#christmas in wyoming masterlist

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

[sebsxphia]

your (my) life with rhett abbott.

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ summary: a life with rhett.

￫ word count: 680.

￫ warnings: mentions of sex, some angst, children and fluff.

￫ authors notes: this is a collection of daydreams i have about my cowboy husband. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Rhett is a little awkward and shy. For a burly bull rider, when he first asked you out, his thumb moved between each fingernail to pick at it. His hands were twitching with nerves. From a first glance, he simply looked like a man asking a person out. His hands were by his sides and he stood tall.

His father told him to never look small, even though he made Rhett feel so small sometimes.

When you replied with a beaming smile that you would love to go out with him sometime, his cheeks became flushed with a warm pink, that spread over the tops of his ears and down his neck in a hot flush.

He gets grumpy too. His eyebrows knit together in a firm line. His eyes become stone and his eyelids grow heavy. He’ll focus on one particular spot of dirt on his jeans, not baring to look at anything else. He clenches his teeth tightly together and his jaw becomes firmly set.

But, he stands up for himself and what he thinks is right. However, it comes off as him being defensive and angry when really, he’s only trying to protect the things that he loves most. That being the life you’ve built together on your ranch and most importantly, you and your little baby girl.

Bonnie Abbott was born in the early spring. You spent many days in the summer standing on your front porch, with her in your arms and watching Rhett work not too far from your home. He couldn’t bear to spend long periods away from you both, so he always opted to do work closer to your home during the day.

You would hold her chubby little hand and wave it for her, humming in a sweet voice, “Wave to Daddy, Bonnie!”

You watch as your three ranch cats jump from the rooftops and fences of the barn. Your Anatolian Shepherd, Daisy, sits by your feet and keeps a careful and protective watch over both you and Bonnie. Robin, your Blue Heeler, is always quick on Rhett’s heels and trails around behind him, as he works in the hot and sticky Wyoming summer heat. Rhett whistles sharply between his lips and Robin is always quick to follow.

You still live in Wyoming, but you chose your ranch to be two towns over from Wabang. Rhett wanted to distance himself from his family, but he couldn’t leave them completely. He’s still holding onto this deeply entrenched guilt, that therefore causes him to tether to them.

He’s working on it though. He’s working on himself.

He doesn’t deny his mother and father of seeing his grandchild. You go back to visit when you can, but you normally leave after spending the day there. Rhett can only bear so many hours before the familiar and tell-tale signs of his set frown and tense jaw begin to appear. You still go back for occasions such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those are the only two occasions when you, Rhett and Bonnie will stay the night.

His old room is still there. It still comforts him.

You press up against Rhett in his small bed and keep him warm, whilst Bonnie sleeps soundly beside you both in her crib. His room is nearly identical to when he left it, but these small changes with you both now being in there with him, is what gives him the harmony to fall asleep.

You asked Rhett once if he would be gentle with you, as he had your beautiful naked body below him.

“Will you be gentle with me? Please be gentle with me.”

He gave you the love that you so dearly deserved. He calls you his “baby,” his “darlin’”, his love.

He is your dream. He is your cowboy, but a man who needs to be wanted. He needs to feel wanted. He gets so much validation from you, in every way. Emotionally, physically, sexually… And you give that to him without hesitation. He’s so over the moon with you. He’s so profoundly and deeply in love with you.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @flames-thebitch @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @sugarcoated-lame @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @floydsmuse @rhettmotel @mearslot @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @withahappyrefrain @castiel-barnes @sandbarbirdie

[pedrospatch]

joel miller masterlist

♡ fic notifs l ao3 ♡

🔥= indicates smut

oneshots & drabbles

not a thing l part ii summary: You and Joel had a private moment while Ellie was asleep. Or so you’d thought she was asleep.

weakness l part ii 🔥 summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s takes an unexpected turn for you and Joel when some feelings start coming to the surface.

we need you summary: Afraid of failing the two of the people he cares about more than anything, Joel decides you and Ellie are better off without him.

jealous summary: You aren’t together, but Joel doesn't want to see you with anyone else.

stay summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

what he didn’t do summary: You’re very recently divorced, but that doesn’t stop a certain brown-eyed neighbor from taking you out on a date.

strawberry 🔥 summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what. AU, NO OUTBREAK (TW) DDLG

punishment 🔥 summary: You drag your boyfriend to your best friend’s annual Halloween party and get brave after a couple of drinks—it’s not like Joel’s really going to punish you while all of your friends are under the same roof, right? AU, NO OUTBREAK (TW) DDLG. POSSIBLE DUBCON.

captive 🔥 summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group. TW DARK!JOE. DUBCON.

frosting 🔥 summary: Joel agrees to help you decorate Christmas cookies and things get a little messy. AU, NO OUTBREAK (TW) DDLG

someone to be thankful for 🔥 summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller. AU, NO OUTBREAK, DBF! Joel Miller

series

a safe haven l ongoing l 🔥 summary: When Joel Miller and Ellie Williams return to Jackson, Wyoming to begin their new lives, the last thing Joel expects is to catch the eye of the thriving community’s equine veterinarian. Young, beautiful, and married, Joel knows that he should stay away from a woman like you, but he can’t help but to be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. As you start growing closer to both Joel and Ellie, you find out all about the secrets they both carry—and they find out you’ve been hiding a secret or two of your own.

fall into temptation l completed l 🔥 summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamn preacher’s daughters.

miscellaneous

snapshots l ongoing summary: Moments of Joel Miller’s life in Jackson, Wyoming with his girls.

divider credit @/saradika 🤍

[coeurify]

TIS THE DAMN SEASON

ELLIE WILLIAMS

𖤐 . ─┈ the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you— and my hometown. ˚* .

pairing: modern au!ellie x ex!reader. based on this song. series summary: jackson, wyoming suffocated you for eighteen years. the only breath of fresh air you got in that small town was your girlfriend, ellie williams, and your friends. the moment you graduate high-school you decide you have to leave for the city. leave them. three years later, you come home for the holidays, and nothings changed. except the fact that in your absence, your family began including your ex’s family in their holiday season. you quickly realize how easy it is to fall into old habits with old people. series warnings: heavy angst. hurt with little comfort. some fluff, some smut .christmas/holiday celebrations. high school sweethearts turned exes turned fwb. unhappy-ish ending.

part one, part two, part three, part four. playlist: i won’t ask you to wait, if you don’t ask me to stay. series taglist! reply to be added @abbyscherry @sawaagyapong g @muthafuckingstargirl @fleshunger @jigsaw-victim @brunettedolls-blog @ellies-tatto @mydiaurie @kittnii @villainousbear @ih8chickentenders @spiral-x @ceraiio @makemescreamel @prettygirlfemme @mourningdovee @a-normal-harry-lover r @bejing-blue @elliesprttygirl l @feelsoseencantdream @princessofdisaster444 @ellieslittlegf @erin-lxxu @pedrosballsack @jisoonunn

this is just my series masterlist! :)

[justagalwhowrites]

Master List

Cover by the AMAZING @murder-wife

What I've been working on lately. All works are 18+, minors DNI

Now accepting requests :)

A note on tipping (AKA please read before you tip!)

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Oneshots/Requests

Joyeux Noël - A Lavender AU Christmas Story

Bane of My Existence (QZ Smuggler!Joel Miller x Female Reader)

Undone (Dom!Joel Miller x Sub!Female Reader)

Take Care (Dom!Joel Miller x Sub!Female Reader)

Just to be Sure (Husband!Joel x Wife!Reader)

Homecoming (DBF!Joel x Female Reader)

Lavender No Outbreak AU Masterlist

Sick Leave (Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender)

Date Night (Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender)

Girl Dad (Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender)

Long Day (Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender AU)

Long Distance (DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader from Homecoming)

Pick Me (Joel Miller x Female Reader)

Proof of Life (Darkish!Joel Miller x Female Reader, QZ era)

The Watch (Joel Miller x Female Reader, QZ era)

Fucksgiving 2K23: Gray Sweatpants

Game Time - A New in Town College Football One Shot

Wonderland - A Lavender No Outbreak AU One Shot

What Was Lost... - A Lavender One Shot set between chapters 8 and 9

...Can Be Found - A Lavender One Shot set between chapters 47 and 48

Expecting - A Lavender Drabble set between chapters 48 and 49

Undone - No Outbreak AU Joel Miller x Female Reader

Curse and Comfort - A Jackson!Joel Period One Shot

Yearling

After years of surviving in the wilds of Wyoming after the cordyceps outbreak, you find yourself in Jackson. It's a town filled with friendly faces and the kind of world you hardly remember, let alone can connect with or understand. But one man - Joel Miller, another loner, like you - makes you think that trying to find your place in society again might be worth it.

A slow burn friends-to-lovers fan fic.

Masterlist

Yearling No Outbreak AU

Bambi and Joel find each other in every timeline.

Masterlist

The Savage and the Sanctuary

After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up.

The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

Masterlist

Halcyon

When your life falls apart, you find yourself back in your hometown of Austin, Texas for the first time in more than a decade. Eager to make your own way after a rough divorce, you reconnect with your high school best friend Joel Miller - a man you never thought would be in your life again.

Things have changed since your falling out just before you left for college but friendship with Joel comes easy. His life isn't in any better shape than your own and the two of you make a vow to get your acts together - personal, professional and romantic - in the span of a year. But will your burgeoning connection make it so you can figure everything out or will your history together get in the way?

Masterlist

Stranger in a bar

You meet a stranger in a bar, one who is fun and sexy and makes you wonder if the single life is all it's cracked up to be. But there's one big problem: you probably shouldn't be fucking your dad's best friend.

Masterlist

Run Rabbit

It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They’re harsh, they’re cold and they’re killers. But, as a nurse, you’re a valuable person to have around and they’re not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

Masterlist

Holly Jolly

Joel Miller has never been a fan of Christmas. It's stressful, it's expensive and it's depressing. But a chance meeting in line to take his five-year-old daughter to see Santa might just change that.

Masterlist

New in Town

When you move to Austin for work, your best friend Sarah recommends that you hang out with her dad, Joel, to get to know the area. Sarah just never mentioned the fact that her dad is just your type.

Masterlist

Haunted House - A Halloween one shot

Manic Monday - A New in Town Drabble

Lavender

An age-gap grumpy/sunshine friends-to-lovers (and eventually friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers) fanfic that starts pre-outbreak. Will be long running and updated regularly and run through the outbreak and at least season one of TLOU.

Lavender Masterlist

Lavender No Outbreak AU Masterlist

My casting of the OCs

Found Family - Fan Art

Joel & Doc - Fan Art

Family Portrait

Joel - Fan Art

The Mandalorian x Female Reader

Excerpts and previews of Beskar Doll (found in total on AO3), an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers slow burn fic.

Tumblr Chapter Master List

Buycika - a Beskar Doll Drabble

Growing - A Beskar Doll Drabble

Overcome - Din Djarin x Female Reader

For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Featuring Joel Miller, Oberyn Martell, Din Djarin

[netherfeildren]

Masterlist:

Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new writing! All works are 18+

Fear of God : Joel Miller x OFC

Summary : What was monstrousness? What was it, but a certainty that there existed within you multitudes of desires, needs, guilts, impulses – humanity? At the end of the world, when the dust has finally settled, Joel grapples with what it is to take hold of your own monstrosity – your own humanity – and live with it. And what it is to bear that truth in the palm of your hand held towards the person you love, offer it to them, and have it be accepted for what it was. Courage, above all else, it is courage that is necessary to go on.

-OR-

Big bad Joel Miller falls in love and doesn't know how to deal with it.

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the love of your life?

-OR-

A Joel infidelity AU

The Cassandra Complex : WIP: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: the creation of myth.

-OR-

the mandalorian / dark sider au

Busy, Dying. : WIP: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Fable of the Dog : WIP: Joel Miller x FMC

Summary: The sky is a glass mirror of blackened silver streaks, and you’re almost positive that all the stars in the Milky Way are visible from right here at this very spot in the heart of Wyoming. The sight makes your broken heart feel full and falsely mended.

And then there is Joel Miller, too.

-OR-

the cowboy/heiress AU

Pink : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The story of a son who won’t love you, and his father, who will.

-OR-

the father-in-law AU

Honey, Stomach, Mine : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Existence is a needful thing. Choice is fickle, nature inescapable. Run to the end of the world, Joel, all those things will still find you. 

She'll still come for you. 

-OR-

the A/B/O outbreak AU 

At the Restaurant : Din Djarin x OFC

Summary: It’s two days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

One Shots :

bétteln : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary : You really want Joel to give you a baby. You don’t really care what he has to say about it.

biéten : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary : Now that you have his baby in you, you’re Joel’s most special girl. 

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill! : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her. 

Murder and sex ensue!

Greener Memories of Better Men : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Best Story of the Day! South Austin elementary school started a “Breakfast With Dads” program but many dads couldn’t make it and several students didn’t have father figures. The school posted fliers at the local YMCA’s for 50 volunteer fathers… 600 different people from all backgrounds showed up…

Joel Miller is one of them.

-OR-

Sarah’s gone and Joel wants to feel close to her again. He reconnects with someone he used to know along the way.

I urge you: Bite me : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that.

Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too. 

With Mercy for the Disturbed : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: He's a father and then he isn't, and then he's in the perfect place with the perfect girl, and he's done so many bad things that terrify the both of them. And then, finally, he's saved and there are dancing bears and doors newly opened, and everyone's a little mad at the end of it all.

-OR-

the Hannibal/Alice in Wonderland AU wherein Joel loses his mind

Evermore : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The Thanksgiving AU

Meet Me in the New Year : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The New Year’s Eve AU

10:05 PM : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is exhausted, you’re there to make him feel better.

How to Endure Ardor : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.

Notes On a Virtuous Affair : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

Forfeiting My Mystique : Ezra x F!Reader

Summary: You're a girl made of golden gossamer, a work of art come to life, and Ezra, well, he's dedicated his life to collecting beautiful things.

-OR-

An Ezra Art Collector AU

[blurredcolour]

The Last To Know | Part Three

The Last To Know Masterlist

John Brady x Pilot!Female Reader

The 100th should be nearing the end of its training, receiving its certification for overseas combat. However, as you and Brady both know - man plans, god laughs. Obstacles, however, sometimes present hidden opportunities for connection.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Original Characters, Plane Crashes, Minor Original Character Death, Vomit, Era Typical Sexism/Misogyny, Alcohol Consumption, Tobacco Smoking, Canon Typical Violence, Language, Enemies to Lovers, Weapons of War, Inevitable Musical and Flying Inaccuracies, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: This story contains an alternate universe where women have been allowed to fly in combat with the USAAF - in a very limited experiment. Reader is a trumpet player. Brief references to Reader's family and backstory. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 6135

-------------------------

December 1942

“Any news?” Thornton asked as she sank down into the empty chair opposite you.

Shaking your head, you lowered your eyes to the faintly steaming mug cupped between your hands, trying to calm the hopeful race of your heart. You had thought, in vain, she might be bearing word of Brady’s crew. “No Ma’am.”

She hummed in disappointment, settling back in her seat as she tossed her cap onto the tabletop, carelessness betraying her fatigue. In all honestly, you should be in bed. You, Thornton, and every other person loitering around the Officer’s Club this late on Christmas Eve.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Lieutenant.” She murmured, straightening her jacket as you took a slow slip of your drink.

Correction – this early on Christmas morning.

“You, too.” You sighed, the pair of you offering tight-lipped nods to Matthews, the barman on duty, as he delivered a cup of coffee for Thornton without prompting.

The forecast that afternoon had been clear skies, no reason to doubt the practice missions slated for the 418th. Not until the planes began returning within an hour or two of take off, bearing reports of abysmal weather – little to no visibility, high winds, heavy snow. All but one plane had returned by sundown.

It was not unheard of for things to go awry during training. Plenty of statistics outlined the dangers of just learning how to fly a B-17, never mind taking it into combat. But this would be the first for the 100th.

As to what you were doing here, participating in this vigil – that was certainly more complicated. A question you were not entirely equipped to answer. All you knew is that you had found it impossible to consider turning in the for night with the status of his entire crew unknown. Croz had proven himself a humble gentleman, Hambone more of an enigma, while Hoerr seemed polite enough – holding doors for any lady who crossed his path, no matter what her occupation.

Perhaps it was the question mark that hung over the fate of those ten men that left you feeling so unsettled, seeking the company of the likeminded in the brightly lit, uncharacteristically quiet Club. The sound of the door closing lifted your, and everyone else’s, head, your heart leaping into your throat as Flescher stepped into view. The entire crowd seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting on the 418th’s CO to speak, until Bucky sidled up behind him grinning broadly.

“Crash landed in Wyoming, all ten of ‘em are shaken up but fine.” Egan crowed, basking in the cheer of delight that went up from the collected officers.

Exhaling in relief, you sank lower in your chair, taking a deep sip to finish your drink as Matthews was quickly put to service pouring celebratory shots.

“That’s my cue.” You nodded to Thornton, standing wearily, feeling suddenly fatigued as the nervous worry that had been keeping you awake rapidly leeched from your body.

“Not staying to celebrate?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m already up way past my bedtime, Ma’am. Merry Christmas.” You repeated with a nod, setting your empty mug on the return cart before sliding around the perimeter of the room to avoid getting ensnared in any raucous celebrations.

The night air was cold, sending your hands diving into the fleece-lined pockets of your jacket, breath misting from your lips as you made your way back to barracks. Getting ready as quietly as possible, adding a few more pieces of wood to the stoves before shuffling towards your bed, you turned to the rack beside yours as Lionheart whispered your name.

“Yeah?” You replied just as quietly.

“What’s the word?”

“Safe in Wyoming.”

“Mmm that’s good.” She murmured, voice laden with sleep as she turned over, falling still as she was soon unconscious once more.

Sliding onto your mattress and pulling the blankets right up to your chin, you swallowed tightly as you found yourself wholeheartedly in agreement. It was good that they were safe. Every single one of them. Even that irksome Brady.

They were back on base within two days, a new plane arriving for them just one day after that – war production had vastly improved, even in the last two months. They returned to a Group in the midst of packing up to move to yet another base, another phase of training.

Sioux City, Iowa was your next home, located at the convergence of the states of Iowa, South Dakota, and Nebraska. Arriving the very first day of 1943, the only warmth was in the greeting from the local ground crew, the 100th’s having split off to Kearney, Nebraska to receive their next phase of training separately. The temperature was all of nine degrees, the cold of the wind gnawing at any exposing skin and laying down thick sheets of ice on the runways.

Despite hygiene regulations requiring space between beds, everyone in the barracks found it a great deal warmer to sleep as close to one another as possible, cots pushed together, huddled under as many blankets as could be found, some even resorting to their high-altitude gear to get comfortable. The deep freeze held Iowa tight in its grasp and did not let go for the first week of January. Aircraft engines refused to start, more than a few personnel were injured due to slips and falls on the treacherous ice lurking beneath skiffs of powdery snow or deceptively coloured as black as innocuous concrete.

The 100th found itself grounded at the mercy of mother nature, the vast majority of your colleagues revelling in the proximity to the city and its numerous USO dances. You, yourself, found the lull in activity and purpose tedious.

Burying your nose into the fleecy collar of your flight jacket after yet another failed attempt at a practice mission, you parted ways with your frostbitten crew. The invitation to spend another afternoon in the women’s make-shift club poring over the haul of fashion magazines Nita had procured on her trip off base make your stomach turn and you eagerly pointed your toes towards the hangar to see what the boys in the ground crew were up to. While you might not be able to get up into the air today, you could at least spend time with experienced technicians and perhaps learn a thing or two.

Pulling open the heavy man-door, you stepped into the slightly warmer space where the sounds of repair and idle chatter bounced off the metal roof and walls. There were a few other officers in attendance, most likely longing to be in the air, same as you, but stuck here on the frozen plains with nothing better to do than watch the men in grease-stained coveralls dissemble engines and work on the guts of the machines they normally flew in.

There was one man, off to the side, with several open cans of paint, carefully working on some nose art on a rather spotless looking aircraft. Raising a curious eyebrow as you found painting to be a rather optimistic endeavour in these temperatures, you found your feet carrying you in his direction, peering over at the tail number. ‘42-300071’ you noted with a slight huff. Brady’s new plane, of course. At the sarcastic exhale, the unfamiliar man looked up to you quickly and you stepped closer to address him properly.

“Pretty sure you’ve got the lettering wrong there, Sergeant.” Your lips twitched playfully, watching him pale nervously as his eyes darted back to the three-quarters finished ‘Skipper.’

“M…Ma’am?” He squeaked out nervously, drawing the attention of several passers-by.

“That should most definitely read ‘Brady’s Crash Wagon.’” A grin snuck its way onto your lips as the hangar erupted with laughter, a rather perturbed John Brady stalking around the nose of the plane to eye you in annoyance.

Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, lest you burst out laughing, you could not help but notice that his cap was pulled low on his head, pushing his ears out slightly, giving him the appearance of an overgrown field mouse. Raising a shoulder in a half-shrug of nonchalance, you continued on your way towards an engine stripped of its parts, crouching down to watch the technician hard at work on one of the gears – a tiny yet integral piece.

“You’re a real cut-up, Bo Peep.” Egan beamed, clapping you on the shoulder playfully, driving that laugh that had been stubbornly hovering in the back of your throat past the barrier of your lips as you straightened to face him. You could not help but notice the faint-hearted laugh he produced, the fact that the expression did not quite reach his eyes.

“You ok, Major?” You murmured, referring to him by his recently promoted rank.

His eyes met yours, studying you for a moment before he nodded and offered a wink. “Just fine, Bo Peep. Stay warm, huh?” He patted your shoulder again before moving along, leaving you alone with your confusion and growing sense of unease.

A glance back over your shoulder at the flushed face of Brady, surrounded by his bright-faced comrades as they watched the final touches being put on the nose of his plane provided no insights. Bucky’s uncharacteristic moment of solemnity became did not become more understandable until Thornton cornered you a few days later with the news that Wing was reticent to certify the 100th for overseas combat. The lack of flying days here in Iowa, combined with the limited planes available at the outset in Washington, capped off with the disorderly transition from base to base – including one particular crew’s detour to Minneapolis to send a message via wrench dropped out of a machine gun port…well it had all raised a lot of doubts in the minds of your superiors.

“How bad are we talking here?” You murmured, leaning in closer as a few girls filtered by towards the showers. “A complete failure of the experiment?” Your throat clenched painfully around the words, feeling more than a little queasy at the thought that after months of hard work, you might be packing it up to head home anyway.

“Dutch doesn’t foresee it being quite so dire, just promise me you’ll keep your nose clean, Lieutenant. We’ve been perfect thus far, now we must be simply flawless.”

“Understood, Ma’am.” You nodded quickly, parting with a sharp salute, hurrying toward the Mess Hall to dig into some breakfast.

The warmth on the breeze, a sudden turn in the weather, was a hopeful sign and one that did allow you all to get back into the air. Your efforts to arrange Deep in the Heart of Texas for the 280th’s band to play for Thornton on her birthday, in honor of her home state, also proved an excellent distraction. While the vast majority of officers had absconded off base for one of the ubiquitous USO dances, you had taken up residence in the corner of the Officer’s Club, taking the record player hostage as the Ladies Club did not have one on this base. With your one purchased copy of the score, and multiple handwritten versions spread out on the table before you, Matthews groaned as you set the needle on the outside of the record to play the song yet again, wanting to read through the clarinet part you had just written out.

“I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll buy another drink in a moment and improve your sales for the night.” You glanced back over your shoulder at him apologetically, startled to meet the blue eyes of Brady, leaning up against the bar.

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.” Matthews huffed good naturedly and you jerked your focus back to the task at hand as the voice of Bing Crosby, playing significantly quieter than usual, still managed to fill the basically empty club as your eyes traced along your penciled in notes.

As the song came to end, you lifted the needle, the tuneless scratching of vinyl ceasing, as you tapped your pencil against your lower lip in thought. The arrangement seemed fine in all honesty, but fine was most definitely not what you were aiming for with your birthday tribute to the inspiration for your entire squadron. Pulling the score for the trumpets closer you exhaled heavily, once again debating about which instrument ought to be carrying the melody in the second verse when a voice startled you from behind.

“Saxophones ought to be stepping out there.” Brady murmured thoughtfully, ice clinking against the side of his glass as he took a sip.

Shoulders stiffening nearly to your ears, you glared down at the page before you. “Of course you would say that; you spend all your spare time with a reed in your mouth.”

Huffing a little, he settled down, completely uninvited, in the chair to your left. “Look here, horn lady,” his annoyingly elegant finger jabbed into the sheet music, “you’re overlooking a powerful and impactful instrument that would add dimension to this section.”

Wrenching your eyes from his insistent digit to his stubbornly set face, his jaw jutting slightly forward, you began to regret referring to his mouth earlier as your eyes were tempted to drift there. “You forget that I only have two to rely upon.” You countered quickly, trying to distract yourself.

“Only takes one good saxophone to steal the show.” He replied with a minute smirk, slowly sipping his drink and making you grit your teeth before pulling the scores together.

Using your eraser, you made his suggested changes for the second verse, putting the saxophones in the spotlight and the clarinets on harmony, before setting it all in front of him. “You listen, I’ve stared at this far too long.”

Standing quickly, you set the song to play once more before stalking over to the bar, intent on fetching the drink from Matthews as promised. Assuming the lean Brady had occupied a few minutes prior, you were pleasantly surprised to see him still sat at the table, diligently reviewing the music before him as the song played. Paying and tipping Matthews handsomely as you accepted your beverage, your lips parted in surprise as Brady went to the lengths of setting the song to play again.

“Christ almighty, there are two of you now.” Matthews groaned bitterly and you shot him yet another apologetic grimace.

“Sorry, Matthews.”

“Whatever, just…I’ll be in the back doing stock if anyone needs me.” He sighed dramatically, tossing his towel over his shoulder and disappearing through the doorway behind the bar.

Returning to the table slowly, you swallowed to find Brady jotting down his thoughts on the back of a spare sheet. Resuming your seat carefully, so as not to disturb him, you froze slightly as he suddenly turned his gaze to you.

“It’s a fair start–” He began and so did your struggle to actually listen to the rest of what he had to say rather than immediately fight back defensively.

Though it utterly galled you to admit it, he made numerous good points. You had heard he was a professional musician, had done his degree in music, played with Bunny Berrigan. Hell, you had seen and heard him play yourself at that holiday concert. And his acumen was showing here again, right now. Swallowing your pride, as much as it painfully scraped its way down your throat, you forced yourself to take his advice, to make the changes. Until it came to your substitution for the claps during the refrain.

“I say keep them with the horns, but don’t play these notes, actually clap – you’ll get the audience to join in.”

Your pencil halted in place above your score, head jerking up to look at him. “You’d reduce us to percussion.” You said flatly, tone dripping with disbelief.

Sighing impatiently, he leaned back in his chair crossing his arms. “Fine, someone needs to clap. Your bandleader?”

Raising both your eyebrows, a laugh of disbelief escaped you. “Keever?! Oh that’s rich she’d…” your voice trailed off as you imagined her displeasure. How annoyed she would be at such a lowly job and yet how easily explainable it would be. A dark grin of delight tugged at your lips, and you nodded firmly, grabbing the clarinet score and making a special note, just for Keever.

“Once more, to be sure?” He asked around the pipe now clenched in his teeth, and you nodded firmly, laying the parts at an angle between the pair of you as he set up the record to play one more time, the heavy thud of a box being dropped on the bar sounding from behind you.

The pair of you glanced back to see Matthews disappearing back into the stockroom, muttering unintelligibly under his breath, before turning back to look over your handiwork, nodding along quietly as the song played before you leaned back with a sigh of relief.

“That’s it.” Brady nodded, turning off the record player, curls of smoke trailing from his lips.

Nodding as you finished the dregs of your drink with one deep swallow, you moved to assemble your papers into order, blinking as he held out the record for you to tuck away into its sleeve. Not quite capable of offering words of thanks to the man, you opted instead to provide a deep nod of gratitude, packing it away and heading out for the night.

The band had a week and a half to perfect the piece, using every available moment to practice. The unfinished pool, construction halted for the winter, proved to be the perfect space to keep the endeavour secret – though both yourself and Keever found it much harder to explained prolonged absences to Thornton. After one too many close calls, and one rather intense exchange involving a remarkable amount of perspiration for January in Iowa, you found it necessary to employ the assistance of Egan to keep her off the scent. The man proved more than eager and up to the task at distracting her with inane drabble or outright chaos as the situation warranted.

He was with her right now, distracting her with some meeting along with Dutch, Cleven, Kidd, Flescher, Alkire…at least you were desperately trying to convince yourself that was all it was – and not the dire news you had been praying would not come to pass. Andie shouted your name, drawing your eyes from the blur of music stanzas in front of you to where your Co-pilot was setting down a large slab cake with the assistance of Lionheart.

“Here??” She called again and you gave her the thumbs up through the clouds of balloons and streamers – the decorations having reached astronomic proportions under Bucky’s insistence.

Turning back to warming up, your attention was once again snagged by actions on the floor as Dutch hurried in with Cleven, sliding his blunt fingers into his mouth and giving a sharp whistle. “She’s two minutes out! Places!”

There were times when you questioned the military training of the members of the 100th, but this was not one of them. With surprising efficiency, all of those gathered, including the enlisted women with special permission to enter the Officer’s Club for the evening, quieted down and assembled along the sides of the room emptied of furniture to allow for the extra bodies. You barely registered the opening of the door before a great cheer when up, Keever turning to the band expectantly. Holding the opening note of Happy Birthday for a few beats until the crowd took the cue, she signalled with a bob of her head to proceed with the rest of the tune, the band playing as the crowd eagerly sang to the blushing woman as Bucky guided her to the over-sized cake on the bar.

There were more cheers, which then tripled in volume once she blew out the candles and then, at last, came time for your surprise. Taking a moment to wipe the sweat from your palms onto your olive drab skirt while the attention of the crowd was elsewhere, you took a steadying breath as Keever turned back to begin Deep in the Heart of Texas. As you had assumed, there had been a great deal of push back from her regarding the refrain claps, but you had done an admirable job selling her importance of that role as bandleader. And watching her eyes light up upon taking in the force with which the crowd executed those claps along with her convinced you that it had been worth it.

Damn that John Brady.

Shuffling from the bandstand to thunderous applause at the end of the song, you smiled to Matthews gratefully as he cued up the record player, revellers taking to the dancefloor as you moved to find your instrument case to pack up.

“Lieutenant.” Thornton’s voice cut through the din as her hand landed on your shoulder with a squeeze. Turning to face her warmly, your eyes widened as she pulled you close in a warm embrace. “Thank you.” She said emphatically in your ear.

Pulling back with a quizzical look on your face, she cracked a small smile.

“Egan.” She clarified and you shook your head with a smirk, feeling the expression leech away as her face fell solemn.

“Ma’am?”

“It’s not dissolution but…more training. A month at least.” She leaned in, confirming that the meeting had, in fact, not been a ruse.

Setting your mouth into a grim line, you exhaled deeply through your nose, nodding once to show you had heard her even if you did not fully understand the reasoning. Parting from you with one final squeeze of your shoulder, you turned to wend your way through the raucous crowd, punching the door open into the frigid night, forgetting all about your case. You were about ten steps away from the building when you heard Brady calling your name.

Turning back sharply, you saw him jogging over to you, trumpet case in hand. “It was good.”

Snagging it from him roughly, you gulped. “Not good enough.”

“What are you talking about?” He tilted his head, acutely resembling a bewildered puppy.

Casting your eyes around the desolate exterior of the building and finding only the ghosts of your exhales hanging in the air, you swallowed. “We’re not getting certification.”

His gaze hardened. “Your scores are perfect.” He muttered, tone soured by what you could only assume was envy.

Brady’s reply wrung a bitter laugh from your aching chest. “I could turn water into wine, Brady, and they would say it’s because I can’t make beer. Besides, they’re not going to certify one crew, one squadron even. It’s the whole Group or nothing.”

“Damn.” He grunted. “Do you know how long?”

“A month, at least. Just pray it’s not in this desolate ice field.” You shook your head, leaving him alone in the freezing night.

It was not. At least not for the 418th and 280th. Two days after Thornton’s tainted birthday celebrations, you were on the move once again, to Boise, Idaho. The semi-arid conditions there brought a return temperatures in the forties and regular training flights without the same biting cold of Iowa. It did little to lift the spirits of the splintered squadrons, the 349th, 350th, and 351st scattered hither and yon, the entire Group’s future feeling utterly precarious despite Thorntons assurances that it would not be a permanent separation.

Certain men, of whom Pratt was the most vocal, were more than happy to lay the blame at the feet of the women of the 280th, but in comparison, both on paper and in the air, your squadron was unquestionably outperforming any other as the calendar turned first to February and then onto March. Temperatures rose, the spring rains came to the Treasure Valley, and Blakely married his Sioux City sweetheart, shipped in by train for the occasion accompanied by Hambone’s wife.

You had been learning more than just their names during this prolonged period of training in exile, finding that not only had the weather thawed but so too had some of their reticence to interact with the ladies of the 280th as equals. That was, of course, not to say that things did not remain frosty between you and Brady – no, that friction would most likely never resolve, but perhaps the pair of you might be able to function as colleagues.

March 29 dawned warm and remarkably humid, sending your eyes suspiciously skyward to assess the seemingly innocent clouds scudding along briskly in the stiff breeze. Halting your steps on your way to the Mess Hall, you planted your hands on your hips and furrowed your brow, doing your best to ignore the way Andie was snickering at you.

“You trying to give Stormy a run for his money?”

Shaking your head with a sigh, mostly at yourself, you put one foot in front of the other to continue onward toward breakfast. “Weather’s off, that’s all.” You shrugged and held the door open for her to make up for delaying her meal.

With a nod of thanks she stepped into the Officer’s Mess, usually filled with a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces here in Idaho. In a way it had been a blessing your squadron had been sent along with another – it limited the number of unpleasant encounters with each new Group rotation, watching some other bunch of men making their way through training more expediently than the 100th also had the added benefit of forging deeper bonds between your two squadrons. The Mess was quieter today, however, the members of the 393rd Bomb Group off on an early morning mission. They would surely be moving on next week and the question on everyone’s mind was, would you also get that chance?

It had been a cramped stay, with no spare buildings for the women to make their own club, no time or space for the band to practice. The desire to get certified and get into combat was searing inside everyone by now, it was just a matter of convincing Wing that you were truly ready. Bellies full, crews were assembled and loaded onto transport trucks after the briefing. Dual squadron bombing run without ordinance was the order of the day, but you found your eyes narrowing in on the clouds beginning to grow vertically over the valley as the heat of the day increased under the influence of the sun.

“If the weather allows…” You muttered under your breath to yourself as you jumped off the truck in front of your plane, which the girls had lovingly named ‘Ice Box’ thanks to the cold temperatures you all endured while flying inside it.

“Ok, Stormy.” Andie sassed, happy to assure you she had overheard your pessimism before she slid aboard, making you roll your eyes as you followed.

You wished you had not been right. In fact, there were a lot of things you wished went differently that day.

Take off was rough, the plane buffeted by cross winds and turbulence that had even the seasoned members of your crew questioning the wisdom of their generous breakfast. After much discussion between Blakely and Thornton, the squadrons pushed higher to try and find a smoother altitude above the clouds. The problem was the clouds only continued to bubble and boil higher and higher into the stratosphere, seeming to chase your aircraft.

Glancing out the small window to your left, you frowned as there was no friendly flat-top to these clouds, apparently nothing to limit their towering heights. Listening to nothing other than the sound of your own exhales echoing harshly against the rubber of your mask, you bit off a curse and made the decision to call the lead plane of your squadron to express your concern about the obvious storm clouds.

“Zoot Suit three to Zoot Suit lead.”

“Go ahead.” Came Thornton’s reply, tone perfectly even.

“I’m thinking these storm clouds are more dangerous than they look.”

“Zoot Suit three, same conversation occurring in our cockpit, standby.”

Exhaling slowly, both relieved that she agreed and yet tension increasing now that your sense of apprehension was validated, you nearly missed the bolt of lightning that jumped from one cloud to another in front of the nose of your plane. The thunder, however, was inescapable, the airframe of your B-17 rattling with the proximity of it.

“Well!” Andie huffed. “Think that oughta convince her.”

You were about to reply when a forceful updraft caught the underside of the left wing, driving the plane towards the underside of Biddick’s fort above you, cockeyed, but at such an acute angle you were increasingly at risk of stalling out and sliding backward into the 280th’s formation behind you.

“Shit.” You hissed before barking out to the crew. “Hold on!”

Grasping the throttles, you split the right backward and the left forward, trying to drive the left wing downward as you pulled on the yoke to bank clear of any other planes. The engines whined at the sudden and disparate demands, but thankfully complied, the aircraft spiralling down and away from causing any harm to those around you. Gritting your teeth against the force of the turn, you fought to level out once you had dropped clear, shooting Andie a grateful look as her hand joined yours on the throttle and you pulled on the yokes together.

Chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath, the adrenaline was still singing through your veins as Thornton’s voice came through your headset.

“Zoot Suit lead to Zoot Suit three, everything all right down there?”

“Levelled out now, yes Ma’am.” Your voice was embarrassingly thin but nevertheless audible.

“Zoot Suit lead to all Zoot Suit pilots, Charlie, Delta, Eight, Niner, Alpha, Echo.”

Heaving a sight of relief as she called out the scrub code for your squadron, you remained at your lower altitude, watching the 280th peel off and descend before moving to join their tail as they headed back to base.

“Red Meat lead to all Read Meat pilots, following suit.” Came Blakely’s call shortly after was very validating to hear, though the derisive snort emanating from Pratt made your grip tighten painfully on the controls.

“One dumb girl can’t control her plane and we have to scrub?” He remarked snidely across all the channels, making your blood boil.

“Red Meat six, you have been given the order to scrub, you will turn that plane around or I will take it up with Flescher the moment we land.”

Instinctively looking over your shoulder told you nothing, nothing visible but empty sky from your vantage point, but from the sounds of it, Pratt was continuing on along the mission route, through the thickening clouds and almost persistent thunder.

“Coward…” Was the last transmission, a cruel barb that made your very skin crawl as you would have happily defied that label being applied to any person in the air at the moment, even if it cost you your life.

No further arguments exchanged, you were left the assume that Pratt had complied. Rain opened up, an obscuring curtain of water that nearly hid the runway from view. Mercifully, you were not the first to land, relying on those that found the ground safely before you to help guide you out of the unfriendly sky. Taxiing to your hardstand, you were in the process of removing your flying helmet when Pratt’s plane, being batted about in the wind as though it was crafted of paper, made your breath catch in your throat. Lightning tore through the sky once more, that clouds having since coalesced into one solid wall of black behind him, making the mighty flying fortress appear small.

The sight of an updraft snagging his plane, an occurrence not dissimilar to that which you and your crew had narrowly escaped, sent your heart plummeting, your eyes sliding shut in resignation as the aircraft was thrown helplessly higher into the sky before arcing viciously towards the ground. The resulting cacophonous boom of the explosion, distinct from thunder, had the ladies still sheltering inside the bomber crying out in terror.

“Who was it?”

“Oh god we gotta go help them!”

“No one coulda survived that…”

Yanking the helmet the rest of the way off your head to remove the headset from your ears, you pressed your thumb between your eyebrows to fight off the intense wave of nausea threatening you. The bitter taste of bile was in the back of your throat, creeping higher, and you struggled to take calming breaths as the storm continued to rage outside.

There was not a kind bone in that man’s body, but you had not wished him death. Not even after he accused you of incompetence, nor each and everyone of you of cowardice. Wrenching the sliding window of the cockpit open you stuck your head out the side to lose the remnants of your breakfast, warm rain pelting your face in the process, washing away the evidence.

Retreating back to your seat, you looked to Andie startled as she held out a handkerchief, by some miracle keeping all commentary to herself for once. Quickly drying your face, you tucked it into your pocket with a nod of thanks before wending your way back toward the hatch, coaxing the wide-eyed, shocked girls from the plane and into the covered crew truck to be ferried back to the briefing hut.

That interrogation felt a lot less like practice, Dutch making a beeline for your table and leaning in closely to listen in on your description of the evasive action you had taken, followed by your crew’s collective description of the crash.

The entire room felt muted, everyone’s voices lowered, hushed, like you were already attending the funerals of those eleven men – Pratt’s crew and their experienced observer – who had fallen out of the sky trying to land in the storm.

Maybe if Pratt had turned around when Blakely ordered, he could have beaten the brunt of it. Or maybe there had been nothing that he could have done.

You were starting to feel sick again, excessive perspiration accumulating beneath your flight suit, driving you to open it halfway. Rising quickly to your feet as soon as you were dismissed, you stepped outside desperately to gulp in the fresh air, finding it smelling sweet and feeling cool now that the storm had passed, taking all the humidity with it.

“Bo-peep!” Blakely called out and you turned to see him standing off to the side with a few pilots from the 418th, sharing matches to light their preferred delivery methods for their precious tobacco.

Swallowing hesitantly as he waved you over, you took another life-saving breath of restorative air before moving to join them, more than a little curious at the invitation.

“What did you do before all this?” He asked, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear to light once the book of matches reached him.

Furrowing your brows slightly as you looked from him to Biddick, then Brady, it slowly dawned on you that this was some odd form of acceptance into the group. Tucking the piece of gum you had been fervently chewing to overcome the taste of vomit into your cheek, you shrugged.

“Crop-dusting, mostly, odd jobs in the winter.”

His brown eyes widened slightly as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke up and away from you. “You flew before joining up.” It was not a question, more of an ‘aha!’ statement.

Nodding slowly, you tucked your thumbs into the corners of your pockets. “Almost two years.”

“How’d you get out of that updraft?” Brady’s blunt question cut through Blakely’s moment of revelation, drawing all eyes onto him.

His fingers were tightly grasping the bowl of his pipe, eyes fix firmly on you.

“Yeah, you didn’t even clip the lady beside you, spin out, stall, nothin’.” Biddick shook his head in disbelief.

Bowing your head slightly under the intense scrutiny and praise, you shrugged humbly before taking a breath, trying to remember what you had even done. It had all been instinct. “Split the throttles to overcome the punch to the left wing, took her down in a sharp turn, then Andie and I levelled her out together.” You spoke slowly as each motion came back to you.

“Well, hell, you be sure to tell me anytime I need to stay away from a cloud alright?” Blakely smirked and you laughed softly in surprise.

“Will do.” You nodded in return.

You felt comfort in the sudden levity, in the grins they sent your way, the claps they landed on your shoulder. You had earned their respect, even if it had taken nearly five months, and it meant a lot.

Even if Brady was staring at you silently with his striking blue eyes, his pipe clenched between his teeth.

-------------------------

The Last To Know Masterlist

Tag list: @luminouslywriting, @dustofbrokenheart, @precious-little-scoundrel, @beingalive1, @phyllisthefirst, @bcon24, @louzello

[annaphoenix1994]

Dutton Christmas - 1

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

Kiera awoke with eager intent, the glow from the Christmas tree she and Simon put up in her living room a couple of days prior to the holiday. It was a small tree as the holiday will be spent in the main lodge with her parents and the rest of her family as it was a tradition.

She was excited for Simon to experience his first true Christmas with her, knowing that he had never celebrated it since he was a child. His past was very vague to her, leaving wonder to fill in the gaps as to what happened. By what she gathered, Simon had an abusive father, and his mother and brother passed away, leaving him with no family aside from her and Task Force 141.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, she snuck out of the bed and took her phone with her, leaning over to announce her dismissal from Simon's stubborn slumber. "I'll be right back, babe, I have to go to the bathroom."

He kept his eyes closed as he mumbled, "Okay, love. I'll be here."

She giggled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek as she stood to her feet with more "pep in her step" as she began to feel better with each passing day, her motor functions improving with Simon's encouragement of walking a few extra steps a day and keeping a regular routine of taking her prescribed medication and keeping the area around her skin grafts clean, with Simon's help of course as they had to be rinsed with warm water.

Instead of going to the bathroom, she walked through the house and out onto the patio, facing the piercing cold wind as the Wyoming morning was brutal in the winter, even the fall. Opening the text messages of her phone, she saw the text message she had been waiting for.

She had spent too much time outside, taking a much-needed drag from her vape that Simon kept from her, unaware that he had been standing in the doorway of the patio observing her action. Who is she talking to? Is it someone else?

He frowned at the thought, wondering who else it could be that caused her to smile like she would when they were together. With a ping of anger and jealousy swarming his chest, he returned to the bedroom as if he saw nothing. He looked up at the ceiling, mentally preparing himself for the heartbreak that was soon to follow at the news of someone else making her happy other than himself.

She returned to the bedroom, frowning as his posture told her that he had caught her. "Thought you went to the bathroom." He accused.

"I did," She replied. "I just had to make a call-"

"To who?"

She huffed, knowing he had been watching her, being observant of her surroundings herself, she changed the contact name and contact photo before returning to the house for when she would prove herself to his assumptions.

She felt him tense as she sat on the bed, not daring to reach for his hand as she knew he'd jerk it away as his stare was prominent and angry as he didn't break his gaze from the ceiling. "Do you really want to know?"

He sighed heavily, anger causing his breathing to sound jagged as he exhaled from his lungs. Can't even get excited for a holiday because I'm being cheated on, he thought. "Yeah, I do."

"I'm surprising my dad. I've been talking to my uncle to come to visit us from New York for Christmas. He hasn't seen him in years," She explained. "I'm picking him up from the airport at eleven."

He didn't believe her.

"Okay."

"Simon," She sighed, his name rolling from her tongue so naturally. "Why're you so upset about it?"

"Why would you have to sneak around me to text your "uncle?" He accused, side-eyeing her as he said it.

She rolled her eyes, opening her phone to her text messages and setting her phone on his chest, "Read for yourself."

He sighed, taking the phone and holding it in front of his face, reading the brief texting conversation between the two. Maybe she's not lying, he thought, but with many years of understanding betrayal, he couldn't be so sure without further questioning. "Okay."

"Simon," She sighed. "Look at me."

He didn't want to, but he did anyway.

"I know you're thinking the worst."

"I'm not."

"Bullshit," She scoffed. "Go through it. Go through all of my messages if you don't believe me."

"I believe you."

"Your eyes don't say so."

"Don't know what you're talking about." He grumbled.

He glanced at her as he heard her giggle. What's so fucking funny?

"Are you coming with me to the airport or not?"

"Wouldn't want to interrupt your time with your uncle," He huffed, rolling his eyes subtly. "Even though you shouldn't be driving."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the fucking world," She scoffed, getting up from the bed and walking around to the wardrobe. "I'll even dress like a hermit since you think I'm cheating on you."

"Might as well dress nice." He scoffed.

"Stop it. I'm not sneaking behind you to talk to someone else-"

"Then why are you sneaking in the first place?"

"Maybe because it's Christmas and I don't want you to see the gifts I got you?" She scoffed.

Gifts?

"You haven't gone anywhere that I haven't been with you unless you've been sneaking out at night."

"Online ordering, babe," She shook her head, slipping on one of his jackets that she "borrowed" from him.

He loved seeing her wear his shirts and jackets - knowing that a part of him could be on her at all times. "They ship to the lodge, and I go and get them."

"If you say so."

She knew he was pouting and found amusement in it. "Are you going with me or not?"

"I'll be here when you get back. Just let me know if I need to sleep in the other room." He grumbled.

She scoffed, spitting out the last of her mouthwash after combing out the tangles in her post-sleep hair as she walked back into the bedroom, smirking as she straddled him as he lay on his back, his hands immediately going to rest on her knees, finding it so fucking hard to not imagine her baring herself on top of him. Fuckin' hell, he breathed to himself, desperately fighting the temptation of wanting to fuck her blind for cheating on him, wanting to reclaim his territory.

If he only knew...

She placed her palms against his clothed chest, feeling his heavy heartbeat, knowing he was fighting his own temptation.

She was, too.

Especially the subtle growth of his erection desperate to press into her thigh.

"I'll be back," She whispered, leaning down to press her lips to his chin. "You sure you don't want to go with me? My uncle is a hoot."

"I'll meet him when he gets here," He grumbled, his fingers flexing against the leggings that hugged her legs, contemplating on if he wanted to slide them off or cut them off, the heat from her core radiating onto him.

He knew she was wet.

"Suit yourself," She smirked. "I'll be back. I love you."

He didn't want to say it back due to his own assumption of her cheating, but he knew that possibly it was a lie.

"I love you too."

She smiled, rewarding him with a kiss before forcing herself off of him. "How do I look?" She asked, taking advantage of how she had him right where she wanted him.

You'd look better on top of me, he thought, adjusting the comforter over his hips to hide his erection. "Delightful for another man to gawk at." He grumbled.

"Mhm. Thought so," She rolled her eyes playfully, reaching for her purse and twirling her truck keys around her finger. "You sure you don't want to come? I'll save you a seat."

Oh, I want to come alright, he thought to himself, taking the opportunity to glance at her rear when she turned towards the door, pushing the suggestive thoughts from his mind as the thought of another man touching her killed his mood. Why is she so fucking passionate about it?

"I'll be here when you get back." He grumbled, watching her nod with a sly smirk on her face.

"Alright. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"You need a condom?" He scoffed.

"Not like you have any," She replied, arching her brow. "I won't need them."

He breathed heavily at her words.

She smiled, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as he watched her exit the room and walk into the kitchen, pouring coffee into her tumbler and pouring creamer into the mix. He scoffed as he watched her, adjusting his erection behind his sweatpants, imagining himself pounding into her as she was bent over the counter. She better be fucking with me, he thought.

»»-------¤-------««

On her way to the airport in Cody, she took the opportunity to blast her favorite music through her speakers, inhaling on the vape pen she stored in her console that she had hidden from Simon's line of sight, knowing he'd take it from her as he hated to see her smoke, but the temptation was too strong to not embrace her favorite flavor as the familiar "nicotine high" gave her a familiar, yet welcoming headache.

She had spent not only a lot of money for this to work, but a lot of time ensuring that things fell into place as it was a long distance for the opposite party as well as travel time.

She walked into the airport, sipping from her tumbler of coffee as she waited in the terminal, eager to meet a couple of familiar faces.

She tapped her foot impatiently as she looked at her phone, reading that the time was almost a quarter past eleven. She then began to wonder what Simon was doing - if he was searching for any clues of her suspicious activity or taking care of his pent-up sexual energy while he had the opportunity.

She smirked at the thought, putting her phone away as a familiar voice caught her attention.

She rose to her feet, smiling at him as the group followed him to meet her, embracing him in her arms in a welcoming hug. "It's so nice to see you!" She smiled into his shoulder.

"I can say the same. You're healing nice. Where's Simon?" He asked.

"Home. Mad as a damn wet hen." She smirked.

He nodded, "I understand."

"Let's go cheer him up, shall we?"

"That we shall. That grumpy bloke." He chuckled.

"Did you get your rental? I don't have enough room for all of you in my truck." She asked, opening the Enterprise app on her phone to check the status.

"That's next on my list," He chuckled, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "I'm eager to meet him."

"He's different. He seems more at home."

"Good."

»»-------¤-------««

The ride back to the ranch was full of familiar conversation as well as needed laughs.

The family was back together. With her truck packed full of luggage and one other person, the rest followed her in a rented Suburban as they convoyed up the long gravel driveway, the guest in awe as he looked out the window. New land, he thought. I like it.

"Look at him, he's mad as fuck." He chuckled, pointing through the tinted window at Simon who had subtly peeked through the blinds at the sound of her truck approaching the house.

"I know," She giggled. "He thought I was cheating."

"He should know better than that."

"That's what I've been thinking, but I know he assumes the worst. I would, too," She explained, putting the truck in park before exiting first, ignoring the pain in her back due to intense soreness. I need a fucking drink after this, she thought. "Wait here. I'll go see how mad he is."

He nodded, sitting back in the seat as he watched her go to the front door, unlocking it to see Simon leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee steaming next to him. "You still mad?"

"Mad enough that you'd bring another man here just to rub my nose in it - you have some nerve, love." He scoffed.

Her cheeks turned red as she found it hard to contain her excitement.

Simon saw every bit of it.

"Oh, I sure did. My handiwork, if I may add."

He furrowed his brows, "What handiwork?" He scoffed.

"Of bringing another man around here with you here." She continued along with his assumed story. "A few men, actually." 

"Yeah, to watch me beat them," He rolled his eyes. "A lot of nerve."

"A lot of nerve to beat your own brothers in arms?" She hinted, arching her brow, smiling at the gleam of excitement in his eyes. Don't you be fucking with me about that, he thought.

He paused, not knowing what to say as he watched her reach for his hand. He took it, letting her lead him toward the front door.

She opened it, nodding towards the truck as the passenger door opened, a familiar hairstyle catching Simon's eye as his feet touched the gravel and the rest of the entourage exited from the Suburban parked next to the truck.

The 141 was back together.

"Can't believe it, man. She saved you a seat and you didn't take it!" Soap poked, opening his arms as he went to retrieve his luggage from the backseat of the truck.

Simon gently squeezed her upper arm, turning her to face him, her healing face smiling back up at him. "You did this? For me?"

"I sure did," She smiled. "We've been talking about this since we got back home. I had Price call me so I can talk to him about it, and he pretended to be my uncle over text so that you wouldn't catch on." She giggled.

A smile tugged at his lips, his arm coming around her shoulders to pull her close to his chest, placing a kiss on her neck as he whispered into her ear, "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too," She whispered back, wrapping her arms around his waist, her fingertips pressing into the muscle of his back softly. "Merry Christmas, baby."

[ryuzakemo128]

Stepmother

Pairing: Joel Miller x you

Content Warning: stepmother(you) convincing Joel to abdondon Sarah, Divorce, Child neglect & abandonment.

Words: 601

Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes people aren't as good as we want to them to be. Sometimes, even your own parents manage to break your heart.

Note: I really do recommend listening to the linked song while reading.

Years after the divorce between both of her parents. Things were a little different. Sarah stayed with her father every second weekend, and remained with her mother would have her for the majority of the school term. 

It didn’t affect her she says mentally to herself. She didn’t let it affect her. 

She didn’t want it to. 

She didn’t want it to.

Sarah liked you in the beginning, she thought you were fun to be around. She enjoyed when you were there. She didn’t mind when you started dating Joel in the beginning. Furthermore, she only spent the weekends there. Sometimes even the school holidays. Some years it was also the Christmas holidays too. 

Slowly, the two of you dated. Slowly but surely. Things were changing. Whether it was a good kind of change or not. Change was bound to occur. 

Once you married her father? Things changed. Things weren’t the same anymore. Not in the good way either. Suddenly it is ‘You don’t need your old family anymore’ and ‘I’ll give you children’. Joel stopped having Sarah around because you didn’t want her there. 

“Mommy, why doesn’t daddy want to see me? I asked to visit him. And he promised he would. But never showed up.” Sarah cried to her mother.  Joel started making excuses, saying its work holding him up. But his ex-wife knew better.

You pulled him away from his daughter. You told him Sarah wasn’t wanted and that once you started having his children. You didn’t want her around anymore. You were his new family. Sarah is his old family that didn’t belong anymore. 

Sarah made a face book page to speak with her cousins from Wyoming. But she looked up her father’s account on her friend’s account. “Mommy, why did my daddy block me on facebook?”

Her mother didn’t know what to say in answer to that. She cried with her again. Her soul aching and her heartbreaking for her daughter. 

Soon trips to Joel’s house were cancelled, soon he didn’t show up to school plays or recitals. “Mommy, why doesn’t my daddy love me anymore?”

Sarah tried mailing him letters, gifts, Christmas cards only to have them all ignored. Sarah lost her father to you and your affections over him. She didn’t understand why she became his second choice to his last choice. To being removed from his life completely.

She lost her father.

He was her entire world.

And now he is with you. 

And he is gone from her side.

To be with you.

Leaving her behind.

Grief is a monstrous thing. To grieve over the relationship after being in denial for so long. To finally understand what was wrong.

To know that she was the reason he was moving on without her.

Broke her heart and left her grieving for her father.

Did it matter that he was still alive? No. 

Because grief is fickle and it doesn’t make sense.

Sarah trying to make sense of why you didn’t want her. 

What is wrong with me? What have I done to make you hate me?

What have I done to deserve your ire? What have I done? 

Why don’t you love me anymore daddy?

Why aren’t you here anymore?

Mother says you do. But I don’t see it anymore. 

Where have you gone? Why did you leave?

My heart is breaking. You are breaking it. I don’t know what to do. 

I saved up to see you. I stole money from my mother’s wallet to take the bus to see you.

But you screamed in my face and told me to leave.

What does a mother do for her child when her father refuses to put in the effort to see her anymore?

How does she tell her daughter her father doesn’t want her anymore?

How does she sit her daughter down to tell her that her daddy doesn’t want her?

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Fuck Yeah Series

Welcome to my collection of series! Listed by character, including drabbles and specials set within each universe. Please read tags and warnings listed under each series and chapter before reading. All my series are 18+ only, minors DNI.

DIETER BRAVO

Consent (complete)

E 🔞 | Eight-part series | Intimacy Coordinator F!Reader

You are the intimacy coordinator for Dieter Bravo’s risqué new film. When he fails to show up for rehearsal, you go in search for him. Did you really expect to find him in anything but a compromising position?

It’s Consent Season (complete)

A trio of fics voted by readers for the 2022 holiday season, set after the main series.

JACK DANIELS

Palomino (complete)

E 🔞 | Nine-part series | solo travel romance | F!reader

Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you’d booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need.

A Palomino Christmas (complete)

Holidays special 2022, set after the end of the series.

JOEL MILLER

Seams (in progress)

Will be E 🔞 | short mini series | Sewist F!Reader

Joel has a problem. Having settled into some semblance of a ‘normal’ life in Jackson that no longer involves running for his life and living off scraps, his clothes are getting a little… tight.

One day, the zipper on his jeans finally gives up after one too many desperate tugs, leaving him stuck. Joel begrudgingly heads to the clothing store for help. There, he meets you.

MAIN MASTERLIST

[trulybetty]

dec' 03 x hot chocolate

Prompt: hot chocolate Pairing: joel miller x f!Reader Word Count: 3,196 Warnings: barely beta'd, all mistakes my own, this is au and way off the plot of anything to do with TLOU, mentions of coffee and festive fluff and introductions to our characters ☕ Summary: maplewood, a small town nestled in northern bc where people flock to see the festive decorations of main street and enjoy the festive traditions. finding yourself back home and working for the family business, you strike up a friendship with the town's local contractor. AO3: Linked

x. masterlist

The Little Coffee Shop Around the Corner - Part I

Joel Miller was the type who didn’t believe in buying coffee from a coffee shop. He had a perfectly good coffee maker at home that he’d had for a quarter century now. One that had moved countries and still worked just as well as it had done the first day he’d bought it. 

Well, that was until that very morning. 

With a sputter and a final wheeze, the machine gave up the ghost, leaving Joel staring in disbelief at his kitchen counter. Grudgingly accepting defeat, he grabbed his coat and ventured out to his truck on the brisk Maplewood morning.

He’d moved to the small Canadian town a handful of years ago with his daughter Sarah from Austin Texas. Many had questioned his decision to move not just to another country, but to a town that was drastically different and far removed from Austin.

He hadn’t answered with much more than a shrug.

His contracting business had been doing well enough to live an easy life, step back and enjoy someone else taking the reigns. 

That was until he became a widow at the age of thirty-six and all he’d wanted to do was get out of dodge. Everywhere he turned, there were reminders of her, making it too difficult for him to stay.

Sarah's arrival came after both of his parents had passed away. His brother Tommy had already moved to Wyoming in pursuit of joining a community that he insisted wasn't a commune, and he had settled down and started a family. This left him alone with Sarah, so when they were presented with the opportunity for her to receive a scholarship from a prestigious Canadian school with full access to their renowned soccer program, they eagerly took it as a chance for a new beginning. Despite its remote location in British Columbia, they saw it as a fresh start.

The transition had been challenging, no doubt about it. Neither of them possessed any winter clothing, and they both had to adapt to a new currency (Joel still struggled with the difference between a Loonie and a Toonie) while navigating unfamiliar locations. However, the warmth of the town's reception overshadowed all of those challenges. No one prodded for information or tried to uncover gossip; instead, they were embraced with open arms and quickly became just another part of the Maplewood community.

Sarah had quickly adapted to her new school, which didn't come as a surprise. Meanwhile, Joel had discovered that the town was in desperate need of a handyman, and soon enough Miller Contracting was back in business. 

Pulling into a parking space on the main street outside of the bookstore Sarah often frequented, Joel rubbed his hands together cursing leaving his gloves at home. Despite his years in Maplewood, winter still felt like a shock every time it rolled around.

After taking a moment to orient himself, he recalled that the coffee shop was located to the left around the corner. With this in mind, he began his journey to the end of the street. Luckily, his workload for the day was relatively light, so this unexpected diversion wouldn't cause too much delay

The stores had wasted no time in getting out their Christmas decorations, he looked across the street as he walked to the bakery - its window frames draped in holly and ivy, punctuated by glittering baubles were no exception. Merry Tree Trek, a Christmas tree scavenger hunt put on by the town's businesses was due to start the following day. One of the many traditions Maplewood had for the festive season. 

As Joel entered 'True North Brews,' the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the gentle hum of conversation welcomed him. The shop was packed with locals, all happily chatting away as they waited for their orders to be ready. Standing in line, he scanned the menu, feeling out of his depth. This was Sarah’s territory - he usually was just there to provide payment before they headed on to whatever errand needed to be completed next.

He took in the festive decor as he waited in line. Christmas lights had been strung along the edges of the bar, while fake holly adorned every pillar in sight. Paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling and garlands of green and red festooned the fireplace. Which crackled merrily at one end of the room, and he smiled to himself as he watched an elderly couple sitting close together on one of the sofas near it - no doubt soaking up every minute of extra warmth they could get before trudging back out into the cold night air.

That’s when he noticed you behind the counter. You were relatively new, he knew your name and that you were the owner's daughter – Sarah had regaled your appearance in Maplewood several months back when you'd stopped by the bakery. Right now you were serving the town’s newest member of the tourism board, he couldn’t remember her name but knew he’d seen her with Marcus from the bakery here and there. Your eyes met briefly, and a hint of a smile danced on your lips.

Finally, it was his turn to order, “Hey Joel,” you said, recognizing him from his numerous visits with his daughter, “No Sarah today?”

He shook his head, “Just me.”

“In that case, what can I make for you?” you asked, your voice cheery in light of Joel’s look of utmost confusion.

“Just coffee, please,” he said, in a tone that suggested this was an everyday request.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Coffee? Coffee means a lot of different things around here. What kind of coffee would you like?”

Joel scratched his head, looking a bit lost. “Uh, just your regular coffee, you know? Nothing fancy,” he replied, his Texas drawl more pronounced.

You leaned against the counter with a friendly grin. “How about trying something a bit festive? A peppermint mocha, perhaps? It's like a holiday in a cup!”

Joel's eyebrows rose in surprise, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That's far too fancy for my tastes.” he laughed, “Just a regular black coffee will do.”

You nodded understandingly but with a twinkle in your eye. “Tell you what, how about an Americano? It's close to black coffee but with a bit more character. It's on the house, and if you don't like it, you can come back, and I'll make you a straight-up black coffee. But, I have a hunch you might enjoy the Americano.”

Joel looked surprised but intrigued. “Well, when you put it that way... sure, I'll give it a try.”

As you began preparing his order, Joel glanced around, noticing the line behind him starting to grow. “Looks like you've got a busy day ahead,” he remarked.

You smiled, handing him the Americano. “Maplewood wakes up early during the holiday season. Enjoy your coffee, and remember, if it's not to your liking, come back up for that black coffee.”

Joel opened his mouth to respond, but the bustling line behind him urged him forward, cutting short the chance for a proper response. He settled for a quick, “Thanks,” and moved aside.

Later that day as you were wiping down the counters, your mother Jean and the current owner of the coffee shop, joined you out front. “I've been thinking,” she began, her voice laced with a blend of both excitement and seriousness. 

“That’s dangerous,” you quipped, ignoring the scowl she sent you as she made her way around the counter to the front of the store.

“I was thinking,” she said ignoring you, “that now might be a good time for me to step back with you back in town.”

You paused, cloth in hand. Coming back to Maplewood hadn't been your first choice, especially after things ended with Max. Your ex-boyfriend who had suddenly gotten too tied up in climbing the corporate ladder, after a business trip across seas, to notice the relationship unravelling. 

“I really don’t know how long I’m going to be here,” you replied, having already been in town a month longer than your original plan of just six weeks.

The statement was not an exaggeration; the apartment had been in Max's name, and the two of you had always planned to add your own on the deed. But procrastination got in the way. With rental prices on the rise and a sabbatical from work, coming home was your only option until you could figure out your next move.

She shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s long enough for me to do some travelling, get a taste of what an early retirement could look like.”

You sighed, “What’s the angle here, Mom?”

“What angle?” she responded as she fussed with the tree you’d both decorated with coffee-themed decor the night before for the Merry Tree Trek.

Your mother had a knack for mixing business with motherly concern in a way that only she could. She glanced at you over the rim of her glasses, a half-smile playing on her lips.

“No angle,” She said, adjusting a tiny coffee bean ornament. “I've been running True North Brews since before you were born, and it's been a dream. But, I'm not getting any younger, and the world's a big place. I'd like to see some of it while I still can.”

You couldn't help but smile at her adventurous spirit, something you had undoubtedly inherited. “You want to travel? Since when?”

“Since always,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “The shop has been in our family for two generations now. I'd hate to see it end up in different hands, or worse, closed down.”

The weight of her words hung in the air. Taking over the coffee shop wasn't something you had considered seriously. You had other dreams, didn't you? But then again, the shop was more than just a business; it was a piece of Maplewood's heart, and undeniably, a big part of your family's legacy.

Your mother continued, “I know you're figuring things out, and I'm not asking you to decide right this second. But think about it. This place could use your touch and your ideas. You've always had a knack for making people feel welcome, just like your grandmother did when she opened this place.”

You leaned against the counter, absorbing her words. The coffee shop had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember. Your earliest memories were of playing behind the counter, the smell of coffee always in the air.

Perhaps this unexpected turn of events was not just a setback but an opportunity, a chance to add your chapter to the story of Maple Brews.

“I'll think about it,” you said finally, a mix of apprehension and excitement bubbling inside you. But you still threw her a pointed look, “just thinking about it, okay?”

“That's all I'm asking,” she replied, her eyes softening. “Now, help me with this stubborn string of lights, will you? This tree needs to look perfect for when the scavenger hunt starts this afternoon.”

It was nearing closing when the ring of the bell at the front door rang signalling a customer. Looking up you saw Marcus, the owner of Maple Delights standing at the door, stamping his feet to rid his boots of the snow that had started the fall that afternoon.

“Hey Marcus,” you greeted, “can I get you anything?” you asked as you accepted a stack of pink cake boxes from him. Maple Delights had a long-standing business deal with True North Brews to sell their baked goods in their displays - one that extended beyond Marcus' tenure as owner.

He gave you a wide smile, “Actually, it’s what you can do for me?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Well, I’m intrigued.”

“So, the Jingle Bell Movie night later this month,” he said, posing the event as a question. It was an annual tradition of the town, with everyone coming together for an evening of festivities and movie-watching in the community centre. “I was thinking, what if Maple Delights and True North Brews tag-teamed the event?”

Your interest was piqued. “Go on,” you encouraged.

Marcus's eyes lit up. “I'll supply the treats—cookies, pastries, you name it—and you guys could handle the hot drinks? Hot chocolate, spiced cider, maybe some festive coffee concoctions?”

You nodded, already visualizing the bustling event. “Sounds like a perfect match to me. Maple Delights' treats and our drinks? The town will love it!”

“Hey, speaking of the bakery, question for you about the renovations you did when you bought the place. You restored it to its original façade, right?” you asked, as Marcus leant against the counter.

He smiled, a hint of pride in his voice. “Yeah, I did. Wanted to preserve a piece of Maplewood’s history. The building has such character, it felt right to bring it back to its former glory.”

“Well, it certainly is stunning. It must've been quite a project,” you remarked.

Marcus nodded. “It was a labour of love, but totally worth it in the end.”

Your mind was buzzing with ideas and your mother's earlier conversation replaying over in your head, “Who did you get in to do the work?” you asked, knowing that Maplewood wasn't exactly crawling with talented contractors and designers.

“Actually it was Joel Miller, he did the renovation.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised.

Marcus chuckled. “Joel really did some great work on the bakery. He's got a really good eye for detail. Took my vision and made it even better than I could have imagined.”

You were impressed. “Wow, well he did an amazing job. It was one of the first things I noticed when I came back. It adds so much charm to the street.”

“Thanks,” Marcus said, a warm smile on his face. “Joel's a really talented guy. He's a great addition to the community, both him and Sarah.”

“Well, if he did such a great job with the bakery, maybe he could help us with the coffee shop,” you said, half-jokingly.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You're thinking of doing a reno?”

You hesitated, feeling a bit exposed not having intended to speak out loud your internal thoughts, “It's something my mom and I have discussed in the past, but she's the type if it ain't broke don't fix it.”

Marcus laughed, “I can testify to that, I mentioned I was looking to scale back serving coffee in the bakery, and asked if she had any interest in the espresso machine,” you rolled your eyes knowing what was coming, you'd been begging her to replace the old machine for years, “told me that this one,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the tired looking machine, “worked just fine.”

You shook your head, “One of these days she's going to realize giving it a good thud is probably doing more damage than fixing it.”

Marcus glanced at his watch. “I should get going. Got to make sure we have enough gingerbread dough for tomorrow. Those gingerbread men won't bake themselves!”

“Thanks for stopping by. Let's touch base early next week to finalize those plans for the movie night.”

With a nod and a wave, you watched Marcus leave, but now the seed of an idea was planted in your mind. A reno could be just what True North Brews needed to give it a fresh look and make it stand out. But you weren't taking over, you reminded yourself, no -- it was just you helping out with the family business, nothing more, right?

The next morning, Joel’s kitchen still lacked a new coffee maker. The old one sat forlornly on the counter, a reminder of a morning routine disrupted. With a resigned sigh, Joel grabbed his coat and headed out to his truck. The town was slowly waking up, the street sprinkled with early risers and the promise of a busy day ahead.

As he pushed open the door of the coffee shop, the familiar jingle of the bell greeted him, along with the rich aroma of brewing coffee. You looked up from the espresso machine, a smile spreading across your face as you recognized him.

“Morning, Joel,” you greeted. “Americano?” you asked with a hopeful smile since he'd never returned for that black coffee.

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I think I actually like it a bit more than my usual.”

You laughed as you prepared his coffee. “Glad to hear that. We might make a coffee aficionado out of you yet.”

“Let's not get too ahead of ourselves.” he laughed as he watched you prepare his drink.

Handing him his coffee, you hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Actually Joel, can I ask you something about your contracting work?”

He looked surprised but nodded. “Sure, what about it?”

“I heard from Marcus that you did the renovation work on the bakery. It looks incredible. Said you kept the original design when you worked on it?”

Joel’s expression softened, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Yeah, I did. Marcus wanted to retain the historical look of the building. It was a great project to work on, restoring it to its original state while giving it all the modern requirements.”

You were genuinely interested. “That’s impressive. It’s such an integral part of the town’s charm. I’ve been thinking, True North Brews could use a bit of sprucing up. Would you perhaps be up for discussing a quote any time soon?”

Joel looked around the coffee shop, considering. “Sure, I’d be happy to. What did you have in mind?”

“I'm not too sure, mostly starting fixing what needs fixing and going from there, just keeping the cozy vibe but maybe adding a little Maplewood flair to it.”

He nodded, sipping at his coffee thoughtfully. “Sounds like a good project. Why don’t we sit down sometime next week and go over what you’re thinking? I can put together some ideas and a quote for you.”

“That would be great,” you replied, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of giving the coffee shop a fresh, new look.

Placing his coffee on the counter, Joel handed you his business card from his wallet, giving you a quick glimpse of a family portrait tucked inside. 

“Here,” he said pocketing his wallet and handing you his business card, “why don't you give me a call and we can arrange something?”

You smiled as you traced the logo of Miller Contracting, “Sure, sounds like a plan!”

As Joel left, coffee in hand, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Not only at the idea of possible renovations but for the growing sense of community you had quickly settled into while only being back for a short period in Maplewood. But before you could think any further about it, the bell above the door rang and a group of tourists trekked in, Merry Tree Trek maps in hand.

You gave them a wide smile as you welcomed them in, “Welcome to True North Brews, what can I get started for you?”

[bcolfanfic]

hi friends! this is mollie from @bcofl0ve starting a side blog to keep fic in it's own bubble from gossip/update stuff since that's what it seemed like ppl wanted re: my end of year survey! please send any requests here on this blog, NOT on bcofl0ve. thank you!

austin x reader + austin!elvis x reader masterlist

find me on archive of our own @ bcofl0ve ⛅️🪻

masters of the air ish! (mollie 🩵s buck x bucky)

🪻blue discharge history google drive 🪻

feel free to use any of the academia, legal history and what not that i put in here for your own writing! no credit needed (-:

🪻 all again - a post war 1950s au 🪻

all again : bucky distanced himself after the wedding. call it what you want, self preservation, selfish- cowardly. but hearing about marge’s death knocked him back- and forward into san bernardino like a slingshot. he was expecting gale to be pissed, that much he accepted on the trip from the pentagon. what he wasn’t expecting was the little girl that opened the door instead of his old friend.

all again headcanons

🪻 show canon headcanons/writing 🪻

touch starved gale 1, 2

i wish you were a girl

baseball delusions

slight age regression bucky x daddy!gale

nsfw! bucky experiencing SA in the stalag

🪻 young vets modern au headcanons/writing 🪻

lore masterdoc - you are welcome to write in this au but please consult the doc and message me! / timeline ish

fic

east side of sorrow : someone has to leave first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of the story. not to john egan, not after the war.

ESOS gale pov by @swifty-fox

nsfw!! ESOS curt pov (curt/kenny) by @swifty-fox

phone POVs

gale | bucky | curt | ken | dad!gale | dad!bucky

headcanons (war time)

basic bckgrnd/how buck and bucky (and curt) met • general established relationship hcs • first i love you

headcanons (pre: adopting josie)

settling back in wyoming after the war • bucky meeting gale’s dad • bucky realizing he needs help • bucky’s mental health saga 1 - 2 - 3 • gale having a hard time with bucky’s mental health • camp counselor bucky • the wedding

headcanons (post: adopting josie)

general josie hcs/the guys becoming parents • josie’s first birthday with the guys • josie and her uncles • josie’s history before the guys • the guys’ parenting w/ josie’s trauma 1 - 2 - 3 • josie’s first christmas with the guys • josie’s first halloween with the guys • bucky parenting with ptsd • the guys being involved parents at josie’s school

headcanons (not just buckbucky related)

curt lives! • ken + early curt/ken bckgrnd

[dulcewrites]

New Traditions

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x afab!reader

Summary: As the first holiday season in your new home approaches, Rhett and you start new traditions and make promises (wc: 3k)

Warnings/Fic notes: mentions of unhappy childhoods (reader and Rhett probably needed more hugs as kids). Allusions to a rich!reader. Me using decorating as smokescreen for a character study lol. Daddy issues galore. The Christmas music is very self indulgent on my part too. Allusions/mentions to 18+ content

A/N: *Mariah Carey whistle note* ITS TIMEEEEEE. Lmao hiii, I hope you all are doing well. It has been a minute since I have written for a fandom outside of hotd so please bear with me on that front. I eventually want to take request soon (for Rhett, some tgm characters, and Calvin Evans) so my inbox is always open if y’all are interested - just shoot me something. If you read anything you like please reblog, like, and or comment. Also let me know when y’all put your decorations up (if you celebrate anything). I’m a staunch first weekend of December girlie myself ❤️

Masterlist

As pathetic as it sounds out loud, Rhett had grown accustomed to having the rug pulled out from under him. He had a looming and painful history with differentiating the cards life dealt him and what he deserves; over time, they began to blur together. At a certain point, he just resigned himself to life just being sort of... eh. Reminding himself that though things could be better, they could also be much, much worse.

It would all combinate in this hazy, syrupy snapshot of moments that ran together. At least, that is what he thought till he met you.

He thinks you would not understand it if he told you - that you are one of those people that is easy to love, while people like him took work to want. Hard work. Something that would be likened to the type of manual labor a Wyoming, farm grown boy like him is used to doing day in and day out. If he dared to express it, you would give him a good-natured laugh and shake your head like you always did when he said something self-deprecating.

"What kind of women do you take me for, Abbott," followed by a playful eye roll. "The type that settles?"

Rhett supposes that was the conundrum with you. Because the statement is not wrong; nothing about you gave off the impression you would settle for anything. That could come from a life of having almost everything at your fingertips. But the questions still tickle his tongue and doubts still makes his brain hazy.

It has only compounded since the two of you moved in together.

It was you who posed the suggestion, a shy smile on your lips. Despite the skepticism and disappointment from your parents, it did not feel right for you to sell your grandmother's ranch, the one your father grew up on, after she passed. You insisted on keeping it yourself, clearly having a soft spot for the house you would visit whenever you had the chance to.

Our home, you called it.

Your baking kits in the kitchen, his horses in the stable, and various clothes in the closets. He should feel reassured by this all… and yet… he waits for the other shoe to drop. For the rug to once again be pulled out from under him. Everything is so warm and new, and he worries about the day it slips through his fingers like sand.

Words in general, and expressing this specifically, does not come easy for him. Though loving you comes as easy as breathing for him. Rhett puts all that stuffing emotions and feelings away to good use as he tries to focus on the present. The only thing that manages to keep his mind clear is keeping his hands busy. So, he tries to make up for it in any way he can. The pale wall color your grandma insisted on keeping but reminded you of a sterile hospital? Painted to something more vibrant. The light fixtures in the kitchen that you said were ‘far too phallic to enjoy a meal under’? Well, those new ones are the best money could buy.

He just finished the building that rocking chair you got for the porch when you stick your head out of the house to call him in for dinner, eyes alight with something he could not put his finger on.

Dinner was silent, too silent for you, who always could spark up a conversation with anyone. A tiny sense of dread sets in, and he can’t help but think it maybe something he did… or did not do.

“The chicken is good,” he tries to start any kind of conversation or joy behind the eyes, but all he gets is an empty smile.

The unnerving quietness carries on for a few of minutes, but you suddenly drop your fork on the plate with a clank.

“Did y'all go all out for Christmas?”

Along with the noise the fork made, the question startled Rhett. He blinks blankly utterly confused by how it went from silence to that.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” your lips downturn into an embarrassed frown. “I should not have assumed y’all even celebrate it. I guess I just assumed with your mom and all.”

“No, we do celebrate,” he shakes head.

“So, did you go all out? When did you guys put the decorations out?”

Rhett shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Much like everything else that comes to his family, it is never linear or easy. He doesn’t know how to explain how one year they just stopped decorating; gifts and midnight mass were seen as hassles not the usual. Everything that the holidays stood for: family, love, gratefulness, togetherness was the antithesis of them. The joy and warmth of the holidays was sucked from the house and never came back till Amy was old enough to know what Christmas was - till Rebecca and his ma teamed up one day to make a fuss about the house being cold and sterile. What they meant is that Royal was cold… and sterile.

Rhett can still remember the look of disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes when Perry didn’t back her up on the matter. It was a look Rhett had seen from when he was a teen till the last day, he saw Becca. He still gets a rotten taste in his mouth thinking about he never got to tell her how much she meant to him. But that would also mean admitting that often his biggest advocate was a woman basically forced into the family versus the people he shared actual blood with.

Slight embarrassment burns his mouth like a hot iron down his thoat.

With a tight throat, Rhett shrugs. “It changed every year,” he lies. Then shakes his head. “It wasn’t a big deal really.”

Almost as abruptly as you stopped eating, you get up from the kitchen table. He just about calls out to see if you are ok, but you come back in the dining area carrying a picture.

“When I was cleaning out the garage, I found this.”

Rhett leans over, and he can’t help the slow grin that settles on his face. At first, he didn’t recognize the faces in the picture but then he saw a familiar crooked, mischievous smile, but this time on a younger girl. A little you. Decked out in a red, poofy dress and tiny white fur shawl. Shiny black saddle shoes that gleam even in the old photo.

“My baby as a baby,” he whispers.

Rhett continues to scan the photo. Behind you was two older people, and he can only assume they are your parents. They are exactly how he thought they would be and nothing like he thought at the same time. Your mom casually glamourous in green, your dad in a suit far too done up just for family dinner with a heavy hand on your shoulder. You wear her eyes but his nose. Right behind the three of you, a heavily decorated banister and in the foreground a Christmas tree so large that Rhett thinks it has to be a safety hazard.

You do not seem as happy or in awe of the relic as him, in fact you look sick at the sight.

“That was taken before they sat me down to tell me they were getting a divorce.”

Rhett’s heart sinks a little at the as the way your mouth juts out in bitterness.

“Looking back on it, I should have known. Dad was never home, mom was detached, probably depressed. Ya know, I remember them specifically saying that nothing would change, and naive little me not only believe that but wanted it. Not realizing something was just… off. But I guess most nine-year-old’s can’t tell the difference.”

He supposed it was easier for him to paint a rosier picture of your parents, for his sake and yours. Maybe winters in Texas were better than ones he experienced, maybe life was better. He has seen pictures of house, the compound, you grew up on. But now hearing what you are saying made pity take over the normal envy.

Rhett reaches out to grab your hand, and squeezes. “M’ sorry.”

You wave your free hand nonchalantly thought the casualness does not meet your eyes fully.

“No use crying over spilt milk,” you sigh. “I just saw the picture and tried to rack my brain for the last time we were all together for the holidays. After that one, it was one year with mama, the next with dad. And I don't think we ever decorated the house together. That was my caregiver, Jodie's job. Made me curious other people’s traditions I guess."

Rhett fiddles with the rings on your fingers while chewing on the fleshy part on the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe we can make our own,” he mutters softly. “Startin’ this year.”

You look up through your lashes, eyes fluttering away from the picture that sat on the table.

“Really?”

He nods. If that is what you want, he’d do it for you. Like he would do anything for you. Your gaze goes out the window across from the table. The leaves on the trees already began to change and fall to the ground. Going from green to various shades of red, purple, and brown. The season already has changed; heat melting away as the temperature dropped and cool breeze set in.

Your spirit noticeably lightens. “Do you think we can get a real tree? Mamma always said it was too much of hassle to get a real one.”

Rhett holds up his hand and extends his pinky. “As long as there is mistletoe in the house.”

Under new light fixtures, and with the sun grazing the ground as it sets, the two of you made your first promise.

Investments are important.

Your father told you so all your life. To the giant painting he bought for the Tennessee house (the one you later realized was a Degas), the stocks he bought for you for your fifteenth birthday, or his insistence you go to his alma mater. All investments that he expected payoff for. Your father will always be the smartest businessman you know, and he still managed to be so clueless with everything else.

People are not investments. Not really, at least. Not in the way your father looked at it. You can put money and effort into something, but it is never a guarantee it will work out that way. And you can’t just leave when things do not go your way. Your poor father never seemed to understand that, and you think it broke your grandma’s heart in the process.

And maybe you are no better than him. As a child, you admittedly reaped the benefits your parents offered you, almost to a fault. They would often laugh at your ability to move on to the next thing without so much as a blink of an eye. Onto the next toy, the next piece of clothing, the next makeup item. How can you criticize behavior you gave into yourself?

“You’re a reformed brat,” Jennie, your old debutant buddy turned psychologist said over the phone. “Give yourself some grace. At least you want better yourself now.”

So, you gave yourself just that. You didn’t sell your grandma’s place for the equity or whatever bullshit your dad mentioned. You didn’t Amelia County leave though your mom offered to set you up with her in New York. And God… you’re letting your fall - fall so deeply in love with Rhett, despite the voice in your head that tells you not to.

You replay your, in your opinion, embarrassing meeting. Bursting into tears in the middle of a grocery store was not the romantic story you want to tell others. But he came up to you to say that though he only spoke to her a handful of times when she would stay in her vacation home in Wabang, he knew your grandmother was a good woman and would be missed.

A blubbery mess of grief right next to the meat aisle spiraled into decorating your grandmother's house together - your house.

With Frank Sinatra’s version of ‘Let it Snow’ playing in the background, a rush of giddiness takes over. Jodie always said you had an eye for pretty things.

"A little excited, no," Rhett eyes copious amounts of bags you brought into the house. “It’s not even December yet.”

You survey the bags and boxes laid out. So, you went slightly overboard. Like driving out of town to the nearest big city to do some more shopping. Some habits die hard.

"This is just the starter stuff," you pull reams of garland out of the bag. “Just wait till they start selling the trees. Oh! And I got ingredients to teach you how to make sugar cookies from scratch.”

Rhett is silent for a moment, and you wonder if it is too much too fast. Your mother always said that enthusiasm, especially around men, should be tempered and demure. No one likes a girl that acts like a dog with a bone, sweetheart.

“Do.. do you think we can invite Amy over for the cookies thing,” his cobalt eyes soften at the mention of his niece. “I think she would like that.”

“Of course.”

You knew how important it was to Rhett for things to stay good with Amy. Her reception of the move was the only one he seemed to care about. You could not help but think the rest of Rhett’s family was skeptical about his decision. Cecilia was always kind towards you, and she was mostly receptive to the idea, but you assume it must hurt to see her baby venture out. Something about her reminded you of your own mother. Two women clearly used to the short end of the stick, and had to find ways to deal with it. While your mother found salvation in travel and extravagant parties, Cecilia found hers in faith.

Perry was well… Perry, about the whole thing. Just based on how he handled the news, and small tidbits you picked up from Rhett, it seemed like Perry was upset about Rhett making a choice just for himself. A luxury that the eldest son had a premium on for some time.

But you think it was the patriarch of the family who took it the hardest. It may be the reality of having two less hands around 24/7 like Rhett says, but you tend to think it is something deeper with Royal. Anger, sadness, pride - all of them??? You don’t know.

But what you do know is that family tension is something both you and Rhett know far too well.

After unpacking the bags and boxes you got, the smoky coos of Frank Sinatra transition into the pop Christmas playlist you put together. You don’t remember when the bottle of red wine came out, whether it was between Britney singing about what she wants for Christmas that year or Mariah singing about a holy night. It might have been after you insisted the two of you try your hand at diy decorations. But Rhett rolled his eyes when you talked about getting glasses, taking swings straight from the bottle instead.

“I don’t know how you drink this shit,” he wrinkled his nose, but he takes another hit.

“Just like you enjoy your watery beer,” you retake the bottle from him to have some more yourself.

“Last time I checked,” he expertly ties red and green ribbon into pretty bows and knots. “You were there with me, drinkin’ said watery beer.”

You bite your lip as you watch his brows furrow, and he pokes his tongue out sweetly as he ties meticulously.

“You’re quite good at that.”

“‘M good with ropes too.”

It could be the red wine, which always made your insides warm and fuzzy. Or if could just be the Rhett of it all. Him indulging this perhaps silly childhood wound of yours in full earnest.

“Hmmm,” you shuffle closer to him. The two of you might a makeshift area on the living room floor of pillows and blankets. An almost sickly-sweet peppermint candle ablaze on the table, and the fireplace crackling nearby.

“Royal used to make me secure the lines and pull logs. Kinda got good at it.”

By this time, you’re stuck at his side, suddenly a little fixated on hair on his neck that trickles up to his jaw and cheeks. You like him like this; hair falling from behind where it is tucked behind his ears. Scruffy and soft.

“Maybe you can show me how good you are.”

Rhett’s attention still doesn’t stray from the ribbons he cuts and ties, a task he is clearly taking seriously, but he nods in agreement. You roll your eyes slightly at how oblivious he can be.

“On me, Rhett,” you spell it out for him. “You can use the ropes on me.”

He stops and turns with a look of wanton, wetting his lips for a moment.

“Yeah,” he asks, the inflection at the end of the question breathy and soft.

You nuzzle your nose into area right under his ear with a hum, kissing the skin there and taking in the smell of his cologne. A woodsy scent with sprites of magnolia and cedar. It was one that consumed the bedroom and your mind. You spent much of your formative years pretending to hate the idea of being desired or wanted - chasteness an idea drilled into your head since you were a little girl and told by the ladies of your church that the only thing worse than being ungodly is being ‘fast’. Then you spent college overcorrecting to the point of farce. Letting the guys you knew had little regard for how you felt at the end of it make decisions for you. Emotionally, mentally, and sexually.

Your first time with Rhett was a hodgepodge of giggle and sighs only to be heard by vast emptiness of the home you do sit in now. His boots and jeans askew on the floor. You eccentric grandma’s knick knacks watching you two. Most notably, the cat clock that reflected in the moonlight, the one Rhett insisted you keep when he moved in. After him eating you out until you cried, and a night that ended in you making a trip to the local pharmacy for a Plan B, you honestly expected a series of awkward moments that would single-handedly ruin the small town bliss you experienced for the first time. And yet, in the morning, his lips turned up in a shy smile and he asked if you had bacon in the fridge.

You didn’t realize how badly you were under water and needed to breathe until you came to Wabang. Your lips work their way up his jaw til you reach the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s make it another tradition.”

[creatchie8]

Yellow Soul: Chapter One

Mulberry

Summary: Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

Chapter Summary: You return to Wabang with the intention of celebrating Christmas with your boyfriend, Perry. What you discover instead is much more than you would have ever dreamed.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI! No smut in this chapter, but there will be some later! Implied/Referenced Cheating!

Word Count: 7,000ish

Next Chapter - Masterlist

It’s really hard to know anyone else, isn't it? No matter how long you've known them. It's hard enough to know yourself.  

The heater was on full blast, a constant whirring noise that threatened to drown out the music playing. The hot air smelled like burning dust, the scent of your light blue air freshener fading away, the little tree swinging with the bumps on the road. The dark gray truck interior is starkly different from the wintry conditions on the road outside. Dirty snow was piled up high on the sides of the road, the man made mountains sure to be taller than you. 

Already you saw several unattended vehicles resting on the side banks, surrendered to the cold with orange tow tags hanging from the side mirrors. 

Drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel, you look at the digital clock on the dash. 

Five fifty-seven PM. 

You would be at the ranch in about twenty-one minutes, that is if your poor truck could survive another second on the slick road. The blue/green salt they sprinkled on the road was doing nothing to calm your nerves. You pushed the worrisome thought away, trying to think about how you couldn't wait to see Perry, and his family of course.

You hadn't been home properly in a few years, just brief visits for a day or two. 

When you tell people you grew up in Wabang, they look at you with confusion. Then, you explain it is a tiny little town, kind of by Lander, but more East. 

You would think the residents at the University of Wyoming would get the concept of tiny towns by now.

You were lucky to be there. Especially in a graduate program that you were almost done with. Leaving Wabang at eighteen was definitely a difficult decision though. You left your whole family, immediate and extended for Laramie, Wyoming. That also meant you had to leave Perry, who decided to stay and work on his family’s farm after graduation, now working at a local hardware store. 

You drove on the opposing side of the road to avoid a big ice chunk sitting in the middle of the path, cautiously returning to your side.

Perry made such an effort to see you, the relationship had been going for six years. 

Now, the dynamic was different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made you know he was ready to settle down. Get married. Have you be his bride. Perry was rushing you to finish school so you could return to Wabang.  

The ranch land here was flat and familiar. 

You would be nodding along silently as he detailed how he wanted to take over the ranch, and he wanted to do it with you. It wasn’t like you were appalled by the idea, but it was a bit depressing to think of yourself barefoot and pregnant on a ranch in the middle of nowhere after getting your master’s degree. Possibly even living with his parents. 

Perry was so insistent on the idea, it was like he didn't want to give you a voice in the matter. 

But you loved Perry, right? Of course you did, because why would you still get butterflies in your stomach when your phone vibrated, showing his name on the screen? Or was that nervousness? You two were twenty-three for god sake, you had your whole life ahead of you to settle down and get married, why did Perry need to do it so fast?

Off handedly, you reached into the cupholder and turned on your phone, glancing down at the screen saver. It was you and Perry, a recent picture from the last time he came down to Laramie. He had his eyes closed, pressing a kiss to your smiling face with the Laramie Plains Museum in the background, the great house looking beautiful and regal. 

Maybe he was worried about losing you. 

You learned quickly that you couldn’t tell him everything while you were gone. Too many times you had just casually mentioned a man’s name (whether that was a friend’s boyfriend or a lab partner) and he would give you the third degree. 

Many times you would be sitting there on your bed, phone on speaker as you answered every question. Perry had like it was a mental checklist. Fiddling with the stitching of your jersey comforter, highly uncomfortable and on the verge of begging him to just drop it. 

He would get mad, possessive. You knew it wasn't a healthy response, but Perry had always been like this. 

All of your friends were highly jealous of you, constantly reminding you how lucky you are that you have him. They all would send you videos and pictures on social media of wedding dresses, you were pretty sure they had all figured out who was going to wear what in the event of your wedding.

Never would you think about telling them the doubts you had. 

From the front windshield, you could finally see the Abbott ranch through the snowy haze. There it stood in all of its rustic beauty, a thick blanket of snow heavily sitting on top and around all the surrounding fixtures and land. A few trucks sat near the house, all angled differently. 

There was that feeling of nervousness in your stomach again as you drove through their giant arch. The feeling settled itself deep in your stomach, gnawing at your intestines as you recognized all of the vehicles there. Perry was definitely here, and so was the rest of his family. You parked behind Perry. 

Even though his parents were against staying together after highschool because they didn't want it to end in heartbreak, you still adored them. 

Cecilia and your mom went to bible study every week and were devoted followers of Christ. It was often that your momma would drag you to their ranch with her bible in hand, toting other things like a casserole and maybe even a knitting project she was working on. They would laugh and laugh, hardly getting anything done because most of their time was consumed by gossip (which your mom had lots of, considering you lived just minutes from town square). 

You would go up to Perry’s room and play with his toys, when you got older you would go horseback riding on the trail behind their house with him. 

The two of you shared your first kiss on that trail. 

Dad on the other hand, did have a friendly relationship with Royal but never went out of his way to become his confidant. Neither man seemed to mind though, just comfortably enjoying the silence between shared beers and musings about cattle or trucks. 

But, the two moms were thrilled when they both had babies within months of one another, one boy, one girl. Destined (loosley) to be with one another. 

Then there was Rhett. 

Younger, rowdier, much more mischievous than Perry. Rhett did strive for his parent’s approval, but it was much less pressing in his mind than his own free will. Born three years after Perry and you, he tagged along for a while but when he got into his teen years, he would rather be caught dead than hanging out with his brother and a girl. 

Last time you saw the Abbotts fully was a couple of years ago. You wondered absentmindedly if Rhett still was that lanky six foot teen with the bad attitude. 

Your keys jingle as you cut the engine, but you just sat and stared at the house. Snow capped mountains loomed behind it, almost threatening to overtake it. As the heater died out, all the heat left the truck slowly and you decided it was best to go in and try to keep your butterflies under control. Even in the truck cab, the cold was seeping into your bones. 

Grabbing your purse and puffer jacket from the passenger seat, you slowly made it to the porch, thankful for the tall boots you had invested in before coming here. Snow was piled up on either side of the walkway, just like the road. You looked up as you shuffled your way to the door. By the way it’s coming down, you knew the walkway would have to be shoveled again by morning. 

The light wood porch is creaky under your heavy boots. You raise your hand to knock, hesitating a moment before rapping your knuckles harshly against the thick wooden door. Your hands were frozen. The quiet hum of winter was interrupted by muffled yelling on the other side of the door, footsteps walking from room to room, and more yelling. It was Cecilia’s voice by the way her inflection changed, pulling a small smile from you. 

The door opened suddenly, a blast of warm air hitting you in the face as the old door groaned. The house smelled like a home cooked meal, your mouth watering. You could tell it took a moment for Royal to recognize you, his gruff face going from complete confusion to fondness after a second or two.

 His facial hair was noticeably grayer since the last time you saw him. Hair still in that neat side swept style. Royal had a small scratch above his right eyebrow. 

“Perry, you better get your ass down here!” He bellowed over his shoulder before wrapping you in a great bear hug, the smell of pine engulfing you. Royal all but pulled you inside, slamming the door behind you two. Footsteps stomped down the many stairs as the two of you pulled away, looking up and into the stairwell as you heard Perry’s familiar voice shout incoherent things. 

“How was the ride over?” He was rough, but in a comforting way. 

“Not as bad as I thought it'd be.” You replied, smiling at him. Trying your best to keep your chattering teeth at bay. 

You took the moment to dry off your feet at the inside door mat. Someone must've been doing a lot of work outside today. There was a pair of dirty snow boots sitting where you kicked off yours.

From what you could see of the house, it was still rustic as ever. Dimly lit in a soft amber glow, dark wood floors and peeling wallpaper. You knew they didn't mind though, especially because it was such a historical house. It held many memories for the whole Abbott clan. The fireplace was raging, crackling and providing warmth to the whole house. 

Your attention is pulled away from a knot missing in the hardwood below your feet as the creaks from the steps get louder. You smiled up at him. He hadn't noticed you yet, his eyes going directly to Royal. Grumbling something about the cold. Soon he turned to you, stopping in his tracks, mouth parted in surprise.

Perry’s hair had grown a little longer since the last time you saw him, his sideburns curling over his ears. You could see that he was still sporting his stubble, which you had begged him to shave the last time you two had facetimed. The freckles from the summer had faded slightly. 

Next thing you knew you were knocked off your feet, he was crushing you in his arms. Perry was a wall of muscle, his chest solid and warm under the blue long sleeve shirt he wore. 

“How- how did you even get here? I was going to see you in a few days!” He beamed in shock and excitement, pulling back to look at your wind-bitten face. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I wanted to surprise you! I missed you too much.” You mumbled and pressed your head  into the juncture of his neck, your hands on his back, moving you closer to him. Your nose was warming against his shoulder. 

You were excited to see him, but not as much as you hoped. The giddiness you usually had faded into a slight simmering below your skin. 

“Who the hell is here? You can't just be havin’ people come in without-'' Cecilia's voice called from the kitchen, her words cut off as she sees the two of you in the foyer.

“Perry, did you know she was comin’?” She asks, practically bouncing towards you in happiness, her open flannel swinging around her sides. The Abbot family must have a collective gene that makes them stronger than bears, because Cecilia easily pries you out of his grip, crushing your ribs in a hug. 

You couldn't help but let out a strangled laugh, hugging her back. You explained that you got sick of waiting in your dull apartment because all your roommates had gone home, and you missed her, of course.

 That brought a huge smile to her face. Cecilia and Perry shared the same crinkles at the corners of their eyes and smile lines at their mouths. 

Discarding your jacket in the coat closet full of snow pants and snow suits, the four of you settled in the retro kitchen.

Immediately, despite her protests, you started to help Cecilia finish dinner. Royal and Perry sat at the table, chatting about what they were going to do with the cattle tomorrow with the incoming snowstorm. 

This was exactly the reason why you did not want to settle down yet. You knew Royal and his two sons did respect Cecilia, but every day always ended the same. She would work all day, just as hard as any of them, but even when she got home, the work wouldn't stop. 

Cecilia would stay up later than everyone else to get ready for the next day. 

Standing by the stove, you tended to the gravy in the big pot, adding all the seasonings that Cecilia gave you to put in it. Watching it turn from a white/beige to a slightly deeper color once you stirred in the chili powder, the savory smell making your stomach grumble. 

A couple times, Perry stood and wrapped his arms around your middle, too tight, his warm breath tickling your neck, too warm, telling you how much he missed you. Each time you tolerated it for a bit, but shrugged him off. Perry smelled like freshly cut wood in the rain, the scent filling your nose. 

By the time the chicken and gravy was done, it was already pitch black outside. The darkness was flush against the window above the sink, preventing anyone to see out of it. 

Cecilia and you passed out plates and silverware on the table, resting them on the flaxen placemats. When you set down the fifth plate, you remember Rhett. He had not been down to the main level yet but as you were cooking you could hear soft footsteps padding around on the floor above you. 

Royal got up from his seat and stood at the end of the stairs to call Rhett’s name, letting him know that dinner was ready. Your heart picked up a bit upon hearing someone close a door and walk down the stairs. Why were you so nervous to see Rhett? He was rude, standoffish, and snarky. You could swear the last time you saw him he hadn't taken a shower in a month. 

Not to mention he was just Perry’s brother, not a new unfamiliar person. 

To busy yourself, you dish up after Cecilia and settle next to Perry, the wooden chair squeaking against the tile. Perry’s arms snake around your hips before you can sit down, pressing his nose deep into your side where your shirt rode up, exposing your bare stomach to him. 

It was a loving gesture, you told yourself. Perry loves you so much. So why do you feel the urge to brush his arms from you? The tightness distressed you, anchored you in the worst of ways to him. But as soon as it started, it was over and you were free to sit down next to him. The only lingering touch was his shoulder pressed against yours, the sound of fabric brushing against fabric filling your ears. 

“Who’s that?” A gruff voice said behind you. Whipping your head around, your eyes connected with a shiny brass belt buckle a few feet from you. 

Slowly, you looked up. By the time Cecilia started talking, you were still tilting your head further and further up to see his face. Slim hips, tight light gray shirt displaying a strong torso and impossibly broad shoulders.

Rhett. Of course it was Rhett. But it couldn't be. He looked so different. 

“...Perry’s girlfriend, the one that you've known since…” Still, even with Cecilia talking (clearly annoyed at Rhett), your mind went blank when you saw his face. The Rhett you once knew, the gangly beanpole obsessed with bull riding, was all grown up. His face had sharper lines, all the baby fat gone from his features. Hair no longer cropped short (much to Royal’s dismay), but longer and flipping outward near his neck, pushed behind his ears.

What were they putting in the Abbott well water that caused angsty teen boys to turn into hot grown men? 

Rhett listened to his mom, his piercing blue eyes boring into yours. He nodded in your direction, “Hey.” He said roughly, one side of his mouth quirking up as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Your heart was beating out of your chest. 

“Hey.” You repeat and shut your mouth quickly, an embarrassed flush covering your cheeks as you turn back to your plate, hands shaking as you picked up your fork and busied yourself with your meal. 

Royal led the family in prayer. Dropping your head in your hands, thankful for the moment of relief to yourself as he asked the lord to bless the family. When he made a comment about being grateful you made it here safe, you smiled and looked up from your hands. 

The start of dinner eased your nerves, settling into a routine of talking when you needed and laughing. 

Rhett sat right in front of you, was it on purpose or accident, you didn't know. What you did know was he would not stop looking at you. Whenever you looked up from your plate, there he was. Light stubble dusted his face, the look of it much more intriguing than Perry’s patchy stubble. 

He still had the same long fluttery lashes and when he looked down, the warm buttery overhead light cast small shadows on top of his cheeks, which were freckled slightly. 

Rhett’s hands were rough, you could see the callouses from here. The fork he was holding seemed like it was made for someone much smaller. Your breath caught in your chest when you noticed the veins wrapping around his forearms like snakes, disappearing under his rolled up sleeves. 

It was suddenly too hot in the kitchen. You tugged at the opening of your sweatshirt, trying to fan some air down there discreetly. Vulnerable situations did not come often to you, so you felt crippled in this moment. 

Dinner felt like it was hours long, but the food was good. It was torture trying to avoid Rhett’s gaze as well as his brother’s heavy arm around your shoulders. But thank god, it came to a close and now it was time to clean up. Royal excused himself outside, no doubt to shovel snow, you assume. 

“Rhett, now don't go up to your room just yet!” Cecilia said firmly as Rhett stood from the table, stalling and turning to his mother. “It’s your turn to do the dishes tonight- and don't you ‘but’ me.” She added even before Rhett could open his mouth to argue. 

“I can help!” You flushed at how painfully eager you sounded. 

Why the fuck were you volunteering? Were you out of your mind? 

“It really is no problem, it'll go by much faster with two people.” You added nonchalantly, standing up and gathering you and Perry’s plates. Cecilia protested but you assured her you were more than happy to help, pecking her on the cheek as you passed her on the way to the sink. 

Perry walked over to where you were at the counter, grabbing a handful of your ass before mumbling something about being in the living room. Mustering up a half smile, you nodded and watched him go, embarrassed by the display. Cecilia thanked you again and went to start a load of laundry.

“How long are you staying for?” Rhett was behind you, still standing at his spot before picking up the other dishes at the table.

“Oh, uh, maybe like a week? Week ‘n a half? I was lucky and got it off work.” You answer, plugging up the drain with the metal stopper before turning on the sink, low enough so you could still hear him. “My truck, um, started making this weird noise on the way over. Called my dad but he couldn't do much.” You call over your shoulder, “You're good with trucks, right? Maybe you can take a look at it while I'm still here?” The thought of him leaning over your truck, in the summer, sweaty and hot, made your stomach flip.

“Yeah, no I can definitely take a look for you.” His voice seemed closer. “Almost didn't recognize you.” He was much closer now, making you turn your head to see where he was, to keep an eye on him. Rhett walked over to your side, setting the plates on the counter. The harsh ceramic scrape made you cringe. 

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

“I don’t think your daddy recognized me either, he almost left me out to freeze.” You laughed, “You look pretty unrecognizable yourself, Rhett.” He leaned against the counter beside you, folding his arms over his chest. His stance wasn't defensive, just casual as he watched you turn off the faucet and swirl dish soap into it. The water turned milky white. 

“Been ridin’ more. This past season was my second one out of the senior category.” 

Well, that explained his bulked up frame. You could tell by the way he talked that he was prideful about it. When you looked up from the water, a crooked smile was on his face. 

“Perry’s been telling me about it. He’s pretty proud of you.” You held his gaze, swallowing the tight knot in your throat that accumulated suddenly. “Say, how ‘bout you dry, and I’ll wash?” 

Rhett nodded, reaching down to open a cabinet and pulling out some rags. You quickly busied yourself with dunking the plates and using the little scrubber Cecilia had to clean them. He was almost silent for the rest of the time, which brought you a great peace of mind. It was easier to stay calm when you were too worried about scrubbing. 

Desire ladled deep in your stomach. It was tight, like a snake was wrapping around your hips. But you shamefully tried to cover it up, the fire blanket you used slipping when you would glance up from the basin to look at him. The way his brows furrowed, tongue sticking out to lick his bottom lip every so often.  

While you washed the dishes, Royal brought in your suitcase from your truck, which you had thanked him profusely for. Especially now that it was starting to snow heavily. Due to this, you decided to forgo seeing your parents tonight, instead hauling your suitcase and duffle bag up the stairs and to Perry’s bedroom. 

It had only changed a little since you were last here. Just a few more photos of the two of you decorated the walls.  

You dialed your mom once you were up there, a quick little call despite her wanting to talk for hours. The hand holding the phone to your cheek grew tired and you switched sides. 

“Ma, I’m exhausted.” You finally said after talking for a while, “Don't forget we have to wake up early, I have to see you tomorrow, right?” You remind her as you sit on Perry’s bed, noting that the sheets have not changed since the two of you were teens. That should be something you should get him for his birthday. 

“Right sweetheart,” You can sense the smile in her voice, “Will you and Perry meet us for breakfast? Is Odessa's Café okay?” She asks, almost insinuating you forgot the name of literally the only good diner in town. 

“Yes, momma. I will be sure to wake Perry up extra early so we can meet you there. Is dad coming too?” 

“He is, and he informed me that you told him you were coming home.” She says, mocking a hurtful tone. You roll your eyes, laughing as you lay down on the bed, situating a pillow under your head.

“Only because my truck started acting weird. He pried it out of me, you know how he is.” Your mom was the one to laugh this time. You loved it when she did. She had a crystal clear laugh that always echoed down the hallways of your childhood home. Momma was definitely a glass half full person, and you loved that about her. 

The call came to an end after you exchanged ‘I love yous’ and you laid the phone on your stomach, looking up at the cracked ceiling. Rhett’s face drifted into your thoughts again. You sat up suddenly and vigorously shook your head, trying to get him out. It was scaring you, these sudden feelings you felt for the youngest Abbott son. 

Never in your entire time of knowing him have you ever had a crush on him. 

Sure, he was always cute, but in a best friend’s little brother way of being cute. Not a ‘tie me up like one of your rodeo calves’ hot. The thought made you groan in disgust of yourself. You were already doubting you and Perry’s relationship, so it would be the biggest Wabang scandal if you got with Rhett instead, the younger Abbott son, and you couldn't do that to either of the families. 

Not that Rhett would even be interested in you, God, like you even were on his radar. From what Perry said during your weekly facetime, Rhett was with a new buckle bunny every week. Supposedly, he had gained quite a fan club from his bull riding adventures. Fresh, talented rider, son of a former champion. 

The last name Abbott immediately turned heads at rodeos. 

Rapping knuckles on the doorframe drew you from your thoughts, looking up at Perry’s kind face in the doorway. The hall light shone behind him like a halo before it was turned off, presumably by Royal who wanted to conserve electricity. 

“You doin’ okay, babe?” Perry asks, walking over and sinking down on the bed next to you. It was a smaller mattress, probably a full size.

Nodding, you move closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder, desperately trying to push away the thoughts you had earlier. You feel ashamed of yourself. 

“I’m fine. Just tired, that's all.” You kiss his bicep, “My ma wants us to meet her and my dad at Odessa’s tomorrow. Is that okay with you?” You ask, fingers rubbing at the fraying edge of your sage green sweatshirt. It was Perry’s, but you had stolen it before moving away. 

“Sure, hun. Sounds like an amazing idea.” His words were muffled by your hair, his large hand sliding over your jean clad thigh that was closest to him. Nervousness returned in your stomach. You checked your watch, nine thirty-seven. 

You should be getting ready to go to bed. 

Perry’s hand drifted over your other thigh, fingertips drawing little designs into the dark wash fabric. Pulling away from him, you give Perry a sheepish smile at the sound of him huffing, annoyed you were scooting off the bed.

“Let me get ready for bed, I stink from the ride over.” Which was true, you had woken up late and in the rush to get ready to go, you had forgotten to take a shower. Perry laid back on his elbows, watching you gather your toiletry bag and some pjs.

“Hurry, I haven't seen you in forever.” 

You chuckled nervously at the comment, turning to face him, a goofy smile on his face. “You facetimed me the other week. You saw plenty then.” You reminded him, turning on your heel and walking briskly out of his room. Letting out a heavy sigh as you walked down the hallway and the stairs. The best working shower was on the main level. You were praying no one was using it, because then you would probably have to go upstairs and join Perry again. 

It wasn't like you didn't enjoy sex with Perry. He was a kind lover, someone that enjoyed drawing things out and ‘making love’ as he put it. That was fine when you guys were teens, and had absolutely no idea what either one was doing. 

Your sex life was stagnant, and that was the plainest way of putting it.

No ups or downs and recently, you were starting to get intrigued about your roommate's hookup stories. Frequently, you found yourself sitting on the couch listening intently as she told you all the nitty gritty details, which normally you would have turned your nose up at. 

Sex with him was just repetitive, and even when you tried to spice things up, he complained that he didn't like change or what you requested was too freaky for him, even when it was just a little spank on your ass. 

You should have brought your phone, it was almost pitch black in the house. It seemed like everyone had returned to their rooms. Somehow, by some grace of god, you stumbled your way to the bathroom. Turning on the light ignited a low buzzing, the vanity bulbs assaulting your eyes. The main bathroom had this amazing clawfoot tub, ivory basin and brass handles. Royal installed a shower head above it a few years ago, the matching brass pipes snaking up the wall. 

The water took a while to heat up, and only stayed like that for a few minutes so your shower was fairly short. You resorted to only scrubbing the necessary parts of your body like your armpits and feet, the rest of your body just got a quick once over. Casually, you cleaned between your legs with the warm water, not wanting to get yourself worked up at all. 

Coming out, the steam swirled around you. But the draft from under the door was sure to kill it quickly. 

The towel you brought did a shockingly poor job of soaking up the water, and you suspected that you or your roommate may have added too much soap in the washer when you were cleaning it. Still, you ran it over your body and patted yourself dry the best you could. The pjs you brought still clung to your damp body despite both the shirt and sweats you brought were both loose fitting.  

Slowly though, you moisturize your face and brushed your teeth. Studying your face in the mirror. It was evident you were not the teenager you used to be. You lost your braces, your figure had filled out, and you just looked more mature in the face. Did Rhett notice how different you looked? Did he find you prettier?

Did he even care? 

You grabbed onto the porcelain sink as you spit your toothpaste out, rinsing your mouth off with the freezing water. It was more than ridiculous that you were thinking about him in this way, especially because you were three years his senior. Not an incriminating age gap, but enough to where you were sure you would teasingly be called a cougar by your friends. 

Folding your clothes and placing your toiletries back in the zippered clutch, you opened the door to darkness.

You tried, quietly, to make your way back to Perry’s room. Again, you cursed yourself for forgetting your phone. The flashlight would be great to have right about now. 

Embarrassingly, you ended up stubbing your toe a few times on the stairs before you made your way to the landing. Each time clamping a hand tightly over your mouth to avoid waking up the whole house with your curses. 

Finally, after what felt like an hour cautiously making your way to the second floor, you sagged against the wall nearest to Perry’s room, laughing internally at the crazy act you put on to get to the second floor. It was a relief that his room happened to be one of the first doors, so you slowly felt along the wall till you found it, which was cracked open a bit. 

Perry must've closed it after you left.

You pushed it open and slid in, softly shutting it behind yourself. It smelled a little different than how you remembered it, more like a spicy smell with an undertone of earth. Rather than a woodsy smell. The window beside his bed was covered loosely by the curtains, the smallest sliver of light slicing through the room. Thinking nothing of it, you padded a few steps forward, leaning down and searching for your duffle bag to put your dirty clothes in. After no such luck, you dropped your clothes and toiletry bag on the floor. 

It was so warm in the room, heating up your skin and making you sleepy. 

The bed creaked behind you, blankets rustling softly.

Adjusting your shirt, the armpits bunched uncomfortably around your shoulders. You made your way to the empty side of the bed, your eyes had adjusted more in the dark, just enough to see a figure laying under the covers. 

Your legs hang off the side of the bed when you sit down, you scrub a hand over your face, worried at what tomorrow might bring. Sure, you were excited to see your family, but it was always nerve wracking coming home. There were so many things you left behind in Wabang, including the lifestyle your parents ingrained into you.  

The mattress creaked again, Perry turning towards you. It dipped as he moved closer. 

A large warm hand settles higher up on your side, sliding down and fingers now curling around your hip. Your hand instinctively covers Perry’s, your thumb caressing across his knuckles. The touch made you shiver, his fingers pressing harder into your flesh at the reaction. 

The pants you wore were loose enough in the waist that just by the sudden flexing of his fingers, his pinky dipped below and brushed along the sensitive skin of your hip. You were sure he would realize you weren't wearing any underwear.  

“You okay?” A sleepy, groggy voice asks in the dark. 

That was most definitely not Perry. 

Stiffening, you tear your hand away and spin around on the bed, looking directly at Rhett. Eyes finally adjusted, you could faintly see his face, full of sleep and turned towards you. He was propped up on an elbow, the sheets once covering him now pooled around his waist, exposing his bare chest. 

“Oh my god.” You whisper-shout, a metallic taste filling your mouth as you scramble to a standing position, “I thought- I thought this was Perry’s room. Oh my god I am so sorry.” You babble, walking frantically over to where you thought you dropped your bag and clothes.

“Other door, across the hall.” Rhett mumbles, voice still laced with sleep. He watched as you bent down, hands searching for your clothes. Your heart was racing and you were breathing heavily, beyond embarrassed. Rhett rolled over to one side of his bed and turned on his bedside lamp.  

The lamp washes the room in a dim canary light, illuminating your things on the floor. You let out a soft oh and grab them, holding it close to your chest. The rational part of your brain tells you to leave right then and there, to scurry back over to Perry’s room and save yourself any more embarrassment. The stupid part of your brain tells you to be curious and look at Rhett in the lamp light. 

Turning over your shoulder, you make eye contact with him, clutching your things tighter to you. You weren't much to look at, no makeup, hair not done, donning baggy clothes. 

Even still, Rhett’s eyes raked over you, and you could swear you could feel it. What you were doing was not much better. Ogling his bare chest, you noticed a raised pink scar on his left shoulder. You couldn't help but stare more, absorbing as much as you could. A tinge of desire pooled between your legs.

You were the first to break the silence, “Thank you, for the uhm,” You tip your head towards the lamp, “the light.” You finish, now backing towards the door. His hair was messy, some strands sticking to his cheeks.

“Not a problem.” Rhett says simply, the muscles in his jaw tensing, “You uh, you smell nice.” He finishes. 

Rhett was not a man of many words, not to say that he was dumb. But he never said anything unless he was told or compelled to. Like the last time he said you looked nice was when you were in fourth grade and had an unfortunate run in with the scissors, cutting yourself jagged bangs. Rhett started cackling when he saw what you had done, Cecilia smacking him on the back of the head and forcing him to tell you that ‘you look nice’. 

“Thank you?” You didn't mean to phrase it as a question, it just came out that way. 

Excusing yourself, you all but ran out of his room, making sure to close the door behind you, accidentally closing it a bit too hard. Cringing, you crossed the hallway and pushed yourself inside Perry’s room. He was sleeping of course, you could hear his soft snores. 

Dropping your things on your duffle bag, you ease yourself next to Perry, careful not to disturb him. His back was turned towards you. Even while sandwiched between cold sheets and your boyfriend right beside you, you could still feel Rhett’s hand on your hip. 

How he squeezed it, a probably innocent gesture turned sinful in your mind. How his pinky brushed over the skin of your inner hip. It burned like a branding iron. 

-

It was still dark when you opened your eyes, the soft exhales from Perry the only thing that fills the room. 

Your stomach was in knots. It had been since you laid down, twisting and hurting. The skin on your hip was rubbed raw by the time you finally fell asleep. Your fingers tracing the same path Rhett’s took when your pants loosened. 

Never would you admit it out loud. Never would you admit the commitment you had for Perry was slipping. It was too much change. You were staying with him out of convenience. 

Scared. That's what you were. 

The thought of breaking up with him also brought the thought of a storm that would come. You slipped out of bed soon after waking up, the cold floor like needles in your feet.

You just needed a drink of water, anything that would quench your parched throat that was like gravel. To your surprise, the saucer light above the dining table was on and it showed up the stairs. Just enough to where you didn't need your phone light. 

A huge shiver ran down your spine when you saw why the light source was on. The very person you did not want to see was sitting at the end, forehead resting on his clasped fists. But when you went to turn up the stairs, it was too late.

The sudden shift of your feet caused the old stairs to let out a painful groan, Rhett lifting his head from where it was resting. So you forced yourself to make it down the last few platforms, twisting your hands nervously in front of you. A diffident smile on your face.

Rhett didn’t seem bothered by your presence, just watching as you grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it with tap water. 

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not a bit.”

God, who knew a voice would have such an effect on you.

“Me neither. Which is bad because I have to go see my parents in a bit.” You tried to lighten the mood, pulling out the chair closest to him before settling down. 

The coaster you grabbed was doing a great job at collecting the condensation sweating off your glass. 

You were trying to focus on something besides him. 

Rhett snorted in response, scrubbing a rough hand over his chin. His eyes were trained on the side of your face. They burned a hole in your cheek. You lifted your face up, your fingertips dragging lightly on the side of the glass. 

It honestly wasn't as awkward as you thought it would be. The silence was semi-comfortable, as comfortable as it could be. 

“Re-Remember when you guys still had that chicken coup near the barn? ‘N the three of us somehow managed to climb up to the roof? Perry dared you to jump and you were so confident you could fly-” You started, recounting the memory to break the silence.

“Then I broke my elbow.” He finishes with a laugh. “Listen, it still clicks.” He holds his left arm out and bends it a few times. In the silence you could hear a faint popping noise, then you snorted a laugh out your nose. 

“Gosh, I tried to stop you! Almost ripped your shirt in half trying to grab you, ya know.” 

“I don't think I even hesitated.” He laughed, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.  

“To be honest I’m not sure how you didn’t cry. I would’ve started bawling my eyes out.”

“I think I did when you left with your momma.” Rhett said, his goofy smile fading a bit.

Cocking your head, you furrowed your brows, “Why then? I thought they took you to the doc a bit after I was gone?” 

“Well- because…” Rhett rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at the table for a second.

“I think because you were bein’ so nice to me. Like I’m pretty sure you basically carried me inside. Sat with me when my dad was lookin’ me over, brought me a glass of water too.” 

You gave him a crooked smile, dipping your head, “Well… I felt bad, like really bad. Especially when Royal was makin’ you bend your arm ‘n stuff.” You cringed at the memory, “He was pretty rough for you being what? Eleven, maybe twelve years old?” 

Rhett bit the inside of his cheek and hummed, a faint smile still on his lips. Behind him, the world was still black. You hoped it would stay like that for a while so you could have Rhett all to yourself. 

“I was also trying to hold it together so I wouldn't cry ‘front of a pretty girl like you.”  

The world stopped spinning. You could feel its immeasurable halt against your body, the velocity of the sudden stop sliding your chair so your back slammed against the kitchen counters. 

Your chair never moved.

But even through all this, Rhett’s strong gaze never wavered. It pinned you in place like someone trying to preserve a moth for their collection. 

“You thought I was pretty?”

I am hoping to have a somewhat regular posting schedule since I already have a few chapters written! See me on AO3 as Creatchie8 too for a full list of tags & more!

[delopsia-archive]

Bob x Reader x Rhett Masterlist

🍑Ask Archive (A-L) 🍑Ask Archive (M-Z)

Fics

Blow Your Mind ₊ ˚ ✧ Despite his mouth being full of Bob's cock, Rhett's eyes tell you that he has no problem finishing this soft-spoken WSO off if you're not feeling up to the task. Reflex tells you that you probably aren't up to it, not with how you haven't been able to keep your hands off each other all weekend. The aphrodisiac still coursing through your system suggests that one more round is easy. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Can't Wait ₊ ˚ ✧ Bob is stuck outside talking to some of your wedding guests, but you and Rhett can't wait for him anymore.  AO3 ♡ Tumblr

fae (forget about everything) ₊ ˚ ✧ After all these years, you finally marry them. You can't help but remember all the things that led up to this very moment.  AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Icing ₊ ˚ ✧ This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don’t mind so long as it’s on Bob Floyd. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Mornings Like These ₊ ˚ ✧ “Baby!” Bob whines between his giggles, “Tell your boyfriend to quit making me dance!” Tumblr

Not Rhett ₊ ˚ ✧ "What the fuck," Rhett's words are the only confirmation you have that what you're seeing is real. Not a lone delusion you're having. Robert Floyd's gaze flickers over to you, then back to Rhett. "I see why you asked if I was Rhett, now." AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Rhett_16 is typing... ₊ ˚ ✧ In which Rhett Abbott is acting out of character, and you can't stop thinking about the times you've spent with him and Bob Floyd. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Silver & Gold ₊ ˚ ✧ Bob's having a crisis over whether he wants a silver or gold wedding ring. All you and Rhett want to do is set up the new Christmas tree. Shenanigans on the couch involving a ribbon ensue. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Streetlight Glow ₊ ˚ ✧  In which you go against everything best friends should be doing and become something more. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

The Dreaming ₊ ˚ ✧ "I'll heal," and you hate how Bob says it as if it's not a big deal. Like he's simply home because of a paper cut and not an accident that he can't bring himself to speak of. An accident that's got him wrapped in bandages and hobbling around in crutches because his left foot can't bear his full weight. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Two Little Rings ₊ ˚ ✧ Bob keeps trying to ask you and Rhett to marry him, but he keeps picking the worst possible times to pop the question. Alternative title: Five times Bob tries to propose, and the one time he succeeds. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Void ₊ ˚ ✧ You are the monsters they created, and they must suffer the consequences. But first, there are more important things that must be taken care of in the bedroom. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Whispers In The Dark₊ ˚ ✧ "This feels like a plot to kill me." "It is." "It's not," Rhett groans, running his hands through his hair, "what about watching the stars in the bed of my truck screams 'I'm going to kill you tonight' anyway?" AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Warmups

₊ ˚ ✧ Bob's voice is deeper than Rhett's in the mornings

₊ ˚ ✧ How Rhett evened out Bob

₊ ˚ ✧ Love is Rhett swallowing his dislike of the chickens

₊ ˚ ✧ Lunet, the two-headed calf

₊ ˚ ✧ Omega! Rhett x Omega! Reader x Alpha! Bob

₊ ˚ ✧ Rosehips

₊ ˚ ✧ Taking the boys to the beach

₊ ˚ ✧ You quit reacting to loud thumps around the house

₊ ˚ ✧ Waking up to giggling

Moodboards

₊ ˚ ✧ A universe where the Floytts stayed in Wyoming

₊ ˚ ✧ Happy Thanksgiving from the Floytts

₊ ˚ ✧ Hawthorn Origins: Fernwell

₊ ˚ ✧ Hawthorn Origins: Home

₊ ˚ ✧ Hawthorn Origins: Interstate

₊ ˚ ✧ Hawthorn Origins: Mettler, Texas

₊ ˚ ✧ Hawthorn Origins: Wabang, Wyoming

₊ ˚ ✧ Renovating an old rodeo stadium 

₊ ˚ ✧ Streetlight Glow

₊ ˚ ✧ The Hawthorn Rodeo

₊ ˚ ✧ Void Bob Official Incident Report

₊ ˚ ✧ Void Bob Abyss

₊ ˚ ✧ Void Reader Individual Goes Missing During Snow Storm

₊ ˚ ✧ Void Reader Falling

₊ ˚ ✧ Void Rhett Local bull rider vanishes

₊ ˚ ✧ Void Rhett Surprise

₊ ˚ ✧ Void End [Epilogue]

[ladylamrian]

Jacqueline's return 🐍

Female Main Character: Alexis (Alex)

Pairing: F!MC×NikRyder

Summary: Jacqueline decides to visit her child in New Orleans. The city she left years ago.

Word Count: 4.7K words (Whoopsie. Sorry.)

Rating: Teen (Fluff, Angst, Drama, Past life)

Warnings: Drama ; Mention of Death ; Mention of Jacqueline's One-Night-Stand + pregnancy

-> My complete Nightbound Masterlist <-

Taglist: @lilyoffandoms ; @secretaryunpaid ; @blackcatkita ; @liviusofpella ; @peonierose ; @jdstar88 ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @tessa-liam ; @mxdanni ; @mariemarieohcontrary ; @rosepetals1 ; @bri1234 ; @artbyalz ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @thosehallowedhalls ; @stars-are-within-me ; @choicesficwriterscreations and whoever wants to join... & Tagging @jerzwriter for her Mother's Day Event

Comments via Reblog wholeheartedly welcome

Author's note: It was supposed to be a short Mother's Day Oneshot, but turned out very long with some angst. It takes place after my released Oneshot: A Meeting in Wyoming

"Uh, rook... What the hell are you doing?", Nik was confused as he discovered his girlfriend running back and forth. One moment Alexis was in the kitchen baking something, then cleaning the living room and now she decided to sit on the dining table to craft something. It was early in the morning and he never saw her that hyper than ever.

"Nik, change your clothes!! Now!!! Hurry!!!"

"What's wrong with my every day outfit, rook?"

"You look like a nighthunter."

"But I am a nighthunter."

"Not today. Now hurry!! Wear a decent suit.", she commanded him without meeting his eyes as she was focused on what seemed like creating a beautiful card.

"Could you tell me what the hell is going on? Why're you so..."

"Nik, my mother is coming today!!"

"What?!!!"

"I said that my mom's comin..."

"The hell with that!! I heard you already, but why??! Weren't we both just recently in Wyoming and celebrated with her Christmas?", Nik panicked and also began to run back and forth, not knowing what to do.

Yes, you heard correctly. Alex's mother, Jacqueline Fontaine was back in New Orleans and ready to meet her daughter to reunite with her again. She just texted her that she just landed on her private jet and might be on her way to them soon. Last Christmas, Alex and Nik visited the wealthy businesswoman and accountant in Wyoming to spend some time together, reunite and let Alex introduce Nik Ryder as her boyfriend which was a wish from her mother. That time Nik may have revealed himself as a nighthunter as Jacqueline Fontaine herself revealed that she's aware of the supernatural side of the world, but meeting her now all of a sudden and unprepared? Will Nik still be able to hold the good impression he once made to Alex's mother?

"But rook, why suddenly all of this? Did something happen?", Nik got worried and watched how she ran towards to check the oven and then returned back to him.

"Nothing. She just texted today, missed me and wanted to spend some time with me like in the good old days. Because tomorrow's Mother's Day. Now please stop talking, I have an apple pie in the oven and I need to concentrate on the card I'm crafting for her. Everything needs to be perfect.", she looked a bit stressed and in a hurry without meeting his eyes.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, go and buy some flowers for my mother."

"Aren't the card and the pie enough? I think your mother will be just pleased to see you again and..."

"Nik, the flowers!!! Now!!! And then change into some nice clothes when you're back. Hurry!!!", she yelled and he did as she wished him to. After all, his girlfriend's mother was coming today and Alex knew her better than him, so he trusted her with the choices and the decisions. Better try to impress the guest while listening to her orders because wanted the best for themselves and Jacqueline.

After a little while, Nik finally returned back with a bouquet of fresh roses and showed them to Alex. The girl was suddenly preparing a chocolate cake.

"Uhh, what happened to the apple pie?"

"Got burned. We're having a chocolate cake for dessert instead. But Nik, why did you buy red roses?"

"Because they're your favorite flowers, so I assumed your mom would love..."

"But she loves a cactus."

"A cactus? The one that stings when you touch it? But that's not even a flower? How should I know?!!!"

"Fiiiiine, chocolate cake and roses instead. They're okay too.", his girlfriend agreed while cleaning their living room now.

"Damn, rook... You're filled with energy today. Maybe your mom should come more often cuz that way you'll clean my apartment more often.", he chuckled as she was busy with dusting and cleaning everything. After all, her mother was a perfectionist and everything had to be perfect. A few seconds later, Alex's phone buzzed with a text message. It was nobody else, but her mother who now decided to visit them tomorrow instead of today because she met an old friend of hers who convinced her to stay with her today. The sudden news immediately calmed the hard-working child down and plopped onto the white couch.

"What happened, rook?"

"Mom's not coming today. It seems like an old friend of her's convinced her to stay for tonight. But my mom's coming tomorrow which means it will give me even more time to organize something special for her."

"And the chocolate cake you baked? I won't eat that thing. I don't eat chocolate. Hey, why do we even have chocolate in our fridge?"

"Because I eat chocolate!! Dark chocolate. And relax, the cake's for tomorrow then."

"Alex, you're the one who should relax. Have you seen yourself the way you were running across our apartment as if the world's about to collapse? It's just Mother's Day tomorrow and I'm pretty sure Jacqueline will love whatever you prepare for her. She's your mom and pretty lucky to have you. Look at the things you're even preparing for her. Guess, the only mother who won't receive anything will be Lady Smoke.", Nik smirked.

"No, I don't think so. We all, including Vera, might have a problem with her. We don't like or support her, but... She's still Vera's mother. And mother is still a mother no matter what. A mother only wants the best for a child. Tonya raised Vera.", she tried to explain which surprised Nik.

A mother's a mother and always the first best friend someone could have. It's true and somehow made Nik think about his own mother. She was lovely, caring, always smiling and a total nature buff. He could still feel her warmth and embrace even though it was more than 17 years ago. A mother always wanted the best for their children and family. If only Nik's mom was alive, that would be perfect. He missed her and now missed her even more today. On Mother's Day. If their parents were somehow still alive, would he be also preparing gifts and surprises for them? The best breakfast in bed for Nik's mom was made by Nik and his dad. Picnic in their favorite place in the bayou. Buying gifts and the most beautiful flower bouquet. Thoughts of how life would have been if Nik's parents were alive made the young man a bit emotional and sad. If only they were with him.

"Everything okay, Nik?", Alex noticed Nik's absence and squeezed his shoulder a little.

"Uh, yeah. Just missin' my parents. Again."

"I'm so sorry, Nik.", she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him a little closer and met his silvery eyes.

"That's okay, rook. I got used to it.", he tried to smile a little to comfort her even though he was still very sad from the inside.

"Nik, I understand you. I lost my birthfather, Elric and my adoptive father too but it's nothing compared to your pain. You were so young and..."

Suddenly, Alex's phone buzzed with a text message. It was from her mother, Jacqueline. She opened the message and started to read. After a while, she got more relaxed and informed Nik about its content.

"Nik, we can relax. My mom will visit us tomorrow because it seemed like an old friend and not today, which means more time for preparing everything."

"Thank god, I didn't feel ready to meet her today. By the way, is Jacqueline the only one who's gonna get a gift?"

"What do you mean, Nik?"

"Don't you consider Lady Thalissa like a mother or what? I mean, Elijah may have adopted me but for me, he was like my dad."

"Oh, you're right!!! How could ever forget lovely Thalissa who's like a mother to me??!!! She considered me as her own child even though I was afraid in the beginning that she might turn into an evil stepmother. But I'm glad she's not and accepted me. I need a gift for her too. But what could I ever gift a duchess who probably has everything she needs?"

"Time.", Nik answered.

Even though he grew up all by himself, his words were wise ones. Because those were the things he wished for too. More time with his parents and loved ones before they left him alone in this world.

In the evening the nighthunter, Nik Ryder decided to visit Garrus at his bar downstairs. The Graveyard Shift.

After preparing his order, Garrus walked towards Nik and placed it on the table in front of him. A snake-tequila. A drink with an extremely sour taste which made Nik's eyes water a little when he drank it. It looked as if a dead snake was swimming inside it. And the hunter needed that drink with that nasty taste, to calm down his nerves.

"How are you, Nik darling?", the fae bartender greeted his friend.

"As always, Garrus. And you?"

"Well, I...", the fae suddenly stopped as his blue eyes landed on the woman who just entered his bar with a suitcase. Nik followed his gaze and got shocked just like Garrus. It's her!! Alex's mom is here??! Nik remembered her from the last meeting when he and Alex visited her in Wyoming during winter. The mother wore a light blouse and a short, black skirt with matching high heels. Earrings were hidden behind her black, shoulder-length hair. Her fair skin was covered with make-up. For her age, the woman has definitely held herself good.

Jacqueline was immediately surprised, when she suddenly recognized her daughter's boyfriend sitting in a bar with a strange-looking beverage in his hand. Not the best impression. He did once better when he and Alex came prepared to Wyoming.

"Jacqueline?!"

Garrus and Nik were startled by her sudden appearance, and then both were shocked at each other.

"You know her, Nik?"

"Of course, I should be askin' you? How do you...?"

"You're my daughter's boyfriend, Nik. Right? Excuse me, is that a dead snake in your drink?!!", the woman snorted who seemed very disgusted about Nik's choice of drink. She analyzed his strange clothing style, and weapons and immediately got alert.

"Where is my daughter?!!", she commanded to know and glared at him, like a protective parent would do in these circumstances.

"She's at home. But Jacqueline... I mean, Misses Fontaine... Weren't you supposed to arrive tomorrow? Tomorrow on Mother's Day."

"I came immediately after Alex texted me the address you both are living in and I... I can't believe it. You're living here?", she felt disappointed and hurt as if remembering something from the past. The over 200-year-old fae knew exactly everything. Her whole story, especially now...

"Wait, Jacqueline Fontaine is Alex's mother??!!! You had an affair with my duke?!!!"

"It was no affair, Garrus. Thalissa was aware of me and my dear Elric would never cheat on me or her. Mind your words!!", she felt insulted.

An emerald-green-colored snake smoothly revealed from under Jacqueline's sleeve to greet the two boys with an aggressive hiss.

"Shhhh... No, no, my Slitter. Don't be afraid, Mama is here with you and won't let anyone turn you into a nasty drink.", she sweet-talked to her pet snake called Slitter while glaring at Nik. He was hoping to impress his girlfriend's mother again and get back to her good side again. He had to do something.

"Actually, I don't serve the Snake Tequila to my customers. That's just Nik's special order."

"Wait Garrus, I... I... You know Jacqueline... I mean... Misses Fontaine??!! How?", Nik asked his fae friend.

"It's a long story, darling. I'm sorry but you and Alex...", the fae didn't dare to continue and hoped that Jacqueline would explain everything herself.

"Mom!!! You're here!!!", Alex excitedly squeaked and ran towards her mother for a hug as she entered the bar. Both mother and daughter reunited and gently wrapped each other for a long time while Slitter, the snake glided back under Jacqueline's sleeve.

"Alexis, baby... How are you?", she lovingly kissed her cheeks before they parted.

"I'm good. And you? I hope your journey was comfortable. Weren't you supposed to visit us tomorrow?", she asked her mother while taking her suitcase which Nik hadn't thought about doing it since he was since he was still trying to progress everything.

"I was. But after finding out where exactly you live, I just decided to take you with me. We're both heading back home to Wyoming"

"What??!! But why?", Nik and Alex panicked at the same time.

"Because you're my daughter. I missed you, Alex dearie."

"But Mom, I can't leave my friends. And what about Nik?", she asked her mother who had no words. Jacqueline turned her attention towards Garrus and Nik. That's when her eyes discover the crossbow which caught her attention. She took a few steps towards it and decided to hold Nik's weapon. The black crossbow. Her manicured fingers stroked the initials engraved on it. The letters E.R.

"Nik, you said you're a nighthunter. May I ask where you got this crossbow from?", she suddenly asked which surprised the young nighthunter.

"It's my dad's."

"And who is your father?", she dared to ask and clenched her grip with her eyes fixed on the weapon as if she was relieving an old memory.

"But why? What does it...?"

"Who's your father, Nik?!!!", she almost yelled.

"Elijah. Elijah Ryder."

"So that means your full name is... Nik Ryder. You're... You're Elijah's child??! And who's the mother?", Jacqueline set the crossbow back on the table and disappointedly took a few steps backward.

"Jacqueline, calm down. Elijah is not Nik's real birthfather, he just adopted him because a mysterious creature killed his birthparents when he was a little child. Elijah saved him and took him under his wing.", the fae explained.

"Mom, what is going on? How do you know about Nik's adoptive father?", Alex asked and Nik was also curious to know the answer.

It took her a few seconds to collect herself before she answered in an angry tone.

"Alex, that man, Elijah is a jerk and..."

"Woah, there cut your tongue before you dare to say anything wrong. That's my dad you're talkin' about, ma'am!!! ", Nik freaked out and couldn't just let anyone insult his father. The man who raised him.

Jacqueline felt insulted by his sudden behavior while Garrus tried to calm him down. That's no good impression in front of the girlfriend's mother he made which made Alex worry now. She only wanted her mother and boyfriend to get along with each other. Their last meeting was a success and they really got along with each other. Nik surely knew how to impress her, but now...

"The son is just like the father, I guess. And I can't see my daughter dating such a man. What if one day he chooses his father and the hunt over my child?"

Well, if only Jacqueline knew Nik once broke up with her because of the life lessons of his adoptive father, Elijah.

"Mom, Nik loves me and I love him. You liked him too and approved our relationship. Please, I apologize regarding Nik. He had a hard life. Please forget all this and let's spend some family time together.", Alex begged her mother which made Nik's heart melt. He felt bad for her.

"My Alexis, it's not your fault. Just be careful, not all men can't be trusted. Except for Elric. Let's say a Ryder can't be trusted.", she explained on her way to the bar's guest washroom.

While she was gone, the three were left alone. Quiet and shocked about what just happened.

"Garrus, explain. You know about this, right? What's going on?", Alex crossed her arms and expected an answer from her fae friend. It took him a few seconds before he replied. Alex and Nik, both waiting for an explanation.

"Folks, it's a long story before you two were even born. I'm sorry, but..."

Garrus tried to calm down before explaining but was too scared about his friend's reactions. But they deserve to know. Everything. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

"Nik, Alex, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know that this woman was your mother, my fae friend. I didn't even notice by your surname or by your similar features... Sorry, but I know her. Elijah knew her too because..."

"Garrus, just spill the beans!!", Nik got impatient.

"Elijah knew Jacqueline because they were both partners..."

"Impossible!!", Nik angrily slammed his fist on the wooden table hard.

"Wait, they're weren't thaaat kind of partners. Calm down!! They were just a nighthunter duo."

"What??!!! My mom as a nighthunter??! Are you sure?"

"No, it can't be!! Dad would never!!! He was hunting alone and taught me to do the same. To stay alone.", Nik explained in a harsh tone.

"Yes, Nik he works and hunts alone. But before that, he had a hunting partner until..."

"Until I realized that Elijah didn't care about me. Always focused on the hunts, the missions and to save lifes. A man who thought with a brain and no heart. Old-fashioned and single-minded.", Jacqueline set foot out of the washroom after she finished and marched with clicking high-heels back to the three of them.

"Mom, you sound like you wanted his attention. Were you both... more than just work partner?", Alex dared to ask without wanting to know the answer. Even Nik was afraid of the answer and how it might affect his relationship with Alex.

"More than just partners??! Never!!!", she answered dramatically while petting her pet snake which was now sliding from her arm to her thigh. She loved Slitter like a child of her own. Her answer wasn't finished. Taking a deep breath, she continued as her expression softened.

"Alex, Nik, Garrus, I must confess. Elijah and I may have been work partners, but I do have a small crush on him in the beginning."

"Ewww, mom!!! Noooo!!!", Alex reacted which made her mother laugh a little.

"Don't worry, it was just a tiny crush. Nothing happened between us and didn't last long. Elric is the one and not Elijah. Elric is loving, caring, gentle and respects women. Look, Elijah is a good man too, but thinks I'm weak, helpless. He belittled me just because I'm a woman and not a man. Just because of his old-fashioned thoughts and annoying behavior. A woman can do the same things a man can do. Look at me, I'm a successful accountant and businesswoman because I believed in myself. While he didn't. I don't want to see that man ever again and neither this place which holds some memories of my past life."

"Oh, you won't see him anymore. He's dead.", Garrus sadly spoke.

"What??!"

"Elijah is dead, Jacqueline."

"That's impossible. Elijah can't be..."

"Garrus is saying the damn truth. My dad is dead. I lost him forever.", Nik sobbed. The young nighthunter let a single tear run down his cheek without noticing as he was thinking about him, reliving some old memories in his mind. He definitely didn't want them to know that right now there was like a whole tornado of emotions inside him. Not to look weak and reveal them in front of his girlfriend's mother.

After hearing the news, Jacqueline felt devastated and sad. She may not like that old man anymore, but hearing about the death of the most experienced and best nighthunter in New Orleans shook her.

"No, it can't be. The powerful Elric and skilled Elijah? How? Was it also the bloodwraith behind Elijah's death like it was behind my Elric's."

"No, mom. I told you about the bloodwraith before, that it was after the most powerful supernatural beings. But Elijah's a different story which happened 17 years ago.", Alex explained while stepping closer to Nik to comfort him. She took his hand in hers and gently squeezed for comfort while trying to make eye contact with him as their gaze was fixed on the wooden floor.

Jacqueline regretted and felt sorry for Nik. Seeing an innocent child growing up alone in such a dangerous world was unexpected for her, but was also really impressive. She realized that perhaps Elijah wasn't a bad man after all. If only the dead man could hear her thoughts of saying sorry to him. The woman stepped closer and placed her hand on Nik's shoulder to get his attention. Her pet snake returned back under her sleeve after it finished crawling on her leg.

"Poor Nik, I didn't know. I really didn't know but I can understand your pain and what you went through. That's just horrible and I have no more words left... You don't deserve this, especially not at such a young age. Elijah and I may had a problem, but... but now I feel... Elijah didn't deserve this. You don't deserve it either, Nik. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my behavior and everything. It's just... The life of a nighthunter is filled with danger and I'm worried for my daughter's future with you.", she apologized.

After a few minutes, Nik finally spoke after calming himself down. He turned around to face them.

"We're not here to remember old memories, okay. Today's Mother's Day, so you and your daughter, Alex should spend some time together. You two enjoy upstairs, I'll join you later. Maybe. Now if you'll excuse me.", Nik suggested and then left. When Alex and Garrus shouted where he was headed, he was already gone. He left the building in which the Graveyard Shift and his apartment were and went outside. Garrus decided to go after him, leaving Alex and Jacqueline alone in his bar. Both mother and daughter were the only ones now.

"Nik..."

"Alexis, give him some space."

"But Mom, today's Mother's Day and we're all supposed to be together and have fun."

"I'm not Nik's mother, but yours. And please don't ever consider me one day as Nik's future mother-in-law. It's our Mother's Day, darling. I'm here to see you and spend some time with you again."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you were excited to see my boyfriend like every curious parent is. I think. But after finding out more about Nik... I can't believe how..."

"Dear, I just want the best for you. Dating a man who's involved in dangerous work which includes bloodshed, risks, injuries and... Oh, you can't imagine. Oh, you can't imagine what I've been through. My nighthunter life was short, but Nik's been involved since childhood. I don't want anything to happen to you, Alex. He must have so many enemies and rivals. Besides, he was Elijah's child. I don't hate poor Nik, but he's been through a lot. I feel sorry for him and he seems nice, but... I have a bad feeling about your relationship with him."

"But mom..."

"He even lives in the apartment where I once lived about 30 years ago. I immediately came after recognizing the address. There are just too many old and unpleasant memories for me. Please, come back to me. New Orleans is dangerous.", Jacqueline begged her daughter and held her by her shoulders.

"Mom, I know what I've signed up for and don't worry. Nik won't let anything happen to me. Not even a single thing and I know it. He'll even die for me. He loves me and I love him. We're like bounded. As if Fate brought us together. And now I'm here with Nik in New Orleans."

"Very well, dear. I respect your decision, but I have warned you. Just stay safe."

"Don't worry, I will. Nik takes good care of me.", the daughter confirmed, took her mother's suitcase and went with her upstairs to the apartment.

When they finally entered the apartment, Alex placed the suitcase in the living room while her mother went into the bathroom to freshen up after a long flight. When she finished, she returned to face her daughter.

"A little chaotic in here, but that's manageable. I'm sure that you'll take care of everything well, darling."

"Are you hungry, mom?"

"No. On my way, I met an old friend of mine and we had a grand dinner together with her daughter, so I'm not hungry. Thank you. By the way, where's the room where I'll be staying?", Jacqueline asked.

"Uhhh... Well, as you know it's a small apartment with only one bedroom, a living room and Nik's office. Not big like you're used to now."

"Ah, right. Such a small life I had before. I hope you're not sharing one bed with your boyfriend already, dear. You both aren't married. And you know my story about my sudden pregnancy with your father, Lord Elric.", she raised an eyebrow which made Alex a little nervous.

"Uhhh, Nik suggested that you sleep with me in the bedroom and he'll take the couch. So, Mom, I'm sorry for the upcoming question, but I was wondering... Do you regret or ever regret that I was born? Your one-night stand with my father, Elric?", she hesitated without meeting her mother's brown eyes. After a little silence, Jacqueline spoke.

"To be honest, when I found out that I was having you, I got worried and almost panicked. Having a child from a person you just met was unexpected. I felt terrible and not ready, but thanks to your adoptive father, my work colleague, I made it through. He helped me, supported me, raised you and loved us both. A true man. He was in love with me and I just never noticed until you got born, Alex. You're a ray of sunshine and my everything. The only one I have left now in my life.", the mother confessed while remembering the death of the adoptive father too.

Three important men in her life were now dead. Elijah, her hunting partner. Elric, her first true love. And Alex's adoptive father, her lover.

"Mom... And here I always thought you didn't love me. That I was a burden to you and... I always tried to make you proud and still think it's not enough. Thanks for telling me. I love you too. Happy Mother's Day.", Alex felt loved and hugged her mother who hugged her back.

"Thank you, dear.", she gently kissed her forehead before they parted from each other.

"Mom, I made something for you. Tomorrow's actually Mother's Day, but I think every day should be Mother's Day because a mother is the first best friend of a child and I love you. I'm so happy to finally feel loved by you.", she confessed and showed Jacqueline the pink Mother's Day card she created for her. It was a handmade craft created by her which even included some sweet childhood pictures of her with her mother.

"Oh my, that's so beautiful. I love it, dear. Thank you.", she admired the gift as she held the card in her hands and was truly delighted by her daughter's creation. She felt even more impressed when Alex mentioned that Nik bought some flowers for her. Not her favorite cactus, but the roses were indeed beautiful.

A few hours later, Nik Ryder quietly entered the apartment without wanting to wake up Alex and her mother sleeping in the bedroom. But to his surprise, he found his girlfriend sitting lonely in the living room. Her eyes met his as he entered.

"Rook, why are you here? I told you that I'll take the couch and..."

"Nik, where did you go? I was worried about you.", she sadly confessed and hugged him.

"Just went to visit Elijah's grave. I can't believe he never told me that he had a hunting partner once and here he taught me to hunt alone and stay alone."

"Nik, don't blame your father. He just had a reason to do this and we don't know. Please, don't be sad. We already have each other and I'm glad that we became a couple."

"But your mom..."

"Hey, don't worry. She'll love you too, Nik. We'll be able to convince her, I know it. Besides, you know how to charm people.", she answered with a warm smile before planting a loving kiss on his cheek.

"Well, about charming people... On my way back, I bought a cactus for your mom. Her favorite. Luckily Luc could arrange one for me at night.", he smirked and pointed at the little gift bag he just brought which Alex hadn't noticed before.

"Nik, that's great!! Thanks. And tomorrow we'll visit Thalissa too. Because she's just like a mother to me and to her I'm like her own child. Best stepmother ever!!"