up with more things about it.

[tragantia]

Been thinking about this for a while, trying to imagine what Severen's life was like at the frontier during the Wild West days. Bill Paxton imagined him as a lowlife, a cowboy, and the term 'cowboy' was used to describe an outlaw, as a legitimate cowboy would have normally been described as a rancher.

I imagine him without proper parental guidance, probably with a violent father and an absent mother (Did she leave? Did she die? Was she submissive to her husband, to the point of becoming numb to everything, including her son?). So, using colloquial terms, he probably had what we call 'daddy issues' and 'mommy issues'.

His surname 'Van Sickle' suggests that at least the father was probably an immigrant from the Netherlands - so a larger support group would have been unlikely.

Chaos suited him well since this is the only reality he knew, so he left home early. He run into more questionable company, but again, he was already good at doing questionable things, probably had stolen since he was very young.

When Jesse met him, he was already a man in his thirties, experienced enough to have done pretty gruesome things by that point, and he took to his new lifestyle as if it was meant for him.

Jesse himself was pretty questionable, but he had something that Severen craved - he was solid. I'm not sure whether to go to the extent of saying that he was a 'good man' in the conventional sense - he wasn't, but he looked after his own. He was protective, he taught him things to help him survive and improve himself. He called him out when needed, despite letting him have his fun. Severen was too old for Jesse to be a proper father figure, but he was close enough.

When Jesse brought Diamondback - Severen realised that it was possible to really love someone, romantically speaking. He would never admit it out loud, but he realised it was possible to build a life, a family. It's something that sounded almost alien to him, and he didn't really know how to express it.

He took Homer and Mae under his wing, so to speak. Behaved like his asshole self, particularly with Homer, and showed Mae how to defend herself. It was his way of showing he cared. He forced himself to do the same with Caleb, for Mae's sake, and ended up liking the idiot (in my reality Caleb stays with the clan and everyone lives happily ever after ok including the horse who never gets punched by Sev like in the script shhhh ride to freedom sweet bby). He looked up to Jesse. He had shown him this life and stayed loyal to him, so he would reciprocate and protect his clan at all costs.

When he finally meets his s/o? He feels like he's been hit by something. He can't understand what it is at first, he finds it annoying, infuriating even. He's had flings before, and plenty of sex, sure, but he's never *cared*, not really. Imagine this emotional analphabet sat in a motel room as his mate rides his cock whilst looking into his eyes, caressing his chest, neck, jaw, kissing him, telling him how much they love him, praising him, whilst he just lays there grabbing their hips and moaning, drunk on the feeling of his cock being swallowed by their warmth, and knowing what it's to be *loved*. He's so touchy during the film, you can't tell me he wouldn't *love* that.

He will never get tired of it. His overall dominant and aggressive persona discarded, during those moments he just allows himself to exist and be given what he's never known that he craved.

[ramblingoak]

The Cardinal’s Bride, Chapter 1: Heading West

~ A Romantic Adventure in the Old West: After being forced into a marriage with Mr. Saltarian by your father you are sent west to his estate in Nevada.  Along the way you end up meeting one of the cowboys you have always fantasized about... ~

~~ Please visit The Outlaw Brides Masterpost for later chapters and to read more stories from this world ~~

Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster!  For some more amazing fanart check out: @meowsaidmissy (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335  here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing​ here, @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2), @z-xmyers (1/2/3/4), @foxybouquet here, _simpera_ on instagram and valkyrieinpink on twitter.  Also a huge thank you to @kissingghouls for all her help and emotional support.

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader ~ slow burn romance, adventure, violence, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 2k words ~

He could remember the heat of the flames against his skin…the shouting…the screaming. 

He could remember everyone scrambling to escape…crying for their friends and loved ones.

He could remember seeing people for the last time…not knowing if they died from a bullet or the fire.

He could remember his face…watching from the edge of town…smiling…proud of himself.

He remembered these things every day…they ate away at him like a disease.

But most of all he remembered how much he hated him.

And how good it would feel to get his revenge.

~~~  ~~~  ~~~  ~~~  ~~~  ~~~  ~~~

“You will marry Mr. Saltarian and that is the final word on the matter.”

Your father’s voice echoed in your head as you looked forlornly out the stagecoach window.  Miles and miles of dry land had passed you by.  No longer were you surrounded by the fertile fields of your home, Missouri was far away at this point.  You were getting closer and closer to your fate.  Closer and closer to a man you had never met but would soon be calling your husband.

The comments about “dear Mr. Saltarian" started a few months ago.  You heard about how wise and handsome he was.  How he had a large estate in Nevada that was beautiful, but needed a woman’s touch.  That his job as a bank owner afforded him every luxury one could imagine.

But mostly how Mr. Saltarian needed a wife and how it was going to be you.

You had chosen not to comment on any attempts your parents made to talk about the man.  There wasn’t a point anyway, you had been told for years now that they were looking for a good match for you.  You couldn’t live with your parents forever and you didn’t want to, but why couldn’t you find someone that you loved?  Why did it have to be this man, miles and miles away from the only home you had ever known?

According to the whispers you had overheard from your father’s butler and a few of the cooks it was because of money.  Apparently your father had gotten a loan years ago from Mr. Saltarian and had been unable to pay it off.  Now he either must sell his business and your home or find some other way to repay the man.

“Luckily for the boss his daughter is pretty and unwed, that’ll be payment enough won’t it?” 

You had turned and ran back down the corridor as their laughter echoed behind you.  Flinging herself into your mother’s arms you had begged her to talk your father out of it.  Begged her to let you stay and find someone you loved to marry and let you have a chance at being happy.  She had remained stiff and quiet in your arms for a few moments until you finally had stopped sobbing, little hiccups escaping you as you tried to control yourself.

“My daughter, most women do not have the luxury to choose who they marry.  You will learn to love Mr. Saltarian just like I learned to love your father.”  Your eyes searched her face, looking for any sign of remorse for what she was doing to you but it remained impassive and blank.

You had finally resigned yourself to your fate, to be unhappy and basically sold to a man you barely knew.  He hadn’t even come with the associates and stagecoach he had sent for you.  There were six men in total, two drivers and four others that looked more like thugs than bank employees.  You watched as they had loaded the few trunks of belongings you were allowed to bring.  They were dressed all in black and remained quiet throughout their preparations.  

When a few of them started to check their weapons over before you all left you couldn’t help but look scared.  You’d never seen so many guns in your life, the only gun you’d ever seen up close was a small revolver your father owned.  These men had revolvers at their hips and rifles in their hands.  One of them noticed your wide eyed stare and chuckled. “You’ll be thankful we have these if we run into any bandits on the road.” 

The man that seemed to be in charge walked over to your father and mother and started speaking to them in a low voice.  You didn’t hear everything he said but he mentioned having to watch for a particular group of bandits on the way to Nevada.  He mentioned that Mr. Saltarian was worried about the stagecoach being attacked and you possibly being kidnapped.  What have your parents gotten you involved with?

Even though you were scared you couldn’t help a small thrill from racing through you at the mention of bandits and even the possibility of being kidnapped.  As a refined, sophisticated young woman you were supposed to show interest in delicate activities such as knitting, embroidery or just sitting quietly and looking pretty.  But you had always loved stories of the lawless west.  Tales of cowboys and bandits filled your head when you sat prim and proper in church.  When you laid in bed at night you often imagined what it would be like running into a ruggedly handsome gunslinger.

You especially thought about this while you touched yourself.

As the guard spoke more it was apparent that there was one person in particular that Saltarian’s men were worried about: The Cardinal.  You had heard of him before, his exploits often made the newspaper headlines and you had seen his wanted poster in the window of a few local businesses.  There were usually a few of the other members of his gang nearby as well, the papers had taken to calling them Ghouls.  The sketches they made of the Ghouls were frightening, they looked almost demon-like with their faces hidden behind silver masks.

But the one of The Cardinal didn’t frighten you at all.  Even with many sketches showing him to have odd, discolored eyes.  A white eye that people speculated was given to him by the devil himself.  You weren’t ashamed to admit you thought him handsome.  He wore what looked like black kohl around his eyes, making them even more mesmerizing.  The posters showed other ways to identify him, he usually had a mustache and sideburns and he often wore a long dark red duster.

No one knew his real name, or that of any of his Ghouls.  The rumor was that he had grown up in a church (and a devil worshiping one at that) if you believed some of the gossip.  Some people said he was unhappy with his place in the church and had murdered most of the upper clergy.  Others said the nearby town had finally had enough of the evil church and burned it all down one night, with many of the members still inside.  Either way it was said The Cardinal was one of the few surviving members and that he rode through the western lands with his Ghouls committing evil acts in the name of Lucifer.

You shook your head and brushed your hands down the front of your traveling dress.  It was a dress your mother had made specifically for your trip.  She had chosen a fabric that was white and blue and to you completely impractical for traveling in the dusty west.  It had already gotten stained while you were able to stretch your legs during the short stops the guards had allowed.  You did like that it had pockets though and you snuck your hand into one to grip the folded piece of paper you had slipped in there.

While the dressmaker and your mother had been speaking you had drifted to the shop window and seen one of The Cardinal’s wanted posters.  You snuck a peak back at the two women and glanced briefly out to the street before pulling the poster off the window.  It seemed such a silly thing to do, but you figured if you were being forced to marry a boring bank owner like Mr. Saltarian you should allow yourself a small thrill.  Something to look at when lying alone in the dark in your new home.

Your daydreaming ended when you heard a commotion outside the stagecoach.  One of the two guards that sat across from you stuck their head out the window to speak with the drivers.  You saw the other two guards that were on horseback ride by quickly, the horses kicking dust up as they sped off.  The men had their guns out and the sunlight glinted off the metal.  Your heart started pounding in your chest, what was happening?

All at once both drivers started shouting and you could hear loud popping sounds out in the distance.  You rushed to look out the window but one of the guards shoved you back into your seat.  “Stay down!”  The man turned and looked out the window and you could easily see the fear on his face.  The popping sounds started again and were beginning to get closer.  One of the guards aimed their rifle out the window and started shooting.  You couldn’t help but yelp and throw your hands over your ears at the loud sound.

The stagecoach suddenly veered off to the left and the momentum flung you and the guards to the side.  You were able to grip the window while the guards ended up on the floor, their rifles falling from their hands.  You looked outside and your mouth fell open as you saw numerous figures on horseback in the distance, quickly gaining ground to the stagecoach.  You couldn’t tell how many there were through the dust in the air, but the guards with you were obviously outnumbered.  You didn’t even see the two that had been on horseback anymore.  

As the group got closer one rider broke away and quickly started gaining ground on you.  One of the drivers leaned out from his seat in the corner of your eye and you yelped when he started firing at the rider.  You watched as he leaned to the side and his horse quickly maneuvered out of the way.  He then pulled his own gun out and fired off a series of rounds towards where the drivers were sitting.

The man was focused on where he was shooting and didn’t seem to have noticed you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.  He brought his horse closer to the side of the carriage and you saw the group of riders behind him split with half going around behind you and the other going closer to the front, getting closer and closer to the drivers.

Abruptly he turned his head and your mouth fell open at what you saw.  Two familiar mismatched eyes looked into your own.  The other features you saw were familiar to you as well, a mustache and sideburns.  Over his shoulders was a dusty dark red coat flapping in the air as he rode next to you.  You brought your eyes back to his and a sudden grin flashed over his face and he winked at you before pulling away and riding around the back with his other riders.

A hard grip on your arm shook you out of your trance and you were pulled back into the carriage as the guard reloaded his rifle.  The drivers were shouting again and you could just make out what they were saying over the commotion of hooves and gunfire.  It was something you didn’t need to hear though, you already knew who was out there.

“It’s The Cardinal!  He’s found us!”

Go to Chapter 2: La Principessa

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar