#I mean Rhett's mind

[cerealbishh]

"You get to see her understanding of how things really are. And so that becomes much more present on the surface. (...) In this season, we get to see her fall deeper in love with him but also navigate those challenges. And also becoming an anchor for Rhett but also struggling with his decision, 'Is this what I want for my future as well, as much as I love this man?'." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)

[ifellinlovewithabrokenheart]

I had covid this past week, and I just let youtube feed me gmm/more for most of it...and this more is the most glaring accidental evidence I've seen. I do feel bad for rhett cuz he's visibly upset but also kept making it worse for himself for some reason. Anywho, I don't know how anyone can deny them being a them, but ok.

[mythicalshipping]

I had to rewatch/relisten to this part 3 times to realize Rhett was saying “hints” and not “hands” lmao. XD 

The *actual* show of restraint in this episode. 

[sunblchdfly]

four times rhett abbott has said “i love you”.

pairing: rhett abbott x reader

warnings: suggestive, fluff, not proof-read.

a/n: very loosely based on the song and music video oklahoma smokeshow by zach bryan. i reeaallly want to elaborate on rhett picking you up after a date gone wrong. might write that sometime in the future.

august 27, 2017

you two lay in the field of wildflowers soaking up the last of the summer sun. it was late august, and the leaves didn’t stick around long after that. your eyes were closed, thinking of nothing but the summer breeze and the itchy grass beneath you. rhett lay next to you, watching you. he took you in. the way the golden sun hit your face, the way your hair sprawled out under you, the way your eyes squint in the sun, even the way your hands were still clasped around the flowers you’d picked.

“i love you.” he whispered, barely audible. he didn’t mean to say it…it just slipped out. he couldn’t help it. you just looked so. beautiful.

“did you say something?” you turned to him, propping yourself up on your arm.

“nothing. i said nothing.” rhett replied, putting on his brightest smile.

—

september 16, 2018

you ran out of the bar, blinded by your own tears. you see the blur of rhetts truck just a few feet away from you. you’d called him when your date went absolutely horrible. not only was your date drunk when you’d arrived, but he tried feeling you up. multiple times.

ring, ring, ring! was all you could hear over the loud laughter and music.

“hello?” you heard over the other end. “Rhett,” you cried out. “can you please come get me? I’m at Brock’s.”

“whoa, hey, hey, what happened?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“i-i don’t wanna-i can’t- rhett please, can you come get me?” you said, choking on a sob.

“im on my way, do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” he asked.

“yes.” was all you could mewl out. you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. you just cried. rhett felt his stomach churn. he couldn’t stand when you were upset, it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“i’m sorry.” was the first thing you said when you got in.

“why are you sorry? hey,” he said calmly as he took your hand. “look at me. what happened?” he looked at you anxiously. a million things were going through his head right now, but all he could focus on was if you were hurt.

“please, just drive.” you whispered. your voice was broken and hoarse from all of the crying.

rhett said nothing. it was clear you didn’t want to talk about whatever had happened to you. he knew that in time you would come to him. you always did.

“It’ll be okay, I lo-.” he said, and stopped himself. He’s not sure you heard, anyway. you were lost in your own thoughts as you rested your head against the window watching the bar disappear in the distance.

—

march 7, 2019

your post high haze still clouded your mind. you guys have been doing this for a few months now, but it always ended with you waking up to a cold, unsolicited bed. it wasn’t like rhett to stay, usually he’d already be gone by now. yet, you and rhett lay in the twisted linen. he watched you, his arm under you, as you caught your breath. you’d made the sweetest sounds for him. rhett had taken a mental note of every moan, whimper, and cry. he’s had years to think of ways to undo you, to make you fall apart at his fingertips. he’s still trying fathom how it’s become his reality now.

you waited for him to say something. your mind was racing, you don’t know if you’d just ruined the only true friendship you’ve ever had or-

“i love you. i’m in love with you.” rhett stumbled over his words. “ever since i’ve known you. you’re it for me.”

he waited for a response. you looked at him and brought your hand up the his cheek, he automatically leaned into your touch.

“you don’t have to say anythin-“ he tried to get out, but you interrupted.

“be quiet, cowboy. i love you too.” you said. he stared at you for another minute before he pulled you closer to him and pressed his lips to yours.

—

July 2, 2022

rhett winces at your touch. his head was on fire. he took a nasty fall at the latest rodeo. so, here you are at 1am patching up your husband.

“it’s not even that bad.” rhett cringed as soon as the words came out of his mouth. it was a complete and total lie. it hurt him to even speak.

You shot him a glare.

the pale moonlight painted his face through the window. rhett groaned as he tried to get into a more comfortable position.

“okay, i’m done.” you said, helping him up after you’ve finished the last bandage.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “thank you, baby.” even after all of this time, his southern drawl still made your stomach do flips. his accent became thicker by every second he got more tired.

you went to go clean up the first aid kit you had laying out, but rhett had other plans. he pulled you next to him, wincing as he did so. you couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out.

“and what do you think you’re doing?” you asked, a small grin adorning your face.

“need you,” was all he muttered, face buried in your neck, nipping at the delicate skin. his fingers danced around the waistband of your pajama shorts. your hand found the back of his head. you ran your hands through his chestnut locks and gave a little tug. you hummed, letting yourself feel the bliss of your lover.

“we can’t.” you said in a defeated tone. “when you’re better, i promise you can have me anyway you’d like,” you smiled and lifted his head from your neck. you ran your thumb across his bottom lip. “or I’ll have you, cowboy.” you smirked.

rhett looked at you like you were the only person in the world. you were, truly. to him you were everything. his night and his day.

“god, i love you.”

———

a/n: please let me know of any typos <3

[petcr3]

dreams | rhett abbott x reader

summary: rhett asks if reader ever wants to move out of their apartment, and before either of them know it, they’re planning out a future together.

word count: ~1.4k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, my usual in depth cuddle descriptions because i am not normal, rhett getting to feel loved uwu, rhett being romantic because he IS i just know

a/n: this was completely unplanned, i was just yearning so hard an entire fic fell out

You’re curled up against Rhett’s chest, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he idly trails his fingers up and down the length of your spine.

“You ever think about leaving this place?” he asks.

“Wabang?”

“No.” A chuckle. “Well, yeah. But I just meant the apartment.” You hum in understanding, fingertips idly dancing along his side.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind living in a bigger place. Maybe a house someday.” 

“Any chance I’m in that house with you?”

“Of course you are. There’s a little spot for you to curl up at the foot of my bed and everything.” Laughter rumbles in his chest and he leans down to nip harmlessly at the shell of your ear.

“Mean.” 

You giggle and hide your face against his chest. He can feel you smiling against his skin. Despite your transgression, Rhett reaches up to play with your hair and you let out a contented sigh.

“There’s no house without you in it,” you say after a moment. It catches him a little off guard. Sure, he likes to think he plays a part in your fantasies about the future, but it’s something else to hear that he’s a fixture in them. Something clenches near his heart–– a beautiful ache that comes from a missing piece sliding home.

“Tell me more about it?” he asks, feeling suddenly a little vulnerable. You nose affectionately at his chest and pull him a little closer

“It’s got a lot of light. It’s big, but not too big, like, you can’t get lost in it. We wouldn’t need that kind of space. Mostly it just feels open and bright, you know? Lots of sun. Our bedroom has its own bathroom so I can listen to you sing to yourself in the shower.” Rhett lets out a quiet snort.

“Thought you did that anyway.”

“Yeah but now I can do it lying down. It’s a game changer.”

You’re funny, Rhett thinks. People don’t notice that enough. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…” Your head bobs a little with his gentle laughter.

“Go on.”

“We have a big ol’ bathtub–– one where we both fit.”

“Sexy.” He can’t help himself. You pinch his side, but he can still feel you smiling..

“We have a big yard. Maybe even big enough to keep horses, if you wanted.”

“What about a dog?”

“Well we’d have to get two, so they can have a friend.”

“Agreed.”

“What about you? What are you adding?” Rhett thinks for a moment.

“Nice deck. Rocking chairs or a porch swing so we can sit out and watch the stars at night.” You let out a happy little sound, and he can tell you’re picturing it. “Lots of blankets out there. You can get nice n’ cozy and I’ll bring us out hot toddies.” Rhett knows he’s not playing exactly by the rules of the game, but he’s starting to get lost in the idea of a future with you–– one that you seem to already be counting on. “The dogs like to sit by our feet. At least one of ‘em’s too big to sit in your lap, but you let ‘em anyway because you’re soft on ‘em.” He smiles. “Guess I probably am, too.”

You’ve always loved Rhett’s voice. It’s sexy as hell, sure, but it’s also unbelievably calming. Paired with his arms wrapped around you, it’s positively lethal. But he’s so wrapped up in the fantasy you two are creating, he doesn’t notice the way your breathing evens out or your grip on his waist starts to slacken.

“Once it gets too cold we head inside and you tell me just to leave the mugs in the sink because you don’t wanna go up to the bedroom by yourself even if it’s just for a few minutes. Our bedroom is big, but it’s cozy. You picked out most of the furniture but you always tell everyone I helped. I built our bed frame, though. You like to brag about that.” He knows he’s right because you still tell everyone you know about the end table he made for your living room last year. When he starts speaking again, he hardly realizes what he’s saying. It just starts to flow out of him.

“I ask you to marry me in that bed. I got a ring and a proposal all planned out but you have to go and look so beautiful one night that my plans go right out the window. I take you out for a walk like I was going to, though, and get down on one knee. You don’t even let me get up, you practically tackle me to the ground saying yes again. Maybe we get married out in the yard or we find some place pretty to go. But I think the ceremony happens outside; that feels right. We make Amy the flower girl even if she’s not a kid anymore. I’m crying the whole damn time and I don’t care who sees. You hold my hand even if we’re not supposed to.” He isn’t sure if that’s a rule–– he thinks maybe it isn’t–– but he knows you’d break it if there was one.

“I know we haven’t talked about kids, but…” Finally Rhett catches himself. “Well, I guess I’m getting a little carried away, there, huh?” For the first time in several minutes, he realizes you haven’t said a word. He nudges his nose against the crown of your head. “Sweetheart?” You shift a little bit, saying nothing. Rhett can’t help but laugh when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep. He leans back just enough to drag his thumb gently underneath your eye. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, a little louder.

“Mmm?” The sheets rustle as you start to wake, the sounds of a slow inhale as it fills your lungs. “Rhett?”

“Hey, sleepyhead,” and he thinks that maybe he’s never loved you so much as he does now. It’s not the first time he’s felt it–– he falls more in love with you every damn day. But his chest is full of something honey-thick, and warm. Your groggy expression is the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. “Think you fell asleep.” You blink some of the sleep from your eyes.

“Oh fuck!” you swear through a yawn. Your eyes seem bigger than ever when you peer up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just you were playing with my hair and your voice is so soothing and––”

“It’s okay,” he says softly, “it was kinda cute.”

“No, but I wanna hear what you were saying!”

“You’re tired, honey. Let’s go to sleep and I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“No,” you say, wiggling out of his embrace and sitting up. “I wanna hear everything. No details skipped.” Rhett only smiles up at you, expression growing mischievous, lips sealed tight.

“Here,” you say, oblivious to the fact that he’d do anything you asked. “You can put your head in my lap. I’ll play with your hair. But you have to tell me everything I missed.” He chuckles and tucks his head against your thigh. His eyes flutter shut and a happy sigh leaves him as you begin to card your fingers through his hair. 

“Where’d I lose you?”

“I let the big dogs sit on my lap.” He grins up at you, eyes peeking open.

“Oh good, so you missed the proposal.” You freeze.

“The what?”

“You heard me.” And the smug bastard has the nerve to shut his eyes again, settling back into your lap.

“Rhett Abbott, you open your eyes right now.”

“Hmm… nope.” You tug at his hair but he just lets out a contented groan. He can’t see you glaring at him, and it’s hard to keep it up when your heart is threatening to melt down into nothing and kill you. You think that maybe you’ve never loved Rhett as much as you do in this very moment. 

“Did you mean it?” you ask, voice suddenly small. Rhett opens his eyes, expression serious now.

“Yeah, I did.”

“And you’re not even gonna tell me?” you cry. He smiles and turns his head to press a kiss against your tummy.

“I’ll tell you everything else. I promise. But some things ought to be a surprise, don’t you think?” You let out a huff, but it’s all fondness.

“Okay, so I’m a pushover with the dogs, and?”

“You leave the mugs in the sink overnight because you can’t stand to be without me, even for a second.” You give him a look, but you know it’s true.

Luckily, if everything goes to plan, you won’t have to.

[delopsia]

Almost Ecstasy | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 4,100 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, age gap relationships (but no ages are explicitly mentioned), cunnilingus, first times together, unprotected sex, Rhett's got a filthy mouth, fluff. No plot, just smut. The title means nothing; I couldn't think of one and wound up naming it after the song I was listening to. Brief Summary: You've finally convinced your old cowboy to have sex with you.

There's a particular coziness to Rhett's bed that you can't find anywhere else; warm and inviting, a Wyoming king mattress that damn near swallows you up just from looking at it. But maybe there's more to it. Could it be the collection of plaid blankets snug around your body like a nest? The soft notes of leather from his chaps hanging on the rack, peppered with an indescribable, warm musk that belongs to the cowboy himself? 

Or maybe it's the way he's hovering over you right now. Chapped lips pressing wet kisses to your newly exposed nipple, loving on it until the bud hardens for him to curl his tongue around. The prickly scruff of his unshaven jaw tickling the sensitive skin there. Only serves to remind you of the way it felt against your chin when he kissed your swollen lips. 

Teeth lightly tug on your nipple, his pointed tongue working the very tip of it.

"Rhett!" You gasp, jolting. 

"Zonin' out on me again, sweetheart?" His abuse only stops long enough for him to tilt his head and wrap his lips around the other before it can begin to feel neglected. "Y' sure you're up to this t'night? We can try again—"

"No," fighting to keep yourself from blurting it out. 

Rhett's eyes lift, soft blues scanning your face, the wrinkles beneath them deepening as he squints. Searching for a shred of proof that you're not ready to take this any further. As if you would ever lie to him about something like this. 

"I want this," you whisper, an idle hand rising to curl through the curls resting at his nape. "I promise." 

That seems to get through to him. 

At the very least, it's got him leaning up to meet your parted mouth with a wet kiss, seeming to smile against you. Has only been a minute since he last nibbled on your bottom lip, that big hand stroking the side of your cheek, but it feels akin to the ones shared after days apart. Drawing the weight from your bones and filling your belly with butterflies. 

"Jus' don't wanna push ya, 's all," he murmurs, eyes seeming to smile as he draws away. 

Then he's dipping down once more. Kissing his way down your chest and across your shivering belly, hot tongue leaving a glistening trail in his wake as if he to help lead him back if he gets too lost in exploring your body. Calloused hands sliding down your naked sides, the perfect kind of rough drag to make your eyes flutter. Roaming down, down, down until his fingers can hook in the thin material of your underwear.

On their own, your hips lift. Thighs squeezing together as he draws the fabric past your knees, suddenly shy despite having been seen like this so many times before. Even more so as he eases his briefs off, discarding them somewhere near yours, the sight of his cock hidden by your leg.

The corner of Rhett's lip rises at the sight of you alone, already bending down to kiss the inside of your knee. Making his way up your thigh too fast and too slow, all at the same dizzying time. Long licks punctuated by chaste pecks, then pausing to suck a darkened mark into the flesh there. Has your hand idly tugging at his hair, unsure if you want more or less.

"Shouldn't let myself stay between your legs too long," he croons, thick lashes cascading his firey gaze, "might never leave." 

You don't think you'd mind that, actually. 

But now he's properly parting your legs to get a sight of you, and suddenly, that's the very last thing on your mind. The bedroom air feels too cold against your sex, but Rhett's hot breath melts it away like ice in a blazing fire. 

It's certainly not the first time you've felt his flattened tongue lick a fat stripe up your core, but it sure makes you jump like it is. Thighs already fluttering, trying to squeeze closed around his head. Unsure of how to react as he slowly draws his tongue up you, groaning all the while. 

His attention vanishes for a fleeting moment, "Fuck, 've missed this little pussy." And then he's back, spit-slicked lips wrapping around your rapidly swelling clit, the pointed tip of his tongue teasing it. Has your hips rising off the bed in an instant, chasing the fire of his sinful mouth. Saliva already beginning to pour down your inner thighs, always so fucking sloppy. 

Your head tilts back, pressing into the pillow. "Rhett," gasping for breath, "Rhett." 

The squeezing of your legs only seems to make him grunt, already pleased with his handiwork. "'s that how y' like it?" Talking directly into your cunt, deep words vibrating up your spine and rattling around your skull. "Me rubbin' you right here?" 

Speaking is already a foreign concept. Too focused on the way his skilled tongue massages against you. Has long since memorized the things that makes you tick. How the soft flicks across it make your hips try to rise off the bed, and the way that rolling the little button between his lips will end in your hand yanking on his hair. 

All too quickly, your silence is betraying you because now he's moving. Parting ways with your throbbing clit in favor of working lower. "Or would you rather..." All of a sudden, he's flattening his tongue against your entrance, teasing the rim, "I pay attention to this cute little hole?"

He's waiting for you to respond, but it's hard to when he's already pushing in. That wet, burning muscle opening you up, slowly working in and out of you, feeling the way your pussy tenses around those simple little motions. 

No, no, you can't remember how to talk at all. 

"Or do you want more than jus' my tongue?" Deep down, you know he's only asking it as a way to venture to the next step, but you're half-convinced that he's learned how to read exactly what's on your mind. Seems to know what you want better than you do yourself. 

Dumb, your head nods. "Uhuh."

It's far too easy to catch yourself regretting that because his mouth is leaving as quickly as it appeared. You can't even be upset with him; he needs to see what he's doing as he reaches into the empty expanse of the bed next to you. But his hand doesn't wrap around the newly opened bottle of lube; no, he bypasses it in favor of grabbing a pillow.

"Lift your hips for me, doll," and at his soft-spoken request, your hips rise. Just high enough for him to slip the soft pillow beneath them, propping you at the slightest incline. 

Such a simple addition, yet its effect might as well be drastic. Thighs seeming a little more sensitive as Rhett's rough palm slides between them, his generously lubed finger nearly making you jump when it rubs against your entrance. A teasing pressure you've felt a couple of times before but never seems to lose that overwhelming newness as it gently presses in.

Your lips part with a silent gasp. 

Oh.

"Yeah?" There's a sparkle in Rhett's eye as he looks up at you, the corner of his lip drawn up. Smug.

Taking his finger is easy; a soft glide, punctuated by the rough drag of his rough fingertip against a bundle of nerves that you forgot you had. It's unfair how he knows exactly where it lies. Gingerly testing it by curling his finger into it adds the slightest bit of pressure as he begins to draw it out, then pushes back in once more. 

The second one is already beginning to nudge into you, a delicate appearance that never progresses beyond that. Bumping into your drooling cunt with every shallow thrust of his hand, frustratingly teasing you with the idea of more.

Your foot swings. Smacking into Rhett's naked hip.

But all that does is earn a laugh out of him. "What's that s'posed to mean?" 

"Want more," you grumble, squirming down onto his hand, chasing the light strokes of his finger. 

He doesn't just give you another; he gives you two. The thick digits stretching you wide, calloused knuckles dragging in a delicious sort of way that has your legs trying to close. Trapping his big, warm hand against your core, still pumping in and out of you as much as the confined space will allow.

"There y' go," Rhett's almost cooing, so amused by the way you clench and squirm from his fingers. "Oughta make y' cum just like this."

Your eyebrows knit together, face scrunching as you shake your head back and forth. No, no, that's not what you want at all! You didn't spend all this time convincing him that he isn't going to break you, just for him to up and change his mind.

"No?" Playing coy, his hand stills, no longer giving you the attention you so desperately crave, and for a moment, your head stops spinning. "What, y'wantin' to cum 'round my cock instead?" 

For a split second, two frenzied thoughts slam into one another, sparking a singular sentence that makes its way to your tongue before you can realize what the words are. "Can you even get it up, old man?" There's a bite to it that surprises your own ears. 

And yet, Rhett's grin deepens, reaching for your hand and guiding it between your legs. Pressing your heated palm right against his heavy, leaking cock. "I know 'm older, but I ain't that much older, sugar." 

Your fingers wrap around him, neck straining to get a good look at what you're doing; how small he makes your hand look as it loosely glides up him. Smearing precum across his tip, watching how he seems to glisten in the golden glow of the bedside lamp. You've felt him before, have had him in your mouth, and felt the way he twitches when he cums down your throat, but this is different. 

Slow, he draws his hand away from your cunt, leaving you to clench hopelessly around air. But it's not for nothing. No, he wraps his still-wet fingers around yours, guiding you to hold him a little tighter. Properly stroking him in such a way that he sucks in a sharp breath.

"I sprout a few gray hairs 'n you treat me like I'm geriatric," he chuckles, and he's got a point, but all it does is draw your eyes back to his hair.

Small strands of silver mottled amongst a sea of deep brown, long enough to curl at the nape of his neck but never growing beyond that. A sort of rugged and unkempt that looks unintentional but is maintained with monthly trims by his own hands. Some speckles of gray even glisten in the stubble that seems to permanently cling to his jaw, no matter how frequently he shaves. 

A clean kind of rough. Only adding to the faint wrinkles beneath his eyes, the ones that deepen when he smiles, like right now. 

The tip of his cock bumps at your core. 

And you damn near jump up the bed. 

"Rhett!" 

"Zonin' out on me, again," punctuates the end of his grumbled sentence by smacking himself against your clit, still wet from his mouth and something more, "'n I'd ask if you're still feelin' alright, but I think y' might bite me."

You're not entirely sure how to even begin confessing that you've spent the past sixty seconds marveling over all the ways he's aged. Quite frankly, you don't even know if he would believe your shameless confession of it. 

Without another thought, your arms rise, quietly wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him close. Shrinking that dreadful gap between your bodies until he's forced to brace his body weight with a forearm. Noses bumping, lips ghosting against one another but never quite closing the gap. But it's only for a fleeting second. The next thing you know, he's tilting his head down, watching as he guides his swollen length to your entrance once more. 

The pressure is something you anticipated. 

The sting was not. 

Your hands are scurrying. Clinging to his bicep, to his shoulder, wherever you can find purchase, nails biting into his skin. His cock looks so much bigger now that he's between your legs, splitting you wide as he sinks into your aching cunt. Oh, why did you think this was a good idea?

"Shh, we'll make it fit," it's not until he's shushing you that you realize you've made a noise, pressing a soft kiss into the corner of your mouth. "Jus' try 'n relax for me. Don't wanna hurt you."

You're not entirely sure how to do that. Fighting for control over your own muscles, urging the tension to slip away and let you soften around him. It'll feel good once you get used to him. You know it will. But as your thighs loosen and your attention moves to your strained back, they tense once more. 

A heavy puff of breath hits your cheek. 

Rhett's mouth never moves, but the indescribable warmth collected behind the blue of his eyes says something else entirely. Urges your focus to his slow inhale. The way his chest expands against yours, holding for a moment, then deflating once more. 

A gradual sort of thing that has you mimicking his next breath. The gentle rise of your breasts as your lungs fill with air, how they bump into his warm skin. For a moment, the room is silent, hanging onto your breaths as if you've forgotten how to let them go. Only for it to slip past your lips, warm against Rhett's jaw. 

Sudden pressure appears against a bundle of nerves within your walls, the very ones his fingers were just tormenting minutes ago. 

He's still moving. Disappearing into your body bit by bit, a shiver jumping up your spine as he fills you. A dull throb replacing the initial sting, growing into a fire that has you clutching at Rhett's biceps for an entirely different reason. Following the quiet guide of his chest, breaths intermingling in a dance of their own making, 

"So fuckin' tight for me," he's hissing through a gasp, forehead wrinkling as his eyes squeeze shut, "shit."

And it shouldn't make you flutter around him the way you do, sent into a frenzy from his words alone. An involuntary massage that makes Rhett's eyes flutter open and closed, letting go of his cock, in favor of bracing himself next to your head, fully bracketing you between those thick forearms. 

You're trying to speak. Sorting for what you want to say, but it's so hard to think when his heavy balls bump against your ass, hips coming flush with your skin. Heavy cock pushing the air from your strained lungs and past your lips. So, so full.

"There y' go," he's prying his eyes open just long enough to get a look at the obscenity between your legs. Where he splits you wide open, still glistening with the handiwork of his mouth and the lube. "God." 

A whimper boils out of your throat, knees knocking into Rhett's bony hips as your legs squeeze around him. Drawing him impossibly close, as if you could ever hope to take another centimeter of him.

"Rhett..." it seems to be the only thing your drooling tongue can produce, your unfocused gaze staring back up at him, can't seem to bring yourself to focus on a particular feature of him. Perfect in every way you can twist the word.

His head dips down, weight shifting to unintentionally push himself deeper into your cunt, careful lips catching yours. A soft, fleeting interlocking of lips, far too chaste for what's going on below. "'s that feel good, sweetheart?" 

You're nodding dumbly, "Uhuh."

God, you should have done this sooner. Already drowning in the way he fills you, the warmth of his body pressed snug against yours.

Oh.

He's already drawing out of you. Slow as can be, hardly pulling out by an inch before sinking back into your throbbing cunt, lubricant squelching sickeningly loud for such a delicate movement. Air catches in your throat, palms squeezing his biceps a little tighter as he does it again.

Rhett's mouth finds its way to the meet of your jaw, sucking lightly on the skin there. "Think 'm almost too big for your lil pussy, angel," he mutters, so close to your ear that his words tickle. 

You don't understand how he even fits. Bulging tip dragging against your walls. Has you hugging him so tight that you reckon you can feel the fat vein that runs along the upperside of him. Your palms slide up his biceps, splaying out against the hard bone of his shoulder blades, covered in thick muscle that ripples under your touch. Strong from close to two years of bull riding, mottled by a raised surgery scar from an injury of the past. The futile attempt to fix the shoulder he tore up shortly after telling his father he was leaving. 

Oh, what you would give to have been there for him.

But you're here now, at least. Legs hitching over his hips, ankles resting against the swell of his ass, clinging as if he could possibly, ever peel himself away from you. Like his chest isn't bumping against yours as he gently fucks into you, slow ins and outs that make your head spin. So big. He's so big.  

"Y' like bein' stretched 'round my cock like that?" Speaking against your skin, punctuating his question with a surprising jerk of his hips, yanking the breath right out of your throat. "Bein' awful quiet." 

But he's not giving you much chance to keep that up, leaning back onto his haunches, hands sliding down to settle on either side of your hips. Gripping them tight, drawing you in to meet the thrust of his hips. 

"Ah!" A cry bursts right out of your chest, so sudden that you hardly recognize it was you who made it. Your cunt involuntarily clamps down around him, breaking his rhythm, has those pretty blue eyes rolling to the tune of a surprisingly pitchy whine. 

"There y' go," he hisses, mouth absolutely filthy, yet unable to cover up for the soft noises being carried off his breath, "'s that what y've been wantin'? Some ol' cowboy to fuck y' nice 'n slow?" 

It's all you can do to tilt yourself into him, back arching against the pillow wedged beneath you. He's rubbing right where you want him, but its not enough; it's still not enough. "Rhett," you choke, between a poorly muzzled whimper, "more."

"More?" Those eyebrows are raising, in perfect tune with his growing grin; you're never gonna hear the end of this. "Y' gonna have to be a lil' more specific than that." 

You don't even know what you want, a trembling hand diving to grab hold of the bed sheet, rocking against him the best you can manage. Ears ringing with the lewd clap of his skin against yours, some hellish rhythm that has your heart slamming against your chest like a caged animal. 

"Did y' want it faster?" His hips are quickening, pistoning in and out of you with such vigor that you think your eyes may have crossed, a breathy noise whittling out of your throat. But just as quickly as he started, Rhett slows again, grip on your hips growing so tight you fear it'll bruise, yanking you down to meet him halfway, "harder?"

It punches a squeal right out of you. So loud that your hand clamps over your mouth; the nearest neighbor is a mile down the road, and even then, you're certain they could have heard you. Know exactly what you're doing with this old bull rider that you were warned to stay away from, tangled up in his sheets, with him between your legs, right where he belongs. 

Maybe it's your rose-tinted view of him that's talking; maybe it's something more; all you know is he's taking hold of your wrist and prying your hand away from your mouth. Guiding it down your belly and between your shaking legs, pressing your fingers to your forgotten clit. And again, you're clenching around him, pulling a surprised moan from him. 

"Gonna have this poor little pussy of yours rurnt," his voice growing airy, unruly hair falling into his face as he leans down, eye to eye with you, never once stops talking,"not gonna be satisfied with nothin' else once 'm done with ya."

You had no hope of being happy with anyone else the moment your eyes locked at that rodeo, but that's neither here nor there. All you know is that your fingers are quickening against your clit, and Rhett's growing louder. Can't seem to keep himself quiet; blunt cock head hammering against your delicate nerves, has you fluttering around him in such a way that you both mewl with it. 

His body drops back down, almost smothering you as his head buries into the crook of your neck. "Feel so fuckin' good 'round me—ah!"  

There's a heat growing in your lower belly. A coil rapidly unraveling into a full-body tremor, skin prickling as that heat spreads up your chest and down your thighs until you're burning. Becoming distantly aware of the low voice that chants your name into your ear, bouncing around the inside of your skull until your vision fuzzies.

"Rhett," babbling, damn near incoherent, "Rhett, I'm—"

"So am I," he blurts. And for a second he's prying himself away from you, but your ankles have locked behind him. Refusing to let him draw away from you. Only seeming to pull him in deeper. Hitting something he wasn't before. "Fuck, y' gotta—y' gotta let me pull outta ya."

But you're shaking your head. Unoccupied hand grabbing hold of his bicep. Squeezing as tightly as you can manage. "Stay."

And that is it. Rhett's breath is catching. Hips stuttering as he cums inside of you with a weak cry. Twitching cock bumping against that little bundle of nerves. Your fingers working faster over your clit. Until all of a sudden, your back is arching off the pillow. Cumming around him without warning. 

It's like being plunged underwater. Vision blurry, lungs tight, the noises around you muffling until its a far cry of what it once was. A warm wave washes over you, little bolts of electricity firing down your frenzied nerves. And you're floating, spinning around in an endless depth of something heavy. 

Until your lungs fill with air, and you realize that heaviness is Rhett. His careful mouth kissing at your collar, sweaty hands stroking up and down your naked chest. Sprawled out on top of you like a big ol' blanket.

"There y' are," he murmurs, and for a second, his love-filled eyes almost look like hearts, "thought I knocked ya out, for a second there."

The corner of your lip tilts upward, the best your dreamy mind can manage, "nah."

His eyes roll in that contagious fashion that has you tempted to mirror him. But he's already leaning up to meet your lips before you can begin to try, catching your mouth in a wet, half-hearted attempt at a kiss. 

"Think I finally tuckered ya out," there's no reason for him to be whispering; nobody is around to hear him, and yet, he does it anyway. Like it's some delicate confession that may lose its worth if he says it any louder.

But your defiant hips are already shifting, rolling off the pillow and up against his softened cock, still deep inside of you. Earns you an oversensitive hiss. "I think I could go one more round."

"Well, hang on a damn second," Rhett's shaking his head as he pushes himself up onto his weary forearms, incredulous. Doesn't seem to believe what he's hearing. "I can't get it back up as fast as I used to."

"Why not?" Coy. 

He sighs. Loud. Dramatic. He knows what you're doing, you know what you're doing, and yet neither of you is doing anything about it. "'m old."

Your head cocks to the side. "I thought you didn't like being called old?"

For a second, it's quiet. Neither of you has anything to say as his arm curls beneath your waist. Cinching you up against him as if you're bound to start floating away at any second.

 What's he doing?  

"Fine." 

The room is spinning. 

You're moving. 

Arms flailing, almost slamming your palms against his chest. And now he's beneath you, half-lidded eyes a smidgen darker than they were before, torn between exhaustion and something that reignites the fire in your belly. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, fully settling in his lap now. 

"Do your worst," he taunts, smug. Knows exactly what he's done here. 

Oh, you will. 

[asherlockstudy]

Some thoughts on the 40 years friendship anniversary Ear Biscuit

Regarding the moment when Rhett makes some fun at the shippers who ship them for moments such as the look they shared when they were kissing their girlfriends... I will say that by saying "As we have proven, we do not mind feeding into your theories", that's a double edged sword. Technically it is neither negation nor confirmation of anything - it is observation of something that can't be overlooked anymore like what they are doing with Wonderhole, while however refusing to take it seriously. It reminds me one of the last ambiguous jokes Rhett had cracked against the shippers, like a year ago or so, when he had said "PERHAPS YOU ARE RIGHT, OKAY" I don't remember it exactly, he had claimed the shipping conviction was so overwhelming that he was almost getting confused what the truth was and perhaps "we were right". Pity he doesn't clarify whether he means only the intentional scripted content or candid stuff that has at times slipped out of his control, like that eye contact. As an oldie, I remember how he has been always telling that story and it was that he opened his eyes to see that Link was already staring at him. He felt uncomfortable so he turned to the other side. He consistently finds it hilarious for years whereas Link always defends himself apologetically and shyly by saying "he was trying to check with Rhett if he was doing it right". So it wasn't exactly the "momentary glance of mutual hetero approval" they went for this time. But, if Rhett really finds it that hilarious, then it might as well have been an accidental eye contact and it taking large dimensions with the shippers may seem particularly amusing to him. However, it is him who brings it back again and again over the years, apparently the momentary glance has left such an impression (of amusement).

Rhett totally deflects when Link claims he had scolded him for how intimate he was getting with his girlfriends.

Marriage bathtub rum episode mentioned again

Link about the first days in college: "For me, going off to college, together, moving into that dorm room, I just remember the feeling of the first week and that we had each other at a point where we were completely on our own. And I remember being scared shitless in a lot of ways after that first week. It's like, wow, this is a different level of freedom. I feel like the net's gone, but we had each other and we had an identity to everyone else of having each other. "

It was sort of bittersweet to see that Link, who comes off as a pretty intense person, seems to have maintained a subdued attitude throughout most of his friendship with Rhett. Based on the things he said, this was sort of a survival mechanism to ensure he would remain Rhett's friend at all costs. He admitted that he wasn't all that crazy about the ministry and he was sort of following along, motivated by the consoling thought that since Rhett was taking him along, then that meant he was appreciating him for his skills, his abilties, his talent and who he was. Same thing with their career actually, Link basically admitted that he is not invested to the degree Rhett is (Rhett lowkey looked like he was given a small slap there) but it's about sticking to this promise of making it work out together. Even one of the first times Rhett confessed he considered giving up on the church during the great roadtrip across America and even though Link had been on a parallel similar journey, Link did not voice his own spiritual concerns and doubts but instead remained a silent "shoulder" for Rhett to “cry on” because he reasoned (maybe it felt safer this way) that surely Rhett was going through a phase and he would return to his traditional, religious self. And if Link was quick to abandon faith too and then Rhett regretted it then they would grew apart. But he was also fearing that if he remained religious and Rhett adhered to his choice to leave the church then they would also grow distant. So he chose to do all the listening, waiting for Rhett to take the final decision. (And then of course we know Link reached his limit with the plexi-glass kiss and suddently decided to turn their world upside down but this is not for this post ok). However, this just shows again and again how almost everything in Link's world revolves around Rhett, it's incredible how dedicated he is in his love for him. Link is a stunning guy, he was a good student, he could have done anything and be with anyone but he made this choice to devote himself to that guy completely and just went with it. It's just amazing. If we take into account what Link had said in his deconstruction, he had always had way more doubts, since an early age, but he was determined to act as pious as Rhett, if not more and even remain pious when Rhett was having his doubts out of his fierce persistence that this was ultimately the way to be accepted by Rhett.

Thank goodness they gave us a rough timeline of Link's "breakup" mail to Rhett and Rhett's delayed apology, because based on the dynamics we were observing in their content we could have been able to tell by ourselves! If the email was sent around the GMM 22 format or a little prior to it, it is not a surprise at all. This was the time a lot of the fans, even shippers, were speculating that something seemed off between them, that they weren’t real friends anymore, that they always seemed angry at each other. It was around that time that Link was being vocal about how Rhett didn’t open up about his emotions to him and at the time Rhett indeed looked very uncomfortable with it.

Let me tell you though, they were not telling the entire story. There was another thing that was happening at the time and they mentioned it once or twice in the Ear Biscuits of that period but then I don't remember if they ever mentioned it again. Along with the insane amount of work they were involved with at the time that would have made just about anyone neglect their personal relationships, it was around that time or a little earlier that they imposed rules on their friendship. They had said in EBs that their work and their friendship was taking up too much space from their families and other aspects of their lives so they freaking came up with rules to regulate their friendship. The examples they mentioned to explain this were VERY interesting: it was forbidden to communicate during vacation and if they both went to NC to their parents during the holidays they should not meet up. Even more insanely specifically, if they happened to cross ways in a supermarket aisle for example, the rule was to not acknowledge each other and just look the other way!!!!!!!!!!!! They also had rules for physical touches, Link characteristically said: "If you helped me with my belt, alarms went immediately off in my mind. Oh, why are you helping me put my belt? You don't usually help me put my belt!". Really, is it my fault to say that none of this shit is indicative of a platonic friendship? They never talked about it again. Perhaps they understood they shared too much. A few months or about a year after this was happening and shortly after the crazy work schedule, they made an EB announcing that they were now doing the exact opposite, meaning they would actively try to find more quality time for their friendship outside work. Now, we can tell that this choice was made probably after Link had sent the email to Rhett because clearly those rules he had initially agreed upon were tormenting him. My point is, their friendship wasn't threatened only as a natural consequence of their hectic work schedule but by their choices too.

I am sorry if I am the broken record but this is compatible with this recurring theme in the One Story, where Link is in trouble, Rhett saves him only to fall in trouble even harder. In the Digging a Hole video, Rhett says how he thought "Link was losing control in his enjoyment of the hole digging" that he had to step up. Rhett started this as a controlled, secret situationship and when Link started getting way too immersed in it, Rhett shat himself, fearing Link was risking their careers, their families, everything they had built. So they came up with rules and filled their time with work, work, work to control what was happening between them. Link tried but in the process he felt that besides everything they were trying to control, they were also losing their foundations, their original pure friendship. So, for such a passionate friend (or a man insanely in love, if you will) to feel that he and his lifelong best friend had turned into strangers, into working robots to strip all the emotions from their relationship, he thought "you know, if we are not even gonna be friends like we always were, I don't want any of this at all". Once again, I am amazed at the genuiness of his sentiment. He has fame, he has a lot of money, we know he is frugal and yet he was willing to give it all up, to start from scratch, to reinvent himself on his own, in order to not suffer through a possible slow alienation with Rhett. (I mean he still was ready to be swayed by Rhett with the bare minimum though lol)

To Rhett's credit, like they said, even if he's not one for words, he was at his door the next day like "what was that shit about alienation you're talking about?!". History has shown after all that no matter how bad he is with words, how emotionally constipated, how work obsessed, how supportive of the idea to keep this a secret situationship, how fearful their relationship will likely destroy their careers and a lot of their bonds with other people, how vulnerable to people's opinions, so far time tells he is choosing Link over everything else, even at the prospect of disaster. And channeling all this anxiety and concern but also the choice he has made to his art has become his new passion, because this is how his mind works, this is how he expresses himself, his feelings, his love.

Rhett reread the email during the quarantine which also makes total sense! We have all discussed Rhett's notorious neediness at the time of the pandemic. I like to say he was climbing the walls at the time because he really did. Even in their zoom GMMs, he was protesting to Link because they were not meeting, he was like "I am healthy, you are healthy, LET'S MEET I BEG YOU I AM LOSING MY MIND PLEASE". This was an average GMM and EB at the time, remember? I believe this sudden unexpected distance was what really sealed the deal for Rhett, he thought things over and over. It's true, he did take Link for granted because Link was always by his side, he never missed him. But this time, Link had devoted himself to Christy who was coping very badly with the Coronavirus panic and he wasn't meeting with him, he had become aloof and Rhett was getting increasingly emotionally and physically frustrated and at this point he probably understood what it feels to not have Link for granted or what it felt for Link to feel emotionally neglected in their relationship.

Link was a little... happy when Rhett admitted their relationships to girls were shallow. He's laughing nervously for almost 20 seconds.. but it is adorable. I love this laugh of his, the heheHEheHEheheHEHEhehe, reminds me of the "I hit you in the funny bone" moment in GMM :)))

I did not intend this to get that long...

[lewmagoo]

A naughty Rhett request!

I am in the mood for angsty!Rhett who doesn’t place as high as he thinks he should’ve in a rodeo and thinks the ref screwed him over, so he comes home and takes out his frustration on Reader in bed and needs to hear her give him all the praise and reassurance 👉🏻👈🏻🥹

the ride home was silent.

he always got this way after a bad ride. withdrawn. lost in his head. plagued with feelings of terrible inadequacy. he tried not to let it get to him, but he struggled. and tonight, he was even more upset than usual. you could tell by the way he remained tense, even as he drove home. he didn’t even bother to turn the radio on, which was usually the first thing he did when he started up the truck. it wasn’t just that he’d had a bad ride. in fact, he rode just fine. but when he glanced up at the scoreboard afterwards, his score was one of the lowest on the board.

that score was bogus. you knew it. he knew it. but for whatever reason, it was what he was given. and it had him spiraling with thoughts of, am i not good enough? is this really worth it? you watched him grapple with it, his mind working a million miles a minute as he processed it all during the ride home. you let him have the quiet, not wanting to inundate him with questions or try to get him to speak when he wasn’t ready to. in the early days of your relationship, you might’ve worried about him, as he’d struggled with communicating. but he had gotten better about it since then. he’d talk when he was ready.

he remained silent as he pulled into your driveway, and continued even when you’d finally walked into the house together. you decided to speak then. “are you hungry? i can fix somethin’ for you,” you said. he stood in the entryway, looking defeated. then he mumbled something as he moved to kick off his boots. “what was that?” you asked. “said ‘m not hungry!” he snapped in exasperation. but directly after that, he lowered his head, his shoulders falling. tentatively, you approached him, and he managed to look at you, his features dejected. “i’m sorry darlin’. didn’t mean t’ be short with you. i’m just…” he trailed off.

you lovingly held his face in your hands. “i know,” you hummed, leaning in to kiss him. he relished in your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “i…can we…” he couldn’t seem to get the words out. “what? it’s okay, say what you need,” you urged. he kissed you again, and there was an air of desperation to it. “i need y’ to…i…” you had a feeling what he was trying to ask about. but he couldn’t voice it, because there was part of him that felt wrong for it. dirty, and not in a good way. but you always encouraged him to speak his mind, to make his desires known. “you’re okay. it’s just me and you. talk to me, cowboy.” he had to know that he was safe with you. always.

his large hands came to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing circles over the fabric of your jeans. he let out a breath before he finally admitted what he wanted. “i need you. need to forget about this fuckin’ ride. wanna be inside you. god, i…i wanna have my way with you.” the weight of his words, so desperate, as if he was fighting the desire roiling within him, sent heat thrumming between your thighs. your fingers curled into the fabric of his button down. “yeah?” you breathed. “i’m right here. take what you want, rhett.” that was what he needed. that spoken consent to allow himself to give in to this urge. you trusted him. you wanted to give yourself to him.

one hand came up to rest against the back of your head, and he kissed you deeply, slotting his thigh between yours. something snapped within him. the invisible chains that held him back broke, and suddenly, you found yourself being guided toward the couch. it was one of those nights - you wouldn’t be making it to the bed for this encounter. rhett kissed you like a starving man, tongue and teeth, tasting you. you found yourself being maneuvered down to the floor, and you went eagerly. as soon as you were sprawled on the rug, he stopped to hover over you, and even in the low light, you could see a wildness in his eyes. narrow, like a cat’s. he’d just caught his prey, and he was going to devour it.

in a frenzy of hurried limbs, he had your jeans and panties off, and he unbuckled his belt with one hand, shoving his jeans down enough to free his cock. he at least had the decency to slide his hand between your legs, fingers searching, carefully prodding. he knew your cunt well, and he knew just how to get it soaked for him. your own arousal, mixed with his saliva that he spat upon his hand and used to lube up his cock, provided the right amount of slick for him to inch into you. at the thick intrusion, you gasped, and he swallowed the sound with his own mouth. “shhh, take it, take it,” he whispered, watching your face contort as your anatomy stretched around him.

when he bottomed out, you whined, and he gazed down at the place where your bodies met. “atta girl,” he gruffed. and then he started moving, and you saw stars. slow at first, but he wasted no time in building a rhythm. a hurried push and pull. but you knew what he needed. what he craved. so you gave it to him. “oh, rhett. you feel so fuckin’ good,” you sighed. you weren’t over exaggerating, either. he did make you feel good. he always did. but he needed extra reassurance tonight. and from the sound of the breathless moan he let out, you’d hit it right on the money. you searched for his mouth, leaving open mouthed kisses to his lips. “fuck, right there. nobody else makes me feel like this. n- oh! - nobody gets to be inside me this way. it’s all yours. only yours!” you cried.

he buried his face against your neck, groaning your name. “oh, god. say it again,” he pleaded. you clutched at his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh. “nobody else loves me like you do! nobody else fucks me like you do!” but your second sentence faltered when he offered a particularly deep thrust, cock brushing against a spot that made you squeal, your eyes rolling back. “oh my—oh fuck.” he leaned back to kiss you again, whispering into your mouth. “uh-huh, that’s right. i’m the only one that gets t’ use th-this sweet fuckin’ pussy.” and you keened at his words. “only you!” you echoed. “yo-you’re everything, rhett. f-fuck, i…i love you! i love you, i love you, i love you!”

he growled like a wounded animal, chest heaving against yours. he was losing himself. “fuck, honey, i…i can’t…” his voice was pained. “i-it’s okay,” you assured him. he was so pent up, so needy and desperate for you, that he was already there, ready to topple over the edge. and you encouraged it, begged for it. “c’mon, fill me up. cum inside your pussy,” you pleaded. you knew calling your cunt his would send him over the edge. because it was his, after all. no one else was allowed access to it. only him. and then, with a growl that melted into a broken wail, he fell apart, body tensing above you before his cock swelled within you and soon spilled his release into the very core of your being. you moaned, gladly taking every last drop he had to give.

and when he was finished, it took every ounce of strength in him not to collapse on top of you. he caught his breath, silence hanging between you for a moment as you combed your fingers through his hair. but as the post orgasm haze began to clear, you could see insecurity settling in. “shit, i didn’t mean for that t’ happen so fast. feel like a damn teenager,” he muttered. but you shook your head, smiling up at him. “nope, don’t you dare apologize. i thought it was hot,” you said. he quirked a brow up. “really?” he asked. “uh-huh. seeing you lose control…god, it’s so fucking sexy, babe,” you continued on. he smiled, leaning in to kiss you. a beat. then two. “thank you for, uh, for…yeah.”

you giggled softly. “you’re welcome, cowboy. i love you. so much.” his face grew serious as he nodded, “i luh you too,” he answered. then, “but i ain’t finished. need to take you for a ride.” and before you could say anything else, he was slipping out of you, surging downward to bury his face between your legs to show you his gratitude.

[pippytmi]

If you are possibly still doing song promts, not sure if you're into country music however, "Unforgettable" by Thomas Rhett is a very cute, romantic song that I believe will suit Supercorp very well, thank you.

It is a warm, sticky summer night, and the stars have never been clearer.

Kara watches them, wistful and maybe a little buzzed, stretched out in the back of her pickup while Alex flicks bottle caps below at the guys. James and Winn don’t even notice; they’re still arguing over whether they should take whiskey shots or shotgun beers, both staunchly on opposite sides of this dilemma.

“Hey,” a thought occurs to Kara suddenly, “where did Sam go?”

“To find Lena, I think,” Alex says, squinting at her next target with halfhearted commitment as she leans over the side of the truck. When she throws the next cap, it misses Winn entirely. “Damn. Open another beer, Kara, I need another shot.”

“Who’s Lena?” The name is somewhat familiar, but Kara can’t place it immediately.

“The Luthor girl. Sam’s friend, you know her.” Alex leans back to root through their cooler, and comes up with two more beers. “She’s the one who flaked when Sam tried to set up that double-date, remember?”

“Right, and I had to third-wheel you guys all night.” Kara sits up in order to scan the crowd curiously, one question at the forefront of her mind: “Is she related to Lex Luthor?”

“Yes, that’s why I said the Luthor girl,” Alex says like one might say keep up. “She’s his half-sister or something, I don’t know.” She uses the bottle opener on her keys to pop open one of the beers, handing it over to Kara and immediately moving on to her own.

Kara takes a distracted swig as she continues to look out into the crowd. The lights strung through the trees offer very little in terms of visibility, and it’s hard to make out faces. “I didn't know he had a sister,” she says.

“It's not something he exactly advertises.” Alex takes a re-do of her earlier shot now that she has a fresh bottle cap, and this time it nails Winn right on the side of the head. “Hey, losers! Quit fighting and come get a drink!”

“Not unless you have some beer cans we can shotgun!” Winn shouts back.

“No, no, he means we need some Jack Daniel’s,” James interjects, and they’re off again, shoving playfully at each other’s shoulders as if they are going to push each other into the bonfire.

Alex rolls her eyes. “Boys,” she says derisively. “Let’s get Nia instead, she deserves a drink far more than they do.” She reaches over to bang at the truck’s backseat window. “Wake up, sleeping beauty!”

“Whoa, watch it!” Kara almost spills her drink in her haste to bat Alex’s hand away. “Take it easy. I just got her all fixed up.”

“Oh sure, when Siobhan takes a baseball bat to the glass it’s all fine and dandy, but I can’t even give it a tap?”

Kara crinkles her nose. “She thought it was her ex’s car in the dark, come on. You can’t blame her for that.”

“You are also her ex,” Alex says impatiently.

“But not the ex she was trying to get revenge on,” Kara points out. “She even apologized to Brittney. I think you should, too.”

Alex gives her a dirty look. “For the last time, I will not call your car that.”

“Don’t be a hater, Alex.”

“Don’t be a fucking weirdo, then—”

Before Kara can even enact her own revenge for that comment, she is briefly blinded by one of two flashlights aimed at her face. Beside her, Alex yelps and covers her eyes.

“There you guys are,” Sam exclaims. “I got lost trying to remember where we were. Why did you park so far away?”

“To keep our drinks from the masses, mostly,” Alex says, and she hops up over the side of the truck to pull Sam into her arms. “And for privacy.”

“Ew,” Kara says, and Alex glares at her over her shoulder.

“For Nia, who is sleeping.”

“Still?” Sam grins, momentarily distracted, when Alex presses a kiss to her cheek. “I wanted to introduce her to Lena.”

Just like her name, Lena Luthor has something about her face that strikes Kara as vaguely familiar. Something in the shine of her eyes in the moonlight, in the way she bites on her bottom lip, in the slope of her nose and the cut of her jaw and the hint of a dimple in her cheek. Kara has never laid eyes on Lena Luthor before, but she finds herself unable to look away.

The only reason Kara even realizes she's been staring at Lena too long is when she hears her name:

“And this is Kara, she's Alex’s sister. She drove us here.”

Now it's Kara's turn to be stared at—or more accurately, scrutinized. “While drunk?” Lena says.

Kara snaps back to reality. “I'm not drunk,” she hastily denies, lest that somehow affect her chances with impressing Lena (coincidentally, something she had not been concerned with until this very second). “I've only had two beers, I'm practically sober.”

But when anyone else might be skeptical, Lena merely tilts her head curiously. “Okay, if you say so,” she says in a manner that’s almost…amused. Kara counts it as a win, either way.

“So are beers all we have around here?” Sam asks. “Clearly, Lena and I need to catch up to everyone.”

“We also have whiskey,” James chimes in, while Winn makes a show of gagging.

“Yeah, just beer and whiskey,” Alex affirms. “Kara did the shopping, so….”

Kara bends down to lift up their cooler as if it’s a treasure chest. “We also have Mang-O-Ritas,” she says magnanimously, passing it down to James to pop open.

“Just a regular beer for me, then,” Sam says. “Lena will have the Mang-O-Rita.”

“I’ve never had one before,” Lena says, crossing her arms and leaning against the side of the truck as Sam procures her drink. “Are they any good?”

Kara jumps off the truck in order to fully join their circle (and, okay, closer to Lena. Maybe). “They’re awesome. Don’t listen to whatever Alex tells you, she will 100% drink three of these in one sitting.” 

“Only when there’s no other option,” Alex protests.

Lena cracks open her can and takes a cautious sip. “Hm,” she says. “That’s…vile.”

“Poor little rich girl,” Sam coos. “Always such a snob about your liquor.”

“Excuse me for preferring a glass of red over this,” Lena says, but she takes a longer drink immediately afterwards, and Kara falls a little bit in love.

It's always been like that, really—Kara falls in love like breathing air. Eliza used to call her a hopeful romantic because she never liked the term hopeless romantic. (“There is nothing hopeless about finding beauty in everything,” Eliza would promise as she kissed Kara's head. Alex would always be nearby gagging, of course).

Eventually, as the fire begins to die down, they break out the whiskey bottle for shots. Lena, Kara can't help but notice, grimaces at the taste in a way that shouldn't be as cute as it is.

“I need a palate cleanser,” Winn gasps afterwards, ever the drama queen. “Stat.”

“I’ve got one right here for you, it's called Bud Light,” Alex quips.

“Blegh.”

And while Alex and Winn playfully tussle, Kara’s gaze drifts past them and back to Lena. Lena, surprisingly, is looking right back.

“You have grass stains on your jeans,” Lena tells her, and quickly looks away.

Kara glances down. “Oh,” she says, “yeah, it’s the hazard of working on a farm.” She actually got the stains from kneeling down to pet a puppy on the way here, but the farm thing sounds better. “So what do you—” 

She never manages to get the question out, because two cars down, someone screams bloody murder and Kara reflexively whips out the pocket knife in her boot. Everyone else is equally alert, until:

“It’s just fucking Mike Matthews again, falling off that eyesore he calls a truck,” Alex scoffs. 

“Again? They need to impound that thing,” James says.

Kara is about to chime in with her own horror story about Mike’s truck when she feels a tap at her shoulder; Lena waits until Kara whirls around, befuddled, before she asks,

“Can you pour me another shot?”

Kara blinks. Then blinks again. “Yeah,” she says, even though Winn is the one holding the whiskey bottle. “Yeah, of course.”

Winn gladly relinquishes the bottle when Kara asks, and he and James walk down to Mike’s group to “see if they can help” (i.e. gossip). Sam and Alex take advantage of the chaos to sneak away together (probably to make out somewhere). And Kara is left, terrifyingly enough, alone with Lena Luthor.

Lena coughs after downing the second shot, frowning down at her cup like it’s wronged her. “That is still…not good.”

Kara tries to hide her smile as she looks down, nudges an empty beer bottle away. “Why drink it, then?”

“I don’t know.” Lena pauses to chase the taste away with her Mang-O-Rita before musing, “To get out of my comfort zone, maybe. But then again, pretty much everything here is out of my comfort zone.”

“Oh, I get it,” Kara says. “Rich girl pretending to be normal. It’s very Maid in Manhattan. Or…whatever the opposite of that is.”

“You are…definitely drunk,” Lena says with the tone of someone two seconds from laughter.

Kara vehemently shakes her head. “Nope, no, absolutely not.”

“Mm, you kind of seem like you are,” Lena says.

“I am not, and I can prove it to you.” Kara cradles the whiskey bottle to her chest and prepares herself: “I can do the running man.”

“And that proves you’re not drunk how?”

“Because it's going to be the most flawless dance you've ever seen,” Kara says, immediately kicking her leg out in a shaky attempt, and Lena’s laughter explodes until she is actually hunched over with the force of it.

“Oh, God, please do that again.”

“I'm not sure I like your reaction,” Kara sniffs, taking a mock-defensive step back. “I don't want to do it now.”

“No, come on, I loved it. Really,” Lena says. Her Mang-O-Rita has spilled into the grass, and she has to stoop down to pick up the can, ruefully shaking it when she notices it's empty. “Maybe I need to slow down. Is there somewhere we can sit?”

“Yeah,” Kara says, waving the whiskey bottle to beckon Lena to follow, and she guides her to the back of the pickup. She shrugs off her jacket, laying it out for Lena to sit, and Lena gives her a small smile when she does; it feels like they’re in their own world, kept company only by the stars and the occasional crackle of the dying bonfire.

“So you work on a farm?” Lena has to lean slightly against Kara to get comfortable, and Kara holds her breath to keep from jumping.

“Yup, my parents’ farm,” Kara barely remembers to answer. “Nothing glamorous like you and your brother, I'm sure.”

“I didn't know you knew about…that,” Lena says.

Kara shrugs, feels her shoulder directly move against Lena’s. “Kind of hard not to,” she says apologetically. “I mean, the Luthor name is on just about every business in town.” She twists the whiskey bottle between her hands, listens to it slosh. “If it helps…none of us care about that.”

“Really,” Lena says, disbelievingly but still light enough to invite a follow-up, which Kara wastes zero time in grasping.

“One hundred percent,” Kara promises. “We never judge a book by its cover. Not even,” she pauses to whisper this next part, “people who stand up their dates on a dreaded double-date with their sister.”

Lena gasps. “That was not you.”

“It was,” Kara laughs, just self-conscious enough to slick her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t Sam tell you?”

“No—all she said was you were fun,” Lena says. “And she promised to try and set me up again, another time.” She shifts, now fully shoulder-to-shoulder against Kara. “Oh my God. Is that what tonight is?”

“Alex didn’t tell me anything,” Kara wonders, “but it would make sense…”

Lena scoffs. “This would be a horrible date,” she says, almost to herself. Then, hurriedly, “Not because of you, but because of everything else. The drinks, the place, the…lack of indoor plumbing…” 

“So you’re too good for whiskey, tailgate parties, and porta potties,” Kara lists off. “Hm. I don’t know, Lena. This date is off to a rough start.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lena reaches across their bodies for the whiskey bottle, and her fingers tangle with Kara’s as she takes it. Lena uncaps it and takes a swig, coughing as soon as she lowers the bottle, and Kara smiles even if Lena can’t see it.

“What happened to slowing down?”

“That was before I realized this was a date,” Lena says without a lick of shame. “Sue me—I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be,” Kara says softly, and she shuts her eyes, inhales the smoke of the fire and the sweet, floral scent of Lena’s perfume. “We can just be friends, too. No pressure.”

“And you’d be okay with that?” Lena asks, her voice quiet but undoubtedly curious. “Am I not the kind of girl you want to date?”

Kara immediately straightens up. “Are you kidding? I would marry you, probably, if I could. In a good way,” she hastens to explain. “In a…general, you-seem-like-the-kind-of-nice-to-marry. Hypothetically.”

Lena exhales, and there’s a hint of a smile in her own voice when she says, “You’re coming on awful strong for a first date, Kara Danvers.”

“Sorry.” Kara slumps against the floor, sighing as the whiskey finally starts catching up to her, leaving her slightly dizzy and uncoordinated as she stares up at the night sky.

But then Lena is moving, twisting until she is half-hovering over Kara, beautifully framed by moonlight and the haze from the fire beside them. “I can’t promise marriage yet,” she says, “but I think I can do a second date.”

Kara blinks, slowly, and her grin forms before she can even try to hide it. “Really?”

“Only if I can choose the place,” Lena says. “And if you never make me drink that awful margarita again.”

“Deal,” Kara says, making room for Lena to squeeze in beside her, light-headed for a whole new reason as Lena rests her head on Kara’s arm. “But I really think you should give the Mang-O-Rita another try. Just, for the record.”

“Shhh, don’t ruin this,” Lena says, tapping Kara’s mouth with her finger, and Kara keeps on smiling.

(And later, when they’ve sobered up, Kara will kiss Lena goodnight; later still, Lena will deny that she tasted of that damned Mang-O-Rita, but only Kara will know the truth).

[laracrofted]

save a horse, read a rhett abbott fic

outer range's second season has me wanting to read and reread rhett abbott fics, and while i'm scrolling through my reblogs, i wanted to share some of my favorites with all of you. please remember to show your love to these writers with your comments and reblogs!

universes + series

right cowboy, wrong time by @chemistryread (please read the author warnings, but one of my favorite rhett fics of all time and one i've reread countless times)

linger by @bobfloydsbabe (helena is such a good writer, and i can't wait to see where this series goes)

yellow soul by @creatchie8 (if you don't like cheating, you'll probably want to skip this one, but i am seated by every update of this fic because wow, the tension is unreal.)

flowers in november by @delopsia (you'll see del's name on here a few times, but damn, what a cool series)

the wolf by @lewmagoo (i'm not done with this series, but if you love a werewolf au, leah has created such a cool universe here, it's a must read)

dilf!rhett x babysitter!reader universe by @rhettabbotts (shelby's brain is so big for this universe, do yourself a favor and go introduce some dilf!rhett into your life.)

rhett x reader x bob universe by @delopsia (del has a real name for this universe, but it's leaving my brain right now. anyway, i love love love what del's created with them. blow your mind and streetlight glow are personal favorites, ahem)

one shots + drabbles

it's a bad idea, right? by @/rhettabbotts (if rhett was my ex-boyfriend, i'd fold in like 3 seconds, i'm sorry)

come home to me by @callsignspark (you can read and reblog winter and/or christmas fics all year, shut up, rhett is so soft in this lovely fic)

odds are stacked by @sunlightmurdock (he's fucked up and mean, and i need him, sorry)

son of a preacher man by @bradshawsbitch (alex wanted me dead with this one)

horsemanship by @/bradshawsbitch (most of these recs are smutty, but genuinely one of the best character studies of him)

dancing beneath the moon by @/delopsia (at this point, you should know to read del's entire library, but i have such a soft spot for this fic in particular.)

gentle, rough, loving by @sebsxphia (seb has so many good drabbles and fics for rhett, but i had to call this one out because it's such a perfect representation of him)

afternoon delight by @bradshawsbaby (he is so sheepish and so playful, and i love him)

million dollar man by @/lewmagoo (another writer with an amazing library of rhett fics you should check out, but i do love this one shot in particular. i need that old man, and i need him now.)

you're responsible for your own fic consumption so please read any and all author warnings, and again, please show love to your local fic writer who understands this character better than the people who are paid to write him do 😌

[turnnblurb]

You’re The One I Want

pairing - Rhett Abbott x OC (Odelia Graves)

wc - 4k

warnings - mentions of death, talks of sex, tobacco use, emotional abuse, religion, eventual smut

synopsis - Odelia Graves has never been the first pick in anything until she rekindles her relationship with her childhood friend Rhett Abbott.

notes - I am such a sucker for childhood friends to strangers to lovers. Thank you for reading!!! Love you, mean it!!

Loneliness was a common word around Amelia County. Uttered expression of it would earn someone a polite, but disingenuous, bless your heart. It was an emotion that Odelia Graves felt more often than not.

She found it hard to recall a moment in her life that was inhabited by human nature and warmth, those were buried only in the years before her mother’s passing. Bless your hearts.

Those three words were thrown at the Graves sisters for years. Eventually, the population of Wabang found themselves too enchanted with their own indulgences to bless the hearts of the grieving family any longer.

The oldest Graves, Anna Mae, was a degreed nurse at Wabang General. Sophisticated and damn good with a needle and stitch, what did she need the blessings for? Layla, the second born, seemed to be having her fun with her bull riders and bonfires. Nothing like a distraction to swallow down the big pill of grief. The youngest, Daisy, had to be the most well-mannered sixteen year old girl to grace the small town. No blessings needed there.

Odelia fit somewhere in there, she herself just wasn’t sure where. Third born, not exactly the middle, but not first or last. It was more beneficial to the town for them to disregard the daughter that was a spitting image of her slain mother. Better to forget the unsolved case than to dwell on how her daughter’s amber red hair matched her own at that age.

She was sure that if her father could still open his eyes he would even look right through her.

Earl Graves, once the best nine-ball shooter to step foot into The Handsome Gambler, was now being kept alive with machinery on the second floor of the family’s home. Odelia didn’t truly believe someone could be killed by heartbreak before her mother’s death. She knew now that if the sheriff hadn’t knocked on their door into the late hours of the night to personally deliver the dreadful news, her father would be tending to their cattle. Not a lifeless bag of bones laying in a hospice bed that insurance refused to cover.

So, with her sisters’ endeavors and family ranch to upkeep, Odelia did find herself awfully, terribly lonely.

Her time was spent treating ill hooves, harvesting, herding, delivering hen eggs, and working on other ranches when time allowed. Anna Mae would hand her a measly check every month. A meek $200 to be spent strictly on whatever was needed to keep the ranch from plummeting into the ground.

It was her duty, everything seemed to be her damned duty. She didn’t mind looking after Daisy. In fact, she cherished it. At times it seemed to be the only thing holding her together. She would bring her to school in the morning when she woke up too late to catch the bus. Laugh and blush with her over Dean Martin movies and a homemade Digiorno's pizza. Braid her hair for when they went riding together. Nurturing the youngest of the Graves was a glimpse into a life she once so desperately wanted.

Like most things she once believed in, the concept of love had been altered by the nasty realities of life. The boys stopped looking to her for entertainment when their voices dropped and their visions were clouded by lust. Layla had straighter hair and wider hips around the same time this occurred. Even the youngest Abbott, whom Odelia was so desperately in love with at the age of thirteen, had grown into his own teenage ways. It didn’t take long for her to realize that he only started coming over when Layla was drinking sweet tea on the front porch in one of her sundresses.

Even now at twenty-three, him at twenty-four, she had enough sense to know that there was nothing there for him within her scrawny figure and purple under eyes. Had enough sense to know that there was nothing there for anyone’s longing.

His Ma had always loved Odelia. Greeting her with open arms and rushing her to their dinner table to stuff her full of the sweet treats he had minutes before been denied. Begging him to go check up on her when things headed south. Things had changed. Odelia ran a bit colder from what she did when she was younger, but Cecilia fed and doted over her all the same.

When Perry’s girl, Rebecca, turned up missing it got harder for Odelia to make the weekly egg delivery. She nearly couldn’t bring herself to witness the ache within the house that once and still did echoed in her own. But, it was her duty. Her duty to muffle the selfish pain in order to provide the Abbott family their order of a dozen eggs. They had their own coop, but Royal insisted nonetheless. Telling her each time that her hens had the best eggs in Wabang. Not telling her that he once witnessed her walking from the mailbox with a stack of bills and tears in her eyes when he was working on the fence in the north pasture.

If any of the Abbott’s truly loved the girl, it was Amy. She just had to jump up and down in joy on the front porch when she saw that green bronco pull into the drive every Sunday. Greeting Odelia with a tighter hug each time. Odelia would have to tuck the girl’s head in a little longer so as to not let her see the tears pooling in her hazel eyes. Perry saw. He saw them fall a few times too after Rebecca had gone missing.

Amy hadn’t any verbal clue that Odelia had lost her mom, but the girl wondered sometimes if the younger one somehow felt it within her.

Their relationship even softened a certain cowboy’s gruff heart. He’d catch some moments from the dining table at breakfast. Go along with Amy’s pleas to ride with him out to the north pasture when there was work needing tending to at the fence. She’d call for her, and he would lift her over barbed wire when she met them. Silently praying that a hug for her from his niece would allow her at least one good moment in her day.

He never meant to become such a stranger to Odelia. But, by the time he was long and done with her sister it had already been too late. He was no good at comfort. Nothing he could ever say would make her situation any better, so he chose silence. And she did too. He wasn’t proud of it. He especially wasn’t proud of how he stood behind that group of guys back in school. Hands in his pockets when they pointed a cruel joke at Odelia when they should’ve been around their necks. At that age the only way he knew of getting into the riding crowd was to be uncomfortably stuck up the asses of ignorant teenage boys.

He still shivers when he thinks about what his Ma would do to him if she knew he were the reason she didn’t come around for months. Had her worried sick, riding out to Odelia’s house on the third week. She didn’t tell her the truth, and he never took her for much of a liar. He hears from his mom that Cash, her horse, just had a bad hoof. He knows he saw Odelia and Cash that same morning when he was driving out to the feed store.

He refused to hardly lay eyes on Layla anymore. Not even when she was practically begging him to fuck her under the stands at the Rodeo. He finds himself thinking of Odelia more often than he’d like to admit to anyone. The red halo around her head, the scar on her face from when she would climb through barbed wire to get to his house as a child, the night she caught him sneaking into Layla’s room. He still can’t decide what emotion she held that night, but he thinks it oughta been betrayal.

Not that he had been aware of her tortuous crush on him. He had been oblivious to her loving tendencies at the age of fourteen. How she would shove one of his Ma’s apple fritters into her pocket, giving it to him when they were no longer under Cecilia’s gaze. Always being the first one to check his body for injury when he took a stumble. Still, he could only compare those actions to those of a sister he never had.

While Odelia had found him as a friend at that age, she still remained shy around him. Unlike Layla with her winks and lifting of her skirt in his presence. He had just always figured that Odelia didn’t feel as close to him as he did to her. So, he found a new and different type of friend in her older sister. Luke Tillerson lost his virginity at fourteen, why shouldn’t he be capable of doing that?

He had unintentionally done to Odelia what others had been doing her whole life. Not choosing her.

&

Sunday comes around quicker than it usually does. She’s not sure if that is due to dread or anticipation. Possibly both.

Her days tend to blur when there is more work to be done, but she knows it’s Sunday because she is awoken by the smell of biscuits and the sound of singing from the kitchen. It had become a routine for Daisy to make breakfast on the holy day, singing hymns while she flipped eggs. Odelia had lost her faith a long time ago, and figured her baby sister would too when she came of age. Sure enough when Odelia trudged into the kitchen with one sock a little lower than the other, Daisy was wearing her church dress.

“Morning Odie,” The girl said through a hum. “How’d you sleep?”

“Same as always, lying down.” Odelia stole a biscuit that hadn’t been thrown into gravy from the pan. Earning her a slap with the towel and her favorite teen a kiss on the cheek. “What about you, hun?”

“I slept okay, I had a silly dream.” Daisy spoke as she moved the food to the small dining room table, it had shrunk when Anna moved out and Layla started coming home late into the night, or really not at all. They ate while sharing their dreams.

It wasn’t long until it was time to get in the truck and pay the Abbott’s their usual Sunday morning visit. Odelia to deliver the eggs, and Daisy to catch a ride to church. When they pulled in Amy had been waiting on the porch with a large smile on her face like always.

“Odie, Odie! Grandma, Odie is here!” It was a call that Odelia didn’t think she could ever tire from hearing. Amy had rushed over to her arms immediately. Good thing she had already passed the eggs over to her sister.

“Goodmorning sunshine, what’s got you up so early?” Odelia asked each time just to hear the answer.

“I’ve been waiting on my best friend.” Amy’s wide grin turned into a fake frown, “But, now that she’s here Grandma is gonna make me go to church.”

“Don’t worry, bug.” Odelia leant down to press a kiss to the girls crown, “I know just the person to go with you.”

As if on queue, Amy noticed Daisy’s presence and rushed over to give her a hug. Odelia swiftly grabbed the eggs from her sister’s hands to avoid a mess, and let the two girls follow her as she made her way up the porch. She knocked even though the family was already made well aware of her arrival. She heard a call for her from inside the house and let herself, and the two girls in.

“Oh, bless you. We just ran out.” Cecilia greeted her in the kitchen, taking the eggs from her hands and placing a kiss to her cheek. The dining table held an unfamiliar sight. All three Abbott men sat down waiting for their breakfast, something that typically occurred on special occasions.

“Mornin’ Odelia,” Royal didn’t look up from the morning paper as he greeted her, she didn’t mind one bit. They had an established relationship. Him helping her out when she needed it. Her pretending not to notice that he was anything more than a gruff old grandpa. The small smiles they shared every now and then were enough for her to know that he saw her, and enough for him to know that she was thankful for it.

Perry gave Odelia a slight wave, knowing that if he didn’t he’d have his daughter to answer to. Rhett sat stoic, seeming to pause at Odelia’s arrival. He rested his eyes on her own as a form of greeting, nodding at her gently to which she returned. His hat was on its hook. Hair unruly from a restless sleep. It seemed that all of them were in their church clothes, what a strange sight.

“Is today a holiday?” Odelia muttered outloud with a wrinkled forehead, louder than she meant to.

“Nope.” Cecilia gave her eggs a break on the stove before placing her hands on her hips and turning to Odelia. “Told them I wouldn’t cook their supper for a week. Equally dire.”

A gasp from Amy had Odelia regretting saying those words a little too loud.

“Please come Odie!” Amy looked up to her with her hands wrapped in one another, a begging motion as if Odelia held the name she was baptized under.

“Oh, I don’t know bug. I’m not necessarily in my Sunday best.” She huffed, looking down at her dirty jeans and Carhart jacket. Odie looked at the pout fall upon Amy’s face.

“Even Uncle Rhett is coming! He never comes to church.” Both Amy and Odelia’s eyes shot up to the younger Abbott, who just shrugged under the attention.

“You’ve still got…” Cecilia looked to her wrist, “45 minutes to change. We can meet you there if you need more than ‘at.”

It seemed like everyone’s eyes were on her, awaiting an answer. Odelia hadn’t stepped foot into the church in nearly seven years, not since her mother’s funeral. She gave her cross necklace to Daisy on her 16th birthday.

“Fine, but I’m buying lunch.” Odelia looked back at Cecilia pointedly until her eyes were drawn to Royal by the quiet chuckle leaving his body.

“Like we would ever let you drop a penny on us. Go get dressed, girl.” He waved her off with the Stetson in his hand. As she turned to give Amy and Daisy quick hugs she heard the unforgivable sound of a wooden chair scraping against ceramic. She didn’t turn to see which one of the boys had stood up.

Odelia didn’t have time to register the heat behind her as Rhett grabbed his hat and pushed the door open for her. Her walking past him as he softly spoke a ‘Good Morning’, eyes looking right into hers.

&

It’s just a church. It’s just a church. It’s just a church.

A mantra Odelia replayed in her head as she drove to the white building blessed by God in ways she never had been. The mantra doubled in speed as she parked her bronco. She spotted Daisy helping little Abbott out of Royal’s tall truck, she had no time to chicken out because Amy had already started running over. The sons had drove separately, but had already arrived as well. There was no out.

It didn’t take her forty five minutes to change, only twenty to fix the mess of amber curls under her hat and pull one of her old sundresses out of the closet she hadn’t touched in years. Ten to check on her father. Another ten to sit in the drivers seat and convince herself that she wouldn’t burn up upon entering the double doors. At least she impressed Amy with her appearance.

“You look like a princess.” The nine year old even opened the door for her to get out of the truck. Showing Odelia more respect than any man probably had ever in her life. Before she knew it Amy began dragging her by the wrist to show everyone, hardly giving Odelia time to shut her driver door

“I remember that dress!” Daisy pulled on the sleeves of it, before patting down the wrinkles Odelia couldn’t care to get out. Always the perfectionist. With all eyes on her she blushed profusely, cursing her genes as she felt her skin burn with embarrassment. She also felt the burning stare of a certain blue pair of eyes.

“‘S probably the nicest one I own.” Odelia looked down at herself. There were a few tears in the dress, and she couldn’t stand the way it was just low enough for everyone to see the freckles on her chest. She didn’t know of any princess that looked like this.

“Oh angel, you look wonderful,” Cecilia gently rested her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Rhe—”

“You look beautiful.” The cowboy’s jaw was clenched around the dip in his mouth. Even though Odelia knew he had only said it for his mother’s ears, she felt her heart jump only slightly. Only slightly.

“Thank you, Rhett.” She couldn’t meet his eyes when she said it, not wanting to see the roll of them. Not wanting to know that he didn’t mean it.

If Odelia had looked she wouldn’t have missed the softening of his eyes as they scanned her flushing body. As they both dragged their attention to anything besides each other, both became ignorant to the beaming smile on Amy’s face as she looked between them.

The congregation had seemed happy enough to see her. Pulling her into polite hugs and intruding questions about her whereabouts. She was being pestered and prodded by seventy year old Lou Ann Williams when she caught the Abbott’s and her sister standing on the second to last pew. So much for looking out for her.

She dismissed her conversation with the woman as politely as she could, pointing to the pew and smiling as she walked away. The bench was hardly long enough to hold the group of them, Royal at one end and Daisy at the other. It seemed there was only enough room for her to squeeze between Rhett and Amy. Great.

Royal stepped out upon her return, making way for her to squeeze right in. Getting past Cecilia’s small stature was no trouble. Perry leaned backwards an awful bit to let the girl through. When Odelia got to Rhett she had nearly made up her mind of turning back around to go sit with Lou Ann.

It was no secret that with age and riding bulls the younger Abbott had acquired himself quite the build. His chest poked out with his straightened back, and his height was nothing but intimidating. The smell of leather and tobacco dizzied her before she stepped in front of him. She decided that rubbing her ass on him to get by wouldn’t be so appropriate in the middle of a church. She excused herself as their chests touched, clearly taking no example from his brother on letting a lady through. His eyes flickered to hers for a brief second, but it might have been longer. Odelia had no clue.

“Sorry.” She whispered, not missing the quiet swallow of spit she got in return. She had made it to her spot, but at what cost.

She sat through the sermon. A full hour of Rhett’s denim knee touching her’s, it seems he was given just enough space to man spread. It was harder to ignore that than the shared giggles between Daisy and little Amy, who was all too happy with her conniving actions.

After final prayer had concluded, the group shuffled out the same way they shuffled in. Minus Odelia being a mere inch from meeting her hips with Rhett’s.

The sun had found it’s place in the middle of the sky, making the Wyoming fall feel that much warmer. Which made it that much easier for Odelia to conceal her blushing cheeks when she caught those blue eyes on her face.

“Meeting at the diner, Odie.” Cecilia rushed, wanting to beat the crowd.

“I’d love to, but I really gotta get home.” Odelia’s nose scrunched. “‘Ave been putting off moving the cattle for days now.”

“Nonsense, no work on the lord’s day. Rhett will help you tomorrow morning.” She turned to the truck before the girl could so much as get another word out.

“Ma—”

“Rhett Abbott. If your father doesn’t even move cattle alone what makes you think Odie should.” Cecilia turned to her son with a look that should’ve made thunder roll out of the clouds.

“I’ve done it before, Cecilia. It’s no problem, really.” Odelia raised her hands and waved both of them off, but the mother was too caught up in staring down her son to notice. Rhett’s eyes were on her though, the longer he looked at her the more he started to forget about what the hell he even had to do on a Monday morning.

“I’ll be there at 7.” His words pushed Odelia’s hands down back to her sides. All she could do was shake her head at him. Cecilia was quick to turn back and point at her next.

“You need to learn how to accept help, missy,” then back to Rhett. “And, you need to prioritize what really matters.”

What really matters.

“Yes Ma’am.” Odelia couldn’t figure out for the life of her why Rhett’s eyes never left her face.

[rhettabbotts]

"you've made me the happiest I've ever been" with DILF!Rhett it just screams him once he's found love again 🥹🥹

the moment i knew - dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

summary: the one where rhett finds himself falling in love again.

warnings: none. just some good ole fluff with our favorite old man.

It was the perfect autumn day. The sun was high in the sky. There was a slight breeze through the air but your hands were warm from the hot apple cider in the paper cup you were carrying around the pumpkin patch. Grace and Ellie were walking, nearly running, ahead of you and Rhett in the corn maze. They insisted they knew which way to go and Rhett couldn’t hold back his grin every time you ran into a dead end.

“Remind me to never go anywhere with them when they start driving,” you joked, not paying attention to the way you inserted yourself into Rhett’s future. It was still new, this thing between you and him. You had not established what you were yet and here you were planning on being there when his daughters reached driving age.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t apologize. I’ll be glad to have someone around to help me teach them because god knows they’ll probably give me a heart attack,” Rhett joked, his rough - much larger hand - intertwined with yours. “I haven’t seen them smile like this in a long time. They really only smile like that when you’re around.”

“Oh, I don’t think- I mean corn mazes make everyone happy. Except for the haunted ones. I could never go through a haunted one. I would probably cry-” you stopped talking when you saw Rhett’s smile. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“I love it,” he grinned, tightening his grip on your hand.

Grace was calling your name from just a few feet in front of you and she was so excited to show you the ear of purple corn she just found. You walked with her and Ellie, leaving Rhett to trail behind several paces. He couldn’t stop the way his heart fluttered watching you joke and laugh with his daughters. He thought it would’ve been impossible to find love again, especially after his nasty divorce from the girls’ mother.

You made it easy. Your smile could like up any room you walked into and you took everything with stride. You accepted him with wounded heart and the life he had built before you. And you loved his girls. That was more than he could ever ask for.

He inhaled deeply as the thought crossed his mind. It hit him like a runaway freight train. Swift and hard. He loved you. He was in love with you and he could see himself being with you for a very long time.

Rhett kept the thought to himself as you found your way out of the maze and the girls took off to the bounce house they had set up. You walked beside one another, pinkies locking and arms swinging as you made your way to a vacant hay bale.

“They’re going to be asleep the second we leave here,” you observed, smiling softly to yourself as you watched them play.

“Hey,” Rhett spoke, voice a little shaky.

“Hmm?”

“I just- I wanted to tell you that- you’ve really made such an impact on the girls. They adore you.”

“They’re the best,” you said.

“And you’ve made an impact on me, too. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been. I wanted you to know that. This- what we’re doing- it’s not me messing around. I’m in this.”

You fought back the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes and you bit your wobbling lip. Heart soaring, you wrapped your arms tight around his neck. And he pulled you in closer. A hug that felt like a promise. A promise that you’d never let go of one another.

“I love you, Rhett. I’m sorry. I- I couldn’t hold that in any longer.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now, let’s go wrangle those turkeys.”

And as you walked back to the truck, Ellie on one hip and Grace holding your other hand, Rhett found his new beginning. With no one else other than his favorite girls in the entire world.

[jungle-angel]

Baby's first Thanksgiving with rip wheeler! please and thank you <333

Rachel.....dahling.....why must you make me an offer I can't refuse??!!!! (lol).

Neither you nor Rip were awoken by the alarm on his phone that usually awoke the two of you during the work week, but rather, the cries of your four month old daughter, Evelyn.

"Relax sugar bear, I've got her," Rip groaned, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

You awoke again, maybe a few minutes or even a half hour, to the snow falling heavily outside and Rip re-entering your room with Baby Evie who had finally calmed down.

"You know young lady," he said, pretending to be stern with her. "Your momma needs her sleep too. We've got a big day ahead of us with all your aunts and uncles, your cousins and everybody coming over for dinner tonight."

You laughed and held out your arms to take Evelyn from your husband. "Did Rhett and the others call?" you asked him.

"Said they'd all be up from Wabang in the next hour if the snow doesn't get worse," Rip explained. "Gettin the house done's gonna be a pain in the royal ass."

You laughed as you sat back and let Evie feed for a little bit, knowing she was probably hungry. A savory smell coming from the kitchen caught you off guard. "Rip is somebody in the kitchen?"

Rip shook his head and shrugged. As soon as you could get out of bed and Evelyn had her fill, you took her right down to the kitchen to find Mo, Thomas Rainwater's right hand man, in your kitchen, peeling a rather large bag of potatoes Rip had gathered from the garden in the backyard.

"Well good morning sleepyheads," Mo greeted.

"Morning Mo," you chuckled. "How long have you been at those potatoes?"

"Been at'em for a good half hour," Mo answered. "Birds's all gutted and brining in the fridge. Don't know what the hell you want done with the corn though."

"Woah wait a sec, ya'll brought corn?" Rip asked him.

"And you mean to tell me you don't remember?" Mo questioned. "I got that shit from my neighbor."

"Wait, the old lady on the rez that owns the corn stand?"

"Of course it's the old lady you brain dead deer turd," Mo laughed. "She's the only owner of a roadside corn stand in the whole of Bozeman!"

Rip went down to the cellar pantry and came back up a few minutes later with the basket of corn, setting it beside the island counter in the kitchen. "Here's hopin we have enough."

"That shit'll feed a whole village for weeks," Mo told Rip as he peeled the potatoes. "Here, you take over the potatoes."

"Yes chef, anything you say chef," Rip chuckled.

"(Y/n) you want anything while I'm in here?" Mo asked you.

"Um just a coffee if you don't mind," you answered. It wasn't long before the coffee was brewed and Evelyn began making grabby hands for her uncle.

"Alright, alright sweetpea you come with me," Mo said, lifting Evelyn from your arms.

You slipped into the kitchen to help your husband peel the potatoes, shuck the corn and get everything ready for when the family arrived. "Well," Rip said as he began chopping the onions. "Not as chaotic as I thought her first Thanksgiving would be."

"Just you wait," you warned him. "John, Thomas, Kayce and Monica will all come traipsing through that door with something freshly dead and throw it on the counter."

Rip laughed before he kissed you. "Happy Thanksgiving sweet thing."

"Happy Thanksgiving you big weirdo," you answered.

[delopsia]

Ok so I’m assuming Rhett is 30 ish because Lewis is 30 (almost 31 in like a month) but like Rhett with reader who is younger than him by a good number of years (reader being 23 at youngest probably) what’s the relationship like? Was he super reluctant at first because of the gap? How do we meet him? How does the family feel? What if he’s her first “real” boyfriend? How would he react to reader asking him to take their v card?

When I tell you that this has been stuck in my head since you sent me this, oh my GOD. I've been meaning to write this concept with Rhett and Bobby for over a year and keep forgetting to 🤤 I got a little carried away. Hope y'all don't mind 🤍

Canonically, Rhett is twenty-four, but I think we as a collective have chosen to ignore that 💃 here's my proof post on that, if you're curious 💕 TLDR: Rhett was born June 12th, 1996, and OR S1 takes place in November 2020

For the sake of this post, I'll just leave it and say he's noticeably older than the reader ✨ I don't want to set a specific age for him and accidentally exclude someone :(

I like to view an older version of Rhett as someone who's still into the rodeos; he's gotten up there in the bull riding ranks, and though he's a year or two away from aging out of it, he's still up there kicking ass when you first encounter him. It's your first time coming to this rodeo, and you're not sure what to think when you see him leaned up against the fence in that quiet, rugged glory so many cowboys seem to carry. Older than the rest of the riders, so jaded by buckle bunnies that he hardly notices the ones trying to get his attention.

The first time you walk past him, he lifts the corner of his lip and nods his head toward you as if to say hello. Some simple little thing that gets you smiling, hoping to high heaven that your friends don't notice the sudden weakness in your knees. Three Sundays in a row, you go to the rodeo with your friends, and three Sundays in a row, you walk past him on your way to the food trucks. Three Sundays in a row, he smiles and nods his head at you.

You think he's just being nice.

Rhett just thinks you're hot.

But he's too tired of entertaining relationships with folks who only want him for what lurks beneath his championship buckle and to tell all their friends they fucked a real cowboy. It was fun when he was younger, but after a while, like most things, it gets old.

So when he sees you at the bar after a rodeo one night, he doesn't think too much about it. Sneaks a few glances at you out the corner of his eye, sure, quietly wondering how pretty his name would sound coming out of your mouth, but that's it.

Until some hotshot decides that he's going to give you hell while your friends are in the bathroom. And Rhett's within the perfect earshot to get rightfully pissed off. He's not particularly one to get into someone else's business, but he's also not too fond of this whole "badger someone 'till they give what you want" technique the younger boys have been employing recently.

"'s this guy botherin' ya?" He asks, in that gravelly voice, his elbow propping against the bar, speaking to you but his eyes never once leaving the steer wrestler giving you trouble. He's got a history with this kid; this isn't their first confrontation.

Of course, you don't know that when the younger man goes nose-to-nose with Rhett. But oh, if it doesn't make you the slightest bit dizzy when Rhett's jaw hardens at your meek 'yes.'

He only means to scare the guy off and go back to watching his buddy eat shit at the pool table, but your friends are taking forever to come back, and he's found himself offering to sit with you until they do. You're asking his name, and he's ashamed to admit that his heart jumps at the sound of his name on your tongue.

You don't seem to care all that much about the age difference, and Rhett's got no reason to be concerned; your age doesn't end in 'teen,' and you can legally drink, but he's found himself a touch hesitant to flirt with you. Isn't all that fond of breaking his heart over another sweetheart who stumbled into Wabang.

But you just keep running into each other. You're in line with him at a food truck; he sees you at a rodeo bonfire and chats you up until your friends are begging to head home. He's given you his number, and he's catching himself looking for you at the end of his rides.

And then he's busting his left shoulder after a ride, and somehow, he's found himself outside of the ambulance, being backed up against a wall as you kiss him hard on the mouth. It's the first kiss he's had in years, and your hands on his big chest are the sweetest thing he's ever felt. It's everything, and it takes every ounce of his will to draw your hand off of his belt buckle.

"Y' don't wanna do that," his whispered warning drips off his tongue like honey, and oh do you want a taste, "'m 'fraid if I let ya have me, I might follow ya 'round for the rest of my life."

He really doesn't know what to do when you smile and ask, "But what if that's what I want?"

How he survived that, he doesn't know. But a kiss-filled conversation ends in him agreeing to take you on a real, proper date. He takes you to Odessa's diner for lunch, pulls your chair out for you, and never lets you touch a door, and he gets along with you so well. It helps a lot that he's been on a funky little life path that has given him many of the same experiences as you. There's an age gap, sure, but his stage of life isn't too different from your own. Especially because he was a bit of a late bloomer with this whole 'adult' thing. The perks of being emotionally stunted by Royal...

Rhett doesn't differ that much if he's your first boyfriend; he's sickeningly sweet, regardless. No amount of experience or inexperience will stop him from going all out on you; if there's one thing his momma did, it was raise him right. You might as well be royalty. That being said, he's happy to take the lead (or give it up) depending on your experience level.

The relationship isn't all that different from how it would be if he was your age. There are some generational references that take time to understand, and Rhett's age shows the most when you try teaching him to use Instagram, but that's a given. He's a little bit smug when you're with him in public, especially at rodeos. He knows he's struck gold, and he intends to show you off as much as you're comfortable with. Protective, too. Those bull riders know better than to linger and try their luck with you. More times than you can count, you've overheard the whispered warning, "That one's Rhett's."

Rolls his eyes when you (affectionately) call him old man...

To be fair, Rhett does try to wait until a few weeks into your relationship to start getting intimate; he wants to take things slow with you, but then you're cupping him through his jeans, and he's breathless as you massage him through the fabric. And when you sit in his lap, wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and grind your ass down into him? He's a goner.

If you're a virgin, then he's extra careful with you. Takes some more time to draw your clothes off, slow as he kisses down your belly until he can run his tongue up your sweet little pussy. But he's obscene about it, regardless. Groaning around your clit, letting you yank on his hair all you need. Frustrates you to no end because you're trying so hard to get him to fuck you, and all he wants to do is eat you out. Four times. Four times, you rile him up, and the most progress you make is getting his jeans off. He doesn't mean to upset you, he's just a whore for giving oral.

Until that one time at the bar when you hauled him into a bathroom stall, dropped to your knees, and wrapped your mouth around him before he could get under your skin.

That got him. You couldn't take all of him, gagging every time his plush tip hit the back of your throat, but his knees were shaking. Moans muffled by the palm of his hand. Trying his best to pull you off when he came and damn near hit the floor when you instead chose to swallow him down.

Again, if you're a virgin, then there isn't a huge difference in how he treats you when he takes your virginity. Not out of impatience or anything of the sort, but it's your first time together. He's going to treat you like a virgin regardless. Overusing the lube as he introduces you to a thick, calloused finger, watching your reaction for the slightest hint of pain. "'s this hurt? No? You sure?"

Annoyingly pushes the tip of his cock against you, then lets it slide through your folds, obsessed with the sight of it. But just as you're going to complain, he finally nudges inside, and it silences you completely.

If there is one thing about Rhett Abbott, it's that he's huge in more ways than one. Splitting you open in all the right ways, big hands stroking up and down your skin, whispering the filthiest things into your ears. "Think 'm almost too big for your lil pussy, angel." "Shhh, we'll make it fit. Jus' relax 'round me." "'s that feel good, sweetheart? Y' like bein' stretched 'round my cock like that?"

He ruins you either way. You never pegged yourself to be this insatiable, riding him in his truck, fucking him outside the bar, in bathroom stalls, cheap hotel rooms, bending over the hood of his truck while he had a flat tire. It's not your fault; Rhett's just that damn good, and he's somehow able to match you entirely. Rolls his eyes a little, sure, but he's just doing that to annoy you. "This old man fucks you that good, hm? Cute little pussy ain't satisfied 'till I pump it nice 'n full of my cum?"

Sometimes, he tells you he's too tired for sex and then turns around and pounces on you because he heard you whimper once and had a second burst of energy.

Which...is how your relationship gets found out. He's left a mark on your collar, and at some point, you bend down to pick up a fork you dropped, and it gets noticed. So you either got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner and lost, or you have a little someone.

The worst part is telling everyone how old he is. Rhett's got this funny charm where he looks younger than he actually is, and it nearly makes someone choke at the dinner table. And Rhett's not the best with people, but he's quick to make a good impression. He's like a fine wine; he's gotten better as he's aged.

You'll likely never meet Rhett's family, and if you do, it's a handful of times for no longer than two hours. After Rhett moved out, there's been tension every time he sees his folks. He was supposed to stay and spend his life helping the ranch, to honor his family loyalties, not run off and find love in someone else. Cecelia's sweet, doesn't say anything about the age gap, so long as you're both happy. Royal...you don't know what he said, but you had to grab Rhett by the belt to reign him in.

All that being said, Rhett's a sweetheart to you, regardless of your age gap. There are some differences that wouldn't be there if he was your age, but he's keen to work on those things together. Rhett doesn't fall in love often, but when he does, he falls hard, and he's going to give you the world. Even if you do call him old man every now and then.

Like I said...I got carried away

[wyn-n-tonic]

Something In the Static

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Uhhhh... warning you now that I don't know what happened here. Gif is just a gif.

“You ever reckon I’m holding you back?”

No Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.

No kiss.

Not even a Hey, baby.

Just the sound of the door closing and the smell of a beer washed down by rain coming in before he does. Before those words come out of his mouth.

And you must really show your confusion because he repeats them; he repeats this question that is so beyond comprehension that he says it again. Three fucking times like it’s one for every year you’ve been back here. 

Glasses off, you study him, sopping wet like a half drowned dog. “I'm going to ignore, Rhett Abbott, that you probably tracked cow shit through my goddamn living room seeing as you still have your boots on just so I can ask you if you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” But it is not a question, not really, and he knows that.

“Do you ever reck—“

“No, I fucking heard you.” It’s like he’s giving you one to grow on, to cover this upcoming year. “There's a book in your hands and he’s lucky he hasn’t caught it with his forehead. “Go take a shower, you smell like a distillery.”

“But—“

“No.” You’ve gone back to your book, curled up and into the pillow as he stalks away through to the attached bathroom in your periphery. 

He gets like this sometimes. Not lately but sometimes. Like he’s got some preemptive grief he’s trying to work through and part of working through that is ensuring that it’ll be needed at all. 

You don’t hear the water—stopping or starting—and you don’t hear when he comes back. For such a large man, he sure is light on his feet. It’s only when the mattress dips beneath his weight and the smell of soap and the coconut body wash you know he stole from you that you fully register his presence.

Rhett buries his face into your back and breathes deep, large, calloused hands sneaking beneath your shirt. His shirt. For a moment, you almost want to ask him if you can keep it when he succeeds in his agenda to push you away.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“You could fool me about that sometimes.”

Another sound, more words muffled by the fabric pulled between his teeth as he bites down and pushes himself closer. 

“I thought you were over this shit, Rhett,” you say, staring down at the page that hasn’t turned since he came in. He was over this shit, these were never his words in the first place. These are the words of his brother; the words of the all the jackasses he’s never been able to escape. All these words picking at his deepest insecurities to give them life.

Some half-assed apology tumbles forward and his weight shifts until he’s pulling you over and around to face him and his bloodshot eyes. “Saw your mom today,” he says. “She said you might get promoted.”

“Might.” 

“But you’d possibly have to travel a lot,” he says, “and that’s not something you’d have to do if you’d have just stayed in Chicago.”

“I didn’t want to stay in Chicago.”

Rhett’s eyes close and he takes a breath before saying, “I always have and I always will stand still. I-I’m stuck here and you came back for me.”

“I adore you, Rhett Abbott, so I’m going to give you the kindness of my cruelty which is where I hope yours is coming from, too,” you tell him, thumbing away one of the silent tears slipping from the corner of his eye. “It’s a little hypocritical to suggest I came back here for you while your own insecurity has you accusing me of resentment. I came back here for me and you were such a large part of that, Rhett, you were. I chose you and choosing you means choosing here and I don’t hate you for it.”

“But you should get to see the world, you’re not doing that here.”

“And I wouldn’t do that spending half my life locked in an office the size of a broom closet in some high rise in a big city just so I can pay rent and die alone either.” 

There’s rawness in your voice as you practically scream it because you can’t do this again. You told him last time that it had to be the last time. You took his ring and made him promise that it would be. 

“I'll be better for you,” he promises. He practically pleads. “I’ll do better for you.”

“But I don’t know what you mean by that,” you tell him. “Doing better for me is putting these thoughts out of your head and having the confidence in me that I am making decisions with my eyes open.”

“But I could be different for you,” he says. There’s no telling how much alcohol he’s had or how much is still pumping through his system. “I-I can—“

“I don’t want different, I want you. I live with you, I’m in love with you. If I wanted different, I would say something. If I wanted change, I would work with you to make it happen. I am fine where we are, I am happy.”

“But the promotion—“

“I don’t want it, Rhett,” you say. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want it, I told my mom because I needed to talk through all the ways I didn’t want it without you doing this shit to me again. Why don’t you understand that?”

He flattens himself out onto his back, both hands coming up to cover his face. He’s still naked from his shower, warm from the water and the beer and just the fact that he is. Always so warm, a comforting blanket and the only person you ever want.

Pushed up and on your knees, you stare down at him. “Rhett, I was really depressed when I wasn’t here.”

“What does that—“

“Doesn’t matter because I didn’t want you to see me like that, I didn’t want to be like that. You’re not some static creature firmly planted into the ground with petrified roots and you’re not a bear trap holding me in your jaws either.” 

He relaxes. There’s always some point that he does when all the tension melts out of him and he’s no longer a board but your boy again. “I want you to stop drinking about this shit.”

He mumbles that he knows as he sits up, back pressed up against the headboard. “I think you want me to stop drinking altogether.”

Reaching out, you wipe another stray tear off of his cheek. “I’m in love with you but I didn’t come back for you and I’m not staying because of you.”

A beat passes and then he pushes his hair back while laughing. A pitiful ass fucking sound. “And to think I spent all day out in the pasture thinking about being between your legs. I didn’t even mean to go out fucking drinking, I just had to pick up feed, ran into your mama and ended up there.” 

“Didn't answer your phone,” you add, “didn't apologize at all—“

“I'm sorry, honey.”

“Don't honey me, Rhett Abbott,” you tell him, “and you’re damn right you’ll be between my legs. You have a lot more apologizing to do than just that pitiful shit.” 

Rhett twitches, his muscles flexing of their own accord beneath his smooth skin, and he groans. “You wanna do it right now?”

Your head shakes. "Maybe I would’ve if you’d come home on time,” you tell him, stretching out beside him. “These conversations take all my energy.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Do it again and I won’t even let you sleep in here.” 

He laughs and it only makes him twitch again against his stomach.

“I'm serious, Rhett,” you tell him, glancing over the fact that you’re fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. “But I don’t like being mad at you, I don’t like being jealous and I know that you have a lot of jealousy and I don’t like that either.”

And even that makes him twitch.

“I like being here with you,” you go on, lips dragging across the skin of his rib; over the tattoo of your name he never told you he was getting. “And if I came back for anything, it was for this massive dick.”

Twitches. Again.

Which makes him cover himself, one massive hand cupping over his length. “Now you’re just teasing me, sweetheart.” 

“You broke my heart when you walked your scrawny little ass in here and asked me if I hate you for making me stand still, so I think I’m entitled to it.”

“I just think about all the things you could be doing and all the things you have done, you know?” Rhett shifts his body back down the bed to lay flat beside you and turns until he’s facing you. “I'm just some dumb cowboy who can barely operate a toaster.”

“And it’s the best damn toast I’ve ever had.”

This conversation has gotten off the rails now and, truthfully, the hurt it caused to begin with has faded. All to leave two tired bodies next to one another, nose to nose with nothing but your own clothes between you.

“Touch yourself,” you tell him.

“I want to touch you,” he responds, followed by a promise that it doesn’t have to be much; that he just wants to hold your hand.

His eyes are just innocent enough to believe, pulling you in until his lips are on yours. Because that’s also how this works. He says something hurtful out of insecurity, betraying the insecurity he has in your relationship because he doesn’t believe he’s good enough. He takes his slap on the wrist, the talking down, and then he curls into and around you. Some sort of protection as if he needs the closeness of the night to convince him.

“Can I just be inside of you?” He finally asks, fingers creeping over the elastic waistband of your panties. “Please?”

“There it is,” you tease. “You know you can just ask to fall asleep inside of me, you don’t have to make me sad to do it.” 

Guilt flashes across his face, so heavy with the day and the work and this on every feature, before he smiles. “Is that a yes?”

He doesn’t wait a second longer as soon as the word yes starts to form in your mouth, doing his best to pull the soft material down and off of you with the help of your twisting hips. Then he pushes inside, easy the way it always is for him. 

As he settles, lips mouthing at your pulse point, he says, “will you tell me again? Just one more time?”

“I'm in love with you, Rhett Abbott,” you indulge him, “and if I have to be caught between somebody’s teeth, I’d rather it be yours than job’s or anybody else for that matter.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I'm sorry.”

“Clean the cow shit out of my rug and then I’ll accept the apology.” 

[lewmagoo]

had this thought last night of you getting to peg rhett, but only when he loses rides. so it’s few and far in between. and because it’s essentially a punishment for losing, you always make him ride you. and i literally was just thinking about him grinding on your strap while his cock just bobs in front of you and you’re being mean as hell. telling him how badly he rode tonight and how ‘we’re gonna practice all night until you learn something’ and only winners get to cum. maybe you edge him all night, making him stop so he can eat you out. you straddle his face, strap still half on. eats you out until you’re dripping. maybe you make him taste himself on your strap after, get it all wet again for his ass. then you repeat that whole thing over and over until he’s almost delirious and mumbling about how good he’s been and ‘please, darlin’, please’ and then you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, only stimulating that sensitive spot on the back of his head, and he cums almost instantly. then you spend the rest of the night taking care of your big, strong cowboy 😮‍💨🫣

he always feels as if he needs to pay some sort of penance for a bad ride. which you've never pushed him to do, he's the one that comes to you on his own, seeking it out. he gets all agitated and bratty after a bad ride. he knows if he acts up it'll get him punished and fucked within an inch of his life, so that's why he does it. but he won't outright say it. you have to wrestle him down to the bed and put him in his place. and he lets you. he doesn't put up much of a fight. when you tell him to ride you, he's trying so hard, bouncing on your strap, face a mask of concentration.

and god, if you edge him? that's a sure way to get him to lose his mind. he gets soooo whiny and starts begging for you to let him come after the first denied orgasm. but you need to wring it out of him, turn him into a sniveling, crying mess. only when tears are streaming down his cheeks and he can't form anything but a babbled out "please, please, please' do you let him come. he sobs as he spills into your mouth, and thanking you for it. and you'd best believe the aftercare needs to be very extensive. you clean him up lovingly and then give him all the skin to skin contact he needs. he doesn't let go of you for the rest of the night, and he needs to hear your praise whispered against his hair as you cradle him close.