Random headcanons/AUs that won’t get fics anytime soon. If anyone wants to add on/chime in/create something, feel free.
(I know nothing about horses. Wikipedia tells me the parts I care to know.)
Trott is an award-winning professional English horse rider. Smith is the son of the stableman who looked after the horses, and after giving up on graduating from college, has returned home to take his dad’s place.
cw: mention of masturbation material, possible animal injury
If I need to tag something, let me know.
Trott’s family is very well-off, and owns a lavish but small ranch in the English countryside. Smith moves back home, and into Trott’s family’s rented-out renovated apartment around the back of their car corral. He only vaguely remembers Trott from growing up, visiting his dad at work to feed the horses, and watching a boy the same age as him parade around a ring in fancy attire. He didn’t see much of Trott as he got older, but he learned how to take care of horses. It got him a part time job over the summers, at a horse ranch not far from college.
But, Smith’s given up on that. He doesn’t want to think about how he’s running from the pressure, coming back home to something more familiar and yet altogether strange. His dad’s too old to take care of the horses, so now Smith’s on his own.
Smith gives up a lot to come back. Gives up on finishing his degree, moving out of his childhood hometown, playing airsoft with his mates on the weekends. All of that’s pushed towards the wayside, because now his job is to take care of and look after the prize-winning horses and make sure they’re healthy enough for events.
What Smith doesn’t expect is Trott himself.
He’s just going to have a quick lunch when he sees someone out in the practice ring, high up on Eric, one of the three horses. Eric is a younger, seal brown colored Warmblood, whereas Beck, a dark liver chestnut color, and Fuza, a buckskin color, are the older horses, and have already retired from performing in show events.
The guy up on the horse is around his age, with angular features and a scruffy patch of facial hair. His thighs and calves are long and muscular in tan jodhpurs. His burgundy t-shirt is stretched across his chest and the lines of his shoulders, and the cuff accentuates the curl of his biceps as he tugs the reigns.
Smith spends too long watching, staring at the man’s ass in those tight pants, that he canters over to him. “Are you the son of the stablehand?” he asks, de-mounting from Eric and unclipping his helmet. “I’d heard we’d gotten a new hire, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to introduce myself.” Off a horse, he’s shorter than Smith, but no less attractive in his knee-high riding boots. “You must be…Alex?” he hesitates as he says it.
“That’s me, yeah. Junior. But just call me Smith. Alex is my dad’s name.”
“Glad to hear someone’s taking over for him. He was a good help around here. I’m Chris, but Trott’s fine.” He extends a tan-gloved hand over the fence line and shakes Smith’s hand.
Smith forces himself not to make an embarrassing sound at the feeling of Trott’s soft leather gloves against his skin. Yeaaaaah, that’s gonna be masturbation fodder for later… “You’re still involved in equestrian shows with Eric, here, right?”
“Yeap. I’ve been doing hunt seat and dressage events since I was around eleven or so. Dad’s dream.” Trott gives him a tight-lipped smile and brushes his brown hair out of his eyes.
“I’ve heard you’re quite accomplished in it. And you look pretty great up there, too,” Smith compliments.
Trott chuckles. “People seem to think so.” He gestures to Eric behind him. “I’m going to let him graze for a bit while I get some lunch. Would you like to join me?”
Smith’s stomach growls, and he smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
(I’ve just realized this horse is fucked because I named him Eric. Rip)
formal: white buttoned shirt with Trott’s embroidered initials on a stock tie; black hunt coat