#sp cowboy au

[snifsnoof]

homeward bound

part II of my cowboy au! i tried my hardest illustrating backgrounds, but here they are:

stan is introducing kyle to the old life. teaching him how to set up camps and tents, how to ride a horse properly, how to shoot a gun, etc. etc. etc. from the wide open plains, the deepest, darkest forests to even the rowdiest of saloons in town, theres nothing kyle isnt willing to see.

oh, and meet leopold 'butters' stotch: bartender and town nice guy. lost his eye to a specific outlaw in a bar fight many a years back. any guesses as to who it might be? ;D

part I

[spcowboyau]

HOMEWARD BOUND: PROLOGUE 5

???: Hey boys!~ ???: You looking for some fun? ;) Crowd: OOOOOH......! ???: Teeheehee!~

KYLE: HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH?!?!????????!!?! STAN: Yup, good ole Kenny McCormick. SPARKY: 😊🏳️‍⚧️?

KENNY: Stanley Marsh!!! What a lovely surprise..! KYLE: ??????????????????????? STAN: (dude just play along,) STAN: Miss McCormick, looking as beautiful as ever. STAN: *snickering* KENNY: *stiftling laughter* Why thank you, darling! You're always such a gentleman, hehe~ KYLE: (Oh my days,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,) KENNY: Hmmmm...........??

KENNY: Why hello there...... I see old Stanley's brought along company.. He smells less like horseshit and more like a looooooooooootta money..... KYLE: H KENNY: My, he's adorable...! KYLE: HU HH WHU HU UH STAN: *through tears* kenny i will pop a vessel if you dont stop right now oh my god STAN: *deep breath* STAN: Let that boy go, he's (heheheheh) not your new toy..... (heheheheh) KENNY: *pitched giggling, shifting into a more masculine laughter* KENNY: Alright, sorry, haha, KYLE: H HHH hH KENNY: Anyways, you two might wanna step away from the bank.

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[swymsuyt]

rest of the sp art dump ^^

[shhh-secret-time]

Part 2 is 21 pages. Part 1 was 16 pages. Combine that together and that's a 37 page request I pumped out in a day.

oops.

Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Praise Kink, a bit of jealous behavior, mention of character death, bug violence(?), bit of PTSD

Pairing: Gunslinger!Kyle x Fem!Reader

When you finally woke up, the first thing that came to your mind was just how dry your mouth felt. You swallow roughly and it burns the back of your throat in a different way the alcohol of last night did. It felt like you were trying to swallow steel wool, forcing what little saliva pooled in your mouth down your throat.

The second thing was the fact the horse had gone back to a slow trot. No longer could you hear hooves on cobblestone. The wind was no longer whipping around your head and through your hair. The smell of the city long gone, now replaced with a deep earthy scent.

The third was the feeling of Kyle's arms still wrapped around you, one pulls away from your side for a moment. You feel him move around, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He presses his fingers into his heavy eyelids before returning them to the reigns.

Finally, all three things fall into place as you piece it all together. Kyle feels the way your body bolts up away from his chest and brings his horse to a stop. He pulls her off to the crummy dirt road and off to the side.

"Oh! I apologize! I didn't mean to fall asleep like that! I can't believe I just passed out!" Panic sets into your voice and guilt eats at you when you realize he probably rode all through the night.

"It's fine ma'am. I figured you could use the rest. Please don't take any offense or nothin' but you look like you ain't seen much shut eye." Kyle smiles at you holding his hand up to try and settle you.

"I-.... you’d be right. Still, that's no excuse. You're still a stranger, the fact that I just fell asleep like that..."

"A stranger you shot a man for. A stranger you saved from gettin' strangled to death. I never did get to thank you for that." He pauses for a moment as he gets down from the horse. Kyle takes the reigns with him, choosing to walk along aside the horse now. "I've only had a few people in my time willin' to do somethin' like that for me and I at least know their names."

It hits you like a brick. In less than twenty-four hours you got into your first ever bar fight, shot a shotgun, slugged a man with said shotgun, all but bribed the sheriff, ran off with a man who didn't even know your name, and then fell asleep on said man who didn't even know your name. You catch yourself staring down at the handsome gunslinger, breaking yourself out of the daze trance like stare. It was hard not to admire him; looks aside he's been nothing but a delight to you. It would have been all too easy for him to just dump you off somewhere, leaving you and your problems behind.

Instead, here he was. Walking alongside you and his horse, without even so much as asking you about your business. Why you wanted to go out West, or why you needed to hire him in the first place. You hadn't even told him how much you were paying him for all of this.

"Ma'am?" Oh, right, your name.

"I'm being all types of rude, aren't I? I'm sorry..."

"Ain't nothin' to apologize for. I figured you got a reason for keepin' secrets. If you don't wanna tell me, I ain't gonna make ya." He shrugs.

 It takes you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you do you finally gain the courage to ask him. "Why are you being so accepting about all of this? Shouldn't you be surprised or at the very least upset?"

"The way I see it, you saved my skin back there twice. Once with Knucklehead and the other with the Sheriff." He says sheriff with a sneer, "I owe you. Besides the way you begged the sheriff to let us go, I could tell you were in some kind of trouble. Wouldn't be right of me to turn my back on someone who needed help."

"So, what, you're just doing this out of obligation and the kindness of your heart?"

That makes him laugh again, but he quickly shakes his head. "Guess you could put it like that. Walk the righteous path and clear all debts sort of ordeal. But I don't think it goes that deep. Like I told the bartender last night, I'm just a simple fella tryin' to make a livin'."

You sit on his horse in awe, if this was an act he was putting on it was a damn fine one. You run your fingers through the horse’s mane, brushing out the sand and dirt on the poor creature who must be so tired. She huffs a little, but she doesn't move her head, so you continue.

After a few moments of walking and silence, you tell him your name. Your full name.

Every time you speak, he gives you his full attention, looking up at you with that gentle smile. You expect his eyes to widen like everyone else's when you drop your last name, your family was famous after all. Instead, he nods along and practices the sound of your name on his tongue.

He says it again and hearing it whispered in that voice of his sounds divine. Once he likes the way it feels and sits, he turns back to the road and keeps walking.

"Pretty name...like the way it sounds. I hate the fact that I ain't gonna get to use it much." His lips purse, talking like he's just mumbling to himself.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it wouldn't be real wise to be usin' your name if you're tryin' to go into hidin'. Even if we are on the road alone, I don't wanna take any chances. If I get in the habit of usin' your name, I ain't gonna wanna stop." He brings the rim of his hat down over his eyes trying to hide the blush on his face. Even though he says it with such confidence it's hard to look you in the eye.

He's not alone, his words have a greater effect on you than he knows. You pull the cloak still wrapped around your body closer to your form, burying your face in the material. Maybe you could just rub your flushed face away or at the very least it would buy you time to slow your heartbeat down.

Kyle was right about one thing. Your last name has brought you nothing but trouble your whole life. So, for now you'd get rid of it, toss it to the side like the various newspapers you saw littering the city streets. Let it drift away and be carried by the Eastern winds. It was time to leave the city girl you were raised to be behind; you were going out West now.

"The only thing I can't seem to wrap my head around." Kyle breaks the silence between you two again. "Is how someone like you learned to shoot like that."

"How do you mean? It doesn't take much to point a gun at someone and pull the trigger, can't really miss with a shotgun when you're that close."

"That's what I'm askin'. It don't take much to pull a trigger, but you knew how to hold it. Held her like you knew her."

"How'd a lawyers boy go from that to being a bounty hunter?" You ask, bringing up the little fact that Sheriff Cartman spat at him last night.

His lips press together in a thin line and for a moment you feel like you might have crossed a line. Said something you shouldn't have, but when his shoulders slump forward you can feel something different. It's not anger in his eyes, maybe regret? Hurt that rests behind those tired green eyes.

"I don't know why I'm tellin' you this. But we're gonna be together for a while, might as well make conversation I suppose." Again, he talks like he's not really talking to you. His inner thoughts spilling from his mouth like brandy in a bottle. "It was bandits."

Your blood runs cold, that could mean anything but, in this context, you had a feeling it wasn't a good one. Your fingers brush down the coat of the horse as he talks, finding comfort in the animal. You can feel the warm and gentle breathing coming from her. If you squint, you could almost swear they had lined up their breathes. She would take in an inhale, and he would let out a puff of air.

"Pa was a lawyer, Ma was a stay-at-home mama. He made enough for all of us and another. I have a baby brother they adopted when I was younger." He goes to tell his story with a little pause in between.

"You said have. He still around?" That question hurts to ask, but curiosity was gnawing at you. You wanted to know more about this gunslinger, that included the bad too.

"Yeah. I think it was when I was fifteen? Pa was puttin' me through school, was studyin' to be like him. I was gonna put away bad people just like him." He takes his hat off with his free hand, he stares down at the inside of the hat. You catch a glimpse of stiches and patchy line work. Past the scuff marks and tears on the old thing it looks like someone tried to patch it back together again. Enough to where it would hold up. But past that there was a little black and white picture tucked in the makeshift pocket of one of the patches.

A skinny man, honestly looked like a strong gust of wind could blow him away, standing next to the most gorgeous looking woman you've ever seen. Her hair was put up in a tight bun, curves on every ounce of her that made her look like something out of those fancy paintings. The dress she wore clung to her body and on her lap was a little boy. Black hair that didn't match the shade of grey on either of the adults behind him. He had a big toothy grin on his face as he held an outstretched hand for the other boy beside him.

It was Kyle. Much younger than he is now, hopeful looking face with his hair cut short and kept clean. The curls sat neatly on the top of his head, and he dressed like some of the men your father did business with. Fine button up grey shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. A grey tie came down from his collar that disappeared behind a black vest. Still had that soft smile on his face as he looked at the camera.

He quickly puts the hat back on feeling your eyes peering down behind him. Again, you felt like you got a peek into something you shouldn't have seen. If he was bothered you couldn't tell, he just kept talking.

"Pa was always real good at that, puttin' bad people away. Could do it the civilized way, take him down and give 'em a trial. Rely on the system to put 'em behind bars and supposably reform 'em." He scoffs at that statement, "lotta good all that did. Pa put away the wrong man. Some no name bandit leader thinkin' he could take the short way through life and rob some rich folk."

Kyle stops, completely. Stops the horse, stops talking and just stares down at the ground below. You watch a little red scorpion scurry after its dinner. Stinger pulled back and at the ready.

"Men like that got one thing goin' for 'em. They travel in numbers. Numbers that don't like when you mess with their own. Pa wasn't even the man that brought that bandit leader in, but he was the reason why he'd never walk under the sun again. They were gonna keep that no named man locked away in the deepest parts of their holdin' cells. His men didn't like that idea much."

The scorpion chases the target down until they come to a ledge. Something that would be so easy for you to just step over, something that would barely be an obstacle in your way. But for the tiny bug that was fleeing for its life, it was the end of the road. It wasn't dexterous enough to try and make it over the little ledge, the path to freedom taunting it as it falls on its back.

"Don't really know what they were thinkin' or how they came to the conclusion. But they decided in the dead of night they'd...burn down the town? Came in on horseback makin' all types of racket. I remember Ma pushing my brother in my hands an' tellin' me to run out to where we kept the stagecoach. Somethin'-" He chokes and clears his throat to collect himself. "Somethin' about the horses already hitched and ready. To just jump on and wait for her and Pa."

The scorpion closes in on the bug. His stinger blocking the view of the sun, casting the shadow of death over the poor thing.

"I protested, wanted to stay and help her pack bags. Carry somethin' other than my cryin' brother." His hands clutch the sarape around his body, right where his heart would be. "She told me not to argue with her and to get my ass outside. Never heard her curse before..."

The bug kicks its little legs, trying to roll off its back. It squirms, fights, and rocks trying to do anything. Anything but die.

"I did what she told me. Go where she told me. You don't question your mama when she tells you to do somethin' ya know?" He licks his lips, and you wonder if they're as dry as yours are right now. "I put my brother and I in the carriage and I wait for 'em. Then...the house just...erupts. One of those sons of bitches threw somethin' against the side of the house and it catches a blaze."

Kyle closes his eyes, a bead of sweat drips down his face. Like he can still feel the roaring flames against his face. The poor man is standing there reliving it all.

The scorpion finally brings its stinger down. Strikes the pathetic creature in the stomach one good time. The venom does its job, you're sure if the little thing could scream out it would. Instead, it just goes slack, goes limp and dies.

"I... I didn't know what to do. I had just learned to drive the damn thing, so I grabbed the reigns and snapped it. If it wasn't for my brother, I probably would've run into that blazing hell. Probably be a dead man too."

"Probably." Your voice finally pipes up. Kyle looks up at you and you're not giving him the look of pity others have when he tells this tale. Your face is softened sure but there's nothing in those eyes that tell him you're looking down at him.

"That's the last time I saw 'em. Last time I said good night...I only wished I woulda got to say I love you."

The scorpion closes in on its meal. Now that it's not trying to run it figures it can eat in peace. Pinchers at the ready to pick the corpse up.

"I didn't. Spent a lotta time wishin', and a lotta time gettin' good with a gun. Pa taught me there were other ways to take a man down, not everythin' had to be solved with violence. We could do it humane like instead of usin' a gun. Just a shame I turned out to be a damn good shot."

Kyle starts walking again, and as he does, he walks over the scorpion. Crushing the creature under his heel without a second thought. You watch as when he moves his heel the thing lays there with the sand already started to claim it's body. You wonder if it got to at least get a bite of what it worked so hard for.

"So that's how you started bounty hunting?"

"Yep. Started with the assholes that took my parents from me and my brother. Guess they're the only people I never brought in alive."

"Really?!" That was a part of the man you didn't learn from rumors.

"I'm flattered you seem to think I had the ability to bring in fifteen men all by my lonesome, but no. I gave 'em the same treatment they gave my parents." Most men would be proud of that, say it with their chests out. Kyle doesn't, he keeps his eyes on the road and his head down.

"You burned them?"

"Set their whole lil' hideout on fire. Got a bottle of whiskey, drank some of it for courage and then tucked a cloth in the rest of it. Lit the sucker on fire and tossed it."

You try not to imagine the sounds that fifteen men on fire would make, or the fact that not even one of them got away. Kyle was a lucky man that there weren't a few to make it out of that fire that night. Who knows what would have happened if he was caught or worse, they lived to enact revenge like Kyle had.

"Took my brother to an old friend’s ranch and we stayed there for a while. You ever hear of the Marsh family?"

"Sure. They're famous ranchers, good at breakin' in horses and growin' crops."

"Their son is my best friend. I call that man my brother. Call him that until I take my final breath." A smile finally comes back to his face, talking about someone that means so much to him seems to put him at ease.

"Why'd ya leave?" You ask, letting a smile come across your face at the sight of his.

"Didn't feel right just sittin' around. Plus, if word got out that I was stayin' in one place I figured it'd just bring trouble. My brother didn't do nothin' so I asked if I could leave him there. Been out on the road ever since, I send him letters from time to time but it ain't easy gettin' 'em out to me so I just assume he's alright."

"You should visit your brother...I'm sure he misses you." You tell him. It almost breaks your heart the way his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"With the reputation I built up, I'd only be bringin' danger to his doorstep. I couldn't do that to him or Stan." That must be his friend he mentioned, you note. "I take what I earn from bounty hunting and send it their way. Just because I chose to throw away the life our Pa had set out for me, doesn't mean he's gotta. Every nickel and dime I get goes to keepin' me goin' and buildin' a better life for him."

Your heart swells, swells with admiration and pain. It hurts to see a man who so clearly loves his family have to keep himself away from what little he has left of it. Who has to distance himself from the two people he'd call brother. Neither really blood related to him but they might as well be. You can't help but admire him, how he tries to carry all that responsibility on his back. You thought the tired look in his eye was just from staying up all night and riding into the morning.

"Kyle, that's incredibly brave of you. Putting yourself out there for your brother, if it means anything...I don't think you're throwing your life away." You find that courage you somehow mustered up last night and put your hand over his, the one that still has the reigns. He looks up at you, watching as the sun sits behind your head like a halo. You bend down a bit and get closer to him, whispering as if someone was listening in. "I think what you're doing is the most noble thing I've ever heard. You're the kind of man they talk about in story books...if I didn't believe in you before I do now. Thank you."

"For....for what?" He asks and swallows, his adams apple bobs. For the first time in a long time, he can't seem to find his voice, it drops to a low whisper.

But could anyone blame him? The way you look at him so gently, every little blink of your eyelashes has him sinking deeper and deeper into the color of your eyes. That golden sun behind you makes you look like an angel, and maybe you are one. As far as Kyle is concerned only an angel could look at him like that. Find a way to admire him and sing his praise after being told he set fifteen men to hell in a blaze of hate.

"For being you. I used to not think there were good men out there, but you're changing that." You say it like it's the simplest thing on earth. Like he should have just known the answer to that.

But when you say it, it's like being punched in the chest. You have your hands so tightly wrapped around his heart he's sure if you say anything else he's going to keel over. He lets himself have this moment, lets a breath escape his chest and holds onto each little word you said.

"Ma'am, you ain't got a clue as to what you're sayin'. You don't know me well enough to be passin' judgement like that."

"Hm. Good thing I'm a real good judge of character. A man as bad as you claim to be would've robbed me blind especially if he knew for a fact, I was carrying enough money on me to buy your friends ranch."

His eyes widen at that, he stares at you as if you just told him the sky was red and the rapture was coming. Kyle's respone catches in his throat, unable to say anything at that. You can't help but laugh at that, the sweet sound coming from your lips makes his knees weak.

You toss him the stained white bag of cash, the once pure white cloth now soiled by the desert sands. Dirt clings to it but that doesn't stop him from catching it and opening it up. True to your word, there was so much cash in here Kyle could probably beat a man to death with it.

"You walked into that damn saloon with this?!" Kyle yelled quickly, closing the bag.

"I risked a lot on trying to find you." You say with a little shrug. "Sold everything I owned, took what I could carry and set out to hire you."

"You're either crazy or desperate. Please, for the love of God don't take offense to this."

You laugh again and shake your head; you couldn't argue with him. He was right. Maybe you were both, but it was either this or get unlucky one day and go missing. You'd take your chances with the handsome man next to you. At least he wasn't a stranger much anymore.

"I just got tired of the life I was living. Heard there was good opportunity out West. Figured I could settle in Texas or...Colorado?"

"Colorado?! Ma'am if this is some elaborate plot to give me a heart attack just to take me out, you're doin' a damn fine job." He clutches the bag into his chest and takes a deep breath. Quickly he stuffs the bag into the saddle bag on his horse. She stirs a little and shakes her head letting him know that her patience is running thin.

"So, you're suggesting Texas?"

"It's better than fuckin' God damn Colorado!" The way Kyle's cursing picks up when he's stressed is kind of adorable.

Laughter echoes down the road all the way out of the state. You finally find yourself off the East coast for the first time in your life. The company you keep makes it all the better! Eventually you stop at the nearest town and purchase your own horse. You have to slow down a little because Kyle has to all but teach you how to mount her and how to keep her from freaking out. He's calm and patient with you the entire time, only laughing at you a few times when you forget to buckle the saddle completely and almost slide right off. He teaches you how to take care of her and you end up spending most nights swapping stories by campfires.

You're somewhere deep in the state of Missouri, where exactly you're not sure that's Kyle's job. The night sky hangs above your heads with the stars staring down at you. Each little twinkle makes you think they're winking down at you. Kyle's told you that a few of the stars have names and stories behind them, you let him ramble on about it for hours before informing him that you already knew all that. The look on his face alone was enough to make you laugh.

You must have laughed again because Kyle's looking up from the worn-out map up at you now. He has a lazy smirk, the corners of his lips hidden behind the scruff on his face that's starting to grow in. His hair just now starting to go back to when you first met him, he's shaved it off a few times since your journey much to your dismay. You complained for days when he first did it only to be met with an eye roll.

That was something you always noted, that whenever you would complement Kyle's appearance, he'd brush you off or find a way to deflect. Telling you that you were the pretty one or that you were just seeing things because you weren't drinking enough water. The heat was getting to you, and you needed to take some time by the shade.

But he really was a handsome man, the rugged look didn't really line up with his personality but damn if it didn't do something to you. Being next to the man for so long, having made the first real connection with another person for the first time in your life. Well, it was getting harder and harder not to see him in a different light.

Especially since every moment leading up to this point, Kyle would do everything in his power to protect you. Putting himself in harm’s way time and time again just to make sure you'd be safe. Bandits thinking the both of you were easy picking, Kyle's reputation didn't reach every corner of the country. And the few times it did, it only encouraged people like Knucklehead to try and take a shot at bringing him down. There were a few times people recognized you. Someone had put out missing wanted posters with your face plastered all over them.

Of course, when danger came rearing its ugly head, Kyle would be there by your side. At first it was a lot of him taking shots for you, you patching him up. Using those studies your parents provided, removing bullets, and cleaning the wound left behind wasn't exactly what you had studied but eventually you got the hang of it. Each time you'd scold him to be more careful, he'd argue that catching bullets with his body wasn't something he liked doing. And each time just as you'd finish bandaging him back up, he'd give you a look that had your heart fluttering. His eyelids would lower down, and his lips would part in just a way that made them look so kissable. But every time you'd think you got the courage to just do it, he'd pull away and wish you a good night. Disappearing in his tent as if he wasn't just staring at you thinking the same thing.

Little did you know he was thinking the same thing. Countless nights he'd stay awake at night, tossing and turning in his bedroll trying to get the image of you so close out of his head. It had been a long time since Kyle felt this close with anyone, much less got to share the road with another person. Those little moments where you'd brush your fingers over his exposed skin or when you'd wake up nice and early to make sure he got something in his stomach before riding off. It made it harder and harder to want to not make you, his woman. To not take you up in his arms and take you into his tent for the night.

But that's not why you hired him. Once he got you to Colorado, he'd drop you off, probably stick around long enough to make sure you were settled, and then be on his way. Leaving you in that state all by yourself and he'd return to wherever the road took him. That thought filled him with an indescribable loneliness, one he tried to keep out of his head. He tried to focus on how good he felt just being near you, savoring the moments he got with you now.

Like how pretty you looked when you sat next to the fire, back against a log that he dragged over to make it a little more comfortable. A book resting in your lap and a page between your fingers, some novel you both picked up and swapped back and forth. How every time you looked over at him thinking you could steal a few glances without him noticing, only to be caught in the act. Ever since he met you back at the bar you would avert your eyes from him and try to find something else to look at or pretend that you were looking past him. He found it so cute.

"Somethin' funny darlin'?" You don't know when he started calling you that, can't recall but every single time it makes your heart leap.

"Just thinking about that time, you were telling me about the stars. How I'm gonna miss this..."  You say with a little shrug and smile, reaching down next to you to grab the bottle of wine.

"You'll still be able to see 'em in Colorado. In fact, I hear they're mighty pretty over the desert." He says watching you take a drink from the bottle.

"It's not the same." You wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your blouse, the red liquid staining the shirt. "It's not the same if you don't have someone to share it with."

It's Kyle's turn to blush a little, he gives you a little hum and a nod like he understands. There's a moment where he thinks his heart stops, but it thumps against his chest, and he finds it in him to speak up. "You always know just what to say to make a man flustered huh?"

"Since when have I talked to other men like this?" You ask scooting a little closer to him, that night wind pushing you a little closer to his warmth.

"I don't quite recall..." He mumbles meeting you halfway.

Kyle helps close the gap between the both of you until your thighs are touching. The material of his jeans brush against your legs, exposed because of the skirt clips holding your skirt to where they just cover your thighs.

"Think it would work on another man?" Your voice drops to a whisper.

His brows furrow at that and his face twists into a scowl. You watch the way his eyes narrow and darken a little. He huffs and you can smell the scent of coffee on his breath. Kyle doesn't say anything, instead he goes for the wine bottle in your hand. The man takes a swig of it, trying to hide the jealous feeling that's starting to creep up on him.

"Reckon it would... if you had the backbone to be talkin' to other men."

"What's that supposed to mean?" It's your turn to furrow your brows at him, they knit together.

"Just sayin' you ain't exactly a smooth talker with everyone you come across. I seem to remember a certain run in with that snake oil salesman that was tryin' to get you to agree to go on a lil' date with him." He taps the bottle against his lips a few times before taking another drink.

You take the bottle from him, crawling over his lap to reach the darn thing. You press your palm into his thigh and suddenly he's very aware of just how close you are to him. Kyle isn't sure if you're doing on purpose but either way it makes his dick twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He doesn't give you time to protest as he moves the bottle out of reach, holding it back just as you brush your fingertips against the cool glass. "No, I think I remember you fumblin' over your words and I had to come over and tell the fella you weren't interested."

Damn him. Damn that handsome red head for calling you out and looking so cocky while doing it. His smirk returns as he cocks his head down at you, the way his lips glisten against the campfire almost has you distracted. Almost.

But you wanted your wine, so you take another lunge for it. Pressing your body into him to try and climb over and snatch it back. His hand comes down to your waist, keeping you in place.

"Ah! No ma'am, I think someone's had enough. All that talk about flirtin' with other men ain't much like you. Think this is messin' with your head." He tuts and shifts you in his lap. He's hoping you don't feel the effect you're having on him.

"You know what I think Broflovski? I think you're jealous!" You challenge crossing your arms under your chest.

"That so? That what you think darlin'?"

"Why else would you be acting like this? You're acting like a damn child! Now give me my bottle, I'm a grown woman I can drink as much as I wanna!"

He laughs at that. Laughs right at your protests and the way you're pouting in his lap. It makes your face burn up, it makes you wanna hit him, makes you wanna kiss him until he shuts up.

"You're real cute when you get fussy you know that?" Kyle lets the compliment slip out of his mouth before he has time to think about it.

He knows better. He knows he shouldn't be flirting with you, shouldn't get attached. But that ship has long since sailed, he's been infatuated with you since the day you told him he was a good man. But fuck if it isn't getting harder and harder, especially with you sitting so pretty on his lap.

"Kyle Broflovski! If you don't start acting right!" You know the blush on your face doesn't help, the scolding falls on deaf ears.

"I ain't the one crawlin' into a man's lap for a bottle of cheap wine." He sets the bottle down beside him off into the dark where it no longer matters. That hand finds home on your waist, rolling his thumbs over the material of your skirt.

You suck in a breath and sit up on your knees, pushing them to rest on either side of him. "You're not just another man...that what you want me to tell you?"

"Can't say I wouldn't like it." Kyle's voice dips low, gravely and makes a shiver zip down your spine.

"If you don't want me flirting with other men..., why are you waiting so long to kiss me?"

"Oh darlin'," He growls and squeezes the back of your thighs, rough hands sliding up your skirt. "I want nothin' more but...you and I both know I can't."

"No, I don't think I do. Enlighten me." You're not letting him get away this time, there would be no running off to his tent to avoid this. You had him wrapped around your little finger, even if your heart felt like it was about to explode.

" 'Cause if I start kissin' you. I'm gonna keep doin' it..." He gets closer, sitting up to his full height just to graze his lips over yours. "Keep kissin' ya 'til I ain't go breath in my lungs left. Then I'll wanna take you in my arms jus' like this." He gives you a little squeeze pressing his chest further against yours. "I wouldn't be able to stop myself from makin' those sweet lil' noises come out of your mouth. Wouldn't wanna stop either."

Your breath hitches and you let out a soft little moan. You card your fingers through his hair, his hat was put away somewhere in his tent, so it left those gorgeous red curls unguarded. He groans and inadvertently bucks his hips up into you, the rough feeling of his jeans grinding up against your underwear.

"Fuck and if you ain't makin' it difficult. Talkin' like that makes me think you planned to get me all worked up. You ain't stupid, just about the smartest woman I've ever met in my life." He continues grinding his hips into you, rolling you over his growing erection. Kyle groans and doesn't even bother trying to stop the sounds coming out of his mouth.

"K-Kyle just kiss me already!" You whimper in his lap.

And he snaps, whatever wall he built up to resist you comes tumbling down. Just the way you say his name has him tossing all logic out the window. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face down towards him, crashing your lips onto his. His teeth almost knock into yours from how desperately he needs this, how much he needs you. It's like being able to stretch your legs after riding for days, or a cool drink of water after being under that blazing sun for too long.

That crackling fire that keeps your little camp sight illuminated doesn't give off nearly the amount of heat Kyle's kiss does. His chapped lips move against yours, somehow despite being on the road for so long they're still so soft. It takes a second for your brain to register that he's finally kissing you, after so long he's finally doing it. Before he can pull back, you press back into the kiss. Hands coming down from his hair to cup his jaw like it'll anchor you from floating away.

He kisses you again and again, each kiss turning more passionate. He goes from a desperate kiss to kissing you like a starved man. His tongue slips out and swipes against your bottom lip, when you don't open your mouth, he growls and pulls you down, so you're now firmly sat in his lap. The action makes you gasp, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, more than excited to explore the inside of your mouth until he finds your tongue. You poke back nervously and chase after the pink muscle. Finally, your tongues twine together, wrapped up in some kind of dance.

He kisses you until your lungs burn, desperate for air. In this silent little battle to see who would break first, it's you. You pull away from him and take in a large gasp. The lack of air and how heated the kiss was makes your head spin. Just as you collect yourself, he's on his feet lifting you up with him. You cling to him and wrap your arms around his neck, even though you know he won't drop you the shock of being moved so quickly like that caught you off guard.

"W-where are we going?"

" 'm takin' you to bed." He walks you over to the tent he's got pitched up, moving to your tent. Kyle bends down and gently lays you down on the bedroll. He sucks in a breath when he sees the way your hair's all laid out and how you've got your thighs pressed together. Lips wet and slightly puffy from the way he kissed you. "Now if you ain't the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Take your blouse off for me."

Kyle looks down at you with darkened eyes, heavy eyes filled with lust. He watches every single little movement you make. They watch as you slip the buttons of your blouse through the little slots holding them together. Watch as you slip the shirt down your arms painfully slow, far too slow for his liking. But ever the gentleman he simply hooks his thumbs in his belt and watches, rewarding you with a low hum.

"That's my girl." His praise all but makes you purr; you like the way he calls you his. "Jus' a lil' more for me. Take that skirt off." His hand slips up your skirt and taps the side of your thigh.

You do it, work the skirt clips off along with the skirt itself until you're left in nothing but your underwear. He tosses them to the side letting them land in your pile of bags. He tugs off his sarape and works his belt, the clinking of his buckle rings out. The only other sound besides your heavy breathing is the bubbling brook next to your camp sight. Occasionally, you can hear the horses stir, but right now all you can focus on is the way Kyle strips down to nothing.

Kyle lays his gun down carefully on top of his clothes before joining you under the furs used to keep you warm. His cock nudges against your thigh, twitching against how soft it feels. You let out a shaky sigh and peer down at it, the angry red tip brushes against your skin.

"I-is that going to fit?" You ask him suddenly a bit worried, but it melts away when he takes your jaw and kisses you again.

"Darlin' we can stop at any moment. But if you'll have me, I'll make you feel real good." His hand snakes down between you two and his fingers go to spread you open.

You let out a little moan and whisper a soft, 'yes' and it's all he needs to continue. His middle finger rolls your bud gently at first until you start to squirm and push against his hand for more. He applies enough pressure to the circular motion that has you seeing stars. He continues rubbing circles on your clit and your hips buck up against his hold. It felt so good.

You moan out in pleasure when he slides two fingers into your hole with ease, your arousal making it so easy for him. He pumps his fingers in you once or twice, pushing into that spot that has your back arching off the bedroll. Kyle keeps his fingers buried in you for a moment, spreading them out and curling them in a come-hither motion. His lips find their way down on your neck, leaving faint love bites. Sucking on the exposed skin with enough force to pull a loud moan out of you.

"Kyle..." A low breathless whimper escapes your lips as he comes off your neck with a pop. "Please, please."

"Sound so pretty when you moan my name like that. Shoulda done this sooner." He works his fingers in you again, thrusting them up into you over and over again. "Fuck you're so fuckin' wet."

You're moaning so loudly you're sure if you weren't alone on the side of the road you would have woken a whole neighborhood. When you try to muffle those moans, he stops moving his fingers leaving you just teetering on the edge. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten, he can feel the way your pussy flutters around his fingers.

"That's it sweetheart, let go for me. Look at me when you cum." He holds your jaw with his free hand making you look up at him.

Your eyes widen and as you finally clench around his fingers giving you that orgasm you desperately begged for. His fingers keep pumping in and out of you until you're whining, and tears are beginning to spill from your eyes.

"Shh, I know, but I gotta make sure you're nice and prepped for me darlin' don't wanna hurt ya too bad." Kyle whispers in your ear until he pulls his fingers out of you finally. You whine at the loss of contact, suddenly feeling so empty. You watch him bring his fingers up to his lips and swirl his tongue around the digit. "Think you're ready for me baby?"

"Kyle, please. I want this, I want you!" You whimper.

"That's a good girl. Roll over on your stomach for me." He leans back up and gestures for you to do as he says.

So, you do, you roll over on your stomach and just as you do, he tucks a pillow under your stomach. His hands glide up and down your legs until they find purchase on your hips. They tighten and squeeze around your waist pulling you back against his cock. Kyle glides you back against his member, grinding your wet pussy up and down his shaft. He lets out a soft moan and lets his head lull to the side.

"Oh," He says quietly as the tip of his cock nudges against your folds, "thaaaaaat's it." Kyle slips every inch of his cock into you slowly, dragging your velvet walls back against him. He pushes and sinks deeper into you until he bottoms out.

"O-Oh god." You bury your face in the bedroll. "Fuck feels so good."

"You have no fuckin' idea..." He grips your hips and begins slowly thrusting in and out of you, "how many times I've thought about fuckin' you senseless. How bad I just wanted to make you fuckin' mine!" His voice comes out in a breathless moan over your desperate cries.

" 'm yours!" You're a mess at this point and he hasn't done much but finger you and start a lazy pace. Each time he drags his cock out he pulls all the way out leaving you empty again. Only to push it right back in at that antagonizing slow pace, like he's trying to get you to remember every little vein on his cock. "Please just go harder, I can take I-I promise!"

"Yeah? Want me to really fuck you baby? I was gonna take my time with ya, show you just how badly I wanted ya." Kyle bucks into you with a sharp thrust making you bounce forward, "but listen to yourself, beggin' for my cock. Beggin' me to go faster. Do it again."

You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut; the first time was easy you weren't really thinking about it. Now that he's making demands of you it makes you feel flustered. That embarrassing feeling of having him looking down at your wrecked form washes over you. When his fingers card through your hair and grip the base of your roots, you let out a shocked gasp.

"Darlin' I believe I asked you to do somethin'. I ain't exactly a patient man right now. Not from the way you're squeezin' me soooo tight." He nudges your insides with a lazy little thrust. All it does is make you moan and claw at the bedroll.

"Please Kyle! Please, please, please" You're reduced to nothing but moans and whines. Begging him to do something, anything!

He seems satisfied with that from the way he pulls you back against his chest. Pulling your head out from the bedroll and letting your moans ring out into the night. With a quick slap against your ass, he begins to pick up the pace. The length of his cock claiming you and pounding into you. Your heart rate spikes as he pushes into you deeper than his fingers could reach. He hits that spot in your pussy that his fingers hit earlier, the one that has you seeing stars and drooling. Kyle lets out a moan when your cunt tightens around him again, one that lets you know just how good you make him feel.

"So fuckin' tight. You take me so fuckin' good baby, like you were made for me. Made to take this cock. Fuck gotta feel you cum around my cock this time. That's it, that's it." Kyle grunts and takes his hand out of your hair. Snaking it around your form he grinds his fingers against your clit again.

Your eyes roll up to the back of your head from everything. The way his cock bullies your insides, how his fingers assault the already sensitive bundle of nerves, and the way he spouts filth in your ear. The praise makes you feel so good, puts you in a head space you've never been in before. The only thing you can think about is what he tells you to. Right now, he wants you to cum around his cock, so you do. You don't even register it until it happens. Until his hips begin to lose that rhythm and he stops pulling out as much.

But when your walls clamp down around him like they had done his fingers, milking him for everything he's worth, he lets out a low moan. He calls your name, not a pet name or the fake name that you've been accustomed to. Your name.

"That's it baby. Fuck I love you, fuck I love you." There isn't so much as a second thought as he just repeats how much he loves you. After one final hard thrust he's spilling into you, filling you with his hot cum. He empties until it's dripping down your thighs, creating a white ring around the base of his cock.

Both of your bodies were wet with sweat from being pressed together. What little strength he has keeps him from collapsing on top of you. His chest pressed against your back, your hearts beating in unison. Eventually Kyle sits back up and slips his cock out of you, carefully lowering you down onto your bedroll again.

You look up at him with an exhausted smile, absent mindedly pushing stray curls out of his face. He looks down at you and smiles in return, he takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm. That afterglow of sex that clings to you and the way you look disheveled has to be his new favorite sight. You guide him down towards your chest and let him rest his head against your heartbeat. He closes his eyes and holds you close.

"I love you too." You say after a while, not sure if he's asleep or not from the way he hasn't stirred.

"Be mighty awkward if ya didn't." Kyle murmurs in between your chest, placing a gentle kiss onto your collarbone.

"Took you long enough to confess." You joke.

"Yeah...don't know what I was thinkin'. Guess I just didn't wanna put them feelin's out there if you weren't inclined to stick around. You got dreams of settlin' down somewhere quiet..."

"Nothing says you can't be there with me when I do."

"I don't know if I could ever go back to a quiet life like that...I don't think I deserve somethin' like that."

"Oh hush." You cup his face and bring it up to yours. "Don't ever wanna hear you talk like that again Broflovski. You're a good man, I told you that before. I don't love bad men."

"You ain't ever been wrong before."

"Wasn't wrong when I went out to find you all of them months ago. I ain't about to start."

"Ain't?"

"Huh?"

"You said ain't. Never heard you talk like that before, usually you talk all proper like. I think you're pickin' up my accent."

"Go back to laying your head down!" You huff and shove his face back down into your chest which only makes him chuckle.

"If I get to wake up to somethin' like this every day.... I reckon I can see myself settlin' down. Maybe we can get a little farm, start our own little ranch."

"I like that...we can send a letter to your brother, and he can join us."

Kyle smiles warmly at that. You remembered his brother, that conversation on the road that started all this. He closes his eyes and begins to picture it all. You and him tucked away in some area in Colorado with his brother who he hasn't seen in years. Maybe down the road you could change your last name to his. His hand finds yours and he rubs his thumb over your ring finger. Imagining a little metal ring, one that matches his.

The road’s starting to look a lot less lonely.

<- Previous Chapter

[zuoschlect]

[south-park-dimensions]

(More adventure doodles be upon ye. We still have more btw- That fic from yesterday has hit us with more brain rot so)

[mut1l4t1ng-z0mb13]

SBAC testing is starting this week and instead of sleeping at a good time like a good student, I am staying up late to read kyman fanfics <3

(I am currently obsessed with cowboy au kyman fics)

[sophdoodlee]

ABT TO READ THE NEW CHAP BRB here’s some lil doodles bc i love love this fic by @fruitloopzed

[marjoriestotch]

My attempt at summarizing the Stolkien (and Shenny) Cowboy AU thus far (that I've been workshopping with @pcstan of course) under the cut 🐎

Takes place in a small rural town, still undecided if it should still be called South Park or not, set during a classic wild west era. The Marshes have a regular old farm and are neighbors to the Blacks that are city folk that have moved into town after inheriting a few acres of land from a distant relative. Stan and Tolkien becomes fast friends and they, Kyle and Kenny daydream about becoming runaway cowboys when they're older for their own seperate reasons. But when the opportunity to run finally arises at about age 15, only Stan and Kyle actually leave. Stan and Tolkien mutually resent each other - Stan for Tolkien not leaving with him and Tolkien for Stan abandoning his home. They were very much sweethearts without knowing it and so the fallout between them is a lot more bitter and unresolved than with anyone else.

Tolkien stays behind because his parents have passed and the land he inherits is all he has left of them and Kenny stays behind for the sake of his family and for the town (I'll elaborate in a bit). Stan has Kenny promise to look after Shelly in his absence, which Kenny is deeply dedicated to if also partly out of his long unrequited love for Shelly since childhood. Tolkien and Shelly also grow close platonically and regard each other as family.

Tolkien grows up to be the wealthy owner of the town's saloon wherein he employees and thus provides for his friends including Craig, Tweek, Kenny, Bebe and of course Shelly, who works as a saloon girl. Shelly struggles in her job as an enterainer with her abrasive personality, but is grateful to Tolkien for the job, housing and hospitality he gives her - people assume the two are romantically involved, but it is far from the truth. Tolkien is still pining for Stan, though he would never admit this, and Shelly (and anyone who pays attention, really,) knows this. Kenny grows up to become very much a nobody during the day, so poor he relies on the church's generosity and works odd jobs all around town - but at night he is the vigilante cowboy Mysterion, who just happens to have a chaste affair with Shelly. Eventually Kenny reveals his identity and confesses his love to Shelly and the two marry, but just when they settle down and are starting their own family, Stan and Kyle come back to town. Its been 15 years.

Stan and Kyle are now outlaws on the run and seek to hide out in town for a bit until the heat dies down. With them they've got their lil gang which includes David, Trent Boyett and Dog Pu (just randoms they've gathered throughout their lil adventures). Of course nobody's happy to see them, very much least of all Tolkien, who is cold and passive aggresive toward them both, but especially Stan. They have a lot of unresolved tension to work through until they eventually sloooowly achingly and hesitantly crawl toward being finally lovers, most of the effort to getting there being on Stan's part. From friends to sweethearts to exes to strangers to enemies to lovers, yknow yknow. Kenny and Shelly desperately try and hide their relationship from Stan for as long as they possibly can because he'd definitely lose his shit if he were to find out (and he will) but its quite difficult since Shelly is very, very pregnant at this point.

Other notable characters of course include Cartman and Butters who are trying desperately to swindle Tolkien into handing his land over by many means and failing miserably. One of these attempts is Cartman trying to set up Nichole and Tolkien, even though Tolkien is very much a, um, "bachelor", as it were. They have their own gang which includes Clyde, Kevin and even our local priest Scott. There is Wendy, who was arranged to marry Stan since they were little kids but naturally that fell through - now she works as the teacher in the small chapel school they have. Jimmy is our sheriff with Timmy as his deputy. Craig and Tweek work as bartenders (and of course Tweek also plays the piano at times) at the saloon while Bebe is also a saloon girl.

Aaaaand that's about it for now. Not sure if I'm forgetting anything. This AU is very much my brainworms atm - I've never listened to so much country music in my life. If y'all have any questions please ask me or @pcstan cuz it's all we can think about. Ciao!!!

[circus-of-rats]

god I love cowboys.

[nyattas88]

Not a good first impression

[snifsnoof]

for the sp requests: Most random au U can think of🤔 I guess this is not a specific request I just like your art please go insane with this

cowboy au because im still not over red dead redemption

CONTEXT UNDER THE CUT

pt II

yes i did in fact go insane with this!! thank you anon 🤔matter of fact i mgiht actually end up making a continuation or a series of these ugh ijust love cowboys and cowboy aus

anyways so i was thinking in this au stan is just your average outlawed cowboy or smt like that and one day he's in the big city just doing some saturday afternoon shopping. he exists the general wares store, ready to put his things on his trusty stallion, sparky (SPARKY CAMEO SPARKY CAMEO), when hes suddenly apporached by a hooded stranger, asking him for a ride out of town. the hooded stranger, he later finds out, is named kyle, and hes running away from his strict, nobleblooded rich family in the big city. kyle has always wanted a taste of the outside world, claiming his family barely even let him exit their house. stan, obviously head over heels for him, has just decided hes taking this kid with him on his travels

thats kinda what i was thinking this au would be, might draw designs for other characters and stuff so lmk what you think!! if you wanna draw this au go ahead <33

[spcowboyau]

HOMEWARD BOUND: PROLOGUE 3

STAN: Thanks for the drinks, Butters. BUTTERS: Of course! Uh, be on your way now, and be safe you two! BUTTERS: .....and be back soon, fellas! STAN: You know I'll be back. BUTTERS: Heheh, sure do! (DRUNK: BLERUUGHHGHRHGH::;+:+"!!) (KYLE: Good grief.....) STAN: Alright, see ya! STAN: Come on, cowpoke, let's get moving.

STAN: Alright then, now you've met my- (DRUNK: BLLRURUHGGHHHHEHH.,.,.--) STAN: WOAH!! Easy there, partner, dont go hurling up your insides there, Christ! KYLE: STAN: Phew! I sure do love this town. STAN: Heheh.. KYLE: STAN: KYLE: .....So? STAN: So.... what? KYLE: Aren't you going to tell me what happened to his eye? No grueling cowboy tales of- I don't know- Gunslingers of the west and bloody, near fatal injuries? STAN: huh who's eye KYLE: Butters' eye! God! STAN: Okay, simmer down! It's not all that impressive, just from a bar fight from a few years back.. No big deal! KYLE: Bar fight? I can't imagine Butters in a bar fight..

KYLE: That doesn't seem right at all. He's far too sweet... Too wimpy even, no offense. STAN: Oh yeah, that's probably because he wasn't directly involved. KYLE: STAN: (KYLE: .........goddamnit.) KYLE: SO? What happened? STAN: Why, aren't you nosey.. STAN: And stop talking so loud. If Butters hears you talking 'bout his eye he'll get all self conscious about it.

KYLE: Oh. Sorry. STAN: It's alright. Ya didn't know. STAN: Well, if it really itches that much I suppose I might as well break it down for ya.

★ START | PREVIOUS | NEXT

[swymsuyt]

gooooo cows

[shhh-secret-time]

Yeah so this is in fact going to be a two part fic! This request came from AO3 and we were able to hash out more on this fic! I pitched the idea of making it a cowboy AU and they seemed to really like that idea! So here we are! Please enjoy and look forward to part 2!

Warning: Strong-Language, Gun Violence, Blood (Minor), Writer doesn't know how guns work!

Pairing: Gunslinger!Kyle x Fem!Reader

Colorado was an untamed lawless wasteland, at least that's what most people out East would tell you. Between talks of untapped land and the rumors of gold mines out that way, people were scrambling to find out there. But not all men had fortune and discovery in their hearts. Some had things to hide, pasts they intend to bury deep in the desert sands.

You were one of those people. As an heir to your family's printing press, it was only natural that from the time you were born a target would be painted on your back. Distant family members, friends of the family, hell even the butler once thought if they got their hands on you, they could use you as leverage. Kidnapping, attempted murder, blackmail, and threats all before the age of sixteen. You'd seen and heard it all. And every time it got harder and harder to want to stick around.

Now here you were twenty something and unwed. Parents long buried having left you everything as they always said they would. You were alone with all the money one person could ever need, and it was so incredibly lonely.

After a while you just kind of became desensitized to the attempt at your life. But no one really gets used to being so alone. How were you supposed to make a connection with people, when all that ever came up was the talk of marriage or your money.

Truly you were grateful for your parents, and you did love them! After all they were good to you, they protected and loved you. That protection morphed and twisted into an overbearing relationship. Up until now you weren't allowed to go out on your own, they decided who you interacted with. Your tutor you had known for years had to go through a background check by the Pinkertons every few months just to remain employed.

So, again, when they passed it was like being thrown out into the ocean and told to swim. If the business was to stay afloat you would have to learn to be sociable and professional. Learn to swim in the shark infested waters of a male dominated field.

Or you could sell the company to the highest bidder and bounce. Which is what you decided to do. Auction out your family’s printing company and try to retire in the lap of luxury. Maybe start your own book using all that tutoring your parents got you.

But it could never be that easy, could it? Once word got out about your plans to sell it all, certain people started plotting against you. It all came ahead one night when you were getting ready for bed. You blew out the candles that kept your bedroom lit, closed your windows, and locked your doors. Double checked them a few times before finally deciding to lay your head down for the night.

A lot of good that did. As soon as you close your eyes, a gloved hand cups your mouth. Another pair goes for your arms and legs, you feel the coarse hemp rope across your skin. Another night, another attempt at your life.

Your attackers must've not heard that the heir to the printing press was no damsel in distress. Quick as they came, your hands shot under the pillow next to you, the side of your bed that lay bare. Except for the .38 derringer that you slept with; two shots loaded in the chamber. Two intruders and still two shots were all you needed.

Click. Bang.

You stand there watching the sheriff and his posse drag the intruders off in their wagon, a blanket thrown over your shoulders by said sheriff. He sits next to you with his badge gleaning off the dull light from the city’s lampposts, a cigar tucked in between his teeth.

"You know this is the third attempted break in this month." He says puffing on the brown tobacco.

"I know." You mumble, bringing the blanket closer to your form.

"And the third time my men had to take in men with bullets in their chests. You're lucky you're a fine shot or I'd have to take you in for murder." He doesn't look at you, but you can hear the danger in his voice. See the way he inspects the cigar, holding it between his fingers.

"Sheriff?" You look up at him with furrowed brows.

A chill runs down your spine when he finally meets your eyes. The smirk that slowly creeps up his lips says it all.

"Now that's not to say I don't believe you. From what I've heard you got quite the record when it comes to things like this." He gestures vaguely with the tip of the cigar before continuing, "just find it kinda odd it keeps happening to you."

"You think I ask for this?" You ask back with a little more frustration in your voice than you should. Could you really be blamed for it though? The sheriff who was supposed to protect you, keep you safe from things like this, was sitting here blaming for the actions of stupid men.

"I don't think you do anything to prevent it. Just strange that a lady in her prime lives alone and isn't going about means of protection besides what...a gun under her pillow?" He blows out smoke that illuminates under the same light that touches his badge, the heavy white smoke lifts from his lips towards the night sky.

You honestly couldn't believe what you were hearing. That shiver that went down your spine spread throughout your body, making your blood run cold. Men breaking into your home you could handle, but a person with actual power? This was a battle you couldn't fight, not alone anyway.

"I'm sorry sheriff." You bite your tongue until you taste blood. "You're right. I should do something about this."

That was the best advice that asshole could have given you. To find someone in your corner. To find someone who can smuggle you out of the state and across the country. Finding someone who you could trust to not immediately shoot you in the back or run off with your money.

After searching around and pushing the word out there as subtly as you could, you finally catch wind of someone who fits the bill. You'd have to push a few dollar bills into the right hands, greasy palms, and all that, but you eventually get a name.

Kyle Broflovski.

That name carried weight, made your tongue feel heavy when you said it. The kind of reputation that he had wasn't one to take lightly. Over thirty bounties turned in alive and done by hand. While the number of bounties he brought in may not have been the largest out there, it was the fact he took down only the worst of the worst. The number on the bounty poster meant nothing to him, it was all about what the target had done. He was exactly what you were looking for, a man who could see past the money.

Now it all came down to arranging a meeting with him. Even a shut in like yourself knew the best place to find what you were looking for was the local saloon. The only thing left to do was dress down and try to convince the famous gunslinger that you desperately needed his help.

The smell of cigarettes and cheap booze was the first to greet you and you hadn't even opened the door yet. You could see boot prints made in the sawdust scattering across the floor. The cheery show tunes being played behind the door almost drowned out the sound of laughter. Before you could push open the door, a man came flying out being thrown by another gentleman. He hits the stairs and slumps down next to your foot. The poor man hit his head pretty hard, enough for it to put him to sleep.

With a little gulp you ignore the shaky feeling in your legs and push the dark wooden doors open. Maybe the thick brown cloak thrown over your form wasn't doing the best job at helping you blend it, but on the other hand most of the people here seemed to be enthralled by the women playing upstage to even care that you walked in. The girls dressed in flashy clothing were dolled up in the brightest makeup you've ever seen. They were gorgeous and the performance they put on brought life to this place, it was no wonder why people could lose themselves.

Your eyes scan the room as you scurry away from the door. People coming in and out, pushing past you like you weren't even there. The entire situation made your anxiety spike, being in such an unfamiliar place.

Somehow your legs carry you over to the bar. Taking a seat at the scuffed wooden counter, you note just how many empty shot glasses are covering the surface. Empty plates that looked like they were dipped in grease. Stained glasses that had thick amber liquid, the kind that burned your throat just looking at it. You tried not to look at the bar too much when you caught sight of faded red stains.

You take a deep breath and steady yourself before trying to flag down the bartender’s attention. A woman with tan skin and dark red hair. The bags under her eyes are so dark you don't think she understands the concept of sleep. Two cross tattoos just under her amber looking eyes lead your own down to her outfit. The light blue vest she's wearing makes her skin pop, somehow her nail polish isn't chipped or scratched in anyway. You watch as she takes a bottle of liquor by slotting it between her index finger and her middle finger.

She must have sensed your eyes on her because she side eyes you for a moment. The woman flips the bottle over and pours a clear liquid into a small shot glass. Once the drink is poured, she slides it down the bar and it lands in the hand of another patron. It takes her but a second to put the bottle down, wipe her hands off, and then approach you with a cigarette dangling from her lips.

"You're new here, aren't you?" She asks like she already knows the answer to that question.

"I... I am. I was just...looking for a drink." Not a complete lie, at this point a drink would help calm your nerves.

"Is that so?" Her brow shoots up. The bartender takes the cigarette from her lips and blows out a thin wisp of smoke. She crosses her arm under her chest and gestures for you to continue.

You look up towards the various brown and orange glass bottles behind her. Brands and names you've never heard of before lined the shelf. It isn't until you get to the higher up shelves that you find something you recognize. A bourbon, darker than most. Something your father used to have from time to time.

You lift your finger and gesture to the bottle. She follows it and lets out a little hum.

"The bourbon? Hm. Color me shocked. Alright."

"Two shots...please."

She stops and looks back at you with the bottle in her hand. A small smirk plays on her lips. "See that's how I know you're not from around here. Most people don't say please. Much less recognize a good brand. Most of these assholes just drink rotgut like it's the end of the world."

"I am a bit out of my element." You run your fingers over the wood, brushing your fingertips over the carvings. Wondering what the story was behind each little chip and groove.

Like before she takes two shot glasses between her fingers and places them down on the bar. The bottle is uncorked with a satisfying thoonk. You watch as the liquid catches the bright lights of the bar, making the amber shimmer with the candlelight.

"No kidding. What brings you here?" Once she's finished pouring your drinks she puts the bottle back under the counter. Her hands make themselves busy by collecting the dirty glasses, putting them off to the side.

"I'm looking for someone. Someone said I could find him here."

Like something straight out of one of your penny and dime novels, she begins cleaning the inside of the glass with a rag. When she doesn't say anything, it makes you shift nervously in your seat, but she eventually nods expecting you to continue.

"He's a gunslinger. Tall from what I've heard. Bright red hair?" You do your best to describe a man you've never met. You make a gesture with your hands by your head of his rumored fluffy red hair.

Before you could continue the woman stops cleaning the crystal-clear glass. She puts it down with a loud thud making the men next to you jump and look away. You hadn't even noticed your conversation was garnering attention. She lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah, you really aren't from around here. Let me give you a little advice. The man you're describing has a bit of a reputation around here. Only comes around when he's intending to collect."

You blink up at her.

"Bounties sweetheart." She snuffs out the cigarette with a little chuckle. You must have looked like a newborn dear the way you looked at her. Blushing a bit at the thought, you try to push it down. Suddenly the little glass of alcohol in front of you looks far more interesting.

"But my contact said he'd he here."

"Your contact isn't wrong." She pauses for a moment. "Man at your six- don't look." She hisses as you go to turn your head.

"Sorry." You squeak out, snapping your head back towards her.

"Man at your six is wanted in four different states. Highway robbing, harassment, nasty attitude...a perfect blend of asshole."

"Oh..."

"Men like that bring the gunslinger. Now I don't know what you want with someone like him, and I don't want to know. But if you want his attention, when he gets here you had better work fast." She looks down at you as she rubs her neck.

"Wh... why?"

"Because he'll drag that idiot out to the streets and probably duel him. Win. Tie him up and take him into the sheriff's office. Collect his bounty and move on."

"You talk like you know him." It was time for that liquid courage. You knock back the drink and grimace at the taste. It burns and claws its way down your throat.

The bartender lets out a little laugh at your reaction, or maybe it's your question. "I've been around for a while."

"She's also full of shit. She talks like I'm a gun lovin' nut." The low whispering voice next to you makes you turn in your seat.

He's a bit shorter than described but still pretty tall. His hair is exactly as you imagined it to be, curls sticking out from under his usual green cowboy hat. The way his emerald, green eyes peer down at you makes you shrink in your seat. They widen a bit as you squirm away, so he decides to move his head up towards the bartender who's got a smirk on her face.

"You gonna tell me I'm wrong?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

"No, no just that you make me sound much more dangerous than I am. Just a simple man tryin' to earn enough to eat." He says with a chuckle.

And when he smiles at her, lips curled up so softly. Every part of this man looks so gentle. Even the green tattered sarape around his body looks warm and inviting. It was hard to believe someone so soft looking had a reputation. On the other hand, it made it easier to approach him, maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

The drink you bought for him would probably help too. You recall all the times your father would pour his business partners a drink before pitching a new idea. So, you take the shot glass and scoot it towards him. He blinks down at it before letting out a little chuckle.

"You've got this backwards ma'am. S'pose to be the other way 'round. Man's supposed to buy a pretty woman a drink." Despite it all he takes the shot, and in his hands, it looks too small. He holds it up to you and downs it without blinking. The corners of his lips twitch and his hooked nose wrinkles a bit, looks like he wasn't expecting the stronger stuff.

His compliment makes your cheeks burn; you twist the material of your cloak in your hands. "Well...nothing says a lady can't buy a gentleman a drink, does it?"

"I reckon not. Just ain't used to it s'all." He puts the glass down with a gentle tap. "But you're sittin' in this here bar all by your lonesome askin' for me. So... here I am. Somethin' I can help ya with?"

How much of your conversation with the bartender had he heard? Enough to make you nervous that other people were listening in. Your hands lowered to the derringer strapped to your thigh, under the long skirt no one knew it was there. You palmed the handle and took a deep breath. There was no real plan to use it, but it brought you a little comfort. Just a reminder that it was there.

"Yes I-"

You're cut off by the sound of screams. From a few of the waitresses and working ladies to be exact. You look over your shoulder, it's coming from your six. Where the bartender told you not to look.

 A burly man stands up and when he does, he looms over most of the men in this establishment. Slicked back short black hair tucked inside a crumpled up old bowler. For all the grime and dirt on the man the one thing you could give was that his handlebar mustache looked nice. The rest of him, not so much.

His voice bellows out, bringing an end to upbeat show tunes. "Broflovski! Yous here fer my head ain't ya!"

The man grins like he's proud of the fact that he's garnered such attention. The way he carries himself almost has you fooled if it wasn't for the bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face.

"Not at the moment, no. I was in the middle of havin' a conversation. Rather rude to interrupt a lady Knucklehead." You don't know if Kyle is calling the man a knucklehead or that's just some stupid bandit name.

Either way he sneers and with a flick of his wrist he tosses the gamblers table to the side. Chips and cards go flying up in the air, the poor dealer scrambles to get out of the way.

"I don't care if you was havin' breakfast with the fuckin' Queen of England! You shoulda know better than ta come in 'ere without a lil' backup. See I ain't one fer duelin' so we're gonna have ta do this the ol' fashion way. With yous layin' face down in the dirt bleedin' out ta death!" He whistles and a few more men sitting at other tables stand up.

Couldn't have been more than five or six, every single one of them equipped with some kind of weapon. Rusty nails pushed into wooden boards. Chains being spun around so fast it creates a little breeze. The sounds of their spurs jangling as they start to step closer.

Kyle puts his hands up defensively, the laid-back smile he had on his face falls when they get closer. "Now come on, can't we talk this out. Like I said, I ain't finished my conversation. It'd do you well to learn some manners. Call your men off."

He's not asking. The way he narrows that dark greens at the man makes the room feel cold. For a minute you think you see a spark in those eyes, a glint of something dangerous.

"God damn it..." You almost don't catch the bartender behind you mumbling, but you do hear the rack of a gun clear as day.

It's quiet all except for the way Knucklehead growls, deep and low in his chest. Despite having all these men, he still somehow looks like an animal backed into a corner. The bead of sweat trailing down his face travels lower. Down his cheek, towards his jawline where it hangs. Then...it falls. Drips onto the sawdust covered floor.

Plip

Click. Bang.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling someone's hands on your shoulder. You're hoisted in the air and thrown over the bar, you can hear the way glass shatters. Another collection of screams, and then nothing but groaning. When you open your eyes, you're in the arms of the bartender, the woman has the both of you pulled down and tucked behind the bar. Safe certainly isn't the word you'd use here, but it was better than being in the crossfire.

She's got another cigarette lit in her mouth; a shot gun pointed up towards the ceiling. You strain your ears, but you think you can hear her counting in Spanish. You can smell the gunpowder in the air, it's almost as thick as the tension. Then there's a different sound. A grunt of pain and the sound of a chair being broken.

"Thought you could really take us all on?! You're fucking daft!"

The gunslinger lets out a strained laugh, wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth. Splinters of the wooden chair catch in his curls. The man took a hit from the gorilla and is still standing. Well, more like leaning over the side of the bar for support, but nevertheless his eyes are still open.

"Daft is a big word for you Knucklehead. Gotta give it to you!" His voice sounds strained and broken. You catch the way he's struggling to breathe yet still has it in him to snap back.

Without thinking you take the shotgun from the bartender and before she can protest you lower the barrel towards the man. He seems surprised to see you jump up from behind the bar, he must have really not cared that you were there. But a loaded gun that can shoot slugs the size of an acorn sings a different tune.

"Now missy...this ain't got nothin' ta do with you. Yous don't wanna get yourself wrapped up in somethin' I don't think you can handle." Knucklehead's eyes lower to the gun in your hand, the gravity of the situation sinks in. Not enough for him to let the gunslinger’s throat go, but enough to where he's contemplating backing away.

"Let him go. Let him go and back away." You keep your voice steady, that nervous air about you slips away and a different mask comes on.

That mask you've had to wear every time you look danger in the eyes. You don't see a man choking a bounty hunter to death, you see a large target. A light you could snuff out with a twitch of your index finger. You can see it in his eyes, the way he looks down at Kyle, whose smirk has returned. Then back up at you, staring down the barrel of the shot gun. It's cold double barrel unblinking eyes.

"Whattya say Knucklehead... feelin' lucky?" Kyle is able to put a little distance between Knucklehead's hands and his throat. Enough to take another gasp of air and spout some cocky one-liner.

It must have pushed the brute over the edge because he went to move again. If you had to guess it would be to lift Kyle up and use him as a shield. But he doesn't get that far. Doesn't even make it past a muscle twitch because your trigger finger is faster. For the second time that night shots ring out, but this time it's only the bandits scream that fill the air. He goes flying back letting the red head go.

If it wasn't for the bartender, you would have gone flying back as well. The force of a shotgun wasn't something you were used to. Compared to your derringer’s little kicks, the shot gun was in a league all on its own. Her hands keep your body steady, holding you by the waist. She lets out a puff of smoke and sighs.

"Nice shot." Once she realizes you're okay to stand on your own, she breaks the silence with praise and lets you go.

"O-oh...um thanks." It makes your face flare up; the fact the entire bar’s attention is now on you. The wondering eyes make you squirm and want to shrink back down behind the bar.

"Shoot a man dead in his chest and ya get a little flustered over a compliment." Kyle laughs in between trying to catch his breath, his coughs sound painful.

You avert your eyes from him, like it will do your blushing face any favors. Trying to ignore the way his laugh makes your body burn. Something about it makes you feel a bit tingly. It's either that or the adrenaline coursing through your veins. They land on the man bleeding out on the floor. He's clutching his sides spouting so much profanity you feel like you need to confess at the church just hearing it.

Just as Kyle finally gets the ability to breath properly again, the sheriff and his men come bursting through the door. The same sheriff who you had a problem with. The same one who put you on this crazy path. Once again, things could never just be simple. Every little fucking thing had to get in your way.

His eyes fall on the man first, then on you. Then on the gun in your hands and you immediately groan. Of course, he had to come in just as you slugged a man. With a scoff, he gestures to his men to round up the other bleeding bandits. Kyle was able to take down the other group by himself. Their leader using the men as bait so he could close the distance.

You push the shotgun back into the bartenders’ hand and sigh. Kyle watches as you lift your skirt and put your foot on the counter. Without a second thought he offers you his hand and helps you down off the bar. You take it and allow yourself a quick smile. One the sheriff is quick to wipe away.

"It's always you. I guess I didn't make myself very clear." He says with a sneer. "I thought you were smarter than this, seems I was the one mistaken."

You shoot him a look, brows furrowed in confusion. "Sheriff, I didn't start this! I was just defending my um..."

Friend? Soon to be employee? Guy I just bought a drink for. Shot another man for?

"I wasn't talking to you woman!" He snaps, eyes flickering between yours and Kyle's. When they land on the man his eyes narrow. "Was talkin' about this one! Coming into my town, causing trouble! Think just because your daddy was a lawyer you're above the law!"

The look the red head gives him would be enough to kill. Death himself would answer that call. You watch a vein pop out from the side of his temple, his hat and hair barely covering it. Kyle didn't even show that much anger towards the man who threatened his life and interrupted his conversation.

"Sheriff Cartman I wouldn't have to come to this town and clean up your mess if you and your men did your fucking job!" Kyle hisses through gritted teeth, emphasizing the word this like he's reminding the sheriff the town doesn't belong to him.

"I should've known better than to think you could be anything but trouble! I should haul you in with the rest of 'em!" Cartman's voice is dangerous, completely immune to the looks he's getting from Kyle.

"On what grounds?!"

"On the grounds that I'm the fucking sheriff and I'm sick and tired of your bullshit!"

"That ain't enough to bring me in you fat son of a bitch!"

"Let's go ahead and tack on threatenin’ a man of the law to that too! Wanna keep going Kyle?!"

Cartman uses his first name so casually. The air grows heavy again as the two men get into each other space. Neither go for their weapons instead fingers curl around the collar of each other's shirt. Kyle looks like a lit fuse ready to blow and Cartman is just adding fuel to an already dangerous fire.

"A-Actually Sheriff! If I may!" You don't know what compelled you to put yourself in between the two bickering men. Guess there was a little left in the old adrenaline tank, taking down a man twice your size will do that to you.

"What?! Get in my way and I'll make sure to slap you with a fine as well! Helping a criminal won't look good on your record!"

"Criminal!?"

"Gentleman! I believe the lady is trying to talk! Now you either let her talk, or you take this shit outside!" The bartender cuts them both off by slamming her hands on her bar. Her voice isn't loud but it's enough to make both men stop.

The sheriff mumbles something under his breath that makes the bartender narrow her eyes. He turns to you giving you the floor.

"Sheriff just...please hear me out." You've dealt with men like the sheriff before. Men who think they're the smartest man in the room, so it's best to just make them think they're right.

"Fine. Go ahead."

"Thank you. Y-you see...I was just following your advice! You told me to find some help and that's what I did!" As you explain yourself Kyle's brows furrow in confusion. "I was looking to hire Mr. Broflovski here."

"Didn't realize you were selling yourself out now Kyle. Bounty hunting too hard for you?" The sound Kyle's teeth makes as they grind together makes your breath hitch.

"If Mr. Broflovski here agrees, I'd like for him to take me out west. If you think about it this is the best outcome. You wouldn't have to deal with me anymore and I'd be taking him with me."

"Now hold on-"

Cartman cuts him off like he's not even there, at this point Kyle's face matches his hair. "You're leaving? Jesus christ why didn't you lead with that!"

"Yeah..." You smile and let out a little sigh, the whole situation would be a lot funnier if it wasn’t you.

"I tell you what...you leave tonight. You and that ginger fuck get out of my town, my state, my side of the country! I'll give you an hour and if you're not out of here. I'll run you down like dogs!" Sheriff Cartman looks pleased with himself and the whole idea, but the more he speaks the more it comes through gritted teeth.

"Two hours."

"One and a half, only because I'm in a good mood." He clicks his tongue and turns on his heel. "Plus, however long it takes for my useless deputy to book these assholes." Cartman turns his back on both of you and walks towards his posse.

Great. You had an hour and a half to get out of town and you hadn't even asked the famous gunslinger if he was even willing to do this.

"Well, I reckon we outta be on our way." Kyle breaks your thoughts with the sound of his voice.

You look up at him with your eyes widened. He smiles down at you and flicks up his hat, moving the brim out of his face.

"No need to look at me like that. You told the Sheriff we'd be outta here so let's get a move on." He speaks.

Kyle makes his way towards the double doors without so much as a goodbye. You go to follow him but stop, turning back towards the woman behind the bar who is just picking up the broken glass scattered around the bar.

"Um...ma'am." When you call out for her, she turns and looks in your direction.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

".... You’re welcome, now get outta here. You wouldn't last a day behind bars, so go on. Get."

A soft smile plays on your lips. She was right, you had a long road ahead of you.

The bartender looks back over her shoulder when she hears the double doors close again. She let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. As she stands up with the metal pan filled with broken glass, her head lulls to the side.

"What I wouldn't give to be a tumbleweed following them. Ya got your work cut out for you Broflovski." A smirk plays on her lips.

Kyle leads you out towards the stables where he kept his horse. She was a pretty horse, a blend of brown and whites painting down her back. She doesn't stir much until Kyle gets closer, when he's within reach she bends down and presses her head against his hand.

He smiles and touches the side of her face, petting the sides gently. There was that soft and warm feeling you got when he first sat down next to you. Even after the bar fight and the whirlwind of events that happened, he found a way to go back to being so gentle. When he turns to look back at you, you quickly find something else to look at. Suddenly the saddle on the back of his horse looks so very interesting.

"I don't s'pose you got your own horse, do ya?" he asks as he unhitches his horse from the post.

"No, I don't. I... wouldn’t even know how to go about riding one." That seems to catch him off guard.

"Hm... We’ll have plenty of time to fix that. For now." Kyle walks over to you and whispers a, ‘pardon me'. His gloved hands cup your hips and lift you up. He lifts you like a child would their doll, like you weigh nothing. He sets you down on the back of his horse, guiding your legs over the side of the large creature.

It feels so strange, the way something so powerful just stands there letting him do it. You cling to the saddle for dear life as it takes a few steps forward and then back. If you had to guess she was just as surprised as you were.

Kyle swings himself up onto the horse shortly after. He puts his arms around your waist, being oh so careful on where he lets his arms rest. His hands find the reigns and it forces him to get closer. Close enough to where you can feel his chest against your back.

You can feel his heart beating against his chest, it makes you feel a little better knowing he seems to be just as nervous as you. At the very least that's what you're telling yourself. You can't see his face, unable to move any part of your body out of fear of falling off.

No, you can't see the blush that’s creeping across his freckled face. Can't see the way it trails down his neck, disappearing behind the layers of his clothes. You would never know how much he's mentally screaming at himself to get a grip.

"Gonna be a little uncomfortable at first. Just bear with me for a while. As soon as we hit the next town, we'll see what we can do about gettin' you your own horse." With that he clicks his tongue and snaps the reigns.

You let out the smallest squeak as the horse goes from a gentle little trot to a full-on sprint. Your hands fly out to grab onto Kyle's arms using the cowboy to steady yourself. A part of you thinks about asking him to just go ahead and drop you off at the holding cell. At least then you could die behind bars and never make such embarrassing noises again. The other part of you felt a twinge of excitement when you heard him chuckle. Feeling the way it made his chest vibrate low. It kept you warm against the cold wind that rushed past you.

It doesn't take long before Kyle feels your body go slack. He peers down at you and feels his heart leap up in his throat. You were tucked up against his chest, arms wrapped around your frame fast asleep. He only wishes that he could slow down so he can take off his sarape and bundle you up in it. Instead, he settles for pulling you closer, caging you in his arms. He'd do everything in his power to make sure the ride was at least a smooth one and by the time you'd wake up, hopefully, he'd have you out of town. And hopefully then he can get more details about this job he blindly accepted from you.

For now, he'd let you sleep as he rode out towards the moon. Nothing but the wind at his back and the large pale light to his front.

Next Chapter ->

[unknownjpegs]

guard dog

Bunny goes to the Palanivel woman for cakes. Real good ones, best she’s ever had.

Ain’t nothing more than that, although she’s sure everybody thinks the monthly visit is a shakedown. 

Truth be told, Bunny had shook ‘em down, the family. Just once. Just the first time.

 Kayalvizhi had a mean fucking stare; most intimidating thing about her. She’s nearly a foot shorter than Bunny, but the way she aims those big, dark eyes upwards feels a bit like Bunny’s sticking her hand down the mouth of a snarling mother coyote. 

So Bunny likes her immediately.

Still pockets the money, ‘cuz it’s owed, but she comes back. And certainly, over the course of five years, puts triple what she takes back into Kayalvizhi’s pockets. She’s got mouths to feed, after all. Bunny ain’t heartless — well. 

She is. She is most certainly heartless.

But she’s got a conscious, at least. And maybe a bit of a soft spot for the girl, who’s got long, shiny hair and sits in her lap while they gossip.

The little one, too, when her friend’s round stomach finally coughs him up. She likes him even though he looks a bit funny, that toothless grin, as he slaps a hand repeatedly down on the table.

Benji, his mother brushes over his scalp, which had come into existence with a mop of hair. We named him Benji.

Shit name, Bunny teases, winking at the baby. You got a shit name, kid. Your mother hates you, I ’spose.

Bunny’s tough, and she’s real cold, but she’s got a conscious. And she’s got a soft spot for that family. 

Which makes it downright devastating that she ends up running her fuckin’ mouth. She always ends up running her mouth. Gets her into a lick of trouble, now and again (often). Gets other people in trouble, too. And the Palanivels get a taste for the rotten fruits of a friendship with Dr. Bunny Sullivan.

Bunny’s in the dirt when it happens. Bloody-tooth snarl, wrists tied behind her back and knelt in the fucking dirt. But she’s sharp, even subdued. Ready to talk somebody out of their clothes, money, or confidence at any moment. 

She uses that big fucking mouth as the bandit picks through her belongings.

“Those biscuits cost me an arm n’leg,” she spits into the dust, blood splattering it purple under the light of the desert moon, “Just so you know, I’m real careful about gettin’ debts back. And if you take those goddamn cakes, make me go all the way back ‘round the mountain to get more, I’ll collect your limbs.”

Empty threats, situation considering. So the man just kicks he right in the stomach, knocking the air from her, and strides back to his horse. 

“Nice little bakery ‘round the mountain, huh? Sounds quaint. Sounds like they might got some coin, if that’s true.”

And she can only watch as he rides off into the horizon on her goddamn horse. 

*

It’s too late, by the time Bunny gets there. She might not care all that much, were it anybody else in the godforsaken wastes, but she’s thinking about four sets of identical brown eyes. Thinking about how Mr. Palanivel is a bit sick, these days, and soft 'round the middle. How the rifle above the fireplace is loaded, but between the door n’them. Thinks about those kids, clutching onto their mothers skirts. Thinks about sweet cow-eyed Saha and her tiny, tiny brother —

Anyway. Bunny is late. Maybe even by an hour, and no more.

Maybe less, offers her fraying mind, and she laughs in a way that tinges mad. Does her best to contain that. Wouldn’t do nobody good, losing it out here at this farmstead in the rolling hills. 

She contains it. Gathers herself. Big breath, deep one, and it comes out even as she taps the front door open. It swings on the hinge, askew. Been kicked in. 

And that, for some reason, rises the bile more than the bodies. They keep house for visitors. Lotsa friends come from all around. They knock, welcomed in with the gesture. Bunny knocks, too, and has always been welcomed in. 

This man, this fucking scum, hadn’t knocked. 

She doesn’t weep. Feels like it. Sucks it down. And she puts her fingers under two yet-warm chins to find the pulses still.

“Fuck.” Bunny says, straightening to her full height, one hand on her temple and the other on her hip. “Fuck, shit. Fuck.” 

“Fuck.”

Bunny yelps, shoulders jumping. Turns, gun pulled from her belt, to where the voice had come from — doorway. Bedroom where Kayalvizhi’d been struck down, propped in the frame. 

The youngest, the remaining, peeks from behind the bed frame. He’s not yet started walking. Sits on his little brown knees, staring at her with those big brown eyes.

He doesn’t know, or they’d be tinged with fuming, angry revulsion. He’d hate her, for this.

“Oh, Jesus.” Bunny says, eyes rolling to the ceiling as she steps over the body. She picks him up, ignoring the ease with which he finds a seat on her hip. “Your old lady is gonna fuckin’ haunt me if that’s your first word.”

He giggles. When she brushes a wild black curl from his face, he grants her one of those baby grins. He, she notices with something terrifyingly warm settling in her chest, has got two teeth coming in.

She goes and finds that man, later. Takes an arm and a leg, as promised. It still don’t feel like enough. Kayalvizhi and her husband are dead, their daughter missing, and…

Bunny looks down at the kid. His mop of unbrushed, dust-brushed hair. He grins up at her. 

Fuck, she thinks.

*

“What d’you reckon you and your li’l mutt of a guard dog are gonna do?”

Bunny smiles, spreads her arms wide. “Few tricks.” She nods at him: “Speak, Benj?”

Benji raises his arm, revolver kissing cold on the man’s forehead. 

“Bark, bark,” he deadpans. Leans closer. “That’s dog for ‘money, please’.”

It’s funny. Bunny snorts, even though the man looks close to pissing his trousers. She can’t blame him; Benji’s got that effect on people. What he’s also got: that big, beaming smile stretching his face. The one Bunny’d liked on him even as a babe. Except it’s been a bit twisted by time, hasn’t it? Been a bit twisted by Bunny. 

But it’s the smile of a tough young man. Smile of a quick, skilled trigger. Smile of a kid who’s managed to hold onto his morals, annoying as they are sometimes. It’s also the smile of one who wants for very little, despite the hard life they live. He won’t want for anything, long as Bunny’s around. Long as she’s looking after him. 

So she’ll take a bit of edge on the grin and not feel too bad. Not feel, as folks are want to do out here, guilty. 

Bunny thinks about Kayalvizhi limp in the doorway of the children’s room, limp on the ground,  limp in a pool of blood. Thinks of her husband dead in their bed. Not wasted from a lingering sickness, but snuffed out all the same. Thinks about the little girl shaped void in that home, and the weight of unanswered questions. 

She swallows hard, watching Benji shake the man down and then shove him away. 

No guilt. No guilt.

*

Benji’s not sure how he lets the ambush happen, but it does. Dead of night, they’re both pulled from sleep by the cl-click of a gun. It is not a pretty sound this time, because it does not come from either of Benji’s.

They leap to their feet simultaneously, two sets of hands palms-up. 

There is a woman stood over the fire. Their steeds flank either side of her, chewing. She’s bribed them, it seems, and Benji glares at Sully like she’ll feel his disappointment.

Does, maybe, because she tosses her head. What am I meant to do? Not accept an apple?

The woman moves around the perimeter of their camp, drawing close.

“Finally found you,” she says with a stuttering, mad sort of laugh. The hood comes down, yanked off her head, and an inky spill of hair falls around her shoulders.

Beside him, Bunny sucks in a harsh breath. He glances over. He doesn’t often see Bunny shocked — mad as all hell, furious like the devils in Bibles she’s never cracked open. He’s seen her smarmy, suggestive, sentimental. He has never seen her concerned like this. Eyebrow bunched in thought, mouth puckered. 

No, it can’t be, the look says, and Benji doesn’t much like that, that she’s dumbfounded. Bunny don’t get speechless, and she don’t get baffled. Vague recognition and the sheer denial of it flash over her face.

The woman has a wild, dangerous expression on her own. Unhinged, whites of her eyes flashing real bright in her skull. Big beaming insane sort of grin. Teeth pulled in a snarl that Benji recognizes. “I finally goddamn found you.” 

He recognizes.

He freezes.

“I thought you’d be a man.” She moves closer. Her long legs cut through the billowing dust clouds around them, black-clad. Old boots, Benji notes, and from her gait they’re a size too big. Stolen? Borrowed? 

“I was so sure you’d be a man. Thought men were the only ones capable.” She shakes her head. “But you’re not. I didn’t think a woman would stoop so low.”

Bunny shrugs and flicks her cigarette to the side. “Sorry, miss, but I’m a twice-over disappointment on that bit of business.”

Benji rolls his eyes when her grin goes filthy.

“We can talk this out though, right?” Hand over her heart, dripping with signature dishonesty at that I’m not lying gesture. “Can fuckin’ assure you that’s where the disappointments end. Lemme be convincing and we can work something out.”

“I’ve thought about what I would say to you for twenty-six years. Every moment of my life. Every single day.” The woman whispers. “God forgive me, but now I’m not feeling real talkative.” Her voice rips raw, shaky. Quiet, in that way people get before they make a decision.

Benji should be expecting the gun to come up. He usually does. He’s usually the quicker one. He usually moves.

Except this woman — she’s got his eyes. She’s got his nose. She’s got his smile, even if it looks maniacal.

So Benji isn’t quick, now. Not when it matters the most. He’s slow. His hand, much to his mind’s screaming, does not even fuckin’ twitch. 

And the gun comes up. And it points at Bunny — right over her chest. And the red-orange explosion blooms from its muzzle. The gun comes up, it points at Bunny, and it shoots.

Bunny stumbles back, and Benji will never forget the way her coat billows in a great black shadow around her shoulders, the way red blossoms like a poppy on her shirt. He’ll have nightmares about it for years.

He’s on the ground next to her just a moment after her back meets it. 

His throat feels raw. Hasn’t screamed, but it feels like he had. Fuck, maybe he had. He’s not hearing much but the dull ring, the rush of panic between his ears. Because this is Bunny — this is all he’s got in the world, ‘cept the mule and his pieces and his hat and his coat.

All he can think, as he presses a hand to the blossom, is that he’s not gonna have the money to feed Sully and Delilah both. He’ll have to sell one. Have to sell Bunny’s saloon, to pay for the funeral, ‘cuz Bunny would want one and she’d want him to invite all the folk she’d pitted against each other just to laugh from beyond. 

He ain’t ready for her to go beyond. 

So he presses down hard, trying to stop the blood from pouring out. The muffled skit of boots in the dust drawing closer.

“Oh God,” the woman crosses herself in the way Benji’s seen from pitiful beggars and the insincere penitence of real dirt-low folks. “Oh, God. I shot her.” 

“You sure fuckin’ did,” Benji hisses, feeling a little shivery when the color in Bunny’s face starts to drain away. He whirls to snap at the woman, a frustrated, wordless growl caught in his chest. Sounds torn and edgy as it spits between his teeth — he’s gonna cry. “You sure fucking did.”

He should kill her. He should, for trying to off Bunny. But their eyes meet, and Benji feels the desire to hit to hurt to kill completely drain from him. 

Something tickles at the back of his skull.

“Is — is she —” The woman sits down heavily in the dirt, gripping her hands together and worrying her fingers. 

“No.” Benji snaps, because he’s not gonna let it happen. Besides…he lifts his hands, assesses the wound entry. 

Feels relief wash over him, strong as a good breeze on the end of a heat wave, when he realizes the hole is in her shoulder. Bunny groans when he lifts her a bit, assesses the through-and-though to the other side. That’s good. Bullet stuck in there would be worse. Would be an infection. Would be a funeral.

“No, she’s not gonna croak. Not yet. Got money to collect, ain’t that right, boss?” He taps at Bunny’s cheek until she huffs, glares at him. “C’mon. Ain’t that right?”

Bunny, somehow, finds the strength to jolt up and grab either side of Benji’s coat.

“D-do not,” she hisses painfully, “take me to that French fuck. I’d rather die.”

Ah, Benji thinks as she falls back, unconscious. Hate-motivated strength.