#wheat pool

[deejayphoto]

Saskatchewan

[graintrainbrain]

CN grain boxcars at the grain elevators in Turtleford, Saskatchewan, 1983. Photo source

[musiconspotify]

The Wheat Pool - Township (2007) … record you should be listening to …

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Where You Belong

Prompt: you're caught in the middle of a tornado, tyler's there in the aftermath.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: angst, blood mention

A/N: surprise surprise, & not what i usually write, but twisters has recently been consuming my entire life. so here's an angsty lil imagine of hurt reader being comforted by the wrangler himself.

You made it about fifteen minutes down the road before you realized that you’d forgotten your phone… Again. 

After patting down your pockets and digging through your tote bag the best you could without crashing the car– you straightened yourself in the driver’s seat and sighed defeatedly. 

Stupid, you thought. Although you weren’t really that surprised by your mistake. You’d never been particularly attached to your phone, and this certainly wasn’t the first time you’d left it behind. 

But you’d been trying to be more mindful about remembering it. And just like that, Tyler’s voice popped into your head– no doubt scolding you for your carelessness. ‘What if something happened and I had to get a hold of ya?’ 

Thanks to another wild storm system brewing all over the midwest, Tyler was out chasing again today. And although you’d checked in on him earlier in the day, you knew there was always the possibility that things changed. Storms shifted– gained power, sometimes his team (although rarely) got things wrong. A pang of guilt spread through your chest at the thought– what if something happened to him out there and he needed to reach you? 

You could turn back and get your phone, of course. But you were already so close to town. And all you needed was a bottle of shampoo and a birthday cake for Tyler. You could be in and out of Lawton in less than half an hour if you were quick– home before he even knew you’d left your phone behind again.

What could really go wrong?

…

“Talk to me, Dani– what do you see?” Tyler asked into the walkie. They’d been tracking a handful of storms for the past few hours– Tyler watching the clouds, and Dani studying the radar. Right now, there were two that had peaked his interest– One was formulating south, the other to the northeast. 

“The storm south has higher wind speeds, but I think it’ll fade if it shifts. The other one has a weaker wind shear, but higher pressure. Either one has the chance to form or go, so I say trust your gut,” they answered.  

Tyler shifted his grip on the steering wheel, studying the dark, circling motion in the distance. 

“What’re you thinkin’, T?” Boone asked, camera trained on Tyler. 

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip– trying to focus.

“Less moisture, less potential for an updraft, but way higher winds if we go south. Northeast though… she’s already got the motion and momentum, she just needs the winds to shift...” 

Boone stayed quiet– he knew that when Tyler talked out loud, it was generally rhetorical. 

Tyler took his eyes off the sky to study the world around him for a moment. 

“No pressure, T,” Dani said through the walkie. 

“Yeah,” Lilly chimed in. “We just spent all damn day chasing these things–”

“South,” he said suddenly. “I say let’s chase south.”

…

Less than thirty minutes later, Tyler was standing in the middle of a wheat field with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. 

The storm had fizzled with the shifting winds, leaving them with nothing but a few scattered showers that mixed in with the sweat already pooling on his skin. 

“S’alright, T,” Boone said encouragingly with a shrug. He clapped him on the back. “We can’t catch ‘em all.”

Tyler sighed before joining Dani where they sat on the edge of the truck, scanning for other potential storms in the area. 

“What’s that there?” Tyler asked, pointing to what appeared to be a storm system heading west. 

Dani frowned. “What the hell… I think that’s the storm from earlier– the one moving northeast.”

“So it shifted?” 

“Shifted?” Boone said, lowering his camera for a moment to glance towards Tyler. “Where to? Can we make it in time?”

Tyler frowned, studying the movement. 

“That’s strange,” Dani mumbled under their breath. With a few clicks, they expanded the screen, showing a wider radius.

“What’s strange?” Boone asked.

Ignoring him, Tyler scanned the system, trying to trace the path without actually calculating it. “You don’t think–” 

Dani glanced his way. “Holy shit–”

“Hello?” Boone said. “Y’all gonna share with the rest of the class?” 

“I think she’s headin’ for Lawton,” Dani finally whispered. 

And although he��d been thinking it, all the color drained from his face when it was actually spoken out loud.

“Lawton?” Dexter asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Oh shit-” Lilly whispered.  

Lawton was the closest city to where the two of you lived– if it hit there, thousands of people could be in danger. And if it shifted again, even the slightest bit– it could head right for your small town instead.  

Despite the humidity, everything inside of Tyler went cold as he imagined you at home– puttering around the garden, blissfully unaware of what might be coming. 

“Will you uh, pass me– pass me my phone, Boone?” Tyler stammered, standing up from the truck bed. 

Boone reached into the backpack scattered near his feet and handed over Tyler’s cell phone, placing it in his outstretched hand. Tyler muttered a quick thank you before walking a few strides away as he pulled up your contact information.  

The call rang five times before making it to voicemail– your sweet voice asking him to leave a message and you’d get back to him. 

“Hey, baby– it’s me. Call me back as soon as you can. Alright, love ya.”

He clicked the phone off before immediately trying again. 

“C’mon,” he muttered as the line continued to ring. “C’mon, baby, c’mon,” he hummed nervously, kicking the grass with his boots when he heard your voicemail. “Hey– me again. Listen, I’m not trying to scare ya, but there might be a storm comin’ and I just wanna make sure you’re safe. Give me a call please.”

He paced back towards the group, sending you a quick text just for good measure as he did. 

“Alright, what’s the plan here?” Dexter asked. 

But Tyler wasn’t paying much attention as he obsessively dialed you for a third time. 

“What’s wrong, T?” Boone wondered. 

Without looking up from his phone, Tyler exhaled a frustrated breath. “She’s never got her damn phone on her– that’s what’s wrong.” The second he heard your voicemail for a fourth time, he chucked his phone towards his bag. “Damnit!” 

Boone swallowed thickly. “I’m sure she’s fine–”

Tyler hung his head. After a moment, he nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced that would remain the case if he didn’t get in touch with you fast. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to breathe– 

You were fine, he told himself. You were home, you’d hear the alerts if they were necessary, you knew to get into the basement. 

Tyler took a long, steadying breath. “Dani, what’s the speed of this thing?” 

“Uh, it’s moving– thirty-five miles per hour directly west. I think she’s gaining speed, though.”

“Alright, she’s fast,” Tyler remarked. “We have to be faster. Let’s head home, ladies and gents, we can take cover at my place once I know everyone’s safe.”

“You got it, T,” Lilly said. 

“Stay safe everyone,” Dani replied as they all dispersed to their respective vehicles. 

Tyler and Boone climbed back into the truck, tires screeching as they sped west towards Lawton, and home towards you. 

…

You were inside the bakery on Lowell Street– Tyler’s favorite place for any and all pastries, when you heard the thunder. 

Although thunder in Oklahoma wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, it was enough to make you turn your attention outside, just to see what kind of storm you might be up against on the drive home. 

“It’s gettin’ dark out there,” Gloria, the owner, said. She glanced at you over the counter and blew a strand of graying hair out of her face. 

You nodded in agreement, jumping slightly when another crack of thunder rang through the air. “Sounds like it’s getting closer,” you noticed. 

“I still can’t believe that boyfriend of yours goes out of his way to chase these storms. And his friends, too.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, me either. Bunch of adrenaline junkies.”

“Not me,” Gloria smirked. “We get enough chaos in this life, I don’t need to be chasin’ it.”

You returned her smile, recognizing that you might have more in common with the sixty-something year old baker in town than you did your own boyfriend. But you supposed that your differences were what drew you to Tyler. He was brave and thrilling and so alive. Although what he did scared the absolute shit out of you, there was nothing better than watching him exude excitement and just pure joy after he got home from a particularly powerful storm. 

“Was he and his crew trackin’ anything out here?” Gloria asked, using the tube of blue icing to write the birthday message you’d requested on top of Tyler’s cake. 

“Not here,” you replied. “He was south of OKC last I checked in.”

Which, you realized, had been far longer than you anticipated thanks to not having your phone. You mentally kicked yourself again for leaving it behind. If you’d brought it with you, you could have just given him a call now. Because unless he was smack dab in the middle of a goddamn tornado, he always answered your calls. Just a few reassurances from him could’ve calmed your fears about the storm brewing outside– told you that it was just a thunderstorm passing through. 

Not every thunderstorm means a tornado, he had said, you didn’t even know how many times by now. And each time allowed you to relax a little. Because unlike your boyfriend, you didn’t enjoy weather in quite the same way. In fact, after an EF4 had ripped through your home when you were just a child, you did your best to stay as far from tornadoes as Oklahoma allowed. 

“I’m sure it’s just thunder,” you began. 

But before you could finish your sentence, you heard the sudden pitter patter of hail beginning outside. Gloria lowered the icing tube while you took another step closer to the window to peer out. 

Dark, gloomy clouds swirled through the sky. 

That was when you heard the sirens. Loud and clear, they echoed through your ears in a terrifying, grim warning. 

…

As the storm tracked faster and faster the closer they got, Tyler’s first stop was your shared home just outside of Lawton. 

He didn’t even bother turning the truck off before he was hurling himself across the lawn, towards the front door. But before he even looked inside, his stomach dropped when he noticed your SUV wasn’t parked in its typical spot. 

Regardless, he practically ripped open the front door before running into the house, calling your name loudly into each room he searched, hoping that maybe you’d lent your car to your mom again– or magically parked it in the garage that was stuffed full of his gear. 

But it was no use– you weren’t there. 

He knew that for good as soon as he flung open the door to your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made, pillows arranged perfectly– and your phone sitting on the nightstand table, plugged in and clearly far away from you. 

“Damnit!” he yelled, kicking the door frame frustratedly. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. Frustration and anger brewed inside of him, but he knew that underneath all of that was fear– for you and your safety. All he wanted was to have you in his sights again– although preferably wrapped up in his embrace, the only spot he could ensure you were safe... Where you belonged.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Tyler made his way across the room and picked your phone up from the nightstand. Your background– a picture of you and him taken during your trip to Texas last year, lit up the screen. Accompanying it were the slew of notifications you’d missed– the first was the severe weather alert, the next few were all the missed calls from him. But at the very bottom of your screen was a reminder notification– one that allowed him to finally exhale the breath he’d been holding since he burst into the house. 

Get Tyler a bday cake. 

Sliding your phone into his back pocket, he raced back down the stairs to find Boone standing on the front lawn. 

“She’s in town,” he said, rushing towards his truck. 

Boone followed close behind. “How do you know?”

“If nothing else,” Tyler said, climbing into his truck, “she follows her schedule.”

…

“Gloria, you gotta listen to me–” you pleaded, hurrying around the counter to grab her hand. “If the sirens are goin’ off, it means we don’t have much time. Does the bakery have a basement, or– or a shelter?”

Gloria’s watery eyes met yours. Your heart sank the moment she shook her head dreadfully. 

“Okay,” you said shakily, trying not to panic. What would Tyler do? You looked around the bakery– with its old walls and sagging roof, you knew it wasn’t safe to stay here. 

“Gloria, we gotta go,” you said urgently. “We gotta find somewhere safe to be.”

With that, you tugged her towards the exit. 

As soon as you were outside, you felt the fierce wind whip your face, along with a few staggering pieces of hail. There was debris– leaves and sticks flying around in every which way, making it hard to see past what was right in front of you. 

Although you were trying to be vigilant, you didn’t even see the scrap of metal fly by your face.  “Shit!” you exclaimed, feeling it graze your cheek. Ripped skin was quickly followed by the feeling of warm blood trickling across your skin. 

“Are you alright?” Gloria asked, grabbing your arm. 

You used your free hand to press against your cheek before nodding. “We gotta get out of here,” you said. 

But just as you turned to try and gauge your surroundings, hoping to come up with a shred of a plan, you froze at what was looming in the distance. 

Winds whipped rapidly, the sky boomed, and a dark, wide funnel had formed– it’s tip already touching down on the ground. And it was coming straight for you. 

“Gloria, we gotta go–” you cried. “Now!” 

…

Tyler drove as fast as he could– foot nearly pressed down on the ground. He drove like his life depended on it. Because yours did– 

The truth was– he’d never given much thought to losing you. He was generally too preoccupied with wondering what you’d do if you lost him. He was the one putting himself in danger all the time, he was the one forcing his way in the middle of these storms. 

He didn’t know what he’d do without you– except be a shell of who he was now. 

“Holy shit–” he heard Boone say from the passenger seat. 

Tyler refocused his attention ahead, his eyes widening the second he saw what Boone was fixated on. 

It was hard to miss the giant, fucking tornado barreling right for Lawton’s array of buildings. 

“We’re too late–” Tyler croaked. “We’re too fucking late–”

“She’s smart,” Boone assured Tyler. “She knows where to go and what to do.”

Tyler’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and drove faster. 

…

In retrospect, the laundromat probably wasn’t the best place for you to be. But there were few windows and the back room was lined with secure piping, all which jetted deeply into the ground, creating a solid anchoring point. 

There were a few other people huddled in the same room, already low on the ground and clutching onto one another. 

“Hold on to that!” you cried, practically pushing Gloria towards the corner of the room. She wound her frail arms around the piping before crouching down. You were right beside her, arms locked tightly on the piping as you felt the building start to shake. 

The storm outside was deafening. Winds whistled and boomed. You were pretty sure the woman beside you was screaming– but you couldn’t hear her above the noise of everything else. You tried to be brave– the way you knew Tyler would be if he were here. 

Once, about three years ago, an EF3 hit his parent’s ranch while the two of you were staying there for a long weekend. You remembered the way he stayed so calm, so collected through it all. After ushering everyone into the storm shelter, he wrapped his strong arms around you, anchoring you to him. The ranch didn’t shake like this though… And even though you’d been scared that night, it paled in comparison to what you felt now. 

This building was weak– the structure was unsound. You had no idea how close the tornado actually was, but you knew this thing wasn’t going to stay put. It was just a matter of if the pipes went deep enough into the ground and if you could hold on to them. Because you didn’t have Tyler holding on for you this time. 

You hoped he was somewhere safe– maybe tracking the storm that was about to kill you from a reasonable distance. 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you told Gloria, sweaty palms making your grip slip. “Just hold on–” 

The building began to shake harder– the very foundation rocking beneath you. Shortly after, pieces of the roof began tearing off, exposing the thunderous storm raging above. 

“I don’t–” Gloria cried. “I don’t think I can hold on!”

You tried loosening your own grip– hoping you could wrap your arms around her like Tyler had done for you before, or do something to help. But then you heard another ear splitting roar, and suddenly, the entire roof was being ripped off from the building. There was nothing you could do. You weren’t strong enough– 

“Hold on!” you screamed, tucking your head into your elbow and squeezing your eyes shut. “Just a little longer!” 

But as the words left your lips, even you didn’t believe them. 

…

By the time they finally reached town, the tornado had already moved on. 

Part of the reason why Tyler loved tornados so much was their power and speed. In his eyes– it was nothing short of an act of God to see what damage a simple funnel of wind could do in just a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds. 

Until he was faced with the inevitable tragedy of it all. 

Because it was one thing to see trees uprooted, or tractors rolled over. It was another to see an entire town had succumbed to a pile of debris– vehicles thrown this way and that– metal and siding and bricks scattered over every inch of the flat land– To know that people, his friends, his neighbors, you could be buried underneath piles of rubble– bodies broken and bleeding and hurt if they were lucky enough to be alive at all.

Tyler brought his truck to a screeching halt, not even hesitating before he was ripping off his seatbelt and hurling himself out of his seat. The second his boots hit the mud, he screamed your name as loud as he could. 

Eyes whipping around, he tried to process the scene before him. But it was hard to gauge where anything used to be– there was practically nothing left. 

“Tyler!” he heard someone scream in the distance. Head whipping to the side, he saw Lilly, waving her arms frantically. 

For a moment, Tyler let himself get his hopes up. He raced across the distance between them as fast as he could, despite all the obstacles in his way. But when he finally reached her, he was devastated to see that you weren’t there at all. Instead, Lilly was staring at a vehicle, flipped over and crunched like it’d been hit head-on by an 18-wheeler. 

And although it was damaged beyond repair, Tyler recognized it as yours immediately. 

He felt his chest tighten. “Christ–” he stammered, unable to fight back the tears burning behind his eyes. He ran his hand through his hair before hunching over, hoping the motion would allow him to finally catch his breath.

“Oh God,” he panted. “God, no– please, no–”

“She might not have been in it,” Lilly said quickly. 

But Tyler barely heard her. He was too fixated on the pounding in his ears–  

A wave of hopelessness washed over him, flooding his insides. He was too late– he couldn’t save you– he was too fucking late. 

“We’re gonna find her, T,” Boone’s voice was suddenly peaking through the fog. 

“Yeah, we won’t stop until we do,” Dani added. 

Tyler forced himself to take a few, steadying breaths. When he could, he straightened his back and glanced around. 

His whole team hadn’t given up on you. 

Neither could he. 

…

When you finally gained the courage to open your eyes, you were met by a fierce brightness. You coughed– lungs heaving as you struggled to breathe. 

“Gloria?” you tried to speak. “Are you okay?” 

You were met by an eerie silence– the calm after the storm. Blinking harshly a few times, you tried to gather up enough strength to sit up. But as soon as you did, you had a chance to look around… And boy, do you wish you hadn’t. 

There was nothing left– the entire town was gone… destroyed, buried in rubble and debris. 

“Gloria?” you called, groaning as you pushed the thick layer of roofing off from your legs. You grimaced once you saw the deep gash down the side of your thigh, oozing blood. 

Breath shuddering, you continued to scan the area– trying to wrack your brain for what the hell you were supposed to do next. The second you moved to turn your head, you winced, vision blurring. Slowly, you grazed along your forehead with your fingertips. When you pulled them away, you grimaced to see them coated in crimson liquid. 

You stared at it for far too long– unsure what else to do. You were hurt– probably worse than it felt, too if adrenaline had anything to say about it. You didn’t know if you could walk on your leg, or if you’d pass out the second you tried to stand up. 

You felt hopeless– completely and utterly alone. 

Until you faintly heard the sound of your name being called in the distance. 

It was enough to make you snap out of your trance, head whipping around to see Boone throwing aside a piece of siding. He called out a second time before turning and locking eyes with you from across the way. 

“Boone,” you said under your breath, like you couldn’t quite believe he was real. Because if Boone was here– calling out for you, that meant Tyler couldn’t be far behind. 

Boone yelled your name again before turning. “I found her!” he screamed, waving his arms. “Over here!” 

You fought back the guilt you felt for still not finding Gloria and moved to stand on shaky legs. 

“I’ll come back for you,” you promised her. 

Wobbly and weak, you limped towards him, trying your best not to fall in the cracks and crevices beneath the debris. You looked down, intending to watch your step, but instead you caught a glimpse of your leg and all the blood now coating your entire thigh and calf. Just the sight of it made you lose your balance. 

“Shit,” you gasped, as you landed harshly on the ground. You looked back up and saw Boone heading your way– only fifty yards or so from you. But then– right behind Boone, was a sight that made everything else melt away. 

“Tyler,” you exhaled, like it was a prayer tumbling from your lips. 

His long legs moved fast– practically running despite everything in his way. 

He’d make it to you– he’d get you. But if you got up and kept moving… he’d get there sooner. So, with whatever you had left inside of you, you pushed yourself up. Ignoring the pounding in your head and the throbbing in your leg, you limped forward. 

“Tyler,” you said again– not loud enough for anyone else to hear. It was like you just needed a reminder that really was right there. “Tyler–” this time, when his name tumbled from your lips, it came out as a sob– every emotion inside of you bubbling to the surface of your skin. Tears slipped down your cheeks, your vision blurred. 

He was so close now– you could hear the rubble shift as he stepped on it. 

He called your name… and God, if his voice wasn’t the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. 

“Tyler–” you cried again, throat choked from dust and tears. 

And then, just like that, his body was colliding with yours. Arms winding tightly around your shoulders, a familiar scent enveloping you, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, anchoring you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, face buried in his button down shirt. 

“Oh, God,” he whispered above you, lips grazing the side of your head. “I got you,” he said. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out– only a guttural, uncontrollable sob that made him hold you tighter. 

“I got you, baby. I got you,” he whispered into your hair. 

“Tyler–” was all you managed to choke out. 

His thumb trailed up and down your hair, matted with mud and your own blood. “I’m here. I’m right here. I got you.” 

He held you tight, steadying your shaky frame. It was like he was the one thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Which was why your body almost recoiled when he finally pulled away. You needed him wrapped around you like that forever. 

You tried to resist, to pull him back, but you didn’t even have the energy for that. All you could do was stand there weakly while his wild, concerned eyes scanned the length of you. 

“I’m fine–” you tried to say. 

But he shook his head instantly. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt, we gotta get you out of here. Get an ambulance!” he yelled to Boone, who was lingering nearby, looking like he didn’t quite know how to help. Boone nodded instantly before hurrying off. 

“Tyler–” 

“Okay, I see the leg– what else?” he asked. “What else hurts?”

“My head,” you whimpered. “And my ribs–” you admitted, although you hadn’t quite managed to look at those yet. “But Tyler–” 

Before you could finish, Tyler’s hand gripped the hem of your tank top, pulling it up slightly. You winced as the fabric brushed over your ribs. But when Tyler pressed a hand on the bare skin, you almost screamed out in pain. “Sorry,” he said gently. “I gotta look though, baby. I gotta check it.”

You nodded, fingers squeezing the fabric of his shirt as he did. The pain was excruciating– enough to make your already-dizzy head start to spin. 

“I think they’re broken– at least a couple. Can’t say for certain.”

“Tyler,” you tried to repeat, tears still streaming steadily down your face. 

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he said once he saw the shift on your face. 

“It’s Gloria,” you finally spit out. “She’s out here somewhere, Tyler. We have to find her–”

Tyler’s gaze softened at your words. He pulled his eyes away from you long enough to quickly scan the scene. 

“Did you see her? Or know where she went?”

You shook your head, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “No–” you cried. “No, I don’t know where she went. Tyler, I have to find her–”

“Easy,” he soothed, winding an arm around your middle so that he could brace the majority of your weight. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We gotta get you checked out.”

“I can’t leave her–” you protested. 

“Listen to me,” he said, voice gentle but stern. “You bleeding out on a pile of rubble isn’t going to help her, okay? Let me get you somewhere safe, Boone and Dexter can search for Gloria, alright?” 

After a moment, you nodded solemnly. “You promise?”

“I promise, baby. Now c’mon.”

Before you could protest, you felt Tyler’s arm swoop around the backs of your legs, while the other supported your back. In an instant, your feet are lifted off from the ground. You didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay your head against his chest. 

“There we go,” he soothed. “I got you.”

His thumb trailed along your back gently as he began navigating the pile of rubble around you. 

You felt safe nestled against him– and for the first time since you’d emerged from the rubble, you felt safe enough to allow your eyes to fall shut. 

“Hey, stay awake now, okay? We’re just a short walk to the ambulances– keep lookin’ at me.”

You tried– honestly you did. You opened them up, despite everything inside of you that screamed to close them. And then you fought like hell to keep them trained on Tyler– to study the lining of his jaw and the tan shade of his skin. But Tyler’s embrace was so warm, and his voice was just so soft. And you were so, so tired. There was nothing you could do when they fell shut again. 

Tyler pleaded for you, but unconsciousness got there first. 

… 

Even after the doctors assured him you’d be okay– that it was just exhaustion and blood loss from the trauma you’d endured keeping you out for so long, he couldn’t settle down. 

You looked so goddamn frail– so broken in that hospital bed. He couldn’t stand it. 

It was nearly ten at night before the rest of his team packed up to head back home, making him promise to call them as soon as you woke up. 

“We can stay if you want,” Lilly offered. There was no hint of sarcasm or malice in her tone. She was being genuine. Which was how Tyler knew he must have been an absolute mess. 

“That’s alright,” he croaked, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. Even he could hear the pain in his voice. 

Boone clapped him on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Love you, man.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Dani said. 

Tyler nodded, promised he would. But the only thing he needed was for you to wake up. 

…

His watch read midnight when you finally stirred. 

Tyler was sitting in a chair, pulled all the way up to your bedside, and was clutching your hand with both of his. He had his forehead resting against the hospital bed, but the second he felt movement, he shot up quickly, all the exhaustion fading instantly. 

Your face contorted into a frown as you squeezed your eyes shut once, twice, three times before they fluttered open. 

Scooting forward in his chair, he studied you as you glanced around– clearly trying to take in your surroundings and place where you were. The second you started to shift– like you were sitting up in bed in a panic, he squeezed your hand. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” he said. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

Your head turned towards him, confusion and fear plastered all over your cut up, bruised face. Just the sight made his chest ache. 

“You’re safe.”

You fell back against the pillow and nodded slowly. 

“Tyler–” you began shakily, he could already hear the sob lodged in your throat. “I– I’m…”

“You’re okay, baby,” he assured you. 

“No– I’m- I’m so sorry–”

He froze, brow furrowing in confusion. “Hey, what’s this? Stop- you got nothing to be sorry for, baby.” 

“I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t hear the alert until it was too late. It was stupid– I just–” your face crumpled as you struggled to find words. “You always tell me not to forget it and I forgot it.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I just– I wanted to get you a birthday cake– I should have gotten it sooner, but I forgot– and…” your voice continued to crack and break with each breath you took. “I know you don’t love birthdays, but I love your birthday–” Tyler leaned forward in his seat, releasing your hand so that he could cup your cheek. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face before his fingers traced your jawline delicately. 

“I think your cake got destroyed.”

He couldn’t help the soft smirk that spread across his face. “I’d say that’s probably a fair assumption.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Hey,” he soothed. “Fuck birthday cakes– I didn’t want one anyway. I was thinkin’ we could get a nice pie this year. What do ya think? Blueberry? Peach cobbler?”

“But Gloria made it–” 

Suddenly, your face fell and you were back to sitting up eagerly. “Oh my God, Tyler. Gloria– she–”

“She’s safe,” Tyler interjected quickly. “Thanks to you. Boone found her not far from where you wound up, clutching to some pipes. She had a few scratches, but that was it. She said the pipes were your idea.”

A rush of pride flowed through him as he beamed at you. His girl– getting people to safety in the middle of a tornado, despite how scared you must have been. 

Your watery eyes met his, lip quivering as you tried to speak. “Tyler– I didn’t think…” he could hear the tears in your throat before you even let them out. “I didn’t think we were going to make it. God, I don’t know how we made it.”

Your voice broke on the last word, a sob escaping your lips as you doubled over. Instantly, Tyler was out of his chair and sliding into the tiny, hospital bed beside you carefully avoiding your cracked ribs and stitched up thigh. 

Without even hesitating, you curled into his side, fingers grasping as his shirt like your life depended on it. 

“Shh,” he soothed, hand rubbing up and down your arm. “You did make it. You and Gloria both. You made it because you thought on your feet– I’m so proud of you,” he hummed, pressing his lips to the side of your head. 

He had no idea if you believed him or not– no idea if his words were sinking in at all. You clutched his shirt and cried against his chest– frame shaking with each breath you took. Tyler felt so helpless in that moment. All he could do was whisper reassuring comments and words of affirmation in your ear and hold you tightly against him. 

After a while, your breathing started to return to normal. Your grip on his shirt loosened as you let out a sigh. “You came to get me,” you said quietly, voice sounding so tired– like it was moments away from drifting off. 

Tyler pressed his lips to your hair, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ll always come to get you,” he promised. 

You nodded. “I know.” 

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm a few more times soothingly. “The laundry mat was a good idea– especially with the pipes,” he murmured into your hair. 

With what little energy you had left, you pulled away from him to glance up. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Does that mean I can be a tornado wrangler now?” 

He smirked playfully. “That depends, do you want to be?”

You bit your lip, like you were really thinking about it. After a moment, you scrunched your nose up. “And face one of those things nearly everyday? Not a chance.”

Tyler smiled, pulling you gently against his chest– right where you belonged. “There’s my girl,” he said lovingly. 

[scandisim]

In The Family Way - A Medieval Pregnancy Kit For Pandasama's Realistic Childbirth Mod

I love a good historical gameplay, and I love Pandasama's Realistic Childbirth Mod. However, for obvious reasons that mod is heavily Modern Era™-coded. But I felt as though there were elements to the mod that could be adapted to my favorite kind of gameplay. This little kit is the result of that feeling. Find the items easily by searching for either [scandisim] or Pandasama in Build/Buy. Please keep in mind before reading any further that none of these work without the original mod by Pandasama, will not even show up in game without the original mod, and all credit for the mod and original items goes to them!

Download Pandasama's Realistic Childbirth Mod here.

What's included:

 Ye Olde Birth Pool - BabyBoom Medieval Wooden Birth Pool

Does not replace the original birth pool

8 swatches (four wood, four stone)

$ 100

Ye Olde Yoga/Pregnancy Ball - Medieval Pregnancy Relief Ball

Does not replace the original yoga ball

6 swatches (four hay/straw/grass, two fabric)

$ 50

Ye Olde Wooden Pregnancy Test - Medieval Pregnancy Test

Replaces the original pregnancy test with a wooden one with a bundle of wheat

Will be slightly green to emulate sprouting if positive

Debug item, but you can still find it if you have debug turned on

This is my first attempt at something like this, so do let me know if there are any issues. All mod related questions should obviously be run by Pandasama though. I have nothing to do with the original mod, I'm just a huge fan.

DOWNLOAD ON MY PATREON (Free)

[hollandsfavbabe]

Heart Over Hooves

pairing: tyler owens x reader

synopsis: in which you and tyler recount to the wranglers how exactly you began dating at a local rodeo in your home state

warnings: established relationship, cliche mean girl, cowboy charm, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 6.8k

masterlist

I just saw Twisters in 4dx and I know I'm late to the trend, but I have finally joined the Glenissance!! Please send me all of your Tyler Owens requests, I literally can't stop thinking about him. Here I present to you the fruits of a sleepless night. I hope it's decent!

The Oklahoma air was unusually chilly for a summer night as you felt a light breeze brush against the skin of your bare arms, raising rigid bumps in its wake along any part of you that wasn’t concealed by your tank top and denim jeans. But it didn’t matter how much of your body was covered; in all honesty, you could’ve been in your favorite bathing suit. The cool air was no match for the warmth of the toned arms of your husband that wrapped around you, keeping you glued tightly to his lap so that he too wouldn’t fall victim to the cold. Your cowboy, Tyler Owens, could never inhabit his own chair alone so long as you were around.

“You doing okay, baby?” he whispered into the cusp of your ear as the heat from his breath spread all the way down to your neck. Though a cluster of goosebumps had sprung from a patch of exposed skin on your forearm, it wasn’t long before the discomfort was extinguished by the gentle caress of Tyler’s wandering hand and he leisurely traced the length of your arm in an attempt to keep you content within his embrace.

“I’m just fine, thanks.” you smiled, though the summoned words weren’t nearly as effective at communicating your gratitude for him as your attempt to snuggle closer to him despite the fact that it wasn’t physically possible. Tyler got your message all the same, the clear sign that you couldn’t imagine a place on Earth that would fill you with an equitable amount of enjoyment.

Though you couldn’t see his face, you could picture Tyler’s grin more clearly than the speckled tile bottom of a shallow pool before his lips met your hairline to place a soft kiss near on your temple.

“Alright lovebirds.” Lily stated abruptly, interrupting your moment of intimacy as you were suddenly reminded that you and Tyler were not the only two people gathered around the dim glow of the small bonfire.

It had been a long day of chasing storms for all of you. In Tyler’s case, he had been the leading man in three Wrangler live streams that day as EF1s and EF2s sprouted from the clouds like flowers in the spring. His team had worked just as hard, aiding in each chase and keeping all channel content at its peak. While there were occasions when you enjoyed joining Tyler in his pick up as a special guest, the reason for your exhaustion was not quite as intense as chasing after tornados, though the role you assumed was equally as vital.

Lacking in Tyler’s lust for natural disasters that was very much necessary in order to tackle twisters head on, you became the team’s marketing expert instead. While it was considered more of a bench seat compared to the other Wranglers duties, you had proven yourself to be most useful during the recovery process once the storms had vanished in something you liked to call the ‘After Effect’. Backed by your wit and Bachelor’s degree in psychology, you maintained the channel’s engagement levels and ensured that there was more international visibility for your cause as well. The numbers added up overtime and you were proud to boast that you had managed to raise thousands of dollars from online donors that went entirely towards helping the people of Oklahoma rebuild their destroyed homes.

Such a busy day had left all of you much too tired to make it to the nearest motel that was more than a couple hours away and instead you resorted to gathering around a bonfire in the dirt ridden clearing of a wheat field. It wasn’t ideal, but you were all more than used to camping together after years of being as close as a family.

Traditions had formed after countless nights just the same. Tyler always placed his chair directly beside yours as it was never long before you gave in to sharing with him. The other Wrangler’s sat further away from each other scattered around the fire, but always in the same arrangement. The seat next to your discarded one was occupied by Dani, with the next supporting Dexter, and the one after belonging to Lily who was eagerly leaning towards you as she brought her can of beer back to her lips. Boone completed your inverted circle as he planted his chair dangerously close to the fire in between Lily and your husband who doubled as his longtime best friend.

Usually your group consisted of only the six of you, but tonight you welcomed an extra guest into camp. Ben, a British investigative journalist, had been traveling with your crew for months now and though he preferred to linger behind as an outlier, you could tell from the way he sunk into his seat that he had grown to be very comfortable with you all. You weren’t sure if he would ever leave at this point, but none of you minded his extended stay.

“Something wrong?” you asked Lily, lifting your head to gaze at her as the flames seemed to lick at the sides of her face from your perspective. You worried the team had grown tired of Tyler’s need to share his seat with you (as well as your reluctance to turn him down), but of course no one paid any attention to your couplish antics.

“I just can’t go on one more minute without knowing the story,” she explained.

“Story?” Tyler repeated, sharing your befuddlement.

“What story?” you asked.

“Your story,” Dani clarified, pointing to the foreign man that had settled just behind her outside of the circular formation. “Ben here wants it for his tornado piece.”

“It’s just intriguing,” Ben reiterated, his stumbling British accent a stark contrast from the southern you were so used to. He cleared his throat before continuing, eyeing you and your husband. “Everyone else here met while you were forming your chasing team. Everyone except you two.”

“And me!” Boone shouted, raising the hand that wasn’t occupied by his second beer of the night. “I knew Tyler before any of you.”

“Easy Boone, no one’s forgotten.” Tyler laughed, not bothering to point out the inaccuracies in his best friend’s claim. While Boone had befriended Tyler decades before you’d shown any interest in him, the three of you all grew up together in the same tiny Arkansas town.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to your paper.” you pointed out as Ben had made it clear that he wanted to write only about Oklahoman tornados and the recent uprise in storm chasing tourism that was a direct result of your husband’s online presence.

“It isn’t,” Ben admitted. “But it would be helpful for context. Just so my readers can better understand your dynamic. It frames how your team operates.”

“And I’ve always been dying to know!” Lily added with such enthusiasm you would’ve guessed a tornado had suddenly formed right behind you.

You sat up from your nestled position on Tyler’s lap to look back at him, delighted as you discovered an expression matching the one upon your own face: a knowing smile. He was more than happy to share how the two of you ended up together. All he needed was a signal of your approval, one you gave him with the loving squeeze of your hand against the taunt muscle of his bicep. 

“Alright,” you agreed, turning your head to face the group once more. “But I get to tell it.”

“Fine by me.” Tyler nodded to your condition.

“With help from me at least!” Boone interjected to which you sent him a playful glare.

“You best not.” you threatened as Boone broke out in laughter beside you.

“Fine,” he grinned. “Woo, y’all are in for a real treat!” he hollered, already very well versed in the tale as he was there to witness its unfolding.

“Just start already.” Dexter demanded as he spoke for the rest of the group. Even with the whole night ahead of you, there was no time to waste.

You thought back to the moment at once, recalling the fateful day as if it had only happened just yesterday rather than several years ago. You sighed happily at the memory, collecting your thoughts enough to be able to share it justly.

“It all started in our hometown,” you began setting the scene as you rose from your husband’s lap, standing beside the fire so that everyone could see you. “Y’all know that Tyler and I grew up together, but we had what you might call a rocky start. He liked to bull ride and I was too busy caring for my horses to pay any attention to him. I used to barrel race back then and I got so into it that it was all I ever thought about. It wasn’t until much later that we finally got together, during the biggest rodeo in all of Arkansas…”

“Whoa, Cyclone!” you shouted to your horse as you yanked back on his worn leather reins. Your mighty steed, a chestnut brown stallion that had been racing at his fastest gallop, halted at your command just in front of the last yellow barrel. Dirt flew from the power of his mighty hooves and at once he neighed in protest to the sudden loss of speed. He was just as bothered as you were when the sound of nasally cackling came from outside of the practice corral, your head turning in sync with your horse towards the disturbance even though you already knew who it was.

Propped atop her luxury racing horse and adorned in a custom made, spotless, metallic pink riding outfit was your arch nemesis, Addisyn Claire, with a wicked smirk so evil it could wilt rose petals and an ugly laugh that echoed even out to the hills that surrounded the rodeo set up.

“Looking rusty out there!” she called out to you.

You scoffed at the remark, narrowing your eyes at the girl before clicking Cyclone towards her.

“I’d rather look rusty than like I skinned a pageant girl for my clothes.” you nodded at her sparkling get up though really you wished you had enough money to buy new clothes for every competition. At least you didn’t waste so much money on something so needlessly tacky.

You and Addisyn had been in competition since you were old enough to stay on a saddle, your hatred for her bubbling at just eight years old from the first moment you had suffered at the hands of her ego. It only got worse as the years ticked by as she transformed from a bratty little girl into the spoiled bitch she was today and now as a young adult, you weren’t sure how much more of her classic mean girl attitude you could take. It just wasn’t fair. She had the money and the privilege to buy her way into winning most of your past races with horses just as prissy as she was. But even so, you hoped that this year everything would be different.

You had happened across Cyclone by complete accident during a storm that eventually became his namesake. After saving him, you’d searched endlessly for his owner, but as luck would have it, he remained unclaimed.

Your family joked that it was almost as if he had been gifted to you, pushed into your life by a deadly storm so soon after the tragic passing of the horse you had grown up riding. You didn’t plan on riding him, not after all he had been through, but after his minor injuries and habit of being spooked by the very non-threatening barn latch had cleared, you discovered that you didn’t really have a choice. He was the sweetest horse you’d ever cared for, never ornery and always affectionate. It was curiosity that finally convinced you to saddle him up for a morning ride.

Much to your delight, Cyclone was a natural at taking commands and so morning rides turned into teaching him how to barrel race. He was quick for a stray, so much so that you were sure he was the fastest horse in the whole state. But of course with such a gift, he had the only stipulation that prevented you from beating Addisyn in so many previous races where her professionally trained horses always stole the blue ribbon. He struggled with each turn.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, such a feat was hard for the average horse to pull off. With Cyclone’s super-speed, it became damn near impossible. Regardless of the facts, you trained every chance you got and without fail, your horse was forced to slow to a losing time in order to make the tight turns.

”If I had known it was gonna be so easy to win, I wouldn’t have bothered training this one at all. You can’t even make it to the last barrel.” laughed Addisyn as she flipped a handful of long blonde curls behind her shoulder.

“That’s funny coming from a gal who doesn’t even know how to use a coat brush.” you shot back. Cyclone snorted and tucked his head down as if he had understood your come back.

“Mark my words,” she snarled with gritted teeth. “You’re going to regret speaking to me that way. There’s a lot more on the line today than some flimsy ribbon.”

You hated that she was right. Not only did the winner of each rodeo event get massive bragging rights, but the first place spot came accompanied with a large sum of money this year. While Addisyn had enough cash to fill the colossal space inside her skull a million times over, you weren't as fortunate living off a small farming family’s wage. After a long two years out of high school, you finally had the longing to continue your education, but even admission into the local state college came with a tuition that was too big for you to pay all on your own. You needed the prize money to cover the rest.

You bent over to stroke the white stripe that covered Cyclone’s nuzzle, attempting to calm him knowing that he could feel the animosity steaming from the blonde. “Don’t listen to her,” you whispered. “You’re gonna do just fine.”

“Petting your horse ain’t gonna make it any better.” Addisyn smirked.

“And talking at me ain’t gonna make you any smarter, but you’re still trying.”

Addisyn huffed as she took hold of her own pristine white horse's reins, kicking it hard in the side until it was facing the direction of the rodeo arena.

“Whatever,” she spat, tossing her perfectly styled hair in retort. “You know you’re not going to win.”

Your steel glare faded as she trotted away, resting in a hopeless frown as you realized how right she was. You hopped off your horse and led him to the edge of one of the wooden fences to tie his reins to. “I know.” you mumbled sadly.

“Hey, stranger,” sounded a deep voice from beside you, in fact it was the same voice that had plagued you since your first acquaintance long ago. “What’s with the frown?”

You turned to face him, the only person you'd ever avoided at the rodeo besides Addisyn. The cockiest bull rider to walk on Arkansas dirt, Tyler Owens. And while the hatred you felt around Addisyn didn’t bubble through your veins around Tyler, you considered him just as annoying. The worst part about him: he never could leave you alone.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” you asked, commenting on the impending closeness of his event as you guided Cyclone’s head to the nearest water trough that was only a few inches from Tyler. He shrugged as he answered.

“My event’s not for another hour,” he paused to check the time on his nonexistent watch, something cowboys never wore for fear that it would break under the pressure of the thousand pound beasts they endured riding. “I wanted to stop by and say hello.”

“I hope you don’t mean to me.”

“Of course not. I meant your horse,” Tyler grinned as his hands tickled beneath Cyclone’s ear forcing the horse to lift his majestic head and give a hearty neigh. You never understood your horse's bond with the man as, though it sounded insane, Cyclone tended to reserve the same opinions about people as you. Even so, they got on so well for a cowboy and an animal that didn’t even live remotely close together.

You rolled your eyes at the pair.

“C’mon, you better leave us be,” you climbed over the fence to shoo Tyler away, ignoring the sign of discontent from your horse. “We’ve got a big race today and Cyclone has to be in the best condition possible.”

“Well, if I’m being honest,” Tyler began, holding his ground. “- there might be another reason for my coming here.”

You waited for him to explain, leaning on the nearest fence post as Tyler sent you a signature grin.

“And?” you prompted.

“I’d like to propose a little wager, just something to help motivate ya.” smirked Tyler.

As annoyed as you were by his cocky grin and suffocating charm, you couldn’t lie, his proposition intrigued you.

“Explain.”

“I know you’re really fixing to beat Addisyn today, even more than usual, but I don’t think you have enough on the line. I was thinking maybe I could help raise the stakes a bit.” he explained.

While you and Addisyn’s rivalry didn’t qualify as even partially a secret, you weren’t sure how he found out about the significance of today’s race. You sent him an expression of confusion as you tried to figure out how he knew. Tyler seemed to understand immediately.

“Boone.” he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes.

“Of course.”

Other than being Tyler’s best friend since middle school, Boone harnessed the talent of figuring out people; their likes and dislikes as well as their desires and motivations. Though he was a few years younger than you and Tyler, he preferred your age group over his own.

“So how’s about this,” Tyler started as he pulled off his sunglasses to stare you down with daring eyes of emerald, briefly wetting his lips. “If you win today, you can ask me for any favor. And nothing’s off the table. I’ll even leave you alone if that’s what you’d want…”

You tried to imagine a world where Tyler Owens didn’t pester you at every waking moment.

“Okay,” you agreed. “And if I lose?”

You were sure that no punishment from the brilliantly smooth brain of the cowboy before you could ever be bad enough to motivate you to win. Boy, were you wrong.

”If you lose,” Tyler repeated as he paused to lean in closer to you, pulling on the tension between the two of you like a rope around a bull’s neck. “- you have to kiss me.”

You backed away with wide eyes disgusted by the grin that seemed to stick on Tyler’s mouth like dirt on a dew drop.

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Tyler shrugged. “If Addisyn beats you today then you have to kiss me. A long one too, mouth to mouth.”

“And why on Earth would I ever do that?” you asked, forcing the urge to gag at the mention. You couldn’t even think about voluntarily kissing Tyler, not to mention being forced to do it after a devastating loss.

“Simple. I know you hate me and I know that you want this more than anyone else here and he’s good enough to win it,” Tyler nodded towards Cyclone who was loudly drinking from the water trough. “But I know from experience that as badly as you want it, you‘ll never try hard enough if you’re not risking more.”

“I don’t think you understand how much is on the line already.” you glared.

“Sure I do,” Tyler argued and you knew that he was telling you the truth. While the Owens family owned the property neighboring your farm, they had as much as your family did. Everything they earned went back into their crops leaving nothing for Tyler or any of his siblings to go to college, if that was something he even wanted. You doubted he ever would. “Losing the money alone would be tough, but it’s just not enough.”

“Why are you doing this?” you couldn’t help but question.

“I thought that was obvious,” he chuckled softly. “I want to see you win today. And if I’m being honest, I’m sick of seeing Addisyn win on her professionally trained horses. Lord knows you deserve it more than her.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew from casual eavesdropping that your worst enemy had a terrible crush on Tyler, one so bad that she had nearly begged her father to pay a dowry for him until one of her cronies informed her that purchasing people was very much unethical and illegal.

It was one of the reasons you couldn’t stand the cowboy. Any man that caught the attention of a brat like Addisyn wasn’t worth more than a second of your time. If you had known that Tyler shared your disliking for the blonde, perhaps you would’ve grown up closer. But the past was in the past and changing it was a feat best left unattempted.

“If I win,” you began, crossing your arms and staring him down. “- then starting tomorrow, you can never talk to me ever again.”

You thought you saw a hint of regret in Tyler’s eyes as remorse bloomed in your gut, but he hid it behind acceptance before you could comment on it.

“Fine,” he nodded, holding out one of his hands for you. “Shake on it?”

You took his hand in your own, taking in the leathery calluses on his palms that matched your own before you let go to jump the corral fencing once more and untie Cyclone’s reins for another round of practice.

“What about your event? Why aren’t we betting on you too?” you wondered aloud.

“Oh darlin’,” Tyler smiled which caused you to flush into a heated fury of both annoyance and embarrassment as the name slipped from his lips. “I’m gonna win. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You need a boost?”

You glared at him as he held out his hands in a makeshift step exactly in time with you as you expertly mounted Cyclone, snapping his reins so he would return to the start of the course, dodging all three barrels as you called back, “Good luck Owens!”

As promised after a long hour of anticipation, Tyler Owens had taken first place in bull riding by a landslide, not only earning him a ripple of cheers from the giant crowd (along with a few girl’s numbers), but also his share of the coveted prize money.

You had taken a break from the more and more dreary barrel practice to watch him do it, sitting in one of the nosebleed seats surrounded by far too many girls who couldn’t have been there for any other reason besides to see Tyler. Still, you were amazed by his talent. More surprised still when he had a whole arena of girls screaming for him and his roaming eyes still managed to find you clapping quietly near the back. He sent you a grin as soon as he caught sight of your unenthused scowl, brushing the dirt from his chops and sending a wink your way as if to playfully say, told ya.

It was then you noticed another woman in the audience jumping for his rewarding gaze, though it was never won. Tyler was simply too busy looking at you to pay any attention to swirling Addisyn.

Heat blossomed in your chest as you felt a sensation like a swirl of wind blow throughout your stomach, a feeling you horrifically identified as affection.

It wasn’t often that people chose you over Addisyn; you were confident that most of her friends were hired. And while there was no doubt that Tyler was the cocky bastard you couldn’t stand, perhaps you had judged him too harshly as there was evidently more that lay beneath the surface. As much as you hated to admit it, the charm he had been using on you for months was starting to work.

You fled the stands, not wanting to delve into your change of heart any longer. That was one of the best parts of barrel racing; training Cyclone served as a great distraction. And you had much to figure out before he could compete.

It was the same problem over and over again, Cyclone’s speed being both his greatest asset as well as his worst setback. He would build up so much speed that by the time he had to round the barrel, it was virtually impossible for him to slow down enough to finish the race. There had only been two outcomes during practice, both of which were not nearly good enough to win. Your horse was forced to either stay at a slow, but steady pace or face flipping over a barrel, both of which kept you from winning the title by making you too slow or disqualified.

You felt hopeless as you walked your horse to the arena, as no amount of practice could cure your dilemma. You had only managed to sire one good run out of Cyclone, but even then, it wasn't nearly fast enough to beat Addisyn past times on her purebred horses that were bought at the highest price with intent to win.

She and her horse were just before you in the lineup, sending you dirty looks as you sunk glumly into your saddle. The line was moving too fast for your spinning head to keep up with, the dread pooling in your gut intensifying by each lost second. You and Cyclone were going to be the most disappointing finale act in history, this you were sure of. A horrid ending for what had been a fantastic rodeo. At least until this point.

It was by pure chance that you found Tyler in the crowd.

He was all the way on the other side of the arena from the entrance closest to you, seated at the front with a big blue ribbon pinned to his button up flannel shirt. Despite the distance and the spectacle playing out before him as Addisyn began her race, he only had eyes for you.

Though he was too far away for you to make out his grassy green irises from the deep black of his pupils, he acknowledged you with a simple tilt of his head that was neither patronizing nor teasing. The cocky bastard you thought you knew was nowhere to be found. Comfort swirled around you like a gush of warm wind in the field by your farm. Familiar, yet something completely foreign all the same. An indescribable mix between encouragement and understanding that you didn’t think a cowboy like him was capable of. It sent a wave of excitement through your spine, a damper on the constant anxiety you had been suffering from, that he knew you were suffering from. Maybe your race wasn’t hopeless after all.

If Tyler Owens thought you could do it, certainly the win was well within your reach.

His motivating expressions were so distracting that you had nearly missed Addisyn’s fatal move if not for the large gasps that erupted from the arena crowd. Her horse, so pristine and primed to be absolutely perfect, had turned just slightly skewed too far to the right, kicking over the last barrel with its hind legs as it attempted to recover into a sprint. But there was no coming back from the five second penalty.

As Addisyn finished, her time shone above the dirt arena in the digital shine of red numbers and it would’ve been perfect if not for her mistake. You could hardly believe it as the bitter sting of karma finally bit the girl who deserved it the most.

You fought the urge to cackle as Addisyn exited the arena, sending her a taunting smirk instead. It was as if she was waiting for it, shooting you a scowl so nasty that you were certain all she wanted was to hurt you. Her face had turned so red that even the expensive power couldn’t hide her reaction and her premium pick riding gear started to seem much less impressive.

“Hard to beat, Addisyn.” you joked. While it wasn’t like you to poke fun at the people going through the worst of times, you didn’t exactly count Addisyn as human. Only equal to the devil with too much money for her own good.

“Can it,” she hissed as she hopped off her horse to drag it back to the corral, dirt scuffing up her shiny new boots as she stomped away.

“C’mon, boy.” you whispered to Cyclone, a wave of new motivation washing over you. Even if he didn’t win, at least you couldn’t do much worse than Addisyn. No matter what, you'd walk away victorious over her. “Let’s show her.”

Steadying your foot in the stirrup, you swung over him and pulled his reins back before leading him a lengthy distance away from the entrance of the arena. You knew what would happen as soon as you crossed it, the Cyclone would instantly set off the motion sensor and officially begin your time. While many liked to build as they raced, you found starting in a sprint to be more efficient. That is, if Cyclone could make every barrel.

You tried to block out any last minute doubts that tried to claw through your mind as the announcer called your name and your hometown.

“The duo from Atlas, she’s riding her trusty horse Cyclone!”

Eyes fluttering closed, you searched for any last second serenity as you sucked in a breath, the last before you would find out the results of the competition. There wasn’t anymore time for you to obsess over everything that could go wrong and you tried to not let that bother you. A sudden flash of Tyler’s face popped into your mind forcing you to grin as you were reminded of his faith in you. With no more inhibitions left to act as a hurdle between you and your goal, you tightened your grin on Cyclone’s reins and gave them a hearty tug. He was off at once, soaring through the open gate and into the arena.

Everything felt like it spun by in a flash as Cyclone rounded the first barrel. It was as rough as expected, but he was able to recover faster than before, no doubt motivated by the pressure of the competition and encouraged by your commands that were accompanied by guiding kicks to his side.

Focused on your race and entranced by Cyclone’s quick adaptation, you didn’t think to look over to Tyler as you rounded the second barrel. He was up from his front row seat, hollering for your success and beaming with pride as Cyclone sped up again, an even steadier repeat of his last.

“Cmon Cyclone!” you cried as he galloped towards the last barrel, utilizing every skill you’d taught him during practice to the max. He’d only lost some of his speed and not an ounce of his momentum as he steered straight for the last.

It was as he began the final loop that you realized he was going too fast, speeding into the circle so quickly that there was no sustainable way for him to complete the turn without flipping the barrel. You braced yourself for the mistake, heart skipping a beat as your horse nudged the orange plastic with his flank. Though it all happened in a flash too quick for you to keep up with, you swore the sound of it toppling into the dirt echoed through your mind and you couldn’t bear to look back.

“Fast!” you commanded, hoping to end on a high note despite the fact that you had failed. The fact that you weren’t any better than Addisyn anyhow. You hadn’t proved yourself. The least you could do was lessen the losing time as Cyclone sprinted for the finish line at your command.

The deafening beat of your heart pulsed so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear the cascade of cheers in the arena you had left behind. You turned Cyclone around, collapsing upon your saddle as you saw it. The last orange barrel had miraculously stayed in place. You couldn’t believe it. You’d actually done it.

“And it looks like we have our winner!” the voice of the announcer boomed from the speakers. “With an Arkansas State Rodeo record of 13.62!”

“We did it!” you screamed in disbelief as you dismounted Cyclone, turning to the horse with a wide grin and new found energy. Your exhaustion faded away like the moon with the sunrise. Every hour put into training, all the hard work for the best of outcomes. You were going to be able to afford your education. “You won, boy!”

Not only had you won, but your horse had run a state record time. It was almost like a fever dream, but the pang of your heart in your chest was all you needed to know that it was all real. Now all that was left was to remedy your bet with Tyler.

You were obligated to be honored with your prizes before you could search for him. He seemed to appear out of thin air as you tied up Cyclone back in the corral with a wide smile on your face, turning to find just the cowboy you’d been searching for.

Tyler Owens didn’t have his usual confident swagger as he approached you, the loss heavy in his two booted feet. While he was proud and rooted for win, it seemed the weight of the cost was starting to get to him. He hated that you wanted him gone, but if that was the price you wanted him to pay, he’d do it solemnly and willingly.

“Good race out there.” he congratulated your success, his face tinged with the slightest shade of pink. It was a strange sight for you to see, a cowboy blushing at the thought of your loss.

“You too, champion.” you grinned.

“That’s nothing to a record holder. You could go pro with a time like that.”

“True, but I have some bigger dreams.” you admitted as you started to picture how Tyler could fit into them.

 “You’re not gonna stick around another season to torture Addisyn come more? I just know she’d be devastated.” he jested.

“As much as I love the sound of torturing her, I’m afraid my calling is elsewhere now.”

“Right,” Tyler nodded, his smile dipping. There was no doubt he was wrapping his head around the outcome of your bet, how as requested, he’s no longer be allowed to speak to you once the sun would set down on the grassy horizon. Dusk was already upon you as the lights around the arena shone a little brighter, casting an artificial glow on the darkening sky. “Well, I guess this is the last time I’ll see you.”

Unlike Tyler, your grin only intensified, but not for the reason he must of suspected. The more you started to ponder the prospect of him truly never speaking to you again, the longer you wanted the day to last. You weren’t ready to let him go, and maybe you didn’t really have to.

“Uh huh, because I won,” you stated with a knowing smile, stepping just a hair closer to the cowboy.

“You sure did. And now I’ll leave you alone like you wanted. Just like I promised.” Tyler agreed, but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

His discontent reminded you of what he had requested from the bet had it turned in his favor. At the time you thought it was all one big joke, another way to motivate you by making fun of you. But now, seeing him trying to hide the tears in his soul from the thought of leaving you increased your certainty that it was more than that. Perhaps the consistent years of harmless teasing and never leaving you a moment of peace were in lieu of the words he really wanted to say.

“Right.” you took another slow step closer, leaving only inches of space between the two of you.

You thought your excitement had made your intentions obvious, but as Tyler pointed back towards his truck, you realized he was completely misinterpreting the message.

“So I’m just gonna do that now…” he stumbled over his words, waiting for you to give him a reason to stay. Just like in your race, you didn’t waste another second.

“Just kiss me already,” you ordered, watching as his folded features brightened at the invitation.

“Thank god.” he breathed as he finally closed the gap between the two of you, sealing his lips to yours with a searing kiss.

“That’s when I knew Tyler was my home,” you finished your story, looking away from the camp of your friends and towards the cowboy who had captured your heart. “We went to college together the next year, sharing a couples dorm and when Tyler proposed moving to Oklahoma, I knew I’d follow him wherever he wanted.”

Tyler reached out for one of your arms from his chair, pulling you in to press a kiss into your knuckle, touched by your interpretation of the story.

“Even if it meant facing God's wrath everyday,” he chuckled, referring to the storms you chose to spend your life chasing alongside him.

“Where’s Addisyn now?” Ben inquired, looking up from the scribble of notes he had jotted down in his worn notepad. You doubted much of it would make it into his article with all the rush of storm chasing that was intended to be the focus, but it was a flattering gesture nonetheless.

“Exactly where you’d expect,” Tyler shrugged, answering for you. “Housewife to some politician. She quit racing after she failed to beat Cyclone’s record time.”

“She even tried to buy him off me the season after we’d left for college,” you explained. “It was more than 15 times the prize money amount, but I couldn’t sell him. He still lives with my folks back home, happily grazing wherever he pleases.”

“What did you have to do with any of this?” asked Dani pointing at Boone who had moved onto his third beer of the night.

“Who do you think gave Tyler the courage to make the bet? I orchestrated the whole thing.” he claimed, smiling with such pride, you would’ve thought he was in on the whole thing.

“Did not!” your husband protested. “There would’ve been nothing to orchestrate if I hadn't liked her in the first place.”

“Yeah and it was my decision to kiss him in the end.” you added.

Boone only rolled his eyes. “Sure, take the credit,” he groaned drunkenly. “-that’s what they all say.”

Shaking your head at the display, you couldn’t help but chuckle as you found your seat again in Tyler’s lap. No matter who the credit went to, a better outcome to your’s and Tyler’s childhood feud was impossible to imagine.

“Last time I saw her,” Tyler began, changing the subject back to your past arch-nemesis. “- was when we invited her to our wedding. She wasn’t doing too hot, nearly had to kick her out for all the trouble she caused.”

“That reminds me!” Lily straightened in her seat. “Y’all have never told me the story of how Tyler proposed. I’ve been wanting to hear it for ages!”

“Well, that’s definitely a story for another time.” you laughed, as a whirlwind of memories played in your head from the day you two got engaged.

“How about instead, Boonie shares the time he got so plastered that he woke up backstage at a Dolly Parton concert.” Tyler suggested.

“Oh c’mon, you know I hate telling that story.” Boone sighed.

“No you don’t.” you and Tyler argued in true couple unison.

“Ahh who am I kidding. It’s the coolest thing that ever happened to me. It all started when we were pregaming in Dallas…” Boone began rambling, recounting the event with such detail and focus that it was difficult to tell that he had been drinking.

You and Tyler were silent for your best friend’s story, though neither of you were really listening as it was an event you had been present for. Instead you held your cowboy close, grateful that fate had thrown him so far into your path that you never couldn’t pass him by.

[deejayphoto]

February Rails

[samhellebore]

“Peacefield, Just for You”

-------

You ask Copia to sing the opening choir of Peacefield

How could he ever refuse you?

-------

It was one of those evenings that carried the quiet kind of stillness only late hours knew how to cradle. The moon hung low, round and drowsy, casting its light through the half-cracked curtains of the Frater Imperator’s quarters. The soft skitters of his rats. A candle burned slowly on the nightstand, its wax pooling patiently like time had nowhere better to be.

You lay curled into Copia’s chest, your ear pressed against the soft fabric of his black shirt, heart syncing gently with the beat of his. His arm was draped around you, his fingers brushing lightly through your hair—absently, lovingly, like he’d done it a hundred times before and would do it a thousand times again.

He smelled like faint incense and his favorite cologne, and something deeper, something older—warm, like pages of a well-read book. You didn’t want to move. The world outside could do whatever it pleased. Here, everything was soft. Safe.

Copia’s voice, when he finally spoke, came like velvet—low and laced with that soft Italian accent that melted the edges of your name. “You still want to hear it?” he asked, like he wasn’t entirely sure he could do it justice.

You nodded against his chest, not wanting to lift your head, only murmuring, “Only if it’s from you.”

He chuckled, a sound like gravel and honey. “Only for you, cara mia.”

There was a pause. A breath. His fingers combed gently behind your ear, and then he began to hum, soft and slow, almost reverent. He wasn’t trying to perform—not like onstage. This was just for you, only for you, and that made it so much more.

Then, his voice wove around the room, threading its way into your heart:

“Pieces of what could have been…”

He held you a little closer as he sang, like those words were meant to keep the broken things at bay. You could feel the rumble of his chest beneath your cheek, the way the song lived in him even now.

“Pieces of a shattered dream…”

There was sorrow in it, but no bitterness. Just understanding. Empathy. A quiet kind of healing that settled into your bones like warmth from a fire after a storm.

“Child, take your dark memories…”

Copia’s hand moved slowly, stroking your hair like he was easing the weight of every memory you’d never wanted to keep. The ones that still lingered in the corners of your mind.

“Like seeds, and plant them far from here…”

He paused a moment, letting the silence echo just a little longer. Then came the part that felt like a spell—a blessing in song.

“Sow them…”

His voice was so gentle now, like wind through wheat fields.

“Feed them…”

The candle’s flame swayed faintly, like it too leaned in to listen.

“Through shine and rain…”

Copia’s voice wrapped around you like a wool blanket, every word a thread pulling you closer to something warm, something kind.

“Your love…”

His lips pressed into your hair now. You felt him smile, faint but real.

“Will be…”

The moment stretched, delicate as glass, and you closed your eyes.

“Born again.”

And just like that, the song lingered, drifting gently into the candlelight.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just rested his cheek against the top of your head, his fingers never stopping their slow, soothing path through your hair.

When you finally spoke, your voice was barely more than breath. “That was beautiful…”

“I meant every word,” he whispered into your hair. “You… You deserve to have your heart born again, amore. As many times as it takes.”

You nestled in closer, and he welcomed you without a word, just the curve of his arms and the steady rhythm of his breathing. The rest of the world didn’t matter now. Only this did—his voice still echoing softly in your soul, and the way his presence held every piece of you like they were never broken at all.

Here, in the warmth of his arms and the hush of candlelight, you believed him.

And you slept like a seed beneath spring soil—safe, still, waiting for the bloom.

------

This turned a little too emotional in the end, but hey, I think we all found our peace in Copia in some kind of way. Also, if it feels a little awkward, that might be true because I barely write 'you' type of writing anymore. A lovely thank you to @/ghostnyran on Twitter for this sweet idea, I wasn't feeling all too well, but writing this made it a bit better! So please do go check out her on Twitter, she has brilliant other things on there.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this because, uuuh, I have some more ideas as well.

[haleswallows]

*Biting my knuckles, kicking the air, giggling like mad*

Can we make it Three votes for knight smut!?When I saw your initial reblog first thought was “OHHHH it’s not a Want it’s a NEED”

The scene of Tim pressing his face into Danny’s hip and Danny repeats to himself ‘friends’ lives rent FREE. Tim pulling Danny closer to himself when he sleeps is so RAHH so cute. He wants that cookie so bad. They both do. It’s insufferable (affectionate)

Regardless! Whether you do or you don’t I’m still gonna be here kicking my feet like mad! Thank you for writing and sharing it with us! Have a good one!

i regret absolutely nothing, this was so fun to write 🎶

The sound of the door did little to distract Danny from his task. A droll task, that of reviewing taxes and land ownership and endless numbers of annual yields. Frankly, if Danny never saw again bushels of wheat in the messy scrawl of a Lands' taxman, Danny would consider it a kindness.

Ancients, did Pariah Dark bother with all this? Definitely not, Danny decided, flipping back a few pages to the sorry state of the previous records. Even with all his hard work the last decade, it was still —.

"Danny?" called a voice Danny would know blinded. Tim, a smile pulled at Danny's face and he warmed. Easily, he let the feeling of gentle affection weave through the bond.

"In the study," he called back, tilting only slightly from the records as he spoke. Danny kept his finger firmly planted on the line, lest he lose his spot and have to start over again.

It proved to be for nothing — at the sound of the door pushing open, Danny glanced up. Then froze, mouthing parting.

The sight of Prince Timothy, the third son of Gotham and High Chief's Consort, in armor and standards wasn't a new sight to Danny. But it was a rare one.

It never ceased to impress Danny — partially due to the grace of which Tim maneuvered himself in the armor, but also the intimidating form he made while fully kitted. Though Tim did not wear full plate armor, preferring a blend of chainmaille and strategic armor pieces, it still cut a fiendish figure.

Danny's mouth went dry. Heat pooled in his belly, zinging down his spine and sending his fingers tingling. Any hope to keeping his mind on task to analyze taxes was entirely lost to lust. The Armet helm fully obscured Tim's face, but Danny swore he could see the gleam of his blue eyes behind the visor.

Of course, there was no hiding his reaction. And no hope to salvage any sort of dignity. The bond betrayed Danny immediately. Tim's amused-affection-interest answered Danny, doubling and tripling the heat dancing up his spine in a feedback loop.

"Hello, husband." Tim's voice echoed oddly in the helm, but the affection and play in his tone was obvious.

"Hi," Danny stupidly answered, breathy and unable to think of anything else to say.

For a beat, they considered one another. Then, the moment broke as Tim took a step. Danny pushed himself away from the desk and moved to stand, to meet Tim, to pull of the helm and press his lips to Tim's throat and taste the salt there. Though, a clipped command of "Stay" from the prince had Danny stilling.

Tim drew up in front of Danny. He offered his hands to Danny. "Assist me with my gauntlets, sire."

Danny took in the gauntlets, flicked his eyes over the bracers he'd gifted Tim for their second wedding, then up to the faceless helm. He licked his lips. With nimble fingers, it was only a matter of pulling the articulated gauntlets from Tim's hands and leaving behind the padded leather gloves.

Though, as Danny reached for the bracer buckles on Tim's forearm, his hands were swatted away.

Tim stepped between Danny's knees, impossibly close, and pressed a gloved hand to his chest. "Stay," he commanded again. "Keep your hands here." The instruction came with a tap to Danny's thigh with Tim's other hand.

Danny's mind blanked. He struggled to follow the order. Afterall, he was High Chief and not so used to following them. But he found himself helplessly obeying Tim's directions. Especially as the man drew back what felt like only a hair's breadth to begin pulling his gloves off one finger at a time. Danny watched, transfixed, as skin slowly revealed.

Tim then turned his efforts to the arm harness. The tie came undone from beneath the tabard, Tim slowly pulled until the pauldron came loose. Carefully, he set it on the desk. The other pauldron followed it closely.

Next, Tim moved onto his bracers. Merely the sight of them, the very bracers Danny gifted to Tim on their second wedding night, made Danny's heart clench and his breath catch. He watched Tim's slender and calloused fingers work the buckles, wishing they were on his skin and not the leather strapping. Again, Tim took his time removing the armor — left and then right — before setting them on to the desk.

All the while, Danny watched. Dug his fingers into the fabric of his pants to keep his hands to himself while he yearned to snatch up Tim's hands and press those fingertips to his lips.

The helm tilted. Tim lifted the tabard to reveal the paunce of plates. "Your assistance, my lord, if I may request it."

Something in the request, the arching formality sent Danny trembling. Even with Tim standing so close between Danny's thighs, he had to lean forward to reach the buckle on the back. This close, even through the the armor, Danny could feel the warmth of his husband. Through the slot of the helmet, a hint of Tim's face came visible — the cut of his jaw, a plush lip.

Uncaring, Danny dropped the paunce of plates on the floor. Still, Tim held the tabard up, keeping on display the lendenier, the belt that held up his cuisses. "Will you attend to me, sire?" he murmured.

Danny obliged. He rose from the chair. The movement crowded Tim and he fell back a step until his hips met the desk. In front of him, Danny wasted no time dropping to his knees. He took Tim's foot into his lap, fingers slipping into the straps of the greaves. Danny rolled his lips in, admiring the strength of his husband, the beauty of him. He slid hands up and up and up to find the ties of the arms garment.

One hand braced against the cuisse, Danny found the cord and tugged.

The armor came away in his hands and he set it aside, almost belligerent in his disregard for the haste he dropped it to get his hands back on the delectable thighs in front of him.

Danny pressed his hands into the muscles of Tim's thigh, cupped the back where it met glute and felt the muscle tremble. The bond lit bright with pleasure-excited-hurry. But Danny would not be rushed.

He worshiped. Because what good was he for if not to love this man?

The greave came away easily. Lastly, the sabaton. With clever maneuvering, it slipped from Tim's boot. Again, Danny swept his hands up. Even through stockings, the padded leggings, he relished every moment touching Tim. Muscle, svelte and firm, beneath his palm. Danny felt like he was on fire, liable to start aflame at any moment if not for the ice in his core. The increasing urgent press of the bond let him know Tim felt the same.

Danny was losing his mind. As much as he could not stop pouring his want into the bond, Tim couldn't either. Together, they made a spiraling mess of emotions, working each other up.

Gently, he guided Tim to slide his foot from his lap. With a deliberate care, he repeated the service to Tim's other leg. Cuisse, greave, sabaton. The only sounds to accompany Danny's achingly devoted care was the clanking of metal and his own heart in his ears. Noisily, he breathed deep through his nose. Panting, half-hard in his pants, holding himself at bay from ravishing Tim with only the gut-clench of his indomitable will.

By the end of it, Danny felt winded. Trembling. Stretched thin and desperate. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Tim's knee and looked up through his eyelashes at the helm. Barely, he resisted rubbing his face into the lendenier.

Tim's chest heaved, visible even under the chainmail shirt and the padded arming garment beneath that. Danny's eye caught on the minute tremor of Tim's hands, the way the lendenier accentuated the trim slimness of Tim's waist, the spread of his legs. Every detail, delicious and acted as kindling to the fever that had been slowly building under Danny's skin.

And of course, he couldn't overlook to the nearness of his face to Tim's groin. In fact, Danny could see Tim's erection straining against the linen of the leggings Tim wore beneath his gambeson and armor. A small wet circle of precum stained the fabric.

Danny knew in less than a heartbeat exactly what he wanted.

"May I continue to service you, Your Highness?"

It's been months and months since Tim was 'the prince' or 'Your Highness'. But the game they played now — Danny found a type of excitement, a trill of something eager and yawning inside him to kneel before his prince and beg in that pretty doublespeak.

But they were playing a game. Tim shifted to press the soft-soled boot to Danny's groin, inspiring a groan. He applied pressure, and something Danny couldn't quite name pooled in his belly — surrender, excite, approval. He didn't know what Tim could discern from the bond, but it must have been something he liked.

As answer, Tim widened his legs. Just as he settled more firmly against the desk, he hefted the chainmaille and tabard higher. A clear invitation.

"You may," Tim affected, demure.

Danny took a deep and shaking breath. That will and patience continued to guide him as he carefully unlaced the lendenier. Then it was quick work to push down the leggings just enough to expose Tim's cock.

Finally, Tim nearly sobbed with relief, helm thrown back. Then again, a cry bitten off as Danny curled fingers around the base of his cock, licked a long stripe from root to tip and took it into his mouth.

Pleasure, lightning bright and warmer than any flame sang through the bond. It ricocheted down his spine and went straight to his cock. Danny moaned.

What sweet pleasure, to know his own want and feel it reflected back. To feel the result of his affections and administrations. There was no other place Danny could think to be, on his knees for his husband and bracketed by his thighs. And even unseen under the helm, Danny knew the effect he had on Tim — from the quiver of his thighs to the shortness of his breath.

It tasted sweet on his tongue.

Danny lavished attention on Tim. The taste of his precum made Danny's pulse rabbit, the only sound in his ears Tim's pants and low curses. Here, Tim's natural scent and musk filled Danny's nose. In his own pants, his cock strained and Danny couldn't keep from palming himself, eyes nearly rolling back in his head. This was what he liked best, giving sweetly to Tim's demands and his husband taking his pleasure from him however he wished.

He took as much of Tim's cock into his mouth as he could, nose brushing against the tidy nest of pubic hair. With the portion he could not get into his mouth, Danny jerked off with his other hand in time with his sucking and licking.

"Gods," Tim breathed, hand fisting into Danny's hair. A stuttered jerk of his hips was the only instruction Danny needed. He let his mouth fall slack, tilting back just so. Shifting his hands to the firm muscle of Tim's outer thighs, Danny looked up through his eyelashes to find the helmet tilted in consideration. From the slot, just the slightest glimmer of Tim's eyes were visible.

Danny half wished Tim would take the helm off. But also enjoyed their little game, the thrill of it warm in his belly. "You serve me so well," he praised. And Danny felt a flush spread over his body, delighted.

It took only those words. Danny's cock twitched in his pants.

Tim shifted his grip, moving to cup Danny's head. Tenderly, so gently that Danny's eyes fluttered. He marveled, for a moment, at the delicate way Tim treated him. As if breakable, as if worthy of being precious.

Tears almost sprang to Danny's eyes. Even without words, just from the caress and the unending warmth in the bond, Danny knew. Knew, as a natural truth, that Tim loved him. As the sun rose and stars shone, it was true.

Then, those clever fingers twisted in his hair. Tim held Danny firmly in place as he began to fuck gently into his mouth. Danny breathed heavily through his nose, saliva pooling in his mouth. Picking up his pace, Danny sucked hard on the tip of Tim's cock and watched the expressionless helm.

He didn't need to see Tim's face. The bond spoke volumes what the helm could not conceal. Danny's world shrank to that — the silken weight of Tim's cock on his tongue, and the spiraling loop of pleasure. As Tim chased his own pleasure between Danny's lips, the bond lit and trembled.

Then as Danny pressed a palm to his own cock, the bond sparked again with his pleasure. Tim's hips stuttered in response.

Danny groaned around Tim, eyes slipping closed for a moment. His eyes flew open again as Tim brushed a thumb under his eye then pressed it to the corner of his mouth.

"So good, sire. Perfect just for me."

Another time, Danny might drag it out — take his time, find the balance of slowly pulling pleasure out of Tim, letting them spiral and float in that sweet satisfaction they found in each other. But right then, Danny felt half wild and desperate, as if he had taken a deep breath of wild magic.

Danny dove forward, swallowing down more of Tim's cock. For a moment, Tim's grip tightened painfully in his hair and even that was a sharp edge pf pleasure — and how fucked was Danny, that he loved that too. Tears beaded at the corners of his eyes as he swallowed down further until the head of Tim's cock brushed the back of his throat.

Ancient, the noises Tim made. Danny could get drunk on it, sweeter than any mead and more filling than any meal. If he could, he would nourish himself on Tim alone — his love, his body. He sucked desperately and bobbed his head, toes curling as each pants and obscene sound sent writhing jolt of pleasure down his spine.

Achingly hard, Danny squeezed his dick. Tim's fingers spasmed in his hair.

"Close," he ground out, hips jerking. Danny breathed heavily through his nose, maintaining his pace. His lips felt swollen and slick, a dribble of spit running down his chin as he devoted himself to the task.

Soon enough, Tim shouted wordlessly. At first, he bowed over Danny's head. As his orgasm shook through him, Tim leaned further back against the desk and let it take his weight with a clatter of his armor.

All the while, Danny rode out the shocks of pleasure through the bond. He puffed and panted, trembling on the verge of his own release. Tim calmed and peered down at Danny through his helm. Something like smug and self-satisfied filtered through the bond as he took in Danny's state.

"Look at you, my lord," he murmured. "Look at this mess."

Tim smoothed a hand through Danny's hair, righting where he had mussed it. Danny fought for only a moment to not lean into it, and then gave in. He watched from under hooded eyes as Tim carefully wiped the spit from his face, the tears from the corners of his eyes.

Each touch only served to make Danny's body sing. He panted through his nose, winded and heart pounding.

He just knew Tim was smirking under that blasted helm.

"Well, go on then, my lord," came the order. Languid, Tim leaned back against the desk. Hand on Danny's cheek, thumb caressing. "Come for me, sire. Use your hands."

Though his eyes fluttered, Danny kept his gaze on the slot of the helm. Knowing Tim's attention was fully his, Danny wasted no time shoving down his slacks. Finally, he stroked his cock. Danny preferred Tim's hands, mouth, anything on him. But for now, his eyes were heavy. His back arched, head pressing into Tim's hand and stroked long and hard along his cock.

"You're so pretty like this," Tim hummed. "On your knees, desperate. Come on, Danny, come for me."

It took only that. The final echoes of Tim's release still rippling through the bond, his husband's voice, the command and his own frenzied need. With just a few stroke, Danny came over the floor between his knees.

Oh, Ancients. Someone was going to have that clean that up. Danny, most likely. Though he could not find it in himself to care. He leaned heavily against Tim's leg, struggling to catch his breath and vision fuzzy on his edges as he struggled to calm himself.

He came to himself with the sound of Tim's voice in his ears, a low soothing murmur. Danny hauled his eyes open, surprised to see Tim must have removed the helm.

His hair was sweaty and matted, his face flush. Tim smiled indulgently down at him, fingers playing along the jut of his jaw and stroking up to trace the long point of his ear. Danny shivered.

Tim's smile slipped. "No —!" he started, cutting off into a wordless protest as Danny surged to his feet. He mashed their mouths together, swallowing down Tim's continued complaint. "Danny!" he managed, purely by planting hands onto Danny's shoulders and pushing.

"Yes, husband?" Danny diverted is attempts to kiss to Tim to lathing attention on his neck. Tim shuddered, breath catching. Victorious, Danny pushed the tabard and maille higher up to find the creases where Tim's groin and hips met.

"I must insist you at least —," Tim interrupted himself to gasp, arching up so that Danny could grab firm handfuls of his ass. "My lord, the bed."

"But," Danny argued. He smiled where he kissed along Tim's throat. He found the pulse point and sucked. Something bright and pleasure-need-want burst in the bond. "What wonderful memories I would have for the next time I work at the desk if we fuck here?"

"Shameless." The rebuke was weak, ruined by the reflected pleasure and smile in Tim's voice. He ruined it further by throwing his head back to give Danny more access to his neck.

"Shameless," Danny agreed.

[graintrainbrain]

A consist of four GP38-2 locomotives (CP 3065-3107-3089-3119) round a curve on the way out of Rockglen, Saskatchewan, hauling grain, 07/19/2000. Photo by Bill Hooper via Railpictures.ca

[thesilicontribesman]

Lindow Man 1st Century CE 'Bog Body', The British Museum, London

Lindow Man is a well-preserved human body found in a peat-bog at Lindow Moss, near Manchester, in 1984. He died a violent death, sustaining many injuries before he was placed face down in a pool in the bog.

He was about 25 years old, 1.7m (5ft 6ins) tall and weighed 60-65kg (9.5-10st).

He had done very little hard, manual work, because his fingernails were well manicured.

His beard and moustache had been cut by a pair of shears.

His last meal probably included unleavened bread made from wheat and barley, cooked over a fire on which heather had been burnt.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Okay, guys, this is weird. It's clearly a red barn, but it has a castle turret (ok, it's a silo, but it's like a barn castle). This is not a barndominium, it's a bastle. Built in 1995 in Castlewood, SD, it has 6bds, 5ba, and outbuildings. The house is 15,000sq.ft, and comes out to only $29/sq.ft. at $430K. I was not expecting the interior- I was expecting rustic. Check it out.

Very plain, unassuming entrance. Cheap Home Depot Door.

And, then, bam! Gray brick with a fireplace, stairs, walls with interior windows, and balconies. Where the hell am I?

The other side of the great room has plain white walls, a big open balcony, and what looks like brick walls set into the railing specifically for the display of heads. I also see brick columns, beams and a brick wall on the far end above, plus stairs to a lower level. So much going on.

Basically, where there's a railing, there's just an open space for a game room, TV room, etc.

Oh, wow, from this view, there's a marble wall. I have never seen windows w/faux marble shutters, notice the barn doors, as well.

One must wonder who designed this masterpiece. It sure is complex. On the right it looks like 3 steps going up to what, a window and small hallway? There's also a door on the right, and door above.

Here's a view from the balcony area. I guess we can also call it a mezzanine.

Back downstairs, we're in the kitchen. I'm not impressed. Don't like the cabinets or the layout.

Then, here's a way oversized dining room. Note the little shelf above- it has a tiny railing.

I'm gonna say that this is a giant family room off the dining room, and it took me a minute to realize that the "island" in the middle is a hot tub.

So, this must've been a game room. Note the rectangular decorative wall by the pool table.

Then over here there's a TV room that looks like it was decorated by Meemaw and Papaw. I have to say that I hate the furniture- it doesn't go with the funkiness of the house.

It looks like there are patterns on the walls, like wheat stalks going up the stairs.

Wallpaper or some kind of decorative panels up here. There's so much space.

Here's a dark bedroom. The ceiling and walls are so weird.

This large bedroom looks like it's in the silo/turret.

The shape of the ceiling up here is interesting. I don't know what this is- maybe some kind of storage area.

There's a 2 car garage with a large attached barn.

Plus, another very large building attached to the barn.

It's some sort of workshop.

The white building is a whole 'nother house w/3bds, 1ba. Remember, it's only $29 per sq. ft., so it's a lot for the money.

And, this L-shaped building is another huge barn/work space. This could be someone's empire.

Wow, it's big.

2.84 acres of land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/45849-184th-St-Castlewood-SD-57223/2075595228_zpid/

[hchom]

I'm boiling inside my own flesh after that trailer, so please accept this old, maybe objectively too creepy Cole drawing while I find time for new DA art. I can claim that it has a Haloween vibe, at least...

The reason it's so weird, by the way, is because I drew it using the poem "Wodwo" by Ted Hughes as a prompt. My bff @klovharun gave me the whole poetry book at the height of my DAI obsession because she thought "Gog" had Solas vibes; and it occurs to me right now that this has to be one of the best examples of friendship ever. Not just "I was thinking of you", but one step further, "I was thinking of your all-consuming fixation". She also made a Solas breakup playlist for me, which I still listen to. That is love!

Poems below for anyone who might like them.

Wodwo

What am I? Nosing here, turning leaves over

Following a faint stain on the air to the river's edge

I enter water. Who am I to split

The glassy grain of water looking upward I see the bed

Of the river above me upside down very clear

What am I doing here in mid-air? Why do I find

this frog so interesting as I inspect its most secret

interior and make it my own? Do these weeds

know me and name me to each other have they

seen me before do I fit in their world? I seem

separate from the ground and not rooted but dropped

out of nothing casually I've no threads

fastening me to anything I can go anywhere

I seem to have been given the freedom

of this place what am I then? And picking

bits of bark off this rotten stump gives me

no pleasure and it's no use so why do I do it

me and doing that have coincided very queerly

But what shall I be called am I the first

have I an owner what shape am I what

shape am I am I huge if I go

to the end on this way past these trees and past these trees

till I get tired that's touching one wall of me

for the moment if I sit still how everything

stops to watch me I suppose I am the exact centre

but there's all this what is it roots

roots roots roots and here's the water

again very queer but I'll go on looking

Gog I

I woke to a shout: 'I am Alpha and Omega!'

Rocks and a few trees trembled

Deep in their own country.

I ran and an absence bounded beside me.

The dog's god is a scrap dropped from the table,

The mouse's savior is a ripe wheat grain—

Hearing the Messiah cry

My mouth widens in adoration.

How fat are the lichens!

They cushion themselves on the silence.

The air wants for nothing.

The dust, too, is replete.

What was my error? My skull has sealed it out.

My great bones are massed in me.

They beat on the earth, my song excites them.

I do not look at the rocks and stones, I am frightened of what they see.

I listen to the song jarring my mouth

Where the skull-rooted teeth are in possession.

I am massive on earth. My feetbones beat on the earth

Over the sound of motherly weeping....

Afterwards, I drink at a pool quietly,

The horizons bear the rocks and trees away into twilight.

I lie down, I become darkness—

Darkness that all night sings and circles stamping.

-Ted Hughes

[callsignhood]

König at a bar with you:

Tags: Related to this post / Fluff / Headcanon / Gender neutral / König is drunk and trusts you / König keeps his hood on

Word count: 400ish

He is talking more than usual, breathy laughs in between his words with a slight undertone of drunkenness, clearly in a good mood. König is talking about Austrian bread, Semmel, to be exact. You can hear his smile under his hood, describing how delicious Käsesemmel and Schinkensemmel are.

“Speak English, König.” You chuckle at him. He realizes he’s getting too comfortable with you and his German babbling stops. He clears his throat to hide away his slight embarrassment, then proceeds to explain: “Käsesemmel means cheese roll, it’s a round bread sandwich made with wheat flour, with cheese slices inside.” He explain, raising his voice a bit, excited about his country’s food. “It tastes amazing when it’s fresh out the oven. And it’s…” König holds his hand into a fist on the table, using it as a size reference. “It’s this big — the roll, I mean. And Schinkensemmel means ham roll… why are you laughing?”

You can’t help but laugh a little when he passionately describes his favourite bread. “Because you’re cute when you’re drunk, König.” You look at König’s eyes, and he quickly glances away onto something else. He lets out a dry laugh, you wonder if he’s blushing under the hood. “Mein Gott… stop mocking me like this. And I’m not drunk.” He mumbles with a grunt, in denial from your comment.

He’s always like this when you tease or praise him. If you drown him in praises, he’ll let out a frustrated grunt and tell you to cut it off, but nothing is truly aggressive from him, to you. You find that cute too.

“I meant it, even when you’re not drunk. I find you very… charming.” You insists, leaning a little towards him. His warmth is subtlety radiating out of his vest, and he starts to fumble with his fingers and knuckles on the table. He doesn’t say anything. What should he say? He is so flustered by your words. Bar and alcohol and you make his mind melt.

After a minute of silence of his uneasiness, you worry if you went too far. “You’re alright?” You ask, gently putting your hand on his back, comforting him by slowly moving up and down. To your surprise, he doesn’t push your arm away or anything. Instead, he turns his massive frame to you, hesitating. A pair of pretty eyes stare at yours, before he finally puts his head on your shoulder. You can’t help but to smile, feeling him nuzzling a little. You decide to be a bit bold as you slide your fingers from his back to the under of his hood, touching and massaging his neck.

König clearly tenses up for a second, then pushes his head deeper to your neck, letting out a sigh. You tease him as you softened your voice. “If you’re feeling sick, I can carry you back to the base, and we can eat some Käsemel together.” His laugh rumbles deep and intimate by your ear, and he gently wraps his arms around your waist. “It’s Käsesemmel, and you can never carry me, Liebling…” Of course, König is a hulking 300 pounds Goliath, nobody can carry him on the back. But he feels…small, and safe, under your touch. He buries his hooded face on you, so close that you can smell the Jägermeister from his breath. It was strong, he is definitely drunk.

The others are playing by the pool table away from you two. Billiards collide, and one of them cheer loudly. Looks like they will spend the night with pool and poker cards. And König chooses to spend the night with you. Talking, cuddling, anything. He closes his eyes, sits still and holds you in a little more. You smile, keep him comfortable by your side, as he lets himself to be vulnerable just for once.

“So it’s a no for Käsesemmel too?” You ask, then feeling a squeeze from his hand on your waist. “Käsesemmel, with you, always.” He mumbles back, as your touches make him sleepier by the second. He’s drunk, from the shots and drinks, but also from your caress.

[lost-boy-into-the-upper-heavenly]

Elevator and empty train tracks. The ‘PROMISE’, jumps out at you - that paint job was from 1999 when a movie crew rolled in to film 'Revenge of the Land'. On the north side - is the faded Wheat Pool insignia and the town name 'Brooking'.

Chasing Yesterday

[spirintom]

Herobrine headcanons 💎

sorry I wasn't posting for a pretty long time... needed to get over my hyperfixation on this guy

💎"He has changed"💎 Enjoy!

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He has existed for a long time. Too long, to be honest. 

People were afraid of him even before legends and rumors were spread - every visit to the Overworld was accompanied by fear. When he appeared, the sky noticeably darkened, a strong wind blew, and it seemed as if even plants were hiding from his shining cold eyes. The world rejected him, everything living and non-living was afraid, and only Nether felt... like home? maybe... 

But that was a long time ago. Too long, to be honest... 

Now the world seems to be getting used to the man. Peaceful creatures curl up to his warm hands, ask him for food, play with him, look as if they understand him. 

And he developed a bad habit - to carry seeds, a couple bunches of wheat, and other treats for them... Perhaps that's why they follow him that much. But the mobs love him, and that pleases him. 

Herobrine himself seems somehow softer. 

Although villagers still fear even think of his name. And this is completely fair. Earlier he used to be excessively hot-headed. He ravaged cities, killed players who dared to look at him. 

So his name became a noun. Now all the world's troubles are attributed to him, not forgetting to recall the old ones. 

Not that he was mad about it. That's absolutely fair. 

But Herobrine has changed. 

Now combat achievements and strength hardly concern him. Of course, the man can still destroy a pretty large village with a slight move of his hand, but... is that really necessary? (And was it necessary at all?) 

Herobrine has changed. 

Now he prefers to enjoy the world: wandering at night or in the early morning, sipping coffee, watching some players, reading, studying redstone mechanisms, perfecting his enchanting or potion-making skills, spending more time with old friends. 

Sometimes in snowy biomes, near villages, he builds snowmen. (Of course, to puzzle and scare village children! Yes-yes. We believe him.) If he finds a spot with flowers, he picks some and leaves them outside random player's house. 

And sometimes (very rarely) he submits to curiosity and goes to some abandoned player’s base and explores it. Herobrine admires, looking at cities, castles, statues, and other structures that, according to him, used to destroy the nature of the world. 

He is especially pleased with one specific base. A small temple on a hill surrounded by cherry trees. There in the mountain, behind thick tangles of vines, lies the entrance to a cave with hot springs and a small pool of lava. The man loves to come there to relax. (how lucky that he’s immune to lava!) 

In these peaceful moments, he catches himself thinking that he understands Notch - understands that creating can also bring joy. The man, of course, grumbles something under his nose, but smiles. 

 Sincerely. Softly.

---------------------------------- 🩵Hope you liked it! Also sorry if there were some mistakes (i'm using a translator)