#Yellowstone x you

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Second Chances

A/n: first time writing for Rip Wheeler, hope to write more for him

I started this months ago and just finished but I hope it’s good :)

Warnings: implied smut, religious trauma, Beth and Rip aren’t together anymore(love Beth but it couldn’t work for the idea 😔), abuse, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

He looks so pouty and cute I can’t ���

~October 15th, 6:37 pm~

"You got a spare room, don't ya, Rip?" John's gruff voice came over the phone, voice wavering through heavy breaths.

"Yeah, why?" Rip asked, he'd just been making himself a quick dinner, body already aching for the sanctity of bed and rest.

"I'll explain later, just get it ready." John hung up before Rip could say anything more.

~7:05 am~

There was an old abandoned shed farther away from the main house, way over a few fields. It once served a purpose but now just lay, holding a few tools that no one had ever bothered to retrieve, there wasn't enough reason behind it anyway.

However, John had been passing by it the past few months with loose cattle around and kept hearing noise coming from it. At first he didn't pay much attention to it, it was most likely just some animals that had taken it over to hide away from the cooling weather, but he wanted to check it out when the sounds started getting stranger.

"Kayce," he called to his youngest son, "I want to take you with me to check out the shed up North of here." He said.

Kayce was with his wife, Monica, and son, Tate. They were having breakfast together, Tate was going off about something and Monica was listening closely, Kayce had been as well until his father came over to him.

"Up North?" He repeated. "Why? That thing’s been here longer than me, never needed to check on it before."

John sucked his teeth and shrugged. "Just come with me later, alright?" Kayce agreed, he had nothing else to do. Nothing to do with the ranch, anyway.

They couldn't head off right away, things needed to get done with the horses and such, everyone had chores.

~4:45 pm~

The two hadn't been able to leave much earlier, just getting on their horses to head out. Kayce didn't mind leaving earlier, he'd thought they'd leave later but this way he figured he'd still be able to tuck Tate in with Monica.

They arrived at the shed and sure enough those noises were back, only this time there was a light seeping through the cracks of the old wood.

Not wanting to risk getting caught they tied their horses up further away to trees, walking through the overgrown grass lit up by the setting sun, it cast a golden glow over the already yellowing field.

There was definitely someone inside, someone doing something and clinking shit together. They drew their guns as they neared the door facing into the trees.

John kicked it open, whoever was in there jumped and dropped something. "Hey-hey! Who the hell're you?!" It was a man yelling from inside. "Show yourselves to me, you crazy fucks!" Kayce gave John a worried look.

John peered in and saw the guy, scrawny fellow, shaved head, it didn't seem to be by his own fruition with how choppy it was. His clothes were tattered and stained, eyes bugging, he was clearly on something; what, they weren't sure, but they couldn't risk anything.

Kayce took the first step in, gun aimed at the man just in case. John followed shortly after and looked around while Kayce kept the man against a wall, hands in the air defensively.

"Cooking meth, you're cooking meth on my land?!" John yelled, making his way over to the man in a few short strides, raising his fist and punching him square in the face and knocking him on his ass.

There was a second thud, it didn't come from Kayce or John, not even the addict. No, this one came a second later from somewhere else.

In the corner of the shed was a smaller closet, it had been used to keep shovels and such. It wasn't small but big wasn't a good word for it, not by a longshot.

"I'll deal with this, you check on that." John said to Kayce, taking the rope from his side and kneeling next to the man, getting him over to the broken down and chipped table in the middle of the room and tying him to it as tight as he could.

"Don't, it's nothing, nothing!" The man yelled, struggling against John's hold on him.

The door creaked open and Kayce froze at the sight. "You, uh, you're gonna wanna see this, dad."

John looked up at his son, trying to get a look from where he was but needing to stand up anyway. The tied man kept yelling and squirming, shaking the table as he did.

Kayce moved to the side to let John look. The room was small, still, it held a poorly made bed, really it was just the frame with a shitty pillow and ratty old blanket thrown over it; there wasn't even a window to cover up.

In the darkness he made out a figure, a small one. A person chained to the bed. They were on their knees, elbows resting on the wood and hands clasped in one another, lips moving subtly in a silent prayer.

"Oh, Jesus Christ..." John muttered. He knelt down, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, keeping his voice gentle as it could be.

Your clothes, a shirt and cotton shorts, were browning with age, holes dug into them, blood littered over them, crusted into your shorts especially.

You finished your prayer and looked to him, keeping your gaze below his head and refusing to look any higher. You gave a small nod.

Kayce had gone back to the horses and returned with bolt cutters and handed them to his father. "We're gonna get you out of here, ok?" John said, rubbing your back. He reached for the chain wrapped around your ankle, hooking the cutters into one of the loops.

The feeling of him trying to get the chain off was more than you could bear, this room had been all you'd known for years, that chain had been around your ankle for years, rubbing on it and making your skin raw.

You swatted at John's hand, pushing him away and backing yourself into the corner across from the bed. Your breathing was heavy and you shook your head, this chain was keeping you here and still, you couldn't lose it.

John looked to Kayce who was chewing his cheek, thinking of ways to help.

The son took the cutters from his dad and moved to kneel in front of you. "I'm not gonna hurt you, alright? I just want to help, I can't do that with this thing." He said. Kayce was much gentler than John, his voice not as gruff and warmer. He looked you up and down, taking in your disheveled state and seeing how panicked you were. "Can you tell me your name?" He asked, not bothering to make you look at him, it was the least of his concerns right now.

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap. You thought for a moment before shaking your head.

Kayce sighed. "Well, I'm Kayce Dutton, I live on this farm land with my family... we- my dad and I” he said, gesturing back to John, “want to take you there, we can get you food and a change of clothes... a proper bed to sleep in."

"They're lying! They're liars, don't listen to them!" The addict yelled. John groaned and went to him, tying the rope tighter around him. You couldn't hear what John was saying and you were too panicked to care.

"I am not lying, I can't promise you much more than my word, do you trust my word?" Kayce asked, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over the back of your palm in a soothing moment. You gave a small nod. "Alright now, I won't cut it all off, does that sound better?" You much preferred that compromise.

He didn't leave much, just keeping it around your ankle and then a few chains to keep a bit of extra weight, what you were used to, at least similar to it.

"Kayce, we gotta go." John said, peaking back into the room. "Now. Come on, let's go!" John hurried out, leaving you and Kayce alone.

"Can you walk?" You shook your head, Kayce exhaled with a nod. "I'm gonna pick you up and carry you out to the horses, alright?" You paused a moment but there wasn't much time for him to wait for you, quickly wrapping his arms around you and carrying you out of the shed and to the horses where John was already waiting, horses untied and ready to go.

The sky above you, the trees and the grass, all of it was so familiar and new all at the same time. The cool chill of the night hitting your face and body, your skin so pale in comparison to everything else. For just a moment you were struck with this envious look, all of this had been waiting for you? Just a few feet away? But then it all came crashing down as it settled in you that you were outside, alone and vulnerable.

As soon as you reached the horses you started panicking again, yelling and screaming and reaching out for the shed again as the man called out for you as well. Kayce laid you on the horse and gave it a smack to get it going, John was on the other horse, holding the reins to Kayce's horse and moving while Kayce started running just behind you both.

He didn't get far before the shed caught far, exploding. Kayce was already far enough away and wasn't injured, no one was but the man holding you captive was definitely gone, a foot landing not far from you.

You screamed until your throat hurt, until nothing came out. Your eyes red and stinging from tears as you cried out, body shaking over the horse.

John slowed down and Kayce caught up with you, taking the reins of his horse back and leading it back to the farm. "Kayce, call 911, we need to stop the fire." John spoke, taking out his own phone.

The land was damp and frosted, chances are the fire wouldn't make it very far, besides, the houses were much too far for it to cause any real damage. Still, the fire was right on the tree's edge and they couldn't risk too much.

The phone rang in John's hand, all while you wailed in the background. "You got a spare room, don't ya, Rip?"

~7:16 pm~

Rip had set up the spare room, there really wasn't much to set, the bed was made and it wasn't a particularly messy room, dusty, sure, but not messy.

There was a knock on his door and he went to answer it, opening it to find John with a more than distraught you under his arm. "I'll go get some of Beth's old clothes, get her in the shower, clean her up.” The older man ordered, gently pushing you towards Rip.

Rip was caught so off guard and just held you close to him for several minutes while John walked away, back down the hill to the main house. He looked down to you as you stared at the ground. Your hair was matted, face a mess, clothes… he didn’t even want to think about it so he just guided you to the bathroom and set you down on the floor while he ran the water in the tub, making sure it was nice and warm since you were shivering.

He glanced back at you, huddled in the corner, knees to your chest, tears rolling down your cheeks. “What’s yer name, kid?” He asked, keeping his voice gentle. You shivered and shook your head, you didn’t know him, you didn’t know what was going on, where you were. You were more than scared of this big, strange man, no matter how kind he seemed off the bat.

Rip sucked his teeth and nodded, understanding that this was something new for you. “I’m Rip… I’m a cowboy, you know what a cowboy is?” You shook your head again. “A cowboy is someone who protects the people around them… people like you, you understand?” You didn’t but you nodded anyway. “So, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’d never do that… and if anyone hurts you, you tell me, alright?” You nodded again.

Rip looked back to the water as the tub filled up. “What are you doing?” You asked, also looking to the tub as water poured out the faucet.

“I-I’m getting a bath ready for you.” He answered simply, raising a brow at your question. “You’ve had a bath before, right?” He looked you over, you didn’t look like you had.

“When-when I was younger…” You answered softly. “To wash away the day's filth is to wash away God’s path for you, your history.” You explained. Rip sighed, he wasn’t a very religious man but that sounded cultish to him, seeing your disheveled state…

“That’s not what God said, you know…” He said, hoping you’d look up at him but you didn’t. “If that’s what he really wanted he wouldn’t have made lakes and rivers for us to clean in… he would’ve made it harder to do that, would’ve put up a sign or something.” You thought about what he said. Nothing was changing overnight but after everything today you were at a loss, you couldn’t go back to the room you knew, all you had was Rip right now.

“Do you need help out of your clothes?” He asked, gesturing to you with a nod. You’ve heard those words before, not in that order, not in that tone, but you understood that much and shook your head.

You stood and pulled your shirt up over your head, Rip looked away to give you some privacy, as if he wasn’t about to wash you himself. You pulled your shorts off and tossed them aside to the corner before going to the sink, now Rip looked at you, confusion swirling in his eyes as you placed your hands on the edge of the sink, parting your legs and looking down into the sink.

Rip stared at you dumbfounded. Your clothes covered in blood and basically standing alone in the corner, it made sense now and he jumped to his feet, gathering you in his arms and bringing you over to the tub, carefully setting you down in the warm water. “You don’t ever have to do that again, you hear me?” He said, holding your mucky hair out of your face, turning your head to look at him. You closed your eyes, refusing to look at his face. “Can you look at me?” You shook your head. “What’s stopping you?” He let go of your face, letting you look back to the water turning brown around you.

You swirled your hand in the water, amused by its ripples. “He said you may not look man in the eyes for it disrespects him and taints your soul.” Rip exhaled sharply, staring at you a moment longer before reaching back to get a washcloth from the cabinet under the sink.

He rubbed soap into the cloth, letting it bubble in his hands before running it over your bruised and battered skin, listening to every hiss you let out from the scars it passed over and caught on. Your ribs and inner thighs were the worst of it, all it did was anger Rip more and more by the second.

“I’ve got no respect to lose, you can look at me.” He muttered, running the cloth down your arm. “Your soul… that’s something you can’t touch with your eyes.” You didn’t respond.

He continued to bathe you as you rested your chin on your knees, eyes slowly closing until you couldn’t keep them open any longer, you were used to sleeping in this position, your body accepting it as normal while Rip fought the urge to pull you closer to him.

He’d never felt this with someone before, other than Beth. He wasn’t speaking to Beth anymore, she left and made sure he knew she was done with him, tore his heart out and made him eat it.

He didn’t want to think of that right now, he wanted to help you, that was his focus, his only priority.

~7:45 pm~

Rip had been struggling with your hair for too long, he’d finally managed to get your body clean but your hair was beyond repair. A knotted, matted mess that just needed to be shaved off.

A knock came to the bathroom door and it creaked open and John stepped in, keeping his back to the bath as he held out a pile of clothes. "I got you somethin' to wear, just, uh, put these on when you're done" He said, looking down the hallway with a nervous look etched on his face. "I gotta go find Rip." He said lower.

Rip stopped trying to untangle your hair, it was only harder because you were asleep and he didn't want to wake you. He cleared his throat. "I'm right here, sir" He said softly. "She needed help."

John's head snapped to him before he quickly looked away again to avoid looking at you naked. "What the hell are you doing?! She's been locked up and used like a fucking doll, you don't know what she'll think of this!" Rip hung his head, he knew what John was talking about, seen it in the way you reacted sometimes, your clothes. "You're supposed to be keeping her safe, Rip."

Even with his harsh words and the deeper meaning behind them, it was hard to take him so seriously when he was scared to look into the bathroom. "I-I know, Sir, I was just helping... she needed it..."

John let out a heavy sigh. He set the clothes on the counter beside the sink. "Just finish up and get her into bed, not your bed. I wanna talk to you for a minute." He said, closing the door behind him and heading down the hall to the living room.

Rip let out a heavy sigh, very few times had he disappointed John, he hated it every time. However, he couldn't just get this done quick.

He looked to the counter and pulled out a drawer, looking into it and seeing his razor. It was the best thing for you.

He dried you off and got you dressed, doing his best not to wake up, which turned out to be easier than he’d thought it would be, you were just out and he kept checking your pulse.

He shaved your head, it was better than leaving that mess on your head, then he washed your scalp, being careful around the sores. He carried you to the guest room and tucked you in, running a hand over the fuzz that covered your head now.

John was waiting for him out in the living room, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He stared at Rip as he came down the hall. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Rip inhaled deeply as he took a seat on the other side of the couch. “I was thinking she needed help and I helped… I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think.” John grumbled. “Look, she seems content with you if she was able to sleep, you keep an eye on her.” He stood up and went to the door, stopping just short of it. “That’s all you keep on her, ya hear?” He stated, shooting him a look. Rip nodded and John left.

Rip stayed there a moment, thinking about… everything before eventually getting up and walking back to the guest room where you slept peacefully under the sheets.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand down the side of your face. “You’re too young for this.” He muttered to himself.

You began to stir, eyes slowly blinking open and you looked up at him. He stared back at you, your eyes were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, tortured and innocent, there was a purity in them he’d never seen in anything.

“You’re looking at me.” He said, cupping your cheek in his rough, clean hand. His hand had probably never been this clean before in his life.

You brought your hand up to hold his against your face. “You’re pretty.” You mumbled, drawing a chuckle from him.

“Am I?” You nodded with a smile. He sighed and looked over you once more. “What’s your name?”

You hesitated a moment. “Three.” Rip paused.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not your name, that’s a number, I asked for your name.”

You stared up at him with a blank stare, blinking tiredly. “Three.” You repeated.

Rip stared, eyes flickering over your face, taking in your doe like features. “Is that the name he gave you?” You nodded, sitting up with a grunt, body aching. “I’m not calling you that.”

“That’s my name.” You stated firmly, Rip was surprised that you’d use a tone with him but he didn’t care, he wasn’t calling you a number.

For several moments you sat there, staring at each other. Rip brought his hand back to your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. He leaned in and closed the distance between you both, his lips on yours.

It was gentle and warm, passionate but not heated. Love was a complicated concept but you’d never felt it before, he hadn’t gotten ahold of it himself, still, he was determined to show you there were brighter sides to this world than what you’d seen.

A knock on the door reminded him of where he was, who was with, what was happening. He pulled away, seeing the way you were now looking at him; eyes wide, full of something new, something eager and curious.

The knock came again and he got up. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He said, giving you a last kiss. “Just lay down, darlin’.” You nodded with a smile as you moved down the bed.

He went to answer the door quickly, rushing to get it open so he could get back to you.

On the other side was Beth. He hadn’t seen her, nor wanted to see her, in so long, what felt like forever.

She was on him in an instant, arms around his neck, his own lifting her up as he carried her to his room. He knew he shouldn’t, that you were waiting for him.

It kept him up late after Beth was done with him, when she was sleeping next to him, using him for warmth, what else it was she’d use him for he couldn’t guess, there were too many options.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

☀️ - A nice day outside || Rip Wheeler ||

It was a perfect day at the ranch and Rip wanted nothing more than to spend it with you, now all he had to do was to find you?

Slipping out of his truck then stepping into the small clinic you worked in, a bright grin bloomed on the man’s face as he tugged you into his embrace as a squeal escaped your lips.

“Rip!”

“I can not tell you how much I love hearing you scream my name.”

Scowling, you twisted your body giving his cheek a playful slap. “You’re such a pervert.”

Giving you a playful wink, Rip then tugged you towards the exit despite your protests. “I have to work!”

“Didn’t ya hear darlin, you got the day off.”

Slumping against his chest, you sighed waving goodbye to your coworkers following Rip out out to his truck. “You’re such an ass Rip, where are we going?”

Kissing your hand, he gave you another wink starting the car then driving off.

“It’s a surprise.”

•

“Rip.”

Your gaze softened seeing a blanket laid out on the field, you then glanced over at your lover as he gave you a sheepish smile rubbing the back of his neck.

“Awe don’t look at me like that darling…you deserve this and more.”

Shaking your head you grasped his hand tugging him towards the blanket. It took a small push for the man to stumbled back. Now laying on the blanket, Rip gave you a large grin. “Now what do you think you’re doing?”

Sitting yourself upon his lap, you let your fingers slip under his shirt as your lips grazed his cheek, his beard tickling your face. “How about we take advantage of this beautiful day.”

Grasping your ass, he gave it a squeeze as he pulled you in for a quick kiss. “I love the way you think.”

[itsstrange]

The Promise

Relationship: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Fandom: Yellowstone

A/N: A small idea I had while daydreaming at work, hope y’all like it. 🥹

Summary: Saying Goodbye Is Always The Hardest. So Is Keeping A Promise.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: (No) Angst, Mention of Military, Farewells, A Little Sad Moment, Angry Rip, Sad Rip, Arguments, Small Confessions.

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ENJOY 🐎

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“So… you’re really goin’ back?”

You look up, meeting his eyes before averting them back down to your duffel bag where you toss the stack of clothes inside. The clothes that have been folded, locked away underneath the bed for the past five years. The clothes you swore you wouldn’t wear again, wouldn’t dare to see until you had kids in the future to explain to them why you had a pile of clothes and photos locked away in some old worn trunk that dusted away underneath your bed.

Unfortunately it didn’t last to reach that day because here you are, packing away the clothes into your tactical duffel bag that was also locked away.

“How long?”

You inhale deeply through your nose before slowly exhaling, still not meeting their gaze you continue packing away, placing the frame photo of you and the boys in the center before zipping the duffel shut.

“Not sure.. too early to say,” You answer as you move the bag to the foot of the bed before sitting down,

“When do you leave?”

You swallow, feeling the way your chest tightens at the thought, “Tomorrow, before sunrise,”

Thick silence hovers the room. Everyone thinking and feeling the same thoughts, emotions.

“And why are you going back again?”

“Will you morons knock it off with the questions,” Lloyd’s husky voice bouncing off the wooden walls brings a small smile and a chuckle from you,

“A buddy of mine needs help,” You still answer Jimmy’s question, which he doesn’t respond with another mostly because he can see the way Lloyd gives him the look,

No other questions were sent your way, neither of them wanting a look from Lloyd as well, nor did they want you to dwell on the heavy mood that hovered. So instead, Ryan and Colby were the first to bring up a farewell party, change of topic. You kindly decline their idea, but of course neither men listens to you.

As Ryan and Colby begin listing items on what to bring for the farewell bonfire, and yelling at one another on who gets to keep your bunk (because it’s the closest one to the bathroom) you couldn’t help the small chuckle that falls from your lips. You were really going to miss every single person in this room. Despite them making you lose a few strands of hair from their idiotic actions, and constant bar brawls, you were surely going to miss them.

They made every other day interesting, every night annoying and fun at the same time with their childlike games that they come up with that sometimes leaves them with bruises or a chipped tooth. Everyday, every night, they made it special and you were definitely gonna miss it.

“Hey I’m not leaving just yet, I still got the whole day and the night before y’all start fighting over my bunk,” You say as you stand from the bed, punching both men on their shoulders,

They both share a laugh with you as they continue listing whatever alcohol they should buy, asking if you preferred hotdogs or burgers as you all walked out the house.

Saying goodbye to them was hard, but not as hard as it’s gonna be when you say it to him. Now that.. that will definitely break your heart. The look in his eyes when you tell him, you can already picture them and from the way your chest tightens, you know it’ll be difficult.

*******

You were currently feeding the rest of the horses inside the stables. Marking down the ones who needed a wash and a trim, which stables needed cleaning. Same old routine before having to check up on the rest of the animals, considering your main job at the ranch was analyzing and tracking the animals health. You weren’t exactly a veterinarian, but you learned a few things throughout the years which John persuaded you to take up on his offer of being in charge of the animals when it came to their monthly health checkups. So of course you took classes to advance your knowledge, to help around the ranch, make it easier for the old timer.

Yes he did have actual trained, experienced, veterinarians working on his animals before, but knowing how you easily picked up the job, how much love and care you gave to the livestock, he knew it was a good investment on both parts. Besides, he trusted you dearly in that department.

Hours had flown by, nearing six o’clock in the afternoon as you were finishing up in the stables before heading out to help Lloyd and the boys to check out some of the cows that were further up in the land. As well as putting up a new fence since the one hanging on was already rusting away due to the weather these past few days, as well as some idiotic trespassers cutting through the fence simply to test the Dutton family.

Just as you throw some fresh hay into one of the stables and patted the horse in its neck as he eats his dinner, the sound of loud rough boots marching against the ground ring in your ears.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” His loud, rough voice settles behind you, words firm as you dumped hay into the last stable,

You sigh, taking off your gloves and placing them in your back pocket before looking up at him. Eyes wide, angry, betrayal, and fear were written in them. Just like you pictured.

“Yes.. I was,”

“When? Tomorrow? When you leave apparently?” Betrayal can be heard in his voice, blue eyes confirming his tone,

“There hasn’t been a good time to let you know,” You tell him, voice calm, tired, heartbroken,

It wasn’t a lie. When he had gotten back from running an errand with Kayce you were determined to lay it on him, but things got hectic that you weren’t even able to spare him a word. It remained that way for the rest of the day, work after work, problem after problem, when lunch came around he wasn’t at the table eating his supper with everyone else, he was out with Dutton, doing the man a favor, so wanting to talk to him during lunch didn’t happen like you were hoping for.

You told yourself you’d let him know when he came back, but apparently he was out and about with Dutton for the rest of the day. So by the time he had came back was at this very moment, catching you feeding the horses inside the stables. Dutton must’ve told him at some point during their errand runs, who else could have? You weren’t annoyed it was your boss who gave him the news, but you were hoping it’d be you who told him because it came from you, no one else.

“Do you not remember what that place did to you?!” He harshly whispers, taking a step closer to you, “Cause I sure as hell can!”

You lower your gaze to the floor with a faint sigh at his words. Of course you remember. How can one forget something like that? The constant nightmares, the flashbacks, mood swings, not knowing what was real or not, the cold sweats, all of it you remember. The first few weeks of being home after being honorably discharged were rather difficult, your body knew it was home, safe, but your mind was still at war. Constant nightmares played in your in head, bullets flying everywhere, blood stains surrounding you, staining your hands and vest. Screams echoing in your mind on a daily from those who were gunned down, who were injured and were slowly bleeding out in your hands.

It was an everyday thing. The boys, Rip, would beg you to get help, to talk to someone, but you’d just shrug them off telling them you were fine, that it’ll pass.

But you were in fact not okay and the nightmares never ceased.

It was after one particular night that everything had changed. The one night that had you finally reaching out for help, the night that had you admitting that you were not okay.

You had been home for two weeks when it had happened. All it took was a hectic, drunken brawl to trigger the episode. One minute you’re enjoying your beer, slightly laughing at a joke that one of the boys shared, letting lose to ease the noise in your head, then the next you’re being pulled off a blonde head who’s face was nearly disfigured beneath you. Blood covering her once fresh face and clean hair, along with your hands that shook from adrenaline, anger, fear, shell shock.

Once Rip got word of what happened he stormed his way to the bunkhouse which is where he had found you staring at your own reflection in the bathroom. The way a cold and lost look was written in your eyes will forever be embedded in his mind. It wasn’t you who stood standing in front of the mirror with tensed shoulders, hair a mess from sweat and dried blood, the real you was trapped in your mind.

It nearly took all night to bring you back, but not once did he give up.

“Rip,” You softly call his name with an exhausted sigh as you close the door to the stable,

“No. You’re not going!” Blue eyes widening more with fear and rage,

“Yes I am,” You respond in a whisper, “They need me,”

“And we need you here!” I need you here.

It was what he should’ve said, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Wasn’t exactly how he wanted to let you know the truth, wanted to do it the right way, a more intimate, genuine way. But now, he’s out of time. And most likely lost his chance.

He lost you.

“Rip-,” You begin to say but was interrupted by Kacey walking in the stables,

“We’re loaded to fix the fence,” You turn to him before giving him a small nod,

The youngest Dutton switches his gaze from you to the brute man staring intensely at you, knowing then he had walked into something and immediately sensing the tension surrounding the air. He’s felt this mood before, felt tension between you two every so often, but for some reason this time it was stronger, as if one wrong word said would ignite the awaiting flame. So without another word and only a simple nod, he turns to walk away, giving you two privacy. However, you didn’t stick around. Both to just get the day over with and also to postpone the argument.

If you even get a chance to talk about it with him again.

You hear Rip call out to you as you walk out the stables, halting your steps. You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes, but no words were said, so instead you let out a sad sigh through your nose as you continue walking out the building. Leaving the brute man alone in the stables with angered thoughts.

*****

Hours had flown by. After fixing the fence, which took nearly the whole day since it was worse than anyone thought, doing daily health checks on the animals, running a quick errand with Beth, everyone was finally able to wash up and spend the remaining hours with you. Everyone sat around the bonfire sharing stories about anything and everything, chatter, laughter and music can be heard in the darkened night.

Empty beer and whiskey bottles, sticks with dried marshmallows and chocolate littered the ground around everyone’s feet. It was a night you’d deeply remember, a night you’d miss, a night you wished would happen every Friday, but you knew it wouldn’t be possible. At least not with you. Not anymore. You tried keeping a strong face, positive thoughts, positive energy, for the sake of everyone around you. They all had high hopes of you coming back home, claiming you’d be home in less than two months because you were tough as a bull, but you knew the truth. The reality of it all.

Obviously you didn’t remind them of the truth, didn’t want to take away the little happiness they held onto for you, the strong faith they had. So all you did was smile at them, raise your glass and down the last bit of your drink. Every so often you’d get lost in your thoughts, thinking of the mission, the serious consequences, the challenges that will come with it, the horror you’ll soon face, but before you can trap yourself in such thoughts they were there to bring you back. Invite you to their conversations, their stories they were sharing, their jokes, which you were thankful for.

What you didn’t notice was the way a pair of blue eyes have been secretly staring at you from across the fire pit. A dark corner where the fire barely illuminated his features. Light or not he didn’t care if he was caught staring at you, everyone was able to read his opinion of the whole situation but no one dared to ask him about it. He was already a fumed bull waiting to be provoked.

There were times where you’d glance up and catch him staring, but not once did you confront him. Making a scene in front of everyone was the last thing you wanted, so you ignored him and his glaring daggers.

Although, at one point during the night, Colby was the one to mention they had ran out of marshmallows, which you volunteered to grab the extra pack from the bunk house. Slightly buzzed you make your way through the Dutton ranch with sluggish steps till you push open the door to the bunks. Walking to the kitchen you grab the new pack of marshmallows sitting on the counter along with another couple chocolate bars. Just as you turn to head back out, your steps come to a stop when you see Rip standing by the couch.

Face emotionless, but eyes dark, red. Was he crying?

“Havin’ fun?” Rip questions, tone cold and firm, yet his blue eyes have another written emotion in them,

You shrug a shoulder, “Tryin’,”

He scoffs, “Yeah I see that.. but it ain’t workin’,”

You knew exactly what he was referring to. The constant lost in thought when the conversation was directed somewhere else. What you didn’t know until now was those same eyes that have been staring at you from the dark were analyzing you throughout the entire night. Watching the way your smile quickly faded as you once again lost yourself in your thoughts, watching the way your fingers peeled off the label from your beer bottle, the way your leg bounced uncontrollably from nerves, fear, and anxiousness. He knew you were afraid, he read you perfectly, but he knew nothing he’d say would change your mind. Not now, not ever.

You were stubborn like a goddamn mule.

“Yeah well, it’s a little hard to have fun when I got two sets of eyes throwing daggers at me all night,” You say, matching his tone as you stare into his eyes,

Heavy tension once again surrounds you two, the muffled music coming from outside was the only thing that can be heard in the room. Neither of you said anything for a good minute or so, just staring at one another with pain written in both your eyes with tears threatening to build. This wasn’t how you wanted to give your farewells to him. Having an argument with him before you left was something you did not want, but yet here you are.

“Can we just..,” You pause, letting out an exhausted sigh before continuing, “Enjoy the rest of the night before I have to catch a flight in a few hours?”

Rip stares deep in your eyes. Hurt, sadness, anger, and fear were written in his blue ones, they were easy to read, especially when he stared at you the way he was staring. He didn’t bother to hide it, yet he didn’t express it to you verbally. Not like he had to or wanted to, it was obvious on how he felt of the whole situation.

“They’re out there celebrating your death..,” He says pointing a long finger at the door then continues with, “.. and I ain’t being apart of it,”

His voice slightly breaks with each word. His blue eyes standing out more when tears begin building, but not one dares to slide down his cheeks, at least not in front of you. Not saying another word, he turns around and heads out the door with a harsh shove that has it banging against the wall.

Whatever string was left holding your heart in place had finally snapped as you watched the door shut behind him. The last memory you’d have of him. This wasn’t how you wanted to leave things with him, he was the only one who could have helped you through it, fought through the dark times, the constant noises in your head. He was the only one who you stayed alive for while you were out in the field, but now that he’s walked away, not wanting any part of it, you didn’t know if it was even worth staying alive once you landed on base. He was your anchor to it all.

And now you’d be stranded in the dark, drowning with nothing to hold you upright. Keep you up float when you felt like sinking, when you felt like the water was too strong for your fighting body. The one person who could’ve saved you from it all was now walking away, leaving you alone.

‘Maybe it was for the best.’

You tell to yourself. You convince yourself. Maybe him not being apart of it, apart of your life would one day guide him to a better life with the love of his life, guide him to someone who can make him happier, stronger, happier.

It was for the best that he left.

*****

4:30 am

Throwing your duffle and backpack in the backseat you shut the door before facing the small crowd. You give everyone a big hug, including the man himself, John Dutton who hugged you for a good long minute before being slightly shoved by Beth who took you in a stronghold as she secretly let the tears fall down her cheeks. You don’t know how, but you kept your own tears from spilling down. Once departing from the woman you go ahead and start hugging the cowboys, sharing a few laughs with them as they joke with you one last time. Which you appreciated their effort in trying to lighten things up, but you knew they knew nothing they can say now will help. But still, you appreciate it.

“So.. who won?” You say when Ryan and Colby stand in front of you,

They both share a look, small smile forming on their lips, “Neither,” Colby says,

You give them a confused look, but Ryan continues with, “We decided to leave it ready for you when you come back,”

Come back. Something you knew was a big word at the moment.

“Can’t have it ready forever,” You say with a sad chuckle,

“We can and we will,” Ryan firmly states, letting you know no one will come near the empty bed unless it’s you,

It was a faint demand from them. They wanted you to come back, no matter how hard it will be, they demanded that you come back to reclaim your bed at the bunkhouse, and that alone brought the ball back in your throat.

“Gonna miss you dorks,” You manage to say before quickly bringing them both for a group hug,

Both men wrap their arms around you, burying their faces in your hair as they cherish the moment. As you go to pull away both their hands on either side of your hip tighten, not wanting the hug to end, but eventually step away from you.

You give them a small smile and then a small wave to everyone huddle in front of you before turning around to climb into the truck where Roscoe patiently waited for you.

“Ready?” The soldier asks as you take one last glance out the window, watching everyone wave at you with saddened smiles, the ranch standing tall and beautifully behind them.

Letting out a small sigh you give him a nod.

In a matter of seconds the truck roars to life before beginning to move down the driveway and out of the Duttons ranch. Silence engulfs the car, only the sound of the radio softly playing in the speakers is heard. Leaning your head against the headrest behind you, you let your mind drift away, thinking about everyone at the ranch, playing their faces in your mind to not forget them, your fingers softly playing with a small deer origami that Tate had made for you last night for good luck. Then thinking about him once again.

Remembering how things were left between you two. Wishing you could’ve fixed things before you left, wished you could’ve said the truth, wished he could’ve have given you the chance to let you show him just how much he meant to you. But he didn’t. None of it happened.

So now, all you’ll think about is What If.

While driving halfway out the ranch and you still being lost in thought, you didn’t capture the moment a large black figure blending in the dark speeding in your direction until the truck comes to an abrupt stop. Causing your seatbelt to lock just in time to catch your body from going forward.

“The fuck?” Roscoe reacts, putting the gear in park as he eyes the figure that is currently blocking his way,

You clench your jaw as you make eye contact with him, even in the dark and with the only source of light from the headlights you both immediately lock eyes.

Of course it’s Rip on top of his horse. Black hat on his head with his black jacket wrapped on his frame.

“I’ll take care of this,” You say, never breaking eye contact with him as you unbuckle yourself and open the door,

“(Y/n) we don’t have time for this,” Roscoe tries arguing back, but you repeat yourself as you hop off the truck,

Shutting the door and standing by it you face him, where he still remained on top of his horse.

“Rip seriously what is your problem? I don’t have time to deal with you right now!” You yell as the brute man climbs off his horse,

A grim look was written on his face as he makes his way towards you. A look he only has when he’s angry about something, and right about now he’s angry at you, you knew that.

“I swear to god Rip if you don’t get out the way I’m gonna-,” Your words were cut off by a pair of rough lips latching onto yours,

Your eyes grow wide in anger, shock, and confusion. But once you feel the way his hand gently cups the side of your face you realize what exactly is happening and only react back. Your own hands finding their way to his face, fingers slowly tangling themselves in his soft, dark curly hair at the base of his neck. A deep, saddened relieved sigh escapes from you two as you both pour the hidden truth into the kiss. Deepening it and cherishing the moment at the same time, neither one wanting or planning to break it off, but you both knew it had to happen, you had to leave.

Which is why Rip got a little selfish for a second, he deepened the kiss, licking his way into your mouth as he held a tight grip on your hip to not let you out of his hold. Just a few more seconds of this, he had to. If this was the only time he would get this opportunity until you came back home, then he was sure as hell he would take every second that was available to have you in his arms, have your lips molding with his, have your fingers tugging on his hair, have your breath fanning his lips, have both your hot tears smear against his own cheeks. He was taking advantage of the moment because he knew it would be more than a month that he would be able to feel it again. Feel this moment again.

Eventually, you both do break the kiss, but not once did he let an inch form between you two. Leaning his forehead against yours, he lets you both catch a breather from the intense, beautiful moment.

“You come back to me you hear?” He whispers, beautiful blue eyes now searching for your own,

When he finally does find your (E/c) eyes that he has grown to love, he whispers once again, “You come home,”

New tears fall down your cheeks at his words, you knew you couldn’t make such a big promise, especially in your line of work. It was a rule, a rule everyone in the military who serves knew they should never make, because they knew reality was always behind that promise.

You stare into those blue eyes of his that have tears of their own, some finding their way down his rough skin, while the rest build at the brim of his eyes. You knew he knew you couldn’t make that promise, but he knew you’d fight for it no matter what, no matter how impossible it might seem, because he knew you always kept your promise. That’s who you were. Loyal, loving, protective, unafraid, and a true fighter.

You stare into his eyes a little longer, feeling the way another tear slides down your cheeks then feeling the rough pad of his thumb gently wiping it away. The words get caught in your throat, the words where you wanted to tell him to be realistic, to not make you promise anything because disappointment and pain is the only thing he’ll receive, but before you can even force them out you hear your name being called from inside the truck.

“We gotta go,” Roscoe softly says, hating to interrupt the moment, hating to part you from the man you clearly love,

You sniff, looking down at the ground then back up to Rip where he only gives you a small smile.

“C’mon,” Rip whispers as he leads you back into the truck,

Once sitting inside, shutting the door, Rip points at the man behind the wheel before saying, “You look after her you hear?”

Roscoe nods at him, “You’ve got my word man,”

Rip nods back before averting his eye to you. You sat there, tears still slowly sliding down your cheeks, you weren’t ready to say goodbye to him, not after you both finally confessed to each other. Which reminds you, you had to say it, in fear of not being able to ever again.

“Rip I-,” You try but he cuts you off with a shake of his head,

“No. Don’t say it. You say it when you come back,” He demands, small smile tugging on the corner of his lips, “Just know I do too,”

I do too.

You sniff once again, tears falling down as you glance behind him, seeing the ranch and the bunkhouse glow in the background. Memories flash in your mind. All those laughs, tears, injuries that you’ve accumulated over the years with everyone who lives and works at the ranch played in your head, reminding you that you had a family to come back to once again, you had friends who were also waiting for you to come back with open arms. You had a life to get back to.

Come back.

Averting your eyes back to his that had tears of their own falling down his cheeks, you stare at him as you remembered, you had him to come back to. He was your main reason to come back home, he was the reason why you weren’t going to die in the field, he was the reason why you weren’t going to give up when shot down, he was the reason why you weren’t going bleed out. He was your reason why you were coming home.

And if anyone tried stopping you from doing so, then it would be the last thing they ever did.

Because you are coming home.

Reaching a hand out the window, you let your small held cup his bearded cheek before letting your own thumb wipe away the tears that fall down. Looking into his eyes with a firm stare, a promise, you let him hear the words.

“I’m coming home,”

—————

-Ahhh It’s Finally Here!!! I’m Not Kidding I Have Been Going Back & Forth With This One. Mostly Because I Had Writers Block, But Also Because I Would Change A Lot Things & Finding New Ideas To Replace The Old Ones.

-But Again! Thank You To Those Who Have Been Patient & Have Been Waiting For This Wheeler Fic! More To Come!!

-Lastly, Make Sure To Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 🔔 For More Updates!

—————

Part 2 << SOON

[bullet-prooflove]

Thrill of the Chase: Rip Wheeler x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging @kmc1989

Rip knows a horse thief when he sees one, especially when she’s riding John Dutton’s favourite mare, Starbuck. When he sees you up on the pasture astride the horse, he can’t believe the fucking audacity of it.

Most wranglers will wait until after dark, try and shuffle the horse into a truck but you, your brazen. It’s like you just climbed up on the damn thing and took it for a ride.

Rip won’t stand for it.

He’s after you in an instant, his heels digging into Marlowe’s sides as he spurs on the stallion. You see him coming, its impossible not to when you’re on top of that hill. You turn tail, run but Rip, he’s always been about the chase, he’ll dog you until the ends of the earth if you make him.

It takes him a couple of minutes to realise you’re fucking with him, when he starts to catch up you suddenly pull ahead, when he falls back too far you slow it down. It’s a game to you and it riles Rip, sends a flush of rage and adrenaline through his body.

He’s going to catch you, there’s no doubt in his mind because what you don’t know is that that horse has a stiff leg, it doesn’t go the distance. That’s why Starbuck was in that stall all alone, waiting for the vet’s assessment.

When he cuts you off, it’s by the stream that winds through the furthest meadow. His stallion darts in front of yours and Starbuck rears almost throwing you. It’s by the grace of God you remain in the saddle. You’re off the horse in an instant and so is he.

He doesn’t realise how pretty you are until you’re in his face, cussing him out, shoving him. You have quite the mouth on you too, he’s surprised God doesn’t strike you down where you stand.

He grabs you under the arms, drawing you close against his body to stop you from hurting him and that’s when it happens, that’s when he feels that spark, and that spark it starts a fire. He knows you feel it too because suddenly your fingers are gripping his shirt and instead of hitting him, you’re kissing him.

It turns into a wildfire, raw, passionate and all consuming. He doesn’t know how he ends up pants down in the grass, fucking you but being inside you, it’s like nothing else he’s ever experienced.

It’s when he tugs your braid loose that he realises just how much you like your hair being pulled, so he yanks it a little harder and you make the sweetest fucking noise as you come on his cock. It doesn’t take him long after that, a few more thrusts and he’s coming with you, his mouth covering yours, drinking down your pleasure.

He thinks he dozes off in the aftermath, the warmth of your body pressed against his in the midst of spring. He’s drowsy, sated, relaxed, the sun high in the sky above him, the scent of the earth surrounding him.

The next thing he knows he’s waking up to the sound of galloping hooves. When he raises his head, he sees you riding away on his stallion Marlowe, leaving him with a lame horse and his dick in the wind.

He slams his head back into the ground and stares up at the cloudless sky.

His curse has always been to love wild women.

He trudges back to the stables with Starbuck in tow, his jeans grass stained and fury he hasn’t felt in a long time. The others must see the darkness in his expression because they don’t question the fact it looks like he’s taken a tumble. When he puts Starbuck back in her stall, he’s surprised to find Marlowe back in his, chomping on a bundle of fresh hay.

“Hi boy,” He says softly, his palm running over the stallion’s nose. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

That’s the part that hurt, the idea he wouldn’t get to see Marlowe again. The two of them have been partners in crime ever since he started at Yellowstone.

When he steps inside the main house to tell John there’s a thief in their midst he’s surprised to find you sitting pretty on the couch, sipping from a mug of tea. You’ve re-braided your hair and when you look at him, it’s as if you haven’t just fucked the shit out of each other up on the pasture.

“Rip.” John greets him as he turns in his seat. “Imogen was just telling me about Starbuck.”

“The old girl just needed a little run, she’d been cooped up in the stable too long, that’s what was causing her stiffness.” You say as you set the cup down on the coffee table in front of you. You raise to your feet, holding out your hand to take his. “I’m the new vet, my friends call me Jen.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[ohrackham]

It's settled. We're getting married.

[misquoted-chronicles]

Y/n: Here's your cup of warm coffee, Rip.

Rip: It's cold.

Y/n: Cup of coffee.

Rip: I'm not even sure if it's coffee.

Y/n: Cup.

[topguncortez]

Sunburn - K. Dutton

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: Heatstroke

synopsis: The Montana summers weren't for the weak. You and Kayce have unspoken history.

warnings: heatstroke, passing out, vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of drug usage, mentions of running away, Monica and Tate don't exist.

word count: 2.1k

There was something about Montana summers. 

The valley in which the Yellowstone ranch laid, had its fair share of weather changes. The winters were brutal, feet of snow coating the land, the wind bitter against the skin making it hard to want to get up in the morning and do chores. Spring usually brought inches upon inches of rain, damn near flooding the place and making it a muddy mess trying to move cattle in preparation for breeding season. Fall was a vibrant display of changing leaves, and the scent of fields being harvested in time before the first frost. 

But the summers, the summers were something else. Blame global warming, or whatever you wanted, but the summers in Montana were hot and steamy. The sun was unforgiving most days, beating down on you and your horse as you worked from sunup till sundown, training and cleaning horse stalls, helping move cattle from pasture to pasture, and carrying out the daily maintenance of the ranch. Most of the cowboys didn’t have an issue, but you on the other hand, never quite got along with the heat. 

It was supposed to be an “easy day”, Rip had barked at all of you as you shuffled into the barn to get tack up your horses, but the sun was already blaring its god awful rays down on the earth. Your skin felt sticky from the humidity and your hair was already sticking to your forehead underneath your hat. You left your water jug in the bunkhouse, choosing to fuel your body with the dark roast coffee Loyd had made instead. 

“You think the Devil just walked up here and decided to fuck with the temperature,” Ryan said, sitting on top of the fence, watching you and Colby rake it out. 

“Don’t know,” Colby grunted, “Think you could quit fucking complaining and help?” 

“I don’t want to melt,” Ryan chirped back and you rolled your eyes. The two of them fought like an old married couple most days.

Colby and Ryan were the first two to make you feel welcome in the bunkhouse. It was hard walking into a house full of men, no one knowing who you are or what you had shown up at the ranch for. Everyone knew bits and pieces of your story, you had known Kayce when you were younger, highschool sweethearts or something of the sort. He was the one who got away, or so you had said. While he was thriving in the military, you were left behind, struggling and doing anything you could to make a buck. You had shown up on his doorstep, soaking wet in the rain and begging for a job, begging to finally leave behind the life you had created for yourself. Kayce barely gave you the time of day, telling you to walk back down the road, take a left, and keep going until you reach the bunkhouse, that there would be someone there to help you. Since then, you and Kayce had been walking on eggshells around each other. 

“Okay, Princess,” You rolled your eyes, lifting your hat slightly off your head, and wiping away the sweat, “It’s fucking hot.” You stared at the heat waves rippling off of the earth for a moment, as the familiar sound of cowboy boots crunching on the gravel drew close. 

“What up, boss man,” Kolby greeted Kayce with a nod of his head, “Come to sweat with the worst of us?” 

“No, I need the girl,” Kayce said gruffly, and you turned to look at him, “We’re moving cattle. Let’s go,” He turned and walked back the direction he came without another word. You scoffed, throwing the pitchfork down. 

“What a fucking douche,” You grumbled, but went and followed after him to where the horses were enjoying the cool air of the barn. Kayce’s horse, of course, was already saddled up. You weren’t about to ask him for help as you grabbed your saddle from the wall, and walked down to your horse’s stall. You could feel his impatient tension like an extra cloud of heat in the air. 

“Ready?” Kayce asked as you walked your horse down the barn alley, and you nodded, silently following him outside. 

The two of you rode in silence for most of the journey, slowly but surely pushing cattle from one pasture into another. You weren’t sure why you, of all the people on the Yellowstone Ranch, had to be the one out here, sweating with Kayce. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded the silent rides through the rolling fields, but it wasn’t just the heat making you not want to be out here. 

Kayce thought that asking you to come out here with him would be the perfect chance to tell you how he felt. He, just as much as you, was tired of the awkward dance that you had been doing since you showed up. He didn’t need to ask too many questions that night when you came knocking on his door, soaked to the bone, nothing more than skin and bones. When he left for the Navy, a mere days after graduation and breaking your heart, he had asked Beth to keep an eye out for you. Begrudgingly, she did so, and told him about the shift in your life. You had always dreamed of getting out of Montana, but you never made it that far. 

Every time Kayce thought of saying something, of apologizing or even just asking how you have been, his mouth went dry and his mind blank. Instead, he thought that maybe even getting you near would break some of the tension, but he was so wrong. It seemed as if the tension had picked up a notch as the two of you rode next to each other. 

“Fuck, is it hotter out here, or is it just me,” You mumbled as you sat on top of your horse. The body heat from the animal was soaking into you, paired with the brutal beatdown from the sun, your skin felt like it was physically burning. 

“Complainin’ ain’t gonna make the sun go away,” Kayce said back and you rolled your eyes. The last thing you needed was the sass from him. Your skin felt dry and your head was pounding. All you wanted was to feel the cold stream of water in the bunkhouse shower. 

— — — 

You had never felt so happy to have your feet back on the ground. Three hours sitting up on a horse in the sun, slowly moving cattle into a new pasture. You knew that your shoulders were horribly sunburnt, and the sweat stains in between your thighs from sitting on the saddle made it look like you wet yourself. 

Kayce felt happy too, to be back on solid ground. He would be lying if he said the heat hadn’t gotten to him either. He was used to being in hot temp areas, but he would take being in full kit in Afghanistan versus sitting on a horse waiting for cattle to hurry up and move. Kayce had taken his horse back to the barn, carefully taking the tack off of him and hanging it up. He told Loyd to give the animal a good wash down, wanting to make sure his horse was cooled down before being put away for the night. 

Kayce slowly made his way down the alley of the barn, stopping just right outside of your horse’s stall. He had been thinking of what he was going to say to you since the moment he got you alone out in the field. The two of you had yet to have “the talk” since you arrived months ago, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without it. Every time he saw you, the words that he wanted to say were right at the tip of his tongue, but the second you looked at him, they all seemed to go blank. But now, it was as good a time as any. 

“Y/N,” Kayce said, stepping into the horse stall. You stood by your horse, your hand on its belly, back facing Kayce, “We need to talk.” 

You blinked a couple of times, trying to stop the black spots floating in your vision, and trying to keep yourself up right. You felt like your knees could give out at any moment. 

“Y/N?” Kayce called out. He reached out to touch your shoulder, as you doubled over and vomited into the hay sheddings, “Holy shit,” Kayce moved quickly, rushing to you as your legs gave out and you collapsed in his arms. He was alarmed by the flush color of your skin, and your chapped lips. Your eyes looked glossed over as you looked up at Kayce. 

“I-I don’t feel,” Your words were slurred as Kayce hoisted you up in his arms. 

“I know, we gotta cool you down,” Kayce said to you, and you weakly nodded your head. 

Kayce moved you quickly to the bunkhouse, the first flash of cool air made you instantly shiver. He walked you to the bathroom, and you were thankful that the house seemed to be quiet, not wanting any of the other cowboys to see you like this. It was hard enough being one of the only females here, you didn’t need this to be held over your head. Kayce gently sets you down on the shower tile, reaching above you and barely turning the water on. The second the cold water hit your skin, you gasped.

“No! No!” You cried. 

“It’s okay,” Kayce cooed, “I have to cool you down.” 

“Please,” Tears were welling in your vision, and you weren’t really sure why you were crying. You summed it up to your body being in such shock, you didn’t have control over your emotions. 

“It’s okay,” Kayce said again, running a hand up and down your back as you leaned into him, feeling your body grow weak again, “You’re going to be okay. It’ll be okay.” You let out a whine as your body had shifted temperature, but welcomed the cool water against your warm skin. 

— — — 

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep or maybe you passed out, but you woke up in an unfamiliar bed, with a box fan pointed right at you. It took you a moment, your head pounding as you looked around the room, noticing the various country-esq landscape paintings and the giant deer head on the wall. It was nearing night time, or so you had guessed by the last remnants of the sunset peaking through the wooden blinds. You tried to sit up, but let out a groan instead, your head starting to swim and black spots filling your vision. 

“Y/N?” You froze as you heard Kayce’s voice from the other side of the door, “Can I come in?” 

‘Holy shit’ You cursed to yourself, ‘I’m in Kayce’s room.’ 

“Yeah,” Your voice was raspy, and you could still feel the sting of bile. 

Ever so gently, Kayce pushed the door to his bedroom open, sticking his head in first before coming all the way in, “Hey,” You nodded your head as he walked towards you, a glass of water in his hand and some tylenol, “Drink this and take these. It’ll help the headache and muscle cramps.” 

“How do you know?” You asked, taking the water and medicine. Now that he mentioned it, your legs felt heavier than normal with a slight ache to them. 

“They train you on the basics of heat stroke in the Navy,” Kayce said, “Seen one too many guys fall over.” You felt your cheeks pink up in embarrassment, “No one saw, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Am I that transparent?” You said barely above a whisper, “You didn’t have to bring me here. They would’ve taken care of me at the bunkhouse.” 

“I know,” Kayce swallowed thickly. He wasn’t all too sure why he had picked you up and put you in his truck, driving back to his house for you to rest somewhere quiet and comfortable. But he did, and he didn’t regret it. He knew that he would’ve been a nervous wreck leaving you in the bunkhouse, “I needed to make sure you were going to be okay. . . You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked out. 

“Don’t apologize, Y/N,” Kayce said, shifting closer to you on the bed, “One of my first summer's running cattle with my dad, I did the same thing. We’d been out all day and came back, and the second I climbed off my hose I hit the ground. Face first in shit shavings,” You couldn’t help but chuckle, “At least you picked a clean stall to upchuck and pass out in.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks for catching me.” 

“Always,” Kayce said, grabbing your hand. You glanced down between your hands and back up at Kayce, who had a slight blush on his face. He went to pull his hand away but you squeezed it and then laced your fingers with his.

[letsgobarbs]

kinda wanted to read some damn John Dutton fic pls but there's only ones of young john which is fine or whatever but like… don't be cowards… give me the peepaw fics. john dutton is a gilf and the fandom needs to own it I just need a fix pls and stop making Beth so whiny in fanfiction she's a boss an icon if you will but more importantly I need the older john dutton fics like rn rn

[the-hinky-panda]

Yellowstone: Boss Mare Series

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Jamie Dutton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Like most people who end up on the Yellowstone, you're running from something. You need to convince them to let you stay and hope that what you're running from, doesn't find you. But things are rarely that easy.

Warnings: Violence, language, sexual situations, mentions of religion, cults, and abuse

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

[c0wgurlz]

Trouble On My Left, Trouble On My Right

Chapter 2: Operation, Find Caroline a Cowboy

gif by @bodybebangin

Kayce Dutton x Reader/OC - Friends to Lovers

He doesn't even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust.

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Chapter 1

Sorry it took me so long to update! I'm a teacher and my free time is fairly limited. We're at a point in the school year now though that is much less stressful, so expect fairly regular updates, at least for the next few chapters.

Comments are so appreciated! I'd love to know what ya'll like and what ya'll think I could improve upon.

As always: I do not own Yellowstone (2018) or any of its characters. This work is not monetized.

THIS FIC IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. It is not posted to any other site. I am lookingcold on AO3 and that is all. I do not give permission for my work to be posted by others to any other platform.

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We don’t talk for the rest of the walk, but the silence is comfortable, like it always is between us. Kayce and I have never asked too much of each other, have always read each others’ moods as if they were our own, and that apparently hasn’t changed from the five years we’ve spent apart. It’s glaringly obvious to us both that neither is up for idle chit chat. 

And while I’m really not up for small talk, the silence does, unfortunately, give me entirely too much time to overthink. What felt like such a natural decision, what felt like fulfilling my duty this morning, now feels foolhardy, and quite possibly too risky. Now this isn’t to say that I’m doubting my choice. Helping Mr. John, helping Kayce, helping the family and ranch that raised me, that picked up my pieces and glued me back together over and over, is a no brainer. Helping the people and the place I love most in the world feels as natural as breathing. But smoothing over a murder? That’s- No, I’m not doubting my choice, but I’m sure as hell doubting my sanity. When I said the Duttons needed a criminal defense lawyer, not a PR specialist, I wasn’t exaggerating. And if I’m being honest, this job feels more like that of an accessory than a public relations consult.

The front porch of the big house comes into view well before I’m ready. This dinner may be a reunion of sorts, but it’ll undoubtedly be a business meeting as well. Steeling my nerves for such talks doesn’t come quite as naturally to me as it once did. I feel like a knight with rusty armor. Weak at critical points, weak where it matters. More aptly, I feel like a little girl again, staring into the headlights of a train with no way to move and no way to stop it. I’m no coward, please don’t think that of me, but you know that feeling of impending doom? The one that makes your spine tingle and your stomach drop to your knees? Dread is probably the best word. That’s all I can feel as I stand at the bottom step of the Dutton’s porch. 

I must hesitate for too long, or stare off into space, or look absolutely fucking terrified, because in a flash Kayce is back down the two steps he’d already taken and by my side. He doesn’t say anything, you’d think we’d taken a vow of silence, but just looks at me imploringly, resembling a curious puppy so much I almost crack a smile. And then Kacye, sweet Kayce, wraps his calloused hand around mine and tucks it against his chest, over his heart, before tipping his head, ushering me up the stairs. Once I’m half way up I get a fond, “Atta girl,” and what woman doesn’t love being praised like an obedient mare. I snort in response and kick out my foot to trip him, but only a little bit, on the last stair. Can’t have hime getting too full of himself.

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Dinner is nice, but rather awkward if I’m totally honest, mainly due to the fact that Beth and Jamie are in attendance. Let’s just say Gator clears the table well before dinner should truly be over. To my surprise, we don’t talk business, but rather I’m questioned, interrogated really, over what I’ve been up to the past five years and why haven’t I called and would it really kill me to send a text every few months. Beth is the one who leads this inquiry. Jamie and I were never particularly close, so he remains silent for the most part, and he leaves in a huff shortly after Beth throws a fork like it’s a trident directly at his forehead. Can’t say I blame him, even I can only handle so much of Beth when she’s at her worst.

My interrogation is blissfully, or so I thought, cut short by Mr. John when he asks, “So, ya’ll have any plans tonight?” He folds his napkin meticulously, trying to look nonchalant but missing the mark by a shameful amount. If I thought that feeling of dread had left me, I was wrong.

I narrow my eyes and prepare to defend myself against an interrogation of a different kind. Before I can grit out a suspicious, “No, why,” however, Beth pipes up. “Actually Daddy, since you asked,” at this she turns to me, “Caroline, how do you feel about heading into town and getting gloriously drunk and then gloriously fucked? You’ve been gone far too long, so you’ve got to be re-initiated, re-tainted if you will.” She looks me up and down, assessing. “You’re far too shiny, like a little cherub.”

Jesus Christ, I think she’s suggesting I fuck a townie. And Mary and Joseph I haven’t even so much as kissed someone since my divorce - ok, well maybe a peck or two here or there, but that’s besides the point. Here I was, so worried about talking business, about skirting around the subject of murder, only to be blindsided by an age old Dutton scheme. Operation: Find Caroline a Cowboy. Well if Beth thinks I’m about to get biblical with some rando she is absolutely, positively looney tunes. Now, how to communicate all of that in a tactful way? Taking a shallow breath, I part my lips and prepare to spout some placating, buzzword bullshit. Something along the lines of, “Well, as fun as that sounds, I’m actually really tired. Maybe later this weekend?” or “How about we just kick back in the bunkhouse tonight, save the salaciousess for this Saturday?” Before I can even utter a word though, Kayce butts in on my behalf.

“Do you maybe think you could save the corruption for later, Beth? I’ve already promised the boys that I’ll bring Caroline around for cards tonight.” While his voice is calm, casual even, Kayce gives himself away the moment he begins to bounce his leg, the tap tap tap of the heel of his boot loud in the otherwise quiet room. He’s uncomfortable, maybe even irritated, which aren’t we all at least a little bit when speaking to Beth, but there’s something else. A boyishness to his demeanor that I haven’t seen since high school. There’s also the fact that we had decidedly made zero plans to visit the bunkhouse tonight. So. Interesting.

I’m certainly not the only one to notice his odd shift in behavior, as Mr. John’s lips curl into a smirk and Beth’s face arranges inself into a pleased, self-satisfied expression. She frequently wears the look of someone who knows enough to destroy literally any given person’s life, but this look is more playful, one of a cat that’s pinned a mouse by its tail. Ignoring Kayce, she turns her attention back to me. “Caroline, sweetheart, don’t even think about screwing any of those cowboys. I know old habits die hard, but trust me when I say not a single one of them is worth a ride.” Now, to be clear, Beth knows, I know, Mr. John knows, and even Kayce knows that Beth has only ever screwed one of said cowboys out in that bunkhouse, still, her dig elicits the desired reaction from Kayce. And furthermore, she makes it clear that she’s not just trying to set me up with any old cowboy. I’m on to her. Operation: Find Caroline a Kayce.

With a cringe of disgust and a flushed face, he exclaims, “Fuck’s sake Beth, I’m not taking her out there to pimp her out.” He’s stopped smoothing the tablecloth, but now he’s exasperatedly running his hand through his still damp hair. Shit, Kayce. You think he’d have learned by now how to not play into Beth’s hand. Some people just have to learn the hard way I suppose. 

Beth’s eyebrows lift and the corner of her mouth quirks. “Well you’re not a very good bestfriend then, are you?”

“Fuck you.” Kayce mutters, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms petulantlly.

“Maybe you should be saying that to her.” Beth points at me with her napkin, dropping it onto her plate as she rises from the table. “This has been fun. Possibly the best family dinner we’ve had all year.” Planting a kiss on Mr. John’s cheek she says, “Love you Daddy, have a drink with me later, will you? I think we should talk.” Then, rounding the table to me, she strokes my hair, almost motherly, “Caroline, sweetheart, clear your schedule Saturday. Me and you are going to paint the town red.” Finally, reaching Kayce, she sighs, “Goodnight, dummy. Let me know if you’d like help finding your balls.” And just like a tornado, she’s there wreaking havoc one moment, and gone the next.

The dining room is uncomfortably silent for a beat after she exits, until Mr. John blessedly breaks the awkwardness yet again. “Beth’s antics aside, I don’t think ya’ll should be going out anywhere tonight. We’ve got several important meetings lined up tomorrow morning and I need both of you sharp. Especially you Kayce, tomorrow will require you to tell a very particular version of events and I can’t risk you fucking that up. Alright, Son?”

Looking slightly cowed, Kayce nods his head in agreement. “Alright.”

Having determined this hell of a dinner has gone on long enough, I begin to make moves to excuse Kayce and myself. “Dinner was delicious Mr. John, thank you for having me. And thank you for such fine company.” I may be lying out of my ass, but my momma didn’t raise me to be rude.

Mr. John exhales a dry laugh and rises from the table. It’s moments like this where his and Beth’s resemblance is striking. “No need to thank me, honey. You’re family, you’re welcome at my table anytime.” Pushing in his chair he surveys Kayce and I with calculating eyes. “Why don’t you two head on home, you both look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”

Gee Mr. John, I wonder the hell why?

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Our walk back isn’t nearly as silent as our walk to the house. To say Kayce is pissed would be putting it lightly. “What in the actual fuck was all that? I mean, Beth was no surprise, but what shit is Dad trying to pull?”

“Kayce, your daddy barely said a word.” I’m more focused on the words left unsaid.

“He didn’t have to say anything Carrie, he sat there like a smug bastard and let Beth say it all for him.” Kayce may as well be pitching a fit the way he kicks at the ground, arms hugged tight to his chest like a wronged toddler. Honestly, the image is kind of amusing, so much so that I have to stifle a laugh. I must not do a good enough job, because I can feel the glare that Kayce shoots through the side of my head. “What?”

Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, I’m quick to hide my growing grin. “Well first off, I’m gonna overlook the fact you pulled out my forbidden nickname. But second, do you remember that Christmas when we were thirteen? How Beth hung mistletoe from literally every single doorway, and how your daddy actually enforced the kissing rule?” I raise my eyebrows high, daring him to conveniently “forget” an awkward moment from our childhood as he often pretends to do.

The tips of his ears turn pink, but he sighs his agreement. “Yeah I remember, we must’ve kissed two dozen times. At the time I thought dying would’ve been a kinder fate.”

Asshole. I punch him in the arm, hard. “Wow. Thanks a lot. The sentiment is shared.” Rolling my eyes and checking for invisible dirt beneath my nails, I continue. “Anyways, what they’re doing now, Beth and your daddy, is just an enormous escalation of what they did then. I don’t think Mr. John will rest in his grave until I give him a grandbaby - with you.” I look at Kayce pointedly. It’s no secret that Mr. John, and Beth by extension, have been holding out hope that me and Kayce would fall madly in love and have lots of babies. When Kayce married Monica the teasing and hinting stopped, after all Mr. John would never disrespect their marriage in such a way, and when I married Judd it was almost like a fence went up between us, between myself and the Duttons that is, but now that both of our spouses are out of the picture? I’m certainly not surprised the trouble has started back up.

I expect Kayce to splutter and turn a darker shade of red. Despite his gruff exterior he’s always been reserved and easy to embarrass. He surprises me though when he mutters, “Maybe we should just give him what he wants then. Get him and Beth off our backs.”

I shock myself with the cackle that bursts its way out of my body. It bubbles out partly because of the utter glee I get from Kayce having a sense of humor for once and partly from the insanity of such a suggestion. “So you’re telling me, that your solution to getting your daddy and Beth to leave us alone, is to have a baby together? Yeah, because they definitely would have no interest in our love lives after a stunt like that.” I bump his hip with mine. “I can just hear Beth now, ‘I’m thinking a Fall wedding, you look horrible in bright colors and nobody wants to wear a suit in eighty-eight degree weather.’ We’d never hear the end of it.”

Kayce shrugs, shooting me a wry grin. “Hey, if we marry each other at least we’ll know what we’re getting into. No surprises.”

“Yeah, and no sex,” slips past my lips before I can swallow it down. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Good job Caroline, talk about fucking, or not fucking, your best friend some more why don’t you. Now I’m the one who’s blushing. Pink from the roots of my hair to my chest. And what a fatal mistake I’ve made by opening my fat mouth. My whole life I’ve had to be one step ahead of Kayce, embarrassing him before he can embarrass me worse, yet here I am giving him a golden opportunity.

His grin only widens. “I hate to break it to you Carrie, but to make a baby people have to have sex.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, adding insult to injury. “You know when a man loves a woman…”

I elbow him in the ribs before he can continue. He laughs at my embarrassment just as much as he groans from the pain. “Oh shut up.” Now I cross my arms, increasing my stride so that his arm falls from my shoulders.

He doesn’t even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust. If Kayce had always been shy and reserved in his day to day life, where I had been bright and obnoxious in mine, the topic of sex is where we switched places. I think calling myself a prude may be a tad harsh, but I certainly have never been one to broadcast my sexual business. Kayce on the other hand has never shied away from flirting, or kissing, or having sex in nearly every one of Mr. John’s pastures - you don’t get someone pregnant at nineteen by keeping it in your pants after all. 

Playing the game I had with Kayce in the bathroom earlier today had felt safe, probably because I was the one in control, but this battle of wills feels altogether different, like someone is poking at an insecurity, at a bruise I didn’t even know I had. It’s confusing at best and humiliating at worst. Throwing his words back at him, I huff, “Now Kayce Dutton, you know this conversation is entirely improper, so I suggest you drop it. And also,” I whirl around on the step I’ve just taken. Thank God we’ve reached the foreman’s house because I don’t know how much longer I can participate in this back and forth before I’m forced to will myself out of existence. “Who says I’d even want to have a baby with you? Good authority or not. I know ya’ll’ve gotten new ranch hands since I’ve last been here, all of whom I haven’t gotten to size up yet. You never know, maybe one of them is babydaddy material.” I poke him firmly in the chest. “Don’t assume I haven’t got options.” Before Kayce can respond I storm up the remaining steps and into the house, kicking my boots off perhaps a bit too aggressively before striding into the kitchen. What I plan to do in the kitchen, I don’t know, but I still don’t know which room I’m staying in and the living room feels too cozy to stew in, so the kitchen it is.

Kayce saddles in much more calmly, but his fierce expression gives his true feelings away. “Are you serious?” He grunts, and if I wasn’t so embarrassed, mad, confused, hurt - for some reason that alludes me, I might have found the rocky timbre of his voice sexy. 

“Serious about what?” I avoid his gaze petulantly, pouring myself a glass of water for a lack of anything better to do.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He groans, tipping his head back and rubbing at his eyes. “Are you really picking a fight over whether or not we should get imaginary married, have imaginary sex, and have an imaginary baby? You do hear how crazy that sounds?”

“So now I’m crazy?” My voice is cool, and serious, even though at this point I realize I’ve lost the argument. Even though I’ve realized there never should’ve been an argument in the first place.

Any fight Kayce had left in him drains away. I see the moment that it leaves his body, his eyes softening and his shoulders relaxing. “Caroline, honey, what’d I do?”

Almost as if there’s an invisible string connecting us, my body relaxes too. I blow out a breath, dump my water down the drain, and come to stand in front of him. No island between us. “You didn’t really do anything, just poked at a sore spot, that’s all.”

Sensing that this may be a conversation best saved for later, Kayce graciously changes the subject. Scratching at the back of his neck with one hand and gesturing towards the bathroom with the other he murmurs, “Well uh, if you still wanna have that spa night we should probably get going, we’ve got a early morning tomorrow and if I’m gonna let you take my spa virginity we’ve gotta do this thing right.” That earns him a hard exhale, the ghost of what could’ve been a laugh. But he must know not to expect much else, that I’m still nursing my bruised ego, because he carries on. “So why don’t I go get that bubble bath started and you can sort through your uh lotions and potions, decide on how best to pretty me up. And then maybe we could talk, about anything you want.” He begins to walk backwards, making his way towards the bathroom. It’s odd to hear the soft pad of his socked feet on the hardwood and not the click of his boots, but also kind of nice, endearing.

“Okay,” I breath, “Yeah, that’d be - that’d be nice.” I move to walk past him, into the hall where I’d left my bags. “I think you’ve got a bit of a sunburn so I’ll see if I’ve got an aloe mask for you. If you plan on putting yourself back on the market you’d better start taking care of your looks.”

I’m very purposefully facing away from him, so I don’t see the melancholy on his face so much as I hear it in his voice. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s likely to happen. My days of chasing tail are definitely over.” I don’t reply, not too keen on opening that can of worms further, and so an uncomfortable silence settles over us. It’s only broken when Kayce sighs, “Well, I’ll uh, I’ll be in the bathroom whenever you’re ready.”

Still looking down, I pause the mindless shuffling I’d been doing through my bags, “Alright, just give me a few minutes.” Having found the masks I was looking for well before now, I finally rise from out of my crouch, left knee popping in protest. “Like you said, you deserve a proper first spa night,” I turn my body to reveal my profile, pretending to check the label of the plastic tub in my hands, “I’ve gotta make sure I pull out all the stops. You know I don’t half ass anything.” Feeling generous, I finally offer him a small smile, turning to fully face him.

The relief in his eyes catches me off guard. “Don’t I know it.”

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I don’t know what I expected when Kayce said he’d go run a bubble bath. Too absorbed in my own thoughts, I didn’t consider that such an activity is typically done alone, certainly not with a friend, and even more certainly not with a totally platonic, albeit sexy, boy bestfriend. When I finally make my way into the bathroom however, I’m greeted by the sight of Kayce settled into the comically large clawfoot tub, chin tucked to his chest so that bubbles cling to his beard, eyes unfocused and contemplative. “Didn’t realize I invited Santa Claus.” I joke, at a loss for anything else to say. Too scared to say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question.

At the sound of my voice his head jerks up, the sudden movement sloshing water just shy of the lip of the tub. “Santa Claus?” He furrows his eyebrows. He really does look like a puppy.

“You’ve got bubbles,” I gesture to my chin, miming a full beard.

He chuckles, “Oh, yeah, I guess I just got bored and,” he shrugs, “I’ve gotten used to playing with Tate in the bath. You’re lucky I didn’t break out the bubble mohawk.”

“The bubble mohawk?” I giggle, “I don’t know, I think I’d like to see that actually. Just make sure I’ve got a camera on me when you do break it out, yeah?” Lining my “lotions and potions” up on the counter, I look away, still trying to figure out what exactly is going on here, or what Kayce expects me to do, to say.

He must sense my hesitancy because he volunteers, “I hope I got the water hot enough. I know how you women like to scorch your skin off, but I’m afraid I’m just a bit too delicate.” He’s pushed himself into a full sitting position now. The water pools just under his chest and it takes everything in me to meet his eyes.

“So we are taking a bath together then?” I huff. “Because that’s not weird at all.” Still, I move to pull my blouse up and over my head, clipping my hair up so that it no longer hangs down my back. “And if you’re not actively in pain, then no, you don’t have the water hot enough. But that’s alright, I’ll manage.”

Ignoring my comment about the water, his eyebrows furrow once again in confusion. “Why’s it weird? You’re the one that suggested it.”

“No. I didn’t.” I shoot some side eye at him, because who in their right mind would suggest such a thing. Hopping around to remove my socks before balling them up and tossing them into the hall so that they don’t get wet, I continue, “And it’s weird because usually when grown adults take a bath together it’s only because something else is gonna follow.”

Rolling his eyes, he insists, “Yes. You did. You said you normally take a bubble bath for spa nights, so here we are, taking a bubble bath. And it’s not weird. I’m wearing my underwear, and I assumed you’d wear yours too. It’s no different than going swimming together.” He sounds way too exasperated for a conversation that is this stupid.

Remember how I said Kayce and I have never had trouble reading each other? Yeah I take that back. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I sigh, “That was not a suggestion. That was a statement. But thank you for the clarification. Now before I literally die of embarrassment, would you like the lavender hair mask,” I forcefully lift one colorful jar into the air, and then another, “or the apple?”

Looking as fed up as I feel, Kayce responds gruffly, “The lavender.”

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Tag List: @cheneyq @targaryenpower @starset21 @darlingmunson30 @ilovemrytleturtle @screechingtriumphtiger @chlo-feigh @twoheartedfool @softi92 @hannahufflepuff @its-moonblr

[bodybebangin]

Colby & Teeter - Yellowstone

[jksreilly]

Yellowstone 3.07 - 'The Beating'

[madhattervanessa]

Kill You To Try (Chapter 4)

Summary: Between old and new issues, you let your own health drag. Not everyone seems to be okay with it.

Warnings: grief, suicidal thoughts, gunshot wounds, stitching wounds

Words: 2621

prev. Chapter - next Chapter

Series Masterlist

-

The summer goes by smoothly.

Ignoring the countless hours you spent crying until your throat was raw, the tears stinging your cheeks, and the air burning your lungs from too many heaving gulps of it past your salty, snot-sticky lips.

Everything is fine.

After telling Gabriel you needed more time, a week later, a book about grief had appeared on your doorstep.

You had tried not to feel patronized.

You are fine.

Everything is fine.

You failed.

You hadn’t talked to Gabriel since.

Time had been spent by yourself, crying, in various places, in your new home.

You watch the bear every now and then from your porch. Sometimes you debate crossing into the river. Just to see what happens. To see if you have what it takes.

What better way to find out if you actually want to live?

But then you slip into a shirt and your hat and make your way down to the ranch instead, without fail.

It fills you with a sick sense of satisfaction.

Who is proud about not facing a bear?

Who even debates that?

Down at the farm, everything is back to how it was before you left- you are joking around with the men as you work together to keep the herd safe and healthy.

You spent half a week in the mountains putting up a new fence, wrapping wire with thick gloves on your hands that cook your hands through instead of facing Gabriel.

After work, it’s straight back to the cabin instead of down to the ranch. But as long as you get up and come to work with a smile on your lips, nobody says anything.

Except for the nights when you go grocery shopping with Rip, you keep to yourself. 

You mostly pick out the vegetables for him, some fruit - somehow, half of it always lands in your grocery bags that he carries inside for you afterward “as a reward for picking out all the best produce”.

You start to notice your kitchen cabinets filling up with all sorts of dry ingredients and canned food, even the occasional pre-mixed cocktail. There’s never any moldy food in your mostly untouched fridge.

The cabin is a mess, especially with all the dirty laundry strewn around in piles, the clean laundry staying in its basket until you’ve worn it all. The thick layer of dust that had quickly returned reminds you of your own inertia, daily.

Your writing crawls, but never quite makes it to the walking stage.

You never unpacked more of your moving boxes, finally retiring the duffel bags that had served as your wardrobe.

All you had managed in the past week had been wiping away the dust sitting on every surface and even prying open the vents, exchanging the filters to make sure it didn't come back.

Instead, you start to pick up some decorations on one of your grocery trips. Fall is basically around the corner now, at least according to the supermarkets.

So you had started picking up a few pumpkins, some fairy lights, a little bit of this and that, slowly browsing every aisle while Rip focused on getting food for the bunkhouse.

You turn into the next aisle and grab a candle, cedar, and … cotton?, and close your eyes. It’s too sweet and heady for your taste. You put it back and browse some more, settling on pine and smoke for another sniff.

When you close your eyes and inhale, you immediately get flooded with cinnamon and deep wood smells- the warmth of it immediately transports you back to the heavy perfume Tess, your godmother, used to wear all of the time. Especially on her visits, her smell would linger just like this.

You fight to smile against the heavy frown that settles on your face and open your eyes. You gulp down another breath of air and put the candle back with shaky hands.

“Hey…”, Rip’s soft murmur behind you makes the fat tears roll down your cheeks immediately. He shushes you, turning you to face him. His arms close around you, wrapping you up in warmth.

The squeeze of his arms does its trick. You sob into his jacket as he runs one of his hands up and down your back. He moves his head and you feel his breath fan over your head for a moment.

“You’re okay, honey.”

You feel too hot and cold at the same time as you sob into his chest. 

He keeps holding on to you, his tight grasp never faltering. 

You can hardly breathe like this and as you struggle with your runny nose, you feel one of his arms dropping. Shortly after, he squeezes a pack of tissues into the slim space between the two of you.

Your hands shake as you take the tissues, quickly wiping at the mess of your already swollen face. You blow your nose and quiet down your crying to small, sniffly sounds.

“You’re okay.”

His chin drops to sit on top of your head as you continue sniffling.

He gives you another minute before he withdraws. He holds on to your shoulders, taking a long look at your face. You try your best not to shiver too much but it’s like your body has detached. You shake like a newborn foal, barely managing to stop your teeth from chattering.

“I’ll just grab one more thing and then we can go, okay?”

You don't remember getting in the car.

Everything seems miles away.

Rip's voice is a dull background sound, melding with the low crooning coming from the radio as your eyes stare out of the car window without focus.

It's like you've blinked and you're back at square one.

What is truly happening in your life?

Nothing is moving forward.

You graduated, you worked, you got the fiance, you moved in, you visited the families, he cheated and here you are. 

Back like a ten-year-old left after she cried blood at the cash register. Left after just enough warning, you came back. Desperate, hurt, looking for something to cling to.

Maybe you shouldn’t ever have left.

Pathetic.

To be precise.

But apparently looking healthy enough for someone to hit on you.

It makes you queasy.

What if you're just clinging to the next best thing?

Worse, what if it's just because you're vulnerable right now?

What if you look desperate?

Oh god, what if-

"-doll. Come on."

The quick raps of Rip's knuckles against the car door make you jump out of your reverie.

He is leaning against the truck, pressing down his hat with his palm before looking out at the ranch.

You sniffle and get another tissue out to quickly wipe away any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

You push the door of the truck open and let yourself fall onto your feet. 

Immediately, dark spots line your vision and you sway.

“Woah, hey-”

“I’m fine-”

You barely feel Rip touch you, before the world faints to black.

-

When you wake up, it's dark outside. 

Your sheets are firmly tucked underneath your body and you detangle from your hug with your pillow to lift your head.

There's light on in the living room.

"Hello?"

You swing your legs out of bed- the dizziness returns immediately and with it, a dull pounding behind your eyes.

A faint light illuminates the living room. You let one hand skate over the wood of the wall as you approach- you can see the top of Rip’s hat from over the back of the sofa. 

He sighs loudly. A faint grumble follows. His face is covered by his hat, a green blanket half covering his body. His boots hang over the edge of the sofa as he dozes.

“Rip?”

He jumps, a surprised grunt escaping him.

“Fuck, h- Bones. Y’scared me.”

You hold on to the back of the sofa.

“Sorry, I don’t know what happened-”

“Did you have a panic attack or something?”

“A- what?”

He sighs and slowly sits up.

“What do you mean? I’m not- It’s not like I am mentally ill or something- I-”

“Honey. Please, just, sit down”, he grunts, sitting upright.

There’s that pitying tone again.

“I’m fine! I don’t need your fucking pity, Rip!”, you bite, despite your voice cracking. You hold your ground against the worrying look.

He bites his lip and averts his eyes. He gets up, the blanket left behind carelessly, and grabs his hat off of the arm of the sofa.

"I should leave-"

"Yeah. I think so, too."

Your face feels hot, burning up, as you flick between rage and shame.

He stands in front of you for a moment before turning to leave.

You stay where you are even as you hear him opening and then violently shutting the front door.

You perk up as you hear yelling outside, your hand immediately reaching for the gun next to the door.

You hear a faint growling, another yell, as you tear the door open.

"Get out of the way!", you scream before pulling the trigger-

Five shots ring out and you hear the bear growl, yelp, and scurrying off but your eyes are on the blood spraying from Rip's side.

He groans and his arm shoots out to hold on to the wooden beam next to the entrance of the cabin.

"Oh my god, Rip-!" You leave the gun on the table next to the entrance and run out towards him as the blood starts dripping down from his side.

"I'm so sorry- oh my god, I-", you press down on his bleeding side as you glance up towards the river.

There's a trail of blood left but no bear in sight.

"Let's get you inside. Come on."

He's spitting curses and you press your hand against him, trying to stop the bleeding.

It's a tumble to get him inside and to sit. The blood is slippery and the cabin hallway is barely big enough to fit the two of you through.

Getting to stitching him up is much more calming.

At least to you.

It's a familiar routine to tend to a wound. You grab your utensils one by one, preparing a kidney tray, some swabs, and some synthetic string with a needle, amounting to a little pile of sterile packaging while Rip gets out of his shirt.

"Put some of that on the wound", you murmur and point toward a bottle of iodine. "Take a cotton pad. It's gonna stain."

He just grunts and reaches out- it's the last thing you watch before you concentrate on pulling on your gloves.

"Clear it up."

He throws the pads into the spare bowl you had set out. You reach out to him and press at the edges of the wound.

All grazes. No clear shot wound. You hum as you try to figure out how to best stitch him up.

Another loud groan and another slam of his hand next to you don't deter you from continuing your probing.

You're used to the men writhing when you have to stitch them up after another accident. This is no different.

It's no different.

Just an accident.

"Got anything- fuck, Bones-"

You look up from the wound.

"Anything for the pain?"

"You can have a stick to bite on. No hand holding."

He groans and reaches out for one of the wooden spatulas to jam in between his teeth.

You stay curled up in front of him, waiting patiently until he sits back again.

"You good?"

He nods but you can see him twitch in his seat when you place the first stitch.

"C'mon, stay still. We've done this song and dance."

"Y'Haven't been the one shooting me, yet, honey."

"Good thing my aim is alright then and I didn't sink a bullet into you."

It's easy to fall back into the banter. Like after a hard reset.

After all, this is Rip.

Rip who has the blood of most of your ex-lovers and affairs on his hands, plenty of branded men and farmhands.

He’s knee-deep in the pool of your combined mistakes, every bruise, cut, broken bone, and tear, always side by side. Misplaced trust and the smell of hay in the sunshine, beating down on the two of you when you had had nowhere to go. The crackling fire in the stove of the bunkhouse when winter came and neither of you had any family to go home to.

You're both all but drenched in the collective of both of your past mistakes. One way or another.

“Almost there, hun”, you murmur halfway through, fully concentrating on stitching the skin together in a tight, neat line. The table creaks miserably next to your shoulder as you push through another part of his skin.

He bites down hard on the stick in his mouth as you place the last pair of stitches, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

You look at his unclenched hand that now lays flat on the table before twisting the thread around the needle. You look back down as you neatly tie it up, snipping it quickly.

Rip inhales sharply through his nose, eyes finally opening again. You discard your instruments into your kidney tray before grabbing the wound disinfectant again.

“Just gonna bandage you up now and then we’ll be done”, you murmur, more to yourself than to him, before you pour some clear antiseptic over the fresh stitches. You don’t jump at the loud bang next to your shoulder, completely undeterred by the twisting of the man in the chair in front of you.

“Settle down”, you murmur and grab some more gauze to dab at the residual blood pouring out with the liquid. As the wound settles, you reach for a big adhesive plaster. You carefully place it, going over the edges a second time with your fingertip to make sure everything sticks.

When you look back up with a short “all done,” Rip lets his head fall back, throwing the stick he had been biting down on into the corner of the room before letting his arm fall. His chest is heaving with harsh breaths and you can’t help but look, his head still thrown back, a bit of sweat pooling in his clavicle. You swallow and turn back to gather your utensils up.

“Let's get you into bed, big guy.”

He grunts and you try a reassuring smile before hoisting him up.

“Going through all the nicknames tonight, huh, Bones?”

You look up at him from where you’re squeezed under his arm, furrowing your brows at him.

He laughs quietly, a little too flat for your liking, as you help him hobble through the door frame of your bedroom.

“You got a real sweet bedside manner, is all.”

You grunt as he bears more of his weight on you to get down onto the mattress.

“There you go”, you murmur, softly letting your hands swipe over his shoulder. “You okay with sleeping like this?”

“It's fine, Bones. Really.”

“Yeah- yeah, okay.” You back off of him, wringing your hands. “I’ll be on the couch, just call me when you need something, yeah? Doesn’t matter what.”

You look him up and down again.

"Do you need something to drink?"

He just looks at you again, a silent reprimand. When he leans back, he grunts loudly and you bite at your lip. Instead of reaching out to steady him, you pull the blanket over to cover him.

He takes it out of your hand and when you turn your head towards him, he averts his eyes.

"Goodnight. Don't bleed out."

He chortles before grinning.

"Goodnight. Don't fucking say that shit to me again."

You smile and leave the bedroom.

You doubt you'll catch any sleep. But you can try.

-

Taglist: @graniairish, @tragerlover, @lexixstewart, @deathbytidep0ds, @hoooli13

If you would like to be tagged, shoot me a quick message!

Requests are open and always appreciated

[bullet-prooflove]

Clover: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Tagging: @1-fuzzy-squirrels @nerdypinupcrystal @babygirl8900 @roxannz

When John Dutton’s entire herd dies in Pasture Nine it’s you that’s called out to deliver the medical assessment. He wants everything documented, the ‘I’s dotted and the ‘T’s crossed because when he tracks down the person who murdered his animals he’s going to do everything he can to fuck up their shit. Legally and otherwise.

“Bloat.” You tell them as you kneel over the calf that you delivered a couple of weeks ago, the one that Jimmy’s just finished hand rearing. “Probably from all the fucking clover some asshole tossed into the field.”

There’s an anger in your voice, a rage that simmers underneath the surface. Rip feels it too because he raised these animals, cared for them and finding three hundred and twenty six of them asphyxiated in a field is fucking harrowing.

You’re washing up in the sink of the barn when he catches up with you, scrubbing your hands in the scalding hot water with an old nail brush. They’re raw already, a vibrant shade of pink that contrasts against the hue of your skin.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He murmurs as he leans over and turns off the water before picking up the hand towel and patting your hands dry.

He knows what you’re trying to do but washing away the death, the decay, it ain’t that simple. You’ve been closed off ever since you left the pasture, shuttered. You hadn’t said a word the entire ride back but the devastation, it rolls off you in waves.

He tosses the towel onto the workbench and you turn your head away because you don’t want him to see that weakness in you, that vulnerability.

“Hey now.” He whispers, clasping your chin and guiding your gaze back to his. “Don’t hide from me.”

You’re crying and that’s the thing that you don’t want him to see. His lips brush over your cheeks chasing away the tears as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. He knows that you’re thinking about that calf, the one whose face you cradled between your hands after it was born. There had been such joy in you in that moment and Rip, he couldn’t help but smile.

His world had been a dark place before you came along. Harsh, cold, unrelenting, the same could be said about him. All of that has changed after you, the edges are softer, the colours brighter, there’s a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt in years.

Seeing you like this, it feels like someone’s reached into his chest and torn his heart right out.

“We’ll get the people responsible.” He murmurs, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “I promise you that.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[itsstrange]

Shattered

Fandom: Yellowstone

Relationship: Rip Wheeler x Brother-Reader

A/N: Okay. First Off, Just Wanna Say I SINCERELY APPRECIATE ALL THE FREAKING LOVE & SUPPORT That Ya’ll Are Giving To The Promise Like… Ya’ll Are Insanely Giving Me Whiplash From The Amount of Love You Guys Are Giving It. So, From The Bottom of My Heart. I REALLY Appreciate It & Love You Guys Fr Fr! 😭🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Secondly, Because You Are Constantly Blowing up My Previous Wheeler Fic, I Decided To Jot Down Another Quick One For Ya’ll!! It’s Different, but It’s Still Rip ☺️

Another Thing, This Was a Little Rushed. I’ve Been Semi Having This Idea Of a Brother x Rip Fic, So I Quickly Wrote It Down. Another Thing, I Was Completely Buzz While Writing This One (Still Am) So I Hope This Makes Sense Because It Did In My Head. 🫠

Finally, yes I know it’s another Military Reader Fic but I can’t help it. I feel like it suits with Rip 🫠

Anyways! Enjoy This Slight Heartbreak! 🫶

Summary: Former Army Sergeant (Y/n) Wheeler and his older brother Rip Wheeler have been clashing throats for days.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: (No?) Angst, Hurt Reader, Hurt Rip, Protective Rip, Brother Love, Mention of Blood, Mention of PTSD, Mention of Physical Violence, Younger Brother Reader, Reader Is Brother Of Rip, Slight Heart Break.

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ENJOY 🥀

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Former Army Sergeant (Y/n) Wheeler and his older brother Rip Wheeler have been clashing throats for days now. Everyone knew at the Dutton Ranch that both brothers were vigorously the same. Rip was the foreman, the leader, of the ranch workers, the leader of the branded cowboys. Where (Y/n) was one of the branded cowboys. He followed Rip, looked after him just like Rip looks after him whenever things got dangerous. (Y/n) never minded it. Following his brother, following his orders, he always has since he was a kid, he had major respect for his older brother. Both brothers loved each other immensely, they both went through hell growing up, they only had each other now. And they both knew that they’d both risk their lives if it meant saving the other in whatever situation.

No one truly knows their story besides John Dutton and Lloyd. The story where Rip had saved (Y/n) from getting murdered by the hands of their stepfather, saved (Y/n) the trauma of watching him end the life of their stepfather in order to escape. (Y/n) obviously knew what Rip had done to protect them and till this day he not once viewed his older brother differently.

Despite every ranch worker on the Dutton ranch who showed strong loyalty, respect and slightly feared Rip for his fearless, brutal, serious, angry persona, (Y/n) was the one who did not fear his brother. They were brothers of course he wouldn’t, they understood each other better than anyone else.

However, these last few days their relationship has been on edge. Ever since Rip had benched him and forced him to hang back from a mission that involved.. murder, then again when they had to send a threatening message. Twice he had benched him and because of that their relationship has been rocky. Rip only did it because he knew his little brother was not okay, mentally wise. He had just been honorably discharged from the Army after serving for nearly 20 years and Rip knew (Y/n) was not the same.

Yet, (Y/n) didn’t see it that way.

Instead, he felt disrespected. Felt as if he was being treated like a broken man, a child instead of the strong, fierce man he truly was. He fought in wars, killed men to protect his country, but now that he was home, he felt as if he wasn’t receiving the respect he should be receiving. Especially from his older brother. Rip’s opinion was the only one that (Y/n) truly cared for. Was the only one he needed in his life. But lately, it hasn’t been what he’s hoped to be.

The tension only escalated and simmered between them as Rip once again was putting (Y/n) on the sidelines. They were supposed to wreck a rival ranchers truck as a message to not mess with John Dutton’s land, after they had poisoned a good amount of his cattle, but Rip once again didn’t want (Y/n) involved, he didn’t want him getting triggered by violence. Not that Rip has ever claimed the why in his sudden choice of isolating (Y/n) from missions.

“I don’t give a shit! You’re staying here and mending the cattle till we get back,” Rip demands, pointing a long finger at (Y/n) who argued with his orders,

Rip then turns his attention to the others that stood by.

“As for everyone we’re leaving at midnight! Anyone else got a fucking problem with that?!” Rip barks, his blue eyes challenging the cowboys,

Lloyd, Jimmy, Ryan, Colby, Tator shook their heads. Their eyes avoiding the wrathful man. They all knew very well to not even bother in arguing with Rip, unless they wanted their spinal cord snapped. Especially when he’s in a raged mood.

“Jimmy. Help (Y/n) get the cattle ready,” Rip demands once again before turning to walk away, yet, his entire body freezes at (Y/n’s) voice,

“No,” His brother had said. Loud and clear. The tension grew thicker, causing the other cowboys to look between them with worried, nervous looks,

Everyone knew at the ranch that if one went up against the foreman— Rip, for whatever reason, it meant they were challenging their— his leadership, and right about now, that’s exactly what (Y/n) was doing.

“Work on the cattle. (Y/n),” Rip demands with a dark, low, cold tone. His blue eyes laced with fury and irritation as he turns to look at his little brother,

(Y/n) challenged him. His own (E/c) eyes, laced with irritation and boiling rage held his brother’s darken gaze. His hands clenching at his sides. “Make me,”

And that’s how it started. That’s how both brothers fought for dominance. Fierce punches were exchanged between Rip and (Y/n). The other cowboys and ranch workers stood by and watched with nervous, horrified looks. The Wheeler brothers always argued with each other yes, but not once did they ever harm each other. Lloyd, the eldest of the cowboys, felt a brutal pang in his chest as he watched the brothers fight each other. He’s known them since they were kids, watched them grow up to be the men they are today, and it pained him that their strong relationship was now stained by a heated disagreement.

Lloyd understood why Rip was coddling his brother, he truly did. Lloyd himself was worried for the younger Wheeler, he knew he was mentally struggling from ptsd but he also understood where (Y/n) was coming from. Lloyd knew (Y/n) just wanted to be treated the same as everyone else, treated like he isn’t fragile and waiting to break.

From the years Lloyd had known (Y/n) and Rip, the old man knew just knew how fierce both men can be and they’ve proved it various times in various ways. So it was understandable why (Y/n) felt a certain way towards his older brother, why he felt so.. misunderstood. But again, in Lloyd’s opinion. He was secretly siding with Rip. He agreed with the foreman, (Y/n) truly needed help.

As both brothers continued exchanging powerful punches, the cowboys and other ranch workers continued standing by. Their eyes glued at the scene unfolding before them. They weren’t allowed to intervene, a rule everyone knew about until one of them finally submitted. Whoever remained standing was now considered the new foreman of the ranch.

After what seemed like forever, both brothers were covered in blood. Their faces bruised and battered as they continue to land blow after blow. However, (Y/n) slightly being more skilled in hand to hand combat, due to his years in the military, landed a hefty strike to Rip’s jaw, sending his older brother to the ground. All the cowboys watched in shock, horror as (Y/n) immediately mounted his brother. He gripped Rip’s jacket as leverage as he landed more brutal blows to his face, his vision clouded with dark rage as he kept landing punch after punch. Ryan and Lloyd took a slight step forward in fear that (Y/n) might kill his own brother from how he pummeled Rip to the ground.

Although, their steps come to a stop when the younger Wheeler lands one last, brutal, skull crushing punch against Rip’s jaw. Snapping his head to the side, blood coating the dirt from the powerful strike. They both panted heavily as they try gathering their breaths. Rip on the floor, blood sliding down his mouth, while (Y/n) remained mounted on top of him, his own breathing matching his brother’s. But after a minute, (Y/n) spits a glob of blood on the ground near Rip’s head before standing to hover above him.

The sun behind (Y/n’s) frame casts a shadow down on Rip.

“This is the last time you bench me.” (Y/n) demands with a dark tone, his eyes hooded with rage, a dark clouded glaze as he stares down at Rip,

Rip, still on the ground, stares up at his younger brother. His blue eyes filled with rage, humiliation, betrayal, frustration, sadness, hurt. He never wanted this to happen.

“Keep the title. I don’t want it,” Was the last thing (Y/n) said before walking away,

Leaving Rip alone on the ground. Leaving him with a distaste of humiliation. Not only did (Y/n) just defeated him in a brutal physical fight, but he also stripped Rip from his authority only to throw it back at him with disrespect. Lloyd, Ryan, Colby, Jimmy, everyone watched with pure shock. They couldn’t believe at what just unfolded.

With cautious steps, Lloyd walks over to Rip who slowly began rising from the ground. Faint wheezes can be heard from the man as he leans back on his heels. His blue eyes, that are usually filled with anger were now filled with heartbreak, tears threatened to spill, but he was too goddamn stubborn to let them fall. So instead, he just spat on the ground, coating its light brown dirt with striking red blood before reaching for his hat that had fallen sometime in between the fight and rose to his feet with the help of Lloyd.

With slow movements, Rip turns to watch his younger brother storm away. His heart shattering more as he watched his baby brother that he protected for years—and will continue protecting— walk away from him. Rip wasn’t angry at him, not by any means, he was just worried for him.

Little did (Y/n) know that this fight was merely the beginning. Their bond, twisted and bloody, would take time to heal, but beneath the chaos, the love remained—an unspoken truth that would guide them back to each other when the wounds eventually closed. For despite their struggles, they would always be brothers, bound by blood and shared memories of hell they had both survived, ready to face the darkness that loomed ahead.

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-> I Know I Know, This Was Different. But At Least I Gave Ya’ll Another Rip Story! 🫠🫶

-> Another, I Know I Said The Boys Was Next, But.. This One Came To Mind and Was Finished In Under.. 20 Minutes so.. You’re Welcome? 🙃

-> But Yes, The Boys Fic Is Still Next While I Finish The Reacher x Reader Fic.

-> So Stay Tuned For That!! Make Sure To Turn On Post Notifications🔔!! For More Updates!!

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[misquoted-chronicles]

Beth: You're really campaigning for asshole of the year award, aren't you?

Y/n: As defending champion, are you nervous?

Beth: *raises one hand, curling her fingers into a fist before extending only the middle finger*

Y/n: *raise both hands, simultaneously flipping Beth off*