#wonder why this stuck with rhett

[becausethathappens]

remember that? (inspired by this post)

[delopsia]

nosedive | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 18,900 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader. Storm chasers AU, Kate, and Tyler appear but are so inconsequential that they can be read as OC's. You do not need to watch Twisters to understand and read this fic! Arguing, brief food mentions, undisclosed past trauma, storm chasing, vehicle accidents, anxiety attacks, friends to lovers, grinding, unprotected sex, includes a sketch that I traced from stock photos I stitched together. Brief Summary: You swore off storm chasing a long time ago. You haven't been able to look at that old truck since the accident, and if you could have your way, you'd never think about that part of your life ever again. You've moved on. Every time you touch that damn truck, something goes wrong. But when your friend and her so-called business partner become wrapped up in a never-ending quarrel, it's Rhett who becomes your biggest supporter. You think you're beginning to remember why you used to love this. How you used to live for your out-of-this-world builds and ideas. Or maybe…just maybe, you're beginning to fall in love with something that isn't a truck.

"So, at what point are we going to tell them?"

"What would that be?" Speaking with the straw against your lips, seconds away from taking another sip of that cheap gas station coffee. "That I'm the one who keeps filling Rhett's truck with tiny ducks?"

"No," Kate's eyes roll, her head shaking ever so slightly, not quite ready to admit to her part in it. "About Dallas."

A gust of wind blows past. Entirely invisible to the eye, and yet you catch Kate's head following as it twists through the field, the wheat rippling in waves. Strange how something you can't even see can cause so much trouble, ripping up the garage roof, blowing Rhett's hat down the driveway, and taking that long-awaited Amazon package across the lawn.

Worse, it blows your straw around, leaving you to gape like a fish as you blindly try to find it again. "Do we even want to tell them?"

Her brow furrows. Confused.

"You can't convince me it's not entertaining to watch them puff up like a bunch of peacocks when we mention him," you can't help but giggle, memories flickering through your head like a slideshow. Rhett grumbling about Dallas under his breath. Tyler pulling up his YouTube channel to prove he's done bigger things than this Dallas guy ever could. Overhearing them griping about him in the hotel gym. "Can you imagine the look on their faces when they finally see him?"

A smile bursts onto her face. "You drive a fair point."

Something clangs to the left. Appearing so suddenly that both of your heads swivel toward it.

Speak of the devil.

Rhett and Tyler. Hauling some kind of unnamed contraption to the trucks. You're pretty sure that it's supposed to put extra weight on the chassis to prevent them from being blown around as easily. Rhett's been muttering about having to build a new one ever since his original build cracked a few days ago.

If you weren't distracted, you think you would be able to recall more of the details, but all you can focus on is...

"Are they allergic to shirts?" Kate chirps after a long moment, but she's not making any effort to peel her eyes away.

Neither are you. Too wrapped up in the way Rhett's bicep flexes as he readjusts his grip on the steel frame. Not quite as bulky as Tyler, but he's got a wiriness to him that almost seems to hypnotize you, stuck staring until you run the risk of being caught. "Are we complaining?"

"Absolutely not," and you only peel your gaze away when you realize that they're walking toward your little afternoon coffee party. You're not dealing with the misery that is Tyler's cockiness again.

Kate's got the same idea, her cheeks dusted with a subtle shade of pink that wasn't there a few seconds ago. Something flickers behind her eyes, the same kind of glint you're used to seeing when she's caught the trail of a brewing storm, but she doesn't say anything.

You wonder if this new frame means they'll focus on upgrading those drills next. Anchoring two feet into the ground was likely an impressive feat when they first installed that onto the rigs, but the technology has progressed so much further since then. Longer augers would be a start, twisting deeper into the earth, harder to be ripped out by high winds. 

"So, do you know when Dallas is coming in?" Kate asks once the boys are within earshot, like she doesn't know the answer to her own question.

Rhett's head perks. Tyler peeks over his sunglasses.

"Few more days, I think," feigning interest in your drink, swirling the straw in circles, anything to pretend that you haven't noticed them yet. "Sunday at the latest."

"Dallas!" Tyler crows. So loud and sudden that you jolt in your seat. "Finally comin' to meet us, huh?"

Rhett peeks at you through the corner of his eye, either too focused on the task at hand or not quite bold enough to match Tyler's antics. Even from a distance, it's difficult to miss the way his gaze rakes up and down your frame as if transfixed by your pajama shorts and the beauty that is your half-awake face.

"He was supposed to be here earlier, but..." motioning toward the empty beer can blowing past. Budweiser's aluminum version of a tumbleweed. "Another wind delay."

Tyler scoffs, the heel of his boot thunking against the can and sending it flying. "How many more times is he gonna use that excuse?"

"As many times as he wants," Kate's stolen the words right out of your mouth, her shoulders shrugging as she turns her attention back to her cell phone.

Wind howls in your ear, rolling the ballpoint pen across the table and right into your cup. It tips before you can even comprehend what's happening, the remnants of your coffee spilling into the dirt. 

"I reckon that's my sign to head inside," you sigh, defeated. This battle was lost the moment you quit paying attention to your drink.

There's not much for you to gather, but nature herself had might as well be interfering with your every move. Blowing the cup toward the garage, rustling your notebook pages when you scoop it up, the pen jumping off the edge of the table just to rub salt into the wound. It's not bothering anything else, not Kate's hair, not the dumb hat on Tyler's head, just your things.

Talk about a personal vendetta.

At least the garage has never betrayed you like this. Cozy and windless, albeit a bit dusty, depending on the day of the week and what project Rhett is working on. The loveseat tucked into the far right corner is much softer than that sunbleached wooden chair, the beaten cushions enveloping you in a loose hug. The thick armrest is the perfect size to fit your notebook. Doesn't have you trying to cram yourself into an itty bitty space. 

And with the back of the couch being up against the wall, there's no opportunity for someone to mosey up and peek at your notes, either. 

The side of the pen is dented, the groove creating the perfect space for your finger to settle into as you begin to draw. This must be the pen that you forgot on the roof of your car and wound up driving overtop of. 

Ink drips from the tip in spurts, scattering across the page in small, ugly blotches. What's supposed to be your delicate sketchings of an idea are starting to look more and more like an interpretive art piece in a museum. Is it a component for one of the storm vehicles, or is there an underlying message about the beauty of mistakes and brokenness?

Whatever. The answer only matters if it's attached to a big, fat check from a private collector looking to hang it next to a myriad of other, questionably produced works. 

"Whatcha ya doin' over there?" Rhett's voice echoes through the garage, seems to come from so many directions that you don't realize where he is until you spot him in your peripheral. Red dirt and grease smeared across his forearms, sweat glistening in the overhead light. You already know he doesn't smell the best, but you can't say you hate the sight of him.

Your pen drifts across the paper once more, streaking through a blob of collected ink in your efforts to build the general shape of a truck. "Sketching." 

It's such a bland reply. Shouldn't intrigue him in the slightest, and yet you can hear the soft thunk of his boots against the cement floor, drawing closer. "Sketchin' what?" 

"A fantasy for an advanced anchoring system," your pen darts across the metal arms, extending from the roof of the truck, one on the passenger side and one on the driver, anchored into the ground. "Buildable, but it's not a feasible idea." 

The light reflects off of his rodeo buckle. Amelia County's bull riding champion. "Can I see?"

You're not sure why he wants to look at your fantasy sketches, but you don't have the energy nor the will to tell him no. Certainly not when he's bending down next to you, so close that his bicep bumps into your arm, hot and swollen from hauling around that heavy frame. You're making no effort to move away, either. If anything, you're moving closer, turning the notebook for him to see.

As if to guide his thoughts, his index finger traces across the lines, grease-stained and so, so much thicker than yours. "What's makin' ya think it won't work?"

"It's not realistic." Easy answer. There's a reason why nobody else has done this. 

But Rhett's head just tilts to the side, a thought visibly crossing his mind. You know it's there; can see it glisten in his eyes as it passes by. "Yes, it is." 

You feel the tug of your arm and the warmth of his hand around your wrist before you realize that he's pulling you up from the couch. There's a creak in your knee as you rise, helplessly stumbling after him.

"What are you doing?" You're chirping, but Rhett doesn't reply, too dead set on hauling you to the other side of the room.

He spins. So do you. The garage blurs into streaks of gray.

Then your back bumps into his sweaty chest, and you're staring at...a newly built drill for the frame. 

"Does this look unrealistic to you?" His voice rumbles straight through you, low as the thunder that you've spent too much of your life chasing. 

"Well...no," you croak after a long moment, "but you already know that it—"

"What about that?" His hand darts out, pointing toward the old radar, built out of scrap material and the sheer power of will. It doesn't work anymore, not after that hunk of debris split it down the middle, but it did for a good few weeks. 

Rhett isn't waiting for you to reply, already pointing toward another contraption. The roll cage, and the rest of the steel exoskeleton frame that hasn't been welded onto Tyler's truck. Then he's guiding your attention to the windshield and window cages; lord knows those glass replacements are getting expensive. The armor plating that has yet to be welded to the vehicles, the reinforced overhead spotlights, the custom grill guards, and all of the little, unnamed crafts that you have yet to see in action.

"None of this was feasible, either," his words are solid, fleeting things, dancing around your head like words from the gods above, "but we still gave it a shot." 

A puff of air breaks past your lips. 

All of that happened long before you and Kate stumbled across them crammed into the corner of a Waffle House. Their trucks were already built. Field tested beyond belief. But...well, you suppose his ideas had to have started the same way yours do, a random thought that evolved out of control until it became a reality.

"Your ideas are no more unrealistic than these were," Rhett murmurs, and it almost sounds like he's sharing a secret. A whimsical little thought meant to stay between the two of you.

...maybe he has a point. 

You turn, twisting to face him. The tips of your noses bump. Piecing blue eyes staring right back into yours, wide as can be. Too close. Way too close. But you don't make any effort to move, and neither does he. He should. Fuck, any closer, and you'd be kissing him, can already taste his minty toothpaste on his breath. 

"Rhett!" Boone's voice arcs across the room like lightning, sends you jumping apart as if struck by it. "You fixin' to bring that upper frame or what?" 

Whatever that moment was, it's gone in an instant. 

Your head comes so close to hitting the ceiling that you can feel it graze past. Seatbelt cinching tight around your chest. Ass bouncing against the seat. Struggling to keep both your hands on the shivering plastic handle overhead. Something clatters across the floor, landing in the mess of components and contraptions that met their maker three bumps ago.

You'd complain, but Tyler's rollercoaster of a truck looks even worse than whatever the hell you just experienced. 

"I'm shocked this old truck has survived this long," you're trying to sound calm, but it comes out resembling a yelp more than anything else. "I remember you driving to high school with this thing." 

Rhett's hands flutter across the wheel, a wave of mud kicking up from under the back tires. "These ol' ranch trucks last forever if you take care of 'em."  

"Doesn't care involve things like...not driving into ditches?" Your shoulder presses against the glass, sliding around as the truck veers to the left, loosely chasing Tyler's messy trail. 

"Probably," he laughs, "but we survived, didn't we?" 

"I'm not too sure about that," frankly, you think half of your soul may still be sitting on the road, milliseconds away from experiencing the horror of Rhett's truck diving into the ditch.

"Oh, c'mon," his hand darts out, nudging your arm, "ya worry too much."

You haven't forgotten about the clouds twisting up ahead, downward spiraling, growing thinner and thinner as it nears the earth. A plume of red dirt rises, staining what was once a perfect, white funnel cloud. Wind squeals around the edges of the truck, wedging its way through the nonexistent gaps between the windows and wailing in your ear. 

Tyler's truck rips straight into the center, unhindered by the mud and soybean plants being hurled against it. There's already a drone dancing around the upper part of the funnel, bobbing and weaving, serves as the eyes for however many people are watching the live stream it's broadcasting. 

Rhett's a little more conservative, looping out to the side and into the path of the tornado instead. Leaves scatter across the windshield, wedging beneath the windshield wipers. But the nose of the truck turns to face the cyclone, and the wind is already beginning to tear them away. 

"Wanna press the button?" You can hardly hear him. Only realize he's talking when you notice his mouth moving.

You're already reaching out, pressing the little green button on the dash. 

The drills whir to life, entirely inaudible, but it's impossible to miss their vibration as they dig down into the soil, the truck gradually sinking lower. 

One blink and the world around you turns to dust. The little ranch truck shivers under the battering of the wind; feels like you're going to blow away at any moment, but nothing around you is moving. 

Hesitant, you peek out the passenger window up at the tornado overhead. It's almost calm. A little quieter now. The crystal sky peeks through the twirling clouds, and if you tilt your head just right, it kind of looks like one of Rhett's gentle blue eyes. 

Rhett's elbow nudges yours as you settle back into your seat. 

You know what he's going to say before he's even opened his mouth. 

"Now, is this more fun than it is with Dallas?" Always comparing your ventures together to what you've done in the past, like he's aiming to jump up to the top of your 'Best Experiences' list.

"Nah," repeating the same thing you always tell him. He should have expected this answer from a mile away. "Dal still has ya beat."

His eyes roll, but he laughs nonetheless. Defeated again. "One of these days, I'm—"

Bang.

The truck jumps. 

Something sharp scatters across your face. Wind screams in your ears. 

The world flips on its head. Upside down. Rightside up. Upside down again. It jars you so hard that your teeth snap together, head smacking against the seat, and there's something yanking against your chest, and your ears are popping and, and, and—

You should have known that was coming. 

Why didn't you know that was coming?

You don't feel the pressure on your shoulders until it's gone. Replaced with something warm that you can't identify. Can't think to try and identify where it's coming from. Something about your head doesn't feel right, but it doesn't hurt. Tickles. Like something is running down the side of it.

The truck flipped. How did the truck flip? 

Fuck.

You, from three years ago, would have seen that coming from a mile fucking away. How have you gotten worse at the one thing you're supposed to be good at? You should've checked the drills, the circuits, the wires. Why didn't you run through any of the safety checks before you left? What if the tornado had been stronger? Sucked you up and spit you out several hundred feet into the air? 

Did you not learn from the last time? 

This was entirely avoidable.

There's something muttering near you. Sounds like thunder in a strange sort of way. Deep rumbles, rolling in one ear and out the other. But thunder doesn't pause in the middle of its booming, not like this. 

"We're okay."

Your throat is so raw that you can hardly speak. Dry, too. Chest heaving, sucking in air faster than your lungs can handle it. What, what...what...

"We're okay," Rhett. That's Rhett's voice in your ear. "We're okay." 

And he keeps saying it. Over and over, like he's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince you. But it's not working. You're still shivering, and his voice is lodging in his throat, and...

Your head goes dark. 

You don't necessarily know if you pass out or if your memory decided to stop writing things down. 

One moment, you're in the truck, and the next, you're sitting in the middle of a hospital room, squinting as a nurse shines a blinding light directly into your eye. She hums something to the woman next to her, then turns the light off. 

There's a spot in your vision now. Dead center, lingering as you turn your head to look at whoever is sitting next to you, entirely blocking out their face. Their hand over top of yours, thumb swiping idly across your skin, back and forth in a rhythm that you haven't figured out yet.

"What failed?" You know it's your voice, can feel your mouth shaping around the words, but it sounds nothing like you. 

"Hm?" Rhett's hum nearly disappears amongst the commotion going on around you. 

"The truck," trying again, a little more specific now. "What went wrong back there?"

Stitches line his forearm, probably sliced open by the same thing that left the cuts on the left side of his cheek. Glass from the shattered windshield, you think. 

"You'll never believe this," he leans closer like he doesn't want anyone else to hear what he's about to say. "We got hit by a tree."

That doesn't... "A...tree?" Parroting him. You're expecting for him to furrow his brows and ask how in the world you've managed to mishear him, but all he does is nod. You heard him perfectly. 

All of that was because of a tree hitting the side of the truck. Probably struck hard enough to rip the drills from the ground and gave the tornado all the leverage it needed to start throwing you around like a children's toy.

...huh. 

"Hey, is there a lug wrench sittin' over there?" Rhett asks, his foot kicking out toward the tool cabinet as if to try and point you toward it. Whatever he's doing up under the truck, he must not be able to see that you're already standing in front of the damn cabinet. 

You already see them, sitting amongst the mess of tools resting on top of it. "You've got two." 

His head pokes out from the side. "I do?"

"One is silver, the other is black," lifting them both for him to see. You don't see a difference between them; they both do the same thing, but you're not the one needing them.

"Give me..." his lips purse, "the black one."

You bend down, handing the tool off to him, but the silver one is still in your other hand. "Remind me again what drawer these belong in?"

He taps the thing against his chin. "Any of the middle ones is fine." 

"And here you wonder why you can never find anything," you tease, an ache blooming in your chest as you laugh, still a bit sore from being rolled around like Mother Nature's bowling ball.

Something metal hits the floor, audibly rolling away. A bolt, you think. Rhett swears, boots squeaking as he clambers out from beneath the vehicle. "'ts hard to stay organized when ya share a garage with someone like Tyler."

"That bad?" You would look to see what he's chasing, but organizing this mess is higher on your priority list. 

There's so much junk on the top of this cabinet that you can't figure out what is what, in such a disarray that it seems to swallow up everything you sit on top of it. Somewhere in here is your ten-millimeter socket. 

Kate's voice echoes from outside, loud enough for you to hear her but not enough for you to understand her. Tyler shouts back, the slam of a truck door punctuating whatever he has to say. You think he's still talking when Kate blurts something that sounds like an "I don't care!" Tyler doesn't seem to like that at all.

You turn to look at Rhett right as he does the same. Defeat. Confusion. An overall look of being absolutely done with hearing it from them. You recognize it all; you're feeling the same damn thing. 

And here you thought you'd found a place to escape from them.

"Are those two ever gonna get together?" Rhett whines after a moment. 

Your head shakes, "Kate's got a strict 'no dating business partners' clause." 

They're getting closer now, slowly but surely carrying their argument to the garage. You're not sure why. Everyone was there when the argument started in the restaurant, gradually clearing all of you out of the booth with to-go boxes and a migraine to boot. 

Rhett reaches through the open truck window, pressing the garage door opener. With a groan, it starts to close, taking away your fresh midnight air but granting more silence in return. "Does that rule apply to you, too?"

"I'm not sure," you'd never actually...considered if you were wrapped up in that law or if it was Kate-exclusive. "Why?"

Rhett's eyes dart away. 

Have his ears been red this whole time? Or maybe it's a trick the light is playing on you because it seems to disappear as he rushes toward the side door, sliding the deadbolts into place and twisting the locks. 

There's no way that he's... "Are you seriously locking them out?" 

"Do you wanna hear them argue for another hour?" He doesn't need for you to answer that; he already knows the answer. "Get me that padlock off the table."

Padlock. Shit, where did you last see that?

There's so much on this table. Jumper cables. Tools. Tools. More tools. Bolts. A box of nails. Your missing socket. A chocolate candy wrapper. Tootsie rolls. Another box of nails. Shit, is that a broken phone case? You push your hands through the mess, shoving it all to the side, but you don't see it. Where is it? Where is it? 

Someone knocks on the garage door. Rattling across the garage.

Fuck, fuck, where is it? You don't see—

There it is.

You don't feel it in your grasp until you're halfway across the room. Shoving it into Rhett's open hands. The garage door rattles. But Rhett's shoving the hook through a hole in the tracks, squeezing it closed until it clicks. 

"Are y'all in there?" Tyler's muffled voice is the last thing you want to hear. 

Something moves in the window. 

Your body moves on its own. Grabbing Rhett by the bicep. Diving toward the couch. 

He's too big to be tumbling after you, but he does, the loveseat squealing as he lands on top of you. An elbow finds its way into your ribs. Your knee slots between his thighs. His hair is in your face, and you can smell the vanilla of his cologne, and his hand is on your waist—

"Rhett?" Tyler tries again. Knuckles tap at the window. 

You know they can't see you. If they could, then they would be calling you out on it. 

This couch isn't wide enough for you and Rhett to be lying on it like this, your shoulder hanging off the edge, his knees awkwardly bent to make room for your legs. He's finding a way to make it work, though. Wedging himself up against the back cushion, granting you enough room to roll onto your side without falling off. 

You're not sure if you want to comment on the arm that drapes around your waist, securing you to him. 

"I entirely forgot about the window," he whispers. Does he think Tyler can hear him talking from outside? 

Laughing, you tap him on the nose. "I know you did." 

So much of his hair has fallen into his face that you can no longer see his expression, concealed under a mass of unruly, brunette curls, untamable by any means of the word. He can very well push it out of the way himself, but for some reason, you find that your hand is beginning to do that for him. Collecting locks of it with your fingers, sorting them to their respective sides, tucking some of it behind his ear. 

"Watcha doin'?" He asks as you unveil his hidden eye. It looks bluer than it was before.

Your touch falters. "I wanted to see your face." 

"Yeah?" The corner of his lip lifts a little. 

"Yeah." Nodding. 

And your hand just...falls onto his cheek. Idly resting there, like this is exactly where it belongs, where it's always gone after you've finished fixing his hair. 

Worse. He doesn't make any effort to stop you, lets your thumb swipe up and down his skin, meandering across the tiny cuts that linger there. If you didn't know any better, you would think he nicked himself while shaving, but there are far too many of them for that. Too high, too. There's even one up beside the corner of his eye.

"No!" Even the garage door isn't enough to muffle Kate's voice. "We're not doing that, Tyler!"

Tyler isn't quite as loud. You can hear the general sound of his voice, carrying through a sentence or two, but you can't make out a single word. 

"Because—because it's ridiculous," Kate's still going. Tyler says something a bit louder.

You don't know when Rhett started moving, but all of a sudden, you're way too aware of how close his face is getting. Inching closer and closer until...

He rubs his nose against yours. Slow little motions that don't stop until you can no longer fight off your smile.

"What're you doing?" You giggle, making no real effort to stop him. 

He's too close for you to see his mouth, but you recognize the way that the corners of his eyes turn upward with his grin. "Distractin' ya." 

It must be working because you no longer have the capacity to think about what's going on in the driveway. His hand smooths up your back, making its way up to your face, and he's so warm, heat radiating off his palm like he's got a small fire burning in his veins. Rough fingertips brush against your cheek, hesitant to make any solid contact. 

"Your cheek is still swollen," his palm gradually comes to flatten against your cheek, his hand so big that it seems to cover your entire face. 

Kate's voice echoes in the back of your head. No dating business partners. But something about his touch...it's addicting. "Well, that's what happens when you get thrown around by a tornado." 

He doesn't seem to have much else to say to that. 

To be fair, you don't know what you would say to that, either. 

His thumb swipes across the upper portion of your cheek. Your fingers find their way down to his jaw, pushing through the stubble there. It's soft, has had time to lose the stiffness that comes with being recently shaved. 

It seems that you may have finally lost Kate and Tyler; you don't hear them bickering outside, at least. You lift your head, craning to look over the arm of the couch and at the door. The window is impossible to see from this angle, but you get the feeling that they're no longer standing outside. 

"What's that?" You ask, nodding toward something that you know he can't see.

Rhett's fingers trace their way over to the shell of your ear, not interested in trying to look at what you're asking him about. "Hm?"

"The little contraption sitting next to the door," clarifying, "it looks like a bunch of pipes welded together."

"Oh, that's...supposed to be a tree to hold a bunch of different instruments," he tilts his head back a little, realizes he can't see anything without sitting up, then immediately lets himself fall back against the couch. "I can get everythin' on it, but I can't get it to stay on."

"Industrial glue and steel hose clamps." You have to pause for a moment, sifting through dusty memories, trying to recall how you used to protect Kate's old contraptions. "Maybe build a thin cage around it in case those two things fail."

Rhett's quiet again, his brows knitting together. 

Is he confused, or is he just thinking about what you said? 

It takes him some time to find his words, half-built sentences flickering behind his eyes. You can practically hear the gears turning up in his head. And then, hestiant, his lips part. "I feel like you know a lot more 'bout storm chasin' than you let on."

Something in your lower belly twists. "What's telling you that?"

"You're confident when you're in here," he doesn't need any more time to think on this, his thoughts flowing off his tongue like a waterfall, "most of the folks who walk in here don't have the slightest clue what we're building, but you recognize almost all of it." 

Your eyes dart away, looking down at your intertwined legs, bent and crammed onto this tiny little couch. His fingers curl around your jaw, gently guiding you to look him in the eye.

For reasons unbeknownst to you, you don't fight him on it. 

"You draw up some of the coolest concepts I've ever seen, you...you..." the corner of his lip wobbles up and down. The sight of it makes your head feel funny. "Shit, you make me feel like I'm not the only person here who knows how to do this kind of stuff." 

You suppose you should have expected this. It takes one to know one, and you haven't done yourself any favors by always working with him in this dingy old garage. But you don't entirely know how to respond to that or where you should even start...

"I used to work on an old storm truck that Kate and I owned," it comes out so easily that it almost surprises you, "but that was...god, that was forever ago."

Rhett's eyelashes flutter, his head tilting like that of a curious puppy. "Why'd you never tell me?" 

Shattered glass. The snap of hydraulics splitting in half. Blood blurring your vision. Ear-splitting howling. The world flipping on its head. Rain in your eyes. Steel digging through your back. Your chest tightens. Hail pounding into your skull. The screaming. It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault. 

And you're...warm. 

"'m sorry," Rhett murmurs, and you don't know when he got so close, but you can feel the vibration of his voice against your nose. A careful hand smooths up your back, another arm securing you to him, tucked up under his chin, shielded from the glaring openness of this too-big garage.

He doesn't move, and neither do you. But this time...this time, you think you know why. 

Rubber squeals against the pavement, so shrill that it soars above the roar of the engine. Your shoulder slams into the window, seat belt cinching tight as everything spins into a blur. 

"Tyler!" Kate yelps.

"Kate!" Tyler. Ever so mocking.

"You're gonna get another ticket." Her hand darts out, smacking his arm. Tyler's got something clever to say about that; you don't hear any of it. If you start listening now, you'll have a migraine before the funnel cloud touches the ground.

Rhett meets your gaze out of the corner of his eye. Telepathy must be real because you know exactly what's running through his head.

Here we go again. 

If you'd known this would start up again, then you probably would have faked an illness to stay home. A headache, an upset stomach, or a sudden onset of death that will miraculously cure itself when the storm chase ends. Anything.

Tires squeal again, the truck seeming to tip onto its front wheels. The seatbelt yanks on your shoulders, throwing you back into the seat. Rhett's phone smacks against the console. A scattering of papers, nameless weather instruments, and unlit rockets scatter across the floor. 

Wind rocks the vehicle back and forth. Squealing through the crack in the window like a kettle boiling over. Or maybe you're just hearing things because nobody else seems to hear it. Tyler's shouting into his camera. Kate's rattling something off about how the tornado is forming directly above the town you're driving through.

A wave of rain pelts the windshield. Hail pattering on the roof. Something silver flies past the nose of the truck, striking the building to your right. The brick splinters, debris falling like rain. Kate yells something. Tyler shouts back at her.

"Hang on, hang on," Rhett jumps in his seat, blindly smacking his hand on the console, looking at something you can't see, "stop the truck."

But Tyler is saying something into the CB radio, veering the truck to the right with one hand. Kate doesn't lift her head from the scanner. And they're still fucking arguing. You don't know if they even hear Rhett over the clash of their own voices, nevermind the storm.

Rhett yanks on the door handle. It peels open, rain spewing through the gap. "Ty, stop the damn truck!" 

"Rhett?" You yelp. Scrambling.  "Rhett, wait!" 

You can't stop him. 

He's jumping out of the truck before it's even stopped moving. Bricks and sheet metal hurl past. The door slams closed. You don't see where he went. Where is he? Where did he-where did he go? Why is the truck still moving—

"Stop the goddamn truck!" Screaming so loud that it doesn't even sound like you. 

The truck lurches. The seatbelt rips the air from your lungs. Taking it off is the last thing you should be doing, but it's already unclipped. Papers crunch as you scurry into Rhett's seat. Wind beats against the door. Does everything in its power to keep you from forcing it to open. You can't see a thing. Not even with the damn door halfway open.

"Where's Rhett?" 

You don't know which of them asked that. You don't care to figure that out. "If you two could stop fighting for two fucking seconds, then maybe you would know!" 

It's like someone flipped a switch. The wind and rain just...dies. There's a reason for that, a term and definition that Kate probably memorized in college, but you're not sticking around to hear it. Slipping out of the truck, you dart out into the mist. Fog already licks at your heels, so humid that it feels like you're wearing a second skin out here.

"Rhett?" Calling out. 

You don't see him. There's nothing but debris and disheveled produce stands, all the cracked open watermelons and runaway apples in the world, but no cowboy. But where did he... Turning around. Where did he get out of the truck? It was further back than this. Yeah. He must be further down the road. 

"Rhett?" You're trying again, toeing through the mess. 

There goes the rain again. Starting up so quickly that you wonder if Mother Nature accidentally pressed pause on her remote. Something carries over the rumbling thunder. Something that sounds like your name.

You hear him, but you don't see him. "Rhett?" 

"I'm over here." He's already walking toward you, must have seen you coming before you even realized where he was. The rain thickens, but you can see the rip in his shirt clear as day, blood pouring from his shoulder like the water falling from the heavens. 

"God, Rhett—don't do that!" It comes out a little too loud. A little too quick. "You can't just go hopping out moving vehicles—"

He throws his hands behind him, gesturing at something. "She needed help!" 

You hadn't seen the little old lady standing on the other side of the road until now, being helped back into the safety of an untouched house. You suppose that's who he's talking about, but... "And what if something happened to you?" 

"Nothin's gonna happen to me!" Thunder booms behind his words. Just as irritated as he is. 

Your hand flies out, gesturing to his bloody arm. "Clearly, it already did. Look at your shoulder, Rhett!" 

"God, why are you always so worried?" He spits. Doesn't hear a word you just said. 

"I don't know; maybe it's because we almost got sucked into a tornado three days ago?" You can feel your face getting hot. Teeth grit, jaw popping under the strain. "Maybe it's because I've seen storms kill people, Rhett!"

He stiffens. 

So do you. Glued in the middle of the street. Even the rain stabbing at your eyes can't make you blink. But the wind is one of those things that forces you to move—swaying sideways, shielding your gaze with an arm. A horn honks, headlights piercing through the silver veil. 

Getting back into the truck with him is the last thing you want to do. 

Gravel crunches beneath your feet. Shifting under your weight, seeming to drag you in like a thin layer of quicksand. Tiny little pebbles leap into the tops of your shoes, wriggling down through the gaps and working their way up under your foot. Walking barefoot would have been more comfortable. 

Ugh, but then you would have to worry about dodging the sharp metal hiding beneath the rocks, leftovers from experiments gone wrong, and backyard-tested explosives. 

The spare garage isn't much further up the driveway. Smaller, built to hold only one or two vehicles, depending on their size. There's no point in adding all of the extra space, not when the main garage is on the same property, fully decked out with its fancy tools, wifi, and air conditioning. 

Understandable, but you wish someone would have stopped to consider installing a light all the way out here. You can't see a damn thing this far out. Is there a bobcat standing between you and the building? Nobody knows!

There doesn't seem to be anything lurking in your path. You certainly don't feel anything brush past, even when you peel open the door and blindly feel along the inside wall, looking for the light switch. 

The grill of a truck glares back at you. Same old golden paint, still the same diamond-shaped chip beneath the left headlight. The dust is new, and yet, somehow, it's the same too. Exactly how it's always been.

And how it will stay if you can help it. 

It's a beautiful truck, really. Only one previous owner, still relatively new, decorated in gadgets that you've long since forgotten the specifics of. It's got everything. A roll cage. Bulletproof glass. Window cages. Augers hang on either side of the vehicle, in combination with the overhead arms, and those are only the things you remember installing.

There's a wire sticking out of the cables for the drills, has inexplicably wriggled its way out of the covering. That's what you get for choosing the cheapest company to haul this piece of junk all the way out here. You don't want to touch it, but...it's a simple fix. You've just got to slide this strip of metal up and—

Sparks scatter. A shock bolts through your fingers.

"You mother—mmh!" Yelping. Yanking your hand back. A twitch runs up your arm, the muscles in your hand shivering. 

And here you wonder why you quit messing with this goddamn truck. 

You peel the door open, blindly feeling around the console until you find the stupid tool you came all the way up here for. This old hunk of metal can sit here and rot for all you care. Why did you even try to mess with it? You know full well what will happen if you do more than open the door. 

Something always has to go wrong. 

You don't even feel your hand touch the light switch, but the room plunges into darkness all the same. To hell with—

"Am I interruptin' anything?" 

The door slams shut behind you, the knob jabbing into your spine. "Rhett?"

It's so dark out that you nearly miss the way his hands twist together, his head tilted toward the ground, not quite bold enough to look you in the eye. "I just...wanted to come and tell you I'm sorry," he pauses, peeking up at you through his lashes. You've never seen someone look more like a kicked puppy in your life. "I was actin' just like Tyler back there."

...huh. 

Can't say you were expecting that. 

"It's...uh..." What do you say? You can't say that it's okay. It's not okay. "Thank you?"

That seems to be enough for him. Shoulders falling, finally lifting his head to look at you properly. But then, his brows knit together. It's too dark to see where he's looking, but you can almost feel the heat of his gaze fixating on the garage behind you. "What're ya doin' out here?"

"Working on something?" This is what you get into focusing on creating an excuse and not rehearsing it beforehand. An amateur surrounded by Hollywood stars would be more convincing than you are.

"Top secret stuff, huh?" Is he buying it? He sounds like he is. "Somethin' broke on that gold truck of yours?"

...

Son of a bitch.

"How did you..." you don't...you don't know what to...say... "know about that?"

He jams his thumb over his shoulder, pointing blindly toward the heap of metal a few hundred feet away. "Was over in the scrap pile when ya brought it in a few weeks ago."

He's fucking with you.

He's got to be fucking with you.

"And you never said anything about it?" You feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a bullet train. Nowhere to run. Facing down your doom as it barrels toward you at a hundred miles an hour. 

"Figured you'd talk about it when y' wanted to," Rhett says it so matter of factly. Like this isn't a big deal. Like you haven't had Kate thinking that the truck has been delayed for the past month and a half.

It takes a moment to gather words on your tongue. It takes even longer to arrange them into a comprehensible sentence. "Does anybody else know?"

Rhett shrugs. "Not that 'm aware of."

You don't entirely know what it is that leads you to reach for the doorknob and twist it again. Nobody is forcing you to show him the truck. Hell, he's not even asking or acting like he wants to see it, but your body seems to be moving on its own accord. Maybe it simply can't handle another day of carrying around the secret, or maybe it's something else. Something that words aren't capable of describing. 

Rhett doesn't say a word. Quietly following you into the dark garage, winces when you flick on the overhead lights without warning. 

And then his eyelashes begin to flutter in that dumb, endearing sort of way. Intrigued. "What made ya wanna hide this?"

"Because if Kate finds out it's here, I'll have to work on it," you almost lean your hip against the front bumper. Almost.

Damn thing would probably blow up if you actually followed through with that impulse.

"I'm not followin'." Rhett runs his fingers across the hood, leaving behind little trails amongst the collection of dust. 

"Every time I touch this truck, it ends badly," now that you're saying it out loud, it sounds like you're trying to convince him that the thing is haunted. "I drove it here, and a headlight blew. Tried to fix that exposed wire on the driver's side and shocked the hell out of myself."

"What, two—"

"Time before that, the hydraulic arm snapped, and we turned into an EF3's playground toy." Not giving him any time to wiggle into the gaps of your argument. You're not touching it. End of story. 

He doesn't push it any further. Doesn't downplay what you're trying to tell him or try to sell you on the novelty of coincidences and misinterpretations. No, he just...hums and nods his head as if this is a story he hears all the time. 

A part of you hates that you ever expected anything less of him.

The cicadas take over. Singing their shrill, repetitive tune that somehow manages to get louder when you're inside. You don't know if it counts as silence when there are hundreds of bugs screaming the song of their people, like nature's rejected choir.

"Do y' want me to fix it?" Rhett's voice is like silk against the grating little pests lurking outside.

"Fix what?" You're lost.

"The headlight," he taps his knuckle against it, visibly disturbing the dust there, "and the wire that shocked ya." 

You're not entirely sure if you want to put the time and effort into this old piece of junk. There's a fairly large possibility that something internal has dry-rotted over the years and is bound to break at any moment, something that will cost a whole lot more than a cheap little headlight. But...

"Only if you want to," you don't mean for it to come out so miserable. Like you've had to strangle the words out of your own throat.

Rhett doesn't seem to notice it, his lips pulling up into a meager smile right before he moseys off to mess with the exposed wire. He taps his finger against the metal casing, following it up to where it ventures over the roof, then follows that until it guides him toward the driver's door. 

It's like he's got a blueprint of how you rigged this together, knows exactly where you've got the electric control box sitting, and which of the wires belong to the exposed one. The cover snaps back into place with the slightest bit of pressure. Easy as can be. No sparks, no shocks. 

The headlights are a bigger pain in the ass than they should be. You remember that all too well, the tediousness of removing the internal cover, several screws, and the grill, all to reach what should be an easily accessible headlight. 

"At the risk of soundin' dumb," Rhett's talking funny with that screw resting in the corner of his lip, "but you really built this thing?" 

"Once upon a time, yes." It doesn't even feel like you were the one who came up with all of this.

 The countless sleepless nights spent tweaking and redrawing plans. Building or scouring the ends of the earth for specific little parts. The perpetual stiffness in your neck from building your inventions into the truck. God, the grease stains that claimed so many of your t-shirts. 

The memories are all there in your head, and when Rhett tugs at the grill housing, your hands still twitch with a muscle memory you've yet to lose. He needs to tilt it up and towards himself. It's easier that way. But the memories don't feel like your own. Belonging to a past life, a glimpse of something that was never really meant for you. 

A stray thought draws to the forefront of your mind. "How's your shoulder?" 

"Hm?" He lifts his head, staring at you. Then, realizing what you said. "It's a'ight, jus' needed a couple stitches." 

You wonder what he defines as 'a couple'. But he doesn't push for any more history between you and the truck, so you don't push him for anything, either. 

There's a bunch of spare bulbs hiding in the main garage, and that really should be the end of it. Once the hood slams shut, there shouldn't be anything left to tinker with. The light works, the wire is no longer exposed, and everything is in order. You have absolutely zero reason to lay eyes on this truck again. 

To be fair, that's exactly what happens. 

For a day. 

"I thought they were s'pposed to quit arguin'?" 

You hear Rhett before you see him. Half-open eyes and messy hair stumbling down the unlit hallway, his arms full with his fuzzy brown blanket. Must have had the same idea that you did, seeking out the room furthest from Tyler's, hoping for another minute or two of sleep. 

You hate to tell him that there's no peace to be found in this damned house. 

"Bold of you to believe them," your attention darts back to the notebook resting in your lap, pen idly drawing across old lines, darkening them. Four in the morning is too early for creativity, but you can't fall back asleep, and you didn't bring anything to distract from the never-ending quarrel.

The couch cushion dips, Rhett's heavyweight settling in next to you. His cheek finds its way to your shoulder, landing there so naturally that you hardly even question it. "What're ya drawin'?"

"Same thing as before, just making it look a little less..." You don't know where you were going with that. Rhett isn't awake enough to catch it.

His gaze is so warm that you can feel it following your hand around the page, drinking in the careful strokes of the pen. 

It's almost enough to distract from Kate's muffled swearing, but nothing short of a speaker at full blast is going to drown them out. So the pen continues to dance across the paper, and the silence remains battered by two people who need to suck up their pride and kiss already. If not for the sake of their own mundane love lives, then for the sanity of those around them. 

"Have ya ever considered buildin' this idea?" Rhett reaches out to trace his finger around your crudely drawn wheel, the only spot he can touch without getting in your way.

"I started on it a long time ago," rattling it off without much thought. You don't have the capacity to consider what you're saying right now. "The sockets and connections are already built into the roof, but I could never get the hydraulic arms right." 

"I could help."

"Yeah?"

He tilts his head up to look at you, and you're just awake enough to realize that those aren't actually stars sparkling behind his eyes. But damn, does it sure look like tiny galaxies are lurking beneath the sea of blue. 

You don't know why you let him lean up and rub his nose against yours, but it must be the reason why you nuzzle him back. 

If there is one thing more awkward about sitting through Kate and Tyler's never-ending argument, it's having to survive their new form of fighting—the silent treatment. Each refusing to say a word when the other is in the room, resigning to comments filled with double meanings and glares out of the corner of their eyes.

You, quite frankly, might combust if you have to sit through another silent meal. If you wanted to be put in timeout, you would go back to elementary school.

"I see we had the same idea," you yawn, fighting to keep your eyes open as it takes over. One wrong step and your food is going to find itself in the gravel, and you're not looking to brave the wall of silence for a second time. 

"Great minds think alike," Rhett kicks his foot at you, perched up on the tailgate of his truck. "Unless your mind belongs t' two people I cannot name."

The initial plan was to wait until the weekend before you spent any time working on your truck, but it's hard to put it off when Tyler and his fleet of vehicles tear out of the driveway before noon, taking away damn near ever project Rhett had on the drawing board. You don't see Kate leave, but her car is missing from its usual spot, and you're in no mood to learn any more than that.

They'll get over it.

...once hell freezes over.

It's like you become caught up in a time loop. Every day, you wake up expecting to be put to work, to chase a storm, or to go on a supply run for weather equipment that you don't know the name of. Every day, you eat breakfast in the back of Rhett's truck and watch as every vehicle on the property flees the premises. Every day, you walk into that spare garage, roll up your sleeves, and begin tinkering with last night's project.

And Rhett just keeps coming around. Always the one to attach your creations to the truck, races you to pick up the heavier things around the shop, pokes at your sketches until you've explained every little thought and whim that went into why you created that particular part. 

Working with him is so much different than it was with Kate. She was never difficult to work with in the past; nothing big stands out in your memory, but you distinctly recall every frustrating moment she asked to change something that she didn't fully understand. Builds like these were nothing like what she was familiar with. She knew weather, not cars, and that was okay, but...

Fuck, it's like Rhett shares a brain with you. It's strange; he looks at what you're doing, and he just...understands it. Like you've finally found someone who understands a language that only you have spoken until now.

It's two weeks before the parts begin to fall into place, but once they do, it's all uphill from there. The hydraulic arms fit like a glove, and the batteries built beneath the seat offer more than enough electricity to operate them without sucking power from another operation. The drills spin as they're supposed to; they don't even warp when they sink into the rocky Arkansas soil for the first time.

Sunlight reveals that the cage protecting the windshield has rusted to hell. Rhett's sputtering about an improved design before you've even realized how bad it has gotten. A few of the tires need replacing, and if you don't let him fix those mismatching rims, he might just lose his mind.

"How d' you just let it look like that?" He's gotten heated so quickly, but that growing smile suggests he's only trying to bother you for the fun of it, "'n how did I miss this for so damn long?" 

"It doesn't affect the performance," you shrug, don't really recall when or how you wound up with one rim that doesn't match the others. Don't particularly care, either. 

"It's affectin' mine!" 

Your afternoon plans didn't originally include running between three shops in search of rims that match the aesthetics of the truck, but it's hard to say no when Rhett grabs you by the hand and guides you along like he does. 

And he...doesn't really let go. 

Maybe he does a few times, but he's loosely holding your hand in his while you walk from one store to another, and he's grabbing it to show you a set that he thinks is perfect for the truck's aesthetic. He's squeezing it when someone starts eyeing you up in the checkout lane. He's toying with your fingers at the stop light. And he reaches for it again at the end of the night when the rims are finally, finally on.

Now that you think about it, 'no dating business partners' almost definitely applies to you, too, but...

Oh, what the hell, why do you care? 

"Do you...want to try something?" Rhett's thumb swipes across your knuckles, idle little motions that seem to burn into your skin. 

You think you know what he's about to try and do, but... "Okay." 

He's gentle about it, guiding you forward toward the shimmering gold vehicle, sparkling in all of its post-bath glory. His other hand finds your waist, drawing you to stand in front of him, back kissing his warm chest. 

"What are we doing?" You know what he's doing. 

"Nothin' huge," he murmurs, voice low in your ear, so close that you can almost feel his lips brushing against the shell of it, "just...touchin' the door, a'ight?" 

His hand slips behind yours, grasping it from behind. Gently, he pushes it forward, so light that you can hardly feel his touch at all. Your stomach twists. That paint is too close.

Your arm stiffens. He doesn't push any further.

 It's too...well...if Rhett's not afraid of it, you suppose that...

It's cool beneath your touch, like ice, when you compare it to the burn of Rhett's palm. There's a scratch in the pain that you hadn't noticed up until this very moment, just deep enough to feel when the pad of your finger drifts across it. It feels...well, like a perfectly normal truck. You're not sure what else you were expecting. 

Your eyes dart to the window, peering at the silhouette of the steering wheel. 

Rhett's hand disappears from behind yours, leaves you cold and alone, up against this truck, but he makes no move to step away. Still here, even if you can't necessarily feel him. "That's not so bad, is it?"

"You're not gonna make me drive it next, are you?" You don't mean for it to come out sounding so annoyed, like a petulant child. 

His laugh echoes through the room and out the open door; doesn't seem to mind your tone at all. "Nah, we can wait on that." 

You don't touch it again until a few days later, your hip idly coming to rest against it during a conversation. And again, when Rhett's on the roof of the vehicle and needs you to climb up and hand him something. It doesn't shock you. The door doesn't magically slam shut on your fingers. It's...normal. Hell, it's at the very bottom of your list of inconveniences.

That's mostly because two names have taken over the rest of the page, but you digress. 

There's a moment when you catch yourself climbing into the driver's seat; you accidentally spilled a jar of bolts all over the floor, and the only way to fully clean it up is to get the truck out of the way. The key finds its way into the ignition without question, twisting so easily that you hardly realize what you're doing.

But then the engine rumbles to life, vibrating beneath your feet and echoing around the tiny garage like thunder, and ice forms in your joints. Stiff, freezing you into place like someone's pressed the pause button. 

Rhett tilts the broom handle toward you; those blue eyes are warm enough to melt you back into motion. Something about him keeps reining you in. Stops you before you can force yourself beyond your boundaries before you're ready. 

You're starting to love that about him. 

"I thought we were past this," you mutter, chin resting heavy against your knee. 

A midnight breeze swirls past you, bringing a chill that has you drawing your legs closer to your chest. At least the night is quiet, even the chirping cicadas have turned themselves down, nothing but a distant melody that you can hardly hear. Your ears catch the sound of a fork striking a plate, so sharp that it carries through the window and out into the parking lot. 

"'m sorry," Rhett's knees crack as he bends down to sit next to you, back coming to rest against the cool exterior of his truck. He's so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his arm, warm and cozy like the flames of a campfire. 

"You've got nothing to apologize for," it's not his fault. Nobody could have expected that bringing up the YouTube channel would end in...that. 

He hums. "I know."

Wind slams against the truck behind you, rocking it just enough for you to feel the motion against your back. Rhett's hair lifts. Dancing. Twisting along with it. Blowing into his face until he sputters and forces it behind his ear once more. If you had known you would be sitting outside, then you would have grabbed your coat before you came all the way out here.

But hindsight is twenty-twenty, and you've got nothing but this thin t-shirt and the warmth of your own body to get by on, hugging your legs even tighter. They've been in this position for so long that they've begun to go numb, but you prefer this to shivering.

"Cold?" Rhett leans over, nudging you with his elbow. You think he leaves a small fire behind, burning a little spot into your skin.

"Little bit," biting back the waver in your voice. 

"C'mere," and he's not really waiting for you to give him a yes or a no, already lifting his arm, beckoning you into his warm side. You shouldn't, but...

Oh, what the hell.

One little motion is all it takes to scoot under his arm, your head dropping to nestle against the expanse of his chest, and fuck, he's burning up. It's like snuggling into a big, cozy flame, one that envelops you before you can think twice about it. His head tilts, his chin coming to rest against your forehead, freshly shaven and a little bit prickly. 

You can hear his heartbeat right here. Deep little thump, thump, thumps, following an unnamed tune that you've never heard before. It seems the cicadas have drums now. Performing their little melodies for their barely-there audience, punctuated by the drone of a car crossing through the lot.

"What if I drive us to McDonalds?" Rhett's voice vibrates through your skull. Your head goes quiet. "Think there's a Taco Bell down the road, too."

Finding the ability to speak is...hard. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to move yet."

"That's a'ight," his lips press to your temple, "we can stay here, too." 

He doesn't say anything about what he just did. Neither do you, but it sticks in the back of your head like glue. You could convince yourself that it's just a ghost, one who has decided to follow you around and kiss the side of your head every time you think about him, the lingerings of a memory that refuses to leave. 

It's there when you lean up against the passenger side door, bent legs lazily slotting between Rhett's as you eat your greasy fast food. It bubbles to the surface when you run into each other in the living room and become sucked in by the Dr. Phil episode blasting from the neglected television. You can feel its presence when you spot him outside the garage while you and Kate are having coffee on the porch. 

You don't know if she realizes that you tune out of the conversation right then and there, mindlessly following the sight of his pale shoulders as he hoses something off. Muscles flex with the mundane effort, thick enough to cast a shadow. 

"I mean, can you believe he said that?" Kate's still going, the ice rattling in her cup as her hand moves about. "Yes, I'll admit I have feelings for him, but you know how that would affect the business!" 

"Who says that kind of thing?" You wonder what it would be like to dig your nails into those shoulders. What it would feel like for those jean-clad hips to slip between your parted—

"Exactly!" Kate hasn't the slightest clue what kind of daydream she just interrupted.

The memory of a kiss has zero reason to make itself known in the middle of an auto parts shop. When your hands are stained in indescribable grime that has no doubt managed to mar your face, the rattiest clothes you own hanging from your body with all the grace of a cardboard box. If you don't already look your worst, then you certainly feel your worst.

So why do you have the audacity to think about crossing the aisle and kissing him until you get kicked out? What provoked you to start thinking about this? You're supposed to be looking for that stupid...battery...damn which of these...did... 

"Which brand were you looking for?" The question is so prominent in your mind that it slips out of your mouth before you can realize it, already turning to look in his direction.

"The purple one," he rattles off, staring down at something in his palm. 

The...purple one? 

Huh, you'd thought it would be a lot more complicated than that. 

"I..." Rhett lifts his head, a lone curl casting across his cheek, wide blue eyes staring back at you. There's not a thought behind them. "I...forget the name." 

Not your truck, not your fight. If he wants the one with the purple label, then that's what you'll pull off the shelf—

Shit, you forgot how heavy these damn things are. Your elbow pops, shivering under the sudden weight. It's not too heavy; you were just...not ready to actually carry something heavy. If you'd remembered, then you would have lifted it differently.

Rhett's arm drifts past your chest, his hand curling around the plastic handle, taking it from you so easily that you hardly feel it leave your grasp. "I got it." 

You understand why you were so unprepared now. 

It's because he makes the thing look light as a feather, only needs one hand to hold it as you walk to the checkout together. He doesn't even need help to put it up on the counter, so nonchalant about it that he doesn't even pay attention to what he's doing.

An ancient little television buzzes in the top right corner, directly above the chair of the missing cashier. You don't think it's been touched since it was hung when this place was built, a mountain of dust resting atop its boxy shape, but it still plays. A blurry newsreel crosses the screen, a bald-headed man pointing at a live weather radar. 

The nameless man waves his hand across a patch of red and purple on the screen, rattling off words that take you a moment to process. "As this growing storm bears down on—"

"Y'all ready to check out?" The cashier is right in front of you all of a sudden. Rhett says something that you don't entirely catch. 

This is the storm Kate was muttering about earlier, up in the northwest corner of the state, projected to produce conditions ideal for one of her beloved little tornadoes. The tiny ones that do nothing but rock the trucks back and forth, maybe striking a few unlucky houses but not taking out entire towns.

Your lower belly twists. 

You're not entirely sure why it happens, but it does. Stomach churning back and forth like you're about to be sick, all over the sight of a television screen. Something in the room begins to ring, quiet but gradually growing louder, right in your ears, this piercing noise that you can't seem to shake. Your tongue is numb in your mouth, the air cold in your chest. 

The scene changes. A woman in a raincoat, holding a microphone to her lips as she gestures broadly at the road behind her. Cars rush past. A Prius, a minivan, two Volkswagen Beetles, a silver truck, a red truck, an ancient motorhome...

"There they are," Rhett mutters, just barely audible over the ringing. You and he are supposed to be out there with them. 

You think your hand is shaking. 

Again, the cameras change, jumping back to the same bald weather forecaster as he points to something you don't understand. But they've laid it out for people like you, all of Kate's unexplained terminology has been dumbed down into vague, simple terms that you recognize loud and clear.

"That storm is gonna be too much for their trucks to handle." It darts out of your mouth before you can think about what you're about to say, teeth chattering around the letters.

Rhett tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

"The storm trucks," your jaw shivers, muscles fighting to disobey your every command. "Are any of them rated for tornadoes stronger than an F2?"

"None of 'em are," he reaches to pull his card from the reader, then, pausing, "the only rig that can handle that sort of thing is..." 

You tear your gaze from the television, the reporter's voice droning on and on about something you don't entirely understand. Rhett's already looking back to you. Still frozen in place. You think you catch one of your own thoughts flickering behind his eyes. 

But you can't help yourself, looking back up toward the grainy screen. The weatherman is still talking, his warbled voice drowning in the squealing filling your ears. You think you catch the card reader beeping, yelling about a forgotten credit card. The storm wasn't this big when it crossed Kate's screen; you remember it fit perfectly between these two towns. The forecast entirely covers them now, extending out to the areas nearby.

Something warm curls around your hand.

The ringing stops. 

You don't know where the cashier has gone or when Rhett walked up next to you. But you can hear the shallow sound of your own breath, the sharp ins and outs that mismatch with the slow puff of Rhett's. 

It's still audible, even as the room changes. Ever so present when the tile floor morphs into smooth concrete, that familiar musty scent swirling around your head, assaulting your nose and drying your mouth out. Shimmering gold paint glares back at you. But your right hand is still warm.

"You've got this," the keys jingle as Rhett talks, awkwardly holding them out with his other hand. They're right there for you to take. You don't even have to reach. "I know y' do."

You're still not so sure about that. But the radio in the corner is blaring its muffled severe weather alert warnings, the old television screen is burned into your retinas, and this damn old truck isn't going anywhere, regardless of how hard you glare at it. 

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, his hand squeezing a little tighter. "It's just a grumpy ol' truck."

The truck roars. Back tires squealing as your hands fly across the wheel. Cinching all twelve thousand pounds of machine to the left. The guy behind you blares his horn.

"Prick." Rhett snarls under his breath. His hand on the overhead handle tightens. Muscles and veins flex so harshly that you can see it in the corner of your eye. The front right tire dips off the pavement, the steering wheel almost ripping itself to the right. 

Where are they? Where are they? 

"I thought you were navigating!" You don't mean to yell. Too focused on jumping your foot between the brake and gas pedals, fighting against a speed limit that you know isn't being enforced right now. 

"I am!" Rhett's nail taps angrily at a screen. "Wherever they are 's got no fucking service."

The storm seems to be further to the east, right might be your best bet. But this road doesn't look like it goes on for at least another mile, and you can't take another dead end. Not with the rapidly darkening sky overhead. Looming. Waiting for the right moment to drop an ocean's worth of hail and rain upon you.

"Right!" Rhett yells. "Go right!" 

The tires scream. Foot tapping the breaks. The steering wheel spins. You're vaguely aware of your body tilting in the seat. Shoulder bumping into the glass. 

But you never teeter off the road. 

Even if you come close to it. 

"What made you decide that?" You feel as if you're still spinning, even as the road straightens out in front of you. 

His hand lifts, middle finger pointing toward something you don't have time to identify. "I remember them passin' them grain silos before the live stream cut off." 

You see them. A cluster of six, up in the distance, towering over the corn fields that have swallowed you whole. Maybe a mile or two up the road, give or take. Plenty of time for you to lean on the gas pedal again, the floorboard rumbling as the speedometer crawls back up to seventy. 

Everything still seems attached. No sensors are going off on the control panel crudely built into the center console. You know Rhett would have said something if one of them lit up, but you're looking at them anyway. Just in case one magically decides to light up with a catastrophic error in the next thirty seconds.

You've already got to tap the brakes again. Stupid, winding country roads forcing you to crawl back under fifty to avoid tipping over. It would be so much easier to cut through this patch of field that has already been harvested, barren, until spring rolls back around. Dodge the curves and jump right back onto the main stretch. Actually...

If Kate can accidentally drive this truck into a small river and come out fine, then a little offroading shouldn't hurt it in the slightest.

What's stopping you? 

"What the hell?!" Rhett squeals. "You coulda damaged the damn—!"

"Dallas has handled worse." There's no way you're doing this. There's no way you're really driving this rig. Never mind hauling it straight through someone's old cornfield. Bouncing up and down with every little bump in the soil. 

Rhett's head whips toward you. Still clinging to that oh-shit handle. "Dallas?"

...well.

He had to find out eventually.

All it takes is the slightest nudge to the left to jump back onto the road. And you never realized how quiet driving on the pavement is until now. Virtually silent as you reach for the turn signal, easing through a turn that you were definitely supposed to stop for. 

The cornfields break apart up ahead, diving down into the much shorter soybean crops, expanding as far as the eye can see. No police cars around to catch sight of you blowing through another all-way stop, straddling the thin expanse of pavement. 

There's a van parked on the side of the road, tucked away in a little patch of gravel. Lights and cameras flash. Yellow and white ponchos scurry back and forth. Dressed in t-shirts and shorts and flip-flops, not one of them prepared for more than mild rain. 

"There's no way they didn't come this way," Rhett's echoing the very thought that just crossed your mind.

The first drops of rain come in one thick sheet. Slamming against the windshield. Blurring sight of the rapidly deteriorating road. You've only just turned the windshield wipers on, but they're still not enough. Whirring back and forth as fast as they can possibly go.

Everything around you has gone white. You can't—shit, you can't see the road. "Can you see anything?"

Rhett leans forward, chin bumping the dashboard. The tablet in his lap beeps. Once. Twice. Three times. "Not a fuckin' thing." 

The console lights up. Purple in color. The wind gauge. 

"What does...?" Rhett doesn't finish that question. Doesn't really need to.

"The wind speeds are higher than a hundred-fifty miles an hour," your mouth is moving, but you don't recognize what you're saying. Don't have time to focus on that. "Tell me if the green one comes on."

Gravel abruptly appears under the tires. Panging against the sides of the truck like hail. 

Rhett reaches for something on the dash. "What does green mean?"

"That we should go in the opposite direction." And you don't want to remember if that light is meant to detect two hundred mile-an-hour winds or two hundred fifty. 

Fog melts from the windshield. You didn't recognize it was even there. Fading away into a clearer world. You can see the fields again, mere feet away from the vehicle, as you tear down a road too tiny for your tires to fit on. 

Clouds stir overhead, so dark that they're visible even through the rain. Twisting in a slow spiral, gradually descending to the earth below. But she's not here yet. She still needs a minute to gather her momentum before the clouds can kiss the ground. 

Red flashes up ahead. 

Your stomach drops.

"Take this left!" Rhett's order is your command. Shooting off onto an even smaller dirt path. A windmill shudders to your right, swaying back and forth. 

There they are.

Drills whir on either side of Tyler's truck. Digging deep into the earth. But there's nothing to help the aluminum trailer hitched to it, shivering violently under the wind. 

"You're sure they don't have this covered?" Rhett has to shout for you to hear him. Even then, you don't think you do. 

The back of your throat is sour. It's crawling into your eyes, clawing at your belly. Your hands shiver. The steering wheel briefly slips from your grasp. 

Something isn't right.

Your foot slips off the gas pedal. Sporadically tapping around, struggling to jump back on. Dallas's engine roars louder than the winds squealing past. 

"It's not working!" Tyler's voice arcs across the radio.

Hail crashes into the roof. Scattering across the windshield cage.

"The barrels aren't deploying!" Kate. 

The backend of their trailer jumps. The left auger slips through the soil. Tyler's truck twists a few feet. Was never meant to withstand this kind of wind. 

Dallas is slipping. Tires fail to cling to the ground as you rush forward. 

"Rhett—"

"I'm on it." He's already got his hand on the overhead button. Thumb hovering over the red light.

You're almost—you're almost. Just a few more yards is all you need. Almost. Tyler's door parallels with your passenger side. Little more. Little more—

The brake pedal spurs beneath your foot. Kicking back. Dallas lurches. Something internal shrieks. 

"Now!" 

Drills spin. Digging into already saturated ground. The engine roars impossibly louder, and the lights begin to flicker. All power concentrates over your head. Groaning to life, the hydraulic arms resting overhead begin to extend. Arking high into the air. Twisting outward. The tip of a drill bumps into the trailer, but it's still moving. Swinging over top of Tyler's rig, drills sinking into the ground on the other side. 

A blackened wind takes hold of the outside world. Dallas shudders. But the steel arms never let Tyler's truck out of their hug. You don't think they're slipping any further. Fuck. Fuck you couldn't tell even if they did. Why did you think this was a good idea? Why did you think this was a good idea? Why did Rhett let you do this? It's too loud to hear if they've blown away. And you can't see a single—

"Hey." 

Your shoulder is warm. And that sensation is crawling up the back of your neck, forcing your head to turn. Rhett's hands crawl up to your cheekbones, blocking out your surroundings. You're trying to look out the windshield, but he's not letting go. 

He's the only thing in existence. 

The console digs into your side as he pulls you toward him. His forehead kisses yours. Noses resting against each other. It's so dark, but the blue of his eyes is still as bright as the sky lurking above the clouds. The howling tornado softens into a hum. 

"We're okay," it's nothing but a whisper in the rampage, "we're okay." 

You hear him. There's no reason you should be able to. His mouth is moving. The words never greet your ears. Lost. Drowned out by a muffled sound that you're no longer capable of comprehending.

But you hear him. 

This mattress...is the lumpiest thing you have ever felt in your life. A bed made of bubbles would be more even than this is, digging into the curves in your spine and nudging awkwardly beneath your hips. But you can't bring yourself to move. Not when the tension is easing from your back and shoulders. Has been there for so long that it almost hurts to let it slip away.

The television is on, multicolored lights flickering across the screen, playing what you think is another newsreel, but you can't look at it. Not today. Not tomorrow. You're dying here in this cheap motel bed. The last thing you plan to hear is either the slow drone of the weatherman or the boom of thunder outside. 

Someone knocks at your door. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

"Who is it?" Using your voice requires far too much effort on your behalf.

A muffled sound works its way through the scratched wooden door. You don't know what he says, but you know who it is.

Your body tells you that getting up is impossible. Your heart already has you sitting up, sore feet falling onto the thin carpet without complaint. Something twitches in your back as you walk toward the door, wordlessly begging for the comforts of that shitty bed.

"Hey," you breathe.

Rhett's eyelashes flutter. "Hey."

Neither of you say anything further. It's as if all of your words have spilled out of your brain and carried off with the breeze, venturing off into the storm, never to be seen again. You think the same thing must happen to Rhett because he doesn't seem to have any words left, either. 

Wind twists through his hair, whirling past and into your hotel room. Its invisible hands find your backs, pressing until you fall together like a pair of dolls. Like two trucks who needed one last nudge to nosedive off the cliff. His arms curl around your waist, and your nose is buried into his shoulder, and he's so warm and real. 

"So Dallas, huh?" His breath tickles your ear, almost enough to make you shudder.

"You gotta admit, I had you convinced," talking into his shoulder, unbothered by how muffled it makes you sound.

"Sure y' did." It's his laughter that does it, sends a shiver racing down your weary spine. You think you're going to collapse into a million tiny pieces. "I would've never guessed that it was your fuckin' truck." 

There's a part of you that wonders how he never figured that out; you're pretty sure that you scribbled Dallas's name into the license plate of your sketch that he's looked at so many times. Or maybe he did and simply didn't make the connection that Dallas was a truck and not another man.

"Found out why those two losers were always arguin'," he makes no effort to draw away from you, his arms remaining comfortably looped around you.

"Really?" Perking up. Maybe you've got a little bit of energy left after all. "What was it?"

Rhett leans back a little bit, enough for you to see his face, but he's yet to let you out of his grasp. "Dallas."  

"Oh, so you both fell for it!" You giggle, and you're only vaguely aware of the door slamming shut on its own, cutting off the shrill embrace of the midnight air. 

"Hey, at least I didn't make snide remarks about 'em," but you can still see the lingering embarrassment coloring his cheeks, unusually rosy. He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker, but...

Your hand darts up, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "To be fair, you have always been the sweet one."

The corners of his lips quiver, gradually curving upward, but his eyes refuse to meet with yours. "Y' think so?" 

You know so, but those words don't dare to make their way out of your mouth. Even if they did, it would be no use because they fizzle away the moment the bridge of Rhett's nose bumps into yours. He's been eating those butterscotch candies again; you can taste them on his breath, sweet as can be.

You could kiss him if you wanted to. 

All it would take is the littlest nudge forward for your lips to collide. A clever gust of wind could even do it, forcing you to take that final step forward, throw yourselves into fate's palm, and see what she decides on the matter. You could spend the rest of your life doing just this, gazing into soft hues of blue, kissing him through every storm that will ever pass. Or, this could be the only night that you ever experience this. 

Thunder rumbles outside, the overhead light flickering with it in perfect synchrony. There's no stopping this one. No amount of magic powder can ease up the onslaught of rain and hail raging outside of your window, pelting everything in its sight. 

"'s probably my cue to get out before the rain picks up too much," he says, so suddenly that you're almost shocked to realize that this isn't a dream. 

He disappears so easily. Slipping away as easily as an afternoon daydream, those eyes daring to linger for a second longer before he turns to reach for the door. That big, bruised hand of his dwarfs the knob, gingerly wrapping around it like it'll break at any given moment.

Your lower belly coils. Sour. 

You should kiss him. 

And that might be how his name tumbles out of your mouth. That might explain where you get the nerve to grab a fistful of his t-shirt, yanking so hard that he stumbles. His gasp is the last thing you hear.

It's messy. Chapped lips collide, and noses crash. His chin bumps into yours too hard, and his chest hits you with the force of a freight train. But he exhales when you do. He tilts his head forward, and you think you're beginning to fall, plummeting off the cliff and into the nebula. 

Rhett draws back just as quickly. His eyelashes flutter. You release your grasp on his shirt. Maybe you shouldn't have—

The corners of his eyes curve with his smile. You blink, and he's leaning back in. 

You're not falling into the abyss alone.

Except, you literally might be falling because you're vaguely aware of the world spinning around you, seemingly weightless for a few fleeting milliseconds, before your back finds home in the lumpy mattress you paid fifty-something dollars to sleep on. 

"Shit—" Rhett blurts, jerking away as if burned. "'m sorry, I..."

You only realize you're moving when you see your hand coming to rest against his cheek, coarse and unshaven. It's been a few days since the last time it was trimmed, has had time to soften and lose that sand-papery texture. 

"I don't mind this," you confess. Lightning crackles outside, so bright that you can see the flash of it through the curtains. 

Rhett meets you in the middle. Your noses bump once more as teeth unexpectedly clash, such a disaster that it ought to make you embarrassed, but you don't have the capacity to think about that right now. Not when he's letting himself settle against you, his heavy body slipping between your parted legs, fitting against you like he was built just for you.

Kissing him is...kissing him is like running into a tornado head first. He's so strong, pressing you down into the bed, anchoring you here with his weight alone, and he's just...Fuck, he's everywhere. His hand is curling around your face, and his belt buckle is digging into your lower belly and he smells like the rain that has enveloped the outside world. 

He's traveling. Working his tiny, open-mouthed kisses across your cheek, the tip of his nose tickling the side of your neck as he finds his way to a spot beneath your ear. 

Your hips jerk up into his.

He gasps.

"Is this...can I...?" Breathy. Hesitant. Like he's lost the ability to think.

It must be contagious. All you can do is nod. Dumb. But it's enough. It's more than enough.

No dating business partners, but surely they'd make an exception for a pretty cowboy, right? Kissing him doesn't count. Tangling your fingers in his hair doesn't count. It doesn't count if they never find out. Whatever the repercussions may be, they're not enough to stop you. 

They would understand if they knew he tasted this sweet. If they knew that he hums when he tilts his head, leaning deeper into you, as if he hasn't gotten enough of you yet. His chapped lips tangle with yours so easily that you almost think you've danced to this tune before, falling into a routine that you haven't thought about in years.

The hand on your cheek disappears, fingertips idly tracing across your skin, down your neck, and then up to the corner of your eye, doing nothing but feel you. Something rumbles outside, in perfect tune with the slow roll of his hips, grinding down into you.

"Rhett," your head is spinning, idly grabbing at his biceps like that will somehow anchor you down. 

"I ain't goin' nowhere," uttered like a sacred promise.

But the need for oxygen strikes you at the same time. Reeling back. Gasping. Eyes peeling open for what must be the first time in hours. Days, even.

Oh, he is something. Swollen lips and pink cheeks, his unruly hair ruffled and stubbornly falling into his face, so long that the ends of it tickle your face. You can only tuck so much of it behind his ear before some of it escapes and falls forward again.

Your eyes meet.

He laughs. "I feel like a damn mess."

"I'm sure I don't look any better," your thumb wanders out, tracing across his bottom lip. His tongue darts out, timidly wetting the pad of your finger. It's the last push you need to lift your hand and tap him on the nose with it. 

Those eyes scrunch shut. Overreacting just a little bit.

Thunder slams into the ground with its heavy iron fist, shaking the motel and rattling you back into motion. Leaning back up to drown in him once more, almost sighing as he meets you, grants you the luxury of settling your head against the pillow. You think he only means to shift his position, but the bulge in his jeans grinds into you all the same, a little spark of heat bolting up your core.

"This is okay?" He whispers against your lips, those big forearms settling on either side of your head, seeking more leverage.

Your tongue is limp in your mouth, distracted by how the dim light catches on his bicep, illuminating a bulging vein there. Thick, winding down into his forearm and into his big, meaty palm. 

Rhett's nose finds your cheek, gently nudging. 

It takes a moment to recall his question. "More than okay." 

Rhett's chuckle is a fleeting thing. There one moment and dissolving the next, overtaken by your sudden movement, too impatient to wait any longer. But you miss. It's hard to find any leverage when you've got him between your legs. 

His hips roll down; you're convinced that you feel him twitch in his jeans. "That what yer after?" 

There's no reason why this should work the way that it does. These layers between you should be making this harder to feel, but you're nearly convinced that the clothes are a minor hallucination because they do nothing to stop the feeling of him slowly rutting against you. The coarse material of his jeans drags against your thighs, the tent in his jeans heavy against your core.

You can't help yourself. One of your hands are tangling in his hair, and the other is grabbing hold of his bicep, greedily squeezing the thick muscle that you've spent too much of your life staring at. It flexes in your grasp, shamelessly showing off. You'd call him out on it if not for—

"Your ass is vibrating," you can feel it against your knee, a steady buzz that wasn't there before. 

"Think it's Ty," he doesn't reach for his phone. Instead, his finger curls into the pearl snap buttons of his flannel, raking down and popping them open one by one. 

His pale chest is...distracting.

"Are you gonna answer?" You croak, already fixating on that bucking bull tattoo. Old. Faded. Some little thing he picked up right after he turned eighteen, a discount job that has already begun to wear down. You recall him saying that his momma almost kicked him out of the house for it. 

"Nah," the thin fabric falls from his body like a distant memory, landing somewhere on the floor. "Whatever it is can wait 'till mornin'." It's the tiniest motion, reaching into his pocket and tossing his phone off to the side, but the light catches on his chest just right, and...

"Rhett, this is..." You had a feeling it was worse than just a few stitches, but the image in your head wasn't this.

It's just below his collarbone. Healed at the top but opening up into a wide gash that is far too wide to be stitched closed, scabbed over, and surrounded in a sea of yellow and purple. You can see where the stitches once were, little red dots following the space that has already scarred.

"I know," he mutters, almost sounds ashamed. 

You don't know what makes you do it. But you lean up, lips delicately pressing to the thin line of pink skin. Just two slow pecks, steering clear of what you know is a sore wound.

"'re you kissin' me better?" His voice is right in your ear, his smile shifting the tone of his words. 

"S'ppose I am," there's an unexpected twang to your tone; you're starting to sound like him. 

Your foreheads meet. Softly thunking together, noses rubbing back and forth in their own unspoken dance. He squirms, pulling himself a little higher on the bed, and—

"Shit." He's hissing, dragging his hips against yours again—something about that angle, fuck. 

Rhett's the one who's taken charge of this, deliberately grinding himself into you like he can't think of doing anything else, but it's you who pushes things further. Craning your head up to find the prickly underside of his jaw, pressing your lips to the space beneath his ear. It's just so hard to stop yourself, lightly sucking on the skin there, enough to hear him gasp and leave a faint red patch in your wake.

One after another, gradually making your way down his neck, his heavy breaths enough to make you dizzy. Only stopping when you can no longer reach, forced to reel back before the ache in your neck begins to grow. 

Rhett picks up right where you left off, his tongue poking between his lips as he kisses down your neck, leaving behind little wet spots that seem to freeze over in the chilly bedroom air. His big hands dip beneath your shirt, callouses dragging against your sensitive skin. You know what he's about to ask, and you're already arching your back off the bed.

But he doesn't take it off. Stops right as he pushes the fabric up to your neck, skipping across it, lips finding your naked chest instead. "You'll get cold if I take it all the way off," he murmurs as if he can hear the question floating through your head. 

Without warning, his mouth finds your nipple. Delicately pulls it into his mouth like you'll shatter if he's too rough, his tongue swirling around the little bud in such a way that your head spins in tune with it. Your hands are in his hair, clinging to those curls resting at his nape, a little noise whistling out of your throat. 

He draws away, and—shit, it really is cold in here. 

Your hips jerk on their own accord. Impatient for something you weren't thinking about. 

"Hang on, hang on," Rhett's chuckling at your antics like this is a little game you've been playing for years on end. 

You're playing into it. Lifting your hips when his fingers curl beneath your waistband, shyly drawing your legs together when you realize that he's taken your underwear with your shorts, all in one go. It's easier to ignore the sudden over-exposed sensation when he reaches for his belt, pinching it open and squirming out of those too-tight jeans that have no right to cling to him like they do. 

He's here before you hear the clothes hit the floor. Slipping between your legs once more, his body so warm against your chilly skin. Melting away the metaphorical frost that has already begun to call you home.

Oh.

You didn't realize he was—fuck, that's so much better without clothes in your way. His cock slipping between your folds, the thick underside massaging against your swollen clit so easily. 

"Rhett..." aimlessly babbling, grasping at his biceps before you can think twice about it. 

You don't know if it's because you never gave it much thought or if it's because it's been a while, but he's so much bigger than you thought he'd be. Just the sight of his thick, weeping tip is enough to make you dizzy, the kind of size that almost makes you feel minuscule in comparison.

"So fuckin' wet already," you don't know when he got so close to your ear, a violent shiver quaking across your body as he whispers in that stupidly low voice of his. "were y' wantin' me that bad, sweetheart?" 

You can't respond. Not when he's using his own body weight to keep you pinned to the mattress as he ruts his big cock against your pussy, deliberately targeting your poor clit over and over. Little fireworks rattle up your spine and explode in your head with every motion, glittering behind your eyelids, staining your view of his face. 

"I...shit, Rhett..." speaking is like swimming through a tsunami, words there and gone in a matter of milliseconds, washed away to the back of your mind. "Rhett..." It's no use. You can't...you can't...

The bridge of his nose kisses yours, one of his stray brunette curls coming down to tickle your cheek. You fear the day he cuts his hair short. "Say it again." 

He's said...something, you know he did, but it's so—it's so hard to focus. Too distracted by the way precum obscenely spills out of his slit, mixing with your own wetness, sickening the glide of his length, his every motion punctuated by a quiet squelch that's too loud for this little hotel room. Kate can hear it from down the hall; you're sure of it. 

Hell, maybe she's too busy with Tyler. Maybe she'll throw that 'no dating business partners' rule to the wind and shut that loud-mouthed cowboy up once and for all.  

"...huh?" You think you were supposed to be figuring out what Rhett said. Still haven't done that. 

"Say my name again," he sounds a little breathier now, his sharp hips forcing your thighs to rise and fall with the motion of his body, clinging to him like he's the only stable thing in this big, blinding world. 

"Rhett." It slips out like you've been uttering it your whole life, tongue hand-crafted to do nothing else but form the shape of his name. Can't really stop yourself now that you've begun to say it. Mindlessly mumbling his name with every long thrust. "Rhett...Rhett!" 

Pressure unexpectedly blossoms. Air catches in your throat as his cock head dips into you. 

"Shit—!" Rhett's yelp dissolves into a muffled groan. "I didn't mean..."

But your legs are curling around him, your heels digging into the swell of his ass, urging him deeper. More. You want more of this. 

Oh, and he gives you exactly what you want. Softens and lets you draw him in, so overtaken by the sensation that he visibly fights to keep his eyes open. You weren't ready for this at all and you don't even care. It's hard to think about the ache when he's already dragging against a sensitive cluster of nerves, his cock so thick that it rubs against them without even trying.

"'s it feel good or 'm I hurtin' ya?" Rhett's voice is like gravel. So much lower than what you remember it being. 

"'s good," you're whining, absently squeezing at his biceps as he sinks further and further into you. There's just so much of him to take, slowly splitting your poor pussy wide open inch by fucking inch. 

Thunder booms outside, but it's not near as scary as the monster between your shivering thighs. Lightning flickers as you feel him bottom out, buried to the hilt, and you don't...you don't know if you have room left to even breathe. 

There's no real waiting. He can't, with you taking it upon yourself to dig your heels into the bed and impatiently rutting yourself against him. Shallow little ins and outs that very nearly punch the air out of your lungs.

"So fuckin' impatient," his chest settles against yours, anchoring you into the bed and forcing your squirming hips to hold still. "Needin' my cock that bad, baby?"

You've got just enough of your bearings left to glare at him. No, you were wanting him to buy you a snack out of the vending machine. What else could you want?

"Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't give it to ya," he chuckles like he can hear every little snarky thought that crosses your mind; maybe he's been reading your mind ever since the day you met. 

All of a sudden, he's moving, drawing those strong hips back, only to rock back into you, doing nothing but shallowly rut his cock into you. If it were anyone else, this wouldn't work, but fuck he's already got this figured out. Massaging against those little nerves you haven't touched in so, so long, such a simple thing that has you clenching around him. 

And you're helpless to do anything but cling to him and take it. Pinned to this shitty motel mattress as the storm rages on outside. 

"'s that better, hm?" He coos, nuzzling your noses together as if to soothe the pitchy noises he's gently punching out of you. "I can feel your little legs just a shakin'."

There's nothing you can say. Stunned into mindless sounds that you can't seem to stifle, all too aware of how he's beginning to pull out further, fucking you in long, heavy strokes that leave stars sparkling in your vision. 

Your hips involuntarily buck. The angle shifts. 

"Aha—!" You're crying out. Way too loud. The neighbor absolutely heard that.

But you can't think about that because Rhett's caught onto it, swiveling his hips. Misses on the first try. Drifts closer on the second—

Not a thing escapes your lips, but your back rises up off the bed, clenching around him as he strikes that spot again, and you're only vaguely aware of how you're getting wetter. Absolutely dripping around him, every little motion punctuated by a sickening squelch that you can't possibly ignore. 

"This poor lil pussy of yours," he's so talkative, purring those filthy words against your lips like they're gospel. "Gonna have ya limpin' all tomorrow."

You can't...you can't keep still. Wriggling helplessly, not sure if you're pushing up into him or trying to pull away; whatever it is, it's not working. That fat cock of his is still sinking into you at his own pace, balls lightly smacking into your ass, heavy and full and...

"Probably have to tell 'em a little lie or two," kissing him only briefly shuts him up. He's talking the moment you part ways. "'s not really acceptable to tell 'em the shop mechanic was—mmh between your pretty little legs all night long." 

Your hand finds its way up his arm. Crossing his shoulder blades. On a one-way track to tangle in his messy hair and pull. It's enough to yank his head back, that pretty, pale throat on full display as a warbled moan jumps out of him. 

Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, muffling something you wish you could hear. "Talk to me, baby."

"Wanna...wanna hear you," that doesn't sound like your voice at all. If you couldn't feel it coming out of your own mouth, you'd think it was someone else entirely. "Please." For extra measure. 

You'll fuss about begging on another day. When you're not—oh, when you're not...

The tiniest noise stumbles out of Rhett's throat. Music to your fucking ears. You want more of it. 

It takes a moment. Gathering the strength to use the rest of your body. But then you do, and you're deliberately clenching around him, shivering thighs squeezing his pistoning hips as tight as you can, and he whines.

"Fuck, I...I..." Stumbling out of him. Aimless, but it's damn near enough to make you dizzy.

"Uhuh," is all you can utter. Dumb.

Lips collide. Crashing so clumsily that it's a wonder you don't knock a tooth out, nothing but open-mouthed entanglements and tongue. Calling this a kiss would disgrace the very word. Kisses are meant to be elegant. A beautiful sort of dance that no language will ever be able to properly describe. 

Soft little whimpers creep past his defenses. Faint at first, but it's so hard to stop once he starts crying into your mouth when you clench around him once more. You don't know if it's the sound itself or the delicious drag of his cock that sends the wave of heat roaring into your lower belly. Hell, maybe it's both. 

"Sound so fuckin' pretty." He's the one who says it, but you utter it in the back of your mind, too.

This room is so damn hot all of a sudden. A familiar pull has you fluttering around him, spasms that you feel just as much as he does. And he's driving directly into those little nerves so easily that your entire body is beginning to tingle with it, his weeping cock head striking them over and over and over.

Rhett shivers. A bead of sweat runs down his flushed face. "Fuck, I'm—"

"Close!" You blurt. Didn't mean to finish his sentence for him, but it's already out there, and oh, oh, oh.

His motions are quickening, unexpectedly thrown off of his rhythm, only for his hips to slam into you so hard it rocks the headboard. An unfamiliar heat blossoms, and you can feel his cock twitching inside of you and—Oh, he's cumming in you. 

That's all it takes. 

Your ears go numb as your back arches. Heart hamming in your chest. Crying out something that you never get to hear as you cum around him without warning. Little sparks firing across your nerves, and for the briefest moment, you think you've been swept up into a twister. Swirling 'round and 'round, nothing but Rhett's sweaty body to keep you from flying away entirely. 

And the storm whispers your name, barely audible over the hammer of your own heart. Echoing as the color drowns to black, warping until you can't no longer hear that, either. 

One of your eyes peeks open. 

Did you fall asleep? 

Because you feel like you fell asleep. Don't quite recall feeling so groggy, gravity weighing heavy on your eyelids, fighting against all odds to stay closed. Your tongue is almost stiff in your mouth, difficult to move. 

Rhett's hand has long since curled around your face, his thumb stroking the thin skin beneath your eye. Delicate. You don't think he's realized you're back yet, so distracted that the proof of it is evident in his face. Those deep blue irises flickering across your face, trailing across your forehead, your cheeks, your bitten lips, cracked and dry from the elements. 

You're far from looking your best. That you know for sure, but something about the way he looks at you...has you feeling like the prettiest thing this side of the country.

The corner of his lip rises the moment your eyes meet. "There ya are."

"I think I fell asleep," you croak. That still doesn't sound like your voice, but there's nowhere else it could be coming from. 

"'s only been a few minutes," pausing to press a kiss to your temple. That might be a faint hickey forming beneath his ear. "had me thinkin' I killed ya."

You can't help but giggle, an image emerging to the forefront of your mind. "Could you imagine having to explain to everyone that your dick killed me?"

His eyes roll as hard as they possibly can. You're almost disappointed that they don't get stuck. "'s not that big."

"You'd sing a very different tune if we could swap places," you mumble, reaching for his hand. So much bigger than yours, you can hardly even cover half of it. 

"Who says we can't?" He says it so...bluntly. 

...is he already implying that pegging is on the table?

You can't find your words. Neither can he. All too quiet as you stare back at each other. 

You crack at the same time. Sputtering into laughter like a pair of dumb kids, collapsing into perfect synchrony as you scramble out of the bed. Don't need to utter a word to Bare feet stumble across horrendously patterned carpet. His hand guiding you along on a one-way race to a too-small bathroom.

You're beginning to realize that cowboys and mechanics are just nerds with a very specific niche. 

There's no way that Rhett is still out there poking at Dallas, running his hands over the different components, pressing on buttons just to see what they'll do if anything at all. Even from the door, you can see the gears twisting and turning in his head, processing every little detail and scratch like it's a work of art he's never laid eyes on before.

Except he has laid eyes on Dallas before. More times than you can count, and that beat-up old thing is far from a work of art. At least it's still prettier than Tyler's rusty old rig over there in the back...

No, it's not there anymore. 

Did they leave already? 

"Where's thing one and thing two?" You hope he doesn't notice the way you waddle across the parking lot, an ache plaguing you with every step. It was cute, the idea of being sore from a night in bed with him, but hell, is the actual experience a lot less romantic to deal with. 

"They ditched us fer a date at some kind of storm chaser convention."

And here you thought Kate would at least give you the luxury of sticking around to tell you where she was going. Better yet, sending a text. 

"A date?" Tilting your head to the side, like that'll somehow make you hear better. 

Rhett presses another button. Every light in the truck turns on. "'s what it looked like on Ty's Instagram story."

You've already dug your phone out of your pocket, thumbs fumbling over each other as you search for your friends. Kate's account is the same as it was three days ago. No new posts since July of last year, but Tyler's...

There they are. Posing in front of the camera, spinning it around to unveil a line up of storm trucks. There has to be at least two dozen of them, sidled up next to each other in a perfect line with little white boxes resting on their hoods. A blurry sign sits behind them, forces you to replay the video and squint in order to read it. 

Voting opens  @ 4 PM.

"You have got to be kidding me," deadpan. Damn, not even an invite? After all that arguing? After yesterday? They wouldn't even have a truck to enter if it weren't for Dallas! 

"Hm?" Rhett blinks at you. If this were a cartoon, he'd have a question mark hovering over his head right now.

You turn the phone around, showing him the video he's already seen. "They entered a competition for the best storm rig in the state!" 

He bites the inside of his cheek, watching it again. After a moment, those big blue eyes flicker up to you. "...we could beat 'em." 

"You think so?" Is this what you're doing now? 

"I know so." Grinning.

They'll never let you hear the end of this. 

And that's exactly why you find yourself bouncing up to him, your hands bracing themselves on his chest as you lean in to steal a kiss from his waiting lips. Curling a fist in his t-shirt, don't even need to tug for him to fall into line, boots thumping along as you dart back into the room. Scrambling to collect your bags, tripping over him in your effort to shove your pajamas back into the suitcase. 

"Who's drivin'?" He giggles, leaning across you to get the room key. 

The answer is obvious. "I am!" 

Kate and Tyler don't realize you're there until it's too late. 

[yesihaveaobsession]

It Goes Like This

Alastor x female reader

Summary: Alastor surpiries you and you two dance in the rain :D

A/N- Thomas Rhett is my favorite artist of ALL TIME and so this was inspired by the music video and I just pictured this song as a dancing in rain type so I hope yall enjoy this fic and the song if you decide to listen to it!

You were in the lobby, seated on the couch, engrossed in a book. It wasn't until the sound of laughter drifted in from outside that you looked up, noticing the downpour. You couldn't help but wonder who, in their right mind, would be outside in such weather. Curiosity got the best of you, and you grabbed an umbrella before heading out. Standing under the scant cover of the hotel, you spotted Alastor standing in the rain, laughing.

He sensed your presence and turned around, his front hair clinging to his forehead as he smiled.

"There you are, my dear," he said. You held the umbrella over yourself and approached him, wearing a smile but also a look of confusion. I mean, it's Alastor. He did a lot of weird and out-of-the-ordinary things, but this... this might as well top the cake.

"Alastor! What are you doing out in this weather?" you asked, ducking beneath your own flimsy umbrella.

"Why, enjoying the rain, of course! It's quite invigorating, don't you think?" Alastor replied with a grin, his eyes gleaming mischievously. You just stared at him, watching his suit stick to him more by the minute.

Before you could respond, he extended his hand towards you. "Care to join me in a dance, my dear?" You hesitated, unsure of his intentions, but something about the way his eyes sparkled with excitement drew you in. With a laugh, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to lead you onto the rain-drenched pavement, causing you to drop your umbrella.

Your hair and clothing soon stuck to your form, and you chuckled as Alastor twirled you, causing the puddles under your feet to move with the rhythm. His grin widened as he caught your eye. "Well, my dear, what do you say we kick it up a notch?"

With a snap of his fingers, the radio crackled to life, filling the air with the upbeat melody of "It Goes Like This" by Thomas Rhett from his cane. Alastor winked at you before breaking into a lively two-step, encouraging you to do the same. This wasn't really his cup of tea, but sharing this beautiful moment with you was more important.

Laughing and spinning, you followed his lead, completely swept up in the exhilaration of the moment. The rain soaked through your clothes, plastering your hair to your forehead and leaving you breathless, but you couldn't care less. You and Alastor locked eyes and felt a spark between you, almost as if you wondered if he felt the same.

In that moment, everything seemed to fade away as you found yourself lost in the song and each other's company.

And as the song reached its crescendo, you couldn't help but agree with Alastor's sentiment.

"Yes, indeed," you thought as you twirled once more with a grin, "you definitely want some more of this." As Alastor spun you one last time, you became face to face, your now drenched hair in your face. He used his claw to push it aside, and you both smiled at each other. You knew that this was just the beginning of an unforgettable journey together.

"I know you were having a bad day." He said and your eyes searched his.

"You did?" You asked and he nodded.

"Is this what you needed?"

"Yes, yes it was.'

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Made For Him IX

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, blood and gore, violence, death, grief, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Peter finds himself alone after the loss of those around him, so he decides to find a cure to his grief.

Characters: Peter Parker

Note: Hello, again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.

Love you all like Garfield loves lasagna. Take care. 💖

The Creation

You sat on the couch, teetering at the edge as Peter poked around the tablet, standing along the rim of your vision. You were nervous as you twiddled your clumsy fingers and stared at the television. He said there was something he needed to show you, to help you learn. To understand what to do.

The screen glowed a different tint of black and Peter shifted his weight. He lowered the tablet as he approached and set it aside as he sat beside you. You smiled at him then the screen. You wondered what movie he chose.

"Watch," he sidled closer, his arm against yours.

You obeyed and focused as a woman came onto screen, batting her overlined eyes as she tossed around her big curls. Her makeup was heavy and thick. You didn't like it. It wasn't like Audrey or Hedy. Too much. 

She stuck her tongue out in an expression that made you feel strange. She kept it out, as if wanting you to see the depth of her throat. You frowned and glanced over at Peter.

"What–"

He shushed you and pointed to the screen, "just watch."

You snapped your mouth shut and turned forward once more. A man appeared and grabbed the woman by a hank of her hair as the shot panned out. He drew her to him and forced her mouth to his, a sloppy kiss that smacked noisily. You wrinkled your nose as your stomach bubbled. It wasn't romantic like Scarlett and Rhett. It was… different.

The man shoved the woman down, their naked bodies stealing a gasp from you. You covered your mouth and gaped. The man's… part was big and hard like Peter's was that night. The woman touched it, wrapped her fingers around it like he'd told you to. The groaned as they stayed intertwined.

Peter moved his arm and hooked it behind you, holding you close as your eyes stuck to the television. You couldn't look away. It was an odd sense of horror. As if looking at him would make it real. As if you were caught doing something bad.

You trembled as your palms moved flush to your scalding cheeks. The man spun the woman around and she hit the side of the white sofa. He smacked her ass and you flinched. Why was he being so mean?

You pointed to the TV, about to ask the question but dropped your hand. Peter rubbed your arm as he kept you in his embrace.

"What is it, precious?" He cooed.

You shook your head as your legs jittered uncontrollably. You squirmed as the scene strangled you and smothered every pore. You wanted to look away, to close your eyes, but you couldn't. 

The man took his part as he stepped up behind the woman and pressed it to her. To her secret spot, the one that Peter touched before. He pushed until he was inside her and you squealed, hiding behind your hands. You stomped your feet.

"No! Turn off! Turn off!"

"Precious, it's okay, it's… natural. It's human," he coaxed as he took your hand and dragged it from your face, "they love each other see. That's what happens when you love someone."

"Nooooo," you whined and saw how the man rocked against the woman. Shouting again. 

"Precious, please, calm down–"

"Peter! I tell you, I don't want to see!"

He pouted and clung to your hands, the clapping flesh and groans floating from the speakers burned in your nape. You wanted it off! You didn't want to watch.

You twisted free of him and pushed him away as he reached for you again. You stood and staggered around, hitting the tablet frantically with your finger. 

"Off! Off! Off!"

Peter rose and followed you. He latched onto your arm and you pulled away, flinging him off you with unexpected strength. He stumbled and hit the low table, nearly falling across it. You clutched your head as a swelling sensation filled it.

"No. No. It– no!" You sputtered hotly, "I say no. Again. Again. No."

He straightened and swallowed as he searched your face, "no? You don't love me?"

"I don't say… this, I said off," you pointed to the frozen screen, "I say off. I say no see. You don't hear."

"Precious, you don't hear me," he retorted, "I love you and you hurt me. Don't you see? You…" he shook his head and looked around the floor, "what if I had fallen? I could have hit my head."

"I don't mean fall," you said. "I only…" you glanced at the television, "upset."

"So you would take it out on me?" He scoffed, "don't you love me?"

"I… love, I tell, I love Peter," you clenched your hands in fists, "but I don't… understand."

He neared you quietly. You watched him, afraid. He was mad at you and he should be. You hurt him. That was bad.

"Sorry, Peter, I very sorry to you."

"Precious," he cradled your face between his hands, "I will forgive you," he stroked your cheek with his thumb, a dull feeling, "but you have to let me love you." He leaned in and kissed your forehead, "I'll be nice, I promise. Won't you let me love you?"

You blinked, chest thumping, eyes tinging with fire. You reached to touch his hands and sniffled. You saw the pain in his face and you felt worse that it was your fault.

"I love Peter so Peter can love," you said, "Peter love," you squeezed his hand, "I…let."

He smiled, his brown eyes shining as warmth radiated, burning away his despair, "I really do love you precious, alright? I just want to show you."

"I say yes," you repeated, "tell what do."

The Creator

"Let's go upstairs," Peter turned his creation away from the television before she could look again, "alright?"

She nodded. Silent and stiff as he slung his arm around her once more. He guided her into the hallway and to the stairs, nudging her up ahead of him. She still wore the damp bathing suit and sand stuck to the crease beneath her bottom.

He followed her up and she lumbered into the bedroom. The weight of reluctance in her step irked him. He didn't understand why she was being difficult, he gave her everything and she just refused to understand. She loved him so why didn't she want him like he wanted her?

Well, she didn't know how to want him. He tried to show her but she couldn't understand. So he would make her feel what he felt. Then she would know, then she would want him.

She stopped just inside and stared ahead blankly. He edged around her and stood at her side, staring at the bed. He got that flutter in his stomach, that excitement. He wanted her bad, it had him hard and heavy.

"You have to take your swimsuit off," he said as he untied the top of his shorts, "okay?"

She didn't move. He shoved his shorts down with a huff and kicked them off his ankles. He went to her and faced her, taking the straps of her bathing suit as she winced. Her eyes rounded as they met his. Slowly, her gaze wandered down and quickly flitted to the ceiling. 

"You can look," he coaxed, "that's okay. Because I love you and you love me."

She nodded and her throat bobbed. He pulled the straps and rolled down the top of her suit. She squeaked but didn't stop him. He would take it slow, she was just scared. Really, he was too.

He peeled off the bathing suit and helped her step out of it. She was rigid as a board. He led her to the bed and told her to lay down.

"Yes, Peter, I lay down," she whispered before she crawled onto the mattress and spread out on her back. 

He watched her, clearing the lump in his throat as he admired her figure. Her proportions were a bit off and the scars were still stark across her mismatched flesh, but she was beautiful. She was perfect because she was his.

"You're so pretty, precious," he purred as he inched towards the bed, his arousal bouncing before him.

"Am pretty?" She peeked over at him shyly. 

"Yeah," he put a knee on the bed, "I tell you, don't I?"

"Yes," she answered, her eyes darting back to the ceiling, "you nice."

"I am, so trust me," he sat beside her and caressed her jaw, "okay?"

"Trust. I trust," she said.

Without a word, he traced the line of her throat. He watched how she twitched and tensed. He could only imagine what she felt. Everything was new. The first time. He wished he could go back but with her, it was new and strange.

He trailed along her chest and around her tits. He doted on each, toying with her nipples until they were buds. He sensed her baited breath as he did, felt the goosebumps  he crept down her stomach and over her pelvis. She quivered as his fingertips danced on your thigh.

He parted her legs. After a moment of resistance, she let him. He touched her gently, feeling her warmth, exploring her folds. She shuddered as he teased her clit, pinching and tickling, rolling his thumb around as he watched his hand. The glisten that rose and shone along her lips assured him she felt it too.

He poked around her entrance. She held in another lungful of air. He dipped into her with one digit and she whimpered as her walls squeezed. He slid deeper until he could go no further and wiggled. She gasped out her breath.

"Is that nice?" He asked.

She was silent as she curled her fingers up, her voice rising in a strained eke, "nice…yes."

Peter groaned as he slid his finger back and in again. She coated him with her anticipation and he gripped his dick with his other hand. He played with himself in tandem with her.

"Precious, I want you so bad," he gritted, "it hurts. Do you want me to hurt?"

"No, no hurt, Peter," she quavered.

"Good," he pulled his finger free and smeared it down your leg, "don't be afraid, okay, I'm gonna move."

She nodded and moved her hands over her stomach, still tight fists. He got up and knelt between her legs. He pumped himself slowly as his tip throbbed and his balls ached. He grunted as he looked down at her.

"I'm gonna…" he wasn't sure how to explain it, it felt awkward, "put this where my finger was, okay?"

"What–" she looked down, "that big."

He should be flattered and it was absurd enough to make him snort. He stroked his dick as he bent over her, rubbing against her folds as she squealed and hit his chest in surprise.

"Just… stay still," he girded as he pushed against her, up, down, prodding finally at her entrance, "it hurts a bit at first, but it will stop."

"Hurt?" She croaked, "I…"

"Just for a little, I'll be careful," he leaned on his elbow and tilted his hips, easing into her, just his head as he let out a sharp breath. "Oh, you feel good, precious."

She whimpered and pushed on his chest, "no, hurt. No."

"I know, I know," he pet her head and pushed in further, "I told you, just a bit–"

"Much. Hurt much," she dug her nails into him.

"Shhhh," he sank deeper and groaned, "just a little more."

"Pet- er," she garbled as tears sprouted from her eyes, "please, no, stop."

"Just let me–" He held his breath as he rocked, urging himself deeper with each thrust, "almost."

He slid in to his limit and murmured. She felt so good, so warm, so tight. Fuck, she was so perfect for him. She shook and her sobs flooded into his delight.

"Precious, please," he wiped a tear with his thumb, "it's gonna feel good soon," he rolled his hips into her, "relax."

She clamped her eyes shut and turned her face away. She gnashed her teeth and nodded, swallowing back her pain. She slipped her hands up to his shoulders and gripped his firm muscle. He could feel her calming, feel his way grow easier as he rolled his hips.

"That's good," he rasped as he built his rhythm, "so good for me, precious."

[writercole]

Cowboy Take Me Away

Summary: A tough week gets the best of her but Rhett makes sure she knows he’s always got her back. Words: 700 Warnings: fluff, accusations of infidelity, slight angst Credits: @princessmisery666 for looking over it for me. Thanks, Opie. I love you! A/N: I’ve had a rough go of it lately. Gimme a break.

The days had all started to blur together. Wake up, work, go home, eat, sleep. And it was starting to wear her down. Rhett noticed how instead of sitting up and reading after dinner, she would shower and climb into bed, falling asleep before he could finish cleaning himself up.

There was really no one for him to get advice from. His mom never worked outside of the ranch so she didn’t get it. Rebecca was long gone. Maria left town after the rodeo season had wrapped, the same rodeo that Amy disappeared at.

Rhett could think of only one thing to do.

She dragged herself through the door, grateful that it was the weekend and there was a bottle of wine chilled and waiting for her. But as she kicked off her shoes in the hallway, she noticed that Rhett’s work boots were in the tray, yet the house was silent. The shower was off, the kitchen was empty.

Her heart sank when she hung her jacket. His good boots were gone.

Rhett was a little behind schedule. The bed and breakfast was completely set up but he had hit traffic on the way home. She would definitely beat him home. He hoped she didn’t see the suitcases under the stairs. He wanted this to be a surprise. 

The house was dark and quiet when he crept up the porch steps, a fistful of bluebonnets behind his back.

“Angel?” he called as he slipped in the door. “Baby girl, are you here?”

He strained to pick up on any sounds, heading for the stairs before a muted sniffle sounded to his left. Spinning towards the sound, his feet carried him to the living room. Switching on a lamp, he found his girlfriend curled up in his armchair, a glass of wine in her hand and silent tears streaming down her face.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Rhett asked softly as he crouched in front of her.

“Just tell me,” she croaked.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me you’re going out to meet some girl and that you’re moving out.” Her voice was barely a whisper, her gaze deliberately avoiding his face as her tears fell to her shirt.

“Where did you ever - baby, the only girl I’m meeting is you,” he assured her, pulling the bouquet from behind his back.

“So why are you off early and dressed up?” she pressed, still skeptical of the situation but finally meeting his gaze.

“Because I set up a weekend away for us. I was working on the final bits and got stuck behind a combine. I was supposed to meet you here.”

“You did?” she whispered. Her face twisted with guilt and regret, relief filling the small spaces left in her eyes.

“I know you’ve heard that I’m a good-for-nothing second son man whore but you gotta know that you’re the only girl I even look at,” he continued, cupping her cheek with his rough, calloused palm. “I love you and only you.”

His words broke a dam deep inside of her and she began sobbing, throwing her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Angel, it’s okay,” he whispered in her ear while his hand rubbed her back soothingly.

“No, Rhett, it’s not,” she sniffled quietly. “You went out of your way to do such a beautiful, wonderful thing for me and I accused you of having another woman.”

“Hey, look at me,” he said, “with your past and my reputation, what else were you going to think? I know these things aren’t easily undone and I’m not hurt or disappointed. I get it, angel, I get it.”

“I love you, Rhett,” she hiccuped, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “You’re so good to me.”

“Do you want to go on our little adventure? I’m okay with canceling and staying home,” he offered as he wiped her tears, his sky blue eyes searching her face for an answer.

“We are absolutely not canceling,” she scoffed. “You planned this weekend for me. I definitely need it. Just let me get cleaned up and then, cowboy, you can whisk me away. No phones, no people. Just us.”

“Just us, angel. Just us.”

[lyn-js]

Home Sweet Home | Chapter 2. Memories

Rhett Abbott x OC Reader

Summary: Sunny Pritchett decides to move back home, but without a reason why. Once she's back she runs into her childhood best, friend Rhett Abbott. Rhett seems very surprised to see her. Not only that, but he sees she has a small child on her hip. Will Sunny try to reconnect with Rhett and tell him the real reason you she's moved back. Or will her past come back and find her until everything blows up.

Warnings: Mental and Physical abuse, PTSD flashbacks, swearing, fighting.

Suprise I'm releasing a new chapter. I've been in a pretty good mood. So, I thought I would give you beautiful people a treat!!

(Bold referents to flashbacks)

7 years ago

Sitting in the back of Rhett’s bed truck, talking about your guy’s future and looking at the sunset. “When I finally graduate, I’m gonna get out of this town. , …and I want you to… come with me? Whaddya say cowboy?” before he could even get a word out I’m gonna become an artist, and you can be a bull rider, and I'll travel with ya’, we’ll still be together.” he really wants to get a word out, but you're going 100 miles per minute.

“We can get an apartment-” “Slow down there Sunny-girl” sitting up and bracing his hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to calm down. "Breathe in and breathe out… there ya go.” Finally getting you to calm down.

After a few seconds he spoke up. “I’ll go with you.” he says in a calm manner. “Y-you’ll go with me?” You stand up to get out of his bed truck and start to pace back and forth. "Because if this is some sick joke Rhett Abbot, you have another thing comin’” you say in a shaky voice. Wondering if this was some sort of a weird dream, seeing if you’ll wake up. But it’s not. He’s actually telling you that he will leave.

He hops out of the truck following you. Grabbing “I’m serious as a heart attack Sunny girl. I’ll be with you for as long as you’ll have me.” You feel tears welling in your eyes, and that leaves Rhett in a confused state.

“A-are you okay Sun? If you don’t want me ta go, I won’t I’ll stay here- oof” He was cut off by you running into his arms, and you both falling to the ground. “I’ll have you forever, as long as you’ll have me too” you say while having the biggest smile on your face. "Plus, you can’t get of me that easily cowboy. You’re stuck with me forever.” kissing his cheek.

You stay in the hug for a little bit longer. Just wanted to stop time, and never let this moment go. You just wish Rhett can stick to his word. Hoping he can truly go with you.

What you didn’t know is this amazing friendship wasn't going to last long after this moment.

“R-Rhett” You say with a shaky voice, scared to day anything else.

Your first thoughts of when you saw Rhett were those happy memories of you together. The one you thought of was when you were sitting in the bed of his truck just looking at the sunset, holding hands. Playing in the parking lot of the church after the service was over. Talking for hours on the phone until both your parents said it was time to go. If you could go back and relive those lovely, amazing memories. You would. But you can’t.

You think and go back to the awful night. “YOU JUST LEAVE EVERYBODY BEHIND!”

Without a beat you abandon your cart, and walk out of the store. After having that awful call with Gaabe, and then seeing Rhett. You just want to go home, snuggle with your baby, and pretend this day and this interaction did not just happen. What you didn’t see was Rhett also leaving his things behind in the market and following after you.

“S-Sunny wait!” He tries to catch up to you but you move too quickly, and you're halfway to your car.

You're opening the door to your car; you look back at him and shake your head. "Don't... D-Don't say anything else." With that warning, he closed his mouth. You get in your car and drive away. But this time you don’t look back. You just want to get back home, and into the comfort of your family.

When you arrive back home you automatically spot Ollie in the living room playing with your dad. They both see you and Ollie gets up and waddles to you.

“Mama!” he yells, wanting to be picked up by you. With a bright smile on your face to pick him up, and he puts his face in the crook of your neck.

“Hello my love, did you enjoy your nap?” you ask. He always comes to you for snuggles after he is done sleeping. He just looks up at you, nods and goes back to sucking his thumb and back into the crook of your neck.

“What happened at the store, you didn’t bring anything back?” your dad asks with question. Still sitting on the floor with a bunch of Ollie's toys.

You completely forgot that you abandoned your cart at the market after the phone call, and then seeing Rhett. You really couldn’t tell your dad what happened, you can’t just say to him “Oh, when I was shopping, I got a phone call from my abusive ex-boyfriend. Then I ran into my childhood best friend completely froze up on the spot and ran away from him.”

You snap out of your thoughts and just blurt out the first thing that come to mind “Oh, they really didn’t have what I needed there. I’ll go somewhere else tomorrow.” Lying right through your teeth. But really that was the only option you thought of. You wish you could tell your parents what was really going on. But you're too scared. Ashamed. It seems like they would judge you for being in such a bad relationship for that long. “Why didn’t you just leave?” “Why would you let him hit you?” All of these questions start swarming your head and you're trying to come up with answers. But for right now you just try your best to shove them deep down and try to listen to your dad again.

He just nods at your answer. With that you leave your dad in the living room cleaning up the toys, and walk into the kitchen and see your mom making dinner.

“Hey mama, whatcha makin.” you ask while trying to see a glimpse of what she's cooking. But failing to do so, she shoos you away. While walking away you stick your tongue out while your mom isn't looking. While you look down at your son, he's copying your exact face.

“I'm just making your favorite home cooked meal" You light up at her response, you were so excited to have her home cooked meals.

"Oh, I just love having all my family together.” she says smiling ear to ear. You can never go wrong with your mama’s homemade chicken n’ dumplings. They are the best thing you’ve ever had. And you couldn’t trade your mothers cooking for the world.

“I forgot to tell you cub, we're going to Sunday service tomorrow. I have a cute little outfit that Ollie can wear.” your mom says while setting the table. Then your dad walked in and gave you a kiss on the back of the head.

“Mom… do we r-really have to go?” sounding just like you 16 year old self. Not liking to go to the service. But no matter what you still went. But you always ended up liking it because of course you would see Rhett, and you always ran up to him and the rest of his family after the service was over.

“I don’t want to hear it, Sunny. You are going to the service tomorrow with me and your dad. End of discussion.” She said with a blunt and straight voice.

Not wanting to argue with your mom, you put an end to the conversation. Then, you set Ollie down in his high chair. Getting him ready to eat dinner. After that you all are sitting at the table passing around food getting ready to eat.

Then, you think “Oh Shit!” you realize the only other family that goes to the service with them was the Abbott’s. You knew for a fact that know matter what Rhett did, he always tried to get out of a service day. But Cecilia Abbottbeing the woman she is, she saw right through him and made him go anyway. 

After everything is out and ready to eat dinner “Who wants to say grace?” your mother says, while putting some more food on her plate. “Sunny, why don’t you say it, you haven’t in so long.” 

You look at your mother with your pleading eyes, you really don’t want to. Then, you look over at your dad, but he’s staring right back at you with a warning look, but in the end you give in, and have no control over it.

You all put your hands together.While saying grace you just think to yourself how this day might get any crazier. 

What you didn’t know, this is just the beginning.

End.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. ❤️

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you wanted to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @callsign-magnolia @roosterforme @angelbabyyy99

dividers are by @saradika

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Onyx Eyes & Spooky Antiques | Rhett Abbott Imagine | Outer Range x Addams Family

Contains light spoilers to Netflix’s ‘Wednesday’

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Rhett Abbott x Persephone Addams!OC (Romantic), The Abbott Family, The Addams Family, Maria Olivares

Content Warnings: fluff, morbid sense of humor (typical Addams family style), slight profanity, slight spoilers for ‘Wednesday’, bullying and slight animal cruelty. Cannon divergence | Female OC (she/her) | Wc: 9k

Premise: Returning to Wabang with a broken heart, Rhett Abbott longed to be able to open up to someone without history repeating itself. When his niece, Amy, requests out of the blue to go to a antique store he had yet to discover, the familiar name attached to it has him thinking back to his high school days. Now ten years after wondering what happened to the oldest daughter of Wabang’s most peculiar family, Rhett gets his answers…and possibly something more along the way.

Note: omg I don’t know why this came to mind, but after binging ‘Wednesday’ and hyper-fixating on Rhett Abbott and Top Gun lately I just wanna do a Addams family crossover series/dribbles. This was in my head for at least a good day before I got to writing it and it’s probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I hope y’all enjoy and just know there is some cannon divergence to fit the narrative. Let me know if yall liked this because I’m thinking of doing a whole Drabble list of my Addams!OC x Rhett Abbott (like Rhett meeting the Addams family, his reacting to the relationship, Maria returning, etc) if this gets well received. 🥺

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“Can you take me to Addams Antiques, Uncle Rhett?” The plate Rhett was washing nearly slipped from his hands. With wide eyes he turned to his side to find Amy holding out her own plate with puppy dog eyes. In his head he thought, ‘did I hear her right?’

“Run that by me again.”

She gave a sound that resembled an annoyed sigh, “Can you please take me to Addams Antiques? It’s over by the farmers market grandma is always going to after church.”

“I don’t remember that being there months ago,” Rhett mumbled, drying the plate before placing it on the dish rack and taking the one from Amy. It had been about a month since Rhett returned home after the shit show that was his relationship with Maria. After years of harboring a crush on her, Rhett thought he finally got the chance he was dreaming of.

But it didn’t go as planned. Now he was stuck home again, bull riding his way to make enough money to leave and helping his parents with the ranch. What he enjoyed the most being back was getting to spend time with Amy. She had updated him on all that was new in town and what he missed when he was gone. Hearing there was an antique store sharing a familiar name he hadn’t heard in a long time was something new.

Though Adams with one ‘d’ was a common last name, Rhett only knew of one family who spelled it with two. The Addams family, who lived on the outskirts of town in the middle of nowhere between the hills and mountains—closed off from the rest of civilization. None of the locals dared to travel close to their spooky mansion that seemed to have its own fog surrounding it along with their private graveyard.

The Addams family had moved to the small town of Wabang over ten years earlier. A wealthy family, they invested in several businesses and owned many of their own including the town’s funeral home and floral shop (which only sold bouquets in the color palette of red, white, black, and grey).

Their appearance was a shock to the many generations of residents who were put off by their gothic style and peculiarity views of life. Rumors immediately spread upon their arrival: that their butler was actually Frankenstien’s monster, that the uncle was a wanted fugitive. Many were certain their fountain of wealth came from dirty money that the father Gomez was involved in. His pinstriped suit and cigar hanging from his mouth made him look like a gangster from the 20s. Women, envious of the beautiful Morticia, voiced her to be a vampire or witch who cursed people that disrespected the family.

They might be right with their suspicions—considering when a drifter attempted to cop a feel on her and began having a seizure.

Gomez and Morticia were the couple everyone in Wabang looked at with distaste yet silently admired. Everyone saw how genuine their love was for each other and their family. Gomez worshiped the ground Morticia walked on, and Morticia always looked at Gomez as though it was the first time she saw him.

Then there were the children. Three very odd children who were known to say or do things that were unorthodox to the conversative townsfolk. The youngest, Puglsey, seemed to always wear a striped t-shirt and shorts who enjoyed vandalism and partaking in whatever his sister Wednesday was up to. Wednesday, the middle child and youngest daughter, was never seen without her long black pigtails and stone cold face. Her monotone voice and habit of saying the most morbid things scared away kids her age—not that she minded, in fact, she enjoyed scaring them. A prodigy on the cello, Wednesday was asked to play for the high school when she was still an elementary student….until she was kicked off for setting fire to the band room at practice when the kids stole her music sheets to sabotage her.

Lastly there was the oldest, Persephone. Named after the Greek beauty herself. She was ten years older than Wednesday and twelve older than Pugsley. Like her siblings, Persephone was pale with straight black hair that fell above her shoulders and plump dusty rose lips she often painted with blood red lipstick. Cheekbones high with jawlines that could cut through wood. She stood out like a sore thumb in school with her black attire that contained lace, leather, skulls, roses, and all things dark. At school she mostly kept to herself, hiding away in the library or the art room during study hall and lunch. People snickered as they would pass her, write ‘freak’ in sharpie on her locker, or gave looks of distaste.

Persephone never paid any mind to them. She never gave the attention they desired which only made them more frustrated. Hardly would she speak to anyone, save for the teachers, but every now and then she’d make a witty comeback to whoever insulted her which left the entire classroom speechless. Like when Destiny Samuels told her she looked like she was always dressed for a funeral and Persephone, deadpan, went, “I’m practicing for when I attend yours.”

Destiny never made eye contact with her ever again.

Rhett remembered Persephone. She transferred to the high school at the beginning of his junior year and was already far ahead than most in their class. At no point would Rhett consider her a friend or even an acquaintance. The only time he ever found himself close in proximity with Persephone was when they sat next to each other in Spanish—though he couldn’t remember ever seeing her do class work because it was learned quickly that Spanish was her native tongue and spoke in full conversations with the teacher rather than partake in the lecture. Then one time Rhett was passing the French classroom during free period and overheard her speaking full French with the teacher.

The week later, Rhett was serving detention and had to clean out the gym where he found Persephone in a heated fencing duel with a person he’d never seen before. Turns out, it was her private coach and Persephone was training to take home the national title.

She did, not allowing her opponent to get a single point in. The news came with her face plastered on every newspaper in the state. To the surprise of everyone, Persephone donated her earnings to the elementary school for new computers and library books. Not too long after, once people got over their jealousy, parents were—with hesitance— approaching Persephone to ask for fencing lessons for their children.

And you can best believe she charged high prices.

There were two times where Rhett Abbott exchanged words with Persephone Addams. The first happened when Persephone was purposely bumped into by Maria and her crew—the group giggling as the contents in Persephone’s hands spilled to the ground. At the time Rhett was sporting a massive crush on Maria and was going to ignore the situation like everyone else, but something in his head told him he’d feel guilty—and his momma raised him better than that. Even if she thought the same of the Addams family as the whole town.

So when Rhett knelt down to help gather some pages that scattered, he saw the visible reaction of Persephone, who paused slightly before shuffling through her bag to throw in pens and markers. Not a word was spoken as the two cleaned up the mess. Rhett was careful to not accidentally tear the papers, which he recognized as some of her artwork. It was all done in charcoal and oils—mostly consisting of spiders, snakes, graveyards, castles, with a few portraits of historical figures and her family. Rhett couldn’t help but let his eyes linger. They were beautiful.

“These are really good,” he said before he could stop himself. The words have Persephone still, finally looking up to him after keeping her head down the entire time. Here Rhett was able to get a better look at her face and he felt the air catch in his throat.

She was mesmerizing.

In class Rhett only ever saw her side profile which was often concealed by her dark hair or scarf. Now it was less than five feet from him and clear as day. There was not a blemish in sight on her pale skin and the contours of her cheeks were what models strived for. Her eyes were nearly black like onyx and accentuated by the eyeliner framing them with thick long lashes that gave her an almost doll-like appearance. It was like she was a character from a Tim Burton movie.

“Thank you,” even her voice was haunting and sensual. The simple phrase sends chills down Rhett’s arms. “And thank you…for helping me. That was very kind of you.”

Rhett forgot how to think, blinking rapidly as he began to stutter, “U-uh, yeah-yeah. No problem.” He extended his hand holding the drawings, watching her own reach out to take them. Her manicured nails were painted the same color as her lips, blood red. Rhett flinched as a spark of electricity coursed through him when her finger brushed over his. When he looked up, she was frozen in a daze. Rhett frowned, confusion filling him as he snapped his fingers in front of her only to be met with no reaction.

It was like she was a robot that lost its battery.

Suddenly he was jumping back when she rapidly blinked. “Sorry!” She said, quickly snatching the papers and closing them into a random book before gathering the rest of her belongings. Standing up in a rush, Persephone turned on her heel and rushed down the hall to the class she was now late to. Rhett was left crouching on the ground, a pink hue to the top of his ears as he tried to wrap his head around what happened. People were looking at him like, ‘were you really talking to the Addams freak?’ Not liking the looks, Rhett scurried off to his class—knowing it was going to be the talk of the school for the rest of the week.

And it did…ending horribly. Well not for Rhett, per say, but for Persephone.

Words spread like wildfire in Wabang and the high school was usually at the center of it. So when the news of Rhett helping Persephone Addams broke, followed by a classmate catching sight of a portrait she drew of him, some people found it as bait.

Especially Maria.

Maria saw it as an opportunity to poke fun at the oldest Addams. Even though it was well known Persephone was a loner at school, it didn’t stop people, especially Maria, from being envious of her. Persephone was naturally beautiful, a prodigy in fencing and the arts, intelligent to the point where teachers hardly gave her class work because she already knew the material inside and out and didn’t give a fuck about what others thought of her.

Getting attention from Rhett and possibly having a crush on him was enough to fuel the fire slowly burning in Maria.

And so the Friday before spring break of their junior year, Maria gathered her friends and broke into Persephone’s locker during their study hall while she was in her AP English class. To their shock, not only was the locker filled with plants, but also found a large grey rat in a cage running on a wheel perched on the top shelf. “She is the type to have weird pets,” Maria cringed, taking the cage in her hands while someone ripped the vines and flowers from their pots. Finally they spotted the black leather bound book they figured was her sketchbook and snatched it.

When Rhett exited his U.S History class that afternoon, the sound of laughter coming from the next hallway drew his attention. People had their phones out and were taking pictures or video recording. “Damn, did you see the look on her face!” He heard someone laugh. “I knew she had a crush on Abbott—I caught her eye fucking him the other day in Spanish.” As he came around the corner Rhett froze at a horrible sight.

Not only was Persephone covered in a red slushie, but several of her drawings were torn to pieces and hanging on the lockers. Rhett spotted Maria on the opposite side, holding her stomach from how hard she was laughing while her friends mirrored her on either side. Then his eyes drifted over to what Maria had in her hand, recognizing the style of charcoal in the portrait. His own face stared back at him.

Persephone had drawn him. The only color being that of his cerulean eyes in contrast to the black and grey of his visage. It was so detailed it was like he was staring in a mirror.

He couldn’t even react because soon the situation took a darker turn when something dropped from the ceiling, hanging in front of Persephone so it was eye level. It was a lifeless grey rat.

“Should’ve known a freak like you would keep rats for pets, Addams,” Maria snickered, watching as the teen’s eyes widened as it stared back into the dead eyes of their pet. “I bet you even have his grave plot reserved at home. Huh?” Maria crumbled the drawing in her hand, throwing it at Persephone which ended up hitting the rat causing it to hit her in the face. It sent another wave of laughter through the crowd. “Oh and forget about that little crush of yours. No one in this town will ever get with a freak like you. Enjoy your spring break—have fun burying your pet.”

Everyone dispersed after that, leaving Persephone—save for Rhett—in the middle of the hall. Shaky hands came up to wipe the residue on her face before gently taking the rat in her hands. Rhett waited until everyone was gone, ignoring the way people clapped him on the back with the snide, ‘go get your girl, Abbott,’ before walking up to Persephone.

She didn’t look at him, keeping her head down to gaze at the dead rat, running a finger over his neck to find it crushed. Rhett picked up the crumbled paper, unraveling it to reveal the drawing of him. When she didn’t react, Rhett took it upon himself to remove the torn pieces of the artwork off the walls. They were the same ones he saw that monday along with a few others he assumed were new.

Anger filled him, furious at Maria and the entire school for committing such a cruel act. The drawings were not only torn but also marked with sharpie with the words, ‘freak,’ and ‘witch.’ There was even a drawing of a stick figure tied to what appeared to be a stake. What the fuck was wrong with people? And to kill a rat and throw a slushie on Persephone to humiliate her? How could anyone condone that when she did nothing to them.

“Hey,” he approached her when he got all the pieces. Her dark hair glistened under the light from the liquid, red staining her face and neck. It just so happened Persephone was wearing a white dress that day under her blazer so the fabric was now ruined. Black streaks streamed down her face as a result of the eyeliner she was wearing. Rhett felt his heart clench, sympathy overtaking his anger. “I-I I’m so sorry. Uh-I had no idea—t-that Maria would do—.”

“Not your fault,” she cut him off gently. Rhett watched in silence as she took the cage sticking out of the trash can to place her rat in before placing it to the ground. Without looking at him, Persephone took the papers and discarded the torn pieces, keeping the crumbled one of him in her hand. Next thing Rhett knew she was handing it to him, “Here. You can have this. Unless you find it weird and then you can throw it away. I don’t mind whatever you choose.” And so she stood with her hand out, waiting for Rhett to take it from her.

He wasn’t sure what to think. Part of him felt confused as to why she felt the need to draw him, another part of him a weird feeling of warmth. Hardly any girls ever paid attention to him. With a slight blush, Rhett gently took the sketch—trying not to react as another spark of electricity hit him when their fingers touched, however Persephone did as a pink hue appeared on the apples of her cheeks.

Finally she met his eyes. Onyx meeting blue. And Rhett frowned at the sight of water lining her eyes. On Monday when Maria had deliberately pushed her, she was obviously annoyed but remained stoic. Here, Pesephone’s face was tight, showing it took everything in her not to become emotional.

“Thank you for all your help,” she whispered, bottom lip trembling as she gulped. “Have a lovely spring break, Rhett.” And again, she was gone before he could get another word out—gripping the cage and her bag in either hand and speeding out the nearest exit.

That was the last time Rhett saw Persephone Addams.

After spring break Rhett was back in school and the first thing he noticed was the empty seat beside him in Spanish class. It didn’t concern him, for sometimes Persephone would spend the period in the library since she already spoke the language. But then Tuesday it was empty again—and Maria was gone too. And then Wednesday. Finally on Thursday, Rhett got the answer to why Persephone and Maria were a no show all week.

“You didn’t hear?” Travis Coleson from his Chemistry asked with wide eyes. Rhett just gave him a look that read, ‘I wouldn’t have asked if I did.’ In response, Travis scotched over and leaned in to whisper so the teacher couldn’t hear. “On Monday during Mrs. Parker's third period, Addams waltzed in—mind you she doesn’t have that class at all—and slammed Maria’s head to the desk. Then the psycho dropped a black widow spider onto her face! It bit her on the cheek from what I heard and they had to call an ambulance.”

Rhett couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “Holy fuck,” he muttered, bringing a hand to caress his jaw. His thoughts were swarming. On one hand he felt a little bad for Maria—mostly because he for some odd reason still had a crush on her—but on another felt she deserved it after the stunt she pulled. Although, ending up in the hospital is a tad bit far. “Is um— they okay?”

Travis made a face at the question, “well besides being traumatized and having a large red spot on her face, Maria is just dainty,” he spoke with obvious sarcasm. “Addams on the other hand got expelled. Last I heard my folks caught sight of their family car leaving town Tuesday and returnin’ this mornin’—but no sign of Persephone. Rumor is they sent her to some boarding school out of state.”

Rhett frowned at the news, licking his lip as he turned away from Travis deep in thought. There was an odd feeling in his stomach—one he had trouble describing. It carried with him all day, turning into nausea when he spotted Maria hiding in the corner of the cafeteria with her friends—a large bandage covering her cheeks. She looked tired with red puffy eyes as if she had been crying for a long time.

The rest of the year Rhett never saw Persephone Addams. Then one year became two, and soon they added on till he lost count. While he never forgot Persephone, Rhett no longer found himself thinking about her after that first year. On occasion he wondered how she was doing whenever his parents brought the Addams family up. Especially when a new business opened that was attached to their name. “Maybe you should try getting a part-time job at that liquor store over by the tobacco shop, Perry,” Cecilia said one random dinner when Rhett was twenty. It made everyone—minus Amy—stop eating and look at her incredulously.

“That’s the ones owned by the Addams family, ma.”

“I know,” she shrugged, trying not to show any sign of aversion. Rhett looked in between his parents with raised brows, commenting, “thought you didn’t like them, ma.”

Cecilia scoffed at the accusation, though it was obvious there was some bit of truth to it. “It’s not that I don’t like them, Rhett. I just find them….odd, like everyone else in this town. But I do respect and appreciate all they’ve done—like the fact they donate to the schools and the one shelter.”

“Maybe ‘cause no one else is selfless enough to do so,” Rhett muttered under his breath, glaring when Perry kicked him under the table in warning.

That was the last time the Addams family was brought up. Flash forward to 26-year-old Rhett and the thought of Persephone Addams vanished when Maria returned to his life. Something he hoped was permanent, but in reality was a complete and utter failure. Now his niece is staring up with him with puppy eyes, begging to go to an antique store opened by the Addams.

“It opened up while you was in Bozeman,” Amy told him, handing Rhett the utensils when his hand extended for them. “Right beside it is their book store—they’re basically connected and you can enter one and exit the other without going outside.”

“Wow,” Rhett said, putting the last dishes on the rack before washing his hands. “When you start gettin’ interested in antiques?”

Amy gave a small shrug, “Grandma was over at the farmers market and I wondered over there. Saw this cool clock in the window and wanted a closer look. It’s pretty cool—spooky and weird, but cool. And the lady who works there is cool too.”

“Really?” Rhett chuckled at his niece. “Do I know her?” He thought hard at the type of people who often took up the jobs at the Addams businesses. The only one Rhett knew of that the family ran themselves was the funeral home. Other than that, high schoolers took on summer jobs when they were desperate for money or teachers worked the weekends to make a little extra for the month.

“No, I don’t think so. I ain’t seen her round before until that day. She’s pretty and looks about your age—you’d definitely like her, uncle Rhett.” He gave his niece a knowing look, but she just smiled back. “Though, I don’t think the same would be said for her.”

Rhett made a sound of offense, playfully pushing her. “Are you dissing my game, little miss?” Amy giggled, pushing him back. “I’d be careful what you say, otherwise you can find someone else to drive you.” Immediately the girl pouted, which made Rhett chuckle, “I’m just teasin’. Go get your shoes, we’ll leave in five.”

With a squeal, Amy ran out of the kitchen to get her things leaving Rhett to finish cleaning up. Once he was done he gathered his shoes, keys, wallet, and hat before meeting Amy at the door. It was just past noon and the town was not too crowded by the townsfolk with many shopping at the farmers market and stores. Rhett found a spot to park his truck and the two hopped out with the man following behind Amy as she sped to the door of a two story brick building, painted black, that read in iron letters, ‘Les Antiquítes de la Famille Addams,’ beside it was a similar building, only it read, ‘La Biblioteca de Clásicos y Misterios de la Familia Addams.’

“Is that…French and Spanish?” Rhett asked his niece, who already had her hand on the iron door knob.

“Yup,” she emphasized the ‘p’ with a pop. “Now c’mon. I wanna see if they got anythin’ new in since last time I was here.” A jingle sounded above them, indicating to whoever was there that someone was entering the store. Rhett froze after gently closing the door, eyes scanning the scene before him.

It was unlike any antique store Rhett had been in. The color palette was like any business related to the Addams family with a vintage gothic aesthetic to its core. It definitely gave off an eerie feel, but it was beautiful. There was an iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling surrounded by melted floating candles. Clocks made of various metals and materials took up the space of an entire wall above the windows. Shelves stacked the many clear bookcases holding delicate china, porcelain dolls, and games that looked to be straight out of the 1920s. And like most antique stores it was laid out like a maze. Already Rhett had lost sight of his niece.

“Amy?” He gently shouted, careful not to scare anyone who could be lurking. As he took a few steps forward Rhett noticed the large opening to his right which should’ve been a wall but instead led to the conjoining book store. It had the same style and layout it could pass as an extension to the antique store—only it held strictly books.

“Back here!” Her voice called out in the distance. Rhett followed the sound, careful not to bump into anything and possibly destroy the items. The last thing he needed was to spend hundreds on irreplaceable artifacts.

When he found Amy, Rhett was confused to see her perched on a barstool in what appeared to be the back room. Doing a double take, checking to see where the worker was, Rhett peaked his head in, “Uh Ames, what’re you doing back here? This is the back room.”

“I know,” she told him, adjusting her position on the stool. “I’m waiting for Ms. Percy to show me her ring collection.” Something in Rhett’s stomach tightened at the name, “M-Ms. Percy?”

“Yes,” the sultry voice sounded behind him, causing Rhett to spin suddenly only to freeze as those onyx eyes stared back at him. Matching black hair framed her pale face ending at the top of her shoulders. The little bit of baby fat she had in high school had vanished, leaving sharp cheekbones with a grey hue to accentuate the contours of her face. Blood painted her lips, which were parted in a small smile showcasing pearly white teeth that people would spend hundreds on to have.

Rhett was speechless. Not only at the sight of Persephone Addams in front of him—still as captivating as ever—but the fact there was a baby girl perched on her hip. They both wore black, though Persephone’s was leather compared to the baby’s cotton onesie. While the baby had a black bow tied into her mop of black hair, Persephone donned a pillbox hat with lace falling down to cover her forehead and one of her eyes.

The baby, who looked to be not even a year old, was a spitting image of the woman holding her. There was no doubt she was Persephone’s daughter. His eyes betrayed him because immediately Rhett was pitching a glance to her hands, finding no diamond ring nor wedding band. There was only a snake ring looped around her left middle finger, with a black pearl on her right index. Rhett did notice the tattoos that coated her fingers and hands, some even crept up on the visible skin of her neck. Speaking of her neck, it was layered with various silver necklaces—including the letter ‘D’ on one.

“Hello, Rhett,” she snapped him from his daydream, no doubt pink coating his ears at the fact he was caught checking her out. Rhett scratched the back of his neck, becoming more flustered when her eyes flickered up and down—doing the same to him. “How nice to see you after all these years.”

“Persephone,” was all he could say, tipping his hat slightly in greeting. He wasn’t expecting to see the oldest Addams child after nearly a decade. The last time they were 16 and Persephone was covered in red slushie with streaking eyeliner. Now she was a grown woman—a mother as one could assume by the baby on her arm.

“You look good,” she complimented, not missing the way his cheeks flushed. “How long has it been? Ten years, give or take?” The man nodded, causing her to smirk. There was no doubt she knew of the effect she had on him. Although most people crossed the street to avoid Persephone, she always caught the way their eyes lingered. Before a morbid comment could scare them off, their attraction was as obvious as the sky was blue. “Once I left that hellhole that was—oh I shouldn’t call it that,” she sighed, “Hell I would actually enjoy, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Uhh—.”

“Did you find it, Ms. Percy?” Amy interrupted the moment, making Rhett turn to give her a slight glare. The girl shrugged with innocence, smiling when Persephone peered behind her uncle.

“Oh yes, darling, I did. Excuse me, Rhett.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping back only to run into the edge of the doorway. Persephone smiled, squeezing past him to get in the room. It was then he noticed a velvet box in her free hand not holding her baby. Persephone placed the box on the desk before stepping around to sit in the vintage leather chair and perching the child in her lap causing her to babble and reach for anything on the table. The sight made Rhett smile.

“Now,” Persephone opened the velvet box to reveal a matching cushion holding an array of different rings. Some had gems, some were made of metals with lucrative designs. Almost all gave signs they were worth a lot of money. Persephone removed a golden one that had a large emerald in the middle surrounded by black diamonds. “This is one of my personal favorites. It belonged to one of the First Lady’s.”

“Woah,” Amy breathed, taking the ring as Persephone handed it to her. “Which First Lady?” Rhett moved closer, leaning against the wall beside the desk. He too was curious to know.

“Wednesday wouldn’t tell me,” she sighed, adjusting the bow on her daughter's head. “It was a gift from her on one of her many grave robbing adventures when we visited Virginia.” Rhett’s eyes widened at how nonchalant Persephone’s words were. His gaze snapped to Amy, who seemed unfazed as she admired the ring before handing it back.

Now he wondered just how many times Amy had interacted with Persephone since she returned. It surprised him the girl didn’t react like most would. And on that note, Rhett had a lot of questions he was curious to know.

“What about that one,” Amy pointed to the dazzling ruby ring on the bottom row. Persephone gave a fond smile, removing it from the cushion.

“This one is a good one. It belonged to Anne Boleyn—second wife of Henry the Eighth. She was executed for treason,” Persephone gave a sad look, though it was more in regards to not being alive to witness the event. “This is one of the rings she was wearing as she knelt on the chopping block.”

‘Jesus Christ,’ Rhett thought, but felt a smile creep up. He didn’t know what it was, but he found the whole situation amusing. There was something about Persephone that was endearing. It drew him in. And although he found some of the things she said odd, he wasn’t as put off by it as everyone else. In fact, he wanted to hear more.

One by one Persephone told the story of each ring—becoming slightly more morbid with each. Finally on the last ring, which was stolen by Puglsey and belonged to a French aristocrat that died in war, Persephone noticed how Amy’s lingered a bit longer on it than the others. “Here,” she said, pulling out a small velvet box from the drawer and placing the ring in it, closing it shut to hand to her, “it’s yours.”

A gasped escaped the girl, “I couldn’t possibly—.”

“I insist.” The box was pushed into Amy’s hand. Rhett stepped forward to protest, but Persephone waved a hand to stop him. “Consider it a gift. Amy has been so kind coming to visit me these past several weeks—even helping me organize or clean when the dust becomes too much. It’s the least I can do to thank her.”

Rhett glanced at Amy, who now had a light blush on her cheeks and was smiling at Persephone in gratitude. “What you say, Amy?”

“Thank you,” she said immediately, holding onto the box like it would disappear. “Thank you so much Ms. Percy. I will make sure nothing happens to it.”

Persephone smirked, “I’ll hold you to that.” The baby then made a sound, resulting in Persephone to adjust her so she was cradled to her chest. A hand gently stroked the baby girl’s back and the cries that were about to start soon went away. “Chut, ma petite épine. Nous serons bientôt à la maison.” ‘Hush, my little thorn. We will be home soon.’ A kiss was placed to her head before Persephone turned back to her guests. “My apologies, she gets a little fussy around this hour.”

“It’s not a problem,” Rhett replied with a soft smile. He nodded to the baby girl who’s eyes were fluttering as sleep started to overtake her. “What’s her name? If you don’t mind me askin’.”

“Desdemona.” So that’s what the ‘D’ on the necklace represented. “Mona for short.”

“That’s a pretty name,” he complimented. Never had he met someone with such a rare name. It was like Persephone. Unique and uncommon to hear in the modern day.

“It’s Greek for ill-fated and unfortunate, you may recognize it from the play ‘Othello’,” Persephone said casually, causing Rhett to be slightly taken aback. He recovered as she added, “Fitting for an Addams, don’t you think? After all, my name means ‘bringer of destruction.’”

Amy tilted her head, “I thought it was about the girl who was kidnapped by Hades.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” the woman winked, causing Amy to giggle. Rhett glanced between them, still blown away by how open his niece was at how strange Persephone was. It gave him pride and joy that she wasn’t like everyone else in Wabang. Judgemental to outcasts. She didn’t write the Addams off because they were different and instead found them intriguing.

“‘fore we leave, Ms. Percy, do you mind if I borrow another book?”

“Oh not at all,” Persephone clutched onto Mona as she stood from the chair. “Be my guest and choose whatever you please. Did you enjoy the one I recommended to you last week?”

Amy gave a short nod, hopping off the stool and giving the ring box to Rhett so he could hold it while she explored. “I preferred ‘Carmilla’ but I see why ‘Dracula’ is so talked about.” With that Amy was off to the opposite end of the building that held the book store, leaving Rhett and Persephone alone. With Mona of course, but she was sound asleep.

“She’s reading classics,” Rhett said with bewilderment. “Willingly.” He wondered if Perry and his parents were aware of Amy’s newfound interests. It was difficult to grasp for Rhett, though it sure as hell impressed him. And he damn well knew his mother would have a fit if she caught her granddaughter reading books like Dracula, Frankenstein, and all things spooky at that young an age.

A soft giggle brought him out of his shock. God even Persephone’s laugh sounded like a melody—like a siren singing her song. It made him feel warmth and the desire to hear it again. Fuck why was he acting like a teenager having a crush agian.

Wait, maybe it was a crush. Oh boy.

“Is it so hard to believe young girls would be interested in such?”

“Well, considerin’ me and everyone in high school hated the lessons on said literature…I’d say so, yes.” Something flashed in her eyes at the mention of high school, her smile turning down a bit, causing Rhett to back track at the memory of her drenched in red slushie, “I’m sorry—uh. I shouldn’t have brought up…”

“Please don’t tiptoe around just to spare me from feeling down and depressed, Rhett. I actually enjoy those emotions. Makes me remember I do have a heart.” She flashed a smile, adjusting her arms to make sure the baby was comfortable. There was a distant look in her eyes, as though she was thinking back to a certain time in her life. Rhett bit his lip, contemplating his next words.

“May I ask ya a question then?”

“Of course. I’m an open book. I’ll answer with honesty, Rhett.”

“What exactly happened and uh, where did ya go?”

“You’re referring to when I put a black widow on Maria’s face?” At Rhett’s nod, where he was trying not to react to the confirming truth, Persephone continued. “Well, as you can expect the sheriff was called and her family was furious. They rushed her to the hospital to receive the antidote to combat the venom,” she made a face, turning away, “so dramatic if I say so—they should know there has not been a fatal bite from a black widow on a human since the eighties. All it did was swell her face, make it red, give her abdominal cramps for a few days. It was a baby spider so it didn’t do too much damage.” Her tone implies it was not a big deal. Again, he should find it weird, but was actually impressed.

After a pause, she sighs and meets his eye, “At the station, they wanted to press charges as one does. But fortunately for me, the video of what Maria and her friends did was all over those social media platforms they were addicted to. You know, the ones where they strive for validation from others. Let’s just say Maria and her family were not on board with the idea of her being charged for animal cruelty and harrasment. Especially to the daughter of the family who is the reason Wabang has money. We promised to drop the charges in exchange for them to do the same.”

‘Fair enough.’ He expected that outcome in all honesty. It would not have been fair for Persephone to be punished while Maria got off. The city relied on the donations of the Addams family too much now that the sheriff wouldn’t dare lose that funding.

“Heard ya got expelled.”

“Oh no,” Rhett’s eyes widened in surprise, curious to know the explanation. “That didn’t happen at all—despite how much Maria and the school wanted it to. She would’ve had to be expelled as well. No, I willingly left Wabang High School and my parents sent me to the academy they went to in Vermont.”

“That’s a long way,” Rhett muttered, but she heard him nonetheless.

“Yes, but it was where I belonged. You probably would not understand. The school was…not for everyone. No offense,” she chuckled at the end causing Rhett to do the same. He wondered what kind of school it had to be that someone like him would not fit in.

“None taken.” For a moment the two just stared at each other, the conversation falling to a silence. Rhett, unsure of what to say, felt warmth spread on his cheeks at the eye contact causing him to look away just as Amy was speeding back into the room, “I got something!”

“Wonderful, darling. What sparked your interest this time?” Amy held up the book that looked withered and dated, reading ‘The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Tales’ by Edgar Allen Poe. Persephone smiled in approval, “A girl after my heart—if you can call it that, of course. Terrific choice, my little Raven.”

“Wasn’t the school you went to named after his poem?” Amy asked, making Rhett look at Persephone with raised brows.

“Why yes. ‘Nevermore’ to be exact. And as you walked the grounds it was as though you were living through the mind of Poe himself.” As she spoke, Rhett’s eyes drifted to the area below her ear that was exposed when Persephone pushed some of her hair back. There were several little black birds tattooed down her neck. How fitting.

“Well, we don’t want to hold ya up,” Rhett spoke when he noticed a customer had entered the shop. He and Persephone locked eyes. “I’ll make sure she gets that book back to ya once she’s done.” It was generous Persephone was letting his niece just take the book free of charge, but Rhett saw how dated it was and assumed it was no doubt an original copy. Actually almost all of the books in the store appeared to be original copies. Surely worth a lot of money.

The woman waved a hand, “There is no rush at all. She may take as long as she pleases.” Together they all walked to the door, Amy thanking Persephone again for the ring and book before rushing to the truck to wait for her uncle. Rhett stayed behind for a moment and when he faced Persephone he was nearly frozen by how beautiful she looked when the sunlight hit her. It threw him off, making him forget what he was about to say.

“Are you alright, Rhett?”

“Uh-yeah-yeah,” he coughed into his hand. “Sorry. I just uh—,” cursing in his head, Rhett tried to man up and say the words he’d been wanting to ask for the past twenty minutes. Usually he had little to no trouble picking up women like the occasional buckle bunny after the rodeo to fuck out the adrenaline he was feeling. He’d go on a date every now and then though it led to nothing. And he was okay with that.

But after Maria everything changed, he was scared to open his heart up again to someone.

Now, standing in front of Persephone Addams, his brain was screaming at him. There was always a small part of him that admired her from afar in high school. A tiny crush that was overshadowed by the one on Maria. Rhett regretted nothing more now than the fact he was so stupid to let his teenage hormonal self desire a girl who cared about no one but herself half the time. When there was someone like Persephone right there.

Finally he mentally kicked himself and manned up. The worst she could do was reject him. Not like he hadn’t experienced that before. Removing his hat, Rhett scrunched his nose and leaned forward, “Would you—would you maybe wanna grab some coffee some time? If you’re available, of course. But if-if you have someone I completely understand.”

He watched as his heart pounded as Peresephone’s lips curled up in a genuine smile. “There is no one.” He internally sighed in relief. She nodded down to Mona, “Her father is not in the picture. Hasn’t been since I was six months pregnant.” That made Rhett frown, upset at the fact she was left alone in her pregnancy and birth of her daughter.

“I’m sorry to hear.”

“Don’t be. He cheated and is now in prison.”

Rhett made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth. “Wow. That’s um…unfortunate.”

Persephone glanced over her shoulder to make sure the customer was nowhere in sight before leaning closer. “Wednesday is one to hold a grudge. I told her she had free reign to ruin his life however she pleased.” She scrunched her nose adding, “Probably should have laid down some ground rules. Having attempted murder on your record is not an accomplishment to some…compared to our family.”

‘Well shit,’ Rhett thought. He could only imagine what the teenager did. And judging by the obvious hint from Persephone, it involved framing someone for attempted murder. What should have had Rhett running away, instead it had him think, ‘Note to self: do not fuck this up.’

“I’ll be sure to not get on her bad side then,” Rhett said, noticing a flash of surprise to take over her expression. It was as though she couldn't believe he still wanted to pursue her. After all, she did just admit her 15-year-old sister put her ex in jail for simply cheating on her. Rhett smirked, “Was that some kind of a warning, I take it?”

Now she mirrored his smirk, liking what he said, “More like a test. You passed.” Rhett placed his hat back on his head, tipping it slightly, “Glad to hear.”

The sound of a bell ringing drew both of their attention, finding the customer: an older lady holding a vintage tea set. Persephone offered a friendly smile, “I will be with you just a moment, ma’am.” She then faces Rhett, “I don’t open the shop until eleven tomorrow and I close at around five. I can meet you either in the morning or afternoon for coffee if you’d like.”

“Tomorrow mornin’ is perfect,” he told her, trying to control the joy he was feeling. “How nine-thirty sound?”

“I’ll be there,” she winked, reaching around him to grab a business card. It had her name, home & cell number, email, and names of the shops on it. “Forgive me if I do not answer you right away if you try to reach me. I am not a fan of technology, but for the sake of family businesses I do my best. I’ll keep my cell phone close by for you.”

Rhett ran his eyes over the information, laughing softly at her and ignoring the butterflies he felt by her last statement. He puts the card in his pocket, “It’s no problem, Persephone. Thank you though.”

“Please, call me Percy.”

Rhett smiles, “Well, Percy, I’ll leave ya to it then.” He tips his hat, “see ya tomorrow.”

“Adiós, vaquero.” ‘Goodbye, cowboy.’ As Rhett exited the store, the bells echoing behind him, he stopped to peer through the window to get one last glance at Persephone Addams. Her back was turned to him, walking to the register to greet the customer where she gently places Mona in a black vintage bassinet. Rhett knew it probably looked weird to passerbyers that he was standing in front of the store, with a dazed look in his eyes as he watched Persephone ring up the lady and carefully wrap the tea set in packaging.

Her lips were moving, but Rhett couldn’t hear what she was saying, only that he was captivated by how she moved and the passion in her eyes as she was no doubt explaining the history of the tea set. Quickly shaking his head, biting back the grin trying to escape, Rhett hurried to his truck before he was caught. When he got in, he was faced with a knowing look from his niece.

“Did ya ask her out?”

“Maybe,” he quipped, buckling his seatbelt before starting the engine. Amy rolled her eyes, but behind them he could tell she looked happy he did in fact make a move.

“Please don’t mess it up, uncle Rhett. I really like Ms. Percy. She’s so nice and lets me ask questions people say I shouldn’t ask. She doesn’t care what people think of her and teaches me things no one else in school or at home does. So please,” her tone becomes serious, causing Rhett to turn his head when they get to a stop sign so she has his full attention. “Don’t play her heart. Or I’ll take her side for whatever she ends up doing as payback.”

‘You don’t gotta tell me twice, Ames.’ There was no way in hell he was going to mess up his chance with Persephone. Not when she actually was open to giving him one after she probably blamed him for what Maria did.

He ends up saying with determination, “I won’t mess it up with her, Amy. I promise.”

Three ½ Years Later

It was a gloomy, rainy day in Jericho, Vermont. Grey colored the sky, ravens chipped in the distance. A truly miserable day.

Perfect for Nevermore Academy’s graduation ceremony.

“Mi amor, do you know where Mona misplaced her teddy?” Persephone was rummaging through her bag that was placed on the seat of the car while she stood outside. Rhett was holding the umbrella above to protect her from the rain in one hand with four-year-old Mona perched on his hip with the other.

“Not sure, darling. Last I saw it was in the hotel room,” When she bent over to get a closer look inside the car, Rhett couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to her ass. Which looked amazing in the tight black dress she was wearing. “Careful, Percy,” he warned when she leaned forward, noticing her baby bump press against the seat.

She was roughly five months into the pregnancy. Just shortly after celebrating their three year anniversary, in which Rhett had got down on one knee and presented a black diamond ring with the promise to love Persephone even after death, she endured a vision showing her holding a baby boy beside him. “I think I might be carrying your son, Rhett,” she gasped as she awoke in his arms. Whenever the visions came Rhett stayed beside her until they ended. The second the words left her mouth he was pulling her to the nearest pharmacy to get a test. The man just about cried when the two little lines appeared on the strip.

Cursing, she moved away and smoothed out the fabric of her dress. Clasping the buckle of her purse, Persephone pulled on her coat and threw the bag over her arm before shutting the door. “Thankfully I have her other toy to keep her distracted.” Lurch locked the car, following behind the couple as they approached the grounds of the school where the ceremony was held.

The rest of the family had already gone in to meet with Wednesday and the ceremony was planned for when night took over. So when they entered the courtyard where everyone had gathered, Mona was already squirming in Rhett’s arms and reaching for her aunt who she spotted first. The rain had settled to a light drizzle, so Rhett set her down when they were only a few feet away, letting the child run and wrap her tiny arms around Wednesday’s legs.

The teen didn’t look happy—then again she never did, but behind that cold, stoic, stare, there was a glimpse of affection. “Desdemona, you foul creature, you should know better than to embrace me with physical contact.” Her words were returned with giggles from the girl. Nonetheless, Wednesday patted the top of her head and gently pushed her back to her parents. The teen clasped her hands, looking up to her sister and soon to be brother-in-law, “I was not expecting you to come in your condition, sister.”

“I would not have missed this for the world,” Persephone grinned, holding Mona to her side as she nuzzled into her coat. “It’s not everyday my little sister graduates school—though I must say, Wednesday, it truly is a surprise.” To anyone else the words would have stung, but for Wednesday Addams, it was a compliment.

“Glad to know my reputation still holds,” the teens eyes flicker to the ring on her sister’s left hand before moving the gaze to Rhett. After years of dating Persephone, he had become a pro at handling Wednesday deadpan stare. It no longer fazed him unlike his family, who still had trouble being in the same room as her. Amy was the only one who didn’t feel creeped out by it. “And that you were true to your words.”

Persephone turned to Rhett, curiosity in her eyes. “What does she mean, Rhett?” There was a light blush to his cheeks as he replied, “When I asked you parents for your hand, I also asked your siblings.” Immediately her face softened, “oh, mi amor,” she reached up to kiss the corner of her lips before actually kissing him, aware of Wednesday’s glare.

“My one request is that you two refrain from acting like mother and father tonight for the sake of my sanity.” Persephone chuckled, pulling away from Rhett who was also smiling as he fixed his black Stetson. She made a gesture of crossing her heart, which only made her sister roll her eyes and stalk away to find Bianca and Enid.

“I’m curious to know how that conversation went?” Persephone teased, reaching up to adjust Rhett’s bolo tie. Mona sped over to her uncle and grandparents who were speaking with Enid’s family, leaving the couple alone in the corner of the courtyard.

“Surprisingly, not bad. Of course she threatened to do worse than frame me for murder if I fucked up. I believe her exact words were, ‘There’s already a plot in the family graveyard with your name on it. I’ll look forward to filling it.’” Persephone shakes her head, but there’s a smirk on her lips. Rhett leaned down to kiss her softly, “But that’s not gonna be filled till I’m old and gray and you can barely stand to look at me.”

Persephone pulled him close, arms going around his neck while he placed his hands on her waist. She could feel his thumbs rub the sides of her bump. “I’ll still always have my eyes on you, Rhett Abbott. You could never repulse me. Even when you start looking like a corpse.”

He threw his head back in laughter, Persephone giggling with him. Calming down, he tightened his arms around her, careful of the bump where their son was growing and stared into the onyx eyes he adored. “I love you, Persephone Addams. Thank you for giving me the honor of having your heart and being a part of this family.”

She kissed him with all her might, pouring her love and soul so he could feel it for all of eternity. “Te amo mucho más, mi querido vaquero.” ‘I love you so much more, my darling cowboy.’

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

About that last post (the 'why men no longer try harder after we criminalized sexual advances'). Tbh this makes me sad that apparently majority of society DOES play this game because I legit, honestly don't want relationship any time soon, I don't play hard to get :s So I feel like feminists that antagonized men "trying harder" kept women like me in mind (or were like me themselves). Those who LEGIT want to be left alone, whatever is the reason. It could be somethig impossible to change with persuasion too, like being asexual/lesbian but not trusting this man enough to say, or having life-changing bad experience. In retrospective I feel like what happened was emotional reaction of protecting the minority (and projecting *individual* experiences on humanity in general cough cough) at the cost of messing up majority. Like majority liked that "game" but now men are scared and women who don't know of feminist stuff feel unwanted and unattractive. And say that 'real' men went extinct xD I notice the 'saviors' make this same mistake not even first time - start with good intentions and descent into vigilantes. And it is ALWAYS trade of 'minority for majority' even though majority MAKES the society truly function. I wonder what could have gone differently in this situation if at all? Like... how *to* cover people who do NOT play hard to get? Like, was there a way to go less destructive? Or it is one of those things you just let people solve themselves via properly communicating?

The pickup artists call it the "shit test": women being evolutionarily hardwired to want to make potential mates jump through hoops to see how committed they are to sticking around, so that when they choose to go make the beast with two backs and a baby pops out, they're hopefully less likely to be either stuck raising it alone or eaten by a tiger while 8 months pregnant and unable to run away very fast.

So on that level it's understandable. The problem is, with the arrival of feminism and women's ever-increasing political influence the past hundred years (along with other things, such as the introduction of cinema and TV and celebrity culture and social media as something to continually compare one's own life to), the hoops that women are putting up for the men to jump through have been getting more and more dangerous and impossible to achieve.

Women in their tens of millions hungrily guzzle up the fantasy of a Rhett Butler or a Christian Grey, all while at the same time marching and voting for harsher and harsher penalties for any man who actually behaves like the man of their dreams: It's the ultimate shit test, in which any man who attempts to live up to the female fantasy will in all likelihood have his life utterly destroyed on the whims of the same women who request it.

An ever-increasing number of men have decided that price is just too insanely high to risk everything on - especially since the quality of what women are offering in return has been continually worsening - and are just dropping out and walking away, choosing the quiet life of VR goggles and endless porn.

So, through this mix of politics and shit tests (and hypergamy), we've essentially reached the point in which women as a group, for the first time ever, have collectively priced themselves out of the sexual marketplace.

[bradleybeachbabe]

Could you please do 17. Detailed research about the perfect gift with rhett abbott please?

of course!!

warnings: none

christmas was coming up in the next few weeks. it was you and rhett’s fourth christmas with each other as a couple. rhett wants to make this christmas special, especially for you. he wants to give you the perfect gift, but before he can buy you the perfect gift. he wants to do detailed research about perfect gifts, so that’s what he was doing.

rhett was scrolling through google, getting ideas on the perfect gift. besides him wanting it to be the perfect gift, he wanted it to be special too. he wasn’t having any luck, but then it hit him. the perfect gift that he can buy for you for christmas is an engagement ring. plus, for the past year, he has been thinking about proposing to you. so why not do it on christmas morning?

rhett then started to browse through the tiffany & co website. he had quite a few options to pick from. but the one that stuck out the most to him was the tiffany harmony round brilliant engagement ring with a diamond platinum band. and since that one stuck out to him the most. he decided to read the description and details about the ring. after rhett read the description and details. he decided to buy it. rhett was beyond excited, but also nervous about this. he was now wondering what your reaction is going to be. but he’s just going to have to wait and see.

it was now the night of christmas eve. you and rhett have both agreed to open one present tonight. rhett already opened the present that you bought him. now it was your turn to open the present he bought you.

“okay. here you go,” rhett said as he handed you the present that he bought for you. you were wondering what it could be since the present looked small.

“what is it?” you asked.

“open it, and you will find out what it is.”

you took off the wrapping paper. once you did that, you now had a turquoise box sitting in your hand. you had a feeling about what could be in the small turquoise box. “is this what i think it is?” you asked rhett. you felt tears starting to form in your eyes.

“open the box, sweetheart. and see if it is what you think it is,” rhett smiled.

you opened the box. and there it was; a ring. a diamond ring, to be exact. the diamond ring was so beautiful. there were even diamonds on the band of the ring.

“so, what do you say, sweetheart? will you marry me?” rhett asked you.

“yes,” you nodded.

rhett took the ring from you and slipped it on your ring finger. he thought the ring looked ten times better since it was sitting on your finger now, instead of it sitting in a box.

“i can’t wait to officially become mrs. abbott now,” you smiled.

“i can’t wait either.”

“merry christmas, baby,” you kissed his lips.

“merry christmas, sweetheart.”

winter blurb sleepover

[jessleanwithit]

The Start of the End

previous Chapter

After getting the call from the hospital that my mama's heart was getting worse, her pacemaker was failing, and we were just keeping her comfortable until it was time, I knew I had to get home, daddy had dementia and needed full-time care, and that was mama until she couldn't anymore, daddy got moved to a facility while she was in the hospital, and I'm going, to be honest, mama won't be coming out of the hospital. when they're both gone there'll be no one to run the ranch, I know we're small but we still have 50 head of cattle to take care of on top of everything else. Those responsibilities will fall back onto me, and I'll be home.

sitting in the passenger seat of my fiance James Ford Focus, wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans to hide the marks from last night, we pull up to the small apartment my parents had built for me when I visited from school, it's close to the main house if we needed anything but far enough to have privacy as well.

"god damnit, the tires are slipping in the mud again" James sneered

" I told you we needed a truck out on the land, something that wouldn't get stuck, and with four-wheel drive" I mumble back James whips his head towards me and I slink further into my seat trying to get smaller " the fuck was that Des? are you back talking again?" He spat out quickly whipping his head. " no James, I was just saying because I grew up on this land, I know how bad it can get" "whatever, just watch your mouth, I don't want to mess up that pretty little face of yours."

we park the car and climb out, not a person in sight, I start unloading the car and taking things to our room, while James just sits on his ass, on the porch. after an hour I come back out from getting the last box in, unpacking everything, and go to check on James when I do, I see the car was gone, and a familiar truck pulling into the drive. I panic a little bit fearing James will pull back up any moment, and cause another fight, I was scared Rhett would pop out of that truck, and I was scared of seeing someone I haven't seen since I was 18. instead Royal, Cecilia, and Perry hop out, I'm going, to be honest, the disappointment I felt worried me more than the panic in my chest, I was kinda hoping it would be Rhett coming out of one of those old truck doors.

" Dessie? is that you girl? Mrs. Cecilia asked, "I heard about your parents and saw that car in the drive, I was hoping they came home." she says while walking up your front steps, grabbing onto your shoulders 

"no ma'am, it's just me, unfortunately, the lawyer told me to start making end-of-life plans for them soon, so I came home" I responded with a sigh

" oh you poor thing" Cecillia calls while engulfing me in a huge, as soon as her arms wrapped around me I broke, I haven't been allowed to cry or be upset since finding out. Cecilia held me while crying while rubbing my back, while Royal and perry eye me curiously. I felt that they knew something was wrong but couldn't place it. I let go of Cecilia" why don't y'all stay a while? the place is a mess since we just got in, but I'd love to catch up if that's all right?" I ask cautiously still nervous about James' arrival.

"we?" Perry asks " oh yeah Uhm.. my fiance" I stammer out while turning on my heel to lead everyone inside " like I said Pear I wanted to catch up using an old nickname for him I knew he hated. as we all sit around the table for hours chit-chatting I feel Royals eyes bearing into me. I turn to face him and notice the look in his eyes, right when he opens his mouth the door opens "Des who the fu-" he stops when his eyes meet the Abbotts wondering faces "james babe, this is Royal, Cecilia, and Perry Abbott the neighbors I was telling you bout" hmm okay" james hums in response. " i'm going to bed, nice meeting y'all" as he climbs up the stairs Perry grumbles " well what a nice fella" standing up to leave, "look at the time baby, we gotta get going Rhett should be coming in soon, I want to make sure dinner is ready for him, how bout you and that fiance of yours come over sometime this week for dinner?" cecilia askes " yes ma'am, i'd like that i'll call tomorrow" cecilia and Perry give me a hug and make their way to the truck. Royal stops and turns to me "it was nice seeing you Des, you've grew up so beautiful and smart, I do gotta ask... that boy of yours he treating you right?" you just look up at him through your lashes and shrug " it could be worse" " okay girl, if it gets bad give us a call, i'm not going to try to force you to do something you don't wanna, trust me we know i've tried and you're too stubborn to listen, but we'll get you out when you're nice and ready" Royal turns to hug you and you lean into his hug and whisper " it'll be soon i'm just scared." he leaves you hear the truck start up and rumble a way, you turn to head to the stairs seeing james standing at the top with a wicked look in his eye. you sigh while thinking to yourself " tonight will be hell"

after James' torment on your body, and the screaming from both died down you drag yourself to the shower. you look in the mirror and sigh, seeing the old and new bruising mix together in a purple-and-yellow mess. climbing into the shower you break down and cry. wishing to have someone give you the strength to leave, wishing someone will get James to stop, take the ring and go back to Dallas, wishing everything will be okay, wishing you find yourself again. you almost want to laugh at the irony of it all. running back to the town and the people you were running from, with the person you desperately want to leave behind. After washing yourself and trying to rid yourself of the dirt, and dust that littered your body, you quickly and quickly make your way to your room, seeing James passed out. sighing you climb into bed praying sleep takes over your body, but not wanting a new day of hell to start.

Next Chapter

[lallyloo]

Jealousy

(So @imincognitohere and I were talking about EB recs, and porn, and how Link’s entire porn collection would consist of a dark haired guy with glasses and a John Mayer lookalike. Then we imagined Rhett finding Link’s JM porn collection and crying, and then just railing Link. And now we’re here.)

*

He’s not really supposed to be on Link’s laptop, but Link’s running behind and Rhett really needs the May 2022 Ear Biscuits schedule now.

He silently curses himself for not keeping the schedule on his own laptop, or even his phone, but Link’s the one who types during planning sessions and they’re always together, so it’s never mattered before.

But today Link’s stuck in traffic on the way to the creative house, and Stevie’s trying to book their first guest in nearly two years, and Rhett needs the info now.

And they have each other’s passwords for this very reason.

So Rhett waits for the sign-in screen to appear, and he types Link’s password.

RaisinCRUNCH1984!

And he’s in.

 The desktop is just a line of neatly organized folders against a backdrop of some douche playing guitar.

Rhett stares at the douche for a second.

He knows his name is John Mayer.

But in Rhett’s mind he’s just ‘douche’.

Link’s crazy about his music but Rhett’s not, and the guy seems like a tool anyway.

And why does Link need him on his desktop? Why not Christy? Or the kids? Or hell, why not him and Rhett? Would that be too much? No.

And sure, Rhett’s desktop is a silhouetted photo of himself in Death Valley, but that’s neither here nor there. It was a great trip, and it’s a great photo, and it’s not just some random musician guy.

Rhett tears his gaze away from the background and scans the labels on the desktop folders, stopping when his eyes hit one called ‘May’. It seems to be the most obvious choice, likely full of schedule info, brainstorming, personal appointment times, etc.

To Rhett’s surprise, the files inside seem to have much more random names than the desktop folders.

It doesn’t seem like Link at all, and Rhett is a bit flummoxed as he reads down the list of random letters and numbers jumbled together.

He settles on a file called 324_eB_32_MMdrmfanta.

He’s in such a hurry he doesn’t pay attention to the file type, and Rhett realizes it’s a mistake as soon as he clicks it.

It’s not a list of dates or information. It’s not a schedule.

It’s a video.

And it looks like porn.

There’s a room. An office maybe? The camera pans and there’s a desk and a chair and a window.. and a bed. Yep, it’s porn.

The camera pans to socked feet, and up bare legs, over a little red speedo, to a bare chest, up to the face of someone who looks a bit like a younger Link.

Dark hair, blue eyes, glasses.

There’s a knocking sound in the video, someone at the door, and Rhett is curious to see who might walk in. It’ll be a blonde woman, he assumes. A Christy lookalike.

“Link you dirty dog..”

He’s invested now, curious to see what kind of fantasies Link is into. He knows Link and Christy’s relationship has its ups and downs, and Link’s blue balls have been an ongoing joke for years, and maybe he’s invading their privacy a bit by watching this video.. But it’s not actually Link and Christy. It’s just porn. Just a fantasy Link has. And they’ve talked about fantasies before. Hell, Rhett told him about the first time he ever jerked off. Watching a little porn video is nothing.

The guy with the glasses heads for the door and Rhett is enraptured as the scene unfolds – slipping off the chain lock, a hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly. Rhett wonders what the woman’s going to be wearing. What she’s going to say. What they’re going to do. How they’re going to fuck.

On screen, the door opens and Rhett pulls back a bit, surprised, when he realizes there’s a man on the other side of it. Another brunette, with longer hair – not as long as Rhett’s, but longer than Link’s. And flowy. The guy’s kinda pretty.

Huh. Maybe it’s a threesome video? Two guys and a girl? The guy with the glasses looks surprised but pleased, and Rhett stares at the screen, wondering when the girl will show up.

The other guy says something Rhett doesn’t register, and then he steps into the room, wraps the glasses guy up in his arms, and shoves his tongue down his throat.

The unmistakable sound of a porn sax overdub echoes through Link’s office, and Rhett pulls himself out of it. He clicks through the video, skipping ahead, his eyes growing wide as he gets quick glimpses of erections, blow jobs, sloppy kisses, a finger in a butthole, AND IS THAT HIS TONGUE?? And fucking, so much fucking, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Rhett skips to the end to see the long-haired guy trailing his tongue over the glasses guy’s dick, licking up every messy drop of cum.

And. Oh.

The girl never showed up.

Rhett closes the video.

So Link watches porn. Gay porn.

And he’s never told him.

Rhett can’t help but feel a little confused. And a little jealous.

Why hasn’t Link told him? Why haven’t they talked about it?

Does Link like guys?

Rhett’s never been into guys. Not once, like ever.

Well, sure, he’s thought about Link once in awhile. What it might be like to touch him. Kiss him. Maybe more.

But that doesn’t count. Because it’s Link.

It’s Link!

Rhett’s not into guys. Link doesn’t count.

And if Link is into guys he clearly doesn’t want to tell Rhett yet. And that’s fine.

Isn’t it?

Rhett is a little hurt, but he’s alright with letting Link tell him in his own time. That’s what best friends are for. They’re cool and they’re understanding and they’re patient. And Rhett is all of those things.

He closes the folder, and his eyes fall to the desktop again.

To that douche.

With the familiar face.

Why does he suddenly seem so familiar?

Rhett stares at him for a moment and his blood runs cold.

The video.

The guy at the door with the stupid floppy hair.

Rhett quickly opens the folder again, choosing another file at random.

Cheesy porn music starts and Rhett watches another slightly geeky dark-haired guy with glasses flirt with a dark-haired flop. Rhett skips ahead quickly. There are blowjobs, and the flop is lifting the cute geeky guy, kissing him, spreading his cheeks as the glasses guy gasps–

Rhett closes that video, and clicks another one, and moans fill Link’s office as the video starts right in the middle of a fucking scene. Two guys. Another cute eyeglassed guy with dark hair, and some long-haired jerk. As Rhett watches, he catches sight of a guitar in the background and his face burns hot.

“Rhett?”

Rhett fumbles with the laptop, slamming it closed, but the video keeps playing and the moans of two guys echo through the room as Rhett turns towards the door.

“Link!”

Link looks furious.

“Dude, what’re you doing??”

“I was just looking for– ”

“You’re snooping on my laptop??” Link pushes past him and opens his computer, typing in his password.

“No! I wasn’t! I was just– ”

Link clicks the little x in the top corner of the video and the room falls quiet as he turns back to Rhett.

“That’s my private stuff.”

“I was looking for the Ear Biscuits schedule!”

“And you thought you’d just watch some of my porn while you were in there?”

“It said May! I thought it meant the month!”

“Well it doesn’t mean that!”

“I know that now!”

Link looks at him for a moment and then rolls his eyes. “It’s a stupid name. I’ll.. rename it.. and hide it, I guess.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“What if you need somethin’ else in the future?”

“Well I’ll know not to look in the John Mayer folder.”

Link makes a sound, something akin to a squawk. “What??”

“That’s what it is, right?”

“It’s– I mean, it’s..” Link stutters, unable to look at him. “NO.”

“Oh, come on.”

“It’s not.”

Rhett gestures to the laptop, which still sits open on the desk. “You’re tellin’ me all those dudes with the long hair don’t make you think of… him?”

Link doesn’t answer the question, he just frowns. “I should’a called it something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. PORN maybe?? THIS IS MY PORN RHETT DON’T LOOK AT IT?? Does it need to be that obvious?”

Rhett can’t help but laugh, “That wouldn’t help at all. You know it’d only make me more curious.”

“True.” Link says, and he’s smiling now at least. “So fine, I’ll call it something you won’t care about.”

“Like what?”

“Well I’m not gonna tell you, ya dummy.”

Rhett raises his hands in defeat, “fine, fine.”

The room is quiet for a moment as they look at each other, and Rhett can’t help it when his gaze moves from Link’s face down to the idiot on the screen.

He’s so smug. So full of himself. He writes stupid lyrics and people just swoon over him. Link swoons over him.

But Rhett writes lyrics too. And he sings. What’s wrong with his songs?

“What’s John Mayer got that I ain’t got?”

Link’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “WHAT?”

“I didn’t even know you liked guys,” Rhett says quietly, “and now you’re into HIM of all people.”

“What’s wrong with HIM?”

“Well, for starters, he’s a– ” Rhett stops himself from calling the guy a name. Yeah he’s a stupid dumb idiot who steals the affection of certain best friends, but Rhett doesn’t need to say that to Link. He doesn’t need to make him more upset. “He’s not.. ”

“I know you think he’s not cool,” Link rolls his eyes again. “I don’t care.”

“It’s not that.”

“Well what is it??”

“He’s not.. me.” Rhett can feel his face start to burn the moment the words are out of his mouth. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. What is this? What’s he even doing?

“Not you??” Link laughs. “Dude, don’t tell me you’re jealous of John Mayer now too.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Rhett says, and Link shoots him a skeptical look. “I mean, maybe just a bit. But now...”

“Now what?”

“After I saw those videos..” Rhett chokes out. “Link, why’re you thinkin’ about him and not me?”

“Rhett, you’re not into guys!”

“And you are??” Rhett can’t seem to help the hysterical tone in his voice.

“Well, yeah, man.”

“Since when??”

“Since.. always, I think.”

“What about Christy?”

“Christy knows,” Link shrugs, “she’s okay with it.”

“Oh.”

Rhett thinks of his own wife and how she’d react if it were him.

Lately Jessie’s been more open-minded than anyone, more willing to learn and explore and grow. Would she be okay if he were.. if he liked..

And he already knows the answer – has heard her say a hundred times, a hundred ways, ‘we’re not who we used to be.. so whatever that means for you and Link, that’s fine by me. The four of us can figure it out.’

Rhett hadn’t questioned her at the time. Hadn’t realized what she meant.

“So, look, you found my porn,” Link is saying, “but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about this whole jealousy thing you’ve got going on. I’m not gonna stop watching it just because your feelings are hurt.”

“But..”

“But what??” Link asks, exasperated.

“I want you to think of me.”

“Look,” Link sighs and takes off his glasses, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “I used to think of you..”

“When??”

Link shrugs. “Awhile ago. Years.”

“Why’d you stop??”

“Rhett, listen, I knew it was never gonna happen with you so I made myself stop.”

“And it’s gonna happen with John Mayer??”

“No,” Link laughs, “it’s just a.. just a stupid fantasy.”

“So let me be your fantasy.” Rhett hates himself the moment it’s out of his mouth – he’s never said anything more embarrassing – and Link just gives him an odd look.

“Dude..”

Rhett cringes, “I know.”

“I’m not gonna fantasize about my straight best friend.”

“But I want..”

“Rhett, WHAT.”

“I’m not into guys,” Rhett tries to explain, feeling like an idiot, “but I’m into you.”

“Well, I’m a guy.”

“I know, but you’re – ”

Link steps forward, and before Rhett can say anything more Link leans in and kisses him. It seems to be a test at first, gentle, and then Link slips his tongue out, pressing against Rhett’s lips, encouraging Rhett to open for him.

And Rhett does. He doesn’t even question it. His brain just screams, yes! Finally! And he’s kissing Link, soft and wet, and an ache shoots through his body, straight to his dick.

When Link pulls away, Rhett’s still got his eyes closed, his head tilted, with a smile plastered to his mouth.

“Did you like that?” Link asks.

“Yeahhh,” Rhett sighs dreamily.

“Then you’re into guys, you dummy. The percentage don’t matter.”

Rhett’s eyes snap open. “Okay, I’m into guys.”

Link looks at him, wide-eyed, and smiles. “So kiss me again then.”

Rhett does, taking hold of Link’s face and kissing him, and he knows he’s supposed to be doing something else. He came in this room for a reason. A file or something.

But none of that matters because he’s kissing Link and Link’s kissing him back, and as Rhett pushes Link up against the desk they bump the cable on Link’s laptop and it beeps to notify them that it’s come unplugged.

“Hold on,” Link mumbles, pulling away to plug the cable back in, and Rhett’s eyes are fixed to the photo on the desktop.

Stupid John Mayer douche.

He’ll never have Link.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

Rhett glances up to find Link watching him curiously.

“What?”

“You’re staring at my laptop like you wanna murder it.”

“What,” Rhett sputters, “no I’m not.”

“You really are jealous, huh?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Link, I’m fine.”

“Guess I’ll just leave it open then,” Link smirks. “Since it’s not botherin’ you.”

Rhett reaches past him and slams the laptop shut. “No.”

Link laughs. “You’re like a jealous girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Oh, you’re my boyfriend now?”

“Maybe,” Rhett says, and he’s dying. Literally dying. Link’s never going to let him live this down.

But Link kisses him again and suddenly Rhett doesn’t care. They’re kissing and Link is touching him. Link’s hands move down to unbutton his shirt, so Rhett grabs hold of Link’s shirt and tugs it up and over his head.

“What ones did you watch?”

“What what?”

“The videos, which ones.”

Rhett nearly chokes, looking away, and Link takes him by the chin and pulls his gaze back.

“You can tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Rhett admits, “I just skimmed a few.”

“Well what’d they do in them?”

“Blowjobs,” Rhett says, replaying the scenes in his mind, “lots of fingers everywhere. Fucking.”

“Fucking?”

“Yeah, tons of it.”

Link’s fingers slide down Rhett’s belly, stopping at his belt, and the buckle clinks as Link undoes it. “You wanna act it out?”

“Act it out??” Rhett feels like he might actually scream.

“Yeah.”

“DO I HAVE TO BE JOHN MAYER?”

“No!” Link laughs and shuts him up with another kiss. “Just be you, dummy.”

“You want me to– ” Rhett stammers, speaking against Link’s lips, “Want me to go to the door?”

“The door? Why?”

“To knock? Like in the video?”

Link laughs again, and at least Rhett’s managed that. If nothing else, he can always make Link laugh.

“You watched the dorm fantasy video?”

“I don’t know.”

“Guy studying? Red speedo?”

“Ohh, yeah, that one.”

“And how’d it end?”

Rhett’s eyes go wide. “Fucking.”

“Right,” Link says, smiling back at him. “So you wanna just skip to that?”

Rhett’s died. He’s a corpse.

But he manages to breathe out, “Yes.”

Link opens a drawer and tosses a bottle of lube on his desk, and he’s saying “come on, come on,” and Rhett’s brain finally returns to him, because if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s using his dick.

He’s not quite sure of the next step because he’s never done THIS. But Link walks him through the lube and the prep, and god, his ass is beautiful, and now Rhett gets to fuck it, and when Link’s hand slips over Rhett’s dick, slicking him up good, Rhett’s knees nearly give out.

Then Link’s turning away, still talking to him, teasing, asking, “You gonna fuck me better than John Mayer would?” and Rhett grips his hips and slides in slow, easing in deep, gasping at how tight Link is around him.

And Link groans,“Oh god.. fuck, you’re in..

And moans, “Rhett, do it.”

And Rhett does.

He fucks the hell out of Link.

Plows him into the desk.

Tries to fuck John Mayer right out of his mind.

Just rails him.

And Link keeps gasping, “Yeah, like that, yeah, Rhett, fuck me like that,” and when he breathes out “better than John Mayer ever could..” Rhett stops and grabs hold of him, turning him around, needing to see him, wanting Link to see who’s fucking him and giving it to him so good.

Link goes easily, seemingly happy about it, and when Link is bare-assed on the desk with his dick in his hand, Rhett hooks his arms under his knees and fucks in again.

“Tell me,” Rhett sputters as he fucks with everything he’s got.

“Tell you what?” Link is looking up at him, dazed, and they both know Link’s teasing.

“Tell me I’m better.”

“Better than who?”

“You know who,” Rhett grits out, and he’s going to come. Soon. Real soon. And he needs to hear it so bad. “HIM.”

“Oh..” Link grins, and his voice catches in his throat as he says, “John Mayer?”

Rhett can only nod, silently begging Link to give him what he needs.

“You’re better,” Link smiles up at him, his breath stuttering, and Rhett can feel him tighten around his cock. “You’re so good, Rhett, fuck, you fuck me better than anyone.”

“Yeah,” Rhett gasps, pulling Link’s knees up higher, fucking in tighter, harder, faster, and he nearly folds Link in half when he leans in to kiss him again.

And Link breathes against Rhett’s mouth, “No one fucks me like you..” and he comes, shooting hot between them, and Rhett groans and stills, coming hard inside Link.

“Fuck, yeah, so much better than him,” Link sighs, “You’re bigger too.”

And Rhett’s pretty sure he passes out.

When he comes to, he’s still holding onto Link, and he lets go slowly, easing his legs down.

“You alright?” Link’s asking, with a little worried expression on his face.

“Yeah,” Rhett says, “was I out long?”

“You were out??” Link sits up quickly, getting a better look at him.

“I think so,” Rhett shrugs, “I dunno. Maybe it was just too good.”

Link laughs, “Dude, stop.”

Rhett stares down at him, looking hurt.

“What, you’re sayin’ it wasn’t good?”

“Rhett– ”

And Rhett knows he’s teasing again, and he knows it was good, but Rhett pushes against his chest anyway, encouraging Link to lie back down on the desk.

And Rhett leans over and licks up every messy drop of cum from Link’s chest, and sucks his dick clean too.

He’s clearly better than John Mayer.

And he definitely likes guys. Especially Link.

[crimefightingspiderguy]

marry me

Summary: Shang-Chi and (Y/N) are best friends, but it's not enough. They want to be more, but can they be more?

Warnings: Angst? No spoilers for Shang-Chi and the Legend of the the Ten Rings, just one reference to the movie but it's not a spoiler.

Pairings: Shang-Chi x platonic!reader

Word Count: approx. 2,423

A/N: I based this off the song Marry Me by Thomas Rhett. Go give it a listen, it's a great song! I want to make more fics for Shang-Chi that aren't as angsty as this, but I wanna wait until more people have seen Shang-Chi so I can include scenes from the movie. Hope you enjoy this ❤️

“She wants to get married; she wants it perfect”

“So, when are you two getting married?” Your grandmother asked as she pointed between you and Shang-Chi.

You spit up your water, “Nana, we’ve been over this. Shaun and I are just friends.”

“Then why do you have a scrapbook in your room titled ‘My Dream Wedding’ if you don’t plan on getting married.” She sassed her granddaughter.

This isn’t the first time she had asked us if we were together. Every time (Y/N) just brushed it off as her being old and stuck in her ways. But this is the first time that I’ve heard of this scrapbook. “A scrapbook? This I have to see.” I grinned at (Y/N), her faced flushed and you could basically see the wheels in her mind working up an excuse as to why her nana had said that. But she couldn’t think of any.

“Nana, what did I tell you about snooping?” (Y/N) turned to scold her.

“What? I’m old and have nothing better to do. It has some very beautiful ideas. Have to both worked out the details or are they all your plans dear?”

(Y/N)’s face turned a deep red as I burst out in laughter. “Come on (Y/N), I have to see this” I held out her hand to bring her to her bedroom.

“Look, I’ve been planning my wedding since I was little, okay? I just want to let you know this isn’t some creepy shrine for you and me or something like that.” She said as she hesitantly took the book down from her top shelf above her bed frame.

“Oh, don’t worry, I KNOW this is a dedication to me and our love. You don’t have to hide it.” I chuckled as she punched my arm and gave me a threatening look.

“So basically, I have pictures that I’ve cut out from magazines or printed off from TV shows that I watch with my Nana that I think would go well with my overall theme.”

“She wants her granddaddy preach in the service”

“I originally was going to have my Papa do the service, but that was before he passed last year.” She looked down at the picture of him that she cut out and tapped down at the end of a poorly drawn alter. She put on a sad smile and sighed, “Hopefully by the time I do get married Nana is still around and I can get her ordained online. Then she can speak for both of them.”

“I’m sure she would love that.” I put a hand on her back to sooth her. She was the closest with her grandfather. Since her parents passed away in a car accident when she was young, they were all she had and he spoiled her rotten. Nana warned him not to let her turn too spoiled, they didn’t want her being a brat. But he assured her that he was just showering her with love. I couldn’t help but understand now why her grandfather would go through such trouble to make sure she felt loved. She is worth it.

“And she wants magnolias out in the country”

“I want to have the ceremony outside, have the alter be surrounded by magnolia trees.” She turned the page to pictures of roads and sidewalks lined with magnolia trees, beautiful shades of pink and white blooming across the page.

“Why magnolias?” I remember her telling me years ago that her favorite flower was a white rose, so I thought that she would for sure have those.

“They were my mother’s favorite.” She smiled, “If I’m going to have a ceremony where I’m bringing someone into my family, I want them all there. Even if it’s just in spirit.” She chuckled as she pointed to the single picture of her mother with a crown of magnolias on her head, spinning around in the sun. “I would always make her flower crowns of them, and I think that’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

“I think that her seeing you on your wedding day would’ve made her even happier.” I say, hoping to reassure her. I never met her mother or father. They were gone before I even came to the US. But when I met her, she had this spark in her still, I imagine that it’s the spark she got from her mother. The same spark she seems to have in this photo.

“Not too many people, save her daddy some money”

“So, how are you planning on paying for all this? I mean, realistically a job valeting cars won’t get you far.” I was hoping to try to get her to change the subject so she wouldn’t get too upset looking through this book.

“My daddy left me his savings in his will. My Nana and Papa saved it for when I went to college, but I got enough scholarships I didn’t need it. So, I figured I’d save it for my wedding or buying a house.” She shrugged, “Like I said, I want all the people important to me with me that day. But I will have to have a smaller ceremony because it’s not that much money he’s left. I think I’d invite family and the few close friends that are like family.”

“She got it all planned out. I can see it all right now. I’ll wear my black suit, black tie, hide out in the back.”

“Of course, I’ve made sure you’ll be on the guestlist.” She flipped the next page and pointed to the picture of me and her on prom night our senior year. I’m in a black suit and tie, she had a soft blush pink dress that flowed down to the floor with white magnolias in her pinned-up hair. This was the first time I was able to really picture it all. Not just looking at pictures, but what it would look like as I walked around the place myself. I can see myself hiding in the back as we get ready for the ceremony to start, making some last-minute adjustments to my suit. Making sure my hair looked okay.

“I’ll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask. I’ll try to make it through without crying, so nobody sees.”

I’d probably have to take a shot to ease my nerves. I wonder if I’d be one of those people who would cry as soon as she walked down the aisle.

“This is the dress that I want.” Her voice pulled me out of my thoughts, she showed me a dress that would fit her perfect. It was flowing but puffy. She had a long train and lace accents all over. She would look like a princess. I can see her perfectly in the dress, and not just because she cut a photo of her head out and taped it over the model of the dress, but because I think it is exactly the type of dress, I would expect her to wear. This answers my question, I would definitely be the first one to cry as I saw her walking down the aisle.

“It’s perfect. You’ll look perfect.” I whisper to her. I could see her holding onto my every word. Like she wanted to hear nothing more than those words. I slowly moved my hand from her back up to her cheek and cupped her face. “Everything is perfect.” I tell her. Her skin lights up under my touch, as if it’s a flame setting fire to her body.

“Yeah, she wanna get married. But she don’t wanna marry me. I remember the night when I almost kissed her. I kinda freaked out, we’ve been friends for forever. And I’d always wonder if she felt the same way.”

I’ve never wanted to kiss her more than right now. I’ve thought about it before, but never needed it like I do right now. She started to lean in, eyes fluttering shut. It’s now or never. But something stopped me. I don’t know if it was my nerves, or if it was just too much all at once, imagining us get married, but I just couldn’t do it. She felt me pull away and stopped herself, she shot her eyes open and realized that she read the situation wrong. But she didn’t read it wrong, I just chickened out. I’ve wanted this since the day I met her, but it was just too scary. What if we ended up breaking up and hating each other? She was too important for me to lose.

She just cleared her throat and acted as if nothing happened, turning the next page of her scrapbook.

“When I got the invite, I knew it was too late. And I know, her daddy’s been dreadin’ this day. Although he don’t know he ain’t the only one givin’ her away.”

I woke up to the sound of my alarm, turning over to shut it off I felt the paper I had cried over last night. An invite to (Y/N)’s dream wedding. After the night when she showed me her scrapbook, she seemed to become distant. I don’t know if it’s because we almost kissed and I seemed to reject her, or if she just got too busy with her new boyfriend, but it broke my heart more and more every day until I was just numb. That was 3 years ago, now she had moved on and found someone who wasn’t afraid to grow up and commit to her.

I’d been to see her Nana a couple times after she had started dating him and she scolded me just as I had scolded myself.

“You know, I was really hoping it would’ve been you. You would’ve been perfect together.” She shook her head in disappointment as I helped her in the kitchen while (Y/N) and her boyfriend set the table in the dining room. “I don’t like him as much as I like you.” She sighed and went back to chopping her tomatoes.

“No one’s more disappointed than I am Nana.” I looked down at my hands, feeling empty without hers in them.

“I’ll wear my black suit, black tie, hide out in the back. I’ll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask. I’ll try to make it through without cryin’ so nobody sees. Yeah, she wanna get married, but she don’t wanna marry me.”

“Hey, did you get the invite?” (Y/N) called me shortly after I’d woken up, knowing when my alarm was set for.

“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“I know that we haven’t been… the closest lately… but I hope you’ll still come. Afterall you’re in the scrapbook.” She chuckled, hoping she could bring me around to the idea of going. She still didn’t know why I’d distanced myself from her all these years. I can imagine I’ve hurt her, but I only hurt myself every time I see her with him, so I had to do it. “I asked Sam if he’d be willing to make you a best man, since I can’t have you as a bridesmaid. He said of course you could be. It really would mean the world to me if you would.”

While I wanted to be nowhere near Sam, helping him celebrate his wedding day with the love of my life, I wanted nothing more than to be there for her. No matter how she wanted me there.

“Of course, I’ll be a best man. I wouldn’t miss your wedding if the world was ending.” I smiled through the phone, knowing she wouldn’t see just how broken it was.

“Ah! Yay! I was hoping you’d say yes! I can’t wait to tell him. I’ll talk to you later, love you.”

I hung up before I could say anything back.

The day of her wedding came sooner than I’d hoped. It was a beautiful spring wedding with the pink magnolias surrounding the alter in full bloom. I was in a black suit and tie with a flask of whiskey hidden in my coat pocket. I was in the back helping Sam make his last preparations when I saw her.

“But she got on her dress now, welcomin’ the guests now. I could try to find her, get it off of my chest now.”

She was stunning. The sun shining off her in the most perfect way. She was out greeting guests before the ceremony started, in her reception gown, saving the real gown for later when no one would see. Even in this substitute dress I couldn’t help dropping my jaw when she turned my way. She came over to me and threw her arms around me. “I know I’m supposed to be getting ready, but I couldn’t wait to see you.” She whispered in my ear. God did I miss her.

“(Y/N), there’s something I want to tell you.” I start to work up the courage. It was now or never.

“But I ain’t gonna mess this up, so I wish her the best now. I’m in my black suit, black tie and out in the back. Doin’ a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask. I’ll try to make it through without cryin’ so nobody sees. Yeah, she wanna get married. But she don’t wanna marry me.”

“Yeah Shang-Chi?” She looked up at me as she pulled away from me. She looked so perfect. I just wanted to tell her everything on my chest and run away from all this with her. Live happily ever after. But this is real life, this is a wedding she’s planned out since she was a kid. She wants it to be perfect. I can’t take that from her.

“Everything is perfect. You look perfect.” I force a smile as she grins and giggles at me.

“You’re so dramatic, but I love that about you.” She kissed my cheek and told me she’d save me a dance as she went back to her dressing room to finish getting ready.

I pulled the flask out of my jacket and took a strong swig. Sam was calling me over to get in line at the altar.

Bridesmaids one through four walked down the aisle carrying bouquets of pink magnolias. She followed them up in her beautiful gown, straight out of her scrapbook. A bouquet of white roses with pink magnolias blossomed out of her hands. She absolutely took my breath away, but it wasn’t me she was marching towards.

Find more of my work here.

My work is exclusively posted on Tumblr by me, on this blog. If you see my work posted elsewhere, please reach out to me.

Thank you, xx.

[calpalirwin]

Unforgettable

Request in which friend!Ashton ends up kissing you when he steps in to help you away from some creep at the bar.

A/N: Gave me hella Unforgettable vibes by Thomas Rhett, so that is my inspiration for this.

Word Count: ~800

And away, and away we go!

__

You were singing along softly to the Coldplay song playing through the speakers, when your phone pinged. You sighed as you swiped on the notification from your friend letting you know that they had gotten stuck at work and actually weren’t going to make it. Well, at least the music is good, you thought as you took a sip from your mostly full drink. Enjoy the music, finish the drink, head home. Sounded as good a plan as any.

You took another sip, standing up from your seat and dancing in a small circle. No sense in being miserable about being alone. “Oops!” you giggled when you accidentally brushed into someone.

“No, no,” the stranger told you. “Was my bad. Wasn’t watching where I was going.” He raised a large hand to push a stubborn brown curl out of his hazel eyes, his words either accented or slightly slurred. “You good, sweetheart?”

“You’re drunk,” you giggled again.

“Sober actually,” was the response with a cute smile that made dimples pop in his cheek.

“Yeah, right.”

The man giggled. “Alright. I might be a bit buzzed.”

“I might be t-”

“Excuse me,” another voice asked, and both you and the cute stranger turned to look at the other man.

“Yes?” you asked.

“Was wondering if maybe you wanted to dance?”

You grabbed the stranger you had bumped into by the hand. “I was actually just about to dance with my boyfriend here. But, thank you. I’m flattered.”

The new man pulled a face as he took in “your boyfriend” who gave back a boyish grin and a waggle of his long fingers, before tugging you out onto the floor, both of you giggling like crazy. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“I panicked!” you laughed.

“You think pretty well on your feet. Wouldn’t have gone with boyfriend, though.”

“Oh? And what do you suppose I should have gone with instead?”

“Husband,” he grinned, spinning you around to the beat of the music. “I’m gonna marry you someday, don’t you know that?”

“Then I should probably ask your name, shouldn’t I?”

“Ashton.”

“Y/N.”

~~~

~8 Months Later~

Your fingers drummed against the bar top as you waited. The guys had told you they’d be there in five minutes, twenty minutes ago. If Ashton and Calum were sitting on some fucking curb covered in milkshakes and eating chicken strips again, you swore you were gonna kill them. “Can I buy you a drink?” a man asked, sliding up next to you.

“I’m good, thanks,” you answered politely, flashing your drink that was still half full.

“A dance, then?”

“No, thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t sit by herself all night.”

“Again, I’m good thanks.”

“Was just asking if you wanted a drink, or dance a bit. Don’t know how that’s rude…”

“No. What is rude is you not accepting my answer. Which, again, in case you’re still having trouble, is thank you, but no.”

“Bitch…”

“Excuse me?!”

“Bitch,” he enunciated clearly.

“F-”

“Hey, baby!” Ashton called out, jogging to your side. “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.” As he spoke, he started peppering your face with kisses, the last one landing on your lips.

“What the hell?” you giggled, as you broke apart, the man who’d been trying his luck with you, long gone.

“Looked like you were about to rip that guy’s head off, so I thought you could use some help. You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Better now that you’re here. Why’d you kiss me, though?”

“Had to sell it?” Ashton giggled with uncertainty. “Sorry…”

“No, it’s fine… just took me by surprise at all. Kinda gave me flashbacks to how we met too.”

“Heh, yeah I guess huh? You probably woulda slapped me if I had kissed you back then, though.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“You’re wearing the same shoes,” Ashton pointed out.

“You remember what shoes I was wearing when we met?”

“Course I do. I remember everything about that night.”

“Oh? Do tell.” You rested your chin in the palm of your hands, batting your eyelashes dreamily up at him.

Ashton laughed. “Alright, alright. Well, you were wearing those shoes. And blue jeans. Not these ones you have on. A different pair. The ones with the small tear at the cuff because you wear them so much.”

“Jesus,” you giggled into your drink.

“And you were drinking the same drink you’re drinking now. Because mango margaritas get you just the right amount of drunk. And you were singing. Coldplay.”

“Bravo,” you applauded, clapping your hands. “I don’t think I could’ve remembered all that. Only thing I really remember was you saying you were gonna marry me.”

“Oh, I still am,” Ashton winked. “That’s why I remember everything about that night. Can’t forget the night you met your wife, you know?”

“Oh, is that it?”

“Well, that and you’re pretty damn unforgettable.”

“Ash…” you blushed.

“Alright, alright. Sorry I kissed ya.”

“No, I- I just never know if you’re joking or not.”

“Well, I could kiss you again, if you want. And maybe this time you don’t ask me why? Or would asking you out on a date finally be the better option?”

“Both?”

Ashton chuckled, ducking his head down to capture your lips with his, with a passion you could feel all the way down into the tips of your toes. “Next Friday? 7?”

“It’s a date.”

__

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[mythicalsecretsanta]

Afternoon Alone (T)

This gift is for: Wren (AKA @cerealbaths)  I really hope you like your gift. I’ve never written drama in such a short story so I hope it is well received. Happy Holidays!! From your Secret Santa, Silver (AKA @silverloveless)

Link to AO3, or read below:

Link took a deep breath, he turned on the bathroom sink to splash water on his face. As the towel he used to dry off was pulled down over his face, he caught his own eyes in the mirror. The lighting in Rhett’s spare bathroom wasn’t something he was entirely use to. His eyes looked the same as they always had thought. The same eyes that Rhett trusted, and he knew he had done enough to earn Rhett’s trust to know this afternoon would not be a mistake.

“You can do this,” Link said to himself, “You’ve done this in the past. You’ve done this with Rhett plenty of time.” He washed his hands, and pushed up his sleeves around his elbow, wondering for a second if he should take off his shirt instead of risking it getting dirty.

“It’s been a few years, but muscle memory right,” he gave another deep sigh before he left the bathroom, and made his way to Rhett’s kitchen. Link didn’t know why there was a spike of fear and uneasiness that suddenly entered his stomach. They weren’t doing anything wrong. Hell even their wives knew what they were doing. Jessie even gave her blessing while Christy just laughed and mentioned something close to it being about time. They even took the kids out for the day so they could go on a date before everything happened.

Their date had been wonderful, finally going for Mexican food after their last naked food episode. But the whole time as the date was getting closer and closer to ending at Rhett’s house the pit in Link’s stomach grew and grew.

“Link are you ready,” Rhett asked finally seeing Link stand there in the middle of the doorway.

“Rhett are you sure about this. I mean are you sure,” Link’s voice was strained. He didn’t know why but this moment felt so heavy. He didn’t want to screw this up. He didn’t want to let Rhett down, but he was stuck.

“Come on we’ve talked about this. It’s time to get this going with already,” Rhett just smiled at the obvious unease that Link was giving off.

“I just mean…well are you sure you want to do it in the kitchen,” Link asked trying to find some kind of out still.

“Yeah I mean we could do it outside, but I’d rather stay inside. Plus this seems like the easiest place to clean it up from,” Rhett just laughed, turning away showing Link his back.

Link took another deep breath, everything was going to be resolved in the next few moments no matter how it turned out. Link ran his hands through Rhett’s hair as the latter murmured, “Don’t tug it man.”

Before Link could process what he did, a single sound cut through the kitchen, Snip.

A single strand of golden brown hair fell to floor. Link broke out into laughter suddenly.

“Come on man what did you do,” Rhett turned quickly already running his hands though his hair worried at what had caused Link to laugh, his voice had gone up an octave.

Link pushed Rhett to face back around, the make shift cape out of a trash bag causing plastic crinkling to offset the annoyed look Rhett had given Link. 

“Don’t worry man. I just needed to get over doing the first cut. Now there is no going back,” Link said as he resumed cutting Rhett’s hair. Cutting off most of the length first, large curls began to litter the kitchen floor more and more. He left some of the top length long knowing that Rhett was going to most likely go back to his short up do.

“Do your ears feel cold yet,” Link asked as he moved away to grab the clippers setting a mid-length guard on the tool.

“Well at least now we’re back in territory you’re kind of familiar with now,” Rhett said as he turned on his self-facing camera to see the results of what Link had done so far. He marveled at how strange it looked after growing out his hair for so long, but by this point it was time for the long hair to be cut. He was glad his and link’s wife had taken the kids out of the house. No doubt Shepard would have been hanging around trying to gloat Link into cutting his hair shorter than he would had wanted.

Rhett felt the clippers start at the base of his skull moving upward pulling way towards the top. The feel of the vibration against his head always relaxed him and made him feel good. He could feel the goosebumps break out against his arms. Once the sides were cleaned up he felt Link go back to the scissors to clean up the top.

“Smile,” Rhett said as he help up the camera getting both him and Link in the camera screen, Link’s hands stilled mid cut.

“You going to send that to the girls,” Link murmured before he continued cutting at the top.

“Yeah I think they’d get a kick out of it,” Rhett just smiled. The kitchen had stayed quiet, Rhett knowing that the best and fastest way to get his hair cut was to keep quiet so Link didn’t stop cutting when he spoke to Rhett. Years of getting Link to cut his hair had reinforced the rule of only giving link one thing to do at a time especially with anything sharp in his hand.

Soon enough he had to open his legs letting link get further into his space than any normal hair cut would have allowed for. Following suit Rhett moved his hands to rest on Link’s hips, his thumbs digging into Link’s skin. A smirk showed up on his own face as he saw a slight blush showed up on Link’s face.

“There I think it’s done. I won’t know if anything was messed up or needs to be tidied up, till you wash it out and get it styled,” Link mentioned. He tried to move back from Rhett’s space, but was held in place by Rhett’s large hands.

“Thanks for the fade babe, want to get laid,” Rhett’s eyebrow wiggled as he asked Link if he wanted to continue the last of their day together in bed. Link just rolled his eyes at the pun.

“Rhett I am covered in your hair as is your whole kitchen floor is, and you want to have sex now,” Link responded not entirely not unconvinced.

“I’ll tell you what,” Rhett moved his hands under Link’s shirt just feeling the toned warm skin there under his hand.

“You go get in the shower. I’ll clean up in here read quick before I join you, and rock your world as a thank you? How does that sound,” Rhett pulled Link in closer standing up as he leaned down to kiss Link harshly.

“I think you got yourself a deal Rhett. Just don’t take too long in here,” Link responded. He turned to walk towards Rhett’s spare bedroom knowing better than to incur Jessie’s’ wrath at leaving a messed up bed set. As Rhett watched him go his eyes were glued to Link’s back side, and as Link disappeared around the doorway Rhett hurried to clean up.

“What a way to end a haircut,” He whispered to himself as he sweeping up his hair in a hurry before he joined his best friend and love in the shower.

[miracleonice87]

Marry Me by Thomas Rhett - with Tyler Seguin (song fic)

summary: a Tyler Seguin imagine inspired by the song “Marry Me” by Thomas Rhett

a/n: So I’m still working on a Tyler Seguin series that I plan to release soon, but before that, I wanted to give anyone who might be interested a little taste of my writing style! I don’t plan to do these song imagines often, but this song obviously tells a great story, and this idea has been in my head for a while. Not much dialogue between Tyler and Kendall, but I’d definitely consider a part two later on. I hope you enjoy!

warnings: none — total and complete fluff

She wants to get married, she wants it perfect

She wants her granddaddy preaching the service

Yeah, she wants magnolias out in the country

Not too many people, save her daddy some money

Ooh, she got it all planned out

Yeah, I can see it all right now...

When I pictured growing up, settling down, getting married and raising a family, Kendall Chambers was the one I always envisioned by my side.

Kendall had been in my group of friends in Brampton since before I can even remember — sometime in grade school. She was one of the few who stuck around through the full evolution of the group, the transition from high school to the years some of us were in college and some of us were starting careers, mine being minor league and then professional hockey.

Kendall was the quintessential “mom” of the group. She fit the stereotype perfectly — she was always the one organizing birthday trips, planning weekend getaways. Hell, she even served as the grocery shopper, cook, and schedule coordinator when she and our other friends came to visit my place, whether in Dallas or Toronto. She was a caretaker, a nurturer. It came naturally to her.

She was a true beauty, which had never helped things for me. Her skin was a lovely olive tone which deepened quickly and easily when summer came around. Freckles dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her button nose. She had ocean blue eyes which often lingered on mine just a touch longer than necessary when we made conversation, making my blood run hot. Her long, honey blonde highlighted hair waved down her back perfectly, whether she had just coiffed it or whether she had been dancing in a hot club with our friends all night. Her nature was easy — comforting. She was the typical girl next door persona, so beautiful, down to earth, yet somehow unreachable. She was a family girl — her life revolved around extended family events and family dinners with her parents and siblings, and visits to her beloved grandparents’ houses. Kendall was, in a word, perfect.

I remember the night when I almost kissed her

Yeah, I kinda freaked out, we'd been friends for forever

And I always wondered if she felt the same way

When I got the invite, I knew it was too late

And I know her daddy's been dreading this day

Oh, but he don't know he ain't the only one giving her away

So I shouldn’t have been surprised when, one night, it was just the two of us in the hot tub in my backyard in Dallas, talking and laughing together long after all the others had gone to the guest rooms and drifted off to sleep, when I got the sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss her. We had been creeping toward each other in the water for hours now. Kendall knew what I was thinking — the way she quickly sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth told me that. I prepared myself to lean in, then I felt her hand firm on my chest.

“Ty...” Kendall whispered as I stopped short, the steam rolling off the top of the water clouding my vision of her. “I can’t. I’m kind of...seeing someone. He’s from Ottawa. It’s... new,” she explained, though she sounded neither excited nor convinced that she didn’t want to kiss me.

I nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I-I’m sorry, Ken,” I told her, backing into the opposite corner of the hot tub, though my instincts were screaming at me to just kiss her already, new boyfriend be damned. I respected her too much, though, to listen to my heart. Soon after, she excused herself politely and went up to bed in one of the guest rooms. Neither of us ever spoke of it again.

Which is why I am where I am.

I'll wear my black suit, black tie, hide out in the back

I'll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask

I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees

Yeah, she wanna get married

But she don't wanna marry me

Dressed in one of my go-to suits, one that I felt confident in, with my hair slicked back according to my sister Candace’s suggestion, I pushed my sunglasses further up on my nose in hopes of hiding my eyes, which were sure to be bloodshot and swollen at this point. Not only had I been drinking for the last three nights with our friends who were in town for the wedding, trying to ease the pain of preparing to watch the girl of my dreams marry some loser real estate broker, but all day I had been tearing up involuntarily, which was completely unlike me. I hoped the thick, black Ray-Bans I wore disguised both problems.

I reluctantly accepted the wedding program handed to me by a young girl on the way to the seating area of the country club lawn. I glanced down and saw the words “Kendall Nicole and Taylor Van” and wanted to punch a wall. I felt my Adam’s apple quiver, and sniffled quietly behind my hand.

I made my way to one of the dozen or so high-top tables dotting the lawn behind the rows of chairs, where I could stand alone without being noticed — or at least, I hoped. Unable to exhibit any further self control in this moment, I let my fingers find the steel flask in my inside jacket pocket, pulling it out quickly, taking a long pull from the container as fast as I could, then screwing the cap back on and replacing the flask as I exhaled sharply, feeling the smooth burn. Not a moment later, I heard a throat clear behind me.

I turned to see Mr. Chambers, Kendall’s dad, approaching. He was a commanding presence — as tall as me, and almost just as in shape despite being in his late fifties. He stuck out a hand to greet me.

“Tyler,” he said warmly, with maybe the slightest hint of pity in his voice. Reluctantly, I lifted my sunglasses from my face and tucked them into my jacket pocket to give the man the polite greeting he deserved. “Mr. Chambers,” I said. “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Ty. Although, I must admit, I’m a bit surprised that you came. You’re a stronger man than I — this must be tough,” he said. I felt my brow furrow involuntarily. “Sir?” was the only thing I could manage to push from my throat.

“I just know that Kenny carried a torch for you for quite some time, and her mom and I always thought the feeling was mutual,” Mr. Chambers said. “To be honest, I always wondered if this would be you two on a day like this.”

My mouth went dry. I immediately straightened my posture, opening and closing my mouth a few times as I contemplated how to respond. Nothing appropriate came to mind. Mr. Chambers started again, and I feared what he might say next.

“Listen, Tyler... you and Kenny have been friends for so long. Now, maybe I should have said something earlier, or maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all. But, here we are. Now, Kenny’s in the guest house with her mother putting on the finishing touches. I just... wouldn’t want you to walk away from today not having told Kendall how you really feel, if, in fact, you do have feelings for her. You owe that to her, and to yourself,” he told me firmly.

I began to protest. “Sir — but — I-“ I bumbled. Mr. Chambers put his hand on my shoulder and leaned in to offer one final sentence in my ear, one that I promised in the moments after I would never reveal.

With that, I thanked Mr. Chambers, turned away, and rushed through the crowds of wedding guests to the large brick house on the property, where Kendall was scheduled to begin her walk down the aisle in just a handful of minutes.

Bet she got on her dress now, welcoming the guests now

I could try to find her, get it off of my chest now...

I took a deep breath, trying my best to steady my racing pulse. I kept my head on a swivel, trying to monitor who might be watching, wanting to keep this as nonchalant and private as possible.

Finally, I reached the front door of the guest house and knocked firmly. Nothing. I waited a moment, then knocked again.

“Kendall?” I called out, trying to keep my voice low and calm. “Ken?”

I pushed down on the handle and found that the door was actually open, just slightly. My breath hitched. Should I really be doing this?

I couldn’t help myself. I pushed open the door, and after taking a few slow, silent steps across the black and white tiled floor, I saw an ethereal figure on the balcony above me, dressed in white.

“Kendall...”

“Tyler?”

Now or never...

[anonniemousefics]

My Dearest Inej | Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Sixteen: My Dearest Jailbird

Good morning, Sunshine!

If you are reading this, you are probably waking up alone and wondering where you are and how you got there. And your assumptions are correct – Wylan and I are indeed criminal masterminds who’ve drugged you and kidnapped you and sold you to the Shu. Now all of your suits are mine!

Yes, I’m joking. Don’t kill me. In all of this mess, the one thing I’ve found amusing is thinking of how this must all be playing out from your perspective. You take a dog for a walk, you fall asleep on my couch, you wake up surrounded by Shu. Sorry about that. The real truth is you were poisoned, pretty badly. Inej says the Shu have the best hospitals and mediks – you’re in Bhez Ju. And before you start complaining, we paid a lot of money to convince them to take you, so keep the whining to a minimum.  

I know your Shu’s a little rusty, but Wylan is with you. His Shu is also rusty, but between the two of you, hopefully you’ll manage all right. As soon as you’ve got a clean bill of health (just physically speaking – no one’s assessing your laundry list of mental problems, don’t worry), Specht is prepared to bring you home.  

That’s the where of it all with a bit of the why. I imagine you have a lot more questions. Why were you poisoned, for example? Great question, Kaz. I think it’s because you stabbed a twelve-year-old. Can you not do that again, please? It really pissed him off, and some old enemies happened to catch wind of it and then we had to fight them. Which enemies, you ask? Yes, with you, this statement does require some clarification; there are so many. The Haskells, Kaz. I know, your favorites.

They tried to seize control of the Dregs, but they had kind of banked on you dying. Thank the Saints you’re stubborn in that department. Inej came back and handled it. Oh, you want to know how? I’ll tell you how, but if you’re going to be gross about how amazing she was, do it in private, all right?

Right. Let me set the scene. It was early morning in the warehouse district, sun coming up over the harbor. We hadn’t slept in days. We’d whisked you to the coast to meet Specht just the morning prior, before sunrise. We’d pressured Wylan to go, too – it was unpleasant. There may have been tears. (Not mine, let’s get that on the record right now.) And then Inej was orchestrating a massive takedown. Anika was delivering missives while pretending to look loyal to Haskell. (Whatever you’re paying her, it’s not enough.) The crew of the Wraith was assembling. Pistols, knives, explosives. We were all ready for the showdown of the decade.  

(For you, Brekker. I hope you’re picking up on this. You may be a bastard, but you’re our bastard. No one else is allowed to poison you but us.)

Inej had brokered terms with Haskell, and they had agreed to meet in the warehouse district. Haskell wanted a gentlemen’s duel – pistols at dawn -- which was downright laughable given the cheating tactics he’d already shown willing to employ. But Inej was eager to make a show of his humiliation for any remaining holdouts.  

I was nervous, I’ll admit. Guns and bullets are my thing. I was not happy that she was acquiescing to Haskell’s wishes – she’s meant for knives. I’m learning, though, as I’m sure you are, that second-guessing Inej is a waste of energy.  

And she assured me it wouldn’t matter whether she won or lost, not with the attack she was strategizing with her crew. She and Anika were working out how to use them to take out every one of Haskell’s snipers without word getting back to him. You know, the sneaky things Inej does best.

So, the morning of the duel arrives. Haskell and five of his associates stride in to the warehouse district, armed to the teeth in pistols and grenades. It feels very much my last morning in the world, and if Inej feels the same way, she doesn’t look it. She’s sharpened all of her knives all night until they’re practically mirrors, hidden away in all of her limbs, and I loaned her one of my pistols (I think I cried over that).  

Rhett Haskell made some bloviating demands about how we were to hand you over when we lost, because of course he was unaware that you were already halfway to Shu Han, but that’s beside the point. Inej told him to shut up and name his second. They met in the middle of the street, back to back, and began their paces. I began counting them down.

This is when shit started to hit the proverbial fan.

Haskell had no intention of abiding by the rules and turned at the count of eight.  

Inej anticipated, but Haskell had already drawn.  

Anika was watching it all and gave the command. Inej leapt left, Haskell’s bullet singing past her face. She springs the quick release on the bone-handled knife you gave her.  

And then the rest of the Dregs start pouring in at Anika’s orders just as Inej’s knife handle is sticking out of Rhett Haskell’s throat. They’re moving in to take out the rest of Haskell’s men.  

Then in that same goddamn minute – The Stadwatch roll in. Rifles, batons, handcuffs, smoke grenades. They’re coming in with wagons and shields, rounding up anyone they can get their hands on, carting them off. It was Haskell’s last trick. He’d tipped them off. If he couldn’t have the Dregs, no one would.  

Where was I in all of this? That’s a good question. Inej had named me her second. For a moment, I thought she’d been shot when I saw her go down to dodge the bullet, and I ran at her. I was aiming at anyone who’d get too close, and then, when she pulled herself up and I saw she was all right, we were back-to-back to fight our way out, pistols and knives at the ready.

But then, the Stadwatch. Kaz, you’ve got to believe that I was prepared to do whatever it took to get her out of there. If she wasn’t so heavily armed, I’d have even thrown her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but she most definitely would have stabbed me if I’d tried. When the Stadwatch rolled in, she told me to run. It happened so fast, Kaz. She said I was the one who could arrange to have you cared for, arrange for the payments and such. She said I had to go. She fucking hit me in the face, Kaz, like really hard. So, I did what I was told.

So, that is both the good news and the bad news. And the infinitely worse bad news. The good news is the Haskells no longer maintain hold over the Dregs. The bad news, of course, is that the majority of the Dregs are in the custody of the Stadwatch. And the worst of it is that that number includes Inej. She will stand before a judge next month, who will almost definitely sentence her to Hellgate.

But don’t panic! We have time. You can write her; I visit her regularly with the solicitor I’ve procured for her case. And it’s just Stadhall right now. If you’re reading this, you’re awake, and you can help me figure out how to break her out. That’s a cake walk for you. Don’t panic. We have been in worse scrapes than this.  

Do try to keep things light when you write her, though, all right? What happened to you hit her pretty hard. It’s been difficult to watch.

And, for Saint’s sake, thank Wylan for me. Daily. He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s furious.  

Best wishes,

J. Fahey

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My dearest Inej, most cherished jailbird in all of Ketterdam,

First things first, I’m all right. Probably infinitely better than you, actually. I can move all ten fingers and toes and speak in complete sentences, and I’ve never been so patronized in my life for such menial accomplishments. At least I think that’s what these Shu mediks are doing when I do something they want. It sounds very patronizing, anyway.

I won’t bore you with too many details, which could easily be done, because it’s very boring here. The food is bizarre and horrible. I’m forced to walk laps around the ward at least three times a day, no matter how badly my leg hurts, but I’m proud to report I’ve not strangled a single nurse, even though I’ve really wanted to. Wylan has even said I can tell you that I’m a “model patient” – although I did glare at him rather heavily to get him to agree to do so. You can let Jesper know we're getting on all right. He enjoys my card tricks the most out of any of you, so if I can't be stuck with you, at least it's him.

All of this is, of course, thanks to you. I’m caught up on the letters, and I can hardly believe it all. I owe you far more than a debt of gratitude. I owe you my life. I owe you an entire city. I owe you everything.

Which, of course, brings me to your predicament. I’m working on it. I have said I would come for you, and I have always meant it. I will, love, just as soon as I can manage it. I am spending every waking second until then scheming what needs to be schemed to get you out of this.

In the meantime, have you tried not getting caught? That usually works for me.

With love and with gratitude and with every bit of strength I have,

I’m yours,

K. Brekker

P.S. – And, for gods’ sake, tell Jesper to stop telling me not to panic. It’s literally the most panic-inducing thing a person can say, and the nurses keep saying it's bad for my constitution.

P.P.S. - What happened to Artie Galligan in all of this? Or is the answer to that question bad for my constitution as well?

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Zenik,

I had to call in some favors to get this to you. Don't ask, but you are allowed to be impressed. I need your help.

-Brekker