#like all of these are from my new playlist

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — eddie x fem reader (7.1k)

summary: 2011– your roommate drags you to a frat party and ditches the second she sees the guy she’s been fucking. left by yourself, you meet someone by accident, someone who isn’t in the fraternity 

warnings: smut, underage drinking, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, dancing, eddie is trying to be cocky but he’s just awkward and silly

notes: i had a blast deep diving back into my hs and college days to reminisce with this. i hope if you were growing up during this time you can giggle along with me. love youuu oooh! also i hid some easter eggs in here (they’re not hidden at all)

The basement was steamy, and not in a ‘oh it’s a little warm in here but more like, every single person is drunk off their ass and the walls are sweating’kind of way.

College was everything you’d hoped it to be and more.

Your roommate, Kenzie was the type of girl who had an ‘open closet’ policy letting you wear her clothes almost more than your own. You weren’t too keen on sharing a dorm room with a girl you’ve never met before, but thankfully—you had gotten lucky. 

You had heard the horror stories from your older sister about her terrible roommate freshman year and you worried for most of the summer that you’d strike the same type of fortune. It wasn’t until you got a friend request on Facebook and a cheery little message : 

[Kenzie Walmen 2:07 PM: heyyyy roomie (;] 

that you knew you had nothing to worry about. 

She was from the west coast in sunny California, that bright western sky seeped deep into her personality. Kenz was sun kissed and bright haired, pretty ocean dipped eyes to give her the All-American type of aesthetic that most girls wished for. And maybe it was her laid back disposition, or her thrill for living it up and every hour of the day— that landed you here tonight at Delta Kappa Sigma. 

It wasn’t your scene.

You weren’t shy or new to getting drunk, you had even been so brave to take the occasional hit from a homemade bong in your neighbors dorm a few times, but the frat parties were known for their out of control Project X style of getting shitfaced. 

And something about guys with too much testosterone and too much Adidas cologne made your skin crawl and not in a good way. 

“Prints always look weird on me,” you grumble into the mirror eyeing your curves in a leopard lace tank top and black skirt, “is it too much?” 

Kenzie adjusts her off-the-shoulder top, adding a bit of shimmer powder to her exposed shoulder, “absolutely not, if anything it’s not enough.” Neon feathers decorate her bouncy curled hair as she eyes you in the mirror, “add that silver chunky necklace, and you’ll look bomb.” 

She was right, the necklace really pulled the entire look together, and if it were Halloween weekend you could even pass as a Spice Girl or maybe Snookie. 

“Sooo, is Steve gonna be there tonight?” You ask elongating the vowels in the aforementioned name, followed by some kissy faces and porn worthy moans. 

Kenzie rolls her eyes, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks, “yeah… about that. He said he has a “surprise” for me when I get there, so if I disappear, I’m just with him, okay?” 

“Wait wait wait—” you protest, holding a death grip clutch on a bottle of UV blue. “We aren’t even at the party yet and you’re already planning on ditching me?” 

— 

And that’s what got you here, a little more than drunk, holding a piss warm Green apple flavored Four Loko to your mouth, leaning against the corner basement wall in hopes to maybe disappear, wishing you were anywhere but in this cesspool of basement. 

The “DJ” (a frat guy wearing neon glasses with bars across them, scrolling through an ipod and a playlist more than likely named ‘Get Crunk’) was playing Kid Cudi, again. Everyone was screaming along to the chorus like he personally wrote it for them and their experience at college. A headache was brewing behind your eyes as the beat thumped loudly into your chest and radiated to your temples. 

Kenzie left almost immediately upon arriving. Swooped up and tossed over the broad shoulder of Steve the minute he answered the door. You laughed and shook your head, imagining how she was probably face down in navy cum stained sheets by now. 

The hours she spent on her hair and makeup went to waste, only being seen by the dead catalog eyes of Playboy’s finest from their pinned positions on the walls of Steve’s shared bedroom. 

Another sip from the overly carbonated beverage has you shuddering, the fiery ripple of fruit flavored [vomit] alcohol scouring through you like lava, causing your face to screw into a disgusted look.

How can people drink this shit? 

Your bladder screams at you to break the seal, demanding to find relief, immediately. The black lights were zero help in disguising if there were any doors that might lead into a bathroom. Pushing from the wall and taking the last hot sip from your drink, you navigate your way to the stairs. 

A table holding lone solo cups in formation from a forgotten beer pong game is now the proud owner of your empty can.

Weaving through the jungle of fist pumping douchelords and tipsy sorority girls making out for risqué facebook pics labeled [*~Freshman Y3ar!~*] you finally emerge from the sweaty pits of fraternity hell and climb the beer stained steps to the main floor. 

The monotonous beat from the music thumped a little less loudly up here, as if the noise was absorbed by the maroon colored carpeting and the oak cabinets in the foyer. 

The house was dated, decorated with a clash of orangey dark wood mixed with emeralds, dark reds and gold. As if this house was based out of Tuscany instead of midwest nowhere— complete with the rubbery fake fruit and vines that stood solely to collect dust. 

You had never been here before and didn’t know where in the hell to start looking to find the bathroom, and like Alice, you figured you might as well try every door knob in this type of Wonderland. 

The first door you peeked into looked like it was a formal dining room, but instead sat a television on the great oval table blasting obnoxiously loud as a pornstar moaned ripples of “pleasure” through her pink pout. Above her was an extremely tanned guy rocking a set of hard abs, thrusting in a slow rhythm that didn’t match her orgasm. 

A snicker slips from your lips and you gently pull the door closed with a small click, loud whoops and whistling from what you could only assume were a couple of frat guys erupt behind the door.

Watching porn together. 

You’ll have to add that to your growing list of things you didn’t know about the brotherhood behind a fraternity. 

The second door looked more hopeful as it was adjacent to the kitchen area. Upon nearly peeing down your leg, you were shocked stupid when you yanked the door open to find a closet housed with cleaning supplies. 

What the fuck? 

How could a frat house not have a bathroom? 

Your bladder squeezed in on itself and you were certain you couldn’t hold it any longer. Just short of giving up on this quest of relief and going back to your dorm, a gaggle of girls run down the steps leading to the top floor, where you could only assume the bedrooms were. 

“…why are frat bathrooms always so fucking dirty?!” 

Bingo.

Hustling up the never ending carpeted stairs, your bladder was on the brink of exploding as you shoved past a wooden door with a paper sign that read, “no jerking off in the shower!! pipes are clogged!” 

Your sandals clapped along the sea foam tiles floors as you slipped into one of the many metal stall doors. With a swift hike of your skirt up to your middle and pull of your panties, you were finally able to pee. 

A choir of angels sang the HallelujahHallelejuah chorus as you went and you sighed in relief that you had made it. 

“..yeah yeah, okay asshole,” a loud voice sounded from just outside the bathroom door frame, “you still owe me from last time,” the voice now echoed as it hit against the tiles and cement block walls, “no, payment is cold hard cash buddy, I don’t care if you have to dip into your trust fund.”  

A pair of black docs stomp into the tiled bathroom, nearing the stall you were in. There's no way he’ll come to this stall. 

“Tell daddy that you need more money for polos or Jordan’s— I really don’t give a fuck, but you need to pay the fuck up.” 

But as fate would have it…and in your hurry to get to the toilet before pissing all over yourself… and forgetting to lock the door in your haste… the stall door swings wide open— revealing a very bottomless you, to a pair of very wide dark, deer-in-the-headlight eyes. 

A beat that feels like an eternity passes, his hand is choked against his belt in a yank to unthread it, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. Your hands fly to cover yourself the best you can, panties still at your ankles, skirt still around your midsection. 

It’s all yells and screams with this random guy stumbling over himself dropping his phone on the ground and spewing, “Shit! Sorry! Sorry!” and you yelling for him to shut the fucking door already. 

His apologies don’t stop as he pulls the door closed, and from the other side of it as you pull up your underwear and adjust your skirt. 

“I swear! I didn’t think anyone was in there! I promise!” 

Your face burns in embarrassment as you contemplate melting into the floor and becoming one with the poorly aimed piss stains and the dirty grout. As good as that sounds you still have to leave, you still have to pass the guy who just saw your bare vag and you still have to navigate your way out of here. 

His phone lays face down on the floor, and you pray it isn’t broken for his sake. You pick it up, flipping it over to see that it scathed by with just a fine crack from one corner to another. His screen saver is a picture of a group of guys in a skatepark in the dark, smoke billowing thickly to cover their faces as they stand on the boards, the one with dark longer hair is shirtless, and painted with tattoos. 

“Shit,” you breathe quietly, “your phone is cracked.” 

You can see the shadows of his feet pacing back and forth but when you speak they stop, “oh..,” he mumbles, clearing his throat a bit, “umm, yeah, no biggie it was broke like that already.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah— hey, if you wanna slide that under the door I can um, let you ..ahem.. finish up in there.” 

Shit. Duh he needed his phone, and you were just holding it hostage in here as your shame hung thickly in the air. God this might really couldn’t get any fucking worse.

A deep breath in through your nose, you fake a mask of confidence and open the stall door. 

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he barged in on you, but now in the fluorescent dust covered light you dared to look a little longer at him. 

Long locks of honeyed brown locks fell onto the tops of his shoulders, covered with a green plaid flannel that hung open showing his neck and a flick of dark lines from a tattoo hidden under a black band tank top. His eyes were just as brown, round and flocked with a grove of thick lashes. Clearly he was the shirtless one in his background picture. 

He smiled sheepishly, pulling his jaw taunt as he averted his gaze to the toe of his boots, noticing your hand stretched out before him to give him back his phone, he glanced at your face, skimming his hand over your palm.

“Thanks— uh…” he started, shifting his weight to lean back against the many rows of sinks, “sorry again, I promise I don’t normally walk in on ladies using the facilities.” 

His eyes met yours and you instantly felt a heat run to your throat, his lips were impossibly plump as he drew them into a tight smirk. 

Fuck are those dimples? Of course they were. God he’s so pretty. 

You smile, “normal people lock the stall, but I was in a hurry… well I was lost!” you exclaim in a huff, fully hands on hips annoyed, “why the fuck would the bathroom be on the top floor?” 

You asked him incredulously like he should know. But on second thought…

“uhh… I dunno,” he shrugs, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his light wash colored jeans, not even looking at the broken screen as he leaned back again, “I’m not exactly an architect.”  

“But you live here?” you question, turning on the sink to wet your hands, “haven’t they ever thought of putting even a half bath on the main floor?” 

He rumbles out a laugh that makes your cheeks tingle, your buzz still in full force, “nah, you got it all wrong, I’m not a member of the ‘fraternity brotherhood of Alpha Mega Steroid’”, he jokes with air quotes, smiling wide when your lips tick up at the ends. “But I am a frequent guest, of sorts…”

This guy seemed to be one of those people who can make a nun blush, witty and dripping with a sexual charm that radiated from him like a ray of fucking sunshine. And fuck that grin of his. You’re in trouble. 

“Ahh, okay,” you banter back easily, shaking your hands to dry them since there were no paper towels in sight, “which one is your boyfriend? Let’s see I know.. Kyle? I think is his name, reddish hair, kinda feminine hands, or are you fucking Steve because I gotta say, I think my roommate might be giving you a run for your money right now.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up, a quirk in his brow as he asks, “Blonde girl? Kinda naive, head over heels for that mop of perfectly styled hair? Shit, what’s her name…Kelly? Kitten? She’s your roommate?” 

Of course he would know her, Kenzie knows everyone, and seems to leave a kind of impression on people that you envied. As bright as she shined, you were the shadow behind her. 

“Yeah,” you say, not hiding your annoyance, remembering how you got into this predicament in the first place. 

Eddie looks just as pissed as you’re feeling, “Oh, Stevie boy and I will be having words later on his lack of tact. They’re the reason why I was out wondering the halls like a fuckin’ ghost in a haunted mansion.” 

He takes note that you’re in the same boat he’s in but in your case, it’s a little worse, being a girl alone in a frat house never ends well. 

“I’m Eddie, uhh…designated dealer,” he says in almost a whisper, “for the deep pocketed asshoels full of daddy’s money.”

You connect a few dots, realization hitting hard in your frontal lobe from conversations you’ve kind of listened to from Kenzie about Steve. 

“Ahh, okay… now that you mention it, Kenz has talked about you before. You’re Steve’s old friend, Munson? I thought she meant like a forty year old or something.”

He laughs, loud and belly rolling like, “nah, minus a twenty from that. Steve and I are just close friends ‘s all… and no, not boyfriends.” 

You laugh then, all bubbly and light hearted that has his own skipping beats. Saying your name, he repeats it, a little grin on his face that he tries to hide, “mm that’s cute.” 

“Cute?” you question, an eyebrow raised as you fold your arms in on themselves, poking a hip out. 

“Yeah… cute,” he says standing fully and peering down at you, “your name is very fitting for you.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at his flirty words. Even though your stomach is somersaulting at the way his eyes seem to drip from heaven when he looks at you, your cheeks heating beneath his gaze.

“Is this the part where we exchange our hometowns and majors, because I’d rather get run over than do that right now.” 

Eddie chuckles, “oh yeah, well I’m actually here on an athletic scholarship.” 

“Really?” you question, eyebrows cocked in disbelief. 

“Yes!” Eddie jokes back, trying to bite back a smile, “if you must know it’s for Tennis, but please don't bother me for an autograph. I'm just trying to be a normal guy tonight.” 

“Noted.” You giggle, admiring the way this banter is coming so easily, maybe it was the liquid courage taking over or the fact that he was actually fun to talk to— either way, this night is starting to take a turn for the better.

“So, what does a Tennis star/designated rich boy drug dealer usually do at these kinds of things besides bursting in on girls using the bathroom?” 

He smiles, dipping his chin and looking at you through those impossibly thick lashes. Pushing off the sink he asks, “Sell a little here and there, sometimes dip into my own stash…what do you usually do at these things?” 

“Well,” you tease, twisting on the ball of your foot and heading towards the door out to the hallway, “I’m not usually at these things.”

“Ohh my god,” Eddie preens in his best valley girl/ Kourtney Kardashian impression, “you’ve never been to frat party!?” 

You smile, at his stupid joke, “Noo, I haven’t actually. Kenzie drug me out for a little pick me up after we bombed our History midterm, to…y’know— live it up— YOLO, all that.”

“Okay okay, letting off some steam after the stress of class, I get it...school was never a cake walk for me either.” 

“Yeah! But then your friend snatched her up, and since I don’t know anyone here… I was doing a very impressive wall flower guise, until my bladder interrupted that… and then a guy barged in on me in the bathroom.” 

Eddie stalks towards you, his eyes roving over your body, “Well… now you know me, soo Miss Lady Wallflower,” he cracks, “shall we descend to the basement and keep this party going?” 

His infectious smile stretches wide, practically ear to ear and you find yourself grinning just as wide, trying to twist your lips to at least hide your enthusiasm a little bit but goddamn— something about the way those dimples compliment the fucking christmas twinkle in his eyes.. ugh. 

He was trouble. The kind you had always craved but never dabbled in. But when in Rome…

“Lead the way.”

—

Eddie had made a pit stop in the large kitchen before returning to the basement. 

“Now sweetheart,” he purred, fishing around the shelves, of a pantry, moving cans of food and bags of chips, “I didn’t plan on drinking more tonight, but I’m not gonna let you drink by your— aha!” 

Eddie stands upright, brandishing a large box of saltine crackers. Your eyebrows furrow in response and he bows low, puts his hand inside the box, “I present to you, Stevie’s not so secret hiding spot,” pulling out his hand, his fingers are wrapped around a bottle of Burnett’s Vodka.  

Your eyes widen with devilish glee as you smirk, “how did you know it’d be there?” 

Eddie unscrews the cap and puts it to his lips for a long six second pull. 

You weren’t watching the way his throat bobbed and gulped when he swallowed each burning swig. Nope, not at all. You definitely weren’t memorizing each valley of cords and muscles as a single drop fell to his sharp chin and jaw. Never, not you!

And you weren’t holding your breath right along with him only breathing when those fucking glorious thick lips popped clean from the mouth of that bottle… his lips shiny from the bitter alcohol like a gloss you desperately need to lick clean. Yeah… no. that was not you…

So it’s only fitting when he speaks hoarsely and clears his throat that you are snapped back to the moment, your core keeping its own pulse. 

“He’s been keeping vodka in the same box in a food pantry since we were in high school, guy is the most unoriginal bastard I know,” he shrugs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and you can’t help but almost pout in the wasted opportunity. 

His eyes meet yours and they look just as hungry as you were feeling. He smirks crookedly and you practically flatline from the depth those molasses colored eyes hold. He moved first, inching towards you like a wolf stalking its prey, your pretty chapstick smile daring him to come closer. 

But the fuse between you is snuffed out cold as a crying girl erupts from the basement steps, her gaggle of friends helping calm her down as they leave the house. 

Eddie shakes his head and clears his throat as if he was just as bothered by you as you were of him. Turning towards the fridge he asks, “I’m sure they’ve got some Sunny D you can chase this with if that’s cool?” 

—

The basement proved to be in the same situation you had left it in: hot, sweaty, sticky. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes hotly behind you, loud enough to hear him above the music, “it’s like a furnace down here, no wonder that girl was crying.”

You lead him to the corner you were tucked in before, your drink still sitting on the beer pong table. By the way he is standing you can tell that this really isn’t his scene either, but after a while of passing the vodka and orange juice back and forth between you, he seems to loosen up a bit. His shoulders relax as his back leans against the wall next to you. 

Eddie’s words slurring together as his stories became more and more animated, and you giggle along, never taking your eyes off of him. Completely enamored. 

Your stomach burned with a flurry of butterflies when a few of his clients came up to him to buy, each more nervous than the next. Eyeing you suspiciously, questioning if you were some sort of a narc. 

Eddie stepped ahead of you, his shoulders squared and chest out to casually announce that you were cool and were with him. 

You didn’t know that he was waiting for you to object to it, to shove away from him and call him a pig for even assuming that you’d ever be seen with the likes of him besides in the dark, but you never did. 

Hours pass and the music just gets worse. Wiz Khalifa starts singing about colors and Eddie looks at the crowd of people grinding and rolls his eyes. 

The alcohol has you feeling tingly, a buzzing of flirtation sparks your blood and you are closer to Eddie than ever, the smell of his musky cologne and laundry detergent invade you.

Like any drunk girl, you start getting antsy, a little more touchy, and a lot more feely. Standing around isn’t cutting it anymore and you want to move, toss your hair back to some cheesy song, want to feel those hands you’ve been staring at all night run along your body as your hips move against him. 

Running your forefinger along the inside seam of Eddie’s flannel shirt, you look up at him through your lashes. 

“I’m assuming you’re not one to dance to a club remix?” 

Eddie watches your finger stroke up and down, your knuckles barely grazing his abdomen, but the small touch sending electricity to his spine. 

He leans into you, following your lead and pinching the hem of your skirt between his large fingers “you’d assume correct, the music I listen to is a little more head bangy than this.” 

“So,” you say coyly, pulling him towards you just a fraction more, “what you’re really saying is that you can’t dance.” 

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back, his throat sticky with sweat and the hair by his ears wet and curling into ringlets, “oh I can dance my ass off honey, taught Channing Tatum everything he knows.” 

His hands find your hips, and you almost lose the little bit of confidence you have gained when the warmth of them seeps through your shirt, his blunt nails skimming your skin in small strokes.

“Do these little white lies masked as dorky ass pickup lines work for you?” Your hands are on his chest now, the black light illuminating each letter of his Deftones shirt to sparkle like snow beneath your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers into your ear, pulling you tight against him so your chest is pressed into his, “you tell me.” 

The music changes and a throwback song  

comes on, one you haven’t heard in years. 

“Guess you’ll have to show me those moves, because in typical drunk girl fashion… this is my song!” 

You grab Eddie’s hand and stomp to the middle of the floor, pulling him along with you until you’re shoulder to shoulder with other drunk and sweaty college kids. 

“Get low?” Eddie asks from behind you, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of your ear as his hands land heavy on your hips, “seriously?” 

Leaning your head back so your lips could reach him you talk loud enough just so he can hear you, “stop talking and fucking dance with me already.” 

“Goddamn…” he groans when you finally push your body fully back into him. 

It’s sloppy and horribly uncoordinated the way your drunken hips move beneath his hands. You’re both swaying along with the music, trying like hell to match the rhythm of everyone else around you. But in the tiny square footage you have in this cluster fuck of a space, Eddie has all the right moves. 

His palms are pressing you tighter into him, making sure you can feel just how hard he is, how hard you are making him. 

Courage and a few prom night dances under your belt have you dropping low and coming up slow, your skirt fanning out the tiniest bit as your knees are bent to the ground.

And Eddie is practically thanking God himself when you run the fattest part of your ass up his body, on the bunched denim by his shins, skimming the barely there fabric of your skirt against the hole in his knee, and finally up where he desperately needs your body the most. 

When you come back up he moves your hair from the side of your neck, his lips puckering around your earlobe as he nibbles lightly, “spin around so I can see you.” 

He groans again when you shake your head and laugh at his dismay, as much as he is turned on and bothered you are too, but the power of keeping him like this, teasing him with your body— turned you on even more. 

You snake your hands upwards seductively, landing daintily at the nape of his neck, twirling the wet tendrils of curls round and round pulling gently. Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hands roaming freely from your hips to your ribcage running them along the length of your sides, bruisingly hard. 

One minute you’re facing away from him, eyes closed in pleasure as he roves over your body, his lips pressed to your neck, and in the next he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face— eyes locked on eachother, the heat and the alcohol and the endorphins are too much to handle. 

Your once labored breathing snuffs out to nothing when he leans in with licked lips his eyes fixated on your mouth. Standing. Staring. Staring and standing. You’ve had enough of this cat and mouse game. 

“Fucking kiss me alrea—”

His mouth with its plush pillow lips slam into you. He tastes like tart orange juice and a bite of alcohol. Like the way a summer day would taste if it were bottled up. He licks into your mouth and you whine for more of him, clutching onto his neck and pulling him further into you. 

When you break for air it’s loud, smacking lips and lapping tongues, tilting your heads to line up perfectly. When you twist yours again, Eddie holds onto your neck angling it just so with a glint of trouble in those whiskey eyes as he dives into the supple skin at the column of your throat. 

Sucking, swirling— his tongue is hot against you and you’re clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the pilling fabric like he was the only thing keeping you Earthbound. 

You wiggle in his arms, squealing and whining out but he’s holding you tightly against him, moaning words into your neck that you can’t hear above the music. Then he’s on your mouth again, working you into a fit. His big veiny hands move along your back, grabbing your ass softly, then work up to wrap in your hair or lightly scratch at the inch of skin between your skirt and your tank top. 

Doing your own little damage to him, his shirt is shoved up over his chest, your fingernails trailing down his tattooed skin. A rise of goosebumps following in their tracks, and he stops kissing you to suck in a breath, your smile on his lips as you laugh and he whispers a breathy ‘fuuuuck’. 

Your fingers trail down to his waist band, tickling his skin as you suggest an idea with your eyes, one that you’re certain he would understand.

“C’mon,” he mouths, gesturing his chin to the exit as he slowly begins to pull you from the dance floor, up the stairs and into the kitchen area.

Eddie knew what he wanted. Knew it the second you walked out of that stall with that sweet fucking smile on your lips, shy and coy when he called your name cute, like you weren’t at all used to the type of attention he was giving.

And maybe you didn’t want this with him. Maybe you were a: ‘fuck-me-in-the-dark-so-I-won’t-be-embarrassed-by-being-seen-with-you’ type of girl, but you did dance with him, you laughed at his stupid jokes, stuck by him almost all night, but still he needed to be sure. 

He thought maybe in the brighter light you’d change your mind about what you wanted, what you needed from him, but you surprise him when you cling to his side, going up the steps, and backing into a wall pulling him with you by his shirt needily when you reach the top.

“D’ you uh..wanna get outta here?” he slurs, almost sleepily, his bangs fucked up beyond belief, his hair drenched and sticky with sweat and humidity, lips swollen red.

“My dorm isn’t far,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes running your finger along the waist of his jeans, “across campus.” 

Eddie chuckles, “fuck…” he sweeps a thumb over your pouted lips, groaning as he bites his own. “I’d crawl to fuckin’ Alaska for these, honey.” 

Your cheeks burn sweetly from his inebriated compliments. And even though you’re tipsy and so is he, you feel an odd sort of comfort with him—one you haven’t experienced before. 

“Let’s go then,” you whisper into his ear, “I want you inside me.” 

That did it for him. 

Eddie was all but running with you across the campus green, but not before taking off his long sleeved shirt and placing it over your shoulders murmuring how it was freezing and you’d probably get sick. 

Your combined laughter ricocheted off concrete forums and neatly trimmed grass. Passing by the fancy Chemistry Lab building, the Art Museum, the Med School and finally to your painted black brick dorm building: “Wheeler Hall” 

“Here’s home,” you sing out, placing your key into the door and pulling on the steel handle. 

The Wheeler Dorms were the newest addition to the college town. Named after a family that was killed in an accident back in the 80’s or something… you didn’t really remember what happened. 

The side door you had come in through was closest to your room, 011, on the first floor, again, the universe being kind to you. 

“Never been here before,” Eddie said looking around with wide eyes, “any of the dorms actually.” 

You smiled upon unlocking your room and entering, hanging up your keys on the command strip hooks by the door. Whatever confidence he had back at the party is now deflated a bit once he realizes just how different the two of you are. What the hell was he doing here? You’re in college, he’s only here because he deals. 

“Uhh..?” he questions, eyeing the lofted bed, “you know I was joking about being an athlete, right?” 

You giggle and toss your purse onto the futon, “relax, that’s Kenzie’s bed, mine is the shorter one.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” he practically sings letting out an over exaggerated sigh as he plops down on your futon, eyeing the leopard throw blanket, “I may look like a suave Casanova but I’m about as agile as Mr. Bean.” 

Laughter fills the room and you click on a lamp throwing the room into a cozy ambience as you slip off your sandals and sit on your bed, leaning forward, “you’re way hotter than him.” 

Eddie blushes a bubble gum pink sheen, using his still damp and unruly hair to cover his face, “keep being sweet on me see where it gets you.” 

“Is that supposed to be a threat, or a promise?”

“Oh baby, I don’t make threats, not to a girl that’s like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“Yeah you,” he deadpans, standing up and waltzing towards your bed, crowding you in, “funny, sexy, and by some greater power— digs me… at least I hope.” 

“I’m not the type of girl to bring a guy back to my place, Eddie,” you nearly whisper, putting a finger into his dangling necklace and pulling him forward, “you’d be the first.” 

Eddie places his hands next you on the bed, “like your first? Or just here in college first, I’m cool with either I just— are you sure you want this? I can leave if y—”

Cutting him off you kiss him, but not like the heavy kisses earlier when you two were making out like you were each other's oxygen masks, this one is sweet, like melted  sugar on Eddie’s tongue. 

“You talk too much,” you say with a warm smile, wrapping a finger around his curled ends of hair, “no more of that, just kiss me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you up further into the bed, laying your head on a pillow his body pressed into yours. He takes his time with you, kissing your lips then your jaw, working his way down your neck to where the bruises he’s already sucked into your skin were painted. 

Your moans and little breathy sighs have him hard against his zipper, his hips bucking into the tiny fabric of your panties that’s covering up that sweet pussy he got a glimpse of earlier. 

His shirt is somewhere on the floor, you had pried it off of him between locked lips and groans of having to move your lips from his that earned you a throaty laugh from him and the sexiest eyes that drove into you with an intense ferocity. 

He lowers further down your body, kissing every inch, moving your tank top out of the way to eye your orange bra, his mouth between your cleavage, moaning about how orange is now his favorite color. 

Eddie’s everywhere all at once, a hand traveling up and down your thigh, from the crux of your knee to the waistband of your skirt, the other hand is popping your tits out from that new found favorite colored bra of his —smiling wickedly at your peaked nipples. 

You moan lustful bliss as his tongue circles each one, giving equal attention to both, “you like that?” he asks.

“Feels so good,” you whine, “more, please.” 

Eddie smirks with your nipple between his teeth, “don’t have to ask me twice.” 

You weren’t a virgin, but holy shit you felt as if you had never had sex before, well never sex like this. Eddie teased you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing your clit while his fingers pumped inside of you, each curling inward towards a place nobody has reached before. 

He groaned with his bottom lip tucked between his sharp bite rubbing his achy cock through his jeans when you pushed your skirt down laying there in a matching orange lacey thong, bedazzled on the hips. 

“Would it be corny if I say you look like a Goddess?” he asks sheepishly, pinching the stretching fabric around your hips, “because… wow.” 

You bite your finger as if you were really thinking hard on this, hiding a smile, “you’re too much, Munson.”

“Too much?” he scoffs, pulling down your panties and settling himself between your legs, “you haven’t even seen my dick yet.”

You sit up, tits out and naked from the waist down, “well by all means, show me.”

“Greedy girl,” Eddie smirks, “did you bring me here just to get me naked? I’m appalled!” 

You move to your knees, sitting upright a bit so your face is level with his. You kiss him softly, moving to his neck and sucking just right to pull those deep moans from him that make your knees shake. 

Feather light touches skate along the expanse of his chest, working down down down until you’re undoing his belt, thumbing open the button on his jeans and yanking down his zipper.  

When your hand slides between him and his boxer briefs,  Eddie hisses, watching you pump him slow and tight. The feel of your smooth palm against his velvety shaft makes him almost cum right there and then, it’s been awhile since the last time. 

But you’re not hesitating or questioning yourself and he isn’t either. It’s almost fluid like a rocking wave the way Eddie lays you down, a team effort to swiftly shove down his jeans so you can finally feel eachother where the desperation is needed most. 

Legs hiked over his hips, he lines himself up with your gummy slicked entrance. It’s a deep and achy stretch for you, a vice grip for him. The lazy gasping moans you both emit are drawn out, yours practically breathless. 

“Holy fuck,” you breath into his mouth as he peppers you with kisses. He drags his hips out at a measured pace, pushing in just as unhurriedly, enjoying the way your body adjusts, cuffing him like a glove. 

Eddie breaks away from your lips to watch your bodies join together, moaning your name as he presses his forehead on yours collecting your mouth with his. 

“Shit…This okay?” he asks earnestly, nipping at your ear. 

You nod in gasping silence, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he speeds up. Your hands are skimming down his bareback, pressing him further into you with every thrust, begging him for more. 

He snakes a hand between you, rubbing circles in your puffy clit as he thrusts harder, trying to get you there before he loses all control. “Want you to feel good sweetheart, fuck— keep making those pretty little noises, you’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.” 

And he does. You cum hard around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing so fast you practically black out from the mixed pleasure of his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock stuffed in deep. 

His name falls from your lips in tiny little whines and he bucks into you a hard and final time before he groans, holding onto your headboard for support as he’s bottoming out, stringing rope after rope of hot spend inside of you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, “God—” he stops cold, realizing what he just did and what he didn’t do. “Oh shit, fuck fuck fuck! I didn’t pull out, I'm sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!

You laugh wickedly, your body shaking beneath him at his worried panicked face. 

He’s a babbling, out-of-breath mess, “’s not funny! I just got caught up in the moment and you felt so fucking good and I’m still a little dru—”

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say, holding his cheeks with both hands squishing them together so his lips pucker like a fish, “I’m on the pill.” 

His face is still squished together when he speaks, “oh, well… okay.” 

“You’re fine,” you coo, coaxing him down from the ledge of regret and self hatred, “I—” you lean up and kiss him square on the mouth, licking into it and sliding your tongue against his, “I liked it.” 

His eyebrows disappear into his bangs and before he can open his mouth to speak you’re pulling him onto you kissing him deep and needy. 

The two of you end the night that way, him holding you, your hands in his hair, kissing so much your lips are chapped— never getting enough. Legs entangled together like a weaved basket. You fall asleep before he does, your little huffed breathing making his skin damp as you curl further into his chest. 

Wonder if Verizon is open tomorrow? He thinks when he remembers that his phone is definitely broke from it landing on the bathroom floor—but he’d never tell you that. 

He also wouldn’t tell you how he was supposed to go back to Steve’s tonight because they were leaving to see another old friend in California for the weekend— or how they needed to be at the airport by 2 AM for a 4 AM flight.  — or that Eddie was Steve’s ride because he lost his license in July. 

Nope.

He wouldn’t tell you any of it. None of that seemed to matter when you were sleeping so cute on his chest like that. 

When late morning comes you’re at it again, this time you’re riding him on the futon, slow like a twangy country song his hands rocking your hips. When you both finish you drag him to the showers, pumping some expensive shampoo into his hair and giggling when you tell him to be quiet so you won’t get caught. 

Steve called Eddie’s phone all night, and all morning, sending duplicate texts of rage, wondering where the fuck he had gone. 

Eddie silences the last call from Steve as you’re getting dressed, wearing a black pair of yoga pants and a zip up hoodie. He smiles when you offer to comb his hair, grabbing your wrist to pull you onto his lap kissing behind your ear. 

His voice is low, soothingly sweet and minty from your toothpaste as he asks, “can I take you to breakfast?” 

[bweirdart]

nearly oc-tober time again - time for some prompts for 2024

F.A.Q

do i have to draw? not at all! you are free to participate with any medium that suits you... writing, artwork, free bases and templates, simple text posts, in-character-as-your-oc roleplay, whatever! (just no stealing or AI)

do i have to make new content? nope! re-uploading old stuff that fits the prompts is allowed (and encouraged) ... old art that didn't get the appreciation it needed always deserves a chance to be shared again, it's a fun throwback!

do i have to post every day? nope! only 10 days are mandatory (the ones in red with a star symbol) and everything else (yellow) is 100% optional! if you're busy or tired, please skip as many as you want

can i start early? you can prep your posts in advance if you need to ... but please wait until the right day in october to share them!

can i re-upload your prompt list to another site? i would prefer if you dont - i have accounts on most sites, so just reblog/retweet/share from me!

event tag? #bweirdOCtober

have fun!

image desc/text version ↓under the cut↓ or on bweird.art/october

prompts:

WEEK 1: OC INTRODUCTIONS

⭐ 1: FAV OC what makes them your fav? 2: NEW OC how recently did you make them? 3: OLD OC how long ago did you make them? ⭐ 4: UNDER-APPRECIATED OC an oc you feel like you don't talk about enough, or you haven't fleshed out as much as you would like 5: RE-DESIGNED OC an oc who has changed a lot (what changed about them?) or, if you haven't redesigned an oc: is there anything you might want to change about an existing oc?

WEEK 2: BUILDING BACKSTORY

⭐ 6: PAST where is your oc from? what did they look like as a child? 7: LIKES what do they like (and why?) 8: DISLIKES what don't they like (and why?) ⭐ 9: RELATIONSHIPS doesn't have to be romantic! can any kind of relationship (frienship, family, rivalry etc) 10: PERSONALITY what are your oc's main personality traits 11: SYMBOLISM/THEMES what represents your oc? is there a specific colour you associate them with, or a specific animal? 12: FUTURE what will your oc look like in the future? do they have any plans or goals?

WEEK 3: FUN + GAMES

⭐13: MEMES do any memes remind you of your oc? are there memes your oc would find funny? maybe you want to redraw your oc as one? 14: WHO/WHAT INSPIRED YOUR OC are there existing characters that your oc looks like? was your oc based on yourself? is your oc originally from a specific fandom? 15: MUSIC share a character playlist, write a songfic, post lyrics that remind you of them, etc ⭐16: EYES CLOSED or NON DOMINANT HAND draw a picture of your oc with your eyes closed or with your non domminant hand, write or type a paragraph about them without your eyes closed, etc ... have fun, and don't worry about it looking "bad" -it's meant to!! 17: DnD ALIGNMENT CHART put all your ocs into a DnD alignment chart, or any other similar chart if you prefer i've compiled a few templates on my site, but you can find more easily if you google "oc alignment chart" ⭐18: SWAP swap something between your ocs - their role in the story, hairstyles, personalities, fashion taste, species ... whatever you want! how would this difference change them? 19: PALETTE CHALLENGES draw your ocs with as many of these colour palettes as you want (or just skip if you don't draw/don't like doing these!)

hex codes for the colours: palette 1 - #3C1E81 #6D1EA2 #B059E8 #FE0876 #FE5284 #FE7C96 #E0CFE3 #FFD5C3 palette 2 - #352823 #673F28 #AB541C #BA8233 #897128 #A68B2F #F7BF6A #DAC3A4 palette 3 - #A42E25 #D7412B #E47C29 #F7A233 #FCC02D #FCE4A6 #486548 #FEFDE8 palette 4 - #2F4769 #39597E #53779C #94D1E7 #AADDE7 #D48DB7 #D498B5 #D2BABA

WEEK 4: COMMUNITY

20-26: A WHOLE WEEK OF SOCIAL STUFF if you don't have the time/energy to do every day this week, ⭐ day 23 is the only one marked as mandatory! you can skip the rest!

some ideas for what you could do: talk about a friend's oc you like, make gift art/writing of them, collabs, trades, reblog/appreciate ocs in the event tag, make interactions between your ocs and other people's

WEEK 5: HALLOWEEN

⭐27: FEARS is your oc scared of anything? do they have any phobias? are they startled easily? would any of your ocs try to scare ppl on purpose? 28: MONSTER what would your oc be if they were a monster (eg: werewolf, vampire, eldritch beast.. whatever) or, do you have an oc who is already a monster? 29: PUMPKIN CARVING your ocs carving pumpkins, a drawing of a pumpkin carved to look like your oc ... or even carve it in real life! 30: GHOST this can be literally a ghost, or a concept that haunts your oc! up to you! ⭐ 31: COSTUMES what are your ocs wearing for halloween?

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : Tooth rotting fluff coming ur way~ no angst for this chapter hihi enjoy!

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Song: So this is love - Brandy, Paulo Montalban

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 13 | Next >

Y/N. 3mins

story replies

markwebber Oi! my feet blur that!

Y/N. get in the bloody car first old man, we still need to fetch 2 more idiots

markwebber Ok fine, tell osc I’m driving us

Y/N. he said sure. NOW GET DRESSED

markwebber ok ok give me a sec

Y/N thank youuu 🫶

Y/bf Ohhh who’s that? he’s hot! 🥵

Y/N. He almost 50 and he’s MARRIED with KIDS

Y/bf Maybe they need a new stepmom

Y/N. GIRL. NO

Y/bf. I’m joking! I’m waiting for Lewis Hamilton … that man could take me. ☺️

Y/N. Y/bf I swear…

Y/bf Ok i’m serious about that ~ I’ll let Lewis ruin my life

Y/N. and i’m sure he’d be lucky to have you, crazy and all

Y/bf hell yeah I’m a catch 🤗

Y/N. you’d be a bigger catch if you went to Australia with me

Y/bf I have to a shoot for my movie you gremlin. I’m sure they cant film when their leading actress is half across the earth

Y/N. ik ik~ goodluck babe! Ughh im so proud of youuuu 🫶

Y/N. 8mins

story replies

charles_leclerc wth?? You’re all together??

charles_leclerc why wasnt I invited?

charles_leclerc Y/N! answer meeee

maxverstappen this is so weird Y/N 😅

Y/N. 1m

story replies

oscarpiastri I see mom had shown you the albums huh?

Y/N. You looked so cute my luvv 😭 I’m crying

oscarpiastri I do look cute 🤷‍♂️

Y/N. URGH I want to squish ur lil cheeks . I’m having cuteness aggression. I never realized how blond you are 🥺

oscarpiastri yeah, I kinda outgrew it

Y/N. what if we dyed ur hair??

oscarpiastri Baby, I love you but NO

Y/N. I h8 u, go play video games with the other guys~ ur mom’s spilling so many things bout you 😛

oscarpiastri Nooooooooo

charles_leclerc Osc looks cute

Y/N. Ikr??

charles_leclerc Yes… now why am I not invited to go to Australia???

Y/N. 🙊😬

charles_leclerc Y/Nieeee Whyyyyyy???

charles_leclerc Hello?????

Y/N.

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo,logansargeant, and others

Y/N. I wasn’t depressed, I just needed some sun…. or somebody’s son

oscarpiastri Mama said you could keep me 😌

nicolepiastri NO returns, @Y/N sweetie.

Y/N. No returns… I have some concerns 🙂‍↕️. I feel like he loves Sally better than me.

oscarpiastri That was my childhood room dear!!.

Y/N. that doesn’t explain the huge af cut out 😀

nicolepiastri yeh, he begged for that one.

danielricciardo Ok where are my photo creds tho???

Y/N. Oh.

danielricciardo this is intellectual theft Y/N!

Y/N. Ok fine i’m sorry! Thank you for the most amazing, revolutionary, and inspiring photos taken by @danielricciardo

danielricciardo That’s better. Ur very welcome

logansargeant I didn’t come here to be bullied!!

Y/N. who’s bullying you our precious bbq sauce enthusiast

logansargeant I- ok that’s a step up from ranch. I’ll take it.

charles_leclerc I repeat. WHY WAS I NOT INVITED?!

oscarpiastri ur not Aussie

charles_leclerc Ok??? Logan is American and Y/N too

oscarpiastri right.

Y/N. Sorry kinda forgot about u 😬

charles_leclerc unbelievable! i’m so hurt 😭

Y/N. sucks to be u, cry about it on ur yatch

charles_leclerc Maybe I will! and none of you are invited

Notification : Alex added you to “ Charles the drama queen”

Notification : Alex added Oscar to “Charles the drama queen”

Extra A/N: Singer!Oscar ran in my mind all week… so fuck it Singer!Oscar.

Also! may I offer my playlist for the one and only~ Oscar Jack Piastri 😗

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[hotgirlssupportlando]

one day x lando norris pt 4

this is a part of my series following one day of every summer from 2016 onwards in y/n’s and lando's lives, exploring their friendship and love for one another. ofc not a smooth ride with some angst and fights along the way. a friends to lovers, growing up together kind of thing. read first part here pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary of this part: y/n attending lando's first home race in f1, but her expectations weren't really met warnings: kinda sad :( wc: 1,4k a/n: probably a couple of sad parts now in this series but bear with me!! a one day -series can't only be rainbows and butterflies hehe

summer of 2019

Silverstone Circuit, England

y/n was beyond excited getting her invite from lando to attend his first ever home race in f1. she couldn’t believ that the random boy she had met a few years ago now was one of the top twenty drivers in the world. seeing her best friend advancing in the sport truly made her proud, who would’ve thought he’d be going this far? since day one she had always supported her friend both on track and at distance, nowadays most through late night facetime calls as she was still in Edinburgh studying and Lando traveling all around the world. 

however, now after being months apart the pair would finally meet again and oh my, was she excited!! she couldn’t help but smile sitting in the taxi on her way to silverstone, headphones in listening to her and landos shared playlist. she fiddled with her mclaren paddock pass that already, proudly, was hanging around her neck, closely reading (for maybe the hundredth time) that all the personal information was correct, it would be just typical lan to spell something wrong and causing her trouble. as soon as the paddock pass had arrived in the mail at her uni dorm she had started planning her outfit, carefully picking out clothes and accessories that would perfectly match the colours on the pass. as the self-conscious being she was, she wanted to be prepared, not wanting to make a fool of herself or lando by turning up as a girl who didn’t look like she belonged there.  

now she was sat stroking her new white dress, contemplating whether it was too boring or too much, and what would lando think, would he like it? and why didn’t she take the other dress instead, it would have looked much better! her mind was racing, overthinking every little thing that came to mind and her worries quickly aggravated looking outside the cab window at all the beautifully looking fans that stood waiting outside the paddock hoping to see their favourite drive appear from one of the taxis. oh well, she thought, there’s nothing i can do about it now. she took a deep breath before exiting the car, shyly walking toward the entrance where she blipped her paddock pass and quickly rushed away headed towards the big mclaren sign in the distance. overwhelmed by the situation she just wanted to see lando, knowing that his presence would calm her nerves.

after some walking she finally arrived at the mclaren hospitality, almost immediately spotting jon, lando’s trainer. ”hi we’ve only seen each other through facetime but i’m y/n l/n, landos friend”, she said approaching jon. ”oh hello, i thought i recognized you from somewhere!” he smiled, ”you’re probably looking for lando?”. y/n nodded smilingly. jon looked around a bit worried, telling her that he should be here somewhere but that his schedule had been a bit hectic this race day morning. she was offered to wait in the hospitality while jon was gonna go tell lando that she had arrived. with a good mood she went and grabbed a tea, sitting at a table that overlooked mclaren’s part of the pit lane. 

after scrolling a bit on her phone and texting her friend, she saw in her periphery, more specifically in the garage, a familiar looking boy. he was giving some fangirls a tour around the garage, letting one and one test sit in his car. he looked so happy, being in his element. after a short while jon approached lando, and by his lips y/n could read something about her arrival. landos reaction was cute, he seemed excited that she was there but didn’t seem ready to come meet her just yet. y/n was just glad she had seen him at a distance and didn’t mind waiting for some time longer, she had already waited several months so what harm could another hour do?

if it only had been an hour or two or even three.. patiently she sat waiting, looking at the clock seeing it was nearly time for race preparations. nope, she thought, if she wanted to see him she would need to take it into her own hands, and that’s what she did. confidently she walked the same route she had seen jon take to the garage and after getting lost a couple times she found a visitor friendly spot. at the same place other high paying fans were stood looking at the team doing their pre race preparations. lando, as the kind boy he was, of course greeted the fans and let them take pictures with him. shortly after he spotted y/n who stood with a huge smile and open arms to greet him in an usual hug, but she wasn’t met by the same excitement. a rather cold and quick hug was what she got, from a boy that felt unexpectedly unfamiliar. a bit caught of guard by the reception and embarrassed by the amount of people that had seen this awkward encounter she felt like running far away. somehow she managed to still ask lando if their agreed meetup after the race was still on, to which she received a short ”yeah, sure”. 

stunned from the whole situation she went back up to the hospitality and watched the race in some kind of haze. wtf was that? she didn’t have to be here, lando was the one that invited her there, didn’t some good old kindness include in that package? presumably not then. her thoughts wandered, shocked that the boy she had known for years abruptly was someone totally else, just because they weren’t alone, the two of them, as they usually was. or was she overreacting? maybe it wasn’t that bad. or maybe this was her fault? she could’ve put a bit more makeup on and change the dress so that she would’ve been prettier, maybe that was the problem, that she wasn’t as pretty as the other girls in the paddock. 

in the middle of her overthinking someone patted her on the shoulder making her jump of fear out of her seat. ”sorry sorry sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you” a familiar voice half laughed, half tried to sound serious. she turned around meeting a pair of kind brown eyes, it was carlos sainz she remembered, lando’s teammate. ”are you waiting for someone?” he asked. y/n looked at the clock, it was late, somehow she had been thinking about her own problems so long that she hadn’t noticed that the race was done ages ago and that the other hospitality guests had gone home. ”oh yeah, i was waiting for lando, he’s my friend, but i guess he has forgotten about me.. again” y/n said not covering her disappointment very well. carlos smiled compassionately, like he understood, ”i’m sorry.. i remember when i was new to f1, everything’s so new and exciting that sometimes the one’s that has been with you from the start gets left behind..”. ”well, thats assuring” y/n laughed quietly as she felt her eyes tearing up. ”noo sorry, y/n was it? i didn’t mean to upset you, what i meant to say was that in the beginning you get kind of caught up in the fame and girls running after you, but when you settle in to the sport you sooner or later understand who the real one’s are” he said and gently hugged you afterwards. y/n sniffled after the hug ”well i hope so.. this wasn’t at all what i expected from this day” she sighed walking towards the door out of the hospitality. ”i’m certain he will come around, some new drivers take more time than others to realize that all the new attention is just empty and fake, nothing that can compare to a girl that waited the clock around to hopefully see her friend” he smiled trying to cheer y/n up. a small smile cracked on her face as she thanked him whilst they walked out of hospitality together. 

they didn’t have to walk very far before she heard lando’s familiar laugh, y/n turning around to spot lando in the distance, flirting with some very beautiful girls, noticing how he didn’t have a thought in the world about his old friend. she felt her heart sink and eyes tearing up again, was she really that forgettable? if anything, it only confirmed all her self-conscious thoughts. carlos that was walking beside her noticed the same as her and immediately connected his eyes with y/n’s, giving her a compassionate look while hugging her from the side. ”don’t you worry darling, remember my words”

_____

taglist

@amberpanda99 @phantomxoxo @landossainz @chezmardybum @lan4cha16 @tvdtw4ever @starlit-skiessss @dorothea47

[chenlesfavorite]

MATCH OUR HEARTS! huang renjun

being a love consultant is definitely a one of a kind job, but hey, all that matters is that you like it! even if that means hearing all sorts of stuff from your clients…

renjun, on the other hand, is a peaceful bakery owner… well, he was peaceful until he fell in love with this girl that visits the bakery almost every day! he’s liked her for a while but he can’t bring himself to confess and he doesn’t have the slightest clue about love… so his friends come up with the genius idea that he should go to a love consultant.

but falling for the love consultant was not on his list when he requested your help.

────────────

— pairing: bakery owner!renjun x fem!reader

— genres: social media au (smau), written, friends to lovers, brother’s best friend, fluff, a lil bit of angst

— extra: renjun falls first, haechan is protective over y/n, renjun has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to flirting or love, renjun does embarrassing shit by accident, y/n and haechan r freaky asl (personality wise), renjun kinda hates y/n at the start

— warnings: death jokes, sex jokes, profanity, suggestive?

— playlist: Love Theory - TAEYONG, Wonstein | Bambi - BAEKHYUN | Psychic - LAY | New Ride - WayV | Perfect - One Direction | By My Side - JUNNY | Polaroid Love - ENHYPEN

— author's note: my 3rd smau wowowow guys… 😭 i don’t have many words to share but this will be a very cute smau… also i got inspired by the sims 4 love struck expansion pack + love theory by taeyong for this smau LMAO

— status: ongoing

— taglist: open!

────────────

profiles 1 | profiles 2 | profiles 3

1. 5 pleasurable specimens and the edging club

2. haechan public execution when

3. woman repellent

— to be continued…

[bones4thecats]

➸ Their S/O Is A Singer; Twisted Wonder.

Character: Azul Ashengrotto and Jamil Viper (separate) A/N: <3<3<3<3 Disclaimer(s): Nothing bad, just fluffy singing

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Azul Ashengrotto ═════════════════════════╝

🐙 As Azul wrote a new document, he heard something coming from the Lounge. It couldn't be Jade of Floyd, they were perfectly silent whenever they cleaned up. That and they were feeling ill earlier, probably those damn mushrooms that Jade got and they ate...

🐙 The Housewarden of Octavinelle stood, putting his quill back inside the ink as he walked out to find the location of the melody

🐙 He walked around, looking in every nook-and-cranny he came upon, only to come up empty-handed. This was quite odd, if it was a ghost by chance, what ghost sings? Unless they were a siren, which would be highly unlikely, as their kind was practically a myth for the peaceful mer-people of their time

🐙 Azul finally came upon the main room. He noticed the surroundings, all tables and chairs in place, all other decorations of utensils placed in their respective spots for later that morning when Mostro Lounge opened, but what he noticed first wasn't an object

🐙 He noticed you first

🐙 You stood there, cleaning a nearby table off with a happy tune falling from your lips. It was mesmerizing, he's heard some very talented singers in his years, but nobody matched your vocals, not by a long-shot

🐙 As you swayed around, eyes closed and unknowing to him standing there, he recounted each word you sang and put it into his mind for memories he could look back on happily

🐙 Azul smiled gently and cross his arms, watching him with a happy figure, singing away and with your voice just flowing out like a mermaid's would when singing to their newborn child. Like how his mother used to sing to him whenever he was upset

"I can't promise picket fences. Or sunny afternoons. But, at night when I close my eyes."

🐙 He has heard this song playing on a playlist you had made him. It was full of many romantic, slow, and sweet songs to keep him calm while he worked. And as you had your back to him, he silently walked up behind you and began singing his own verse in the song

"I see us in black and white. Crystal clear on a starlit night. There'll never be another. I promise that I'll love ya."

"I see us in black and white. Crystal clear on a starlit night. In all your gorgeous colors. I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life. See you standin' in your dress. Swear in front of all our friends. There'll never be another. I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life." You sang together.

🐙 As you looked at one another, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making him smile as you finished your duet together...

"And there'll never be another. I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life..."

🐙 ...before sealing the song with a loving kiss

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jamil Viper ════════════════════════════╝

🐍 You hummed as you finished dressing yourself after your shower. Helping out Jamil today was harder than you expected, but you did prevent Kalim from celebrating getting an A on his test, so there's something

🐍 Jamil had finally made sure Kalim was laying down and sleeping when he came to his room. You were staying the night in his, since your dorm, Pomefiore, was currently having some issues with flooding (thanks to Epel running away and crashing into a pipe)

🐍 He had just made it to his door when he heard your voice coming through like a flute. It was gorgeous. He's heard some amazing singers, but nobody could compare to your voice

🐍 It sounded better than he could ever imagine. Of course, you hummed while you worked, but you never have gone full-singer on him before. But, he had to admit, he loved it so much right now

"Broken with bruises, I don't wanna screw this up. And lord knows I'm jealous. Of how she looks at me like that. If only I could see it too."

🐍 He frowned sadly, this song was about somebody feeling like they were nothing compared to how they could be. It reminded him of how he felt about you on the daily. He's caused so many issues, yet you always stayed with him, despite the obvious better choices around you both

🐍 Jamil took a deep breath and walked inside, taking his Scarabia vest off and laying it down as he begun to hum alongside you before lying down. You weren't shocked, you heard his footsteps earlier and kept singing as you put on one of your boyfriend's many hoodies and laid beside him in bed, slowly taking out his braids and massaging his scalp

"Is it a sin? To love someone who loves another man. If it is then I repent. 'Cause I don't know the man that she claims I am. I could never be as good as him. But I love her more than anything. Don't know why she'd ever fall for me. She says that I'm the only one she'll ever love. But when I'm looking into her eyes. I swear that there's a better guy..."

🐍 Looking down at your boyfriend, you smiled, his eyes closed as you leaned down and kissed his forehead before resting your eyes yourself

"I love you so much, Jamil..."

[johnbrand]

New Favorite Brew

With @misctf, continuing their Gridiron Brew series

“David, c’mon we’re gonna be late for yoga!”

Matty shouted, grabbing his mat as he launched himself out of his room. He knew that the pair should not have gotten drunk last night. You could not squeeze that many drinks into twinks skinnier than rails! Matty had stopped while he was ahead–although not super far ahead as he was still a bit hungover–but David had gone hard. He had even pounded back a beer that he had gotten from the liquor store for free before they had arrived at Matty's apartment. They had exclusively drank hard seltzers since graduating a year ago, so when the cashier handed them the beer as a part of a promotion, they laughed. 

But now rushing towards the door, Matty knew they would be doing anything but laughing if they missed this yoga class. They had spent a fortune on securing their spots months ago.

“Ready to go, David?”

“What's goin' on, bro?”

Matty stood in shock for a moment at the naked man on his couch. The brute was large, hairy, and old–probably twice the size, girth, and maturity of Matty. This uber-masculine mammoth of a creature was not at all what Matty had been expecting, causing him to audibly squeak.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bro?” His voice was deep, resonant and gruff. “Oh yeah, sorry you know how I get when I go too far. Would always lose my clothes by the end of the party, just reliving the good old frat days I guess.”

“I…uh…” Matty stuttered, but quickly recovered himself. Dave was right, this always happened when he got too drunk. “I’ll see you later, I have to get to my yoga class.”

“Sure,” Dave yawned, not even bothering to cover himself as he cracked open another can of beer as his breakfast. “Good luck or whatever, bro!”

Matty left, his bewilderment rapidly evaporating into being simply unfazed. By the time he was in his car, the whole situation was already behind him. Matty’s class was the only thing on his mind. In moments, he had his Top Hits of the 2010s playlist blasting through his earbuds. He luckily made it on time to his class, and afterwards was exhausted. Ripping his sweat-soaked shirt off as soon as he was in his car, Matty took a moment to recover and laid back in his seat. When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised by the metallic glare hitting his eyes.

Twisting around, Matty was surprised to find a can of beer in his car. He presumed it had been misplaced from his and Dave’s shenanigans last night at the liquor store; Matty’s bag of seltzer’s and Dave’s bag of six-packs. The can in question must have slipped out. Curiously, Matty picked up the can, the aluminum exterior slightly warm from having sat in the sun. The label was not anything special, brown with an old-timey football player on the front. The words “Gridiron Brew” were somehow delivered in the most masculine and yet generic font possible.

Feeling a sudden thirst, and growing interest as to why Dave was so addicted to the stuff, Matty carefully cracked it open. He did not know what he expected, but that first sip of standard cheap beer tasted like…cheap beer. There was nothing remarkable, no mouthwatering trigger that made Matty instantly understand why Dave was so obsessed with the stuff. It was probably not fair that he was having it warm, but Matty-

BOOOOOUUUURRRPP!

Matty clasped a hand over his mouth as quickly as possible, his face flushing scarlet. But before the embarrassment had completely resided, his hand moved down to his stomach. His glistening abdominals were cramping up, tightening in on themselves violently underneath his touch. Through his bare skin, it almost felt to Matty as if they were vibrating.

“Oh god…” Matty groaned. Suddenly, the tightness Matty was feeling was softening. Underneath his finger tips, his stomach began to expand, pushing out a thin layer of fat over his abs. A second coat was applied on top of the first, and then a third onto the second, until eventually the bulge emerged over his waistband. And his tight pecs soon jutted out onto his muscle gut with both fat and muscle, their taut nature now loosened dramatically. Frantically, Matty read over the tagline of the beer, his arms and legs bulking up proportionally with his midsection. “Gridiron Brew is for the ex-jock in you!” 

“Nnnhh…broooo…!” Matty pleaded to the open space, his voice taking on a lower and rougher nature. An aggravating warmth began to swarm his already overheated body, testosterone surging as it caused hair to erupt across Matty’s frame. From his dense pubes sprang forth a current of hair tracing over every available inch of his body. Nothing was spared, and Matty could not decipher through his agony if the masculinity upgrade was something to be reviled or cherished.

Matty prayed for his distress to end, gripping his gut and the beer can as his face rounded out, widening before disappearing underneath a thick beard. Age lines and wrinkles carved onto Matty’s once-clean skin, which was quickly growing a bit leathery as his body rapidly aged. Eventually the pain began to fade, and Matty could do nothing beside inhaling and exhaling slowly. Eventually, he realized he had been subconsciously flexing his pecs.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the slabs of meat bounce up and down, but at the same time it was…calming? Matty could not describe it, having never done it before. But then why did it feel so familiar? Feeling his girth, relishing in his massive size. It had been something he had enjoyed since he had discovered it back in high school, right? But that felt like years ago. Was it years ago? Matt nodded slowly–it must have been. Yeah, back when they played good music like the stuff on his Top Hits of the 90s playlist. 

Matt tossed back another swig of his new favorite brew before starting the car. He continued to relish his past glory days, never to realize that moments before he had been living those cherished days, and that they were not mere memories of decades past.

[disciplined-cornfed]

Rome wasn't built in a day

Alex had never expected his college life to take this kind of turn. He’d moved to New York for school, planning to live on campus like most students, but when he found a better deal on an off-campus apartment that financial aid would cover, he jumped on it. The apartment was in a decent neighborhood, close to the subway, and the landlord didn’t ask too many questions. Seemed like a win.

What he hadn’t planned on, though, was Frank—his new roommate.

Frank was… something else. The guy was like a time capsule from a decade ago, straight out of Jersey Shore. From the gelled-back hair, the deep tan, ridiculous yelling at football and ufc matches every weekend, the flashy chains, to the relentless love of tank tops and gold watches. Alex wasn’t sure if Frank was for real or if this was just an elaborate, extended joke.

But here’s the thing: despite his douchey exterior, Frank was actually a pretty nice guy. Sure, he blasted club music at ungodly hours and flexed in the mirror every time he passed it, but Frank was always chill. He’d offer Alex food whenever he cooked, made sure the apartment was clean, and always gave him a heads-up when he had people over. Plus, Frank clearly knew what he was doing in the gym. The guy was shredded, and Alex had to admit, Frank’s discipline when it came to his diet and workout routine was impressive.

It didn’t take long before Alex’s curiosity got the best of him.

One day, after weeks of seeing Frank pound protein shakes and head to the gym religiously, Alex asked him for some advice. He had always been a casual gym-goer, but seeing Frank’s dedication made him wonder if he could up his own game.

“Yo, Frank,” Alex said one afternoon as they sat in the living room. “What do you usually eat for those gains, man? And how do you stay so consistent?”

Frank grinned, pausing the DJ Pauly D remix playing on his speakers. “Bro, it’s all about focus foods and the right lifts. Stick to lean meats, eggs, beans, lots of veggies. And you gotta hit the weights hard. No shortcuts.”

Alex nodded, scribbling down some notes on his phone. “Got any recommendations? Like content or something I can watch?”

Frank’s grin grew wider. “Oh, for sure. I’ll send you some stuff. There’s Dom Mazzetti, Vinny Guadagnino—some good shit, bro. But hey, I’ll send you my playlist too. Got a WAV file I use at the gym that keeps me hyped.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “A playlist?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s got some fire tracks. Also, I threw in some personal affirmations underneath it, helps me stay focused during my lifts. You probably won’t even notice them, but they help, bro. Trust me.”

Alex wasn’t really buying into the whole “subliminal affirmation” thing. It sounded like some weird self-help nonsense. But Frank was shredded, and if these little tricks worked for him, maybe they were worth a shot.

Later that evening, Alex plugged in his headphones and hit play on Frank’s WAV file. It started with “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky Me”—a male cover that felt oddly calming. The song transitioned into upbeat remixes like “Fireball” and other club tracks that seemed to pump adrenaline into his veins. Somewhere in between, Sinatra’s smooth voice made an appearance, bringing a strange, nostalgic energy to the mix.

As the playlist played, Alex caught faint whispers beneath the music—barely noticeable. “You love the gym. You crave the weights. Tanning makes you feel amazing. You rep the Italian pride with every lift.”

He chuckled to himself. This subliminal shit can’t be real, he thought. But, whatever—Frank swears by it.

The playlist ended with “Lucky, Lucky Me” again, and as Alex dozed off that night, the tune echoed faintly in his head.

The changes didn’t happen overnight, but as the days went by, Alex began to notice subtle differences. It started with his workouts. He’d always been someone who worked out occasionally, but now there was something different. One morning, as he walked past the gym on his way to class, he felt an urge—a need to lift. It wasn’t just about getting in shape anymore. Something about the weights called to him, pulling him in.

He ended up inside, grabbing a set of dumbbells and diving into a full workout. By the time he finished, he was drenched in sweat, but instead of feeling exhausted, he felt exhilarated. There was a rush—an energy that coursed through him, leaving him wanting more.

From that point on, the gym became part of his daily routine. At first, he didn’t even realize it was happening. He started following Frank’s tips—lifting heavier, focusing on compound movements, and pushing himself harder with each session. His muscles responded quickly, growing faster than they ever had before. His shirts started to fit tighter, hugging his chest and arms in ways they never had before. Every time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but flex, admiring his progress.

It wasn’t just the gym either. One afternoon, Alex caught himself in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing how pale his skin looked under the fluorescent lights. Without thinking much of it, he booked an appointment at the tanning salon down the street. After his first session, he looked at himself in the mirror, marveling at the golden glow on his skin. It made him feel good, confident—like he was stepping into a new version of himself.

Tanning became part of his routine, just like the gym. He started looking forward to that golden glow, the way it made his muscles stand out more, and how it just felt right.

One weekend, Alex found himself wandering into a clothing store, drawn to a section of tank tops with bold prints—Italian flags, American flags, vibrant colors that screamed confidence. He picked up a few without thinking twice, the fabric feeling perfect against his newly defined arms. When he got home and slipped into one of the tanks, he stood in front of the mirror, flexing his biceps. The tank hugged his body in all the right places, and as he admired his reflection, a grin spread across his face.

Damn, I look good.

It wasn’t just the clothes that made him feel this way—it was the pride, the feeling of representing his heritage with every lift, every flex. It felt right.

The most surprising change came with his voice. At first, it was barely noticeable—a slight shift in his accent, a few new words slipping into his vocabulary. But as the weeks went on, the transformation in his speech became undeniable. His voice took on a thicker Jersey inflection, and words like “bro” and “yo” started slipping out naturally, almost without him realizing it. He spoke with more confidence, more swagger, his words carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before.

He even noticed how loud he’d become, but it wasn’t obnoxious—it felt like he was owning the room. His friends started to comment on it, but Alex didn’t mind. It felt like the way he was supposed to talk, like his voice was finally matching the rest of his transformation.

One night, Alex found himself scrolling through YouTube, where he came across a Dom Mazzetti video. He clicked on it, expecting to laugh at the over-the-top persona, but something else happened. As Dom joked about gym culture, diet, and lifting, Alex found himself nodding along, relating to the lifestyle. The gym wasn’t just a place to work out anymore—it was part of who he was becoming.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Alex’s days revolved around the gym, tanning, and repping his heritage with pride. He found himself following more content creators who embodied the same mindset—guys who lived for the grind, the lifts, and the pride in who they were.

His roommate Frank noticed the changes, too. “Bro, you’re looking jacked,” Frank said one afternoon as Alex flexed in the mirror before heading out to the gym. “You flexing the gains hard now.”

Alex grinned, running a hand through his hair, which he’d started gelling back every morning. “Yeah, man. It just feels right, you know?”

Frank clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smirk on his face. “Told ya. Once you get in the groove, there’s no going back. You’re one of us now, bro. Tanning, lifting, and heritage. Welcome to the crew.”

Alex chuckled, feeling Frank’s words sink in. Wasn’t just about the workouts or the diet no more. It was the whole package—the attitude, the pride, the way he carried himself. He’d become confident, bold, and unapologetic. The gym had become his temple, and every flex in the mirror, every perfectly tanned muscle, reminded him of how far he’d come.

He spoke with more confidence now, his voice carrying a thick Jersey accent that seemed to come naturally. Words like “bro” and “yo” slipped out effortlessly, and he found himself embracing the louder, more assertive side of himself. Even his walk had changed—there was more swagger, more presence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later, Alex and Frank were sitting in the living room, scrolling through profiles of potential new roommates. Their lease was ending soon, and they needed to find someone to fill the third room. Frank leaned back in his chair, sipping a protein shake as he swiped through a list of candidates.

“Yo, check this one out,” Alex said, pausing on a profile. “Marco Ricci. Italian last name.”

Frank raised an eyebrow and leaned in, studying the screen. “Oh shit, an Italian? That’s promising.”

They opened Marco’s profile, but instead of seeing someone flexing or rocking a tan, Marco looked... pretty regular. He wasn’t out of shape, but he wasn’t exactly lifting heavy either. Pale, with a pretty average physique, he was the kind of guy who didn’t seem to spend much time at the gym. His shirt was plain, and his expression, while friendly, was far from the confident swagger Alex and Frank had come to expect in their circle.

Alex chuckled, nudging Frank. “Dude’s kinda pasty, huh?”

Frank smirked. “Yeah, bro. Definitely needs some work. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know? He’s got the Italian blood—that’s what counts. We can mold him.”

Alex nodded, his mind already racing. Marco might not be there yet, but with the right guidance, who knows? The guy had potential. He just needed some direction.

“Yeah,” Alex said, swiping right on Marco’s profile. “We’ll get him there. If he’s down to move in, I have the perfect playlist in mind."

Frank chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Bro, he won’t know what hit him.”

Alex grinned, flexing in the mirror nearby. “Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?”

Frank laughed again, raising his protein shake in a mock toast. “Damn straight, bro."

WANNA BECOME A GUIDO FOR REAL? Try this subliminal:

Guido Subliminal (Accent, Mindset, Discipline, Extreme Confidence)

[lewmagoo]

we own the sky | rhett abbott

part one: ain’t no love in oklahoma

series info: new parts will be uploaded every friday at 7pm est. want more? read the synopsis here. listen to the playlist here. see the posting schedule here.

description: in which you return to the place where you lost everything

warnings: 18+ only, heavy themes, character death, grief, blood and injury, angst with a positive ending, allusions to sex, eventual smut, inaccurate weather terms, please do not check my science lol this story requires some suspension of disbelief. i usually try not to say anything about reader's family in fics but i do mention them having an unnamed great-aunt, as it was necessary to the plot

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

notes: this story is inspired by twisters. you do not have to watch the movie in order to understand this story, because aside from the storm chasing aspect, it has nothing to do with the twister universe. i've been working on this story for 2 months straight, and it is my pride and joy. i am so excited for everyone to read it! without further adieu, here is we own the sky!

You never thought you would return to the place where you lost everything. 

When you left, you had sworn to yourself that you would never come back. This part of your life, the unspeakable tragedy you had endured, had to stay in the past where it belonged. And for six years, you managed to make yourself forget while you moved on with life.

You knew it wasn’t just you who had been affected by what happened. It had touched the lives of multiple people, shattering everything around them. But while they had stayed, you had decided to run. Away from the agony, away from the memories, away from the man you loved. It was better that way. At least, that was what you told yourself. 

Now you found yourself standing in the middle of the rolling plains of the place that you used to live, wisps of tall grass brushing against your legs as the breeze rushed over the earth. It was all so familiar, yet so foreign. You felt so out of place, like an alien that had just descended the sky and landed on Earth for the very first time.

As you bent to pluck a stalk of switchgrass, you were struck with a memory of the day you left. Sprawled out in the long grass, your first love lying at your side. Rhett Abbott. The man you had known since you were mere babies in the church nursery together. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest part of leaving. But in your heart of hearts, you knew this was the way it had to be. You couldn’t look at him without being reminded of all you had lost. Of all he had lost. 

“I wish you’d stay,” his voice, filled with longing, cut into the still morning air. Such a contrast to the chaos that had transpired in recent days.

“You know I can’t,” you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, your voice would break, and you would succumb to tears.

“We can figure things out, you an’ me. Work through it together.”

“Rhett–”

“Fuckin’ twister took so much from us. Now you’re leavin’, too.” Defeat was evident in his voice.

You sat up, turning to look down at him. “We talked about this, Rhett. I have to leave.”

He sat up, too, nodding somberly. “Y’don’t have to. You just can’t stand the thought of facin’ reality. So you’re runnin’ from it.” Then he rose to his feet, grass crunching beneath him. “Not all of us have the luxury of bolting when things get tough, honeybee. The rest of us have gotta stay and face it head-on.”

Then he walked away, and you let him, knowing this would be the last time you would see him. A love lost. 

Yet here you were again, in the same field where your romance had ended. However, you weren’t here to see him. You had returned to tie up loose ends, and face the past you had spent the last handful of years running from.

Rhett had been right about one thing. You needed to face it all head-on. But you weren’t sure if you had the strength to do so.

Being back in your hometown of Wabang, Oklahoma was a surreal experience. Nothing and everything had changed all at once. Dorothy McIntyre still owned Mac’s Diner on Main Street. Mrs. Simmons still tended to her rose garden every single day, keeping it in pristine condition. The local Baptist church still looked exactly the same as the day you left. 

It felt like the town was stuck in time.

But there were also some changes. A new bar had opened up in town. A coffee shop, too, which was quite the upgrade. Even though life was slow moving here, it still continued on, just like it did everywhere else. 

Coming back was never something you thought was in the cards for you, but a handful of your family members had remained here when you left. Including your great-aunt. Sadly, she had recently passed away, and you’d surprised yourself by willingly volunteering to go sort through her belongings and prepare her house to be sold.

You had a good portion of vacation days saved from your job at the National Weather Service Headquarters, and you decided to take them while you had the chance. Instead of going on a fun getaway, you were cleaning out a house that was just a few steps down from a hoarding house. 

Your poor aunt had gotten rather forgetful in her old age, and had let so much clutter accumulate. Her declining physical health and mental capacity had inhibited her from cleaning, and, unfortunately, her children were not the most diligent when it came to looking after their mother, so no one had helped her with clearing any of the clutter when she was alive. 

That was where you came in. And you certainly had your work cut out for you. But you didn’t mind too terribly. You were glad to have a break from work. Monitoring weather was quite literally a 24/7 thing. You loved your job, but you often felt as if you were running about like a chicken with its head cut off.  

Especially now. It was late spring, and the weather had been wild and unkempt. It had a mind of its own, and with all the freak storms ripping through seemingly every state in the US, the National Weather Service was extremely busy. 

And here you were, in the heart of Tornado Alley, which had seen a record-breaking uptick in tornado activity this season. You couldn’t deny that the thought of being here during this season made your anxiety skyrocket. 

Where you lived now, in Maryland, tornadoes weren’t commonplace. They happened, yes, but not nearly as often as they did in your home state of Oklahoma. 

You had once loved studying the phenomenon of twisters. There had been a time when they fascinated you. A time when you chased after them to analyze their data. And then, one terrible, fateful day, while observing one of those vicious twisters, the unthinkable happened. 

Six Years Ago

“This one’s gonna be a big one. I can feel it,” Rhett’s voice was laced with electric excitement. He was a live wire, blue eyes wide and glimmering with his eagerness. 

His excitement rubbed off on you. You loved doing this together. It was what you were meant to do. “I can, too,” you replied with a grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

He leaned in, his gaze flickering to your lips before he ducked his head to kiss you languidly. “Ready to wrangle this twister?” He asked. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Could’ya get a room?” Another voice cut across the site, interrupting your moment. 

Rhett scowled as he looked over your shoulder to find his brother approaching. “Just for that, I’m kissin’ her again.” He pulled you in and planted another kiss on you, dialing it up to disgust Perry all the more.

You shoved at Rhett’s chest, giggling when you parted. “Maybe let’s not gross out everyone within a ten-mile radius,” you joked, though you still leaned in to steal one last peck from him. 

“When you two are done neckin’, you might wanna pay attention to the radar. Winds are pickin’ up,” Perry explained, tapping the screen that was currently resting on the tailgate of Rhett’s truck.

“Think this one’s gonna touch down?” Came the voice of Rebecca, Perry’s wife, as she approached, tugging her ball cap down over her blonde ponytail. 

“Look at them clouds. It’s gotta,” Rhett mused, motioning toward the sky. Angry, black clouds roiled in the distance. Perry was right, the wind was picking up. Although it wasn’t cold, it still sent a shiver down your spine.

Lightning crackled across the gray backdrop, and thunder subsequently rumbled in the distance. As you felt the first drops of cool rain, you locked eyes with Rhett. His face broke into a grin.

“Let’s get goin’!” He called out, retrieving his worn felt hat, the one you’d gotten him on his eighteenth birthday, and placing it atop his head. 

You found yourself laughing with glee as you moved to scurry to the passenger seat of his rickety old GMC Sierra that had seen more storms than you could count. As you wrenched the door open, the sound of scrambling footsteps alerted you that someone was approaching quickly. You turned to find Lydia, your best friend, running toward you, her French braids bouncing wildly about.

“Don’t forget this!” She called out, shoving a walkie-talkie into your hand. Her own remained clipped to the waistband of her cargo pants. 

“Thanks!” You replied. “You riding with us or with Perry and Bec?”

“I’ll ride with them, since they’ve got more room and all,” she told you. Unlike Rhett’s truck, Perry’s had a backseat.

“Okay, see you after the storm. Be careful, alright?” You surged forward and gave her a quick hug. Your friendship went way back to childhood, when you had met each other in kindergarten. You had been inseparable ever since. With your shared fascination with the weather, it was only natural that she would decide to chase twisters alongside you.

“Let’s go to that new ice cream place when we’re done!” She suggested when you parted. 

“Sure, I’ll mention it to Rhett. See ya in a bit!” With that, you yanked the truck door open and climbed inside, while Lydia rushed off to get into Perry’s truck. 

As you settled in the seat, you set your walkie down in the cupholder and grabbed the monitor you used to keep an eye on the weather radar. There, at the top of the screen, you saw the red banner that listed which counties had just been put under tornado watches. 

Glancing back up at the sky, your heart quickened in your chest. While it wasn’t guaranteed that a twister would touch down, it was a very high possibility, especially with the string of storms that had ripped through the area lately. 

“Let’s go chase this son’bitch,” Rhett murmured as he settled into the driver’s seat, tugging his seatbelt into place. He turned the key, and the truck roared to life. Without wasting a single moment, he threw the gear into drive and peeled out of the vacant lot you’d all been congregating in. 

He kept to the east of the storm, offering you the best vantage point. Most storms moved northeast, at thirty to forty miles per hour, so you had to move fast to keep up. Rhett stepped on the accelerator, wasting no time. He was vibrating with adrenaline beside you, and it was infectious. 

He always had been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. When he was in high school, he’d started bull riding competitively. He loved the thrill, the danger, the electricity he felt atop a thousand-pound animal. 

Chasing twisters was similar to bull riding. Trying to hold on for dear life as an angry, churning force threatened to toss you through the air like a rag doll. Once he’d had a taste, he couldn’t get enough. 

His love of the thrill and your fascination with weather made you a dream team. 

Turning it into a family affair wasn’t necessarily the goal, but Rebecca found the phenomenon of tornadoes fascinating, and Perry was simply along for the ride, so the four of you started storm chasing together. 

And of course, Lydia had been on board from the moment you suggested it. Much like Rhett, she also loved thrill seeking, and was content to join your little team. She was particularly good at analyzing storm data. Her entire motivation was figuring out how twisters worked. 

Meteorology was a science that was relatively new. While the study of weather itself had been around for millennia, it didn’t quite progress until scientists began utilizing computers to analyze meteorological data. 

Even with all the progress that had been made, tornadoes were difficult to study. Things like hurricanes and tropical storms were easier to predict and monitor. But not twisters. They were wild, uncontrollable beasts that could touch down at any moment and wreak all sorts of havoc in mere seconds.

Lydia wanted to learn all she could about the phenomena, and so did you. Your shared interest allowed you to work very well together. 

You were so grateful for the little group you worked with. Four people you loved very much. You’d known Rhett, Perry, and Lydia your entire life, of course, and Rebecca was a newer addition. She’d joined you in the last five years, but she was an excellent asset with her history as a news meteorologist. 

What a merry band of storm chasers you were, heading into the face of danger, hoping to encounter one of the most mysterious weather anomalies in existence. 

“How’s she lookin’, darlin’?” Rhett asked, one hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh lovingly. 

You gazed down at the screen in your lap, paying attention to the large highlighted region that showed which direction the storm was moving. The severity was mounting. 

“Pretty intense,” you answered. Then, as if on cue, the telltale sound of hailstones began to patter against the roof of the truck. Your face broke into a grin. 

Over the walkie, Lydia’s voice could be heard. “We’ve got hail!” She cried in excitement. 

The shift in temperature was a good sign. These were peak conditions for a tornado to form in. You grabbed the hand Rhett had placed on your leg, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed right back. 

Moments later, the hail died down, and you opened the truck window, listening. A crack of thunder in the distance. And then, a split second of utter silence. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. 

You turned your head, looking straight at Rhett. The blue of his eyes was bright as could be, shining with anticipation. 

And then, just beyond him, you saw it. 

“Holy shit.”

He glanced to his left and saw it too. A few hundred yards from you, in the open fields, a funnel cloud had begun to form. Your eyes never left it, staring at the sky, willing the funnel to touch down. 

“Come on, come on, come on.”

“We got touchdown yet?!” Rhett asked, eyes half on the road, half on the funnel. 

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. 

And then, all at once, it made contact with the ground. Lydia was shouting through the walkie, and you grabbed the device to answer her. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your teeth chattering as adrenaline began to course through you. 

What a beautiful sight it was. Terrifying and destructive, but beautiful. 

“Goddamn, look at that,” Rhett breathed in awe. He kept his foot planted firmly on the accelerator, maintaining a fast pace, staying just ahead of the swirling tunnel of wind. 

But your spirit of wonder soon dissipated as you noticed something. “It looks like it’s getting bigger,” you remarked. The change was obvious. It was covering more ground. Moving faster and faster. 

Within seconds, your entire life was turned upside down. 

“Oh my God. Rhett…” Your voice failed you, coming out as more of a whisper. You gripped his arm, and he quickly brought both hands to the steering wheel, knuckles white. 

He gazed out at the approaching swirl, and he knew he was no longer chasing the storm. No, this time, the tides had turned. 

Now it was time to run. 

You scrambled for the walkie-talkie, fingers closing around the plastic, but it flew out of your hands as Rhett slammed on the brakes. You let out a yelp as you plummeted forward, seatbelt stopping you from hitting the dashboard. 

“We gotta find cover!” He shouted, throwing the gear into park and unbuckling his own seatbelt. His face was awash with fright, pale as could be. He pointed to your right. “Old Miller property’s over there. Maybe we can make it to the storm cellar!”

Terror-stricken, you scrambled to open your door, tumbling out onto the asphalt. As soon as you righted yourself, Rhett was grabbing you, hand tight on your bicep, dragging you across the road. Your boots crunched against gravel, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the roar of the wind.

It was so close you could feel it tugging at your clothes. A vortex threatening to swallow you whole. If it overtook you, you’d never make it out alive. 

Together, you dashed across an old wheat field, straight for the Miller farm. It had been abandoned for years, but the storm shelter remained, and it was your best chance at survival. 

You could see it just up ahead, jutting slightly from the ground. But your legs ached, and your lungs burned like fire as you struggled to take in gulps of air. So close yet so far. Just a little further. 

You’d never been so terrified in your life. You understood now what people meant when they said their life flashed before their eyes. Yours did at that moment, as you ran alongside the man you loved. 

Images of your family, memories of all the good times you’d had with Rhett, flashes of laughing and singing and being young and foolish and so full of wonder. Was it all for naught? 

“C’mon, baby! We’re almost there!” His desperate shout filled your ears. He yanked you toward him and you nearly lost your footing, and for one horrifying moment, you thought you were going to fall, but Rhett caught you in his strong arms, continuing on across the field. 

By the grace of the Almighty, you made it to the shelter. Rhett threw himself down, lifting the iron bar that was fastened across the rusted doors. Hinges squealed as he heaved them open, and he pulled you forward, urging you down the rickety old ladder into the abyss below. 

You scrambled down, and he followed, slamming the door shut as he did so. When you reached the end of the ladder, your feet hit the floor unsteadily, and you yelped as your foot gave out beneath you, ankle twisting painfully. But your injury was the least of your worries. 

In the inky darkness, Rhett landed beside you and reached out, grabbing you, pulling you close. 

“Rhett!” You sobbed, burying your face against his chest as he cautiously guided you away from the overhead doors. 

“I’ve got you!” He assured you, holding you tightly. He pulled you both to the damp ground, and you curled up beneath him as he laid his body atop your own. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

He held you, his large hands covering your ears as the violent storm raged above you. 

Often, tornadoes were described as sounding like a freight train, and you would agree with that statement, having witnessed so many of them. But right now, as you huddled beneath the ground right below the savage phenomenon, it didn’t sound like a train at all. 

It sounded like the world was coming to an end. 

You weren’t entirely certain how long you stayed down there, pressed against the earth, as Rhett shielded you. It felt like hours. Days. Weeks. 

And then, all at once, it stopped. 

The world went quiet again. Nature went back to its natural order. The danger had passed. 

You laid there for a few moments, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing. You were trembling. So was he. But you were alive. 

“Are you okay?” Rhett asked as he lifted his body from yours, kneeling beside you. 

You sat up, trying to find your voice. “Y-yeah. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” he breathed. 

And then, “Oh my God. Perry, Bec and Lydia!”

You hurried to stand, and Rhett grabbed your arm, leading you both through the dark, feeling for anything that might be in your path. Once he’d grabbed onto the ladder, he ascended it first, grunting as he reached up to open the doors. 

Daylight flooded the cellar, and you shielded your eyes for a moment before you took hold of the ladder yourself and began climbing. 

As you both emerged, the sight you were met with was harrowing. The old Miller farmhouse was entirely decimated, blown flat to the ground like a house made of popsicle sticks. The barn was destroyed, too, pieces of red painted wood littering the surrounding property. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. That had to be an EF4. Maybe even a five,” Rhett said in utter disbelief, his eyes wide, jaw slacken. 

A sob tore itself from your throat as you turned, fully taking in the level of damage around you. There was seemingly no sign of Perry’s truck. 

“Do you think they found cover?” You asked, voice trembling. 

Rhett’s face was grim, but he still said, “‘m sure they did, they’re smart, they’re probably just hunkerin’ down in a ditch somewhere.” Then he grasped your hand. “Let’s head out to the road and see if we can fine ‘em.”

You intertwined your fingers with his and followed, but your stomach was in knots. What if your friends had been consumed by the storm? What if they were dead?

As you walked, you both called out for them, hoping they’d hear and yell back. But your voices bounced off of the eerily silent countryside. Such a contrast to the chaos that had just transpired. 

“They can’t have gone too far. They were right behind us,” Rhett spoke. You could hear the distress in his voice, although he was trying to keep himself steady for you. 

You scanned the horizon, and that’s when you saw it. A long ways off, the silhouette of an overturned truck could be seen. Perry’s truck. 

“Rhett,” came your whisper. 

“I see it.”

Together, you broke into a run, sprinting across the road and into the field on the other side. Faster and faster, desperate to see what was inside the truck. Praying it was empty, that your friends had found cover. 

You came to a stop once you were within a few feet of the truck, and Rhett held out his arm, glancing back at you as he caught his breath. “Just wait, I’ll check,” he told you. 

You shook your head, breathing still labored. “No, let’s look together.”

Holding his gaze, a beat passed before he reached for your hand again. Together, you cautiously approached the truck, which was turned onto its side. It was severely battered, damaged beyond repair. 

As you rounded the front, you peered down into the window and your blood ran cold. “Oh dear God.”

Rhett jumped into action, climbing atop the side of the truck. The driver's side glass was shattered, allowing him to reach in. “Per!” He exclaimed, gripping his brother’s shirt, tugging him upward. “Perry!”

But he got no response. The man was unconscious. A nasty gash marred the side of his head, crimson blood trickling down his face. He was terribly pale.

Beneath him, Rhett could see Rebecca. His heart sank like a rock. Just from the way she was positioned, he could tell she was not going to fare well. He couldn’t see if her chest was rising and falling or not. And when he squinted to look into the back seat, he saw Lydia, slumped over, but he couldn’t tell if she was dead or just merely unconscious.  

“Are they alive?!” You couldn’t tell from your vantage point. All you could see was Perry and Rebecca. If Lydia was still in the truck, she was concealed in the back. 

“I-I can feel a pulse, but Perry’s bleedin’ real bad. Call 911!” He didn’t give you any information about the girls. 

“Rhett, the girls! Are they—”

“Just call an ambulance!” He repeated with urgency. 

You did as you were told, hurrying to grab your phone from your pocket, hands shaking fiercely as you dialed the emergency number. You prayed you would get an answer, knowing the call lines would be flooded after the storm. 

Moments later, an operator answered. Panicked, you explained your situation, begging them to send help. The woman remained calm, asking for your name and location, assuring you that assistance was on the way. You had no recollection of what you said to her. Everything was a blur, adrenaline giving you tunnel vision.

After you hung up the phone, Rhett jumped down from the truck. You threw yourself into his arms as he neared you, tears spilling down your cheeks. “They said they’re on their way,” you whimpered. 

He hugged you close, and you could feel the way he trembled. “I didn’t…I didn’t want to pull him out. The EMTs should be the ones to do it, just in case anythin’ is broken.” While that was partially true, he was also terrified that if he started pulling everyone out, he’d find the girls were dead. It would bring reality crashing down upon him. The thought made his gut churn with dread, and he found himself praying to a God he didn’t even believe in, asking Him to spare his brother and his sister-in-law, and your dearest friend Lydia. 

It took longer than usual, because so many ambulances had already been dispatched to aid those harmed in the storm. But as time ticked on, the more worried you became. “I’m scared,” you whimpered.

Rhett held you tighter, resting his cheek atop your head. He felt so powerless. “I know. Me too.”

Moments later, the wail of emergency vehicle sirens could be heard. Multiple ambulances and a firetruck approached, all pulling into the grass toward the scene. Rhett let you go, the two of you jogging ahead to meet the first responders.

“There’s three of ‘em in the truck!” Rhett exclaimed, “they’re all unconscious, from what I could tell!”

“We’ll get them out!” One of them assured you both. 

You watched as they all rushed toward the truck, firefighters and EMTs alike. Helplessly, you remained on the sidelines, clinging to Rhett, fingers clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. 

He wanted to tell you they’d be okay. That everything was going to be fine, that your friends were unharmed. But in his heart, he knew nothing would ever be okay again. 

Perry was pulled from the vehicle first, still unconscious. Together, you watched as he was placed on a gurney, where an EMT hurriedly checked his vitals, searching for life. 

“I’ve got a pulse, but it’s weak!” The young woman shouted. 

He was alive. That was a good sign, right? Maybe it meant the girls were alright as well. You could only hope. 

A saw was taken to the door, and it was removed so that the inside of the truck was more easily accessible. Then they pulled Rebecca out. She was so still, unresponsive as she was hauled down to a second gurney. 

You heard a voice shout that they couldn’t find a pulse. 

You placed your hand over your mouth, a grieved whimper escaping your throat. Rhett’s name slipped past your lips, and you buried your face in his chest, unable to watch. You could hear his sharp intake of breath. 

Then Lydia was pulled from the wreckage. While you kept your face hidden against Rhett, he watched on, and he knew, just from the sight of her, that she was gone.

His grip tightened on you. It felt as if a dagger had been plunged into his chest. He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, his eyes falling shut for a moment as the weight of what was happening settled upon him. 

You lifted your head at that very moment, and you turned, realizing your best friend had been taken out of the truck. On instinct, you tried to pull away from Rhett. Tried to run toward the scene, to see for yourself if Lydia was alright. 

But Rhett held you back. “No,” he told you. 

“Let me go, I need to see if she’s okay!”

He repeated himself. “No.” He would not release you, no matter how hard you struggled. 

Tears blurred your vision. “Rhett, please! I need to know if she’s alive!” 

He grabbed both of your shoulders and looked right into your eyes. “Darlin’, stop! Just let ‘em do their jobs!” He didn’t want you near it. Didn’t want you to witness death up close and personal like that. It would haunt you forever. 

Your knees buckled, and he caught you as you fell into him, wailing from the weight of your pain. Brokenhearted, Rhett cradled you in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut as his own tears made their way down his cheeks. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. 

And then one of the sheriff’s deputies was approaching. Linden Haynes. “You two need an escort to the hospital?” He asked, voice low. Knowing you’d both want to go in support of your friends. 

Rhett nodded, trying to find his voice. “Yeah…yeah. Thanks. I, uh, don’t know where my truck got blown to.”

Linden hummed, his face sympathetic. “No problem. We’ll find your truck somewhere. Once things calm down, I can see if we can get some deputies searchin’ for it.” He moved to walk away, motioning for you both to follow. 

“Linden, are…are they okay?” you heard yourself speak. 

He turned, trying to mask his expression, but you could see it in his eyes. He had witnessed the wreckage firsthand. He’d seen the EMTs and firefighters rescuing your friends. He knew. 

“Let the docs and nurses at the hospital tell you that, they’ll know more than me,” was his response.

Defeated, you followed him to his squad car, your body still leaning into Rhett. You climbed into the backseat together, and as soon as you were settled, you buried your face in your hands, trying desperately to hold yourself together. But you were unraveling, and the dread was threatening to swallow you whole. 

The hospital was in a frenzy when you arrived. So many people hurt in the storm. You heard murmurs of the tornado being an EF5, which made your eyes go wide as you looked at Rhett. It was a wonder you’d even made it to safety. 

Sitting there in that hospital waiting room was the most excruciating moment of your life. Hoping your friends would survive. Knowing that they might not. 

Rhett was on the verge of potentially losing his brother. And while his relationship with Perry had been tumultuous over the years, he cared about him deeply, and couldn’t stomach the thought of losing him. 

You sat side by side on vinyl-covered chairs, holding each other’s hands in a death grip, startling anytime a doctor or nurse walked by, thinking one of them was coming to give you an update. 

Finally, an update did come. 

You had no recollection of ending up on the floor. But there you were, crumbled against the cool tile as Rhett tried to console you, while simultaneously wracked with grief himself. 

They were dead. Lydia and Rebecca. They were dead, and they had been since they were pulled from the wreckage. Perry, however, was alive, but just barely holding onto life. 

The doctor was a family friend. He offered to contact yours and Rhett’s respective families. It was all a bur. And then you found yourself in Perry’s hospital room, which was stone silent, filled with dreadful anticipation. 

Your memory of that day was patchy at best. Your brain had filtered out some of the more traumatic parts, forcing you to forget. The weight of your anguish made it feel as if you were underwater, being pulled down by a cinder block tied to your ankle. No matter how hard you pedaled, you couldn’t come back up to the surface. 

Late into the night, Perry succumbed to his injuries, too. He slipped away, with his family surrounding him. Worst of it all? His four-year-old daughter was left an orphan in the wake of her parents’ deaths. 

You lost a piece of yourself when three of the dearest people in your life were taken from you. It sent both you and Rhett into a spiral. He blamed himself. You blamed yourself. It was something you could not move past. Every time you looked at him, it was a reminder of that fateful day a twister took everything from you. 

You couldn’t bear it any longer. So you ran. You left Rhett. You left all you had ever known. And you told yourself you would never come back. 

Present Day

Until now. 

You were hoping to go undetected. You weren’t sure if you could handle seeing anyone from your past. Least of all Rhett. With the way you left things between you and him, you doubted he wanted to see you anyway. 

But you should have known you couldn’t hide forever. 

You had been planning to stay in your aunt’s house while you were in town, but when you arrived and saw the dire state it was in, you realized sleeping there wasn’t feasible. So you decided to stay at the only motel in town. 

Before checking in, you needed to stop by the store to buy a few necessities that you had forgotten to pack. You wondered if anyone would recognize you. Had you changed much physically over the last six years? You thought you had, but maybe others wouldn’t notice the change. 

You managed to slip into the store without being recognized. You went about your entire shopping trip, remaining anonymous. You paid for your things without a single soul uttering your name. But just when you thought you were home free, you saw someone who made you stop dead in your tracks for the briefest of moments. 

Cecilia Abbott. 

Your heart rate picked up, anxiety sizzling through your veins like a live wire. She hadn’t seen you yet, too busy bagging her groceries to notice. Perhaps, if you were quick enough, you could evade her and make your escape. 

You almost did, too. Until you heard the sound of your name being called. 

You flinched, pausing for a moment, debating whether you should keep going. But then she was descending upon you and you had nowhere else to go. 

“It can’t be! After all these years?!” The woman exclaimed. 

Slowly, you turned around, trying your best to put on a pleasant expression, masking your look of distress. “Cece, hi!” You greeted. You had no idea how this was going to go. Would she be angry at you for walking out on her son? Would she welcome you back to town with open arms?

She stared at you in disbelief, shopping bag balanced in the crook of her elbow. “Goodness, how long’s it been?” But she knew how long it had been. She never lost count of how many years had passed since the death of her child. 

“Six years,” you heard yourself reply. You wanted to crawl out of your skin. 

“Wow. I can’t believe it.” Cecilia shook her head. “It’s almost like seein’ a ghost! Never thought you’d come back.”

“I didn’t either. But I, uh…I’m here cleaning out my aunt’s place.”

Her face softened, and she shifted, leaning toward you. “I’m sorry. She’ll be missed around here, that’s for sure. S’ a good thing you’re takin’ on the responsibility of cleanin’ that house, though. She did let it go in her old age.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, she really wasn’t there mentally the last few years of her life. It’s sad. But, I’m hoping to have the house looking good as new when I’m done with it.”

Cecilia shifted her bag of groceries to her other hand. “Say, you got a place to stay while you’re in town?” 

“I was going to stay at the house, but it’s too much of a disaster. I’m just gonna get a motel room.” 

You should have known what she would say next. Gasping, she reached out and touched your arm. “Nonsense! You should come stay at our house!”

Your eyes widened. She wasn’t serious, was she? After all that had transpired? “Oh, I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

But once Cecilia Abbott’s mind was set on something, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “No imposition at all! Home cooked meals, and a clean bed that doesn’t have bed bugs like that nasty ole motel does. The Bed Bug Inn, that’s what everyone calls it. Plus, we’re not that far from your aunt’s, just down the road. Closer than the motel is.”

She did have a point. But you couldn’t fathom the thought of stepping back onto the Abbott property again. You couldn’t face the demons you’d left there. “Cece, I appreciate it, but—”

“I insist. You at least need to come for dinner! I’m makin’ roast tonight, y’know, the one Rhett always loved? If you decide you still don’t want to stay after that, that’s fine. But you have to let me feed ya, I’m not gonna let you go hungry, girl.”

At the mention of Rhett’s name, your breath caught in your chest. “Oh, um… Rhett, how is he?” Your voice raised a little in pitch, and you cleared your throat. 

“He’s fine. Still livin’ in the house with us, but he’s gone all the time. Storm chasin’ business keeps him busy.”

He was still chasing? “I can’t believe he’s still going after storms,” you spoke in disbelief. 

Cecilia shrugged. “He never lost his love for it,” she mused. For a moment, there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was remembering something. Likely the way she had lost her son to the very thing Rhett loved doing. 

Then she snapped out of it. “Anyway, come over for supper! Five o’clock!” Without giving you a chance to protest, she turned on her heel and bustled out of the store, leaving you with no choice but to take her up on her offer. You didn’t want to offend her by not showing up. 

But could you handle it? Stepping back into the past, into a version of yourself that you had not been in six years. You thought of Amy, Perry and Rebecca’s daughter. She would be nine years old by now. Would she even remember you? Would she blame you for the death of her parents?

Surely not. She had been four when they died. You doubted a four-year-old had the emotional or mental wherewithal to blame you for the loss of her parents.

But it wasn’t Amy you were afraid to be reunited with. Not really. You were utterly terrified at the thought of seeing Rhett again. Would he be happy to see you? Would he be angry? Hurt? Confused? What would he say to you? How would you respond?

All these questions swirled through your mind as you sauntered back to your car. Maybe he wouldn’t even be home. But if you chose to stay at the Abbott’s, you would likely run into him at some point. Besides, you weren’t sure how long you were going to remain in town. You felt like you were taking advantage of Cecilia’s kindness. So, you determined that you would only go over for dinner. You would not stay the night.

With that thought in mind, you climbed into your car and headed back to your aunt’s house. 

A few hours later, you were back in your car all over again, thrumming with anxiety, wondering if you were making the right decision. It would be so easy to turn back around, but you forced yourself to continue on, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

When you turned into the Abbott farm, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia so intense you slowed your car to a stop, staring at the house in the distance. It was the same as it had always been. A cozy house boasting of a well-kept garden, a bran off to the left with a nice coat of bright red paint. Chickens milled about the yard. Horses played in the field. Cows lowed in the distance. 

It still felt like home.

With a deep breath, you eased off the brake and urged your car down the long driveway. As you parked near the house, you caught sight of a young girl with honey-colored hair, swinging on the rope swing that was tied to the tree in the front. 

Your heart clenched in your chest. She’d grown so much. It was a reminder that life had continued in your absence. 

Upon seeing you, she hopped down, eyes alight with joy. “Gramma! Gramma!” She called, rushing into the house to alert Cecilia to your arrival.

You took a moment to steel yourself before you climbed out of the car, shoes crunching against dirt and gravel as you approached the porch. As you ascended the steps, you were once again greeted by the little girl. Amy.

“Hi!” She exclaimed. “I’m Amy. Gramma says you can come on in!”

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Hi, Amy. It’s been a long time. Last time I saw you, you were this big!” You held your hand low, indicating her size.

“I don’t really remember you. But Gramma and Grampa do. They said you and Uncle Rhett used to date.”

You were slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Uh, yeah…yeah, we did. That was a long time ago though.”

Amy shrugged. “I wish he was still dating you. You’re super pretty!” 

“Oh…thank you!” Was all you could say in reply. She certainly was prone to saying whatever came to mind. However, she moved on from it quickly, motioning you inside.

“C’mon!” She said, waving you on, and you moved to follow her, stopping at the door to take your shoes off before you ambled into the kitchen. 

The smell of food cooking made your stomach growl, and you realized only then that you were very hungry. A home-cooked meal would do you some good.

At the sound of your footsteps, Cecilia turned, her face lighting up at the sight of you. “You made it! I’m so glad. Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

You smiled softly, nodding your head. “Is there anything I can do to help?” You wanted to make yourself useful, rather than standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. 

“You can help me set the table!” Amy chirped, already walking to the table with her arms full of plates. 

“Silverware’s in the drawer to the right of the sink,” Cecilia reminded you. But you remembered from the countless dinners you had been a part of here.

With a nod, you moved to gather enough cutlery for everyone, and as Amy set each plate down, you folded a napkin and placed the silverware upon it. You fell into a rhythm, stopping only to grab drinking glasses from the cupboard.

You noticed that the number of place settings was five. That had to mean Rhett was also joining the family for dinner, unless it was a place for someone else. You wanted to ask Cecilia if he was coming, but didn’t want to make things awkward, so you left it alone.

You were kept busy as she handed you different serving dishes full of various foods to put on the table. As you placed a basket of dinner rolls amongst the rest of the food, the sound of the back door opening caught your attention.

Your heart leapt in your chest, and you lifted your head, expecting to see Rhett. Instead, you were met with Royal’s look of surprise. Cecilia looked over at him and motioned to the sink. “Wash up, supper’s ready. We’ve got a guest.”

He nodded as he hung his hat on the peg on the wall, pausing to take off his muddy boots. “I’ll be damned,” he remarked, directing it at you. “Didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Saw her at the market today, so I invited her over. Didn’t tell ya because you an’ Rhett have been in that darn pasture with no signal all day.”

Royal hummed gruffly as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands. “Storm wiped that fence clean out. We had to replace every last post,” he sighed, “took us all day.”

“S’why we need to hire some hands, Roy,” Cecilia lowered her voice, but you still heard her.

Clearly this was something they talked about frequently, because he huffed and shook his head. But he didn’t continue the potential argument. Instead, he turned, drying his hands on a towel. His eyes regarded you kindly. “Been a long time,” he murmured. “Good to see you.”

You managed a smile. “Good to see you too.”

“Rhett on his way?” Cecilia questioned as she placed the final platter on the table.

Again, your heart fluttered anxiously at the mention of his name.

Royal nodded, pulling out the chair at the head of the table and taking a seat. “Yeah, he’s right behind me, he was just puttin’ up the horses.”

“Alrighty, we’ll wait to say grace until he comes in then.”

There it was again, that deep feeling of utter nostalgia. Cecilia had always been a religious woman, and not a meal went by where she didn’t pray over the food. That aspect hadn’t changed at all.

“You can sit here!” Amy announced, patting an open chair next to Royal. “Me and Uncle Rhett will sit across from you.”

You’d have to look into his face. You wouldn’t be able to hide your expressions from him. Rhett had always been so perceptive, more so than anyone gave him credit for. He was always considered to be aloof by those who didn’t bother to get to know him, but you knew that was far from the truth. 

There had been a time when you knew him like the back of your hand. You wondered just how much he’d changed, if at all. 

Just as you took your seat at the table, the squeak of the screen door opening filled the room, and the scrape of boots against linoleum followed. Seconds later, there he was. Blue flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. Same brown hat he’d had since he was a teenager, which he pulled from his head to place on the hat peg. 

“Uncle Rhett! Uncle Rhett! We have a guest!” Amy exclaimed. 

He hadn’t turned yet. Didn’t know you were there. “Who’s that, li’l pea?”

“Your old girlfriend!” She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

He saw you then, and his eyes went wide. You swore the clock hanging over the sink stopped, causing time to stand still. Everyone else in the room faded into the background as Rhett became your sole focus.

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, as if someone had taken their hands and squeezed the air right out of your lungs. In the background, you heard Cecilia talking, likely explaining that she’d seen you at the store and invited you over.

You doubted Rhett heard her, either. He was too busy staring at you.

Seeing him again brought so many overwhelming emotions to the surface. Pain. Sadness. Longing. And suddenly, it felt as if the walls were closing in on you. You needed to bolt. 

Abruptly, you stood up, silently cursing yourself for your dramatics. “I–I’m so sorry, this was a mistake,” you squeaked, the legs of your chair scraping against the floor as you scrambled away from the table. 

And then you were fleeing. Just like you had six years ago. 

But this time, Rhett wasn’t going to let you go that easy. Shaking himself out of his momentary shock, his feet moved beneath him, carrying him after you. “Go ‘head an’ eat! I’m gonna talk to her!” He called over his shoulder to his family.

He threw open the front door, lurching out onto the porch. You were already at your car, wrenching the door open. “Wait!” He called out, dashing down the steps.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t want him to see. 

“Would ya just– just stop!” He reached out, hand against your door, impeding you from opening it. 

“Let go of my door, please.” You were surprised you had it in yourself to speak.

“Not until you look at me.”

You were afraid you’d fall apart if you did. “Rhett, please.”

A beat passed. Then another. You could feel his body heat, he was standing so close. You could smell the sweat and dirt that clung to him after a hard day’s work. But there was something else, too. Something sweeter. Like freshly baled hay. 

Against your better judgment, you found yourself turning, drawn to him like a magnet. Your eyes finally met his, and you gasped softly. They were even bluer than you remembered. So clear and bright. 

But there was so much emotion there, too. It swam within his irises, and you saw the glint of gathering tears. He drank in the sight of you, and his chest heaved as he took in a breath, then another. “I…I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered, as if speaking louder would cause his voice to fail him.

“Me too,” you agreed, as quiet as he was. There was so much you wanted to say. But most importantly, there were a few words he needed to hear. “I’m so sorry, Rhett.” You succumbed to your tears, as they slid down your cheeks in hot trails. 

His bottom lip quivered slightly, and he shook his head. “No, I…I should apologize. I shoulda been more understandin’. You were grievin’, same as me, and I wasn’t letting you do it in your own way. I made you feel like you had to run away, and I’m sorry.”

“Is that what you think? That it was your fault?” Your voice trembled. 

He shrugged, sniffling softly. “S’what I always assumed. Thought it had to be somethin’ I did.”

The thought of him living with that these last several years made your heart ache. “It was never your fault. It was me. I couldn’t face what happened. I thought…if I left, it would be easier. I could move on faster.”

Being reassured that it wasn’t his fault made him relax slightly, the tenseness leaving his shoulders. But there was still a shadow of sadness on his face. “Was it easier?”

At that, you shook your head, scoffing slightly. “No. Honestly, I think leaving you made it worse. I’m so sorry I did that to you. I’ve never really been able to forgive myself for it.”

“Guess we both have a lotta things we couldn’t forgive ourselves for,” he murmured. Then he bowed his head for a moment, gathering himself before looking at you again. “For what it’s worth, I ain’t holding it against you. Losin’ the three of them was the hardest fuckin’ thing we ever had to go through. I don’t blame you for leavin’ to see if it would make you feel better. You did what you thought you had t’ do.”

A fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes. “Oh, Rhett.” Without a second thought, you found yourself moving forward, wrapping your arms around him. He was caught by surprise for only a moment, and then his own arms, strong and steady, came up to encircle your waist. 

You stood there in the middle of the driveway, holding each other for what felt like hours. When you parted, you were both wiping at tear-streaked cheeks. 

“S’good to see you again, by the way,” Rhett said. “I mean it.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you replied honestly. Now that your initial upset was out of the way, you realized it felt as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. 

“What, uh, what are you doin’ back in town?”

“Cleaning out my great-aunt’s place,” came your answer, and he nodded in realization. “I ran into your mom at the store today, she invited me over. I didn’t really want to come, I was scared to face you again.”

He hummed in understanding. “She knew what she was doin’. She wanted us to talk. She’s a meddler like that.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. 

You couldn’t help but smile despite yourself. “I should’ve known it was a ruse. She’s convincing, that’s for sure. She’s also watching us right now.”

When Rhett turned, he found his whole family watching through the front window. Upon seeing him turn, they all rushed away from the window, dropping the curtain. 

He faced you again, and there was a smile on his face. “I’m glad she convinced ya, then. Can’t tell you how good it feels to clear the air after all this time. Losin’ you was rough on me, but I’m happy you’re back, even if it’s only for a small visit.” 

“I’m happy too. And I’m happy you stopped me from leaving this time.”

His eyes twinkled like stars, and he nodded toward the house. “Wanna head back in for supper?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Together, you walked back into the house. While there was so much you had missed in your time apart, and so much you still needed to reconcile with each other, you were relieved that the air was clear for the time being. You hadn’t expected Rhett to welcome you back with open arms, but you were thankful he had. 

It broke your heart that he had spent so much time believing he was to blame. It was your own inability to face your grief that was the culprit, not this sweet, blue-eyed cowboy. Never him. But maybe there was a new beginning between you. A chance to let the past remain where it belonged. 

When you stepped into the kitchen and took your seat at the table, the trio was pretending they hadn’t just been spying on you and Rhett. However, it was Amy who gave it away, giggling behind her hand. 

“You guys’re menaces,” Rhett grumbled as he placed a serving of potatoes on his plate. 

Cecilia tried to hide her smile, though ultimately failing. She looked at you, and her gaze was kind. “I’m sorry. Maybe I was a little…overzealous about makin’ sure you and Rhett saw each other again. But it worked, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t hold it against her. Without her meddling, you never would have spoken to Rhett. You likely would have done what you came to do and left town without a single glance in his direction. 

Cecilia had known that it was a chance for you to reconcile with Rhett. Holding on to something that happened years ago wasn’t healthy. She saw the opportunity to ease her son’s pain, and yours, and she took it. Thankfully, it had worked out in her favor. 

You couldn’t believe it had been that easy to reconcile with him. Even after you’d stormed off, upset, he’d still been willing to talk to you. It spoke volumes of his growth. Past Rhett wasn’t very good at communicating. But present Rhett seemed to have gotten much better at it. 

Dinner passed without a hitch, although there was still some slight tension. No one spoke of Perry, Rebecca, or Lydia. You got the sense that Royal and Cecilia were avoiding the subject. Likely because Amy was present. You had no idea how much she knew about that day, but you had no desire to bring it up. 

Conversation instead shifted to what you were doing with your life. 

“Where you workin’ now?” Royal asked, leaning back so that Cecilia could take his plate and clear the table in preparation for dessert. She’d denied your offer of help, insisting you sit and talk, because you were a guest. 

“I work for the National Weather Service, up in Silver Spring, Maryland.”

“No kiddin’?” He replied, eyes glimmering with intrigue. “What d’ya do there?”

You took a sip of your water before you answered. “I’m an analyst. I analyze weather data from all over the country. I work with a team and we try to predict, as best we can, what the weather is going to look like.”

“Sounds intense,” Rhett spoke up. You glanced over at him. He was leaning back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs. 

Until his mother slapped her dish towel against his arm. “Stop leanin’ back in that chair. The legs’ll give out.” 

He corrected his chair right away. You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction. “It is kinda intense. But I love it. Keeps me on my toes,” came your reply. 

“Can’t take the storm chaser outta the girl, huh?” He hummed, catching your eye with a knowing look. 

He was right. Although you’d stopped chasing storms, you still did just that, except it was from a much safer distance this time, through a set of screens. There was no chance of those around you dying grisly deaths brought on by a wicked twister. 

“Guess not,” you finally agreed. 

Before the conversation could continue, Amy happily interrupted, flouncing up to the table to set down a handful of dessert plates. “Gramma made your favorite, Uncle Rhett,” she announced, beaming at him. 

He grinned, pulling her into his side as she squealed. “Did she?” He asked, laughter in his tone as he jabbed his fingers into her sides, while she laughed uncontrollably and tried to wriggle away from him. 

You watched the exchange, and your heart went warm in your chest. But you were also hit with a wave of sadness. This sweet little girl was growing up without a mother and father. These three people in this room were all she had in the world. 

“Y’alright?” Rhett’s voice jarred you, bringing you back to reality. You hadn’t realized that tears were making their way down your cheeks. 

“I…I’m fine,” you answered. 

“Alright, here’s some blackberry pie!” Cecilia’s voice rang across the kitchen, interrupting your moment of melancholy. But you were grateful for the distraction.  

The pie was cut, and everyone was given a slice, along with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and a cup of coffee. Conversation around the table shifted to Amy’s schooling, and she eagerly listed the number of weeks that were left of school. 

But you could feel Rhett’s eyes on you from across the table the entire time. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as if he could see right into your soul. That was how it had always been. Looking at him felt like staring into the sun, at times. So bright and beautiful, but impossible to stare at. 

That hadn’t changed, even years later. Same intense look. 

When dessert was finished, Amy got up to help Cecilia clear the table. Royal headed upstairs to presumably get ready for bed. And Rhett stepped outside onto the front porch. 

“Can I at least help you clean up for the night, Cece?” You asked, hoping to do something, anything to feel useful. 

“Don’t you lift a finger. Amy and I have got it.” 

“You sure?”

“‘Course I’m sure,” the woman insisted. Then, “Have you given any thought as to if you might stay here?”

You hesitated. “Oh, I, uh…I don’t know. I really don’t want to be a bother.”

She huffed, shaking her head. “I already told ya at the store, it’s no bother! ‘Sides, it’s gonna be dark soon, and it gets so pitch black out here, drivin’ into town isn’t safe. And if you stay, you’d be wakin’ up to a home-cooked breakfast in the mornin’.”

With a sigh, you finally relented. Mostly because you were too tired to argue with her. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine, I’ll stay.” It was a good thing you hadn’t taken your luggage out of the car yet. 

Cecilia beamed. “Then it’s settled.”

“I’ll just go get my stuff from the car,” you remarked, already turning to put your shoes back on. 

“Have Rhett help you. I think he just stepped out onto the porch,” she suggested. 

With a nod, you made your way out the door, hinges squeaking as you stepped onto the porch, shoes thudding lightly against weather-worn wood. 

Sure enough, Rhett was there, seated on the bench near the door. His legs were stretched out in front of him, and he was leaning back, eyes fixed on the sky. 

When you came out, his gaze shifted to you, and he smiled softly. “Hey,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Hey.” An awkward silence soon followed. There was so much hanging in the air between you both. Words left unsaid. “Your momma asked me to stay the night.”

He hummed, nodding as he looked back out across the sprawling land that was the Abbott farm. “Figured she would. Her and that bleedin’ heart of hers.”

“She suckered me into it with the promise of a home cooked breakfast.”

He scoffed playfully. “You get a home cooked breakfast and I get a piece of fuckin’ toast.”

“I’ll share with you.”

His smile turned into a grin. Then he fell serious. “Speakin’ of sharing, you can sleep in my room.”

At that, you shook your head. “Oh no, that’s asking too much. Isn’t there a pull-out bed in the living room couch? I can sleep there instead. It’s where I used to sleep when I’d stay over, remember?”

“Boy, do I,” he hummed. When you were teenagers, Cecilia was insistent that you did not share a bed if you stayed the night. You’d sleep on the pull-out bed in the living room, far away from Rhett’s bedroom upstairs. It didn’t stop him from sneaking down to talk to you in the middle of the night, though. 

He continued, “But ya already served your time on that old couch. I’ll sleep there. My bed’s all yours.”

“Rhett—”

“Hey now, don’t argue with me. We both know I always win ‘em anyway.” 

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest as you shook your head. He was right, after all. He’d always win you over with kisses dispersed all over your face until you relented with laughter. 

“Fine. I’ll take your room then,” you replied. 

He hummed in satisfaction, and silence fell between you again. It felt so strange, being back in his presence. You felt as if you didn’t belong here, on this porch with him in the late spring night. In your anxious imaginations, you had always assumed he’d never reconcile with you, so you never tried to reach out and make things right. 

But all it had taken was one tearful conversation, and a sense of civility had been restored between you. 

“Why did you forgive me so easily?” Came your question, spoken into the quiet air that hummed with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. 

Rhett eyes flickered to you. “Because I spent too long wallowin’ in hurt, and I couldn’t handle carryin’ all of it anymore. I don’t wanna be stuck in the past. I want to move forward. Forgivin’ you is the best way to do that.” Then he added, “plus, I never could stay mad at you. Guess that still holds true to this day.”

Tears welled in your eyes again as you digested his words. You hated that you’d caused him so much pain. If only you’d been able to work through your grief instead of running from it. But that was in the past. There was nothing you could do to change it. However, you could use it to be a better person in the future. 

“I’m sorry I—”

But he held up his hand. “Don’t need to ‘pologize again,” he assured you, gentleness in his tone. 

You closed your mouth and nodded, and then you decided to take a seat next to him. Several minutes of silence passed again. Again, you were the one to break it. 

“I’m glad I decided to come tonight. I almost didn’t take your ma up on it.”

“I’m glad y’ did too.” He turned his body toward you so he could look into your face. “Six years is a long time.”

“It really is. I can’t believe it’s been that long. And Amy…she’s gotten so big.”

“She has. That little girl’s the apple of Mom and Dad’s eye, I’ll tell you what.”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly. “Looks like she’s the apple of yours, too.”

Rhett made a noise of agreement. “I see ‘em in her. Bec and Perry, that is. She’s a bit of a firecracker. Takes after her dad in that way. But she’s smart as a whip, we’re talkin’ wicked smart, like her momma. And some of the things she says, the tone she says them in…god, it sounds just like Bec.”

“It must be so cool to see them live on in her like that,” you whispered. 

“It is. But it’s hard, too. Thinkin’ about the way things would be if they were still here.”

“Does she remember them?”

He shrugged, shifting his gaze to the night sky above you, shimmering with stars. “Bits an’ pieces. She doesn’t remember whole details. Plus she was so small…I don’t rightly know what she pictures in her head when she talks about it.”

Your heart broke for the girl. “Poor thing.”

Rhett nodded his head. “I know. But she’s doin’ alright. Brings a lotta joy into our lives.” Even in the dim light, you could see the way his eyes sparkled with love. Family had always been so important to him. Even more so now that he’d lost part of it. 

You had to swallow the urge to cry. “That’s good.”

A beat passed before Rhett changed the subject, eager to move on to lighter conversation. “So…weather analyst, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

That drew a shy smile out of you. “It’s no big thing. I have a whole team of people who work with me.”

“It’s a pretty damn big deal to me. You an’ that smart brain of yours. It’s no wonder you want on to work for the fuckin’ National Weather Service.”

At his compliment, you ducked your head, a little embarrassed. “I really like the job. It’s kinda stressful, though. Weather never takes a break like us human beings do.”

“You’re tellin’ me. You shoulda seen the storms that rolled through here last week. One right after another.”

That prompted you to ask the question you’d been dying to know the answer to all night. “Your mom said you’re still chasing.”

Rhett nodded his head as he shifted against the bench, wood creaking beneath his weight. “Yeah. It ain’t just me, either. I’ve got a whole team workin’ with me.”

Your gaze fell to your lap, where your hands were loosely clasped. “Was it…was it hard getting back to it, after they died?” You softly questioned. That was why you’d never gone back to storm chasing. You couldn’t bear the thought of doing so after all you'd lost. 

“Sure was. I didn’t start back up until a year later. That first time I got back out there…man, I almost couldn’t do it. I just kept thinkin’ of them. But then it sorta turned into a way to honor them an’ keep their memory alive. So I’ve been doin’ it ever since.”

“That’s good you were able to get back into it.”

“How ‘bout you? Been out there runnin’ after any storms lately?”

“No,” you answered quickly. The thought made your stomach turn. 

“Y’ should join us next time it storms,” came his suggestion. 

“I’d rather not.” You were hoping he would drop it. 

“C’mon, it’ll be like old times.”

“I don’t want it to be like old times. We lost three of our best friends during old times. I can’t…I can’t face another tornado. I’m scared to death of them now. I’ll never storm chase ever again.” You were on the verge of tears.

He got the message then. “Alright, fair enough. Didn’t mean to upset ya.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping. “You didn’t upset me. It’s just more of a sore subject than I realized,” you said. Then, “and now that I’m back here, I’m so scared more twisters will come through.”

Rhett understood where you were coming from. But he also believed in facing one’s fears. For the most part, at least. There were still some things that filled him with fear that he couldn’t bear to face. 

“More will definitely come. They ain’t been that bad this season so far. Last week was rough though. Had a couple EF3s that hit some neighborin’ towns. We’ve been helpin’ out a lot. The team I’m workin’ with…they’re big into charity. We’ve been able to donate to people who lost their homes. We’re hopin’ to raise enough money to get building supplies that can help rebuild all the damaged homes.”

You raised a brow, surprised. Not over the fact that Rhett wanted to help people in surrounding communities, but over the fact that his team had done so much. That was more than you’d ever been able to do when you were chasing with Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia. 

“That’s really amazing,” you remarked. 

“Yeah. Hate seein’ the damage twisters can do, but I’m glad we can at least do somethin’ to help, even if it’s small.”

You had so many more questions about his storm chasing. But you also wanted to change the subject. Your heart was heavy from the old memories going through your mind. So, you asked about another thing that was part of the past.

“Did you ever go back to bull riding?”

Rhett let out a sharp breath, suddenly finding a small tear in his jeans very interesting, fingers sliding over the work fabric. “Hell no.”

“I always wondered about that. If you’d gone back to it after I left.”

“Nah. Never could stomach the thought of gettin’ back on one of them beasts.”

“Yet you’ll chase twisters with no problem.”

“That’s different.”

“How? Both could kill you.”

Rhett didn’t have an answer for that. But he did know he never wanted to experience what he’d been through in that arena all those years ago. 

It happened before you’d started storm chasing together. He was gunning for a career in pro bull riding, and he was headed toward the top. He had it all. Until it came crashing down one night when he suffered a life-threatening injury when he didn’t get out of the way of an angry bull fast enough. 

You’d never forget that night. And neither would he. You’d been volunteering at the rodeo. You were certified in first aid, and you were able to work alongside the on-site medics tending to riders with injuries, so you had access to the riders-only area. 

But what Rhett suffered was no minor injury. The bull’s horn caught him right beneath the hem of his protective vest, impaling the soft flesh of his lower abdomen. You remembered so vividly the way you’d cried out his name. The way he’d been carried out on a stretcher. 

You remembered tearing his vest off of him and seeing blood. So much blood. You remembered pressing your hands to the wound in an effort to slow the bleeding as he grew pale beneath you. You remembered begging him to hold on, assuring him that help was on the way. 

You almost lost him that night. 

The injury scared the hell out of him. It required surgery to repair the internal damage, and it took him out of riding for months. And by the time the doctor cleared him to ride again, he knew he couldn’t. Not after he’d stared death in the face. 

He had a permanent scar on his abdomen, a reminder of what he had endured. 

Rhett never wanted to experience that again. So he hung up his riding vest for good. But he was still a thrill seeker. And when you expressed an interest in storm chasing, he’d eagerly agreed, because it gave him a chance to feel alive again, just like he always felt when he was sitting on the back of a raging bull. 

Now you had traded places. He was too afraid to mount another bull. You were too afraid to go after another twister. It seemed that you had more in common than you realized.

“Guess we’re both scared of something,” you remarked, wrapping your arms around yourself as the evening chill crept up on you like the chilled fingers of a ghost touching your skin. 

“Guess so,” Rhett agreed.

Your conversation fell stagnant, and you found yourself growing sleepy. You had only just arrived back in Oklahoma that morning, and the night before, you hadn’t slept well. The exhaustion was beginning to catch up with you. 

“I should probably turn in before I fall asleep out here,” you mumbled, followed by a yawn. 

Rhett made a sound deep in his throat before he rolled his neck, joints cracking. “I’ll help ya with your stuff,” he offered as he stood. 

You followed suit, motioning to your car. The two of you headed down the porch steps, where you popped the trunk, revealing your luggage. You watched as Rhett heaved the bags out of the car, his forearms and biceps bulging beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt. 

You were reminded that he was still just as strong as ever. Lifting your suitcases hardly took that much strength, you knew, but Rhett was a farm boy. He’d been strong his entire life, thanks to lifting bales of hay and performing other tasks of manual labor. When he was riding bulls, his core and leg strength had been excellent. Those strong thighs of his allowed him to hold tightly to those raging animals. 

He’d taken on some size since you’d seen him six years ago. His shoulders were more broad. His arms were bigger. His thighs were meatier. Or maybe his jeans were simply too tight, hugging the curve of his quad muscles.

In the kitchen, you hadn’t fully admired him. But here, beneath the night sky, illuminated by the glow of the porch light, you saw him. His stubbled jaw, his twinkling eyes, his small pink mouth the button nose you’d always loved. 

You remembered teasing him and telling him he had an elfin nose, that he had inherited it from a mystical creature. You had adored the way his ears would turn red whenever you said it.

Oh, how things had changed. There had been a time when you couldn’t picture your life without him. And now, you’d been without him for so long that you’d forgotten what it felt like to love and be loved by him.

“Y’alright?” Rhett’s voice jarred you, and you shook yourself out of your reverie.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just sorta zoned out.”

The knowing look in his eye told you he’d caught on to the fact that you were staring at him.

“C’mon, I’ll take you upstairs.” With that, he slammed your trunk shut and gathered your bags again before he headed toward the house.

You trailed after him, closing and locking the front door behind you, assuming everyone was in for the night. Then you ascended the stairs, allowing Rhett to lead you down the hall, all the way to the end, where his room was.

He nudged the partially open door with his foot, and stepped into the dark confines, depositing your luggage onto the bed before he bent to turn on the bedside lamp. You were met with the sight of a surprisingly neat bedroom.

The times you’d been here in the past, his room had never been terribly messy, but random clutter would accumulate in different corners. He was never really the type to make his bed either, because he always said, “I’m gon’ sleep in it again, so why bother?”

But now, the bed was neatly made, and hardly any clutter hid in the corners. 

“I ain’t been stayin’ here much, so it stays pretty neat,” he explained, as if reading your mind. 

“Too busy storm chasing?” You asked.

“Yeah. Stay in a lotta motels when I’m on the road.”

You sauntered into the room, taking in the coziness of it all. Hardly anything had changed. His plaid bedspread was the same. His curtains still matched the bedding. Art pieces of cowboys riding bulls decorated the walls. A picture of Lane Frost hung just above his desk.

A sense of nostalgia washed over you. Being in this room felt like coming home.

“Welp…guess I’ll, uh, let you get to bed,” Rhett murmured. He paused in the doorway, as if he wanted to say something. “I’m glad you’re back, by the way.”

That brought a smile to your face. “I am, too.”

He rapped his knuckles against the door frame. “Anyway, ‘night.”

“Goodnight.”

He reached out to pull the door shut, leaving you in silence, alone for the first time since you had arrived at the house. You let out a breath, and lowered down to sit on the edge of the bed, allowing yourself to process everything.  

Your arms splayed out on either side of you, palms skimming over the softness of the bed. You closed your eyes, and allowed the memories to wash over you. It was here, in this very bed, that you had lost your virginity to each other. You were young and in love and driven by your passion for one another.

Many times after that, you had made love in this room. And as you closed your eyes, it was as if you were reliving those memories. The feeling of his mouth on yours, and his hands on your heated skin. The way he would moan your name into your mouth when you shifted your hips against his own, searching for delicious friction, so eager to have him inside you.

As your eyes fluttered open, you were struck with a feeling of emptiness. How long had it been since you’d been with anyone in such an intimate way? Your job hardly left you time for romantic relationships. You hadn’t really put yourself out there, because you knew your busy career would likely deter anyone who wanted any sort of future with you.

As you readied yourself for bed, you thought about how alone you had felt these last few years. Alone in your grief. In your pain. At least Rhett had his parents to lean on as they endured the loss. You had no one who truly understood. 

Silver Spring was a perfectly nice community to live in, and you had made some good friends during your time there. But nothing compared to the community you once had here in Wabang. No one compared to Lydia, your dearest friend. Your bond had been a sisterly one. You were kindred spirits. You’d never been able to find that again in any of the friends you made in your current home city.

But now that you were back in Oklahoma, the sense of familiarity was nearly overwhelming. You were home. Even if you didn’t realize it yet.

That night, you got the best sleep you’d gotten in a long time. Rhett’s bed was comfortable, and the house was quiet. All that could be heard outside was the distant howl of a coyote, and the sounds of nightlife creeping about.

When you woke the next morning, it was to the sound of a rooster crowing. You lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, relishing in the feeling of being rested. Your body didn’t ache. Your head wasn’t swimming with tiredness. You were at peace, which was something you hadn’t felt in ages.

You could hear the sound of the Abbotts milling about the house. Cecilia was likely in the kitchen starting breakfast. Royal was probably already outside, getting a head start on the day’s chores. Rhett, too, who’d always been responsible for checking on the animals and making sure they were fed.

Not wanting to walk out in your tank top and sleep shorts, you were quick to throw on some clean clothes before you headed across the hall to the bathroom to wash your face and make yourself look somewhat presentable.

When you finally made your way downstairs, you were hit with the smell of food cooking. The coffee pot hissed and sputtered in the corner, nearly finished with its brew cycle. Amy sat at the table, doodling in a notebook. When she saw you, her face lit up.

“Mornin’! I was wondering when you’d come down! You slept for a super long time.”

“Amy,” Cecilia cautioned.

“It’s okay,” you assured her, before turning to Amy, “I needed the rest.”

“Well you came down just in time! Gramma’s making pancakes.”

“Sounds good!” Came your response, as you moved to grab a glass from the cupboard to fill with water. Your mouth felt parched.

“How’d you sleep, hon?” Cecilia asked as she stirred a bowl of pancake batter.

“Like a baby,” you said, bringing your glass to your lips to take a sip. You watched as she poured the batter onto a hot skillet, bubbling with melted butter. “Just so you know, I don’t expect you to make breakfast for me every day. I know you only make big breakfasts on Saturdays and Sundays, I don’t expect pancakes and eggs and bacon every day of the week.”

It was Thursday, so it wasn’t a typical day for her to make breakfast for the family. The weekday mornings were always called “fend for yourself” mornings, where the family was responsible for preparing their own respective breakfasts.

“Nonsense! I’m happy to do it, you need fuel if you’re gonna be cleanin’ that house all day,” she insisted.

You smiled gratefully. “Thank you. Really, it means a lot.”

She ushered you to the table, assuring you breakfast would be ready momentarily. You chatted with Amy once you settled into your seat, and just as breakfast was being put on the table, the screen door squealed open, and in stepped Royal, lifting his hat off his head and placing it on the peg on the wall.

He greeted you, nodding in your direction. “Mornin’,” he said as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Cecilia placed a cup of black coffee beside his plate, and he thanked her with a wordless hum. Typical morning small talk followed as everyone began filling their plates. But the quiet chatter was soon interrupted by the screen door opening again.

Rhett hurried into the kitchen, boots scraping against the floor as he made a beeline for the table. You could see a wildness in his eyes, and it made your heart rate quicken. Your gaze flickered to the kitchen window, where you could see distant gray clouds. 

“Gotta take breakfast to go, storm’s brewin’ over in Cimarron County,” he announced as he reached over Amy’s head to grab a pancake. He shoved a few pieces of bacon inside and folded it up like a taco. “Team’s on the way here to meet me.”

“Please be careful!” Cecilia called after him as he turned on his heel to head back to the door. 

He grabbed a backpack that was sitting on the bench in the entryway, presumably packed with necessities. “Always am, Ma,” he replied. Then he looked at you, his hand hovering over the doorknob. “You wanna come?” Hope was in his tone.

His offer shocked you. You certainly didn’t expect it, not after what you had told him last night. “No, I…I’ll stay here,” you answered.

“Alright, see ya soon!” And with that, he was off, door slamming shut behind him.

You weren’t sure what drove you to do so, but you found yourself surging up from your seat, feet carrying you quickly to the door. You flung it open and rushed out onto the porch. “Rhett!” You called. 

Midway to his truck, he stopped, whirling around. “Yeah?”

“Be safe!” He’d just come back into your life. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

His face softened, and he smiled. “I will be. I promise.” Then he turned and continued on to his truck. Still that old GMC Sierra with the light bar on top. It had been blown off the road during the twister you’d narrowly escaped, but somehow, the truck was perfectly fine, and just needed a few repairs to render it driveable again.

Seeing that it had survived after all this time gave you hope that Rhett would make it back safely home again. 

He was gone for three days. You learned of his well-being through Cecilia. He would always text her after a storm passed to assure her he was okay. He was so good about giving her peace of mind. 

In his absence, you busied yourself with sorting through the overwhelming clutter in your great-aunt’s house. It provided a distraction from your worry. 

Living in Silver Spring, you’d had no cause to worry about Rhett. He crossed your mind often, yes, but you had no idea he was still storm chasing, and therefore remained blissfully ignorant. 

Now that you were back home, all those old memories had resurfaced, and you were forced to face the fact that you still cared deeply for Rhett. The thought of him dying out there made your stomach turn. 

At least when you’d been chasing with him, you were together, and he would die by your side if something did happen. Being apart from him now, you had no idea if he was okay or not, aside from updates from his mother. 

You were forced to come to terms with your feelings. Why did you feel so strongly about this? Yes, you cared about what happened to him, just as anyone else in his life did. But there was something more. 

You realized that perhaps you were still in love with him. 

However, you buried that realization deep. You couldn’t rekindle your romance with him. You had moved on, made a life for yourself, had a career you loved. You needed to leave your relationship with him in the past, and move forward with only a friendship between the two of you. 

Easy as pie, right? 

You hoped so. 

Three days later, just as you were arriving back on the Abbott farm after a long day of cleaning and organizing, Rhett returned. 

Relief washed over you from head to toe when you saw that old Sierra coming down the driveway. But he wasn’t alone. You could make out the silhouette of a woman sitting in the passenger seat. Behind the truck, a Ford F150 followed closely behind, and beyond that, an old RV. 

So this was the team he’d been talking about. 

Your gut fluttered at the sudden anxiety of meeting new people. You knew you looked worse for wear in your cleaning clothes. You’d been sweating all day, and you were planning on heading straight for the shower when you got into the house. 

But it would be rude to just turn and go inside, so you stayed put, waiting until all the vehicles came to a stop. 

Rhett jumped out first, slamming the truck door shut behind him. He was wearing his hat, and he was grinning. “Made it back in one piece,” he assured you. 

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “I can see that,” came your answer. 

Your eyes flickered beyond him as the woman in the passenger seat climbed out. She was beautiful, in the most natural of ways. No makeup adorned her face. Her eyes were large, the deepest shade of brown you’d ever seen. Her hair, a deep chestnut color, was curly and unkempt, pulled back into a ponytail. 

Her deep brown skin glimmered with perspiration. You could hazard a guess that the air conditioning in Rhett’s truck was broken. It always had been finicky. 

“Hi,” she spoke, reaching out her hand to shake yours, “I’m Zara Marshall. Nice to finally meet you! Rhett told me all about you.” Then she added, “good things, of course!”

“Nice to meet you, too. I didn’t realize you all were coming. I would’ve at least tried to look presentable.”

“Oh, you look beautiful, don’t even worry about that.” She blew a stray curl out of her face. 

“Zara here is the genius behind all our chases,” Rhett boasted. 

The woman looked at him and beamed, shaking her head. “Oh, hush. I’m no genius.”

An odd feeling blossomed to life in your chest as you watched their banter. The easy way they interacted. It wasn’t jealousy, was it? It couldn’t be. You had no right to be jealous. Not after you were the one that left him six years ago. 

Your moment of distaste was interrupted by the sound of car doors opening and closing. The rest of the team was getting out of their vehicles, clearly eager to stretch their legs after driving for so long. 

“You have to meet my wife!” Zara exclaimed. 

Oh. 

How silly of you to entertain the thought of jealousy when the woman wasn’t even interested in Rhett. 

Another woman came rushing over to the three of you, tall and lean, shoulder-length brown hair hanging loosely against the middle of her back, Tattoos decorated different parts of her body. Mostly her hands and wrists, and a few on her neck. When she smiled at you, it was warm like sunlight. 

“Hi!” She said, “I’m Jeslyn.”

You shook her hand and told her your name. Then you were quickly introduced to everyone else. 

There was Finn, handsome as could be, with bright green eyes and auburn hair. And then there was Danny, with eyes that were just a little less blue than Rhett’s, and graying curls that fell against his forehead. He couldn’t have been older than his early thirties, but he was already going gray. It suited him.

They were all so personable, and their welcome was warm. It made you feel at ease instantly. You should have known the people who chose to associate with Rhett were good people.

You learned that they were all staying for dinner, per Cecilia’s insistence. It was a flurry of organized chaos as everyone offered to help set up the tables outside, rather than crowding in the small kitchen to eat. 

While they were busy with that, you slipped away to take a quick shower, eager to wash the sweat and grime off of your body. 

You turned the water as hot as you could stand, stepping under the spray and closing your eyes. You hadn’t expected to be so exhausted. Your shoulders and arms ached from scrubbing and heavy lifting. Your legs were sore too. 

The steamy water helped loosen your tight muscles considerably, and once you were finished, you breathed out a sigh of satisfaction. Now you felt a little more prepared to face a dinner table full of people. 

But when you stepped out of the shower, you realized that you had forgotten something very important. A towel. Swearing under your breath, you stood in the middle of the bathroom for a moment, debating what you should do.

The linen closet was right across the hall. If you could sneak out there unseen, you’d be able to grab a towel and slip right back into the bathroom unnoticed. So, you cautiously opened the bathroom door and made sure the coast was clear before you dashed for the closet, yanking the door open and scanning for a towel.

To your horror, the sound of footsteps approaching could be heard, and you gasped, reaching for your towel, but you weren’t fast enough. A split second later, Rhett appeared at the top of the steps.

He froze, eyes widening, as you let out a squeak of surprise. Out of respect for you, he quickly turned away. “Shit, sorry!” He apologized.

Wordlessly, you clutched your towel and scurried away, slamming the bathroom door shut. On the steps, Rhett let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but shake his head. He hadn’t seen you naked in years. Of course the first time would end up being an awkward moment like the one you’d both just been subjected to.

He hadn’t seen much, in his haste to give you privacy. But he’d seen enough to make his brain short-circuit for a moment. Mentally, he scolded himself, but he knew, now that he’d seen you in that way, he wouldn’t be able to get it out of his head. Especially because there had been a time when he knew your body, inside and out. He’d had you in the most intimate of ways. And that was something he would never forget.

“Get it the fuck t’gether,” he grumbled to himself as he turned back around, heading toward his room, where he wanted to grab a clean shirt before you came back. He simply couldn’t entertain thoughts about you naked. It would do him no good. 

He shook the encounter off, and quickly changed his shirt, tossing the old one in the hamper. He stopped to glance in the mirror that hung above his dresser, running his hand haphazardly through his hair, which was slightly tousled from all the activity of the day. 

Then, quick as he came, he strolled out of his room and back down the steps before you ever stepped out of the bathroom again. 

Meanwhile, you were hurriedly going about your post-shower routine, your mind spinning. You knew you were making this into a bigger deal than it needed to be. Perhaps you should be grateful it was only Rhett, who’d seen you naked many times before, rather than his parents or Amy. 

But you still had an odd feeling swirling to life in your gut, a feeling that you didn’t want to face, because if you did, that would mean admitting you’d never gotten over Rhett. 

You pushed it down again. Choosing to deny, deny, deny. It would simply go away if you didn’t acknowledge it. 

With that, you headed out of the bathroom and back into Rhett’s bedroom, where you set your shower items down and made sure to hang your towel on the hook mounted on the back of the door. 

Then, with a deep breath for courage, you made your way downstairs. 

There was a flurry of activity happening. Cecilia was prepping Sunday dinner, while Zara and Jeslyn were gathering plates and silverware to set the table outside. Danny, Finn, and Rhett were carrying chairs outside.

Royal and Amy were in the living room, where she was very intently watching him whittle a figurine out of wood. Cecilia had likely shooed them out of the kitchen because there were enough people in the way as it was. 

For a moment, you stood there, in the middle of the house, taking in the sights and sounds, and it transported you back to the past. Sunday dinners with the Abbotts were always your favorite. Lydia and her family would join, and everyone would eat outside, weather permitting, just like they were going to do today. 

Many a good time was had around the large oak table that Rhett had built with his own hands when he was in high school, in woodworking class. One of the of the few classes he thrived in. The craftsmanship was beautiful, and it was still in good condition to this day. 

“Hey, y’alright?” Rhett’s low cadence filled your ears. You looked up to find him standing near, gaze soft. 

“I…yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “just reminiscing.”

He nodded. “Mm. Sure this brings back a lotta memories for you.”

“It does,” you agreed. 

He lingered for a moment. Then, with the lowering of his voice, he said, “I, uh, I’m sorry about earlier. Didn’t mean to walk in on ya like that.”

You cleared your throat, shaking your head. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

“Good. That’s good.” He let his hands rest upon his hips, grimacing at the awkward silence that followed. 

“Guess I’d better see if your mom needs help,” you finally volunteered. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’m gon’ make sure the guys set up the table right.” He took a few steps backward before he turned and sauntered out the door. 

You breathed out a sigh, mentally berating yourself for the awkwardness. You hoped it wouldn’t linger for the rest of the day. 

Thankfully, it did not. Once dinner was ready and everyone was gathered around the table, the atmosphere melted into one of warmth and laughter. You didn’t feel like an outsider. The group of friends treated you like one of your own, and it did wonders to put you at ease. 

“I thought you’d like t’ hear this,” Rhett’s voice caught your attention from across the table. “Zara here’s workin’ on a way to stop twisters dead in their tracks.”

That definitely piqued your interest. You looked at her, where she sat between Rhett and Jeslyn. “Really? How do you plan to stop them?” You asked her, leaning forward in your seat. 

Tornadoes were impossible to stop. To your knowledge, no one had succeeded in doing so before. They were so unpredictable, one couldn’t possibly figure out when and where one was going to touch down fast enough to stop it. 

She sprang into her explanation. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s never been done before. But Jes and I have spent years coming up with a solution. There’s a lot of heat and moisture at the center of a twister. My theory is if you can cool down the center to the freezing point, you can stop the twister.”

You stared at her, eyes widening. There was no way it could work. Was there? “How would you cool it down?”

“Essentially, we release liquid nitrogen into the core of the tornado and it brings the temp way down.”

“Have you tested it out yet?” You inquired. You were still skeptical, but fascinated at the same time. 

Beside her, Jeslyn piped up. “We started small scale tests when we were still students at OU. Me, Zara, and some classmates built this machine that uses heat and moisture to simulate a tornado. Our nitrogen tests worked on it, but seeing as that was only a small, contained event…”

“You’d need a lot more nitrogen for the real thing,” you finished for her. 

“Yep.”

Zara continued where Jeslyn left off. “During the run we did this week, we decided to actually test it out and see if we could stop a twister. But…it failed miserably.” She laughed ruefully, and the rest of the team joined her, reliving the memory. 

You were struck with an odd feeling. Fear of missing out, maybe. Which shocked you, because you’d refused to go on the chase in the first place, because you couldn’t face your fears. Now you felt left out? It didn’t quite make sense to you. 

Maybe you did miss storm chasing, after all. 

“It’s hard to gauge how much nitrogen we need, especially because every tornado is different. We’ve been working on collecting as many tanks of nitrogen as we possibly can, but we also didn’t want to use up our whole reserve. We used half of it on what turned out to be an F3. Didn’t do shit,” Zara continued to explain, motioning animatedly with her hands as she spoke. Her face was incredibly expressive. 

You decided you really liked her. You could understand why Rhett enjoyed chasing with her. 

“So, how does that work? Like, do you set tanks of nitrogen on the ground and then open them and hope for the best, or?” You had so many questions, and you simply couldn’t hide your fascination. 

“We use that,” Rhett said, pointing over at his truck parked in the driveway. Hitched to the back was an open trailer, with several tanks of liquid nitrogen situated inside, metal gleaming in the light of the setting sun. 

“But how do you open them? Does someone have to open each one before the twister hits?” You suddenly became very aware of everyone’s eyes on you, and you shrank slightly. “Sorry, I know I’m asking a lot of questions.”

“No, you’re good!” Zara insisted, “it’s just, we’re all used to people telling us we’re crazy instead of actually showing interest.”

“I told ya she’d think it was cool,” Rhett said to her with a smile. He caught your eye. He still knew you well, even though time had driven you apart. 

“Basically, opening the tanks is up to us,” Finn piped up from beside you, motioning to Danny, who sat on the other side of him. He took a swig of his water before he continued. “We made these special remote control valves. As long as we’re within range, we can open the valves with the touch of a button and release the nitrogen into the air.”

“Honestly, it sounds crazy. But also brilliant,” you said, completely in awe. “You gotta show me all the equipment after dinner. I’ve never heard of anyone doing this kinda thing before.”

Part of you still doubted what they were trying to do would ever work. It went against all odds. Even if they did succeed in stopping a tornado, the method wasn’t necessarily feasible for stopping others in the future. It would require countless tanks of nitrogen and a lot of manpower. 

But just to be able to say one had stopped a tornado was a feat in and of itself. You couldn’t hold it against Zara for trying. It was clear she was passionate about her work and believed there was a possibility that it could be successful. 

The conversation around the dinner table soon shifted to other things. You noticed that none of them asked you about your storm chasing past. You wondered how much Rhett had told them, and if he’d instructed them not to ask about the details, at risk of upsetting you. 

It was very considerate of him, if he had. 

After dinner, everyone helped clean up while Cecilia ushered Amy upstairs, against the girl’s protests. “You’ve got school in the mornin’, early bedtime isn’t optional!” Her grandmother insisted. 

But Amy had to make sure she said goodnight to everyone first before she made the reluctant trudge up the stairs. Oh, to have the innocence of a child again, unwilling to go to bed because all the adults were still awake.

The evening carried on, and once the dishes were washed and the table was cleared, you were led outside to see all the equipment Zara had told you about. And what a setup it was.

The trailer attached to the back of Rhett’s truck was full of nitrogen tanks, sealed with remote controlled valves. The trailer itself was also remote controlled, according to Rhett. 

“Come see,” he motioned for you to follow as he opened the driver’s side door. He pointed at the center console, where there was a board of switches, framed by labels indicating what each switch was for. “Danny and Finn helped get this up an’ running. If we need t’ let the trailer go, all I gotta do is press a button and it’ll release. S’how we get the tanks in the path of the twister.”

You stared in amazement at the device. “How? Like, how do you figure out when to release the trailer? And how does it not just get blown away?”

A grin tugged at his mouth. “Figured that one out too.”

He led you to the side of the trailer, where he pointed at a compartment positioned directly between the wheels. “Soon as I get the trailer in place, I flip a switch and stakes lower outta this compartment here and into the ground. Usually we’re cuttin’ it close, but I can get the truck positioned in the path of the twister. Then I get the trailer settled and get the hell outta Dodge.”

“Then I hit the remote control for the tanks and release the nitrogen into the air,” Finn piped up eagerly.

“Meanwhile, Zara and I are tracking the storm pattern and trying to figure out exactly when to release the trailer,” came Jeslyn’s explanation.

You stared at all the equipment in total wonder. These people had thought of everything. More than you or Rhett ever had when you were chasing. Your operation then had been very bare bones, and really, you were just following storms for the fun of it. 

But this? This was an entire science experiment, and it was fascinating. Despite your refusal to chase again, you were very curious about what all of this would look like in action. If Zara ever succeeded in stopping a twister, she would make history. 

That was something you almost wanted to be a part of. Almost. 

Later that night, you found yourself curled up in an Adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as everyone sat around the fire that Rhett had built in the old fire pit. The place held so many memories. Namely, the night Rhett had asked you to be his girlfriend. It was right here. 

He remembered that night, too. You could tell he was thinking about it when he caught your eye from across the fire. 

Around you, the group settled into comfortable conversation. The kind that happened when old friends got together. Anything and everything was discussed as the night gave way to inky darkness, the stars twinkling above, like glitter spilled across a black velvet canvas. 

Before she’d retired for the night, Cecilia had warmed some apple cider on the stove, and a mug of it was currently situated in your hands, its taste spicy and comforting. You enjoyed listening to Rhett’s friends tell stories of different storms they’d chased, reliving all the exciting times they’d had together.

You wondered if you would be running with them, too, had you stayed here instead of moving to Silver Springs and taking your weather analyst job. Would it just be you and Rhett, or would fate have still decided to bring these people into your life?

Their passion was admirable. Zara was a very driven individual, hellbent on making a difference. “If I could at least slow down a twister, even if it doesn’t fully stop it, think of all the lives we could save. That’s why I do all of this. I wanna protect people.”

That was just it, wasn’t it? Saving lives. You thought back to the fateful day you had lost Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia. If you’d had a way of slowing down that twister, or even stopping it altogether, perhaps they would still be here.

But you couldn’t think that way, because it was already done. There was no way to go back in time and save them. 

The thought made your chest ache, and you had to swallow the wave of grief that rose in your throat. Rhett caught your eye over the flames, and shot you a reassuring look, almost as if he knew what you were thinking.

To your relief, the subject soon changed from storm chasing, and moved on to lighter things. 

“Hey, rodeo’s on Saturday. We were all thinking of going together. You should totally join us!” Jeslyn suggested, nodding in your direction. 

“Yeah, you should!” Finn agreed.

That piqued your interest. “Sure, I’ll still be in town, so why not?” You hadn’t been to a rodeo in so long. Not since Rhett’s last ride, which had ended in disaster.

Jeslyn grinned over her mug of cider. “Great! We’re gonna have so much fun. We’ll take care of your ticket, so you don’t have to worry about it.” 

You raised a brow in surprise. “Really? You don’t have to do that.”

Everyone protested at once, insisting that they wanted the rodeo ticket to be their treat. You were touched at their generosity, and accepted the offer gratefully. Might as well make the most of your time in Wabang.

Soon, it was time for the group to disperse and head in their own respective ways. Rhett threw some sand over the dying embers, while everyone else folded up their chairs to store back in the barn. As you walked the group back to their cars, Zara turned to you, her face kind.

“I know you’ve got your reasons for choosing not to chase, I want you to know the invitation for you to join us is open, in case you ever change your mind,” she told you. 

You weren’t entirely sure what came over you then. Maybe it was your desire to make a difference. Maybe you were just foolish. But for whatever reason, you were emboldened enough to say, “y’know what? I’ve got a proposition.” You stole a glance at Rhett to make sure he was listening. “I’ll go on a chase with you guys if Rhett agrees to ride at next weekend’s rodeo.”

You knew Rhett. He had a competitive nature. He was going to say yes. Everyone’s eyes landed on him, awaiting his answer.

“Shoo-ee, you gonna accept that challenge, Rhett?” Danny asked with a grin, fully invested.

Beside you, Rhett grimaced. “Ain’t no way they’ll let me in the ring,” he protested.

“Does Beau still oversee the bull riding contestants?” You inquired.

You and Rhett both knew that Beau would agree to letting him ride, because only Beau Wilson was crazy enough to allow such a thing. 

“Yeah,” Rhett answered your question. He was well aware of the direction this was going.

“Then I’ll go talk to him. He’ll get you a spot in the ring. If you can handle it, that is.” You gave him a pointed look. 

“I can handle it, darlin’.” Despite the determination in his tone, the nickname settled over you like a warm embrace. He hadn’t called you that in so long. “So if I do this, you swear you’ll go on a run with us?”

“Pinky swear.” You held your hand out, pinky up.

Rhett eyed your hand for a moment before he linked his pinky finger with yours. “Fine. You got yourself a deal.”

Finn and Danny whooped in excitement, while Zara and Jeslyn looked between you and Rhett, bewildered. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the one to get him back on a bull? We always say he should try riding again, but he always says no,” Zara explained. 

You looked at Rhett, and he ducked his head, hand lifting to scratch the back of his neck. You swore you saw his ears turn red. “Guess he just needed some friendly competition,” you replied.

Not long after, goodbyes were said, and the group parted ways, climbing into their vehicles and driving off, leaving you and Rhett standing there in the driveway. Immediately, you realized that your proposition was a bit preposterous. 

“Oh my god, if you don’t want to ride, you don’t have to. I don’t know why I said that, I just…”

But he waved his hand, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ll do it. It’ll do me some good to get back on a bull. Just like it’ll do you some good to face another twister. Might help us both process some shit,” he reasoned.

You let out a breath. “Maybe so.”

You both turned to walk toward the house, and he asked you a question as you went. “What made you change your mind?”

You paused, glancing down at your feet before you looked at him. “I dunno, all of Zara’s talk about saving lives…it got me thinking. It would be so cool if it could work. Imagine all the people she could save! She’s making a difference, and I want to be a part of that.” And then, “maybe if…if we had something like that six years ago, Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia would still be alive.”

Rhett’s boots crunched against dirt as he absently kicked a few pebbles out of the way. “Don’t go spiralin’ into the ‘what ifs’. Universe saw fit to take ‘em, so it did. No machine could’ve stopped it. Not that kinda twister.”

You studied his expression. “Do you believe in Zara’s project?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I do, but there ain’t no way it would stop an EF5 tornado. We’d be fucked if it hit us.”

“It’s still worth a try, though, isn’t it? If it works, and if she can get it going on a larger scale…she could save entire towns from being destroyed! Think of the history she’s going to make!”

Rhett’s mouth curled into a slight smile. “There she is.”

“What?”

“My storm chasin’ gal. You’re back.”

You shrugged. “I guess so. But just know this isn’t a permanent thing, ‘kay? I’m only going out there with you guys to see how Zara’s invention works. After that, I’m going back to Silver Springs. To my job, where I don’t have to live off of McDonald’s and Whataburger every day and stay in shitty motels while I wait for a twister to just fall out of the sky.”

He bit back his ever-widening grin, shaking his head. “Sure thing. I’m just glad you decided to face your fear, s’all.”

Facing your fear. That was what this was, wasn’t it? You knew that  if you could do this, it would show you that you were capable of moving past your grief that still felt crippling at times. But you couldn’t help but wonder; when staring into the face of a tornado, would you be able to stand your ground, or would you let your fear send you running like a frightened child?

You would soon find out. But you didn’t realize just how soon. 

-

taglist: tagging those who expressed interest or asked to be tagged (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

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@perfectprettypisces @parcetamoldaisy @zirrocom @rhettsgirll @just-in-case-iloveyou

@ada--44 @sydney-malcontent @9ullmans @bradshawsbitch

@callsignmedusa @antiquitea @ohmyeyesmyeyes @spidervman @oddlymighty-witch @dreams-in-anthracis

[essjujutsu]

CHAPTER Ⅱ: MITSKI & MONDAYS

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okay so maybe you were already nervous about the first day of your new school.

and maybe listening to your depressing playlist at 7 in the morning wasn't helping that.

but mitski can help calm your nervs to! but with yuji blasting his music in his room right across the hall, it didn't necessarily get the mood right anyways.

"yn, hurry up! we gotta go in like—two minutes!"

"im coming!!"

you reply, grabbing your backpack. you hopped through your messy floor, clothes spattered out from your unpacked suitcase.

you ran down the stairs, seeing yuji sitting on the floor next to the front door and sukuna rummaging through the upper cabinets of the kitchen.

"here, take these for the walk."

you don't have enough time to fully comprehend what your uncle's saying before a protein bar is being flowed full force at your face—though thankfully you throw your hands up and catch it in the air. you throw the second one to yuji, who instantly unwraps it and starts eating it.

"first day—tough shit. todays when you make first impressions on everyone. good luck."

"oh, uhm—thanks?"

you reply, raising a eyebrow at sukuna's comment. he was being nice—maybe? you couldn't really tell. but before you get to decide yuji announces its time to get going so you wave a quick goodbye to your uncle as you walk outside.

"don't worry, its not a long walk—only like ten minutes give or take."

yuji says, taking out an airpod so he could hear. you nod, opening your phone to make sure you have your schedule for the third time today.

yuji was right, after about 15 minutes you arrive at school. you bite the inside of your lip slightly, a nervous habit you picked up over the years.

"so, were still early, me and my friends always come a bit early 'cause we like to hang before classes and—"

yuji starts, but before he finishes his sentence someone comes rushing from behind the two of you.

"yuji, yn! hey!"

you look behind you at the girl waving. she had dyed orange hair, nobara!

"nobara! there you are!"

"sorry, i know we usually walk to school together but i woke up late—anyways, hi yn!"

nobara replys, walking up to stand in the middle of you and yuji. she smiles as she grabs both of your arms—starting to walk into school.

"its so nice to have another girl in the group, y'know. it's just me and maki, and she dosen't really like shopping so she never goes with me. sometimes panda or toge come but like barley ever 'cause their always 'busy'—"

wow, you only really met her yesterday and she was already talking to you like you were close friends. you smiled, at least meeting yuji's friends was off to a good start then.

nobara countined talking untill you three reached the bustling cafeteria, her and yuji seemed to look around for a moment—trying to find their other friends. then yuji's eyes open a little wide and he points to the back of the cafeteria.

"there they are, let's go!"

he says, practically dragging you through the crowds of tables. nobara had already ran ahead, running to go grab a chair and sit down.

once you finnaly approached the table you looked up to five sets of eyes directly on you.

your mouth starts to turn into an awkward smile as you look around the table trying to deicde what to say, but thankfully for you, yuji most of the time knows how you feel.

"everyone, this is yn!"

he grabs your shoulders, presenting you to the group in a way before laughing. he moves his arms to point—starting at the two at the end of the table.

"yn, this is panda and toge! them, maki, and yuta are all a year older then us. but trust me, you can't tell with these two."

he giggles, his joke resulting in the white haired boy giving your brother a small "hey!" and turning to face you.

"you don't look to much like yuji, you should've ate him in the womb honestly."

panda laughs in response to that, an you can't help but laugh aswell.

"ha-ha, sooo funny guys."

yuji responds, rolling his brown eyes. he points to the two in the chairs next to them.

"those two there are yuta and maki! my favoire girlboss and her malewife-"

"shut up yuji."

the girl with the black hair and glasses replies, standing up and slamming her hands on the table annoyed.

she did look oddly familiar though...did you know her from somewhere?

she notices your confused look at her and raises an eyebrow, as if to ask if you have something to say. nobara wasn't kidding when she said she was intimating.

"sorry, you just look awfully familiar—that's all!"

"hm, you went to the boarding school north from here right?"

you nod in response, wondering what she's getting at. maybe you went to school with her?

"you must know mai. she goes there."

oh it clicks into place, shes related to mai. you didn't know mai all that well, but you did know she was mean. they must be twins, hopefully maki isn't anything like her sister.

"don't worry, im not like her—she's an asshole."

you let out a small sigh of relief. thank god. you turn your eyes to the one person who you haven't met yet. he was sitting at the other end of the table, on his phone. nobara was next to him—she was saying something but he didn't seem to be listening. you reconized him from a couple of yuji's instagram posts, but you didn't remember his name. he looked tired and like he didn't want to be there—which made you wonder why he seemed to hang out with them.

"oh yeah, yn—this is megumi! he's in our grade."

nobara says, as yuji sits down on the table next to him. was this the other best friend yuji had mentioned before? he seemed pretty annyoed as he took off his headphones.

"uh, nice to meet you!"

you say, giving him a small smile. he didn't seem all that interested in talking.

"nice to meet you."

"sorry, he totally puts up this whole 'mysterious and nonchalant' vibe around people—he's not even-"

"shut up, yuji."

nobara was in the middle of doing something with her phone as she spoke up.

"here yn, i added you to our group chat. check it after class m'kay?"

you responded with an agreement, as the bell rang for you to head to your class.

BACKGROUND INFO: - nobara, yuji, toge, panda and maki all met in middle school, megumi later moved into town and became friends with yuji—who added him to their friendgroup - yuta moved last year, and he became friends with maki (and then the rest of the group), are him & maki dating? who knows! i don't think they know either LMFAO - there will be more of each character! i just wanted to get quick character intros

A/N: i'll try to have chapter 3 out by this weekend! again sorry if anythings ooc or if my grammer sucks ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

TAGLIST: (ask 2 be added) @1ndee @4ngelfries @jammofsammichflip @notveevee @qtnfer @love-me-satoru @satoryaa @loriisheart @starrnai if the tag dosen't work, change ur settings pls !

[silverzoomies]

hello !!! i was just wondering if you think there are any other bands peter would like besides nirvana, pink floyd, and rush ?? he gives me classic rock (& just rock in general) vibes tbh !!

anon you just opened up a can of worms !!

i once did extensive research into this. way more than anyone should for a character way past his relevance. and i'm still discovering new tunes i think he'd be into all the time !! i'll try not make this long winded (it will be). but for now...

🎶👾 peter maximoff's (potential) favorite tunes 👾🎶

we already know pink floyd, rush, and nirvana are included. they're shown through the shirts he wears !!

rush is a major one. because unlike the other two, apocalypse era peter has rush all around him !! the rush posters in his basement. the leg cast with "i luv rush." it's safe to say he's kind of a rush fanboy (and he's so real for that because rush is rad as hell).

i have a list of bands/artists i can confirm he canonically likes, as they've been referenced before. whether it be through background clues (posters, background music, etc), or because they were explicitly mentioned by people involved in making the films.

🎶 yardbirds 🎶 the doors 🎶 led zeppelin 🎶 buffalo springfield 🎶 alice cooper 🎶 jim croce 🎶 neil diamond

and while we know he listens to eurythmics (sweet dreams), i don't necessarily include them as a band. just because i personally feel this has less to do with the artist, and more about whatever was mainstream in 1983 (but you can choose to include them if you want !! after all, people mostly listened to whole albums back then).

peter definitely enjoys rock overall. but he doesn't seem averse to mainstream pop either. so we can probably assume he'll listen to anything, as long as it's catchy !!

here's some bands/artists we can assume he likes based on what we already know:

🎶 jimi hendrix 🎶 cream 🎶 the beatles 🎶 fleetwood mac 🎶 queen 🎶 david bowie 🎶 tom petty 🎶 ac/dc 🎶 bon jovi 🎶 journey 🎶 guns n roses 🎶 the eagles 🎶 joan jett & the blackhearts 🎶 deff leppard 🎶 tears for fears 🎶 michael jackson

and if there's some other classics i missed (from the 60's/70's/80's) you think he might like - please feel free to drop me an ask !! i'd love to add more to the list !!

lastly, i'm gonna drop some bands/artists i personally like to think he might listen to. mostly because it's fun to imagine so:

🎶 iggy pop 🎶 bee gees 🎶 thin lizzy 🎶 toto 🎶 a flock of seagulls 🎶 elton john 🎶 u2 🎶 redbone 🎶 madonna (i 100% believe it, you can't convince me otherwise) 🎶 pearl jam 🎶 radiohead 🎶 red hot chili peppers 🎶 green day 🎶 my chemical romance 🎶 beastie boys 🎶 smash mouth 🎶 nickelback (fight me, i dare you)

if you're looking for any specific songs, there's a really awesome playlist i listen to religiously. chai_vibes's "songs peter maximoff would unironically listen to" is so peak !! and i'll go ahead and drop my own peter maximoff playlist too, just because i worked really hard on it !! lol

happy listening !! thanks for hearin' me out !!

[yoon-dowoon]

you're my best friend for the rest of my life until the days tinge purple once again bangtan boys and their songs for armys 💜 (cr. bemyjinnie, merjy_)

[sysig]

A very normal scientist doing very normal gene splicing experiments (Patreon)

[msommers]

just a wild rambling rose seeking mysteries untold no regret for the path that I chose when a flower grows wild, it can always survive wildflowers don't care where they grow

GHILETH'ELRA OF CLAN VENALAS; lorehold bard ↳ the vigilant campaign, secondary pc [ templates: 1, 2, 3 ]

[sugarhillpark]

pick a song for each letter of your URL, and then tag that many people

thanks for the tags forever ago @part-time-deranged and @elviehun i do notice <3

s - sugar by brockhampton

u - unfucktheworld by angel olsen

g - going to pasalacqua by green day

a - amity gardens by fountains of wayne

r - rose parade by elliott smith

h - hold the light by lp

i - i wanna be adored by the stone roses

l - love my way by the psychedelic furs

l - lua by bright eyes

p - plasticine by placebo

a - awful by hole

r - rhymes of an hour by mazzy star

k - kids in '99 by death cab for cutie

bold assumption that i'd know 13 of my followers who haven't already done it and actually wanna interact with me to tag and i won't do it but tagging @libraryspectre @beanie-twink @dearings from my recents and @gnome-cleric @pyrchance and @100percent-unimpressed my beloveds in case you wanna(/again).

[raytorosaurus]

i love when mcr themselves are like PLEASE GOD LISTEN TO A MORE DIVERSE RANGE OF ARTISTS. SUPPORT INNOVATIVE BANDS. in big flashing lights and some ppl are like huh i wonder who that's for