#be nice to the intern Rhett

[kaluwa-del-conte]

Can’t stop thinking about Rhett with glasses. So I drew this!

Then Rhett told Link his necktie looks ugly af.

#kaluwa-del-conte art #kdc art #rhink #rhett and link #Rhink fanart #mythical tiktok #rhett with glasses #be nice to the intern Rhett #i'm r&l trash #digital art #link #Rhett #link neal #Rhett McLaughlin #and yeah I forgot to draw Rhetts arm behind link #🤫

[delopsia]

Silver & Gold | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 7,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Bob's in deep internal debate, mentions of wedding planning, setting up a Christmas tree (no religious themes included, we're doing it for the ✨vibes✨), domestic fluff, protective Rhett if you squint, usage of a ribbon for light bondage purposes, cunnilingus, hand jobs, and thigh fucking. Brief Summary: Bob's having a crisis over whether he wants a silver or gold wedding ring. All you and Rhett want to do is set up the new Christmas tree. Shenanigans on the couch involving a ribbon ensue.

There goes that damn snowman again. Moving across the screen in all of its vintage, stop-motion glory, strumming his banjo, singing that infuriating song about silver and gold. Like it's so simple. Like you just get to up and have both. All willy-nilly, fully embracing the concept of childish indecision, ignoring the constraints of society, and normalization of picking only one.

...or maybe Bobby has simply fallen into the curse of overthinking. 

It shouldn't be that hard. Silver or gold? It's simple until he's once again struck with the fact that he will wear this ring for the rest of his life. He had such an easy time picking metals for you and Rhett; he knew your favorites inside and out. 

So why can't he make a decision for himself, the person he should arguably know the best?

"You're lookin' at that phone awful hard," Rhett grumbles from his left. Snug against the naked mattress, jeans clinging to his hips, tattered cowboy hat resting atop his belly. An offhandedly placed thing that both adds to his rugged, cowboy glory and conceals the softness he's acquired, hard muscle a little squishier now. Thicker.

Healthier.

"Like you haven't had your nose in that notebook all month," there's a pop in Bob's neck as he tilts his head, muscle, and bone protesting movement after being still for so long. "What are you working on, anyhow?" 

Rhett's mouth closes, teeth audibly clattering together. Soft blue eyes darting up to the ceiling, "It's nothin'."

Those furrowed eyebrows suggest otherwise, but in the back of his mind, Bobby supposes he'll leave it there. Rhett'll talk about it when he's ready. It doesn't alleviate the genuine curiosity that has been brewing ever since that notebook appeared last month, but alas.

Door hinges squeal. Bare feet padding across the floor, a bundle of sheets concealing the face of the third person in the room. But he recognizes those arms as well as he does the ring on that dainty little finger—perfection, in your favorite metal and all.

"I thought one of you was gonna fix the door?" You chirp, dropping the sheets onto the bed in an unceremonious heap. Pillow cases and a stowaway face cloth spilling out, still warm from the dryer. 

Rhett's eyes dart to meet with Bob's. Who's plan was that, anyway? 

"I'll take a look at it in a minute," Bob's thumb blindly feels its way to the power button of his phone. Turning the screen off before he can be caught staring at rings for the umpteenth time this week. 

But even though he's no longer staring mindlessly at his phone, those little rings sit in the forefront of his mind. Burned into his eyes, as he helps pull the sheets onto the bed. Silver and gold, and a make-believe third option, rose gold. All of them menacing with their ridiculously high numbers; within a reasonable price range, but still strange to think about. That much money for a uniquely shaped hunk of metal.

"Bobby."

Whatever happened to simpler traditions? A fancy rock would do him much nicer. Free of their metal confines and special in their own natural way, unhindered by the standards of man and artificially constructed value. Blue lace agate would quite suit him, or a nice geode, picked out with the vague guide of what felt right, then split into three. 

"Bob?"

What ever happened to simplicity? Marriage sounded awfully simple as a child. Why couldn't it have stayed that way? Who can even settle on just one flavor for cake, and who the hell decided that more than two flavors were too many? Why can't there be multiple small cakes that each suit them, rather than fighting to even out clashing styles? Why must there only be one big cake?

"Robert Benjamin Floyd!" 

"What?" Lifting his head, not quite expecting to find you and Rhett staring back at him. Rhett's hand is still outstretched, offering up a corner of the comforter. "Oh."

"Thought we'd really lost ya this time," Rhett's chuckling, a softened tease that he's uttered three times today. A newly formed habit, triggered every time Bob's mind slips down the slippery slope of what-ifs. 

Your eyes narrow a little suspiciously; always have been the one to catch on to his internal stresses before Rhett does, or anyone else, really. The voice in the back of his head openly wonders what triggers the alarm bells, if it's the spacing out in thought or some minute shift in his expression. 

For a couple of hours, he's able to forget about the concept of wedding rings entirely. Preoccupied with tackling the task of fixing the squeaky doors that were supposed to have been repaired before the house was sold to the three of you. Jumping from that and straight to dinner, bustling about the kitchen, gingerly guiding Rhett's wary hands in a feeble attempt to teach him how to knead dough. 

Then there are the dishes to be cleaned, flour that needs to be ruffled out of a cowboy's hair, and the movie you three agreed to watch under the assumption that someone else had one picked out. As it panned out, nobody had a single title lined up, and it fell back on Rhett's number one Christmas default.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

In fact, Bobby doesn't catch himself thinking about the rings for the entire night. Until two tiny rings clank against the bedside table as you and Rhett remove them for the night.

Will his ring sit on that table, too? 

"You're thinking again," he doesn't remember when you got into bed, but you're right here next to him. Pawing at your nose with the side of your hand after an itch that seems to have been bugging you all afternoon. 

The pains of getting dusty Christmas decor out.

"I'm always thinking," he murmurs, blindly reaching out to curl a hand around your cheek. A daunting task without his glasses. Can see just enough of your face to know where all of your important features lie, but the finer details have gone blurry. Left with no choice but to move based on the terrain of your body, roaming up the soft skin of your cheekbone and up the hill of your nose. 

There's movement from behind his back. The weight of a cowboy settling down, throwing a heavy arm around Bobby's waist, as he squirms closer. "Ain't we s'posed to be always thinkin'?" 

Your eyes roll so hard that Bob worries they'll get stuck in the back of your head. "Something like that."

Rhett hums, the soft whiskers of unshaven scruff tickling Bob's shoulder, his head perfectly snug in the cap between shoulder and neck. In the very place he will stay for the rest of the night until Bob inevitably pries himself free come morning.

For now, though, he's not going anywhere. Making it so, so easy for you to snuggle in, your legs tangling with his and Rhett's, just close enough to steal some of their body heat but not enough to melt. A comfort that has taken you months to perfect and only works when Bob's body is there to block Rhett's burning velcro hands. 

But you do take the liberty of blindly stroking your cowboy's arm beneath the covers, soft ups and downs that trace an exposed vein until you're certain he's smiling. 

Sleep comes early, but then again, it always does when all three of you are here. Free of life responsibilities and the incessant call of the Navy, determined to take your favorite backseater away. Dreams burn a little sweeter when the three of you are crammed up against each other, even with all the space granted by this oversized Alaskan king mattress.

You're caught between the edges of sleep when you feel Bobby's hand against your cheek. Gingerly stroking something free of your skin, an eyelash, you suppose. A movement that sealed with a soft kiss, like it'll keep anything else from disturbing you.

Rhett whines. Bob shifts. Audibly giving him a kiss, too. Always keeping things equal.

It feels like your eyes are only closed for a couple of seconds. One moment, Bob is sliding his arm over your waist, and the next, you're snug as a bug in his arms, squinting against a bright beam of light. Aren't quite sure what woke you, but you're more than content to sleep a little bit longer. Squirming closer, readjusting your head against the pillow.

Thump thump thump.

One eye opens. 

Thump thump thump.

Is someone at the door?

You don't have a clue who it could be. Nobody mentioned coming over for a visit, and you're more than certain nobody would invite themselves over without asking first. Not after you've made it clear that this weekend is reserved for setting up the—

shit.

The Christmas tree is here.

Your feet hit the ground before you can even comprehend what you're doing. Stepping into the pajama shorts you left on the floor as you scurry out of the bedroom. A slow-motion race that you're hardly awake for, darting down the stairs, through the living room, and past the kitchen.

The front door opens so quickly that the delivery driver jumps. Caught halfway off of your porch, ready to head back to his truck and mark it to redeliver another day. 

 You can feel his eyes raking across your body as you sign the little box on his tablet, but you're quite frankly not awake enough to find the words to do something about it. Sleepily resting against the door frame as he begins to head back to his truck, chirping that he'll even carry the box into the house for you. 

His smile drops before he's finished turning around. 

Rhett. 

Forearms crossed over his chest, a protective, looming shadow that settles up behind you. His palm bracing against the frame next to your head, scruff tickling as he leans in to press his lips to your cheek. 

"I'm glad you heard 'em," he grumbles, voice still at that deliciously low tone, rough with sleep and unspoken perfection, "'cause I sure didn't."

"That's because you could sleep through the rapture," you're speaking through a yawn, halfway into leaning against him when the driver comes back around the corner, oversized tree box in tow. 

He leaves it right on the doorstep. 

Evidently, carrying boxes into the house is a courtesy reserved for the single-folk. Yet, you can't complain too much because now you get to watch Rhett's biceps bulge as he lifts the box. A sight that could damn near make you drool this early in the morning. It's almost unfortunate that he doesn't have to carry it further. Is it too late to request to move the tree upstairs?

The box hits the ground gently, right by Rhett's feet; you wonder if he's realized that he only has one sock on. 

Based on how he's hardly got his eyes open, you're beginning to wonder if he's even awake. His jaw pops as he opens his mouth, "'Y reckon we should wake up Robby?" 

"He'll wake up soon enough," though you're the only one speaking, you're fairly certain that both of you are sharing the same thought.

Bob's always been quiet, keeping to himself on most occasions, but the silence that's overtaken him as of late isn't the kind you've come to know and love. His eyes going unfocused when he thinks you're not paying attention, wandering off into his own sort of world. There are no rules defining when it may happen: in the grocery store, in the middle of a movie, hell, he's done it in the middle of a conversation. 

Just like he did it last night, with making the bed.

Surely, it can't be second thoughts about this whole wedding thing. No, that wouldn't make sense; he's the one who proposed. 

You'll have to worry about it some other time; him, his thoughts, and Rhett's curious notebook be damned, there's a Christmas tree that needs to be set up, fluffed, and decorated.

A very big tree. Ten feet sounds a lot smaller on the screen. 

"We either get one too big," Rhett's eyes flick over to the tiny tree sitting on your left. Scrawny, hardly two and a half feet tall, and happens to be last year's lesson about reading the dimensions, "or too small."

Your head tilts up. Straining to get a look at the top, still crooked from its time spent crammed in the box. "Do we still have them ornaments in the garage?"

Rhett's sigh echoes. "We're 'bout to find out." 

Locating the ornaments is the easiest part; they're still sitting in a neat stack on a shelf, stacks, and stacks of unopened bulbs and a box of garland—silver, gold, fake popcorn,, all tangled with the neverending red ribbon and faux pine that decorated the banister last year. It's a lot, but it felt like so much more when it was just a memory. 

"Where did the silver come from?" You don't remember those making their way onto the list of ornament colors, but unless your eyes are playing tricks on you, those on the bottom right are certainly silver.

In an instant, Rhett's face drops. "Was I not s'posed to buy silver?" 

"We were only doing red, pink and gold, remember?" The color list Bobby wrote out last year is still taped to the box of ornaments you're holding. A long ranking of colors, all crossed out until it left you with three. Silver never even made it onto the list. 

Rhett's eyes dart away, suddenly too embarrassed to look down at the offending color of bulbs he's collected in his arms. "Oh." 

"Did you..." you're still connecting the dots as you speak, eyes flickering between Rhett's fading smile and the plastic decorations, "want silver?" 

Wordless, he nods. 

Okay. Silver it is. But as you go to put your armload of gold decor back, his frown only deepens, like that's not what he was expecting in the slightest. 

"Why can't we do both?" He asks, brows furrowing.

You don't get what he's on about. "Silver and gold?" 

His head tilts to the side, and you can almost see the puppy ears flopping with the movement. All big blue eyes and pure confusion. "Ain't they s'posed to go together?"

"What makes you think that?" Maybe it's the sleep still clouding your mind that's making it so difficult to understand what he's on about. 

"They got that song," he's nodding in the direction of the living room, like that'll help him explain, "in that Rudolph movie."

So it's a Burl Ives song that gets a fourth color added to the tree—red, pink, silver, and gold. 

Two dozen bulbs were perfect for the strangled excuse of a Christmas tree that you had last year. But with every bulb that you take from Rhett's hands, curling its brand-new hook into an artificial branch, you begin to wonder if there are even enough. The boxes of red disappear quicker than planned. Then come the pink, and now you're grabbing for the silver and soon the gold. 

And it's still not enough. This tree is so large that it swallows up every ornament you hang from its branches. The massive gaps between bulbs are impossible to ignore, even from across the room. 

"Y' think puttin' the garlands on will make it a little less...?" Rhett doesn't need to finish his sentence. You already get the picture. 

"It can't hurt?" What's the worst that can happen, you make the tree look a little less baren? 

Though it's easier said than done. 

The bottom half of the tree is relatively simple: passing the garland back and forth, trying your best to keep previously placed bulbs from dropping to the floor. They fall regardless. One after the other, clanking across the floor and rolling every which way. 

Then comes the middle portion, and suddenly, you're standing on the tips of your toes. Have long since given up on caring about what being knocked off, the muscles in the back of your neck straining to keep looking at what you're doing. Then comes the top of the tree, and neither of you can be bugged to even begin to try that without a second ladder. Instead reaching for the silver garland, beginning to wrap it in the opposite direction of the gold. 

"Getting festive without me, huh?" 

That isn't Rhett's voice. 

And it certainly wasn't yours.

"G' mornin'," Rhett's smiling at the half-awake figure standing in the threshold. 

Bobby's eyes aren't even halfway open, leaning his weight up against the wall. His sleepy grin doing nothing to distract from the short hair sticking in every direction, cheek still imprinted from a fold in the sheets. 

He's heard Rhett. You know he has because his eyes dart right to him. But he doesn't react. Staring aimlessly at the shimmering tinsel in Rhett's hands, eyes seeming to conceal every thought in the world and nothing at all. 

Right as you're about to call his name, his mouth opens. 

"What if we got rings in both metals?"

Your hands freeze. "I'm sorry?" 

"I mean—" His eyelashes are fluttering, pale pink tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. "Rings in silver and gold."

"You fixin' to put another ring on us, Robby?" Rhett's quicker to catch on than you are, thin lips twisted into a wild grin. Slowly spreading across his cheeks until his eyes curl with it. 

Your attention darts back to the tinsel in your hands, silver overlapping gold, then to the thin golden band clinging to Rhett's ring finger. Your own is still bare, the ring sitting safely in its dish on the bedside table. Forgotten again. 

Nobody ever talks about how hard it is to work up the habit of keeping a piece of jewelry on.

Bob doesn't realize it, but his thumb is idly stroking his empty ring finger. Not yet brandished with jewelry like you and Rhett because he hasn't even answered your question about what metal he prefers for his ring—

"Is that what you've been thinking all this time?" You blurt, hardly able to fight the urge to spring to your feet. 

He doesn't need to even open his mouth. You know you've gotten your answer the moment his face turns a brilliant shade of ruby. Socked foot kicking at the floor, suddenly unable to look at you or Rhett any longer. 

"I didn't..." his face only seeming to grow redder by the second, as he shakes his head back and forth, "you..."

You're so fortunate that this isn't your first speechless rodeo with Bobby. Have seen him fight to translate thoughts into words so many times that you have already put together what he's trying to say. 

And you've only got a half second to realize that Rhett is bolting across the room before your ears are being met with an earth-shattering thunk. The house rattles as Rhett all but tackles Bobby to the floor, with no regard for the fragile decor sprinkled about around them. 

Bob's feet are scrambling for purchase on the hardwood, socks giving him nothing but a smooth glide as he squirms beneath Rhett, squealing something you can't interpret. His big hands clutching Rhett's biceps, knuckles whitening as he tries to shove him off. But Rhett's got the upper hand, downright smothering with his weight. 

"That's what you've been on about?" Rhett's shout is broken apart by his own giggles, knees thumping against the floor as he tries to straddle the wriggling hips below him. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Bobby's still kicking up a fight, hips bucking up hard enough to lift Rhett with it, if only for a second. "Like you ain't been secretive with that notebook, Abbott." 

"It ain't secretive. It's a surprise!" Rhett's arms cross in front of his chest, frowning. 

Did you miss the memo that you were supposed to have a secret project to be working on, too? 

"Baby," Bobby begs, reaching aimlessly in your direction as if he has any hope of reaching you from a few feet away. "Help me."

But you're not entirely sure if you can do that. As you scoot closer, Rhett's attention darts to you, excited eyes daring you to try him. He's figured out how to win recently, and it's only a matter of time before he has you pinned on the floor, too. 

You can't be bugged to even try fighting him for Bob's honor. Not only because you would lose horribly but because you're already preoccupied with leaning down and pressing your lips to the side of his cheek. Feeling the warmth of his flushed skin, the way his face wrinkles with that content smile. 

"'s this what we're doing?" Rhett's asking as if he's not already leaning in, too. Audibly pressing kisses to the soft underside of Bob's jaw, where he's garnered the slightest bit of stubble overnight. "Kisses?"

And this room is far too quiet for Bobby's soft inhale to go unnoticed, his uneasy hand gliding up your arm. Always has to be holding on to something. In the corner of your eye, you can already see his other hand making a grab for Rhett's bicep, greedily squishing the thick muscle between his fingers. 

Rhett's blindly reaching off to the side, mouth only briefly leaving Bob's flushed skin as he produces a thick, red ribbon. The silky soft one that had been hiding in the box of garland. 

"Huh?" Bob's nose wrinkles, unable to do anything but watch as Rhett collects his wrists together, wrapping them in that smooth material. Only begins to squirm when it's too late. Rhett's already cinching the knot closed, forcing those pale arms back together as he finishes it off with an obnoxiously fancy bow. Perfectly pinned over his head.

"There we go," Rhett's grinning, leaning back in to nip at Bob's jaw, "first present of the year."

Bobby's eyes roll so hard that you briefly lose sight of those pale blue irises. Arms flexing as he tests the strength of Rhett's handiwork, frowning when he finds no give at all. 

Not a word spoken, you flip to the same page that Rhett is on. Resuming your peppering kisses, tongue poking out to lick down Bob's pretty neck, working your way down to his collar. Nibbling where he's most sensitive, relishing in that surprised grunt. There's hardly any room for Rhett to fit, but he's squeezing in any way. Shoulder bumping into yours as he torments the opposite side, peering at you through the corner of his eye. 

"In the middle of the floor?" There's no way Bob could have seen that look, but he's already understood what you two are up to. Wasting no time, with the way your unruly hands dip beneath his shirt, roaming over the soft expanse of his belly. Not quite as defined as Rhett, but equally loveable and squishy. 

Rhett's beating you to it, shoving Bob's shirt up without a single shred of grace. "Y' got a problem with that, flyboy?" Thin lips wrapping around a soft pink nipple, yanking a gasp out of him.

"My back does," Bob's words are more of a mumble than anything else. An uneasy confession of the one thing he's guaranteed to suffer with in his career. 

There are a number of solutions to this. Migrating upstairs to the comfort of the bed, grabbing a couple of the many decorative pillows off the couch and propping them beneath Bob's back, or even standing up and backing him up against the wall, perfectly cornered while you and Rhett have your way with him.

That list of solutions did not involve you sitting on the edge of the couch, with Bobby kneeling between your legs and Rhett sidling up behind him like the minx that he is. Wasting no time with peeling that thin t-shirt from Bob's pale body, exposing miles upon miles of lightly freckled shoulders and pale skin. And all Bob can seem to think about is getting his mouth on your inner thighs, daring to start right where the fabric of your shorts ends. 

"'s this better?" Rhett downright purrs with those half-lidded eyes. 

He doesn't get much of an answer. Just a weak 'uhuh' that's muffled by your inner thigh. 

Idle, your hand combs through Bob's short hair. Has had enough time to grow past the rigid constraints of Navy regulations, the perfect length to curl around your fingers, tugging gently. Drawing his eager mouth closer, hot tongue trailing along your skin. Sending superheated bolts of lightning rippling up your nerves. Familiar warmth blooming between your legs, head beginning to spin the slightest bit.

That soft mouth of his is the definition of heaven. Sucking gently, adding his handiwork over top of Rhett's extensive assault from a few days ago, so dark that they've hardly faded at all. A mottling of patches that only worsen the further he works, all too eager to mark you up. 

But it's a far cry from Rhett's vigor, working away at the crevice of Bob's neck. Loud. Reckless as he sucks a darkened mark into the thin skin stretched over his collarbone. Crafting a sinful trail leading down his back, a soft mark over every little knob in his spine. 

Fingers curl into your waistband. Wordlessly urging you to lift your hips to let them slide past the soft curve of your ass, yanking the fabric down your legs and tossing them off to the side, underwear and all. 

But Rhett's hands are on Bobby's hips, and they're certainly not yours. Which can only mean...

You're cut off before you can even begin to speak. Bob's flat tongue stroking between your folds, peering up at you from beneath his lashes. Dark, hardened gaze daring you to call him out on his antics.

He's slow. His hands dropping onto his lap, quietly concealing his newly found freedom, working with his mouth alone. Leaning in until his glasses fog with his own breath, lazily lapping at your sex, roaming feather-light over your clit, a ghost of what he could be giving you.

"Bobby," you gasp, and though your thighs are squishing his cheeks, it's impossible to miss the way his lip upturns into a grin. 

Rhett bumps into him from behind, and that's all it takes to have the tip of his tongue pressing directly into that rapidly swelling button. A sudden pressure that damn near makes you squeal, yanking a hand out of his hair to muzzle yourself with. That darkened gaze hardens into a glare. Craves the sound of you whimpering his name, but there's not a damn thing he can do about it. Not if he doesn't want Rhett to see his untied hands. 

He's pushing harder now. Aggressive strokes, swiping invisible x-shapes with this audibly wet noise that threatens to make your head float right off your shoulders. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's a lot all at once. 

Rhett's hand bumps into yours as he tangles his fingers in Bob's hair. Gently yanking him back with this absurdly loud pop, chin already glistening as he's hauled back to lean against Rhett's chest. 

But it's not to torment Bobby or for Rhett to steal his fair share of attention. No, he's shoving Bob's pajama pants down his hips. Half-hard cock bouncing the moment it's free of its confines, a sight so distracting that you can't bring yourself to look away. 

Until you realize that Rhett has long since lost his pants, that is. Your thighs squeezing together from the sight of them alone. 

Rhett's brows knit together, suddenly perplexed with a realization you've already made. "When did y' get your hands—"

The end of that sentence never comes. Cut short by Bob's sudden burst of energy, blindly reaching behind himself to grab a handful of Rhett's dark hair. And it's like the fight immediately dissolves from Rhett's bones. Face softening as he's held in place until Bob can get behind him. Nothing but an unruly puppy that got put back in his place.

"Thought you knew better than to tie a sailor with a basic knot," Bob's chuckling into the shell of Rhett's ear, reaching forward to wrap Rhett's pliant arms in the ribbon. Not as decorative as before, opting for an intricacy that has you tilting your head, unable to keep up with what his nimble hands are doing. 

You should have seen it coming. But quite frankly, you can only think about one thing right now, and it's certainly not the intricacies involved with tying a ribbon. Speechless as Rhett's pretty head is pushed between your legs. The scruff of his jaw scraping your mottled inner thigh, peppering it with a kiss. 

"Sweetheart, can you look under that pillow for me?" Bob's pointing toward the decorative throw in question, the small square one that used to sit in his apartment, "Think we left the lube under there last time." 

Blindly, your hand reaches behind it, patting against fabric and cushion until your fingers graze the cool plastic of the bottle. 

But then Rhett's tongue darts to lap at your clit, suddenly too hungry to wait anymore, and you're fumbling with it. Nearly dropping it onto his back before Bob can even reach out to take it from you. 

"Jesus, Rhett," you breathe, falling back to rest against the couch cushion, gazing down at the new, messy sight you've gained. The too-eager cowboy who doesn't have the strength to string you out like Bob does, so content that his eyes seem to smile as he gently sucks on your clit.

"'m sorry," he grumbles directly into your pussy, unable to draw himself away for even a second, "couldn't help it." 

He's everywhere. Laving your clit with all the attention he can give and then dipping down to nudge his tongue against your neglected entrance. Shallowly working his tongue in and out, downright drooling into you, short little jabs that make you flutter around him. Only for him to break away the moment he's found a rhythm. Licking his way back up and over your clit once more. Collecting every bit of you, and yet he's still not satisfied.

Your hand settles against the back of his head, tangling your fingers in those long locks, pulling until you can guide him right where you want him, holding him in place. "Right there," you murmur with a shiver, "right there."

Though your grip is strong, it's not enough to stop him from jumping at the sudden appearance of Bob's lube-slicked hand dipping between his thighs. Carefully spreading the cool substance against the thin skin there, working his way up to his balls and the underside of his cock. 

"What..." the rumbling of Rhett's voice sends sparks racing up your spine. Sends you involuntarily jolting up into his mouth, "are y' doin'?"

Your eyes are just open enough to catch the way Bob grins. "You'll see," is all he provides. Kneeling down to place his hands on the sides of Rhett's thighs, pushing them together so quickly that Rhett squeaks. 

The first pass of Bob's cock between Rhett's thighs is a thing that surprises all of you. Rhett at the sudden appearance, you with the obscene sight, and Bob's muttering something about those pretty thighs being so fucking soft. His dick just long enough to brush against Rhett's heavy balls, gives him the slightest amount of attention. 

And oh, does it have him whimpering into you. "Keep doin' that," he stutters, pushing impossibly closer into your cunt. Working you in earnest now, swirling his tongue around that swollen bud, punctuated with a soft suction that has your heart jumping in your chest. His body rocking with Bob's deep thrusts, bound arms helplessly pinned against the couch.

It's so much. Oh, it's so much. Your hips are beginning to squirm, legs clamping down around his shoulders, squeezing impossibly tight. Yanking on his hair, pulling him closer, only to try dragging him away. Don't know if you want more or less or exactly what he's doing right now, or, or—

"Untie me," Rhett's babbling all of a sudden. Sounds as far gone as you feel. "Please. Want, want...wanna hold..."

His biceps flex, straining against the thin ribbon with everything he can muster, the threads of the fabric audibly ripping as it's stretched beyond its limit. And it's all Bob can do to lean down and yank on the knot. Undoing it before it can be torn in two; technique doesn't always outweigh pure strength.

Rhett's arms are around your hips in an instant. Hugging you close like a man starved, and it's all you can do not to fall apart right here and now. Frantically pawing at his biceps, pushing at his head, unable to stop his hungry mewl from vibrating up your core. Impossible to avoid the pleased smile that plasters across his face, lightly sucking on your clit like it's his favorite candy. 

"Rhett," you're whining, squirming helplessly as he downright eats you alive, tongue so sloppy that it's loud, has a sickly wet noise ringing in your ears,"Rhett I...I'm—"

"Cum on my face," pleading in that hopelessly deep voice of his, "Please, please, please." 

You hardly feel it hit you. All you know is that your head is falling back against the couch cushion, and you're cumming on his burning tongue with a strangled whimper. Legs damn near locking around his scruffy face as your back arches up, fingers pulling so hard on his hair that it has to hurt. And yet he licks you through every jolted spasm, hot breath fanning out against you, humming in tune with your noises.

Bobby's pulling him away right as you grow oversensitive, pulling on those soft brown locks of hair, but you hardly expect him to haul Rhett up onto his feet. Blindly pushing him forward onto the empty space next to you, his back flat against the cushion, head falling haphazardly into your lap. Unshaven jaw glistening with you as he pries his eyes open, gazing up at you with that far-gone emptiness you've seen so many times. 

Doesn't react as Bob squeezes into the little bit of space available, pushing Rhett's thighs up and together, guiding his cock through the small gap in them. Pretty pink cock head bumping right where Rhett's weeping length begins.

And Rhett's whimper sounds like your name. Big hand pawing around until he can get ahold of yours, squeezing it gently. 

"Ain't you two a sight," Bob's grunting. Has only just begun to find his pace, but he's already begun to shake. Too close. Too fast. 

It's enough to get Rhett's eyes fluttering, hips jolting upward, "Y' like my thighs too much." And he's going to be so sensitive once Bobby's done with him, thighs red and tender from the abuse, but fuck is all of that worth this. The sight of his trembling legs being held together, flushed cock leaking against his belly as his thighs are fucked for all he's worth.

On its own, your free hand lifts, traveling down to wrap around his neglected length. Letting the weight of Bob's thrusts push him in and out of your grasp. A shallow, lazy motion that makes his mouth fall open.

"You like that, cowboy?" You're teasing, voice a touch hoarse. Thumb finding its way beneath his plush head, swiping back and forth at the precum-covered underside. 

"T-tighter," his hand squeezing yours a little harder as if to demonstrate what he's craving. And as soon as you follow his instruction, his back is arching off the couch. "jus' like that, jus' like—fuck."

But that's not enough. No, no, he's opening his mouth again. "Harder," he begs, pale feet defiantly kicking where Bob's got them held in the air, "Robby, fuck me harder." 

"You're purty demandin' for a pillow princess," you don't know what's made Bob's accent slip out so suddenly, but it damn near makes your head spin. And though he's complaining, he wastes no time hardening his pace. Balls smacking against Rhett's flushed skin as his thrusts become heavier. Rough, just how Rhett likes it. 

Knocks the rest of Rhett's words right out of his mouth, silences him right and proper. Dissolving into nothing but pitchy whimpers and hitched breaths. Noises growing higher and higher, until he's beginning to twitch in your grasp, your only sign that he's close.

"Cum for us," Bob's egging him on, pulling those shivering legs up to his chest, drawing him back into every thrust, "c'mon, be a good boy 'n cum." 

Rhett's head lolls backward, eyes rolling, gazing up at you and nowhere at all. Eyelashes beginning to flutter and fall closed, cumming with a feather-light gasp that ought to knock you off your feet. Ropes of white paint his spasming belly and your hand, coating his spasming length. 

And Bob's still fucking him, rhythmic pace dissolving into something sporadic, rubbing right against Rhett's oversensitive balls with every push and pull. Rhett's whines rising into hopeless cries, squirming, fighting to escape the way Bob's still railing into him. 

Only takes a few shaky jerks of his hips for him to stall, too, staining Rhett's thighs and cock with rope after rope of cum. Glasses obscuring the way his eyes roll, head tilting back to show the new mottling of marks on his collar. 

Everything is still. Quiet, except for two labored breaths, intertwining like the tinsel on the tree. Bob's shaky hand dips down, collecting some of the mess he's made of Rhett's thighs, lifting his cum-covered fingers to Rhett's swollen, parted lips. And all your cowboy can do is open his mouth and lick it off, too far gone to fuss. 

Two pairs of exhausted eyes peer up at you as if to check that you're on the same page as them.

"What 'bout Floytt?" Rhett's blurting, all of a sudden, evidently unable to keep the silence for too long. 

Bobby's eyebrows furrow, tilting his head down. "Pardon?" 

For a moment, Rhett flounders. Mouth opening and closing. Seems to have completely forgotten how to conjure up the words he needs to speak. "Remember, the uh..." he tries, "las' name thing?" 

You can't help but giggle. "You two are horrible at bringing up your ideas." Because what are the chances that you'd wind up with not one but two fiances who can't seem to give context to save their lives. Wildly blurting what's on their minds, under the assumption that you'll know what they're talking about. 

"I take it that's what the notebook was for?" Bob's question is more of an observation than anything. To which he receives a nod and a faint 'uhuh' from Rhett. Can't be brought to provide a proper 'yes.'

It's not the solution you'd expected when it came to this last-name debacle. Debating on whose last name to take, the three of you are too passive to insist that your name be taken out of fear of hurting feelings. But the concept of picking an entirely new one didn't feel so personal. There's no special weight to the names you've found online.

"Floytt." It feels strange in your mouth and yet oddly familiar, as if it's been present from the moment you all met. Lifts your tongue like it does for the beginning of Floyd, still carries the short and sweet ring of the Abbott family name. 

"Floytt." Bob's parroting you, pausing if only for a moment to think, and then opens his mouth once more, "I like it." 

For a three-month-old debate, it sure did end abruptly. You can see it now: a pretty new name engraved on a plaque hanging below the mailbox. An obnoxious, cursive sign in the kitchen, as if you and your families can possibly forget something like a last name. Bills and new dog tags with the name stamped in pretty letters. 

"Now we just have to plan the actual wedding," your smile wavers; you've got a little over seven months to figure out a theme, outfits, finalize who is being invited, and, worse of all, figure out the cake situation.

How is anyone supposed to layer Bob's beloved lemon on top of Rhett's affectionately chosen bananas foster? And then still have space for yours as well? Who gets to be the biggest layer? Who draws the unlucky straw to have the smallest? And how do you even begin narrowing down three icings to one? And themes. How the hell do you get a cowboy and a pilot theme to look good together on the same damn canvas?

You wonder if they'll object to three separate cakes. 

"And finish the tree." Bob's nodding his head toward the half-finished decor; you've got to make another ornament run if you want to get anywhere close to having it done. 

Rhett's resounding "ugh" resonates to your core. "C'n we take a nap first?" He grumbles, punctuated with a big, whining yawn. Batting those long lashes of his up at the two of you like it'll earn him some favors.

It does. 

You're snuggled up with him in an instant. Squeezing in on one side while Bob takes the other, barely fitting onto these wide couch cushions. Your arm splayed out across the soft fat of Rhett's belly, squishy until he intentionally flexes the thick muscle there. Has rounded out in all the right places, in the chest, cheeks, ass, and cum-covered thighs. 

A clean-up should have come before the nap, but you can't be bugged to get back up. And by the looks of it, neither can Bob. 

"You're really gettin' us more rings?" Rhett's asking, half-lidded eyes flicking between the two of you as if he can possibly garner an answer from your expressions.

Bob's shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. "Why not?" 

And it's only now that you tune into the soulless drone of the television. A familiar, festive song chiming to life as a stop-motion snowman twists across the screen, mindlessly strumming his banjo, singing about silver and gold. 

Quietly, Bob begins to hum along to it. A soft rumbling that draws a heaviness into your eyelids until you can no longer lift them. Drifting off to the tune of an old song and the deep rumblings of a Navy pilot who reaches over to stroke an eyelash from your cheek. Your wonderful little unconventional trio, with your extra partner, two colors of rings, and three separate wedding cakes. 

Something pops. Hitting the ground with a shrill clatter; ornaments bouncing across the floor, twinkling lights flicking off within an instant.

One eye opens, peeking at your newly fallen Christmas tree. 

It closes. 

Rhett's elbow finds its way to nudge Bob's chest, "you're settin' it up this time."

"I wouldn't have to if you two woulda woke me up," you knew Bob would hit you two with that eventually. Always does, at some point. 

"We were tryin' to let you have yer beauty sleep, flyboy," Rhett's chirping, in that taunting sort of fashion that can only mean one thing. You don't need to open your eyes to feel the playful glares being fired back at one another.

And then comes Bob's too-calm warning. "Don't start that."

"Well, I'm startin'!" And there they go, tumbling off the couch in an instant. Ornaments knocking around as they tussle about on the living room floor. Fighting to see who's stronger, as if this outcome will be any different, swearing between giggles as they twist and turn.

You don't get to take that nap.

#bob floyd #rhett abbott #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #oneshot #x reader #afab reader #hawthorn au

[rhetthammersmithhorror]

Is this a rant? This feels like a rant. Please pardon any bad grammar.

Tumblr glitch and my archive isn't showing up —

My usually empty message box had two messages (lacking any introduction or greeting) from the same person demanding to know why I'd turned my archive off. This person proudly displays their 80,000+ instagram following next to their name.

They'd followed me in the last 24 hours, obviously just to dm.

I'd never heard of this person so I checked out their Insta. It's loaded with my gifs (turned into bad looking pixelated videos). There's no mention of my tumblr (Rhett Hammersmith's International Haus of Horrors — Hammersmith Horror for brevity).

This happens a lot on other platforms and sometimes tumblr. It's just the way it is.

So I explain to this individual that it takes time to select frames from a two minute sequence and condense them into a two second sequence. It's a skill—a useless skill—that I've developed over the years.

It's not as simple as just "recording the screen".

I like to make gifs with a beginning, middle, and end. Or, if possible, a nice seamless loop. I'll make several versions until the timing is just right. I sometimes combine elements from two unrelated scenes to create a new scene. I also color correct the frames, tweak the contrast, and sharpen the details, etc.

You get the picture.

But it's not just about the creation of gifs. I have to hunt the films down, buy dvds, watch the films, do the research, etc.

Some of these movies are truly terrible. You have no idea the amount of agony that's endured while trying to extract a bit of art from them.

Just kidding — I honestly love "terrible" movies.

So anyway, this person was none too happy when asked if they just wanted access to my archive for content. They angrily called me a stalker (the irony was lost on them) and stated they're a professional video maker who uses $300 software!

A whole $300?! Wow! They must really be a pro!

So yeah, I make these gifs out of a love for weird little movies. People like the content and they share it. That's what it's about. But, would it hurt them, would they lose followers, if they gave the original content creators a little credit?

I've made gifs for years and have never asked for anything but a little credit. Is that really too much to ask?

Oh well.

C’est la vie, I guess.

Thanks for reading all this.

Rhett

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Cowboy’s Ice Princess ⛸ | Rhett Abbott Headcanon

Link to my Rhett Abbott Masterlist

Takes place in the year 2021 (I know OR came out in 2022, but they more than likely filmed last year so im using that as the timeline). Also content warnings: light mentions of sporting injuries and misogyny/sexism by the press.

Rhett falling love with a Olympic figure skater would look like:

It all began when Rhett was asked by Cecelia to take Amy to her ice skating lessons. First off, the man didn’t even know his niece was enrolled in them. second, where the hell was he supposed to take her? After gaining the information —which was that Amy’s classmate had their birthday party at the ice rink in the city where she immediately fell in love with skating and begged for lessons—Rhett was giving the address and the two were on their way. “We’re gonna be really early, uncle Rhett,” she said when she saw the time, deep down it excited her-knowing that before her lessons were the training hours of a famous skater. Rhett, unaware of what the girl was thinking replied, “well, there ain’t no harm in showin’ up early. Better get you started now.”

When they arrived at the rink they were really early. Like Amy still nearly an hour till her lessons started. Only a few cars were in the parking lot so Rhett suggested they wait in the car until it got closer to the time, but Amy was like “no! Let’s go in! I don’t mind waiting inside.” “Well alright….” Walking toward the facility, Rhett missed how beneath the name of the building it said, “home of Olympic Champion, Y/n L/n.” Inside the lady at the counter smiled at Amy saying, “you’re early today Amy. The ice won’t be ready until they finish up down there, but i can get you your skates and you two can head on over to the bleachers.” Picking up her skates, since Amy didn’t have her own personal ones to bring, she carried them past the concession booth and locker room entrance to the stairs leading to the bleachers where music could be heard through the speakers.

As soon as the rink was visible, blue eyes landed on the figure gliding across the ice like she was a ballerina doing a solo on a the stage. Even from a distance Rhett noticed her beauty, which was only accentuate as she danced across the ice. She was dressed in a black turtleneck and leggings, white skates in her feet and hair slicked back into a tight bun. Rhett was pretty much frozen, captivated by the lone skater who was in her own element, unaware there were onlookers besides her coach who was off to the side. Each spin, each jump, each glide and Rhett felt like he was in a trance—until Any pulled him out by hissing under her breath, “stop being creepy and sit down, uncle Rhett.” When he did Rhett noticed a look of awe in Amy as she watched the skater, leaning in to whisper, “this why you didn’t mind waitin’ in her’ when you still got plenty of time?”

With a grin and not taking her eyes off the skater, Amy began to rant to her uncle, “That’s Y/n L/n—one of the best figure skaters in the world. Some weeks ago some of the girls I do lessons with told me ‘bout her after I asked about the little shrine dedicated to her when you first walk in. You didn’t see it but it’s on the other end of the counter if we would’ve turned right instead of goin’ straight,” Amy paused to watch the woman, Y/n, complete a triple axel, one of the most difficult jumps in the sport. “Anyways, Ruby told me Y/n’s trained at this rink since she was five years old and is one of few people from this city to make it big in the world. She’s competed on the international level since 2010–and went to the Olympics!! Three times!! She’s trainin’ for the 2022 Games in China happenen’ next year. Her trainin’ is right ‘fore my lessons but gramma always brings right on time so I never get to see her unlike some of the other girls. I heard people on tv call her the ‘Ice Princess’ —not ‘cause she’s a great skater, but ‘cause she’s rude to reporters—but some of the girls say she’s very nice and welcomin’ when they’ve gotten a chance to talk to her before class.”

Impressed and captivated by you, Rhett does a google search and finds your career stats. Whistling under his breath, Rhett reads that since your debut at the 2009 U.S Figure Skating Championships at the age of 14, you’ve gone on to become—in your discipline of the women’s singles— a six-time National champion, a four-time World champion, and are currently the reigning Olympic champion of the 2018 Winter Olympics. Rhett also reads you have three World silver medals, are the 2014 Olympic silver medalist & the 2010 Olympic bronze medalist as well as part of the 2014 & 2018 U.S Olympic bronze medal teams. Bringing a total of five Olympic medals in three appearances. Rhett even came across a YouTube compilation titled, ‘Y/n L/n being the Ice Princess & snapping back at reporters for 4 minutes straight.’ Curious, Rhett watches it and all he saw was you acting how anyone would when asked about their weight, diet, personal struggles, and that they were getting old in a sport known for young girls.

What made Rhett’s eyes gouge from his head was when your information read that you were actually from Wabang. “No fucking way,” he muttered just as the music ended. Lifting his head he saw you exhale and skate in the direction of your coach. He couldn’t hear what was being said but soon you were back in the middle of the ice doing spins so fast it made him dizzy. You continued practicing elements of your routine for the remainder of your training. When it came time for you to exit the ice, feeling bold, Amy jumped up and raced to the entrance of the ice to meet you there with Rhett calling out to her. The sound caught your attention, where you smiled at the sight of a little girl beaming up at you with awe in her eyes, “well hello.”

Introducing herself, Amy politely asked for a picture which you happily agreed to just as Rhett approached with an apologetic expression. Immediately you thought he was handsome and looked away when you connected eyes. Gosh they were the most gorgeous shade of blue you’d ever seen. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We didn’t mean to bother you, Ms. L/n.” You brushed it off saying it was not a problem and you were enjoying Amy’s company, hoping Rhett couldn’t pick up on the fact you found him extremely attractive. Since Rhett had the phone, he quickly snapped some photos of you two before he and Amy thanked you for your time. Amy’s lessons were about to start so you wished good luck and to have fun before heading to the locker room to freshen up and change since you weren’t gonna be back in the rink till later that night.

Rhett could not stop thinking about you after that. Whenever Amy had lessons Rhett would offer to take her, making his mother confused, and, coincidently, would arrive 20-30 minutes before her lessons just to watch you train. Sometimes her friends in the classes were also there, so it worked out cause then they weren’t the only two being lowkey creeps. Finding it amusing—especially when Rhett tried to make it look like he wasn’t completely captivated by you—you’d wave to them and say hello when passing by on your way out. Rhett would tip his hat, giving you a smile that nearly knocked your skates off.

Amy had lessons every Saturday & Sunday afternoon so after a month of admiring each other from a distance, you made the first move by approaching him after changing into your hoodie and jeans, “This seat taken?” “Not at all. Please, be my guest.” You two talked the entire duration of Amy’s lesson. After finding out they were also from Wabang, and Rhett mentioning he read you were from there, you explained to him, “Yeah my ma worked as a nurse here in the city and would bring me everyday while she worked almost a twelve-hour shift. I basically grew up in the rink. My pops was a ranch hand ‘til he hurt his back and homeschooled me so I could skate. I moved closer to here when I turned eighteen—but my folks still live in Wabang and I visit every week.” Rhett then talked about his family’s ranch and bull riding and soon Amy’s lesson ended. While she was getting changed you and Rhett exchanged numbers after the cowboy asked if you wanted to get coffee the next time you were in town.

The feelings between you two bloomed over several weeks of texting, phone calls, and going on dates whenever you were in Wabang or having Rhett travel to the city. One of your dates actually was bringing him onto the ice after the days lessons were done and nobody wad there. That memory would go down as the funniest night of your lives with Rhett losing his balance, bringing you both onto the ice several times because you two were holding hands. “C’mon, cowboy, give me one lap without falling and I may just give you a kiss when the night ends.” Oh you bet your ass he did everything in his power to not fall on that one lap. When it was a success he immediately asked for his payment, and so your first kiss happened right there in the middle of the rink. From that moment on you were his and he was yours

When you came to the ranch Rhett would teach you to rope and ride a horse. His mother nearly had a heart attack when you met for the first time, obviously knowing who you were because she’d seen the shrine dedicated to you and your accomplishments at the rink. She couldn’t believe her son actually was in a relationship with you. Amy was over the moon and happy for her uncle. Royal and Perry were actually impressed but lowkey made bets on how long it would take for Rhett to fuck it up.

Rhett was head over heels for you and made the promise to never let you down. You were his woman and he became your biggest supporter. Even when Amy didn’t have lessons Rhett would come to the rink in his free time to bring you food or sit in on your practice. He saved up money just to travel and watch you compete, spent time on learning the different moves and jumps, and how the scoring works. You’d made it known to him that the upcoming Beijing Games were to be your last if you made the team so Rhett became your personal cheerleader to motivate you to do your best. “Baby, you’re gonna make that team—no doubt ‘bout it. Just keep doin’ what’re doin’ and that gold medal will be yours again. And I’m gonna be cheerin’ you on every step of the way.”

You made Rhett feel things he never thought he would feel. You inspired him, motivated him, was not only his partner but his best friend. With you he never felt like a disappointment. You made him laugh, held him when he cried after a bad day, encouraged him to follow his dreams. Rhett loved you so much he couldn’t picture a life without you. Even when he would rant about how you deserved better than him, you stayed by his side, kissing him breathless to show you were just as crazy about him as he was of you. “I don’t ever wanna hear those words again, Rhett Abbott. I don’t just open heart to anyone. You are the most amazing man I’ve ever met, and I love you so much and I’m going to make sure you know that everyday. You’re my cowboy, Rhett Abbott.”

You would attend his rodeos, cheering in the stands which has some of the locals shocked to see you there. Although you no longer lived in Wabang many of the residents knew who you were. Whenever the Olympics came around your picture was on the front page of the newspaper, detailing your accomplishments. Many couldn’t believe one of then had made it to the worlds greatest sporting stage and was recognized as one of the best athletes in their sport. They also couldn’t believe the notorious Rhett Abbott had managed to pull you—confirmed by the dropping of jaws when Rhett swooped you off your feet to kiss you when he finished his ride. He’d been up front with you about his reputation, but you assured him you’d never judge him by his past and as long as he continues to be the man he was to you then you were in for the long haul. “C’mon, cowboy, let’s show ‘em you’re better than what they perceive ya.” With his Stetson on your head, you had to hold back smirking at the disappointed looks from buckle bunnies.

Being a professional athlete working to defend an Olympic title was challenging. There were days you didn’t hit your routine as sharp or fell on a jump. About three month before the trials you lightly sprained your ankle when you landed wrong on your triple axel, putting you off the rink for two weeks for it to heal. During that period your stress and anxiety was high, worried that you were falling off your game and would miss your chance at winning a second gold. 2018 was the best year of your life, winning your first Olympic gold in your third Games. Since then the commentators have put a lot of pressure on you and have go so far as to call you the ‘Ice Princess,’ due to your stone cold attitude at the press when they’ve asked offensive questions you’ve called them out on instead of giving a sugar coated answer to remain polite. Only the media seemed to be your enemy because friends, teammates and even competitors had praised you for standing up to the press.

On those days that were hard Rhett would take you out on a nice date before settling down for the night by cuddling on the coach with the fire going and have a movie on the tv. Rhett would hold you in his arms, running his hands through your hair and murmur words of encouragement. “I know you had a rough day, baby. But just ‘member that each rough day is a sign to do better the next. Tomorrow is a new day. You just gotta rest tonight and put your mind at ease, so let’s talk about anythin’ ‘sides the ice.”

When the trials came for the 2022 Winter Olympic team, you were the #1 overall skater for your discipline securing your spot on the team. You were in tears, hugging your coach as Rhett, his family, and your family cheered in the stands. He even had to wipe his face, overcome with emotion and met you when it concluded with a bouquet of flowers and a passionate kiss. “I’m so proud of you, darlin’. So so proud,” he said in between kisses, “you were incredible—I knew you could do it.” Unfortunately Rhett wouldn’t be joining you in Beijing due to the COVID restrictions set in place, but he promised to be up every morning to watch you skate. It was a tearful goodbye at the airport with Rhett telling you how much he loved you and would miss for the next two and a half weeks, and after several kisses and promises to call everyday he finally let you go so you could get through customs.

Rhett and his family sat down to watch the opening ceremonies of the Games where you led Team USA as their selected flag bearer. You looked so adorable in your outfit that Rhett couldn’t help but take a picture if his tv when the camera panned to you. Not much of a social media person, he did however post it on his story with the caption, “That’s my Ice Princess♥️⛸.” The nickname you once hated ended up being your favorite whenever Rhett called you it. Only he could make you flustered when it rolled off his tongue. He was your cowboy, you were his Ice Princess.

Making through with his promise, Rhett got up at the ass crack of Dawn the days you were set to go on the ice. Qualifications, team finals, short program, free skate, he was on his couch watching it live. When it came back you were the #3 overall qualifier, Rhett was over the moon. Then he and Amy cheered together when the USA claimed the silver metal in the team. He watched you with beaming eyes on the screen medal yourself and hold it up with pride.

On the day of your free skate, the final segment of the women’s signals skate finals, Rhett held his breath and was on the edge of his seat when you stepped on the ice. The last to perform, becoming a two-time Olympic champion would be down to the four minutes ahead if you. All through the routine he felt that familiar skip in his heart like the first time he saw you. You glided across the ice with ease, like a ballerina on stage. Each twirl, each jump was perfection and you hit every single element, finishing the routine with a grin on your face. You knew right then, as did the small crowd of local spectators and members of team USA as well as Rhett and y’all’s families back home. They were already celebrating with Rhett having tears in his eyes the moment your name came up with the overall total next to the #1 spot.

Rhett never thought he’d find love—especially with someone as amazing as you. You were the definition of perfection, the most dedicated, inspiring, beautiful person he’d ever met and everyday he thanked whoever above to allow him the honor of being your cowboy. When the gold medal was placed around your neck, and you announced the closing of a chapter with retiring from the sport of figure skating, Rhett couldn’t wait to be a part of the next chapter. But no matter what you did on or off the rink, you would always be his Ice Princess.

#Rhett Abbott #Rhett Abbott x reader #rhett Abbott headcanon #Rhett Abbott imagine #Rhett Abbott fluff #outer range imagine #Rhett Abbott outer range #lewis pullman #fluff #Rhett Abbott fanfiction

[greymoonfeelings]

Nothing Without You

whumuary #4: betrayal

summary: Being back in Wabang brings on nothing but pain

warnings: angst w/o a happy ending, reader is a model and panic attack symptoms

word count: 1.9k

note: thanks to Vee for looking this over!

•••

The day you left Wabang for New York City you swore you would never return unless the circumstances were dire. You certainly didn’t count Christmas as a good reason, but your mother had cried about how her greatest Christmas wish was to have you visit, and luckily for her, guilt-tripping worked on you.

So now here you are, getting ready to head to the church rectory center for the holiday party. Your mother volunteered your family to help with set up which gave you about an hour to mentally prepare yourself to see him again.

The man in question is Rhett Abbott, your ex-boyfriend.

Tonight is the first night you’ll see him in three years. Long gone were the days when your mothers would exchange ideas about your future wedding. That had all been thrown out the window the day Rhett broke up with you. It was the reason you dreaded returning to Wabang.

You’ve managed to avoid him during the first week of your visit by refusing to leave your ranch, but tonight was unavoidable. There was no way your mother would allow you to miss anything that had to do with the church and Cecelia Abbott was the same way.

That’s why when you catch Rhett’s figure entering the party holding his niece’s hand you’re only slightly caught off guard. His look has changed very little, but the way he carries himself is different. He appears to be more comfortable in his skin, though he still sticks with Perry and his father, hesitating to interact with anyone else.

“Cece!” Your mom goes up to the Abbott mother, embracing her. When she pulls away, she waves you over to the family. Internally, you groan, but you manage to flash a convincing smile.

“It’s nice to see you, Ms. Abbott.” You greet.

“Don’t be silly, you can still call me Cece.” She pulls you into a bruising hug. “It’s so good to see.”

“Amy, come say hi. You remember your old babysitter, right?”

“Of course, I remember her. It hasn’t been that long, Grandma.”

“Hi, Amy. I love your dress.” You compliment the red sequin outfit she’s wearing. She thanks you before doing a twirl to give you the full effect.

“And that’s a lovely braid. Did your daddy finally learn how to do them?”

“No, Uncle Rhett did it for me.”

Of course, he did, the bastard. Treating his niece like his own daughter. How disgustingly sweet and attractive of him.

“He told me I can thank you for that, that you taught him in high school.”

That catches you off guard and sends you spiraling. Does he really still talk about you? Does it not make his stomach turn to even think about you? No, why would it? He’s the one who broke up with you.

You excuse yourself to grab a drink and when you return, you find your family sitting at a table with the Abbotts. It seems your mother is adamant about going against your wishes of distancing yourself from them.

———

Your families spend time making small talk with one another over dinner. You manage to avoid acknowledging Rhett by asking Amy to update you on her life and the happenings in your hometown over the past few years you’ve been gone.

By dessert, you find that your night is going better than expected until the dreaded topic of conversation is brought up: you.

“Amy and I saw you in a magazine last week at the store. Tell us, what’s it like being a big star?” Cecilia asks with a proud smile on her face.

“Let me guess, my Ma told you guys I would be in it?” You eye your mother suspiciously and she raises her hands in defense. “I would hardly call myself a star.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest.” Your mother chides. “The modeling agency says she might get to walk at Fashion Week.”

“Is that big?” Amy looks up at you with curious, wide eyes.

“It’s huge!”

“Well, it helps that I’ve made friends in the industry. People are a lot nicer than you’d expect.” You pick at your food with your fork, trying to ignore everyone staring at you due to your mother’s exclamation.

“They like that she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty and is a hard-working daughter of a rancher. What’d they say again, honey?”

“They said it gave me character.”

“Well, I think it’s amazing what you’re doing.” Cecilia smiles. “Chasing your dreams and building a life for yourself. An angel must be watching over you, making sure you’ve got a fulfilling life.”

You chuckle along with everyone else and force a smile, but as everyone returns to their meals, your facade drops.

If only they knew how empty you truly felt. You do have almost everything you always wanted in life, but it’s that one thing you don’t have that pains you the most and he’s sitting across from you.

———

After dinner is finished, everyone leaves their tables to mingle with other congregation members. The only people left at your table are you and Rhett.

You look around the room in search of your friend Maria, desperate not to be alone any longer, but instead, you’re met with Rhett’s cloudy blue eyes.

“You know I didn’t think I’d ever see you back here.” He pushes his grown-out hair out of his face so he can see you better.

“Well, my family still lives here.”

“I’m surprised by that too. I thought for sure once you made it big, they’d move out to be with you in one of those mansions with a hundred rooms.”

“I don’t think that’ll ever happen. They wouldn’t like the city very much.” You focus your attention on your glass, tracing the rim with your finger to avoid having to look at him.

“Well, it seems to be workin’ out for you. Sounds like it’s everything you ever wanted.”

“Not quite…” Admitting that out loud is scary especially when the person you’re telling is Rhett. “What about you? You swore you’d always get out of this town so what changed?”

“A lot of things changed.”

With a scoff, you grumble, “They certainly did.” Talking to Rhett is bringing back all your bitter feelings and now there’s a storm brewing inside of you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rhett asks, a little irritated by your passive-aggressive behavior.

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you promised me forever and then broke my heart like it was nothing.”

“I didn’t want to hold you back. I couldn’t leave my family. I belong here, but you don’t, so I set you free.”

“If you told me you wanted to stay here, I would’ve stayed with you.”

Rhett shakes his head disapprovingly. “I know you would’ve, but you always wanted the finer things in life and a poor bastard like me can’t give them to you.”

That confession might be considered sweet to anyone else, but it fills you with rage. How could he be so selfish to make that decision for you?

“Don’t you get it? All I have ever wanted is you, everything else is just extra. None of it matters if I can’t share it with you! Every single victory has been tainted by the fact that you’re not there by my side! I would rather spend my life here on a ranch with you than be famous in the city while all alone.”

“You say that now, but I know you. You get restless here. I knew you’d come to resent me and I couldn’t stand to think of that happening.”

You’re so trapped in your thoughts, dissecting Rhett’s confession, that you don’t notice Maria approaching your table, but the sound of her voice brings you back to reality.

“Hey, babe. I’m sorry I didn’t come over earlier, Mrs. Jones was talking my ear off about her new Australian Shepherd.” Maria squeezes Rhett’s shoulder and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

You look back and forth between the two of them a few times before your brain finally puts it together. The realization has you seething.

“Are you two…?”

The guilty look on Rhett’s face is a clear answer.

“Oh, hey…” Maria acts like she didn’t notice you sitting there even though you made eye contact with her previously in the night. “It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

You chose to ignore your old friend and instead focus your anger on Rhett.

“So you were just gonna let me keep on rambling about how I still love you and paint yourself to be some fucking hero who let the love of his life go so she could chase her dreams all while knowing you actually just didn’t give a fuck about me?”

“Hey now, that’s not true.”

“You could have just told me you broke up with me because you didn’t feel the same anymore. You didn’t have to fucking lie about it.”

“What’s going on here?” Maria looks at her boyfriend, concerned.

“Oh shove it, Maria. You used to tell me you’d rather die than end up living here again. How’d that work out for you? I heard you flunked out of college and work at the bank now.”

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Rhett defends.

“You know what? The two of you deserve each other. I hope you’re are happy living in this desolate fucking place and never doing anything with your lives ‘cause I’m sure that’s about all the two of you will ever accomplish.”

You angrily push away from the table and the screeching of the metal chair against the linoleum causes all heads to turn to you. You swipe your coat off the rack and rush out of the building before anyone can see you crying.

As you climb into your truck all that is on your mind is how you knew nothing good would come out of this visit, but never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined coming back to this kind of betrayal.

All of your teenage years had been spent with Maria and Rhett, dancing in fields, going to rodeos, and grabbing late-night snacks at Rosie’s Diner. You even recall confessing to Maria at Senior Prom that Rhett was the man you wanted to marry and now…

You were making yourself sick just thinking about it. You felt so stupid. How much time did you waste on him? Making yourself feel like shit during every happy moment just because he wasn’t there sharing it with you meanwhile he was falling in love with Maria, not even thinking about you.

Your vision is blurry from the constant flow of tears and It’s getting harder to breathe through all the snot. Your brain is a jumbled mess, too many thoughts flying around for you to be paying attention to the road ahead. Suddenly, you’re startled by a pair of blinding headlights and the blaring of a horn, but by the time you move to react, it’s too late.

You didn’t want to imagine living a life without Rhett by your side and now, you wouldn’t have to…

I can be your china doll if you wanna see me fall

Boy, you're so dope, your love is deadly

Tell me life is beautiful, they all think I have it all

I've nothing without you

All my dreams and all the lights mean

Nothing without you

-Lana Del Rey, Without You

#heather writes #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbot x reader #whumpuary2023 #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott angst

[wildbornsiren]

Hot and Cold | Rhett Abbott/F!Reader

Hot and Cold Synopsis: Summer has hit, and Rhett has a couple ideas on how to keep cool.  One shot: 1564 words AFAB/Female reader   Warning: Explicit MINORS DNI: vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, temperature play, internal ejaculation, creampie, dirty talk. Notes: Written for @hoe-on-the-range​  for the ‘stuff my box’ post. Comments and reblogs are so appreciated. Likes are loved. Thank you so very much for reading. It means the most.   

Summer had come, bringing with it brilliant blue skies, the constant screaming of bugs and a vicious, unrelenting heat. You managed to drag the mattress from the bedroom on the second floor to the living room in a moment of insanity, or brilliance you hadn’t quite decided. The ceiling fan is working overtime, and you had wedged box fans in the windows, the combined fans managed to keep the main floor of the house livable. You’re sprawled out on the bed, in nothing but your bra and a pair of sleep shorts. Clothing was too heavy. You can hear Rhett moving around in the kitchen. It’s the hottest part of the day, and he had come in to take shelter from the burning sun. “You want anything?” His voice slides down your spine, and you shiver despite the heat. “Water would be nice if you don’t mind.” Cabinets open and close, you can hear the sink running. He comes into the room a few minutes later and sits on the floor next to the mattress. He’s down to a well-loved tank-top and his boxers. “Here,” He holds a glass out to you, and you take a couple sips from the straw before flopping back on the sheets. “Have you cooled down?” You ask. He nods, eyes fluttering closed. He’s got the worn baseball cap on, and there’s some redness to his cheekbones and nose, the back of his neck. You watch as he dips his fingertips into his glass of water, before rubbing at the sunburn on his neck. You track the shiver that works down his spine, and the soft moan that passes his lips makes you bite your lower lip. “Too damn hot out there.” He mutters, “you doin’ alright?” “If I don’t move from this spot, I’m fine.” He chuckles softly. “I’m sorry darlin’.” His hand rests lightly on your knee, his fingers cool from the water. “It’s supposed to break in a couple days.” “I may break in a couple days,” you groan. “I can’t have that happening.” Rhett mutters. “I need my girl.” You can hear the ice in his glass clink when he takes another long drink. He’s fishing in his glass, long fingers capturing an ice cube. He pops it into his mouth, leaning over and kissing you softly. The contrast of the warmth of his lips, and the cold coating his tongue makes you shiver. You tug his hat off, your fingers find purchase in his hair, tugging playfully as he deepens the kiss. “That’s not helping,” you wipe the corner of your mouth. “No?” He murmurs. Cool fingers trace along your jaw, that warm, calloused hand spanning your neck. He squeezes lightly, a second wash of warmth flooding you, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the house. There’s the scrape of his scruff, as he nuzzles against your shoulder. Goosebumps break out on your skin when there’s a slow slide of another ice cube along your collar bone. He chases the droplets with his tongue, easing it down your chest, between your breasts, letting it rest and melt. The sound of him sucking the water from your skin makes your toes curl, a needy sound easing past your lips when another ice cube is swiped along the curve of your breast. The contrast of his warm mouth keeps the sensation of cold being too overwhelming. Teeth pinch slightly at the soft skin of torso, a low chuckle ghosts against your skin when your back arches. Rhett pulls away long enough to nudge your legs further apart, settling on his knees between them on the mattress. His hands spanning your ribcage, his thumbs brushing over your lace clad nipples. You manage to raise yourself up enough to undo the clasp, tossing the scrap of fabric aside. He’s on you almost instantly, tongue laving over your nipple, sucking it into the wet heat of his mouth. Your hands find a grip on his shoulders, nails biting into sun kissed skin. One hand dips between your legs, fingers teasing over the thin fabric of your sleep shorts. “You are warm darlin’,” He releases your breast with a filthy moan. “I should do something about that.” He's pressing white hot kisses down your torso, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts. He flashes you a wicked grin before he’s sitting up again. Ice cold water droplets hit your stomach and he plays with it, dragging his fingers through it, tracing patterns on your body. “Maybe you should,” you whimper, arching under the ministrations of his tongue as he licks water from your skin. “Should I?” The ice skims across your hipbone. “You want me darlin?” “Always,” you catch his wrist with your fingers, bringing his hand to your mouth and kissing his fingertips. He rewards you with another small, genuine smile—the one that never fails to make your heart flutter. Two fingers slide past your lips, and you start sucking on the digits automatically. You make a show of it, moaning around the intrusion, licking, sucking hard enough to hollow your cheeks. His fingertips curl against your tongue, his eyes dark with need. “Take ‘em off.” You lift your hips, wiggling out of your shorts, kicking them off the bed. He licks the drool from the corner of your mouth when you release his fingers. Your legs part even more, knowing what he wants before he asks. “Fuck,” he exhales against your shoulder, wet fingers sinking into your cunt effortlessly. “That’s my girl.” You can feel his cock hard and heavy against your thigh, twitching under the confines of his boxers as the slick sounds of his fingers fill the space between you. “Always so wet for me, tight on my fingers. You were made just for me weren’t you?” You blame the heat and overstimulation of the day on how loose lipped he is, but it only makes you tighten around him. “Split you open on my cock.” His thumb rubs harshly at your clit, fingers curling just right. “Fill you up and have you take everything I want to give you, girl.” His voice is so low and rough, the gravel and grit settling against your skin, embedding itself into your thoughts. “Rhett please,” you’re moaning and whimpering, moving against his fingers. “I’ve got you.” He’s easing his fingers from you, licking them clean with a moan before he’s shoving his boxers aside, hands gripping your thighs. He slides into you in a smooth motion, bottoming out almost instantly. There’s a slight twinge of pain, as his cock is thicker than his fingers, but it feels so fucking good that you can’t bring yourself to complain. He gives you a few moments to adjust, drawing his hips back and thrusting into you only when your hands relax on his back. He grunts softly, hips snapping against yours, fucking into you. He’s not patient on the best of days, and his need has seeped into his actions. His fingers grip your thighs hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises later that evening. “That’s it, that’s my girl.” Rhett groans. His hair is in his face, eyes watching you half lidded and heavy. He’s rutting against you, raw and rough, his full weight behind his thrusts. His hands release your thighs, resting on the mattress on either side of your hips. You wrap your legs around his waist, the angle pulling him deeper into you. “Greedy girl,” He rasps against your jaw. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. So hot and wet for me.” More of his weight drops onto you when one hand slides between you, fingers rubbing at your clit. “Look so pretty stuffed full of me.” Your orgasm sneaks up on you, back arching off the mattress with the force of how hard it hits you. You tighten your legs around him, nails scraping down his back. He fucks you through it, pounding into you as you tighten and try to pull him deeper into you. He’s whimpering soft curses punctuated by your name as his hips stutter. “In me, please Rhett come in me.” The absolute wrecked sound that passes his lips nearly makes you come again. He stills, cock twitching as he spills into you. “Fuck, you’re milking my cock.” He’s trembling against you. “You want me that bad darlin? Want me to fill this sweet cunt with my cum?” He kisses you sloppily. “Take you over and over until you’re so full it drips down those pretty thighs you’ve got wrapped around me?” He drops onto you, nuzzling once more at the curve of your neck. “Been wanting this all day. Need to be in you all the goddamn time darlin’.” He's wrapping around you, pulling you to him. He stays buried in you until he’s soft, gently removing himself from you, and sprawling out on the mattress next to you. It’s even hotter than when you first laid down, sweat drying to your skin. His fingertips are touching yours, and you can see the harsh rise and fall of his chest. Rhett’s eyes are closed, and his face soft and relaxed, his fingers moving to entwine with yours. “I’ll get a bath going in a few minutes darlin’.” He’s soft spoken, words slurring together slightly. “Just wanna lay here with you first.” ------ Tagging in:   @a-reader-and-a-writer  @hederasgarden    @writercole​ @evansrogerskitten   @roses-and-grasses @robertcallsignbobfloyd​ @lt-natrace​  @letsfvckingdance @green-socks  @mayhem24-7forever @callsign-phoenix @yespolkadotkitty @princessmisery666   @cowboybarbie​ @butaneandthebeast​ 

#Rhett Abbott #Rhett Abbott/you #Rhett Abbott/reader #Outer Range #outer range fanfic #smut #Rhett Abbott/female reader #Rhett Abbott x you #Rhett Abbott x reader #reader imagine #reader insert #Shelly writes #stuff my box #shelly loves hoe

[ironheartedfae]

Timing: Sometime in August Location: Axis Investigations/Emilio's Apartment Feat: @ohwynne & @ironheartedfae Warnings: none! Summary: Wynne bumps into Ren just before she's about to walk Perro

Sleeplessness had been an issue for Wynne for many a year, but never like this. There was a new level of insomnia, a new level of nightmares and a new need for distraction. And so they cooked. With the money they didn’t have, they bought groceries and with that money, they tried making whatever they could think of. Cookies for Cass. Hearty and nutritious meals for Nora, Emilio and even that stranger Rhett. Banana bread to take to work for those that worked. Soup, so much soup, because it was the only thing they could stomach at the moment.

It was late now, too late to have just finished cooking, but Wynne hardly cared. There was no room for any more food in the fridge and besides, Emilio tended to keep strange hours. The plan was to drop off the freshly made bread, knock and flee back into their apartment, where maybe now they could get some rest. 

Instead, as they were crossing the hallway the door to his apartment already opened. This was surprising, but what was more surprising was seeing Ren exit it with Perro in tow. Wynne considered the small window that showed the outside world, which showed no more daylight, and then looked at the other. “Hi Ren,” they said, holding onto the bread that was still in its baking pan. It smelled good, almost good enough to inspire their appetite to return. “I —” Their mind played catch up, remembering how Emilio had brought flowers from the other. “Thank you, for the flowers. And … are you going to walk Perro? Or what are you doing here?”

—

Routine was pretty important for Ren. So much had been in flux lately that the quiet moments of repetitive normality became the nymph's greatest solace. Walking Perro at precisely 10 pm and then later at 3:30 am was part of that routine. The long trek from Deersprings to Wormrow was usually enough to clear her mind, or at least get it to a level keel. Things were going pretty typically right until someone said hi.

Not just someone. Wynne.

"Oh." Ren blinked for a second, pulled from her internal monologue. "You do not need to thank me." How far had the nymph come, barely even raising a heartbeat while she rejected the appreciation. "Yes. This is my job." Sounding a lot more flat than she'd like, Ren's tone betrayed the jump of bells and butterflies that swirled the moment she saw the other. 

Wynne was one of the few people from the party that the fae thought she might actually like. They were sweet. They were soft in a way that Ren sort of wished she could be. Helpful too. The ginger tilted her head and examined the other. Helpful seemed to be the right word, were they delivering food to Emilio? Even with Ren's dulled nose the bread smelled great. 

"And yourself? Do you often supply baked goods to the detective?"

—

Right. No thanking people. Wynne wondered if Ren was simply a humble and nice person, or if they knew about fae as well. They nodded. “Sure. I was still very happy with them. Hospitals don’t have a lot of color, you know.” The white had hurt their eyes, at some point, and they’d taken to closing them even if sleep didn’t come. “I kept some of them to dry.” Because letting beautiful flowers go to waste was something Wynne was incapable of. Especially these days.

“Really? That’s cool.” The word cool had slowly intruded into Wynne’s vocabulary, becoming a favored descriptor for things they thought sounded nice. Still, it felt like a foreign word most of the time. As if they were just playing pretend at something. “Perro is very cute.” They smiled absentmindedly.

One of the lightbulbs in the hallway flickered and they tried not to be distracted by it, but it was hard. “Um, yes. Well, not really baked goods most of the time. I prefer cooking over baking. But I’ve been doing both a lot.” It was obsessive. A way to keep their hands and mind busy, that labor of life. Food was for the living and Wynne was among them.

They twisted their foot on the ground, toes grinding in a half circle. “You’re not gonna go out there now, though, right? I mean, it’s not safe.” 

—

Ren did not know. She'd never been in a hospital. Never seen a doctor at all. In fact she was terrified of the very notion. How had Regan put it? She'd rather die than see a doctor? Something like that. But the girl was already far too awkward. And saying something to that effect while true seemed… incorrect. So the nymph simply nodded. A single curt up and down accompanied by an attempted smile. Not enough to show teeth, it didn't seem the right time for that. But something to show she was listening, listening and understanding. Sorta. It wasn't a lie.  Now that Wynne had said it, Ren did know. She trusted them. 

"Oh, I also do this from time to time. Both for viewing and occasionally for tea. Not all flowers can be used as such though. Some flowers are not edible at all." Wynne might have known that. They seemed like the type of person who would.  They were a baker and they liked flowers. If even Ren knew about herbal tea, surely the rest of the world did too. Still the fact came out. An unnecessary explanation. 

At least the next part was easy. Perro was cute. Ren even occasionally practiced talking with the strangers who stopped her on the walks to tell her so. It was far and few between. Given the timing she always had. But it was enough for the nymph to realize that having a dog with you meant you did not have to share any details about yourself at all. Just nod and agree. "Yes." She nodded, agreeing with Wynne. "I agree." Foolproof. 

The shift in lighting immediately drew Ren's gaze. Her eyes so very attuned to movement, her heart so used to danger. But it was just a lightbulb. It was okay. Perro whined in protest of them not walking yet, which prompted Ren to scoot slightly out the door. "Oh. This is very good skill to have." She wasn't sure if she was supposed to close the door behind her. Was Wynne heading in? Should she leave it ajar? 

"Well this is walking time. And I have done so every night. Twice. For while now." And I have knives of almost every metal, Ren left that out. Knives, stakes, and an itching ache to take down something that was objectively bad. If something attacked her, defense was fair. If something attacked Perro, her skills would be not only useful, but good. The girl didn't want anything bad to happen, it wasn't that simple. But danger didn't scare her off like it maybe should have. 

—

That was nice to know, that Ren also dried flowers. Some for tea, some for decoration. There was so much that nature had to offer, from the prettiness of the flowers to the things that could be done with them after. “You can also press the not edible ones for oil. But it takes a lot of time and all of that. Flowers are fun, right?” Wynne smiled at Ren too. It was somewhat easy to do, even now.

They weren’t sure why they wanted the other to like them.  Sure, they wanted most people to like them — it was an annoying compulsion that flew forth from an endless need to please and a youth spent looked at as a future saint of sorts. But there was something else that came into play with Ren, it seemed. At the party she had seemed so uncomfortable and Wynne had thought to recognize it, except within them that discomfort was always miles below.

They sunk down a little, crouching as they balanced the bread on their knee and reached out one hand to pet Perro. This was a mandatory part of seeing the dog, after all. Wynne gave him a little scratch. “I did not know walking dogs could be a job. I wish I’d known that.” It was definitely better than making coffee. 

Raising to their full length again, they shrugged at the statement. “I guess. Food is important. We need it to live, and all.” That they did. Wynne looked down at the bread and tried not to think about the loaf they’d made for Zack and how we was no longer here now. They didn’t move for the door just yet, just standing there. The warmth of the bread spread through their fingers and it was almost comforting, but the idea of Ren going out there alone with Perro made Wynne far from comforted.

“Oh, okay, but —” They glanced at the dog and then down at Ren, because she was almost a head smaller than them. “Well, it’s dangerous out there. I used to go out by myself late too and always thought it’d be okay, but then.” Wynne didn’t want to project, didn’t want to seem like just because something bad had happened to them something bad had happened to Ren, but it had! In this neighborhood! Around this hour! So should they not be a little worried. “Then everything that happened, happened. It’s a … people call it a sketchy neighborhood.” They didn’t understood that idiom, but they got the intent behind it.

—

It wasn't hard to find things that Ren didn't know, but finding ones she was also interested in was a much harder challenge. The girl's proverbial dog ears pricked up at the notion, drawing a new expression to her face. "Oh! I did not know this. What are the oils in using for?" Ren knew of some alternate uses for a few flowers. Yarrow could stop a wound from bleeding, feverfew for well, fevers. Most of what Ren knew was built for self sustainability. And that whole fear of doctors they had going on. 

Wynne, having survived a trip to the hospital, was far braver than Ren believed herself to be. Wynne was human though, maybe that should have made a difference in how courageous the nymph saw the act to be, but it really didn't. Doctors were scary, point blank. They were brave for it. Ren sent flowers to show, because she'd heard that's what you were supposed to do. And now they were bonding over how those flowers could be used. All in all, this was a positively successful social campaign. Perhaps the best the girl ever got herself into. Unfortunate only that it took Wynne being hurt to get to this. 

"Well, I do not know if it is… real job?" Apparently real jobs paid money, and almost everything cost money. Something Ren was figuring out a lot slower than someone staying in an apartment or y'know, paying for all their own food and supplies, might have. Ren was lucky in that department. They were either unaware, living off the land and the occasional supply drop off, or living under Gael's care. There wasn't a damn thing she was missing now. Certainly nothing she needed to pay for. It was strange, hard to accept at times, but good. Probably. "Detective Emilio gives me these things that are called Lunch Ables. And a jacket. Though that was long ago when it was cold."

Then Wynne went on. They brought up danger again in a way Ren suspected might have had more to do with the hospital trip than she realized. Were they trying to tell her that? "Oh." Another quiet exhale. "But this is when I walk the dog." It was so matter of fact, so sure. Like that was the obvious answer, or rather excuse. She walked the dog at night. Twice a day. It was when Emilio was out hunting, and the pup needed someone. A stoic inflexibility. Genuinely curious as to what an alternative could even be, because one wouldn't occur to her naturally. 

—

“They’re for … well, you can use them to put into soaps and creams, for a nice scent. They’re mostly good for that, for putting scents on things. Like …” Their thoughts trailed off, trying to come up with an example that didn’t involve sacrificial lambs or humans. “You can burn it for a nice smell in your home.” There, that sounded right, because it was. No need to talk of the ways it was rubbed into the wool of the lambs, right? Wynne hoped that had saved their lost train of thought.

Their thoughts were so fleeting these days, fragile and silly things that kept leading back to home or that barn. Flower oil was an innocuous subject, as had the practice of using it once been — but there seemed to always be a return to the less easy memories. Wynne wondered if other people’s minds worked like that, and if so, what places Ren’s thoughts returned to when she was tired or not feeling as well. It was too personal a thing to wonder out loud, though.

They shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose if you want it to be one, it is. I’m definitely not an expert in that department.” Wynne had rolled into their job at A Latte to Love by seeing a ‘help wanted’ sign and being lucky enough that Lauri liked them to give them a chance, despite their lack of experience. They smiled as Ren referred to Emilio as detective Emilio, wondering if the hunter liked being called that. “A good jacket is very valuable.” This, perhaps, was something Ren and them could relate on — should they know more about the other. “I don’t know what Lunch Ables are, though, is it food?” 

Wynne’s eyes dropped to look at Perro, who seemed to be excited to go on his walk. A dog should be able to stretch his legs, that much they knew — but they also knew what was out there. Maybe not the vampires who had taken them, Zack and Arden, but other things. Teagan had gotten hurt. Someone else would get hurt. “I – well. I guess.” They weren’t sure what to do with Ren’s response. “Maybe … I could come with you? And we can do a short walk. But there is strength in numbers. If you’re gonna go, I’d rather … not you go alone? Because it is a dangerous place. Sometimes.”

—

"Oh." One of Ren's infamous inflections. This carried the tone of interest. Others often spelled the sounds of melancholic realization. Wynne hardly ever pulled those ohs from the nymph. The human had a pretty good demeanor about them, it made the fae comfortable. The way they explained things made sense, offered the exact context that Ren  sought. Useful, without being too wordy. A skill she often wished other people possessed. 

"Would work for candles and such then as well?" Cass liked scented candles. She thought Van might too. But she knew Cass did and wasn't Ren trying to get closer to the other nymph? A terrifying thought. One far scarier than the idea of going for a walk outside in the bad part of town. Especially accompanied by such a calming presence as Wynne. 

"Correct. Jacket has proved invaluable." There was a ten cent word, one Ren heard often around the compound, but never quite grasped the full concept of. A good knife was invaluable. A day of the right kind of training, invaluable. The girl knew it meant something along the lines of 'something that couldn't be replaced by money' but that's sort of where the confusion came in too. Ren didn't really understand money. Not fully. It was one of those things you got when you had a real job. The nymph repeated a phrase she'd heard before, talking about the old jacket like a priceless shield, rather than something that could very well be bought. 

"The lunch ables are small packed salty food. Convenient. Easy to carry. We can share this one." Ren had already visited the fridge. Part of their ritual when coming to this house. Food in the bowl, grab the yellow box, grab the leash, head out. Wynne had interrupted this routine, but Ren couldn't hold that against them. Despite how much they normally hated changes.

"Oh?" This one carried surprise, a little confusion too. The nymph looked the human up and down, wondering what exactly they planned to do if something bad were to happen. "I suppose two sets of eyes are better than one. Three if you count Perro." Could Wynne even see in the dark? Sense movement in the way Ren was so accustomed to? Oh well. Hardly a thing worth denying the company over. 

—

They weren’t entirely sure if it worked for candles. Back at home, they had relied on incense and burning oils to give off scents, the candles only intended to create atmosphere and offer light. But Wynne didn’t see why not. “I guess so. Maybe we can try, one day? I have made candles before. It is fun.” 

Maybe that was something they should look for in a job, a place where they could make things. Wasn’t that what they kept coming back to? Obsessively standing in the kitchen, working with their hands. They missed the little processes they had had at home. Making soap. Making wreaths. Making. There was something nice about being able to buy all these things yourself – especially as Wynne often felt they lacked the energy to create anything – but it was somehow less real.

“I’m glad that you got it, then,” they said, and they meant it. Some people said these things to be polite, and though Wynne very much wanted to be a polite person, they also didn’t just say these things. Especially to someone like Ren, who they felt was someone they might grow to like more as time went on. Making friends was odd and strange, but this seemed to be what it was, right? “I am excited for it to be colder again so I can wear my big jacket again myself. I prefer being bundled up.”

They beamed at Ren and then nodded. “Are you sure? I’d like that, I really enjoy trying new food. There’s so many things out there.” Sharing was good. That was something they had learned at home and one of the few lessons that continued to ring true. Life was better when people cared for others in their community. Sharing was a key part of that.

Wynne felt a little doubt at their offer, especially because the knife Emilio had given them was not on their body right now. They took it most places, but not to these little trips across the hall. Maybe they should, considering how Jeff also always seemed to have a knife. They nodded. “Yes. Strength in numbers, right? And it could be fun, maybe. Should we go?” Best get it over with and be home and safe soon, they figured.

— 

"Okay. This sounds like it would be enjoyable." The redhead offered a slight smile. In that mildly awkward way they often did. Mind already bristling with ideas, uses, people who would appreciate a gift of a handmade candle. Gael's would smell of pine or coffee, Van might like something sweeter, maybe a floral scent to get rid of the constant pizza odor that she talked about. A longer list of people than Ren ever believed possible followed suit. Leaving perhaps the most influential for last. And only after a pang of guilt hit her like a wave. 

Would Darya even like something like that? Or would it be a mistake to try. The nymph never noticed anything around the old woman's house that didn't have a strict purpose. Ren too, fit that description. Only allowed in the matriarchal home when some lesson needed to be learned. Otherwise it was back to the lonely shack at the edge of the vast property. 

Ren could have run. At any time. She had the skills to, she'd been pretty much self sufficient since she was about… ten. Wouldn't have been glamorous. (And if not for her excellent hiding skills, she'd probably be gobbled up by whatever predator first stumbled upon her. Hell she was so small back then a particularly ambitious bird could've carried her off.) But it was hard to say if it would have been better. Apparently she never thought so. Something about the purpose the Adelskold family gave her, made it worth whatever isolation she had to endure. 

It wasn't like that here. In fact, it was far more rare that Ren ever found herself truly alone anymore. She couldn't decide if that was a good thing. If what felt nice in the moment was better in the long run. Three months ago she wouldn't have even considered allowing the other to come with her on the walk. Especially because it might be dangerous. But now–? 

"Let us go then. Before dog has…accidental expulsion." 

#wickedswriting #ohwynne #ironheartedfae

[bobfloydsbabe]

the secret joint task force between the usa + denmark has ordered more intel on linger chapter 3 (rhett abbott x oc) & mickey goes for coffee (fanboy x oc). it's a matter of international security.

Should I be sleeping instead of answering this ask right now? Yes. Am I going to ignore sleep and answer it anyway? Also yes. It's a matter of an international security, so how could I not?

Linger chapter 3 takes us inside Lou's head for the first time. We get to see the town and its people from her perspective. It's a long chapter because it has three separate settings: the rodeo, the bar, and Lou's cabin. The scenes in the first two locations are shorter, while the part in Lou's cabin is long. Rhett's drunk and touch-starved and there's only one bed. Here's a snippet of the cabin scene:

“I don’t like sleeping in these,” he mutters, gesturing at his worn blue jeans. “Then take them off,” she says, stepping out of the way, closer to the headboard. “I’m not your Mama.” He huffs out a laugh before standing. He toes off his boots, almost falling over, while Lou turns on the lamp on the nightstand. She busies herself pulling back the quilts and adjusting the pillows, so it’s ready for Rhett when he is. The sound of metal hitting the floor echoes through the cabin. Rhett’s standing next to her in just the black t-shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs that leave surprisingly little to the imagination.  Her cheeks burn at the thought of what this moment would be like if he was sober. “Come on,” she mutters, gesturing to the bed. “Get comfortable, and I’ll get you some more water.” A grin spreads across his devilishly handsome face, and his hooded eyes half-focus on her face. “I thought you weren’t my Ma.” Lou rolls her eyes, but the smile remains. “I’m not,” she tells him and points to the bed. “But I’m a nice person who’ll get your drunk ass some water.”

Mickey goes for coffee is more of a general idea than anything else at the moment. Mei is at work thinking about him when he walks into the coffee shop like she's conjured him up. She's a blushing mess and when he leaves, her coworkers tease her about it to no end. This is what I have for that so far:

“You look like shit.” Mei looked up from the tower of brownies she was building in the display. Her co-worker, Sav, stood leaned against the countertop with her arms crossed and head cocked to the side. “Thanks?” “Did you stay late at the restaurant yesterday?” Mei straightened her back, sliding the display door closed as she did. “Natasha invited me to hang out with her friends afterward,” she replied and wiped her hands on the small apron. Sav raised a brow, pushing her red-rimmed glasses up her nose. “And you went?” Mei smacked her arm in mock offense. “All I’m saying is,” Sav continued as Mei walked around her to the espresso machine, “you’re constantly working and you deserve to let your hair down.” Busying herself with cleaning the machine, she tried not to crawl out of her skin at the barely concealed concern and care in Sav’s voice. She didn’t know what to do with someone who checked in on her well-being, someone who thought work wasn’t everything. That something had to exist beyond the classroom and workplace.  “Did you have fun at least?” Brown eyes and a devastatingly handsome smile appeared in her mind, and the corners of her mouth turned up. They were all nice people, but that conversation by the bonfire had stirred something in her. Some hidden, long-lost feeling she’d been yearning for started bubbling to the surface, spreading warmth in her stomach and her limbs. His heat warmed her more than the bonfire ever could. Mei wiped her hands on her apron and turned to look at Sav. “I did,” she said finally, and moved around her colleague once again. She went to the back room to help Aimee make another batch of blueberry muffins.

Thank you for asking, darling. I hope you enjoy these little snippets from some of my many WIPs. Love you!

#mail #answered #joaquinwhorres #fanboy x oc #mickey fanboy garcia #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott

[likelylarks]

maxiel country music manifesto

okay so i just made a maxiel country music playlist and then i didn’t want to just drop a massive playlist so i felt the need to justify all the songs on it? so here’s the list! (and the playlist)

please be so proud of me for not making this playlist SO long by including taylor swift and brandi carlile because then we’d all still be here, i was SO brave and SO discerning for y’all

1. 23 - Sam Hunt

“You’ll always be my first time….in New Orleans” tell me something that doesn’t scream red bull maxiel more than that line? More than this whole song? You can’t! It’s about how no other teammate that either of them have had has been able to recapture the magic! Also max lost his virginity to daniel and that’s that, we’re starting off strong folks xx

2. Amazed - Lonestar

Daniel totally grew up listening to this song and you can’t change my mind :) he wants to slow dance with max to this song at their wedding :) everyone is like oh my god we get it you’re in love and they’re just like yeah :))))) and gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes

3. Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not - Thompson Square

What it says on the tin! The will they wont they! The lean in! The slight teasing! The speedrun of the song from first kiss to marriage mimicking maxiel’s internal feelings!

4. Austin - Blake Shelton

Long hair blake shelton singing about a maxiel after daniel has moved to renault and they broke up :( but are still in love and need to stop being stupid

5. Beautiful Crazy - Luke Combs

max @ daniel, no further comment

6. Better Dig Two - The Band Perry

They’re scarily obsessed with each other, max would literally rather die than get divorced, if daniel died he would die (daniel does not think about max dying bc it is Too Scary)

7. Bless the Broken Road - Rascal Flatts

Daniel and max broke up when daniel left red bull :( and it took them years and years and years to get back together :( but they did! God bless the broken road! For it was broken! But it led daniel back to max!

8. Body Like a Back Road - Sam Hunt

They fuck?

9. Break Up in the End - Cole Swindell

They broke up :( but no amount of love is ever love that is wasted, and there is never a world where they could regret being with each other - or they were never together and this is about daniel breaking up with red bull and how he’d still do it all over again because when it was good it was Good

10. Buy Dirt - Jordan Davis, Luke Bryan

This is vineyard au daniel’s favorite country song, loves the land and the grapes and making max happy with what he grows there

11. Check Yes or No - George Strait

Very cute, very sweet! Also can very much see a high off his ass daniel writing a little check yes or no note and passing it to max and looking at him with wide eyes, pupils blown out huge and not looking away from max’s face as max, also high off his ass, checks a box with shaky hands and shoves the paper back at daniel, and daniel looks down and max checked yes and daniel says “cool” and then max has to be the one to kiss him

12. Colder Weather - Zac Brown Band

I love daniel but he is a ramblin man and he aint ever gonna change, he’s got a —- soul to blame and he was born for leavin, i think the first few months, maybe even years would have been really hard because max wouldn’t understand why daniel couldn’t just be happy right where they were all the time

13. Die a Happy Man - Thomas Rhett

Max has an unending faith that daniel will win a c-word, daniel tells him he doesn’t need one (it would be nice but he doesn’t need it) when he has max

14. Fancy Like - Walker Hayes

I think it’s amusing to imagine millionaires going to apples bees (spelling intentional, that’s how i pronounce it to make my dad fondly roll his eyes) and i think daniel would like to pretend that he would be comfortable there

15. Fast Cars and Freedom - Rascal Flatts

“You don’t look a day over fast cars and freedom” daniel @ max and his perpetual baby face, also peak vibes but i can’t describe the vibes you just gotta listen and then you’ll get the vibes

16. Forever After All - Luke Combs

Many things don’t last forever, max and daniel wouldn’t know anything about that xoxo

17. From the Ground Up - Dan + Shay

It’s about building a family and building a life and the safety and security that comes with it! It’s about choosing each other over and over and over for the rest of their lives

18. half of my hometown (feat. Kenny Chesney) - Kelsea Ballerini

No matter how far he goes, how fancy a house he gets in LA, or how famous he gets, there’s always going to be a part of daniel that’s still that goofy kid from duncraig in perth

19. Head Over Boots - Jon Pardi

Did y’all ever see that video of the chick lip syncing this song to her girlfriend while her gf drives? That’s maxiel

20. Highwayman - The Highwaymen

It is my personal belief this song is on daniel’s ancient ipod, i will be accepting no criticism at this time or ever, also it’s about cycles and storytelling and can we ever go back?

21. I Don’t Want This Night to End - Luke Bryan

They’re hooking up! Don’t want it to be over because then they have to acknowledge they just slept with their teammate! Does not stop them from hooking up again and again!

22. I Got the Boy - Jana Kramer

Slightly to the left of reality where max is still with kelly but he did date daniel when he was younger, daniel is sad :( but there’s a part of max that will always be his so he won, he guesses.

23. In Case You Didn’t Know - Brett Young

Daniel @ max when max says smth stupid about how daniel doesn’t need him as much as max needs daniel

24. It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere - Alan Jackson, Jimmy Buffett

I couldn’t resist? Essential listening?

25. I Want Crazy - Hunter Hayes

They’re insane about each other! Max does not realize this is not normal! Daniel knows this is not normal and does not care!

26. I Will Always Love You - Dolly Parton

Daniel leaving red bull, gifting the number one driver spot to max (as much as it was his to give), what greater act of love (for max, for himself) than to leave?

27. Jolene - Dolly Parton

Max @ every woman who ever looks at daniel for longer than 0.3 seconds

28. Just a Kiss - Lady A

Put them wherever you’d like, the vibes are there! Idk they’re in high school and they’re lying in a field somewhere, max pointing up at all the constellations, daniel keeps humming like he’s listening, but really he’s turned over on his side and he’s just looking at max (they planned to go all the way tonight, for the first time), max is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, max eventually lowers his arms and looks over at daniel only to find him already looking, “daniel, will you kiss me”

29. Knee Deep (feat. Jimmy Buffett) - Zac Brown Band

I couldn’t resist? Essential listening?

30. Lady - Brett Young

SORRY but max is the most excellent mother, we all been knew, daniel been knew, etc.

31. Live Like You Were Dying - Tim McGraw

is this not the formula one thesis?

32. The Long Way - Brett Eldredge

Daniel showing max around perth

33. Love You Like I Used To - Russell Dickerson

Every day they are more in love! I don’t make the rules!

34. Made for You - Jake Owen

They were made for each other, they were made to be parents, etc. i do not make the rules, i simply find the country songs that reflect them

35. Margaritaville - Jimmy Buffett

I couldn’t resist? Essential listening?

36. Marry Me - Thomas Rhett

In the music video she shows up at the diner where the best friend has run off to and does NOT marry the guy and that’s the plot we’re going with - the vibes are similar to @abedsmessedupmeta ‘s catalog of non-definitive acts on ao3 (washtheseghostsclean)

37. More Hearts Than Mine - Ingrid Andress

Daniel taking max home to perth and everyone loving max and max being like what if we break up and daniel is like well then you’ll make everyone sad so we should just stay together forever

38. My Girl - Dylan Scott

Daniel is stupidly in love with max, hope this helps

39. My Wish - Rascal Flatts

It’s a good song, and they just love each other y’all, they want the very best for each other

40. Night Train - Jason Aldean

Idk put them in the just a kiss high school scenario again or idk i get come on, star boy ( @yekoc) vibes but like while daniel is at bama and max is still in high school, there’s just something about train whistles mixed with cicadas, nothing quite like it, they’d have fun making out to it

41. Nobody But You (Duet with Gwen Stefani) - Blake Shelton

When this song came on the radio i had to one hand drive down the interstate so i could shazam it so i could keep it because the maxiel vibes were so strong, they’re insane about each other thank you for coming to my ted talk

42. Play It Again - Luke Bryan

Max watching daniel dance stupidly at some house party, thinking he’s the most incredible person in the world

43. Remind Me (with Carrie Underwood) - Brad Paisley

Daniel to renault then mclaren, it’s been so long since they’ve been together, they fall right back into as soon as they let themselves, as easy as breathing

44. Sand In My Boots - Morgan Wallen

Daniel meets max while max is hitchhiking through australia? And max says he’d like to see perth but then he has to get on a flight and go back to europe and daniel goes home to perth alone (max comes back to australia, visits all the places daniel told him about hoping to see him, he does)

45. See You When I See You - Jason Aldean

Daniel leaving red bull, promising max they’d still be friends, max curling daniel’s fingers around the fuel scented candle, saying see you later

46. Setting the World On Fire (with P!NK) - Kenny Chesney

Remember that time they saw each other in passing in LA? Idk they met up that night bc they’re in love and young and beautiful and deserve to be drunk and pretty in LA together

47. She’s Everything - Brad Paisley

Daniel @ max, max @ daniel, hope this helps

48. Something to Be Proud Of - Montgomery Gentry

Cannot convince me that daniel did not grow up listening to this song, he hears it again while they’re in austin, while they’re doing that stupid PR video, he takes his hat off and puts it on max, sings under his breath, max is the life he can hang his hat on

49. Speechless - Dan + Shay

Max is the most beautiful person daniel has ever seen ever in his life! Daniel is the most beautiful person max has ever seen ever in his life! Sometimes they get overwhelmed! I would too!

50. Strawberry Wine - Deana Carter

Daniel took max’s virginity :)

51. Take Your Time - Sam Hunt

This is how it starts! Fun! Casual! And then, of course, they do want to take each other’s hearts and call each other baby :)

52. Tennessee Whiskey - Chris Stapleton

Max is as sweet as strawberry wine (see above), but also, there’s a lot of ways that daniel could cope that are unhealthy, instead he goes home to max

53. That Ain’t My Truck - Rhett Akins

DANIEL IS MY GIRL !!!! MY WHOLE WORLD!!! MCLAREN IS NOT MY TRUCK!!!

54. Think of You - Chris Young, Cassadee Pope

They’re a package deal even when they’re not (“they still call you daniel”)

55. Toes - Zac Brown Band

I couldn’t resist? Essential listening?

56. Unanswered Prayers - Brooks Jefferson (IT’S TECHNICALLY GARTH BROOKS but he doesn’t have, like anything on spotify???? King??? Why???? This is NOT the first time this has been a problem, everyone please go listen to the original, the cover is just on the playlist for posterity)

Idk something about the way that daniel was with his high school girlfriend until 2016/2017 (i can’t remember exactly when they split), and then wasn’t seriously with someone for A While IRL, and then to make it maxiel (bc that’s what i’m doing here), something about how daniel probably really wanted it to work and then he met max and was glad it wasn’t working, and then got to be with max, and years later runs into jemma and is so fucking glad he didn’t try and stick it out because max is literally everything

57. Wanted - Hunter Hayes

I just think there are different ways and different times where they have felt unwanted but never by each other

58. Waves - Luke Bryan

If you ask daniel, max was made for summer and being under the southern hemisphere’s stars; if you ask max, he’d say the same about daniel. And that’s love baybee

59. You’re Gonna Miss This - Trace Adkins

It’s maxiel as parents, it’s maxiel as some of the most established drivers on the grid, it’s maxiel reminding each other to enjoy their triumphs as they happen

60. Yours - Russell Dickerson

They love each other :)

#maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #i worked so hard on this lol like too hard on this

[asherlockstudy]

I really appreciate your blog.

With any new interest of mine, if i get to follow any one fan account, it is the one that has something interesting to say, (that they’re gracious enough to write down and share) because they’ve been DEEP in the stock and the gravy is just pouring out on its own. I don’t agree with everything you write, cause i have my own experiences and the interpretations they influence yadayada, but it is nice to read someone else who got forced by their brain decided to think extensively about a relationship-business situation that a couple of 40 yos have got due to the nature of their job as main talent, founders, and CEOs of a new media corporation.

I don’t think this is the healthiest thing for anyone to be obsessed with, and id love to be obsessed with a book or a video game, but analysis of interpersonal relationships between youtubers, for me, really is the only thing that sticks.

So, yeah.. I really appreciate your blog, the way you write, and how seriously you take certain aspects of it. Makes me feel seen, and therefore, less insane. Heart emoji

Thank you for enjoying the blog and empathising!

I am going to be 100% honest though; I’m sure this was not intentional but in your quick assumption that our mindsets coincide mutually, some of your mail ended up sounding a little backhanded.

My experience is in fact different and I approach it with an entirely different mindset that does not involve beating myself up. I do not internalize my interest in Rhett and Link’s dynamic and I do not feel insane at all actually, not even humorously. I have observed that my perception of them often differs from their statements, as a result I feel curious to explore this and figure out whether I am missing something or they are fabricating it.

I like Rhett and Link a lot but I don’t exactly consider myself obsessed with them but I am rather curious with what my mind processes. Which is why I found it interesting that you scratched the “forced by brain” thing and kept the “decided to think extensively about the relationship of 40 year olds”. You shouldn’t scratch the first one because it is openly my biggest motivation - I feel compelled by my suspiciously different perception of them to analyse what’s going on. Is that healthy? No, it’s not, but it is unhealthy in a different way than the way you thought. It’s a quirk or flaw of mine: I don’t like to be painted as the crazy one when all evidence leads to a certain explanation. The unhealthy part is that it involves their privacy and therefore I should lay off more easily even when painted as crazy. But that’s where my flaw comes in, what happens between them is between them only, however I am still painted as crazy or as seeing things that don’t exist. So I really want to see where I am making the mistake, what makes me fall for the nonexistent thing, otherwise I will have to rub my vindication on people’s faces.

I have accepted this about myself - with its pros and cons - so I am very open about being urged by my brain. On the contrary I am not as comfortable with claiming “I decided to devote part of my free time to Rhett and Link’s relationship”, because it resonates with me less. Make no mistake, I enjoy enough of their content (and I am quite critical towards the rest of it) and I am definitely inspired by their long-lasting unconventional friendship as is. What I am saying though is that if there wasn’t also the motive of the hope/expectation to eventually be proven wrong or right for good, I would be here way less and I would watch them less and I would think about them less. Still they would be part of my interests, but definitely less.

On the contrary. I am usually passionate over fictional content and not at all over celebrities and YouTubers. Like, at all. Unless it’s Keith Richards I guess. I made this blog years ago for Sherlock actually. And yet it was again because I felt compelled to talk about things the screenwriters eventually denied until the end.

See a pattern there? It is my quirk or flaw. I do acknowledge that most people obsess over real people or fiction for different reasons but this for me has been secondary. Not non-existent, to claim that would be hypocritical, in the sense that I do enjoy the idea of Rhink too, I am not saying I am above it, but it’s 100% truly secondary for me personally. In other words, if I eventually get persuaded they are 100% platonic with happy marriages, I will be annoyed at what happened to me and I got it THAT wrong but I will be super happy for them for succeeding both in romance and friendship without any such trouble at all.

Okay I hope this won’t make you grow distant from what you enjoyed in my blog, this is in no way my intention. I just felt I was getting a little misunderstood and wanted to be clear. Also, I didn’t like being led, even indirectly through your empathy, into a path of self-judgment; thinking about unhealthy obsession, that I am crazy due to how much I analyse this etc etc If it’s proven that I and all the rest of us have been indeed lied to, then why would I blame my disbelief and inquiry? To be clear, Rhett and Link have all the rights in the world to lie to us about their personal lives. But I also unashamedly retain the right to not believe in lies.

Unless I am proven wrong for good. Then this will be an unpleasant but certainly useful experience.

Thanks again for the good words, please don’t take this the wrong way, I am just explaining my perspective.

#rhink theory #anon #mail #personal

[ironcladrhett-archive]

TIMING: current. LOCATION: various. FEATURING: @ironcladrhett & @monstersfear SUMMARY: Rhett runs into an old friend. CONTENT WARNINGS: parental & sibling death (past events), alcoholism, suicidal ideation.

—

This goddamn place again. It wasn’t the first time Rhett had ended up on Maine’s coast, and he suspected it wouldn’t be the last. The lutin he was tracking, damn near impossible as that was, seemed to have an affinity for beach towns. Would have been fucking great if it had stayed on Aotearoa, where at least the hunter was more… understood. His family, immediate and extended, readily accepted his intensity with open arms because they knew it was necessary. Same couldn’t be said of the people in Papa New Guinea, Malaysia, Vietnam, India… the list went on. He was an outcast, but he didn’t mind that. Couldn’t trust anyone, anyway. Any of ‘em could be fae. Sure, he’d know it, but even the ones who didn’t set off his bloodhound instinct could be friends with fae. Crazy fucking bastards. Who would ever risk that? An insane person, that’s who. Fae were fickle, and that was putting it nicely. Scheming, conniving little monsters that took delight in the anguish of others, usually for little more than their own entertainment. Disgusting. 

“Disgusting!” The punctuating final thought of the internal monologue managed to slip past his tongue, startling even him. Eyebrows knitted in the center, dark eyes widening in a threatening, chaotic sort of way as they fell upon their prey. It had been spooked by the hunter’s exclamation, who until now, had been hiding rather effectively in the underbrush. “Fuck.” Springing into action, Rhett leaped from his hiding spot and swiped at the pixie that was trying to get away, fingers curling into a fist around nothing but air.

The pixie was quick, but Rhett was quicker.

Another lunge had the little devil ensnared in his hand, and it was with a delighted cackle that he watched the boneheaded insect try to bite his arm, only to recoil in pain and disgust at the taste of his iron-diffused skin. The leather glove on his hand prevented the pixie from suffering full-body burns—a small mercy from a man who did not typically take those kinds of things into consideration. “Gotcha, y’little shit,” he snarled, squeezing the creature’s body and staring joylessly as it wailed and writhed in a futile attempt to escape. “No more tricks. No more games. No more hidin’ out in the wops waitin’ for an easy target.” With a crunch, the warden crushed it in his hand and tossed it into the ferns at his feet carelessly, eyes scanning the area for similar targets. They weren’t lutins, but they’d do. 

After another hour of tracking down two additional pixies, the man made his way back into town, headed for his hotel. It wasn’t much, but it had a nice view of the ocean. He felt homesick, same as he always did when he looked at the sea. The memories of the peninsula were hardly happy ones, though, and he’d never gone back after leaving. Didn’t think he ever could. Wasn’t much for him to go back to, anyway. 

Fuckin’ fae.

His appearance never really failed to draw attention—he wasn’t exactly cut from the same cloth as people who lived in towns and cities, looking every inch a wild mountain man that had accidentally wandered into a civilized place. Didn’t bother him, of course. Lots more pressing things to worry about, like the fact that the man walking in his direction on the opposite side of the street looked painfully familiar. A ghost. A ghost, he was a fuckin’ ghost, had to be! No way little Emilio had made it out of that massacre—no way! The warden sprinted across traffic to cut the other hunter off, clapping a hand over his shoulder. He was real. What? He was—

“Real!” Eyes widened and lips cracked into a wild grin that was laced with painful disbelief. “Thought you were dead, mate! Wh—” Cutting himself off with a frantic laugh, the older man happily invaded Emilio’s space and scooped him up in a ferociously tight but brief hug, dropping him back to the pavement to take a step back and shake his head. He couldn’t believe it—alive! The bastard was alive! “Where you been? Howzit?” The rapidfire questioning was hardly anything new when it came to Rhett—Emilio had experienced it enough times in his youth. The warden had made something of a habit of dropping in on the Cortez family every couple of years, finding their company and community to be a welcome break from the isolation of travel. The two had first met when Emilio was just a teen, and Rhett had quickly discovered a fondness for the boy, like a little brother. Like his little brother that had perished at the hands of their own mother, though it hadn’t been her fault—

Enough of that. Enough.

—

After the massacre in Etla, the world turned gray. It was a haze that covered everything, a colorless mist that sucked out all the things that made life worth living. For months after, Emilio was a corpse with a heartbeat, a ghost with skin. He moved, he fought, he drank, and he waited for his body to catch on to the fact that he was already dead. He waited for something to remind it, for a vampire to get a lucky shot in, for a zombie to deliver a killing blow, for someone or something whose bad side his family had found themselves on to come after the grand prize of being the one to finally wipe the Cortez name off the playing board. 

He’d always tried to pretend he wasn’t disappointed when nothing did. He tried to pretend that winning a fight felt like a victory instead of a failure, tried not to hate the air in his lungs or the way his heart kept pumping blood through his veins. In White Crest, he’d almost started to believe the lie. He’d gotten himself a job, he’d let people into his apartment, he’d put on clothes without any bloodstains on them, he’d eaten food that didn’t taste like ash. He’d let himself think he was alive, for a while. 

It was only ever going to be a temporary thing.

The world was gray again now. Maybe even a little darker than before, a little heavier. And Emilio, like always, fell back into those old habits. He picked fights he couldn’t win and was angry when he still didn’t lose them. He pushed people away and was frustrated when they tried to come back. He opened his eyes in the mornings and mourned the way there was light coming in through the blinds, hated the fact that he still wasn’t rotting, even years after he should have been dust. 

It had him moving in a daze, simultaneously hyperaware of his surroundings and unaware of anything at all. He tensed at every noise, he fell into a defensive position with his fists clenched and his heart pounding every time someone looked at him. It made the city streets a minefield, but he could hardly stay in his apartment all day without losing said apartment. There were still bills to be paid, even if he was a glorified ghost. 

So, he took cases. He looked for lost pets, he dove into mysterious deaths that the police were too busy to mark down as anything but accidental. He took stupid photos of stupid people who were cheating on their stupid spouses so that divorce settlements and custody battles could go the way the people paying him wanted them to go. He pretended any of it made him feel human. 

He was on his way back from a ‘photoshoot’ now, camera tucked into the bag that occasionally bumped against his good leg, hands stuffed into his pockets. He ached from spending so much time tucked away on a fire escape staring through a window, but he’d gotten what was asked of him. The paycheck would be enough to keep the lights on for another month. Maybe enough to put whiskey in the cabinet, if the client took a swing at him. (They probably would. They usually did, in cases like this one.)

He took stock of the people on the street absently, but it was an increasingly useless endeavor these days. The last few months had done his addled mind no favors, and the streets of White Crest often flickered into the streets of Etla, with ghosts glaring at him from every corner. A familiar face was nothing to turn his head towards when he had no reason to believe it was really there at all. 

Emilio ignored the honks of angry drivers on the streets, didn’t bother to turn his head to see what had pissed them all off. There was a bottle of whiskey waiting for him at home, after all, and it was the only thing keeping him moving. If he had turned towards the sounds of traffic, he might have seen the familiar figure bounding towards him before it was already on him. 

As it was, Rhett made his presence known with a hand on Emilio’s shoulder that sent his heart into his throat and had his hands clenched into fists in a single rapid heartbeat, eyes wild as he whirled around towards the source of the contact. 

It took him a moment to recognize the other man, a moment longer to realize that he was actually there. His heart picked up a tick, and he wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear making his heart pound. It was good to see a familiar face. It was terrifying, too. Emilio was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be rotting on a street in Etla. He’d known that for years now. 

He was still trying to process Rhett’s presence when the other man scooped him up into a hug, and Emilio let out a quiet huff of protest as he shifted the camera bag to avoid breaking the thing. His leg twinged when he was placed back on the ground, and his eyes darted around briefly, as if to ensure that no threats had materialized during the seconds Rhett’s sudden presence had made him unaware. 

“I’m not dead,” he said dryly, and it felt like a lie but he forced a smile anyway. He’d had enough experience with Rhett to know how to navigate the conversation, even when the questions were coming at him all at once. “I’ve been, uh… here. Other places, too, but here for a few months now.” A wave of guilt washed over him. He’d never contacted Rhett after the massacre. He hadn’t contacted anyone after the massacre, hadn’t corrected the rumors that he was dead with the rest of his family, but… He couldn’t help but wonder if Rhett had believed the story of Etla’s fall or if he’d gone to investigate it himself. He wondered if the other hunter had seen the bodies in the streets, if he’d seen the blood in the dirt. 

Feeling sick, he forced the thought away.

“You’re, uh — What’re you doing in White Crest?” Did you know I was here? The question wasn’t one he asked aloud because, logically, he knew the answer must have been no. Rhett wouldn’t have reacted to Emilio’s presence the way he had if he’d been looking for him. Not when there was only ever one reason anyone was looking for Emilio. 

(Rhett wasn’t like that. Emilio knew Rhett wasn’t like that. He was as much family to Emilio as anyone with the last name Cortez had been, back in Etla. But… he was family to the rest of them, too. And they were all dead and Emilio wasn’t, and it didn’t take a genius to understand that some of that blame had to belong on Emilio’s shoulders, too.)

—

It was easy to see the way the smile never reached Emilio’s eyes, and for good reason. Rhett could still perfectly recall the eerie, dead silence that blanketed the town the last time he’d been there. It had been long enough that the bodies weren’t still strewn about, but the telltale brownish-black stains told him all he’d needed to know. Instead of being met with the warmth he was used to, the few pairs of eyes that still remained regarded him with hostility as he moved through the town. Each step had driven the anguish deeper into his heart, until he realized he couldn’t take it. No search was made for any survivors, not by him and not by anyone else that he knew of—it was a cut and dry situation. The details were murky, but the result was finite… none of his surrogate family still lived.

And yet… here was one of them in the flesh; a living, breathing reminder of that awful memory. Rhett's feelings on the matter certainly could not compare to the younger hunter’s, and he knew that. If his heart ached, then surely Emilio’s had been ripped from his chest long ago. It filled him with an incomprehensible sadness, for now he was not the only one left to suffer such a loss.  His hand met the man’s arm a second time in a gentle pat, a silent but pronounced condolence for the pain he’d gone through. Rhett knew that Emilio would almost certainly rather be dead along with the rest of them. He had wished for death as well, for a time. These days, the only thing that really kept him going was spite.

At least it was something.

“Me? Ah,” the hunter scoffed, waving a gloved hand dismissively, “Same old. Chasin’ hysteria.” Rhett was never especially secretive about his Lutin hunt, at least not with the Cortez family. They knew it was what dragged him all over the globe, looking for the one… though no one ever really believed he’d find it. They also knew it was the thing that had driven him mad in a lot of ways—he was very much the picture of what a hunter could become when they lived for too long. “Lotta weird shit comin’ outta here. Been here before—before you, reckon. Always a lotta weird shit. Lots needs killin’. Good way to spend the day.” His expression softened while he took a beat to just look at Emilio, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled. “Good to see you, kid. Real damn good. Where you off to?”

—

It was like his mind was still catching up to the situation, still making sense of it. Emilio was in White Crest, and Rhett was here and those two things didn’t quite fit together in his mind. Rhett was a fixture back in Etla, even if he had always been in and out. He’d turn up for a while, hang around and trade tips and stories and maybe join the Cortezes on a hunt here and there, and then he’d be gone for a while more. He’d known Emilio when he was a teenager and, it occurred to him in that moment, that he might be the only person left alive who could make that claim. It didn’t make sense for Rhett to be here, but… it did, too. White Crest was a damn good hunting ground, and Rhett was a damn good hunter. Of course he’d turn up here eventually. The only surprise should have been that it hadn’t happened sooner. And Emilio wondered, for a moment, how much of a difference could have been made if it had. He quickly pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t. His mind was addled enough without sending it spiraling into what ifs.

The important thing, he figured, was that Rhett was here now. He didn’t know for how long — he rarely ever did — but it felt like it might be a good thing. Maybe. A little voice in the back of his head seemed to want to argue it, insisting that anyone who spent too much time around Emilio was going to get killed sooner rather than later if experience was anything to go by, but he did his best to ignore it. Rhett was here, and Rhett could take care of himself. And, better still, he didn’t seem angry at Emilio.

At least… not yet. Emilio was sure there’d be disappointment, to say the least, when his… situation came to light. He’d spent enough time with Rhett as a kid and young adult to know the bare basics of fae. He should have known enough to keep himself from being bound by them, but here he was anyway. Bound in the worst possible way, forced to help the worst possible person. Rhett would find out about it eventually, of course, and he’d probably want to help when he did, but part of Emilio almost wanted to hide it. There was no small amount of shame that came with it.

“Got wind that it’s here?” He quickly latched onto the subject, eyes darting up to meet Rhett’s in question. There would be something almost funny, wouldn’t there, if Rhett’s white whale wound up in the same town as the one Emilio’s family had been hunting for generations. If he believed in fate, something like that might have him citing it. “Yeah,” he agreed, “hell of a place.” Hell being an apt description lately. When he smiled again it was faint, but a touch more genuine than anything else he’d been putting out lately. In spite of everything, it was good to see Rhett. It was good to have something familiar to cling to, even when clinging never ended well for him. “Back to my place, for now. Might have a drink. You wanna come?” His apartment didn’t see as many visitors these days, and it was a damn mess, but Rhett had seen worse living conditions than the ones Emilio boasted. Most hunters had, he figured. 

—

“Maybe. Little town up north in an uproar. Just calmed down—then two murders, bit farther south. Coincidence? Unlikely… followed it here.” Didn’t mean it would be the lutin, the one that had so narrowly avoided his grasp for so many fucking years. The one that had wiped everything he held dear from the face of the earth. Just like Emilio’s vampires. Just fucking like them, only tiny. Tiny and stupid and infuriating. In the meantime, killing as many as he could find was like a band-aid over the wound, and it was really all he could ask for, at this point.

At the mention of drinks, Rhett brightened. “Ahh, hard out, bro. Let’s go.” Falling into step beside him, the older hunter pinched the tip of the middle finger of his glove between his teeth and pulled it off, stuffing it away in a hidden inner jacket pocket before doing the same with the other. A bitter taste bit his tongue and he scowled, spitting onto the street as they walked. Fae blood. Leftover from those pixies. Little shits. 

“You been cleanin’ this place up, then? Heaps of nightwalkers, I’d wager.” Rhett threw a sidelong glance at his friend, grinning a little too enthusiastically. He’d had his fair share of outings that ended with the real-death of undead creatures, compliments of the Cortezes. It was always a fun time—a nice break from the same old story that was fae-hunting. He liked how straightforward it was. Envied it, sometimes. 

—

“Sounds promising.” But, really, it was hard to say for sure, wasn’t it? The thing Rhett was trailing could be the same fae that he’d been chasing for years now… or it could be a different one. Or it could be another supernatural creature altogether. Or it could be nothing, could just be human nature winning out in close proximity. Emilio was hardly an optimist. But… he also knew that, sometimes, killing something helped. It didn’t have to be the specific thing you were after. Killing spawn vampires in the graveyard might not carry the same catharsis as killing a vampire he knew had been involved with the massacre of his family, but it still brought some relief with it. It still made it a little easier to breathe.

It was hardly a surprise when Rhett agreed to the drink; most of the hunters Emilio had known throughout his life relied a little too heavily on alcohol, because there was little else that ever seemed to ease the battles that continued in their heads long after the tangible part was over. Rhett had never been an exception to that. Motioning for the other hunter to follow him, Emilio headed off in the same direction he’d been walking when Rhett stopped him before; towards home. He tried to make the limp a little less prominent as he moved, sacrificing comfort for an appearance he knew he didn’t have to keep up.

“I’ve been doing what I can,” he confirmed with a nod, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He’d been doing what he could and, like always, it wasn’t enough. People still got hurt. Emilio still fucked up. People still died, and it was still his fault. That, it seemed, would be true whether he was in White Crest or Etla or anywhere between the two. “Plenty of your shit here, too, you know. If you, uh… If you wanted to stick around a bit, when you’re done. Could be like old times.”

—

People often said a lot without actually having to say anything. Reading between the lines came easy to a warden, and for one who had been dealing with fae for as long as Rhett had, it was second nature to dissect and scrutinize every syllable spoken as well as all the ones that were excluded. Emilio had always left out plenty, but that seemed to have gotten worse since the last time Rhett had seen him. It’d been a while, sure, but there was a stress in his voice that told the warden it wasn’t the typical fare. Something was wrong. Something recent. More recent than the loss of his family in Etla, less recent than being spooked by a childhood friend out in public. Tilting his head back to look up at the sky, the older hunter shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and gave a thoughtful hum. 

“Stick around…” He seemed to consider the idea for a few moments, still looking up as they walked. Emilio needed something. Or someone, but that was still difficult to tell. Maybe they were one in the same. Maybe Rhett was as much a friend in this moment as he was a skilled warden, one that Emilio knew would help with whatever problem he was facing. 

“Aye. Could do that, sure.” Lolling his head to the side to look at the slayer, Rhett offered a knowing wink. “This for you? Someone else?” He was nothing if not direct. The answer didn’t really matter—Rhett would help either way. The other’s inclination to be tight-lipped about certain things was not utterly lost on him, however, and he quickly offered up an alternative option before Emilio could struggle through an answer. “Get you good n’ munted first if y’prefer. Talkin’s easier when the filter’s gone, eh?”

—

Rhett had always been good at hyperfocusing on the details of things. It was a decent skill to have, especially in comparison to the way most of the Cortezes had been. So gung-ho on the big picture that they often forgot to account for the little things. So busy looking for trouble outside that they forgot to check for it at the dining room table. Emilio wondered, absently, if Rhett would have known what was going to happen before it did. If he were more like Rhett, maybe he wouldn’t be the only Cortez left breathing. The thought ached almost as much as the knowledge that, even without him saying it, Rhett recognized the heaviness to his shoulders. Emilio could hide a lot of things from a lot of people, but the man in front of him now had known him far too long and far too well for him to ever hope to keep his grief masked. He knew that.

“Only if you want to,” he said quickly, offering the out with more eagerness than he’d made the request. This wasn’t something he could handle on his own, and he knew it. But… Inviting Rhett to leave if he wanted to felt like giving himself permission not to handle it at all. And that was preferable, in its own way. That was a tempting thing. 

But Rhett agreed, because of course he did, because he was still Rhett, even if he was in White Crest instead of Mexico, even if Emilio didn’t feel much like Emilio anymore. He asked a question and Emilio prepared to stumble through an answer before he, too, was offered an out. Unlike Rhett, he took it with a grateful smile. “Be easier with a drink in me,” he admitted. “Or, you know, ten.” There was going to be disappointment, and Emilio would handle that better with alcohol numbing his chest. He knew that. “This is it, anyway.” He nodded at the crumbling apartment building, ushering Rhett to follow him to the deathtrap of an elevator. The thing was just as likely to fall off its cable as it was to deliver them to Emilio’s floor, but his leg ached too much to brave the stairs. “It’s, uh, an office, too. My apartment. I run my business out of it, so, you know. There’s a sign.”

—

Rhett was quiet as they entered the building, soaking it in and committing it to memory. The flaking paint on the door in the mudroom, the crack that ran up alongside the stairs they weren’t going to use, the groan and click of the elevator as it hoisted them up to the slayer’s apartment. Apartment slash office. “Cute,” he finally said, seeing the little sign that would lead people to the correct apartment. “You a businessman now?” The question seemed rhetorical at worst and teasing at best, given the smirk that accompanied it. 

As they entered the apartment, the warden continued to take stock of his surroundings, silent in his way until his gaze happened upon something very peculiar. A fiddle and guitar stood in the corner, and while their well-worn condition looked like something Emilio would own, the fact that they were musical instruments told Rhett they were absolutely not his. With revitalized vigilance, he scanned all the objects in the room and found a few more things that would only belong to his friend in the strangest of timelines. They were clustered together for the most part, perched on the second lowest shelf of a bookcase near the half-hidden instruments. Someone else’s belongings. The amount and type told him that this person had been here for a while. Might still be here. Unless Emilio’s business included acting as a storage unit, which Rhett doubted.

Careful to not let his gaze linger on the foreign bits of a stranger’s life for too long, Rhett clicked his tongue and clasped his hands behind his back. “Better than some hotels I’ve been in. Worse than a lot.” He smirked again, wandering slowly around the main room. His curiosity began to get the better of him, and as he accepted the previously offered drink from his slayer friend, he nodded to the items in the corner. “Those special to you?” There was a brief pause. “They still around?”

—

“Something like that,” Emilio replied with a short huff that was almost a laugh. “Not a very good one, according to the internet.” The stupid reviews had seemed funny not long ago, like a joke he could laugh at even when he was the punchline, but… Nothing really seemed funny anymore. Corpses didn’t have much of a sense of humor, he guessed. All he knew how to do these days was rot.

He made quick work of the kitchen, pulling down a pair of dusty glasses and pouring them each full of whiskey, tucking the bottle under his arm so he could carry it with him as he walked back into the living room to present Rhett with a glass. They’d need refills. He was sure of that much. He faltered, a little, when he saw the older hunter glancing around the apartment, eyes skirting over to the corner of the room where the things he didn’t have the heart to get rid of were carefully tucked away as if the man who owned them might be back for them one day, as if he weren’t another name in the long list of people Emilio had failed to save. Silas hadn’t lived in the apartment for very long, all things considered, but his presence lingered all the same. Emilio wasn’t sure which ached more — the notion that it always would, or the idea that someday it wouldn’t. Both seemed cruel.

“Never liked hotels much,” he said, looking at his drink instead of Rhett. He took a long gulp of it when the other man asked his question, draining half the glass at once and pretending the burn of the alcohol settling into his chest wasn’t the best thing he’d felt in weeks. “No,” he said quietly, “they’re not around anymore.” The first question remained unanswered… but it didn’t, all the same. All Rhett would need to do was take one look at Emilio and he’d know that the person who’d left the items behind was important. He’d always been good at figuring things like that out, especially where Emilio was concerned. “Don’t want to talk about that.” Just the thought of it had him aching all over, like he’d run a fucking marathon without stretching. That was what grief was, he figured. A long distance run that you could never quite prepare for. 

—

Mm. Special, and gone. Seemed like the permanent kind of gone. Emilio had suffered a lot of loss lately, that much was certain. Rhett’s expression conveyed his sympathy, but the slayer’s request to not make it a topic of conversation was received and well understood. Talking about loss was hard. Harder than it had any right to be, but especially for people like them—they had so few things to lose that when they did, it only hit that much harder. Hurt that much worse. Rhett didn’t want to put him through that pain for the sake of his own curiosity, and so he swallowed the myriad of questions that had popped up in his brain, saving them for later while also understanding that they may never be answered.

“Sure,” was all he said, nodding and taking a drink. He could have jumped right into the actual reason he was here—the request to hang back, stick around town for a while, but… well, the idea had been to get Emilio into a more comfortable state first, so that’s what he focused on. The small talk that transpired felt powerfully inconsequential, but it was necessary unless they simply wanted to drink in silence. Which would also be  acceptable to Rhett, though he knew most people got uncomfortable with that after a while. Emilio probably wouldn’t, but that wasn’t the reason he talked about himself more now than he had in the last three years—keeping the slayer’s mind off of those belongings in the corner was his goal. Eventually the alcohol would do the work for him, but for now, he dug up his best hunting stories to keep the man distracted. 

His gaze dipped down to the desk that sat in the room, then the manila folder that sat atop it. The computer was fucking ancient which hardly came as a surprise, but Rhett wondered what Emilio needed it for in the first place. Appearances, maybe. Whatever it was that he investigated in his spare time—ah, the camera. Of course. 

“So. Detective, huh? You specialize, or just take whatever comes through?” They were well into the bottle by this point, so it felt like an appropriate time to start digging into the meat of the matter. Little scratches first, though. Get Emilio talking about himself. Then he’d get some answers.

—

Something crossed over Rhett’s face at the revelation, but he didn’t ask any questions. And Emilio was glad for it. With most people, he could lie and bitch and grump his way out of the conversation, but with Rhett? Things like that were harder. And Emilio was so fucking tired of doing things that were hard all the time. If he kept at it, the time would come when he couldn’t carry the weight on his shoulders any longer. The time would come when it would bury him. (The concept was more of a relief than it should have been.) So Rhett didn’t ask, and Emilio didn’t answer, and that was fine. That was good. Emilio had always preferred it that way. 

He preferred the drinks, too. Between the two of them, they’d be finished with everything he had in his cabinet before the night was over, but nights like this were worth the hangover and the trip back to the liquor store that needed to follow them. Small talk wasn’t Emilio’s strong suit, but it was easier with Rhett. They caught up while avoiding the bigger subjects, danced around the blank spots in their stories like it was a game. They told the hunting stories that ended in success and left out the ones that ended in failure. And they were moving towards something, Emilio knew, because he’d asked Rhett to stay and he’d done it for a reason, but they were moving slow. It was a gentle inevitability instead of a harsh one. Emilio could cope with that.

Following Rhett’s gaze this time to the desk instead of the ghost that lurked beyond it, Emilio nodded. “I take whatever pays the bills,” he replied with a nod. “Lot of missing persons cases in this town.” He didn’t usually find them in one piece, but he always got paid at the end, anyway. He told himself that was what mattered the most. “Was on my way back from helping some lady win her divorce settlement when you found me. Probably don’t want to see the pictures on that thing.” He nodded towards the camera he’d dropped on the desk when they’d entered the apartment, making a face. “You got something paying the bills, man?”

—

Missing persons. “Mm, I bet.” This place certainly had a reputation for it, which begged the question of why anyone still lived here. They seemed to forget, after a while. Forget, ignore, deny. Such was human nature, Rhett supposed. Didn’t want to face whatever might upset the status quo, even if it meant their loved ones went missing now and then. He found himself wondering if the people Emilio delivered bad news to would wake from the stupor of this place and leave it for good, if the truth they were handed was sufficient to get them to see beyond the lies they’d been telling themselves… or if they just made up new ones to answer the unanswerable. 

Probably the latter.

A smile bloomed on his face as he looked at the camera in question, able to imagine what sort of lewd acts Emilio had had the misfortune of documenting. “Hope the composition’s good. Would hate to embarrass with a bad photo of the arse.” Finishing what was in his glass, the warden readily accepted the bottle to refill it himself with a nod. “Chur, cuz.” Staring at the amber liquid as it flowed into the glass, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Aye. Stonework, metalwork. Still need to meet the local smithy. Sword shop in town might have an affiliate… was gonna go see tomorrow.” Usually he could find work with smiths helping them produce whatever products they were hawking at the time—it was why he made all his own weapons, as proof of craftsmanship. Plus, given how quickly he was able to produce quality product, it often earned him time and resources to work on his own as well. 

Maybe someday he’d have his own forge, but that wouldn’t happen until he’d caught that fucking lutin.

—

White Crest had a reputation and, more often than not, it lived up to it. People went missing here, were found in pieces if they were found at all. It was clear that Rhett was aware of this. Of course, given the fact that Rhett was a hunter, it was also clear that he knew why it happened. White Crest was a hotspot for supernatural activity, but Emilio often wondered what the people who didn’t know that thought was going on. You could convince yourself of anything, if you tried hard enough. Emilio knew that. It might be hard to convince yourself that your missing loved one had disappeared of their own free will in a place where the morgue was never empty, but… It was hard to convince yourself to keep breathing when all you wanted to do was stop, too. And Emilio had been at that for years now.

“Good enough to, ah…” Emilio trailed off, trying to think back to the website Ariana had pointed him to. “Catch them in 6L.” He didn’t really know what it meant, and he wasn’t sure Rhett would, either, but it was something to say, at least. It was something that could keep the conversation away from the inevitable part of it for another few moments, even if it wouldn’t last forever. Rhett spoke of his own career path, and Emilio nodded along as he reached for the bottle to refill his glass. “Suits you,” he offered. He lapsed into silence for a moment, pouring what was left in the bottle into his glass and then draining half of it in one go. With the liquid encouragement settling warmly into his stomach, he swallowed. “You didn’t come here hoping to talk jobs, did you?”

—

Discretionary eyes narrowed in response to the peculiar phrase—Rhett managed to keep up with a lot of things that other people his age were ignorant to, but even that one was beyond him. Figuring it didn’t really matter, he let the confused look pass over his face and settled back into the comfortable warmth that the liquor provided—that full-body hug that nothing else had ever really matched. 

Emilio spoke again, and with an affirming nod, the warden raised a brow at what remained in his glass. “‘Fraid not,” he answered plainly, swirling the alcohol in hand and then knocking the rest of it back. The now-empty glass was pinched between his fingertips as he held it idly in the air, elbow braced against the arm of the couch. “You need help with somethin’. Heard it in your voice.” His gaze swiveled as he turned his head to look at the younger hunter, free hand raising to scratch at his beard. “Fae?”

—

Rhett didn’t seem to understand the reference, but that was hardly a surprise. The other hunter was older than Emilio, after all, and there was a good chance he was even less knowledgeable about the younger generation’s slang. If he wanted, though, Emilio would share the site Ari had given him. Keep them on even footing. 

Or… as close to even footing as they could be. There was still the matter of what brought them there, still the problem Emilio couldn’t solve on his own. Admitting to it would be easier now that there was whiskey warming his chest, but there was still shame in it. He should have known better. Rhett would have known better. “Yeah,” he admitted, staring down at his glass. “Fae. And other things, too. I’m in trouble, man.” He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment and sighing. “You remember the stories mamá used to tell? Bisabuelo and his sea monster? The Leviathan?” He paused, taking another gulp from his now mostly-empty glass. “I found it. Or… It found me.”

—

With no reason to be on his guard at the moment, Rhett listened with half-lidded eyes, prepared to hear some story about a pack of zombies that were getting uppity and out of hand—but ah, no, it was fae. Interest piqued, the warden’s eyes widened a touch. And other things. His curiosity grew and he straightened up in his seat a bit, scowling in Emilio’s direction as those brown eyes only got wider. 

“The… Leviathan.” Of course he remembered the stories. They were some of the finest that the Cortezes ever weaved. A monstrous challenger not of this world that they’d spent generations trying to slay. Generations. And it had found Emilio, somehow, the very last of them. The very last holdout of the Cortez name, and the grudge that came with it. 

The transition from casual to deadly-serious was instantaneous, a wild look settling over the olders hunter’s features as he dipped his chin, eyeing Emilio carefully. 

“Stroke ah’ bad luck,” he growled. “Tell me. All of it.”

—

Rhett sombered quickly the moment Levi was mentioned, just as Emilio knew he would. The Leviathan was one of the Cortezes’ favorite topics to discuss, especially with other hunters. Alejandro had been long dead by the time Emilio was born, but he still knew his great-grandfather’s stories of the beast. Rhett did, too.

Only Rhett probably wouldn’t have been stupid enough to take those stories and learn as little from them as Emilio apparently had. Rhett wouldn’t have gotten himself into a situation like this. Emilio was pretty sure that this particular scenario was the kind only he could stumble into.

“Bad luck,” he agreed with a brittle laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.” He took a slow, shuddering breath, eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Rhett. And then, he started at the beginning. He told the other hunter about the bar, albeit he left out a few of the more… private details. He told him about breaking back into Levi’s apartment later, about the torture session with the stun gun and the realization that the monster was human now. Reluctantly, he spoke of the deal, of Levi’s promise to revive his parents, grandparents, siblings, and nephew. 

(He didn’t mention the chimera. Just thinking about it made bile rise up in the back of his throat, and if he tried to put it into words, he thought he might choke on them. It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter to the story, anyway. It didn’t.)

And then, the stinger. The part that Rhett really wouldn’t like. The part that would bring on disappointment and embarrassment. The fucking fae of it all.

“I didn’t know what she was,” he said, “when I was talking to her. She was annoying. I just — I wanted her to shut up. I didn’t even realize what I said until later, but… I said thanks. So she’d leave me alone. And she was friends with it.” He paused, thinking of the way Marina and Levi had interacted in his apartment with a disgusted sigh. “More than friends, I guess. So, she…” He trailed off, staring at the long-empty glass next to the long-empty bottle and wishing there was something left, wishing he could soften this with the dull hum of alcohol in his veins. “She gave me to it. Like a… gift. Let it choose the deal.” He smiled, bitter and humorless, and his throat burned. “I have to do whatever it decides is necessary to get its old body back. That’s what I’m stuck with. And it — It's gonna kill me, Rhett. The demon or the deal, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s gonna kill me.” And then, a little quieter, “I think I want it to.”

—

Fucking mental. Truth be told, as far as all the shit with the Leviathan was concerned, Rhett had few qualms about how it’d been handled. His anger flared only for a moment when Emilio spoke of the deal he’d cut with the demon—you never made demons deals. Never. Same fucking reason you never made fae deals. It was never worth it. But as quickly as it had materialized, it evaporated. Could he really say he wouldn’t accept the same deal were he in Emilio’s position? If some down-on-its-luck demon offered to revive his family in exchange for simply not killing it, wouldn’t he be inclined to say yes? A thousand times over, yes? This persona he’d crafted over the years, this man who had no real bonds and who preferred a life lived alone, free to come and go as he pleased, to chase anything and everything that haunted his dreams at night… he had a feeling it would crumble in the face of an opportunity to get his family back. Twenty six years… twenty six years of isolation, of building meticulous walls around his heart to prevent ever going through that pain again—sure, it had holes; holes where the Cortez family had trickled in and softened him up a bit. But the structure was still there, still standing strong, and he knew as he considered it longer that he would tear those walls down himself, brick by brick, if it meant he’d get to see his parents and siblings again. 

So the warden continued to listen. 

I said thanks.

And she was friends with it.

If it were anyone else, he would have yelled. The disbelief settled over his features, but he didn’t speak. Indebted to a lousy fae and her even lousier demon bunk buddy. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, where did it end? 

It’s gonna kill me.

“Not if I kill ya first, y’fuckin’ muppet,” Rhett grumbled, hoisting himself to his feet. Setting the empty glass aside on the nearest surface, the man motioned with his arm for Emilio to do the same, giving him no time to question or protest. “C’mon, c’mon—get up!” He wore a permanent scowl as he waited for the slayer to join him, fiddling with something in his pocket for a few beats before adding on a hasty, “Keys. Get ‘em.” When the inevitable question of where they were going or what they were doing came up, Rhett spoke without looking at his pseudo-adopted brother, wrestling with a rat’s nest of emotions that prevented him from meeting the younger man’s gaze. He was angry and scared and mournful all at once, though he did a fairly decent job masking it. “Night on the turps,” came his gruff answer as they stepped back out the front door, meaning they were headed for the nearest bar where they could get properly piss drunk. “And you’re gonna tell me everything you know ‘bout this bitch.” His sentences were expanding, stretching as the alcohol in his system made room for more of his old personality to shine through. Fishing out a pencil and a small notebook from some unseen pocket in the confusing sea of seams that was his attire, the warden didn’t even wait until they were outside before he was asking for a name, the type of fae she was, where she lived… any details Emilio could provide. Same went for the demon, too. 

Once they were settled somewhere that wasn’t so quiet (and therefore didn’t permit either of them the luxury of getting stuck in their own heads), new drinks sat in front of them and a tab opened in the warden’s name, Rhett flipped to a new page. “Describe her,” he instructed, wide eyes burning holes through the notebook as he began to sketch.

—

Rhett listened. Emilio spoke, and Rhett listened in a way that few people ever had, because there were few people he’d open up to with this much honesty. Rhett wasn’t Ari, who Emilio felt the need to protect. He wasn’t Silas, who Emilio failed to protect, either. He was the only person left who knew Emilio in the before, the only one who understood who Emilio was back when he was a son, a brother, a nephew, an uncle. So, Emilio let it all flow and Rhett listened. And there were bumps in the road, sure; a flash of anger here, a hint of disappointed disbelief there, but the listening continued, and so did the speaking. And it felt all right, getting the whole story out there. It felt necessary. At least now, there was someone other than him who knew all of it. There was someone other than him who could put the pieces together where they needed to be.

He exhaled shakily when he’d finished, tensing as Rhett got to his feet. Slowly, without asking questions, Emilio lifted himself as well, followed Rhett’s instructions because it felt good to let someone who had his best interests in mind take the wheel for a while after spending so long being piloted by people who only wanted to see him hurt. (And he knew he was included in that list. He knew he hadn’t had his own best interests in mind since Etla, or maybe before. He knew that.) He followed Rhett because, even if Rhett had just gotten to White Crest, Emilio trusted him to know what to do with this town’s bullshit more than he trusted anyone else. 

And a bar sounded like exactly what he needed now, anyway. 

He provided Rhett with the details he knew. Marina’s name, everything about the damn lighthouse he avoided like the plague, the obsession with octopuses and the way she and Levi seemed to come from the same saltwater. The details he knew about Levi were more, though provided with less enthusiasm and a voice that trembled with grief or rage or fear or some mixture of the three. Emilio didn’t know anymore. 

He provided a physical description of Marina, too, watching her face come into focus on the page as Rhett sketched it. Sucking in a breath, he dug his fingernails into his palms to keep him present, to keep him in a bar with Rhett instead of in an apartment with a broken door and Levi’s hand wrapped around his wrist like a physical cuff holding him in place until a cuff made out of a promise-bind could take its place. “Yeah,” he nodded, tapping the notebook with his other hand, “that’s her. You’re still good at that.” 

—

The effect the two had impressed upon him was not easily dismissed, as much as some part of Rhett wished it could be. If he could ignore it, then he wouldn’t have to be upset about it. He could focus solely on fixing it, instead of hearing that waver in the man’s voice and feeling his throat tighten in response. Caring about people was hard. For the most part, Rhett had only ever been around when things were good for the kid, so this was… new. Not unexpected, given how much the younger hunter meant to him, but it was new. 

He wasn’t sure if he liked it. 

As the portrait came to life, painting a fairly accurate picture of the fae in question, Rhett began to commit those details to memory. For the first time in his life, it was the face of a fae he couldn’t kill. Killing her would pose too great a risk to Emilio. Might bind him to that demon forever, who knew? Their magic was fickle. The goal was to get his friend freed… after that, it’d be a free-for-all, and Rhett didn’t see himself forgiving this very easily. “Yep,” the warden responded to the compliment, sitting up straight as he finished the sketch. 

After taking a long sip of his drink, his gaze settled on the hunter that stood opposite him at the tall pub table. His mood was difficult to extrapolate, both compassionate and stern at the same time, but that was more or less how he’d always been. “Could lecture you,” he said after a beat of silence, “but… figure you’ve been hard enough on yourself already.” Clearly, he was leaning more toward the compassionate side of things. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll sort this out. Nothin’ gonna kill you just yet… not allowed to go out before me.” Offering a jaded smile, Rhett shook his head and finished his drink. “Fuckin’ muppet.”

—

Even just looking at the portrait made his heart tick up a beat. Emilio wasn’t afraid of much, but his paranoia had been in overdrive since the shit with Levi started, steadily getting worse and worse as time went on. Hypervigilance made sleeping next to impossible, and part of him thought that was probably a good thing. Any sleep he managed to get would have been plagued with nightmares, anyway. He knew enough to know that for certain. Shit in his head hadn’t been this bad since just after Etla, and nothing he was doing was making it any better.

But… Rhett being around would. Rhett’s presence was a good thing, and not just because the warden would know how to help him with his problem. At this point, Rhett was the only kind of family Emilio had left. And, better still, he wasn’t someone Levi could threaten, because Rhett could hold his own even better than Emilio himself. If the demon tried to go after the warden, the only thing that would keep it from dying for its mistake would be the bind tying it to Emilio. 

(Despite knowing that it would never happen, part of him almost hoped Rhett would kill Levi, anyway, bind be damned. At least then it would be over.) 

“Yeah,” he tore his eyes away from the notepad, realizing belatedly that he’d been staring at it a while now in a strange state of absent hyperawareness. Dissociation. That was what Silas called it, after the cave. The memory made him ache. “You probably should. Lecture me. I’ve made a lot of stupid moves since I left Mexico.” He’d been on a self-destructive hunt for vengeance, and it was catching up to him now. He knew that. He swallowed at Rhett’s statement, heart jumping to his throat. “Bullshit,” he said quickly. “You’re not allowed to go out before me. Pendejo.” 

—

Rhett knew that faraway look all too well, having caught it in a few mirrors and other reflective surfaces over the years. More often than not, though, it was being described back to him. He’d actually tried therapy, for a short while—some time in his mid-thirties, when shit just got to be too much to bear. His episodes had become more and more frequent, until he was never really sure if he was living in the same reality as everyone else. There was too much he couldn’t say, though, so it didn’t stick. 

“Understandable,” the warden grunted. Losing as much as Emilio had would do that to a person—it had done it to Rhett, after all. So many hunters seemed to have tragic backstories, and they tended to react in the only way they knew how… by letting their weapons do the talking. It made sense. Still… “Still oughtta know better.” Rhett clicked his tongue, allowing a soft smirk to spread across his lips as the slayer shot the sentiment right back at him. “Ahh, nah… maybe you’re right. Maybe I go n’ live forever. Oldest warden in the world, eh? Got a nice feel about it. Might make it, if I can squeeze another decade outta this miserable life.” Looking back down at the sketch in his notebook, the man frowned. 

“Don’t speak to ‘em unless you gotta. I’ll go pay a visit real soon. Get this handled.” He glanced up at Emilio, anticipating a request to join him. “Alone.”

—

“I know, I know.” And he did. He knew he’d been stupid, knew he’d gotten himself into this mess with no real help from anyone else. There was no one else to shrug the blame off onto; every ounce of it belonged on Emilio’s shoulders alone. He should have known better. He knew that. But he was tired and aching and he was so busy not caring what happened to him that he’d forgotten how much he did care about what happened to everyone else. Emilio’s rampant self destruction was a bomb, and he hadn’t accounted for the shrapnel. He hadn’t considered the fact that he wouldn’t be the only one hurt when it went off. 

A watery laugh slipped out at Rhett’s words, some of the fear holding his heart in a vice grip dissipating just slightly. “You fucking better,” he said, but it sounded smaller than he usually did. “You live forever, asshole, okay?” Or, at the very least, until long after Emilio was gone. He couldn’t stomach the thought of losing Rhett, too. Not when everyone else he’d ever considered family was long dead.

At first, Emilio nodded along as the warden spoke. Not speaking to Levi or the fae was an easy enough request, given how little he wanted to hear from either of them. But when Rhett continued, announcing that he’d be going at it alone, Emilio tensed. “No,” he said firmly. “No way. This is — You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

—

Just as he’d expected. Sighing, the warden moved his empty glass to the edge of the table, giving Emilio a hard stare. “Think about it for a fuckin’ second, mate. If you’re there with me, gonna make it real easy for them to boss you around. What happens when they tell you to kill me, hm?” Rhett gave the hypothetical some time to play out in the slayer’s head, an unflinching gaze still fixed upon him. “You know they will. Stay away, keep your phone off so they can’t reach you quick-like… let me handle it. Was doin’ this while you were still in diapers. Don’t worry ‘bout me, bro.” As if to dissuade any further talk of the subject, Rhett took a step back from the table. “Gettin’ another round. No more arguin’. Shut up and lemme get you shitfaced, eh?” Giving his friend a pointed nod, the warden turned on his heel and moved back to the bar, letting the forced calm he’d been projecting all night to fail for the briefest of moments. Eyes wide, he felt his heart skip a beat. Fae deals. Demons. Mother of fuckin’ Christ, what a welcome.

—

Emilio knew Rhett was right. Levi wouldn’t hesitate to force him to hurt his friend if it came down to it. Hell, the demon would probably be giddy at the opportunity. It was another reminder of just how painfully useless he was in this whole thing, just how helpless. Reluctantly, he nodded his head. “Yeah,” he bit out, “all right.” The worry still gnawed at his gut, the paranoia still tugged at his sleeve. Despite Rhett’s experience, a little voice in the back of Emilio’s mind insisted that the warden was going to die helping him, that Emilio would have yet another person he loved to bury with the knowledge that it was his fault they were in the ground. If he were a better person, he thought, he might have told Rhett to forget it, to let Emilio deal with the consequences of his own actions, to get the hell out of White Crest before Levi realized who he was and what he meant to the slayer. Rhett wouldn’t have listened, of course, but a better man might have tried to push the issue.

Emilio had never been a particularly good man.

“Okay,” he agreed with a small nod, gripping the edge of the bar so tightly the wood creaked. “Yeah. Let’s get shitfaced.” If nothing else, it would give him something to do. Forgetting your problems for a few hours was good… even when the only way to do that was to drink so much that you forgot your name, too. “You get this round. Next one’ll be on me.”

#. para ; #. para ; oughtta know better #. with ; e. cortez #wickedswriting #parental death tw #sibling death tw #alcoholism tw #suicide tw

[cellard0ors]

Tricks & Treats...but really just treats

Figured tonight would be a nice night to give out some treats!

So here's a highlight of some Rhink content I enjoy!

Fic recs

Highest Bidder by @apparentlynotreallyfinnish One of the first Rhink fics I ever read, but NOT the last one I've read by this author, I completely recommend ANYTHING by them. This story is a revolving POV story wherein a young Link puts himself up for sexual services because he needs money and an older Rhett takes interest. Their interactions are the perfect blend of sweet and saucy!

One Man Band by @lallyloo I was looking for Rhink fic when I first started getting into the idea and this popped up from other rec lists. An AU in which Rhett is a traveling musician and Link owns a bar. The writing is crisp and made me enjoy things I'm normally not a fan of (piercing, tatts, a sort of friends-with-benefits dynamic) showing how strong Lally is as a writer. Everything they do is gold. I'm rec'ing this story just because it's the first I saved, but I could rec many many others. All *chef's kiss*

Safety Valve by isra - Honestly, I don't know if this writer has a Tumblr. I found this story again via rec lists and I can tell you right now, my story wouldn't exist without this one. The way they write Link's pain and internal struggle with his sexuality and attraction to Rhett is very much how I approached when I decided to write them. It felt so authentic and genuine and it truly inspired me. Hands down a fave.

Don't Blame Me by @rhettjmc Another spin on the selling sexual favors, but now with a young Rhett and older Link. So sexy and the angst is just fantastically delicious. Another writer with a breadth of great work - but, first read, first rec'd.

It Was Always You by @malienessan So, I'm legit behind on this, which is BS on my part but listen, LISTEN. I have to carve out time to pay it the attention it deserves because it's written from Link's POV and he's young and in love with Rhett and it is some heart wrenching beautiful writing. I can rec it without worry that it'll disappoint, because it's just that good. Read.

Overall Rhink fics/blogs/content

@peachworthy posts the most amazing content and is a fantastic person. If you're not following, you should! Writes fantastic work, records gorgeous audio, clips content others aren't blessed to have access to - I mean, the name fits - she's a peach. Honestly a forever follow for me.

@link-sans-specs creates/captures some jaw droppingly beautiful Link pics. Like my icon for example! *Waggles eyebrows* Also another low key cool person all around.

@likestrawberrywhine Not only a fantastic writer (one of the best in the fandom tbh) but someone not afraid to voice their opinion when it comes to GMM no matter what. Sometimes I disagree with their take (I like Stevie tbh) but I can respect it, and them, and it's refreshing to see someone just put it all out there. The posts/tags alone on GME wete entertaining - I promise you, you will never be bored when it comes to this blog.

Forever Follows

@poiregourmande - followed when I was super into Shyan, but following forever because they're sweet and post awesome Watcher content!

@cheeziswin - one of the best people ever. Hands down. Meet through GF and she's now in World of Warcraft, which I also enjoy. Like one of my rec'd blogs above - never afraid to share her opinion whether you agree or not. Strong, bold, great artist and general Tumblr blogger.

@cirilee - A sweetheart who makes some of the most beautiful art you will ever see. Has posted a variety of different content and it's always interesting and fantastic. Absolute love.

#rhink #fic recs #blog recs #forever follows

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

A Supernaturally Marvelous Fic Challenge

Calling all Supernatural and Marvel fanfic writers!

I don’t know about y’all, but writer’s block and lack of motivation have hit me harder than ever this year. It’s no secret that 2020 has been a giant crap show for a lot of people, but our precious fics and fandoms can be such a great escape from it all. In an attempt to spread some inspiration and feel good vibes, I wanted to make my follower celebration something that might help both writers and readers.

Below you’ll find all sorts of prompts (dialogue, songs, AUs, etc.) because you never know what might inspire you. Since we’ve all had a tough year, there’s a catch! You’ve got to give it a happy ending.

Make it fun. Make it sassy. Make it steamy. But for the love of ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY please wrap it up nicely with good things and a “fluffy” bow. Cool? Cool.

Now, on to the rest:

This is my follower celebration for both blogs, so please consider following @carryonmywaywardcaptain​, @carryoncaptainrogers​, or both!

As you may have guessed from the title, prompts can be written for Supernatural or Marvel (extra love and virtual hugs if you choose to write about Dean Winchester or Steve Rogers because they are the loves of my life. But there’s still plenty of love for the rest of the Avengers & TFW!)

Angst, smut, crack, and fluff are all welcome, but remember to give it a fluffy/positive ending and tag the warnings accordingly (Please steer clear of smut if you’re under 18. Stay young and innocent, babes.)

No limit to how many people sign up for each prompt. Feel free to combine prompts or even combine fandoms in a crossover! Whatever gets your creative juices flowing.

Send an ask with the prompt you want to do and the pairing you’re planning to write (life gets busy, so I’ll do a reminder post before the deadline if it’s helpful for you!). Reader inserts or OCs are both fine.

Tag me in the A/N and use the hashtag #supernaturally marvelous fic challenge by December 20th January 31st. If you’re garbage at deadlines like me, I’m super flexible and won’t hold it against you if you get it done later! I’ll reblog SPN fics on this blog and Marvel pairings over on @carryoncaptainrogers​ so your fics are seen by the fans who need them most :)

Got another idea you want to write and/or read about? Shoot me an ask and maybe I can add it to the mix! 

Make sure to check back once in a while in case more prompts are suggested and added! Without further ado (oof, this is long!):

Some song ideas:

“Boss’s Daughter”- Pop Evil

“Night Moves”- Bob Seger

“It’s Been a Long, Long Time”- Harry James

“I Won’t Say (I’m in Love)”- yes, from Hercules

“Hold You in My Arms”- Ray Lamontagne

“Better Man”- James Morrison

“Perfect for Me”- Justin Timberlake

“When We Were Young”- Adele

“Holding Out For a Hero”- Ella Mae Bowen’s version

“Come Around”- Papa Roach

“From Eden”- Hozier

“To the Man Who Let Her Go”- Tyler Shaw

“What If I Stay”- Chris Young

“Drift Off to Dream”- Travis Tritt

“Take Your Time”- Sam Hunt

“T-Shirt”- Thomas Rhett

“Not Strong Enough”- Apocalyptica, Brent Smith

“What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?”- Lee Ann Womack

“Right Where You Want Me” or “Better With You”- Jesse McCartney (because I love them both and just couldn’t choose lol)

Feel free to suggest songs from the shows/movies! I know the above are random. I tried to have some variety.

AUs, Tropes, etc.:

*gasp* And there was only one bed… (Bed sharing)

Confessing FEELINGS (or “everyone conspiring to make them confess their feelings already”)

Neighbors 

At a concert

Fake relationship for some event/case

Royal/Medieval

Soulmates

A/B/O

Friends/Enemies/Strangers to lovers

Comforting the other person

Dialogue prompts:

“I didn’t mean to turn you on.” “Well, it’s a little late for that!”

"Stop telling me you’re okay.”

“Can you please come and get me?”

“Sometimes you can be a real dumbass, you know that?”

“Because I care about you!”

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“Who did this to you?”

“Well...what if I go with you?”

“Give me a chance to change your mind.”

“Plot twist!” “Screaming ‘plot twist’ doesn’t make this suck any less.”

“What did I say?” “You told me to stay out of trouble.” “And what did you do?” “The opposite of that, obviously.”

“You can do so much better than him. I wish there was some way I could make you believe that.”

“Not enough? You’re...everything.”

“Well this was fun... Let’s never do it again.”

“I need you to do something for me. You owe me a no-questions-asked.”

“Don’t look at me like that! You know what it does to me.”

“Wait! Just...take me instead.”

“You can’t keep it all inside, you know? Bottling it up won’t do any good.”

“I can’t stay away from you. I’m tired of trying.”

“Have you seen you? You’re like a damn dreamboat.”

Random things my kiddos at school have said:

“Hey Mrs. America! Mrs. Captain America.”

“You know what your problem is? DAT attitude.”

“How did it taste?” “Like disappointment.”

“Do we got a fucking problem?”

“When am I not wearing my sassy pants?”

“Words are hard.”

“I’ve been screaming internally my entire life.”

“Can I jump over the fence?” “No, but thank you for asking.”

“That’s not very cash money of you.” “...I don’t know what that means.” “That’s okay. I just felt like saying it.”

“What do you call a blind dinosaur?” “Dead.” [P.S. the answer is Do-you-think-he-saw-rus]

Shenanigan ideas:

Karaoke night at a bar

Thanksgiving dinner

Christmas lights

Slow dancing

Prank War

Ice skating

Mistletoe

Ugly sweater party

Gift exchange

Creating/sharing holiday traditions

Please reblog or tag your favs who might be looking for a little extra inspiration!

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms​  @amanda-teaches​  @cosicas-cuquis​  @crist1216​  @droidyouseek​  @emoryhemsworth​  @ericaprice2008​  @flawless-disaster​  @janeyboo​  @jenn0755​  @ksgeekgirl​  @maresmiley​  @memyselfandmaddox​  @notyourtypicalrose​  @randomparanoid​  @rynabarnesrogers​  @sandlee44​  @scarletsoldierrr​  @shann-the-artist-moon​  @sheerioasteroidpanda​  @shynara51​  @someday-when-you-leave-me​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​  @thisismysecrethappyplace​  @torntaltos​  @waywardbaby​  @waywardrose13​  @weebid​  @whimsicalrobots​  @wintersoldierbaby​  @wintersoldierissucharide  @yesfanficsaremylife​

Cap’s Marvel Crew:

@amoonagedaydreamer​  @bangtan-serendipity​ @bubbabarnes @lilacs-with-lavender​  @msgreenverse​  @nomadstevergxrs​  @palaiasaurus64​  @scarlettsoldier​  @selina-kyle89​  @smokeandnailz​  @troublermalik​  @twittytelly​  @valkirsif​

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets​  @akshi8278​  @alexwinchester23​  @bi-danvers0​  @deangirl7695​  @dean-winchesters-bacon​  @fandomoniumflurry​  @pisces-cutie​  @supernaturalenchanted​  @superromijn​  @waywardnerd67​  @x-waywardaf-x​ 

Other amazing writers came to mind in case you’re interested in participating, feeling inspired to bless us with more of your beautiful work, or wouldn’t mind reblogging/tagging other writers (Please forgive me for spamming you!):

@luci-in-trenchcoats​ @supernatural-jackles​ @evansrogerskitten​ @cajunquandary​​ @after-avenging-hours​ @fvckingavengers​ @mywritingsblog​ @bitsandbobsandstuff​ @prettyyoungtragedy​ @kittenofdoomage​​ @angelkurenai​​ @impala-dreamer​ @redgillan​ @gaybybirth​ @invisibleanonymousmonsters​ @221bshrlocked​ @sgtjbuccky​ @captainrogerss​ @katymacsupernatural​ @buckyofthemyscira​ @captain-rogers-beard-mainblog​ @dancingalone21​ @atc74​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @hannahindie​ @kdfrqqg​ @sis-tafics​ @idreamofplaid​ @deanssweetheart23​ @because-imma-lady-assface​ @covered-byroses​ @captain-kelli​ @heli0s-writes​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @roonyxx​ @jay-and-dean​ @ladywinchester1967​ @spnfanficpond​

#supernaturally marvelous fic challenge #CarryOnCap's fic writing challenge #fic writing challenge #follower celebration #marvel fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #fanfic writing prompts #fanfic writing challenge #fluff #dean winchester x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #marvel reader insert

[supermarvelgirl15]

Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 2: Coffee?

Summary: You seem to struggle to carry a lot of things. Bucky needs to learn that it's okay to have friends.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert

Word Count: 1,705

Warnings: None I think

A/N: This is pretty much a filler tbh lol. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

    One more. You could carry one more bag.

    Splat.

    Maybe not. 

    You cursed under your breath as you squatted down, trying to grab the bag that you dropped on the ground. Hopefully the contents inside didn’t spill and they were all still good. You should really stop trying to carry more things than you possibly can. It’s just, why would you make multiple trips when you can just take one?

    The bags that seemed to fall from your grip every thirty or so feet were meant for the veterans in the shelter that had been built post-Blip. The shelter needed all the help that it could get, so you decided to buy them some sandwiches with a few extra snacks from the grocery store. It wasn’t the ideal breakfast food, but you were sure they would still love them.

    The search for your brother so far has turned up empty handed. The security cameras at the docks had somehow been wiped, which immediately raised some red flags. The footage mysteriously cut off as soon as Colton parked his car, picking back up again a couple hours later. 

    Technology wasn’t exactly your strong suit, so you sent the tape to one of the members of your old SEAL team, Rhett. Rhett was probably the smartest one that was on your team, and if anyone could do it, it was him. So while you were waiting on some feedback from him, you were going to help where you could.

    Bucky wasn’t exactly sure why he was out this early in the morning, but he needed to be anywhere where he wasn’t being trapped inside his own head. His nightmares weren’t getting any better and the one last night was a bad one. He was tired, grumpy, and desperate.

    He needed something to distract himself. If he tried to get Yuri out this early, it would certainly get him cursed out in Japanese. There wasn’t really anyone else for him to go to anymore, so that just left the option of him wandering around the streets of Brooklyn. 

    Brooklyn. He grew up here a long time ago and it was barely recognizable anymore. Sure, there were places that were still the same since the forties, but it just seemed different. Maybe it was because he was different.

    A familiar sound of curses made him look up from where he was watching his feet, looking around for the source. His eyes landed on you, squatting down to pick up one of the various bags that you had dropped. Why was he always catching you in these situations? 

    He’s seen you a few times since the first time you met, but it was nothing more than offering a small smile to the other. Sometimes you would say something to him in passing and he would just nod in acknowledgement. 

    Could he be more friendlier to his new neighbor? Yes, he could be way nicer to you. The old him would have even tried to make a move on you. He just wasn’t in the market for new friends at the moment. Especially ones that knew who he was. 

    At first, he was just going to continue on his way, not wanting to interact with anybody while he was in a mood. But when he saw you plop down on a bench with that defeated look on your usually cheerful face, he couldn’t not help you. 

    Bucky glanced around him as he approached you, taking his gloved hands out of pockets. You didn’t seem to notice him, too immersed with checking whatever was inside the bags that you had been carrying.

    “Good mornin’,” Bucky greeted you, sticking his hands back into his pockets once again. He observed as your sad look from before quickly changed back into your usual happy one. Then he noticed how you internally did a double take once you realized that it was him speaking to you.

    “Morning,” you replied with a smile as you set the bag you were looking through to the side with the others. A voice inside his head made him wonder how someone like you could smile at him like that, but he quickly blocked it out. 

    He cleared his throat before he continued talking. “You looked like you could use some help,” he gestured to the bags on the bench beside you. 

    You looked down at the bags, nodding slightly. “I… Yeah, I could definitely use a lot of help,” you chuckled as you stood up. “I’m taking these to the veterans shelter down about three blocks. I don’t want to cause you any trouble by asking you for help,” you licked your lips as you picked up a few of the bags.

   Bucky shook his head as he started picking up the rest of the bags. “You didn’t ask. I offered,” he reminded you, starting in the direction of the shelter. You stood there in shock for a moment before shaking it off and quickly followed him. 

    The walk to the shelter was pretty much a quiet one, neither one of you knowing how to start a conversation with the other. You couldn’t help but try to sneak a glance to his left hand, trying to see if any metal was peeking out. You wondered if he noticed what you were doing, watching as he shifted the bags in his hand somewhat nervously out of the corner of your eye.

    Bucky stayed outside as you went into the shelter to drop off the bags of food with the volunteers. He didn’t feel comfortable going inside, not wanting to risk actually seeing someone that would know him. If anyone was going to recognize him, it would be war veterans.

    You came back out a few minutes later, waving goodbye to one of the old men before you shut the door behind you. You stuffed your hands into your jacket pockets as you walked over to where Bucky was standing. 

    “Thanks for helping me. I’d probably still be dropping them on the street if you didn’t show up,” you laughed slightly. Bucky gave you one of his awkward smiles in return, telling you not to mention it. He turned to leave, taking a few steps away from you, but something came over you. You couldn’t let him leave just yet.

    “Would you… like to get some coffee?”

    Bucky stopped in his tracks, turning back to face you. He knows that he should say no. He didn’t want to let anyone get close to him. 

    “Sure, why not?”

                                          ★

    The café wasn’t too far from their apartment building, Bucky finds out. He wondered why he’s never been here as he listened to you tell him how now was the perfect time to go since the breakfast rush was coming to an end. He realizes you were right when you both sit down in a booth tucked away in the corner. There were only a couple other people in there, making the café a nice contrast to the busy streets just outside.

    The waitress that took your coffee orders made the place even cozier with her soft spoken voice. You told him that her name was Jolene and that she started not too long before you moved into the apartment across from him. He’s been here longer than you and you’re already making more friends than him. Then again, he wasn’t exactly trying to.

    When the waitress came back with your orders, you slipped her your debit card to pay for both of your drinks, much to Bucky’s protest. He tried to argue that he could pay for his own coffee.

    You shook your head, blowing into your coffee to cool it off some. “It’s my way of thanking you. Plus, I get a military discount,” you smiled cheekily at him, taking a sip of your drink.

    Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked over at you, the money problem briefly leaving his mind. “You’re military?” He questioned, glancing you up and down. He honestly didn’t take you as a soldier, but some things about you did make sense now.

    You nodded as you reached into your shirt, pulling out your dog tags to show him. “I used to be. Apparently my squad was disbanded during the Blip, so they put me in early retirement,” you answered him, the last sentence coming out bitterly. 

    Bucky nodded apologetically, taking a small sip from his coffee. “It seems the Blip screwed over a lot of people,” he commented, glancing around the café.

    You opened your mouth to change the subject, but was interrupted by your phone going off. You apologized to Bucky before looking at it, seeing that it was a message from Rhett. Your heart started beating faster as you read the three words he sent you.

    I got it.

    You stuffed your phone back into your pocket as you started swiftly sliding out of the booth. “I’m so sorry, but something just came up. I know this is so rude,” you started rambling out an apology.

    “It’s fine, really. Everything okay, Kris?” Bucky stopped you, looking at you worriedly. He hoped it wasn’t something he did.

    You bit your lip, nodding frantically. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just a, a family emergency. Um, if you give me your number, I’ll let you know when I can make this up to you,” you tell him, your eyes widening once you realize you literally just asked James Barnes for his number. “If you want to, that is. I totally understand if you don’t want to give it to me.”

    Bucky laughs slightly, easing your anxiety some. He definitely should laugh more. “Yeah, uh, it’s…” He started reading out his number to you as you quickly typed it into your phone. 

    You give him another smile as you saved his number. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to you later, James,” you said, turning to leave before getting stopped by Bucky’s voice.

    “You can just call me Bucky. The only person that calls me James anymore is my therapist,” he cringed at his attempt at a joke. Who tells someone they barely know that they have a therapist?

    You didn’t seem to mind as you smiled at him again. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

××××××

@bucky-bunnie @learisa @denimbex1986 @magconfangurl1​ (If you would like to be removed/added please let me know!)

#DToB #marvel #marvel imagines #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan #kay writes

[viviane-lefay]

After seeing all these gijinka King Boo interpretations - i.e. him being able to shape shift between his regular boo form and that of a human man - I thought I'd give this a try, as well, and do my own version ... because why not.

In that case, especially, I have to say the ship of Hellen and him has quite grown on me, and I really, really like it, tbh.

It's not my usual villainxheroine constellation, but since King Boo strikes me very much as a tsundere type of character, I find this a really interesting union.

Aside from that, they'd be quite the power couple - which is nice, too.

~*~

At this point, some headcanon I have about them:

With non-carnate, immortal beings like King Boo and Hellen, the way they fall in love is a little different compared to mortals. They only fall in love once, and if they do, it's forever. Also, their feelings only deepen and intensify over time, unlike it is the case with mortal humans, where often the reverse is true (although not always).

---

I think the concept of soulmates plays an essential role here, and that they wouldn't fall for anyone but their divine partner (they are pretty much indifferent to anyone else, actually), which makes it a very soul-based union.

---

Once they do meet said partner, they recognize them on a subconscious level. Some fall in love right away, others need a while to realize it - but both feel something instantly, it is just a matter of how cognizant they are of it.

---

In their case, Hellen was the one who immediately knew, while King Boo, proud man that he is, was quite reluctant to recognize and admit it, and was very standoffish at first (honestly, he reminds me very much of Mr. Darcy in that regard).

[ A little shout-out here to TheLilyoftheValley, whose lovely fics (these two, especially) illustrated this dynamic quite nicely. We get to see KB's internal conflict concerning Hellen, and how his outward behaviour hardly betrays what he actually feels - while for the reader it is pretty obvious that he loves her. Anyway, they were very well-written, and I really enjoyed reading them! ]

---

Once he caved in, however, it was quite a one-eighty in terms of his behaviour, producing a completely gobsmacked Hellen, who was't expecting such a thing from him - especially upon confessing his undying love for her in the most passionate manner.

[ If I'm already at it with the Darcy-comparisons - that would be a good one, too - remember these confession scenes!? Yeah, like that - except I rather imagine him being a little more fierce, kissing her like Rhett does with Scarlett. And that Hellen is far from being as oppositional as Lizzie or Scarlett, of course, as this isn't her and KB's dynamic.]

---

Regarding the dynamic of their relationship, once it is established, I absolutely love the thought of it being similar to that of Gomez & Morticia Addams, with them being ardently in love with each other, and not afraid to show it - which is quite of a contrast in his case, compared to his former reserve, as it is now evident for all that he adores her just as much and as deeply as she does him. His Gomez side just needed a bit to come out of its shell.

It would certainly fit their dramatic personalities.

[ From what I've seen so far, I'm not the only one with that preference, apparently, which is nice. Mutuals are always welcome and appreciated! ]

#Hellen Gravely #King Boo #Human King Boo #Gijinka King Boo #Luigi's Mansion 3 #Nintendo #hellen gravely x king boo #king boo x hellen gravely #hellenboo #hellboo #dollmaker #azalea's dolls #yes - that theme again #if it's an OTP it HAS to have the Gomez/Morticia dynamic #otherwise - what's the point!? #at least for me #it never gets old

[deedee-sims]

Oooh what about the final chapter right before Rhett confesses to Oliver? Like what was going through his mind and his internal thoughts such as in the kitchen or even while they were sitting down? I'd loveee to read that fro Rhett's POV. :D

Confession time!

Warnings: cuteness and fluff (and kissing)

When Lainey and Dan leave and we stay alone with Olls, I can almost touch the tension in the air. I still feel our hug from earlier in my fingertips, and not even the washing up detergent can get rid of it. Not that I want to.

"You wanna do something after I finish this?" I break the silence, glancing at him.

He raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Well, for one, I'd like to hug him again, but- "Dunno. I just didn’t get anything for your birthday, and now I feel weird about it."

"I really don't need anything," he says. Uh, it would be so much easier if he'd just say what's in his mind.

"We could just watch a movie then?" I offer, as I lean to the counter. "I promise I won't make popcorn this time!" I grin, which makes him smile. I like when he's smiling.

"Yeah, that sounds nice!"

I learn then that Inception is his favorite movie, and that he's quite pessimist about the ending. Honestly, I didn't expect anything else.

"I'll set up the tv!" I say finally, then flash him a smile, before leaving the kitchen.

Maybe an idiot, but I still feel the tension. All this time I've been trying to get over him, and it just got worse. I search for Inception on tv, absent-mindedly. My mind runs a mile a minute. What would happen if I told him? I'm not sure if I could handle another rejection. But I'm also not sure if I could handle continue living with him like this. Seeing him every day, but not being able to touch him, to kiss him, to tell him how amazing he is. Uh. I'm having a mental breakdown here.

Olls joins me on the couch.

Should I do it before the movie? After? During?

"I want to talk to you about something.”    

“Rhett, I want to ask you-“ we say at the same time. Oh shit.

Well, if he's about to... I don't even know what. I think he likes me but... I'm not a boyfriend material.

"You start," I end up saying.

"No, you can start," he tells me.

Uh, well. I take a deep breath. Now or never.

And the words just spill out of my mouth, uncontrollably. All the feelings and thoughts and uncertainty from the past weeks bubble up to the surface. I'm not sure if I'm making any sense here, looking at Olls, I definitely don't. But his face turns from dumbstruck to something soft.

Then I feel his soft lips on mine.

Watcher.

I overcome the shock as soon as I can, and kiss him back, because honestly, I've never had a chance to resist him. His lips are sweet, and soft, and I don't wanna stop kissing him.

"-but I feel this thing that I've never felt before, and it's terrifying me, because all I can think about is you-"

I can't stop the words, I just need to tell him everything. I want him to know that I'm serious about this. I don't think I've been serious about anything this much in my entire life. I know that I like him a lot, and the feeling is etched into my heart, impossible to remove.

"-but I don't know if you want to be more than friends, and I'm just so fucking confused-"

"I do."

And we kiss again, and suddenly, all thoughts are gone, and replaced with his slender body under my hands, and the faint minty scent, and his tongue slipping into my mouth.

When we part to my dismay, he looks flushed and so pretty. The urge to kiss him again comes back with vigor.

That's when his last words catch up with me.

"Wait." I blink, confused. "You said you do?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes! I thought you're not interested in a relationship."

Oh! Okay, that makes sense. But... he wants to be with me. I feel something warm spreading in my insides for this thought.

"Well, I'm not with anyone else. Because I really like you, Olls," I tell him. It makes him smile, and I want to make him happy, like this, all the time.

"And I like you too. A lot," he says.

"Just so you know, I've never had a serious boyfriend - or girlfriend - so the chances that I'm gonna fuck this up are pretty high," I admit. I don't want to fuck this up.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to let you. I promise."

And at this moment, with the taste of his lips still lingering on my mouth, I believe everything he says, that it'll be alright.

“And I’m going to try my best. I promise.”

He smiles at me, wide, and my heart is doing weird things in my chest.

And now that I can touch him and kiss him, I don't hesitate to do so.

#Anonymous #story +1 #+1 alt pov