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idkwhylou · 5 months ago

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Darker than death

Summary : You need to think of something else since your mother's death. Seeing you in that short dress of yours gave Rhett an idea to help you.

Rhett Abbott x f!reader

Warnings : dark Rhett kinda ?, smut, rough sex (MY SMUT IS CRINGY SORRY im trying my best lol), mention of death, mention of religion, no y/n

Words : 6K+

A/N : I'm trying to work on smut so sorry if it's not good I'm new with that. Please don't hesitate giving me advices. And reminder that English is absolutely not my first language.

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Royal and Rhett had just finished repairing the last ranch's fences when the two men arrived at the diner not far from downtown. The older man entered and wasted no time going to the restroom while his son walked up to the bar and waited for one of the waitresses to come and attend to him. A tall redhead he'd never seen before greeted him and led him to a table, not forgetting to put down the menus before leaving quickly to attend to another customer. The restaurant was full, almost bursting at the seams. They got lucky to get a seat so quickly. Waiting for his father, Rhett carefully observed the people around him but didn't seem satisfied with what he saw. His eyes roamed every corner of the restaurant, but he couldn't find you in the wave of people. He became impatient, refusing to believe that you weren't working today. He waited all week for this day, looking forward to running into you and your pretty face.

Once Royal returned, he opened the menu and looked at what he was about to eat. Unsurprisingly, both agreed on a double cheeseburger. In an almost ponderous silence, the two men waited calmly. Then, out of nowhere, you arrived. Greeting the two men quickly, you took out your little notebook and pen from one of your apron pockets and smiled at them, waiting for them to announce their order. Rhett couldn't keep his eyes off you. He loved your messy hair up in a bun, from which a few strands escaped. He would have preferred a ponytail though, so he could pull your hair more easily. He imagined his hand in your hair, controlling the movements of your head as you sucked his cock. He visualized you on your knees, there in the middle of the restaurant giving him a head. Those pretty eyes of you, looking up at him through your long lashes as he made you go faster. The sensation of your little mouth on his big cock as you chocked. Fucking your throat till missing air in your lungs must be divine. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away.

It had been a long time since you'd seen each other. Rhett looked down at your bare legs, wearing short shorts that hugged your thighs just right. However, he was a little disappointed to see that you'd opted for a simple t-shirt. He couldn't help but give you a smile as you glanced at him before moving away from their table once you took their order. As you walked towards the bar, Rhett was tempted by a misplaced glance. Indeed, your short were also quite tight, he looked for a second at how the clothe made your ass look before definitely turning his head towards his father, deciding he'd seen enough.

“She seems better...” began Royal, looking at his son.

The youngest merely nodded, to be honest he hadn't been looking to hear from you that much. Since that day at the church he had another vision of you. He never thought of you that way. You were younger, too pretty and certainly too innocent. You were definitely too good for a man like him, however he liked looking at you from afar. Imagining what he could do with your pretty little body. As his eldest began to discuss the day's program, he was distracted by the image of your ass in those too-short shorts. He couldn't help but follow you with his eyes every time you passed their table.

Once both had finished their meal, strangely Rhett got up first and quickly made his way to the counter. Royal didn't wait any longer and was already out of the diner, leaving his table to the other customers, heading to his truck to wait for his son. The younger man waited his turn to pay, it wasn't unusual for him to pay for the meal but his father usually did. Today, however, he felt an essential need to do so.

When the customer in front of him had finished, he couldn't help smiling as your eyes met. He waited peacefully for you to give him the bill, “Busy day huh ?”

You raised your head slightly, “Yeah... but I prefer days like that. It's less boring than waiting for the hours to pass.”

From this angle, he realized that you were much smaller than him, something he'd never really paid attention to. Rhett nodded his head as he paid you, and then said, “Isn't Ashley here ?”. Without even glancing at your form, you replied that she was ill, which was why the redhead had replaced her for the day. “Good for you,” you couldn't help rolling your eyes at his comment. He took the opportunity to look a little at your breasts, and noticed you weren't wearing a bra, he liked that. There was nothing provocative about it, and you certainly weren't looking for cowboys’ attention, but he liked the fact that he could see your nipples through the fabric.

As you returned his change, your fingers brushed the hard hand of the man in front of you for a moment. “You’re coming to the rodeo tomorrow night ?”.

His question surprised you but without hesitation you nodded, “Ash’ will probably come with me”, he sighed and nodded as you gave him a smirk. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah... have a good day Rhett” you replied in a soft voice.

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Rhett had slept horribly and was tired the night of the rodeo. He had no idea or rational explanation as to why his night had gone wrong, but hell now, he was paying the consequences. He had retrained and lost the title of winner, coming in second place. He'd been working like crazy for months to keep that damn prize and now, in a matter of seconds, all those dreams had gone up in smoke. With the money from rodeos and contests, he was trying to raise a certain amount of money to get out of this rotten town once and for all. Between his father, who was becoming more and more unbearable -even execrable with him- and his brother, desperately waiting for his wife's return without doing anything else, he couldn't take it anymore.

He dreamed of escaping this rat hole, starting all over again and trying to be happy. The reason that stopped or he should say slowed him from leaving was his niece Amy, he didn't want to leave her alone in a family that was falling apart. But he realized by now that he'd never be important enough to tighten the bonds. And now, with tonight's loss, he was even further from his goal. Always one step forward but three steps back huh ? Rhett sighed as he leaned against a post behind him, he had left the track quickly after seeing his score in order to reach the area reserved for participants. The best idea was to wait long enough for his family to return to the ranch, not feeling up to facing his father again tonight. He wiped his hands thinking about what he was going to do. He could go to the bar. But he knew that if he let himself be tempted by a drink, he'd end the night there, or worse in cell. The rage bubbling up inside him was becoming more and more difficult to control, and even more so when he let himself be carried away by the effects of alcohol.

The young cowboy raised his head and looked around, spotting in the distance the man who now held his winning title. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous, anyway he quickly banished the feeling before he would do something he might regret after. Around him, other participants and organizers were chatting, but he didn't had the strength to join them. He preferred not to stir up the pity of some or the mockery of others. But just when he thought the night couldn't get any worse, he heard an all-too annoying voice in the distance, and without even glancing towards it, he knew Ashley was coming to disturb him. He straightened up, putting his hat back on properly before setting his eyes on the blonde who was about to disturb him for far too long.

“Sorry Rhett for your defeat...” began Ashley, addressing him with a pout. “You'll do better next time !” he looked at her for a second but his gaze quickly fell on you.

You were moving silently towards the duo, and the man couldn't help noticing your attire. If your father saw how short your dress was, it would certainly give him a heart attack. He let his eyes wander from your old boots to your cleavage, a little too pronounced for his taste. He shook his head before addressing the girl in front of him, who was already looking at him with a smirk. “Did you dress her like that ?”.

“I thought it would please you, all doll up just for you. I mean you’re the one who wanted her to come, wasn't it ?” she teased.

So you talked to her about it ? Interesting. He didn't add anything since you arrived next to your friend, “They didn’t got any sweet popcorn left Ash’”. The blonde placed one of her arm around your shoulders, assuring you it was no big deal, as Rhett gave you a nod.

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As usual Ashley monopolized the conversation and asked Rhett a whole bunch of stupid questions. You watched the exchange without paying too much attention, until you cut your friend off “Isn't that Arthur over there ?”.

Without waiting another second, she turned her head and her eyes opened a little wider. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to create some volume. You couldn't help laughing as she asked you in a panic to check that her make-up was intact. The man beside you watched the scene a little indifferent, hoping Ashley would go away for good and quickly. The blonde then kissed you on both cheeks before winking at the cowboy, trotting off towards the famous Arthur a little further on. Once he got rid of your friend, he moved a little closer to you, filling the empty space between you.

“Like that she'll stop bothering you.” You explained, raising your head to look at him.

A smirk slowly formed, “Did she ask you to wear that ?”. He didn't even have to say anything, you knew he was talking about the dress.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed. “I'm doing it to please her, don't think I like walking around like that in the middle of a rodeo.” He hummed as you continued, “She's nice, you know. If you gave her a chance, you'd see she's not all bad. And since... well- you know-”

“ -yes ”

“She's very considerate of me.” Rhett had more the impression you were trying to convince yourself but said nothing about it. After a silence you added, “Plus her guys stories are funny, so that keeps me busy a bit.”

He laughed softly and leaned a little closer to you, letting his gaze slide over your breasts. From where he was, he could see a small part of them, but above all he could see that you were still not wearing a bra. Damn. He did, however, notice a thin necklace with a cross. “I didn't know you went to church.”

You lowered your head, grabbing your necklace to look at it He couldn't help smiling tenderly at you. “Yes, I've been back a few times since... well, you know. It helps a little.”

“You seem to be doing better, you manage ?” in his voice you could heard concern.

“Yeah, don't worry-”

“-are you sure ?” you looked at him puzzled. Rhett had always been kind to you, but he never really cared. “I mean, I guess it's hard when you lose your mother. But when I see you dressed like-”

Your dry laugh cut him off. Was he serious ? “I beg your pardon ?”

Your name came out softly, almost like a prayer from his mouth, “You understood what I meant-”

“-well not exactly. First you criticize Ashley and now the way I dress is a problem ? No way.” Anger was slowly building up inside you, his comment had hit you right in the heart. As if the length of your dress had anything to do with how you deal with grief. “Before you question certain things, maybe work on yourself a bit. I find it cheeky of you to criticize Ash’ when you haven't even checked up on me. She may not be the most perfect friend, but at least she makes sure I'm okay.”

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, waiting for an answer even though you didn't really care about what he could add. But something deep inside forced you to stay in front of him. Rhett was confused and didn't know what to do. He didn't want to upset you any more than you already were but wanted to express his idea properly. And he couldn’t pretend that seeing you all worked up because if him was kind of exciting. He knew he shouldn’t like that but god, you were so cute when you were mad. “I don't doubt that she's a good friend in your eyes but imagine for two seconds if I wasn't here.”

You rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms, who do he thinks he is ? “What are you talking about ?”.

Rhett gulped, your movement caused your breasts to rise, exposing them a little more to his eyes. Trying to compose himself, he quickly resumed, “She just left you to fuck Arthur or whoever. Can you imagine being alone, here at this hour ? I don't doubt your ability to tell a guy to fuck off. But let me doubt on your ability to stand up for yourself with three drunken cowboys.” He watched carefully your reaction then realized quickly you were going to retort again. He dropped your glare and picked up his jacket before handing it to you not wanting to cause a scene. “Now you put this on and I'll take you home.”

You lowered your arms, accepting defeat, and put on the jacket sighing as you started walking away. The image of you in his jacket made him feel possessive. He liked it. The cowboy behind you shook his head, catching you quickly before you went too far into the night. He arrived in front of his truck but didn't even had time to open the door for you before you rushed into the vehicle, not forgetting to slam the door behind you. The man sighed in annoyance and climbed behind the wheel. Turning on the engine, he turned his head towards you in an attempt to calm your anger, but froze when he saw a tear roll down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, letting out a sniff before turning your head towards the window.

He called your name, but you didn't answer. Hesitantly, he laid a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, if you could call it that. After a moment, you let yourself be carried away and broke down in front of him, curling into yourself and letting your sobs echo in the car. Rhett rushed to pull you against him but you gently pushed him away. However, he left you no choice and took you in his arms, encircling your trembling body and resting his chin on the top of your head, waiting patiently for you to calm down.

A few minutes passed and you straightened up in your seat. Running a hand over your face, Rhett looked at you intently, not wanting to rush you. Deep down he liked being the only one seeing you that weak. “I'm sorry...”

“You don't have to apologize, I shouldn't have mentioned your-”

“I'm not talking about my mother. That's not why I'm crying.” You cut him off but your explanation confused him more than anything else. You turned your body towards him, looking at him, tilting your head against the seat. “I'm crying because you're right and it’s getting on my nerves. It's stupid to wear a dress that short just to please Ashley. It's just...”

He brought a hand to your cheek, caressing it gently, inviting you to continue. He was right and you were wrong. His gesture was delicate. In no way did he wanted to make you feel uncomfortable or hurt your feelings. He just wanted to make you feel better. Seeing you cry had made his heart ache, and when you looked up at him with your puffy red eyes he wanted to take you back in his arms.

“I'm sick of everything. I miss my mom, my dad's been drinking all the time since she died, the people in this town make me go slightly mad,... I just want to live my life but everywhere I go people see me as the poor kid who lost her mom. I'm tired of being pitied.”

“You're not pitied. People just try to be nice but they don't realize how heavy it is.” He pressed your cheek lightly trying to comfort you.

You rolled your eyes and broke the contact between you, moving closer to the door. He didn't like this, but he couldn't say anything. “Even at Church people act like I'm lost and-” you interrupted yourself, sighing for the umpteenth time, ”I don't even know why I keep going there to be honest. My mother was an adherent, that's probably why. I don't know...”

You turned your head towards Rhett again, he was still looking at you and seemed to be really listening to what you were saying. Realizing that you must be annoying him more than anything else, you closed your eyes. “Sorry to bother you with all this, you've certainly got better things to do than listen to me complain.”

He was shaking his head even though you couldn't see him, moving a little closer to you. “Nah, nah no worries. Go on.”

Your eyes reopened as you felt the touch of his hand on your thigh. Suddenly looking into his eyes seemed far too difficult. Your gaze remained fixed on his veiny hand. “I thought if I went out tonight I'd be able to think about something else. Then Ashley made me wear this stupid dress because she said you'd like it or something.”

Without realizing it, he'd tightened his grip on you as he listened, “Why should I care ? Did you talk to her about something ?”. His voice was much huskier than before, and it was as if he was implying something. Even if he didn't like seeing you dressed in such short clothes at the rodeo, he had to admit that made you look rather sexy. To be honest, the idea that others might have seen you in his company -dressed like that- with his jacket over your shoulders, excited him greatly.

You straightened up again, realizing your sudden closeness. You didn't dare look at him in the eye, but you felt his gaze. Suddenly you felt a wave of warmth wash over your whole body. “I just told her you'd asked me if I was coming and- well, she started making up stories. You know Ash’, no big deal...”

Rhett let go of your thigh but didn't pull away, humming once more as he looked out of the car window. It had been dark for a while, but he noticed that a light fog was beginning to form, making it difficult to see what was going on outside. You raised your head without looking directly at him as a silence settled between you, “What are you thinking about ?”.

“Are you feeling better ?”

You didn't hold back your laugh, “That's not the answer to my question-”

“Answer my question first and maybe I'll answer yours.” he asserted authoritatively. You looked at him, disturbed by his sudden change of mood. Your eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at you, still preoccupied with what might be going on outside.

“Yes...” You began softly, but your voice broke slightly, so you cleared your throat and resumed, “Yes, I'm feeling better. Thanks for listening. I just needed to... say it all out loud, I guess ?”

He finally turned his head towards you and was now looking straight into your eyes. You gulped, looking away. You were all quiet. He didn't answer and continued to look at you, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he watched you intently. Suddenly you felt so small next to him, something in his eyes had changed but you couldn't say what. “Is it about the rodeo ? I'm sure you'll do better next time, I'm not worried about you.”

“Nah it's not about the rodeo. It's darker than the rodeo.”

“Darker than the rodeo ?” You were completely lost and felt a strange sensation forming in your lower belly. Suddenly, it seemed much too hot in the truck. You felt your face grow warm at the sight of the man in front of you.

“Darker than death.” He moved closer to you as you watched his every move. “Are you sure you're feeling better ? I'd hate to rush you.” God knows how he doesn’t care ‘bout that.

He was so close you could smell his perfume. Forming a sentence seemed impossible, you couldn't think straight. Naturally, your body recoiled but you were already against the car door. Your breathing quickened as Rhett took off his hat and put it behind him. Your name escaped his mouth in a whisper, “Answer my question.”

You nodded without taking your eyes off him as he continued to move towards your face. When your noses touched, you let out a shaking sigh that made the cowboy laugh slightly “Would you like me to help you think of something else ?”

“Please...” That's all it took before he crushed his lips to yours. A cry of surprise escaped you as Rhett pulled you against him, he lifted you and with ease placed you on his lap. Your hands went to his torso, then his shoulders, before finding their place at the nape of his neck. The cowboy slid his tongue against your lip, asking for access to your mouth.

You let him as he tightened his grip on your hips. Quickly, one of his hands slid along your back before abruptly grabbing the back of your neck.

“Jesus !” You whispered as you stopped kissing him, his grip was hard but not hurtful.

“He's not coming to help you, sugar.” The young man smiled before sliding the hand that had been at the nape of your neck down to your throat. He found your necklace and played with it a little, “It’s not your mother's, right ?” you shook your head, assuring him that it wasn't. Then without any warning, he yanked it off you. A cry of surprise escaped your throat as he looked at you with his trusty smirk.

“Rhett !”

“What ?” You shook your head, biting your lip at his reaction but he ran his thumb over your bottom lip to stop you, “Don't hurt yourself, please.” His eyes were so soft and gentle on you but his thoughts were the complete opposite. Without giving you time to reply, he captured your lips again in a fiery kiss.

His hands delicately caressed your back as he kissed your neck, you couldn't hold back your moans any longer. Your whimpers sounded like music to the cowboy's ears. He pressed you against him, holding you firmly with his rough hands before moving both your bodies to lie on the bench. Now on top of you, he attacked your cleavage, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your boiling skin. He continues to move his mouth over your body, his lips and tongue tracing every curve and contour. His hands followed, exploding and touching every inch of you. Your hands found his hair, which you gently tugged on without trying to pull him away. It felt so fucking good. You couldn't think about anything else except the sensation of his thin lips on your skin. He pulled at your dress, letting one of your breasts slip out and took it into his mouth. As he sucked on your nipple, nibbling lightly, you moaned loudly.

“Shhh baby. You don't want the others to hear you.” You couldn't answer him, too absorbed with the different emotions consuming you. Seeing you that flustered for him made him want to fuck you all night long. You nodded as he took your other breast in his hand, massaging it sensually, and never taking his eyes off you. “Naughty girl. You're not even wearing a bra, are you doing this so I can see your nipples through your dress ? So I can see how much I turn you on huh ?”

You bite your lip, closing your eyes as he let go of your breasts, sliding gently down your body. He lifted the bottom of your dress and poked his head underneath. Soon you felt his breath against your inner thigh, making you tremble. With his big hands, he grabbed both of your thighs to stop you from moving. Once held in place, you could hear him laugh as he saw the wet spot on your panties, your pussy was that soaked just for him. His name rolled off your tongue, but he didn't stop, smelling your arousal. Delicately, so as not to hurt you, he bit down on your panties, grabbed them and pulled them off. Once he'd removed the piece of fabric, he observed your unveiled intimacy. He could see how wet you were and ran his tongue over his lip before placing a tender kiss on your crotch, signaling that he was going to take care of you. Which made you feel a wave of heat.

As he placed another kiss on your clit, you almost let yourself melt back onto the bench. You had sex before, but something about Rhett turned you on even more. You couldn't see him but could imagine the gleam of desire in his eyes. He was licking your intimacy like a hungry cat, his tongue tender and warm against you. He savored every second, his nose pressed against your clit as he let his tongue burrow deeper into you. He sucked all your juices making you moan more. No longer able to control your body, you closed your legs over his head. He grunted in displeasure, causing vibrations against your pussy that made you moan louder. He tightened his grip on your thighs and spread them further apart, then continue eating your dripping pussy.

Without a warning you felt yourself coming, you tried to straighten up by pulling a little more on Rhett's hair, but he placed one of his hands on your stomach to hold you in place. He said something without drawing away from your pussy without understanding what he was saying, and once again you felt vibrations throughout your body. You felt him smirked against your core as you struggled. You were breathing harder and harder, but when he started to play with your clit with the hand on your stomach, your breath almost stopped. It became jerkier. You were hot, very hot. Then you closed your eyes and let the man between your legs handle the situation. Bringing your hand to your mouth to try and disguise the few whimpers escaping from your mouth, you felt yourself coming soon.

Your hips lifted slightly from time to time to encourage him to continue, to go deeper. Suddenly you came, moaning against your hand as Rhett licked your juices as if he hadn't had enough. Your legs trembled and you felt your eyes moisten. As you tried to recover from your emotions, the man between your legs kissed your crotch one last time before moving up to your face. He kissed your lips as you could taste yourself. He wasted no time in removing your dress, pulling it over your head. Revealing the rest of your naked body, without taking his eyes off you he let his veiny hand slide down your legs to remove your panties once and for all, throwing them in his jeans pocket. And as you struggled to remove your boots, you watched him take off his shirt.

That's when you realized you were completely naked in front of him, even though he had taken off his top. You fold your legs and try to hide your breasts with your arms. It was as if he'd heard you, without further ado he removed his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers in front of you. You could see his erection, which made you smile anxiously. You let your hand go to his last garment as it settled back over your still trembling body. Your fingers played with the elastic of his underwear, but he stopped you by shaking his head.

“You're sure ?” you kissed him. “Good because every time I see your pretty face I want to fuck you hard.” With that he kissed you even more savagely, you pulled him by the nape of his neck wanting to feel him even closer. He let himself fall onto your body as his knee spread your legs. Again, your hands grabbed his boxers, moaning into his mouth as you slid the clothe down his thighs as he managed to pull it off.

“Do you want me to suck you ?” You asked in an almost innocent voice, he suddenly stopped in his movements to look at you with tenderness. You straightened up on your elbows looking at him through your lashes, waiting for his answer. It was exactly like in his imagination. You were there, just underneath him all naked. Almost begging for it. But he needed to wait.

“I don't think I can take it if you do. Let me fuck you first.” With that you nodded, letting yourself slide a little further onto the bench. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a condom. He tore off the wrapping with his teeth before taking it out. You took it from his hands, straightened up again and for the first time laid eyes on his cock. Fuck. Rhett was big. His penis was thick and veiny, and not just because of the erection. You remained frozen on his intimacy for a few moments. He laughed at your reaction before placing a kiss on your forehead and taking your wrist in his big hand. “You wanna stop doll ?”

“No ! I mean... no please.” You were far too excited at the sight of his erect member, you definitely didn't want to stop. When you thought back to the way he'd eaten your pussy, you could only wait impatiently to feel his full length inside you.

“Alright baby...” he took the condom from your hand and put it on before placing himself at your entrance. He placed one of his hands on your hip to hold you while the other allowed him to hold himself pressed down so as not to crush you. He licked his lips and entered you hard, making you lie back against the bench fast. A moan escaped your mouth as the cowboy began thrusting in your tight and wet pussy. He was so fucking big. He slammed into you with no mercy. You were already seeing stars while he was still slow. You clung to his shoulders feeling his pace quicken, “You like that ?”.

You nodded as you closed your eyes, feeling your orgasm coming already. Your hand gripped his bicep as he lowered his head to nibble your earlobe. You could feel his cock in your stomach, it was so big. With every thrust, a whimper escaped you. “If you keep making that kind of noises I'm going to cum in your pretty pussy baby,” a whine was the only answer you could give him.

He slowed a little before thrusting in harder again, “Fuck you’re so tight.” your back arched as you groaned loudly. You cried loudly and begged for him to continue. His thrusts were hard and you wanted more. The fire inside, your burning desire grew even more. Your hips tried to move to his rhythm, but he was too abrupt for you to imitate. “Feels like your pussy has been made for me.” He growled. Your nails scratched his back as he nibbled the skin of your neck, enough to leave a mark tomorrow morning. “All innocent in your little white dress. You wore it for me ?”

You nodded with difficulty, and he laughed darkly. “Use your words, doll” he added, penetrating you hard which took your breath away, preventing you from gathering enough air to form even a word.

“I- Jesus! y-yes...”

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You’re close ?”

You hummed, but it wasn't enough for him. He lifted one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you even deeper. His hands gripped and pushed on you. You moaned so loudly that you put your hand back over your mouth to shut up. He remove your hand by grabbing your wrist, continuing to penetrate you hard. “Answer me.” his tone was almost as harsh as the way he was treating you. He fucked you like an animal.

“Do you like it when I fuck you hard ?” you nodded as tears of pleasure escaped your eyes. “Attagirl.”

Just when you thought it couldn't get any more euphoric, Rhett began nibbling your nipple once more. It was too much for you. You wrapped your other leg around his pelvis to pull him even closer to you. You had the vital need to feel him even deeper inside you.

“Rhett- please... Please !” you whined. He looked down at you with a growl, he shook his head at your mess. Desperate, you were unsure of what you were begging for anymore. Losing track of your time, you didn’t even knew for how long you were in that fucking truck.

You were biting your tongue when suddenly you felt he was hitting the right spot. He was deep inside you. You let yourself slide but he caught you with his big arms, holding you against him. He straightened both your bodies, forcing you into a new position. Giving him more access to fuck you hard. You could feel his whole cock inside you, his balls were hitting hard against your skin. You couldn't take it anymore; you were going to fucking cum. You looked briefly at him, his eyes were focusing on the view of his cock harshly coming in and out your pussy. His brows were furrowed because of his concentration.

“Fuck ! Yes, yes, yes just there ! Please Rhett just- yeah just there...” the tears that flowed prevented you from seeing properly. He kept you close to his body, almost not letting his dick out anymore. Enjoying your inside too much he wanted to make you cum very soon. Feeling your wet and tight hole, stretching just for him made him consider taking off the condom but he resisted.

Rhett kissed you one last time and without you seeing it coming you let yourself be carried away and your cum ran down the length of his cock. You let out a moan that echoed through the truck as he could feel your hot cum dripping onto his balls. You tried to catch your breath but couldn't get over your orgasm. You kept moving your hips a little so Rhett could cum too, but he put your leg back, holding your hips. As he immobilized you, you let out a few whines of pleasure. He came out of your pussy, letting out a pop. Then he'd slide off before resting his head on your sweaty belly.

“Rhett-”

“-baby rest a bit. I’m not finished with you yet.” He felt your body trembling at his words. Now that he'd fucked you and made you cum, it was time for him to use you to his needs. It was even better than in his dreams. He knew you weren't going to be able to take it all, so he preferred to give you some time to rest before he began to do what he wanted with you.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbot x reader #Rhett Abbott smut #Rhett Abbott one shot #outer range #Rhett Abbott x you #rhett abbott imagine

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bucky-lents · 1 year ago

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Now once they're on a few dates, Rhett's gotta pull the "how about i make myself your real boyfriend?" Line

Pretend To Be My Boyfriend? | Rhett Abbott x Reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors DNI!

Synopsis: When a guy won't leave you alone, you ask the pretty cowboy at the bar to pretend to be your boyfriend.

WC: 2900

Warnings: not much? this is mostly just fluff :) fake dating, mentions of harassment/guys being creepy, mentions of alcohol and drinking, flirting? like one mention of sex, i feel like that gif of rhett should be a warning

a/n: I've had this idea in my head for a while and finally decided to write it (: kinda feel like it's a bit shit but please enjoy, comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! ♥

“Hey, honey!” Rhett hears a sweet voice call out through the dimly lit, noisy bar. He senses a figure approaching to the left of the barstool he’s sat on, hand freezing halfway to his mouth as he goes to take a sip from his bottle of beer.

It takes him a moment to realize that you’re speaking to him, his confused expression meeting your hopeful, smiling one. He checks behind him for somebody else, but nope, there’s no one there — you’re definitely talking to him.

“Uh…hi? Do I- do we… know each other?” Rhett places his beer down on the bar, wincing as he asks the question; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten a woman that he’d met in this very bar and drunkenly hooked up with. And that situation never usually ends well for him.

You’re very pretty — beautiful, actually — and Rhett decides right then that he definitely doesn’t know you. There’s no way he’d ever be able to forget a face like that.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you step a little closer to him, and though you’re still smiling, within the newfound proximity Rhett can now see a frazzled, almost pleading look in your bright eyes as you go to speak again.

“Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?” You ask, your voice lowered to a level that only he can hear.

“Uh…” Rhett’s confusion is written all over his face, from his brows that furrow adorably to his gaping mouth.

Your own expression turns sheepish as you realize how silly the question sounds, and you’re quick to intercept and elaborate for him.

“There’s a guy over there,” you turn away from Rhett slightly and nod your head subtly to your left and catch a glimpse of the drunken stranger who wouldn’t leave you alone. “He’s been trying to hit on me for the last thirty minutes. Can’t seem to get the hint that I’m not interested.”

Rhett follows your gaze and sees a man sipping a beer and staring at the two of you from the other side of the bar.

“So… I told him that I was waiting for my boyfriend.”

When he meets your eyes again, he can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, but Rhett can sense that little hint of fear in your eyes and the worry in voice. And, though he doesn’t know you, he feels his protective instincts kick in.

You can see the change in his demeanor almost immediately, shoulders squared as he sends the other man across the room an intimidating glare that you don’t think you’d ever want to be on the receiving end of.

But, when Rhett’s gaze returns to you, his blue eyes soften and his lips turn up just a bit. He gestures to the empty stool next to his and you take the seat with a sigh of relief and a grateful smile.

“If I’m gonna be your boyfriend, then I guess you should know my name. I’m Rhett.”

Your own shoulders deflate in relief that this kind stranger — Rhett — has agreed to help you, a genuine smile now forming on your lips as you introduce yourself as well.

You’re not entirely sure what made you choose him, but for some reason you found yourself drawn to the pretty cowboy sitting alone at the bar and drinking a beer. And, you’re glad you did.

He’s even prettier up close — little curls peeking out beneath his Stetson hat, adorable button nose, and his eyes captivating pools of blue, intense in their gaze that’s now focused on you. His voice deep and rich, and oh-so soothing.

“You new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.” He’d definitely remember if he had.

You nod your head in confirmation. “Very new, I just moved here two days ago for work.”

“Well, welcome to Wabang. I promise not all us guys here are creeps like that asshole.” Rhett promises, once again glancing toward the man who had been harassing you earlier.

That draws a light chuckle out of you, but before you can respond, Rhett narrows his eyes and goes to speak again.

“Speaking of which, he’s still staring over here. I’m gonna put my arm around you… if you’re okay with that.”

Your head nods in agreement without really thinking much about it. Admittedly, you find yourself a little bit lost in the quiet, gravely tone of Rhett’s voice, that deep southern accent, and you’re fairly certain he could get you to agree to anything if he keeps talking to you like that.

Before you can register what’s happening, you’re enveloped by warmth and a pleasant musk that’s a spicy mix of vanilla and tobacco as Rhett leans in and drapes a protective arm over your shoulders.

“Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?” Rhett emphasizes the last word sarcastically; if he’s going to pretend to be your boyfriend, he’s going to have fun with it.

You take a second too long to answer, too busy trying to inhale Rhett’s scent again as discreetly as possible, hoping he doesn’t notice — he definitely notices.

When you look back up into his eyes, there’s a playful mirth to them, and a smirk overtaking his lips at how flustered you are by the close proximity and the use of the pet name.

“Y-yeah…yes.” You shake your head as though to clear it. “I’ll have a beer.”

As you inwardly cringe at yourself for stumbling through your answer, Rhett simply smirks and raises his hand to flag down the bartender and order your drink, all the while keeping you close to his side underneath his arm.

Only when the bartender places the bottle down in front of you does Rhett remove his arm from around your shoulders, and you find yourself already missing the warmth of the denim of his jacket on your bare skin.

“So, you moved here for work. What do you do?”

You tell him all about your new job and how excited you are for this fresh start in a new place, and Rhett listens intently, chiming in when necessary, loving how passionate you are about your work and content to just listen to the melodic sound of your voice.

“Alright, enough about me. What do you do, Rhett?” It’s the first time you’ve said his name tonight and Rhett feels his cheeks heat, deciding right then that he loves the way it sounds on your lips and that he needs to hear it more.

“I help out on my family’s ranch,” Rhett tells you. “…But I’m also a bull rider.” A small grin grows on his lips that tells you just how much he loves it.

“A bull rider?!” You’re beaming at him, eyes widened in surprise. “No way, that’s so cool! Way cooler than my job.”

Rhett lets out a deep chuckle and shakes his head in an attempt to protest. Bashful and blushing even harder now, he tries to brush it off – unable to take a compliment, but you’re having none of it.

“Come on, it’s very impressive! Maybe I’ll come cheer you on in the stands sometime.”

“Yeah?” The two of you share light-hearted grins and you give Rhett an affirmative nod. Yeah, he would definitely like that.

The two of you sit at the bar and talk for a while longer, Rhett buying you a couple more beers. You discuss anything and everything that comes to mind and share a good few laughs, the alcohol leaving you on just the right side of tipsy, feeling open and content – light.

Rhett only nurses the one beer that he’s been drinking since you approached him earlier in the evening. He finds himself already feeling a bit protective of you, liking the responsibility of keeping an eye on you and making sure you’re having a good time. Besides, he just really enjoys talking to you and doesn’t feel the need to get drunk tonight.

Rhett continues to also keep an eye on the guy who was bothering you earlier – though he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t try to approach you again since you’ve been at Rhett’s side for a while now, his arm once again finding itself wrapped securely around your side.

However, Rhett’s noticed throughout the night that he’s not the only man in the bar he’s caught looking at you – yes, you’re new in town, but he knows they’re also looking – staring really – because of how beautiful you are. And he maybe finds himself feeling a bit jealous.

“Seems you’ve caught the attention of just about every guy in here tonight.” Rhett informs you with a teasing lilt to his voice to make light of the situation, smirking into his beer bottle as he takes the final sip.

“Not that I want it.” You roll your eyes dramatically. A playful smirk then takes over your lips — you’ve got an idea. The corner of Rhett’s lips quirk up a bit too as his brow raises in question.

“Just trust me.” Your face is leaning in closer towards him and before Rhett can process what’s happening, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The fact that you’re tipsy has definitely provided you some liquid courage, that much is for sure when you pull back and shift to whisper into Rhett’s ear.

“Gotta let them know that I’m all yours.” Your tone is playful, sarcastically seductive, the warmth of your breath against the skin of Rhett’s earlobe sending a shiver down his spine and he has to fight to hold back a groan. God, does he wish that statement were true.

You can’t stop the little fit of giggles that escapes you as you pull back, and Rhett can’t help but chuckle along with you. Admiring the way your eyes crinkle up when you laugh, the adorable way that your nose wrinkles too. The skin of his cheek is still burning where your plush lips had kissed him.

Now it’s Rhett who has an idea, you can almost see the light bulb flicker behind his crystal blue eyes when they peer into yours again.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asks and your brows furrow adorably, curious as to where he’s going with this. You let him know that you were just going to call an Uber.

“I can drive you home… if you’d like.” Rhett’s nowhere near drunk from the one beer he’s had all evening.

“And there is a way you could show everyone you’re mine.” He proposes, that playful smirk returning to his lips and a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Oh?” You narrow your eyes at Rhett, but you can’t help but grin along with him, still wondering what he could possibly be suggesting.

Rhett goes to remove the cowboy hat from his head, repeating your own words from only a few moments ago. “Just trust me.”

He moves to place the hat atop your head, a silly grin still on his face as he adjusts it over your hair. You meet his look with a puzzled smile of your own, unsure of what he meant, but something within you tells you that you can – trust him, that is.

Rhett flags down the bartender and closes his tab before lightly knocking his fists on the wooden bar top.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Rhett chuckles like he knows something you don’t, and you can only roll your eyes in jest as you wait to be let in on the joke.

Rhett watches as you shrug on your jacket, stealing a long glance at you wearing his Stetson – feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest and enjoying the way it looks on your head – before he gently ushers you toward the exit of the bar.

Near the door, he sends a self-assured smirk to the asshole who had been bothering you earlier in the evening, who just watches along from a nearby booth with his buddies, a sour look on his face as you walk out into the night with Rhett’s arm draped over your shoulder.

Only when you’re secured into the passenger side of his truck does Rhett divulge the nature of his plan.

“So, uh — the hat,” Rhett nods towards his hat that you’re wearing and your fingers reach up to touch the worn fabric. “If you wear someone’s cowboy hat, you’re supposed to uh…ride the cowboy…”

He trails off, admittedly a bit nervous now – he doesn’t want to come off as a creep – as he explains the ‘cowboy hat rule’ as he called it, to you. His way of making the whole ‘fake boyfriend’ thing seem a bit more real to any prying eyes, showing everyone in the bar that you’re ‘his’.

You stare at him in bewilderment for a long moment, mouth agape. Your expression sends Rhett into a boisterous fit of laughter, unable to refrain, and earns him a playful smack on the arm.

You close your eyes and cover your face with your palms. “Oh my god…”

“Oh, come on. It’s kinda funny.” Rhett contends through his laughter and you send him what you hope to be a scornful pout. But there’s no real malice behind it, a smile fighting to break through as you find it hard to be annoyed with him.

“And it’s not like I’m gonna hold you to it.” He promises with a wink that might make you swoon if you weren’t already sitting down.

Before you know it, you’re joining in on the laughs, unable to hold back any longer and relishing in the humor or the situation.

Once you’ve rattled off your address to Rhett, the ride to your home is filled with quiet music pouring from the truck’s radio – though it merely serves as background noise as you and Rhett spend the entire 20-minute drive talking. Sharing little details about yourselves and making plenty more jokes. His Stetson still sitting pretty atop your head.

Despite having spent hours talking with him in the bar, you still find yourself wanting to know more about him, not wanting the conversation – or this night – to end.

The truck reaches your little house all too soon, and Rhett finds himself not wanting the night to end either. Pretending to be your boyfriend was the highlight of his evening and he wants nothing more than to see you again.

When he stops the truck at the end of the little path leading to your front door, Rhett clears his throat before moving to speak.

“So, I — uh, I was wondering, c-could I… maybe get your phone number?” Rhett asks quietly, a pink flush taking over his pale cheeks as he internally curses himself for sounding so nervous.

You don’t mind it, though — this seemingly tough cowboy growing all flustered and stumbling over his words for you? You couldn’t find it more endearing.

Rhett holds his breath as your pretty eyes — slightly glassy still from the alcohol you’d consumed earlier in the evening, look straight into his blue ones, and you grace him with a coy smile.

“Of course. Who else am I going to call when guys are harassing me and I need a fake boyfriend?”

Rhett releases the breath he was holding and bites back a smile, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Great.”

Once you’ve exchanged numbers, you gingerly remove Rhett’s hat from your head, smoothing down your hair.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you scoot closer toward him in the bench seat, reaching up to carefully place it back on top of his head — your eyes gazing into Rhett’s blue ones as they peer back into yours, the two of you sharing bashful smiles.

With the cowboy hat secured on the head of its rightful owner, you move to pull away. However, you pause before you get too far, deciding to lean in and place one last kiss to Rhett’s cheek before climbing out of his truck.

Rhett’s in such a daze – cheeks flushing that bright pink once again as warmth radiates from where your lips had kissed him, and a dopey grin on his lips – that he almost doesn’t notice as you walk around to the driver’s side of his truck, leaning a bit into the open window. Your face close to his, lit up all pretty in the moonlight.

“Thank you for turning my shitty night around, Rhett.” You bite back a grin. “I had a lot of fun.”

Before Rhett can respond – still flustered from the kiss to his cheek and now from hearing you say his name again, you back away from his window, making your way towards the path. Walking backwards, still facing the truck and grinning at him all the while.

“Oh, and you’re a really great fake boyfriend!” You call out.

Breaking off into a giggle that carries in the night’s slight breeze and Rhett can only chuckle back, shaking his head as he watches you with a fond smile.

With that, you turn around and walk off to your house with a spring in your step. Rhett stays sat there in his truck until he sees you make it through your front door safely, and he’s absolutely beaming.

Rhett's going to call you first thing tomorrow. He hopes that he can turn this ‘fake’ boyfriend situation into something real.

Thank you for reading! x

taglist: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 ♥

also tagging a few people that I think may enjoy/liked my last rhett fic ♥ : @roleycoleyreccenter @sunlightmurdock @rhettabbotts @mothdruid @lewmagoo @foreverrandomwritings @pillow-titties @sobshoney

#rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott imagine #lewis pullman #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott one shot #my writing

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girly-girlk · 11 days ago

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nightly comfort

rafe cameron x reader

summary: rafe cameron’s girlfriend calls him while he’s at a party

rafe cameron was known for being the live of the party. always standing out in the crowds of people that came to the different parties in the outer banks. his girlfriend, y/n, however, was more of a shy girl. know one really knew of her and maybe that’s what made rafe so attracted by her.

rafe was at a party that topper had thrown, but only this time, it didn’t feel right and that might’ve been because y/n wasn’t with him. he hated when she wasn’t with him, but he knew that she didn’t like big gatherings like this. so when she said she was going to stay home, rafe reluctantly let her.

he was with his friends, topper and kelce, having a few beers and just talking about random things that came up, when rafe got a phone call.

“ohh, is that your girl?” topper jokingly said, purposely trying to get rafe annoyed. rafe shot topper a look and answered the phone.

“rafey?” y/n’s voice rang out when he put the phone to his ear. god, she sounded so cute. rafe knew that she was most likely all ready for bed and was lying down, underneath her comforter.

“hey, baby,” rafe said in a soft voice that he had only used for her. “everything okay?”

there was a brief pause for a moment, which put rafe on edge. “mhm, i’m okay.” her voice rang back out eventually. “just miss you…”

rafe could feel his heart melt at the softness in her voice. he had a small smile on his face which made topper and kelce give him a weird look, but he ignored them. “oh, i miss you too, baby.”

“can you…nevermind,” y/n’s voice said softly again. she had wanted to ask him if he could come over, but didn’t want to interrupt his time at the party.

“i’m on my way, princess. i’ll be there in ten minutes,” rafe says, already knowing what she was going to ask him. he said a quick goodbye to her and hung up, putting his phone in his back pocket.

“leaving already?” topper asked him.

rafe was already halfway out the door when topper yelled out to him, “my girl needs me.” and with that, rafe left the party and went to see his favorite girl.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you

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zeroseuniverse · 3 months ago

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Royal Duties

Word count: 763 Summary:“You’re an idiot,” he whispered when your eyes met his. “And you’re overprotective,” you shot back, but your voice was weak. He smiled then, that soft, devastating smile. “Maybe so. I think I’m actually falling in love with this idiot.” Pairing: Prince Yunho X Royal reader

Taglist: @sh0dor1

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The throne room was silent as the announcement echoed through its gilded halls. The words still rang in your ears, sharp and suffocating. An arranged marriage. Your arranged marriage. To Prince Yunho of the Eastern Kingdom — a man you’d never met, whose reputation as the people’s prince preceded him.

You stood tall, chin lifted in defiance even as your heart pounded. You were no ornamental royal, no fragile figurehead to be tucked away behind palace walls. You fought alongside your soldiers, stood at the front lines, bled and bruised and burned for your kingdom. You’d earned the respect of your people through action, not birthright. And now they wanted to marry you off like a pawn.

Your people deserved better. You deserved better.

Still, duty was duty. The alliance with the Eastern Kingdom was crucial. And so you swallowed your pride and prepared to meet the man who would change your life.

When you met Yunho for the first time, he was exactly as the stories said — warm-eyed and golden, with an easy smile and the kind of presence that commanded attention without demanding it. He looked every inch the perfect prince, with his sun-kissed skin and the confidence of someone who knew his people adored him.

And you hated that you liked him immediately.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, his voice low and steady, dipping into a bow that felt more genuine than ceremonial. “It’s an honor.”

You studied him, trying to find some weakness in that perfect composure. “We’ll see about that,” you replied coolly, unwilling to be charmed.

The days that followed were a delicate dance of formality and tension. Yunho was respectful, patient — but he was also protective in a way that grated against your independence. He shadowed your every step, though he never once overstepped. When you rode out with the soldiers for a training exercise, he followed. When you insisted on inspecting the border defenses yourself, he was there, watching your every move with quiet intensity.

He was competent — you had to give him that. He handled a sword well and commanded respect with ease. But his careful attentiveness felt like a cage, and you weren’t sure whether it was duty or something else keeping him so close.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said one evening, his voice soft but firm as you sharpened your sword by the fire.

“Do what?” you asked without looking up.

“Carry this weight alone.”

You froze, the unexpected gentleness in his tone hitting harder than any blade. But you forced yourself to keep your walls up. “I don’t need your protection, Prince Yunho.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

The battle came sooner than anyone expected.

You were side by side on the front lines when the enemy broke through the outer defenses. Yunho fought with a skill and ferocity that matched his reputation — and when you fell, a sword slicing across your side, it was his arms that caught you.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. And for the first time, you saw the fear beneath his calm.

After the battle, when you woke in the healer’s tent, he was there — his hand clasping yours tightly, his eyes dark with worry.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered when your eyes met his.

“And you’re overprotective,” you shot back, but your voice was weak.

He smiled then, that soft, devastating smile. “Maybe so. I think I’m actually falling in love with this idiot.”

The weeks following the battle shifted everything between you. The walls you’d built began to crack, and Yunho was patient with every inch you gave him. He trained with you in the mornings and listened to you at council meetings, never overshadowing but always supporting.

One evening, as the sun dipped low over the training grounds, you found yourselves sparring. Sweat slicked your skin, and your breath came in quick bursts as your swords clashed. And then, in one swift move, Yunho disarmed you — his blade at your throat and his eyes burning into yours.

“Yield,” he murmured.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you surged forward and kissed him — hard and desperate and long overdue.

When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, his breath stolen. “You never do what’s expected,” he whispered, wonder lacing his voice.

“Never,” you agreed, and kissed him again.

The war still loomed, and the kingdom’s future was uncertain. But with Yunho at your side — his strength and warmth and unwavering belief in you — you finally felt ready to face whatever came next.

Together.

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mini-ism · 5 months ago

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assorted lighter thoughts/headcanons:

- my personal fave, he can play the electric guitar. and REALLY REALLY WELL. hes also proficient with the acoustic guitar.

- can sing, but hes very embarrassed (ashamed?) of it. he only really sings if a song is catchy or hes absolutely wasted.

- speaking of wasted, the common consensus says hes a total lightweight. taps out after three shots, the fourth will have him on the floor either laughing or crying.

- slightly cat preferential, but a huge pet lover. ranges from dogs, to parrots, to bugs, to snakes… if anyone owns a pet, its like hes an animal whisperer. they loooove on him, hes very affectionate toward animals and bangoo alike (this is primarily canon).

- collects leather jackets. custom commissions a few of his daily one just incase its getting dry cleaned or was ruined.

- overall very in tune with animals and plants. he likes gardening, but the outer ring isnt good for them. the soil is too dry, and the weather is arid, he chooses to look over cacti instead.

- may or may not vent to yeh yeh.

- hes superstitious. black cats, mirrors, even unfortunate numbers, hes perturbed and avoidant of it all. he doesnt talk about it much (brushes it off or makes an offhanded comment), but if you focus in on him, you can find him actively dodging any “bad luck.”

- fav sport is basketball.

- “saves himself” for the right one. take that as you will.

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threestarsinline · 1 year ago

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OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, I JUST HAVE NO WORDS FOR THIS MASTERPIECE. I'M NOT RELIGIOUS BUT THIS SHOULD BE IN AN ALTAR, IT'S A FREAKING MASTERPIECE, I'M JUST GOING TO MAKE AN ALTAR MYSELF AND PRAY TO IT EVERY DAY AND EVERY NIGHT, THIS IS INCREDIBLE, I AM DEAD ON THE FLOOR AND I AM NOT GETTING UP EVER AGAIN (More fangirling and love for this fic under the cut)

I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST READ THIS JUST LIKE THAT, FOR FREE, LIKE, I WOULD GIVE AN ORGAN TO READ THIS I SWEAR, IT'S THE BEST RHETT FIC I HAVE EVER READ, I AM NOT KIDDING, NEW FAV RHETT FIC UNLOCKED. I REALLY CAN'T BELIEVE THAT I CAN READ THIS, SERIOUSLY, I WOULD GIVE YOU MY SOUL IN THANKS BECAUSE OMG, I WOULD PAY A MILLION DOLLARS TO READ THIS, THIS SHOULD BE EXPOSED IN A GALLERY AS ONE OF THE GREATEST WORKS OF ALL TIME, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY EMOTIONS THIS PULLED OUT OF ME, IT GAVE ME SUCH A VISCERAL REACTION IN THE BEST OF WAYS, I WAS SCREAMING, CRYING, DYING AND THEN COMING BACK TO LIFE.

IT WAS JUST EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED, IT HURT SO MUCH BUT THE COMFORT AT THE END WAS EVERYTHING, IT TRULY MADE EVERYTHING WORTH IT. YOUR WRITING IS JUST AMAZING, I HAVE NO WORDS, I MAY BE REPEATING MYSELF BUT THIS FIC JUST CHANGED MY LIFE I SWEAR, NOTHING HAS EVER FELT AS CATHARTIC AS READING THIS, I AM GOING TO FOREVER THINK ABOUT THIS.

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING THINGS FOR WORK BUT READING THIS MASTERPIECE WAS MORE IMPORTANT, IT WAS A NEED, I JUST CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR WRITING THIS AND SHARING IT WITH US, I HAVE A PERMANENT SMILE ON MY FACE AND I DON'T KNOW IF IT'S EVER GOING TO GO AWAY, I CERTAINLY DON'T WANT IT TO.

I AM LITERALLY LIVING MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS DREAMS THROUGH THIS FIC, IT WAS A TROPE THAT I ALREADY LOVED BUT THIS FIC JUST CEMENTED IT AND RAISED IT FOR ME. I MAY NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND BUT AT LEAST I HAVE THIS FIC, AND I SERIOUSLY WOULDN'T WANT IT ANY OTHER WAY.

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FIC IS JUST WONDERFUL, I MEAN, THE LONGING, THE YEARNING, THE PINING, THAY ARE MY FAVORITE AND I EAT THEM UP EVERY SINGLE TIME AND YOU JUST PORTRAYED ALL OF THOSE FEELINGS SO WELL I WANT TO DIE.

I LOVE SOULMATE AUS AND THE ANGST FROM HANAHAKI DISEASE WITH A HAPPY ENDING AND OMG, DID YOU DELIVER QUEEN, IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE READ A FIC WITH THAT AU AND I JUST LOVE IT, IT'S JUST SO INCREDIBLE. THIS WAS DELICIOUSLY WRITTEN, JUST THE ANGST, ALL THE FEELINGS, IT'S JUST SERIOUSLY INCREDIBLE, I LOVED EVERY SINGLE PART OF IT.

AND THE WORLD BUILDING AND YOUR WRITING STYLE OMG THEY ARE JUST AMAZING!!! I COULD LITERALLY FEEL THE STORM COMING, THE WIND ON MY FACE, THE RAIN FALLING, EVERYTHING!! OMG JUST- *CHEF'S KISS*, I HAVE NEVER READ SOMETHING LIKE THIS I SWEAR, YOU DESERVE ALL THE AWARDS, EVERYTHING IN THIS LIFE, I LOVE THIS FIC.

ALL EVENTS IN MY LIFE WILL NOW BE DESCRIBED AS PRE-READING THIS FIC AND AFTER IT. JUST THANK YOU, A MILLION TIMES THANK YOU. I'M SORRY IF THIS IS TOO MUCH, I JUST HAVE TOO MANY EMOTIONS, I AM NOT OKAY BUT IN THE BEST OF WAYS, I AM ONLY SAD THAT I WON'T EVER GET TO EXPERIENCE READING THIS AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME, BUT I AM GLAD THAT I WILL HAVE THE PLEASURE OF READING IT AGAIN A HUNDRED TIMES OVER FOR THE REST OF TIME, IT WAS JUST SUCH A DELIGHTFUL READ.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, YOU ARE AMAZING, I COULD KEEP RAMBLING SAYING HOW INCREDIBLE THIS IS AND HOW AMAZING YOU ARE, BUT YOU DESERVE A BREAK OF THIS RANT. JUST, THANK YOU AGAIN, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, AND THANK YOU, THIS REALLY IS ONE OF THE BEST FICS THAT I HAVE EVER READ ON THIS SITE, NOT ONLY COUNTING RHETT FICS, BUT ALL OF THEM, EVERYONE SHOULD GO READ THIS RIGHT FUCKING NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW

Okay, and now that I have calmed down (more of less), after that initial rant of finishing the fic (that I have read over several times, corrected spelling errors from my emotional distressed state after reading the fic and divided into paragraphs to make it more readable and not an incoherent mess of me screaming how much I love this fic in capital letters), here are a few more collected thoughts after I literally spent an hour staring into space, trying to process the masterpiece that I had just read (it's been 6 hours since I read the fic now and it has not left my brain since, and I don't think that it's going to anytime soon. My day was supposed to be productive, I had a lot of things to do, but this fic got in the way of that, and don't get me wrong, I love it, the best way to spend my day, really, I have no regrets). Anyway, here we goooo:

As I said, I will forever think about this fic. It's just so well written, I could feel every emotion and everything was just described so so so well, from the coughing of the flowers to the storm, just every single thing, the details were amazing. And OMG the kiss scene.

The kiss scene. What can I say about it? It was incredible. Amazing. Showstopping. Spectacular. Never been done before, completely unique jsshsjsj. Everything that I needed and more. When she got out of the truck and went inside I was like: RHETT HONEY YOU BETTER GET OUT TOO, WALK UP THOSE STEPS AND KISS HER RIGHT ABOUT FUCKING NOW JDHSJSKS

And omg THANK GOD (aka you) that he did. That first kiss was PERFECTION I swear. I could just feel everything from that moment, the hidden and unspoken feelings, the need, the love, EVERYTHING!! And I loved all of it. Plus, the smut was SUPERB, I just couldn't stop reading.

Also, I listened to the two songs that you mentioned (both the one that inspired the title and the one that inspired the kiss scene) and let me tell you, I am OBSESSED now. I added them to my playlist and I'm going to listen to them on repeat, I love them. That way, whenever they pop up I will be reminded of this awesome fic and reminisce on everything that it made me feel, almost as if reading the fic all over again.

Also, the ending, HELLO??????? It was just so so wonderful and so fulfilling, I was literally in teaaaaars 😭😭 They totally deserved that happy ending, thank you for giving it to them 🥹🥹 And the final addition of the flowers growing by the house was just the perfect little finishing touch wrapping this incredible story in a perfect bow.

I think that with that I have commented on everything that I wanted (though I'm sure that I'm missing a few things), but just let me say that I really am missing the words to really be able to convey everything that this story made me feel. It is now one of my favorite fics EVER and will forever be glad that I stumbled upon it. Also, roses and spiderworts are my favorite flowers now hsjsjsksk. So, to sum up, just, thank you for writing this fic and sharing it with us. Really, thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️❤️❤️

every storm runs out of rain | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 17,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, Hanahaki disease, soulmates AU, childhood friends to lovers, alcohol, food mentions, vomiting, first kisses, thunderstorms, (temporarily) unrequited feelings, almost kiss, unprotected sex, eventual happy endings 🌹. Vaguely based on the Gary Allan song of the same name. Brief Summary: It's a cruelty you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The perpetual ache of your heart, longing for a man who was never meant to be yours. Everything about him is as if he's made for you, and yet, your tattoos don't match. You're not made for each other.

It's hard to tell if the feelings started with the stuffiness in your lungs or if it's something that has always been there.

An indescribable sort of longing that has flown beneath your radar for the better half of a decade. The kind of thing that has let you assume a false sense of comfort under the title of childhood friend.

Best friend, if Rhett has a few drinks buzzing through his system. Two shining plaques with your name written across them in bold letters.

But neither of them are what you and your dumb heart crave. The pride of being called his significant other is a feeling you will never know, so long as your tattoos are around to remind you that they don't match. So, so close in nature, and yet, they're not the same.

It's a cruelty you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The perpetual ache of your heart, longing for a man who was never meant to be yours. Everything about him is as if he's made for you, so perfect he could fit into your life like a puzzle piece, and yet fate has destined him and you to fall in love with strangers. Not each other.

Never each other.

That tickling rises in the back of your throat. Snowballing larger and larger until you can no longer—

A horn blares.

Your head jerks back toward the street just in time to see the passenger door of an old GMC squeal open. Rhett. Leaned all the way across his bench seat, hair in his face and all.

"Y' comin' or not?" He chirps, already beginning to impatiently pat on the cloth seat, beckoning you in like he would a stray cat.

In this cold little town, your heart burns a little warmer.

How he got here so fast, you'll never know, but you've never been more thankful for it. Water splashes beneath your feet, darting toward his truck and away from the crowd of people raging on behind you. Up into your designated place in his passenger seat, slamming the door closed before you've even gotten settled, effectively shutting off the thumping music and flashing neon lights.

"How did you know where I was?" Because last you recall, you never told him about where you were headed tonight.

Rhett just hums, the noise lost to the rumble of his truck engine. "Recognized the floor in the picture y' sent."

Of course, that would be one of his many odd talents.

"Being able to identify a bar just from the floor tile might mean you have a bit of a drinking problem, Cowboy," your eyes roll, shifting to rest against the door.

"Listen," the streetlight catches in his eyes, lighting them up with a memory, "that checkered pattern is cute 'til your head stars spinnin'."

He's...got a point.

Ugh.

The silence that falls into the truck is a comfortable one. It's the kind of quiet that lets you hear the impatient drum of his fingers, dancing to the soft drone of his radio set to an old country station. Backdropped by the sound of water spraying beneath his tires, washing away weeks upon weeks of built-up dirt from the ranch.

His whole truck could use a good wash, but it won't see a bucket of soap and water until he scores another date with some no-name from the rodeo grounds. Or alternatively, you show up in the middle of the night and scrub it from top to bottom.

Your phone lights up with a text asking about where you went. Sent from some guy you cared so little about that you haven't even bothered to save his number in your contacts. But as you move to unlock the screen, it opens up to a different set of messages.

You: Nothing quite like being stuck at a bar, waiting on your designated driver to decide she wants to leave. 10:47 PM

Rhett: What's wrong? 10:51 PM

You: I told a guy I didn't want to dance, and he 'accidentally' spilled his drink on me 🙄 10:51 PM

You: But my ride doesn't want to leave for another hour or two. 10:52 PM

You never noticed the message that was sent right after yours.

Rhett: On my way 10:55 PM

Maybe not every man in this world has gone to shit.

Rhett's hand bumps into your chest, some kind of gray fabric balled up in his hand, "here."

You've seen this old shirt before; it's the first thing he ever bought online, hadn't realized until it arrived that it was a few sizes too big for him. Not particularly ideal for a cowboy who can get caught on equipment, but perfect for your impromptu sleepovers.

"You still have this old thing?" You're already beginning to tug your damp T-shirt over your head. Potential onlookers be damned, you're ready to be free of the overwhelming whiskey bitterness reeking from it.

The back of his knuckles graze up your naked side, guided by the thin path of a decade-old scar. A branding from younger, brighter days; the ones when Cecelia would let you spend weekends on the ranch. Waking up at dawn to help Rhett with his ranch chores because the quicker things got done, the sooner you got to run down and play in the creekbed.

"Still can't believe that piece of glass marred ya like that," Rhett mutters after a long moment. You can't see into his thick skull, but you've got a feeling that he's got a similar memory flickering through his mind.

"To be fair, I did fall on it," slipping your arms through the clean shirt, you pull it over your head, and once again, that old scar is out of sight.

That half-hearted chuckle sends a warmth rushing through your veins. The exact one that shouldn't be there. But he hasn't the slightest clue of the wildfire sitting next to him, back to tapping along on his steering wheel as he drives through the main stretch of town. Past feedstores, tourist shops, dinners, the grocery store, and every other little niche boutique hidden between.

"Thank you." You hardly recognize that it's you speaking. Hadn't realized it was your voice until the sound of it met your ears.

It's a little too quiet in this truck.

But Rhett just reaches over to shake your shoulder. "Y' don't gotta thank me for shit like that," for a fleeting second, he's got just enough time to look away from the road and offer you a lazy smile. "'s what friends do, ain't it?"

Your chest feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. Meek, you nod, attention suddenly on the floorboard and nothing else—nothing else to say.

Yeah. That's what friends do.

He doesn't make mention of it, but you've got the feeling that your SOS text must have interrupted another one of his dates. A pile of rose petals rests at your feet, scattered as if they've been swept off the seat in a hurry to make space. Caked in mud and the rainwater that tracked in from your shoes. Storebought, that much you know for sure.

Roses don't grow in Wabang.

The next time you see him, it's planned.

You have, for some reason, allowed yourself to become roped into the craze of Wabang's beloved Sugarbeet festival. Right smack dab in the middle of some old ranching land that the county bought some years back. It would have been a pleasant idea if the festival was hosted in spring or autumn and not in the blistering heat of summer. Not an ounce of shade to be found, nothing but cheap tents to protect you from the beating sun.

It's the kind of misery that makes the outdoors feel like a goddamn oven, and heading out to start your car is its own kind of devil. The air jammed in your AC blasts your face with the boiling winds of hell itself. So damn intense that if Rhett's truck weren't crawling down your driveway, you would have canceled and called it a day.

And you're so glad that you didn't, because good lord.

The last thing you expected was for Rhett to hop out in that unbuttoned flannel, broad chest on display for all to see. The sleeve falls just far enough from his shoulder that you can see the scar hiding below his left collarbone.

"Quite the festival outfit you've got," you chirp, dragging your eyes away from his bull tattoo and over to a nearby tree, feigning interest. The back of your throat is starting to tickle, lungs tight as you fend off the urge to cough. Not here, not here, not here.

He laughs, "What, y' don't think I look good like this?"

You do, but he doesn't need to know that. Not in the slightest.

"Its...certainly a choice," faking a grimace, you turn your attention back to your car, slowly but surely growing cooler the longer it runs. A pleasure that Rhett and his broken air conditioning unit haven't known since last summer.

You don't mind the idea of it staying broken if he keeps showing up at your house looking like this. Even if that does mean that you become his ride on the hotter days, fearing an onset of heat stroke.

The passenger door is silent as he opens it. No longer squealing due to whatever he and Royal did to it last weekend. Being friends with a family of DIY ranchers has its perks.

Thunk_

"Shit."

You blink. Was that...?

Yeah.

It was.

As if last time wasn't enough of a lesson, Rhett's got his knees pinned up against your glovebox, the seat too far forward for him and his big body to fit. Though this time, he isn't hurriedly pawing at the seat levers like he'll die if he doesn't get any more space. Instead, he's resigned to a frown. More annoyed with himself than anything.

"You alright there?"

Rhett's sigh is so heavy that his shoulders visibly deflate. "Yeah," reaching off to the side, pushing the seat back as far as it can go. "Humbled, but 'm alright."

It's toward the end of your drive that you notice the flower petals sitting on your dashboard. Roses, you think. It must be what you get for leaving your windows rolled down all morning, vulnerable to adventurous squirrels and other varmints that enjoy trespassing into property they don't own.

They're certainly not from you, and you would have asked Rhett if your destination hadn't come up so quickly. Fighting for a parking space in the withered grass is a bigger task than folks let on. Even with folks on the ground, pointing you to the perfect spot, someone will always try to steal it out from under you.

For a festival in such a small town, there is a hell of a lot going on inside of it. Food trucks, concession stands full of sweet treats, craft booths, and cheap knick-knacks bought offline to resell under the guise of being handmade locally. Apple bobbing, the duck pond, and ring toss. There's a precariously placed dragon roller coaster and a horse carousel that Rhett tries convincing you to get on.

Worse. There are so many people. Faces you recognize and those you've never seen before. Waiting in lines and shoving themselves between you and Rhett because the small gap between your shoulders looked like a good opening to get somewhere quicker.

"'s a lil crazy out here, don't ya think?" Rhett's asking through a laugh, once again stepping over to you. Two kids dart between you, their hands occupied with bags of fake goldfish.

Only took a decade for them to learn not to hand out live fish. You can still remember the three you and Rhett got when you were small. One didn't survive the drive back to his house, and the other two managed to stick around long enough to see New Year's.

Rest in peace, Goldie Junior and Patches.

"I think it's always been crazy," tilting your head to cough into your elbow, dislodging that goddamn tickling sensation—you look away before you can see what it is.

There's a girl off to the side, staring in your direction. Or rather, Rhett's direction. Long, wavy hair and a delicate sundress, the kind of woman who looks like she's walked right off the beach cover of a magazine. Her warm gaze has long since settled on Rhett; it's a look you've seen a million and one times at the rodeo. The one that gets him a little weak in the knees.

You look away as quickly as they flickered over there. If you don't make eye contact, maybe she won't come over to introduce herself.

"We weren't that bad, though," but then, pausing to look at you, concern lacing his narrowed gaze, "...right?"

Rose-tinted memories flicker through your mind. Rhett falling and breaking his wrist after taking you out on a green horse. Trespassing onto the Tillerson property to play with Luke and Billy, only to get hauled home in the back of a police cruiser, 'cause their momma didn't care much for you two. Getting busted, sneaking out your bedroom window to go spend the night with Rhett. All those times, you had to run through back alleys together because you'd been caught out after Wabang's curfew.

"I like to think we were relatively well-behaved," concluding after a moment. Though your families may have a vastly different opinion on that.

Laughter rumbles from you at the same time it does from Rhett, shoulders bumping together. Sends a little shock of warmth rippling through your bones, twisting around your heart like briars.

Maybe the conversation would have lasted longer if you didn't get distracted. Rhett lays eyes on a truck dedicated to a locally crafted beer, and the small frame of a self-serve station from the local candy shop catches your attention. It only makes sense that you would step aside and regroup in a few minutes. You're in desperate need of a breather before that girl works up the nerve to approach him and turns you into a third wheel.

There's more to this little station than what initially met the eye. It's shelves full of caramel apples, peanut brittle, fudges of every flavor you can imagine, covered pretzels, cookies, and hard candies galore. And here you thought that it would have been wiped clean by the folks who came early in the morning before the sun could reach mind-numbing temperatures. Even your favorite candy is here, the last box left on the shelf.

The price is a little steep, but the flavor of them on your tongue is enough to distract from the pained cries of your wallet. If Rhett knew these were here, then he absolutely would have skipped out on beer in favor of convincing you to split them together—the candy mooch.

But you must have taken too long to make your decision because you don't see Rhett. Not by the crudely decorated truck, and he said he would be waiting next to the old wooden bench under the oak tree, but it's entirely empty. Not a cowboy in sight. That stuffiness arises in your throat again.

Maybe he's...

"Hey!" A herd of kids are darting around you. Like a bunch of cats scrambling from the bang of a tractor. One slams into the side of your leg as she rushes past. It doesn't affect her in the slightest, but your feet stumble. Knocked off kilter. Your open container of candy threatens to spill onto the dirt.

But then another kid is bursting through the crowd, and this one...

You recognize this one.

"Amy?"

She doesn't need to say a damn thing. Her wide eyes tell all you need to know.

The crowd is too tall for her to see over it, but as she tugs you along behind her, you've got the feeling that she knows exactly where she's going. Navigating the festival based on terrain alone, over thinly spread gravel, and down a broad dirt path. Her hand clings to your wrist so tightly that her knuckles have gone white.

You don't know who she's bringing you to or what could have happened. But it has to be something. Perry could have fallen into another one of his rages. Rhett very well may be doing something dumber than getting a DUI on the back of a horse. Or, or—

It's both of them.

Perry's clawing at Trevor like a goddamn cat. His teeth bared like an animal. Crazed. Feral. Someone's got him by the collar. But it's not doing anything. He barks something incoherent. Jabbing a pointed finger at Trevor. Amy's shoulders jolt. Squeezing your wrist impossibly tighter.

Plaid shirts scuffle behind them. Cowboy boots and Prada sneakers kick up plumes of dirt. Two brick walls slamming into one another. Caught in a spiral until someone makes the first pull backward. Luke's fist connects with Rhett's jaw.

Flower petals burst into the air.

All of a sudden, Luke is jumping backward, his palms raised to the sky. A rare white flag. One that you didn't even know was in the Tillerson arsenal. "I'm sorry, man," is all he can say. Pale as a damn ghost.

Almost pale as the baby pink petals fluttering onto the dirt floor.

"Is that..." Amy's the one to break the silence, looking your way as if you hold all the answers. In a sense, maybe you do. "I thought it was a myth?"

Air catches in your windpipe. Feels like you're about to choke. "I did, too."

What the fight was over, you're not sure. It couldn't have been something serious; they've dropped the issue far too quickly for it to be something worth fighting over. There and gone within the blink of an eye. The Tillerson brothers are dispersing into the crowd without another foul word, Rhett's wordlessly pawing at the fresh red mark on his jaw, and Perry's barking something you don't care to hear.

Amy's long nails are biting into your skin, threatening to tear through and draw blood, but you can't ask her to loosen up or let go. The sting is half the reason you haven't unraveled like a loose ball of yarn. It isn't enough to stop your lower belly from twisting and turning, a bitterness rising in the back of your raw throat.

"Sorry," Rhett's voice comes so suddenly that you jolt.

"I leave you alone for five minutes." Your tone comes out blander than you intended, doesn't match the roll of your eyes, deliberately avoiding the sight of flowers lying in the dirt.

He must catch onto it because his frown deepens. But he doesn't say anything, and neither do you. Only offering a wave and a forced smile when Amy ultimately ventures off with Perry for another one of his ice cream apologies. Those seem to be happening more and more lately.

Hypothetically, someone should say something. Explain what the fight was about, how he got across the festival so damn fast. Was the beer any good? Want to share this candy before your jaw starts to ache like a bitch? The words are flickering through your head a million miles a minute, but not a syllable makes it to your tongue.

"It's over someone at the bar," Rhett's admission comes in the tune of a guilty child confessing to breaking a vase. Meek. Like he'll fall apart if pushed any harder. "If that's what y' were wanderin'."

Falling back into the character of annoying best friend is easy. All you've got to do is throw your weight into his side, not strong enough to deliver a playful shove. "So there really is another person stuck with that god awful tattoo," letting your mouth rise into a smile, almost thrilled to be pulling this off so well.

"Hey!" He's pushing you back, laughing, though he's careful not to knock you off your feet this time."'Least mine ain't a shoe."

Defiant, you raise your left arm, the tattoo on your wrist just as dark and bold as it was the day you were born. "It's a lucky horseshoe, thank you very much."

And just for a little bit, you can deceive yourself into thinking you can still breathe.

You never do put the passenger seat back into its place. It's so far back that you catch yourself thinking it's not there at all; more than once, you clamber into the vehicle and think someone has robbed you of it. A part of you wishes it would happen. That some ridiculous bandit would break in and take that seat.

It would be doing your dignity a favor; you're acting as if he's dead.

You passed his truck on the way over here, parked outside the Handsome Gambler. If you weren't worried about wrecking, you would have tried to get a glimpse through the open door to spot him with his shiny new soulmate.

A good friend would stop in and say hello; if she makes Rhett happy, then you should be happy. It should be on the forefront of your mind; you're three stores down from the bar, but your feeble heart jerks in your chest with a familiar sourness. Hand trembling, struggling to hang onto this little bag of chips.

A good friend would be happy for him.

But you're not a good friend.

And if this cashier doesn't hurry up, you might also become a horrible customer. Your stomach is twisting like you're about to puke, something bitter rising in the back of your throat. Damn near dropping the receipt when she hands it to you, shoving it into the bag, and darting out the open door.

You hardly make it to the edge of the sidewalk. Keeling over with a wretched noise.

But the only thing that comes up is the shit that's been lodged in your chest all afternoon, stubbornly sitting in your chest with the weight of a damn elephant. Refusing to move, restricting your airway until you crack, and confess your feelings to a man who was never meant for you.

"Hey!"

Bleary, your eyes peel open. Really hope they're not talking to you.

"I have your sidekick!" Sherrif Joy's voice cuts across the night air like a knife. Swift and straight to the point.

Turning your head might be the thing that puts you on the ground, vision spinning like your eyes have gone loose in your skull. Funny. You can almost deceive yourself into thinking that's Rhett she's towing along.

Maybe because it is him. Boots dragging against the sidewalk, shoulders so loose that they sway in the wind, eyes hardly open, simply led along by the hand Joy has on his bicep. You've got just enough time to paw at your mouth with your sleeve before she's close enough to notice that something may be off.

"I know he's not your responsibility," the glint in her eye suggests she's getting more amusement out of this than she should be. Probably because this wouldn't be the first, second, or third time that she's sought you out. "But he wouldn't shut his mouth when he saw you."

Rhett's grin is too bright for his flushed face. "Hi."

You don't need to look at your phone to know that it's too damn early for this, and yet, you can't seem to muster up the slightest bit of irritation as you ask. "How are you already drunk at eleven at night?"

"I—" Hiccup. "Been here all evenin'." Shreds of red rose petals cling to his lips, flaking off with the movement of his mouth and fluttering to the ground like rain.

Oh, Rhett.

"If you don't want him, I can bring him to the station," Joy always says this, the same damn line over and over, as if she doesn't know what you will ultimately say, "it's no big deal for me."

Looping your hand through the handle of your grocery bag, you reach out to take Rhett by the wrist. He comes to you easily, long arms reaching out to wrap around you, clinging like an oversized piece of velcro.

"I'll take him," feigning annoyance is impossible when he's smiling at you like that. Drunk but completely and utterly happy to be with you.

If only he looked at you this way when he's sober.

Getting him to the car might be the hardest part of this excursion; it takes you and Joy to get him into your passenger seat without banging his head on the roof like last time. But this isn't your first Drunk Rhett Rodeo; Lord knows it ain't Joy's either. It might even break your previous record of five and a half minutes. Not that you were counting.

"Where we goin'?" He chirps the moment you've clambered into the driver's seat.

"Home." It's the only response you've got. Not entirely sure if he's got the capacity to follow long sentences.

But his head cocks to the side like a goddamn puppy. "My home, or...home home?"

Ice forms in your wrist. Suddenly caught before you can turn the key in the ignition. Is he...? It's gotta be. What else would he be referring to?

"Home home?" More of a question than anything, but he's not sober enough to notice the difference. That grin simply grows a little bigger. His boots kicking against your floorboard, happy as a clam in high water.

It doesn't fade, either. Even as you get the car going, and he fusses about leaving his truck behind, he doesn't lose the excitement that bloomed the moment he laid eyes on you. Content to sit here and let you drive, looking out the window and commenting on whatever he sees. The crazy lady on Second Street has added more flamingos to her lawn hoard, and someone's mailbox has been knocked over. What does that sign say over there?

"So what's your soulmate like?" You ask, reaching to turn down the radio. "You haven't said anything about her."

Rhett's shoulders rise and fall with a shrug so subtle that you nearly miss it. "They're alright," pause. Then, a weary laugh. "I jus' wish they'd like me back."

Yeah. You understand the feeling.

He doesn't seem to notice the petals clinging to the lower strands of his hair and into his flannel, hanging off the edge of his pocket and accumulating in his lap. They're identical to the ones sitting on your dash, dry and shriveled from the sun, bouncing as your front tire hits a pothole.

Now that you give it some thought, you suppose that's why he's drunk.

"My throat hurts," he grumbles out of the blue, rattling you from the sanctuary of your thoughts.

You hum, not entirely there. "Getting sick?"

Quiet, he reaches into his flannel pocket, producing a small assortment of something green. Rose stems, their thorns stained with crimson. There's no way that he's...

Your tire smacks the edge of a curb. The steering wheel yanking out of your hands.

Shit.

Right. The road.

"You've been coughing those up?" Voice strained by your heart, sitting high in your esophagus. You're so damn lucky that was a concrete curb and not another car.

And yet, you dare to peer at him through your peripheral. Those stems still resting in his big palm, as if he doesn't have the strength to put them away again. You reckon he's not sober enough to have noticed your mistake. He would have commented on it by now, making fun of it as if he's any better of a driver.

"Fuckin' hurts," it comes out softly, a confession that his own ears are afraid of.

And it's the kind of statement that echoes throughout your car for the rest of the drive. Rattling between the pauses between songs and bubbling to the surface at every lull of the music. Clouded over by too many wonderings of how long he's been quietly dealing with the roses growing in his lungs. A condition so extreme that the stems are beginning to come up, too.

You would ask why he's never told you about this, but...

Rhett's head cracks against the window with a heavy thunk as you pull into the driveway. So sharp and sudden that you fear he's broken the glass. But the only wound to come out of it is the red spot on his forehead, the color already rising to the surface by the time you put the car in park.

"Did that hurt?" It's impossible to ward off the lightness in your tone; a smidgen amused.

"Nuh-uh," but he's rubbing at it like it does.

You shouldn't have believed him, either, because by the time you get him through the door, it's already begun to swell. Miniscule at first, but if you give it some time, it'll grow into a proper bump. One that he'll grimace at in the morning but will lie through his teeth when you ask if it's hurting him.

If he were sober, he would be nipping at your palm for daring to venture near his face; you can hear it now, the prematurely yelped "'m alright!" before you've even opened your mouth. But he's not sober. Has to put his hand on your waist to stabilize himself, not entirely aware of how you're curling your hands around his cheeks, holding him still.

You don't think this one will rise too horribly, but you've been wrong before. Like how you insisted the cut on your side was just a scratch and wound up needing more stitches than you knew how to count.

"Will you let me put ice on it?" You find yourself asking, your fingers drifting up to smooth over the bump.

Defiant, his head shakes.

"What if I order a pizza? Will you let me then?" Trying again. But even at the prospect of his favorite drunk snack, he's not interested.

"Ice cream?" No.

"A movie?" Wrong again.

"Two movies?" Nope.

"A promise to never speak of this again?" Nada.

Huffing, you let go of his face, throwing your hands in the air instead. "Is there anything I can bribe you with?"

His brows furrow. A thought flickers behind his eyes.

Slowly, he nods.

You've got a bad feeling about whatever this could be, but God, it's too late for you to care. "What is it?"

Even if he would have let you go on for the next century, you would have never guessed that he wanted this.

Here in the soft sanctuary of your cozy little unmade bed, nestled beneath the myriad of sheets and blankets that you swore you'd throw into the washer three mornings ago. There might be a few crumbs left over from your snack last night, too distracted by the video on your phone to notice the mess until it was too late.

The state of it all would bother you under normal circumstances, but you reckon you're getting contact drunk. Head spinning at the sight of this cowboy, snug as a bug in your bed, his cheek squished against the spare pillow. His arm has wound up draped over your side, over the sheets, and you can't remember when your hand drifted to his face, thumb swiping back and forth over his scruffy, unshaven jaw.

For once in your life, you can breathe.

You've started to forget what that was like.

He's so unnervingly close that you reckon he can hear the hammer of your heart rattling against your chest like a caged animal. Furious. Determined to burst through and spill its contents for him to see. The devil on your shoulder suggests that you should let it happen; chances are, he won't remember any of this come morning. But the soft, whiney voice of the angel reminds you.

Rhett's got a soulmate. And it isn't you.

"What made you ask for this, anyhow?" The sound of your voice comes as a surprise; one of those thoughts that have journeyed to your mouth, rather than staying up in your head.

Those sleepy blues peel open; maybe the slightest bit cross-eyed perfectly matches that crooked little grin. "'s like a sleepover."

There's a word you haven't thought of for a while. Probably hasn't surfaced in your vocabulary since your early teenage years, arising in arguments about how unfair it was that hitting puberty meant no more sleepovers. It was okay before, so why did it become a problem when your ages started ending in 'teen'?

Hesitant, your attention drifts to the tattoo on your wrist—that not-so-lucky horseshoe. A symbol that only became a problem in your second year of high school when your heart decided that it wanted your best friend over a soul mate. "Like the ones we're banned from?"

"Uhuh," his foot juts out to kick your ankle, "'cause we're too damn old."

You're kicking him back before you can think twice about it. Old habits be damned; you're not letting him get a shot in without getting one yourself. But he's already fighting back, socket feet smacking against yours. Tangling. Fighting to get one punch in over the other. His leg bangs against your knee. Your hands lightly shove against his chest.

All of a sudden, Rhett's lurching forward.

The room spins.

And you're lying on your back. Caged beneath the broad frame of a man proven to handle animals over a thousand pounds heavier than you. His hands planted on either side of your head, knees straddling your hips. Long hair strays into his face, slipping out from behind his ears, but it's not enough to block your eyes from locking.

You're itching to reach up and tuck it back into place. To drift your palms across the roughness of his cheeks and trail a thumb over those thin lips. They're bitten to all hell, but try as you might, you can't imagine they're anything other than soft.

Time itself might have stopped.

God. You can't breathe. Don't know if it's from the infestation building in your lungs or the overwhelming scent of alcohol on his tongue.

Or maybe...maybe it's because he's gradually growing closer. Minimizing the gap between your bodies, inch by debilitating inch. An image plucked right out of your own imagination, replayed a hundred and one times.

But this version of Rhett doesn't belong to you.

The one in your head didn't reek of whiskey and beer.

"Rhett..." You're whispering as if anything louder will shatter you like glass. But he's still...he's still leaning in, and, and— "Rhett. You're drunk."

He freezes. Stiff as a board. Eyes so wide that his irises look tiny.

"Shit," jerking away as if he's been burned, "sorry."

This time, when his back hits the bed, your belly doesn't fill with butterflies. It fills with something much, much worse.

It's the silence that eats at you the most. He's right next to you, and yet, not a word can leave your mouth. What if you hadn't stopped him? Did he confuse you for the pretty thing at the bar, wandering around with the same marking as him? Your heart lurches in your chest, tummy twisting sourly. God, why are you even entertaining this sort of thing?

He's your friend. Friends don't think of each other like this, especially when one of them has a soulmate waiting on them.

A funny feeling swells in the back of your throat, stomach gurgling so loudly that it's got Rhett tilting his head to look at you.

"Are y—"

You're getting up before he can finish talking. Darting for the bathroom for the umpteenth time today.

You wake to an empty bed.

Sunlight trickles through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the freshly made sheets that Rhett once occupied, tucked in the best he could get it. He's been gone long enough for them to feel cool to the touch, but you can't hear him moseying around your house, either.

Your bare feet drift across the chilly, wooden floor, still frozen with midnight's temperature drop. Where Rhett would typically bump the thermostat up a couple of degrees, today, it sits the same as you left it.

"Rhett?" Voice a smidgen too fragile for the hammering of your heart.

All you receive is an echo, variants of your own tune. His boots are missing from where they once sat by the front door, and when you creep far enough to peer through the kitchen window into the backyard, you don't find him there, either. The ice pack has been resting in the freezer long enough to begin hardening again.

And your phone left sitting on the counter overnight, contains a notification from everything and everyone, except for one man. Still the same text messages from three days ago, no matter how many times you refresh the page. But the magnetic whiteboard on the side of your refrigerator has a new smiley face on it.

...and the marker is once again missing.

With a sigh, you reach for the phone, fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. 09:47 PM

It's not until after you've got a morning drink in hand that you recognize the tire tracks in your front yard. The grass flattened in the corner of your driveway in a fashion that only Perry Abbott can pull off. No matter how many times he's driven here, he's always overshot the turn and ventured into the lawn.

Your phone is still quiet when you cruise through town a little after nine. Rhett's truck is missing from its place in front of the bar, the space now occupied by a vehicle that the Abbotts can't afford.

On its own, your heart lurches in your chest. The tail end of a blue pickup is poking out from a streetside parking spot just down the main drag, and that's got to be him. You know this town like the back of your hand. There aren't many trucks that look like Rhett's. If you catch him now, maybe you can smooth things over regarding last night. Before the dust begins to settle and erode away at your psyche—

But Rhett's truck doesn't have stickers.

This time, you don't make it to the bathroom before that damned sickness overtakes you. Spewing onto the side of the road at the only red light in town, right in front of the old cafe with its outdoor seating.

A hangover would be more dignifying. At least then, a little old lady wouldn't be tilting her head at you, her kind, wrinkled eyes soft as she offers you a smile. You understand that look more than you'd like to admit.

It's the same expression you carried when those petals burst from Rhett's mouth.

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. Yesterday.

Odd. Usually he responds fairly quickly, at least when it comes to him hijacking one of your belongings, but maybe he's busy. Summer has never been kind to the Abbotts, between blistering heat and cattle who love to take down the southern fences to get at the neighbor's grasses. Judging by the forecaster rambling on the news, things aren't about to get easier, either.

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. Two days ago.

You: I'll give you a hint. It writes in purple ink. 07:33 PM

No dice.

How are you meant to leave reminders in the kitchen when a rogue cowboy has pocketed your only marker? It's barely been three days, and you've already started to forget things. Today was laundry day, but now you're standing here, swaddled in Rhett's oversized shirt because it's the only clean thing you have left. Maybe there is a benefit to not returning his clothes. You were meant to go get a spice for this new recipe but didn't remember until you were halfway into working on it. Come to find out, that recipe really, really relied on it.

You can try to blame your lack of an appetite on your cold, unseasoned dinner all you want, but it only goes so far. Heart lurching in your chest, as the screen lights up with a text.

Autumn: Still coming with us Friday night? 👀 07:51 PM

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. One week ago.

You: I'll give you a hint. It writes in purple ink. Five days ago.

You: I'm going to call a bounty hunter if you continue this hostage situation. Three days ago.

You're getting sick of feeling your heart twist every time you look at this damn screen. But that stupid son of a bitch still hasn't—

"Excuse me," a lady whispers, squeezing past you, "I'm sorry."

The entrance of Odessa's probably isn't the best place for you to be checking your phone, now that you think about it.

That's alright; you're already sliding the device into your back pocket, reaching to catch the door before it can close behind her. You've wasted enough time for your friends to have already secured a spot at the Handsome Gambler. It's a wonder nobody hasn't given you a ring to make sure you weren't nabbed off the street.

Stepping outside does nothing to ward off the drone of multiple shop televisions. All of them moan about how another wicked storm is due to ravage Wabang and every town around it. Same channel. Same woman talking. Same obnoxious blue background. It's a tale you've heard so many times that you can nearly quote it word for word.

There's a serious storm rolling in tonight. Tornadoes and hail are possible. Here's what to do in a tornado. Do not do these five things in a tornado. Download the news app to stay connected. Tune back in soon to find out if the forecast has miraculously gotten better or worse!

Looking overhead, you can already see the dark accumulation in the distance, a humid breeze tickling your neck as it drifts past. It feels just like the night you and Rhett rode out into the west pasture to watch the storm roll in.

Sitting in the grass, watching those dark gray clouds roll closer and closer whilst the horses relaxed behind you, their attentions focused solely on the greenery below. You can still hear the tune blaring from the speaker of his phone. He'd really thought he was clever, playing that Gary Allen song about how every storm runs out of rain. It wasn't so cute when the south pasture flooded.

A laugh cuts across the evening air. Sharp and pitchy enough to have your head tilting in the direction of it. Right behind you, on the corner of the block.

Maria Olivares. That's a face you haven't seen in a long while. Wasn't she off to medical school, a couple hours away from here? Who in the world could she possibly be...

You know that cowboy.

Puzzle pieces click into place. The darkened mark gracing her inner wrist. Too small for you to make out. How she giggles and batts her eyes up at Rhett, as he talks about something in that wonderfully deep voice of his.

Of course, Rhett's soulmate would be Maria. How could it not be? No wonder why he was so crazy about her in high school; they've got the same damn marking on their bodies.

As if to spite you, a muscle spasms in the juncture of your wrist. Sourness bubbles in the back of your mouth, but for once, you're able to swallow it down. Not here. Not when either of them can turn their heads and realize that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring like some kind of creep. Even coming from a childhood best friend, that would be weird.

"Are you in line?"

You jerk backward. Wide eyes landing on the wirey frame of some middle-aged man standing in front of you. He motions, with the brim of his hat, toward the door. The Handsome Gambler. Your destination.

"Distracted," you blurt, scurrying to grab the handle before he can, "sorry."

"There you are!" A glass of beer rises from the opposite end of the bar. Autumn. "I was fixin' to come looking for you!"

You have to wait until you're within earshot before you can respond to her, squeezing past the group of cowboys crowded at the corner, watching a PBR ride on someone's cellphone. "I was eavesdropping," You supply, can't keep a damn thing to yourself these days, "Maria Olivares must be Rhett's shiny new soulmate."

Autumn's jaw slackens, eyes so big they might comically burst out of her skull, "are you kidding?"

One of her friends, you forget her name, gives you a gentle nudge with her arm. You suppose Autumn has already filled her in about your situation. "How did you find out?" Her tone is gentle, nearly washed over by the music blaring from the stereo.

"Saw them laughing together in the street." There's more to that statement, context, and a reason behind why you've come to that conclusion, but Autumn is taking a brightly colored drink from the bartender, passing it your way.

The Handsome Gambler and mixed drinks do not go hand in hand; there's always too much or too little of something. But out of the corner of your eye, you can see the door opening, two familiar frames entering the bar, the happy new couples themselves.

Tonight, you don't give a damn what these things taste like. So long as it makes you forget the sour twist in your chest, lungs tightening as if all the air has been sucked from them. Without second thought, you bring the glass to your lips.

It doesn't leave until it's halfway empty, and that's only because the need for oxygen has grown superior.

The lady behind the bar lifts a freshly cleaned shot glass. You've got a feeling that she's overheard your ramblings. "Need something stronger?"

She doesn't need to say another word. "Absolutely."

One shot.

Fuck this town.

A second.

And fuck Rhett Abbott.

You're feeling delusional enough to ask for a third, but Autumn's nudging you a glass of water instead. It doesn't have the same bite, but it's equally unpleasant against the back of your throat, still raw and sore.

Next to you, Autumn and her two friends are already delving into a new conversation. Something about the oddities going on around town and how some old man says he walked into a cave and saw a mastodon. You suppose there must be some inside group dedicated to continuing the claim because it's a rumor you've heard every year.

A smile fights its way onto your face. You and Rhett used to gear up and go mastodon hunting up on the old trails behind the Abbott property. Royal loved to ask what y'all planned to do with it once you caught it, but you and Rhett never thought that far ahead.

Your gaze follows the bartender, ready to ask for something sweet, but she's on the other end, gathering a dozen beers for a party that just walked in. Someone leans onto the bar. His head blocking part of your view. But then he looks over, and—

Rhett's eyes widen at the sight of you. By the feel of it on your face, the expression is mutual.

At least, it is for a second. That sourness jumps into your throat. Lower gut churning with a fervor unlike ever before.

"I'm heading out back," you blurt, hand rising to cover your mouth, "you don't wanna follow."

The girls frown, but they're certainly not making the risk to stop you. Autumn's already reaching for your drink, accepting your nod as a sign that she can finish off what you've got left. A voice jumps across the blare of the music. Almost sounds like the call of your name. But you don't have the luxury of stopping and looking.

Your feet are barely falling into line. Rushing to push through the men gathered by the back exit. Past the blasting jukebox. There's that tightness in your lungs again. A thick sensation rising higher. Higher. Higher in your throat. There's the door. There's the door. Your hands are reaching out. Grappling at the handle.

Hinges squeal open. Shoes scuffing on the concrete.

Vivid purple petals burst past your lips like goddamn confetti. Stems and all. Ripping past your already battered windpipe and sticking to your tongue, little bits of purple carrying in the wind.

Those three-petalled flowers were pretty until they started growing in your lungs. You can't stand the sight of them, but you've got no choice but to cough more of them up. As if any amount of effort will make them disappear.

A bundle of them have caught in the back of your mouth, stubbornly thwarting your ability to breathe. Light as a feather, your head spins, feet stumbling as you scurry to one of the chairs, sitting against the wall. The plastic groans under your weight, so brittle that it ought to give away at any moment.

Lightning flickers as another wave of flowers rain to the floor, and it's a wonder you can get these out at all.

The back door opens with a screech. Music pours through the gap, an incoherent tune so loud that you can hardly hear the thunder rolling through town. Someone in boots stumbles out, keeling over.

A bloodstained rose tumbles to the ground, pink and red petals dancing behind it, landing amongst your mess of purple.

When you lift your head, you know what you're going to see. But that doesn't make the look in Rhett's eyes any easier to bear. Some kind of hellish cross between horror and bewilderment that manages to look akin to a wounded puppy.

Not a word leaves his mouth. Doesn't get the opportunity to, for that matter, another plume of petals forcing their way past his lips before he can do anything about it. Just the sight of them has that tickle building in the back of your throat, but for the time being, your tank is empty.

Thunder booms as Rhett falls into the chair opposite you. His hand dips into his flannel pocket, producing...

your marker.

"'m sorry," he mutters, sentence broken by a cough, "Didn't realize I stuck it behind my ear 'til you texted me."

"Which time?" You can't help the bitterness seeping into your tone, plucking the little writing utensil from his outstretched hand.

His eyes dart away.

The tension in the silence doesn't come from the storm. Wind howling around the corner of the building, rustling through the trees. Lightning flickers, illuminating the world around you for the briefest of moments, and just like that, rain begins to fall. Coming down in a thick sheet, so strong that even under the awning, it manages to reach you, mist tickling your skin and dampening your clothes.

Idle, your fingers twist the marker back and forth; it's still warm from where it rested in his pocket, snug against his chest. A part of you wonders if he always runs this hot or if your hands are just cold from the Wyoming air.

"So you and Maria, huh?" Even with the roar of the storm, your voice is too loud; a megaphone in the library would be more tolerable.

"Nah, I just ran into her 'bout a half hour ago." Rhett's head shakes, eyes on the floor. "We were both goin' to the same place, 'n that was about it."

"Damn, and here I thought she was your soulmate." You hate that a selfish part of you floods with relief. So overcome with it that you can feel the way your shoulders drop. "It would have made for the perfect story."

You could have been the perfect story, too.

"I don't know why I liked her in high school," he's continuing, running a hand through his hair, fingers visibly catching on a tangle, "'s like talkin' to a fuckin' wall."

Of all the things you've imagined him saying, that wasn't even close to making it on the list. Though, you can't say he's entirely wrong; ever since that time you got paired with Maria for a history presentation, you haven't been able to see what's so interesting about her, either. Nothing but one-word answers and giggling with her friends while you worked on the assignment by your lonesome.

It may be petty, but you're still bitter.

"I'm sorry, I..." Rhett's talking again, caving to the silence that you've unintentionally put between you two. His hands fall into his lap, clasping together. Then, break apart just as quickly, one of them reaching up to rub at his forehead. "I shouldn't have tried to kiss you the other night."

"It's alright—" your tongue pauses before the rest of your sentence can follow. I wanted you to. But you're looking down at your tattoo, and it's still the same horseshoe. It doesn't match Rhett's.

It will never match Rhett's.

Finding your voice is damn near impossible, but you do it anyway. "You've done stranger things while under the influence."

"Like gettin' a DUI on the back of a horse?" He says it so bluntly that you can't help but sputter.

It's easy. Dissolving into laughter. Peering at each other through smiling eyes. Yeah, getting a DUI on horseback is much, much worse than trying to steal a kiss. You've still got the voicemail from when Joy called you in the dead of night, asking you to come get Rhett and his horse.

White flashes. Lighting up the world for the briefest moment. An ear-splitting crackle erupts from above. So loud that the town lights flicker in unison like a bunch of candles nearly blown out by the squealing wind.

"'s gettin' pretty bad out here." The sound of Rhett's voice is nearly lost to the ringing in your ear.

"Tell me about it," you lean forward, peering over at the miniature river that runs down into the alleyway, carrying with it a parade of purple, pink, and red flower petals. "The road'll be flooded by the time Autumn decides she's ready to leave."

Rhett's head tilts to the side. "You didn't drive?"

"Couldn't." Shocker, you know. "I had a hot date with a shot of whisky."

"Two from what I saw," so he was watching you do that, huh?

You wink. "I would have made it three if I knew you were watching."

Something crackles in the distance. Maybe a tree struck by lightning, bits of bark falling like rain. A little too close for comfort, whatever it was.

That tickling rises in the back of your throat once more. Forces another cough out of you. The purple petals catch in the wind before they can hit the ground, soaring off like tiny planes. Rhett's eyes follow them until they're out of sight.

All of a sudden, he rises to his feet, spurs chiming with the motion. Must have forgotten to take those off again. "Need a ride?" Offering his hand.

You take it before you even realize what he's asking.

A part of you is beginning to suspect that Autumn can see into the future because she's hardly phased when she turns her head to see you meander back into the bar, hand in hand with Rhett. Her white teeth flash you with a smile, perhaps a little too interested in whatever Billy Tillerson is babbling into her other ear. With their hands intertwined, you can hardly tell that they've got timers imprinted on their wrists, bearing identical numbers.

Autumn doesn't need to ask when you hand her the twenty from your pocket; in the time you've known each other, you've proven to be a creature of habit. Instead, she offers you a wink, not a word said.

Rhett's already by the door, working his beat-up wallet back into his jeans before he can set it down and forget that it's there. "Y' ready to get wet?" He chirps once you're within earshot.

You're not, but there's no stopping the rain now that it's coming down. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The door creeks open. A gust of wind rushes in through the gap. Slams you with the force of a freight train. Damn near strong enough to knock you on your ass. But Rhett's grabbing hold of your wrist and him hauling you forward is the only thing keeping your feet from being swept out from under you.

Freezing rain splatters against your skin like a million tiny bullets. So sharp you think they might pierce through and come out the other side. A sheet of white blinds you. Forced to lower your head and prey Rhett's hauling you the right direction. The sidewalk is already flooded. Splashing up to lick your ankles. Soaking through your shoes.

You're moving. You know you're moving. But you might as well be on some hellish treadmill because it doesn't feel like you're going anywhere.

All of a sudden, Rhett's pulling you to the right. Toward the curb. Reaching for the handle. Yanking so hard you can hear it over the rain.

It opens. You're inside within the very same second. Clambering into the cloth passenger seat, pulling your legs in, just as Rhett slams the door shut. Through the blurry dash, he's only identifiable as a big blue splotch, travelling around the front of his truck. His door rips open just as quickly, the vehicle rocking as he all but throws himself inside.

"'s fuckin' cold!" He sputters, blindly jabbing the key at the ignition. Miss. Miss again. Another miss. He tilts his head. It slides home.

It's been a minute since the last time you heard this old truck roar to life. Even longer since you've last felt your skin go this numb. Shivering like a leaf, nerves so ruthlessly beaten by the elements that they're shot. There's a texture to this seat. You know there is, but you can't feel it.

A weary hand darts out. Wavering back and forth. Narrowly misses the little heat dial.

"Ain't got heat, remember?" Rhett almost sounds guilty, though you can't say for sure. It's hard to get a read of his face when he's focused on putting the truck into gear, looking straight ahead as he pulls onto the road. Though you're not entirely sure why, he's still got that old—

...no. His spare shirt is still sitting in your clothes hamper, next in line for a wash. Even if you had miraculously known to carry it with you tonight, there's no way it would have done you any good. Not with how soaked your clothes are, dripping like you've just gone for an impromptu swim in the coldest river you could find.

Your arms rise to wrap around yourself, clinging to what little body heat you've got left. A jacket. Why didn't you think to carry a jacket? Lightning flickers. Crackling so loudly that you can feel it travel through the ground; almost sounds as if it's laughing at you.

Even in the safe confines of this truck, the win threatens to wriggle in and get ahold of you. Screaming around the truck. Whipping past light posts. Rattling them so hard that they sway back and forth. Something is telling you that a power outage is in your near-to-distant future. With how you can look out the back window and see it ravaging the main part of town, there's no way it's not going to take out a power line. One little mess up is all it takes to plunge this little town into darkness.

There's already a tree down. Its long branches obstructing part of the road, forcing Rhett onto the other side to squeeze past.

"'m I over far enough?" He sounds like he's got a handle on it, head tilting back and forth, drawing the truck closer and closer to the edge of the road.

Your eyes squint. Struggling to see through the window. "I think so."

It's an obstacle easily overcome, but as you begin to pick up speed once more, a new problem arises. Those poor little windshield wipers can hardly keep up with the rain. Coming down in sheet after sheet, splattering against the glass quicker than it can be swept off. Driving in the ocean would have better visibility.

"Can't fuckin..." Rhett's talking to himself. You hope he's talking to himself because you can't hear him over the chatter of your teeth. Trembling like some kind of exaggerated cartoon character.

The truck gently veers to the right, off into some kind of gravel space on the side of the road, grinding to a halt.

"The— the wipers can't go any faster?" Tongue limp in your mouth. Impossible to move.

Rhett's head shakes. "No, they don't..."

His eyes lock onto yours. Even that might be enough to eat away some of the ice forming in your bones. His jaw softens. Eyelashes fluttering with an incoming thought.

Slow, his arm rises from his side, extending your direction. "C'mere."

Your breath catches. Is that...no, you....you shouldn't—

"Promise I won't kiss ya," his fingers tap your shoulder, "'m jus' gonna warm ya up."

Another bolt of lightning flashes.

You're scooting across the bench seat before thunder even has the chance to arise. Slipping beneath his outstretched arm, helpless to do anything but fall into his big chest, equally soaked as you are, but he's warm. A big furnace, wrapping around and squeezing you into him.

He shifts the slightest bit, leaning against the door, opening himself up for you to properly squirm into his side. With such little space in this truck, it's a squeeze, but you fit nonetheless, cheek resting atop that old bucking bull tattoo, the scruff of his jaw tickling your forehead.

Another rumble rolls through, wind slamming into the side of the vehicle, rocking it back and forth like some kind of giant cradle. Rhett's legs shift, properly rising up onto the seat, knees knocking into yours as they settle. There's no way that you can feel his body, not with those thick jeans in the way, but a part of you swears that you can. So certain of it that you think the ice in your bones is beginning to thaw.

A big, warm hand runs up and down the expanse of your arm as if to create a little friction there. "Can y' still feel your hands?" He murmurs, voice rumbling against the top of your head, and you think that's the tip of his nose bumping into you.

You're wiggling your fingers, can see them moving in the darkness, but hardly any sensation comes of it. Feels as if you're operating a separate object and not a part of your own body. "I don't know."

He reaches down, both hands wrapping around yours, and immediately, it's as if you've been set ablaze. Fire burning in your frozen joints, sensitive to even the slightest change in temperature. Rhett's thumb swipes against yours, a rough glide, his skin weathered by a lifetime of labor on the ranch.

They're so much bigger, too, dwarfing yours in comparison, long and thick with muscle and built-up callouses. He must be noticing it as well because he's sliding his index finger down next to yours, and even in the dark, you can tell that he's at least twice the size. So big that you can hold just the four of his fingers, and not even need the rest of his hand.

You don't know why you're doing this or why he's letting you.

Careful, your gaze crawls upward, roaming over the wet fabric of his flannel, up his damp neck, and the dripping curls resting at his nape. And he's...

he's already looking at you. Half-lidded eyes fixated on your face, the corner of his lip twitching upward for the briefest moment. A tickle rises in the back of your throat. Nothing comes of it. Lightning lights up the world like a light switch flicked, but you don't hear the thunder that follows.

His nose bumps into yours. Breath fanning out against your skin.

This...you shouldn't...but...

Those blue eyes drop down to your lips. Then back up to you. His eyelashes flutter. You think yours might, too. He's so close. Can feel the stubble on his chin brush against you, a fleeting thing that you can somehow still feel, even after the contact breaks. A breath trickles out of your chest. The slightest little movement that brushes your bottom lip against his. And he's not moving away, he's—

An ear-splitting boom tears past the truck. Rattling it back and forth. Sends you and Rhett jumping. Your head bangs against the seat cushion. His elbow hits the horn.

"The hell..." he grumbles, with a shake of his head. "Was that s'pposed to be thunder?"

"Is that what it was?" Parroting him, looking toward the window as if that could possibly give you an answer.

The rain has slowed into a slow trickle that is easily swept away by the windshield wipers, unveiling the world around you once more. You recognize where you're at now, just two or three miles down from your house. So damn close, and yet...

"Let's get you home," Rhett's sitting up, and you've got no choice but to do so as well. The scoot to the passenger side is almost shameful, the cold, soaked seat squishing beneath you like a sponge.

A thick collection of petals swell in the back of your throat as Rhett's foot finds the gas pedal once more. Were you about to kiss him? What the hell were you thinking? That isn't how this works. You're not soulmates.

Somehow, the air has grown even colder without him wrapped around you, his very presence haunting you like a ghost. Lingering in the back of your mind so strongly that you can almost deceive yourself into believing that you're still snuggled into his side. But no matter how hard you focus, you can't force it to manifest into reality.

Cruel is what it is.

Even as the rain picks up once more, it's not enough to pull you over again, swept away from the windshield as quickly as it lands. There's another tree down, but it has barely made its way into the road, such a simple obstacle that only takes a second or two to get past. And just like that, your porch light is emerging in the distance. A golden glow that grows larger by the second, like a tiny sun rising to greet you.

The gravel driveway crackles beneath the tires; it's usually a pleasant sound, but today, all it does is cause your stomach to sink. Such a sour feeling that it rises, flower petals tickling the back of your throat until you cough. Little bits of purple scatter across your lap. Rhett's foot jumps to the brake pedal, a soft squeal emitting from beneath the vehicle as it comes to a stop.

You've never been so disappointed to see your front door.

"Thank you," barely a whisper as it leaves your mouth. Anything louder might break you.

He nods, eyes darting from your lap and up to your face. "Yeah."

The only sound in the truck is that of the frozen rain pitter-pattering on the metal roof. Nothing more. Nothing less. With a forced, tight-lipped smile, you reach for the door handle. It opens with a groan, creating just enough space for you to slip out, the oversaturated ground squelching beneath you. He doesn't say anything as you shut the door, so neither do you.

Resigned to silence, you trudge through the rain. Wind rips past, determined to lift you up off the ground and whisk you into the sky. But you don't lift off the ground. You don't even slip. Your feet find the front steps of your porch, hand fishing into your pocket and producing a set of drenched keys.

The confines of your home are so much warmer than it was outside, and yet, as you toe off your muddy shoes, you can't help but compare it to Rhett. Your heater may be strong, but it doesn't wrap around you the way his arms did. Big. Secure. The kind of thing you thought only existed in your daydreams.

Strange, you don't hear his truck pulling out of the driveway. You know he hasn't; that old GMC runs far too loudly for it to slip by unnoticed. Curious, you hook your finger into the blinds, pulling them down.

No, he hasn't moved at all.

...what's he doing out there? Even from here, you can tell that the storm is picking back up again, rustling through the trees, swaying them back and forth.

Nothing has fallen or otherwise obstructed the driveway, and something couldn't have gone wrong. Not that quickly. Unless he's suddenly developed the ability to hear your heart hammering against your chest, wordlessly begging him not to leave your driveway, there's no reason for him to still be parked.

The cab light flicks on. Then off again. All of a sudden, he's rounding the back of his truck. You're opening the door, socked feet stepping out onto the cold, wet porch. His spurs chime, boots thumping up one stair. Two. Three. Four. No, no, something must have happened. His eyes are wide, and his jaw is slack, looks half scared to death.

But he's not stopping.

"Rhett—"

"I forgot somethin'." One more step, and he's leaning down, and, and...

It's the simplest of things, merely pressing against each other for a long moment, but heaven itself cannot compare to the feeling of Rhett's lips against yours. His nose crushed uncomfortably against your cheek, big hands cradling your cheeks like you'll break if he doesn't.

Just as quickly, he draws away, soft blue eyes meeting with yours. Lightning flashes, but even the following slam of thunder cannot stop you from grabbing a fistful of his flannel and yanking him in once more. Lips crashing together, feet stumbling with the force of it. One of his arms is wrapping around your waist and your hands are sliding up into his hair. Bold. As if this is familiar, something you've done every day of your lives.

The press of his mouth and the stubble of his chin are so much more than your imagination ever could have crafted. Warm and scratching against you so deliciously that your head goes quiet. Soul mate markings be damned. This is where you're meant to be. Right here. Twisting your fingers through his unruly curls, gasping against him. Drowning as he kisses you again, and again, and again.

Your head is spinning. Stumbling blindly as he leans into you, forcing you backward. Your heel catches on the doorway. "Rhett—" But you don't fall. You can't. Not with that strong arm around you. "Cowboy!"

"You're the only one that's ever called me that." He breaks away, kicking at the door with his foot. There's no doubt a mud stain on the white frame now, but you've hardly got it in you to care.

"What?" Your nose bumps into his cheek. A little too close.

"Cowboy." He mutters, lips brushing against yours. So, so close.

A breath hitches in your throat. "Should I stop?"

"Never." And he's kissing you again.

Muffled thunder rumbles outside, and you're pretty sure the power has gone out, but you can't open your eyes to check. Helpless to do anything but tug on his hair, drinking in his deep grumble like you're starved. You should be embarrassed. Shouldn't be this desperate over a first kiss.

But Rhett's got it just as bad. Pushing you backward until you're bumping into the wall. His big, calloused hand is venturing beneath your soaked shirt. God, and you're letting him. Back arching as his fingertips trail up your spine, chest pressing into his. Gasping against his lips like you're trying to put on a show.

More. You want more. Reaching down to toy with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one at a time, shaking fingers struggling to push them through the holes. Too eager to feel the expense of his chest beneath your palms.

"You're gonna have t' stop me," Rhett's speaking against your lips, batting your hands away. Makes no effort to finish your handiwork as he yanks the flannel off his shoulders, the final three buttons snapping off and scattering across the hardwood floor.

Before you can stop it, your hand drops to his belt, pulling him closer. Earns you an affectionate chuckle that echoes throughout the house. Those hips of his press forward, obnoxiously large buckle digging into your belly, not an inch of space left between your bodies.

"Why would I stop you?" It's too early for you to be reaching down to grab at the hem of your shirt, but you don't care. You want this damn thing off. The soaked fabric stubbornly clings to your frame, heavy as you drag it over your head. It hits the floor with a wet thunk, a mess for the future version of you to handle.

Those deep blue eyes might eat you alive. "Good point."

It's hard to tell who makes the next move. All you know is that you're leaning in to kiss him, noses crashing together, and his hands are appearing on your ass, squeezing until you get the hint to jump. It all happens so fast. The thunk of your back against the wall. His hips slotting between your thighs.

"Y' feel what you're doin' to me?" He grunts, and he doesn't need to specify for you to know what he's talking about—heavy bulge straining against his jeans, pressing perfectly against your core, igniting a familiar heat there.

"Uhuh," is all you're capable of. Greedy hands sliding across his chest and up his shoulders, feeling over all the little freckles and marks that have haunted your imagination. Fuck, and he just lets you. Too busy leaning in to steal a kiss off you. One. Two. Three. Before he shifts to the juncture of your jaw, stubble tickling as he kisses down your neck.

Your hips buck forward.

"Fuck," Rhett's voice tickles your ear, "shoulda let me kiss you earlier, sweetheart."

A shiver ripples down your spine. That's new.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Finding your words is a task in of itself. Hard to do much of anything when his lips find the soft spot beneath your ear, sucking lightly.

"You were drunk," voice strained, wound too tight in your throat.

"Felt pretty sober in the moment," He hums, tongue poking out to wet your skin. Fuck, you wonder what that would feel like in other places, thighs squeezing impossibly tighter around his hips, works a groan right out of him.

Thunder booms outside, but it's not enough to stop your lips from crashing once more. Teeth clattering, hopelessly grinding down into him, and even these layers of clothing can't stop you from feeling the way he twitches.

It's all a blur.

One moment, you're up against the wall. The next, you're on the ground again, socks sliding against the floor as you stumble down the hall. Hands tangled in his hair. Gasping against his lips. Moving blindly, too focused on each other to spare even a second. You don't know you're in the bedroom until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, falling backward with a yelp.

Fuck, you shouldn't be doing this. There's no reason for you to be letting Rhett Abbott climb into bed with you and slot his big, warm body between your legs. He's your friend. You've known him since you could walk. And these tattoos. They don't match. You're not soulmates.

Rhett's hand rises, pinning yours to the mattress, fingers slotting together. Must know what you're thinking about. "Who gives a fuck 'bout soulmates," he whispers, leaning forward to bump his nose against yours, rubbing them back and forth. "A damn stranger ain't gonna make me as happy as you do."

And you don't...you don't know what to say.

Maybe you don't need to say anything because he kisses you like he's heard everything your heart has to tell him. Stealing your breath away, plucking every little flower from your lungs, so dizzying that your legs have to curl around him to keep from floating away. As if you could possibly escape the big, warm arms that have settled on either side of your head.

Slow, his weight settles on top of you. Bellies snug together. So close that you can hardly grind up into him, reduced to a needy squirm, whining high in your throat.

"Shh," he coos. A big hand curling around your cheek, thumb stroking the thin skin there. "I'll take care of you."

He's already making good on his promise, pulling away to kiss down your neck once more. Hot tongue poking past his lips, running over a vein, leaves behind a glistening trail as he makes his way to your collar. One of his hands dips behind your back, pinching the clasp of your bra, opens it so easily that it almost surprises you.

The last thing you expect is for him to gasp when he pulls it away. Awestruck by the sight of you, bare, for his eyes only. "So fuckin' pretty," whispering, as he kisses down your chest. Too eager to run his tongue down the swell of your breast, so content that his closed eyes seem to smile.

Oh, that's...

"Rhett..." Heat swells in your lower belly. The feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple is...truly something...

Just as quickly, he's darting to the other one, all too excited to feel the little bud harden beneath his touch. Sensitive. Only takes the slightest bit of suction to make you jolt. But he must have noticed something even more enticing because he's pulling away from that one as well, a big hand rising to toy with it as his head dips down lower.

A delicate kiss presses to the scar on your left side.

Then another. And another. And another. Loving on the old wound, as if he can possibly reverse the damage if he gives it enough attention. Maybe just one more kiss will do it. If not, then surely the next one can make it happen.

"It was nobody's fault," you say softly, reaching to run your fingers through his hair once more. Truly, it wasn't. Nobody could have anticipated that shard of glass.

"I know," the rumble of his voice tickles, pausing to run his tongue up the expanse of the mark, "jus' wish it didn't hurt ya like it did."

Gradually, he draws himself away from your side. Kissing his way down your belly until he meets the thin, delicate band of your underwear. His eyes peer up at you with a silent question. Your answer comes in the form of lifted hips, allowing him to pull the material down your legs. Then, he reaches for his belt, pinching it open with mesmerizing ease.

One boot thunks against the floor. Then the other. You really hope he didn't track mud all over your hardwood.

"You and that obnoxious buckle," the comment slips off your tongue before you can stop it. Too busy watching him undress. It's unfair how well the fabric clings to his thighs, fitting him like a damn glove.

He laughs, kicking his jeans off his feet. "What, don't think it looks good on me?"

"If I answer that, your ego will go through the roof." Your eyes roll; the last thing you need to do is tell him that, yes, you do like it. Lord only knows he'll run himself through four more rodeo seasons, trying to score an even bigger buckle.

"Already has," he winks, hooking a thumb into the waistband of his boxers.

You don't know what he's got to be so confident about until...

"Jesus, Rhett."

"What?" He grins. Absolutely fucking obnoxious. But you can't formulate a single word. "What?"

Your thighs cinch together, hiding yourself from view. There is absolutely no reason why that should be springing up from its confines, so heavy that it smacks against his hip, unable to stand up against his belly. So wet that even in the dark you can see him glistening.

"Naw, y' don't gotta be shy," Rhett's hand travels up your knee, slipping between your closed legs, callouses dragging deliciously against your sensitive skin, "'s just me."

A little too easily, you fall apart once more, feeling a little too exposed as his hungry eyes rake down your body. Every imperfection and curve is on full display. An exhibit of the life you've lived. And Rhett just might be your biggest admirer, his warm frame slipping between your legs, big hands gliding up your sides, pressing lazy kisses as he settles on top of you.

"Rhett..." you don't know why you're saying his name, thighs curling around his sharp hips. His cock head bumps into the meet of your thigh, sends you jumping before you can realize what's happened.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya," uttering beneath his breath, a sentiment meant for your ears only. "I promise." He reaches between your bodies, gently guiding himself to—

Your head tilts back with a gasp. That's new. The delicate drag of Rhett's cock, gliding between your folds, the underside of him nudging at your clit. Hadn't realized you'd gotten this worked up until now, so wet that you can almost convince yourself that you don't need any lube at all. Not a hint of dryness to be found, sliding so, so easily against you.

But then you're gathering the courage to peer down between your legs, and even the darkness can't hide how big he is. Thicker than your daydreams have ever depicted, just a hair longer than any of the toys hiding beneath the bed.

"Bedside table," you blurt, heart fluttering in your chest. Walking is a privilege you'd like to keep.

An unforeseen positive to letting your best friend between your legs is the fact that he knows exactly what you're trying to say. No need for questions as Rhett reaches off to the side, hand disappearing into the drawer. Comes back with the bottle, then delves back in, producing some tiny, round hunks of plastic.

You don't recognize them until he flicks one on—the tiny, fake candles from a few Halloweens ago.

"How romantic," there's a strangeness to this that you didn't expect; oddly casual, even with this newfound situation.

"What?" He asks, innocent as can be, like you have a choice in the matter, already putting one flickering candle off to the side. Another, next to your hip, and he's still got four or five of them left to turn on. "Ain't in the mood for some mood lightin'?"

Lying to yourself is fruitless. The soft golden glow is a welcomed addition to this dark little bedroom. Highlights the room just enough for you to catch the way he drizzles the lube into his palm, reaching down to spread it over himself. That big hand almost tricks you into believing his cock is smaller than it really is, the flushed tip nudging at your cunt with every upward glide.

They say monsters hide in the dark, and you know you caught sight of one between his legs.

Two fingers press into you. No warning to be found, the thick digits easing in like they've done it a million and one times, crooking upward, dragging against your walls. There's the slightest hint of a stretch, a soft ache that—

You suck in a breath, a soft noise escaping past your lips.

Rhett's cock twitches against you. "'s that it?"

Weak, you nod. Don't trust yourself to speak. Not with him gradually beginning to move, shallowly pumping those long digits into you, never pulling out far enough to make you feel empty. But it's so hard to stay quiet when he continuously rubs up into those little nerves, nudging them on every pass over.

"Rhett..." hips writhing against the bed, not sure if you want to lean into it or squirm away.

That must be all that he's planning to give you because all of a sudden, he's drawing away. Wet fingers glisten in the candlelight as he reaches for his cock once more, guiding it back between your folds. Not entirely the same as what you had before, but the drag of his cock head against your clit is so, so worth the exchange.

His warm chest settles against yours once more, lips finding your cheek, scratchy jaw tickling the skin there. Sounds like he murmurs your name as he travels to the corner of your mouth, pressing another kiss there. Finally. Finally, he meets you for a proper kiss, almost immediately broken by the swivel of his hips, reformed just as quickly.

Your hands are on the move. One in his hair, the other on his naked shoulder, feeling the way his muscles flex and ripple beneath your fingertips. Strong from a decade of bull riding and all that time spent on the ranch, chiseled and perfect in every way you can imagine. Fuck, it's like he was built just for you and this. Rutting between your legs like he's in heat, dragging against your needy clit until your hips twitch off the mattress, pressing into him.

Swallowing down his groan is enough to put you up on cloud nine.

A pressure appears at your entrance—the soft nudge of his tip. Your antics must have caused him to wander a little too far down. But you're pushing down onto him like it was your intent all along, and by God, he's not trying to stop you.

Rhett stiffens. "You want me to...?" Muttering against your lips, unable to draw himself away any further.

"Yeah," it's the easiest thing you've said all night.

It's all the encouragement he needs, mouth meeting yours once more. Slow, that pressure between your legs begins to grow, his blunt tip spreading you wide. There's a part of you already beginning to wonder if you should have asked for more lube, but his incessant lips are so damn distracting. Tangling with yours, drawing you into a captivating dance, spinning your head round and round, drawing your mind away from the burn.

His head slips into you with a soft 'pop,' such an odd little feeling that has you gasping into his kiss, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Now you can really feel him. The delicate drag of his length gradually filling you, centimeter by debilitating centimeter. You'll be waddling come morning. You can already feel it.

There's no way you won't be. Not with how your pussy aches with the overwhelming stretch of him.

"Y' want me to stop?" Rhett's low voice rumbles against your bottom lip; when did the kiss break?

Thunder rumbles outside, your only reminder of the storm that looms just past the thin walls of your home. Even the memory of running with him in the rain feels like it was forever ago. There were flowers filling your lungs just a few hours prior, but as you draw in a breath, you can't feel a shred of evidence that they were ever there.

"Yeah," nodding, your nose bumping into his, "you're just...a lot."

God, you shouldn't have said that.

But it's too late. There's already a wild grin emerging onto his scruffy face, so pleased with your words that his eyes seem to sparkle. As if the sight of you struggling to take his cock wasn't enough of a boost to his ego.

"'s that it?" Speaking through his smile, still has the audacity to sink even further into you. "Ya never had anything big as me?"

Your eyes roll so hard that they might get stuck.

All at once, his hips are flush with yours, not an inch of space left, your legs tightening around him as if there's a risk of him pulling back out. But that's not happening. Not with the way he's blindly nuzzling his nose into you, so lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him that he can't hold his eyes open.

"Y' alright?" His eyelashes tickle your cheek as they flutter open.

"Uhuh" is the best that you've got at this given moment. It's so hard to speak when you're so full. Couldn't take another millimeter of him, even if he begged you to. "You can..." pausing for a breath, "you can move."

In perfect synchrony, your attentions flicker down to where your bodies meet. A sight lit by the golden glow of the artificial candles, illuminating the slow withdrawal of Rhett's cock, where you're stretched so wide that you don't think your smaller toys will ever satisfy you again.

"Shit, look at that," there's no reason why Rhett, of all people, should be so mesmerized by this, but he is, and it makes you fucking dizzy. "'s fuckin' hot."

And then he's sinking back in and—

"Fuck," it's too early for you to be whimpering so high in your throat, but his blunt tip is dragging right against the sensitive nerves hidden within you, and it's so, so much.

This close, it's hard to miss the way Rhett's breath hitches, "'s that the spot, baby?"

All you can do is nod. Nails biting into his shoulders as he draws back once more, rubbing past that little spot once more. Toys don't normally get this sort of reaction out of you, but there's just something about it being Rhett that's getting to you. Your childhood best friend. The man that your weary heart has yearned for since high school. Eye candy at every rodeo he's ever set foot in.

His lips find yours, tangling lazily, humming all the while. A part of you wonders if he always demands this many kisses. If he makes a habit of smiling into them. The rest of you knows that he doesn't because otherwise, he'd know that the heavy thrust of his hips would send your teeth clattering together.

"Ow," he's jerking back as if he's not the main culprit behind it.

His cock head drives right up into those nerves. Sends your back arching up off the bed, pussy spasming around him, and you don't know which of you cry out louder.

"There, there, there," you're babbling like a fool, but he's already missing it again. Such a minuscule thing that every correction is an overshot.

Rhett's brows furrow, focusing so damn hard, and yet, "I can't...shit, that ain't it either."

But you've got an idea.

Without a word, you begin to lean up, foreheads bumping together as Rhett tries to follow along, his big blue eyes so wide that they glisten in the light. Slipping out of you entirely as he falls onto his haunches, looks like a big puppy when he's confused like this.

"On your back," your command is soft. It could easily be bent if he really wanted to, but he's already following through on it, twisting and falling back onto the bed without a fuss.

Settling into his lap is a feeling you've imagined a million and one times, and yet, somehow, it's unlike anything your mind has ever come up with. Warmth radiating off him like he's a damn heater, broad chest making your hand look impossibly tiny, as you lean on him for balance. He's already one step ahead of you, carefully guiding his cock back to your dripping cunt; all you've got to do is sink down and—

A pair of gasps tear through the room. Louder than the storm raging outside.

"Y' look so fuckin' beautiful on top of me, baby," Rhett sputters, peering up at you as if you've hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Already, you're beginning to move. Knees digging into the mattress, palms firm against his chest as you lift yourself up. The curve of his length alone is enough to make your thighs shudder.

"You're not so bad yourself," you're breathless already, hips swiveling, searching for that deceptive little angle. Maybe if you...lean a little further forward...

There it is.

A tingle ripples up your spine, clamping down around Rhett's cock, and he must feel it because his head rolls to the side, lips parting with a groan that ought to make your head spin. Those big hands settle onto your thighs, gripping like he'll fall off the bed if he doesn't.

"Is that—oh fuck," his hips jerk up off the bed, leaking tip kissing those little nerves head on, "is that it?"

You can't answer. Palms shivering against his chest, already fighting to keep yourself upright. An ache blooming in your thighs with every rise and fall, head tilting back, a familiar heat beginning to bloom in your lower belly.

Rhett must be feeling it, too. There's no way he isn't. Head rolling from side to side, back arching off the bed, unable to keep himself still beneath you, a whiny mewl escaping his parted lips. And all it's doing is jostling his length inside of you, sporadically tapping against all those sensitive spots.

A calloused thumb appears on your clit. Not sure when he started reaching down, but it's damn near got you collapsing onto his chest, a tremble setting into your exhausted bones.

"Fuck, Rhett!" You're squealing, poorly built rhythm already beginning to fall apart.

Again, his hips snap upward, heavy balls smacking against your ass. "'m sorry, I'm not trying to buck my hips. I just..." he doesn't get to finish that because you're falling forward into his chest, face burying into his shoulder. It's too much. It's too much.

Big hands settle on your hips. Gripping tight as his knees bend, feet digging into the mattress to pump into you properly. Lewd smacks of skin on skin echoing through the room, artificial candles bouncing with his every motion.

"Anyone else ever fill your sweet pussy like this?" He rasps in some rumbling, guttural tone you've never heard before. "Hm?"

Your head shakes, but it takes a moment to realize that he can't see what you're doing. Not with you nuzzled up under his jaw. "N-no," whimpering right into his ear.

Those hands are moving again, gliding up your back, big arms securing themselves around you like a hug, the only damn thing that keeps you from bouncing further up the bed. Your forearms settle on either side of his head, shivering as you try to lift yourself up, but you can only go so far, barely able to meet his eyes.

Lips clash, so loose that it hardly even counts as a kiss. Drinking down Rhett's feeble whine. Makes your head spin so much more than the alcohol ever did. Heat pools between your legs, pussy tightening like a vice around his pistoning cock, thick tip rubbing into those nerves over and over and over.

You're close.

"I love you," it slips out of him so quietly that you nearly believe it's a figment of your imagination. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

One of your hands delves into his hair, noses colliding. Think you might be whispering it back, but you can't hear what's coming out of your mouth. Overridden by the blood rushing to your head and the slap of his skin against yours, and, and, and...

Spots appear in your vision. Body going taut as you cum around him without the slightest warning. Crying out high in your throat, forehead knocking against Rhett's, an invisible flame racing across your skin. Every thrust pushes your head higher into the clouds, could damn near float up to the ceiling if his arms weren't tightening around you, his hips stalling. A melody of whimpers bubbles out of his throat, orgasm washing over him like a tidal wave.

You think you can feel it. The spasm of his cock and the warmth of his cum painting you white, flooding your pussy so full that you think it's already beginning to pour out of you. His hips jerk up into you, punctuated by a sickening squelch and his own broken moan.

And yet, somehow, you've got the strength to meet his swollen lips, lazy tongues poking out to twist together like a greeting. Wet and messy as can be, saliva running down your chin, drooling like dogs in the summer sun. Rhett twists beneath you, and you're vaguely aware that the world around you is spinning, falling into the mattress beside him.

A tickle rises in the back of your throat, forcing a cough out of you. Two purple flowers dance out onto the bed, obnoxiously vibrant and dainty. They've always been small, nothing compared to the roses Rhett's been choking up, but they look even tinier in his sweaty palm.

"Spiderwort," he murmurs after a moment, running a fingertip over their petals. Bleary blues peer flicker up to you, half-lidded and turned upward by his dumb smile.

They've always been his favorite.

"So there was no girl at the bar?" You ask, hand wandering onto his cheek, curling around it like he's the most delicate thing on this planet.

His head shakes. "Never."

There's still a storm lurking outside, rattling the house, lightning and thunder striking the ground with an unmatched fury, but you hardly notice it. Too distracted by the warmth of a cowboy, his legs tangling with yours, uncaring of the mess you've made together. Kissing just for the hell of it, wandering across cheeks and peppering over old scars, musing about the memories attached.

When you fall asleep, you're not sure, but you wake snuggled into his naked chest, his big arm looped around you like a blanket. Sunshine peeks through the gap in the curtains, the shrill tune of a bird singing her song, and for once, it's dreamy rather than irritating.

On its own accord, your fingers drift across his sleeping face, warm and maybe the slightest bit flushed. Wandering over the scruff clinging to his jaw, finally at that length where it's grown soft to the touch. Drifting around the minuscule scar above his brow, the only remnant of the night you snuck out together and wrecked the four-wheeler.

As far as you're aware, Royal never did find out why it started making that funny noise.

...or maybe Rhett was never asleep to begin with because when you look back down, his eyes are open.

"Keep doin' that," he grumbles, voice deeper than the rumble of last night's thunder, leaning in to press his lips against your forehead. You don't need any further encouragement, trailing your fingertips across his face just for the hell of it.

There are things you should be saying. Discussions to be had about where this puts you and what you are to each other, but the upturn of his lips tells you a million and one words. Seriousness can wait. For now, all you want to think about is this next kiss he's planting on you.

And then another between your eyes, and another on your left cheek, one more on the tip of your nose. Slowly but surely sprawling across your face, peppering you with them so quickly that it feels like the wings of butterflies fluttering against your skin.

"Rhett!" You squeal, pushing at his jaw, but it's no use. He's rolling on top of you, and you're helpless to do anything but squirm and cry out, forced to endure all these kisses.

As quickly as they start, they stop.

You're half anticipating them to begin the moment your eyes peel open, but he's not even looking at you. Too focused on something next to his face, just past your wrist.

Or maybe...

"What?" You're not following.

He leans back, brows furrowed as he looks down at his arm.

You don't get it. What, was he expecting the tattoos to change overnight? It still looks the damn same to you—

...oh.

That's not the same marking that has marred your skin from birth. And Rhett's turning his arm to let you see, and it's—

It's the same. Rhett's old bucking bronc, your shoe flying behind its upturned feet. It was never meant to be identical; they were meant to complete each other's picture.

"Are you serious?" You're sputtering through the smile emerging onto your face, so wide that it shapes your eyes with it.

And Rhett's not doing much better. Red-cheeked. Grinning from ear to ear. "We just been wrong 'bout it the whole fuckin' time."

This time, when he leans down to kiss you, there isn't a single flower to be found in your lungs. No roses. No spiderwort. Just you and him collapsing into these messy sheets, tangled together as one, matching tattoos at all.

Separation is only temporary. Breaking apart just long enough to venture into the shower together, uncaring of the tight fit, so long as Rhett's hands are gliding along your body. Tangling together in the kitchen, waiting on the microwave to beep, feet knocking into each other beneath the table like you're five years old, and sharing breakfast at the Abbott house again.

He kisses you in the hallway while mopping up the mud he tracked in. Peppers them along the side of your neck when you stumble out onto the porch to find that a tree has fallen, blocking your driveway completely. Perry says he'll come by with a chainsaw tomorrow afternoon; he could be here within the hour, but you've got the feeling that he's already caught on to what's happened.

In the middle of summer, you begin to suspect that some familiar flowers are beginning to grow around your home. Vibrant little buds sprout from amidst the dewy grass, nestled against the foundation of your home and roaming out into the lawn, running rampant now that the storm has run out of rain.

Roses don't grow in Wabang. Unless, of course, they're accompanied by spiderwort.

A few kisses from a cowboy are all they've ever needed.

#April 2024 #Fic rec #Rhett abbott x reader #Rhett abbott fic #Rhett abbott one shot #Rhett abbott fluff #Rhett abbott angst #Rhett abbott #Rhett abbott soulmate au #Soulmate au #Hanahaki disease #Outer range

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triptuckers · 1 month ago

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lighthouse - cassian andor

Request: nope Pairing: cassian andor x reader Summary: after an undercover mission nearly ends very badly, you and cassian finally come to terms with what you are to each other Warnings: fighting, blaster shots, injuries, bruises, angst Word count: 3,2K A/N: listen. we need more cassian fics that aren't smut so rejoice !! my andor obsession is back in full force and I also read a book that shook me to my core so this is inspired by my love for cassian and a line I read. enjoy!

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you and cassian have been... something for a while. you don't know exactly what, but you're sure you're not just fellow rebels. it's in the lingering glances, the brushing of his fingers against yours, how he sometimes looks at you so intensely but never ends up saying anything. you'd learnt he wasn't a man of many words, but the ones he did speak always rang true.

you keep telling yourself you'll talk to him. after the next mission. then you'll pull him to the side and speak with him about whatever you were to each other.

but there's always another one. always a next mission. the rebellion is fast paced. people are sent off to the very ends of the outer rim, you learn to sleep when you can, and you're always looking over your shoulder.

but you know what you're fighting for, and you want to do your part.

luthen, who recruited you a while back, has noticed how well you and cassian work together, so you're often sent on missions together.

even though you know you shouldn't want this many missions, you'd rather see this war come to an end, you couldn't help but be at least a little pleased you could do them with cassian.

today isn't any different.

once again you tell yourself after this mission, you'll talk to cassian. about what's going on in his head when he can't tear his eyes off of you during a briefing.

your mission is simple. you and cassian are to infiltrate some fancy invitation only event, make your way one of the countless offices in the building, find a string of passcodes, and get the hell out without getting yourself shot at.

you'd done it a thousand times before. this wouldn't be any different or any harder.

how wrong you were.

it started well, despite your uncomfortable shoes. you hated dress codes but you had no choice this time. you would stand out in your comfortable clothes - very recognisable as a rebel or at the very least, someone who did not belong at such an event.

you only got distracted by the art hung on the walls for a short while.

when you were younger, you were very fond of your uncle. he'd travel the galaxy and come back with stories. as a child, you'd promised him that one day you'd collect stories of your own.

for a while, you did. you'd hear stories from people you'd meet, they'd tell you about their cultures, their art, their traditions, their history. you loved hearing those stories and passing them along.

cassian often listened to them when the two of you were traveling to the next mission.

when you slowed your pace walking past an interesting looking sculpture, it was cassian who nudged you to keep on walking. your time window was short, and there was little room for stalling.

once you find the right office, cassian keeps an eye out while you sit at the imperial's desk to find the passcodes. thanks to some good intel, it doesn't take you long to find them.

you quickly copy them, then join cassian at the door. the corridor appears to be empty when cassian looks around the corner. nevertheless, you bend down to get your blaster out of your leg holster.

'put it away.' says cassian.

'you've got your blaster out.' you observe.

'yes because I can tuck it back in my pants.'

'and?'

'and you can't very well subtly bend down to put yours back, can you?'

'I could if-'

'no time. put it away.'

other people would get offended by his sharp tone, but you know cassian. he's focused on the mission now. on getting out quickly and efficiently.

you make a show of putting your blaster back in your holster. telling him if you get shot because you can't return fire, it would be his fault. cassian merely rolls his eyes at you as he exits the office.

you follow him out, forcing yourself not to run. if anything would be suspicious it's two people suddenly breaking in full sprint.

cassian walks ahead of you towards the hangar where you'd stashed your ship. as he rounds a corner, you nearly bump into him as he suddenly stops walking.

you're confused for a moment when you catch him hiding his blaster, then see the imperial officer in front of him.

'you two are far from the party.' the man says.

you're quick to walk up to cassian's side and wrap a hand around his bicep.

'is there a problem, sir?' you say, choosing to play the part of confused partyguest.

'this corridor is off limits to guests.' says the imperial officer.

you give cassian's arm a quick squeeze, letting him know not to interfere with your plan.

'we're so sorry, officer, my husband and I were looking for the washroom.' you say, smiling at the man.

but instead of waving you off, he narrows his eyes at your hand on cassian's arm.

'I don't see a ring.'

'it's not part of our culture.'

'and there are clear signs pointing to the washroom.'

'there are? we must have missed them.'

'I'll ask again, what are you two doing this far from the party?'

you notice cassian tensing up beside you. it wouldn't be easy to convince this man you're supposed to be here.

the imperial officer takes out his comm device to alert someone else but cassian acts quickly, swiftly punching the man in the nose.

'there goes our last chance at this being a stealth mission.' you sigh, following cassian as he takes off.

you watch as cassian pulls out his blaster again. you quickly bend down to retrieve yours as well, stopping for a few seconds, then run to catch up with him.

while rounding a corner, you nearly twist your ankle. you loudly curse your forced choice of footwear. meanwhile, cassian is ahead of you.

'hurry up!' he yells over his shoulder.

'you try running in four inch heels!' you snap back at him.

as you're barrelling your way through countless corridors, forgoing all attempts at stealth, you nearly fall again.

you groan in frustration, shoot a look over your shoulder and deem it safe enough. you could take off your shoes quickly. it'll only be a second.

'are you fucking serious?' cassian shouts as he sees you yanking off your shoes.

'would you rather I break my legs?' you yell.

cassian reaches out and pulls you up as you duck to avoid blaster fire. the imperials had caught up with you.

you're so close to the ship, you push yourself a little faster. you're on cassian's heels as he enters the ship.

right as you enter the ship, a pair of blaster shots hit their mark. you feel a searing hot pain across your ribs as you hit the button to close the door to the ship.

cassian, who heard you yell out in pain, worriedly looks at you but you wave him off.

'fly the ship!' you yell.

your priority right now was to get the codes to the rebels. it wasn't your life. it was the brutal reality of the rebellion.

cassian seems to realise this as well. he takes one last look at you, before taking off towards the cockpit.

you press a hand to your side as you lay on your back, focusing on your breathing.

you close your eyes. you know that's not a smart thing to do, so you permit yourself three deep breaths. then you'd open your eyes again. you feel the humming of the ship beneath you as cassian flies away from imperial territory. you breathe through the pain, not daring to move, in fear of making your injury worse.

suddenly you feel a hard shove and open your eyes. cassian's worried eyes look into yours.

'I thought you died.' he says.

'good morning to you, too.' you grumble. 'I closed my eyes for a second. why aren't you flying the ship?'

'we're in hyperspace.' cassian says. 'that wasn't a second.'

you frown, then try to sit up to look at your ribs. immediately, a sharp pain shoots through your body and you fall back again.

cassian goes quiet as he runs off to get a medkit.

unceremoniously, he uses a knife to rip a part of your dress off. in any other circumstance you'd be appalled. but this was war. everyone needed to act quickly all the time, there was no time for modesty.

your eyes focus on the ceiling of the ship as cassian works on bandaging your ribs. you feel him poking around, checking your injury. you wince when it hurts too much and cassian mumbles an apology.

you close your eyes, but cassian pokes your cheek with his finger. you make an annoyed sound.

'don't sleep.' he says firmly.

if you were anyone else you would have found his harsh tone rude. but you've known cassian for a while now. you detect the undertone of worry.

'i'm okay.' you say, but you feel yourself slipping. a nap did sound very good.

cassian pokes you again.

'cassian.' you grumble.

'stay awake. I mean it.' he says. 'I'm nearly done.'

you're desperately trying to stay awake, when cassian speaks again.

'count down from three.' he instructs.

'why?'

'do it.'

you sigh, then count down.

when you're at two, cassian firmly secures the bandage around your rips, making you cry out in pain. you'd been shot before, but this was much more painful than any other time.

you let out a string of curses as cassian checks the bandages.

the sharp pain had weakened to a dull, throbbing pain. it was annoying and consistent, but hurt less than before.

'you need rest.' says cassian.

'i'm fine here.'

'you're not sleeping not on the ground.'

'i've had worse.'

'no.'

cassian leaves little room for argument.

you feel how he carefully slips one arm behind your back and the other under your knees. he may not have a very muscular build at first glance, but he lifts you without much visible struggle. the movement intensifies your pain and you try to blink the feeling away.

you desperately try to stay awake, to commit this feeling of being in cassian's arms to memory. but your eyelids are just so heavy.

cassian carefully sets you down on one of the cots on the ship.

'now you can rest.' you hear him say.

you want to thank him for taking care of you, but you're already asleep seconds later.

the journey back to base takes a couple of days. cassian has to take a creative route to make sure you're not leading imperials to the rebels. occasionally, you wake when cassian comes to check on you. he helps you drink water and you try to eat something, but most of the time you just sleep.

cassian is being even more silent than he usually is. you can tell his mind is racing. you want to ease his thoughts, but there never seems to be the right time to talk.

when cassian wakes you a couple of days later, you've made it back to base.

he helps you sit up. you insist on being able to walk on your own. but one attempt at pushing yourself up from your sitting position shows you can't.

cassian supports the biggest part of your weight as he slowly takes you from the hangar to your room.

you had a private room, which was a luxury. people you pass in the hallways send you worried looks, but they know cassian would explain it all in the debriefing.

with a series of practiced taps, cassian unlocks the door to your room and helps you inside. he carefully puts you down on your own cot and turns around to leave so he can give his debriefing of the mission as quickly as possible.

'cass.' you say, nearly asleep already.

his ears perk up. you've rarely called him that. the first time you did, it caught him off guard and you interpreted his surprised look as a sign he didn't want you calling him that. quite the opposite. he loved it.

'what's up?' he says softly.

'thank you.' you say.

'of course.'

'did I ever tell you you're my lighthouse, cass?'

he frowns at your words. what is a lighthouse? but before he can as you about it, you've fallen asleep. he decides to let you. he knows there's people waiting on him, and you need your rest.

cassian walks back to the room he's expected to give his debriefing of the mission. he thinks about your words on his way, but forces himself to think of the mission when he enters the room.

the debrief itself is short. he passes the copied codes along to someone else, so they can work with them. cassian updates everyone on your condition, and has a medical droid sent to your room to check on you.

then he sets off to find brasso. he's convinced he would know what a lighthouse is. but brasso can't give him an explanation, only his best guess. bix also doesn't know.

just as cassian is searching for will to ask him about the term, he runs into luthen, who has a new mission for him already.

cassian knows you'd be irritated with him if he'd stay back for your sake. you both know the importance of the rebellion. he doesn't want to leave you behind, but he does as he's asked.

the mission doesn't take him very far. he's joined by a handful of others. though he's only gone for a couple of days, he worries about you.

so when he returns, he immediately goes to your room, letting someone else handle the debriefing this time.

but when he opens the door, something's off. your room is empty and it smells of cleaning supplies. the bed is made way too neatly for you to have done it.

panic seizes him as he quickly makes his way to the small medbay.

one of the medical droids says you haven't been in since cassian left for his mission. they don't know where you are.

it's one of the new recruits that tells cassian you're probably outside.

their current base is located on a forest planet. the trees provide cover for your ships and base. cassian knew it was similar to your home planet, and you missed it dearly. you often spoke about your childhood home, and the big garden you loved when you were a child.

the feeling of panic slowly disappears as cassian makes his way to the back of the base, where the forest was blooming and green.

sure enough, he finds you sitting in a patch of grass rather than one of the benches. steam rises from a cup of tea in your hand. your head is tilted upwards, catching rays of sunshine on your face.

he closes his eyes and sighs softly. you were alright. just reconnecting with nature.

cassian walks up to you. you've got more color on your face than the last time he saw you, a good sign.

he wants to tell you he's so glad you're okay. he also wants to scold you for not being in your room when he got back, scaring him like crazy. but instead, a questions comes out when he speaks.

'what's a lighthouse?'

'you're back!' you say, turning around and then wincing, pressing a hand to your side. it seems you hadn't completely healed just yet.

cassian walks up to you and sits down beside you, accepting your hug. he looks at you with another one of his piercing gazes.

as you look at his face - searching for any injuries - it takes you a while to register his question from before. you'd been sleeping the pain off a lot, and sometimes your mind was a little foggy.

'I never told you?' you say.

cassian shakes his head.

'well. I was going to tell you all of this eventually. after the next mission, I kept telling myself.' you say, glancing at the trees ahead of you. 'but I thought that blaster shot would be my last.'

'it takes more than a few blaster shots to take us down.' says cassian.

you smile at his words.

'a lighthouse is a tall building on the edge of an ocean.' you explain. 'I saw the ruins of one once.'

'so I'm a tall building?' says cassian, not understanding.

'it was meant for sailors. if a boat would be out on sea and it was dark, the lighthouse would guide them back to dry land. keep them save, bring them home.' you say.

you sip your tea as cassian lets your words sink in.

'this war is intense. the rebellion is intense. it's hard to find your footing when you're never in one place for long and you don't know when you have to pack up and leave again. but I know, no matter where I go, you'll be there. you'll guide me home. so, in a way, you're my lighthouse.' you say.

'your lighthouse.' cassian echoes your words. 'I like that.'

you turn your head to look at him, not surprised to find him looking at you already.

'I had a feeling you would. how did your mission go?'

'alright. got what we came for. got back home.'

'you've never been a man of many words, have you?' you say, smiling.

he shrugs. 'sometimes you don't need many. how are you feeling? how are your ribs?'

'better.' you say. 'the medical droid said you did a good job at bandaging me up. though it still hurts. I sleep a lot. I was just going to take another nap.'

cassian frowns. 'why didn't you? if it helps with the pain?'

'I was waiting for you to come back.'

'you were?'

'I never really sleep well when you're out there and I'm here.'

cassian stands up and offers you his hand.

'where are we going?' you ask, allowing him to gently help you stand.

'to take a nap.' he says.

you smile and allow cassian to lead you back to your room, never letting go of his hand. he helps you when you lay down on your cot. you surprise him by gently tugging him down with you.

'you look like the mission was intense. you need your rest as well.' you say.

cassian nods, then takes off his boots and jacket. he lays down next to you, careful not to touch your ribs in fear of hurting you. you move closer, only wincing a little at the movement.

'do you have to go soon?' you ask him, feeling tired already.

'no.' says cassian, wrapping an arm around you. 'not for a few days.'

'good.' you mumble, burying your head in the space between his jaw and his shoulder.

you're nearly asleep when cassian whispers your name.

'yeah?' you say softly.

'you're my lighthouse, too.' he says.

you smile at his words. 'I know, cass.'

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

#he is everything to me btw #can't wait to see some more insane acting from diego in season 2 #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor fanfic #cassian andor fanfics #cassian andor fic #cassian andor fics #cassian andor fluff #cassian andor oneshot #andor fanfiction #Star Wars fanfiction

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moonriseoverkyoto · 2 months ago

Text

Seeing Double - Chapter 5

Pairings - Simon “Ghost” Riley x MacTavish!Reader, Platonic! John “Soap” MacTavish x MacTavish Reader, Platonic! Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Reader

Summary - Wherever a Banshee cries for death, a ghost always follows

Warnings - depictions of reader being tortured for info (bone breaking, punched, etc, plz be wary), blood, nausea, mentions of vomit, canon-typical gun violence, graves is a slimy eel

Author’s Note - enjoy! Lmk if I missed a warning

Word Count - 4.4K, I really tried to make this longer but I didn’t have it within me

Masterlist / Pt.1 , Pt.2 , Pt.3 , Pt. 4, pt.6

Johnny’s blood ran cold as he saw the butt of Graves' gun hit your head as your body slumped. The man not even feeling a bullet hit his arm as he hit the ground, a dead shadow sitting on top of him.

“Go Johnny get out of here, now! Soap, go!” Simon’s voice rang out loud and clear as he realized the lieutenant was right. As much as he couldn’t bear leaving you again, he couldn’t do you any good if he died. So he shoved the Shadow off of him and slid down the hill.

“Get him - now!” Graves, commanded as a shadow, tried to shoot at Soap as the Scotsman slid down into the darkness, Johnny shooting off a few shots of his own.

“You there, Ghost? That was a big mistake, brother. It did not have to be like this. All you had to do was hand over Banshee and the base…” Graves trailed off as he rounded around the corner, rain pouring down harder as he saw that Ghost had vanished.

“Son of a bitch, find ‘em! Now!” Graves shouted as he turned back to you, “They’ll eventually find their way back for you, won’t they?” The Texan smirked as he looked down at you.

You didn’t wake again until you were already in the dark room. You woke up gasping as you peered around the room. Your chest heaving as you looked around. The room was dark, except for the bright light above you, blinding you of all sights not immediately in front of you.

You could feel dried blood make a matt in your hair as you starkly noticed how naked you were, well not naked but still. Your gear was missing, as well as your outer level of clothing. You were in a tight fitted tee, some shorts, and your boots were missing but your black socks were still on. You felt your hands and legs still stuck in the zip ties as a familiar voice rang out through the room.

“Still stuck with those dreams, huh?” Graves taunted, “Still trying to save your men with your screams?”

“Jealous I’m not screaming for you?” You snapped back.

“Oh not after seeing what you do to yourself when you sleep.” Graves shot back.

“Oh you wish I wanted to sleep with you for one night.” You responded,

“No, I wish you would tell me where your brother and that damn Ghost is.” Graves said. An idea flickering in your head.

“They’re right under your nose, can’t you see it?” You spoke, venom in your voice. But was quickly silenced by the sound of a shadow’s fist making contact with your cheek.

“Aww Graves, you don’t want to touch me? I’m hurt.” you continued on.

“Oh that hurt me more than it hurt you, sweetheart. But you’re about to be in a whole world of pain, if you don’t tell me where your team is.” Graves spoke.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” You tested the waters.

“You don’t know where your brother, his lieutenant, and your old team of two years past are located, yeah. Sure I’ll believe you sweetheart. Right after you cross over my dead body.” Graves shot back.

“That can always be arranged, especially after you betrayed them.”

“What can be arranged is a nice easy death for you, a quiet passing. Even give your Mama and your sisters some compensation-”

“Don’t you fucking talk about my family.” You spit out, your saliva landing on Graves’ cheek. The man swiped it off quickly before he got close to your face.

“Then start talking about yours.”

“Not a fat fucking chance.” You answered.

“Grab her feet.” came Graves voice, loud and clear, your socks being ripped off. Your scream tearing from your throat as you felt your left foot get crunched, a blindfold coming around your eyes.

“Where are we?” Soap said as he and Ghost walked up to an abandoned house in the middle of the countryside. The two soldiers had just barely pulled themselves out of Las Almas and all he could think about was what Graves was doing to you. The dawn sun just barely broke out through the horizon, almost symbolic of how you were barely holding on.

“Alejandro’s safehouse. Gave me the location just in case.” Ghost said, the own man worried about you as well but hid it better. Johnny had already torn off his nails as he bit them in anxiety.

“Why didn't he tell me?” Soap asked.

“It was need to know.” Ghost shrugged.

“What if I needed to know?” Soap shot back at the lieutenant before being shushed. Both men peering down to see a rigged booby trap lay on the ground, barely covered by a cardboard.

“Pressure plate…” The sergeant said softly.

“Alejandro rigged it.” Ghost said definitively.

“Smart bastard.” Soap murmured.

“There.” Ghost said he saw a nearby open window.

Soap made the jump first as he landed safely inside, his boots echoing. Simon followed soon after. The lieutenant paused as both of them saw a shadowed figure move.

“Don’t move.” Ghost shot out as his knife landed into the board behind the figure, barely missing. Both of the men tense as they waited a moment

“¿Quién está ahí?” Who’s there? the voice shouted out.

“Rodolfo!” Soap said suddenly

“Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!” Rudy responded as he peered out through the shadows.

“Affirmative.” Ghost spit out, the man easing up only slightly. Rudy quickly grabbed the knife from the board and didn’t say a word as he recognized it as yours.

“Good to see you, amigos!” Rudy said, not mentioning the missing woman, everyone was already painfully aware of it.

“Igual Amigo.” Soap responded, a soft smile on his face as he said it without thinking.

“Nice throw. Where were you guys?” Rudy said as he passed a knife back to the lieutenant, a look passed between them.

“On the run.”

“I was on the run. Ghost waited for me.”

“Of course, no?” Rudy said.

“No.” Johnny said definitively.

“Yes-” Ghost said immediately after. Johnny looked up at the lieutenant, surprised for a moment.

“We're a team... All of us. This happened on my watch and I'll need help to fix it. No one fights alone.” Ghost said as a look passed over his eyes, his guilt eating his insides alive. Soap nodded in agreement.

Your scream curdled the paint off the wall as the shadow broke your other foot. The pain shooting up your body as your bones were further crushed by Graves using his boots to stand on them.

“I didn’t really want to do this sweetheart. You know that.” Graves said

“Oh yer General’s gonna ‘ave yer head when he sees tha’ you’ve roughed up his favorite toy.” You spit back at him, your accent slipping out.

“Oh that’s the fun in this, sweetheart. He doesn’t care what I do to you, as long as you come crawling back to him, and seeing the state of your feet, I don’t see you walking away from this any time soon.” Graves spoke with a sick joy.

“Why did Graves turn?” Rudy questioned. Ghost’s brain flashing over the memory of the man mentioning something about handing you over, but he kept it to himself, his guilt only compiled the situation further.

“We don’t know.” Soap said, “we thought you would.”

“Las Almas can corrupt anyone.” Rudy said with a nod.

“Not us.” Soap said.

“For now, General Shepard, Laswell, and anyone else outside this room is considered hostile. With two exceptions.”

“Alejandro and..” Soap trailed off, even mentioning your name made his heart lurch but he didn’t need to, the other men understood.

“We need them back.” Ghost murmured

“Ven..” Come.. Rudy nodded, walking the men towards a map. His finger pointing to an x on the spot. “Graves is holding them there.”

“His own personal black site prison.” Soap growled.

“My team is locked in there too.” Rudy spoke.

“How do we get ‘em back?” Johnny said, his fingers tensing.

“By breaking in.” Ghost nodded to him.

“And that’s why I love The Ghost.” Soap said with a knowing smile.

“It’s gonna take more than this.” Ghost said, pointing to all of the surrounding machinery. Rudy walked over to the door and slid it open, revealing a fully-stocked armory of weapons and gear.

“It’s well stocked.” Rudy said.

“Alright.” Ghost nodded.

“My man - we’re gonna need new wheels. Preferably up-armored.” Johnny said as they walked into the armory. Rudy then suddenly tossed a set of keys to Ghost who caught them quickly, the lights coming on to reveal a sleek armored vehicle.

“Alejandro really thought of everything.” Ghost said with a low sigh.

“Yeah he did. Let’s go get ‘em.” Soap growled out. The men approached the vehicle as Soap gripped a new gun and multiple mags.

“The old prison is in a remote area outside of Las Almas. It was maximum security until the Narcos took it over, and it was permanently closed.” Rudy explained as the men surrounded the map. A headshot of you and Alejandro were on the map. Ghost felt his heart lurched at how different you looked in the photo, still bright eyed and bushy tailed. He noticed how your eyes still twinkled, no jagged scar in sight.

“There is no airstrip, but expect helios for security and resupply.” Rudy continued, his hand moving to another part of the map labeled, ‘entry’ and ‘guard tower’ written on it.

“We’ll drive up to an offset and ruck up to our infil - here. If the security towers are manned, we’ll need to take them out first and rope up the wall for entry.” Ghost said with a nod.

“What about cameras?” Soap questioned, the man ready to enter guns a’ blazin’ if it meant bringing you home. Rudy pointed to a security room labeled ‘CCTV’.

“There’s CCTVs in the security room.” Rudy answered.

“We’ll use them to locate Alejandro, and Banshee.” Ghost spoke.

“Let’s divide and conquer. While Rudy finds Al, I’ll use the cams to help Ghost plant charges in key areas, and find my sister.” Soap said, setting an explosive onto the table.

“Diversions and sabotage. Nice Johnny.” Simon almost smiled under his mask.

“I learned from the best, L.T. Once we pinpoint Ale, my sister, and Los Vaqueros, we regroup and pry ‘em loose.” Johnny smiled at the idea of you being safe back with them and then blowing Graves to bits and pieces.

“We’ll carry extra guns in to arm them and fight our way out the way we came in.” Rudy nodded.

“Any questions?” Ghost spoke out.

“The hell are we waitin’ for L.T?”

Just as you were about to sleep, ice cold water was splashed all over you. Before you could wonder where the hell Graves found ice cold water in the desert. Pain shot up your body as two boots roughly stepped on your broken feet.

“Fuck me!” You cried out before gritting your teeth.

“Oh I’d love to, but another time.” Graves smirked before he whispered in your ear, “Now you tell me where your brother is, and I’ll get you a nice pillow and a blanket-”

You reached out blindly, as the binds tore against your wrists. Your teeth ripping against Graves’ lobe. A violent smile tearing across your face as you heard the man cry out.

“Get the rope.” Graves said as you were ripped out of your chair. Your hands suddenly wrapped up in a rope and you were strung up high. A slight whimper of relief leaving your body as a pressure was taken off your feet, but then the weight of being hung pulled at your arms harshly and your back. Your body weight was tugging you down.

“Last chance, tell me where they are.”

“I said I don’t know!” You cried out. Then the pain came. At first you expected it to be worse than what you went through two years ago, but for some reason, this was easier. But yet Graves hand dug deep as he punched you in the gut, you could feel the skin starting to bruise and your bones ache as he continued to beat you into a pulp but you didn’t falter.

‘Just a little longer.’ You told yourself as warm blood and vomit pooled into your mouth. Suddenly you bristled as Graves stopped.

“The fuck was that?” he said as the sound of gunfire got closer. The man suddenly getting up as you smirked

“Leaving so soon?” You said confidently, concealing your fear. Nothing was said and that was scarier. The room was just quiet as the commotion got louder outside.

Ghost, Soap, and Rudy had taken no time to run through the base. The men tear through shadows like a hot knife through butter.

“Ghost, what's your status?” Soap said through the comms, seeing the entrance through the cell block.

“Comin’ your way.” The man clipped out.

“Copy tha’. We’re on the move.” Soap reported.

“Heads up on the helo.” Rudy warned, hearing it pass over.

“Looks like we’re out of sight.” Ghost said as they reached the entrance of the cell block. Soap began to fidget as he knew you were close.

“Cell Block. Entry’s ahead. Shadows blocking the way.” Rudy blurted out.

“Let’s send ‘em all to hell and get inside.” Soap growled. Suddenly Ghost grabbed one of the guards and snapped his neck as Rudy shot the other.

“All Clear.” Rudy said as they entered the block. Soap tried the door but to no avail.

“It’s locked.”

“We’ll need to breach it.” Rudy suggested

“No Rudy - just knock.”

“On me.” Rudy said as he knocked.

A shadow opened the door and stepped outside only to be ambushed by Ghost who snapped his neck and the man crumpled as three more shadows stepped out.

“Enemies on the second deck-!” Rudy cried out.

“More comin’ down the stairs-!” Ghost said back.

“Soap we’ll keep ‘em busy up top! Press forward..!” Ghost commanded. The Scotsman pushed forward, taking down a Shadow as he did so.

“Comin’ up behind you Sergeant.” Ghost said.

“They’re both up there. Let’s go” Rudy said. The three men climbed up the stairs.

“Alejandro’s down the hall, right side.”

“Expect contact lads.” Ghost murmured just as they saw two shadows guarding Alejandro’s cell.

“Light ‘em up-!” Ghost yelled out.

“¡¡Mueran, pinches sombras!!” Come on, you shadow fucks! Rudy said as he shot them down.

“There’s Alejandro’s cell.. Open it up, I’ll cover you.” Soap said to Rudy as Ghost pulled out some bolt cutters,

“Johnny, when I pop this lock, you push in. This is what we came for..” Ghost said to the man. Ghost broke the lock and Johnny pushed in his door. Alejandro suddenly tackled the man as he entered the cell.

“Al! - It’s me, hermano!” Soap cried out.

“Coronel, relájate, cabrón, somos nosotros.” Colonel, relax, it's us. Rudy spoke quickly, Alejandro then relaxed, looking relieved to see the men. He released Johnny quickly.

“Your sister is in the room down the hall.” Alejandro said as Rudy gave him some gear and weaponry.

Soap and Ghost heard the conversation continue as they walked down the hallway. Soap’s hands were shaking as they busted down the door. Ghost was ready to fight you as he entered the room, instead he was horrified at the sight that laid before his eyes.

You were strung up by your wrists, bloodied and bruised, hanging off the ground like a piece of meat to be slaughtered. Your feet were black and blue, clear evidence of being broken inward. Your clothes were soaking wet as you shivered slightly, parts of the clothes torn. You whimpered softly at the sudden intrusion as you heard the door broken inward. Soap was frozen still as the lieutenant quickly came to your aid and cut the rope. You fell into his arms and thrashed, still thinking it wasn’t over. Ghost’s voice came out as soft as a whisper as he held you in his arms.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said as he pulled up his mask just short of his hairline, before realizing you couldn’t see from your own blindfold on your head.

“Ghost?” You croaked out, as he pulled it off.

“Simon, love. It’s Simon.” He whispered as you finally saw his face. Both of you finally see each other without the mask. A moment passes between you as you study his features, a feeling of relief overcoming the fear coursing through your veins.

In another life, he would’ve kissed you and walked out of here without caring who shot him, as long as you made it home safe. In another life those blue eyes approached you at the bar, asked you for a drink, maybe even gotten your number. In another life, those blue eyes gazed into yours with the same amount of care but in the safety of a bedroom, with a ring vowing you both together for all of eternity. In another life, those rough hands that held your head were soft, free of all the calluses of war, softened by a life of peace and love. In another life the body that cradled yours was plushy from a life of relaxation, not hardened from war.

But this was not that life, in this life, in this stale bloodied room, you both held onto each other like two separate halves searching for a whole. His blue eyes piercing through yours as a hand came up to his face, before you tilted your head and croaked again.

“Johnny?” You said softly. Your brother quickly comes to your aid, snapping out his disorientation.

“I’m here. Right here.” Johnny said as he undid your bonds. A cry leaving your mouth as your feet struck each other, pain shooting up your body. Simon felt his heart lurch in his chest at the noise.

“I’m gonna kill the fuckin’ bastard.” Johnny said as Simon passed you into your brother’s arms. His hand trailing your back as he made sure your brother had you secure in his arms.

“Place is crawlin’ with Shadows. There’ll be hell ahead.” Ghost said as he pulled his mask over his face. Rudy and Alejandro appeared at the door. Alejandro holding a submachine gun.

“Let’s fight fire with fire.” Alejandro said. Simon glanced back at you but you were already turned in safely into your brother’s arms.

“Let’s get out of here boys.” Johnny said as more vaqueros came into his vision as they left the cell. The Scotsman was desperately aware of your pain as he avoided Simon’s gaze.

“Órale, on you, Rodolfo.” Alejandro called out.

“You seen Graves here?” Soap questioned Alejandro.

“No, but I plan to pay that cabrón a special visit.” Alejandro growled out.

“Not before I do.” Soap said.

“You four, on me.” Alejandro said as he pushed the other vaqueros in another direction.

“¡Ninguna prision puede detener a Los Vaqueros...!” No prison can hold the cowboys...! One cried out.

“El unico que puede matar a Alejandro es Alejandro... “The only thing that can kill Alejandro is Alejandro… another shouted into the night. The group of you entered a dark mess hall.

“This was the mess hall.” Alejandro said softly.

“Let's make a mess then.” Soap said as he held you tighter.

“Órale, Jabón.” Alejandro nodded, suddenly the glaring lights came on.

“Shadows know we're here, stay sharp.” Ghost said. Suddenly they opened fire and Simon grabbed Johnny and yanked him behind his larger body. The group wasted no time in clearing the entire prison as they made their way out, only stopped by a large door.

“Big room, make sure we’re clear!” Alejandro called out to Rudy.

“Despejado Coronel.” Appears clear Rudy called back

“It’s padlocked.” Alejandro said, checking the door. Simon cut through with his bolt cutters, making Alejandro chuckle.

“El fantasma, siempre preparado.” The Ghost, always prepared.

“On you, Colonel.” Ghost nodded, the colonel then kicking in the door.

“Weapons hot, hermanos. Stairwell leads down and out. We’ll link up with the others and exfil the fuck out of here.” Alejandro nodded to the group.

“Ye hear that? Almost home. Just a little longer” Johnny whispered to you, you only whimpered in his chest.

“Exfil vehicles are set. Ghost planted charges to help us out.” Rudy said to Alejandro.

“With Johnny’s help.” Ghost added.

“I can’t call Jabón, ‘Johnny’.” Alejandro spoke.

“Don’t. Only Ghost and ma’ family can pull tha’ off.” Johnny quipped back as they made their way down the stairs. The men freezed seeing the yard.

“We’ll have to cross the yard to get everyone out.” Rudy said softly.

Alejandro led them, then Rudy, then Soap, then Simon. Soap carefully leaned forward to shield you with his body.

“The roof, right side!” Rudy called out before the shots rang out. The men returned the fire and took out the shadows before a stray sniper bullet grazed Johnny’s uniform.

“Sniper on the roof!” Alejandro called out right as Simon took him down in a single half second.

“Not anymore.” Simon quipped. The group made it safely across the yard before halting seeing some Shadows get out of a pick-up.

“Johnny, that truck has one of our chargers on it, detonate it.” Simon said.

“Here it comes.” The sergeant said as he pushed the button. The truck exploded, killing the surrounding shadows.

“Ka-freakin-boom!” The sergeant said with a soft smile.

“Keep moving!” Ghost said as he came behind the sergeant. Alejandro led the men down the road from the prison safely, but a pickup truck in the distance with a turret gun appeared. Johnny immediately donated without warning to the others.

“¡Órale, qué belleza!” That’s a thing of beauty! Alejandro cheered out before turning to Rodolfo. “Where to next?”

“Cut through this building up here.” Rudy said with a nod. The men continued on to the exfil point without worry. Johnny held you closer and closer as you shivered in the night air. He was beginning to become distracted by your movements until the sound of a helicopter came from the distance.

“Ye hear that?” Soap called out.

“Helicopter, searching for us!” Alejandro said.

“We’ll need more than what we have to take it out.” Ghost said, his worry clouding his judgement.

“All stations, this is Bravo-6. Get down lads!” came Price’s voice, a breathless smile covering Johnny’s face as the men got down. A missile suddenly comes out of a nearby helicopter to take down the Shadow aircraft. Johnny could see Gaz hanging out from the other side of the wall, waving a green flare.

“It’s Price!” Simon yelled out.

“Hell-fuckin-yeah!” Soap cried out, before he spoke to you, “Cap’s here, just give me a little longer.”

“All Bravo and Vaqueros… Top o’ the wall. Get over here and I’ll get you out!” came Price’s voice again through the comms.

“Loud and Clear, Price!” Ghost said.

“Who is that?” Rudy questioned as they moved towards the wall.

“A friend.” Johnny said with a knowing smile.

“I like him already.” Alejandro laughed, before commanding his men, “¡Vaqueros, vayan al muro, entre las torres, ya!” Vaqueros, get to the wall, between the towers, now!

“I’ve deployed ropes!” Price said over the comms as they approached the wall.

“I’ll need to be pulled up, I’ve got cargo!” Johnny said over the comms. The rest of the men, including the vaqueros, used the ropes to climb and Johnny grabbed the final rope. Gaz grunted as he and Alejandro pulled the rope, their combined muscle not being enough. Ghost acted quickly to make a pulley system with a few pieces of metal.

“I got your sorry asses.” Ghost said, in reality he knew they would pull you up, he just wanted you to be here faster. His arms burned as he helped pull up the two of you. His muscles bulged with each tug as you both got closer and closer. He finally breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled you and Johnny to the top and your brother slid you both down.

“Sergeant Mactavish, and..” Price’s smile fell as he saw you in Johnny’s arms, bruised, battered, and shivering.

“Good to see you cap’.” Johnny said with a nod.

“Ghost.” Gaz nodded, taking notice of how quick the lieutenant acted to help Johnny and you.

“Garrick, Price.” The lieutenant nodded.

“How’d you know?” Johnny questioned.

“Laswell.” Gaz answered.

“Soon as Shepard went dark, she called us.” Price finished.

“Laswell, still solid as a rock.” Ghost nodded as his gaze fell over you, Johnny’s clothes were wet from yours, only worsening your shaking in the desert cold. Johnny saw Simon’s look and quickly passed you over. Your form softened as Simon quickly shushed your whimper, recognizing the man. Simon held you bridal style and tucked your legs in to avoid your feet hitting anything and further damaging them.

“Colonel Vargas, meet Captain Price and Sergeant Garrick.” Johnny introduced the two men now that his hands were free.

“Thanks for the assist!” Alejandro said. The men turned to see their escape vehicles.

“Let’s get out of here!” Gaz yelled as they made a break towards the vehicles. Gaz took the driver’s seat, Price took shotgun as Ghost piled into the back with you in his arms and Johnny behind the driver’s seat. Alejandro and Rudy communicating over the radio about meeting back at a safe house.

“Hit it Gaz!” Price barked at the man as Gaz’s boot roughly hit the gas as he pulled out quickly. A silence fell over the car as Ghost finally spoke up.

“Shepard burned us.” He said as he looked down and noticed your lashes fluttering with the temptation of sleep. Simon’s guilt ate at him, you could’ve been safe if he had just caught Graves earlier.

“He sent Graves and his Shadows to kill us and round up Los Vaqueros, and take ‘er.” Johnny said as his gaze fell upon you safely in his lieutenant’s arms.

“We know why.” Price said as he too saw the same image in the rearview mirror.

“Laswell did a bit of digging.” Gaz said with a glance into the rearview mirror.

“What did she find?” Ghost said as he watched you finally fall asleep in his chest, your hand curling up against his shirt, his chest gear long gone.

“The truth…” Price said with a certain look in his eyes. The men all exchanged a glance at each other as they rode back safely to the meeting point.

Author’s note - heyyyy, so a lot happened, but more will come. I had to get this chapter out. Also did anyone notice the shift in Simon and Ghost being used? (Plz say yes)

My requests are open!

#call of duty #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #Simon ghost Riley x you #Simon Riley x you #ghost x you #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #cod fic #john price #Kyle gaz Garrick #John soap MacTavish #simon riley angst #Simon Riley fic #ghost fanfic

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