thekidsofneibolt

[thekidsofneibolt]

Ashes and After

Chapter 5: Reap What You Sow

A/N: I"M BACKKKKKKKKKKKK OH HOW I MISS YOU GUYS SM Warnings: i love amy in this annndddd we're almost at the end, i'm sorry Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated ☀️

He left just after sunrise.

Didn’t tell Cecilia. Didn’t tell anyone.

Royal stood outside the Tillerson ranch gate for a long minute, shoulders stiff, jaw locked, before unhooking the chain that hadn’t been touched in years. The house ahead looked exactly as it always had—white-washed pride and sharp corners, not a single hair out of place, the kind of place where nothing ever changed except the people who walked in and didn’t walk back out.

Walter Tillerson was already waiting. On the porch. Arms crossed. Like he’d known Royal would come eventually, like he’d been rehearsing this conversation for three years.

Royal didn’t hesitate. He walked up those steps like each one carried its own weight. Like every tread might snap under the truth.

Walter nodded once. “You come all this way for guilt or clarity?” Royal didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched. “I came for the truth.” Walter gestured to the rocker beside him. “Then sit.”

But Royal didn’t. He stood like his boots had fused to the wood, like sitting would give away something he wasn’t ready to hand over.

Walter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared up like he was sizing him up all over again. “You wanna talk about your boy?” he asked. “Or mine?”

Royal’s nostrils flared.

“Trevor died,” Walter said flatly, with the kind of finality that didn’t ask for argument. “You know it. I know it. Half this town knows it. They’re just too polite to say.” “You think my son—” “I don’t need to think,” Walter cut him off. “You want proof. A confession. I had all three. But I let it go.” Royal blinked. “Why?” Walter didn’t blink. “Because she asked me to.”

The silence landed like thunder between them.

“She came to me shaking. Scared. But steady. Told me if I dropped everything—lawsuit, press, the firestorm we were ready to light—she’d walk. Right then. No goodbyes. No trace.” Royal’s throat worked. “You made her disappear.” “I didn’t make her do a damn thing,” Walter said coolly. “She offered.” “You used her.” “I made a trade.”

Walter stood slowly. His boots creaked against the porch.

“One girl for one ranch. For one name not being dragged through blood and dirt. That’s what she bought you. That’s what she gave.”

Royal didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Walter’s voice softened. Almost fatherly. “She loved you people so much it broke her. I didn’t have to twist her arm. I just gave her the math. And she did the rest.”

He took a step closer, and for a second he wasn’t the enemy—just another father grieving a son, the kind of grief that never got quiet.

“And you know what the worst part is?” Walter said, voice low and dangerous. “You all let her go and never even asked why.”

Royal didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with his throat closing.

He turned before he broke, walked down the steps without saying goodbye, without looking back. He drove home like a man underwater—vision blurred, steering wheel tight in his grip, mind full of everything he should’ve seen years ago.

He pulled into the ranch, parked the truck, and sat in the cab for what felt like hours. The house, the porch, the stretch of sky—it was all still there.

Still standing.

And the only reason why?

Because she was the one who fell.

—

Rhett didn’t know any of this.

He was still avoiding the ranch. Still keeping his distance like the silence could solve something. He spent the day pretending to care about fence supply and cattle feed, filling up hours with errands and empty distractions. But no matter how far he drove, all he could hear was your voice in his head:

“Loving you wasn’t safe anymore.”

And worse—

“You don’t get to be mad.”

He’d been mad his whole damn life. Mad at the world. At Royal. At the sky, at his reflection. At everything that made him feel small. But now?

Now he didn’t know what to do with the quiet.

Because the anger had stopped boiling.

And all that was left was grief.

You didn’t know Royal had gone.

—

You were sitting on the splintered bench near the old park in Calder’s End — the one with the crooked swing set and that stubborn jacaranda tree that bloomed late every year. Amy had asked to meet you there after school, claiming she needed help with a project, but really, she just needed space to talk — the kind only you gave her.

She sat cross-legged in the grass, plucking little petals off wildflowers with the kind of focus that came from trying not to cry.

“You ever wish you were born somewhere else?” she asked suddenly. You glanced over. “What do you mean?” “I mean far,” she said. “Somewhere with no ranch. No dead people. No past.” You leaned back, shoulder against the cool metal of the bench. “All the time.” Amy smiled faintly, eyes still down. “Do you regret coming back?” You didn’t answer right away. “No,” you said softly. “But I regret how much of me it brought with it.”

Amy nodded like she understood — not because anyone her age should, but because she’d grown up around men who disappeared when things got hard, and women who stayed quiet even when they shouldn’t.

—

Rhett hadn’t ridden in weeks.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

Riding bulls was his religion — rope in his hand, pain in his chest, eight seconds of clarity when the rest of the world spun out. But now, he couldn’t even look at the arena. Not when he knew what it had cost.

So instead, he drank.

Not like before — not reckless, not constant.

But heavier. Sharper. Like he needed to feel it in his bones. Like penance.

He passed Amy in the hallway and she didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak. Didn’t ask.

That silence? Cut sharper than any blade.

—

He found her in the barn.

Amy, brushing the same horse for the third time that hour.

He stepped inside quietly. “You mad at me?”

Amy didn’t look up.

“I’m disappointed,” she said, echoing the words from before. “You were supposed to be better than them. You were supposed to be the one person who saw her.” Rhett swallowed. “I didn’t know what she was doing—” “You didn’t ask.” Amy turned to him now. “She came back wrecked, Uncle Rhett. And you looked at her like she was the one who burned the place down.”

He blinked.

“I needed her,” Amy whispered. “And I needed you too.” “I was hurting.” “She was hurting worse. And she still made time for me. She wrote to me. Encouraged me. She told me I was brave. All you did was disappear.”

The breath left his lungs.

Amy’s voice cracked. “She told me to look after you. You know how messed up that is? She left, and still worried more about you than herself.”

He stepped toward her. She stepped back.

“You’re my uncle,” she said, voice breaking. “But sometimes I think I lost you long before she ever walked out.”

And then she left him there in the barn—splintered and silent.

—

He didn’t make it five steps onto the porch before Royal intercepted him.

“You gonna sulk forever or just burn the damn house down?” Royal snapped. Rhett’s shoulders tensed. “Back off.” Royal didn’t. “You’ve been drinking since breakfast. Moping like some kicked puppy. And now your niece won’t even look you in the eye.” “Not your problem.” “No,” Royal said. “But you are. And I’m tired of watching you self-destruct.” Rhett scoffed. “Funny. Should’ve spoken up before she left.” Royal’s jaw tightened. “Too bad you didn’t grow up when she needed you.”

And before Rhett could react, Royal grabbed the bucket from the cooler and dumped the entire thing—ice water and all—over Rhett’s head.

The shock hit like lightning. Rhett gasped, dripping, breath stolen.

“The hell is wrong with you?” he barked. “WAKE. UP,” Royal shouted. “You want pain? You earned it. Now earn your goddamn healing too.”

Rhett stormed past him, soaked, shivering, furious.

—

Dinner was a funeral.

Cecilia served in silence. Amy barely touched her food. Royal sat with his hat in his lap like the weight of it was too heavy.

And Rhett?

He finally spoke.

“I still don’t get how y’all treat her like some goddamn saint.”

Amy froze.

Royal didn’t blink.

Cecilia set the pitcher down with a soft clink.

“She disappears. She shows up again. And you all look at her like she’s the second coming.”

Cecilia turned slowly.

“You don’t know what she did,” she said. “I know she ran.” “No,” Cecilia said. “You don’t.”

She moved around the table, towel still in her hands.

“She walked into the Tillersons' trap so you wouldn’t have to bury your father. She gave up her whole life because Perry killed one of theirs. She vanished so we wouldn’t burn.”

Rhett’s mouth parted.

“She knew?” he whispered. “She knew everything. And she took it. Alone.” He looked at Royal. “You knew?”

Royal held his gaze.

Didn’t speak.

“You let her?” Rhett’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know until it was done.” “You should’ve sold the goddamn ranch,” Rhett whispered.

Royal’s chair creaked.

“You wanna say that again?” “If you’d let it go back then, she wouldn’t have had to give up a thing. She’d still be here.”

Silence.

Cecilia looked like someone had carved her heart out with a dull knife.

Rhett stood so fast his chair fell over.

Stormed out.

Amy pushed her plate away.

—

It started with a knock.

Soft, hesitant, almost like he wasn’t sure if he even had the right to stand there.

You didn’t answer at first. Just stood behind the door, hand flat against it, like you could feel him through the wood — the heat of him, the heaviness, the rain-soaked silence that clung to him like guilt. The space between you pulsed, thick with everything unsaid.

And then you opened it.

Rhett Abbott stood on the other side, soaked to the bone. Rain streaked down his face and off the sharp line of his jaw, his flannel shirt clinging to the hard pull of his chest, every inch of him wrecked and raw and full of something he hadn’t dared to show you in years. His eyes found yours, like he couldn’t believe you were real — like you were the last light in a burning room.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice cracked and tired. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t flinch. Just stared, lips parted, unsure if you were breathing properly.

He shifted his weight.

“Can I come in?”

You stepped aside slowly, the air between your bodies brushing like memory.

No words.

Just permission.

The door shut behind him with a soft click that felt louder than it should’ve.

He stood in your kitchen like a ghost. Like a man returned to a home he no longer deserved. He looked around once, but his gaze didn’t settle. Not on the chair. Not on the coffee pot. Not on the photo Amy left behind on the fridge. He looked like he didn’t know how to be here anymore.

You handed him a towel, wordless.

He took it. Didn’t dry off. Just held it in both hands like it weighed more than it should.

“I said somethin’ I shouldn’t have,” he began, voice low and splintering.

You didn’t answer.

He swallowed.

“I hurt Amy. I hurt Ma. I hurt Dad. And then...”

He looked at you. Finally.

“Then I made it worse. Talkin’ like you didn’t tear yourself in half for all of us.”

Your throat stayed closed. Your hands trembled just slightly at your sides.

“I knew about Perry,” he continued. “I put it together. Eventually. You left because of it, didn’t you? Because if you didn’t, the whole ranch would’ve gone up in flames.” “I made a choice,” you said quietly, your voice barely a scrape. “Not a noble one. Just a necessary one.”

He stepped forward, slow, cautious, as if the wrong move might make you vanish.

“You didn’t tell me.” “I couldn’t.” “You still should’ve.” Your voice cracked before you could hold it in. “And you should’ve come after me.”

He exhaled sharply, pain flickering across his face like a fault line cracking.

“I know.”

He stepped closer again. His voice was softer now, more frayed than before — unraveling at the edges.

“Baby, look at me.”

You couldn’t. Not yet. Your eyes stared somewhere just beyond his shoulder. At the counter. At the window.

“Please,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Look at me.”

And when you did — when your eyes finally met his — he looked ruined. Not angry. Not defensive. Just a man undone.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “About all of it.”

The room stilled. A storm inside the walls. Waiting.

“I hated you for leavin’,” he admitted, quieter than before. “But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. Not even when I tried to.”

You felt your breath catch, your spine go rigid with the weight of it.

He was closer now. So close you could feel the heat radiating from him, but he didn’t touch you. His hands stayed loose at his sides, as if reaching might break the spell.

“I thought pushin’ you out would protect me,” he said. “I thought if I stayed mad, stayed cold, it wouldn’t hurt so bad.” “But it did,” you whispered. His eyes burned. “Yeah. It did.” You blinked through tears. “Rhett—” “I needed you,” he said, voice hoarse. “And I threw you away.”

You stepped back, just enough to put space between your ribs and his regret.

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” you said, voice shaking. “I walked away to save your family. And when I came back, all I got was your silence.” “I know.” “Your hate.” He nodded once, throat working. “I know.” “Your goddamn absence.” His chest caved a little. “I know,” he said again — louder this time, rougher. “And I swear to God, I will regret it every single day I wake up without you beside me.”

His eyes dropped to the floor.

“I wasn’t enough before. I know that now. But I’m trying. I’m tryin’ to become the kind of man who might’ve deserved you.”

The tears that burned at your lashes finally broke free. You didn’t wipe them away.

“You should’ve been that man before I left.” “I should’ve,” he whispered. “So why now?” He took a breath like it hurt. Then said: “Because losin’ you was the only thing worse than living without you.”

Silence stretched out again, wide and aching.

You didn’t throw yourself into his arms.

You didn’t collapse or kiss him or forgive too quickly.

You just let it sit there.

All the wreckage between you.

All the broken pieces.

All the years that cracked your bones and hardened your heart.

He turned toward the door. Hand reaching for the knob.

And then, just before he stepped into the storm—

You said it.

“I still love you, Rhett.”

His whole body stilled.

He turned slowly, like he wasn’t sure he heard right.

Your voice came softer this time. “But I don’t know if that’s enough.”

He nodded once. No bitterness. No plea. Just quiet understanding and a heartbreak he didn’t bother hiding.

“If it ever is,” he said, voice gravel-thick and low, “I’ll be right here.”

And then he walked out into the rain, like it was the only thing big enough to hold the grief in his chest.

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[thekidsofneibolt]

Shoulda Knocked (NSFW///MDNI)

A/N: hm bc y’all asked. DONT BLAME ME OKAY. It’s not my fault. Warnings: You will need holy water. Lock the damn door next time. (Also Rhett says “my girl” and you will lose your mind.) Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated ☀️

The plates were still in the sink. Syrup-crusted forks soaking in lukewarm water. Somewhere on the ranch, a screen door banged shut and bootsteps faded toward the fields. Morning sunlight slanted across the tile, catching dust in the air, slow and soft and golden.

You licked sugar off your thumb and caught Rhett’s stare from across the kitchen.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low. Warning. You blinked, all false innocence. “Don’t what?”

He stood slowly. Chair scraping. His shadow stretched long across the floor. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” You tilted your head, mouth twitching. “Who says I won’t finish it?”

And that was all it took.

Two long strides and you were caged in his arms, your back against the counter, breath stolen right from your chest. His mouth was on yours in seconds—hungry, unrelenting—like he’d been starving since sunrise.

You laughed against his lips. "Thought we had chores." "Let the chores wait."

—

You made it to his room half-dressed and laughing, your bare legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth on your throat. The door slammed halfway shut, bounced, and stayed open just enough to doom you both.

He laid you back on his bed like you were breakable—then tore your shirt off like you weren’t.

“You in such a damn rush this morning?” you teased, breath hitching when his fingers slid between your thighs.

He didn’t answer. Just groaned when he found you already wet.

“You know what you do to me?” he muttered, mouth hot on your jaw. “Walkin’ around my house like that—in my damn shirt, no bra, those little shorts—barely wearin’ a damn thing—lookin’ at me like you want me to wreck you.”

Your back arched when his fingers pressed deeper, rough and sure.

“Maybe I do,” you breathed. “You gonna do it or keep talking about it?” His laugh was low, almost cruel. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll make sure you can’t walk to dinner.”

—

His belt hit the floor. You were flipped over like nothing—face down, knees pressed into the mattress, shirt still on but hanging off your shoulders. He didn’t bother with slow. Just spit on his hand, dragged it over himself, and pushed inside in one long, deep thrust that knocked the air out of you.

Your hands clawed at the sheets.

“Shh,” Rhett said, voice thick. “Gotta be quiet, darlin’.”

You nodded, cheek pressed to the blanket, and gasped when he drove in again. Harder. Deeper.

 “God—Rhett—” “Quiet,” he warned again, but didn’t slow down. His hand pressed between your shoulder blades, holding you in place.

Outside, birds chirped. A tractor started somewhere in the distance.

Inside, your world narrowed to the drag of his cock, the creak of the bed, his name rasping out of your throat like prayer.

He bent over you, breath warm against your ear. “Told you not to tease me,” he murmured. “Told you I’d ruin you.”

You didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

—

And that’s when it happened.

The creak of the hallway floorboard. The slow, careless push of a hand against the door.

And then:

“Rhett, you seen my—OH WHAT THE FU—”

You froze.

Rhett didn’t.

He twisted around just enough to yell, voice hoarse and furious:

“KNOCK, PERRY!”

Perry made a sound like a dying animal. The door slammed shut so hard the frame shook.

You collapsed face-first into the bed, mortified.

“Oh my god.” “Oh my god.”

Rhett didn’t move. Still buried inside you. Still hard.

“…You gonna get off me or…?” “Nope,” he said, way too calm. “You think I’m stoppin’ just ‘cause Perry can’t mind his own goddamn business?” You twisted to glare at him. “You’re sick.” He grinned. “You love it.”

Rhett was still inside you. Still hard. Still cocky.

You tried to pull away and yelped when his hands yanked your hips right back into him.

“Rhett—” He leaned over your back, kissed your shoulder, your spine, the dip of your waist. “Don’t play shy now. You were beggin’ five seconds ago.” “I wasn’t—” “You were.” His fingers slid under your jaw, turned your face so he could kiss the corner of your mouth. “Still are.”

Outside the room, the floor creaked—then heavy footsteps stomped down the hall. A door slammed somewhere near the kitchen. You prayed Perry didn’t walk into a wall on his way out.

Inside, your body betrayed you. Heat crawling back in. Your thighs trembling.

And Rhett knew it.

“You gonna let me finish, baby?” he whispered, voice gravel and honey. “Or you wanna be real sorry tonight?”

You swallowed hard. Nodded once.

“That’s my girl.”

—

This time was slower.

Not gentle—Rhett was never gentle—but worshipful in that way only he could be. Teeth grazing skin. One hand under your belly, lifting your hips just right. His other arm hooked around your ribs, palm splayed between your breasts, holding you tight.

He fucked you like you were his. Like no one else had the right. Like he didn’t care if the whole damn town knew.

“Still so wet,” he muttered, dragging his mouth along your shoulder. “You gonna come for me again?” “I—I already—” “Again.”

You sobbed his name into the sheets.

And he chased your second high like a man possessed.

The bed creaked louder now. No point pretending anymore. You were past shame. Past words. You clawed at the sheets, gasped his name, let him use you how he wanted because God, you wanted it too.

Rhett’s breath hitched. His grip on you tightened.

“You’re mine,” he grunted. “Say it.”

You did.

And then you broke apart, crying out into the mattress as he spilled into you with a curse, hips still pumping through it, chasing every last wave.

—

The silence after was obscene.

You lay there boneless, sweaty, mouth open against the blanket.

Rhett finally pulled out with a groan and flopped down beside you, chest rising and falling like he just ran six miles. One hand dragged down his face. The other found your thigh and squeezed.

“Shit,” he said, half-laughing. “I think I saw God.” You groaned. “I think Perry did too.”

Rhett snorted.

You rolled over and slapped his chest. “He’s never going to look me in the eye again.” “Good,” Rhett said, smug. “Means he won’t try nothin’.” “He’s your brother.” “He also needs to learn how to knock.”

—

You didn’t leave Rhett’s room for a solid hour.

Mostly because your legs weren’t working right, and partly because Perry might still be in the hallway clutching a Bible and rocking back and forth.

When you finally crept out, Rhett trailing behind you like a satisfied menace, the ranch house had gone suspiciously quiet.

Until you heard it: the unmistakable sound of Perry slamming every cupboard door in the kitchen, pretending to do something useful.

You paused in the hallway. Rhett reached over and gave your ass a full-on grab.

“Don’t,” you hissed. He smirked. “What? You’re walkin’ like you just got ruined. It’s cute.” “Rhett.” “What?” “Do not ever call me cute after your brother caught us mid—mid-—” He leaned in, brushed his lips against your ear. “Mid what, baby?”

You shoved him, face burning.

—

Dinner that night was... a war zone.

Royal was telling some story about cattle feed. Cecilia was humming while scooping potatoes.

Perry sat across the table from you.

He did not look up once.

Not when you said hello. Not when you passed the cornbread. Not when Rhett intentionally reached for the gravy boat across your chest and smirked the whole time.

You chewed in silence, eyes darting anywhere but the man who had seen everything.

Cecilia finally looked between you and Perry. Then at Rhett.

Her spoon paused mid-scoop.

“…Everything alright with y’all?”

Perry coughed violently into his napkin.

You nearly dropped your fork.

Rhett, absolutely unbothered, said, “Peachy.”

Perry stared down at his mashed potatoes like they owed him a refund.

Cecilia narrowed her eyes just a little. She knew. You knew she knew. Women like her always knew.

Royal, completely oblivious, just kept eating.

—

The Day After

You walked into the kitchen half an hour after Rhett, hoping the worst had passed.

It hadn’t.

Perry was already at the table with his coffee, flipping through a tractor catalog like it personally offended him.

The second you stepped into the room, he glanced up—froze—and then got up without a word and dragged his chair to the far end of the table, as if proximity might trigger another trauma flashback.

You blinked.

Rhett didn’t.

He just watched his brother relocate and smiled. Sat down in Perry’s abandoned seat like he was settling into a throne. “You sittin’, or you need help down again?”

You kicked his ankle under the table, heat rising in your face.

Royal, blissfully unaware, looked up from his newspaper. “Everyone sleep alright?” Rhett lifted his mug. “Like a baby.”

Perry choked. Actually choked. Coughed hard enough to slap his own chest.

“You good?” Royal asked. Perry cleared his throat violently. “Swallowed wrong.” “Right,” you muttered, stabbing your fork into your eggs like they were responsible for your humiliation.

Amy came skipping into the kitchen with her hair braided and her mouth already running.

“Uncle Rhett!” Rhett glanced up from his toast. “Yeah, kid?” “Why’d Dad tell me not to go near your room yesterday?”

You stopped chewing.

The world stopped spinning.

Cecilia, halfway through stirring honey into her tea, froze mid-circle.

Rhett, somehow, still didn’t blink. “’Cause I was busy.” Amy plopped into her chair. “Busy doin’ what?”

Perry’s fork clattered against his plate.

Royal looked between everyone like he’d walked into a Western stand-off.

You tried to slide further under the table.

Perry said, a little too sharply, “Eat your damn eggs, Amy.” “I was just askin’…” she grumbled. Rhett leaned back in his chair, eyes cutting toward you. “Guess I should’ve hung a sign.”

You kicked him again. Harder this time.

—

Cornbread Confession

Cecilia was elbow-deep in cornmeal by the time you tiptoed into the kitchen later that afternoon. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, flour smudged across her wrist, and a determined crease sat between her brows as she stirred like the world depended on that cornbread rising just right.

You lingered near the edge of the counter, unsure whether to offer help or disappear. Finally, you cleared your throat and reached for the butter dish. She handed it over without a word.

The silence that followed was thick. Tangible. Like you could spread it on toast.

And then, without looking up, she said evenly, “You know, I raised two boys in this house.”

You froze, butter knife hovering mid-air.

“There ain’t a single wall I haven’t heard through. Pipes too. Even vents. This place carries secrets like air.”

Your hand slipped. The butter knife hit the counter with a loud clink that felt louder than thunder.

Your cheeks flamed. Words scrambled in your head but refused to form.

Cecilia finally looked up. Her gaze landed on you with the weight of a hundred unspoken things.

Not cruel. Not even mad. Just... immensely powerful.

She didn’t sigh. She didn’t smile. She simply handed you the pan, her expression unreadable.

“Oven’s hot.”

You took the pan like it was a holy offering and obeyed in complete silence, your ears ringing, your soul leaving your body.

As you slipped it in, you caught her murmuring under her breath, more amused than annoyed:

“Don’t break his damn back next time.”

—

Barn Breakdown

You spotted Rhett and Perry heading to the barn just before sunset. You weren’t proud of yourself for creeping toward the back window, the screen slightly askew so you could hear.

But you also weren’t sorry.

Perry’s voice carried first, already halfway to explosion.

“You couldn’t just LOCK the goddamn door?” Rhett sounded utterly unfazed. “Didn’t know I needed to. You creepin’ ’round the hall like a feral cat.” “I WAS LOOKIN’ FOR MY DAMN NOTEBOOK!” “You found somethin’ better.” “I FOUND YOUR BARE ASS AND TRAUMA, RHETT.”

There was a pause. You could almost hear Rhett smirking.

“You’re welcome.” Perry’s voice went high enough to send birds scattering from the trees. “You’re disgusting! You defiled that room! You defiled HER!” “She was plenty involved, thank you.” “OH MY—”

Another silence. This one deeper. Darker.

Then came a groan that echoed like a dying ghost through the barn.

“I need holy water. And bleach. And a fuckin’ lobotomy.”

A crash. The barn door slamming hard enough to rattle the horses.

You ducked back into the house like your name was guilt and your sin had just been found out.

—

Royal Connects the Dots

Sunday morning came with too much sun and not enough shame. You were still nursing the bruises—physical, emotional, and reputational—from the last forty-eight hours.

You passed Royal in the hallway, pretending to look busy, clutching a half-empty mug of coffee like it might shield you from eye contact. Rhett was right behind you, freshly showered, shirt half-buttoned, hair slicked back in a way that should be illegal.

Royal glanced up.

Then down at the hickey blooming above your collarbone.

Then at Rhett.

Back to you.

His mouth opened. Paused. Closed.

“…You know what?” he said finally. “I don’t wanna know.” He turned toward the porch, muttering under his breath, “Just don’t break no damn furniture.”

You sipped your coffee and prayed for the floorboards to open.

—

The Call to Church

Cecilia popped her head in after breakfast, lips already pursed like she knew resistance was coming. “Church. Ten minutes. No excuses.”

You were mid-eye roll when Rhett sauntered in behind you, belt buckle shining, smug as sin.

“You’re comin’ with me,” he said, like it was already decided. You blinked. “To church?” “Mhm.” “After everything?” He grinned, the kind of grin that made your insides fold in on themselves. “Figure we both got stuff to repent for.” You scoffed. “You’d catch fire.” He winked. “Only if you sit on my lap.” “Rhett.” “Ma’am?”

You threw a spoon at his head. It hit him. He laughed anyway.

—

Hell in the Pew

You ended up sandwiched between Rhett and Perry in the third pew from the front.

Perry looked like he was doing long division in his head just to dissociate.

Rhett was pressed against your side, thigh to thigh, radiating body heat and bad decisions. He leaned a little closer every time you shifted away.

“Touch me and I’ll castrate you with this hymnal,” you whispered. Rhett leaned in like it was a dare. “Darlin’, we in a house of God.” “Exactly. He’s watchin’.”

The sermon began. The preacher's voice was slow and solemn, echoing through the rafters.

“Today, we speak of temptation. Temptation that may enter our homes, take root in our lives...”

You could feel Rhett’s smirk without even looking.

Perry coughed so hard you thought he might pass out right there in the pew.

—

Communion & Crimes

When the communion tray passed down the row, Rhett took the cracker, sniffed it like he was judging a wine tasting, and leaned toward you.

“Body of Christ,” he murmured. “Tastes a little dry.”

You crushed his foot under your heel.

He yelped.

Perry muttered, “I’m surrounded by heathens.”

—

Post-Service Sinning

Outside the chapel, townsfolk milled about, shaking hands and pretending they hadn’t just been mentally undressing each other during the sermon.

You and Rhett stood on the grass, trying to look normal.

Trying.

The reverend made his way toward you, hand extended, eyes kind.

“It’s always lovely to see young couples in the pews,” he said warmly. “Such a blessing to witness young love.”

You opened your mouth to say something safe, polite, God-fearing.

Rhett beat you to it.

“We’re real blessed, sir.”

You elbowed him so hard in the ribs that he actually choked.

But he didn’t stop smiling.

TAGLIST:

MY CHERRIES: veri🍒: @tokkiz @lizzie8878 @mrsparker3696 @pixie2k5 @0urlady0fs0rr0ws421 @astromilku drop your cherries: veri🍒: tag for ALL of that character works

[thekidsofneibolt]

the nanny (ra)

summary: rhett just wants to spend a little time alone with amy's nanny after spending his day trying to fix the fence the tielersons had damaged.

pairing: rhett abbott x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k+

warnings: 18+, minors dni, pre-established relationship (it's a pretty fresh relationship, the reader only returned to wyoming six months ago), nanny!reader, not cannon to the show at all so you can read it if you haven't seen it, no use of y/n but the reader is referred to as pretty girl, baby, doll and princess, sex outdoors, praise kink, fingering, ass grabbing, dirty talk, p in v (unprotected), not edited

notes: another fic for another new guy. rhett is my second favourite cowboy and i have wanted to write something for one of lewis's characters for a long time now. i'm also in the process of writing a much longer fic for rhett too. anyway, let me know if you liked this and if you would like some more. my asks are always open, so don't be afraid to pop in with some feedback or just to say hi 🫶🏻

“There's my pretty girl,” Rhett mumbled, finding you alone in the Abbott’s old barn opposite Red, an appaloosa, who was greatly enjoying the attention as you reached your hand over the stall door, rubbing between his chestnut coloured ears. You shouldn't have favourites, but this old charmer was definitely yours.

He takes you all in, sweeping his eyes over the pale yellow sundress, with straps tied flimsy around your neck Rhett was sure would come undone with one quick tug, and down to your worn in cowboy boots. Something about the dirt on them had the corners of his lips ticking higher. It was a reminder that your years in the city hadn't changed you completely. Inside your heart, you were still the girl who spent your summers cooling off in the lake, following Rhett and your brother through fields with grass stains on your knees, and sat in the stands at Rhett's first ever rodeo, hands covering your eyes so you wouldn't see him hit the ground after only being on the bull for five seconds.

“Foods nearly ready,” Rhett says, and you turned your head to flash him a smile, his heart skipping a beat every time you did. He was so lucky to have you and he didn't take that luck for granted. “Mom's tried making that salad you like.”

“With the strawberries in it?”

He nodded. “That's the one.” You gave Red one last stroke and turned to Rhett, who was already wrapping his arms around your waist. “Still not sure about that, by the way,” he says, pulling you closer.

You tip the brim of his hat back, uncovering his eyes and all the beauty within them. “That's because all you eat is meat and potatoes.”

“Hasn't done me any harm yet.”

“Yet,” you repeat back to him. “Even cowboys have to eat their greens.” Rhett chuckles, soft and light. “Did you get the fence fixed?” You wrap your arms around his neck, locking your fingers together.

“Nearly,” he grunts, his jaw ticking. The Tillersons would lie and say they had nothing to do with the snipped wire and damaged fencing, but Rhett knew it was them. “Dad wants Perry and me to go out and replace a few of the posts. Better they be done now before winter inevitably comes.”

“I can ask Ford to see if he can lend you a hand?”

Rhett shakes his head. “Your brother's got enough on his plate. When's Lilly due?”

Your eyes light up. “In six weeks.”

“Excited?” The question was unnecessary, Rhett could see it hanging off every feature, and he'd be lying if the smile you bore wasn't infectious. It tugs on the side of his mouth, forming a half-smile.

“Weren't you when Amy was born?”

“I was happy for Perry, but I sure as shit didn't know how to be an uncle.” His thumb strokes along your jaw and you tilt your head, melting into his soft touch. “Still trying to figure it out.”

Your lips brush lightly against his stubble jaw. “I'd say you're doing a perfectly good job at it. Amy loves you.” You go to step away from him, but his hands remain firmly on your hips, face scrunched up and mumbling something under his breath about not wanting to leave yet. “Rhett,” you giggle, shaking your head. “Come on, your mom probably needs some help with dinner.”

“Amy's helping her and Perry and Dad are grilling the steaks,” Rhett protests, walking you one stumbled step after another, moving you both further backwards into the barn. You squeal, laughing as you tighten your arms around his neck, nearly tripping onto your ass. And the barn stall feels hard behind your back as you finally make contact. “I haven't seen you all day,” he speaks in a low voice.

You shrug, nonchalantly. “I've been busy.”

“So I've heard. Guitar lessons?”

“Just the basic stuff.”

“You know she's going to hound Perry nonstop for a guitar, right?”

“I still have my first guitar,” you mumble, “she can have that.”

“They don't give awards out to nannies, you know?” Rhett teases, stroking his thumbs in slow circles up and down your sides.

“But I'd win them all if they did.”

Rhett chuckles. “Damn right, you would.”

His hand curls around the back of your neck, holding you still. His eyes are trained on you, with the briefest of smiles hugging at the edges of his lips. Nothing around you matters when he looks at you like this. And damnit was it too easy for you to get lost in those blue eyes.

They spoke a language you had been trying to learn your whole life.

“No one up at the house needs us right now,” Rhett says, lowering his voice to a tone that sends a shiver down your spine, your arms freckled with goosebumps. His hands slip down to grip your waist. “It's just you and me-”

“-and Red,” your smart mouth adds.

“Yes,” Rhett turns to the horse, who had turned away from you, no longer interested in who was in the barn if he wasn't receiving attention, “and Red.”

“Your mom will send someone looking for us, if we're not back in time to eat with everyone else.”

“I'll be done with you before that happens.”

Your hands slide down to his chest, your throat bobbing as you swallow hard. “Oh.”

He licks his lips, the thin upper lip parting from the bottom as he cracks a faint smile. “Oh,” he echoes you, adding a short chuckle to the end. He leans down, and his mouth finds yours. “Wanted to do that all fuckin’ day, doll,” he confesses, breaking the kiss just as quickly as it began.

He guides the tip of his nose down the column of your throat, his dick stirring in his wranglers as he breathes in cherry notes of your perfume. And you knock his hat off, tugging hard on his long hair, whimpering out into the barn as he greets your collarbone with a soft bite.

You go with a squeak, Rhett's hands gripping your hips harder and turning you to face the stall. The corners of your lips tick higher, hugged by a grin that knew exactly what was to come next.

This wasn't your first rodeo, and the risk of getting caught always made this hotter.

“Such a pretty dress,” Rhett drawls, nose buried into your neck, “on a pretty girl that I'm about to ruin.”

Taking a fistful of your dress, he hikes the hemline up, exposing the backs of your thighs to the elements of the barn.

He lifts his eyebrows. “Panties today?” Rhett only asks because the last time you wore this dress, you had simply ‘forgotten’ to wear them.

“You don't like them?”

“Oh, I like them, baby,” he replies, licking his lips with greed. His thumb traces over the white cotton and lace. “She always does look so pretty when you dress her up for me.”

He kicks your feet apart, widening your legs, and you submit fully to his control. You were going to do everything he tells you to, even if that did go against that fierce independence that's been a part of you for as long as you could remember. He bends your body and you turn your head so your cheek is pressing against the wood, straining your eyes so you can watch behind you.

Your breathing comes out choppy as he hooks his free hand into your panties, dragging them down just low enough to give him enough room. “Rhett,” you whimper, feeling him slide a couple of fingers between your legs. They leave an ache as he retracts his hands to give his fingers a quick clean.

“Already wet,” Rhett groans, his breath fanning across your neck. “Dirty girl. I haven't even started and you're dripping f'me.”

“Please, Rhett.”

He unbuckles his belt. “What do you want?”

“Anything,” you beg, “please, do something!”

“Gonna need you to be specific, princess.” Rhett moves his hand back between your legs, rubbing your clit in slow circles. He teases out faint whimpers and you almost forget his original questions. “What will it be? My fingers? Maybe my tongue?” He withdraws his hand again and you whine at the feeling of him gone. “Or could it be that you're desperate for my cock?”

A moan falls past your lips feeling the blunt end of his cock pressing against your pussy. “Yes. Fuck, yes. That, Rhett.”

“Say it,” he demands, continuing to guide his tip up and down the seam, your body jerking as it hits the little bundle of nerves. Wetness collects on the head and he jerks it down his shaft. “Say, I want your cock.”

“I want your cock,” you reply instantly, cheeks flushing at how desperate you sounded.

“A little louder.”

“Rhett, please!” A whine rips from your throat. “I already said it!”

“I know,” Rhett chuckles, pushing into you with one hard thrust. The intrusion takes your breath, and you gasp and moan at the familiarity you feel as you stretch around him. It’s addictive. “I just like to hear you beg,” he says, speaking against the shell of your ear, “you always sound so pretty when you beg for it, doll.”

He draws back, hands on your hips to hold you steady, and he groans at the wet sheen left behind on his shaft. He slips back in, going in harder this time, slamming himself forward. Your hands shoot out, slapping against the wall, as he does it again, over and over, getting lost in all that was you.

“Rhett,” you moan. His name rolls so easily off your tongue. It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard.

“Doin’ so good for me,” he grunts, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to face him.

His mouth crashes down on yours, his tongue rolling across yours in dominance. You couldn't help but clench around him every time he took your mouth like this.

“And when you do that?” He breaks away, a guttural groan forcing its way past as his eyes roll back.

Quickly, your mind had become mush, and there wasn't much you could say other than “yes,” and “Rhett.”

“You gonna come, baby?” You nod, sobbing what was close enough to answer.

Satisfaction rolls through him, knowing he could turn someone who was so beautiful and smart into a sobbing mess. A pretty, sobbing mess. He grips your hips harder and picks up the pace, his cock repeatedly hitting the sweet spot that twisted and tightened the coil inside you.

“Touch yourself,” Rhett grunts, sliding one hand up your back and over the back of your neck. His hand curls, fingers moulding to the shape as he grabs at your throat, holding you in place. “Come with me.”

Your hand leaves the wall, getting lost between your thighs, as the other is trying to grasp at the wood. “Fuck,” you breathe out, your clit slick and swollen beneath your fingertips, rubbing it in fast circles, until the dam finally breaks. “Oh, my god…”

Rhett follows you, his body unable to hold off any longer as your pussy clenches his cock. He spills into you, your name floating off his lips like a prayer. “This is heaven,” he mumbles, heading falling forward, pressing into your neck as the last of him empties. “It has to be.”

You'd agree, but you were too breathless to find your voice.

He fixes himself back into his jeans and leans down, pulling your panties back up and smoothing your dress out. “How we doing this?” He asks, spinning you around to face him. “I'll distract my family and you sneak upstairs?”

“Not the most romantic aftercare I've received,” you laugh, “make sure to save me some of those rolls, though?”

He kisses your cheek. “If Perry hasn't already eaten them all.”

tagging: @livinginastory

[thekidsofneibolt]

Summertime [B. F.]

Bob Floyd x fem!reader

wc: 1k

summary: Rooster and Hangman spot a mysterious woman… who turns out to be already taken.

“Hey, Rooster. Hottie at 12 o’clock.”

Jake's voice broke the euphoria of the moment. Bradley was energetically celebrating a perfect pass he'd just thrown to one of his teammates, capping off an intense round of the improvised beach game. The sun was blazing high, the clear sky seemed to melt onto the sand, and the waves crashed in a slow rhythm as the pilots—sweaty, wet, and covered in sand—ran back and forth amid shouts, laughter, and tanned bodies.

“That fatso?”

“On my 12, idiot,” Hangman replied in annoyance, rolling his eyes. “Turn to your left.”

Bradley obeyed, curious. And then he saw her: leaning elegantly against the railing of the beach cabin, a woman observing the scene. The wind gently ruffled her hair, and the sun cast golden glints on her exposed skin. She wore a simple bikini top, denim shorts, and a light white robe that barely covered her back. Hanging over her shoulder was a jute bag adorned with a colorful scarf tied to the handle.

“I think for the first time we agree, Hangman.”

They both stood motionless, watching her from a distance as if the world had slowed down. She seemed to be searching for something—or someone—in the crowd, her face turning intently while her sunglasses obscured her intentions.

“What do you think she's here for?” Rooster asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Maybe she just wanted to see a bunch of shirtless machos," Jake replied with a crooked smile. "I hope so, man. Because that doll looks like something out of a damn dream."

As if she'd heard them, the woman raised her hand in their direction, greeting them with a broad, bright smile. They looked at each other, puzzled.

“She’s waving at us. Wave back!” Brad ordered, nudging the blond.

They both raised their hands enthusiastically, thoughtlessly using that charming smile that had worked so often for them. But just when they thought they'd captured her attention, a third player entered the scene: someone was running from the side toward the woman, with determined steps.

“Bob? Does he know her?”

“So it seems”

Floyd approached her urgently, his smile widening with every stride. He didn't even let her descend the cabin steps: from his lower position, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground in a surprise hug. She let out a loud, genuine laugh that pierced even the sound of the waves.

“Maybe it's his sister or something,” Hangman suggested, still trying to grasp a reasonable idea.

But the illusion shattered in seconds. As soon as Bob placed her on the ground, he leaned down and kissed her with such confidence that it left no room for interpretation. She responded with the same intensity, wrapping her arms around him as if they'd been searching for each other for centuries.

“Well, unless incest is seen as a good thing in Lemoore…” the black-haired man began, “I don’t think she’s his sister.”

They both froze, watching the scene with a mixture of amazement and envy. Bob's arms settled naturally around the woman's waist, while she took off her sunglasses to get a better look at him.

She spoke animatedly, gesturing with her hands and smiling with every sentence. Although they couldn't hear the conversation, it was clear they were in their own world. When she wasn't speaking, she rested her hands on Bob's chest, with a familiarity that was impossible to fake.

When it was his turn to speak, she looked at him with such devotion that even from a distance, the intensity was palpable. Her eyes practically glowed, her expression screaming a deep crush. Just a few girls had ever looked at them like that in their lives.

Bob's index finger pointed in the direction of the beach, as if he were telling her about his crewmates, and she waved her hand in that direction again.

“I think she’s actually waving at us now.”

“I hope so. Say hi, idiot.”

The two of them repeated the gesture, this time with some nervousness. To their surprise, she waved again. She laughed at something Bob whispered to her and then turned her attention back to him, caressing his face before stealing another kiss. Small, soft, close together. He placed one more on her cheek before taking her hand and starting to walk toward the beach.

“Don’t run away, coward”

“I wasn’t planning to” Rooster replied, though he was lying. The step he took back had given him away.

They stayed where they were, waiting. Bob and the girl finally approached.

“Huh, have you seen Maverick? I need to talk to him.”

“I think he’s sitting in his lounge chair… or something,” Jake replied vaguely. Then he looked at her with interest “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“Sure. Guys, this is my wife. Honey, this is Lieutenant Jake Seresin and Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”

They both stood with their mouths ajar, trying to process what he had said. They wondered if they had heard wrong, but sure they hadn't. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said with a smile, extending her hand. “I’m sorry to burst in like this. I wanted to surprise Bob. I hope my arrival doesn’t interrupt anything important.”

“Not at all,” Rooster said quickly. “It’s a pleasure to meet Mrs. Floyd.”

The pilots glanced at each other and couldn't help but notice the slight blush they both—she and Bob—shared, as if the expression 'married couple' still sounded new and shiny to them. 

“Let’s go find Mav. See you later,” Bob said, before leading her by the hand.

“Bye, Bobby” 

“Nice to meet you,” Rooster added.

They waited until the couple had walked a few steps away before spilling their guts.

“His wife? Can you believe it?”

“Of course. The guy is a true gentleman. I'm sure he won her over on the first date.”

“The world is so unfair,” Jake hissed. His friend laughed, resigned.

“Or we are idiots”

“Rooster, I think, for the first time, I completely agree with you too.”

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee

[thekidsofneibolt]

husband ^o^ husband ^o^ husband ^o^

credit: vxinfilmz

[thekidsofneibolt]

hate coming to terms with things. i should be able to cast a fireball instead

[thekidsofneibolt]

when a character has a shirtless scene and they have washboard abs and no sign of any belly fat not even a little bit

[thekidsofneibolt]

lewis via rainsford’s ig story

[thekidsofneibolt]

lewis via gregtarzandavis’s ig story

[thekidsofneibolt]

My favorite boy Rhett🦬, and 🌽. With the prompts of dating the bad boy/secret romance!

Congrats on 3k Leah! 🫶🫶🩷🎉🎉

dog days | rhett abbott

❝ i tried so hard to quit you, like i promised my momma i would ❞

warnings: 18+ mdni, religious themes, smut, "but daddy i love him!" trope

🍓 part of my summer picnic event 🍓

as the local pastor's daughter, you were expected to marry a man in the church. a good, christian boy who loved jesus more than he loved you. there were a few eligible men in the church who fit that exact criteria. the new youth pastor, wide-eyed and hopeful of finding a wife. the choir director's son, who was fresh out of bible college and wanted twelve children.

but you didn't want any of them. you only had eyes for one man. one dirty, rotten, no good man. at least, that was what your parents would say. but when you looked at rhett abbott, you didn't see something rotten. you saw only goodness. kindness. respect. unlike the men your family wanted you to marry, rhett listened to your wishes. he didn't expect you to be his submissive, obedient little wife who bore him dozens of children. no, he saw you for who you were.

it was no surprise when you found yourself head over heels in love with him.

he wasn't a church going man. but his momma was there every sunday, while her husband lingered in the back, clearly only there because she'd asked him to be. you always stood at the door, per your father's request, to greet the parishoners every sunday. cecilia abbott always gave you a hearty handshake and a warm "good to see ya!" and you always got the sense that she meant it. her young granddaughter, amy, always gave you a hug. her husband, royal, always gave you a nod, a friendly twinkle in his eye, though standoffish as he was.

you liked the family. not because you knew them well, but because they were just the kind of people that were likable. the kind of people one might feel themselves led to get to know better. which was why you found yourself at their home one tuesday morning, basket of homemade jam, butter, and freshly baked bread tucked into the crook of your elbow. you expected cecilia to answer the door, or maybe even amy. but you were surprised when the door open to reveal a young man. tall, broad shouldered, and handsome as could be. scruff shadowed his jaw. his eyes told a story, as if he had seen some things. endured a few hard punches life threw at him.

he looked surprised to see you standing there on the porch, in your unassuming sundress that swept over your thighs when the late spring wind blew past. his mouth curved into a curious smile. "mornin'. you're the preacher's gal, right?" his voice was low. easy. smooth like golden honey.

you were caught slightly off guard over the fact that he knew you. "yes! i didn't know cecilia had kids." then you blanched slightly. "i-i mean, obviously she had kids, since she's got a granddaughter. but i just didn't realize she had...sons." inwardly, you cringed at yourself. great introduction. fantastic.

rhett smirked. "yeah, well, she probably don't talk about us much at church. must figure the good lord'll hit the place with a bolt of lightning if she does." his tone was light. testing the waters, to see if his bad joke would land with you, or if he'd overstepped and upset the preacher's daughter.

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "oh, that's not true. and i promise no mysterious lightning bolts would fall out of the sky if you ever decided to attend our church."

he hummed. "i ain't the church goin' type. nothin' against folks who are. just ain't my thing."

you nodded in understanding. "i get it. it's not for everyone."

that struck him, and his lashes fluttered as he looked at you, taken aback. he would've expected the preacher's daughter to be pushy. to tell him he needed to come to church, lest his soul end up in hell. but you didn't tell him that. grateful that you respected his wishes, he changed the subject, nodding toward the basket resting on the crook of your arm. "whatcha got there?"

you startled slightly, as if you'd just remembered why you'd come. "oh! sorry, this is just some goodies i made for your family. strawberry jam, butter, some homemade bread." you held the basket toward him, heart fluttering at the awe that softened his face.

once again, his lashes fluttered, and the apples of his cheeks rounded as he smiled. and what a pure smile it was. "wow. that's...that's really nice of ya. i'm sure this'll be gone real quick, all of us love bread."

you beamed at him. "i'm happy to hear that. there's plenty more where that came from, so, if you ever want more, i'll be happy to make it!"

"thank you. that's real sweet." his gaze lingered on you, as he reached out to take the basket. when his fingers brushed yours, warmth rushed up your arm.

neither of you realized it then, but that was the beginning of what would become a whirlwind romance.

the next time you saw him, it was at the rodeo. cecilia had invited you, and you decided to take her up on the offer. your parents came with you, and the three of you sat in the same row alongside the abbotts. this type of setting most definitely wasn't your parents' scene. according to your father, it was "worldly". but they came anyway, because it was the polite thing to do, since the abbotts had invited them.

when rhett was announced over the loudspeakers as the next rider, your heart caught in your throat. it didn't leave until he'd landed safely on the ground. thrumming with adrenaline. whirling around to look at the scoreboard, to see if he'd made good time. when his named soared to the top of the board, the crowd cheered. you found yourself jumping to your feet, cheering his name along with them.

afterward, you waited in the parking lot with your parents and the rest of the abbotts, waiting for rhett to come out so that you could congratulate him. when he came sauntering out into the lot, beaming from ear to ear, your breath caught in your chest. he was beautiful. glowing with pride. and that moment was what started your descent toward falling head over heels for him.

"you came!" he said, when he saw you, grin playing at his mouth.

"of course! wouldn't miss it," you assured him. his lingering gaze made your tummy flutter with butterflies.

as you followed your parents back to the truck, your mother murmured something about the abbott boy being promiscuous and sinful. something stung within you at the way she spoke about him, with disdain. she was merely repeating the gossip she'd heard. funny, when the bible clearly spoke against it. however, in your experience, christians were the worst gossips. your mother, the pastor's wife, was not exempt from that, it seemed.

ignoring your parents' feelings about rhett, you decided to attend every one of his rides from that night on. you were always there, whether your family attended or not. in the stands, cheering him on, steady and constant. and that was not lost on rhett. you would wait around at the end of the night to greet him, whether he had a good ride or not. eventually, you started going out to celebrate after his successful rides. he was the one who shyly suggested going out for ice cream that first time, as he wasn't about to take the preacher's daughter to a dingy old bar.

you shared a chocolate milkshake at odessa's diner, sitting side by side, knees touching. you laughed at his stupid jokes. you gave him your full attention. and he realized, as he reached out to wipe a drip of chocolate milkshake from the corner of your mouth, that he was falling for you. that night, he kissed you for the first time. he drove you back to where your car was still parked on rodeo grounds, and he stared at you for a moment, eyes burning with shyness and want. "i...i'd really like to kiss you right now," he breathed. but he didn't want to overstep.

"and i'd really like you to kiss me," you echoed. he leaned across the bench seat of his truck, and his lips met yours. tenderly. sweetly. not rushed or salacious. he didn't take, he let you give. let you lead. when you deepened the kiss, he melted into it. when your hands went to his hair, fingers weaving into the thick strands, his chest burned, his heart hammered.

when you parted, you were both breathless. your eyes were wide. his ears had gone red. "i...i should be getting home," you whispered. but you didn't want to leave. you wanted to stay here, in his truck, and kiss him until the sun rose. but you knew that you wouldn't be able to stop things from going further. the weight of desire had already settled in your belly, warm and not entirely unfamiliar.

"yeah," rhett agreed, voice wrecked. "d-drive safe." watching you leave broke something open within him. he wanted you to stay, but he didn't want to be too forward. it was a wonder you were even attracted to the likes of him. you were so good, and he was so...well, he was rhett abbott, who'd been not so subtly labeled as the town whore. the man who'd been through countless buckle bunnies. but that wasn't the case. not really. he let them believe it anyway, because it was easier than correcting them.

but you? he didn't want you to think of him that way. he didn't want you to see him as used, damaged goods. he wanted you to know that he had so much love to give. that he would respect you and your body, that he wouldn't just use you and toss you aside. he wasn't that kind of man.

thankfully, you didn't see him that way. you thought he was wonderful. a little rough around the edges, but his heart was gold. that was why you kept coming back. why you watched every ride. why you came to the abbott household every tuesday to drop off more bread and jam. and soon, you found yourself seated on his front porch, each with your own respective slices of toast with butter and jam.

you kept looking at him, and he felt like the luckiest man on planet earth. he found himself speaking before he could chicken out. earnest words that spilled from his mouth like water from a spring. "look, i know i don't bring much to the table. i ain't even worthy to breathe the same air as you. but i really like you, and i...i wanted to ask ya to be my girl. if you want to, that is." he held your gaze, fighting the urge to look away. he couldn't do that. you deserved eye contact.

something painful flashed in your chest, because you knew, if you said yes, you would have to keep it a secret. your parents would never approve. the church folk would be horrified. so you leaned forward, placing your hands over his own.

"i would love to be your girl. but i should tell you, i'm not in a good place, as far as my family, and the church goes. i can't tell them about you yet. we'd have to keep our relationship a secret, because if they found out...they'd be awful to you, rhett. i don't want you to have to deal with their judgment."

he swallowed, throat bobbing, eyes watering slightly as he shook his head. "i don't care about all them. i only care about you. they can say what they want. won't change how i feel about you."

your heart ached. "i just need time, okay? i have to figure out how to tell them about you."

rhett looked at you in earnest and said, "do what you gotta do. i know it can't be easy to figure out."

you should have given each other space after that. you should have allowed yourself to figure things out. yet, you found yourself returning to him. seeking him out, because you wanted to be near him. and, somehow, a secret relationship ensued. you kept it from your family. from the church. from everyone.

in a way, it was thrilling. exhilarating. you gave yourself to him in every way. he was your first everything. part of you felt ridiculous. he'd had experiences before you did. he'd lost his virginity when he was seventeen. and here you were, having lived a sheltered life, where purity was emphasized as the most sacred thing you could have. but you were so tired of minimizing yourself. so tired of being careful and perfect and everything a good pastor's daughter should be. so you threw caution to the wind, and you let rhett have you. all of you. and he handled you in a way that surprised you.

it wasn't that you'd expected him to be rough and inconsiderate. but you didn't expect him to be so attentive. the first time he had you, it was in the bed of his truck. blankets spread over the cool metal, in the middle of a moonlit field. you'd sneaked out of the house that night, though it felt silly to admit. you were an adult, after all. you could come and go as you pleased. but you were still trying to figure out who you were, and what you could do, out from under your parents' roof. but right then, spread out beneath rhett as the warm summer breeze rippled across the prairie, you didn't care about anything else but this.

his lips, hot and reverent against your skin. tongue swirling around your peaked nipples, hands exploring, but never taking. "you're so beautiful," he rasped against your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. his words were so sincere. he wasn't just saying it because he thought it was something you wanted to hear. he said it because he meant it. he was in awe of you, and your beauty. hardly knew what to do with himself when you spread your pretty thighs and whined for his heavy, swollen cock.

he fucked you achingly slow. savoring every moment. whispering praises. how good you felt, how he loved the sounds you made. you were his pretty little flower, and he was so enamored, so amazed that you would give him this honor. you, the preacher's daughter, allowing the filthy, rotten cowboy between your legs, buried deep, claiming you. and you wanted it, you begged for it. no one else was worthy of being inside you but him.

you didn't want any of the men your family wanted for you. you only wanted him. rhett, and his mouth that spoke profanity, but not to you. rhett, and his strong hands that were always dirty, but not when he touched you. rhett, with his eyes that only looked upon you, and no one else. because there was no one else. no other woman. just you. always only you.

that night was the first of many. you would find yourself in rhett's arms countless times. in the bed of his truck, in the loft of the barn, and, on a rainy night, he invited you into his room. his bed was small, but you made it work. you found yourself on top of him, body sheathed in the warm glow cast by his bedside lamp. he gazed up at you like you were the goddess of love herself, sent down to earth to bless him. his large hands splayed over your hips as he guided you. reverently. lovingly. you had to be quiet, because the rest of his family was in the house, but it proved difficult when he began to cant his hips up into yours, pulling broken whimpers from you. he had to shove his fingers into your mouth just to keep you quiet.

though it was hurried and you were forced to stay quiet, it was still filled with love and tenderness and everything your soul had been craving your whole life, you curled around him that night, after both of you were sated. bodies naked, pressed against each other in the close quarters of his bed. you brushed his curls away from his face and breathed, "i love you."

and as you drifted off, you heard him murmur, "i love you too."

but that tender quiet was shattered the next morning when incessant pounding rippled through the house, the source of it standing behind the front door. you woke with a start, gasping sharply, because you knew what day it was. sunday. how could you have been so foolish? so careless? you knew you were expected to be at church that morning. it was already past nine, and the service would begin at ten fifteen. you were supposed to help set things up for sunday service. naturally, your father would come looking for you.

rhett woke with a start, arm tightening protectively around you. he could see how frightened you were. see the shame on your face. "it's my dad. it has to be," you whispered.

"i can go talk to him. tell him you're not here," rhett offered. cautious. but there was something in his eyes. danger, perhaps. the desire to protect you.

too late. you already heard raised voices downstairs. you both bolted out of bed, and you searched for your clothes, haphazardly throwing them on, hands shaking as you did. rhett had just managed to get his jeans on and his belt buckled when the door swung open. instinctively, he moved to stand in front of you, broad shoulders shielding you. beyond your angry father was cecilia, who looked equally as angry, but not at you.

"pastor, you can't just come storming through my house!" she exclaimed.

"i'm taking my daughter home!" he insisted.

"she doesn't have to go anywhere," rhett countered. voice low. eerily calm.

"you don't get a say in this. you're the one who led her astray," your dad snapped.

at that, you reached out, grabbing rhett's forearm, stepping forward. you wouldn't stand for him to be insulted in front of you. because of you. "dad, don't. he didn't lead me anywhere that i didn't willingly want to go." your hand slid down to intertwine with rhett's. pledging your loyalty to the man you loved, because it was about damn time you stood up for yourself.

your father stared, incredulous. "you don't know what you're saying!"

"yes i do! i love him, and i want to be with him. i'm sorry i didn't tell you and mom, but you made me feel like i couldn't. but it's time i made my own decisions. and being with rhett is part of that. i won't leave him just because you tell me i should."

"you're going to throw away all your mother and i taught you, for some sinful, worldly man?"

you squeezed rhett's hand, anger snapping up your spine. "he's a good man. and even if he wasn't, doesn't jesus call us to love sinners, and not condemn them? i love rhett, and nothing you could ever do or say will change that." your tone left no room for argument. you stood your ground, though your heart pounded in your chest. never in a million years did you think you'd be standing up to your father. yet here you were, defending the man you loved, uncaring of what the consequences will be.

"you're making a mistake," your dad tried to reason.

"for the first time in my life, i'm actually not making a mistake. i've made my choice, and i know it's the right one."

your dad looked like he wanted to say so much more. but the clock was ticking. he had a sunday service to attend to. "this conversation isn't over," he finally said. but it was. you both knew that.

when he left, with cecilia trailing after him, clearly unhappy with the way he had stormed into the house, your body sagged against rhett's. "i'm so sorry," you whispered. "this whole mess could've been avoided if i'd just told them about you from the get go."

he turned your chin up toward him, already shaking his head. "no. they would've reacted the same, no matter when you told 'em."

he was right. with a deep sigh, you wrapped your arms around his waist. "all those things he said about you...i'm sorry. i want you to know i don't see you that way, alright?"

he nodded. "i know, darlin'."

you let him kiss you, before you brought your hands up to cup his scruffy cheeks. "we'll figure all this out. i promise."

"hey, i'm with you. no matter what happens, it's you and me."

—

*leaving this open-ended because i'm sort of considering writing a full length series on this!

[thekidsofneibolt]

Jail Bird

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Picking up Rhett from the Sheriff's Station isn't a highlight of your evening.

Outer Range MasterList

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“One phone call, Abbott. Make it count.” a deputy explained as he opened the door to the holding cell he’d been sobering up in. Rhett nodded and wordlessly followed the deputy to the pay phone that had been in the department since the 70s. 

Rhett should’ve called Royal or Perry. He knew they wouldn’t give him hell over this misunderstanding. But your number was the only one he could remember off the top of his head. He sighed, a tinge of regret in his decision, and quickly dialed your number, taking note of the early morning hour as the line rang. 

“Hello?” you answered, still half asleep. “Hi baby- I woke you up, didn’t I?” Rhett asked, emphasizing his twang, knowing you’d fall victim to it and at least slightly lesser your anger toward him. You yawned softly and mumbled a ‘yes.’ Rhett smiled thinking about you snuggled up in bed, a long-forgotten episode of The Bachelorette playing in the background. “Baby, could you come pick me up from the sheriff’s department?” Rhett queried hoping you’d agree and he wouldn’t be completely out of luck for the night. 

“Ok.” you responded before abruptly hanging up on him. You huffed and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of your bed. You knew Rhett had mentioned going out tonight. He claimed it would just be a couple of drinks with his riding buddies but you saw through it immediately. You knew he’d be out all night and figured he’d end up sleeping it off in his truck; he must’ve been drunk driving again.

As annoyed as you were by Rhett at the moment, you couldn’t say no to him. As you walked into the sheriff's department, you saw Joy at the front desk filling out paperwork. She looked up and greeted you with a flat affect.

Rhett was nervous as the clock ticked loudly through the holding area. He knew you were going to be mad. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sweet talk his way back into your good graces. “Hey, Joy. How ya doin’ tonight?” Rhett grinned when he heard your voice carry through the eerily quiet sheriff's department. 

Rhett offered you a crooked smile when he walked into the lobby. You were pissed off, “Hey.” you greeted coldly as you turned on your heel to exit the department. Rhett swore he heard Joy laugh under her breath as he followed you out like a lost puppy.

“Where’d you leave your truck parked? I got work in the morning.” you huffed as you led the way to your truck. “Hey. Com’er.” Rhett said as you two stood at the hitch, you stood there and stared at him- kissing him was the last thing you wanted to do right now. “Baby.” Rhett sighed and closed the small space between the two of you. His hands gripped your hips, and as much as you wanted to push him away, you couldn’t find the strength to do it. Rhett pulled you closer and pressed his chapped lips to yours. After a moment of resistance, you melted into his touch and allowed yourself to wrap your arms around his neck as his tongue invaded your mouth. 

Rhett ended the kiss and moved to kiss your nose, making you giggle. Rhett smiled and kissed your left cheek multiple times before squeezing you one last time before leaning back with his hands still on your hips. “You’re not too mad at me, right baby?” 

You rolled your eyes at his question, “Oh, I’m so pissed off at you, Rhett. Let’s get you back to your truck so I can at least attempt to sleep before my shift.”

[thekidsofneibolt]

via harperhairphysician

[thekidsofneibolt]

he’s so :3 and >o< as a 30 yr old man

credit: vxinfilmz

[thekidsofneibolt]

LEWIS PULLMAN as BEN MEARS SALEM'S LOT (2024)

[thekidsofneibolt]

Lewis Pullman as Ben Mears Salem's Lot (2024) dir. Gary Dauberman

[thekidsofneibolt]

run

[thekidsofneibolt]

dare i say finest man alive rn😜