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cowgirlcherrie · 11 months

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georgia canned peaches — ⋆｡°✩ 🐎 cowboy! ellie

pairing: cowboy! hitwoman! ellie x black! fem! reader. wc: 5.0K

synopsis: on the run was Tennessee’s peach, who trades a life of discomfort for security with a Texan stranger

warnings: 18+, MDNI! mommy issues, slight religious trauma if you squint, heavy touching, ellie has an accent, mentions of death and loneliness, heavily inspired by Bones and All ( minus the c*nnibalism and gore), dom! ellie, domestic! ellie, heavy use of petnames (peach, sweetness, sugar, doll), stranger danger lowkk…, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, mentions of weapons, killing, black feminine coded reader, running away, taking care of injuries, injured ellie (so mention of blood, bleeding),

━━━ ♪ peach & georgia by kevin abstract

a/n: heyy everyone!! here's a quick lengthy one-shot for cowboy-ish Ellie! if you enjoy it babis my ask button is open and I'm always accepting requests if you want headcanons, etc, but enjoy!! ⊹˚. ♡⊹˚. ♡

✧˖°.

Mama didn’t raise no bitch! Or a conniving little thief either.

You tested that theory. Your hands became sticky with anything remotely flashy. Perhaps that was how you found out how to survive on your own. Times like this you wondered where you would be if your mama had just been a perfect Mary Sue. Made dinner, taught you how to wash your clothes and braid your hair, tucked you in at night, and just maybe taught you how to be better than a man. But now you were alone, in the hot Texan heat, and it felt like a smack to the face. Similar to her handprint the night she let you loose and hissed that you are on your own. You didn’t wanna cover the bills anymore or hear her bullcrap about how it was Adam and Eve — not Eve and Eve. You grew tired, and so did your feet that seemed to get you as far as you were now. Perhaps it wasn’t smart to smash your piggy bank taking the $500 dollars you spent bussing tables to go and a messenger duffle that could fit 3 heads. No plan either, which was significantly negligent, but your sticky fingers got you farther than you ever could, and they made sure you were fed.

That would explain why you were stealing in a gas station grocery. Crouched by the nonperishables stuffing anything and everything into the duffle bag. Georgia peaches, check. Canned pineapple, check. Dried beans and nuts, double-check. You weren’t exactly careful, but the place loomed with unfamiliar faces who certainly were too full of themselves to stop you. So you kept going, a first aid kit for the bruises that were forming on your knees and sewing material to fix the rip in your jacket. Well not your jacket, but your dad's jacket. Brown thick cotton over your shoulders to cover the long dress you were in, it was a smart decision. The jacket kept you warm on the desert nights, and it made home in your hands during the day. The little pockets are perfect for stuffing loads of crap you don’t need. With the crack of another can hitting the floor, it paralleled a shiny brown boot. Drenched in leather and gold detailing as it smacked the tile. Left foot – right foot – left again. Your eyes followed the trail of feet, ignoring the can that rolled away from you as a hand reached down to pick it up. A roughened, bloody, feminine freckled hand. Now the mystery girl was looming over your figure, in an authoritative stance, as if her ego had been bigger than her height itself. But she was also bleeding. Her right arm clenched to her hip as blood seeped between her fingers.

“Yers’ drop somethin’ peach?” The accent sent a shiver up your spine. It was thick and unfamiliar but maybe the word peach, at the end masked her roughness. You now made eye contact with the girl, green eyes looming into yours as you shakily took the can of peaches.

“M’sorry that was my bad,” you mumbled taking the peaches back and tucking them into your chest. You couldn’t slip it back into your bag now, next thing you know she would yell THIEF! and drag you by your collar to the front counter. But the woman was in such poor shape to do so, her freckled face wincing ever so slightly with every movement her body made. She was a cowgirl, you’ve heard all about them in the papers but didn’t take them for the real deal. Her hat told you all you need to know, brown to match her thick belt and blue bell bottoms. Oh, she was the real deal.

“Could ya be a doll n’ grab me a kit” The woman groaned out, pushing her body weight in front of you. Her standing position contrasted yours that was crouched down, at eye level with the material. “You’s a real catch ya know? Put the peaches back in. I know you were stealin’” This made you freeze. Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! Your brain shouted you were screwed.

Your hands now moved slower reaching for the kit in front of you, and you suddenly realized how overly close the woman was to you. Almost blocking your field of vision from anything to your left. You ignored her statement, as you shakily lifted the first aid kit to her hands.

“Peach…you are a delight, but now you listen,” The woman didn’t take the kit, “A camera has been pointed at ya for the past 5, and now you got Tina’ at counter watchin’ ya. You are gonna live up to bein’ delightful and pay for this one thing” The woman was scrounging in her pocket and you took the moment of silence to think to yourself, you had barely any money. $500 was something you needed to make stretch.

“What?”

“I don’ take you for a fool, I’m Ellie, and I mean no harm.” Ellie took off her hat placing it over the left side of her chest at her heart, giving you a simple nod before putting the dusted brown hat back on her head. Ellie this time put a stained $10 bill on top of the first aid kit that had been suspended in the air by your hand. This action made you stand up – eye level with this time. Noticed the girl has a height to her, her figure looming over you as you stood.

“Give me the bag [what?] your bag sweetness! we don’t got all day, dammit I’m hurt” Ellie stated bluntly. There was no more time for jokes or stealing any more Georgia canned peaches. There were better things to worry about. Like the fact that you can go to jail for stealing and Ellie who was bleeding out in front of you. You slid your brown bag off your shoulder handing it to Ellie who swung it over her left shoulder.

“Go see Tina with ‘er blonde hair, act sweet, say your visitin’ family. If they ask, say the Williams Ranch, she’ll give you no hard time” Ellie started as she was giving you instructions, “When ya finish, keep the change, meet me at my car I’ll be outside. You get your bag – I fix my wound, and you get the fuck outta town.” Ellie finished. This time her look was stern, and aggressive as if she was testing you. Testing your loyalty, your honesty, your act. She wanted to see how you worked under pressure, she wanted you to suffocate from fear. All you could do is nod, swallowing harshly, as Ellie turned her body walking down the Isle to your left.

You took the initiative to make your way to ‘Tina’. Ellie was right, the blonde had been suspicious of you. Asked you all the questions that Ellie said she would, but she backed off once you mentioned the Williams Ranch. Handing you the exact change of 0.50 cents and a hospitable smile, saying “Have a great day.” Tina’s defensiveness changed with one simple title. This made you wonder how much authority Ellie had over the place, questions flooding through your brain as you pushed the door and walked out, being met with the setting sun.

The sun was getting low, and there wouldn’t be a motel for another mile out. Sure you could do the walk but you weren’t guaranteed anything. A whistle brought you out of your trance, belonging to Ellie who this time had a toothpick between her cushioned pink lips, as her body leaned against a ran down red car, with muddied wheels. You jogged over this time seeing that your bag was missing from her shoulders rather this time in the passenger seat of her car.

“Here you go, what you asked.” You pushed the first aid kit into her hands like you’d done back in the store. Ellie mumbled a thank you, as she nibbled on the toothpick. This time, taking the kit and putting it on the hood of the car.

“Yous’ as quiet as a mouse, but orders ya take well…Peach could you help me patch up, I ensure you a place to stay and food in return – all comfort no lies…” It took you time to think about it. What did people call this…southern hospitality? She was sweet to you despite not really knowing you but the situation was still tit for tat. You do for me, I do for you. Wax on, Wax off. You weren’t gonna say no to a place to crash, where you didn’t have to worry about the faucet being broken or water barely coming out because the bill wasn’t paid. You were certain her bills were paid.

“Yes, please…uh thank you!” You exclaimed as you began to dig through the box, taking out a bottle of water from your coat pocket, also stolen using it as a hand wash and something to clean the area, temporarily where the wound is. “doncha thank me just yet, you’re just getting started, peach.”

Ellie was surprisingly still gentle with you, taking her time to crouch into the backseat of the car, while you sat next to her with the kit on the center console. Ellie took her time to untuck the white button-down shirt, as her hands shakily fiddled with the buttons. Due time, her snail speed started to irritate you making you smack her hands away doing it yourself. The exchange was silent, but you preferred it to keep the awkwardness at bay. Ellie shook off her white button down, leaving her in a white tank top — Ellie this time took the initiative to roll the tank top up to right below her boobs allowing you to wince at the large gash on her hip.

“Holy Sh—”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

“Not my first Rodeo” Ellie continued as you poured water on the wound making Ellie grit her teeth. Tilting her head back as whimpers left her mouth at the sudden coldness. All of it was hard to do when you’re in the back of a car trying to patch up a borderline dead woman. But before you could ask any questions, Ellie took the initiative to do it herself.

“W-Where you headed, whats yer’ story?” Ellie grimaced through the pain as she held her head against the headrest, pants escaping her lips at an alarming rate. “God…I’m sorry,” You hesitated, you couldn’t even answer one simple question, your hands shaking at the blood that was covering your hands as it just wasn’t slowing down.

“Jeez– I hope a lil’ blood don’t scare you peach, I woulda done it myself baby,” Ellie hissed, trying to stay moderately sweet as she was now gripping onto the door handle, her right hand finding its way to your thigh, squeezing for the endless support. That’s when you noticed her tattoo, a death’s-head hawkmoth, and vines. Beautiful, yet chaotic, she had a story. Ellie squeezed again your thigh again making you look back at her. “Eyes up here baby [sorry] where [shit] ya’ from?” You couldn’t lie, the rifle at the back of her car taunting you. If she wanted to kill you she certainly would have done it by now. She wasn’t a threat, and she proved that in the store.

“I’m from Tennessee, I’ve been traveling on foot. I’m runnin’ away” You confessed as Ellie nodded her head in response, Your accent was slight, barely noticeable making more sense in Ellie’s head at why you struck her as different. Your beautiful brown skin glowing under the setting sun, you were a beauty to her. “Figured, how old?” Ellie questioned as you continued to stay frozen, eyes on her face to continue the conversation. “21” Ellie nodded again.

“Thought so, 22” Ellie responded. There it was again, the tit for tat.

“You seem like a good girl, far away from home aren’t cha. What’s wrong with yer family? Perhaps your mama?” Ellie tilted her head watching as your face transitioned from bliss and tranquility to fear and panic. She knew she struck a nerve, your mama was the problem. She didn’t wanna pressure you, hell it didn’t matter now. You were on your own, like a scared little lamb that has been deterred from its family. Possibly you were the black sheep, different from the rest. Ellie, once again, didn’t wanna pressure you.

“You look like you need someone to take care of ya, don’t worry Peach I’ll take care of you” Ellie whispered, her voice all velvety like icing a chocolate cake. Smooth and sweet with care and caress. Ellie was unlike others you’ve met. Or any ex-lover you had. This time you weren’t afraid to let her in or take care of you. Hell you wanted that, you’ve been craving it for all years of your life while you had to do it for others. Maybe it was time someone exchanged the favor. The good karma bell rang in your ears, as a smile tugged at your lips.

“Make sure you cared for, if you let me” Ellie whispered some more, her hands this time traveling to your waist, giving a gentle squeeze, to which you could only hum in response. She was a charmer and knew all the right words to get you sunken in with her. Mama always said to not trust strangers, but why didn’t she feel like one? Her scent was intoxicating all you wanted to do was lean down and sink your pointed fangs into her shoulder, hearing her cry of satisfaction while she continued to call you Peach. Peach…Peach…Peach. You liked that name, no one called you that but considering that's what she handed you when you first spoke, it didn’t run as a surprise.

Ellie squeezed, “Words, sweetness?”

“Yes” you squeaked, which probably sounded oddly sexual now that you thought about it. Unholy thoughts plague your brain at the sight of the Texas beauty in front of you. Realizing your task still was unfinished you got back to work. Hands working fast as you took your time, threading the suture thread through the needle as it came in contact with the flesh that was Ellie’s loose and separated skin.

Ellie wincing as you dug the needle in, and back out with an exhale. It was a semi-shitty stitching job, but you were able to tightly close the wound and stop the bleeding. Ellie didn’t speak, considering she’d risk completely yelling every curse word and potentially scaring you off, she settled on biting the hem of her tank top instead. Thick black lashes coated with tears at the sudden pain and blood crust. You were gentle though, Ellie caressing your waist as you put down a gauze pad, followed by wrapping it with the gauze roll and securing it with the adhesive tape. Patting to let her know that you were finished.

“Yer’ such a good girl you know?” Ellie cooed as her hands found their way up to your braids, bringing your head down so she can give a chaste kiss to your head. Right…Right… Southern Hospitality. The feeling almost made you cry. Praise, followed up with affection? Like nothing you have felt before – hell you only thought they did that in movies. Ellie, however, was like a movie. Purley a fever dream, you were scared to fall asleep, what if you imagined the whole thing? You were enjoying your runaway escapades too much for it all to be fake.

“Let’s get the show on the road,” Ellie gave a smile, making her way out of the back, suggesting that you do the same. So much for not trusting strangers.

✧˖°.

Father, Forgive me for I have sinned… it was blurry

As we forgive our trespassers…still blurry

Trespassers…clear

You were a trespasser, is what you were getting from Ellie’s narration. Over the 30-minute car ride to her Farmhouse, Ellie explained to you the whole ordeal. Her cowboy hat was on your head as you listened to her tell narration of the cowboys' sealant for the townspeople. Why Tina, at the gas station tried to make you a friend. This Texan desert, farmland was constructed with the passage that cowboys and cowboy decedents protect the townspeople from narcs and trespassers, which in this case you could have been either. Debunked neither. It was one of those towns that people suggest you pass, hell probably inquire why it's still on the fucking map.

Ellie confessed that she was also a trespasser, just like you. Taken in by her late found father Joel who showed her how to run the rodeo. How Millers Ranch, became Williams Ranch. It was impressive, your eyes gleaming with admiration. Then it hit you, why she had the shotgun she did bounties on narcs, drug smugglers, the whole ordeal. People who came in to steal, wreak havoc, and destroy the peace. She was the town's grim reaper. She was the one who knocks. You felt faint, as the realization knocked into you like a brick. Nothing was truly sweet about her, that accent was to mask how with one click she’ll hunt like they were rabbits. You were trapped in her cage.

Upon arriving at her farmhouse which was large enough for more than one, it made you sad to see. She was alone, by herself. No wonder it was easy for her to drag you into her company, human interaction seemed obsolete out here. A dim light shown from what you assumed to be the horse stable, that was rather quiet as the nightfall had put you at ease. You held your jacket to your body tighter at the sudden gust of wind, hearing the weeds brush against each other — almost screaming in the wind. You held tightly onto your bag while Ellie limped past you, with the white button-down rested over one shoulder. Fiddling with the keys in her pocket.

“Shoes off at the door, watch your step,” Ellie spoke up as she opened the door, you were hit with the sudden aroma, it smelled like fresh wood, pine, and just a hint of freshly baked cookies. It was how you pictured going to visit your grandmothers to be. Warm and welcoming. Complying with her wishes, you took your boots off, leaving you in mix-matched socks with funky designs that you have bought out of quirkiness. Ellie found this amusing. White ones to contrast your colors, the two of you had a lot of differences. But for the lack of similarities came an understanding. A mutual grounding between the two of you. A grey area. Ellie was behind you this time, taking her hat off your head, hooking it onto the wall, your thick jacket as well, and placing it on the hook beneath it.

“Welcome, home”

Now that made your stomach curl, you didn’t know what home is, besides yourself and your belongings. Attaching your home to people, not places. It was a wave of worry and fear that hit you. Your feet stuck as it felt like someone took a hammer and nailed your feed to the wooden floors. It was lively and well-decorated for someone that lived alone. Breaking free from your sinking feet you started to observe the living space. There was art, tones of it, stumbling across a photo in the bookcase of a much younger Ellie and an older man with salt and pepper hair who you had presumed to be Joel. The name fit his face well, A small smile creeping up to your face at the closeness of the two. Ellie seemed happy – carefree now that you look at her, that happiness seemed sucked away from her life, she didn’t smile quite like that anymore. Not until you cracked jokes in her car and made her laugh.

“Ya thirsty peach?” Ellie questioned her voice coming out muffled as her figure was far away in the kitchen area, hearing as the refrigerator closed. “I’m good, thank you though.” You put the photo back where you found it, following the trail of her voice. She was very trusting for a stranger, you were already infatuated with the woman, yearning for more. Yearning for her to give you a taste or perhaps a touch. Now you were sitting on her marble countertop, placed there by Ellie as she moved quickly around the kitchen pouring herself a glass of water from the glass pitcher, drowning it all in one go. She wiped the falling water around her mouth with the back of her arm eyeing you in the process, Ellie laughed. You knew her for a short amount of time, but long enough to know that laughter from her was rare – take it as a compliment, you thought.

Ellie made her way over to you, her hands now on your knees, moving them further apart as she pushed her body in between her legs. Her arms resting on the counter space behind you, trapping you in her arms.

“Mama didn’t teach you no good...to trust strangers? Oh…Babygirl you’re dangerous” Ellie scolded, laughing as you give the girl a doe-eyed look – your hands finding a home on her arms. Wrapping your hands around her biceps, as your thumb move up, down, and in a circle.

“I figured if you were gonna kill me, you already would have done so.” You mumbled as Ellie’s face got a lot closer to yours now. You can see the freckles that decorated her cheeks, her hydrated pink lips from the water she just had, the slit in her eyebrow, and her eyes. The piercing green forest that was her eyes, but it was beautiful, reminded you of the trees that you had seen when you walked. The storm that was your life, before Ellie became your superhero, the knight in shining armor. She saved you, and you owed her big time.

“Bingo! I know you smart peach, and that’s why imma tell you once, listen t’me real good.” Ellie specified, bringing one arm up to grip your chin gently, not allowing you to look anywhere else but herself. Ellie seemed possessive, maybe she lost too many people or her lack of social interaction but she didn’t want to let you go, and you could tell. She needed you just as much as you needed her, a packaged deal.

“You don’ trust nobody that ain’t me.” Ellie began, “Someone’s overly nice to ya’ you tell me. Mean? You fuckin’ tell me. Both don’t fly with me baby, if it ain't from me” Ellie finished, letting go of your jaw to which you nodded. Ellie was a fuckin’ force to be reckoned with, It was like digging into a mystery box, you were unsure of the flavors and layers she had to herself. Hell, she could be manipulating you and you wouldn’t even notice. Hospitality for comfort or comfort for hospitality, it all looked the same.

“Ay Ay, captain!” You playfully military saluted the girl, making Ellie roll her eyes at your statement, you were exceptionally fun. Which Ellie didn’t have anymore...fun. If you classify a night at Typsy Bison as fun then so be it. “You hungry? I can run you a shower before you eat – it’s leftovers if that's alright with yourself?” Ellie questioned and that’s when it hit you, you’ve been traveling afoot all day, and the thought of even having a meal slipped your mind, but you were famished, stomach lightly growling at the mention of the word food.

“I could use food, yeah — as long as there’s no cheese.” You challenge making Ellie back away this time as she took out a glass plate, a fork, and a knife. “No cheese sugar, but something to get you settled – I always have dessert peach if you want that instead?” Now you felt like a kid in a candy store. Dessert was a rarity and boy did it sound delightful right now. Ellie smiled as she watched the way your eyes gleamed at the mention of dessert.

“Got a sweet tooth huh?” Ellie smiled, making you laugh in return. You did have a sweet tooth, anything sweet was enough to bring a smile to your face. That’s why you had a love for canned peaches. The taste reminded you of peach pie that you would get at the diner as you worked a closing shift. Sitting at a booth as you devoured a piece of peach pie, it was heated, like a warm hug in the winter. You cried every time you had a piece. It reminded you of all the good things in life – like how good your mother could be.

“I hope you have pie” you pleaded, making Ellie nod her head. “You aren’t pressin’ yer luck! I got an apple pie from a good friend of mine, I think you’ll love it – not too sweet, but fillin’” Ellie smirks in satisfaction as she placed one hand on her hip.

“Let’s run’ya a shower”

✧˖°.

How were you supposed to explain to Ellie why you were crying? Pajamas that you stored in your bag resting on your body as the matching white tank top and light blue shorts attached to your frame — you just had the best shower you’ve ever had in a while. Not only was the water hot, but it didn’t cut out every five minutes, and the faucet wasn’t leaking, everything was comfortable, perfect. Ellie herself took the time you were in the shower to clean up herself, now in different clothing — a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants that clung to her body nicely. The two of you sitting at the dining table as Ellie watched you eat the warmed pie, a tear fell from your eye with swiftness. Ellie’s gentle gaze transitioned into confusion and eventually fear as she watched you cry.

“Oh god, wait!... I’m sorry” you laughed in between sniffles, taking the back of your hand to rub your face.

“Jeez, I thought I did somethin’ sugar” Ellie exaggerated holding her hand over her heart as if someone pierced an arrow through it. Now it was your turn to reveal your story, like how you cried every time you ate pie, specifically with peaches. It made Ellie give a small grin. Feeling as though she did something right in her life where she wasn’t playing god, It was wholesome that’s for sure. The redhead found it odd, but it was a sweet moment and she understood it. Ellie’s smile fell when she noticed the clock behind your head striking 10:30pm making her frown. The good times she was having at the moment were coming to an end, for both her and yourself.

“You go’n watch the tv til your tired, I have some business to take care of before tomorrow” Ellie didn’t wanna scare you, her business was taking the grey cloth, as she wiped down her guns and reloaded them for tomorrow. She didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.

“Can you watch it with me?” You inquired, ignoring the part where she said she had business.

“I’m cleaning guns.”

“So? You don’t scare me cowgirl” You wiggled your eyebrows as Ellie snatched the empty plate from your hands, placing it in the sink as she let the sponge soap up to wash the plate clean with hot water.

“Fine. I see you jump – I’m goin’ to another room, I don’t mix business with pleasure” Ellie confessed as she was less focused on you this time. You chose this time to leave the dining area, entering the living room as you hit the squared television's 'ON' button. It was small and run down, similar to the one at your moms before you left. You pulled at the antenna to catch a signal. The static glitching before on came Looney Tunes. You enjoyed the show finding amusement in the animals chasing each other and the crescendo of the music at all the right moments, it was comical and amusing. You spread your body out on the couch, laying on your side as you watched the television in silence, laughing every few minutes at something that you found funny. Ellie walked into the room with a black box and 3 guns in her hand. The redhead gently settled down the weaponry, being careful not to startle you, as she slipped into the seat on the far left — your legs now found a home in her lap, Ellie gently sending a rub at your legs. If someone walked right in, they would assume the two of you were probably married for some years now.

“This okay?” Ellie whispered as you mumbled a “yes” while your focus was still not on her. Ellie could see that you were getting tired, the way your eyes were low, and your breathing slowed down. You were at peace with yourself and with Ellie, this was one of the times when the silence was okay, a mutual serenity, and understanding — everyone was mindful of each other and it was pure love and bliss.

Ellie eyed your figure as your eyes fluttered shut, this time you were sleeping, fully this time letting yourself melt into the softness of the couch as Ellie reached over to her left to grab the blanket and drape it over your sleeping figure. This was also the time she finally got started on cleaning her guns, knowing that you were relaxed and cared for. Ellie wasn’t sure what she was doing, She felt vulnerable and that was rare, but she was doing what she said she would. Taking care of you, like you were taking care of her. You saved her life, and she saved yours, tit for tat.

Ellie in this moment craved nothing more than your lips on hers, perhaps your teeth to graze her flesh, biting…hard into her – wanting to connect and morph bodies. She craved for your love and your intimacy, she wanted you to love her bones and all. Ellie wanted you to love her past, her insecurities, her mistakes, and her wrongs. You were too good for her, she knew it, but there was nothing a sweet peach like you couldn’t fix.

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pascalpvnk · 7 months

Text

Pour Choices // You & I

pairing: bartender!joel x f!afab!reader

summary: Austin, Texas was never a dream destination for you, however your work trip there might’ve changed your perspective of the Lone Star State, and it absolutely was not work related.

word count: 6.6k words (oops…)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut (dubcon [both drank alcohol], handjob if you squint, oral [f receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it up!], Joel has had a vasectomy, premature ejaculation, double creampie, alluding to aftercare), possibly ooc, no outbreak AU, Joel is 36 with no specified age for reader, reader described as a woman, use of she/her pronouns, minor body descriptions (reader described as having curves, reader has hair long enough to grasp/pin up, reader is shorter than Joel, he picks up reader for like half a second), time jumping (indicated by solid orange divider), religious euphemisms (?) from Joel (i know that man has religious trauma), alcohol consumption, food consumption

a/n: hello! I know this is a long time coming but she’s finally here. thank you for being patient with me during this writing process and thank you to those who helped and encouraged me! a special thanks to @delicaatefl0vver for beta reading and supporting and adding to my thots. welcome to the rebirth of my fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy xx (dividers by @/saradika)

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Sat in the corner of the rustling bar, you were sipping on your Manhattan. The drink tasted medicinal, not how you’d usually prefer it. You had watched the young bartender pour heavy on the vermouth, but chose not to say anything. Red lipstick stained the rim of your glass with each sip of the cocktail. The whiskey mixed in and the maraschino cherry garnish were its only saving graces.

A low hanging light illuminated a warm hue across your features. You were surrounded by classic Texan bar decor and architecture; high ceiling rafters, support beams strung with fairy lights, the walls packed with framed posters of all varieties, the occasional beer branded neon sign, and license plates tacked up behind the bar. Two televisions sat flush against opposing walls, both playing a pregame show of Rangers highlights as they counted down to first pitch. The air was thick as the feet of the patrons shuffled around and chair legs scraped against the wood finished floors. Groups of friends, couples, and everyone between flooded through the doors, ushering themselves to an empty table or stool at the bar. Being there on a Friday night right as the outside rush hour died down was a bold choice, but you had one goal in mind.

The moment the music changed from country to rock and roll, you knew it was time to set yourself out to accomplish it.

The click of your high heels contrasted from the stomp of sneakers and cowboy boots. Glass in hand and head held high, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you felt it in your throat. You sure as hell weren’t living up to your stoic, stone cold hearted reputation back home. It’s almost as though your heart thawed in the Texas heat. Though your heart changed with the state, your attire didn’t. You stuck out like a sore thumb among the other consumers in your black maxi dress and perfectly pinned up hair. Some eyes gazed towards you, but you were set on finding one pair in particular. The set of eyes that were darker than the coffee he brewed, but the same ones that looked like honey when the sun was setting. The eyes that were facing away from you at the bar as you found a stool. The ones that snapped up towards you with one word.

“Texas.”

You called for him like a melody. Your throat immediately felt dry as a lump formed. He either felt the same way you did or it was a one off fling. You were hoping it was the former. But…it had been two years since you met, so there was a decent chance he was the one that got away.

The way his muscles tensed under his tight Henley gave away that he recognized you simply from your voice. Those beautiful eyes met yours, and his jaw went a little slack, the corners of his mouth curved.

“Evenin’, Miss New York,” Joel drawled, leaning against the counter. “How are ya, darlin’?”

Joel’s mind was preoccupied before he had seen you the first time, filled with important nonsense that about drove him up the wall.

Gotta make the next schedule. What time is that birthday party Sarah wants t’go to? Wonder if Tommy would be willin’ to take her. No, he’s workin’ on a job site out of town. I need to find someone to cover part of my shift so I can take her. Gotta pay the rent for this month. Can’t keep running the bar if s’gonna be slow like this and that bastard won’t cough up his half of it. God dammit.

“Welcome in, what can I get for ya?” The southern man drawled absentmindedly, tossing a rag over his broad shoulder. The moment his eyes caught yours, his worries washed away. He was only interested in you and your big, beautiful eyes and bright, red lips.

“Whiskey on the rocks. Make it a double please,” you practically sang to him…or at least it sounded like music to his ears. Your ID slipped out of your billfold with ease, and you slid it across the bar as you took a seat. Joel examined the horizontally wide piece of plastic, deciding it was real, especially for a lady ordering a whiskey. A lady from New York, no less.

Joel took in your features for a moment, noticing the difference in your attire and even your accent compared to the other bar patrons. Your beauty was striking to him, making all of the women he’s seen come in flee his memory. He repeated your name over and over in his head, wanting to know how it felt on his tongue. To say he was intrigued would be the understatement of the year.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He poured a generous portion of whiskey into a cut crystal glass and added several cubes of ice, then slid it over to you with a smile. He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bar, eyes lingering on your curves. "So, what brings you in here tonight? The Big Apple too small for ya?"

“Work,” you responded simply, taking a sip from your drink. He watched as your eyes raked down his frame. There was no visible emotion behind them, so he was unsure if you were checking him out or simply giving him a once over.

Joel’s eyes on the other hand drank in your features, not even attempting to hide his gaze. It lingered across your chest and the way your dress contoured your breasts so perfectly. He was damn near drooling at the sight of you taking down your whiskey better than he would. Your face remained expressionless, zero signs of your mouth twisting in distaste. The simple action had him hooked.

He cleared his throat and began polishing some glasses as he continued to have small talk with you.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, lining the cups along the bar as he shined them one by one.

“Flight just landed. I checked into my hotel and dropped off my stuff. Wanted to take a walk around to see what this city has to offer and I landed here,” you shrugged, taking another drink of your whiskey. “Nice place, are you the owner?”

“Co-owner, yeah,” Joel chuckled. “So I take it, your work stuff starts tomorrow? Or are you drinking on the job?”

“The former,” you smiled softly. “I’m not trying to get fired, they barely trusted me to come out here in the first place.”

His head nodded gingerly. He couldn’t quite tell if you were shooting him down or just quiet after a long day. He wanted to know more. Wanted as much information that he could get from you without coming off as a creep. Deciding to take a minor risk, he continued conversing with you.

“What kind of work are ya doing all the way out here, hm?” He asked politely, restocking the freshly polished glasses back on their designated shelves.

“My uh…my peer, I suppose, is on maternity leave and she represents most of our buildings in Texas. I’ve been doing most of the work over the phone but one of the Austin buildings required a visit. A lot of incident reports to go through.”

The whiskey in your glass was almost gone and he could tell it was opening you up a little bit. First time in the whole conversation you said more than what his question asked for.

“Darlin’, that’s some big wig stuff, and yet you make it sound so inconspicuous,” he drawled, a low rumble of laughter rolling from his chest. “What field are you in? Or is it top secret?”

“Oh! I work in HR,” you let out a small laugh. “Probably should’ve started with that.”

He smirked at how you fumbled over yourself, admiring the way your smile folded the skin around your eyes and exposed a dimple. He could definitely tell he was breaking down your stone wall. His eyes took you in once more. Your lip prints stained red on the once clean glass, immediately grabbing his attention. Arousal shot through his body, directing into his pants. That’s not something he knew he was attracted to.

“Need another, ma’am?” He asked politely and swallowed hard, attempting to look anywhere but your chest. You accepted his offer and opened a tab. Joel was thanking his lucky stars that the universe brought such a beautiful woman into his bar that night. Thanking fate for having him cover this shift.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, miss. Just holler if you need another drink or y’wanna close out. My name’s Joel,” he smiled with his boyish charm, flipping his towel back over his shoulder before reluctantly diverting his attention to another customer in need.

You stuck around for a bit, snacking on peanuts and watching the baseball game running on the television. Joel felt your eyes burn into the back of his head as he worked.

It was innocent to start. He popped tops off of beers, poured shots, and shook cocktails all while his cheeks burned pink under the heat of your gaze. Then he intentionally reached up to the top shelf more often, flexing his muscles and letting his shirt ride up his back to grab your attention again and again. It became increasingly difficult for you to peel your eyes off of him the more you drank.

And he noticed.

A couple hours passed, and before you knew it, the clock was nearing midnight. Joel walked around the bar, going to each empty table and wiping them thoroughly. He restocked everything as most of the small crowd filed out. He took a look at you from the front door, admiring the curves that were hardly hidden under your snug dress as you watched the TV mindlessly.

“Well darlin’,” he began as he approached the bar again. “I don’t know what time you have to work in the morning but it’s getting late. Wanna close out your tab?”

“I s’pose so,” you chuckled, copying his accent a little by accident. Your tired, drunken smile made his heart flutter.

A small smile plastered itself across Joel’s face as he ran your card. He let it process, grabbing both receipts and scribbling something on them.

“Can I call you a cab, sweetheart? They aren’t driving around all the time like they do back home for you,” he offered, handing you the merchant copy receipt. He crossed out all of the options to tip, just requiring your signature. You tried to protest, but he silenced your argument.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Joel examined you cleaning up your peanut shell debris as he called for the cab. You signed the receipt, and slid his copy back across the bar. He noticed your subtle smile as you noticed ten digits written neatly on the customer copy.

The line went dead when the conversation concluded, and Joel put the phone back on its charger. He noticed how you folded the receipt paper and tucked it safely into your clutch along with your debit card.

“Cab should be here in ‘bout ten minutes. Um,” he cleared his throat. “If ya need someone to recommend restaurants or if you want a tour of any sort, I hope that’ll come in handy.”

Joel gestured towards your clutch, the current home of his phone number. He wanted to ask you out, so so badly, but you were intoxicated and he didn’t want to give a bad impression. If it was meant to be, you’d take the initiative, at least that’s what he told himself.

“I bet it will,” you openly flirted. Joel knew better than to return the sentiment, but it was so damn difficult. His mama would’ve smacked him upside the head if he had, and that was enough to stop him. All he offered was a smirk before turning away and gathering dishes to be brought back to the pile of other used utensils.

“D’ya need a water or anything?” Joel asked, already reaching for a clean cup. You nodded and he filled the glass first with ice, followed with water and a straw. Laying a napkin on the counter, Joel gently set your water down with a close lipped smile.

“Thanks for stopping in, darlin’,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the rock music he had playing. “Get back to that hotel of yours safely, alright? Don’t wanna hear about Miss New York on the news. They never show anything positive nowadays.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you chuckled, gathering your things to leave after drinking most of the glass. He took these moments to really take you in, dramatically telling himself that this could be the last time he’d ever see you. Last time he’d witness your cherry stained, stunning, yet intoxicated smile, your soft skin, and those gorgeous eyes.

His admiration was interrupted by the honk erupting from the impatient taxi driver’s vehicle outside. You turned on your heel, offering a ‘goodnight, Texas!’ before walking out the door. Joel scrubbed a hand across his beard, huffing a self deprecating laugh and a muttered ‘shit’ before continuing to close up shop. He beat himself up internally while cleaning the dishes until his phone buzzed. He dug the device from his pocket, flipping it open to see a text from an unknown number.

“Didn’t end up on the news. What a bummer! Maybe next time ;)”

Joel smiled to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He finished his closing tasks and made a little to-go Shirley Temple mocktail for his daughter. Before exiting the building for the night, he turned off the glowing ‘Pour Choices’ sign and locked the door behind him. His smile faded as he left his bar behind, remembering his life’s reality and his responsibilities. Those stressors sat heavy once more upon his shoulders until he fell into a deep slumber that night.

Your first full day of work was exhausting to say the least, and the small hangover you suffered did not help one bit. And whoever decided you should come to Austin in August had become your own mortal enemy. You’re used to your mild summers back home, not sweating so much that your clothes stick to you uncomfortably. But the thing that bothered you the most was the imminent, distracting thought of Joel, especially as the sun retired behind the horizon. The way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut around his thick biceps and how they flexed every time he mixed up drinks. You had watched him use his charm to get tips practically thrown at him by the other patrons, he really put that handsome grin to work.

You were alone in your hotel. There wasn’t a scheduled dinner with your team, so you sat in bed watching Scrubs reruns and eating what constituted your dinner: cheese, crackers and pepperoni slices you picked up from the grocery store. A little disassembled charcuterie board if you will.

Beckoning your attention, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. The caller ID had your heart pounding against your chest. Joel. It was almost like he could read your mind.

“Hello?” You started, wiping the crumbs off of your fingers and lowering the volume on the show.

“Evenin’,” he drawled out your name. His voice came across gruffer and frankly hotter over the phone than in person. The way it fed directly into your ears had a chill running down your spine.

“Night off?” You asked nonchalantly, a sad attempt of remaining mysterious, knowing if he was sat next to you, you’d melt into a puddle.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing for a moment and chuckling quietly. “Sorry for callin’ late. I’d text but that would’a taken me a decade. How was today? Hope that whiskey didn’t ruin your morning.”

The smile you sported grew in size. It felt nice having a normal conversation that wasn’t work related…even if it was with someone you just met.

“It was good! Busy but good. I had a headache but nothing I couldn’t handle. It’s stupid hot here though, didn’t appreciate that,” you hummed to yourself in thought. “Nothing much happened, lots of meetings. Now I’m just hanging out in my hotel. How about you?”

“Same here, nothin’ much. Are ya doing anythin’ or just wallowin’ in your loneliness?” He teased, testing the waters a little. You wish you could see his face. See whether he was sporting a shit eating grin or if he was gnawing on his lip nervously.

“Ha-ha,” you shot back, pressing your cell between your cheek and shoulder to stand up and settle near the window. “I’m watching TV and eating my nutritious dinner of cheese, crackers and pepperoni, thank you very much.”

“Dinner?” He scoffed. “Now I think you need'ta hustle on over here and have a real meal. You can’t possibly be callin’ all ‘f those HR shots with that diet, hm?”

You gotta give it to him, you aren’t that smooth on a whim, that takes practice. Looking out at the Austin skyline, you snickered to yourself and leaned against the window’s frame.

“C’mon, I have almost all of my food groups in front of me, I don’t think that’s too horrible,” you retaliated jokingly. “What do you have to offer, huh?”

“Well you got me there, darlin’. I do have wine if you wanna round out your meal,” he offered. You could hear faint tapping coming from the line. He was nervous.

Considering the proposal, you decided to take it, despite your early morning and full day approaching. Joel offered to pick you up so you didn’t have to pay for another cab and you gratefully accepted. You quickly got changed back out of your sleepwear into something almost equally as comfy and perhaps a bit more revealing.

So you find yourself sat on Joel Miller’s couch. The ride was fine, you chatted like before, but with a bit more direct flirting. You observed his spaces. His truck was simple, a little, beat up pickup, but you were sure it got his work done. There were scuff marks from tennis shoes on his dash. Your mind wandered as you imagined if they were from a friend or former lover, but you didn’t let it bother you.

There was a little pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The smell of its woody scent combined with his warm, leathery cologne and a hint of Irish Spring all flooded your senses. And god, he didn’t just smell good, he looked so good.

Joel looked perfect in the driver’s seat, his biceps straining against his smooth skin as he gripped the wheel, prominent veins popping through his forearms. Looked so cozy in his small kitchen, pouring both of you a hefty glass of rosé. His hands enveloped his cup entirely as he brought it to his plush lips. The way they framed his teeth when he smiled down at you gave you heart palpitations.

And even sitting comfortably in the corner of his L-shaped couch, Joel continued to look amazing. His leg was crossed over the other, creating the perfect shelf on his knee for his wine. Those arms stretched far across the back of the couch as he fidgeted with a loose string stuck on the cushion. Everything about him screamed disciplined. The way his spaces were mostly neat, organized and decently decorated added to your observation. He belonged here, and it seemed like he worked hard to get the things he earned.

The casual facade you had faded away the longer you chatted about your lives and sipped on your glasses. Topics like work and hobbies came into conversation, and you learned that Joel liked to play with guitar and sing a little—only when he was alone of course. Then you began talking about more personal matters, like your relationship statuses.

“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed, feeling warm from the wine in your system. “You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

Joel chuckled and shook his head down at the couch. You watched as he observed the cushions-worth of space between you two. By that point, you were fully turned ninety degrees to face him in conversation, your legs tucked comfortably under you. Your face felt hot as you wielded the half empty, stemless wine glass.

“What about the kid in your pictures? Is she your niece or something?” You were referring to the framed photos both nailed to the wall and decorating the table in his entryway. Most of them contained himself and the child, whether she was celebrating with a soccer ball and a trophy or blowing out candles on a cake, her wild curls spilling every which way from her party hat.

“Nah, she’s all mine. My Sarah turned fourteen a few weeks ago,” he smiled to himself, making your heart clench and pound against the confines of your ribcage. The proud look he had on his face told you about everything you needed to know about his relationship with his daughter.

“Fourteen? You don’t seem old enough to have a teenager,” you chuckle. “Where is she tonight? Seems like you got the house to yourself.”

“Why I'm flattered. She’s got a friend’s birthday party sleepover thing. That’s why I had to take the night off. I’m her personal chauffeur, of course,” Joel offered a curtsey jokingly.

Your smile widened as you brought your now second glass of rosé up to sip once more. You don’t care to ask about Sarah’s mother, it was a personal matter and possibly a sensitive subject.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you looked at one another. You watched the automatic rise and fall of his chest and the way his cheeks burned from your gaze. His chocolate eyes bore into yours, melting your heart without even trying. His exterior was gruff and masculine but he had proven time and time again that he was probably one of the kindest men you have met. Must be that southern charm and hospitality, but man was it addicting.

“What?” He barely asked above a whisper, copying your actions with his wine. His attempt to hide his smile behind his clear cup obviously failed. His blush spread down his neck and you could only imagine if it went any farther down. Your thoughts of Joel were beginning to become tainted by your blooming arousal. You wanted him. On top of you, under you, you’d take anything and the growing wetness pooling in your panties was evidence of that.

“Can I be blunt, Joel?” You grinned as you sunk a bit further into the cushion against your side. He responded with a hummed ‘mhm’ so you’d continue, bringing his hand back into his lap. The fabric of his joggers barely contained his strong thighs, making it more and more difficult to contain your urge to see what else lied beneath his pants.

“I really wanna kiss you,” you admitted cheekily, fairly certain that he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, do ya now?” He smirked, leaning over to pluck your glass from your grasp and put it safely on his coffee table along with his own.

“I think you’re a little mind reader,” Joel continued. “‘Cause I was thinkin’ the same thing. Bet those pretty lips are real soft.” His hand found your waist after you confirmed he had consent as he guided you onto his lap. You hummed contently as you draped your arms over his shoulders, toying with the stray, chestnut curls at his nape.

“What happened to Mr. Shy Guy, huh?” You teased, letting his calloused hands explore the expanse of your back as your lips ghosted over his.

“Not shy, just polite, sweetheart,” he rasped before closing the gap between you two. His palms were flush against your lower back, radiating heat through the thin material of your shirt.

You melted into him, bodies pressed as close as possible without your knees sinking between the couch cushions. Lips slotted together and hands wandered as you filled all of your senses with Joel. His tongue was stained with a familiar smoky taste, which was definitely not coming from the wine

“Why do you taste like whiskey?” Your mouth formed a smile against his matching one. His hand cupped your cheek as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“Had some before I called ya,” he admitted bashfully. “Doesn’t matter now.”

In an instant, he was kissing you once more with increased passion, making you completely forgo the subject. His tongue flicked into your mouth, teasing the delicate skin on the inside of your lips. He gripped at your hips, trying to pull you closer to him but your legs protested against his furniture.

“Scoot forward,” you mumbled against him. And he did what he was told. His hips shifted forward, granting you more room to sit directly on his lap. Sighs were drawn from both of you as you settled back into each other, his cock already half hard under you. Your fingers messed with the hair behind his ears, earning a pleased moan from him.

“This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t wan’ it to,” he panted between kisses. Just above a whisper, you uttered, ‘I want it,’ and Joel’s hands took it as permission to explore further down your body, palming at your ass through your shorts.

A whimper slipped between your lips into Joel’s, and he swallowed it whole. He pressed your body closer to his, your clothed sex dragging over his sweatpants. His cock twitched up in response to your mouth finding his jaw, his short beard scratching against you.

“Lemme take care of you,” you mused, bringing your hands up the sides of his face. He relaxed back into the couch, his blunt nails pushing under your shorts into the meat of your bare thighs.

You started by kissing his lips once more, then the two prominent patches of missing hair on his chin, and made your way down to his throat. His adam's apple bobbed under your touch as pants grew tighter on him.

“Knew you’d have the best lips, fuck,” he mumbled as you licked up the side of his neck, his pulse racing under your tongue. “Can’t wait to feel your pretty pussy ‘round my cock, sweetheart.”

“Patience, handsome,” you whispered into his ear, your breath sending chills through his body. He let go of your legs as you bunched his shirt into your palms, sitting up to help remove it. Hair scattered sparsely on his chest, pausing on his upper stomach only to come back thicker as it disappeared into his boxers.

Your palms dragged down his torso, skimming over his nipples and ribs as he naturally recoiled from the stimulation. You gently kissed and sucked at his collarbone so it could be hidden away under his shirt. Color rose to the surface of his skin the more you worked at it, flattening your tongue against it once you decided your mark was left properly.

Joel was breathing heavily under you, his hands snaking under your shirt to your breasts. Your nipples were already pebbled through your bralette, becoming unbearably hard the moment Joel started running his thumbs over them. He gently pushed your shirt and bra above your tits, leaning forward to bring one to his mouth as his hand toyed with the other. His tongue lapped your skin, rounding the hardened nipple and sucking it back slightly. An image of him doing the same to your clit had your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Joel,” you mewled as he switched breasts. He spread his saliva around your areola as he picked up his ministrations on the other. A groan vibrated against your skin as your nails raked down his happy trail.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you continued, holding onto the waistbands of his pants and underwear. His unused hand covered yours entirely, pushing it down to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip weeping with precum. Never in your life had you seen a dick so big before, and you couldn’t wait for it to split you in half.

“I won’t last a minute in your mouth, sweet girl,” he drawled, reaching back up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Don’t wanna come before you.”

Spitting onto your fingertips, you mixed it with the slick seeping from his tip then dragged it down his shaft, squeezing it in your palm on the way back up. Joel groaned into your neck. He wedged his hands back under your top, lifting it over your head and forcing your hand to leave his cock.

“Need’ta taste you first,” he muttered, his amber irises completely eclipsed by his pupils. Joel removed you from his lap and laid you down onto the couch. You watched as he settled between your legs and hooked his thick fingers into your bottoms, licking his lips. Raising your hips, he pulled everything off of you, leaving you bare. Cool air hit your glistening pussy, sending a shiver up your spine. You whined out his name after he stared at you for a moment.

“What?” He cooed, smoothing his hands over your inner thighs. “Wan’ me to touch ya, hm? Fuck you with my fingers ‘n stretch that pretty pussy out? Maybe suck on your clit. S’that what you want, darlin’?”

You nod your head furiously, dying with anticipation to have his hands, mouth, something on you. Wordlessly, your foot hooked around the back of his leg as you attempted to pull him closer to you.

“Ah ah,” he tsked. “I think ya gotta ask for it, honey. Ask for it nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whined with desperation. You could feel your arousal dripping down your ass and ultimately onto the couch. “Please fill me up, touch me, taste me, whatever you want.”

“Good, so good f’me. Open up,” he encouraged, slotting his first two digits between your lips. He spread them on each side of your tongue. Saliva collected on his thick fingers as you swirled your tongue around them in figure eights. A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest.

“Yeah I’m gonna put my cock in this pretty mouth next time, baby. Feels perfect on my fingers,” he grumbled. His fingers came out of your mouth with a pop, a string of spit connecting him to you.

Joel finally slipped his fingers through your swollen folds, teasing your entrance and collecting more slick. His fingertips circled lightly around your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat. His free hand tapped against your hip, signaling you to raise them with an ‘up.’ He grabbed a throw pillow and positioned it under you. You relaxed your already trembling legs, and he had barely even touched you.

He settled onto his stomach, spreading your legs apart as far as they’d go. A pointer finger breached your entrance as he kissed the seam where your thigh and pussy came together. Soft moans escaped you as you carded your fingers through his curls. His smug eyes met yours as his tongue moved everywhere but your clit. He looked better than ever between your legs, and you didn’t know that could be possible. His teasing was deserved for what you were doing previously, but it was agonizing.

“Please, Joel,” you groaned. “Please gimme more, I need you.”

Obliging to your request, Joel added another finger into your cunt, curling them both and stroking your g-spot expertly. All of the air left your lungs the moment his flattened tongue finally found your clit. Joel’s groan vibrated throughout your entire pussy, adding to each sensation deliciously. It didn’t take much more for your legs to start shaking and squeezing his head between your thighs, a hot sensation bubbling in your lower belly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop,” you cried, grasping Joel’s hair much tighter than before. He suckled your clit and flicked his tongue over it with a moan, sending you flying over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he rode you through your high. He kissed your trembling thighs until they relaxed, his unmoving fingers still stuffed inside you.

“God, you’re even sexier when you come, sugar. Taste even sweeter too,” he hummed, shifting himself up your body until his lips found yours again. He tasted still of whiskey but with a mix of your arousal.

Joel brought his now soaked fingers back into your mouth to replace his tongue, urging you to suck all of your spend off of them. You hummed around his digits and wrapped your quivering legs around his waist.

“And you were preachin’ to me about patience,” he teased, removing his fingers and stroking his cock a couple times. He was sitting up and resting on his heels, looking like pure sex. His proportions were perfect, he was broad and you’d happily let him crush you under his weight.

“It’s hard to be patient when you look at me like that,” you muse, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Joel snickered quietly, dragging his nails over your inner thighs. Goosebumps followed behind his light touch and your legs twitched when he got close enough to your sensitive core.

“So,” Joel began, settling comfortably on top of you and kissing your jaw. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested last n’ I’ve had a vasectomy. But I’ll gladly get a condom if ya want me to.”

“Hmm, a gentleman,” you grinned, your fingers finding their way back into his hair as you enjoyed his affection. “I’m clean and more than okay without it.”

Joel slotted his cock into your slit with a smirk, groaning at the new sensation. His tip nudged at your clit with each pass, earning moans from both parties.

“Almost came all over this couch with you clenchin’ ‘round my fingers like that, honey,” he drawled. “Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long.”

You gave him a reassuring kiss as you wedged your hand down between you two. Lining up his tip with your entrance, you watched as he disappeared into your welcoming cunt. His face pressed into your neck as he slowly sank into you, anchoring himself with his hands planted on your waist and thigh. Strings of profanities left him as he stretched you out, the pressure you felt quickly morphing into pleasure.

“Shit,” you hissed when he bottomed out. “Feels so good, Joel.”

You urged him to continue, and he complied. Starting slow, he pulled out halfway and pushed back in to test the waters. The drag of your core had his toes curling. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t last long. His cock swelled in you after a few minutes as he panted into your neck.

“Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay, come for me, Joel. Please,” you consoled him, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter. He spilled into you, the sticky fluid coating your inner walls. Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back as he caught his breath.

His face emerged from the crook of your neck, flush and sweaty. He tried apologizing once more but you shushed him. Your lips met again as you grasped his dampened curls, pulling at his locks harder than before. Cock stiffening up again, Joel resumed thrusting into you slowly. A squelching sound emitted from your pussy as his pace quickened.

“Joel,” you gasped, tangling yourself around him tighter. He took it as an opportunity to scoop you up and change positions, sitting on the couch and giving you the freedom to ride him.

“Wan’ you comin’ on my cock, beautiful,” he moaned. His calloused fingertips circled your clit as he fucked his load deeper into you. You bounced on him, his cock spearing you. The tip hit your g-spot with each thrust. Stars sparkled in your vision as you clenched down on him hard.

“C’mon, use my cock, make yourself come. That’s it, fuck.”

His hips bucked up to meet yours halfway, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout his living room. You were a moaning mess, chanting his name haphazardly. Your walls clamped down around him and milked any remaining cum from him as you both reached your second peaks.

“Christ,” he groaned, stilling inside of you. The mixture of your fluids seeped from your fluttering hole. Joel smoothed his palms over your sweat slick back, peppering kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. Praises flew from his mouth like a prayer and you were his goddess, all his to worship.

Joel used his sweatpants to catch any leakage as his softened cock slipped out from you. He took his time with you, helping you regain your composure with more kisses and lingering touches. You followed him to his room where he properly cleaned you up and gave you a Texas Longhorns shirt and boxer shorts.

“You’re more than welcome t’stay,” Joel offered. “Or I can drive ya back. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Your arms snaked up and around his shoulders, stretching yourself up on your tiptoes. A smile crept onto your face as Joel held you steady by your ass. You peeked over at his unmade bed with only two measly pillows, one of them crumpled up in the middle of his bed. A shy smile adorned his face as you refocused on him. He was going to be the death of you.

“Set an alarm and take me to bed, cowboy.”

Late into the following evening, you found yourself back in Pour Choices. A lingering soreness twinged between your legs the entire day. You weren’t there to drink. You wanted Joel.

He started his usual greeting until he realized you had stepped through the doors, another black dress clinging to your body and lips stained a deeper shade of red than before.

“Hey, darlin’,” he smiled breathlessly. You sauntered over to the bar, leaning in close and cutting to the chase in a seductive whisper.

“I’m gonna sit in the corner and wait for you to close up. Wanna return the favor from last night.”

Joel can confidently say that was his quickest close of his career, and you can just as confidently state that you successfully returned the favor, covering that poor man with crimson lip prints. He’d never complain about the physical reminder of you, using it as inspiration on the nights he craved you while you were away. He never thought he’d go from having everything from you for a couple weeks to having nothing for over a year.

“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna remember me,” you smiled softly, a twinge of sadness in your eyes. He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing a new glass and some ice.

“I could never forget you, sugar,” he smirked, grabbing a top shelf whiskey and pouring it into the glass. The crackle of the ice drew your attention. You were always a sucker for whiskey. He remembered.

“On the house, darlin’. Want me to take your other drink? Doesn’t seem like you enjoyed it,” Joel pointed to the condensation lined cup with the half dranken Manhattan. “I know you’re not the sipping type of gal.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you smiled brighter as he took away the used cup. “Y’all don’t make Manhattans like they do back home,” you jabbed, taking a big gulp of the chilled whiskey. Those familiar lip prints stamped on the glass.

“But,” you continued, glancing at his bare ring finger. You observed the sprouting grays in his sideburns and deepened creases on his face, seeing the effect that the last two years had on him. “Y’all have something that New York doesn’t.”

You traced the rim of the glass, trying to pick up any emotion from his expressionless face. He did however crack a small smirk at your comment and leaned against the bar with both hands. Suddenly it felt like everyone else disappeared and it was just you and him in the moment.

“Hm, and what’s that, sweetheart?” He leaned closer and replied softly, but just loud enough for only you to hear.

“You, Joel.”

to keep up to date on upcoming parts, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications. thank you for reading!! <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: you & i

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prpfs · 1 month

Note

✩ 🍐 ₊.🐚⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

hello!

I’m relatively new to using tumblr as a site to find roleplayers as I was an avid writer for many years on wattpad – I’ve since then taken a break for a few years due to drama and loss of interest ;-; before considering me for anything feel free to check out my AO3 account to see my writing style to see if I suit your writing style and such! 🤗

> https://archiveofourown.org/users/daiysu/profile <

I’m a literate/novella roleplayer on discord that is open to fandom/fandomless prompts and settings. If you have a certain setting that I am not familiar with, I will research it thoroughly and do my best! Also, I can adjust to your paragraph length and reply time if it is helpful! I am fairly quick with responses, but not rapid as I am quite busy with my work and other means – within a day I can deliver five lengthy responses minimum, but I’m a night owl so…we’ll see.

I have my own range of oc’s that I can adjust to your needs and the story setting! I’m looking for partners that are active ooc also, I want to make friends and new connections here; I want to create a positive and safe experience for us! This is meant to be fun! Please communicate your boundaries to me, as well 🤍

I am open to M/M, F/F, M/F, and M/X, F/X pairings: I would love to get into gritty, dark, and unsettling themes as I think it adds spice to the story, and I am also a sucker for fluff and soft themes too! I will do oc x character, and character x character, oc x oc can be discussed depending on the fandom :) Here are some fandoms that I’m interested in:

Stranger Things.

All for the game.

Dark Academia literature.

Peaky Blinders.

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon.

Southpark.

Marvel.

DC.

The Walking Dead.

Pathologic.

The Lord of the Rings.

The Grishaverse.

The Hunger Games.

My Hero Academia.

The Magnus Archives.

Sherlock.

Red Dead Redemption.

Shameless.

And many more!

I’m really into non-fandom roleplays too, of which we could possibly flesh out together! Here are some themes I am interested in:

Bands, Detectives, Witches/Wizards, Vampires, Werewolves, Prisoners, Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Cowboys, Ancient periods, Cyperpunk, Steampunk, Noir, Pirates, General historical period roleplays, Sexuality, Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Realistic, Highschool settings, 80s/70s/90s/00s, Modern, Supernatural, Horror, Comedy, Smut, Drama, Violence, WW2, WW1, Mafia, Medieval, Anime settings, Graphic content, Angst, Religious themes, Domestic settings, Body horror, Guns/Knives/Torture/Injury/Blood, Trauma, Found family, Tropes, Dead dove, Paranormal, Slice of life, etc!

I’m an 18+ (F) roleplayer so please interact if you are above 18! Adult themes will occur, please no minors!

Please interact if interested! (ps I’m desperate 🥹) 🤍

like or dm

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ofthecaravel · 2 months

Text

Heaven In Time

Chapter 1: Thoroughfare

Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Summary: Danny, en route to California to find love, picked up small town runaway Sam on a Texas thoroughfare and has been on the road ever since. While Sam adjusts to life as himself, Danny's wondering if he's found love without even leaving the South.

Tags: Religious trauma, mentions of homophobia, Anxiety, very sweet little crushes, idk all very soft when its not Tense

Words: 5.4k

A/N: HEAVILYYYYYY inspired by Thoroughfare by Ethel Cain, even borrowed a lyric here and there. Any and all credit to my beloved Hayden. First chapter of ??? maybe 4?? but I haven't decided. There's going to be more mention of Sam's questionable Southern Baptist Christian upbringing in those and I understand that may not be everyone's cup of tea so feel free to scroll if that may be upsetting for you.

“Do you think we’re gonna get arrested?”

Over the gentle splash of the thin, chlorinated water, Sam heard Danny’s long sigh. Usually he laughed at all of Sam’s misplaced little comments and queries, but sometimes he just sighed. Sam knew he didn’t mean anything harsh by it, but it definitely didn’t feel good.

“Not if you don’t say anything,” Danny answered plainly. A smile ghosted his tired face as he rotated to face Sam, who stared back as he awkwardly bobbed with his long hair trailing behind him like a veil. After however many dusty miles and state lines they’d crossed, it always felt good when they had a motel to crash at instead of the cramped cabin of Danny’s pickup. And it felt twice as good when the motel had a pool, especially when it was nice and late at night and there was no one else around. Sam wasn’t much of a swimmer, but he was happy to tread water and watch Danny float. His broad chest would peek just over the surface of the water and his eyes would close while his dark curls moved like the fingers of lazy clouds.

Yeah, Sam was happy to watch that.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Sam murmured, watching his fingers flex anxiously under the water in the refracted view the harsh fluorescents provided. With the country sky full of nothing but mosquitoes and the occasional whistling breeze, the yellowing pool lights were the only thing illuminating them. Sam felt suddenly self conscious thinking of how washed out he must look in this rare moment where he was the one being watched. He turned to the side, only offering Danny his profile.

“They won’t know the credit card ain’t mine until we’re in Arizona,” Danny insisted in a hushed voice. “And even then, I didn’t give the desk my real name. We’re golden if you can keep that mouth of yours shut. Can you do that for me, cowboy?”

“Sure I can.” Sam bristled, but knew Danny’s request was justified. Ever since Danny had taken pity on him and picked him up on that thoroughfare back in Texas, Sam never seemed to be able to do the right thing. He had gotten as far as he had in an attempt to remove himself from the suppressing influence of his uber religious hometown, but so far it seemed like he was still dragging it along with him. It was an embarrassing first impression to leave on someone as great as Danny was turning out to be, but he hadn’t left Sam behind yet, so Sam figured he must have some redeeming qualities that kept him around.

“Atta boy,” Danny smiled, his eyes closing as he lolled his head back and drew in a deep breath of the cool night air. “Christ alive, I needed this. How long do you think we drove today?”

“5 hours?” Sam guessed, thinking back on the day. “Felt longer ‘cause of the sun.”

“Damn that sun,” Danny cursed. “Burned the hell out of my nose, too.”

“We can get lotion or something at the next gas station,” Sam offered. Truthfully, he found the ruddy blush on Danny’s nose and freckled cheeks extremely flattering, but he knew it had to hurt. Growing up in Alabama, Sam knew a thing or two about sunburn.

“With what money?” Danny laughed humorlessly, sighing again and running a hand over his face. “Although at this point, I’d be willing to skip a dinner to get my hands on some lotion. Mm. Not that I don’t appreciate your presence, but...”

Sam blinked blankly, feeling an implication pass him by like they often did. He didn’t say anything in return and sank a little further into the pool, trying not to feel even more stupid than he already did. Being tired certainly wasn’t helping, but he was really starting to feel the weight of all of his graceless actions from the past week pile on him as they swam in silence. Hopefully Danny would want to head up to their room soon and Sam could just try again the next day.

Danny noticed Sam’s silence and opened his heavy eyes to observe him with a worried look. Sam’s neck was craned and the sharp point of his nose grazed the water as he continued to stare into the palms of his submerged hands. He was halfway to prayer by the looks of it, and Danny guessed that probably wasn’t too far from the truth. It was a state of mind Sam never really seemed to leave. Danny remembered the scandalized look on Sam’s face when they’d shared their first diner meal together and Danny had picked his fork right up and gotten to work when the waitress had brought their plates. Now he knew to wait and let Sam save them with a quick round of grace before eating. Sam had never asked for his hand to hold when doing it, but somewhere between the Texas border and New Mexico, Danny had offered it up and they’d been doing it that way ever since. It sure made it a hell of a lot more tolerable for Danny to wait for Sam’s long winded recitations with his slender hand in Danny’s. He really didn’t mind too much, especially after he’d begun collecting little glimpses of the seemingly excruciating evangelical life that Sam had left behind in Alabama. Danny didn’t pry, but there was a lot about Sam that he didn’t know. He watched Sam lit up in the pale, shifting luminance coming from the pool and realized with a strange, absent pang that he wanted to know. Maybe all of it, actually.

“Not a star in the sky,” Danny commented dreamily, tilting his neck back to stare at the pitch black sky after another long minute of staring at Sam left him feeling flushed. “It was always easy to pick ‘em out when I was on the farm, but I really have to squint when I’m in cities sometimes. It’s a crying shame.”

“We had to have all the lights out in town at a certain time so I always got to see the stars,” Sam replied in a small voice. “My brothers were always looking for Castor and Pollux, but we got lost after finding Orion every single time. Always forgot whether to look up or down or west or what.”

Sam smiled at the memory, remembering watching his older brothers bicker in whispers in front of the window while pressing fingers to the glass and eventually calling Sam in for help. Their parents fell asleep fast and heavy, so nights were usually when he and his siblings really got to be themselves. Sam found himself tired during the days almost all the time, but he’d carried his drooping eyelids with a bounce in his step. Even on the rare instances when he dozed off during study or services, he’d take a ruler to the knuckles with a smile.

“I’ve always been partial to Orion,” Danny agreed, searching it out as he said it. “Probably because it’s easy to find and I’m a simple man when it comes to stuff like that.”

“You’re plenty smart,” Sam complimented. He finally lifted his head from his gloomy stance, his ear resting on his shoulder as he turned his smile on Danny. “Especially with maps. We’d be halfway to Argentina if I were the one navigating.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Danny laughed. “We can go there after we find love in California, how about that?”

“Perfect,” Sam complied, feeling a familiar sour rush of adrenaline when reminded of their end goal. It was ignorant to feel shocked over and over when he thought about it, especially considering that talk of Danny’s unknown Californian love were some of the first words Danny had ever said to him. Danny had pulled up next to Sam on the side of the road in his beat up pick up truck, told him not to run, and asked if he wanted to go see the West with him.

“‘Cause love’s out there,” Daniel had explained after Sam had hopped right in. “And I can’t leave it be.”

And Sam had agreed. Out of luck to spend and no more energy in his body to spend on walking, it was the perfect escape. It still was. It’s just that the more time he shared with Danny, the more he disliked the thought of Danny sharing time with anyone other than him. Sam was suddenly very sure he was greedy and selfish and wicked, and he made plans to pray on it after Danny had gone to sleep.

“Smart,” Danny echoed with an airy laugh, finally lifting his hair from the water and shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know about all that. If this were a movie, I’m pretty sure I’d be the muscle of the operation.”

“I guess that’d make sense. How much can you lift?”

Danny gave Sam a mischievous look and shrugged, hoping the smirk creeping onto his face didn’t give away his plans for what he’d do next.

“Not sure,” Danny answered coolly. “How much do you weigh?”

Before Sam could respond, Danny rushed forward as fast as the water allowed and grabbed Sam around the waist, boosting him up with a noisy splash. Sam shrieked initially, but it gave way to a surprised laugh, every nerve alight with buzzing heat as Danny lifted him up. Danny could only manage to keep him up for another few moments before buckling at the knee from the close contact, allowing Sam a little time to plug his nose before Danny dunked him under.

Sam met the shifting blur of the pale water and felt a jarring, overwhelming peace as the water swallowed all sound and sensation and he began to sink to the bottom. For a second, he thought he might like to stay there forever, just floating and free from everything he didn’t understand about what was happening to him, what had already happened. What he wanted to happen.

Sam didn’t even feel the sizzle of his lungs begging for air until he opened his eyes best he could and saw the blur of what was waiting for him up above.

Now, Sam had obviously been far too young for him to remember his baptism, but as he brought himself back to consciousness and pushed himself out of the water and into Danny’s arms, he imagined it was a similar experience. Without really thinking, his arms went around Danny’s neck and he breathed in a great, shuddering gasp, desperately filling his chest with air as Danny’s arms reflexively wrapped around him and kept Sam pinned to his chest as he coughed.

“Fuck, Sam, did you forget to breathe?” Danny whispered urgently, resisting the urge to shout and wake the other motel patrons. “I mean, pardon my French, but you scared the shit out of me for a second there!”

“Sorry,” Sam choked out as he began to control his breathing and let it give way to an embarrassed laugh. “I got distracted for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’d definitely say you were coming up on a minute!” Danny sputtered, patting Sam’s back in a last ditch effort to knock any water loose. “I’ve never seen anyone go that long underwater. Good lord. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay, I promise,” Sam insisted, leaning back to flash Danny a sincere look of assurance. Curiously, he didn’t feel the need to unlock his arms from behind Danny’s neck when doing so. In the same way, Danny didn’t feel the need to release his grip on Sam, keeping their bare chests flush as Sam comically mimicked drawing in deep breaths and releasing them to demonstrate his capability.

“Fine, fine, I believe you,” Danny relented, despite the anxiety still fluttering in his chest. “Just don’t scare me like that again. I get nervous enough when you’re out of my sight, and now you’re telling me I gotta worry about you when you’re right in front of me? Phew.”

“What do you mean you get nervous when I’m out of your sight?” Sam laughed, his dark brow crinkling inquisitively as his stomach gave a little flip.

“Just worried you’ll get to wandering,” Danny replied with faux nonchalance. “Don’t want some lawless vagabond picking you off the street.”

“Ain’t that what you did?”

Danny tossed his head back and let out a loud laugh, knowing he needed to be much quieter than he was but doing nothing to rectify it. Sam burst into a round of hushed giggles and attempted to put his hands over Danny’s mouth as he shushed him theatrically. They goodnaturedly tussled for a minute before Danny finally let Sam go, pushing him back and looking away with a nervous laugh still running its course in his chest.

“I got enough law in me to keep an eye on you,” Danny continued on, flicking his wrist lightly to splash Sam. “Can’t have you leaving me to drive the rest of the way on my own.”

“Well, I only ever leave if there’s not much worth staying for,” Sam muttered. It wasn’t entirely true when considering the importance of what he’d left behind in favor of hitchhiking aimlessly in pressing Texan heat, namely his family. He felt guilty saying it, but Danny took his words with pillow softness. His laugh melted into a shy smile that fell on Sam like a kiss on the forehead.

“Lucky me, I suppose,” Danny smiled, punching Sam gently on the shoulder. “I’ll do my best to make the rest of the trip worth staying for.”

“You won’t have to try too hard,” Sam replied sincerely. “I’m having a lot of fun so far.”

“Yeah?” Danny questioned with an amused arch of his eyebrow. “You’re having fun coughing up dust in the passenger seat of a beat up truck that doesn’t work half the time? You’re having fun having to share flat, suspiciously stained motel beds with some sorry hick you met two weeks ago?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds terrible,” Sam laughed. “But it is fun. It’s the in-between stuff that’s fun.”

“Like what?” Danny prodded, giving Sam another playful little splash.

He asked without any real pressure, but there was a big part of Danny that really needed to know if he was making this spontaneous road trip a good time for Sam. It seemed a little ridiculous to some extent considering that when Danny set off, he wasn’t expecting any kind of lingering company in the slightest. At the end of the day, Sam was a borderline neurotic runaway that Danny had taken a chance on after some strange gut feeling had told him to take a left and not a right while driving aimlessly. But at the same time, Danny was really starting to like him. It both confused and warmed him.

“I don’t know!” Sam sputtered. “It’s always fun to look through gas stations for stupid knick knacks. That mood ring keychain was pretty cool, you have to admit.”

Danny only laughed in response. The tacky keychain had pretty obviously been for kids, but with the way Sam’s eyes had lit up when he pressed his thumb to the heat reactive surface, Danny had found that fact the least important part of the equation.

“It’s fun when the diner menus have stupid names for the sandwiches,” Sam continued, feeling increasingly more embarrassed talking about himself. “And I definitely have fun when I get to listen to my station on the radio.”

“And you can continue to have that fun in half hour intervals,” Danny asserted, trying not to roll his eyes while recalling Sam’s beloved church music station. “Anything else?”

“Hmm. This is pretty fun,” Sam answered with a quick, impish shrug. “Even though you tried to drown me.”

“Hey!” Danny scoffed while Sam sailed into another round of delighted giggles. “I’ll show you drowning!”

Danny reached out and they wrassled again, a flurry of arms and bickering laughter as Danny pretended to try and dunk Sam under the water. Once again, Sam’s arms went around Danny’s neck as they struggled, and once again he made no move to remove them when Danny slowed. However, this time around, when Sam felt the careless adrenaline fueling him with a whisper of unknown courage, he seized it and gave Danny a quick kiss on the cheek. It was no more than 2 seconds of his lips on Danny’s slightly stubbled skin, but it struck Danny like a slap to the face. Sam released his grip on him and gave him a good natured smile.

“Seriously, this is so fun,” Sam insisted. “But we’ll never sleep if we keep being rowdy. Bed?”

“Good thinking,” Danny replied a little too quickly, successfully fighting a quiver in his voice and letting out a silent, choked sigh when Sam turned his back on him and started making his way to the edge of the pool. Facing away from Danny allowed Sam a moment to let his innocent, grateful gesture sink in. He began to panic slightly, rushing out a hurried mental prayer that Danny hadn’t taken it the wrong way. Sam almost turned to apologize, but decided it would be more awkward if he did, instead electing to haul himself out of the pool and grab his towel as if nothing out of the ordinary was raging inside his head.

Meanwhile, Danny definitely wasn’t taking it the wrong way. But he was taking it in a very surprising way. Feeling sudden and immense guilt, he realized that he was really going to have to book it to the hook where his towel hung in order to cover the “reaction” he was having to Sam’s little kiss. Thankfully, he was able to make it without Sam seeing. Danny felt grateful for his Southern charm when Sam finally did turn his doe eyed smile back on him and Danny was able to steer their conversation in a new direction as they walked to their room and he kept his towel tightly wound around his waist.

But neither one of them really recovered from it. Something so small and instantaneous weighed heavily in the back of their minds as they went about their separate nighttime routines and turned away from each other when Danny turned the light off.

After an infuriating hour of staring up at the flaking ceiling and listening to the muffled whistle of a keening wind outside the window, Sam finally heard Danny begin to snuffle and sigh, signifying sleep. He released a pent up sigh and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he tried to manifest sleep. A few hours prior he had been nearly nodding off at dinner, but now that he was alone in the inviting dark with Danny, it was hard to keep his eyes closed. Usually he whispered himself to sleep with psalms that lulled him into a fuzzy, dreamless void, but it felt wrong to do so with the imagery pervading his mind. None of it was graphic, simply a replay of how it felt to float in Danny’s arms. And how safe he felt with Danny’s hand on his back. How the feeling of his mouth on Danny’s cheek made him wonder how it would feel if it were the other way. How it would’ve felt if Danny had picked that moment to turn slightly, causing Sam to catch his lips instead of his stubble.

It was shameful, but Sam felt himself tensing and carefully guiding each muscle so that he could turn over to lay on his side facing Danny’s back. Unable to lay alone with his thoughts any longer, he decided that the sight of the body next to him would be enough to quell the uncomfortable desire in his chest that was beginning to frighten him slightly. However, he was startled to find that Danny had turned over at some point as well. Sam’s heart flitted and jabbed at him from his ribcage as he took in the sight of Danny’s cheek pressed to the pillow, his mouth ever so slightly ajar as he drew in deep breaths. He was laying on his chest, and Sam fought the urge to trace the swells of muscles in his arms as they came to cross underneath the pillow beneath his head. There was a needling, demanding pull in Sam’s stomach now, one that yanked and strained the longer Sam took in the sight of Danny’s placid, perfect face in the spectral moonlight. It puppeteered him to slide a trembling hand up and delicately cup Danny’s freckled cheek. Sam felt as though he was doing something exceedingly terrible when his thumb traced a gentle journey over Danny’s skin that still buzzed with heat from his light burn. Danny drew in a big breath and released it through his nose, stern eyebrows knitting slightly in a dream as Sam screamed at himself in his head to move his hand, flip back over, and just go to sleep. Yet it seemed like such an insurmountable task now that he’d felt Danny’s breath on his wrist. Worse, it reminded Sam of the proximity of Danny’s lips to his own, only inches away and closer even to his fingers. Sam’s mind raced as he became obsessed with possibility.

His dreams were quickly dashed in a moment of blinding, white hot panic as Danny sniffed and stirred, stretching his arms slightly as his eyelids fluttered. Even with Danny rousing, Sam couldn’t find the strength to move his hand. He kept it resting with soft pressure on Danny’s cheek as he panicked about whether or not to feign sleep. All the while, Danny blinked fully and his eyes came into focus. Sam settled for a fake, heavy lidded gaze, doing his own round of “half asleep” blinking as Danny studied his expression. Danny let out an amused huff through his nose and his arm facing Sam loudly disturbed the sheets as it lifted from under the pillow and his hand clumsily tapped against Sam’s own on his face.

“You’re dreaming, Sam,” Danny mumbled, his voice low and grumbling as he fought to speak without falling asleep again. “Go to sleep.”

“Not dreaming,” Sam whispered tiredly. He watched as Danny’s hand stretched and rested fully over his own, Danny’s fingers curling a little as his eyes closed again and he began to doze.

It was such a little thing, but that pull inside of Sam snapped. There was something overwhelming him, and in his exhausted, newly freed state of mind, he saw no other option but to succumb. For the first time, when he felt the compulsion to pray for his salvation, he ignored it outright.

Shifting forward, Sam used his hand on Danny’s face as leverage to gently pull himself forward and press his lips to Danny’s. He did so with no real pressure, simply lingering as long as Danny would allow him to and trapping a shivering breath inside his lungs as his eyes closed at the relief. He fully expected Danny to spit and push him off the bed, leaving him right then and there to hop in his truck and find California all on his own like he was supposed to. His fingers pressed into Danny’s skin at the thought, holding on to him as long as he could before this impulse came back to bite him in what he was sure would be seconds.

Instead, he was met with the ginger push of Danny’s lips meeting him halfway. It only lasted for a couple of seconds, and Sam could taste the lingering whisper of mint toothpaste on his breath behind the numbing warmth of his tongue, which did no more but tap momentarily at Sam’s closed lips. When Danny’s lips unstuck from his, Danny barely pulled away to speak, giving Sam the luxury of their close proximity for longer than he ever could have dreamed of.

“Now you’re just getting my hopes up,” Danny breathed with a laugh that lasted only a fraction of a second and seemed more like a punch of air from his chest.

Not really understanding what Danny meant, Sam flew into another panic. He could no longer feign a sleepy stare and blinked rapidly with restless nerves waking him up all the way. His heart pounded in his ears and he prayed his hand wouldn’t prickle with sweat from the dread beginning to course through him. All at once, he could hear a chorus of a hundred voices from back home reminding him of the great, divine consequence of what he was doing.

“Sorry,” Sam apologized, his eyes immediately prickling with anxious tears. “I just…”

“I just don’t want you waking up tomorrow and feeling all…you know, guilty or whatever ‘cause of something you did half asleep,” Danny murmured. He cursed his moral compass pointing him to true north, even in this miraculous circumstance when the dial seemed to be spun on its axis entirely.

“I’m awake,” Sam argued in a whisper. “That’s why I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that with you sleeping, that’s-”

“I was awake, too,” Danny replied simply. “I mean, when...”

An infuriating, tense minute passed between the two of them. There was much to be said, and also nothing at all. Too little time had passed in each other’s company to have any kind of profound feeling to confess, and yet there was a confounding magnetism that left them staring into the other’s eyes with heavy breath and rattling hearts. Danny’s hand eventually fell from where it had lain over Sam’s, but before Sam’s heart could sting with hurt at the loss, he felt Danny’s arm adjust to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. With this motion, their lips connected again, and Sam breathed in sharply through his nose as he attempted to fall into the rhythm of this disarming, second ever kiss. The matchbox capacity of the motel room and the sleeping world beyond its cracked windows were swallowed up by the fervor of Danny’s shuddering breath and the heat rolling off his skin. Sam heard the chastising chorus in the back of his conscience begin to sing again when Danny’s hand on his lower back tightened its grip. His heart hammered thinking about roaring hellfire and scores of taunting devils, but when Danny carefully rolled Sam onto his back and Sam opened his eyes, he saw only an angel.

“This sure is a step up from your little gesture in the pool,” Danny acknowledged, caging Sam in with an arm at his side and another by his head.

“I was only saying thank you,” Sam muttered sheepishly, struggling to speak with his throat so dry and his muscles so alive with flickering reactions he fought to suppress.

“What are you saying now?”

Sam fell silent. He had no experiences to draw on or words in his vocabulary to place what he felt about Danny. Kind, gracious, handsome Danny, hovering over him with the patience he doled out time and time again when lesser men would have rolled their eyes and drove off.

“I think…” Sam started, fighting to sort his scattered, uninformed feelings. “I’m still saying thank you.”

Unexpectedly, Danny’s eyes flickered with apprehension. Sam’s eyebrows knit with confusion when Danny leaned back to straddle Sam’s hips, suddenly wearing a somber expression. Sam’s bottom lip quaked and pouted as he hurriedly propped himself up on his elbows.

“What?” Sam blurted. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, fuck, I fucked it all up, didn’t I?”

“I just really hope you don’t feel like you have to…do anything for me just ‘cause I’m giving you a ride,” Danny said earnestly. “I’d be really sore if you thought of me that way. I don’t expect a single thing from you.”

Sam’s heart gave a deep, aching clench as Danny’s words sank in. He felt his eyes nearly welling with tears again as he watched Danny look down at his hands in his lap before flicking his eyes up to Sam, probing him for a response.

“No,” Sam replied firmly, pushing off the bed to sit straight and stare up properly into Danny’s eyes. “No, no, that’s not it at all. I would never. Never ever. You should know that, Danny, come on. I, it’s just…”

He trailed off again, blushing with embarrassment as the words finally came to him, plain and true.

“I just like you is all,” Sam admitted, thankful for the shade of night to conceal the flush he knew was painting his face pink. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologizing when you got nothing to apologize for,” Danny accused quietly. His hands were close to shaking as he tried to calm himself down, but it was hard not to shiver at Sam’s confession.

“Sorry. Product of my upbringing, I guess.”

“Well, I got a bone to pick with a lot of things about your upbringing, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

“Me too,” Sam whispered truthfully.

Danny studied Sam’s face with that familiar worried look he found himself sporting every day now, taking a minute to smooth Sam’s hair back and get lost in his dark, doll-like gaze.

“I know it wasn’t part of the plan,” Sam went on with a small, shameful voice.

Danny let out an airy, one note laugh through his nose and rolled his eyes, finally plucking up the courage to cup Sam’s cheek as Sam had done to him.

“I’m not even sure what ‘the plan’ is anymore,” Danny sighed, finding it difficult to look anywhere but Sam’s rosy frown. “I know what I said, but I think deep down all I really wanted to do was go. California just seemed like the best place to start.”

“So…” Sam coaxed, unable to stop himself from tilting his chin into Danny’s grip. “When will you know where you’re going?”

“Now that I’ve met you, Sam? I think I know where I’m headed.”

Before Sam could bring up any matters of direction, of Danny’s supposed destined Californian love, or of what was to become of them as a them, Danny kissed Sam for a third time. Nothing special, nothing mind blowing. Yet with it, Sam felt every saying about the magic number, three strikes, and the Holy Trinity itself fade in comparison. And when Danny laid him down again, Sam swore he could see the stars.

The next morning, Sam sat in the passenger seat of the truck with his head hanging out the window, chestnut hair spilling behind him in the wind as the bare fields and pale blue sky rolled on by. With his shirt unbuttoned to remedy the heatwave, anyone would’ve been able to see the small, tender bruises lining his collarbone and marching down his chest. Beside him, Danny kept one eye firmly on the empty road and the other on his passenger. On a whim, he took a hand off the wheel to fiddle with the radio, adept fingers spinning the knob until a choral worship song came crackling over the waves. Sam turned his head at the music and made a fond sound, shoving Danny’s shoulder with a light push and settling back into his seat. However, after a minute of listening, Sam found himself reaching to change the station. He settled on a rock station blasting a song dripping with bass and drums, nodding his head along to it curiously as Danny shot him an incredulous smile.

“I fear I’ve corrupted you,” Danny laughed, reaching out to muss Sam’s hair.

“Good,” Sam hummed. “I needed it.”

“Yeah, you did. Just remember you promised not to go running off on me. And no bar fights. And before you ask, tattoos are a solid maybe.”

Sam laughed, pressing up against the headrest as he kicked his boots up on the dashboard and allowed himself to recline. For a moment, it crossed his mind that this might be one of the first times in his life he felt truly comfortable. It also crossed his mind that Danny’s persistent worry of Sam running off into the night was becoming increasingly more ridiculous. As he looked at the man driving next to him, who was miraculously unaware of the midday sun setting his curls and perfect side profile alight, Sam knew with confidence there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Chapter 2!

#the day i stop writing fanfics based off of ethel cain songs is the day i die #i will never stop or get better or learn #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #sanny gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van art #karoufiction

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angelofthenight · 3 months

Note

Haiii ^_^ I was just wondering if you can do like micah (from children of the corn 2) x plus sized reader who’s insecure ?? 🖤🖤

Micah x Plus Size!Reader

(Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Body insecurity, Hurt/Comfort, Reader is the pastor’s daughter, Alluded religious trauma, Mentions of Micah’s abusive dad, Teenage boy hormones (very faint), Kissing

Word Count: 3.0k

( Got a little carried away with the word count but I thought it was appropriate for how long this has been sitting in my inbox😭😭 Also this will be one of the exceptions from only writing Micah as a yandere )

Micah was naturally independent.

He wasn’t shy or outcasted, he was just reserved and preferred to be at a distance where he could observe those around him. Those who danced mindlessly on the cleared floor in their best formal wear. Those who huddled around the punch bowl muttering about some misunderstandings. Those who clutched their pearls at how a few of the girls’ heels were too high. Those who chose to argue with their partner in the corner of the big room at a celebration like this.

But despite how independent Micah was, and despite how non-complex he viewed everyone in town as, his eyes could never stop from looking for one particular person in each crowded room he’s ever been in. Yet you were nowhere to be found.

In his most honest mind, he looked forward to this town party hosted by the town’s pastor, otherwise known to be your father, to celebrate the renovation of the church. It quite honestly didn’t need to be renovated in the first place, it was a tad small but it was perfectly fine. It was a waste of money in his opinion yet he kept that to himself after letting it slip to his father. His father brutishly shunned him for thinking such a way of the town’s beloved church, followed by a snapping backhand.

The reason he looked forward to this gathering full of balloons and caters was to see you all dressed up. He was still a hormonal guy so the thought of you in a dress made him tug at his collar.

Micah pined after you hard. Simply just thinking about you made his face redden and collapse in his hands, and he left every interaction with you struggling to resist a dopey grin. He just liked and admired everything about you and found you to be the most interesting person out of all 968 people in this town.

You were a bit of a town outcast. Not physically an outcast where people avoided you or excluded you, no, you were actually very well-liked by the townspeople. You were almost like the People’s Princess of Gatlin. As the pastor’s daughter, you attended lots of town events and were always incredibly polite and humble. Like a princess.

Though, you were just so… different from the rest of the town. Your world-views, your opinions, your personality, your attitude, your humor, your wit, the way you spent your free time, the way you danced, how you walked, how you talked, and so many other traits. Micah personally surmised you didn’t even believe in God.

You didn’t belong here, not in this town, Micah knew for certain. You were meant for bigger, more exciting things and settings and environments. This small town was one big restraint on you.

And maybe there were much better words to properly describe you, but to Micah he saw you as cool. Like a cowboy.

So other than his great infatuation with you, he genuinely liked being around you. He wanted to say the two of you were friends but he sometimes guessed he was just a small speck in your colorful world filled with thoughts and views he could never dream of.

He craved your presence, he found attending this party not even worth it if you weren’t around. But maybe this was what he got for wanting to see you in a short dress so bad. That was until when he lingered around the windows for a change of scenery, he caught the misty sight of your silhouette sitting in the grass facing the cornfield.

It was as if the boredom zapped out of his eyes when he was certain it was you. Quickly running his brown eyes around the room, he spotted his father lost in quiet words exchanged with the farmhand’s wife. She was holding a tray of banana bread muffins with a gushy and blushy expression on her face as his father ate a pinch off one of the sweet breads with a sultry smile, clearly trying to make it look like he was talking about her baking with her when it was clear to Micah that was most definitely not what they were talking about.

With his father too deeply distracted by the female skin of infidelity to prevent his son from sinfully conversing with a girl, Micah took that as his blessing to exit the church in pursuit of you. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to make conversation out of. Maybe he could talk you into joining this little group the new kid in town, Isaac, was gradually forming. He wondered if the central philosophy of the group would appeal to you. He wouldn’t be surprised if the pastor’s daughter held a resentment towards the adult.

As he dug his hands into the pockets of his pants, not even the breezy night air could cool the warm temperature creeping up his neck the closer he approached you.

“Hey, (Y/n).” He accidentally croaked out. Your body subtly flinched in the thick cardigan you wrapped yourself into. After rubbing your eyes hurriedly, you turned your head to look up at the dark haired boy. “Oh, hi, Micah. Didn’t hear you creeping up on me.” You said with a soft and friendly tone of voice.

Micah could’ve fallen to his knees right then and there from the sight of your shiny gaze casted up at him like that, the color of your orbs brighter than a full moon. And he swore he could name every constellation through your eyes. “My apologies. Mind if I sit?” He said, gesturing towards the area of the ground beside you.

Your plump lips parted with the intent of asking to be alone but as you thought before you spoke, you changed your mind. “Go right ahead.”

A smile spread softly as he squatted down to sit with his legs crossed, his eyes taking in your styled hair and the sweater that shielded whatever you were wearing underneath it. “You look nice. Why aren’t you inside? I’m sure lots of people are waiting for you.” He said with a teasing smile yet also trying to be gentle with you as if you were world class.

You hugged your knees closer to your chest as you practically huddled deeper into your cardigan like a hermit crab, the thought of going inside made that lump in your throat thicker and your thoughts self-destruct all over again. “I know…” you kept pressing your lips together to prevent them from quivering in front of someone, “but I think I’m gonna run back to my house and change then join the party.”

Micah got confused now. You were clearly all pampered up for the party, even wearing the vintage pearl earrings he remembered your grandma used to wear. “But you’re already dressed. What’s the problem?” He took notice of how you sunk into your sweater, wondering if you were just cold. “It’s warmer inside than it is out here so you-”

“I just think this dress was a mistake.”

His dark eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? I’m sure whatever you picked looks great.”

The sound of a mix of a huff and a whimper emitted past your lips as you pulled down your cardigan to reveal your dress. The floral print dress was shorter than your other ones, the skirt only covering less than half of your thick thighs (especially when you sat with your legs up), and the short sleeves were loose over your shoulders. It wasn’t tight but it hugged your curves and your busty cleavage peeked over the low cut collar.

The borderline skimpy outfit was different than how you usually dressed. Much more revealing and bold. And Micah felt as if he was witnessing a once in a lifetime sight, the universe teasing him with what was unattainable yet blessed him the sight out of pity. He didn’t realize his face was turning rosy until he felt the heat in his cheeks. He pursed his lips together and glanced off into the corn.

As goosebumps littered your exposed skin in the nighttime air your blurry eyes remained set on the grass in front of you, your focus not on anything specific. “My dad and I got into a little argument about my dress for tonight. Said it was too short even though it went past my fingertips. I wanted to really stick it to him, like give him the finger, so I altered it to this. But now that I’m actually here, wearing this… I don’t think I can go in.”

In Micah’s mind, he thought you were trying to express your insecurity of the indecent dress because you knew slut-shaming and proclamations of sin were guaranteed to be thrown at you the second you stepped through those doors. You were the Pastor’s daughter after all, and being his only child golden expectations were set for you.

And though you actually did exceed those expectations by being noble and headstrong, you were a relatively tough individual. You never once stood for someone displaying disrespect and you were never afraid to put someone in their place with a fiery, wide gaze, intimidating people into that place. Other than who your kin was, nobody dared to argue with you. More reasons as to why Micah admired you.

So imagine his surprise when he heard a wet sniffle and noticed the twinkling reflection of thickening tears over your eyes. “Actually I think I’m just gonna go home and stay there. Sit this one out.” Your turning body to stand up made Micah for sure of the emotion in your face.

He said with a careful and nonthreatening tone, “Hey, hey, hey.” His arms softly reached out to grab your biceps, keeping you seated so that he could lean his face closer to yours so that he could meet your tearful eyes; his eyebrows curving upwards and his frown parted. “Why are you crying?” He asked gently with worry but the verbal notice of your mood only made your tears fall.

You sniffled again as your frown trembled, the sight causing a squeezing pain to erupt in Micah’s chest. “You’re not the only girl in town who would get criticized for being revealing. You shouldn’t think of it as a personal or discriminative or victimizing thing, it’s just the kind of conservative community this town is. You know they didn’t even like when Lacey in our class wore Daisy Dukes in the middle of July.” He tried to comfort using a soothing tone and a realistic view on what he thought you were insecure about.

Though he soon believed he said the wrong thing when your avoidant gaze finally snapped onto his with your eyebrows furrowed, an annoyed essence swapping out your dejected image. “What? I don’t give a crap about them thinking I’m dressed like a whore. I’d wear a Scarlet Letter on my forehead and still not care about whatever they have to say.” You said sternly and clearly.

Micah, with his hands still gently holding onto your biceps, glanced back and forth between both of your eyes and the cornfield. He was lost and puzzled. “Then… What are you so worried about?”

You didn’t blink as you stared into his brown hues before your gaze hardened and you slightly leaned back away from him. “..…Are you mocking me?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he frantically shook his head softly. “No, no, no. I really don’t see the problem if it’s not being slut-shamed.” He said with genuine bewilderment.

Your emotions were in spirals and urges to scream in his face and cry at the same time flooded through you like oil leaks near a fire. You felt your spitfire blood pressure grow hot but yet… you didn’t explode. Perhaps it was because of the vulnerable weakness you harbored for Micah that rendered you unable to aim any sort of your conflagration toward him. Your weakness for the shy boy that always sent you a smile when you made eye contact was stronger than your fuse. Especially when he held you so gently and looked deep into your eyes like you were the only thing left on earth.

“Micah, have you seen me?” You said hoarsely, deciding to be point-blank with your approach. “I’m the weight of a cow. And this dress does nothing but make it more obvious.” The way you said your words sounded as if you were insulting someone with the intent to hurt them, but you spoke in the first person.

Micah had to take a second to register and digest what you were saying. But when it did it felt as if his heart broke into small pieces and fell down to the pit of his stomach. If anyone said that about you, Micah would gladly exchange black eyes with them to defend your honor. But the fact this was coming from you… He always thought so highly of you, thought you were in a whole different world than him.

He was dumbstruck, dumbfounded. He looked back and forth between your eyes for the relieving hint that you were joking, or lying. But no, you were neither of those things. You were delusional. “What are you talking about? (Y/n)... you look incredible.” He breathed out yet his honest words just seemed to sting you even more, your frown deepening and the tears swelling back up.

You slightly wiggled in an attempt to get out of his hold yet his firmed his grip on your arms to keep you close to him. “I just… I just can’t believe that you would say that about yourself. Because in my eyes, you’re like this masterpiece crafted by the divine hands of the universe.”

Your mind told you not to believe he was telling the truth, that he was just flattering the Pastor’s daughter and not you. But yet despite the dripping tears that fell into the grass, you felt yourself hang on every word that he spoke with such unfiltered sincerity that came out easily.

“Your curves are not mere flesh and bone, but a testament to the wonder of creation itself, each curve a stroke of genius, each imperfection a mark of authenticity. Like, your body is an exact replica of the muse’s in the renaissance for paintings and sculptures. The timeless ones that people put up in museums to be admired and awed.”

Micah tilted his head to the side to place his face in your avoidant eyeline. He wanted you to look him in the eye as he told you this. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, to see how breathtaking and charming you are. Don’t let some insecurity blind you, because you are a masterpiece, a work of art, a marvel to behold. Your body is a temple, a vessel through which your radiant spirit shines forth, illuminating the lives of all who are fortunate enough to bask in-”

You harmlessly giggled with the sweetest smile and a punch shade of pink dusting across your round cheeks. “Okay, now you’re getting weird, you sound like a preacher.” You used the back of your hand to wipe your nose but also to hide your flustered grin. Micah smiled at the sight and the uplift of your mood, finally sliding his hold off of you.

A cleansing silence drifted over the two of you in your own little bubble. A comfortable one. Your heartbeat thumped sweetly in your chest, making the rest of your insides feel like warm mush that melted because of Micah’s honesty. “You know, I…” You paused to allow your blush and the reality of the situation sink in. “I never knew you felt that way.” You said as you looked up at him softly.

He didn’t know how to respond since he still believed you were so out of his league that you didn’t hold any affection for him. “Well now you do.” He said with a shrug. Your smile grew as your pupils dilated. “And I’m glad I know now.”

He approached what you said with caution and nervous curiosity. “Why?” You abused the seconds of suspense to truly admire the boy in a whole new light. “Because now I realize that I feel the same way.”

Micah was torn. Torn between his father’s words about the shameful sin of just simply talking to girls and the gravitational pull of his emotions and heart and attraction. Everything he was ever taught and learned was coming to question and doubt as he looked into your doe eyes, it was like an epiphany. Perhaps this was his final push into Isaac’s cause and his proclamation that the adults are wrong about everything.

Because could one small stolen kiss with a renaissance muse really condemn him to Hell?

“I really want to kiss you.” He finally breathed out like a warm sigh. “Do you think it’d be a sin if I kissed you?” He asked, genuinely wanting your insightful input.

You took a moment to ponder until you settled on your answer. “I do.”

Micah glanced down in disappointment. “So I’m damned if I do…” he looked back up to you with an entranced sense in his eyes, “but damned if I don’t.” He then leaned in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest just below your soft jawline. He hummed into the contact which created a feeling of electricity shooting through you, prompting you to thread your fingers through the dark hair on the back of his head.

If this was the thing that would supposedly convict him to Hell, then Micah believed it was worth it a thousand times.

#reader insert #Micah #Micah x reader #plus size reader #children of the corn x reader #children of the corn #the children of the corn #children of the corn 2 #children of the corn Micah #children of the corn the final sacrifice #Ryan bollman

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phyrestartr · 8 months

Text

Your Godly Path Leads Back To Him | Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

#NSFW, Male Reader, Western/Cowboys, Miguel O'hara is a sheriff, complicated emotions, reunion trope, mentions of abuse, mentions of drinking, mentions of past trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, religious themes, men working through their shit, sad old men being sad, one-shot(?)

Notes: Dude this is so long lol I'm EXHAUSTED after powering through this, but it had to be done!! Had this one in the drafts for a while after listening to Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain and SHEESH. I wanted to write about some cowboys okay that's all tysm

--Your Godly Path Leads Back To Him--

"I love ya, pretty boy," you murmured into the soft dip of his cheek, leaving behind the scorch of your lips: an invisible scar, one that'd ruin his perfect smile next time the sun rose.

Miguel's gaze traced lines into you to make you bleed. Across the expanse of bite-tainted shoulders, grazing the vital veins and tendons of your neck, up to the thoughtfully chiseled features God hand-picked for you, His favourite, the man he poured silvered moonlight onto, filling in your crystalline eyes that very moment Miguel finally caught them gazing his way after you dared to maim him.

The thin, scratchy blanket shifted, and let prickly hay nip at Miguel's bare skin when you held the side of his face with a warm, calloused hand. You burned away his nerves, eased away anything that could distract him from you, from that moment.

What was Miguel supposed to say?

"Hey," you whispered. Your fingers grazed against his forehead as you brushed dark locks away from blurred eyes and creased brows. "Come on now, don't make that face. My love such a bad thing?"

Miguel laughed, like the sun braving a rainy day. "Maybe, with a track record like yours." A deflection. A cheap, easy thing Miguel tried to fit behind. But you knew him too damn well.

"Pretty boy and a funny guy, huh?" You hummed and picked yourself off your side, slotting back into the spot you'd carved between Miguel's legs, flush up to his hips–the place you'd been all night. Goosebumps on tawny skin rose to meet your phantom touches. Not even the warmth of the summer night's breeze could help him.

"Glad not even your daddy could beat the life out of you." Your words licked across his neck before your lips seared those in, too.

"Well, I--I, uh…" Clay brown eyes fluttered shut when you touched him. "I really–" He tried again. Miguel's head dug back into the hay, gifting a speckle of splintering hay crackles to the ambience of mooning crickets. The littlest sighs, the gentlest of moans, so spent and eager, slipped from between his tired, wanting lips, bolstering the symphony of the night.

Your lips found his again. Your tongue tasted him, finding the familiar smoke of fine whiskey and the sweet icing of flaked pastries. One of your hands threaded into his hair and held the back of his neck, keeping him close, stopping him from seeing the swirling haze in your own eyes.

"It's alright, honey," you whispered against his cheek before you pushed into him, "you ain't gotta say it back." His hands flew to your back, clawing into your skin and pulling your body flush against his. Miguel's stuttered gasps found a home in the warmth of your shoulder, and you etched quiet moans over the mark you'd already left. Such a greedy, evil man you were.

And that’s why you couldn’t love him.

But you did, and you kept telling him while you held him, even though it made your heart ache, even though it made your heart break. Because it was so horribly, painfully, undeniably true–you loved him. You loved the bastard son of the sheriff. You loved the man who was to be wed to a beautiful woman with wide hips and the gift of giving him the family he always dreamed of for himself.

And you? You were trouble. A dog on the road, scrounging for scraps, looking for any woman or sorry soul to take you in for the night–and then you found yourself neither, and didn't know how to walk away from what you’d found.

But trouble was always gonna find you, whether it be your man’s father or his wife’s, the corrupt deputies and counties paid to find you, the do-gooder bounty hunters looking for their payday. You'd be damned if you let trouble find him: Miguel O'hara, a cocky prick, a ladies man, a man who gave you love and patience when you needed it most.

This was the last night you were gonna love him.

–

Ten hours later, you were gone.

–

Ten years later, you were back.

–

The market was busy. Customers and vendors alike bustled through cramped cobbled streets, but Miguel heard one voice clear as day like lightning striking through the darkest storm.

"You lookin' for your momma, sweetheart?"

Then, he heard his Gabi.

His boots thumped against the ground hard on his dash towards his little one. Folks in the crowd hurried out of his way or got pushed past until Miguel spied his baby girl talking to a fellow crouched down to her level. It was you, wearing that same damn hat, toting that same damn bag over your shoulder, wearing those same damn boots, all in the town where you'd met.

"Papá's gone," Gabi sniffed, clutching onto the fabric of her dress with trembling little hands. "I-I dunno where he went!"

"Hey, hey, you're okay, baby. We'll find him." You pat her head and smoothed some of the flyaways that escaped her braids. "We'll find that old sheriff and–"

"Well, you found him," Miguel cut in, sauntering in on the conversation with his thumbs hooked into the worn leather of his belt. He did his best to gaze at you with a stranger's stare, but he was already losing the game he decided to play.

Especially when your eyes flicked to him, looking less than surprised and more than happy to see him, if that crooked smile was anything to go off of.

Gabriella threw herself at Miguel and buried her little face into his shirt, staining the worn cotton with drops of tears. Miguel pat her head before kneeling down and holding her hands in his.

"You alright, mija?" He cooed, concern softening his voice and taking the fight out of him. Gabi nodded dramatically and Miguel wiped her eyes. "You can't run off like that, kid, you had me scared half to death."

"I-I know, ‘m sorry.” And she really did look it, but Miguel knew her wanderlusting, bored little self would get lost in the crowds again, thinking she’d always make it back to her daddy. It could never happen to me was a jinx thought too many times. Everything could happen to them. Anything. Just like you leaving.

Right. The sheriff’s eyes glanced up to find yours again, but he found an empty space instead. Gone. Again. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised by that.

–

But when night fell, he had an inkling of where to find you.

Miguel found Lyla’s bar, that place where men drank ill of the divine’s blood, where you would drink yourself, the cannibal you were.

Upon first glance around the room, through the cheers of his title and welcoming smiles, he didn’t find you. But Lyla nodded at the backdoor, and Miguel had his answer.

He grabbed a drink on the way out, maybe to settle his nerves or to drown you with, he wasn’t sure. The song of a guitar called to him the second he cracked that back door open. Like a fisherman drawn to the siren’s voice, he followed it earnestly, the hand holding his bottle tightening while earthen brown eyes searched for you–

And there you were, sat on a log bench, thick cigar hanging from your lips, drink at your side, plucking away at tired strings for a crowd of ghosts around a dark phantom fire. Worshippers, no doubt. Specters of lovers passed, maybe.

Moonlight draped across your shoulders like the thick blankets of snow weighing on the surrounding cedars. They, too, listened to the hymn, bowing how they could to show their fealty to you. But you didn’t mind it, not acting how godly things were said to act, instead welcoming them as real brothers and sisters and others, all equal on the same ground. Miguel didn’t know how you could still not have a care in the world when the world cared so much for you.

Miguel’s boots crunched in the snow, and you turned your gaze to him. Now that he had the time to spare, he took in the lines and wear on your fine face, the age added under mischievous eyes and the new, silvered scars glowing against your complexion. Older, and handsomer. How was it possible? How was that fair?

Then that horrible smile appeared, the one he’d felt sear into his skin all those years ago. He felt it now, burning on his neck, on his lips, and somehow he knew you felt it, too. Under a moonlit night, in the old barn of his daddy’s estate, you’d taught him your gospel from sunset to sunrise, showed him how mercy felt, how a kind god’s hand could heal. Those lips whispered to him things prophets wish they knew, things they’d give everything to hear first before any other man–but no, it was just for Miguel.

You stood and walked to him, guitar in-hand, and Miguel lost all sense of mind.

–

He slammed you up against his front door once the damn thing closed and blocked out the cold, leaving you victim to his gnashing teeth and clawing hands. His knee found its place snug up against your crotch as he devoured your voice with a scorned kiss, filled with the clash of fangs and demanding bites. You moaned into him, too weak to deny him his wants, or to deny yourself.

"Your daughter–" you gasped once his mouth left yours. You muffled a moan into his shoulder as he ground his knee against your crotch harder. "Miguel–"

"She's with Peter for the night," he breathed into your neck inbetween hot, open-mouthed kisses left on your scarred skin. "Figured something'd be happenin' tonight."

"Hmm." You smiled into the leather of his jacket and left a soft kiss there before leaning back to spy his handsome face. "Glad we can pick up where we left off, Sheriff."

"Hardly." His hand found your neck, and you offered your throat, your blood, for communion. For union. "You've got some fucking gall showing up around here again, let me tell you. Gotta say I have questions about where you've been, why you left, why you're back now." The pressure around your throat tightened and you coughed just the slightest bit to prove your mortality. Miguel's eyes, deep and dark like wine, drank you in now that he had you where he wanted you.

"You think you got some answers for me, trouble?" The sheriff asked.

You grinned. Not even that damn cuff around your throat could scare you off, truth be told.

"I just might."

Miguel's lips followed the path of your whisper back to your sinful mouth once again, and he kissed you. You clung to him, a god yearning to taste the sweetness that humanity had cultivated, and let him take the reins–the human would know humanity best, after all.

His knee left the spot between your legs, but his hips closed the gap in its stead and ground hard against you. Sparks ignited from between your bodies, and you moaned. Miguel's soft, breathy sigh melted into your voice as his lips lingered against your very own. It felt too much like the past.

"Shh, Christ–don't you know how to shut up?" Miguel asked with the wickedest grin stretched across those fine features of his, like he wasn't the bastard at the root of your noise.

"Oh, you're really asking for an ass-kicking, shit head," you scoffed, but couldn't help the laugh that sank into his cheek. "Want me to make no noise, huh? Make you think you're doing a shit job getting me off?" Miguel's hand tightened around your length, then. Maybe he liked being a lil degraded.

"Câllate. I know I'm doing a good job." His face twisted into a pouty frown. "Now hurry up and touch me, too." Miguel's face couldn't get more red with the demand.

But you grinned and complied. Tucked away in the barn where all dark deeds were done, you pulled loose his belt and unzipped those old jeans before palming him up and showing him what it meant to worship.

Miguel moaned and leaned into your touch, pushing you deeper into the thick wooden support beam keeping everything standing. Your first hands worked each other to find Eden while the second hands wandered and touched, trying to find where they were supposed to land next on their quest into the great unknown. The bible had been so, so wrong, so now what was their guide?

Each other, the answer would be.

Oil-slicked fingers pistoned into your tight hole with frenzied purpose, stretching you open and wide for all Miguel had waiting on offer. Your fingernails caught into every hitch and grain of the wooden dining table beneath you, somewhere you'd find no purchase but decided you didn't deserve any; this was, after all, divine punishment, was it not?

Though it was unceremonious the way he yanked those fingers out and slammed his cock in, filling you to the brim in one fatal flourish, tearing a choked gasp from your smoke-addled throat. Your forehead dug into the wood as your hips jolted back to find more of him. Miguel's hands, broad and calloused, held fast to your hips and stroked the taught muscle there, the stretched skin over bone, with his thumbs. He smoothed your skin and soothed any aches you felt in the aftermath of man's brutality.

Just when you thought to snap at him to move, he rocked his hips against yours slowly, pulsing into you with shallow, merciful thrusts. But even just that was enough to snatch the air out of your lungs.

Miguel blanketed your body with his own, bending over you and breathing softly against the shell of your ear as his weight pinned you to the table. You had to admit the man was giving you whiplash with every flip of your punishment.

"Go a little harder, baby," you whispered sweetly, nearing on begging as you pushed your hips back against his.

Miguel's rhythm stuttered. His hands tightened around your waist, blunt nails digging into soft sides as the teeth by your ear snicked together with the hiss of a breath, of words unspoken.

"You want harder?" Miguel mumbled. He buried his face into your neck and inhaled deep, filling his lungs with that scent you brought with you when you escaped whatever holy shrine man had imprisoned you in.

"Fine." His chest left your back as he stood up straight. You felt the shift in the room before he slammed into you over and over again like you owed him this.

And you did. You'd left. You'd run away after showing your heart to him. You could've left without a word. You should've. But where else would you find someone to drag you down to Earth the way he did?

His hand slipped under your neck then and tightened fiercely as he used you, and your mind snapped back to the present, to how this communion threatened to rot into sacrifice. You didn't seek the unholy. You didn't want faith like this.

"Stop," you rasped. Your hands clawed at the noose around your neck when words didn't work. Turns out it scared you just a bit more than you thought."Miguel."

"I thought you wanted it hard," his voice growled into your ear, too distant from that charisma and snark you knew and fell for. He was cold. Angry. Not saying what he wanted to say.

"I–" but you coughed and saw the abyss for a second when you thought your neck might give, and instincts stepped in for you.

You managed to shove Miguel off, so hard in fact he crashed back into the counter where dishes sat drying in a rack. They clattered to the dismal tune of your dying heart while you caught your breath and tried to steady your legs underneath yourself as you stared hard at the man who'd never hurt you.

You'd had your fair share of flirty women and shameful men, whether it was a job to make a quick buck, a ploy to rob them in the night, or an attempt at finding something real.

The women were always kindly, confessing of the snakes in the garden out front and the woes they felt in the house in the times their husbands lurked. Always so intimate, always so willing to open their hearts and their bodies to you. You'd give them the same respect in kind, murmuring about a boy you still loved, hinting at the skeletons laid hidden in a hundred different pieces in your closet. Two wanting beings seeking a kind One's touch.

But the men made you less than human. Filled to the brim with callous denial and self-loathing, blaming you for what they'd done and what they'd do. You hated them for what they'd do to you. You hated them for proving man was beyond saving. You hated them because they were just like the one that came before you.

And maybe you hated them for reminding you what your mortal man could do to you, too.

But Miguel looked shell-shocked. A little too human, a little too unlike those others with the way his wide eyes scanned you over as his own chest heaved and his own two hands struggled with what to do. He almost took a step forward, but took it back.

Miguel's voice broke through, real soft and quiet. "(Name), I–"

"Don't," you snapped, hating the way your voice shook. You wondered if you'd ever yelled at your daddy this way.

"You don't get to–no, not you. You don’t get to do that to me. Anyone but you." Because he was your prophet. Someone you could hide with and share the darkest of the dark with in safety, away from the rest of the hated world. What would you be if you lost him, too?

You didn't know what you expected, maybe to be kicked out or yelled at again if history repeated itself, but Miguel braving those steps towards you and holding you close was nothing short of a needed surprise. You were both something of a mess, pants all awry and brows creased with sweat and emotion, but with the mess came comfort. And to you, comfort smelled like licorice, sun, and leather.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. And your heart swelled; men didn't say that to you. No one ever said that to you.

Your arms, tentative and maybe a little afraid, found their way around his waist, and you pulled him in closer. Miguel's shoulders relaxed with every soothing sweep of your palm against his back, and you let his weight fall into you a little bit more. Because as much as he was your happy place, you were his, too.

Miguel laughed bitterly before he said, "I guess I'm more like my father than I wanna admit."

Wife beater.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. "You know that ain't true." His eyes looked away from you then, and you caught his cheek with your hand to stop the rest of his head from following. "It's been a long time. There's…quite a bit left unsaid."

Miguel huffed something of a laugh as he leaned into your touch. "Huh, that was almost poetic. You been reading up since you were gone?"

"Might've stolen a few pretty books from some fanciful folks here 'n there." You smiled.

"Yeah? Guess it was worth it, if you're talking like that now."

"Wasn't worth leavin' you."

Earthen eyes found you again, looking wide and innocent like those fauns you saw on your travels. You liked that look on him, the look of a pretty boy being awed by a roadbound hooligan. You thought maybe you could get him to blush, too.

Your other hand found the empty side of his face and cupped it, mirroring the other, before you leaned in and closed your eyes. This time, cinders sparked against your lips when they met, proving that man, indeed, created flame without heavenly guidance. That burgeoning blaze bloomed and blossomed when you kissed Miguel O'hara to remind him of the words you spoke that night ten years ago:

I love ya, pretty boy. You ain't gotta say it back.

Because the fire in you had enough heat to keep two warm at night.

"I never should've left you," you murmured against his lips. "I thought–I figured it'd be for the best, but–" your voice died in your throat when Miguel's lips caught your chatty mouth and dove into another hot kiss. You sighed, happy to abandon that solemn train of thought in favour of slipping your arms around his neck and enjoying him like you were 21 all over again.

"I know," Miguel mumbled when he parted and let you breathe. "You wouldn't leave for nothin', selfless bastard." He smiled a little. "But I'm still cross with you."

Your hands moved to curl into his worn shirt as you nodded. "I know."

"And we're gonna sort everything out."

"Good."

"But right now," he started before catching your chin between his fingers and tilting your head up the slightest bit, "I think I'd like another shot at fucking you silly, mi amor."

Your stomach dipped into sticky, gooey desire. Mi amor. The words radiated through every nerve and cell of your design.

You nodded. "Go right ahead."

This time, Miguel swept you up into his arms and carried you up the stairs like a bride on her wedding day while you laughed and dotted him with kisses all over. He all but threw you onto the bed before you both tore each other's clothes away in a fit of love and lust, too eager to see one another at your most vulnerable.

Miguel's broad hands smoothed down your chest and thighs as he settled between them, and the look in his half-lidded eyes had your stomach coiling with impatience. But he took his time, dipping his fingers into the lines and creases of scars and muscle, pressing against each errant beauty mark he found hidden on your warm skin. But, thankfully, his impatience won out, and he rushed to pick up where you’d both left off.

You were glad to hold onto him this time as he filled you again. Your hands grabbed at his shoulders and clawed at his back as he kissed your neck and rolled against you slowly, gradually convincing your tight heat to relax and let him back in. And Miguel was quite the persuasive one, rocking his hips in a delicious tempo of short, shallow half-notes, whispering fluttering words of praise when he charted forgotten ground. A worthy worshiper, truly.

Your hips jolted when his pressed to yours. "Shit," you rasped into his shoulder when he bottomed out, but only after teasing your soft spot for a few agonizing minutes.

Miguel chuckled lightly. He licked a long stripe up your neck before biting into your flesh and earning himself a hearty moan. You bit him back, if only to be a brat; gods could do whatever they wanted.

"You feel good?" He asked, like he didn't already know the answer.

You nodded against him before you allowed him to pull you back to get a look at your brows twisted together, at the love-drunk blush smeared across your face, at the half-lidded heaviness of dilated eyes. He kissed you like that once, twice, and then his forehead pressed against yours when he showed you what he was really meant for.

Long forgotten were the seconds spent downstairs on the dining table. Now is all that remained: the heat rippling through your thighs, the fire in your core, lava in your veins that moved when he did, spreading an impossible bliss through every inch of your being.

"Honey," you gasped between the soft pants and choked moans. Your fingers threaded through his hair and held his neck as Miguel fucked the air out of your lungs and spoiled himself with your rare little noises.

Miguel smirked. "Oh? Already?" He lifted his forehead from yours to kiss and mark your neck the way you so selfishly did in the past. "Don't, ah, tell me you're losing your touch."

"Shut–shut up," you grumbled. "Still got an annoying fucking mouth for such a–oh."

Miguel's hips angled slightly differently in that second, brushing up against a spot that had you seeing stars and your body tightening up and demanding more. A shaky, loud moan slipped past Miguel's defenses, too, and he made damn sure to focus his attention on that spot.

"Fuck, you feel good, viejo," Miguel moaned over the creaking of the bed.

“Hah. You’re welcome,” you cooed, ego stretched and lazing, and then you gasped louder as Miguel cranked it up a notch and slammed against your sweet spot with more fervor than before. You bit his shoulder again in defiance.

Miguel laughed, breathless and shaky as his control slipped and he delved into your body with primal instinct. Your thighs tightened around his waist, eager to feel that grand finale you’d been craving since you laid your eyes on him.

“Miggs?”

“Mh?”

“Kiss me.”

And he obliged, igniting the trail of gunpowder from the tip of your tongue and letting it burn all the way to the dynamite bundled up tight in your stomach. You exploded, burning bright with too many colours as your back arched and your arms seized your lover tightly. Beautiful nonsense left your mouth and filled the air with the mess of bed creaks and Miguel’s voice rose and rose before stopping altogether as he spilled his warmth inside your molten centre.

He kissed you lazily. Little, shaky moans rattled against your teeth as Miguel rocked against you through the aftershocks and pulled every last drop of pleasure from himself. It made you smug; his wife, dead or alive, clearly didn’t fuck him the way you could.

It took some time to come down, but when you both did, he was settled up against you, his back against your chest as you leaned against the headrest and played with his hair. One of your hands was confiscated so the sheriff may look over the silvered scars and healing wounds–a few of the many trophies you’d earned on your travels.

“So?” Miguel murmured.

“Hm?”

“Why’d you leave?”

You took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Too many thoughts plagued your mind, too many reasons, too many excuses all piling up on each other like bodies in a war. But you had to find that truth and show it to him. It’s what he expected. It’s what you actually owed him.

“Well, your old man wanted me dead.” Miguel tensed against you for a moment, and you were quick to calm him with the scratch of your nails against his scalp. He melted into you, and you smiled. “You know how Delgato loves to talk. Never shuts the fuck up, actually. Was a good thing this time, though, otherwise I’d be killed three times over.”

Miguel huffed a soft laugh. “Guess so. But why you?”

“Because I wanted you. I guess I had you, too, and that wasn’t the plan, right? You had to marry Dana.” You sighed softly and shook your head. “If she weren’t so wicked fine, I’d be more bent out of shape about it.”

You sensed Miguel roll his eyes. “Santa Muerte. Do you ever think with your head instead of your cock?”

“Seems like a waste of time,” you jabbed back with a cheeky grin. You leaned in and kissed his shoulder while he grumbled and mumbled to himself.

“So that’s it? You left because that low-life wanted you dead?”

“Hold on, hold on. Let me keep talkin’.” You adjusted your arms around him before you continued. “My daddy was a crook, a real good one, too. Momma wasn’t much better. Guess you could call her a murderer, but she was a smart one. She brought back the magic that was Aqua Tofana back in the 60s. Poisoned him. Killed him." Your fingers traced around errant freckles splashing across the nape of his neck as you thought back. "Tyler Stone found out about it."

Miguel cursed under his breath. He leaned more of his weight back into your chest. Your arms tightened around him, too.

"Came after that old woman who threw the blame on me, and then they came after me." A bitter smile drained your light. "Traveled all over the place, ran even more. 'N then…somehow ended up falling for the bastard son of the man I was running from." You sighed and nuzzled against Miguel's shoulder. "The cruel irony of it all, hey?"

"You don't have to run anymore," Miguel said, voice oozing with the power of a sheriff. He turned in your hold, and sat facing you with his strong hands holding your shoulder and your cheek. "You're done running."

You huffed a breath through your nose before you hung your head the slightest bit. "Says who?"

"Says me.” Both hands held your face now, bringing your attention back to Miguel’s divinely cut features as he tried to speak some sense into you. “The man you said you loved. The bastard son of the man you were runnin' from." His thumbs rubbed soothing paths along your cheekbones. “You know you’re done runnin’, too. Why else would you come back here?”

And maybe there was some truth to those words. Why did you come back here? Were you tired of the road? Tired of the gun fights, the robbing, the lying? Is that why you trekked your horse down these familiar roads without even realizing it until you saw that old church stretching above the rising sun? Or maybe you were following threads of your fate, wandering to the tune of your South-flying heart when your chest finally got too cold after ten years without light.

Yeah, maybe you were done running.

Your nose brushed his when you leaned into him. “You want me to stay, pretty boy?”

“I’ll make you stay. Sheriff’s promise. Besides,” Miguel murmured. His forehead pressed to yours and his eyes fell closed before the next whisper changed everything: “Te amo.”

Your eyes watered, so you let them fall closed, too. The barest of laughs broke through your quivering breaths. It was relief that flooded you, and those two little words were the ark that raised you up out of your misery and confusion of the world. You felt like you could breathe. Like you meant something for once. Like maybe the hymns and verses might have been based on truth.

“Well,” you started, leaning into the summer touch wiping away your autumn tears, “why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“I should’ve. I really should’ve.” Miguel laughed something warm and loud when you yanked him in for a hug and peppered him with salty kisses all over his face. “H-Hey, hey, you didn’t give me an answer!”

“Forgot the question, Sheriff,” you mumbled as you squeezed him. “Ask again?”

Miguel scoffed fondly before kissing your earlobe and murmuring into your ear. “You feel like kickin’ up your feet and giving up on running, trouble?”

You grinned to yourself and returned the kiss.

“I do.”

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3tabbiesandalab · 2 years

Text

Old Cowboy Sayings (Part 3)

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Epilogue

Rhett is a fucking mess but he’s been made to feel mediocre his whole life so he just believes it. Reader comes along to hopefully make him see his worth.

She’s a long one 5K+ words. Time to give our poor boy a happy ending.

Trigger Warnings - Mention of suicide.

Contains SMUT 18+

……

The night the sheriff took Perry away, was difficult and left a lot of trauma behind. But if you remove the object from a horse’s hoof that’s causing the problem, the pain gets better, and the horse is no longer lame. The same could be said for the removal of Perry from the Abbott Ranch and the eventual effect on Rhett and his family.

His brother left without a fight, defeated by Amy’s rejection of him and was prosecuted with assault and manslaughter, the victim of the hit an’ run unfortunately passing away. His DNA also ended up matching a couple of other out-of-state unsolved cases that even Rhett’s parents didn’t know about and when he admitted to accidently killing Rebecca, even Cecelia and her forgiving church values, no longer wanted anything to do with him and he was cut from their lives for good.

Letters would come from time to time, statements from the court, psychiatric evaluations, and handwritten ones for Amy that she never opened and chose to destroy. Amy became glued to YFN, and Rhett encouraged the bond, especially when she learned of what happened to her mother.

Rhett thought his niece was amazing, she had been through so much. But just like YFN, she was strong and resilient.

Rhett’s grandfather had an old cowboy saying, ‘Cowgirls know their buckle don’t shine in the dirt.’ and that was Amy and YFN to a tee. They got up and dusted themselves off after everything. It took time and work though, YFN took both her and Amy to therapy in the city to help them through. Rhett drove them but wouldn’t partake, his healing was done out on the land, in the saddle.

Aside from Amy, Royal struggled the most, because of Rebecca’s death and Amy’s grief. Rhett knew he had a soft spot for his sister-in-law and for his granddaughter, so knowing the truth and watching Amy’s pain, was difficult for him and caused his moods to fluctuate.

He withdrew, got angry and was sometimes confused, rambling about some magical hole in the Western pasture. Rhett, YFN and Cecelia had guessed whatever was in those psychiatric evaluations from the court about Perry was probably something passed down from his father, but Royal didn’t drink as much, he didn’t raged at them and would never hurt the girls, so they let him be.

When YFN first came to the ranch, Royal would call her ‘girl’ like she was something on the bottom of his boots. But he had come to respect and care about her in his own way and sometimes when Amy and YFN were helping out Royal when he was mixed up or muddled, he’d thank ‘his girls’.

Rhett didn’t mind, he thought of Amy and YFN as ‘his girls’ too. His relationship with Royal had changed in its own way, but nothing was ever said out aloud. The change noticed when he supported him at rodeos, joined Rhett on a silent ride on the ranch or the subtle step back to allow him to take over as the head of the Abbott family.

Cecelia dealt with her own demons as well. Her extreme guilt over the past lead to a crisis of faith for her. YFN’s own mother had been religious and although she didn’t practice herself, she encouraged Cecelia to return to her church for help. YFN and Amy sometimes joined his mother in support and Rhett even showed up to the occasionally service for her. And even though the congregation gawked at him and YFN teased him that he might burst into flames just for entering the building, it was worth it to see Cecelia trying to find peace.

Relinquishing the business side of the ranch was hard on Cecelia too, so YFN and Rhett did their best and involved her or asked for advice. With her and Royal’s experience, YFN’s smarts and Rhett’s plans, they had managed to turn the Abbott Ranch back around quickly, despite all they were going through.

YFN had her own healing to do too. She’d escaped her old life that was haunted by memories of her mamma’s suicide and her daddy’s role in it. Coming to the Abbott ranch was supposed to be a fresh start, but she found herself amongst another shit show of a family and was traumatised by what one of them did to her.

Rhett didn’t know too much about how women felt after something like that happened to them. But he did the best he could to support YFN and respected any boundaries she had. The shrink helped some, but Rhett made sure he took her on long rides for no other reason but just to be in the saddle and breathe. That was his version of therapy.

The hard work of running the ranch and supporting his family, gave YFN a focus and some stability. She spent quality time with Amy, and was even involved at her school, mainly to cut those down who were judging Rhett’s niece for the actions of her father. Once the small town got to know ‘the girl who’d tamed the Abbott boy’, they saw how special she was they gave their support and friendship to her and that helped her move forward too.

Sometimes some of the more judgemental people would ask YFN why she stayed with the mess that was Rhett Abbott. But she quoted an old cowboy saying from her mamma. ‘Storms make trees take deeper roots.’ she’d tell them. That Rhett was a good man, despite what he’d been through, and she had never loved anyone as much as she loved him.

Rhett was not the troubled soul that he once was. He now was ironically, the most well-adjusted member of his immediate family, not that was much considering the state they were in. Rhett still drank, but he’d curbed it, not needing to drown his emptiness. And he still got into fights, but most of the time it was because he saw red if a man touched YFN without her consent.

The responsibility of the ranch gave him the purpose and direction Rhett used to lack. With the absence of Perry, he wasn’t resigned or resentful to his lot in life. Rhett tried to make something of himself and worked on restoring his reputation. That was difficult at first in a small town as the brother of a murderer plus his own history of trouble.

Fortunately, being a hard-working ranch owner who kept their accounts paid and having a no-nonsense woman like YFN by his side helped. Rhett had also found consistent success with his bull riding, now he was no longer weighed down as much, so being the local rodeo hero didn’t hurt either. And the occasional visit to Cecelia’s church showed people that Rhett wasn’t exactly going to burn in hell anymore.

He wasn’t lonely or empty and didn’t feel like a mediocre, disappointment to himself or his family anymore. Rhett knew the one thing that had really made the difference to his life was YFN. And he loved her more than anything.

……

Rhett loved having YFN as his woman. They were a good team on the ranch, balanced the strengths and weaknesses of one other and that easily transferred into their relationship. He enjoyed spending time together outside of the work and he loved to listen to her talk and laugh about anything.

They knew how each other felt, he never got sick of hearing YFN telling him. And even though Rhett had been a man of few words in the past, he always made sure YFN how much knew he loved her.

But the on very first day of being together, YFN had been assaulted, so an intimate relationship was tough for her at first. The night that it happened, she had held on to Rhett terrified and needed the comfort his arms brought. But once the adrenaline wore off, YFN had found it difficult to be touched with the exception of Amy who clung to her until she felt comfortable enough to let go.

Rhett had only had the barest of kisses and a few hours of holding her, so he craved it, needed it like oxygen, and he’d never felt like that before. But he would never push her, so respected YFN’s boundaries and let her set the pace of their physical relationship.

The pace was a little slow at first though.

YFN touched Rhett with small gestures at first. She pushed his hair back when it fell into his eyes or reached for his hand and would link their fingers together. Once she was comfortable, she’d wrap her arms around him and kiss him sweetly with her soft lips. Rhett waited patiently and once he was sure YFN was ok with it, he started to reach for her and initiate things. He would always ask first and made sure she could see what he was doing, so she could stop him if she needed.

It wasn’t long until they kissed all the time.

When it started to get a bit more heated Rhett would get so fucking turned on, he’d have to break away with an apology and an aching cock. YFN looked as affected as him, but Rhett wanted her to be sure and he didn’t want to do anything to hurt her. And to make sure he didn’t combust while he waited, he touched himself all the fucking time.

Part of him was grateful for the pace. In his only other relationship with Maria, there’d been no hand holding and every touch lead straight to fucking. He’d never experienced real intimacy with anyone before, and he wanted everything with YFN.

……

A few months after YFN’s assault, Rhett was grooming the horses in the stables one day. He hadn’t always had much luck with people respecting and caring about him, but he had always had a good relationship with his horses. Rhett ran his hand gently over Whiskey, and she headbutted him affectionately as he rested his head on hers.

YFN’s honey voice filled the stables “You know there’s a saying ‘You can tell how a man will treat his woman by the way he treats his horse’.”

Rhett smiled at her as she walked over and stood next to him and started stroking Whiskey. He noticed YFN was wearing a short dress, first time she’d worn one since…

He shook the dark thought out of his head, “You look pretty.” he said simply.

YFN looked at Rhett lovingly “Thank you. You know you treat me like you do Whiskey.” she said combing her fingers through her mane, “You respect and love her. You’re gentle and make sure you don’t spook her. You’re such a good man Rhett.”

It was her way of acknowledging that Rhett had respected her boundaries and let her set the pace.

“I just wanna make sure you’re ready.” he said gently.

“And what if I’m ready now?” YFN stepped closer into his space as she spoke softly.

Rhett sucked in a breath as her hands moved to his chest and she slowly started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“I wanted you for a lotta months before what happened, and I never really stopped. Thank you giving me the time and respectin’ me. You’ve been so patient baby.” she whispered.

Rhett stayed still as YFN finished unbuttoning his shirt and ran her hands over his chest, one of them drew patterns over his tattoo, “But we’ve waited long enough don’t you think?”

Rhett didn’t hesitate.

He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. YFN’s mouth moved with his and when he traced her bottom lip with his tongue, and she parted her lips and moaned when Rhett’s tongue found hers. They kissed deeply until YFN broke it and pushed him backwards into the spare stall, laughing playfully when he stumbled.

Rhett smirked at her as he flipped their position and pinned her against the wall and kissed her thoroughly, one hand threaded into her hair. He nipped at her neck as his fingers played with the neckline of her dress.

He’d spent a lot of time imagining what her full tits would look and feel like, so he was desperate to get his hands and mouth on them.

“This ok?” Rhett asked and YFN nodded. He pulled the top of her dress down and groaned when he saw she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“You fixin’ to kill me?” he said voice low and gravelly, and he held their weight in his hands and squeezed. They were fucking perfect. And YFN moaned loudly as he took a nipple in his mouth.

“Shh sweetheart. As much as I love those pretty noises, my family’s ‘round ‘ere somewhere.” Rhett chuckled as he sucked on her other nipple.

“I sent ‘em to town.” she said breathlessly, and she ran her hand down his taught stomach and grabbed his cock through his jeans.

Rhett grunted “Fuck. Can I… Can I make you feel good.”

“I sure hope so.” YFN grinned.

Rhett chuckled shaking his head at his cheeky girl. He dropped to his knees and ran his hands up YFN’s legs and paused just before the hem of her dress, “You sure babygirl?”

YFN keened at the new name and responded by bunching up her dress in her hands and baring herself to him.

Rhett practically choked when he saw she wasn’t wearing underneath. His fucking cheeky girl. His cock was rock hard and it ached.

YFN smirked and held a foil packet between her fingers and flicked it on the ground near him. “I always like to be prepared.” she said as she bit her lip.

Rhett laughed lightly “Fuck I love you sweetheart.” and he pressed his nose into her and groaned as he inhaled her musky sent.

“I love yooo…” YFN’s words turned into a moan as Rhett started licking her pussy and she grabbed his head tightly and hands pulled at his hair.

Rhett knew he was good at sex, but he hadn’t gone down on a girl in a long time, just quick fucks to forget his pain. But his face between YFN’s legs was something he’d had been thinking about a lot. Rhett put one of her legs over his shoulder and devoured her like a man possessed, using her pretty noises as cues on what she liked. And when he pressed his fingers into her tight, wet pussy for the first time, he nearly came in his pants like a fucking teenager.

YFN whimpered incoherently and as he worked her towards her high. She cried out when she orgasmed, and Rhett moaned as she clenched around his fingers and drenched his chin. He couldn’t help himself, he sucked her clit and pumped into her until she begged for him to stop.

Rhett looked up at YFN. Her skin was flushed, hair mussed up, her pink lips were swollen, and her eyes were shining.

She had never looked more beautiful.

And he told her so.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

A dopey smile graced her face as she came down from her high.

“Sorry I hadn’t said it ‘fore sweetheart.” he said softly.

“You’re beautiful too you know baby.” she said as she pulled on his head to get him to stand.

Rhett felt himself blush at that. He’d had women tell him all kinds of filthy things, but her sweet words made him fucking blush.

He laughed at the thought “I ain’t been that called that ‘fore.”

“I’m gonna call you that every day if I get to see you flush all pretty pink like that.” she giggled and kissed him not caring that she tasted herself as she worked to open his belt and jeans.

Rhett helped her as they kissed messily and he lowered his jeans and YFN took his thick cock in her hand and stroked him, “I fuckin’ knew you’d go commando.” she purred.

Rhett sucked in a breath as she rolled her thumb across the head of his hard dick.

“Babygirl I ain’t gonna last if you keep doing that.” he choked out and she released him and picked up the condom packet, tearing it open with her teeth and rolled it onto his length.

Rhett backed YFN against the wall again and hooked one of her legs around his hip and he slowly pushed himself into her tight pussy. Her pussy was so warm and wet, and she clenched around him.

“Fuuuck.” he moaned as he filled her all the way.

Rhett started fucking her slowly and deliberately at first, then sped up spurred on by YFN’s pretty sounds.

“I ain’t gonna… I gotta… gotta fuck you hard…please.” he pleaded as he thrust into her.

“Yesss. Fuck me please Rhett.” YFN begged.

Rhett grabbed YFN’s hips and lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around him, her boots digging into his bare ass. They kissed sloppily as he snapped his hips into her fast and hard.

YFN’s hot mouth sucked on his neck and Rhett felt tell-tale tingle in the base of his spine. He felt the walls of her pussy start to tighten and she moaned loudly into his neck “Cum for me baby.”

Her clenching walls and the words against his skin pushed Rhett over the edge. He let out a deep groan as the orgasm hit him, YFN’s tight heat clamping down on him as she came with him. His body shook both from cumming so hard and holding YFN up, so pulled out and slowly put her down.

Rhett removed the condom and tossed it on the ground. He stood there in a daze with mussed hair and flushed skin, his softening cock out hanging out, and his jeans around his ankles, bare ass showing. He must have looked a fucking sight.

YFN’s fucked out eyes lazily flicked over him and she lifted an eyebrow “You good?” she said with a sly smile.

Rhett laughed because she looked wild too, dress bunched up and the top pulled down, full tits on display. He pulled up his jeans and ran a hand through his messy hair. Rhett stepped closer to her again and fixed her dress, combed his fingers through her hair and kissed her softly and sweetly.

“Thank you for waitin’ for me, followin’ my lead.” YFN said tenderly.

Rhett nodded “I’ll follow you anywhere sweetheart. Thank you for trustin’ me.”

YFN smiled at him “I trust you with everythin’.” she said sincerely.

Whiskey whinnied in the stall next to them and they both laughed, forgetting she’d been there the whole time.

Rhett grinned at YFN “I ain’t gonna be able to keep my hands off you now, you know.”

“I’m countin’ on it.” YFN said and smiled widely.

Rhett took her hand and laced their fingers together and they walked out of the stables. “Don’t know ‘bout you but I’m starvin’.” he said.

“I thought you just ate.” YFN replied innocently, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Your gonna be the death of me woman.” Rhett grunted and smacked her ass.

YFN giggled and tried to get away from him and tripped, landing in a small pile of dry manure on the ground. She laughed loudly as got up and as she tried to wipe of the chunks of it off her dress.

“I must look a sight now.” YFN laughed.

“You’re still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rhett said honestly.

He gave her a wry smile “You do smell like shit though.”

Her melodic laugh that followed was the sweetest sound, and Rhett felt fortunate that he was the one responsible for it.

……

Since that day in the stables, Rhett and YFN struggled to keep their hands off each other. A quick fuck when they were supposed to be working, his dick in her mouth in the bathroom at the bar or taking their time to make love slowly at night in the loft. Rhett loved every moment with her, and he burnt each one into his mind so he would never forget.

But the first time YFN saw Rhett bull riding, was one of his fucking favourite memories of her. He’d been riding well again and YFN claimed she didn’t want to be bad luck, so she never had watched him. But he’d been invited to a top tier PBR competition and his whole family was coming to watch, so Rhett got Amy to beg her, knowing YFN couldn’t say no to his niece.

Rhett’s first ride was decent, he made the 8, got style points on the board and he felt great. He looked up to his family in the crowd, Cecelia and Amy cheered and a small smile graced Royal’s face. But Rhett would never forget the look on YFN. She sat still, face flushed and her mouth in the shape a little ’o’ in surprise. Rhett was a little concerned that watching him had upset her, but then he saw her bite her lip and her blush travelled down her neck towards her tits. She shifted in her seat and subtly rubbed her thighs together. She was not upset, she fucking liked it.

After his second ride, Rhett tried to find YFN and had to ignore the advances of a couple of tarted up, handsy ‘buckle bunnies’, while he searched for her. He saw YFN as she walked over and she was the complete opposite of the women he used to go for. She was fucking gorgeous.

YFN smiled widely at him, her eyes shining until she saw one of the girl’s hand run down his chest. Rhett brushed the hand away but YFN’s expression had changed. She was jealous. Fuck was it a turn on.

YFN pushed past the women, pulled Rhett to her, and kissed him hard.

“Ah honey, he’s taken.” one of the ‘bunnies’ huffed.

“Yeah, he is taken huunney, by me.” YFN said drawing out the nickname sarcastically.

“I don’t see a ring or a cowboy hat on you.” and both women snickered at her.

“Not yet, but he’s mine, so spread the fuckin’ word.” she spat.

He had never seen YFN so possessive, and it was so fucking sexy.

Jesus. He needed to be inside her now. Thank fuck he had a while till his next ride.

Rhett grabbed YFN’s hand and dragged her towards his truck. “That’s the hottest thing I ever saw.” he growled.

He looked at her and she was as turned on as he was, her eyes wild with want. Rhett groaned at the sight and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. YFN squeaked, then laughed loudly as he practically sprinted to his truck.

Once they were in the front seat, Rhett placed his Stetson on the passenger side and YFN straddled him and they kissed each other fiercely while she ground herself on the hard cock in his jeans.

“Gotta put a ring on your finger, so everyone knows your mine.” YFN said breathlessly as shimmed out of her shorts and panties best she could in the cramped space, leaving them dangle from one ankle.

Fuck yes he wanted that. To have YFN as his wife.

“You proposin’?” he asked, scrambling to undo the fly of his jeans, and free his aching dick.

“No baby, that’ll be on you.” she gasped as Rhett rubbed his fingers over her pussy and he grunted when he felt how wet she was.

“I will. Don’t you worry. How ‘bout for now, I just mark you up real pretty so everyone knows your mine.” he murmured in her neck as he sucked on skin to leave little bruise.

“Or you could cum inside me. That’d make me yours.” YFN cried as he fucked his fingers into her.

Rhett let out a deep rumbling groan.

“Fuckin’ hell yes. You know ain’t done that ‘fore. You want me to fill up your sweet little pussy? You gonna watch me ride while you’re full of my cum?” he growled.

YFN whimpered and nodded as she rocked on his hand, as his fingers pumped her pussy.

“God I want to so bad. I know we’re clean sweetheart but what if I knock you up?” Rhett asked as he watched her beautiful face while she chased her high.

“Then you’ll make the best daddy.” she moaned.

Rhett groaned loudly and removed his fingers “Please. Fuck. Get on my cock. I gotta fuckin’ put a baby in you.”

YFN lined herself up and sunk down on him and the tightness and heat of her pussy with nothing between made Rhett nearly blow his load right then.

“Fuuuck!” he moaned loudly.

His fingers found her clit again, the other hand clutched at her hip tightly. YFN rode his dick hard, and he matched her movements with thrusts of his own.

Rhett started spewing out filthy things as she fucked him.

“Jesus babygirl. You feel so fuckin’ good takin’ me with nothin’ between us.”

YFN babbled words senselessly.

“That’s it’s fuck yourself on me. Gonna fill you up, plant my seed. Can’t wait to see you round with my baby.”

Rhett quickened his movements on her clit and bucked up harder into her tight heat.

YFN let out a series of loud moans as she got closer.

“Fuck you’re taking me so well. Gonna be such a great mamma sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me so I can fill your pussy. You’re gonna take every last drop.” he whispered and nipped at the slope of her neck.

“Oh my god Rhett I’m gonna…” YFN whined, and Rhett felt her spasm and clamp down on his cock as her orgasm hit her.

Rhett slammed his hips up in to her hard.

“Fuck. YFN I…” Rhett choked out as he came and emptied himself into her tight heat.

He pumped into her for a few more seconds before stilling. YFN was breathing heavily, face flushed, lips red and puffy with a bead of sweat from her temple rolling down her face.

God. She looked thoroughly fucked.

“Best ride of my life.” YFN said with a breathy laugh, and her pussy lightly clenched around his dick making Rhett groan a little.

“Oh sorry.” she giggled and went to move off him.

He grabbed her hips and kept her in place. “No gotta make sure it takes. You ain’t cleanin’ up neither. Gotta keep as much cum in you as we can.” Rhett grunted.

YFN gasped “Usually such a quiet boy. Who knew you got a real filthy streak hey?” she teased.

Rhett brought a hand up to push back the sweaty hair off her forehead.

“First time I seen you jealous. Then you rode me bareback… I don’t think you know what you’ve done. I’m gonna fuck so many babies into you YFN.” he warned.

“Let’s just work on number one for now.” she said as Rhett reached for her panties and helped her as she lifted off him.

He laughed as he fixed up his jeans. He opened the truck door to let some air in once YFN had managed to pull her cut-offs back up.

“Do I look presentable. I gotta go sit with your family remember.” she said passing Rhett his hat, as they got out of the truck.

Rhett chucked at her “YFN, ain’t no way to sugarcoat it. You look like you’ve been fucked.”

“I guess it ain’t no worse than them catchin’ us at the ranch.” YFN said teasingly.

“I gotta go sweetheart. One more ride. He’s the hardest bull but I have a good feelin’ ‘bout it.” Rhett said as he gave YFN as short kiss and made a move to walk back to the arena.

He stopped after a couple of steps, turned and said “As soon as I’m done, we’re goin’ home. Gotta get your legs ‘around my shoulders. Reckon that’s the best way to fuck a baby into you.”

YFN gasped in surprise.

“Holy shit Rhett. You gotta mouth on you. Lucky you’re sweet to me. I better be an Abbott by the time I’m showin’ got it?” she said.

Rhett just winked at her with a wide smile.

……

The clocked ticked over, Rhett made the 8 and got awarded good style points on his third and final ride. That was the best ride of his life and he laughed aloud when he saw YFN cheering, because she’d just said that about her ride in his truck. The crowd went crazy and when he looked at the scoreboard, he had won.

Fuck it felt great.

Rhett gave the crowd a little wave in acknowledgement and jogged back to the gate and picked up his hat that had come off during the ride. He thanked his team and shook hands with the other riders. Rhett wandered through the well-wishing spectators to find his family.

Amy found him first, she ran over and jumped into his arms and cried “You won Uncle Rhett!” and he chuckled and gave her a big hug.

Cecelia patted Rhett’s cheek with affection as he released Amy from his arms.

Royal stood in front of him stoically and offered his hand to shake. Rhett took it and his father gripped it strongly “Proud of you son. For everythin’.” he said simply.

Rhett nodded at him a little shocked because Royal hadn’t ever praised him with words before.

YFN observed their moment with a small smile and when Royal dropped Rhett’s hand, she stepped forward and embraced him.

“Everyone finally sees what I have all along.” she whispered into his ear while he hugged her tightly.

Rhett realised he was happy. Fucking honest to god happiness. Something he thought he would never have. Winning a top tier rodeo, being in love, his family’s respect, and a successful ranch in his name. He knew he wouldn’t have had any of that without the beautiful woman in his arms.

Rhett was a quiet man and didn’t really like to be the centre of attention, but right now he couldn’t give a fuck.

He blocked out the people around them and took off his Stetson and got down on one knee.

He might be good at talking dirty, he’d been set off by the thought of breeding YFN. But when it came to feelings, he struggled with words, especially in front of a crowd. So he kept it simple.

“I’m fixin’ on marryin’ you, YFN. If you’ll have me?” Rhett asked, his voice trembled from the gravity of the moment.

YFN was surprised, but she smiled widely “You know I will Rhett Abbott.”

Rhett got up and placed his hat on her head like he’d promised himself he would one day. The significance of it wasn’t lost on YFN, she knew what it meant if a cowboy gave his hat to a woman.

“I love you so much… I ain’t got a diamond for you though.” he said softly.

YFN shook her head, her eyes filled with love. “I don’t need one. This is better.” she said as her fingers touched the brim of the hat.

Rhett kissed her, long and deep. And the crowd around them cheered. And a few ‘buckle bunnies’ whined.

YFN laughed lightly “Well they know who you belong to now.”

“I love you baby. Now go get your winnings champ so we can get on home and get to makin’ that baby.” she said quietly so only he could hear.

Rhett grinned and said “Yes ma’am.”

……

As Rhett drove his truck home from the rodeo, he looked over at YFN as she slept in the passenger seat, His hat on her head and he smiled to himself. Before YFN, Rhett’s life was mediocre at best and he wasn’t anything special; just a fucked-up, empty disappointment to himself and others. But she saw something in him, loved him and protected him and helped him to see what he could be.

He loved her more than anything.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” YFN said groggily from beside him as she started to rouse.

Rhett chuckled at her sleepy voice and reached out his hand and found hers and laced their fingers together.

“You.” he said simply as he turned into the long driveway of the Abbott Ranch.

“You might look tough on the outside, but you’re sweet and soft in the middle aren’t you hmm...” YFN said teasingly.

Rhett smiled as he put the truck in park. He hopped out and ran around the front to open YFN’s door.

She smiled at him sweetly as she got out of the truck, leant against the door and said, “You know my mamma always said, ‘Find a man that works hard, uses their manners, rides a bull like there’s no tomorrow, and treats you like a queen’.”

Rhett looked at YFN and she smiled softly at him. He replied with the same thing as he always did “You always listen to your mamma?”

YFN laughed a little “I did this time and it worked out pretty perfect. You’re the best man I ever known.” she said fondly.

“I ain’t good with words sweetheart…” Rhett took a deep breath, stepped closer to her, and said softly “You came into my life and made me believe I was worth somethin’. You’re everythin’ YFN. So beautiful inside and out. Gonna make sure you always know that no hour of my life will ever be wasted with you by my side.”

YFN gazed at him lovingly “Wow. Rhett. That was…” she drifted off into a whisper and leant up and kissed him softly.

“Ain’t no good with words, my ass. You’re a fuckin’ poet. That gonna be your weddin’ vows? Not sure you can top that” YFN said sarcastically.

Rhett chuckled lightly and teased “Nah. We’re gonna stick with the traditional ones where you vow to obey me.”

YFN laughed heartily and taunted him “Well if you’re stickin’ to traditional, you can’t go knockin’ me until we’re married, can you now.”

Rhett smiled mischievously. “Now you know that ain’t happenin’ sweetheart. In fact I’m gonna fuck a baby into you right now.” he promised and picked YFN up bridal style and carried her to the loft as her sweet laugh filled the air.

The next day, Rhett and YFN went for an early ride through the trails of the Abbott Ranch. He stood behind her and held her in his arms as they watched the sun bleed over the land. He breathed deeply and inhaled the crisp air and YFN’s scent.

God he was fucking happy.

Rhett never thought he’d ever have this, ever deserve this feeling. It had been a long, hard, winding road to reach it and there’d be work to do to keep it. But now that he had it, he was never going to let it go.

……

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