#oc: rhett

[simcardiac-arrested]

[fergusdraws]

Some dumb little doodles from today.

[wearerofsocksart]

little art dump

kobi belongs to sporeunfortunatesoul on th

paku belongs to my irl friend

rhett (my oc) and genji (ow2)

fursona cheeb

my new oc jack-o's ref sheet

painted fursona portrait

[zeddiearts]

oc's from an abandoned game project

[miniatureowl]

An extremely short OC-tober 2020! Only three that year and two more for I+S story.

1) Khro the Raven

Sayura's dad and not a good one at that! Starting really easy since I already had Khro put together. Originally I had him as a crow demon, BUT he actually has more characteristics of a raven and I like the idea of that causing confusion!

2) Rhett the Monk/ 37 (updated)

Also known as Rhett the Rat to a few in his monastery that also specializes in demon "cleansing". After a stint doing some unsavory work, losing both an eye and small family in the process, he seeks redemption and now can be a little too by-the-book. Though sweet and helpful, Rhett doesn't see the "greys" as much anymore. Meeting Sayura challenges this.

3) Veran the Demon Hunter/ 40

An independent demon hunter who specializes in knives, daggers, and close combat. He's searching for the demons that killed half his family when he was a kid, but so far has come up empty. Fueled by vengeance, he trusts no one. Sayura is no exception.

[delopsia]

stalling | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 3,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, cunnilingus, hand jobs, a men's masturbation sleeve, PBR! Rhett, implied marriage. (But also, Rhett Abbott being needy.) Exhibitionism, if you wanna be technical about it. Brief Summary: You're going to be in so much trouble if someone walks in and finds out that the PBR's best cowboy is eating you out in a bathroom stall.

It's the obnoxious squelch of his drooling tongue gliding over your clit that's going to give him away. 

Wet little noises punctuate his every movement. So sharp that they bounce off the walls, running round and round the room and in your ears until it's all you can hear. Has your shivering fingers pulling harder on his hair, yanking him away just enough for one of those deep groans to escape, and oh god, it's only making things worse.

The last thing you need to do is give someone a reason to open the bathroom door. Walk in and catch sight of Rhett's knees against the concrete floor, between another pair of legs. Unzipped jeans pooling around his ass, one-of-a-kind rodeo buckle glinting in the light, right next to where his neglected cock rests in his lap, so heavy that it can no longer stand upright. 

Cheers roar outside. A buzzer sounds, chased by the muffled shout of an announcer you've already forgotten the name of—another eight-second ride. But it's not going to be enough to steal the number one slot. No, not with that shiny new record, not even thirty minutes old yet. 

"Thank you," he's panting, hardly able to draw himself back to speak, as if doing so will cause his whole world to crumble.  "Thank you for letting me eat your pussy."

His tongue is so hot. A wet flame that presses into you, lazily working in and out, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit, barely there touches that have your hips jolting. But as quickly as his tongue appeared, it's drifting away entirely. Bold enough to test the waters but too impatient to commit, already venturing up, up, up, back to the swollen little bud that he can't stop tormenting.

You're going to be in so much trouble if someone walks in and finds out that the PBR's best cowboy is eating you out in a bathroom stall.

"Y' taste so good," speaking directly into you, his voice rumbling up your belly and into your chest, jostling the cluster of butterflies that have been resting there. 

The heels of your palms press into his forehead, but it's not doing anything. You can't escape the frenzied twitch of his tongue, rolling back and forth, a feather-light contact that ought to send you through the roof. 

"Rhett, you're gonna..." The sound of your voice is meeting your ears, but you can't feel your mouth moving. "Oh fuck—Rhett, you're gonna get us caught." And there's more that you want to say, but you're being cut short by your own drawn-out squeal, fingers knotting in those deep brown locks.

Your heart hammers against your chest with all the strength and fury of those bulls he rides. Thighs shivering, nerves set alight as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking so harshly that the noise echoes all around the room. 

"'s my reward, ain't it?" He sounds almost innocent. As if his devilish tongue isn't hanging out of his mouth, the definition of sin itself. "They can't object to that."

You'd like to argue that they can, but fuck, those loose little circles are about to put you on the goddamn floor. Hips writhing, held in place by the big hands squeezing the fat of your ass, forcing you to remain upright until he's had his fill of you. 

"Rhett—"

Hinges squeal as the bathroom door swings open. 

Sparkling blue eyes dart up to your face, and you can't see it, but you can feel the grin working its way across his face. Boots thump across the floor, then fall silent. The sharp sound of a zipper sliding down kisses your ears. Whoever it is, they're only here for the urinal. 

But Rhett Abbott doesn't care what they're here to do. Opening his mouth to lick a long, fat stripe up your pussy, so content with himself that his eyes close midway. And there's not a damn thing that you can do about it. Hands flying up to clamp over your mouth, stifling a whimper that would surely give you away. 

That big, dumb idiot is pointing his tongue now. The soft tip of it delicately dancing across you, like too much pressure will cause the walls of this bathroom to come crumbling down. Diligently rolling your clit around like you're a piece of candy that he can just idly toy with. A cry squeaks out of you, hardly masked by the loud flush of the toilet.

There's no reason that this should be causing heat to pool in your lower belly, but it is. Winding tighter and tighter, a taut string pulled to its breaking point. So close to snapping that every step this stranger takes is too slow. Thunking closer and closer to the door, until finally...

It screeches open. Then, begins to close once more. 

You've never been so thankful for someone not washing their hands. Already reaching down to tangle your fingers in Rhett's hair and yanking. Forcing that sinful mouth of his away from your sex before—

"No, no, no," Rhett's babbling, whining, like his life depends on it. "Please, I want y' to cum on my tongue. Please, please, I want, I want..."

You can't even begin to argue with him. Because he's already wriggling himself loose, and his dripping tongue is back on you, and his stubble is scratching against you in the most mind-numbing fashion, and your whole world goes silent. 

Nothing but a faint ringing in your ears as your thighs clamp down around his skull, cumming without the slightest bit of warning. Head tilting back, thunking against the wall. A wildfire rushing across your skin in the form of a shiver. And Rhett just can't help himself, humming, licking you through it until the involuntary spasm of your pussy devolves into oversensitive, full-body jolts. 

"You..." sucking in a gasp, "have a problem." 

Understatement of the century. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was being paid. 

Rhett leans back onto his haunches, scruffy, unshaven chin glistening in the light. Dripping, even. "But I'm your problem." You don't know who taught him that, but they're going to get an earful when you catch them.

"That you are," weak, you pull on his hair, hardly enough to even sway his head. "Come up here, dummy."

There's hardly a bit of strength left in your body, and yet, somehow, your little motion is enough to get him moving, knees creaking and all, as he rises to his feet. Wet nose bumping into your cheek, nuzzling you in some odd, dog-like fashion that has you succumbing to the urge to slide your hand down and scratch him behind the ear. 

Eyelashes flutter. Pushing back into your hand. "You pettin' me?" 

"You gonna do something about it if I am?" Taunting, beneath your breath. 

His eyes roll, but he doesn't need to open his mouth for you to know what his answer is. Not when he's smiling like that, a lopsided grin and half-lidded eyes. So laid back and content that he hardly seems to realize that both of your hands are making their way down to his waist, grabbing hold of it and forcing him to spin around. 

Boots chirp against the floor. And you're reaching toward your purse with one hand, blindly feeling against the stall door until you can find where it's hanging. The other arm slips around his belly, cinching him to you. His back knocks into your chest, so close that his hair tickles your cheek. 

"Y' ain't gotta..." he starts, but whatever he's trying to tell you dies in his throat. Shut up by the clear object you're drawing out of your bag. The new stroker sleeve you've been saying you'll try out but have never had the patience to dig it out of the drawer. Inconspicuous at first glance, just a rubber cylinder, textured with little nubs on the inside. 

"Can you do something for me?" Ghosting your lips over the shell of his ear. 

It's impossible to miss the shiver that rattles down his spine. "Uhuh." Nodding dumbly. 

"Touch yourself." Comes out as more of an order than a request, but that doesn't matter because Rhett's already reaching for himself. Big hand wrapping around his neglected cock, sucking in an audible breath from that alone.

You can't dig the lube out fast enough, popping open the cap and blindly pouring it into the toy. So half-assed that some of it winds up spilling out the side, running over your fingers and dripping to the floor. But you don't care; a mess is worth the sight of Rhett stroking himself, twisting his wrist just how he likes it, hips greedily leaning up into his own touch.

Lazy, you drizzle some of the lube right onto his hand, uncaring of the mess you're making. Almost entranced as he spreads it over himself, shimmering in the dull bathroom light. 

But then he's reaching out, sticky hand impatiently curling around yours, trying to guide the toy toward himself. "I want..." his head shakes, searching for words. "Want..." 

If this were any other day, you like to imagine you'd play dumb. Force him to put into words exactly what he wants and how. But the rodeo crowd and the booming voice of the announcer are still out there, anticipating his celebratory return, and that new, sparkling record ought to warrant him a reward. 

He knows that he's getting what he wants, too. Hand sliding back to his base, holding himself still as you lower that dripping toy onto him.

His head tilts backward with a gasp, falling onto your shoulder.

All that and you've hardly slid the thing past his flushed tip, almost have to squeeze him to you in order to keep him still, working down him inch by devastating inch. 

"Oh my god," a little waver in his voice, hips involuntarily jerking up into the sleeve. Those knees buckle, knocking into each other. "Fuck."

A giggle rumbles out of him, and you don't need to look in the mirror to know that his cheeks have turned a nice shade of strawberry, set off by the sound of his own voice. One of these days, you'll get him to believe that he sounds pretty like this, but right now, you've got a different agenda on your plate.

"Tell me how it feels," you whisper, slowly drawing that toy back up, squeezing your fist past his cock head, then beginning to draw down again. 

"Feels..." but he's forgotten how to talk, mouth floundering without a sound. "'s tight...and—mmh!"

Maybe it's your fault for twisting back up so quickly, but you just can't help it. Not when his ass is squirming back into you, unsure if he wants to push into the toy or wriggle away, mouth hardly muffling that long, drawn-out groan. Even through the thick silicone, you can feel the way he twitches, jerking in your hand like a live wire. 

So, so sensitive after a couple days of no fun.

Your hand is already quickening. Too eager to hear those breathy little oh, oh, oh's, set off by the flick of your wrist when you pass over his head. Thighs squeeze together, one of his hands flying out to brace himself against the mirror. The one that you can't quit looking at. Downright obsessed with the sight of this clear silicone hugging tight around his cock. The way precum is already spilling out of him and dripping onto the floor below. 

"Feels—feels good," tripping over his own words, voice so high that you hardly recognize it. "Fuck." 

And just like that, your hand stops. Squeezing firm at his base as he involuntarily jolts forward. 

A whine echoes through the bathroom. Pitchy. Frustrated. "Why...why did you..." He tilts his head to meet your eye. "You stopped." Speaking dumbly.

"I know." Grinning. Your hand loosens just enough for him to move again. "Try and fuck it by yourself."

Almost automatically, he tries to jerk forward. Boots stumbling across the floor, forearm flying up to catch himself as his upper body falls forward. Forehead against the mirror, dark blue eyes locked on the sight of that sleeve wrapped around his cock. 

Weak, his hips begin to move. 

Hissing as he draws back, almost hesitant to move, like he's afraid to slip out of the toy entirely. And it's...fuck that's a sight you haven't seen before. The obscenity of Rhett fucking a cock sleeve, how his balls sway with the motion of his body, perfect for you to reach down and grab. Heavy in your palm, so full that you worry what may happen if you do anything more than run your thumb up and down them. 

"This ain't—I can't," Rhett croaks, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "This is hard." 

The hand around his dick tightens, sends him jumping. "You can do it." 

And he just can't help himself. Feet shifting the slightest bit, trying again. Quicker this time, the lube squelching so loudly that it bounces off the wall. His mouth falls open, fogging up the mirror, panting like a dog on a summer day. Soft noises tumbling out of him, unable to stop a single one of them. 

"There you go," you murmur directly into his ear. "That's a good boy."

Pearly white teeth sink into his bottom lip. Eyes squeezing shut. 

He's trying. 

He's trying so, so hard. But he just can't move quickly enough. Trapped in the crevices of this awkward position, fucking himself into your hand, arms braced over his head, legs too close together. So frustrating that you can hear it in his little grunts, bubbling out of him with every thrust.

"Please," he rasps, head thunking against the mirror. "Please, please, please." 

You've got a feeling you know what he's after. "What do you want?"

"I wanna cum!" He's blurting before you've even finished talking. "Please—please let me cum." 

The buzz of yet another eight-second ride sounds. Loud. Booming through the walls and into this little bathroom. But it's not enough to cover up Rhett's sob as your hand begins to move once more. Pumping him in tandem with his frantic hips. Drinking in those airy cries rolling off his tongue, hanging halfway out of his mouth.

"This what you were wanting?" Coy, your teeth find the lobe of his ear, tugging gently. 

"Mhm," is all you're getting out of him. And he's reaching down between his own legs, dragging your hand out from where it's still toying with his balls and squeezing it tight. Needs something to cling to. Anything that isn't this cold mirror in front of him. 

Those darkened eyes peel open, locking with yours through the reflection, and his mouth is shaping around what you think is your name, but not a syllable is escaping. Almost immediately, they flicker shut once more. Your wrist flicks once. 

Rhett cums with a strangled moan. Body jerking against yours. Feet stumbling. And your hand is moving so fast that the toy catches that first rope of cum before it can splatter on the mirror, then the second. Smearing it across his spasming cock, creates a dizzying mess with the lube, so much of it that he's dripping, little spots of it scattering on the floor and the toe of his left boot. 

"Fuck," his breath fogs the glass. "That was...oh."

Your hand freezes halfway down his length. Almost forgot it was moving to begin with. 

"No, no, no," lazily tilting his head to peer over his shoulder, "keep goin' for a second."

And so you do. 

Slow as you can possibly manage, dragging the mess of a toy up and down his cock. He's sensitive. You know he is because he's shifting his weight onto the tips of his toes, fist tightening until his knuckles whiten, but there's a shiver visibly running up his spine. Cum spills out of his swollen tip. Hardly enough to count, but it's something. 

"'s good," Rhett murmurs after a moment. You've hardly got to do anything; he's already pulling away on his own, drawing that softening cock of his out of the toy altogether. Falls limp against his thigh, that sickly mixture of cum and lube already beginning to stain his jeans. 

It's a mess that'll have to be dealt with in the privacy of your hotel room because he's already tucking himself away. Pulling up his zipper and fastening that gaudy championship buckle. One of a kind. 

A selfish part of you hopes that tonight's buckle is a little easier on the eyes. 

One of his knees buckles as he turns, a big hand flying out to catch himself against the wall. "Shit," he's giggling, peering at you through the hair that's fallen into his face, "y' got me all weak in the knees, doll."

"Don't tell me you need to be carried," you're saying as if you're not intrigued by the idea of giving it a shot. 

"Nah," shaking his head, smile so big that his teeth glint in the overhead light. "Might need a few kisses to get me through the night, though." 

Eyeroll. Your free hand darts out, grabbing hold of his shirt collar and hauling him in, meeting those pale, swollen lips for a sloppy smooch. The first one lands awkwardly on the corner of his mouth, both of you leaning in the wrong damn direction. But then Rhett's tilting his head, nose bumping into yours, and he's meeting you properly. One little chaste kiss after another. 

A muffled voice creeps through the walls. Distorted, but you can still hear those two little words all the same. 

"They're calling for you, Abbott," speaking against his lips, making no real effort to pull away. It'll be a few hours before you get to steal this many kisses again. 

He hums. "Which one?" Kiss. "There's two of us standin' here." Kiss.

Weak, your hand thunks against his chest. "The dumb one who climbs on dangerous animals for fun."

"That's both of us, sweetheart," he had to have been storing that. There's no way he could have come up with that so quickly on his own, grinning like a cat that's gotten the cream.

"You're not a wild animal," adjusting the hem of your shorts, blindly feeling about to make sure that they've fallen back into place. 

Nobody will know what you've been up to, so long as they don't see the bite mark on your inner thigh. 

"I can be," Rhett winks. 

That's an argument that you'll have to settle in the hotel room. Before you can even say another word, he's darting for the door, sliding open the latch, a melody of laughter trailing behind.

"Hurry!" He's barricading himself up against the entryway. Feet dug into the ground, hair sticking up every which way. "Before Archie comes lookin' and figures out 'm not actually sick." 

You can't get to the sink quickly enough. 

And if anyone notices that Rhett is a little looser than usual when he climbs that stage to accept his award, nobody says a word. Too focused on the hoopla of a brand new record, the glimmer of a brand new belt buckle, tacky as all hell and a lifetime worse than the one that sits sideways against his belly. 

...but they might notice when he turns his head and flashes a ruby red bruise lurking just below his ear. 

Sure wonder where that came from.

[bobfloydsbabe]

arranged marriage au | rhett abbott x oc | sneak peek

Author's Note: This story it set at the turn of the 20th century, somewhere around 1899-1901. I haven't quite decided yet, but it's important context for this story. Women did not have a lot of autonomy at this time, which is reflected in Rhett and Lou's conversation in this sneak peek. Is the timeline right in a historical context? Probably not, but it's fiction, so I can do what I want. Enjoy!

Release Date: Unclear

“Louisa.”

“What?” Her face is all hard lines and thundering eyes. Something twists inside him at the sight of her ire.

“I don’t want to own you,” he says and steps closer, dirt crunching under his worn boots. “Your life is your own, even after we marry.”

She shakes her head, tears pooling in her dark eyes, making his chest feel tight. He yearns to move even closer, wrap his arms around her, and assure her that he doesn’t mean her any harm. Despite not having a choice, he wants to marry her. He wants to build a life and have a family with her.

He’s halfway in love with her already. He hopes one day she’ll love him too.

“You say that now,” she says, tears in her voice as she speaks. “But then I’ll argue or refuse to listen, and you’ll remind me you’re the man and you get the final say. You may not want to, but you will own me.”

Now he shakes his head, disbelief coursing through his veins. It’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard, and he hates that she thinks that way about him.

“Louisa,” he breathes, her name like a prayer on his lips as he closes the distance between them. “You belong to you. Not your father or to me or to anyone, and I’ll do what I can to prove it to you.”

She meets his gaze, bottom lip wobbling as she tries to hold back sobs. “You swear?”

He nods, lifts his hands and tentatively cups her cheeks. “I swear.”

Tension hangs heavy in the air between them, and without thinking, Rhett bends his head down towards hers. His heart thunders in his chest as their breaths mix, and heat blooms under his palms as Louisa’s cheeks grow red.

Their lips are a hair’s breadth from touching when a horse neighs, making her pull back and Rhett’s hands fall back at his side.

“I should get you home.”

He offers the crook of his arm, and she weaves her hand into it, letting him lead her to their horses. Their boots drag across the dirt, and Rhett helps her up on Sally, the reddish brown mare that belongs to his almost wife.

He settles on Blazer, and they begin the ride back to the Kinney Ranch.

“Rhett?”

If her scent didn’t linger, he might’ve forgotten she was even there. He looks to his right and finds her watching him, maybe even with a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“The house is lovely,” she tells him, tone shy and withdrawn for the first time since he’s known her.

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @bobgasm, @attapullman, @cherrycola27, @bradshawsbaby, @kmc1989, @keyrani

[avoidghost]

[OCs] Starting a new project come the new year called “Genesis Cosmic Odyssey” 💖

It’s going to be a comic about a silly space adventure to return a literal angel to its home planet 😇

(front to back): Rodney (he/him), Ronin (they/them), Roswell/Rosie (he/him — closeted she/her), Wren (he/it), Rhett (he/him)

[simcardiac-arrested]

rejoice all 3 oc fans

[fergusdraws]

have another shit lil jonah comic

[wearerofsocksart]

quick bust of my owsona from last night

[atomicmoths]

Just finished this piece of my Courier 6, Rhett Locklear!

Available as a postcard sized print on my INPRNT.

[laracrofted]

❝ like runaway horses, it's a long way back home again when every step is a silver prayer in the face of a hard wind // upcoming rhett abbott x oc fic

across the montana state line; past the cattle ranches and the fenced-in pastures filled with horses; down a rough dirt road that becomes damn near untenable in a good rain storm, winding through fields of wildflowers and sun-bleached brush until the land drops away into wide open skies; is a little house. a half-wild thing.

or a broken-hearted rhett abbott helps luke tillerson's fiancée skip town and over the course of a year, begins again.

[bobgasm]

unholy | r.a

pairing: single dad!rhett abbott x ofc!faith jones word count: 7639 warnings: establish relationship, fluff, high school reunion, drinking, mentions of murder/cover up, age gap [23/31] smut, nsfw [18+ only], sex in the chapel, slightly religious undertones, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, rhett has a breeding kink [so does faith], daddy kink, pregnancy kink, bull riding [not rhett], sex in a field, rhett gets choked,

summary: in which rhett’s daughters meddle once again and it sees him and miss faith making an appearance at his high school reunion

author’s note: inspired by unholy by miley cyrus. a huge thank you to my bby morgan (@attapullman) who listened to me rant and rave about these characters and helped me create this cute lil family 🥰

tlhc oneshot | masterlist

Rhett had done his best to hide the invitation to his high school reunion, but with a pair of nosey twin daughters and a girlfriend who was just as curious, he wasn’t surprised when they sat him down to question him about it. 

His girlfriend, Faith, was a little more understanding of his reservations. He’d started to build a great life outside of Wabang, and to dig up some of those old memories would be hard. He was still the younger brother of Perry Abbott, the man who’d murdered his wife, and the youngest son of Royal Abbott, who’d helped him cover it up. While he was working on building bridges to accept his family, but also prove he wasn’t like them, to be put in a place where that was all anyone seemed to care about…yeah, he wasn’t excited in the least. 

Still, his daughters persisted. Eventually, they convinced Faith it would be good for them both. Describing exactly what dress she should wear to the gathering, while still in discussion about what Rhett should wear. 

“Amy said it’s all anyone in town is talking about,” TJ gushed, immediately looking at Hannah for confirmation. 

“Don’t you want to see your old friends?” Hannah asked. 

At nine, the twins were relentless. Stubborn just like their father, and passionate for things they cared about. Rhett couldn’t fault it, he really couldn’t. He only had himself to blame. He was kind and loving and patient with them, everything Royal wasn’t. When he was upset, he let his fists do the talking. Rhett made sure he communicated his feelings and that he was never mad or upset with them, that he would always love them.

It was important to him that they knew nothing but adoration and support from their father. That they could talk to him about their feelings and he would do his best to help them find a solution. Even when they were mad at him he would still tell them he loved them and kiss them goodnight. 

“You’ve made some good points, but ultimately I think it’s time we let dad think about it,” Faith stepped in. Rhett cast her a grateful look before smiling at his daughters. 

“You promise to actually think about it?” Hannah stared him down pointedly, hands on her hips. 

“I promise,” he assured her. “Go brush your teeth. I’ll be in t’ check on you both shortly.”

They did as they were asked, leaving Faith to handle the dad situation for them. She’d told them she was only onboard if Rhett was, but they didn’t know she had a little more persuasion than them. Leaning into his side a little more, pressing a kiss to his cheek, a couple days worth of stubble scratching her lips. 

“They know how closed off you used to be. They’ve seen you making progress with the other mom’s and dad’s, and just want to see you take back your life,” she told him softly. 

He rumbled out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “The first two sentences are them. The bit about takin’ back my life? That’s your words,” he muttered. 

“No, they’re yours,” she corrected him. “They’re what you said to me after all that shit came out about who my dad is, and the state I worked myself into trying to imagine how you’d react to it all. People are going to talk about it whether you go or not, Rhett. It’s whether you want the power to control the narrative, or let them come to their own wrongful conclusions about your lack of attendance.”

“I jus’ don’t want any more bad attention brought t’ Ma or Amy,” he said, closing his eyes as she cupped his cheek and placed a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Quit worrying, cowboy,” she soothed. “Let’s go say goodnight to the girls, hm?”

In the weeks leading up to the reunion, Rhett completely forgot about it. He admitted to Faith when he’d responded that he’d be in attendance with his girlfriend, she’d marked it on the calendar and organised with Cece for her to have the girls that night. 

The plan was to be in Wabang by mid afternoon so Rhett and Faith could get ready. The girls were thrilled he’d agreed to go, and had taken it upon themselves to find an outfit for him that would match Faith’s. She’d found a cute tulip shaped dress that was more red than it was rusty orange, but the suit they wanted him to wear was the perfect match. A dark green piece that they wanted him to wear with a white shirt underneath. 

Faith had picked out a simple silver chain to wear with it as well. The grouchy man shot down every idea for some rings or a watch, but he allowed the necklace. All three of his girls were more than happy he’d even agreed to that. 

Rhett let the girls help him get ready, like they had done previously for his first few dates with Faith. They liked that he let them fuss with his hair without any complaints, even though they knew he’d constantly run his hands through it. He felt naked without a hat keeping his hair from falling in his face, but a hat wasn’t an option, apparently. 

Overdressed and out of place, he knew they’d both stick out like a sore thumb. Wabang wasn’t the kind of place where people dressed up unless it was for church, and even then, cowboy hats and boots were the norm. He felt awkward, and knew he’d want to change into something he felt more comfortable in, so he kept a change of clothes of himself and Faith in his truck. If they were enjoying themselves, they could change and head to the bar like he knew everyone would do. He wanted to make sure to be prepared for every outcome. And if they weren’t having a good time, they could leave and head back to the Abbott ranch. 

He indulged Cece with conversation while Amy and the twins checked on Faith. Since Faith had joined his little family unit, he’d made more of an effort to be around his mom. He wasn’t the only one betrayed by what Perry and Royal had done. He’d slowly come to realise that and had apologised to her one night about closing himself off. 

Cece had understood, of course she had, but to her it felt like she’d lost all of her family. She was left to raise Amy while Rhett moved away to raise his own daughters. He came by almost every weekend so they all had some kind of relationship, but it was tense. Amy doted on the twins, loving that she had baby cousins, and Cece appreciated that she had a relationship with all of her grandchildren. But she missed her son. She watched him grow into an amazing parent without much help from her, and it hurt. 

It had taken a long time to get back to a good place where they could talk freely to each other, without it ending in an argument. They both knew Faith had been the one who’d brought them back together, so it only made sense that Cece was the first person who knew Rhett wanted to marry her. 

She’d seen it from their first interaction. The way she loved his daughters like they were her own. The love and wonder that shone in his eyes whenever he looked at her, like he couldn’t believe his luck. It had meant so much to Cece that she had her son back, and she’d expressed her love for Faith to him. Telling him that she brought him out of his comfort zone and challenged him in the best way, and without her, it might’ve taken longer for them to grow close again. 

She didn’t know when Rhett was going to propose, but she told him that the girls needed to be involved. They were the ones who set them up, after all. If it weren’t for their meddling, he never would’ve found her. 

Rhett knew he was lucky. He counted his blessings every day. Waking up next to a woman who loved him and his kids was something he’d lost hope at finding a long time ago. 

His nerves for the reunion were more for the big reveal of what Faith was wearing, if he was being honest. He knew she was going to look beautiful no matter what, but when Amy, Hannah and TJ announced that she was coming downstairs, his palms started sweating. He imagined this feeling would be ten times worse at their own wedding, but it only made his excitement bubble that much more. 

Faith Abbott. He didn’t even need to ask, he knew the answer would be a resounding yes. 

As Faith made her way downstairs, she met Rhett’s eye and beamed brightly at him. He wondered if he looked starstruck, because he definitely felt like there was a stupid look on his face. Breath caught in his throat as she posed on the stairs for a couple of photos the twins insisted on. 

“Doesn’t she look beautiful, daddy?”

Rhett could tell you every discernible difference between his identical twin daughters, but at that moment, he had no idea who asked him. And honestly, all he could do was dumbly nod and try to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“Yeah, she does,” he agreed, taking her into his arms and stealing her breath away with a kiss. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Surprised the stetson hasn’t made an appearance,” Faith teased, swiping some lipstick from his mouth with her thumb. 

“We hid it,” Amy stated proudly. Rhett had found it and thrown it in the back of the truck for safe keeping. Not that he didn’t trust them, but he didn’t like to go far without it. 

Faith thanked her for her help while Cece gushed about how gorgeous they both looked, insisting on a couple of photos of them together. 

“C’mon Ma, it’s not like we’re off t’ prom,” Rhett fussed. 

“You didn’t go t’ prom,” she pointed out. “You ditched t’ go t’ a tailgate.”

Faith grinned. “Please, just a couple for me?”

He’d do anything she asked, folding almost immediately. Keeping his arm around her waist as she helped him pose and settle against him. Cece and the girls all took a few quick photos and instructed them how to pose. Even with Rhett’s grumbling, he obliged. Eventually insisting they were going to be late, kissing the girls on their cheeks before ushering Faith out the door and into his truck. 

Faith asked if there were any people he wanted to see, holding his hand as they drove down the dirt road. She saw his jaw tense and his grip tighten in hers. 

“We don’t have to stay long,” she assured him. “We can ditch it if you’re not having a good time…get drunk at a bar instead.”

He smiled, raising her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You look too good t’ go t’ a dinky ol’ country bar, Lil Lady.”

He wasn’t about to reveal that he’d thought of every outcome. Used to his kids getting messy or hating being so dressed up, it was second nature to bring extra clothes. He didn’t want Faith to think he didn’t appreciate the effort she’d put into her outfit tonight. She looked good, so good that he wanted to show her off. So good that he’d planned to take advantage of her in that outfit, and he knew she’d be more than willing. 

“Thanks, Handsome Cowboy.”

When they arrived at the highschool, Rhett was out of the truck and walking to the other side to help Faith out. She was used to his old school chivalry. Waiting patiently with a smile for him to get to her door and help her out, large hands settled comfortably on her hips as he brought her to the ground. She indulged him in a kiss, slow and sweet. 

“Y’ready?” He asked her, bumping his nose against hers. 

“Are you?”

Rhett chuckled softly. “No, but we’re here, may as well get it over with, hm?”

He kissed her once again, slipping his hand into hers and leading her toward the school. He hadn’t told Faith much about his school experience, but then again, it wasn’t much to write home about. He showed up, did what he needed to do, and socialised a little. Enough that people knew who he was, but that was a given in a small place like Wabang. 

He kept to himself – school wasn’t for everyone. When Rebecca, Perry’s wife, went missing during his senior year, everyone started looking at him differently. They’d whisper about her disappearance and throw looks of pity his way. 

Of course, when it came out a few years later that Perry had been responsible for her disappearance and subsequent murder, the looks of pity turned into looks of disgust. Then word got around that Royal had helped him cover it up. 

Rhett had been dealing with a lot at that time. His daughters had just turned one, he was at the crux of his career in bull riding, and he was winning every event he had. The shit with his family had thrown a spanner in the works and he’d had a particularly bad ride one night, made worse by the news that the girls’ mom had been involved in a car accident…he was a mess. Barely scraping the bottom of the barrel to hold his shit together, but assuming that his daughters had been in the wreck too. 

Cecelia had watched from the stand as Rhett took the call. She knew something horrible had happened, so had told Amy to run to the truck and get it started, she’d grab Rhett. He hadn’t even thought that his mom would give a shit, so when she’d grabbed him and told him to pull it together until he had all the information, he understood a little bit more about how she was dealing with everything. 

Cece knew how to prioritise. She had gone through hell and back with Perry and Royal, but Rhett needed her. He’d never ask for her help, so if she told him how things were going to work, he’d listen. She pulled herself together in a moment where their worlds had fallen apart, but the punches kept coming. She helped him keep a steady head until they had all the information. 

Rhett had never been more grateful, but it took him years to properly understand that was what a parent did. That was what Royal had done for Perry, in their own fucked up way. Cece had been the rock that Rhett needed in a very difficult time, and he had no idea. Still a kid himself, trying to juggle his sister in law’s murder, his career, and becoming a parent, he was barely keeping his head above water. 

His daughters had been left with a friend of their biological mother, Sally, who’d been drunk and gone out to get more alcohol. She’d caused a huge crash and her car had gone through the barrier on the bridge. The officer said it would’ve been over very quickly, but they couldn’t locate the babies after finding empty car seats. 

Rhett had called everyone he knew trying to find his daughters. Eventually, one of the nurses answered the phone belonging to Sally and passed it to Rhett. He’d sobbed in relief that someone was with them – that they were okay, and had to break the news that Sally had died. 

They’d been through a lot in their short lives, but he did everything he could to make sure they had the best upbringing they could. Giving up his dream to become a professional bull rider and prioritising their happiness over his own. 

It was how he ended up meeting Faith, by his daughters insisting he start dating. They weren’t oblivious to their friends’ parents gossiping about their dad. They played like they never heard them and ignored their prying questions until they had enough information gathered to sit him down and give him a presentation. It contained the type of woman they thought he’d like, the kind of dates they could go on, and Rhett had been shocked. He’d kind of expected, from their prior questioning, that they wanted him to start dating. He never anticipated they’d take matters into their own hands, however. 

They’d been his biggest supporters when Faith started coming around more. They adored her, and she adored them. She even made it known to Rhett that they didn’t have to have one on one dates all the time, and that they were part of his life. She wanted to get to know them better too. That kind of effort was what the other women lacked – they only wanted one night of fun, and he was well over that part of his life. 

The effort was so attractive to him, that he wasn’t surprised he fell head over heels in love with her. He realised it one morning when Faith hadn’t left for work early, and had instead made them all breakfast and was helping do the girls’ hair. He could see his little family was so happy and whole, having found their missing piece. 

His point was proved when the girls sat them both down a couple weeks ago and gave them another presentation on why Faith should be their mom officially and marry their dad, but also give them more siblings. Faith had asked him later that night if he’d let her finish her study first before they tried to expand their family. Her exact words were, “give me a year and then I’ll let you put a baby in me.” 

Rhett had never heard anything so sexy. 

He could wait a year. He’d already waited long enough to find her, so a year to let her finish her study was nothing. Plus, she was excited as he was to grow their family. That knowledge alone was more than enough reassurance that she wasn’t going anywhere. 

Rhett showed Faith around the school. Showing her his favourite places to hide when he had a class that he wasn’t interested in a subject. Eventually, they made their way to the gymnasium. He expected they’d be the most dressed up, but it turned out they fit right in. He recognised a few people, some of the guys still wearing their hat or boots. 

“You want a drink?” He asked Faith, feeling her squeeze his hand as she smiled at him. 

“Sounds good.”

They quickly got themselves some drinks, mingling with a few people who were excited to see Rhett. He introduced them to Faith and she happily chatted away to them. Loving getting to know everyone, and sharing what she did for work and how they met. 

Everyone Faith spoke to was lovely, but it was exhausting work. She asked Rhett a couple times to get her a fresh drink, earning a kiss on the cheek before he dutifully obliged, grateful for the brief intermission it gave him. Talking himself up wasn’t something he liked to do, but he was proud of how far he’d come from being that young kid. Faith sang his praises whenever she could, enjoying the chance to brag. She loved her little family and she wanted everyone to know. 

As the night went on and more drinks were consumed, they’d been pulled in for a few photos with some of Rhett’s old friends. Faith was glad to see Rhett had loosened up a bit and was enjoying himself. Sending smiles her way or drawing her near to steal a kiss. 

PDA wasn’t typically his thing. She didn’t mind at all because they were usually accompanied by their kids, but she loved seeing this side of him. This man was so proud to call her his girl that he made sure everyone knew it. He told everyone she was studying to be a Social Worker, specialising with youths. She loved teaching swimming, “that’s how we met, you know,” and she was a huge part of the community. 

He didn’t miss the way her look had changed from adoring to sultry, like she’d have her way with him right there if he didn’t shut up soon. She turned the lull in conversation in her favour, excusing herself to the bathroom. Rhett would find her, he always did. 

“You should come to the new bar in town.” Rhett barely registers who’s talking, nodding in agreement. Too preoccupied with Faith and where she’d disappeared to for him to care about anything else. 

She wanted him, and he wanted her just as badly. 

He found himself asking where it was. Wabang was familiar in some aspects, but new developers meant buildings had been built on land he knew used to belong to other families. With the information barely stored, he says they’ll be there. Excusing himself with a polite nod of his head as he exited the gymnasium. 

He bypassed the bathroom with a few people standing outside, hearing the faint click of her heels as he took a left and heard the heavy doors to the chapel open. The chapel was a small room, enough chairs for a class to attend the morning Mass that used to be held on Wednesday’s before class. 

He found Faith admiring the stained glass behind the altar, making sure to click the door shut behind him. She cast a look over her shoulder, smiling bashfully. 

“Y’sure picked a hell of a room for this rendezvous, Lil Lady,” Rhett said, slowly making his way down the aisle between the rows of chairs. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I’m about to sin,” Faith replied as he stopped in front of her, tilting her chin up with his forefinger. 

“Thought we would’ve left by now so I didn’t bring a condom,” he confessed, thumb lightly stroking her cheek. 

“What if we just…didn’t use condoms anymore?” She suggested, running her hands up his chest. “I want a baby with you, Rhett. I don’t want to wait for our family to grow.”

He groaned as he slid his hand into her hair, cupping the base of her skull and kissing her with a fiery tenacity that had her knees weak. She slid her arms around his neck, fisting his hair as his hands slid down her body. Squeezing her breasts, gripping her hips and groping her ass. 

“Fuck, y’sure about this?” He asked breathlessly, eyes finding hers as he rested their foreheads together. He wanted it more than anything. He wanted her, their family, this little life they’d perfectly curated. 

Faith knew she’d asked for more time and that now she was taking it back. She was scrapping the timeline they’d agreed on. It was huge, but Rhett and his daughters had given him something she’d never known she was missing. A family. Community. People to fuss over and adore with her entire being. People who had welcomed her with open arms, despite her past, because they wanted her to be part of their future. They saw her in their future. More than anything, she wanted a future. She finally saw what her future held, and that was being a mom to her boyfriend’s adorable twin daughters and expanding their little family. Being a loving girlfriend, and eventually wife, to a man who’d proved time and time again that she was worth the effort. 

“I want everything with you, Rhett Abbott. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” she confessed just as breathlessly. He dipped his head to pepper kisses down her neck and over her collarbone, tugging one of her breasts free from her dress and wrapping his mouth 

around her pebbled nipple. “Rhett, fuck me.”

She roughly palmed him over his trousers, fingers trying to free him from his confines. Eventually popping the button and reaching into his pants to wrap her hand around his growing length. 

“Fuck,” he groaned against her chest, hitching her dress up around her waist. Fingers seeking her warm, wet centre. “Y’ haven’t worn panties all night?”

“Nuh uh,” she mumbled, drawing his head back for another searing kiss. She moaned as his fingers sought her swollen clit, fingers delving into her heat as she swiped her thumb across the tip of his cock to elicit the same sound from him. “Need you, Rhett, please.”

“G’na put a baby in you,” he growled, backing her up to the wall where she had previously been admiring the stained glass. “Fuck, Faith.”

She keened at his touch, whining as he removed his fingers from her cunt and replaced them with the tip of his cock. “Put a baby in me, Rhett.”

His lips claimed hers as he hitched her leg up around his waist and sunk himself into her. Groaning as he felt her tight, slick pussy stretch and relax around him. His tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting the wine she’d been drinking and swallowing her moans as he found his rhythm. 

Faith gasped as he bit down on her lip, her hands tightening in his hair. “Fuck,” she groaned, his fingers seeking her clit. “Feels so fucking good, Daddy.”

“Yeah, y’ like that Daddy’s gonna fuck a baby into ya, hm?” He said, lips and teeth nipping at her neck. “Fill you with my seed? Fuck, such a needy lil pussy. Grippin’ me s’tight.” He groaned as he felt her clench down around him, her breathy symphony of moans like music to his ears. 

“Can I cum on your cock, Daddy?”

He stuttered out a “yes,” losing himself in the feeling of her body. The way she chanted his name like a prayer, begging for him to cum inside her. Put a baby in her. Hips stuttering as his own high caught up to him and crashed into him like a bull in a china shop. Bottoming out as he reached absolution, not a care in the world as they defiled a holy sanctuary, wrapped totally in and of themselves. 

He kissed her as they came down from their highs, savouring the taste of her lips. The feeling of utter euphoria. The way she sighed and tugged at his hair as his mouth slowly devoured hers. Languidly, breathlessly. 

Faith felt exhilarated as they walked hand in hand back to the gymnasium. Rhett had tried to help her tame her hair as much as they could, but he couldn’t do much for the new hickies adorning her neck. Luckily her hair hid most of the small bruises, but she still felt like they were visible. 

They were planning on leaving, heading home to continue what they’d started in the chapel, then Rhett mentioned a new bar they’d been invited to. He’d blindly agreed, promising he’d make it up to her later if they just went for one drink. Faith knew he was enjoying himself, even if he didn’t admit it out loud. She could see it in the way he carried himself. Confident yet relaxed. It suited him. 

They headed out to the truck, promising a few people they’d been talking to that they’d stop by for a few drinks, if not to check the place out. Rhett grabbed the backpack from the bed of the truck, previously secured into the netting near the cab, and started to change right there in the parking lot. 

“Rhett Abbott, did you expect to have a good time tonight?” Faith asked him, taking hold of his jacket and folding it neatly. 

“I expected we’d be overdressed,” he replied, shooting her a wink as he pulled his boots off and changed from his grey trousers into a familiar pair of jeans. “There’s stuff for you in there, too. No panties, ‘m afraid.”

Faith laughed at the cheeky glint to his eye, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. She handed him his belt from the bag, climbing into the truck before taking her heels off and attempting to shimmy into a pair of her own jeans. By the time Rhett slid into the driver’s seat, she’d managed to change into a tee and donned a bra underneath, her dress now stuffed into the bag. Slipping her feet into some socks and a pair of cowboy boots Rhett had gifted her earlier in the year for her birthday. 

Faith appreciated being able to change. The heels had started hurting her feet, and the dress was gorgeous, but she felt more confident in jeans. 

It was rare that Rhett dressed up, and she’d enjoyed the new look for as long as he’d worn it. She’d be the first to admit that she missed his soft jeans and stetson, happy to discover that the familiar hat had found its way back atop of his head. Watching him with a smile on her face as they drove to the bar. 

They arrived and made their way inside, barely any time to wonder if it was the right place when a few guys hollered for them both. Waving them over, Rhett encouraged Faith to go while he grabbed them a couple of drinks. 

“Glad you both made it!” Adam said with a grin. 

“Thanks for inviting us,” Faith responded in kind, slipping into the booth next to Adam’s wife, Erin, who happily made room. 

“I’m just glad I’m not the only woman here anymore,” she joked. “The other wives don’t come out much. Too busy at home with the kids.”

Faith nodded in understanding. “Do you and Adam have any kids?”

“Three. Youngest is ten,” she replied with a smile. “You?”

“We only have Rhett’s two at the moment,” Faith said. “They sat us down and gave us a ‘we want siblings’ presentation.” 

Erin threw her head back in laughter. Faith grinned as she caught Rhett’s eye, making his way through the crowd to their table with a couple of drinks. 

“How old are they?”

“Just turned nine,” Rhett answered, wearing a small smile. “Little demons.”

“Do you have any pictures of them?” Erin asked. 

Rhett placed a drink in front of Faith before handing over his phone. Faith unlocked it and opened his pictures, swiping through to show Erin. 

“They have Rhett’s scowl,” Faith said fondly, searching for the photo she’d sent him of the three of them sitting in silence on the sofa one night. They’d been pouting about not being allowed to have their own phones, but Rhett said they were too young. They’d tried to ask Faith, but she also told them ‘no’. It ended up being a rather quiet night, the girls going to bed early after dinner, leaving Rhett and Faith to watch a movie by themselves. 

Erin showed a few pictures of her own kids, two sons and a daughter. Faith enjoyed the conversation while Rhett chatted shit with a few of the guys, occasionally sparing Faith a glance and always delighted to see her enjoying herself. 

He kept an eye on her as she and Erin wandered up to the bar to get everyone some more drinks. 

“Do you miss it?” Cory asked Rhett. 

“What’s that?” He’d missed most of the conversation, taking a sip of his beer. 

Cory asked again, “bull ridin’,”

Rhett gave a shrug. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Don’t regret givin’ it up since it meant I could spend more time with m’ daughters.”

“He had a boys night with some of the other dad’s and I got sent a video of him ridin’ a mechanical bull at the bar,” Faith chimes in, passing out a few beers to the guys. “Never saw him on a real bull, but it looked like he’s still got it.”

There were a few laughs at her words before someone pointed out that there was a mechanical bull here. Rhett quickly shut down any ideas anyone had about him getting on, despite the protests and words of encouragement thrown his way. He was adamant that was a one time drunken thing he’d done, purely to prove he didn’t just like the cowboy aesthetic. 

Faith had been curious about attempting to ride a mechanical bull at least once in her life. She’d been too drunk at her friend’s birthday when they’d specifically gone to a bar so she could ride one, and after Rhett had gotten on the bull at that same bar, she’d asked him questions. He’d made it look so easy, and sure it came down to years of practice riding actual bulls at the rodeo, but he’d indulged her questions. Given her pointers that she’d stored away for when she actually got the chance to get on one. 

“You should do it,” Rhett told her quietly. 

He knew she’d gone quiet for a reason, catching her deep in thought while everyone was trying to convince him instead. She leant into him, letting him press a kiss to her temple. 

“Hm, yeah?” She replied, not entirely convinced. 

Rhett hummed in response. “Yeah. Y’ want to, right?” She nodded, so he continued. “Then do it.”

“Okay,” she agreed softly. 

“C’mon,” he encouraged her. “Faith’s gonna ride the bull!”

The group they were with cheered, making their way to where the bull was set up, while Adam asked one of the staff if they could get it started. Pointing over at Faith to show who wanted a turn. Rhett walked her up to the bull, giving her a reassuring kiss. 

“Y’ got this, baby,” he told her. “Remember what I taught ya?”

She nodded as he lifted her up and got her set up on the bull. “Hold on tight, squeeze those thighs,” she recounted for him. “Don’t fight it.”

Rhett grinned. “That’s my girl. Give ‘em hell, Lil Lady.”

He wandered back to their group and she made sure she was holding on tight before nodding at the staff member who was in charge of the machine. He switched the bull on and heard the cheers of the crowd, but her focus was on staying up. Making sure she didn’t fight the jerky motions but instead went with it. Throwing her hand up for balance, grinning as she whipped around and used her legs to stay on. 

She couldn’t tell you if time went faster or slower while up there, but she understood the feeling Rhett had done his best to describe. The way the crowd seemed to electrify you while you were up there. It was addictive. 

The bull slowly came to a stop and she exhaled heavily, basking in the uproar of the crowd as Rhett strode towards her. Planting his hand on her head as he helped her off the bull, stealing a kiss that took her breath away. 

“That was th’ sexiest fucken thing I’ve ever seen,” he told her breathlessly, making a point to squeeze her ass and bring her body closer as he went in for another kiss. 

They didn’t stick around long. Enough to have another drink and share the videos some people had taken of Faith. Enough to know that Rhett was more wound up than she initially thought. Enough to know that he wasn’t the only one aroused by her performance – being hit on by no less than three guys who hadn’t gotten the hint that she was taken. That she was Rhett Abbott’s girl. 

Rhett’s old school friends knew him to be a bit of a hot head. Throw punches first, ask questions later. They’d kept an eye on him as he sipped his beer and watched Faith shoot them down, wondering how often this happened for him to seem unbothered by it. 

In truth, Rhett was bothered by it. Every time it happened, to be exact. He knew his girlfriend was young and gorgeous. He also knew that he was the one who took her home every night. He was the one she loved and he found comfort in that. 

He had trust…he had Faith. 

Faith watched him pull the truck into the west paddock instead of following the dirt road up to the house. She didn’t make a comment about it, but wondered what he had planned. 

The Abbott ranch had gone through some changes over the years. Rhett regretted not sticking around to help tend to the cattle and maintain the property, but Cece had done what she’d needed to do. She’d downsized the amount of land they owned, mostly to pay off the legal fees of Perry and Royal, and help keep her and Amy afloat. Another chunk was sold to developers who had yet to do anything with it, but Cece and Amy had transformed the ranch into a horse sanctuary. They trained and broke in horses, as well as ran camps during the school breaks. They’d done well for themselves and Rhett couldn’t be prouder of them – he just wished he could’ve been more help. 

The first time he’d brought Faith home to meet his Ma was the first time he’d actually seen the work Cece and Amy had put into the ranch. They’d been overjoyed to give them a full tour, even though Rhett heard stories about it from Hannah and TJ. Faith had helped him put his feelings into perspective about everything, that he wasn’t letting his mother and niece down by prioritising his daughters. Family was about compromise and they all had to make sacrifices in order to get to where they were today, not just him. 

“If Cece doesn’t hold a grudge, neither should you. The past is the past, and you can only work on mending your relationships so they’re stronger in the future,” she’d told him. 

She’d been right. He’d slowly talked all the past shit out with Cece and they were growing closer again. Things would never be how they were before shit went down, but it was several steps in the right direction. They weren’t the same people anymore. Rhett was beginning to realise that more and more, and accepting that change was huge for him. 

Faith stayed in the cab of the truck while Rhett set up the back. He’d made sure they had pillows and blankets and had even bought an air mattress to lie on. He knew how much Faith loved stargazing and camping, and while they weren’t in a tent, he hoped it would suffice. 

She heard him jump off the back of the truck and looked out her window as he opened her door. 

“What are you planning?” She asked with a slight teasing in her tone. 

“Camping,” he replied. “In a sense. C’mon.”

Faith couldn’t keep the grin from her face as Rhett helped her up into the bed of the truck, taking her boots off before she collapsed onto the makeshift bed. Rhett joined her a moment later, peppering her face with soft kisses as she laughed breathily. 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Just ‘cause I love you,” he said simply. “Can’t I do something nice for my girl every now an’ then?”

Faith hummed as she pressed her lips to his, combing her fingers through his hair. “Here I was thinking it was because you weren’t finished watching me ride,” she teased. 

He easily rolled them over so she was on top of him, straddling his waist. Her hands resting on his chest, his on her thighs. 

“I’ll never get enough of watching y’ ride,” he said, rolling his hips so she could feel the swell of his arousal. 

“Yeah?” She mewled, rolling her own hips against his. “Y’ want me to ride you, Handsome Cowboy?”

“Fuck yeah I do, Lil Lady,” he replied with a grin. “First, I want y’ to ride m’ face.”

Faith’s breath hitched as Rhett placed his hands on her inner thighs and effortlessly moved her so she was sitting on his chest. Reaching down, she twirled some of his hair around her finger. “Can anyone see us out here?”

“Not unless they’ve got binoculars,” he assured her. “Y’ gonna be a good girl and ride Daddy’s face?”

Faith was quick, it always stunned Rhett how eager she was for him. The first one to get naked. The first one to go down – it turned her on more than receiving, though she never said ‘no’ when he buried his face in her cunt and drew orgasm after orgasm from her. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d be more than willing to ride his face, yet he sensed her hesitation as she hovered just above his lips. 

“I said sit on my face, Faith,” he growled, forcing her down the rest of the way until his mouth was covered. Tongue laying flat against her slick pussy. 

She moaned as he guided her hips, helping her find a rhythm that drove her wild. Hands braced on the roof of the truck cab and she began riding his face with reckless abandon. Gasping and moaning as he smacked her ass or groped her chest. Moaning against her core as her clit brushed against his nose. 

“Fuck,” she groaned, her moans growing louder and more frequent. The pitch changing as she sought her orgasm. “RhettRhettRhett,” she chanted, succumbing to the bliss that erupted in her stomach and spread like shockwaves throughout her entirety. 

Rhett lapped and savoured the taste of Faith on his tongue. Planting a firm kiss to her cunt before sucking a bruise into her inner thigh. 

“That’s my girl,” he praised, grinning up at her with her arousal glistening in the moonlight on his chin. 

“Wanna ride your cock, Daddy,” she panted breathlessly. “Want you to cum inside me again.”

Rhett groaned at her words, hands groping her hips. “Y’ really want Daddy t’ put a baby in ya, hm?”

Faith nodded, bottom lip captured between her teeth as she gazed down at him. “Wanna ride you ‘til you knock me up, Daddy.”

Rhett was more than willing to oblige, quickly undressing and pulling Faith back into his lap. She slid her arms up his chest, fingers skimming over his tattoos – one on his ribs, the bull on his chest to the tiny footprints in the shape of a heart over his heart. He smiled as he cupped her face, pressing his lips to hers. 

Faith reached between their bodies, gripping his cock and positioning his tip at her entrance. Rhett’s hands were on her hips as she slowly sank down on his length, gasping at the stretch and welcoming the familiarity. 

“Fill me so good, Daddy,” she praised, wiggling her hips a little to make Rhett groan. It was guttural and sent shivers down her spine. “So deep inside me.”

“Y’ look beautiful,” he told her, raising a hand to cup her face and draw her head down for a kiss. 

Faith indulged him for a bit, his cock nestled snugly inside her as she draped herself over him. Chests flush together and his arms wrapped around her back, holding her even closer. Her arms tucked around his head, small moans slipping past their lips. 

Rhett’s hands slid down to her ass, fingers gripping the supple flesh and lifting her slightly. Faith groaned and wiggled her hips, sinking back down on him as she broke their kiss. 

“Use your words if you want me to start riding you, Handsome Cowboy,” she told him, hands braced on his shoulders as she gave him a sultry smile. 

“Need y’ t’start ridin’ me, Lil Lady,” he told her breathlessly. “Y’ feel so good. Need more.”

Faith started rolling her hips, watching the pleasure in his face as she clenched her core and tightened around him. Rising off him slightly before taking him deep again and repeating the motion. Finding a steady rhythm as his hands slid up her body. Rough fingertips brushing against her sensitive nipples, pinching them harshly before taking them in his hands and massaging them gently. 

He knew Faith liked a little pain with her pleasure. Knew she was receptive to it. He watched the way her face contorted with the harsh pinch, felt the way she tightened around his cock. He groaned as she threw her head back, giving herself over to the pleasure. 

Rhett braced his feet, digging his heels into the soft air mattress as he started meeting her thrusts. Her short, sharp gasps filled his ears. Hand slipping on his chest to his neck.

“That’s it,” Rhett goaded her. “Squeeze m’ neck. Fuck.”

Faith groaned at his words but did as he asked, squeezing his neck and watching a delirious grin form on his face. “I’m gonna cum.” She panted, the coil in her abdomen moments away from snapping. “Feel s’good, Daddy. FuckFuckFuck.”

Rhett pinched her nipples once again, watching her throw her head back as her body tightened and spasmed. Dropping his hands to her hips, he kept her upright. Fucking her through her orgasm, flipping her onto her back and hooking her legs over his shoulders as he drove into her. 

“S’good to me,” she praised him, stroking his cheek as he braced himself on his forearms, lips mashing together in a desperate kiss as he reached his own orgasm. “Want all your cum inside me, Daddy. Fill me up real good. Show me how much you wanna knock me up.”

“Fuck, Faith,” he panted, dropping his head to her shoulder. Cock twitching and spilling inside her, her cunt milking his orgasm from him. “Fuck.”

“Just like that, Daddy,” she continued, running her hand through his hair. 

He dropped her legs from his shoulders, bodies still connected as he peppered kisses over her neck and chest. Nipping and sucking small bruises into her heated skin. 

“Love you s’much, Lil Lady,” he murmured against her skin. 

“Love you more, Handsome Cowboy.”

[delopsia]

Please [Rewrite] | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 9,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, begging, handjobs, teasing, grinding in public, riding, unprotected sex, surprise orgasms. Cock warming and edging if you squint. Brief Summary: Getting Rhett to beg isn't as easy as it's cracked up to be.

It's not easy to break down a man like Rhett Abbott.

The kind of blue-collar man who has only ever known one way of life, maybe two, if he's lucky. Expected to be tough from the moment he took his first breath; raised to forget emotion in favor of building up a mountainous, rocky exterior that does not give way when the west wind blows. Thick-skinned and with a backbone made of steel, the kind of man who can roll with the punches but carries just enough humanity to avoid coming off as soulless or dull. 

So strong, yet so afraid of the word 'weak'.  His power, his dominance, clutched tight in an iron fist, never to be let go of, even for a second. Too used to this one way of life that he fears the slightest hint of an unknown, of losing control, getting himself hurt, and being stripped of the precious title of being a man. 

And it's small towns like Wabang that will forever cry about such nonsensical ways of living for the sake of tradition. A place trained to think that change—that weakness is always a bad thing. 

So many generations of passing along crippling expectations have led you to this. 

Here. Gazing into the wide, frightened eyes of a cowboy who has long since tucked himself into the far side of your couch like a cornered animal. 

"Absolutely fuckin' not," you wonder if he knows how pitchy his voice has grown within the past thirty seconds. "I ain't...that's—what kind of man do y' take me for?"

A man who's too horny to be so vanilla, but that's neither here nor there.

Your eyes dart to your laptop screen, still paused on the video that sent him into this downward spiral in the first place, then back up to his pale face. "It's not that bad in the grand scheme of things." And you're about to follow that up with a list of worse suggestions, but he doesn't give you the chance to.

"I ain't beggin' to cum," he blurts it like he won't be able to say no if he doesn't get it out of his mouth quick enough.

Curious, your head tilts to the side. "Not even once?" 

"No. That's..." hesitating. Hasn't gotten to think that far, gears twisting and turning in his head as he searches for the words he wants to say, "It's demeanin'. That's what it is."

You suppose you can guess what his reaction to toy handcuffs would be. 

The conversation drops just as quickly as it was started with closing up your laptop and pressing play on the movie that you've long since forgotten about. Resuming that same steamy scene, the main character grinning at the way her love interest's face contorts as she squeezes him at his base, denying him what she's just worked him up to.

"Say please," she whispers, so eloquently and feather-light that it sticks in your head. 

But you can hardly pay attention because, in the corner of your eye, you've caught him. 

Those ocean-blue eyes have long since fixated on the screen. Shameless. Doesn't realize you've caught the way his cock twitches in his sweats, hand curling into a shaky fist. Clinging to a composure that you've only seen him lose when he's had one too many at the bar. 

...so that's how it's going to be. 

Alright, two can play this game. 

Or maybe you're the only one who's playing because Rhett seems to forget the conversation before the night is over. Blissfully unaware of the plan that's formulating in the back of your mind. Bits and pieces of thoughts and memories coming together to build a grand scheme so elaborate that you catch yourself taking notes on your phone.

And so what if you let him bend you over the kitchen counter when you know full well that your plan explicitly involves denying him sex out of hopes of him getting desperate? You needed the refresher on what makes him tick. 

Starting out slow is the key to flying below Rhett's radar. Observant to a fault, so sensitive to change that he notices the tiny, inconspicuous things, like that time your thermostat was set a degree higher than normal. All you had done was accidentally hit the button one too many times, but there he came, kissing up the back of your neck as he asked if you were cold.

So it's a fine line that you straddle when you begin to take up extra shifts at work. Offhandedly telling him that one of your co-workers is pregnant and needs the help. It's not a total lie. You just...happen to be leaving out the fact that she's only three months along. 

And so what if you start spending more time with your friends? Always seeming to be wrapped up in a new outing that leaves you too sleepy to entertain the sweet cowboy who grinds up against your ass. His lips peppering across every inch of exposed skin he can find, three-day-old scruff tickling you. 

"You sure you're feelin' alright?" He murmurs, and you can't see him, but you can feel the way his eyebrows furrow, laced with a concern that you've seen too many times recently. "Y've been tired all week."

Oh, oh, oh, you shouldn't have looked down. 

Had only been meaning to avoid meeting his eye in the mirror, but now you've found yourself fixated on the forearms that have long since wrapped around your waist. Rippling muscles and protruding veins, putting on a mouth-watering show, all for you. 

"Haven't been sleeping well, I suppose," your weight shifts, leaning back into that familiar, firm chest, tilting your head until your cheek bumps into his. 

The entire point of this plan is to string him out until he's desperate. So worked up and needy that rationality and higher thinking go out the window, too focused on getting what he's craving that he doesn't care about how. The same kind of tunnel vision that he gets when he climbs on the back of a bull fixated on the title, the infamy, the belt buckle that comes with winning the Amelia County Finals. 

But God, settling for toys after he leaves your house just isn't the same as the real thing. 

And maybe that's why you don't stop yourself from pressing your ass against him. 

Can't stop. 

A soft grinding backward that has him twitching up into you, hard cock straining against the thin material of his sweats. Firm. Dripping. All for you to feel and gasp at. Giving in to him one time can't hurt.

Yeah...yeah, one time isn't all that bad. 

"Thought y' were tired," that sinful, hot mouth presses wet kisses at the juncture of your jaw, where it meets your neck. Has long since figured out that it'll make your knees wobble if he does it right. "Not that 'm complainin'."

Your socks slip against the tile floor as you spin in his arms. Noses bumping into one another. So close that you can spot the vague constellations of freckles hidden along his pale face. Not quite as expansive as the ones on his shoulders, but just as marvelous. 

The open palm of your hand flattens against him, blatantly cupping him through his sweats, "I guess it's up to you to keep me from falling asleep then."

Those long eyelashes flutter. Each pass over his iris leaves them a shade darker, shifting like a mood ring. The corner of his lip rises, a chipped canine tooth glinting in the light, "think I can help y' with that." 

You don't make it to the bedroom, finding yourself bent over the arm of the couch as your oversized cowboy fucks you from behind. His thighs trembling against yours, grunting into your ear. So, so sensitive from your lack of rendezvous. You're getting somewhere with him. Making progress. Grinding him down to a neediness that overrides the thoughts drilled into his pretty head. 

But oh, is it difficult. 

Getting out of bed the next morning had might as well be the worst thing you've ever done. Because as soon as you turn around, toothbrush in your mouth as you peek into the bedroom, you meet a pair of sweet blue eyes. Big hands open, fingers wiggling as he tries to lure you back into his arms, tucked up against his naked body. 

"Come back," he whines, squinting to see you through the blinding bathroom light, "'m cold."

You've still got to get yourself dressed and ready to go out; you've got festival plans and friends that will badger you to no end if you cancel on them for the second year in a row. But your sweet cowboy provides such a convincing argument when a yawn breaks across his face, still trying to beckon you back into bed.

"I promised I wouldn't cancel this year," you don't know if you're justifying it to yourself or him, maybe both. "I'm sorry." 

The corners of his eyes fall, almost pouting. Like a puppy who's just been kicked, those big eyes drop down to the bed. Only to flicker back up at you, some insistent spark of hope glinting across his face, "five more minutes?"

...oh, what the hell. 

"Five more minutes," you repeat, and this time, you know you're directing them toward yourself. 

Because Rhett Abbott's arms are like velcro. Nearly impossible to escape once he's curled them around you, securing you to his broad chest as he subjects you to a flurry of thank-you kisses peppered across your cheeks. So soft and ticklish, the kind that has you squirming and dodging his incessant mouth.

As quickly as it starts, it ends. Settling into a comfortable silence as Rhett nuzzles his cold nose against your forehead, absolutely determined to steal your body heat away from you. His icy fingers dancing up and down your back, tracing idle shapes into the skin there. Any colder, and you think he might start getting icicles in his hair. 

And it's only October. Winter isn't even in full swing yet.

"You're so busy anymore," he whispers, not quite meeting your eye, "ain't got to cuddle in forever."

Your hand tangles through his hair, unable to avoid acknowledging the way he nudges into your touch, "I'm sorry." 

On its own, your mind wanders. Unleashed, free to roam the possibilities and what ifs. Whether this whole shtick of yours is even worth it or not. If sitting him down and getting to the bottom of his fear is what you should actually be doing. If he would even listen or if he would fly into another stonewalled panic.

And then there are your plans. You've been jittering over the thought of this festival for weeks, but you've missed these arms, this man, even more. Him, the sweet kiss he's pressing to your forehead and the muscles that ripple as he pulls you closer. Like he'll be able to keep you here forever if he tries hard enough. 

"Do you want to come with us?" You mutter, after a moment, or twelve. 

His eyebrows rise, forehead wrinkling with it. "Hm?"

"To the festival, I mean," you're pretty sure you can already hear the answer; he's never been much for these types of events. Not the type to peruse through shops and look at things that you don't technically need. 

Blue eyes dart across your face, searching for something. Or maybe he's thinking, considering. "Well, I ain't got nothin' else planned," he says after a moment. 

Inviting him goes against every bit of meticulous planning you've done these past few weeks. Completely uproots the purpose of your scheme and turns it on its head. But for some reason, you can't bring yourself to be worried about it in the slightest. Holding his big hand as you walk out to your car like it was always meant to work out this way.

Even as you settle behind the steering wheel, fumbling with your keys, the only thing you feel is giddy. 

The car shakes as Rhett all but falls into the passenger seat. Knees knocking into the dash. 

"Holy shit," he swears, legs awkwardly propped against the glove compartment. The seat far too far forward for his stature, quite nearly folding him in half. "Was your last passenger a gnome?"

Over his shoulder, you think you can see his hat sitting on the ground. Knocked clean off his head.

"How many times are you gonna do this before you learn to quit falling into my car?" Your eyes roll on their own accord, twisting the key in the ignition. You've long since lost count of how many times he's done this, foolishly tossing himself into the seat without bothering to check if he's big enough to fit. 

"Dunno," the seat groans as Rhett pushes it as far back as it'll go, freeing himself of his self-made prison. "How many more times are you fixin' to be a gnome chauffeur?"

At least your car doesn't have a busted side mirror from a bar fight, but you'll be saving that comment for another time.

A part of you isn't entirely sure why Rhett agreed to come to this festival. He said he didn't have anything else to do, sure, but if that's the case, then he would have tagged along to a lot, lot more invitations. So what gives? Is he lonely? Longing for the tranquility of being by your side?

Or did he just want to stare at your ass this entire time? 

You can feel him. Heated gaze locked onto your backside as you meander through booth after booth like he'll miss something crucial if he tears his gaze away for too long. Thick arms crossed in front of his chest, biceps straining against his white t-shirt, and chewing on the inside of his cheek. Looks like he just walked out of a damn magazine. 

But he always looks like he just walked out of a magazine, and he's looked you over with that hungry gaze so many times that it shouldn't make your knees wobble. Weakened just by his sheer presence, and it's not fair. 

This wasn't a part of your plan at all. He's the one who's supposed to be so eager and desperate that he throws reason out the window. But instead, it's you who is considering pushing him up against the trunk of this Oak tree, dropping to your knees, and sucking him off right in the middle of this festival. Uncaring of the greedy eyes and unwitting ears who may become witness to it.  

You don't quite recall picking up this knick-knack, a ceramic cow, pink and white in color, and missing one of her legs. It's cold in your palm, just enough to draw you from your stupor, brushing away the heated clouds fogging your thoughts.

If you're aching, then surely he is, too. His sex drive has always been a smidgen higher than your own, raring to go at the drop of a hat. So if you're weak in the knees over his sheer presence, then he must be even worse. 

Your head turns; fully prepared and ready for what darkened gaze you may find. 

...except he's not looking.

No, he's got something small in the palm of his hand, grinning down at it like it's some great discovery. His warm eyes flick up to meet your face, setting your cheeks alight. 

"Found the fella you've been drivin' 'round," he chirps, holding the little thing out for you to see. A three-inch tall gnome with a tall orange hat, oversized nose poking out the bottom. Fits perfectly in his grasp, fluffy, unruly white beard waving in the breeze. "Think I should grow a beard like that?" 

"Only if you wear the funny hat," you wink, just for extra measure. 

The last thing you're expecting is for him to buy it. Carrying the little thing about like it's a faithful companion, only putting it down to fight with you over who is paying for your things because he might just die if you pay for that t-shirt with your own money. Unaware that you'll just stick the cash in his wallet when he's asleep tonight. 

You've been foiled by a two-dollar gnome. 

Takes a good two days for you to get ahold of yourself, fighting urges that aren't helped by the cowboy who keeps reminding you that he's feeling it, too. The both of you dangling by a single thread, waiting to see who breaks first. 

And it's almost you.

God, it's almost you. 

Because Sunday rolls around with a vengeance that torments you from the moment your eyes open in the morning, overcome with a heat so strong that it ought to burn you alive. Biting at an invisible bit, getting yourself off in pure silence while Rhett bustles about in the living room. Mere yards away, one call of his name and you know he'd be on his knees in an instant, eager to taste you on his tongue, but your plan. You can't abandon your plan.

But it's nothing compared to the rodeo. The adrenaline that leaves your hands shaking even after Rhett has fallen off the bull and stumbled out of the arena. Trembling like the leaves in the brutal autumn breeze, crisp but with a sinister bite that you recognize as the beginnings of winter. 

It's the kind of sharpness that almost manages to distract you from the chapped lips kissing up the back of your neck. The vibrations of a cowboy's voice as he murmurs your name over and over like an incantation. A spell thats got you leaning into him, feeling the way he strains against his tattered jeans, pressing into the curve of your ass.

"Darlin'," blazing breath tickles your ear, his teeth grazing the shell of it, "what d' ya say we got outta here, hm?"

The edges of your composure are crumbling faster than you can glue them back together. Rhyme and reason whisked away by the wind, and suddenly, you can't remember all the reasons why you've been holding out on him. No longer caught up in the possibilities of what Rhett must sound like when he begs.

All you can think of is this. Now. The oversized hands dragging up your sides and the gentle suction at the soft spot of your neck. This man and the faint remnants of his leathery cologne, and how you're going to make it to the truck without getting—

"Rhett!" A familiar voice calls out, spurs echoing down the empty walkway. "Rhett!" 

All of a sudden, your backside is cold as Rhett steps away. Mere seconds before the familiar, gruff face of his best friend comes around the corner. How did he know to look for you behind the concession stands? 

 "The fuck y' doin' out 'ere?" It's dark, but you can still see the way Archie's hands fly up, only to fall back down and smack against his thighs. 

"Fixin' to go home?" Rhett grumbles it like a question, his head tilting to the side.

Archie's silence is...deafening. His shadowy figure is still as can be, and it's not directed at you at all, but even you can feel the daggers he's staring into Rhett's forehead. You don't recall any post-rodeo bonfire being scheduled for tonight, and it's far too quiet for the rodeo to be still going. 

But right as you're beginning to think that the vicious wind has frozen Archie solid, his mouth opens. "Y' done fuckin' forgot 'bout th' paper comin' t' take pictures t'night."

Pictures. 

That's right, the Amelia County newspaper was planning to put the bull riders on the front page. How did you manage to forget about that?

To say that you were saved by the skin of your teeth is an understatement. By the time they let Rhett and the other riders go home for the night, adrenaline has worn off, leaving behind a yawning husk of a man who can hardly keep his eyes open. Struggling to stand upright in the shower as you rinse the shampoo from his hair, too tired to bend you over the nearest surface and break you down.

He's cracking. 

You're cracking. 

Getting up for work in the morning is harder than you ever remember it being, and those extra hours drag by slower than a snail race. You want to go home. Fuck, you want to snuggle up to Rhett on the couch and let his chaste kisses devolve into sloppy ones that trail down your naked chest. But giving up now means all of this was for nothing. 

So you keep drowning yourself in work. Turning down every too-heated kiss and stepping out of his arms before they can start to test the waters. Getting up early to walk back into the gates of hell, away from the heaven that is Rhett Abbott. 

Until once again, your week is over, and Sunday has rolled around with the same vigor as it did before. 

This week's rodeo is different, about two hours away from home, on the border of Wyoming and Idaho. Some tiny town you've never heard of, the kind of place that only recently got two stoplights installed. Home to a whopping three hundred, with incredible landmarks such as a mom-and-pop gas station and a bank that's been set up on the first floor of someone's townhouse. 

The hotel is a floor above the only bar in town. It's not much, just enough space for a queen-sized bed, a television stand, and a bathroom so small Rhett can hardly turn around in it. Still better than driving an hour to a motel whose Google reviews promise a complimentary inclusion of bed bugs.

By some catastrophe, the rodeo grounds are far too small for the amount of people traveling to see the event. Already flooded with locals by the time you get there, a sea of fold-out chairs taking up every bit of free space that can be found. Even Cecelia's been outwitted, forced to dig her stash of chairs from the back of Royal's truck. She's brought just enough to seat all of you.

At least, she did. 

"You're in my seat," you grumble, squinting down at the cowboy who has already locked his eyes on the cheese fries you've got in your hand. The fruit of your efforts for standing in line for thirty minutes. 

"I know it," Rhett's big hand pats his thigh, inviting you into what is certainly a trap. 

But all you can think about is how he's supposed to be over by the chutes, warming up for a ride. Your head twists to look over at the empty side of the arena, then back to his stupid, smug face. 

"We got delayed," he continues, seems to have heard your question without you needing to voice it, "Somethin' 'bout technical difficulties." 

You're going to have technical difficulties.

Sitting in his lap isn't anything new. Not by a long shot. But there's something about doing it now. When you're still hanging on to your composure by a singular thread, nearly set off by the wrinkles of his jeans against your thighs. 

A part of you only means to readjust yourself. To squirm a little further backward so that you can comfortably lean against his chest. You don't intend to push your ass into his half-hard cock, but you do, and it's got him choking around the fry he's stolen.

"Oops" is all you can be bothered to provide because, though it wasn't on purpose, you certainly intend on doing it again. 

It's not hard to disguise. Not when Cecelia covers the two of you in a blanket, fussing over your choice of a short-sleeved shirt, saying that just the sight of you is making her cold. Unintentionally handing you the perfect shield, blocking the view of your hips as they begin to squirm. Subtly grinding down into that rapidly growing bulge, basking in the way his breath hitches, a strong arm curling across your waist.

"Y'd better not be tryin' t' get me all riled up, sweetheart," he murmurs, that low tone of his tickling down your sensitive spine. Only serves to spur you on more, squirming against his cock like it'll kill you to stop. And those arms are growing tighter around you, drawing away every bit of that precious wiggle room, but he's shamelessly twitching against you. A soft noise falling from his lips as you fully settle into him now. 

Your head tilts, peering at him through your peripheral. "What're you gonna do about it if I am?" 

If he had a response conjured up, then he must have forgotten how to speak because he doesn't say anything. Just dips his head down and rests against your shoulder, helpless. So needy for something that he has no choice but to lean against you and take what you give him. Grunting under his breath, eyelashes fluttering against your exposed neck. 

The muscles in your neck strain as you crane your head back, "Not gonna stop me?" Your lips brush the lobe of his ear, a visible shiver rolling down his spine. 

Just as quickly as his head dropped, it rises, blank blue eyes staring back at you. Not a thought behind them. "Nuh-uh." 

"Rhett!" Archie's voice slices through the evening air like a knife through butter. His hat waves through the air like a flag. "Get yer ass up outta that chair! We're on!" 

Rhett's head buries back into the juncture of your collar and neck. Unshaven jaw scratching the delicate skin there as he hugs you tight, grumbling. Hardly wants to let you step out of his lap, never mind letting you escape from his wandering arms. But you're getting up anyway. Because the rodeo waits for no one, and he didn't spend the past eight years of his life chasing this dream just to give it up now. 

...that doesn't mean he won't sulk as he walks away. Broad shoulders drooping, hardly has the forethought to readjust himself in his jeans.  

Your chair feels too big now that you're alone in it. Still warm from where he once sat, and if you focus hard enough, you can almost convince yourself that you can catch the sweet notes of his cologne lingering in the breeze. Wrapping around your senses like a hug on the last day of autumn.

Or maybe that's because he's tearing through the crowd. On a one-way path back to you. 

"Rhett?" You're already rising to your feet; did he forget something? Is the rodeo being called off again? So many questions, and yet you can hardly get anything off your tongue. "What...?"

But you're only met with the chime of his spurs. Darkened eyes anchor you in place, leaving you standing in the grass like a deer in headlights. Helpless to do anything but watch as he stalks closer and closer, not a word leaving his mouth, until, until—

It's the sudden gust of wind that carries those two muttered words to your ears, "forgot somethin'." 

And then his mouth is on yours, and it's the sweetest thing you've felt all afternoon. A mere chaste peck on the lips that steals your breath from your lungs and the thoughts from your brain. 

The bumping of your noses is the only thing to shake you from your stupor. "Still needing that good luck kiss, huh?" 

A cowboy like Rhett shouldn't have the audacity to let his gaze drop to his feet, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with his million-dollar grin. But he does it anyway. Shyly peering back at you through those thick lashes. You know it's merely from the stadium lights, but that doesn't stop you from fooling yourself into believing that his eyes sparkle at the sight of you.

"Can I have 'nother?" He whispers it like a secret, only meant to be shared between the two of you. 

You would consider denying him if you hadn't already lost the ability to do that. Already reaching to curl your hands around his cheeks, drawing him in for just one more. Then you're tilting his head down and pressing another kiss to his forehead. 

"For extra measure," justifying it to yourself more than anything. 

And oh, the things you would give to stop time, just to have him a little longer. 

It feels like entire days pass before you hear his name echo from the speakers. An announcer crowing at the top of his lungs as the chute opens, and Rhett bursts out of it. His right hand held high as he clings to the back of that raging bull. Two thousand pounds of muscle threatening to throw him off. Spiraling clockwise. Never seems to have more than two feet on the ground at once. 

He's sliding. Fuck, fuck, fuck he's starting to lose his grip. But he's still on. Clinging to that thin rope. Numbers rising on the billboard. 

Five seconds.

Six. His hat flies off. You're too frozen to look and see where it went.

Seven. Perry jumps out of his seat. Shoulders blocking your view. Fucking—move! 

A shrill buzz soars through the air. So loud and abrupt that you jump at the sound of it. But Rhett's on his feet already, and so are you. Those eyes are already looking your way, full of something that you can see from all the way over here. A sparkling want, a need, spurred by the adrenaline of a ride. 

A ride that's put him further into the finals. Another advancement that'll take you further away from home. 

But you can't think about that right now. After all, it's hard to worry about whether or not you'll be able to join him for next week's rodeo when you're tearing through a crowd in an unfamiliar arena. Dodging groups, twisting past couples, and squeezing between lines that extend to the parking lot. Your head tilting. Turning. Fighting to remember where that damn riders-only entrance was. 

There he is.

Between the stand-by ambulance and the parking lot. Rubbing the juncture of his left shoulder as he stands on his top-toes, trying to pinpoint you in the crowd. There's a group of girls next to him, dressed their best as they chatter, greedy gazes looking Rhett up and down like he's a tall drink of water in the middle of a desert. 

They're pretty, the kind of girls who can pull just about anyone they want in an event like this, but Rhett's only looking at you. An oversized grin breaks across his face as he darts forward, untamed hair flowing in the breeze, all but slamming into you. 

"D'you know what y' do to me?" That deep voice rumbles into your ear. So ready, so eager that he's speaking before he's pulled you off to some place private. And he's got just enough of your leg between his that he can press that aching bulge against you. Shameless. 

"I have a little bit of an idea," and you had a follow-up to that statement, but Rhett's gotten ahold of your wrist. 

Downright hauling you toward that forbidden riders-only section, past the sign declaring that the general public isn't allowed inside, and beyond. Through crowds and past the chutes, your feet nearly tangling as you try to keep up. Until Rhett's spinning and your back is thumping against a wall before you can realize you're moving backward. 

"Someone's got it bad," you're giggling; oh, the lips on your jaw tickle. A desperate frenzy that you aren't warmed up for and can't squirm out of.

"Yeah, wonder why," but you can feel the way he smiles through his words, so big that he can hardly press another kiss to your skin. Working his way up, up, up, until his chapped lips cover your own. 

Unyielding, his rough stubble scratching against your chin as his hand slides across your cheek. A gentle cradle of your jaw that holds you still. Doesn't let you squirm away from the other arm that wraps around your waist, drawing you near until you're chest to chest. So close that you think you can feel the drum of his heart.

Maybe that's what gets you moving. Your arms rising to wrap around his shoulders, hands tangling in his messy hair, as you lean into the kiss. Lips parting as he hungrily licks into your mouth, such a dizzyingly hot feeling that sends your head spinning. Every bit as strong and commanding as he's ever been. 

And yet, as your hand drops to cup him through those too-tight jeans, he jumps. 

"Fuck," he inhales so sharply that you can feel it against your lips. And it's been so, so long since you last heard that sweet sound. Since the last time you watched his head tilt back, swollen lips glistening under the twinkling lights set up for a collection of booths. Selling knick-knacks, homemade signs, and everything in between. Some little thing for after the rodeo—

shit.

As quickly as it pressed against him, your hand falls away, returning to dangle limply at your side. 

"Wh—" His eyes flash open, lashes fluttering like butterflies. Confused. "Huh?"

"I forgot," your head nods toward the unoccupied booths as you speak; their surfaces undecorated for the time being, but the moment the rodeo begins to wane, they'll be packed full of more items than you can possibly think of. "We agreed to see the sales booths with your mom, remember?"

"We really gotta stay 'n buy useless junk with my momma?" The corners of his lips turn downward, a perfect pout that you'd like to kiss until it rises back into a smile. 

You try. God, you try. Have already found yourself leaning in to press one, two, three chaste kisses to those perfectly thin lips. But it doesn't disappear, not even a little bit. "But you bought a useless gnome. the other week."

"He ain't useless!" Rhett sputters against your mouth. A little too loud. His voice carrying farther than it should have. "He keeps my cupholder warm."

"It's just another hour, cowboy," smoothing your hands against his chest as you speak in that slow sort of fashion that he once told you he liked. 

"But..." trailing off, his eyes darting down to his feet. Gaze too heavy for him to look at you. A wayward boot kicks at the gravel, stirring up a small plume of dust. "Please?" 

So faint. So quiet that you don't know if you've made it up in your head or not. "I'm sorry?" 

Rhett's shoulders stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. It's dark back here, but it's hard to miss the way he peeks up at you, a hint of red lingering in the tips of his ears. 

"Please?" Barely audible. A tiny noise that's carried away with the wind, but you've heard it. You know you've heard it because his Adam's apple is bobbing, and he's fully turning his head away from you now. "I'll...that, that thing you wanted...we can try—I want..."

It's shaky. Uncertain. Hardly sounds real. But it's there. 

There's something about the wait that's made this all the more sweet. 

A mouth-watering expanse of pale skin and rippling muscle, defined from a lifetime of manual labor, so rarely put on display like this. That thin sheen of sweat glistening as his hips squirm against this wine-red hotel comforter. The same one that he's clutching between white knuckles, clinging to it like he's seconds away from floating up to the ceiling. 

"Does that feel good?" You ask, hand tightening around his pretty, leaking shaft. So wet that he hardly needed you to drizzle that packet of lubricant over him, leaving him with a glide so slick that every pass of your hand squelches.

Untamed locks of hair bounce with his nod, "uhuh." 

The toned muscles of his stomach flex as he bucks up into your touch, chasing the sweetness of your touch. A whine rolls off his tongue, long and drawn out; you're not moving fast enough for his liking, but the hand that's gingerly rolling his balls in your palm is just enough to keep him from fussing. 

"Feels good," he rushes out, in between breaths, "fuck, it feels good."

He's yet to tell you, but you can already tell that he's close. Know it in the way that his jaw has slackened and in the way he's forgotten to blink. Too focused on the feeling to think of anything else. 

"Do you wanna cum?" Cooing in the softest voice you can muster, temporarily allowing your eyes to dart back to the mess that lies between his legs. Where his cock head has long since flushed a shade of ruby red, raging and desperate for a relief that has yet to come. "Talk to me, cowboy." 

"Uhuh," if he hadn't just spoken a moment ago, you'd think he forgot how to talk. 

But 'uhuh' isn't what you're looking for. No, no, no, you haven't spent the past weeks in sexual misery just for a huffed noise. 

"What do you say?" You're fighting to keep that smug grin at bay, the corners of your lips wobbling. The throbbing length in your hand feels too real to be a dream, but the edges of your vision have that trademark fuzziness that comes with the subconscious wanderings of your mind. 

This is too perfect to be true. 

But the widening of Rhett's eyes is so him. A detail that your wildest dreams could never capture. Always missing the fragments of uncertainty, the waver in his breath, and the anxious tongue that pokes out to wet his chapped lips. "I..."

Your hand stops firm at his base. Squeezing. Unmoving even as his hips jerk upward, seeking more of a touch that he doesn't receive. 

"Baby," he grunts, voice suddenly so worn and ragged that you hardly recognize it. 

Curious, you tilt your head, "hm?"

"'s fuckin' mean," that weak chuckle vibrates all the way down his belly and up into your hand, but despite the back-and-forth rocking of his head, he refuses to crack fully. Taping himself back together at the seams, clinging for that little bit of power that he was so desperate to hand over earlier. 

"All you gotta do is say please," you whisper, thumb swiping up to collect a bead of precum rolling down the underside of him. 

His Adam's apple bobs. 

...maybe this will convince him. 

Your grip slips off his cock, letting it audibly slap against his belly as one of your hands reach for that forgotten bottle of lube, the other taking hold of his wrist. He doesn't fight when you drizzle some of it over his fingers, even idly rubs them together to spread the fluid before it begins to drip into his palm. Makes it so, so easy for you to scoot further up until you're comfortably straddling his belly, able to guide those perfectly shaped digits between your legs.

He doesn't need any further help. Dipping his fingertips between your folds, stroking down to circle around your entrance. The delicate pressure of them punches a gasp from your lips, that aching stretch so dizzyingly perfect. 

"So tight," he muses, absolutely fixated on the way his index finger disappears into you. So, so much thicker than your own, and not one of your toys can curl to stroke against your walls like Rhett does. Rubbing past a spongey bundle of nerves that has your thighs tightening around him, only for him to slip out and nudge two back into you. 

The palms of your hands settle on his chest, just about the only thing you can do to brace your weight as he pumps those fingers into your cunt. Shamelessly paced, trying his damndest to work you up just as quickly as you did to him, and fuck is it working. Rough pads of his fingers swirl around sensitive nerves while his thumb rises to nudge against your clit. A touch that doesn't fully make contact but sends you jumping as if it did. 

"Rhett," whimpering high in your throat, oh, you've missed this feeling.

On its own, the corner of his lip rises. Smug. "Can feel y' pulsin' 'round my fingers, darlin'." 

And you can feel a heat bubbling up in your lower belly. Arising with a certain kind of fury that has you growing wetter around him. Only makes it easier for him to quicken his pace, fucking those thick fingers into your pussy with a fervor that makes your heart skip a beat. 

"Hold on, hold on," you sputter, and as abrupt as it is, Rhett freezes. Letting you drag his hand out from between your legs in favor of you reaching for his neglected cock. Has long since leaked a small puddle of precum onto his belly, still just as red and angry as it was when you last touched him.

You don't know if Rhett's the first to gasp or if it's you, but that first nudge of his cock head against your dripping sex is enough to have both of your mouths opening. Sensitive. So, so sensitive.

God, sinking down on him is even worse. Because there's an aching stretch that comes with the fat head of his cock, already splitting you wide and setting a tremble in your thighs. Only worsened by the calloused palms that smooth across them on their way up to settle on your hips. 

Rhett's always been big, not obscenely so, but thick in all the right places. Enough to have you shivering but not enough to have you struggling to take him. But fuck is it a tremendous task to keep yourself steady whilst you sink down on him. Forced to take it slow, to feel the way he twitches inside of you, blunt tip pushing deeper and deeper and deeper.

The hands resting on your hips rise, sliding behind your naked back until familiar, warm arms can comfortably curl around you. "C'mere," Rhett whispers, and it doesn't take much more for you to lean down. 

Your forearms brace against his broad chest as your mouths meet. Lazy. More of a clash of lips than anything else, too focused on chasing a breath that neither of you can catch. Your head spinning from the lack of oxygen as he slides further into you. That coil winding tighter and tighter—

"Fuck," you breathe as your hips come flush together. So full of him that it aches. "Rhett..."

It's only when you lean back onto your haunches that you realize how his eyes have glazed over, caught in a hazy trance that shatters when you involuntarily clench around him. His hips jerking upward, jostling himself inside of you. So eager for you to start moving. 

But that's not what you were going for at all.

"What are...?" Rhett's question evaporates as you guide his still-wet fingers back between your legs, "What're y' doin'?" 

Confused about your intentions. Yet his thumb presses to your clit all the same, almost eager to feel it throbbing under the pad of his finger. Gradually gaining confidence on its own, doesn't need your guidance for him to start toying with the little button in earnest. A gentle sort of pressure that has you clenching around his cock, sends him into a twitching spasm that nudges against your walls just right. 

"Y' ain't movin'," he observes aloud. Like it's something you haven't noticed. 

"I know," wriggling from side to side, if only to selfishly chase the sensation of him moving inside of you. "And I'm not planning to."

Eyelashes flutter. Incredulous. "Huh?" 

"Not until you say please," because you didn't work this long and hard to give up now, but God, you've been craving the stretch of him. The ache that comes with having his cock wedged so deeply in your cunt, taking up every bit of space you have to offer and then some. 

Those eyebrows furrow in the same fashion as when he climbs onto the back of an angry bull. The kind of reckless determination that glues him to the back of that thousand-pound animal, ready to win or go down trying. 

You recognize that look so well that you're hardly surprised when his thumb aggressively changes gears. Working your clit with a fervor you haven't seen in weeks, massaging exactly how you like it. Not too direct but just enough to have your thighs clamping around his hips, head tilting backward.

But you're not moving. 

Fuck, you can't. Not when all you want is to chase the feeling, pushing further against his hand, unable to even think about drawing yourself away from it. Your vision is blurring, nearly makes you miss the way Rhett's lips part, whining at the way your pussy spasms around him. A perfect hell. 

And then you hear it, the whisper of an ever-so-faint, "please." 

"What did you say?" You can feel how your eyebrows raise, blinking away that blurriness to get a better look at his face. 

"Really?" Rhett's squint dissolves the moment you shift on top of him, his eyelashes fluttering once more. "Okay—fine." 

His head rolls against the pillow, gaze skittering around the room like he's searching for something. A hidden camera. An escape. Something to save him. But he doesn't find it. Has no choice but to look back up at you, a sudden wateriness in his eye, as he whispers. 

"Please fuck me."

Not another word needs to be said. 

Finally, finally, you draw yourself upward, teeth sinking into your lower lip, and the cowboy beneath you just about squeaks. A choked-off noise that rips out of his throat when you pull halfway off of him. Sends you sinking back down on him quicker than you should. Such a sudden thing that it makes your head spin, only worsened when you repeat it, weakly searching for the only rhythm that you can handle.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Rhett's sputtering, in his own little world, unfocused eyes rolling. 

If the image in your head had been a work of art, then you have no idea what to call this. The thick veins of his neck protruding, sweat running down his chest as his back arches up from the bed. Desperately chasing your every thrust, keening high in his throat, uncaring of who may hear or how far it may travel into the hotel hallway. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Your question punctuated by the lewd slap of skin on skin. God, you don't know if it was you who was being tortured or him. 

Brown curls bounce against the pillow as his head nods, mouth moving, but only a garbled cry comes out. Something torn between a "please" and a whimper. 

He's got no right to be hitting the little bundle of nerves within your walls, rubbing against them with every rise and fall of your hips. An indirect massage that has you biting back a noise. If Rhett wanted his control back, he could take it right here and now because your head is floating higher and higher into the clouds. Only able to focus on this, this, this. 

But he doesn't. 

"Wanna cum," he croaks, lucid if only for a moment, "'m gonna—I wanna..."

There's a tremble in your arms that wasn't there before, the kind of shaking that works its way through your entire body. Thighs shivering, weakened by the drag of his plush cock head inside you. And his thumb is still working around your clit, in those same frantic spirals, and it's too much, it's so, so...

You don't know how it happens.

One moment you're being greeted by his hip bones against your ass, and the next, you're clamping down around him like a vice. Mouth falling open with a silent cry as you cum around his cock. The edges of your vision go white. A ringing blooms in your ears that nearly covers up the wail beneath you. 

The cry of a cowboy who doesn't quite know what to do. Brought so, so close to the edge by the involuntary spasming of your pussy, but not quite enough to give him what he wants. Forced to lay beneath you and whimper until you can pry your eyes open once more. 

"Please." He pants, cheeks so red that he matches the comforter.

But what's meant to be a one-word plea devolves before you can comprehend what he was trying to say. "Please, please, please let me cum," he babbles, his head rocking back and forth, the hand on your hip squeezing tight. "Please, I need it, I need it, I want, please, I—" 

You're not ready to move, but you're pulling yourself off him anyway. Downright collapsing next to him, mattress springs squealing at the sudden weight. It feels like ice has formed in the joints of your hand, struggling to wrap your fingers around the flushed length lying against his belly. So heavy that you can feel the way he throbs.

"Darlin'..." there's more to Rhett's sentence, but it never comes out. His heaving chest effectively revoking his ability to speak.

"I've got you," delicate, your hand begins to move. Stroking him in that loose, lazy sort of way that doesn't overwhelm him too quickly. Drawing that pretty whimper right out of him, so beyond the point of trying to swallow his noises down. 

It's the kind of loud, unmistakable noise that you've spent months coaxing out of him. One of your favorite sounds of his, selfishly proud that it's you who is able to draw it out of him. Not the girls who bat their lashes at him at the rodeos. Not the girl who has had her eyes on him ever since she came back from college. 

Only you. 

Nobody else gets to lay him back and make him beg to cum. You're the only one who gets to hear the way he cries out when your palm runs over his sensitive tip. Only your eyes get to watch how he jerks up into your fist, too impatient to wait. So close that his jaw trembles with it.

Large fingers wrap around your other hand, fumbling with it until he can hold it. Squeezing. Like you'll leave if he doesn't keep you grounded here, with him. "I'm..."

"It's okay," you soothe, wrist flicking a little quicker, in the way you know he does to himself. His jaw falls open, another one of those whimpers gracing your ears. Back arching up off the bed, the muscles in his thighs trembling. Jerking up into your touch like its the only thing he's ever wanted.

"Wanna—I'm..." he's rattling on, muttering little things that don't quite meet your ear. A red flush spreading down his neck and into his chest, the hand in yours squeezing tight. 

Your grip tightens by a mere fraction. "Cum for me, Rhett."

Blue eyes roll backward. His mouth agape as he tips off the edge, a dizzying melody of whines rattling out of his throat as thick ropes of white paint his belly. Coating your hand, unintentionally spreading it down his throbbing cock, creates some sickly wet noise that seems to echo through the room. 

And for a moment, that's the only sound in the room. Your wet hand works his softening cock as he comes down from his high, drawing those soft whimpers out of him like it's your job. Shuddered breaths soar through the air, suddenly so sensitive that he's squirming up the bed to escape your grasp.

His bicep flexes as he pulls your laced hands toward himself, drawing you into him. Soft blue eyes still glazed over as he rolls onto his side, rubbing his nose against your arm. Yet his hand doesn't let go of yours, even as you try to pull it away in favor of wiping away the stray tear that's run down his flushed cheek. The back of your cum covered hand will have to do because he's not letting go. 

"You still with me?" You ask, your voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead. Lazy, his head nods, the corner of his lip rising. Not a full smile, but it's a start. "Will you let me get a cloth to clean us up?" 

As quickly as his lip rose, it falls into a pout. 

But his hand unlaces with yours, freeing you to drag your exhausted frame off the bed and to the bathroom. Only takes you a minute to run a cloth beneath warm water, but it had might as well take an entire hour because Rhett's already reaching for you. Hand lazily waving in your direction, falling to the mattress with an audible thump.

"I'm here," you whisper, running the cloth across his belly, "I'm here," 

It's only when the wet material runs over his messy cock that you get a noise out of him. A soft little "ah" accompanied by the unhappy wriggle of his hips. So oversensitive that he can hardly stand it when you rub the inside of his thighs, chasing off remnants of lube. 

You can't be done quickly enough. Settling for tossing the cloth into the sink because there's a cowboy who needs your attention more. He's already squirmed under the sheets, his big, needy arms opening up to welcome you in. Eagerly wraps them around you and pulls you as close as he can get, cold nose nuzzling against yours.

"Are you alright?" You murmur, stroking his hair out of his face. In the back of your mind, you already know he's okay. He would have used his safe word if he wasn't, but you're asking anyway.

Humming, he leans in to steal a chaste peck from your lips, then another, and another, until he's stolen a total of six of them, "'m alright, doll."

"Was it as bad as you thought it would be?" It's too easy to comb your fingers through his hair, a tangled mess from tonight's escapades. Will surely be a bitch to brush out in the morning, but you'll worry about that when you get there.

For a moment, he's quiet, and then, "I...think I liked it?"

"Yeah?" You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you as he nuzzles his face into your neck. Determined to fit himself into the small space and disappear completely. "Maybe we'll have to give it a second try then."

"Mm 'kay." And that's the last thing you get out of him before his eyes flutter shut. 

There's no doubt that he'll ultimately get you back for this. Use all of this pent-up desperation to wring you dry and remind you of just how competitive he can be. You haven't a doubt that you'll soon be waking up to lips kissing down your naked chest, eager to give you a taste of your own medicine. 

And that's alright. 

Because it's not easy for you to break a man like Rhett Abbott. 

But oh, when you 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.