#bobby mares
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Like just imagine the chaotic it would be…if knj friends meet Karl and dream tubbo??? Tommy??? It’ll be hilarious
#foryou#fypツ#myctblr#kian lawley#jc caylen#camboys#dteamblr#tubbolive#tommyinnit#wilbur soot#ranboo the beloved#tinakitten#sapnap#bobby mares#crawford collins#franny arrieta#twitch.tv#danny garcia#cooking stream#??????? tumblr#amen 🙏#please 🙏#quackity#nihachu#ugh 😩#them 🥺#mrbeast#yes sir 🫡#anyway 🫠#oof 🤤
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Always be my baby//bobby mares
(I did bobby because he's so cute so yeah)
Y/N pov
I'm in mine and Bobby's bathroom right now having a meltdown I found a picture of bobby with a other girl 2 years and he just threw it away
(I know bobby wouldn't do this its just for the imagine I'm sorry😭)
I got out of my thoughts when I herd the front door close and it was bobby
Bobby:hey baby I'm back
Bobbys pov
I just got back home from filming with franny
Hey baby I'm back
I got no response I set my keys on the kitchen counter I walked up the stairs to mine and Y/N room I didn't see her I was about to leave the room when I heard a sniffle coming from the bathroom I was walking to it and its locked
Bobby:baby you in there?
She just stayed quite
Bobby:baby please open the door and tell me why your crying
I heard the knob twist so she unlocked the door I open the door and she was crying I lunged at her for I can hold her but she didn't let me So kneled down in from of her and wiped her tears with my thumb
Bobby:hey its okay just calm down okay its okay wanna tell me what happend
Y/N:why
I was confused
Bobby:what do you mean why
Y/N:you know what I'm talking about whyd you do it was I not good enough for you
She said while standing up so I stood up
Bobby:I'm so confused what are you talking about
She pulled out her phone and it was a picture of me and a lady witch was a retailer for her ring I got her I can't tell her now I can't propose right now I have a little Picnic set up ready for the beach
Bobby:put some shoes on were gonna go somewhere
Y/N:were are we going
Bobby:its a surprise I've been planning it for a while now ill explain after it all
Y/N pov
I got my shoes on we got in the car and Bobby's driving us somewhere he said he's been planning it for a while I don't know but he's not off the hook yet when I looked up and we were at the beach we got out the car and bobby took my hand it just feels a little awkward now that he was with a other lady
Y/N:why are we here
Bobby:well I had everything set up but I dicided today since your mad and I know there's no excuse for saying that women is so I have to get something from the car it was originally for tomorrow since tomorrow is our anniversary but its whatever be right back
And with that he gave me a kiss on my check and ran to the car I Decided to sit on a rock until he came he came a few minutes later and was stuff for a picnic it was so cute it had everything I liked
Y/N:bobby when did you do this
Bobby:I did this before I went to frannys and film
He gave me a smile and I looked down blushing I looked up to a beautiful sunset
Bobby:well its time
He took my hand so I was standing he looked nervous I don't know why
Bobby:my god okay so tomorrow is our anniversary of 2 years and I love you so much and that lady you saw in the picture was a retailer
He got down on his knees and my hands came to my mouth and my eyes started to water
Bobby:she was the retailer for your ring I got you Y/N I love you so much more than you know and these years with you have been the best I could even imagine so Y/M/L will you make me happiest man alive and like to become my wife
You were so shocked but you said yes he put the ring on your hand and gave you a soft kiss on your lips when he pulled away I heard shouting and woos and look to my side and everyone was there I hide my face in Bobby's chest I looked up at him and put my forehead on his He started talking again
Bobby:there is no one else I love you and dont you forget that okay?
I just shook my head and said okay he pulled me into a hug
Bobbt:you forever baby forever us and you'll always be my baby
I gave his a soft long kiss when we broke apart we went to our friends that were waiting for us my life was perfect I had a huge group of friends I love and better yet I'm going to marry bobby
(sorry if you didn't like it its I think my 3rd or 2nd stories I'm but hoped you liked it)
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I'm fallin′, I'm yours
Never wanna feel this again
With anyone other than you
#bobby mares#the feeling of falling in love#love quotes#love#love music#love songs#love story#life quotes#quoteoftheday#music#feelings#love feelings
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𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏; 𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔.
𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆. 💌
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Golden Charm and son by Melody
Via Flickr:
#horses#Not photographed by me#Gypsy#Cob#Irish Cob#Tinker#Romany#Vanner#feathered#palomino#mare#Golden Charm#buckskin#colt#foal#Southern Charm#horse#Alaria Moss Gypsy Horses#Photography by Bobbi McIntyre#flickr
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Domenica d'agosto che caldo fa!
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Fuck it Friday/Last Line Challenge 🌻
Last night, there I am, lovingly thinking of having enough energy to write on my current WIPs, when @pirrusstuff and I start discussing cowboy boots. Specifically ones with sunflowers on them. And that, friends, is how we ended up here. Please accept this brain dump of words in which Buck is the local livestock vet that Eddie Diaz absolutely cannot stand, but is forced to deal with.
“Bobby.” Eddie’s tone borders on a whine. “There’s nothing else you can do?”
“‘Fraid not. I’ve pulled out every trick I know. Ya gotta call him.” Bobby pauses for what Eddie’s certain is only dramatic effect. “Unless, of course, you want her to get an infection or, more realistically, die.”
Eddie sighs and lets his head drop between his shoulders. He knows Bobby’s right, even had a feeling it might come to this before Bobby started throwing him nervous glances when Lola didn’t appear to be progressing. Unfortunately, now, there’s no time to waste on Eddie’s petty grudge.
Without looking up from where he’s crouched next to his very pregnant, very distressed mare, Eddie holds his hand out expectantly.
“Already dialed for you,” Bobby says, a little too smugly, handing him the phone.
“‘Lo?” The familiar voice answers, sounding like he’s chewing. Logically, Eddie knows it’s just coincidental timing, but it still feels like a purposeful slight.
“Buckley, I’ve got a mare in labor, stalled. Between me and Nash we’ve tried everything we can think of, but we’re gonna need a hand here.”
There’s a long pause that would make him think they got disconnected except for the loud crunching.
“Huh,” Buck finally says. “So there is something you can’t do.”
“Are you coming or not?” Eddie spits back. He can practically hear the smirk forming on Buck’s lips.
“Don't worry, sunshine. Be right there.”
Tagged by my love @lizzie-bennetdarcy @hoodie-buck @buddierights @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @jamespearce9-1-1
no pressure tagging mi amor @disasterbuckdiaz @callmenewbie @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @lemonzestywrites @steadfastsaturnsrings @weewootruck @malewifediaz @thekristen999 @loserdiaz @heartshapedvows @underwater-ninja-13 @fortheloveofbuddie @eowon @jesuisici33 @apothecarose @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @stereopticons @elvensorceress @spagheddiediaz @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @911onabc @the-likesofus @honestlydarkprincess @spaceprincessem @fionaswhvre @barbiediaz @pirrusstuff @messyhairdiaz @gayedmundodiaz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @evaneds @maygrantgf @buckbuckgoose @statueinthestone and anyone else who wants to share 💖
#sobs quietly#please i cannot have more WIPs#also i don't know a thing about horses or their care#hippos do not know the ways of equine#this should be interesting#buddie wip#eddie really hates buck's stupid face#and the stupid sunflowers on his stupid cowboy boots#why does that idiot have to be the only vet in town?#at least he's competent#and his ass looks amazing in those jeans#and oh shit does eddie *really* hate him?#i think we all know the answer to that#hippo writes#fuck it friday#fic: sweetest of the sunflowers
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MARE'S TOP BOY GROUP KPOP/JPOP SONGS OF 2023
tagged by the bestie @xiaojuun <3
HONORABLE MENTIONS: DROWNING - BOBBY // FREEDOM - JOOHONEY // KICK IT FOR NOW - TNX // HEAR ME OUT - EXO // ROLL WITH ME - SHOWNU & HYUNGWON // I WANT YOUR LOVE - TREASURE // KANGAROO - NCT U // TBH - VANNER // ARRIVAL - ONF // TOUCH - OMEGA X // RODEO - TVXQ
hehe i decided to do something a little different this year and put some of my fav english lyrics from these songs on the gifs! i am pretty happy with how they came out but GOD narrowing it down was hard - there was a lot of good bops this year! it was also my year of jpop so had to throw jo1 and ini in there. these are also in order of when they were released so it's like a map of my year musically lol
tagging some besties @flops @zhaolusi @baekhyunnybyun @seonghwasblr @gnanii @shiningwonho @miyawaki @hohowonho @lunetual @possession1981 @strhwaberries @berryjaellie <3
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brainrotting about ghoap while listening to bobby and poison root by alex g.
i can fully see them as two mountain cowboys, sort of being a nuisance to lovers trope. clear water streams, alpine woodlands alongside rocky cliff edges, dipping into canyons. soap would have a meaty stallion, as giddy and blissful as his rider. ghost would have a gorgeous mare with a thick braided mane, ashy flank and dark grey spangles against its backside and powerful shoulders.
they eventually settle down in the countryside. their horses fall in love and have a pretty little foal. huh who said that?
#ghoap#soapghost#ghoap fluff#johnny soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#simon riley x john mactavish#cowboy au#should i write something with this#someone tell me#plz#cowboys#alex g#ghost call of duty#soap call of duty#cod soap#cod ghost#ghoap au#ghoap drabble
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The failed experimental session was enough to scare Prophecy out of all hopes of being an oracle. It was so painful and frightening for her, she couldn’t imagine making a whole living off of this feeling. It had gotten to the point where she hardly wanted to leave the house, for fear of having more of these painful visions. Anything could trigger them, after all.
Her Mommy Trixie was determined not to let her become a shut-in for the rest of her life. Prophecy had too much to offer the world. Even if she didn’t want to be saving lives, it would be a waste of talent and personality for her to just hide away.
So Trixie had an idea. One that would actually help her.
“Elysie! Come on down!”
She called out, beckoning her daughter from her room.
“Mommy has a surprise for you!”
The young filly reluctantly came down the stairs and into the living room, as if she feared it would be converted into a laboratory when she got there.
“Are you and Eema gonna do more science experiments? If so I don’t wanna do it!”
“No! Heavens, no. This is actually fun.”
Trixie got straight to the point and threw down a box in front of her daughter.
“What is this?”
“It, uh, fell off the back of a wagon.”
The mare explained, not wanting to delve too deeply into how she got it.
“It’s got magical tools and toys and all sorts of things! You’re smart and talented and I know you really like puzzle games, so I got you some!”
Prophecy looked upon the box with curiosity and wonder. She feared a much worse surprise, but this was actually exciting. She loved toys and games! Just like any filly would. She didn’t take much time to wonder what was inside before flinging the box open and digging through its contents.
And there were toys and games galore! Puzzles, card games, a Rubik’s cube, the whole works. Plus a bunch of locks and bobby pins for some reason.
“What are these for?”
“Those are for you to learn lock-picking! It takes a lot of dexterity, just like any other puzzle. Don’t tell Eema, of course. We don’t want you breaking into places when you grow up.”
Prophecy couldn’t help but giggle at this.
“I won’t, Mommy!”
Then she turned to the box and took out the Rubik’s cube, starting to turn the sides every which way. Quickly slipping deep into concentration, it almost felt like she knew which move would be next. Like predicting the future! But not painful at all. For once she was actually enjoying herself.
It felt like she’d been working at it for an hour, but it really didn’t take her long at all until all the colors matched and the Rubik’s cube was solved.
“Look at you! Wasn’t that fun?”
Trixie beamed at her encouragingly.
“Yes, Mommy!”
“Well, all of these are yours to play with whenever you want! Try some more if you’d like!”
And so little Prophecy spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the toys and puzzles, harnessing her magic while still having fun. Trixie had finally found a solution that worked for her. Prophecy didn’t need to think about saving the world or anything yet, she was just a filly.
She would learn to channel her powers in time, at her own pace.
~~~~~~~~~~
Previous: Static Brain
Next: School Supply
Trixie’s cutie mark by Godoffury
#KindsArt#auraverse#red string#prophecy#trixie lulamoon#the great and powerful trixie#story piece#next generation#my little pony#mlp fim#mlp g4
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I’m going to admit I’m a little bit of a freak about horses. I love horses. 80% of my time is devoted to think about horses. Horses are everything to me. I’m a horse girl if a horse girl was a boy. Anyways there’s this mod called Star Worm Equestrian Mod (SWEM) that completely overhauls Minecraft horses, and ever since I’ve been playing it obsessively my qsmp hyperfixation has been creeping in so I present to you….
(NOT EGGS AS HORSES, just if they HAD horses)
CERTIFIED QSMP EGG HORSE PICKS FROM SWEM HORSE LIST
bobby
palamino gelding
2. chayanne
chestnut tobiano mare
3. dapper
liver chestnut gelding
4. trump
bay gelding
5. Juanaflippa
Seal bay gelding
6. Leonarda
Chestnut roan mare
7. Ramon
Splashed black mare
8. Tilin
Rose Grey splash
9. Tallulah
Buckskin Appaloosa mare
10. Richarlyson
Chestnut “Badger Face” Gelding
11. Pomme
dark bay birdcatcher mare
#qsmp#non theory posting#qsmp au#qsmp pomme#qsmp richarlyson#qsmp chayanne#qsmp dapper#qsmp trump#qsmp leonarda#qsmp tilín#qsmp ramon#qsmp bobby#qsmp tallulah#qsmp juanaflippa#qsmp eggs#QCB being insane moment
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Storia Di Musica #310 - Captain Beyond, Captain Beyond, 1972
Il mio impegno di scoprire più gruppi e artisti sconosciuti ma autori di dischi eccezionali inizia oggi. E inizia con quello che una volta si chiamava un supergruppo: musicisti provenienti da altre band che, a volte non lasciando definitivamente i loro gruppi di appartenenza, si riunivano per suonare in divertimento ciò che gli interessava di più. La storia di oggi ci porta a Los Angeles ad inizio degli anni '70. La grande stagione della musica californiana è al termine della sua spinta propulsiva, ma ha lasciato sul campo semi che germoglieranno per tanni. I musicisti del gruppo di oggi hanno storie particolari. Rod Evans è britannico, è stato il primo cantante dei Deep Purple, per i primi 3 dischi (quelli dell'avvio psichedelico, Shades Of Deep Purple e lo splendido The Book Of Taliesyn del 1968, e poi Deep Purple del 1969), ruolo che perde per Ian Gillian. Evans abbandona l'Inghilterra e va prima in Florida, dove prova la carriera solista, e poi vira in California, dove prima pubblica un singolo, Hard To Be Without You/You Can´t Love A Child Like A Woman e poi si aggrega al gruppo di oggi. Bobby Caldwell, batterista braccio destro di Johnny Winter, Larry "Rhino" Reinhardt, chitarrista e Lee Dorman bassista, provengono invece dai mitici Iron Butterfly, autori di uno dei brani culto della stagione del rock californiano, In A Gadda Da Vita (titolo che è una storpiatura psicotica di In The Garden Of Eden). In un primo momento della band fa parte anche il tastierista Lewie Gold che però abbandona poco tempo prima le prime registrazioni: Non resta che scegliere un nome, che in stile europeo viene individuato in Captain Beyond, e iniziare a scrivere musica. Il disco d'esordio, omonimo come le storie scelte per gennaio, Captain Beyond, esce nel luglio 1972, prodotto e arrangiato dalla stessa band. In copertina, meravigliosa, un disegno di Joe Garnett su progetto e idea della Pacific Eye And Ear, leggendaria agenzia di stampa creativa che realizzerà centinaia di copertine iconiche negli anni (ve ne ricordo un paio, Toys In the Attic degli Aerosmith, il loghino della moneta di Alice Cooper, molte copertine per i Bee Gees e la copertina di Berlin di Lou Reed).
Captain Beyond (chiamato dagli appassionati "first") è un disco di culto, per via di alcune caratteristiche peculiari per un disco statunitense del periodo e per la qualità eccezionale musicale, dell'amalgama tra i musicisti e i brani eseguiti, tutti a firma Caldwell \ Evans. Innanzitutto, è uno dei pochi dischi americani del periodo che, come i coevi del progressive europeo, in pratica non ha divisione dei brani, registrati come se fossero un'unica e strepitosa suite di 37 minuti. Il disco è un continuo e meraviglioso scorrere da riff a riff, drumbeat a drumbeat, in questo ambito fenomenale il lavoro di Caldwell, maestro dello strumento, che cambia la ritmica più volte nello stesso brano, per un groove irresistibile. È un mix perfetto di rock blues, cavalcate strumentali prog ma anche spesso vicino a quelle della Allman Brothers Band (a tal proposito, è giusto raccontare che il disco fu dedicato alla memoria del da poco scomparso Duane Allman), poiché linee di chitarra veloci e cariche di riff predominano per alcune canzoni prima di rallentare temporaneamente in una pausa fino al successivo decollo. Dal punto di vista dei testi, l'album si differenzia esplorando temi del mondo esterno e significati dell'esistenza, spesso con riferimenti alla luna, al mare, al sole e così via. Rod Evans ha una forte voce rock e si dimostra un grande canante, Rhino suona un'enorme quantità di linee di chitarra cariche di hook e Lee Dorman suona linee di basso complesse (ad esempio, alla fine di As The Moon Speaks-Return) che portano a suoni tipicamente ritmici e agili. Come non ricordare il groove monumentale di Dancing Madly Backwards (On A Sea Of Air), in apertura del disco, oppure la cavalcata strumentale di I Can't Feel Nothin', Pt. 1., il suono psichedelico di Myopic Void che in certi passaggi è meravigliosamente jazz fusion, che sfuma nella hard rock piena di potenza di Mesmerization Eclipse. Come curiosità, segnalo che Thousand Days Of Yesterdays (Intro) come suggerisce il titolo fa davvero da introduzione per Frozen Over, altro grandissimo brano di un disco di qualità decisamente superiore.
Si rimane davvero affascinati da questo disco, che lascia all'ascoltatore la sensazione che il viaggio debba continuare per un futuro indefinito. L'esordio però lascia strascichi: Caldwell ne se va, sostituito da Marty Rodriguez e Guille Garcia, con il timone musicale preso da Lee Dorman che scriverà tutti i brani dell'eccellente Sufficiently Breathless, che esce nel 1973. Per contratto con la Warner Bros. dovevano realizzare un terzo album, questo avverrà solo nel 1977, con il ritorno di Caldwell ma non di Evans, sostituito dal semisconosciuto Willy Daffern: per capire che confusione regnava all'epoca, il brano Dawn Explosion che dava il titolo al disco, Dawn Explosion, non venne nemmeno inserito in scaletta. La band con discontinuità formidabile e continui cambi di componenti è arrivata a suonare concerti fino ad oggi, in ricordo di un disco eccezionale di un periodo musicalmente florido come pochi della storia.
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Hey! I was wondering how the trio split holidays before living in one space together. How'd they celebrate when Bob was on deployment? (If they could)
I have been cooking on this for so long 😭I'm so sorry for taking forever to get back to this.
Celebrations really depended on schedules and if Bob was on deployment or not. If you thought getting two schedules to match was hard, just wait until you throw a third into the mix.
More often than not, holidays were celebrated virtually because work just always seemed to get in the way of things. Sometimes they were lucky to even get a video call to go through because, come to find out, the internet on an aircraft carrier isn't all that great.
Rhett would find themed hats that matched the holiday they were celebrating, and the Reader had some fun little decor that they'd stick in the background. Bob being there was typically a treat of its own, most of the time.
If they could get away with it, then they usually sent themed gifts to each other. Bob didn't get the chance very often, but he was very well known for his intricate, Pinterest-level packages.
Exhibit A and B
Talk about blowing everyone else out of the water...
But! In the rare event that schedules aligned and they were able to plan something in person, they went all out. For Halloween one year, they spent a full three days going to festivals, haunted houses and staying up all night to watch Halloween movies. Rhett hates hay rides because it just feels like another day at work, but he was jumping at every opportunity to take Bobby and Reader on one.
They even went as far as to paint his mare to look like a skeleton on Halloween night. She wasn't particularly thrilled, but she put up with it
Holidays really depended on schedules, but regardless things were celebrated to the fullest of their abilities 💕
#bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott#rhett abbott#bob floyd#robert floyd#robert bob floyd#rhett abbott headcanons#robert bob floyd headcanons#delgato's asks#becks-things#bob floyd headcanons
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Idea: Lawrusso butch4butch cowboy lesbians
the noise i just let out should be studied by scientists. yes ❤️ absolutely
im historically not an expert on cowboys (my friend is tho) so all my ideas and inspiration come from westerns but im thinking:
danielle larusso is new in the area. her mother brought a decrepit ranch with all of their economies and they’re now trying to give it a second life. in doing so they meet mr miyagi, an old man living not far away from the ranch but quite isolated from the others in town. he takes care of cattle and he’s very polite and very kind to danielle and lucille (who have had to deal with their share of sexist assholes since danielle’s dad died). lucille makes business with him to buy some of his cattle and they decide to actually start working together. she invites him to dinner one evening and he never really leaves. he helps her and danielle fix the ranch and also starts teaching danielle how to take care of cattle and especially horses. danielle doesn’t really have her own horse yet but she wants one very badly and so miyagi offers her a beautiful palomino mare for her birthday.
one morning, danielle goes in the barn to take care of her horse and sees another horse already there. a black american quarterhorse and behind it is hidden a bruised and bleeding johnny lawrence. johnny is an outlaw. she used to be a rich girl back in town. her mother had married the mayor of the town when she was a young girl and johnny was promised to marry one of his rich (and old) friends but she fled and instead she joined a group of outlaw who commit petty crimes to survive. she and the other cobras had just done a heist when they were separated while running away and she was shot in the back. she didn’t know where to go. she saw the barn in the horizon and decided to hide there until the police lost her tracks but with the blood loss she fell asleep and didn’t manage to leave the barn before morning.
danielle brings her back home and nurses her back to health (but at the same time she wonders if she should throw her out because johnny is 1) a criminal 2) a fugitive 3) a huge bitch). a little after johnny gets back on her feet, the cobras come and meet her and tell her that they all need to split up for a while because the sheriff is after them, johnny gets really worried because she has nowhere to go apart from going back to her house but if she goes back to laura and sid she knows she’ll be married by force. danielle, who cannot keep her nose out of other people’s business, tells johnny she can stay if she starts working on the ranch. which is how johnny ends up training horses with danielle and mr miyagi.
im also imagining slow burn love story between danielle and johnny: fishing trips that end with taking a swim naked in the lake, talks in front of the fire where danielle learns to like johnny and johnny hides how much she wants to kiss danielle, dinners with lucille and mr miyagi who can see what’s going on there, the two of them racing on their horses. just, lots of domestic shit that end abruptly because kreese, another outlaw who helped johnny escape sid, comes to collect what he believes to be johnny’s debt. he wants johnny to work for him, danielle thinks his intentions are a lot darker than that but johnny tells her that he truly helped so that she just needs to pay her debt back and he’ll leave her alone. except kreese doesn’t leave her alone and mr miyagi has to step in. (you know you gotta have a duel in a western).
johnny gets hurt in the crossfire and it makes danielle realize that she’s in love with that blonde meathead. johnny scares them all by staying unconscious a lot longer than last time. the cobras come to visit and they all wait at johnny’s bedside. when she wakes up, bobby tells her that danielle has not moved ever since she’s been hurt and that she should get her head out of her ass and tell the other woman how she feels. danielle comes to see her, johnny thanks her for taking care of her again and they both manage to say i love you at the same time. happy ending, all is well, they train horses on the ranch until they’re old and grey (but still in love).
#*asks#lawrusso#this is very long im so sorry#i just blacked out when you said butch cowboy#« you’re alright larusso! »
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𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕; 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔.
𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆. 💌
#millie bobby brown#finn wolfhard#sadie sink#caleb mclaughlin#noah schnapp#gaten matarazzo#priah ferguson#joe keery#maya hawke#natalia dyer#headers#headerspsd#mare#ladyworks#stranger things#st#stranger things 4#st4
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☀️ Cast No Shade 🐎
jomary fic - 5193 words - rating: T - western au - read on ao3
There isn’t much to Saint William, the motley one street town that the surrounding ranches flee to when their occupants need to get supplies, food, or drunk. Luckily for Jo Harvelle and Mary Campbell (barmaid at the Roadhouse Saloon and stablehand of the Singer Stables) their occupations fall well into these categories. And so: while they are not content, they are earning, and there is much to be said for that for two young women in a small town nearing the bottom corner of Nebraska.
Jo and Mary: cowgirls, sapphics, and gender extraordinares. They're running and they're kissing and, most importantly, dicussing their names and shattered pasts.
i cannot thank @kerryweaverlesbian enough for betaing this fic. i really couldn't have done it without you <3
written for my josjoyousbday celebration!!
It’s early evening on a scorchingly hot July day when Jo Harvelle drops by the Singer stables. The temperature has only just become bearable. Jo tugs her bandana down from around her mouth as she wanders along the ramshackle wooden stalls. The dust outside is unmanageable, what with the lack of rainfall for almost a month now, but inside it gets just that bit easier to breathe. Whether that’s truly from the break in the dust or simply because her mother isn’t standing, hovering over her shoulder is probably up for debate.
Either way, Jo takes her time making her way through the long corridor of the stables and greeting the horses on either side of her. The town is small enough she knows all of them pretty easily. She gives a congenial pat to Eileen’s broad bay, Sam, who looks to be more moose than horse. Conversely, she keeps a wide berth of Cas, Meg’s horse, who Meg always complains seems to have come out the farm with a crack in his hoof.
She produces an apple from her pocket for Claire. Claire had been Jimmy Novak’s horse, before Jimmy got himself killed on some holy mission several years ago while Claire was young. Claire is now in the habit of bolting for the fields the second she sees an open gate, and Bobby once explained to Jo it was likely because of the trauma of losing Jimmy.
“Horses,” he’d said, “are surprisingly human creatures.”
Since then, Jo has felt a particular kinship to Claire, and an apple shared between them is a ritual she likes to think does them both good. Today, though, that ritual is cut short, as Jo spies movement in another stall out the corner of her eye.
There’s one horse, in the stall beside her own, that Jo hasn’t seen before. She’s a gorgeous Arabian mare, with a hide so black she looks like she’s been dipped in rich ink. And she’s tall, too: Jo can’t see her legs from here, but she knows they’ll be lean and strong. This is a horse built for running. But no one runs through the meager, fatigued town of Saint William if they can help it.
So who’s here running? Who from? Or, Jo ponders, who to?
Jo is so deep in thought over who could possibly be the owner of that beautiful horse, the fact the door to her own horse’s stall is slightly ajar slips her by. It continues to slip her by until she goes to unlatch it, and finds the wooden panel bangs restlessly against the post. It then swings away, freely, revealing a skirt-covered behind bent over a rake. The person the behind is attached to appears to be turning the hay on the stable floor, a shortish head of blonde hair almost indistinguishable from the hay around her.
“Holy hell!” Jo splutters, managing to bang the stall door into her fingers in the shock of her surprise. She hisses a curse. By the time she’s shaken her hand out and opened up her eyes again, the girl has risen to her full height and is looking on apologetically.
“Sorry,” she says, in a drawl somewhere between sweet and gravelly; like a siren with dust in her throat. Jo likes it. “I didn’t mean to startle you- is your hand alright?”
Nodding, Jo manages a small smile. “Sure. May I ask what you’re doing with my horse?” Her tone comes out perhaps a little sharper than she intended, as the girl recoils away slightly. But still, the girl’s in Jo’s stall, Jo reckons, and even if it’s a free country she has the right of way.
Her horse isn’t a horse to be trifled with, either. Everyone knows that. A dashing gray Quarter horse, Blade had been raised alongside Jo such that they were more like brother and sister than horse and rider. She’d named him Blade while she was young enough for her father to be alive, and quite rightly, too: his hide shines, almost metallic silver in the sun.
“I was clearing his stall out, miss. I’m the new stablehand.”
Jo folds her arms. “I ain’t heard of no new stablehand.”
“Well, I am one,” the girl rebuts, with a certain amount of her own spunk. “You can ask Mr Singer if you really want, but all you’ll hear is that I arrived yesterday and started work today.”
“Where are you staying?” Jo quizzes.
“Mr Singer is letting me board.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Lawrence. Kansas.”
“Why are you here?”
“My parents died,” the girl says, and lowers her chin in such a way Jo instantly knows this part of the conversation is over.
The girl opposite her is not much older than Jo herself, if at all. Her hair falls around her face unevenly, like she hacked it off herself in some dingy saloon mirror; strangely, something like jealousy rises in Jo’s chest over that surely undesirable image. The skirt she’s wearing is tattered around the hem. Similarly, her shirt is crumpled and mud-stained, visibly wearing at the elbows and collar. This is the appearance of a girl who hasn’t got much, and so Jo is inclined to believe her.
“I’m sorry,” Jo says, scuffing the toe of her boot along the floor. “I’ve lost my Daddy too.”
The blonde girl nods. She opens her mouth as if she has something more on the topic to say, but then seems to change her mind. She lets whatever idea she had go with a little puff of breath and instead says, “Mr Singer was a friend of my pa’s. That’s why I’m stayin’ here, so you know. I ain’t some nobody.”
“No,” Jo mutters, and she can feel her cheeks reddening. “I didn’t think you were. I was surprised to find you here, is all. Bobby didn’t say anyone new was coming.”
“Well, I’m here,” the girl says with a shrug. A hint of a smile catches on her lip as she takes the moment to rather blatantly look Jo over, from tip to toe. Jo feels like she’s being inspected, or studied, or something. Like if the girl were to take an exam on her now, she’d get all the answers right. “Might be a good thing too. I’m Mary Campbell,” the girl, now Mary, announces.
Jo nods, feeling her own cheeks dimple. “Mary,” she repeats softly, feeling the name in her mouth. It’s a little plain, as all the girl’s names seem to be in these parts, but it fits her, Jo thinks. There’s always more to a Mary than meets the eye.
“And what’s your name?” Mary asks, turning back to her work in the stall. Blade doesn’t seem to mind her presence at all, happily munching from his food box. If nothing else had made Jo trust Mary already, that sign alone would have.
“Everyone calls me Jo,” Jo supplies in turn. She pushes the stall door to, so she can lean against it and peer over as Mary works. As Mary bends over again, it’s another one of those moments where Jo wishes women got to wear unforgiving denim jeans like the men did.
“That short for anything?”
“My mamma seems to think so,” Jo huffs. “But it’s really just Jo. Jo Harvelle.”
“Alright then. Howdy, Jo Harvelle, it’s nice to meet you.”
**
There isn’t much to Saint William, the motley one street town that the surrounding ranches flee to when their occupants need to get supplies, food, or drunk. Luckily for Jo and Mary (barmaid at the Roadhouse Saloon and stablehand of the Singer Stables) their occupations fall well into these categories. And so: while they are not content, they are earning, and there is much to be said for that for two young women in a small town nearing the bottom corner of Nebraska.
A year after Mary’s surprise arrival, the July sun scorches the land as surely as it did the very first time Jo and Mary met. Jo pulls her hat from her head and fans herself with it a little as she slips into the Singer Stables, in a move now so habitual she barely thinks about it. The late afternoon’s fingertips are starting to loosen their grip to the cooler breeze of evening. Only just, though.
“Hey honey, I’m home,” she calls out among the seemingly empty stalls.
Blade snorts fondly at the sound of her voice. A second later, Mary’s blonde head pops out of the stall beside Blade’s, the stall now belonging to the horse which had stolen Jo’s attention that day a year ago.
“Hey,” Mary says, a smile curling across her lips at the sight of Jo. Her gaze drops from Jo’s eyes as she rambles closer, drifting across her chapped lips instead.
“Hey,” Jo agrees, falling readily into the kiss Mary presses between them. It’s too chaste, like a tequila shot; leaves Jo wanting a chaser, wanting more. But still, it’s kinda perfect.
Since Mary ran into Jo’s life, it’s been far more kinda perfect than it ever was before.
The contact is over, but still they stand in each other’s orbit, neither of them wanting to pull away. The heat seeps through the skin and straight to the stomach, on days like this. It doesn’t matter that to stand so close means yet more warmth. Not when the rising devotion in Jo’s stomach has her singing for intimacy.
“How’s Baby?” she murmurs, lips still close enough to Mary’s cheeks to grace her sun-weathered face. Jo feels, easily, how the hairs on both of their necks rise and stand like a freshly lit flame.
Mary grins, turning away to gaze at her horse so tenderly it almost makes Jo jealous. The Arabian mare stands, gleaming black as ever. “She’s good,” she says. “Wheels need oiling a little, maybe, but she’ll run.”
Jo laughs, feeding her fingers between Mary’s buckled hands.
They’d fallen into a relationship in the brisk air of last October, rather in the same way the Earth turns. One day, they weren’t ferociously making out in the back corners of local barns and yet, the next they were.
One thing which Jo had noticed almost from the first kiss though, was how crooked Mary’s fingers were. Like they’d been broken and trampled and never given the time to heal right. But it was a hard question to ask, how a girl got all her fingers broken and crudely healed again by the ripe old age of 19.
Jo had chanced it once, and got the blunt reply that “my parents were bounty hunters. They wanted me in on the family business. But sometimes, the bounties hunt you back.” Then Mary had dipped her chin again, in the way that Jo knew meant she was starting to pour salt into a wound not yet healed.
It hadn’t taken much to put two and two together and realize that bounty hunting was probably how Mary’s parents had wound up dead. It also took a single glance at Mary to see she was glad to be out of it. It must be a terrible thing, Jo mused, for that kind of death to feel like an escape. But if the paper she had seen crumpled on Bobby’s desk was to be believed, it seemed that her parents’ death had almost been Mary’s.
Now, with her fingers entwined around Mary’s, still broken, Jo wonders - and not for the first time - what it’s like to come back from the brink of death. How it would be to come back, and not know if you’ve come back wrong.
But then again, Mary’s fingers have healed in all sorts of finicky, wrong ways. And Jo loves how exquisite they are all the same.
“Tell me you’re finished up here, and that you’ll take me somewhere fun,” Jo hums.
“Can do, cowboy,” Mary chuckles. “Let me get my hat and we can go.”
Mary brushes off the hay from her skirt, gives one last caring look over all the horses, and sets her brown hat firmly on her head. Then, she grabs Jo’s hand and marches them back out into the staunch heat of the unbroken street.
“You know what I fancy, in this shitty weather?” Mary asks loosely as they wander up the road. Past Rufus’ grocers on one side, past the doctor’s office Garth runs on the other.
Jo shrugs, always happy just to let Mary chat on in her own conversation. Contrary to what her mother might think, Jo doesn’t always need to be talking. She’s more of the quiet type, really. It’s easier to hear more about others, that way. And perhaps to hide more of yourself.
Then they’re along past the Sheriff’s office, where posters with crudely drawn pictures scream ‘WANTED’ for a Nick, a Uriel, a Ruby. Sheriff Jody and Deputy Donna wave from inside, friendly-like, as Jo and Mary pass by.
“Now, you mayn’t like me for this but I think it’s an awful good idea,” Mary stipulates, and Jo begins to see where they’re headed, and feels the excitement drain from her bones.
“Come on,” Jo moans, feet still moving weakly towards the top of the street.
“More than anything in the whole world, what I want right now is a drink,” Mary says triumphantly, pointing towards the beaten up, almost knocked down sign reading Roadhouse Saloon.
Jo sighs. Her breath comes out lukewarm, and the heat suddenly turns her stomach more towards apathy than any romantic notion.
“I’ve just spent the whole day in that saloon, I don’t want to go back,” she huffs, pushing her weight against the direction Mary is still towing her in.
“Think of it - a nice cold beer at the end of a working day-”
“Think of it,” Jo lays out clearly. “My mother.”
“Just imagine her as a coyote, she won’t attack you as long as you don’t provoke her,” Mary assures her. She gives Jo’s hand another encouraging pull. “Come on, please.”
Jo shakes her head with a definite grump, but there’s a smile growing on her face, and she knows she’ll probably give in.
“Come on, Josephine,” Mary laughs, dragging her towards the Roadhouse. “Let’s have a bit of fun.”
Jo halts at that, though. The name that slipped through Mary’s mouth oh so easily.
“My name ain’t Josephine,” she says, tugging her hand free from Mary’s. She stops in the street, still, a few feet from where Mary now stands. All trace of amiableness gone, Jo scuffs the dust with the toe of her boots.
Mary turns to face her. Her hat has fallen from her head and so rests at the back of her hair, caught on the string around her neck. The ashy strands of her bangs glint in the dry sun. Her smile hasn’t faded; “yeah, I know, you’re just Jo-”
“No,” Jo says. “I mean, my name ain’t Josephine. It’s Joanna.” She heaves a sigh. “Joanna-Beth.”
Mary’s mouth forms the ‘oh’ before Jo hears it. It’s frustrating, that even like this, when Jo has this restless anger shifting about in her, Mary still looks so downright kissable. She stands a little awkwardly, like she wants to close the distance between them but doesn’t know how to. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I just kinda assumed…”
“I know,” Jo shrugs simply. And just like that, the anger dissipates again, like there was no reason for the itch ever to be there. “I didn’t tell you. But now I have.”
The street is empty around them. A part of Jo’s brain cries out that this feels somewhat like a shootout; Mary shot first, and she hit the heart now bleeding on Jo’s sleeve. But why her name is causing this consternation, Jo isn’t really sure.
“‘S not really a big deal,” she says, stepping forward to be closer to Mary again. “I’m still just Jo, really.”
Mary hesitates, for a frightening second, like she has something more to say on the matter. And maybe she should. Almost a year they’ve known each other, and only now does she know Jo’s full name.
But then her face curves back upwards into a smile. “Yeah, you’re just Jo. And as it happens, I like Jo quite a damn bit.” She leans in conspiratorially. “So it works out.”
Jo feels a fresh blush ignite her cheeks, and Mary offers out her hand. Under the sun, her pale palm seems to radiate its own light. Mary wiggles her fingers tantalizingly. Broken, but exquisite. Just-Jo takes her partner's hand, and lets her drag them both into the saloon.
**
A week later, Jo and Mary are collapsed under a tree, nestled in a dell between the swathes of long grass. The day is hot again, but not like before, not unbearable. Just managing to err on pleasant: in the shade the yellowing tree is casting, it’s particularly nice.
Their horses are grazing in the field nearby. They’d ridden out of Saint William until it was nothing but a blur on the horizon, flickering feverishly in the warm air. Now, it’s one of those days which are completely spontaneous and entirely planned all at the same time - like neither of them knew it would happen beforehand, but once it did, there was never another option.
Mary is slumped against the trunk of the tree, wide brim of her hat pulled low over her head. The slight wind plays mildly with her short hair. She hasn’t bothered to put it up, what with the ride being easy and the day not being wildly hot.
The deft waving of the sun-bleached strands are somewhat hypnotic to Jo, as she lays perpendicular to Mary, with her head in her lap. Staring up at her from below, Jo is blearily reminded of the globe in the table of the town’s’ schoolroom. When she was young, she’d sit by it on the floor in class and gaze up at the countries no one properly saw from above. Antarctica, Australia. And now, looking up at Mary, she feels equally let in on a secret. It’s like Mary becomes the whole world.
“I have a question for you,” Mary says, breaking open a very comfortable silence. Apart from their voices, the only other sounds are the occasional snorts of Blade and Baby; a swish of their tails as the flies get too close.
Mary’s been running her fingers through Jo’s hair, just softly, molding little rivers of hair over Jo’s forehead and brushing them aside. With her other hand, she’s working her way leisurely through an apple, and the faint tang of the fruit wafts in the air around them.
“Sure,” Jo says, rising a little from the half-doze that Mary’s gentle brushing of her hair had instilled in her. “Ask away.”
“You haven’t got to answer it,” Mary assures her, and for the first time Jo realizes that Mary is unsure about whatever it is she wants to say. Her hat casts a long, steady shadow over her face so that Jo can’t quite see the detail of her eyes. If she could, she isn’t sure what she’d see.
Jo props herself up on her elbows and tilts her head up towards Mary’s. Mary pulls her hand away from Jo’s hair, and leaves it hovering in the air beside them. Like static - Jo doesn’t have to see it to know it’s still there. Closer to her face, Jo can feel the heat radiating off Mary’s cheeks.
“Okay,” she murmurs. Her voice comes out a little lower than the intended, and maybe she just wants to but she feels Mary shiver a little with it. “What’s the question?”
“Why do you want everyone to call you Jo? I know it ain’t up to me, but. Joanna-Beth is such a pretty name.”
Jo nods. She hums, to buy time with an answer more than anything, and settles back down in Mary’s lap. Mary’s hand hovers over her head, as if she’s unsure she can touch her again. Jo finds Mary’s gaze in the cool wash of the shade and shoots her a smile. With the brim of her hat all around her head, Mary looks like she has a halo. But not one made of light, one made of chestnut felt. A cowgirl angel. Mary places her hand back along Jo’s parting, running her fingers lightly against her hair again.
“Do you like the name Mary?” Jo asks. It’s not in lieu of an answer: she’s building up to it. Mary, as she understands almost everything, seems to understand this.
“Well I guess I don’t mind it,” Mary answers fairly. “I don’t know- it’s a common name, easily. A lot of girls in this town are called Mary. Makes me feel a little plain. But then again, it’s never really been a problem for me. My name was just something given to me, and I never thought about not taking it.”
Jo hums again. With one of her hands, she searches in the grass around her for a second to find what she wants. When she curls her hand around a blade good enough, she gives it a sharp tug and brings it to her mouth, letting her jaw work around it. Something to do while she thinks of what to say.
Mary knows this all, knows she hasn’t got to go on to fill the silence, but she does. “I guess, now, if there’s one thing I don’t like about it, it’s about how Mary is a mother’s name. Virgin Mary, Mother of Christ, all that. Now I love Christ as much as the next woman, don’t get me wrong-”
Jo huffs a laugh.
“-but I don’t want to be giving birth to him. I don’t want to be a mother like that. And when you’re called Mary- why, feels like that’s what you were put on this earth to do, I guess.”
“I don’t think you were put on this earth for that at all,” Jo intercepts, finding her voice again. She’s well aware it’s a weakness, but she can always find her voice when she’s not talking about herself. “I think you were put on this earth to ride horses and leave this town and settle on a nice ranch and watch the sun go down over the mountains.”
She should’ve really said ‘you were put on this earth to do whatever you want to do,’ because that’s what she means. But she knows Mary enough to know that everything she just listed is what Mary wants to do. Lord knows Jo just wants Mary to want her by her side for all of it too.
“Thanks, Jo,” Mary murmurs. Her fingers are constant along Jo’s hairline again, but the rhythm seems to change, now. Becomes a thank you as much as a you are loved.
“And to answer your question myself,” Jo begins, because she believes in fair play, even if it does take her a while to get there. “I’ve never liked Joanna-Beth. It’s just never felt right. My mother always calls me that - ‘specially when she’s angry with me. She’s always been proud of calling me it, though, ‘cause she thought of the name herself. Loves it. Took her a long time to call me Jo.”
Jo takes a breath then, reading herself for the monologue. Sometimes, she gets the feeling she’s just a body built of dams, waiting to burst. Every joint is a blockade, and every day she’s trying to keep every one of them closed. But sometimes, when someone asks the right question, it’s hard to keep even one of them shut. That’s why she talks so little, and then all the time. She never could do anything by halves.
“But my daddy, ‘fore he died- he loved calling me Jo. Always said I should be whatever I wanted to be. Lookin’ back, though, maybe he just wanted a son. Maybe I want to be his son, I don’t know. But I can remember him saying it. I can remember his voice saying ‘Jo’, and not much else of him. So maybe it’s a way to keep him alive.”
Mary sighs darkly. “I know that feeling,” she says. “My name is the only thing my parents gave me that I have left.”
Jo reaches her hand out and grasps Mary’s, giving it a tight squeeze. The loss is fresher for her still than it is for Jo - it’s been over a decade since Bill Harvelle died. It’s been not even two years since the Campbells were murdered.
They stay like that for a while, Jo’s hand locked around Mary’s. A sign of sympathy and empathy and all that’s between. Jo’s still got the straw in her mouth, and she chews it, roughly and repeatedly while she thinks of her own question she maybe shouldn’t ask. It’s an odd one, she knows that. But if Mary doesn’t want to be a mother, maybe she’s more like Jo than Jo could’ve previously hoped.
Jo coughs, roughly. The words are scratchy in her throat, like she’s forcing them out. “Did you ever want to be a son, rather than a daughter?” Jo asks. She’s trying not to think about how hard that was to say.
Mary pauses, resettles herself against the tree. “What do you mean?”
Jo can sense her face flushing red under Mary’s question. But now the words are in the air with the scents of grass and apple and she can’t take them back.
“I don’t really…” she trails off. Are there even the words in her to be found to explain what she means? “I don’t think I’ll be able to say it right. But I mean- do you sometimes think you like girls more than you want to be one?”
It’s Mary’s turn to hum, now, as she works the question over in her mind. Jo picks at the stubs of her nails while Mary does so; for all that Mary’s patient with Jo’s silence, Jo can never quite repay her with the same grace.
“I think being a girl in a place like this is hard,” Mary says, eventually, carefully. “There’s aplenty of times when I’ve wished I were a fella just to get by a little easier, or so another girl would want me how I want them. But I don’t know if that’s what you mean.”
“I don’t think I know either,” Jo sighs, restless. “It’s hard to tell the difference.”
“To tell the difference between what?”
“Well, between wanting to be with a woman, wishing I could do what a man does, and being seen as a man myself, I guess.”
Mary places her apple on the ground, and presses her fingers purposefully to her own lips, and then to Jo’s. Jo can taste the bittery sweetness of the apple’s flesh even as Mary’s fingers leave her mouth.
“What were that for?” Jo asks, helplessly falling into a smile
“‘Cause I see you got a lot happening in your mind, and I want you to know I love you for all of it.”
The words find residency in Jo’s heart and sit there, twinkling, making her feel a way she could never quite dream of describing. “Oh,” she smiles breathlessly. “Thanks.”
Mary is gazing fondly down at her, her own cheeks dimpled. She takes a breath, and twists a strand of Jo’s hair around her finger. Whether to fiddle or to keep Jo close, Jo isn’t sure. “Listen, I don’t know if this will help or not,” Mary begins. Maybe Jo would follow Mary through the darkest mine and deepest ocean, or maybe Jo just believes whatever Mary says will help. “But bein’ with you… makes me want to be a woman more than anytime else. I love loving you like this. And if you feel like you need people to see you a certain way- well I see you an’ I think you’re perfectly lovely.”
Something seems to slot into place, then, like the out of tune piano at the Roadhouse finally hitting the right chord. The words resonate, bringing the world out into a harmony which rings, rises, and then falls quietly back, like nothing has changed at all. But Jo knows it has - and she also knows the flush on her cheeks is reaching a furious red. “I didn’t just say all this to get complimented.”
“I know,” Mary laughs, and it sounds like singing. Her siren song. “But it’s true. If Joanna-Beth is strictly off limits, then I’ll call you Jo ‘til we’re sat watching the sun go down over those mountains.”
Jo furrows her eyebrows. “Well, it’s just… everybody calls me Jo,” she says, worrying at her lip. But then she thinks of that perfect chord resonating out across the long grass which Mary’s words caused. In that moment, she didn’t mind how long her hair was, because it was Mary working her fingers all the way through it. And she stares back up at Mary’s face, where the whole world is haloed by her chestnut hat. “But you ain’t everybody.”
Mary grins. “No?”
“No,” Jo replies firmly. “You call me whatever you see fit.”
She gets up properly, then, pulls the straw from her mouth with abandon and threads her fingers through the hand Mary had been carding through her hair. On her knees, Jo crawls to where Mary has her back against the tree. Mary peels herself forward, tugging Jo in with gravity until they’re both closer and closest to one another’s faces.
When their threaded hands move tenderly towards each other’s cheeks, Jo cannot tell which of them is leading the movement. They’ve merged, become one, the gossamer strands of blonde hair fluttering between them belonging to either of them.
“Just call me-” Jo pants, losing her voice as her longing overcomes her.
“What?” Mary asks. Her breath is hot and palpable against Jo’s wet lips.
Jo swallows. “Just call me yours.”
There’s a moment of just looking, where their gazes are shared with such intensity it’s like the air is honey between them. Then, they crush together, the honey dissolving as their lips meet one another’s with all the urgency of a world on fire.
Or maybe a world in flood, as everything else falls away, is carried away around Jo as she melts entirely into Mary’s desire. Mary’s hat is knocked aside with the force of their kisses, and she drags her hands up and away to throw it plain off her head before rushing her crooked fingers right back to tug on Jo’s hair, caress her cheeks.
The world is thrown open in bright sunlight - now, Mary casts no shade. The light blossoms in Jo’s eyes with the sudden change and the world is rendered white. White for bliss, white for desire, white for absolute stone-sure adoration. The shade was comfortable but this, oh this. This is a perilous serenity.
“Mine,” Mary whispers. She dips her head to press her lips to Jo’s neck and draws a sweet nectared whine from Jo’s throat. God, let her leave bruises. “Cowgirl, you’re all mine.”
#i am SO SO BEYOND EXCITED TO POST THIS#hello it's here!!!!!!!!#and genuinely it wouldn't be here without cawis everyone say THANK YOU CAWIS otherwise this would never have gotten finished#so so proud of this one#jo and mary have deep talks about names and gender and being in earth shattering lesbian love. what more could you want#and all for jo's birthday !!!!!#HAPPY BDAY JO#jo harvelle#mary winchester#mary campbell#jomary#maryjo#sapphicnatural#cowboynatural#cowgirlnatural#josjoyousbday#spn fic#ola writes
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