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delopsia · 4 months

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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.

#rhett abbott x reader #afab reader #oneshot #rhett abbott #outer range #but also ->#oc: archie morton #though his existence is only implied

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bradshawsbitch · 1 year

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oh, kristina… the gold, it turned to sand

#I WANT TO WRITE IT SO BAD😭😭#1800s au #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x oc #?#idk man I just be crying #did y’all know Wyoming was the first state with women’s suffrage?#lewis pullman

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writing-until-i-drop · 1 month

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Masterlist

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

Tyler Owens (Twisters 2024)

What's In A Name? Masterlist

Tyler Owens x Harding! FemOC

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin (Top Gun Maverick 2022)

Wildflowers For A Hangman Masterlist

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Writer! FemOC

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Rhett Abbott (Outer Range)

Welcome Home, Sweetheart | Drabble

Rhett Abbott x f! reader (no use of y/n)

You and Rhett were childhood best friends and now you're back in town after living out of state for a few years. Your first night in town is one you'll never forget.

warnings! Rhett punches a guy, reader finds it hot, not proof read, written in under ten minutes

Run Away With Me | One Shot

Rhett Abbott x Fem! Reader (no use of y/n)

3 years ago your parents stole you away from Wabang to keep you out of trouble, now you're back, but only for a night.

Warnings: none!

#wildflowers for a hangman fic #what's in a name fic #rhett abbott #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens x oc #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun fandom #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader

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fairyheart · 1 year

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Stardust Reblog Challenge

1. Riding Out The Storm @briseisgone

2. Gentle, rough and loving @sebsxphia

3. Ticking all the boxers @petcr3

4. Natasha Trace x reader @callsign-phoenix

5. Dial tone heartbeats @peachystenbrough

6. Rhett Abbott x reader @delopsia

7. Dreams @petcr3

8. Like Honey @intoanotherworld23

9. Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News @tongue-like-a-razor

10. Western Skies @callsign-hexen

11. The 5 Times You Flirt With Bob + The 1 Time He Picked Up on It @withahappyrefrain

12. Oral Technique @bobgasm

13. Goodbye kisses @writingdumpster

The Stardust Reblog Challenge is hosted by @liraketo

#stardust reblog challenge #rhett abbott x reader #bob floyd x reader #natasha trace x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott fanfiction

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bobgasm · 6 months

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wip wednesday

rules: post the titles of your wips and run a poll to see what you should focus on first based on the titles alone

tagging: @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman

#wip wednesday #wip tag game #also lowkey just created this game lmao #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x oc #harrison knott x reader #jake hangman seresin #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x oc #these tags are based on the fic titles #but y’all don’t know which belongs to which #maybe

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ereardon · 1 year

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A Place Like This [Ch. 8][Rhett Abbott x OC]

Overview: Rhett Abbott has never met a girl like you. You’re a corporate city girl in Wabang on borrowed company time — he thinks there’s no way you would waste it on him. So when you fall for the local bull rider, you’re both a little surprised. What will it take to get Rhett to realize he can give you everything you’re looking for? And will Rhett be able to reconcile the fact that your job is literally to dismantle Wabang and break apart the only place his family has ever known?

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x OC [Julia Han]

WC: 1.6K

Chapter summary: Rhett and Julia plot how to save Wabang from being bought up; Rhett has a confession

Warning: Cursing, angst, smut

Series masterlist here

The first time you landed a deal — the acquisition of a dairy business in Wisconsin by a billion-dollar conglomerate — you went home and cried.

Even the five figure bonus check sitting on your dining room table wouldn’t help to dull the tears that pricked behind your eyes. You had spent three weeks outside of Madison, Wisconsin, running through document after document before making your assessment.

And then, on the last day, as you sat surrounded by financial statements and endless cups of cold coffee, the conference room door opened. You frowned. There was no one there.

But then a small voice rang out in your ear and you looked down to see a small child standing next to the table. “Are you going to take my mommy’s company?”

The CEO of the business rushed in, cheeks pink and flushed. “I’m so sorry,” she said, scooping up the little girl by her armpits. “She slipped away when I was making copies.”

You smiled. “It’s OK.”

But it wasn’t. That little girl was right. You were taking her mom’s company. One year later, that same woman was cut out from the newly acquired mega-business and you cried again reading it in the local paper.

You felt like a monster. But you had worked too hard and too long to admit failure. Because the truth was, you weren’t a failure. That’s why you felt the way you did. You were successful. Too successful. And that success almost always came at someone else’s demise.

***

“Where were you?” Perry had his arms crossed over his chest as Rhett tried to sneak through the door in the morning.

“Out.” He was rumpled and smelled like sex and Perry had seen his brother after a one night stand enough times to know the look. But there was something else about Rhett this time. An air of determination.

Perry squinted. “You were with her, weren’t you?” He paused. Then, “That bitch.”

Rhett was in Perry’s face in a second. “Don’t you fucking say shit about her,” he hissed.

“She’s a bitch and you know it, Rhett,” Perry said and Rhett slapped the wall behind Perry’s head angrily.

“Shut up!” he roared. “You don’t know anything, you fucking idiot!”

“Daddy?” Amy appeared at the top of the stairs. Both men turned and Rhett lowered his arm.

“Go to your room,” Perry said. “Now.”

“Don’t yell at her,” Rhett countered.

“She’s my daughter,” Perry said, eyes darkening.

“Uncle Rhett?” Amy’s voice trembled. Rhett and Perry never got along, but this was different. Rhett knew he was on a timeline. And his brother was standing in his way.

“It’s OK, honey,” Rhett said, his voice softening. “I promise.”

Amy’s eyes latched onto his and he nodded. His heart clenched in his chest. He was OK leaving Perry and his parents. Hell, he was happy to leave Wabang in the dust. But God if he didn’t wish he could take Amy with him. For so long, she had been the one thing he could truly say brought him joy.

Until he met you.

Amy disappeared up the stairs and around the corner. The sound of her door shutting softly flipped a switch in Rhett’s mind and he turned back to Perry.

“Don’t you say shit about Julia,” he whispered angrily. “She’s going to fucking save our asses.”

“Save us? She’s the reason we’re in this mess to start.”

“You don’t know what she’s giving up to help us, Perry,” Rhett spat. “So do what you do best. Do nothing. Stay out of it and let me fix things.”

Perry shook his head. “You’ve never fixed a damn thing in your life, Rhett. Why would I trust you now?”

He looked at his brother with hard eyes. “Because you don’t have a choice. Trust me and Julia, or watch everything you’ve ever known disappear in front of your eyes. Let Amy watch her family’s history disintegrate. Don’t be a dick, Perry. I’m trying to save the ranch.”

***

“Excuse me,” you said, setting your coffee cup down. “Can you show me the local section?”

The librarian let her eyes roam over you. A month in Wabang and you still hadn’t bothered to try and change your clothing to match the town. She eyed your Theory dress, Manolo Blahnik heels, YSL bag. “Over there.” She pointed one knobby finger toward the back wall.

You picked up your cup and flashed her a bright smile. “Thanks!”

She grunted, hunching over once again, eyes now directed at the yellowing pages in front of her.

Against the far wall were rows and rows of waist-high bookshelves. You set your items down on a nearby table before bending over, fingers running over the spines of dusty binders before finding what you were looking for.

Local laws and ordinances. You sighed, pulling out as many binders as you could hold, before dumping them all on the wooden table. The librarian looked up with a frown and you shot her an apologetic smile.

Your phone buzzed.

Perry’s on board.

You sat down, crossing one leg over another. Finding precedent now, you typed back. Going to be a long night.

Don’t be too late, Rhett wrote back. I’ve got dinner planned for us.

Oh yeah? Dessert, too?

Baby, he typed. You’re dessert.

You crossed your legs tighter, squeezing your core, shaking your head and diving back into the legal books in front of you. There had to be a way to do the impossible: save Wabang.

***

“I see why you like it here,” you whispered softly.

You and Rhett were lying in the back of his pickup truck, staring up at the stars that filled the crisp evening sky. “Not sure if like it is the word,” Rhett replied, voice thick and gruff and even after weeks of hearing it you couldn’t get over how sexy he sounded when he wasn’t even trying. “It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“I’ve been everywhere,” you replied. “But this is completely different. So I get why it’s important to you.”

“You’re important to me.” It came out of nowhere. Your eyes widened and you turned your head. Rhett pushed himself up onto one elbow, fingertips reaching out and brushing the hair from your face. “This place, it doesn’t mean anything if I can’t share it with you.”

“Rhett,” you whispered. “It’s been five weeks.”

“It’s crazy,” he said. “Trust me, I know that. But I need you to know that no matter what happens, I’m going with you. I don’t want you to think I’m going because it’s my only option.”

“Are you sure?”

“Julia,” he said and the way his grainy voice slid over your skin made you shiver. No one had ever made you feel that way before. Not a first date at a Michellin starred restaurant in New York or a hedge fund manager on a trip to Bali or that one fling in Venice. No one compared to Rhett Abbott. “I’ve never been sure about anything before. Except you.”

He leaned down, sealing his lips over yours, your hands finding his hair, tangling in the curled edges.

You moaned into the open air as Rhett’s lips danced down along your throat toward your collarbone, thick fingers deftly sliding up your sweater, grabbing your breast as you gasped beneath him.

“Rhett,” you whimpered, feeling the heat of his wet kisses trailing along your chest.

“Come here, darlin’,” he whispered gruffly, sliding off of you until his feet landed on the ground. You looked up in shock as Rhett tugged your bare legs, sliding you to the edge of the open truck bed. He pushed your skirt up against your hips, grunting when he realized you weren’t wearing any panties. “Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself, bending down and placing his mouth against your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cried out as Rhett’s tongue circled your clit, one rough finger entering you, pumping inside of your already wet pussy.

Rhett groaned against your core, free hand pressed against your lower abdomen, pulling at your belly so he could press his face deeper against your folds, adding a second finger to stretch you open as you writhed against his face.

“Oh, fuck, yes, just like that!” You convulsed as you came against Rhett’s broad tongue, legs wrapped around his neck.

Finally, he pulled away gently, hands still holding your hips, fingers brushing against your skin softly, reassuringly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

You leaned forward onto your forearms. “You’re just trying to get in my pants.”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t lie to you, darlin’.”

You tugged him in closer. “Rhett?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“What if I can’t do it,” you asked. “What if I can’t save the town?”

“Then it ain’t your fault,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “A place like this? It was never going to last forever. Something big was going to roll in and change everything. And if we fight like hell to save it and we still lose, then at least I can leave knowing I tried. If we do our best, that's the best we can do.”

“You won’t hate me?” you asked quietly.

“Darlin’,” Rhett said, his voice blanketing you despite its roughness. Above his head, the stars twinkled. “Julia, look at me.”

Your eyes met his blue ones. If you squinted, Rhett was part of the sky. He was all you could see, for miles and miles.

“I’m in love with you, honey,” he said and your heart squeezed in your chest. Rhett’s fingertips were pressed hard against the delicate skin of your neck and you could feel him trembling, ever so slightly. “I love you, Julia. Nothing is going to change that.”

Tag list: @double-j @momc95 @sadpetalsstuff @seresinhangmanjake @shanimallina87 @starrynightskyz @writercole @endofdays56 @coffeeandcuriosities @xoxabs88xox @iangiemae @showmethewayhomehoney @djs8891 @rosiahills22

@localhockeygirl @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @blue-aconite @fudge13 @avengers-fixation @valkyrja-siren-blog @callsign-joyride @wkndwlff @xomrsalliej4787xo @beyondthesefourwalls @mandylove1000 @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @bradshawseresinbabe @onethirstyunicorn @bobfloydsbabe

#rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x oc #outer range #lewis pullman #a place like this #rhett abbot smut #rhett smut #outer range smut

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sebsxphia · 2 years

Text

a letter of love to rhett abbott | a journal.

author | sebsxphia.

chapter 1 | home.

❀ coffee in bed on sunday mornings and staying wrapped up with each other until midday.

✿ handwritten notes left on the fridge door with lasagne left inside.

𑁍 dirty rock music playing on vinyl.

❀ this video from ethel cain.

✿ early morning rises with the sun filtering through your bedroom window.

𑁍 hearing rhett’s laugh when he chases you around the house with his icy cold hands.

❀ sat on the porch, tucked under a blanket and drinking beer whilst watching the fireworks from town on bonfire night.

✿ stargazing in the back of rhett’s truck.

𑁍 rhett building you a new bedside table when yours breaks.

❀ lying in comfortable silence at night and facing each other. your bodies naked and tangled in bedsheets. soft light from your bedside table lamp illuminating the room.

✿ smoking a joint with rhett when he turns thirty.

𑁍 married life with rhett abbott.

❀ sat on the porch on a summer evening and both cleaning your boots to get ready for the rodeo.

✿ summer rides into the furthest pasture and riding the same horse with rhett, keeping you locked in and safe with his arms.

photo album | a trip across wyoming.

chapter 11 | touch.

☾ kisses that taste like old whiskey, marlboro reds and spearmint gum.

✩ always being there after a ride to patch up rhett’s injuries and pressing fleeting kisses to his scars.

✩ late moonlit nights and facing each other in bed whilst talking about your future together.

☾ feeling rhett’s stubble scratch against your neck.

✩ hot summer nights with sundresses and plaid shirts sticking to one another’s skin.

☾ cold winter mornings wearing rhett’s carhartt jacket and his hand in your back pocket.

✩ tracing rhett’s scars over his chest, along his forearm, down his back and slipping your thumb over his cut lip.

☾ rhett’s calloused and rough hands being gentle with you and treating you like porcelain.

✩ the stark contrast of rhett abbott.

☾ running your hands through rhett’s hair and your fingertips grazing over his temple when taking a bath together and washing his hair.

✩ back seat make-outs in rhett’s truck.

☾ the headboard on your bed splintering from rhett’s cowboy rope ties.

✩ sharing a cigarette in a motel bed after fucking.

☾ kissing the tip of rhett’s cock and calling it pretty.

✩ rhett kissing your cunt and calling it pretty.

☾ being drunk in rhett’s arms at a bar whilst sat on his lap and feeling his hands keeping you safe against him.

✩ rhett worshiping every inch of your skin and kissing along your stretch marks.

☾ playing with rhett’s hair with his head on your lap and listening to his breathing getting deeper as he falls asleep.

photo album | rhett after winning the rodeo.

chapter 111 | love.

♡ ethel cain’s album ‘inbred’.

ꨄ dirty polaroids stuffed in rhett’s top pocket, under his stetson and in the top drawer of his bedside table.

♥︎ handkerchiefs and bandannas with your initials embroidered on and surrounded by little love hearts.

♡ rhett holding onto your hand and helping you in the bath. washing your hair when you need a little extra love that day.

ꨄ making small braids in rhett’s hair and tying in wildflowers.

♥︎ feeling safe with rhett.

♡ rhett and musical dreams.

ꨄ rhett sleeping the best he’s ever slept because now, he feels safe with you.

♥︎ soothing rhett in your arms when he starts to cry.

♡ rhett’s initials tattooed on your wrist. your initials tattooed on rhett’s.

ꨄ your initials branded onto one of rhett’s belts. rhett’s initials branded onto one of yours.

♥︎ anniversaries, valentines and birthdays spent never leaving your bed.

♡ sewing patches on rhett’s torn and tattered clothing.

ꨄ full sets of matching lingerie with lacy garter belts and stockings that rhett treated you to.

♥︎ date nights that consist of rhett driving you out of town, taking you to an expensive restaurant, fucking you in a sleazy motel room and taking more dirty polaroid’s.

♡ one or two sex tapes from said motel visits.

ꨄ sharing a cigarette in bed after making love.

♥︎ ‘candy’ by paolo nutini.

photo album | first date night with rhett.

index | names.

￫ a/n: hello! i hope you enjoyed this. this has been on my mind since i started this blog. on my masterlist i’ve had, ‘what it’s like to be with rhett’ and ‘coming soon’ for months, so i’m absolutely ecstatic that i’m able to share this and i’d love to hear your feedback! thank you! <3

￫ main masterlist can be found here! 💌

taglist: @lt-bradshaw @tallrock35 @iloveprettyboysblog

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott drabble #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott smut #outer range #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader #outer range imagine #outer range fanfic #outer range fic #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x oc

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silens-oro · 2 years

Text

Masterlist 18+

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+.

Updated July 11, 2024

**House of the Dragon** Aemond Targaryen Eye for an Eye Series Masterlist Spoils of War Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen Vicious (x ofc Vaenya Targaryen - Platonic angst)

**The Last Kingdom** Aldhelm My Heart (smut, fluff, angst lite) Grief (this is some sad shit)

Osferth My Lady (soft) Sin (fluff)

**Outer Range**

Rhett Abbott Neon (longing) Comfort (fluff) Real Friendly (angst lite) I am the Night (fluff)

#house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #outer range imagine #rhett abbott x reader #masterlist #hotd imagine #x reader #rhett abbott #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #the last kingdom #osferth x oc

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impishjesters · 10 months

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Denture Daddy

CW// implied unspecific sexual relationships, dom/sub talk, use of the word "daddy" and "mommy" in a non-parental form, mentioned hate sex note(s): basically the reader and Jibba (my TADC oc) playing a dumb game of who seems like a dom or sub to pass the time. Jibba can be seen as a bit of a "whore" but he wears it proudly. Rhett (who's mentioned) is another of my TADC ocs. A/N: This whole thing happened all because I wanted to say "denture daddy". I don't expect anyone to give a shit about this. But at the end of the day as long as my friend and I enjoy it, that's all that matters.

Conversations with Jibba was like a game of Russian roulette. You never knew what direction or topic would come up.

Sometimes the conversations were casual, asking how you were doing or if anything fun had happened. But then you’d get conversations about a tiered ranking of who was considered good in bed, only to get whiplash by a simple conversation on whether you were a dog or cat person.

It was a wild ride, to say the least, which is how you got roped into a conversation about your fellow circus captives and whether they fell into dom or sub-category—for shits and giggles that is.

“‘m just sayin’, ya look at Jax ‘n think he’s got this whole sadistic face to ‘im and it turns out he’s just as touch starved as he looks,” Jibba stated.

Right, they were sleeping together—something about hate fucking because of their prank war or some shit. Neither of them was very subtle about their pranks or their “hate sex” because if that was hate sex you hated to see what tamed sex was like.

Bunch of emotionally constipated idiots.

Jibba jabbed you with his elbow playfully, getting your attention back on him. “Thoughts on Kinger?”

“Definitely not a dom, in fact, it feels wrong to think about him even having sex.” You shuddered. Kinger felt too much like your dad, and thinking of your parent’s boinking was enough to make you wanna bleach your eyes.

He shrugged and crossed his arms before leaning his chest against your back. “Yea’ it’s like watchin’ ya gramparents be romantic an mushy.”

“Ugh,” you gagged, “why’d you have to make it worse? I was thinking of my dad at least.”

“Oo, you thinkin’ bout ya dad playing twista? Naughty, naughty.” he teased, shooting you a playful smirk.

You elbowed him hard, basking in the pained noise that left him. “You know damn well what I meant.”

Jibba groaned and rubbed his side, you had a mean right elbow. “Yea’ yeah, alright so what ‘bout Rhett?”

“Eye Daddy? Oh, yeah. Total dom, but like not like in that rough way—”

“—but in like a total control way? Oh yeah, ya don’t know how hard I’ve been tryin’ to crack that nut—metaphorically and literally.” Jibba scoffed and used your head as an armrest, staring out at the others doing one of Caine’s dumb lil games.

“Are you just making rounds to everyone?” You didn’t shame Jibba for his sex escapades, if anything good on him for finding some way to tame Jax’s awful behaviour.

“Only the hot ones.” You looked up at him despite his arm on your head and he sent you a wink. “I’ll get to ya in no time, less ya wanna jump the list then we can go find somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, not right now.” As entertaining as the thought was, you were quite relaxed just hanging out with the ridiculous man. Though it would be a tempting endeavor at a later time. “So, Ragatha?”

“Mm,” Jibba leaned back, taking most of his weight off of you but kept his arm in place. “She gives like, soft mommy vibes.” he waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “Though I feel like she has a lot of parental experiences if she’s been havin’ ta live with Jax for god knows how long.” He paused, eyes squinting in Ragatha’s direction. “I’d let her give me a good stern talk’ ta.”

“I’ll give you a stern talkin’ ta, if you don’t calm yourself.”

“Babe, this whole conversation is about who’s a dom and who’s not, how do ya expect me to keep calm?” he joked. You raised your arm again with a silent threat to elbow him and he swallowed. “Yeah, okay, calming down.”

“Pomni?”

The two of you fell silent, staring over at the anxious woman who was struggling to get out of Jax’s reach.

“Anxious chihuahua.” Both of you stated at the same time.

Jibba laughed that awful eerie death rattle of his. Did a toy like him really exist? God that was horrifying, who buys that for children? You knew he could control it but why did he have to do it now of all times?

He caught you staring and grinned. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Right, this is Jibba we’re talking about, he knows it’s creepy and did it intentionally. Bastard.

“No,” you rolled your eyes and looked back to Pomni. “She’s too anxious, poor woman probably has a hard time holding someone’s hand let alone sex. Though I’d rather not think about her sex life… feels wrong.”

“Oh, and thinkin’ ‘bout mine ain’t?”

You gave him a deadpan stare as to say ‘Really, that’s what you wanna ask?’. He cleared his throat and mumbled a little ‘touche’ before looking back at the others.

“Oo, I know a good one,” he snickered. “Caine.”

“Caine?” Well, at least he wasn’t asking you about Bubble.

For whatever unknown reason, at the mention of his name Caine appeared a few feet from the two of you with a loud pop. “Diiiid somebody say Caine?”

Jibba shook his head, seemed even with a lack of ears the loud pop affected him. You shook your own head, rubbing an ear. “Uh, not directly.”

Caine cocked his head in confusion, clearly not understanding you were simply talking about him—not trying to summon him. “I see. Well, while I’m here. Why aren’t you two participating?” he asked, waggling his fingers in the direction of the others.

“We’re playin’ our own game,” Jibba answered, giving you a playful nudge.

“Oh?” Caine floated closer, eyeing the lanky doll.

“Yea’, the game of dom or sub.”

Caine cocked his head again. “I don’t understand.”

Jibba snickered and you couldn’t help but cover up your own laugh with a grunt. “What he mean’s is—”

“Oh no, he’s like one of those tops with golden retriever vibes that when ya call ‘em daddy like yer sayin’ ‘good boy’ they get excited.” He covers his face, a genuine laugh instead of that death rattle laugh.

The look of confusion never leaves Caine’s face but you can’t help but join Jibba in his laughter, because he’s not wrong. You could say a lot of insulting or weird things to Caine, but if you use that dog tone with him he’ll take just about anything as a compliment or praise.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, he’d be so fun to fuck with. “He’s not a dom…” you snicker, “but I’d still call him daddy.”

“Denture Daddy!” Jibba bursts out, nearly knocking himself and you off your perch.

The two of you laugh so loud it catches the attention of the others across the way. You wave your hand at Ragatha’s confused expression and further try to prevent the two of you from falling.

“I hate to intrude on this moment of merriment but,” Caine clears his throat, looking between the two of you with confused concern. “You two do know I’m not your father, yes?”

Jibba lets out a scream that turns everyone’s attention back onto you two, only to follow with nearly scream-level laughter from the man. You can’t really blame him though because you haven’t stopped laughing either, especially not long enough to try and explain to Caine that the two of you weren’t calling him father.

You give Caine what one could only describe as some form of yes as an answer before telling him he can go between cries and Caine leaves hesitantly. Your sides are starting to ache from so much laughing, meanwhile, Jibba has his face buried into his hands and is leaning into your shoulder like you’d be able to stop his laughter and tears.

He’s taking this a lot funnier than you but man, “denture daddy” is gonna always be in the back of your mind when you look at Caine from now on.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #the amazing digital circus oc #tadc oc #tadc original character #original character x reader #tadc rhett (oc)#tadc jibba (oc)

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delopsia · 11 months

Text

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.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #oneshot #OC: Archie Morton #rhett abbott smut #outer range #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #x reader

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

Millie, would love Rhett and a nerdy!reader kissing for the first time after Rhett realizes she had a huge crush on him in high school

Thanks for the slumber party!

when you saw Rhett at the bar on your third night back in Wabang, you were surprised. not surprised that he was there, at the bar, but surprised that he had aged like a fine wine. cowboy hat intact, body sinewy and tanned from ranch work, scruff across his cheeks.

keen to just smile at him and wave across the room at your longest crush, you were surprised when he suddenly caught your gaze and did a double-take.

abandoning Perry altogether, Rhett monied across the room, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a lazy smile.

"hey, you!" he said, chipper as ever. "god, I ain't seen you in years! how you been, honey?"

and then he was pulling you into a flannel-scented hug, overwhelming you entirely.

it wasn't even that he was mean to you in high school. but you were the kind of girl who studied in the library, sat at the front of the class, and got early acceptance letters from a handful of colleges. Rhett, on the other hand, was less studious than you were. the kinda boy that smoked in the courtyard and lounged in the back of class, only engaging when it was forced out of him.

"I'm-i'm good! you?" you asked, grinning, trying to control your rapid heartbeat.

Rhett pulled back and drank you in, your glittering eyes and your manicured nails and those glasses that he's always liked perched on your nose.

"better now," he told you. "god, what's it been? like, five-six years?"

still awestruck, you nod.

"somethin' like that."

Rhett chewed his lip for a moment, glancing back over at where he left Perry standing.

"you wanna drink with me?" he asks. "c'mon. my treat?"

the two of you have been dancing around it all night long.

sitting across from each other in this smoky bar, more than a few beers shared between the two of you, leaning in close to each other because the crowd's getting rowdier (but really because you can't get enough of that deeply masculine scent that is thick on his pulse points and he keeps getting butterflies when he gets a waft of your shampoo).

as the night has dragged on, Rhett's cheeks rosier than ever and your laugh growing louder, Rhett finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from your lips. they're so beautiful--wet and painted with a lipstick that's steadily been wearing off all night, molding around your teeth as you beam at him.

"how'd I miss you in high school?" he asks, brows furrowed.

you nearly choke on your beer, brows furrowing. resting the glass on the table, you tilt your head at him.

"what d'you mean?" you ask, voice soft. "you didn't miss me in high school. we had algebra together!"

Rhett nods, leaning back against the booth and crossing his arms.

"I's too busy passin' notes in algebra," Rhett admits somewhat coyly, scratching the back of his neck. "didn't learn anythin'."

"on the contrary, I never passed notes in algebra," you smile softly. "and I sure didn't miss you, Rhett."

Rhett's brows flick upwards in surprise. you're a bit embarrassed at this fact--but only for a moment. suddenly, Rhett is gathering one of the white napkins on the table and plucking one of the little pencils that's been forgotten there after trivia night.

"what're you doin'?" you ask, nose wrinkled in amusement.

"writin' you a note," he says. he glances up at you, catches your gaze on the napkin. protectively, he wraps an arm around it and raises his brows at you. "no peekin'."

"sorry," you laugh, flushing.

he writes for only a few moments, gazing down at his scrawl before he slides the napkin face-down across the table. then he leans back, swallows hard, and watches you carefully.

you're not sure what to expect, really. maybe his number. maybe just a simple hi. but when you turn the napkin over, it nearly knocks the breath out of your lungs.

can I kiss you?

-Rhett

he watches you read it with his lip tucked between his teeth. he's a little fuzzy around the edges, a little drunk on beer and a lot drunk on you. but then you're looking back up at him, pupils blown, smile dying.

"yeah," you say, voice thin.

he moves first, leaning forward across the table, cupping your cheek with a rough hand. every breath you breathe fans out across his bottom lip and he shivers, nuzzling his nose against yours.

and honestly, you've dreamed of this before. locking lips with Rhett Abbott in his shitty pickup truck or under the bleachers after a football game, tasting all that tobacco and oak on his lips. digging your fingers into the skin of his shoulders, hearing your name tumble off his lips in a moment of utter rapture.

he grazes your bottom lip with his thumb, then very gingerly pinches your chin and closes the distance between your mouths. he tastes like beer and so do you, but there is something distinctly sweet there, too. something that is not a flavor so much as a feeling, a promise.

and when you pull back finally, face hot, he peppers a couple more kisses around your pretty mouth.

"wanna know somethin'?" you ask, eyes slipped shut.

"I do," he whispers.

"I've been waitin' on you to kiss me since high school."

he chuckles, kisses you again.

"should've done it sooner," he tells you. "my apologies."

when you walk out of the bar later that night, arms hooked together, you're wearing his hat and he's donning your glasses.

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bobfloydsbabe · 2 years

Text

LINGER | rhett abbott x oc | chapter 2

two: something in the air

SUMMARY: Rhett Abbott is stuck. He rides bulls, works on his family’s ranch, and probably drinks more than what’s good for him.

Lou Kinney is aimless. She never stays in one place for long, driving from state to state, and picking up odd jobs along the way.

So when she shows up in Wabang, Rhett’s life tumbles into free fall and Lou’s not sure she trusts herself to catch him. But maybe these two lost souls find exactly what they didn’t know they were looking for: each other.

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

WARNINGS: angst, bull riding inaccuracies, horses/ranching inaccuracies, i don't understand american culture but i try.

WORD COUNT: 3k

JOIN THE TAGLIST (google form–no personal info required)

special thanks to @wkndwlff for helping me name some side characters, being a reference point to everything about the show, and for listening to me rant about this for hours on end. You're a darling!

He comes home to a dark and quiet house. There’s a candle burning in the windowsill that his Ma must’ve forgotten before going to bed. He blows it out for her, engulfing the house in blackness.

He drags his feet up the stairs, the scraping of his boots on the wooden floors sounding like a marching drum in the darkness. He shouldn’t. His Ma always told him to lift his feet, but they’re all asleep so it won’t bother them.

Not that he cares. He’s usually too drunk to see straight.

Not tonight, though.

He walks into the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. His Ma’s been complaining about his hair for a while, but he likes it longer. It makes him look older, and it curls at the nape. The girls seem to like that there’s something to tug on and he likes it when they do.

He brushes his teeth slowly, pacing as much as the small bathroom will allow.

He spits the toothpaste out, watching as it disappears down the drain with the water. His eyes return to the reflection in the mirror, and it’s a sad sight staring back at him.

He always meant to get out of Wabang. Maybe go to college, get a degree, make something of himself that didn’t involve the ranch or his family. Make a name for himself somewhere no one knows him or expects anything from him. But all he sees now is a guy who rides bulls to win his father’s love, who’s always played second fiddle to his brother, who’s a good-for-nothing cowboy.

He turns the faucet back on and splashes water in his face, trying to wash away the pathetic boy in the mirror.

He closes his eyes and imagines getting out, but he only allows himself the indulgence for a few seconds before he turns the water off and shakes his head. The only person he can’t bear to leave behind is Amy.

When he walks back to his room, he lifts his feet. It’s only midnight, after all. Once inside, he toes off his boots, gets undressed, and falls into bed. The bedframe creaks and complains as he adjusts on the shitty mattress that should probably have been replaced a decade ago.

Placing a hand behind his head, he stares at the ceiling. He listens to the sounds of the land that surrounds him. A horse whinnying in the stables, a sleepy cough from someone in the house, the hallway clock ticking away outside his door.

His thoughts turn to Lou. She’s an outsider, yet somehow, she fits right in as if she’s been here the whole time. She knows this life. She knows ranching; she knows about bull-riding; she knows how to make small-town people, like Patty and Old Man Arthur, smile and laugh. She puts people at ease in a way only someone who’s familiar with towns like this does.

Beyond that, and the fact that she has a dog, he knows nothing about her. He doesn’t even know the color of her eyes, but he thinks they’re dark. Probably brown.

He turns on his side, the good one where his shoulder doesn’t hurt, and closes his eyes. He thinks it’ll be a while, considering he’s not drunk, but sleep takes him almost immediately.

He wakes up well-rested but sore. His shoulder is still achy and stiff, but it’s a lot more manageable, and his lack of a hangover probably has something to do with it, too.

Only his Ma is up when he comes downstairs freshly showered and dressed for the day. He pretends not to notice the shocked look on her face and appreciates that she doesn’t comment on it.

She pours coffee into a mug and hands it to him. “Thanks,” he mutters and sits at the dining table.

She leans against the kitchen counter, looking at him with skeptical eyes. “When did you get in?”

“Around midnight.”

She smiles into her coffee cup, and Rhett swears he hasn’t seen that directed at him in months.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replies, but the smile doesn’t fade. “You just don’t smell like a distillery for once.”

“I can swim in a whiskey barrel if that helps.”

His mother laughs, and the sound bounces off the walls, filling the room with lightness. Her face has been etched with seriousness for far too long, and watching her smile sends relief flooding through his system.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs tears his attention away. Perry stops at the bottom of the stairs, watching his brother and mother in the kitchen making jokes and laughing. Rhett knows it’s a foreign sight.

“Mornin’,” Perry says, eyes slightly narrowed.

Rhett hums in response just as Amy slips under Perry’s arm and bolts for a seat at the table. Ma kisses her cheek, placing a plate of toast in front of her she tears into immediately.

Rhett ruffles her hair, and she shakes him off with a playful look on her face. Those big eyes shine with innocence and if he could bottle it up, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Is Dad already out there?” Perry asks, as if their father hasn’t been up at the crack of dawn all his life.

Rhett shakes his head and rises from his seat, snatching a small corner of toast off Amy’s plate.

“Hey!” she protests. “Get your own.”

Royal sends him to the south pasture to check the fences. He rides along the fence, his breath comes out in a puff of hazy smoke, and enjoys the warmth of the morning sun on his face.

An unexpected sound pulls his attention. He turns his head towards it and spots Lou in the distance. She’s on horseback, Stetson on her head, and her dog running alongside her.

They make eye contact, and Rhett raises his hand in a small wave. He wants to approach, talk to her again, hear her laugh and finally determine the true color of her eyes.

She decides for him as she guides her horse, a beautiful red one with soulful eyes, towards him. Her dog falls behind, sizing him up, and Rhett has never felt more under the microscope than under the watchful eye of the black and white dog.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she says once he’s in earshot, smile wide and friendly on her face. It makes her look younger.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

Once they’re right in front of each other, he can finally tell that her eyes are brown. Deep, like the desert on the darkest night of the year. Stunning.

They ride alongside each other for a while in comfortable silence, only a fence separating them. Hooves heavy on the wet ground from a bygone rainfall he missed during his long sleep, and the jiggle of the collar on Lou’s dog as it runs ahead of the horses.

“What’s his name?” Rhett asks, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Denver,” she replies, a small smile on her face again. “I call him Denny most of the time, though.”

The dog halts at the sound of his name, looking over his shoulder at Lou and Rhett. She whistles, a different tone to the one he heard the first time he saw her, and the dog keeps going.

“You riding this Friday?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Gotta do well if I want to move up.”

It’s been on the books for weeks and yet he’s surprised she knows about it. It’s a local event, but it counts towards his score to get the regional competition.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she replies, and she sounds so confident he almost believes it, too. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Better.”

Up ahead, Denver barks at what appears to be a stick on the ground, making Lou shake her head at him with a breathy chuckle. “Silly dog,” she mutters.

Silence stretches between them again, but it’s comfortable. He doesn’t feel the need to fill it this time. He feels Blazer’s muscles move with every step he takes, listens to hooves hitting the ground softly, Denver’s collar jiggle, and somehow the air in Wabang doesn’t feel so stifling.

Maybe he’s imagining it, though. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“You coming to the rodeo?”

He turns his head to Lou, his ears burning hot at the question he’s just asked. He expects to see a smile on her face, but her mouth is in a straight line, jaw clenched, and she’s fiddling with a loose stitch on the reins in her hands.

“I don’t know,” she finally says, barely perceptible shake of her head. “Haven’t been to one in years.”

Rhett hums. He watches as she keeps fiddling with the reins, similar to the way she picked at the label on her beer bottle last night until it was gone. Nothing but a pile of tattered paper on the counter.

“Amy’ll be there,” he tells her. “I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”

It’s a long shot, and a cheap one at that, but he can’t help it. Something tells him it’s important she comes to the rodeo, to see him ride, and maybe even cheer for him.

“Hunter has been begging me to go,” Lou says with a ghost of a smile back on her face. Barely there but present, and his chest feels lighter. If he’s not mistaken, Hunter is the younger of the two Taylor boys.

“Now you have to go,” he says. In the distance, Denver comes to a halt and waits for them to catch up.

“You think so?”

He grins. “I know so.”

She chuckles as she checks her wristwatch. “I have to head back,” she tells him and whistles in yet another tone that makes Denver come running to her. “I have a new client arriving in 10 minutes.”

“Yeah, alright,” he mutters.

He watches her gently pull the reins away from the fence, and her mare obediently follows the command. Lou softly kicks her heels into the horse’s rounded belly, making it set into a trot.

“See you around,” she shouts over her shoulder, waving a hand in the air.

Rhett’s eyes follow her retreating figure until she’s out of sight, swallowed by the fog that’s finally lifting, making way for bright and clear day.

The day of the rodeo rolls around a few days later. Humidity hangs in the air, with dark autumn clouds looming, threatening the possibility of a good ride for him. He silently prays for the rain to hold off until later.

Royal talks about Rhett’s stats and how many points he needs to move up as they walk towards the area for riders. Amy skips ahead of them, Perry not far behind, and his Ma seems to have gone off somewhere on her own.

“You’ll need to last those eight seconds tonight,” Royal says.

Rhett grunts as way of a reply, but his mind is miles away. There’s something different about tonight that’s setting him on edge, but it’s not the nerves he usually experiences before a ride.

Royal leaves him to get ready on his own. Rhett pulls his chaps on, secures them, grabs his gloves and safety vest, and goes to the fence to watch his opponents ride. The bulls seem wild tonight, bucking more than he’s seen any of them do in a while.

A coordinator calls his name, letting him know it’s time to get to the chute.

He slips the vest over his shoulders and as he’s securing the velcro straps on his side, Lou appears in his periphery. He’s close enough to the edge of the area reserved for riders that she can come to him, only separated by a rope.

“You came,” he says.

“Yeah,” she agrees, looking over her shoulder towards the stands. “Hunter is very convincing.”

“You should find Amy,” he tells her. “She keeps begging my brother to take her to Oak Creek for a lesson.”

The sound of Lou’s quiet laugh bounces around his chest and settles in his stomach. He can’t help the corners of his mouth turning upward.

“She’s more than welcome,” Lou says. “I just wanted to wish you good luck.”

He cocks his head slightly, eyes trained on hers. “Yeah?” She nods. “Thank you.”

The coordinator calls him again, and when he makes eye contact with him over his shoulder, Rhett knows he can’t push it any further. He looks back at Lou, and opens his mouth to say something, but she beats him to it.

“You got this,” she says, reaching up to his hat, taking hold of the brim. His breath hitches, thinking she’s going to take it off him, but she just adjusts it. Heat rushes to his cheeks.

Her hands fall back at her side as she meets his eyes. Rhett barely hears the announcer on the loudspeaker saying he’s next because the only thing that exists is him and the woman with the soft smile in front of him.

“I gotta go,” he says eventually, not sure how long has actually passed.

Lou nods, wishes him one final good luck, and turns around, heading towards the stands to rejoin the Taylors.

He weaves in and out of people and trailers to get to his chute. He tapes the glove to his hand before climbing up the ramp, easing himself down onto the bull where he wraps the rope tightly around his hand, taking deep breaths as he does. The black bull writhes in the chute, ready to buck him off as soon as he gives the go ahead.

He gives the nod of approval and the door springs open. His bad shoulder aches as he’s thrown around, but he holds on with all he’s got. Eight seconds feels like a lifetime when you’re on a bull.

He hits the sand with a thud loud enough that he can hear it over the crowd cheering, the announcer’s voice ringing in the air, and the stomping of the bull he just got tossed from.

He flexes his fingers inside the gloves before pressing his palms flat against the ground. He pushes himself up, slowly getting to his feet until he’s standing at his full height, eyes flicking towards the raging bull as it’s wrangled into a pen behind the ring. It was a mean one tonight.

He rolls his shoulders as he looks at the scoreboard, finding his name at the top. He did good, but there are more riders after him, so it’s still not a done deal. He could use the money, though. The points, too.

As he climbs over the fence to get out of the ring, his eyes turn to the stands where he sees his family still cheering for him, and he lifts his hand in a wave. Say what you will about Rhett’s family, but at least they show up at his competitions and roots for him.

The rest of the riders are halfway decent, and by the end of the night, Rhett is in second place. That new kid he can’t remember the name of beat him by the skin of his teeth, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Rhett’s still young, but it stings that this kid, who looks fresh out of high school, did better than him.

He joins up with his family, who all congratulate him. Royal gives him tips on how he can do better next time, but it sounds more like he’s reprimanding him like he did when he was ten.

Rhett knows the first prize money would have been better for the ranch, and he tries not to resent them for spending the money he’s earned by putting himself in harm’s way. Some days it’s easier said than done.

“I saw Miss Kinney,” Amy tells him, her eyes bright and smile wide. “She said I could come see her work.”

“That’s great,” he says, ruffling her hair.

“You coming with us?” Cecilia asks, probably hoping he won’t go to the bar this time. He’s sure some part of her knows it’s a lost cause.

“Nah, I’m gonna stick around,” he says, and ignores the displeased look on his Ma’s face.

They say their goodbyes, and when they step out of the way, Lou is walking towards him. Her boots kick up dirt, her hands buried in the pockets of her jacket, and she’s taken her hair down so it frames her face.

“Hey,” he says when she gets close enough.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” she says, stopping in front of him. “Didn’t I say you could do it?”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t win.”

“But you placed,” she points out as another rider walks past them toward the parking lot.

“You coming for a drink, Abbott?” He asks, walking backward until Rhett yells his agreement.

He turns his attention back to Lou, who’s pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and his eyes trail the movement of her hand.

“What do you say?”

She frowns, tilting her head to the side, and Rhett wants to smooth out the crinkle between her brows. “To what?”

“Wanna get a drink?”

She tilts her head further, but there’s a teasing smile at the corner of her mouth. “Only if you’re buying,” she says, spinning on her heel and starts walking towards the rows of trucks in the distance.

He shakes his head, a grin so wide it almost hurts. “Yes, ma’am,” he says and catches up to her in a few long strides.

“I carpooled with the Taylors here, so you’re driving, too.”

A/N: The next chapter is going to be all from Lou's perspective, so we get to know her a bit more. Thank you so much for reading, and don't forget to reblog if you liked it!

TAGLIST: @wkndwlff, @joaquinwhorres, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @chicomonks, @thedroneranger, @dhwanishah09, @callsign-cacti, @chickensarentcheap, @lt-bradshaw, @cherrycola27, @hismissharley13, @bradshawsbitch, @yanna-banana, @phoenixhalliwell, @rhettabbotts, @laracrofted, @everbizzare, @t-nd-rfoot, @callsign-joyride, @angelbabyyy99

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #lewis pullman #oc: lou kinney #outer range #otp: lou x rhett #fic: linger #chapter update #helenawrites #writtenbyme #mywriting #madebyme #still nervous as fuck to post this

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sarahsmi13s · 11 months

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|| multiverse of masterlists | sarahsmi13s ||

hello my darlings and welcome to my multiverse! here you can find all of my main masterlists! from fanfics to moodboards -- it's all here! and i hope you enjoy your stay!

pssst you can also find me on wattpad

have fun!!

everything is under the cut 💜

hello my little cassettes!

as most of you know or don't know, i'm vinny! or sarah! whichever you're familiar with is fine!

here are some guidelines!

-> ageless and blank blogs will be blocked! this is for my safety and yours!

-> my requests are currently closed - details are here

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-> i am currently unsure of my boundaries on writing certain topics, but as i discover those i will update my request guidlines and boundaries!

-> you can request moodboards as well if you would like!

-> my work (headers, line-breaks, my fics) belongs to me. do not repost my work. i am the only one with the permission to repost on other sites. if you have questions about anything, please dm me and we can talk about it

-> and please just be kind! if you come in my inbox acting like a bitch, i will match your energy, if i feel like the situation needs to be addressed. otherwise, i may just delete the rudeness because it's not worth my energy. but know -- if you act like a cunt, expect to get fucked.

alright, now onto the fun stuff!

here you can find moodboards -> vinny's moodboard multiverse

here you can find stories about our lovely aviators -> top gun masterlist

-> general taglist

here you can find stories about cowboys -> outer range masterlist

-> general taglist

here you will be able to find some of your favorite heroes -> there will be a masterlist here soon

here you can find random characters and events!

-> whumptober 2023

-> walt 'finn' finnegan

-> taglist

-> charlie young -- coming soon

-> taglist

in progress…

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bradshawsbitch · 2 years

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the lullaby of mother troll;

masterlist | next chapter

summary; as a child, rhett had heard all about wood wifes, nymphs, nixies and vittror from his mother, as she told the tales that had passed from mouth to mouth throught the passing of time. he had always found water nymphs to be exceptionally fascinating… though his older brother perry assured him there were no such things in real life.

warnings; mentions of alcohol, adult themes in general, complicated emotions, family woes, whimsy.

word count; 2.6K

For as long as man-kind has roamed the earth, they have lived their lives through lore. Through the traveling of stories they live on - tales that prevail through the very lives that conjured them. Some fall into shadow, to be forgotten. Some live on, in an altered version of its older siblings. Creatures and beings, who once held such importance to mankind and their beliefs and superstitions long set aside as whimsy and lore - not to be anchored within the reality of man.

Some tales told to scare, some to comfort, some to nurture, and some to warn. Do not dwell out in the woods, or the vittra will bewitch you and curse your luck. Do not be lured by the sweet music of the water, for the nixie might lure you into the depths of the lake. And do not insult the wood wife with firearms as you enter her domain, for she will smite any man that dare shoot at her.

These tales are still told to this day, but more so to carry on the history of human creativity, of the faith and beliefs of old.

Cecelia had told these tales to her sons before bed, her body shifting so she faced her youngest more often than not. For she thought if she ever had to trudge through murky woods to find her heathen of a son again, she might scream out loud.

The boy in question sat enraptured at the tale his mama told, clear blue eyes glittering like a clear lake on a windless day as Cecelia spoke of trolls, of wood wives, and of nymphs.

“Mama… I like the nymphs, they seem like the nicest ones you’ve told us about so far, right Per’?” her youngest looked to her oldest, and the elder of the two scoffed and rolled his eyes at his brother “You know they’re not real, right?” Perry rolled his eyes again for good measure, as his younger brother looked down, abashed, at his blankie that he held close to his chest.

Rhett did not know that. His mama told him about them, he didn’t figure mama would lie. She told him not to. The younger boy didn’t tell his brother how much this revelation hurt him, because only yesterday when he had shed tears, his father had brusquely told him to stop.

Rhett so badly wished the nymphs were real. It was why he ran to the lake in the woods so much, to see if he could ever see one. His mother never knew why her son had taken such an interest in the lore around nymphs - sometimes it took her hours to drag her son away from the pond deep in the woods - where he would sit as if patiently waiting for someone. Drawn by the still, glittering waters.

Some folklore had traveled not only through time, but over the seas as well - touching every crevice where mankind stepped its foot. Though some were contained to a village, or an area surrounding. In Wabang, Cecelia knew there was one that some of the older townsfolk still believed.

The tale of a woman… the woman who resided within the woods, lakes and mountain ranges. Some called her the wood wife - men who were enchanted by beauty and promise of bountiful hunt back in the 1800’s, some called her the nymph - she who resided in waters and protected the woodland realm and all its creatures.

She was different from the other tales though, for she would find a life long love - some believed it was her soulmate. She was no immortal being, though she was said to live far longer than any man. Any man who was selected by the nymph were lucky folk, for her love was everlasting - it was said. Some of the older residents of Wabang spoke of the last time she had chosen her one love, many many years ago.

The tall tale was told by a man deep in his drink, something he blamed on having sighted her ethereal being without being her love. He had sighted her with a man, with love in his eyes as she placed flowers in his hair.

He told all who would listen of her beauty as she looked at her beloved, and how her face had contorted as she noticed him staring - her features twisting something awful - as if she could sense his tainted soul and mind. His dark thoughts and desires. She reflected him, his entire being back to him and he has not gone a day without a strong bottle or two since.

Time went on, as it does, and soon Rhett was no longer a small boy running to the lake in the woods, his whole body vibrating as he sat patiently watching the wildlife. He felt as if something should be here. Something he was waiting for. When he got older, he did still visit the lake - though his enthusiasm and excitement dimmed, as it does with children who grow up too fast, too hard, and left to learn how to navigate life on their lonesome.

As he grew older, he would sometimes bring girls into the woods. Never to the lake, no, that didn’t feel right. He usually brought them to the foot of the mountain, hiking skirts up their waists, or bending them over rocks with their boot cut jeans at their ankles. It was never as Perry had described it, Rhett usually thought as he finished. He never felt very satisfied, and sometimes he wouldn’t reach his peak at all, instead making sure his partner reached their high and pretending he did too. He chased it though - wanted to know about that euphoric feeling his friends and older brother had told him about.

For a long time he figured he just ain’t wired right. He was made for bullridin’, drinkin’, smokin’ and being a dog. Sleeping in his truck on cold Wyoming nights, not wanting to wake his niece or his parents - too tired to hear yet another tirade about ‘being more like his brother’ and ‘learning some damn respect’.

He lit a cigarette on those nights sometimes, inhaling deeply as he looked up to the small glittering stars that dotted the night sky. There was something familiar in their pattern, he’d always felt.

Rhett always felt more right in nature. Always felt more right in the woods, by the lake. He had felt that deep restlessness take hold of him for quite some time now, settling in his chest. Sometimes he wondered if it was eased by going to the lake.

Inhaling the cooler night air on his 23rd birthday, Rhett licked his lips as he thought of how long it had been since he had visited his lake. As he pondered, he brought the side of his thumb to his mouth, picking at the already torn skin there with his teeth, brows furrowed slightly. It had to have been more than a year since he last visited the lake, and even longer since he had had a swim.

Climbing into his truck, he winced as it roared to life in the still night sky outside of his parents house. He was sure to get an earful for that one in the morning. Perhaps he would have to spend the night by the lake to not disturb his family’s sleep again. The loud engine echoed as he sped across the pastures, only stopping when he reached the edge of the forest, swiftly grabbing a blanket and a flashlight from the trunk of the car and beginning the well traveled path to the lake.

As soon as his silhouette could no longer be seen from the pasture, a shaky sigh of relief left Rhett’s parted lips. It felt as if the trees around him were humming with delight at his appearance, and he heard the soft hoots of an owl in the distance as he moved slowly through the path he’d worn down for years. Come to think of it, when he was a child, the path was there then too - although hidden beneath vegetation that had overgrown it.

Following it felt like something he had always done, ever since he could walk. He couldn’t remember when he first found the path or the lake - he only knew the tale his mother told of her fear as she searched for him for hours.

The pale moonlight illuminated branches and bushes along the path, and soon enough came the familiar clearing, the still water reflecting the light of the moon almost perfectly. For a moment, Rhett stood stock still. The lake still felt familiar and soothing, but now his skin was prickling again - and that sense of waiting for— something, someone overcame him again. Licking his lips, he pushed the faint buzzing to the back of his mind as he slowly reached for the back of his old t-shirt, drawing it down over his head, letting it fall into the grass below him. His boots and belt buckle was next, along with his jeans and boxers, and at last his socks.

Running his fingers through his long hair, Rhett let his eyes flutter close, chest heaving in a deep breath as he felt the cool summer air caress his naked body. Rolling his shoulders, he could feel the dull ache that lingered there, especially in his left shoulder - the joint crackling as he rolled it backwards. Taking another deep breath, he focused on the feeling of the cold, dewy grass beneath his feet, and how his skin felt beneath his fingertips as he ran them down his chest and abdomen before they rested on the side of his thighs.

Kneeling by the edge of the lake, Rhett slowly submerged his fingers into the dark waters, swirling them around as he felt the cool sensation surrounding him. Fleetingly he thought to himself that it would probably do wonders for his aching muscles - his inner thighs and abdomen had been killing him since his last bull. Rowdy son of a bitch.

Exhaling slowly, Rhett placed a strand of hair behind his ear out of habit before standing to his full height to wade into the shallow waters. The chill of the still water soothed him somewhat, his muscles thanking him for lending them this reprieve. The same could not be said for his mind.

Wading out into the waters, he kept going until he was waist deep, letting his head hang as he watched the blurry reflection of the starry skies in the water. Biting his bottom lip, he let himself fully feel the physical ache his mental anguish was causing him. Today had been his birthday. His twenty third year on this god forsaken earth, and sure - birthdays had never been a big deal in the Abbott family, but somewhere he had at least hoped for a smile and a hug, or even a recognition of the day. Ever since Perry’s… incident though, nothing else had been important. Not even him. Especially not him.

A soft groan broke the silence of the woods, his hands coming up to rub at his face as tears stung mournfully in his closed eyes. Was he being selfish? So much had happened in such little time. Rebecca was gone, Amy was in shambles… Perry was too, and now he had gone and fucked shit up beyond Rhett’s wildest imagination. The Tillersons’ were involving lawyers for the land, and now surely the fucking police would come like bloodhounds in the night. So much had happened - of course no one would be inclined to remember Rhett’s birthday. It wasn’t important. The sting of that realization had Rhett gasping in a breath as the dull ache spread in his chest, indignant hot tears rolling down his dust covered cheeks.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed loudly into the darkness, letting his head fall back, so that his cerulean eyes were staring up towards the inky skies. Inhaling, he promptly pushed against the sandy bottom of the lake, pushing his body into a half dive that sent him towards the middle of the lake, now fully submerged. He let himself enjoy the weightless feeling as he surged through the water, that weightless feeling only partly soothing the ache his emotional toil had caused him physically.

Breaking the surface again, he gasped in a deep breath, once again disturbing the peace of the woodland creatures in the vicinity. A bush rustled violently, and Rhett figured he must’ve scared away a poor rabbit with his sudden emergence. Inhaling deeply, he ran a hand down his face to brush the water away, his body turned to where the noise had come from. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could hardly believe he saw correctly. Fleetingly, he thought he’d seen a figure standing where the bush had rustled. Red and white billowing as the figure disappeared behind the treeline.

Rhett stood frozen in his spot. In all of the years he had come here, he had never once seen even the slightest hint that any other than himself and his mother had ever ventured this far into the woods. It must have been a trick of the light. What light? Or a figment of his lonely imagination. Yes, that was surely it. Shaking his head solemnly, the soaking wet cowboy slowly made his way out of the water, droplets falling around him into the soft grass. He hadn’t thought to bring a towel, only blankets, so he laid one down on the ground, figuring the summer night would have to dry him the best it could.

Laying down, Rhett had an overwhelming feeling that someone was watching him. It should unnerve him, but the thought only brought him peace - a sense of calm washing over him as he made himself comfortable on the ratty blanket he’d placed down. His eyes fluttered closed, and for the first time in months - sleep found him as quick and as easy as it would if he’d drunk at least half a bottle of whiskey, only, he was stone cold sober.

That night, his dreams were marred by visions of a woman. A woman dressed in all white, with different faces and names, although in every single dream she was significant. She was the same, the same soul even if her face changed. She always held that look of love on her face, she was always reaching for him - calling for him. He was always just inches from touching her when the dream changed. He wanted to go to her, wanted to wrap himself up in her love and never leave. The last dream before his eyes opened, was of a flash of long, strawberry hair, dancing against the thin white fabric of a flowy dress.

As he woke, a single word seemed to slip from his lips just when he was in the realm between asleep and awake “Naiad”. A sensation had disturbed his sleep, and as his eyelids fluttered open, the sensation of a warm hand lingered on the side of his face. Reaching up, his own rough hand came in contact with his stubbled cheek - no trace of a touch of another ever being there. Brows knitted together in confusion, Rhett slowly moved his body - ignoring the protests in his limbs as he rested against his elbows as he took in the clearing in the pale morning sun.

“What the fuck…” was his not so eloquent words on the matter. Shaking his head, he reached for his phone. No missed calls. No texts. It was, however, nearing 6 am and Rhett knew Royal would be needing him for the cattle today. Sighing, he slowly got dressed - giving the lake one last glance before letting his heavy footfalls leave his place of peace - only to rejoin the world in which he felt he had no real say on the matter of his own peace.

chapter two. . .

tagging people who liked the masterlist & mutuals;

@lt-bradshaw @rhettabbotts @buckybarneslvr @wkndwlff @briseisgone @phoenixhalliwell @alebyyrose @mackenziestewart2 @sebsxphia @theharddeck @roleycoleyland

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott au #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range fanfiction #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott imagine #my writing

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Addams & Abbotts 😈 | Rhett Abbott x Addams!OC — crossover AU

Rhett Abbott masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Rhett Abbott x Persephone Addams!OC (romantic), Wednesday Addams (Wednesday version), Amy Abbott, Desdemona Addams, Maria Olivares.

Content Warnings: profanity, dark humor, mentions of torture | Female!OC (she/her) | wc: 2.2k

Premise: After months of being together, one would think the stares and flabbergasted expressions of the town folk would settle down whenever the Addams & Abbotts were out. But it still came as a surprise. And for one person in particular, she wasn’t expecting to come face to face with the person of her nightmares when trying to shoot her shot with her ex.

Note: so sorry it has taken me this long to post this update! Thank you all for your patience if you’ve been waiting and I hope you enjoy it! I know it’s shorter compared to the others I’ve posted but the next one is going to follow episode 1 of Wednesday!

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“Oh fuck,” were the first words out of Rhett’s mouth when he glanced out the window for a breif second, coffee mug in his hand nearly falling from his grip.

“What is it,” Amy asked with a mouthful of food, turning to see what he was looking at before her own groan sounded. “This is gonna be interesting.” The cowboy gave his niece a look causing her to shrug and continue to eat.

They were currently at the diner for a quick lunch after running errands all day. But it wasn’t just them together, in the bathroom was Persephone, Desdemona, and Wednesday. It was a nice Saturday afternoon with the group depositing the monthly profits from the stores, shopping for school supplies for Amy and Wednesday, and picking up things for their families.

At no point did they expect Maria to waltz into town.

She was with a friend and it appeared they were heading right for the entrance of the restaurant. “Don’t say anything,” Rhett pointed a finger, when he heard the bell above the door ring, “and don’t make eye contact.”

“You ain’t gotta tell me twice.”

They continued to eat their food, not paying attention to their surroundings as they waited for the others to return. Mona had been getting fussy so Percy went to change her diaper and freshen up, Wednesday tagging along to assist since sometimes tending to little Mona was a team effort. Rhett prayed they'd be getting back at any second because the last thing he needed was to deal with his ex.

Speaking of the devil….

“Rhett?” Fuckin’ great.

Gulping the coffee in his mouth with a light grimace, Rhett looked up to see Maria staring back at him. There was surprise in her gaze, obviously not expecting to see him. “It is you.”

“Hello, Maria,” he nodded, going back to his eggs. Amy made a face, turning away as to not let Maria see her amused expression.

“Wow, it’s good to see you,” she tried to smile. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” he didn’t compliment her back, and her reaction confirmed she expected he would. “Didn’t expect you to be back in town.”

“I’m just visiting for the week. I’ll be heading out Sunday.”

Was she trying to hint something? Probably. The way she was looking at him gave off the sense she was hoping he’d ask her out. Amy made a face, viewing Maria’s demeanor as a pathetic attempt.

Rhett just nodded, “Well best you get back to your friend. It looks like she’s waitin’ for ya,” he pointed the fork briefly to the direction her friend was seated at. He expected to hear her walk away, but when she remained standing Rhett tilted his head at her. “What is it, Maria?”

“Can…” she hesitates, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “You wanna maybe grab a drink later? Or after the rodeo this weekend if you’re available.”

He couldn’t believe what she was asking. Was she really serious? She ended things with him after he left everything behind to be with her. Now she wants a second chance and is acting like nothing happened.

Amy cut him off before he could even say a word, “I don’t think his girlfriend would like that.” The look on Maria’s face would’ve sent Rhett laughing, but instead he just shrugs when she looks at him for confirmation.

“She’s right. My girl wouldn’t like that at all.”

“Your girl?” Maria repeated, stunned by the revelation. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”

A different voice answered her, one that sent chills along her arms. “You’re damn right he does.”

The voice was much older than in high school, but still possessed the haunting tone it was known for. It almost made Maria not want to turn. For she knew the onyx colored eyes would be staring back at her. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if it really was Persephone Addams.

Turns out she wasn’t alone. Beside her, with the same blank expression with subtle hits of fury, was Wednesday Addams. And in Persephone’s arms was a baby girl who was the spitting image of the woman. If Maria’s eyes were playing tricks on her, it looked like the baby was glaring too.

“Maria,” Percy’s voice was monotone. “What a surprise to see you….here of all places.”

It took a moment for Maria to find the words. Their stares were what you’d see in horror movies. Wednesday appeared as though she was lighting Maria on fire where she stood. It was unsettling.

“Persephone,” she finally said the name after so many years. “The same could be said for you I guess. I didn’t know you were back in town.” A sound emitted from Percy, likely a scoff.

“Oh I’ve been back for a while,” Mona was passed to Rhett, the cowboy placing her in his lap to distract her from the tension rising between the two women. Persephone could imagine what her nemesis was thinking, “Am I missing something?” “Is that their daughter?” “Why are they having lunch with her sister and his niece?”

“Have you?” Maria was genuinely curious to know. At no point did it come to her attention that Persephone was also in Wabang. While she noticed the new antique and book stores, she just assumed it was one of the many businesses the Addams family owned.

“Over a year. Going on two this coming spring,” placing a manicured hand on Rhett’s shoulder, feeling Maria’s eyes shoot to the gesture, Persephone lightly squeezed, “Right, darling? I believe it’s been that long.”

“You know I ain’t good at keeping track of time, baby,” Percy noticed Maria react to the pet name. A mix of defeat and envy. “But it sounds about right.”

Addams and Abbotts. Abbotts and Addams. There was a combination no one was expecting.

Cutting in, Maria asks, “how long have you two….been a thing?”

“I believe dating or in a relationship is the appropriate term,” Percy turns back to her. “And almost a year.”

“Wow,” Maria exhaled, lips tightening. “I didn’t expect you two would…..” Smirking, Persephone starts to nod her head.

“Go on. Say what you’re thinking.”

“I-I shouldn’t—.”

“Why not?” She tilts her head, encouraging Maria to free the words from her lips that she so desperately wants to say. “It’s never stopped you before.”

“That was a long time ago,” Maria’s eyes narrowed, “I’m not like that anymore.” She received a scoff.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful to hear. Don’t you think, Rhett? Maria is all grown up,” the condescending tone in Percy’s voice was making the anger rise in Maria. Bringing delight to the oldest Addams. “But….you obviously were thinking it, Maria. You can’t help but want to know how Rhett Abbott and Persephone Addams became what you call ‘a thing.’”

Rhett thought about stepping in. Only because people were starting to watch the scene unfold. But he learned a long time ago that when Persephone Addams needed to say something she was going to say it.

And this bout with Maria was ten years in the making.

Holding her chin high, as though it would really do anything, Maria paid a glance to the cowboy and baby girl in his lap. “Well if you want honesty, then I’ll give it to you. I think you two hooked up in drunkenly Rhett Abbott fashion and he knocked you up. So, it only makes sense he’s with you because you two have a child together.”

Silence followed, so thick it could cut through wood. Rhett placed his coffee mug down slowly, glancing to see what his girlfriend would do. One look between Wednesday and Persephone and, to Maria’s surprise, the two sisters burst into laughter—an unsettling sight since Wednesday Addams never laughed in public before. A sigh of relief left Rhett, rolling his eyes at his ex who just stood stunned.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“Oh, Maria?” Persephone wiped her eyes, “It amazes me you actually got a job as a bank teller when you have no idea how to do math. It was always your weak spot in school considering you paid Jason Barker to do your homework.”

Seeing the confusion, Persephone broke it down for her. “Maria, my daughter is just shy of her second birthday. I told you I returned to Wabang just over a year ago and that Rhett and I have been together for almost a year. So, please explain to me how the math adds up?” She didn’t allow Maria to answer. “That’s right, it doesn’t. Rhett is not her biological father, but he treats her like she’s his own.”

“I can see you are already questioning what happened to the child’s father,” Wednesday voices. “I can assure you he’s occupied at the moment. Life in prison keeps his days busy.”

Maria was flabbergasted. “Wha—?”

“He didn’t do anything…but I made it sure it looked like he did.”

That made a choked sound leave Maria, waiting to see if Wednesday would admit she was fucking with her.

But Wednesday Addams never fucked around. It’s other people who do and they find out the consequences.

Persephone narrows her eyes slightly, “How disrespectful of you, Maria, to assume Rhett and I are only together because of a child conceived from a one night stand—and even if that were the case, who’s to say nothing real could’ve come from that? For some people, it does happen to them.” She takes a step closer, causing Maria to take one back. “Clearly don’t know the type of man he is now. And you sure as hell don’t know me. But you seem to have stayed the same—despite you believing the opposite.”

By now Maria was red as a tomato from the heat in her, “who the hell do you think you are to judge me? I highly doubt you’ve changed since high school, Persephone. The only thing that’s changed is you got a kid—who I wouldn’t be surprised if the father ran off because he realized what a psycho you are.” If the words were affecting Percy, she wasn’t showing it. Instead she just remained smirking, nodding as Maria continued to rant. “Still the same gothic freakshow who obviously manipulated Rhett into feeling sorry for you—.”

The slapping of Rhett’s hand on the table made Maria and Amy flinch, neither of the Addams girls reacting as Rhett passed Mona to his niece to stand by Persephone.

“That’s enough,” his voice was heard. “You’re ain’t gonna insult my girlfriend or insinuate shit about me to make yourself feel better. After everything you’ve done—high school to now, you’ve no right to come in here and act all high and mighty,” Rhett watched her flinch, face consorting into a frown. “You’ve got no place here. Best if you leave now while you can, Maria. Otherwise…” he trailed, bidding a glance to the Addams sisters, “you know what, I’ll let them warn you.”

“Warn me?” The way he said it sounded more like a threat than a warning.

“Well actually,” Percy hums, a menacing smile taking over. One Maria was already dreading to find out what it meant. “I already did what I wanted to do a long time ago. You remember, Maria?” The color drained from Maria, a paleness replacing.

She was referring to the incident in high school. Where Percy dropped a black widow spider on her face and sent her to the ER…..and therapy. The shitshow that followed had Maria wish she could erase it from her memory. Only good thing that came out of it was Percy leaving Wabang, but not because she was forced to, but because she wanted to. They couldn’t press charges or expel her without issuing the same on Maria.

Seeing the memory replay in Maria’s head, Percy’s grin grew wider. “But Wednesday’s been planning her bit for years. And now that you’re back she can finally put it in motion! How exciting, sister! I know you’ve been waiting years for this.” A childlike clap makes Maria flinch once more, staring at Percy like she was crazy.

“I have been looking forward to using the new blow torch father got me for Christmas,” Wednesday confirmed, never straying her gaze from Maria.

Within seconds the woman was out the door, her friend that was waiting chasing after her, but not before shooting a glance at the group. Persephone gave a sigh of victory, “I knew that would work.” Turning to Rhett, she placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Thank you for standing up for me, darling.”

“I know you can handle anything on your own, Percy. But I’ll be damned if I let her call you those names. No one will ever say that to you again—especially her.”

Wednesday appeared disappointed, “I didn’t even get the chance to mention about the rats I’m training to use as a torture method. Maybe I will get the chance next time.”

At the mentions of rats, Rhett and Percy turned to each other, both thinking the same thing. “Well if that ain’t fucking poetic.”

Leaving the tip, Rhett gathered Mona in his arms, taking Percy’s hand in his free one and followed Wednesday and Amy out the diner. People stared, especially the ones familiar with the stories between the couple and Maria.

It seems history was about to repeat itself. There was always something going on whenever the Abbotts and Addams hit the streets of town. First a drifter ends up in a hospital, and then buckle bunnies are coming down with food poisoning. Now throw in an old nemesis/ex and things were bound to get crazy soon enough.

After all, revenge was a dish best served cold.

…………..

Tag list for this series: @endofdays56, @avaleineandafryingpan, @tallrock35

#rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range fic #outer ranger imagine #outer range imagine #outer range #crossover au #wednesday addams #addams!reader #original character

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