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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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Like Betta Fish Do - Part 12

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts.

wc 2295 (Chapter 9 when on ao3)

“Hey, it’s Danny, right?” asked the person standing next to Danny’s seat. They shifted, tucking a long strand of pitch black hair behind their ear.

“Yes?”

“We thought—”

“She thought,” said the woman who practically barreled into the first speaker’s back. She hooked her chin over the other’s shoulder with a grin as she adjusted her hijab. “Cloe thought, but we all agree.”

“Which is why I said we, I’m Cloe, this is Fara, that guy over there is José.” She motioned to a young man with a head full of curly brown hair and an easy smile waiting by the door. “We need a fourth for the group project, want to join us?”

“Me?” Danny repeated in surprise. No one in Casper High ever wanted him on a team, not unless it was Tucker and Sam.

“Totally. Your comment today on the possible advancements of propulsion technology was just the sort of thing that we’d love to do our topic on. It didn’t look like you had a group?”

“No, I don’t, not yet. That would be nice,” Danny said with a crooked smile. He’d been worried about having to find a group to work with so the offer was a huge weight off. Honestly the presentation was way too much of their grade in his opinion (but maybe that’s just because he had been dreading it).

“That’s great!” Cloe smiled back at him. “Do you have time to meet now? Just, like, to a coffee shop or the library. We can hash out the basics and what everyone should research before we meet up again the next time.”

“Sure. I could almost always use a coffee,” Danny said as he shoved his aging laptop in his backpack.

“Yeah, we can kinda tell with the…” Fara pointed at her own face, finger circling around her eyes.

Danny barked out a surprised laugh when Cloe let out an affronted “Fara!”

“Hey, I’ve been cultivating these dark circles since high school. They’re like fine wine,” Danny said. Snarky he knew how to handle.

“Oh, José will like you,” Fara said with a laugh. She linked arms with Danny and practically dragged him towards the door. “José! I found you another coffee addict.”

“Thank you,” he praised, “because Cloe only drinks the most basic bitch drinks and Fara likes tea.”

“I make an exception for pumpkin spiced lattes and hot chocolate,” Fara said with coy smile.

“See? See what I have to put up with. Please, my dude— is it my dude?” Danny nodded in response. “My dude, please tell me you drink real coffee.”

“With as many espresso shots as they’re legally allowed to add,” Danny said.

“A man after my own heart— a heart that runs on coffee,” José said with a laugh as they all spilled out the front of the engineering building.

Maybe this presentation wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Okay, so maybe Danny was just really not used to being around people any more.

Really, really not used to it.

He’d only spent an hour or so with the other’s at the coffeeshop, but between that, class, picking up a treat for Jason, and just having to go back and forth throughout the city Danny felt his nerves crawling under his skin. Every noise from every apartment around was so loud. Even his fridge seemed to be screaming at him with its incessant whine.

And there was no where to get away from it.

If he went out, Danny would just be surrounded by the sounds and smells and lights of the city. People would jostle into him or sit too close on the bus and— Danny shuddered at the idea of being touched by strangers right then.

He rubbed his fingers against his palms as he shifted and tried to lay more comfortably on his small sofa. He had his t.v. on, streaming mindless video game play throughs, but he wasn’t really paying attention to it. It was just to try and block out some of the noise.

There were things about the city that he loved, sure. The access to food was great. There was an amazing variety in walking distance of his place or campus. He’d also found a few great stores— a game store and a second hand clothing shop were top of his list. It was great how there was always a distraction.

But there was always a distraction.

Nothing ever really stopped in the city. That constant hum, after a few weeks of it, was really getting to Danny. He hadn’t thought he was rural or anything, but Amity’s hundred thousand or so people never prepared him for living here.

He closed his eyes and made himself take a slow breath.

Jason was going to show him some places around the city today.

He had to get a handle on himself before then.

He’d been trying for an hour now— or so his phone alerted him to when he checked it for the hundredth time. He laid it back on his chest and closed his eyes. When it started ringing a moment later he nearly jumped out of his skin.

‘Jason Calling’, it read. He fumbled to swipe the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey. My meeting wrapped early so I was going to head your way now if that’s good?”

Danny swallowed, trying to force back the buzzing under his skin. “Oh, um, yeah, sure.”

The line was silent for a pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Jason snorted. “That’s a lie.”

Danny flung an arm over his eyes and forced himself to take another breath. “I guess, just… It’s stupid.”

“Fish.”

The endearment was more gentle than Danny felt he deserved. He was being stupid about this. Who struggled to be around people? And he wanted to see Jason too. It was just… everyone— everything else.

He could hear the sounds of the city on Jason’s end and tried to focus on his voice instead. “Come on fish, talk to me.”

“It’s just— being in the city all the time… it’s just getting to me a little, I guess. I’m not used it it. That’s all. I’ll be fine.”

Jason gave a considering hum. “Okay. Change of plans. Do you have a leather jacket?”

“What? No?”

“Okay. Are you up for one stop first? We’ll make it quick.”

“One stop before what?” Danny asked as he pulled himself up by the back of the couch.

“Before my new plan for the day.” Jason sounded smug.

“I don’t— we don’t have to—”

“Trust me, okay?”

It was such an earnest request that it brought Danny to pause. He swallowed once more before he found his voice. “Of course I will.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you in twenty. Go put on jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and some sturdy shoes.”

The abrupt end to the call had Danny blinking down at his phone before he pulled himself up to do as he was told.

Jason studied Danny as the other came out of his apartment building. He hadn’t liked how Danny sounded on the phone and he didn’t much like how Danny looked now. It was like the other had tucked all his loud, jagged, wonderful edges away. It was like he was hiding from the world.

Well, Jason would just have to fix that.

“Just one quick stop,” Jason said, handing Danny a helmet.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to ba—”

“Fish,” Jason said firmly. He waited until Danny was actually looking at him (not frowning at the ground) to continue. “It’s okay if you’re not okay. You don’t have to apologize to me or about it or about you. You can be not fine.”

Fuck he was sounding like his well meaning family now. Still, it got a wobbly smile from Danny, so maybe it was worth parroting back the words. The words didn’t always help, he knew that. They certainly didn’t fix stuff that he still struggled with some days, but they couldn’t hurt. It couldn’t hurt to be reminded that someone cared.

“Okay. One quick stop,” Danny agreed.

“Right,” Jason said. He turned and straddled his motorcycle. “You ever ridden before?”

“Yeah, actually I have. A friend has one.”

“Huh.” Jason was actually a little surprised by that. “Okay then hang on tight. We won’t be doing anything crazy in the city, but we might have to stop quickly. Some drivers are jackasses about motorcycles.”

The bike dipped under him as Danny settled on behind him. There was an obvious moment of hesitation before Danny let himself slide forward. As Danny settled along his back, Jason had a thought of how well Danny fit. He briefly squeezed the arms wrapped around his waist in notice before he started his bike up and they took off through the city.

The one quick stop was to get Danny a riding jacket and gloves; Jason wanted to be sure that Danny would be warm and, more importantly, protected on the drive. As it was, Jason drove more cautiously than normal, very aware that Danny’s safety was in his hands.

It wasn’t long to the store, and he tried to make sure the shopping didn’t take too long. He could practically see Danny’s edges fraying. He did make Danny try on several jackets, even if he tried to make sure they didn’t linger, so that Danny could find the right one.

“Are you sure this is it?” Danny asked, tugging on the hem of the black leather jacket. It had a bit of a retro cut, but there was enough modern padding that if Danny fell off the road rash wouldn’t be that bad. Besides, Danny looked good in it; it cinched nicely at his waist and fit his shoulder snugly.

“Yep,” Jason said. He reached out and smacked Danny’s hand away when he tried to take a peak at the price tag again. “Stop that. I already told you I’m buying.”

“Jason—”

“Just accept it. Give me the jacket and go pick out some gloves,” he said.

Danny rolled his eyes, but shrugged off the jacket and handed it over. Jason took the moment to explain the mater to the sales person, who was cooperative about not saying the total out loud. The knowing smirk was a bit weird though. It even had Danny glancing at Jason suspiciously, but they got out of the store with what was needed and Danny none the wiser to what a good motorcycle jacket could cost.

Jason took the time to sync up both helmets so that they could talk on the ride if they wanted to, but he left the matter to Danny. It turned out to be mostly silent once they left the city, especially since Jason wasn’t explaining where they were going. The longer they were on the open roads, the more that Jason could feel Danny relaxing against his back until. Finally he settled in and rested his head against Jason’s shoulder blade.

“Thank you.”

“Ain’t seen nothing yet,” Jason rumbled back.

Danny just answered with a soft hum before he fell silent again.

Jason took them on the highway, down some side streets just for the view, and through a smaller city to the more secluded parking lot that he knew about. He could feel Danny freeze up behind him, and chuckled as he pulled off his own helmet. Danny did the same as he stumbled off the bike.

“Come on,” Jason said. He practically had to guide Danny down the path and to the top of the first bluff where the concrete ended.

Danny let out a breath exhale. “Oh, wow.”

His mouth hung slightly open as he stared out at the crashing waves and the beach that stretched out before them. A cloudy fall day wasn’t exactly the best time to visit the coast (not that they were the only ones doing so), but Danny still stared at it like it was the best thing he’d seen in a long time.

He stared at it like it gave him life.

Jason found he wanted— suddenly and fiercely— to find a million more moments that would bring that same spark to Danny’s eyes. He didn’t want Danny to stop living just because he had died.

Jason didn’t want to stop living just because he had died.

Not anymore.

He reached down to undo the knots on his boots with Danny scrambling to do the same. Laces tied together, Jason slung the boots across his shoulders and made his way onto the beach. He reached out to help balance Danny as he stumbled a little on the soft white sand.

When they had gotten to the edge of the water, Jason hung back slightly in the damp, but not wet, sand while Danny, with all of his normal abandon, rolled up his pants legs and barreled into the waves with a whoop. He ran in and out of the surf like one of those sand piper birds as the wind whipped his dark hair around his face like a storm of shadows.

Laughing as he was chased by a larger swell of water, Danny stumbled back to Jason’s side. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with salt air, and then just slumped heavily against Jason like he was boneless. Jason took the weight easily.

Jason grinned down at Danny, who’s eyes were still locked on the water. “Worth the trip?”

“Yeah. Yeah, worth the trip. Completely. Thank you Jason.”

“’Course. Gotta get the fish to water now and then.”

“Shut up, dead boy.” Danny rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t drop for a second.

Jason chuckled, but found he didn’t need to say anything back. He was content to just watch Danny watch the ocean.

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AN: Finally an update for you all~ ngl, there are some rough spots I'm not entirely happy with, I feel you can really tell what I wrote when I was feeling really, really poorly. But that's what a re-write is for, I guess!

The classmates won't show up too much, but I needed an outside perspective and to show Danny is settling in- even if he's struggling with some things.

Apologies for any typos, I currently want to melon ball my eye out from this migraine so you know, words are hard. Anywho, stay delightful, darlings!

#dp x dc #danny fenton #jason todd #dead on main #deadonmain #danny x jason #like betta fish do

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google-drawings-warriors · 8 months

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I made Casper white with ginger and Cleo ginger with white instead of their official descriptions because... uhh...

#cleo #cleo wc #kittypet #loner #clanless #riverstar's home #warrior cats #wc designs #at least casper had some kind of reasoning for this design flip-flop. for cleo i just thought it would be a nice contrast w/ him.#ginger #white #bicolor #molly #solid #yellow eyes

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laracrofted · 10 months

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downright iconic

synopsis: after handsome gambler’s hometown show, you follow lead guitarist rhett abbott on his smoke break.

pairing: rockstar!rhett abbott x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, ageless blogs that interact will be blocked, swearing, explicit smut (semi-public oral, masturbation, spitting, praise, degradation (slut is used a lot, so is groupie), brief hair pulling, dirty talk, role play, like... rhett is kind of mean but it's been negotiated off-screen, i swear), and smoking (wc: 4K)

note: so... i'd like to blame @lewmagoo for enabling me and my guitarist rhett agenda, but in the end, i can only blame myself for this one. please read the warnings!

listen to gibson girl by ethel cain before/after/during for the full experience, i.e. a sexy guitar solo and general vibes.

so many people interacted with the original post so i'm only tagging people who asked: @theharddeck @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @blitchen @becks-things @ryebecca @perpetuelledaydreaming @rhettabbotts @starlightmoon2020 @wkndwlff @broketraveler87 @thedroneranger @high-speed-r @sebsxphia @cherrycola27 @uhhhhhhhhwat @roosterbruiser @pillow-titties @whoeverineedtobe @bobfloydsbabe @petcr3

You’re watching him the whole show. How could you not?

Handsome Gambler broke out on the basically nonexistent Wabang music scene a few years back and quickly became something of a local marvel.

A hidden gem in the realest sense.

Forged in the blistering sun that beat down on the cattle ranches and dude ranches of Wyoming and Montana all summer long where half of five-person Handsome Gambler still worked in the slow season... a real rock band.

After a year or so, larger opportunities arose in out-of-town bars, and soon enough, Handsome Gambler were selling out dives up and down the Rockies.

They'd gotten enough local buzz for the Casper Star-Tribune to cover the release of the debut album last summer, both in print and online, calling them an electric revival of the musician who works with their hands. Blue collar rockstars.

And in the deep red shadows of the stage, no other description could do Rhett Abbott justice. He looks so ruggedly handsome, like a goddamn rockstar.

Loose strands of dark hair fall in his face, in his eyes as Rhett bends over a dark red Gibson – a beautiful electric guitar, saved up and paid for with rodeo earnings.

A guitar pick is between his lips, narrow and pursed in concentration. He reaches up and plucks it from his mouth, swiping his tongue across his chapped bottom lip, preparing for the upcoming guitar solo.

Tonight is their last show in a nine week tour, and for all intents and purposes since most of Handsome Gambler is from Wabang, their hometown show.

It's a packed house, if much smaller than their usual venues these days.

You’d seen them at Million Dollar Cowboy bar down in Jackson in a 400 person crowd right around when Handsome Gambler put out their debut album, which had really gained them all the attention.

A sleek concept album. Spinning a shadowy narrow of forgotten love and wasted youth and western nights, humming cicadas and wildfire smoke on the mountains and rich earth stained black with rain and death and in the aftermath, a dusting of wildflowers that sprouted anyway – in and over a dozen songs, woven with seductive guitar solos and haunting vocals, morose and longing.

Like a ghost, come down from the mountains.

You'd bought the album on the release date and listened on the floor of your old apartment, back against the scratchy carpet, hands folded at your bellybutton, eyes closed.

On your first listen, you'd hit with repeat without hesitation; on your second, you'd cried.

It was brilliant, meant to be heard live in a hazy dive, dense with bodies and liquor and smoke, like this one.

His solo comes, and Rhett slides down on his knees in the center of the stage; faded, once dark denim stretched taut around his muscular thighs.

He sits back on his haunches, gaze slanted, watching the guitar and nothing else. Gorgeous hands slide reverently up and down the neck of the instrument, veins visible, muscles straining in his strong arms, in his beautiful neck.

Head falling back, Rhett closes his eyes, caught in the music and carried downriver.

Seeing him like this reminds you of another piece in the Tribune last summer.

A freelance music writer had spent an afternoon with him before a show for an in-depth profile on the origins of the band, on the music, on Rhett as the North Star the rest of Handsome Gambler often described him as:

"Handsome Gambler is Not Afraid to Lose."

WABANG, Wyo. – It’s an unseasonably warm June in Wabang, dry enough to brown the fields and make the local ranchers worried about wildfire, but in a secluded diner on the edge of town, former competitive bull rider and now, lead guitarist Rhett Abbott looks like a man who isn’t afraid of a little risk.

The diner was his choice, a run down place with enough charm in the form of checkered floors and old autographed photos in chipped wood frames to make it feel retro instead and according to him, the best pancakes in the whole damn state.

And – with a laugh – some of the worst coffee.

Over good pancakes, chocolate chip with homemade whipped cream, and bad coffee, I ask him about Handsome Gambler’s influences.

He co-wrote their entire debut album and came up with the instrumental interlude in the middle, which serves as the musical crux of the album.

A blend of slow and sorrowful guitar and bass and nature ambience, recorded on Abbott's phone on a late April night after a bad rain storm, which dares to go on for an ambitious four and a half minutes.

At my question, Abbott kind of smiles – half on, half off, an expression I notice often over our breakfast interview – and from memory, rattles off names like Grateful Dead, Springsteen in the "Born in the U.S.A." years ("I’m On Fire" is mentioned more than once and with great admiration), Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Fire on the Mountain" (Abbott is specific here, from The Marshall Tucker Band's 1976 album, "Searchin' for a Rainbow," not the Grateful Dead song), and more.

Household names. Ambitious names. One could almost roll their eyes if Abbott didn’t sound so sincere.

"I've always loved music. We didn't have a whole lot of live music around, not like in the big cities, but as a kid, Ma used to bring me to some of the cover band nights at this bar in town. S'closed down now, but I heard my first Led Zeppelin song there. Some drunk guy singing 'Going to California' in the wrong key for eight fucking minutes."

"She got me an old CD player for my room the next Christmas, and I'd put on Zeppelin IV and crank it all the way up. She'd come in screaming at me to turn it down, probably secretly regretted ever buying it for me."

Curious, I ask if Abbott remembers the name of the bar.

He grins, a full grin. "Handsome Gambler."

You love that profile, reread it often. His answers are so genuine, so sincere.

Every word, answer, description screams that Rhett Abbott is a man who loves music, who absolutely worships it with every bone in his body.

You can see it clear as day right now.

He plays with such ardent devotion, and caught in his thrall, you're short of breath, hand pressed across your collarbone, over your aching heart.

Applause breaks out at the end of the song, and Rhett's blue gaze blazes over the crowd and in a startling rush, lands right on you.

Your breath catches.

He has an intense stare, all scrunched brows and clenched jaw, covered in stubble, and middle-of-a-flame blue eyes, burning and bright.

He holds your gaze, drinking in the awe, the undisguised adoration in your expression.

Another starstruck fan in the crowd.

You wonder if Rhett can sense the want that warms your lower abdomen, descending from the moment Rhett stepped on the stage, a since-cast-aside black Stetson pulled low over his smoldering gaze, guitar slung carelessly over his good shoulder, and his arms – his bulging arms.

He must.

Because in a blink and miss it moment, Rhett winks at you.

One of the girls at the next table over lets out a piercing squeal, bragging to her friends that the sexy cowboy with the guitar winked at her.

But no, Rhett had winked at you, rockstar Rhett Abbott.

You look down, sipping from the rim of your rocks glass, letting the whiskey sour ground the explosion of butterflies in your stomach.

A kind of giddiness sparks in your chest, mixed with something darker and headier. Something like anticipation.

One look at Rhett reveals a smirk, kicking up the corner of his mouth, as Handsome Gambler kicks off the next song – the last song of the night.

You drain the contents of the glass. It burns the whole way down, a struck match, a good burn.

"Need a light, darlin'?"

Rhett is leaning against the brick, watching you search around your purse for an excuse to be in the alley right now, in the alley with him.

You used to carry around an old pack of cigarettes from your college days – a built in excuse to get out of an awkward social situation, stepping outside for a smoke.

Are you missing them in the darkness, or did you leave them at home?

A sidelong glance at him. You nod.

He offers you a lighter – a gleaming brass, not some garbage from the gas station – and when your arms remain loose at your sides, not moving to grab it from him, his brow quirks in question.

Heat rises in your cheeks. “Oh, I don't have a – Can I get one actually? Must’ve left my pack at home.”

You stumble over your words and fuck, Rhett must know now.

You'd seen him slip out of the side Emergency Exit door and followed him out here, made brave with whiskey sours and adrenaline.

A door that is still cracked open, enough for a crackle of music and a faint haze of red light to seep out into the cool night and barely illuminate your faces.

The expression on his is hard to read.

An open pack of Marlboro Reds – a little smushed from being roughly pulled from and shoved back into his back pocket over and over – is held out to you, and Rhett lets you pluck one from the middle.

Sets one in between his lips.

And with a crooked finger, Rhett gestures for you to come close, closer, until you’re close enough to see the beads of sweat on his skin, damp and flushed from the show.

You suck in a breath, and Rhett smoothly lights both of your cigarettes with a deft click. A quick flash of orange flame. You barely even notice, preoccupied with the press of his mouth around the cigarette, so close to your own.

He straightens, pulling back but only enough to not blow the smoke right in your face. He inhales and blows it out of the side of his mouth, watching you.

You hold in a cough, wincing at the acrid taste, and mimic him.

Breathe in and out and in again.

His gaze drops down, caught in the rise and fall and rise of your chest.

He squints, eyes crinkling in the corners, and with vague disappointment, you realize Rhett is checking out your shirt and not your cleavage.

Armed with a pair of eyebrow scissors and a dream, you'd cropped and cut and ripped until an enticing sliver of stomach and a hint of cleavage would be visible, almost but not quite showing the red lace of your bra. Just in case.

A crooked smirk dances on his lips, amused, as Rhett reads the name across the black fabric.

“A Floyd fan, huh? Y’got a thing for drummers, darlin’?”

You manage not to squirm but only just.

You like Bob Floyd. He’s a great dummer, real sweet.

(“It’s Bob, like Dylan,” Bob mumbled against the microphone earlier, during his introduction, looking very Born in the U.S.A. Springsteen in a plain white shirt and a camo baseball hat. At the sound of his voice, a drunk girl in the audience shrieked I love you, Bob, and Bob went beet red. “I , uh – Thank you. We love you too, Wabang.”)

You shrug in lieu of an answer, and Rhett's smirk grows a little wider, a little mean.

"Why're you out here with me then, pretendin' to want a smoke?"

You look him up and down, as if considering.

“Well, I really hoped Floyd might be around, but…”

An obvious lie, but Rhett was a bull rider before. Some part of him must still possess that combative edge, that competitive streak.

You'd like to see him all riled up.

His gaze darkens, pupils blown.

A warning.

A snorting and kicking bull who's spent all night in a chute.

You bite back a smirk.

His voice is so low, so rough, scraping across your burning skin like day old stubble.

“S’that right? Are you a groupie or something? Some slut who’d let any of us bend you over and use you? Who’d suck any of our cocks?”

He is so very close you right now, crowding in.

“Maybe…”

Is that really your voice? All smooth and alluring?

Sucking on the end of the cigarette, you hollow your cheeks out with your inhale and relish in the way Rhett watches you.

You ash the cigarette, watching the red embers fall and fade.

“I mean, I do really love your music.”

His next words come out in a harsh exhale.

“Take off your panties.”

You blink at him, a little surprised, and Rhett cocks his head.

Like I dare you.

Also like I don’t believe you.

You slide them down your legs and place them in his open palm, fingers brushing against his. They are red lace and damp, obviously so.

They had been ever since Rhett had flicked his guitar pick at you during the last song and before, even.

He chuckles and shoves them in his back pocket.

“You liar. I recognize you. Saw you in there, watching me the whole goddamn show. You came out here lookin’ for me, didn’t you?”

Not Floyd is implied.

You nod, mouth dry, unable to keep up the lie.

“And what were you hopin’ would happen, darlin’? How good of a groupie are you lookin’ to be?”

“Anything, Rhett,” you breathe, pretense all but gone, "as good as you want me to be.”

A wolfish grin cuts across his face. Good answer.

He catches your chin between his fingers, pressing hard enough to bruise. Pulls your cigarette from your parted lips and crushes it under his black cowboy boot.

"It's your lucky day, darlin’. Get on your knees."

You drop your purse. Almost bruise your knees on the asphalt, and for a brief second, Rhett's eyes go wide with something like concern.

You've already moved on, pushing aside the groan of your knees, not bothered.

You undo his massive belt buckle – gleaming, like the lighter, an intricate design – and pull down his zipper in one quick move, eager. You look up at him, glossed lips already parted in mindless anticipation, and Rhett looks back with nothing but amused desire, that mean smirk.

“What? You lookin’ for an invitation or somethin’?” he asks, voice full of gravel. He is still smoking the cigarette, red embers reflected in his dark and shining eyes. “You wanted some cock so goddamn bad. Take it out.”

You swallow hard and shove his boxers down until Rhett’s cock springs free, hard and dripping and beautiful.

A soft, longing breath escapes you, and Rhett smirks down at you.

You should probably work him up some, work him over with your hands until Rhett is desperate for you to put your mouth on him, but…

You put your mouth on him, desperate for the weight of him on your tongue.

You go deeper and choke, moisture streaming from your eyes and down your cheeks.

You’re a little out of practice. It's been a while, a little over two months.

You want him deeper, so much deeper, but…

Too much, too fast.

You have to pull back, gasping for breath, and Rhett makes a disappointed tsk sound. Blows out another puff of smoke.

“You can do better than that, right, darlin’? Because I bet I could go back in there and find some other slut who’d swallow my come in a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

So damn degrading. You're on fire, smearing across your inner thighs without your underwear.

“I can. Let me do it again. I promise I can.”

You sound downright pathetic. Can't even be bothered to care.

His smirk widens, and Rhett flicks the cigarette to the side.

"Gimme your hand," he urges in a low voice.

Fingers banded around your wrist, Rhett is not overly rough, careful not to yank and strain your shoulder, but he's not gentle either.

He presses down hard on the flesh between your thumb and pointer finger until your clenched fist opens for him.

His spit slaps against the center of your palm.

And is it your imagination that Rhett brushes a kiss across your pulse?

He guides your hand back down on him – around him – and works your hand around the base of his cock in hard and unforgiving strokes, working the length of him too big for you to reach with your mouth right now.

Determined, you lick at him, running your tongue along the slit of his cock, the vein that runs down the side, and sink your mouth around him until your lips brush against his clenching fingers.

Swallow around him.

Above you, Rhett shudders, dropping his head back against the brick, spasming on your tongue and hitting the back of your warm throat with an involuntarily jerk that makes you gag.

A low murmur of shit, sorry, darlin’ rushes from his mouth before Rhett seems to remember himself.

No longer apologetic, Rhett catches your hair in his free hand, giving a good, solid pull, and continues to work your hand around him with the other. His fingers grow slick with your spit, dribbling from the sides of your mouth, wetting the coarse hair on his knuckles.

He's muttering under his breath, curses and praises and words too low for you to make out over the wet sound of him.

“Fuck. So good, darlin'. So goddamn good."

A moan vibrates around him, and Rhett curses again, louder.

“S’that good, that what you needed? You needed my cock in your mouth? Anyone could walk out here. Anyone could come out here and see you on your knees, swallowing me whole like a desperate little slut.”

You whimper in answer, like yes, like please, like more, I desperately need you to say more, and a hand scrapes across your cheek, calloused and warm and rough, a slow stroke.

“But I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Good little groupie like you.”

Damp arousal drips down your leg, and you can't handle it anymore, you need, you need, you –

He doesn't miss a beat, not Rhett.

He sees you move, sees your hand pull at the denim, desperate for friction, for anything. A strained groan slides down your spine.

"Jesus Christ... How wet're you from suckin' my cock? Show me."

This seems like an impossible demand in this situation – you on your knees with your mouth full of him – but you've always been creative.

You gather your arousal, gasping at your own wetness, somehow surprised even in all this, and hold your hand out for him in the light.

Red light shines across your glistening fingers.

"God..." Rhett seems almost amazed. "Haven't even touched you, darlin'. You're so wet for me."

Awe burns away, leaving something more carnal in the ashes.

His eyes are half-lidded and nearly black, a summer storm on the indigo horizon.

"Touch yourself for me," Rhett rasps out, an order, a need.

And spits on your glistening fingers.

It's so wet and depraved and so fucking good, fingers dripping with his saliva and your own arousal, spreading his saliva across your cunt, rolling over your slick and swollen clit, clenching around nothing.

Every sweet sensation makes you gasp around his cock, growing more and more desperate, as Rhett pushes in and out of your mouth, spilling sweet and filthy words like a recitation.

"So fucking wet for me. So goddamn good."

"Come for me and my cock. Gonna come on your hand and swallow my cum, like a good little slut."

You imagine Rhett is the one touching you right now.

He is pinching at your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with thick and unrelenting fingers. He is parting you with knuckles covered in wet hair and stretching you out for him. He is giving you even a mere fraction of the rapt and devoted attention Rhett displayed earlier on stage, single-minded and focused on your pleasure.

And come with a muffled whine, eyes rolling back in your head.

Only seconds later, Rhett spurts down your throat with a near animalistic grunt, mouth falling open in pleasure. You swallow every drop.

Awash in the red glow of the aftermath, Rhett studies you with an unreadable expression again. You are standing again now, smoothing down your clothes and brushing the gravel and dirt from your knees.

You're both breathing hard.

He crooks a finger. "C'mere."

You go without hesitation, and Rhett grabs your wrist again, slower and gentler now, and pulls your fingers into his mouth, sucking the arousal from your skin.

He lets out a reverent groan, eyes filled with amazement and wide blue awe, flooding back in like a dam that's been cracked down the middle.

A smile pulls at your mouth, and Rhett crushes you against him. You loop your arms around his strong neck, and Rhett buries his face in the hinge of your shoulder with a content sigh.

"Missed you s'damn much, darlin'."

He murmurs the words against your forehead, smearing a kiss across your brow, stubble a pleasant and familiar prickle against your damp skin.

You melt against him, nudging your nose under his jaw and inhaling his scent, sweat and tobacco and mountain air and him. "Don't be gone for s'damn long then next time, rockstar."

"Come w'me next time."

He sounds almost drunk, mumbling and slurring against your bare skin, drunk on your proximity after nine long weeks apart from each other.

"Can't. Who else is supposed to write profiles on local up-and-coming bands? You should see the other writer that the Tribune hired. He's like... the med-iest of all the -ocres.”

His laugh is a warm puff of breath against your neck, which after nothing but phone and video calls is almost enough to make you sniffle against his shoulder.

You've missed him so damn much.

"Ah, right. It'd be selfish of me to deprive the whole damn state of your brilliance." He pulls back and looks you right in the eye, a gentle nudge under your chin. "Was that... You're okay, right?"

You smile wide. "I'm perfect."

"Good." He grins, a full grin that Rhett had flashed you for the first time over good pancakes and bad coffee months ago. "Because goddamn, you're so incredible. That was somethin' else, darlin'."

You'd been the one to come up with the idea, a perfect welcome home for him at the end of the nine week tour, a call back to the confession you'd made around a month of dating.

You know all I wanted to do when I saw you play for the first time was follow you on your smoke break and suck your cock, but I had to be a professional...

"We can pretend to be strangers. You can see me across a crowded room, and I can follow you out on your smoke break and..."

"And what?"

"That'd be up to you, wouldn't it, rockstar? I'd be like... your groupie or something."

You let the idea sink in, smiling and on the other end of the phone, Rhett swore under his breath.

You grin at him now.

"You were pretty incredible yourself, but right now, I do kind of want my boyfriend to kiss me."

His eyes are warm, light. "Yeah? D'you miss him that much?"

"So very much."

He cups the nape of your neck and leans in for a kiss, a firm and aching and devouring and loving kiss.

You kiss and kiss until Bob Floyd comes out to grab him for the encore.

"You're wanted, rockstar."

He gives you a wide grin and plants a kiss on the center of your wrist, right on your racing pulse.

"See you after the show, m'love."

You are sipping a water at the bar when Rhett comes back out on stage, all bright eyes and mussed hair and a bare scrap of red lace hanging out of his back pocket.

Impossible to miss.

You choke on your water, and Rhett winks.

note: so... i saw this photo of lewis said, yeah, guitarist rhett on his knees for a solo, and all of the sudden, i was spending hours reading musician profiles and assembling a list of handsome gambler-ish songs. life moves pretty fast 🤠

i could probably be persuaded to write more about them if anyone is interested.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fic #rockstar!rhett #guitarist!rhett #fic: downright iconic #laracrofted writes #fic: rhett abbott

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

borrowed.

simon ghost riley x f!reader (helen)

wc: 1.2k | simon has helen, on borrowed time. dedicated to @guyfieriii who has made my confidence with writing spice grow tenfold to achieve not only this but a trio of soap. thank you, love. you’re amazingness has no bounds. an: to all those who requested it, here’s a lil’ spicy helen x simon

simon ghost riley masterlist

She’s beautiful even when she doesn’t think so.

All swollen lips, eyes swimming in want as she stares up at him.

Best of all, she’s pliable like this, letting him walk her back until she’s pressed against his door. Her feet following his movements in an awkward shuffle until the handle digs into her side, his hand guiding to the side as his belt buckle presses against her upper stomach.

Ghost admires her for a moment. Stealing a second that he’s been graciously gifted—one where he can capture her like this, with her underwear and trousers around her ankles. His fingers having wrenched them down as soon as he got her here, having seen that look in her eyes. The same one that was likely in his.

He suspects the cold is kissing her legs as he runs his tongue across his teeth. Half-wanting to run his palms over them, leave goosebumps before he tends to other areas of her.

She stares into his eyes. Likely counting in her pretty little head until he makes his move.

It’s intentional that all she can see is his eyes, lips and chin. The rest shrouded with his mask. Her whispers of, leave it on, still, dancing in the air.

Then she speaks, filling the space between them with new words, ones which she spits with the aim of spurning.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Casper.”

Fuckin’ hell.

He smirks. The same one which he knows makes her throb—makes her lick her lips and clench her thighs. “Wouldn’t think of it, Helen.”

The air vibrates with want and tension, so much so, he snaps first. Something which rarely happens.

His lips crashing against hers, silencing any more quips and smothering her sarcasm. The two of them find a rhythm—their rhythm.

Her hand flat against his back, fingers grasping, nails digging; his on her waist, sliding down, before they’re passed her belt, her back pockets—

She yelps as he lifts her by the back of her thighs. A noise he quiets with his tongue sliding behind her teeth.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him as close as he wants to be—as he needs to be. Wishing the clothes on her body would burn off just by looking at them.

The thought twisted inside of him, spurning him on as he flattened her spine to the door, pressing her against it with his hips. And fuck if he doesn’t want to make this last, fucking ruin her in slow strokes that make her eyes wild with lust and his name fall in soft, repetitive chants.

But he’s on borrowed time as it is.

Slow, purposeful fucking is for when the sights outside the window are clouded in British weather and the mattress under them is memory foam than army-regimented.

He props her, frees one hand, sliding it between the two of them as he feels her—runs a finger through the soaked seam of her cunt. She whimpers, soft and desperate, and he knows what that means: Don’t fuck around, Simon.

And he won’t.

Couldn’t.

Fucking doesn’t.

Too desperate to slide his fingers into her, feel how much she wants him, how hot she is. He’s missed the way she clenches around him, how she has to pull her lips from him—landing her forehead against his shoulder as he fucks his fingers inside of her.

“Fuck, baby.”

He doesn’t pause, continuing his torment—even if the naming is new. She’s called him babe on occasion, baby even less so. But, he doesn’t hate it—somewhat even likes it.

Then her hand stops him, wrapping around his wrist—barely able to get her fingers all the way around.

“No more. Need your cock.”

If he was maskless, she’d see his brows in his hairline. His throat suddenly dries, fingers sliding free from her slick walls.

“If I’m going to be without you for a while, wanna feel you for as long as possible.”

Ghost understands with ease, and Simon understands but hates it. Nodding, brief and curt. Time ticking on, the timer running out on what they could both have.

So, it’s precise—military.

Her legs on the floor, hands at his belt. She removes clothing from him with the same directness she treats wounds. One after the other.

And he lets her. Her needing this as much as he needed her. It’s why he doesn’t argue when she turns her back to him, palm flat against the door, the other against his thigh, leveraging herself for him.

“Break me, Simon.”

He won’t. But, fuck—the way she said it made him throb and twitch. His need pulsing in his stomach and his stomach, bending her slightly, admiring the curve of her back.

Then the air is punctured with half-gasps blended with half-moans as he takes her, sliding his cock through her walls in one stroke.

He laps at her neck, before kissing it—the scent of her shampoo, salty sweat and that one spritz of perfume she allows herself, all coating his nostrils.

It’s not rough, but it’s not gentle. He fucks into her as though marking himself—stretching her, hearing the evidence of it as he slams his hips against her.

He bites that same part of her shoulder, the one he claims, sucking it until its shades change.

“Baby, I’m close, so close…”

There it is again.

His hand clamped around her waist, holding her in place as he hurried the pace.

“Touch yourself f’ me. Can you do that?”

She nods. To happily, too. And he hears it before he feels the evidence of her doing as she’s told—clamping down, wrapping around him so delectably he wants to fuck the mission off. He wants to stay here, between her legs, her hand on his thigh; he wants to spend time fucking her on her back, have her sat on top of him—letting him see how blown her eyes can get.

All of it is made worse by the noise she makes—the way she erupts, blooming, tensing and relaxing all at once as his name pelts the air like a firework.

Simon.

It’s breathy, wrapped in a moan and sin. And it’s everything. It’s more than that, even. It’s his. All his.

That thought—that one singular thought making his thrusts quicken, rushing reluctantly to his own pleasure.

And it hits the air. Her name. Her real name.

The one he uses sparingly, if at all. The one he lets roll around the back of his tongue, but never let fall past his lips.

It takes a moment or two, slipping out of her, feeling her turn to face him—lifting up on her tiptoes as she presses a kiss to his lips.

Both a thank you and a goodbye; a be safe and a come back to me—before her fingers tug down his mask, letting Ghost take full ownership as Simon filters back.

She dresses in silence, as does he. The two practised at this, and yet still so poor at goodbyes. The time is unknown from now until he can touch her again, wishing he could leave her with more than a fuck against the door and a handful of taps.

“I know,” she says.

And she does. He knows she fucking does. It’s why he lets her wrap her arms around him again, hugging him—his arm wrapping around her waist, helping himself to one last moment to carry him through.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader smut #cod ghost #cod x reader #ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader smut #ghost x helen #simon x helen

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smartycvnt · 6 months

Text

Anti Hero

Title: Anti Hero Pairing: Poison Ivy x Reader Summary: Y/n gets captured by Poison Ivy while helping Batman, but learns that she's got a lot in common with the villainess. NR WC: 799

"Casper, do you copy? Casper?" Bruce asked frantically over the comms. He could feel guilt begin to consume him with each passing second of silence. Poison Ivy didn't take too kindly to trespassers, and he had sent Y/n straight into her lair. Bruce thought that she was ready, the thought never occurred to him that she wouldn't be able to make it out okay. Y/n had gotten herself into much stickier situations without so much as a scratch. Poison Ivy was a madwoman, but Y/n would be the one who knew how to talk her down. "Casper, do you read me? Casper, do you copy? Y/n?"

"Y/n, huh..." Poison Ivy trailed off as she lifted the hook and mask covering Y/n's face. "Interesting. Come after me, and I'll slit her throat Bat brains."

"You don't have to do this. You can let her go," Bruce tried to reason. Ivy crushed the communication device in her hand and tossed it aside. Y/n felt something slither up the side of her leg, prompting a fit of panic. Ivy bound her arms and legs with vines and left her suspended with a particularly thorny vine resting over her throat.

There were thousands of places that Y/n felt she could have ended up, and in the clutches of Poison Ivy wasn't one of them. She had started her day in her little studio apartment, located just off the campus limits for Gotham University. The rent was cheaper, and she honestly had less of a chance to being attacked by some second rate villain off campus. The commute was more than worth not having to buy a new wallet or backpack every other week. Y/n had gone to her one class of the day before heading over to the gym. She taught her beginner's martial arts class to the little kids who came through and was cleaning up when Batman left the message for help. She should have known to be biting off more than she could chew with Poison Ivy, but Y/n wanted to make her name as a hero in Gotham City.

"I swear that he gets a new one of you little idiots every other months. What happened to the last one?" Y/n watched as Poison Ivy sauntered around the room. There was something menacing about it, but Y/n was also very attracted to her.

"I am not one of his. I usually work alone and by my own rules," Y/n told her. Ivy threw her head back and laughed. Most of the underlings that she caught trying to stop her weren't nearly as brave as Y/n.

"Then why are you here?" Ivy asked as she caressed Y/n's cheek. The movement was unnerving for Y/n, but not nearly as unnerving as Ivy had hoped it would be. There was something in Y/n's eyes that told Ivy she had more to tell than she was letting on. She had gone through something that had led Batman, who was notoriously picky about his sidekicks, to trust her. Ivy studied Y/n for another few seconds with the intention of piecing together what exactly it was that had "hardened" her.

"Because I'm not going to just foil your plans like the Bat would. You have a point, even if some of your approaches are inhumane to say the least. I'm not for the killing of mankind, but I do want to save the planet," Y/n said. Ivy froze completely as she came upon the realization of who exactly Y/n was. "Humanity can be redeemed, I'm proof of that."

"Well, from one eco terrorist to the other, it's not all of mankind I want to destroy. It's the cities and the power plants and the mass pollutants that need to go. Surely you understand that, don't you..." Ivy trailed off as she tried to remember what Batman had called Y/n over the comms. "Casper. You'll never accomplish what you want playing second fiddle to someone with morals like Batman. I could use a helping hand, and you look like you could handle it. What do you say?"

"I don't want to hurt any more innocent people, but I'm sure that you've got ideas for me to help you with that don't include civilian murder." Ivy let one of Y/n's hands free for them to shake on her newfound deal before she let the woman go completely. Y/n rushed out of Ivy's lair and back to her apartment, where she checked in with Batman to let him know that she was safe before she dug up some of the files she had gathered while she was with a less than heroic group of environmentalists.

#my writing #one shot #dc x reader #dc #poison ivy x reader #poison ivy #pamela isley x reader #pamela isley

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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 7 months

Text

parenthood killed the rodeo star | famous!rhett x oc

Summary: Tessa stopped responding to texts and disappeared from the circuit three months ago, and Rhett can't stand not knowing what happened anymore. Maybe can't stand her not knowing how he feels about her, either. So he packs up and heads back to Wabang, a place he hasn't been to in nearly six years. (wc: 4679)

Warnings: background ocs, flashbacks, vague mentions of nudity, abortion mention, pregnancy, unexpected/accidental pregnancy, rhett and tess trying to be adults

✎……PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT || MASTERLIST

Wabang was a town that came up suddenly on highway twenty going from Shoshoni to Casper. A blink and you miss it town with only one stop light on the intersection of the highway and Main Street. Nothing but those wide open plains, the occasional butte and rock formation breaking up the landscape, until suddenly there were buildings and street lamps and cars. And then suddenly there was nothing but plains and great Wyoming sky once more. Only a few minutes of civilization and yet people lived their entire lives there without leaving once.

The thought made Rhett clench his jaw as he rolled into town. He didn’t want to be like that. Living and dying all in the same place without ever seeing anywhere else. It’s why he left as soon as he could. As soon as he got that first out of town rodeo gig in Montana. It was like all of Wabang was on fire and he didn’t care to save it.

He hadn’t looked back since.

It was nearly two in the morning when he checked in at the Neon Armadillo Motel just outside the city limits. The smoking, half-asleep front desk worker recognized him. But he couldn’t muster more than a slight smile and a thanks when they said he was one of Wabang’s crown jewels.

Rhett knew who the other gem was. And he was really hoping to find her.

Made it to Las Cruces. Wanna get a bite to eat?

A text left unread for the past week. All the other rodeo contestants had already arrived, milling about the fancy hotel the rodeo coordinators had suggested. Chatting and drinking and prepping for the events for the weekend. But all Rhett could do was keep checking his phone, and keep his eyes peeled for Tessa everywhere he went.

This wasn’t like her. She always texted him back. Was never this late for a rodeo. It felt like something gnawing at the pit of his stomach, swirling and pulling as the days went by and still she didn’t respond and she didn’t show up.

Eventually, the day of the rodeo came. Rhett called, but still, she didn’t answer.

What if something happened to her?

His legs felt weak, like toothpicks barely holding it together, as he walked through the rodeo grounds. The bull riding didn’t start for a few more hours, but he hoped that being there and in his element would force him to put aside his worry and just focus on what needed to be done. It wasn’t working so far.

Especially when he saw her agent talking to another rider.

“Hey, Scotty, c’n I talk t’you f’r a second?” Rhett asked as he walked up to the two of them.

The shorter, pot-bellied man bid the other rider farewell and turned to Rhett with a close-lipped smile mostly hidden by a mustache. “So, what can I do ya f’r?”

“Have y’seen Tessa?”

“Oh.” Scotty stared up at him and blinked rapidly. “I figured y’woulda known more abou’that than I do.”

Rhett clenched his fists to keep himself from fidgeting, swallowing down something he didn’t really understand. “Know about what?”

“She called me couple weeks back. Said she’s quittin’ n’wouldn’t tell me why. Jus’that she was done — goin’ back home.”

Rhett rode like shit that night and he got hounded for it by the press afterward. All those reporters asking him why he did so poorly when, up until Las Cruces, he had been placing first or second every time.

He couldn’t tell them it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl he went to highschool with. The girl he wasn’t even in a relationship with. The girl he was suddenly realizing he may have been in love with and it might be too late to tell her.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he unlocked his motel room door and stepped inside. It smelled like cheap cigarettes and the lingering smells of sex. It nearly made him smile. Reminded him of all those motels he and Tessa used to meet up in when they first started out. It was in one just like this, with the two double beds and decor straight out of the nineties, that Tessa kissed him for the first time on a drunken dare. And he snuck off to her room after everyone else called it a night.

He dropped his bag by the foot of the bed and sat down with the creaking of springs. This mattress was not going to be kind on his body. He would probably wake up in the morning sore and achy all the way up his spine and in his knees. Could already feel it. But it was what he got for finishing a rodeo and then immediately driving seven hours well into the night.

But he just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t stand all his texts left unread. The few phone calls he was brave enough to make being ignored. He just wanted to know what happened. If it was something he did. Something someone else did. If he could fix it. If she would ever talk to him again or ever come back. If she was okay.

If she felt the same way he did.

Rhett didn’t even strip down to his boxers before laying back on a pillow and falling asleep. Just kicked off his worn boots and slept on top of the crusty comforter in his jeans and Carharrt.

In the morning, he would shower and go to the diner for some coffee, breakfast, and brainstorming. Because now that he was in town, he really didn’t know how he was going to do this.

Stepping into Odessa’s Diner was like taking a step back in time. The bell above the door still chimed the same. The place still smelled like fresh coffee and bacon grease. The classic fifties diner decor still remained. Even some of the patrons were ones he remembered from all those years ago. Older now, more white haired and wrinkled and staring at him with squinted eyes as he walked inside.

The hostess, Dina, greeted him like an old friend. A kind smile and a suggestion to sit wherever he would like. She even offered to give him coffee on the house but he refused. Insisting that he would pay for everything, including a refill for all the old farmers who now murmured to one another about him.

Ain’t he that Abbott boy ran off t’join the rodeo?

What I heard, he’s a million dollar bull rider now.

Bet he broke his mama’s heart when he left n’never came back.

Rhett sat down in a booth in the back. Stetson sat down on the table with plenty of room for the breakfast he ordered. Pad of paper and pen he nicked from his motel room blank and staring up at him like it was waiting for something incredible.

He wasn’t so sure anything incredible could come out of him.

Not words at least. But that was what he needed right now. Words. Something to say to her when he rolled up to her family’s ranch and, hopefully, found her. When he had to look her father in the eye and tell him he was looking for his daughter. When he finally saw her again and everything he had been feeling since she walked out of the rodeo world came bubbling to the surface.

Since she left him.

That made something sharp and angry stab at his chest. He knew they weren’t together. Nothing official, no string attached. A silent agreement between the two of them for the past five years. But still, it hurt. That she didn’t even think, or didn’t want, to tell him that she was quitting. That she just ghosted him after all that time. After all they had done and been through together.

Tessa was there through every injury. Even when she was states away, she would show up at the hospital — in his hotel room. With homemade soup he didn’t know how she got a hold of and a kind smile he felt he never deserved. She would take care of him. Make sure he actually healed instead of just making his injuries worse by working through the pain. Making him feel cared for and thought of and maybe even loved.

Tessa gave him haircuts in hotel bathrooms. Forced him to try new things. Encouraged him to be better than he ever thought he could be. Supported him in everything he tried to do, even if it failed. Let him in to the darkest corners of herself, maybe against her own will. Let him, even when she told him not to, take care of her when she needed it. With soup from a can that made her smile and the gentlest hand he could muster.

Surely just friends didn’t do those sorts of things for each other. Surely there had to be more there.

Rhett felt it. Hated that it took her being out of his life for three months for him to figure it out. That it took him that long to build up the courage just to go back to his hometown.

It was strange being back in Wabang. He didn’t expect nostalgia to taste so bitter on his tongue. Everything was the same except everything had changed. Maybe it was because he had changed so much. Gone was the eighteen year old kid who left that town like a bat out of hell with barely 200 dollars to his name, a hope, and a prayer. He was nearly twenty-four. He had more money than he knew what to do with. He had everything he could have ever wanted when he left.

Only now he was right back where he started — looking for the one thing he couldn’t seem to find.

It was still early, if Rhett had to guess. But the other side of the bed was empty and the beginnings of sunlight were hitting him in the face. He grumbled as he blinked his eyes open, hand coming up to shield himself as he adjusted to the waking world.

But it didn’t take him long.

Tessa was standing in front of the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. The curtain pulled back and the early morning sky painted in pastel blues, yellows, and pinks. She looked beautiful. Hadn’t even bothered to cover up as she stood there staring out into the world. Unashamed and confident and showing him that little mole shaped like a fish on her left ass-cheek. Her hair was all pulled over one shoulder, still a bit messy but shining in the light. He wanted to keep the image of her like that in his mind forever. Nearly leaned over and snapped a picture with his phone to do just that.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked groggily instead, not bothering to get up from the warm comfort of the sheets.

She turned to look at him and smiled tiredly. “M’flight leaves in a few hours.”

“Mm, no it doesn’t,” he replied, putting both his hands over his face and rubbing to try and wake himself up more.

“It doesn’t?” she laughed, “Pretty sure my ticket says ten — South Dakota to California.”

“Nope,” Rhett sighed.

He let his hands drop back to his sides and she was facing him completely now. Looking like a statue or a painting or something else beautiful and timeless that he had only ever seen through her. Rimmed in golden morning light and standing before him completely herself. How he always wanted her.

Tessa grinned at him as she crawled back into bed, let him guide her to straddle his hips and lean over him with her hair like a curtain on either side. Private and cut off from the rest of the world. Just the two of them in that bed with nothing else to do.

“What does m’ticket say then?” she asked quietly.

“That y’r gonna stay righ’here. In this bed.” His hands squeezed her thighs and a grin quirked the corners of his mouth. “Wi’me.”

“Jus’a few more minutes, bubs.”

That was the last time he saw her. She told him she would text when she landed in California, and she did. Then he got a few more in the weeks following. Pictures of sights in California, updates on her standings in the rodeo she was in out there. But after a while he never heard anything else. After that, it was radio silence.

Rhett sighed as he set down his fork and pushed a hand through his hair. His pad of paper was still empty. But at least now his stomach was full. Maybe that would get his gears going and he could think of something to say.

Where did he even start? Where to begin when he didn’t even know when he started feeling this way. He didn’t know he was there until he was already in the middle of it. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things changed. When things turned from friendship and casual to something more for him.

He just hoped it was more for her too. That she was in the middle too and they could find a way to the end together.

But where to fucking start?

The bell above the door rang and Rhett looked up on some instinct the diner brought out of him. His heart hammered inside his chest.

It was Riley Lopez. Tessa’s best friend from back home. She came out to every rodeo that she could and seemed pleased that Tessa had someone in the circuit who was familiar and had her back. She was even the one who dared Tessa to kiss him on that drunken night when they were both starting out. Riley had to know where she was, if she was even at her parents’ ranch, maybe even why she came back home in the first place with only a vague explanation to her agent.

Dina greeted her with a smile as she grabbed a few menus. But Rhett didn’t even let her get to a seat. Before he even really knew what he was doing, notepad and tact thrown out the window, he was up and stopping her in her tracks in front of the cash register. She looked shocked to see him, brown eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line.

“Rhett,” she spoke his name like an exclamation.

“H-Hey, Riley, s’been a minute.” He tried to smile, tried to act casual and not like his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

“Sure has,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“H-Have y’seen Tess?”

She stared at him for a minute, and Rhett began to squirm under her brown-eyed gaze. She always had been good at doing that. Seeing past the tough exterior he liked to put up to keep people at arm's length and see into the heart of him. It was probably why she trusted him with her best friend’s life — maybe even her heart. Didn’t mean he liked when she did though, when she seemed to x-ray vision him down to the soul and see what his real intentions were.

But what Riley seemed to find resolved something within her. Her expression softened, Rhett even thought she might have looked at him with pity. He swallowed something thick.

“Um…She’s meetin’ me here for brunch, actually. Should be here any minute.”

Rhett felt his stomach drop — like he was on some roller coaster he was forced to go on. Holy shit. She was going to be here at Odessa’s. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t written anything down yet. He didn’t know what to say or even what to think. His mouth was suddenly dry, his tongue too big for the space. What was he going to say? I love you. I’m so fucking pissed at you. You scared me. I’ve been so worried. I love you and I don’t know when it started. Why did you leave? Why didn’t you tell me? I love you.

He swallowed down his spit but it didn’t help the dryness, rubbing at his jeans. “R-Really?”

“But there’s somethin’ y’should know —”

Riley didn’t get to finish her sentence. The bell above the door chimed again and they both looked to see who it was.

And there she was. Looking like a statue or a painting or something else beautiful and timeless that he had only ever seen through her. Rimmed in mid-morning light and standing before him completely herself. How he always wanted her. Standing on the diner welcome mat with a fading smile on her face and blue eyes as wide as saucers. Staring at him and him only. Like they were the only two people in the whole of Wabang. Rhett couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, the warmth that filled his chest as he stood in her radiant presence once more. Somehow even more beautiful than the last time he saw her.

I love you, I love you, I love you. He couldn’t think about anything else now.

He also couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding from her face to take in the rest of her. She had cut her hair just a little bit shorter. Had on a jacket to keep out the early spring chill over a yellow floral dress. His favorite color on her.

Her hand rested over her abdomen. Cupped a distinct roundness that hadn’t been there before. Rhett’s heart sank with understanding in his chest while the breakfast he just ate rose to the surface.

His eyes drew back up to her shocked face. “Tess?”

For a moment, her bottom lip wobbled. Her eyes glassed over with unshed tears. Then she turned on her heel and went right back out the door. Like a bat out of hell. Like the diner was on fire and she didn’t care to save it. Inside of Odessa’s was dead silent save for the sounds of the coffee maker and food getting cooked in the back. The old farmers kept their murmurings to themselves and Dina stared at the cash register trying to look like she didn’t understand what just happened. Rhett watched Tessa go through the front windows for a moment, too stunned to move or think or even breathe.

Riley was the first to speak. “Maybe I should go after her…”

But Rhett didn’t realize he was moving until he was pushing past her and towards the front door. Distantly, like from a different room, he could hear Riley calling after him. Telling him to wait, that Tessa clearly didn’t want to talk to him, that she was trying to warn him. But he didn’t care to stop and listen.

Outside, the sun was bright and birds were chirping in the cloudless blue sky. The occasional old truck rumbled by.

Tessa hadn’t made it very far away from the diner. She was leaned back against the brick building next door, hand to her chest as she breathed deeply. Rhett pushed a hand through his hair as he walked determinedly towards her. Strides long and steps purposeful against the concrete. Now he really didn’t know what to say. What even could he say right now that would make this better for either of them? Maybe he should just start with the truth — and how he wanted it out of her now more than ever. Is this why she quit? Why she had been ignoring him? Why she came back home? The pieces were falling together but Rhett didn’t like the image they made.

Did she not want him around?

She looked up at the sound of his steps, like she had been waiting for it. But still she made some noise of distress, one he had heard when she was too psyched out before an important ride, before she turned into the small alleyway between buildings. Rhett picked up his pace and followed after her.

“Tess!” he barked, maybe a little too harshly, when he stepped into the alley and she was still trying to run away from him.

She stopped. Her back still turned to him with her shoulders bunched up around her ears. Fingers death gripped around the handle of her purse. He slowed his steps the closer he got. Like he was approaching some wild animal. A baby deer stuck in the fencing for the west pasture with his mama just a few feet away. He tried to be as gentle as he could as he reached out to her. As he slipped his fingers around her wrist and tugged lightly.

“Will ya…Will ya jus’talk t’me?” he spoke quietly as she turned willingly at his urging, shoulders still tense and eyes downcast, filled with unshed tears.

He couldn’t help the glance down at her stomach again as he let her go. It was really there. She put her hand over it like that would help him not notice it. But it only made it worse. Made a stuttering breath leak out of his lungs as he willed himself to look her in the eye.

“Y’re…” he tried to say, tried to speak the obvious into existence.

“Yeah,” Tessa whispered, voice so small and full of tears. “M’pregnant.”

He didn’t have to ask if the baby was his. They both knew the answer to that. And he didn’t want to think about the implications of it right then either.

Rhett took a step back as he tangled his fingers in his hair, both elbows up as he processed and tried to think of what to say next. There was a tear tracking down her cheek and he wanted to wipe it away desperately. Wanted to just make it all better and make it go away and make like all of this never happened. Go back to that hotel room in South Dakota. When things were good and easy and known. But there was no going back. Not now. Not with her carrying his kid and unable to look him in the face.

“That why you left?” he finally asked after a minute of tense silence between them, dropping his arms back down at his sides.

“Racin’s not safe f’r the baby,” she answered with a swipe at her wet cheek.

“H-How far…?”

“Eighteen weeks.”

Something sharp and angry stabbed at his chest. Followed by the slow pain of just plain hurt. He knew he was grimacing just from the way she had wrapped her arms around herself, like she was trying to hide as much of herself as possible from him. Hands on his hips as he adjusted his stance, as he worked his tongue between his cheek and gums like he had a bit of dip there to mess with.

“Why…Why didn’you say anythin’?” he questioned quietly, trying not to just spit out every question he wanted to hurl at her with his heart spilled out on the asphalt between them. “I — I coulda…Why did…We coulda…”

Tessa’s chin trembled and another few tears slipped out. “I was scared, Rhett. And-And — And alone. I didn’know what t’do.”

“What were you so scared of, huh? You know you coulda called me and I woulda been on the next flight out to ya!” He was trying not to raise his voice, but he couldn’t help it as he pointed his hand at her — felt all that sharp anger and hurt.

“I know! I know that,” she said, tears coming nonstop now. “I’s just…I was scared about what you’d think.”

“What I’d think?”

“That you’d be mad at me. That you’d tell me t’get rid of it t’save our careers when I just…I couldn’t. That you wouldn’t want anythin’ t’do with me or-or the baby n’just keep livin’ your life. Keep drinkin’n’ridin’n’livin’ y’r dream.”

Rhett stared at her for a moment, chest still heaving as he fought down his anger and his pride. Would he have reacted that way? If he found out from the very start? When they were both still on the road and his career was really the only thing on his mind? He didn’t know. And that thought scared him. What kind of man was he if he didn’t know? If he wasn’t sure how he would have reacted? He thought he was better than that. That he was braver than that. And maybe he wasn’t. Because there was still a fear, a pit or a growing seed, in his gut that he couldn’t ignore. A baby. A whole new life. Responsibility and pain and so much love. He had never even thought about kids before. But now here he was. With Tessa. With the girl he went to high school with and kissed on a drunken dare in Montana. With the girl he was pretty sure he was in love with. With the girl he knew was going to be an amazing mother already. He didn’t know jack shit about being a father. His own messed him up to the point he never wanted to go back. He didn’t know anything about being a supportive partner during a pregnancy. Perry was never that good of an example with his wife.

But what he did know, right then, was that he couldn’t leave her alone. Not again. He couldn’t let her do this alone. He was willing to try. God, he was probably going to be terrible at it and he was going to mess up so much, but he wanted to try. For her. For the little baby they created.

“M’not mad at you, sunshine,” he spoke quietly as he took a tentative step towards her.

A small sob slipped past her lips, but she didn’t pull away. “Y’should be…I shoulda told you…M’sorry…”

Her head dropped into her hands and her shoulders shook with more sobs.

“Sunshine, baby, come’ere,” Rhett muttered as he put his hand on her shoulder and tugged her closer in.

He expected more resistance, but instead, she went willingly. Nearly fell into his chest as she wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled herself in the rest of the way. Four months without her touch. It was like a balm to burning skin as he slowly and gently put his arms around her. Pressed his cheek into the top of her head.

“M’not mad, I’promise. M’not,” he repeated, knowing she needed to hear it again.

Tessa only let out some strangled whimper into the fabric of his t-shirt in reply.

For some reason, it made him chuckle. “I don’know…How we’re gonna do this. But m’with ya, sunny, if you’ll have me.”

“Are-Are y’s-sure?” she asked, pulling away from his chest to look up into his face. “Wha’bout y’r career?”

“There’s more importan’shit than bull ridin’.”

It was an answer he didn’t even have to think about. That surprised him when he heard it rattling around in his own ears. Eighteen year old him would have shot him dead if he could hear him now. Giving it all up for a girl and a baby.

“I can’ask you t’do that.” She shook her head, pulled away from him completely.

Rhett swallowed, took a deep breath, put his hands in his pockets. “I’ve still got commitments n’I wanna keep m’word, but…I couldn’t — live with m’self if I let ya do this alone. Jus’as much responsibility as yours.”

There was conflict and questions swirling in those eyes big and blue as skies in July — like a summer storm was rolling in and Rhett didn’t know if it would knock his barn over or not.

Then she said, “We’ve got a lot more t’talk about then.”

“Ya hungry?”

“Starvin’, actually,” she laughed with a hand to her belly.

With a small grin, he nodded his head back towards the diner. “M’buyin’.”

They fell into step beside each other easily. In the small town where they grew up. Where they were maybe going to raise their own kid.

Too late to run now.

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