Color Me Curious
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@hismissharley13
Petition for them to rerelease Top Gun Maverick in June so we can all relive Top Gun Summer again properly then way god intended (with Danger Zone blasting from the speakers and the beach scene on the in 4K HD on a 70 foot screen).
Jake and Iris make me feel things I’ve never felt before. The chemistry, the toxicity, the overall dynamic makes me sweat 🥵
I.R.I.S Masterlist
Brrooo, I had so much fun writing this one and I really got carried away because it’s over 5k long. So please enjoy.
Warning: Smut! Female receiving oral. Jake Seresin x Mitchell!reader. Undisclosed age gap.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“Dad—cool your jets alright I said it’s not what it looks like.” You groaned as you hid your face in the palms of your hands as you kicked off the covers of your bed.
“Iris….” Mav looked at you like he was ready to combust on the spot. The little vein near his temple had risen like it was about to pop. “What are you doing sleeping in Hangman's shirt?”
You had to think fast on your feet with this one, but this wasn’t your first rodeo. Jake, unsurprisingly, wasn’t the first guy you’d fucked around with. What could you say? You had a thing for older guys.
“I got pretty hammered the other night alright, shit happens and I threw up on my shirt, this must’ve just been the one I picked up from the lost and found bin at the Hard Deck.” You lied through your fucking teeth as you got out of bed. Mav just stood there speechless. “Must’ve got thrown in with the washing and just ended up in the pile on the chair.” You gestured to your clean washing pile you had yet to put away. “I got in pretty late last night, but if you’d rather me not keep it, I’ll give it back. You said it belongs to Jake right?”
“No I said it belongs to your Lieutenant Commander, Iris, Lieutenant Commander Seresin—“ Mav corrected you. “He’s Jake to you when he’s over for family events, any other time he’s your superior, address him as such or at least as Hangman.” You just paused, you rolled your eyes as you collected some things for a shower. Underwear, jeans, a normal shirt that wasn’t Jakes.
“Uh, but I quit the program Daddio.” You reminded your dad. “So realistically he’s not my superior, and I can call him Jack Shit if I wanted to.”
“You did not quit, Mitchell’s don’t quit.” Pete replied, he was losing his cool and you could tell, but like father like daughter, so were you. “You don’t get to quit TopGun, you’re the top one percent and of this nation aviators Iris.” Pete thought reminding you of your remarkable skills would sway you into thinking twice about your decision. It didn’t. Not even in the slightest bit.
“They do when the whole system is rigged!” You turned on your heels as you slammed the draw you’d been looking in for a belt. “They do when they’ve been capped dad!”
“What are you talking about?” Pete just played as dumb as he possibly could, but he knew. Oh boy did he know what you were talking about.
“Rooster told me what some of the guys said to the Admirals! He told me what they said they’d do if I was given an ounce of a shot at this—“ You’d have to call Bradley later and tell him to take the L. You couldn’t tell the truth but you couldn’t not confront your dad. You weren’t about to say, ‘Nah l heard what you said when I was under your desk with Jake's dick down my throat—‘ Were you?
“Iris—“
“Why would you not tell me that? My own dad, the reason why I’m fucking stunted in my career! This is it for me dad.” You hissed. “I don’t get to go any further than this because I’ve got Pete fucking Mitchell goddamn DNA—“
“Enough, we’ll talk to Admiral Simpson—“ Pete’s heart ached inside his chest as he looked at you, his daughter, every ounce of him. He hadn’t always been there and hell he’d missed a lot. But he loved you, he loved your mother in some strange amicable way too. Enough that he never missed a child support payment, he even paid more than he was required. He sent birthday and holiday gifts, paid half your schooling fees and paid for your first car. But Pete knew no amount of money equated to time lost. “I agree, this whole thing isn’t fair.” He said softly. “And we’ll figure out a way to fix it.”
“You can maybe but I’m not going shit.” You weren’t in the mood for this. You didn’t want to be told what to do, you weren’t a child and you weren’t in the wrong here. If you wanted to quit on your own terms you were going to. “I’m not the one who thinks so low of myself that I need to stunt others to gain notoriety, that’s fucking Rebound and his ugly ass personality.” You didn’t exactly know who had put in the complaints against you but if someone had held a gun to your head and asked you to take a wild guess, you knew your answer would be pretty accurate. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna take a shower, make a coffee and enjoy my morning off because I. Fucking. Quit.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“You come to your senses finally?” Bradley asked as he flipped through his lesson plan. “Heard through the scuttlebutt yesterday that you dragged Iris into the Admirals office by her damn ear?” Jake's mind momentarily flashed to the events of last night, when he had you splayed out beneath him moaning his name. As he blinked back the X rated image he remembered he’d woken up alone, in a cold and empty bed he wished you were in.
“She’s flunking on purpose because these guys are intimidated.” Jake looked at his own lesson plan as he lent on the table in the hanger turned makeshift classroom. “Someone had to pull her back in line.”
“And that someone’s you?” Bradley asked, all Jake did was look at him confused. He was your teacher fisher and foremost, what else was he supposed to do? “Huh, you could’ve had me and everyone else fooled.” Bradley shrugged. “Heard you really gave it to the kid.”
“Don’t call her a kid man.” Jake cringed. “God it makes me feel like I’m some kinda perv.”
“You are a perv! You’re fucking Mavs daughter!” Bradley hissed. “On multiple occasions it seems? Jake, Have you actually stopped to think for a moment what will happen when he actually finds out? Because it’s gonna come out eventually and I’m gonna be so fucking far gone when it does man you won’t see the ass end of me.”
“He’s not gonna find out, we’re keeping it casual.” Jake just shrugged it off, he couldn’t keep thinking about the what ifs when he was with you in the moment. He wanted to enjoy the time he had with you. Sneaking around, being discreet, if he kept thinking about your dad every time he was with you he was gonna form an unwanted association and Jake couldn’t have that. He’d almost lost you once and he wasn’t ready to give you up yet. “Casual and consensual Rooster, she might be Mavs daughter but she’s still an adult.”
“Oi!” Just as Rooster and Hangman were about to start preparing their whiteboard, Mav was walking into the hangar with broad shoulders and a stirn glare. “Tweedle dee and dumbass!”
“Who’s who?” Rooster asked through a laugh as he wrote up his status on the whiteboard, earning himself a smack in the back of the head. “Ow! The fuck Mav—?”
“Thanks for telling Iris about the complaints some of her classmates made, Rooster.” Maverick just deadpanned Bradley, the guy had a few inches on Mav but he didn’t care. “She’s pissed off now and you of all people know how she gets when she’s pissed off!” It was true, Bradley Bradshaw was literally the closest thing you had to a brother, which meant when you were both a little younger, you in your teens and Bradley in his twenties— fought like cats and dogs.
“What are you even talking about?” Rooster asked as he looked at Jake who just kept writing on the board, he looked all kinds of guilty. “I—“ Rooster paused, what had you and Jake been up to that meant you had to lie and say that Rooster told you? He hadn’t checked his phone all morning but he regretted it now. “Did, yeah I did do that, sorry—she cornered me when I pulled a point or two when she was doing Hard Deck pull ups.” Jake let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Bradshaw took the blame, he owed him—big time.
“Well because she knows, apparently she quit the program.” Jake's heart sank from his chest into his ass. No you didn’t? You would’ve mentioned that last night. “I've gotta go talk to Cyclone about it now—this whole thing is a giant mess.”
“Iris could probably still have this thing if she applied herself.” Jake hadn’t taken his eyes off of what he was writing. “She could fly circles around those losers with her eyes closed and hands tied behind her back.” Jake kinda wished he’d just said this to you yesterday instead of dragging you through the mud. The longer he thought about it, perhaps words of encouragement could have prevented you from taking an overly critical approach. “She’s a smart girl, but she’s your daughter, which means she’s just a stubborn as you so—“
Pete just fished the T-shirt he’d stuffed into the back of his jean pocket out and threw it Hangman's way. Jake caught it on his shoulder. He looked rather confused at the white material that cascaded down his shoulder.
“She is smart, but she’s got her mothers rage.” Mav sighed. “Or stupidity, I’m not sure, but she damn near gave me a heart attack this morning when I went into her room and saw her sleeping in that shit.” Jake took the shirt from his shoulder to investigate, he could feel the heat sweeping across his face as he realised that you must have accidentally picked up his prized Hangman shirt after he’d discarded it last night. You know, before he fucked the shit out of you. “Wanna tell me why my daughter was sleeping in your shirt? Jacob?”
“I uh—“ Jake was panicking, Mav could tell. He was onto whatever was going on here he just couldn’t tell what exactly it was or to what extent it had gone. Did he believe your little lost and found story? No. Not in the slightest bit. “I couldn’t tell you man I haven’t seen this thing for a while.” Jake chuckled out, rubbing the back of his head as he thumbed at the cotton fabric. “Thought I’d lost it? How’d Iris end up with it?”
“She said she thinks she got it out of the Lost and Found box at the Hard Deck?”
“That checks—“ Rooster mumbled as Jake sent him a look. “Honest, she was a mess a few nights ago. She’s lucky I didn’t kick her out of the Bronco when she threatened to spew her guts up on my dash.” It was all fabricated. Bradley didn’t know why he was jumping to Jake’s defense when the evidence was literally in the palm of his hands. But today was not the day to be down an instructor—so if anything Bradley took it upon himself to make sure Jake Seresin could live to breathe another breath for his own selfish reasons. “What, you think they’re fucking or something Mav?”
At that moment Jake forgot how to breathe when Pete Mitchell starred directly into Jake's soul. Just waiting for him to crack.
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but if they are? Just know it doesn’t bode well in your favour, Hangman—“
“I would never touch your daughter Mav, it’s Iris.” Jake cringed like you were beneath him, like it was an insult to his character that he’d stoop so low. That’s he’d be that dumb. “She’s basically a kid—“ Bradley couldn’t believe what he was hearing, blowing air into his cheeks as he turned back to hide his face against the whiteboard as Mav continued eyeing off Jake. “You know I wouldn’t, and the fake I haven’t seen this shirt in weeks just adds up. Iris got it outta the lost and found, thanks for returning it.”
As Jake spoke complete and utter lies, all he could hear was your soft moans and delicate whimpers. He could feel your nails dragging into the muscles that littered the expanse of his back and after last night? The track marks you’d left began to throb with anxiety.
“Yeah—“ Mav sighed, tapping Jake on the arm a few times. “Yeah I guess you’re right, sorry, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“No hard feelings.” Jake just replied, he just wanted this conversation to be over so he couldn’t put his foot in it any further.
The second Pete turned his back Jake went weak in the knees. Bradley’s eyes widened with endless questions and queries. But he settled on just one.
“What exactly were you and Iris doing that she had to throw me under the bus like that?” Jake didn’t respond right away, he was still trying to process the fake he was rock fucking solid. The idea of Mav threatening him for being any way shape or form involved with you had him going feral.
Jake liked it, and he thought maybe, just maybe, he even loved you.
“You want the truth?”
“Probably not—“ Immediately, Bradley regretted asking. “Nope, I actually don’t want to be any more of an accomplice than I already am.” Jake just grinned like a Cheshire Cat. Looking Bradley up and down before he spilled the very R rated and inappropriate beans.
“She was under Mavs desk, with my dick in h—“ Bradley couldn’t let Jake finish before he was covering his ears like a child.
“Oh my god! No shut up, I can’t know that!” He shoved his fingers in his ears and looked away. He couldn’t think of you like that, his little sister. He knew Jake was a goner, a deadman walking but Rooster was too. An accomplice to Jake's own stupidity. “No la la la la— I can’t fucking hear you!”
“You asked!!” Jake laughed to himself. “You asked what we were doing!”
***~***~***~***~***~***~*
Later that same day, Jake was heading to your place during his lunch hour. It was only a five minute drive from base on a good day. He should have known better than to rock up unannounced, but the line between appropriate and inappropriate behaviour was becoming far too blurry to really focus his moral compass.
“Iris?” Jake knocked damn well knowing you weren’t going to answer—if Mav had been right about anything it was that when you were in a foul mood you were sour. Jake’s presence probably wasn’t going to make your mood any less aggravated. “Iris open up!”
To Jake’s surprise, you answered. You couldn’t have reefed the door open any harder if you tried as Jake stood there taking in the sight of you. Clad in nothing but a little black bikini and Prada Milano sunglasses. Looking over them up at Jake as you tilted your gaze to look above where they sat on the bridge of your nose.
“Can I help you?”
“The fuck does Mav mean you quit the TopGun program? Are you mentally deficient or something!?” Jake pushed past you in the doorway, barreling in as his rage consumed him. “God you’ve done a lot of dumb shit recently Iris but quitting TopGun? That’s career suicide—“ You didn’t answer, you simply stood there, raising an eyebrow as you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose.
“If those guys, Krod and P:E and fucking Rebound are the Navy’s top one percent than I send my hopes and prayers to their families—“ You explained as you walked your way out towards the back deck. “They’ll be burying the bastards sooner rather than later and I for one, will be there to say they should’ve worked a little harder for their titles instead of manipulating the system in their favour.”
Jake hated to see you leave, but he loved to watch you walk away, your bikini bottoms left very little to his imagination.
“Now if you’ll excuse me Hangman, I was enjoying the sun and a nice glass of scotch before you rudely showed up at my dads house unannounced.” You turned, sinking a hand on your popped hip. “So unless you have someone interesting to say I’d shut the hell up and leave before dear old daddy comes home and finds you here, tainting his only daughter’s innocence.” Jake went to speak, he wanted to laugh and call your bluff and tell you how fucking stupid you were being. But you cut him off as he held his tongue and clenched his jaw. “And yeah—I can tell you to shut the hell up because you aren’t my superior anymore, stings knowing you’re the one who pushed me over the goddamn edge by dragging my ass into Admiral Simpson's office for that write up huh?”
“Oh don’t act like me doing my job had anything to do with the fact you were looking for an excuse to give up!” Jake shouted as he followed you out onto the back porch. “By the sounds of things you’d already made up your mind before I even decided you’d crossed the line between brat and insubordination.” You let Jake finish his rant before you looked at him with sinful eyes. Eyeing him up and down. Was there anything he didn’t look good in?
“What are you even doing here?” You asked through a sigh as you sat back down on the lounge chair you’d been posted up in the sun on before Jake arrived. Enjoying your day off. “Because I know you didn’t just come here to berate me for my decision to quit—you could’ve done that when I came to collect my stuff, you didn’t need to make a personal house call.” Despite wanting to pull you up by the hair on your head and drag you back to base himself, Jake just continued to undress you with his eyes as he undid the zip on his flight suit. Standing in your direct sunlight as he did so just to piss you off. “Jake, don’t be a pest fucking move your old ass—“
As Jake’s cock twitched against the fabric of his boxer briefs, undressing the very little clothing that covered you, he hatched a plan—a rather simple plan to have you biting your tongue and dragging your ass back to TopGun.
“I actually came to talk about last night.” He admitted, shimmying the arms off his body as he tied them around his waist. “I wanted to ask if you really meant what you said, about wanting more.”
“I don’t want shit from you if you’re gonna come in here ranting and raving about my problems and how I choose to deal with them.” You mumbled, pretending that you weren’t interested as Jake sank to his knees before you on the sun lounge. “But, if you must know, I wouldn’t technically be opposed to the idea of this being more than just sex, because unfortunately I’m hot for teacher.” You smirked as Jake grinned ear to ear at you as he sauntered up and hovered over you. Taking your lips hostage in a slow and sensual kiss that had you forgetting how to breathe for a second before he pulled away.
“I came here on my lunch break you know—“ You pretended to care, looking around as if you were trying to spot something. “What?”
“I didn’t see you bring anything with you?” You winked as you winded your legs. Looking up at Jake as he hovered over you. “You might just have to go hungry there, teach.” Jake caught your intentions as he lowered himself down between your legs. His dangerously dark, lust filled eyes never left yours as he did so. Dropping lower and lower till he was at eyeline with your just barely clothes cunt.
“I think I’ve got a pretty delectable meal right in front of me darlin—“ Jake purred as he spread your legs a little wider, drinking in the sight of your core nearly hanging out of those little black bikini bottoms. “And I’m absolutely ravished.” You snapped your knees together just as Jake slowly made his way forward, just scraping the tip of his nose as you giggled wildly.
“Too bad, it’s gonna cost ya.” You taunted, biting on your bottom lip as you eyed Jake off and spread your legs apart before him again, watching with awe as the crimson hume that crept across Jake's cheeks grew brighter and brighter with every passing second. “Walking Propaganda Poster Boys who pray on women half their age from conservative Texan families pay extra too.” Jake was speechless as you dragged him through the mud, the sad thing was it turned him on.
Perhaps Bradley was right from the get go—Jake Seresin had a thing for degradation.
“What’s a dining experience at the Iris Inn gonna cost me?” Jake growled as he slowly dragged the tip of his index finger up your calf and to your inner thigh. “Name your price—“ You hissed when Jake took the little string that kept your bottoms tied together and snapped it back against your hip.
“Ah—“
“Words Iris, use that bratty mouth of yours and tell me what it’s gonna cost.” Jake looked at you with lust filled eyes that had never been darker, keeping his trail to your core right on schedule as his fingers grazed the fabric that clothed your core. “I ain’t got all day Iris.”
“Your entire career, deadman.” You softly gasped as the pad of Jake's thumb danced softly over the fabric of your bikini bottoms, making your sensitive bundle of nerves ignite. “Ohhh—maybe even that won’t cover it.”
“Guess we’ll have to find out won’t we?” Jake asked as he pulled back the fabric of your bikini to reveal your soaked pussy. “Huh, you really get off on the idea of me going straight to hell for all this don’t you?”
“I touch myself to the thought of it every night.” You admitted as a wicked smile crept across your face. Jake chuckled to himself, he was a goner. “Touch myself thinking about all the ways I’ll ruin your life and I cum so hard when I remember you want me to.”
“Fucking hell Iris you’d make the strongest of men weak.” Jake sighed as he crept closer and dragged you forward to his face, sinking his teeth into your inner thigh as you unfit the sides of your bikini. “You’re poison—“
“And yet you keep coming back for more—“ You would always beat Jake at his own game, he knew his fate and accepted it. He kissed up your inner thigh slowly before finally landing right where you wanted him, where you needed him. Against your core in a feaverish moment of sudden ecstasy. “Oh fuck—!” Jake kissed and sucked against your glistening core, drinking in the taste of your nectar.
He’s been right, oh how you were a delectable meal and such a cuisine that was surely exclusive to the most exclusive restaurants. You were soft and sweet and all things in between as Jake looked up at you as he flicked his tongue against your clit. Reveling in the jolts of electricity he knew washed through your body whenever he flicked up.
“Jake—“ You sighed out as you let all your thoughts go. “Fuck baby feels so good.” You told him as you reached back to untie your bikini top, Jake watched through dark hooded eyes as he made you his lunch. His heart danced inside his chest at the sight before him, you peeled off your black bikini top to expose yourself fully in the backyard of your dads house. You knew what you were doing to him and Jake fucking loved it. “Eat my pussy Jake, just like that—“
“You taste so fucking sweet Iris, so sinful.” Jake growled as he pulled away, reaching up to coax two of his digits into your mouth. He paused at your bottom lip, deciding that to ask you to open would give you far too much power and if Jake knew anything about you it was that you had a power complex. So as Jake gripped at your chin and looked at you with stirn eyes—he told you what to do.
“Open.” And do it you did, without hesitation. Welcoming the two chosen digits into your mouth as you hummed and swirled your tongue around and gripped at your own tits. “Fuck Iris—“ Jake was about three point five seconds from ruining his flight suit. He had a Hop after lunch. “Good girl.” Jake praised you as he pulled his dripping digits from your mouth and slowly and ever so carefully, guided them past your dripping lips into your core. Stretching you to a nice full feeling as you arched your back and squeezed your tits all for Jake to watch as he got you off.
“Ohh, Ohh fuck Hangman—-“ Jake had never really been a fan of the calllsign Bradley gave him all those years ago. It was more of a personal attack on him and their once strained friendship than a nod to his personality, his professionalism. But as it dripped from your mouth like a siren song, Jake found a new reason to love it. “Jake fuck—feels so good, oh god.”
You sounded like every sin Jake had ever had. Vocalised into a reality playing out before him as he ducked his head back down to suck a pressure out of this world against your sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing his fingers up against your velvet walls to create a feeling so pure and intense it had you singing out his name into the heavens above. Surely neither of you would be granted access after this. You’d both be sent straight to hell.
“Ahhhh fuck yes! Yes Jake!” You moaned out as you rolled your hips to grind against Jake's face as he lapped away at your cunt. His chin glistening with your arousal as he worked to finger fuck you. Drinking up all that you could give him.
“So fucking pretty aren’t you Iris.” Jake mumbled against your core as he buried his fingers to the hilt. “So pretty and gorgeous and fucking irritating—“ Jake moved to mark your inner thighs with love bites and bruises that would linger on your supple skin for days to come. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Fuck off—“ You knew what was coming as Jake slowly moved back to your core, soft kitten like licks against your clit nearly had you breaking as you whimpered and whined and arched your spine. “Jake, I’m close! So fucking close.” It was the smirk that gave it away, the devilish, oh so endearing shit eating grin Jake sent you as he pumped his fingers inside you, hitting just the right spot to send you hurtling towards the edge of insanity. “JAKE! Oh Christ! Aauugghh—“ You were so close it hurt. “Please, please I wanna cum for you daddy.”
You saw the look in Jake's eye when you called him that. He hated that he loved it. He’d never been a ‘daddy’ guy. But with you? It felt right in the worst kind of im fucking your daughter way.
“Say you’ll come back to TopGun and I’ll make you cum Iris.” Jake mumbled as he sucked against your cunt. Curling his fingers up inside you in a come hither motion. “I promise baby, say you’ll come back and ruin those fuckers and I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll forget everything but my name.”
“You're a bastard!” Jake raised a hand to grip at your throat, applying just enough pressure on the sides of your neck to have your head spinning as you gasped and tried to hold onto whatever sanity, whatever control you had as your orgasm barreled towards you. “You—you fucking bastard.”
“Is that a yes?” Jake grinned as he lapped away at your throbbing bundle of nerves. “Say it Iris.” He growled as the tips of his fingers hit just the right spot with enough force to send you flying towards the sun. You couldn’t hold it even if you wanted to, which you didn’t.
“Ahhhh yes! Yes alright, alright you son of a bitch I’ll come back! just make me—“ You didn’t even need to finish your sentence and Jake was sucking against your clit so perfectly it had you arriving at your very dirty destination. “Ahh—oh god ahhhhh FUCK!”
Jake, in all his years had never heard such a beautiful sound. You always managed to surprise him every time you came. Everytime your body trembled at his touch, everytime your jaw hung slack as your eyes rolled and beautiful whimpers and moans and sighs of relief escaped in their droves. Releasing your neck from his hold just as your pushy fluttered around his now soaked digits.
“Oh my god you’re such an ass Seresin.” You sighed as Jake lapped the last of your sweet sweet nectar from your dripping cunt up all for himself before he rose up to take your lips hostage with yours.
“I gotta get going, thanks for lunch.” He mumbled as you enjoyed tasting yourself of his tongue. “I’ll see you later though when you come to reclaim your throne Mitchell.” You just rolled your eyes as Jake dropped his head, taking each of your nipples in his mouth one at a time before he pulled up and away. “Seeya soon—“
“What if you don't?” You called out, watching as Jake left you on the outdoor lounge chair to soak up the rest of the midday sun. Jake didn’t even look back over his shoulder to address you but you knew good and well he was smirking as you flipped him off.
“I will.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“What’cha have for lunch Hangman?” Mav asked as he caught Jake in his peripheral vision. “You weren’t in the Rec room?”
“Nah I ate out today—“ Jake smirked, god he was going to hell. The only Heaven he’d be sent to, was when he’s alone with you.
Later that same afternoon about an hour or so after Jake had left, you sauntered on into the hanger you knew your dad would be in. Doing whatever it was that he did between his lessons. Low and behold Jake Seresin had been right.
“Hi honey.” Pete beamed, Bradley stood beside Maverick with a curious smirk on his face. Stupid mustache, hiding his upper lip. “I see you changed your mind?” Jake stood leaning against one of the empty desks. His arms nearly bulging out of black T adorning his stupidity perfect body.
“Yeah well—“ You sighed as you took your aviators off and placed them into the neck of your shirt. You were just in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Nothing fancy. Nothing too extreme for your meeting with Admiral Simpson. “You can either chock it up to downright stupidity—“ You paused, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your jeans as you watched Jake wink at you from behind your fathers shoulder. “Or post nut clarity.”
“IRIS!!” Pete scolded you as Bradley’s jaw hit the ground in second hand embarrassment as Jake's face turned a bright shade of crimson.
“My god, she’s your fucking daughter—“ Rooster sighed as he tried to scrub the last five seconds from his memory bank.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
I think I'm in love with Iris!!
Outer My Mind // Rhett Abbott
Series Synopsis: After trying to leave Wabang, Rhett Abbott does a quick turn around after a heard of Bison total his truck. He can’t leave—the plan had been to leave, he was ready to leave Wabang behind. But leaving Wabang meant leaving you, and Rhett wasn’t as ready to leave you behind as he thought he was.
Series Warnings: Miscarriage. Rhett Abbott x F!reader. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Friends to lovers. Misguided Feelings.
Prologue: (Mrs Forgettable) Losing a child is always, always a hard challenge to overcome. But what’s worst than losing a child you never thought you wanted? Losing your best friend to a girl you seriously couldn’t stand. And what’s worse than that you ask? Knowing it was always going to happen. (Coming Soon)
Chapter One: (America Is Wrong) Rhett Abbott, found a distraction from his grief in the form on Maria Olivares when she came back to Wabang. You? Well—you lost yourself and became a recluse of sorts. Until Rhett saw you out fixing the boundary fence. (Coming Soon)
Tags Open 🏷️
Prologue drops tomorrow morning
Realigning to read later and fuelling my Rhett brain-goblin 😅
Please don’t spend all your time on that Rhett Abbott series. Your other tgm work does a lot better and I don’t want to see you discouraged
Eh. This probably wasn’t intended to come off as rude as it probably was but, it didn’t hit the mark. I appreciate the sentiment but like—I should be able to split my attention on what I’m currently interested in writing.
Please write whatever the he'll you want to write! Seems to me like somebody might just have a little too much free time on their hands 🤔
it really irks me when you reblog your own work.
Do you know how long I spent updating my links on Friday morning? SIX hours. I reblogged everything I had to redo. Why? Because I ain’t getting paid for this man I get paid in notes and comments and recognition.
I will reblog everything I’ve ever written until my dying breath on this hell app. I’ll do that because who else is going to.
Also read "how dare you post your work"
For real though oftentimes I only catch posts based off self-reblogs...so I'm sure others do to. Back in your box, anon
If you had conviction in your opinions you wouldn't need to post anonymously...jus sayin'
@ohtobeleah thank you for your hard work, just wanted to let you know it is very much appreciated!!! 💖💖
Excuses
Summary: After college you moved in with your brother Bradley Bradshaw and his roommate Jake Seresin. He seemed to be having a better dating life than you.
Pairing: Reader X Hangman reader x Jake Seresin
Tags: Fluff, angst, pining. Rated G, y/n,
Word Count: 2,300
Once. Just once it’d be nice if your brother’s roommate didn’t come home with a drop-dead gorgeous model of a girl.
It’s not like you care who he sleeps with, that’s not the issue. But every morning, every fucking morning they have something to say to you. You can’t figure out why they do. What the fuck is their problem? You’re the one that lives here. They just spend the night, never to be seen again. But they always do. You’ve heard it all. “What are you doing here? You lost?”; “You live with Jake? Can’t imagine why he’s single,”; and the oh so clever “You must be his assistant right?” As if a pilot would need an assistant. These girls may have looks that could kill, but it’s your brain cells that feel like their dying after a conversation with them.
A tall and tan twig of a thing emerges from his room. You’re not surprised when you see her dress a wrinkled mess, probably from spending all night on the floor of his room. Her hair is styled in a messy bun. But it’s one of those bus that looks messy but in like a chic way. Every time you attempt a messy bun it looks like you lost a fight with a porcupine.
Half the time he comes out after they leave, but mostly he gets ready in his room before coming to have breakfast or coffee. You couldn’t help but enjoy the times he’d come out before getting ready. He was always shirtless, and his hair was tussled. Sure, it was probably like that from whatever Tiffany, Ashley, or Jessica had been over the night prior, but it was too sexy to look away from. Just because you have a boyfriend, doesn’t mean you can’t admire from a distance.
Today was one of those mornings. Lieutenant Seresin came out of his room to make himself a cup of coffee. He was only wearing a pair of sleep shorts that hung dangerously low on his hips. It’s like he wants people to stare.
“Hey darlin, like what you see?”
“In your dreams Seresin.” You respond, rolling your eyes.
“Every night,” he says with a cheeky grin.
He’s almost always in a good mood the morning after he takes someone home. It’s not hard to guess why. But the playful banter is fun.
Your brother hates the banter. He’s told you on more than one occasion he’d rather not have to even think of the idea of you two flirting because Jake flirting leads to—well mornings like these. You have to remind him that you have a boyfriend and even if you didn’t, you’re not Jakes type.
You’re thankful that today is Saturday so you can actually see your boyfriend. You used to see each other nearly every night. But now he’s working long hours so the weekend is all the time you have. You want to surprise Trevor with plans today. But you’re still new to San Diego. Emotionally moved in with your brother 5 weeks ago after graduating college. When Trevor told you he got a job in San Diego, you thought this would be a good opportunity to move where you two could still be together.
“Hey, Jake? If you wanted to take somebody out on a date, like a really nice one, where would you go?”
“ we don’t have to go anywhere, beautiful, we can just walk across the room to my bedroom,” he said, offering his hand to you.
You playfully bat it away.
“ no I’m serious!“ Trevor is coming over later and I want to surprise him.
He frowns at that.
“Shouldn’t it be him who’s surprising you?”
“Relationships go both ways Jake,” you remind him.
“He hasn’t seen you in what a week? I can’t help it but be disappointed in him. I’d be surprising you with a truckload of flowers or something.”
You look at him skeptically.
“Help I can’t help it. I know how to treat my girl.”
“Jake you haven’t been on an actual date since I’ve been here.” You deadpan.
He puts his hands up in self defense “hey I can’t help it if my standards are high. I don’t bring girlfriend material home on the first date.” He says proudly.
You roll your eyes in response and sip your coffee.
“You could take him to Navy pier,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
You throw the kitchen towel at him. “Not funny!”
He laughs hysterically. You can’t help but love his laugh it’s warm and inviting like melted chocolate.
“I was being serious Bradshaw. Your brother told me you like sailing? There’s boats you can rent at the pier. Take him sailing, look at the boats, go eat. The food’s good over there.”
He looks serious. “Wow. That’s actually a great idea! Thanks Jake!” You tell him. You grab your coffee and give Jake a little peck on the cheek before skipping off to your room. Time to get ready.
Nearly 4 hours later, Trevor still hasn’t shown up. He must still be working you tell yourself. You’d been dating since sophomore year of college. It’s not like he’d just stand you up. You send him a text to see what he’s up to.
Hey babe, can’t wait to see you today <3 Wanna grab lunch or are you still busy?
You make your way out to the kitchen to grab a drink. Bradley and Jake are watching baseball in the living room.
“Nice to see you awake Bradley.” You tell your brother.
“Very funny. You know I’m not a morning person.” He calls back.
Grabbing bottle of Gatorade you plop on the chair next to the sofa and watch the game along with your roommates. The Philly’s are winning, so Brad’s in a good mood.
“Thought you were going out?” Jake asks.
“Oh. Yeah I am. I’m just waiting for Trev to get done working, then we’re gonna go.”
You look at your phone and still no text. You sigh and get up and go to the kitchen. You open the fridge to look around but close it soon after. What if he’s going to surprise you? You should wait to eat. You pace around the kitchen, absent-mindedly picking things up. The kitchen’s clean. Jake is a clean freak, but you refill the K-cup rack next to the coffee machine.
You hear cheering from the other room and smile. It was nice having your brother around again. It had been just the two of you since mom died. It was easy to get lonely at college. Especially during holidays. Bradley was off at the academy, flight school, training, you didn’t get to see him much until he graduated topgun.
It was now a little past 1:00. You figure if Trev wants to eat you can have a late meal at the pier. “Hey guys, you hungry? I can make some quesadillas and homemade salsa.”
“Marry me already Bradshaw!” Jake calls from the other room.
“I think we should just be friends man” Bradley jokes.
You laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll get started now then.”
Cooking has always been relaxing to you. Chopping up tomatoes, onions, limes, peppers, cilantro was easy work. But the rhythmic effort was therapeutic. It was also nice when it tasted delicious. You slice up chunks of steak and chicken. Might as well use up the rest of the meat. Variety is the spice of life after all. It doesn’t take too long to get the quesadillas finished. You make sure to make Jake’s extra spicy. As he’s told you more than once, Texas boys love spice.
“Dinner’s ready boys,” you call into the living room.
Jake and Bradley get up right away. “God I’m starving,” you hear your brother say.
You’re especially pleased with the salsa. Jake tries his quesadilla and nearly moans. His eyes roll back. “Y/N seriously where have you been all my life? This is delicious.”
“According to you? In your dreams.”
You laugh and grab a plate for yourself. Bradley doesn’t look happy with the exchange. You shoot him a cheeky smile and he rolls his eyes. Finally, you hear your phone ding.
Trev: Hey Babe. Sorry I’m gonna have to cancel today. I have massive hangover. Head’s killing me.
Hangover? You think to yourself. Okay so apparently he went out last night. But you could have sworn he told you he was working late. But maybe you just remembered wrong. The days have been blurring together.
Oh I’m sorry. See you tomorrow then? You send him.
Trev: Yeah. Thanks Babe. Luv ya.
You frown. Okay, so that plan’s shot. You grab your plate of food and head to your room. Shortly after Bradley knocks at the door.
“Can I come in?” He asks carefully.
“Sure.”
He walks in and sits next to you on your bed. He doesn’t say anything, but he puts his arm around you. It makes you tear up.
“Bradley I’ve been trying so hard these last couple of weeks, but he’s so busy. I just miss him so much.”
“Don’t get mad at me, but I think you’re trying too hard. I mean you moved across country for him, you’re always available to see him, answer his call, get him whatever he wants. Ever stop to think that maybe he should be doing the same for you?”
“He’s just busy. He’s got a stressful job.” You explain, defending him.
Bradley gives you a pointed stare. “My job is stressful. Nobody’s going to die if he screws up”
“That’s not fair. Working at a museum is hard work. He has to manage the exhibits.”
“Look. I’m not going to pretend like I agree, but even if that’s true, he should make it up to you. I don’t remember much about Dad, but I know mom said that he loved her more than he loved the sky. She never doubted it for a second. Would mom think how he’s acting is okay? Would dad?”
The words rip your heart out. No. They wouldn’t. But your mom was beautiful, funny, and the nicest sweetest person you ever met. Your dad was a national hero. They deserved it each other. You on the other hand don’t deserve nearly as much. You start to cry. “I’d be a disappointment.” You burst out through gasps.
Your brother wraps both arms around you and hold you tight. “You are not. You hear me? Mom and dad are so proud of you. Never think that again. Screw anyone who makes you think that way.”
You know he’s trying to make you feel better, but you can’t stop the tears.
“Everything okay in here?” You hear Jake call from the doorway.
You turn away from him, not wanting him to see you like this. You take a couple deep breaths and try to even yourself. “Everything fine Jake.” You lie.
“Okay you know what. We’re going out. He takes your hand and you notice that your brother had stolen your phone. “Guys wait.. I’m fine really.” You protest.
“Then a ride on the town should be fine.” Jake explains. He’s being cocky now. At least that’s semi-normal.
The three of you walk out of your bedroom you make your way to the kitchen to clean up before going out. Jake grabs your hand and pulls you towards the door. “Uh. Uh. Uh. We can deal with that later. Let’s go.”
Your jaw drops. What does he mean we can deal with hat later? Jake hates messes, especially if he’s going out. You try to protest but Jake and Bradley nearly shove you out the door. You climb in the back of Jake’s truck and stare out the window. Jake turns on the radio and whispers to your brother. You try to tune them out and figure out what’s going on with Trevor. Why would he lie about last night? Is he losing interest in you? He told you that he saw a future with you. Is it something you did?
You’re driving longer than expected. You don’t recognize the neighborhood. But you’ve been driving along the beach for a while. In the distance you can see huge ships. Wait those look like Navy vessels.
“Um, where are we going?” You lean forward, asking the two men in the front seat.
Bradley turns up the radio, intentionally ignoring you. Jake starts singing along, way too loud. You sit back in your seat in a huff. But a smile creeps up on your face. Jake had good things to say about the pier so you’re excited. You finally park at the marina. There must be hundred of boats there. You can’t help but reach for your phone to take pictures. You frown remembering they have it.
“Can I please have my phone back? I want to take a picture.”
“I’ll take a picture of you!” Jake calls out, grabbing the phone from Bradley. He makes you strike a couple of stupid poses in front of the boats and takes a picture of you and your brother. You all walk down to the docks, taking a closer look at the boats.
“Okay let’s go” Your brother calls out.
“Go where?”
Jake smirks at you walking to a sailboat. It’s bigger than the ones you used to sail back home, but it’s not the largest boat you’ve sailed. The guys get on waiting for you. You untie the boat from the dock and hop on. Bradley gives up the wheel to let you navigate out of the harbor. It’s like the sea is calling you home when you stare off into the horizon. You missed sailing, the sea. You haven’t done much since college, but it was coming back easily.
You gave Jake and Bradley orders on which ropes to pull and when. All three of you seemed to be having a great time. It was hard not to in the sunshine with the saltwater splashing over the side. You let the sail out and lock the wheel so you can lay on the bow of the boat, at least. You laid your head in your hands and soaked up the sun. Soon enough, you felt Jake lay down next to you.
“Told you, you’d like the pier.”
You smile in response. He’s right, but you’re not going to tell him that.
“Sorry you got stood up.” He says a little more serious.
You open your eyes at that. “It’s okay. He said we can see each other tomorrow.”
Jake doesn’t respond. You sit up and look at him. He looks—disappointed?
“Jake?”
Whatever look he had on his face is gone. He gives you a small shove, making you lose your balance.
“Hey!” You yell playfully. “If I fall off, who’s going to get us back to shore?”
“I’m the one in the Navy, it can’t be too hard.” He says, pretending to be insulted.
“Okay, give it a go sailor.” You tell him, smiling.
Of course, he’d take the challenge. He pulls in the sail too hard and nearly send the boom flying across the deck. It makes you chuckle. You adjust the sail and let him pick a course. He heads back for shore, but steers directly into the wind. The sail starts flapping aggressively.
“Could you, I dunno try not to tip the boat over ?!” Bradley shouts at Jake.
You go up behind him and veer off the wind. He doesn’t protest. The sails calm down and fill with air. You help him steer and adjust the sails the whole way in. The ocean turns a orange and red color reflecting the setting sun. Perfect end to s crappy day. Jake lets you take over after he nearly hits the marker bouys in the harbor.
You dock the boat, de-rig and bring down the sails. Jake and Bradley help you roll the sails up and zip them in their storage bags.
“Nice job sailor,” Jake calls out from the dock.
He takes your hand, helping steady you getting on the dock. You don’t need it, but it’s a sweet gesture.
“Not bad yourself, Hangman”
You swear you saw Jake, Jake Seresin, Mr. Cocky himself blush. You realize you hadn’t actually called him by his aviator name before, but you liked it.
Part 2
No cause you don’t understand I need this Man™️
Link to the Twitter video
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
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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
touch me | jake seresin x reader
plot; you've been seeing Jake for some time now, and when he invites you to bonfire night with his friends - you go a little shy on him.
request; yes, nonny requested with the prompt;
hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters
disclaimer; I'm aware that 'testing the waters' is a saying in the context of the prompts, but I found these pics on pinterest and it sort of started a bit of a plot in my head.
warnings; 18+, afab!reader, no use of y/n, pet names, touch starved, fluff, jake being an oblivious extrovert, skinny dipping, l-bombs, soft smut, p in v, unprotected sex in the ocean (make smart decisions folks, this is fiction).
word count; 4.1K
tagging people who might like; @roleycoleyreccenter @theharddeck @hangmanbrainrot @roosterforme @lt-bradshaw @sebsxphia @mothdruid @laracrofted
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He’d noticed you one day on his morning run. The sun had just barely made its way over the horizon, casting the deserted streets of San Diego in a fiery red hue, as he made his way through a street of cute little houses. Normally, this was not the route he’d choose to take during his morning run, but as he got out of bed that morning, he’d felt an unexpected urge to go about his morning a little differently.
Jake did have an established route for his morning run, and one for his evening wind down, but after he felt an inclination for change, he simply decided to switch his morning and evening route.
So when he jogged past your house, to see you sat on your porch with a steaming mug in hand, a cat perched on your lap as the morning sun made your skin glow - his step might’ve faltered and his jaw might have slackened. That day he almost came to a complete halt in front of your house, slowing so considerably it might be considered a brisk walk. You’d noticed him, of course, it was so early it was only the two of you out.
He’d decided to forego his shirt that day, running only in his shorts and his backwards cap to keep the longer strands of his fringe out of his face. Your soft smile before you shyly averted your gaze had his heart clenching in his chest, and it felt like you might as well have flung him into a 6G pull with the way the air seemed to leave his lungs at an alarming rate.
Jake had kept running that day though, which some might consider unusual for him. He had no qualms with going up to any woman or man to chat them up, it wasn’t really in his DNA to deny himself anything beautiful. With you, however, he felt like it would be disrespectful to chat you up like he did at the ‘Deck, with the sole purpose of taking you home for the night. No, Jake would like to treat you with more respect than that. Would simply like more with you. Which is how he found himself having switched his routes to see if sitting on your porch in the morning sun was a daily occurrence for you.
To his great delight, it was. And after a few weeks of making conversation with you as he ran by; learning your white, fluffy cat’s name was Empress Snowcone Kittlesworth - going by Snow when she wasn’t on royal duty (you assured him that the shelter had named her). Jake always made a point of offering Empress Snowcone Kittlesworth his most sincere salute when he saw her, only because he loved the way it made you giggle and beam at him, and of course because he was obligated to treat sovereigns with the utmost respect. Cats included.
After those weeks, you’d found yourself falling hard for Jake’s easy-going charm and sweetness. He’d taken you out on dates, and always made a point to open doors for you, keeping his hand respectably at your back, and for some reason always walking on the side closest to the road - always switching if you were to walk curbside. It was easy falling in love with Jake.
You’d never in your life experienced being treated with such care before. People opening doors for you had seemed foreign at first, and you had felt almost embarrassed the first time he did it - assuring him he didn’t have to do that. “Darlin’, I know I don’t have to do anything - I only do what I want to do,” Jake had said as he’d offered you that damn charming wink and smirk of his.
Dating Jake Seresin was nothing short of a whirlwind. The man had energy for the whole fleet, and his very extroverted persona of Hangman could make you grin for days. Though you had to admit you loved Jake’s softer side too, the one that let his hands linger near you at all times. It had been almost six months since your first date, and closer to seven since you first saw him that beautiful morning. For those six blissful months, Jake had had the privilege to have close to office hours at his post at Top Gun, along with some of his friends and co-workers from his squad.
Today, however, Jake had been gone for thirteen days and 20 hours - closing in on that dreaded fourteenth day. Jake had told you it was a shorter stint, more of an educational trip to another naval base to share some of their newfound skills. He’d been chosen to go out of the squad, and you were so proud of him. Still, it didn’t do much to alleviate the worry you felt for him, even if he had assured you there would be no actual mission on this trip. You knew that things could go wrong even without the interference of enemies.
Jake and you hadn’t moved in together yet (something you regretted somewhat, seeing as he’d be coming home to his own place after his trip instead of yours), wanting to take things slow. But as time went on you found that the urge to wake up to him by your side grew with each passing moment. These two weeks of not seeing him, hearing him and feeling him had left you in somewhat of an unexpected funk.
It surprised you, because you would describe yourself as quite an independent person - not too upset about spending time with yourself, almost teetering on a little introverted. Certainly, you hadn’t ever thought you’d feel the need to always have someone’s touch upon your skin. Now however, you’d found yourself crying on three different occasions at the way your heart yearned to feel Jake’s hands skim your body over the past fourteen days. You even missed when he’d absentmindedly have his hand on your hip as he talked to someone else, his thumb rubbing soothingly at the skin just above your jeans, something you hadn’t given much thought to until you found yourself feeling a little off without it.
Glancing at the clock situated over the entrance to your kitchen, you knew that Jake must have just reached San Diego by now. It was late, and you knew Jake must think you were asleep, and you knew he was likely exhausted as well. Heaving a great sigh, you knew you’d have to wait until tomorrow to see him.
Before he had been sent away there had been talk of a bonfire night with the squad, and they had settled on tomorrow’s date. They’d scheduled it in advance so that everyone could attend, and so that none of them were sent out somewhere else. Jake had been looking forward to it for ages, and he’d rambled about how happy he would be to introduce you to all of his friends and co-workers that you had yet to meet because of their deployment.
To your great distress though, tomorrow was Friday - which meant having to sit through an entire day of work before you could finally see Jake. Blinking blearily, you noticed your phone buzzing with a message.
Jakey 🤠💛: hey darlin’, just got home! absolutely exhausted, but missing you something fierce. can I pick you up after work tomorrow? spend some alone time with my best girl before the bonfire? hope you’re sleepin tight baby ❤️
Knowing how Jake could get, you smiled as your heart warmed in your chest, before deciding to sleep and answer his text when you awoke in the morning. You didn’t want him worrying his mind with why you were still up at this ungodly hour.
As it turned out, you wouldn’t be able to meet Jake before the bonfire. Your day at work started out pretty regularly, the clients that were scheduled for appointments with you showing up in a timely fashion and seemingly making good progress. Your last of the day though, that’s where it all got a bit rambunctious. During a small break, you had managed to text Jake that you would be needed at the office a bit longer - and he texted back that he’d been held back too.
Ultimately, the two of you decided to meet up on the beach, which almost made tears well in your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to meet Jake in private, be able to be a bit clingy and snuggly with him before you had to socialize with everyone else. You wanted him close in a way you didn’t feel comfortable having other people witness. With a sad sigh you returned to work, anxiously bouncing your knee as you tried to finish up as soon as you could.
In the end, you managed to get away from work. But you realized pretty soon you’d be late to the bonfire, and a disappointed little whine left you as you knew Jake would already be mingling with his friends, not even leaving you the opportunity to snuggle up in his arms for a few minutes in the parking lot before facing the group.
Having quickly changed into a flowery sundress, you slowly approached the group on the beach, the sun setting beautifully - turning the sky a lovely color of faded orange and pink. Scanning the group, you could see the tall forms of Rooster and Payback laughing together, Phoenix trying on Bob’s glasses, and Harvard and Yale throwing a football between one another.
Fiddling with your fingers that had interlaced in front of your dress, you nervously stood on your toes to try to catch your golden hued boyfriend in the mass of aviators.
“My hard workin’ girl!” you heard him before you saw him, but when you did see him, your breath caught in your throat. His hair had started falling out of its carefully styled look, some loose strands hanging in front of his gorgeous sea glass eyes, his beaming smile seemingly brighter than the setting sun.
“Jake!” you breathed out in relief as he finally stood before you, squealing as he swiftly wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, lifting and spinning you as you held on to his shoulder laughing.
“Missed you, baby,” he grinned, pecking your lips before setting you down and grabbing your hand “Let’s go before Javy eats all the food,” you giggled as he led you closer to the fire, his friends closing in on him - drawn to him like moths to his bright smile and sunny energy.
Soon enough, Phoenix had pulled you into conversation, Halo laughing beside you as you told them of a funny thing a client at work had said during the day. Hangman was out, flitting between friend groups faster than you could keep track of. That was the downside of a large party, you thought somberly. So many people that Hangman knew and loved all in one place for one night, and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend as much time as possible with people he hadn’t seen in so long. It didn’t help that awful sinking feeling in your stomach though, or the burning longing in your chest.
“He’s always like this, unfortunately,” Phoenix comforted you softly as Halo moved to grab some beers from the cooler a bit away. “loves being the life of the party,” she offered you a small lopsided smile, patting your shoulder. Looking down, you nodded “Yeah, I mean of course,” you replied, biting your bottom lip as you glanced over to see Javy goading Jake into doing some form of back flip in the sand.
“I’ve just missed him a lot,” you confessed, scrunching your nose at how pathetic you sounded. You were sure Nat thought you were a bit of a wimp, maybe not cut out for dating Hangman. To your surprise, she pulled you into a sideways hug, a warm smile on her face.
“I get it, hun. He’s just a little oblivious and high on attention right now. Just go nudge him a little, he’ll be good,” Phoenix squeezed your side again and you chuckled softly, thankful for the woman you now considered a friend.
“I don’t want to be the clingy girlfriend though…” you confessed your fears in so low of a voice you’re not even sure Phoenix would catch it, but she did, and she let out a loud laugh “Honey! Do you think Hangman would not like to have your attention every second of the day? Please! He wouldn’t think you were clingy. You’ve given him like three hours to monkey about doing stupid testosterone driven tomfoolery,” she winked at you, leaving your side to join Halo by the cooler.
Looking out onto the now dark ocean, hearing the soothing swish of the waves gently caressing the beach, you took in a deep breath. Perhaps it was the way the moonlight was hitting the water, but it almost looked like the ocean was glittering gently as it moved. As the waves moved slowly in their ebb and flow, so did you - languidly making your way over to where your boyfriends loud laughter rang out.
He had put on a long sleeved, cream white henley as the darkness had fallen, and you couldn’t help the stars that shone in your eyes as you took in the way his soft hair flopped in front of his eyes as he looked down - corners of his eyes slightly crinkled as his laughter turned into soft chuckles.
Moving to his side, you could tell that he was as Phoenix had told you, a bit high on the attention and general extroverted buzz the friends had given him. He was engrossed in a tale that Javy was telling, arms and hands emphasizing his point as Fanboy snickered by his side - Jake nodding along. A woman stood by Javy’s side, smiling and shaking her head - you figured that must be Javy’s wife, she looked very sweet as she smiled at you too.
A soft breeze had goosebumps slowly settling on your skin, and you protectively wrapped your arms around your mid, positively yearning for Jake’s warm embrace. He didn’t seem to notice the way you were silently begging for him though, engrossed in his friends and the buzz of activity.
Licking your lips, you slowly looked around, making sure no one was watching you. Javy had turned to Mickey to respond to a comment the latter had made, and you took this as your chance.
Ever so hesitantly, your fingers wrapped themselves around the soft cotton of Jake’s sleeve, tugging so lightly you weren’t sure he’d notice. But as soon as you had tugged twice, Jake snapped his gaze to you so fast you were concerned he’d get a whiplash.
“Honey,” he almost sounded surprised, breathless, his green eyes swirling with emotion as his brows knitted together - as if the spell of fooling around with his friends had abruptly been severed. “Hi baby, I’m sorry I left you. Have you been having an awful time?” he sounded so concerned, his voice laced with regret as he gently kissed your forehead.
“Don’t worry Jake, I’ve been hanging with Nix and Halo,” you smiled softly “I just missed you,” you confessed in a small voice, leaning slightly against his side, not wanting to seem too overbearing yet craving his touch all over you. Jake smiled so fondly down at you that it took your breath away, and it seemed as if his chest was puffed up just a bit prouder at your words.
Jake only felt warmth swirling within him as he finally looked at you. He felt a little ashamed at how he’d asked you to come, yet hadn’t made the proper time to make you feel like he’d missed you as much as he had when he was gone. Now, when he saw your sweet hesitant smile and shy look in your eyes, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why on earth he was listening to some stupid story Javy was telling him.
“D’you wanna go for a walk with me babe? Even if I’ve been a horrible boyfriend all evening,” Jake pleaded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment. “Jake, you could never be a horrible boyfriend!” you defended “but I would love a walk,” the last bit was spoken a bit shyly, and Jake’s face lit up at your answer, swiftly lacing his fingers with your as he led you down the beach by the water.
As the two of you walked, you talked in hushed tones of the weeks you had been separated, and that overwhelming feeling of need was starting to overwhelm you again as you listened to Jake’s soft tone, laced with his endearing accent. You were out of sight of all of your friends now, so with a small whine, you grabbed onto his forearm with both hands, tugging him to a stop.
“Jake,” you whined softly, pulling him closer to you. His brows furrowed, letting his palm cup your cheek slightly as he looked into your eyes. “What is it sweetheart?” he sounded concerned.
“I’ve missed you,” you pouted, tugging at his other arm again. He chuckled softly, his thumb stroking against your cheekbone “I’ve missed you more, baby,” he smiled. He didn’t understand. You whined softly again, not wanting to spell it out that you were a little baby who needed to feel his arms around you at all times.
His intense gaze made you shift your feet, averting your eyes to look down at the sand beneath you.
“Babe… tell me what you need,” his voice was soft but definitely commanding, his fingers gripping your chin and slowly tilting it upwards so he could look you in the eyes. His green irises were stormy, and an expression you had yet to see on him was present on his features. It made you gasp, a slow burning ache settling between your thighs as he stepped ever closer to you.
“Need you to touch me…” you whispered, tears rimming your eyes. “Sweetheart…” Jake sounded regretful “Why didn’t you tell me?” finally his arms wrapped around you, and you let out a sigh of relief, your whole body relaxing into his broad chest, nuzzling your face into his pecs.
“Did I tell you you look beautiful today?” Jake murmured against your hair, his palm running up and down your spine as you shook your head against his sternum. He chuckled low, before you felt him shake his head against your hair.
“Silly me. You look out of this world beautiful today, honey,” his sentence was punctuated with a soft kiss to your hair. You smiled against his shirt, wrapping your arms tighter around his waist in an effort to get even closer to him.
“Still need me to touch you?” Jake’s voice had a teasing lilt to it, and you removed your face from it’s spot against his chest to take in his facial expression. Biting your lip, you could only nod bashfully at the look on his face. “What do you say to losing some clothing then huh, sweetheart?” raising a brow, you tilted your head slightly, inviting his lips to descend upon yours for the first time that night.
Kissing Jake always had you slightly dizzy. Jake kissed with purpose, slow, sensual, and just as good as he was at everything else. He had your jaw cradled in his hand, tongue slowly meeting yours as you so easily yielded to him.
“Now what did you say about less clothing?” you murmured into the kiss, and Jake broke away to reply, only to chase your lips for a quick succession of pecks, until he looked out over the ocean. “Care for a swim?” he smiled at you.
You barely had time to nod before Jake was removing his henley, revealing chiseled abs and a broad chest dusted with hair. Standing frozen, you could only stare as he continued removing his clothing. How was this man real? And how was he yours to look at? Blinking slowly, you took in your boyfriend's smug smile as he approached you.
“Up,” his words were soft, his large warm palms skimming your sides before guiding your arms into the air, hands firmly guiding them and holding them in place. Keeping your hands stretched towards the starry skies, you watched as Jake sank to his knees before you, hands caressing at your thighs, his mouth following his lingering touches, lips kissing the ever more exposed flesh of your thighs.
Moving to stand, his arms had now gathered the fabric of your skirts onto them, and he gave your lips another loving kiss before he guided the dress over your head and onto the sand among his own clothing. Jake groaned softly at the sight of you, his hands immediately finding their home on your skin. You sighed in pleasure as he gently caressed your bare breasts, his warm skin soothing the chill of the night.
His mouth trailed soft kisses from your neck to your collarbones, and from your collarbones to the soft flesh of your breasts. His warm tongue laved over your hard nipples, and he took one of them into his mouth to warm, letting his lips latch around the flesh to suck lightly, teeth gracing over the sensitive bud. Soft moans spilled from parted lips into the night, and Jake figured it might be the loveliest sound he’s ever heard as it mingled with the soft sounds of the waves.
Once again, Jake bent slightly, his fingers hooking themselves into your underwear, sliding them down your legs, removing your shoes from your feet last. Strong hands skimmed your calves, up to your thighs, where his fingers tapped gently, urging you to hop up.
As you did so, Jake caught you in his arms, tenderly helping you wrap your legs around his midsection as he walked you out into the water. Resting your hands around his neck, you softly tugged at his short hair, reveling in the way his eyes never left yours - the love radiating from them making yours slightly misty.
Wading deeper, you let out a surprised gasp as the water hit your skin, and the two of you smiled as Jake submerged you further into the water. It was when he moved fast that you noticed the glittering again.
“Jake!” you gasped, slowly dragging your hand back and forth in the water, spellbound by the sight of the bioluminescence that followed your hand “It’s beautiful” you sighed, before looking back at his handsome face.
“It really is,” he murmured, soft green eyes looking at you. Leaning down, you let your lips softly meet his again, hands roaming over his now wet skin. “I missed waking up next to you,” you confessed in between kisses “so did I,” Jake retorted honestly.
Again, Jake let his lips and tongue move languidly against your skin, drawing moans and sighs from your lips as he sucked and nipped at spots he knew were sensitive. “Jake” you whined softly as his hand reached up to cup and knead your breast. “Yeah, baby?” his voice was raspy, filled with lust.
“I need you!” the whimper fell softly out into the night, your head having tilted back slightly to give your lover more space to love on your skin. “Mhm, I need you too, honey.” Jake hummed, positioning you so that you could feel his hard cock against your inner thigh.
Sighing onto Jake’s lips, he slowly lowered you onto his aching cock, the swirl of the water making it a bit harder than it usually was. As you felt him fully seated in you, you let out a relieved breath, letting your forehead rest against his shoulder as he lazily lifted you so his cock slid against your walls - rocking slowly and deeply.
“I love you,” Jake’s words were soft and low, but they seemed to echo loudly against the dark night sky and the glittering ocean, illuminated by stars and the moon. He was still moving in you, and a soft groan left him before he repeated himself “Fuck, I love you,” his voice was strained with emotion, his jaw clenching slightly.
“I love you, Jake,” you whispered, having left your perch on his shoulder, rocking down onto him and looking at the way the moon beautifully illuminated his face, and the waters glittering between you as you moved.
“Move in with me,” Jake whispered “I’ll touch you day and night, for as long as you want me to,” he moaned, and you could tell his promise was as much to himself as it was to you.
“I’d love nothing more,” you sighed, relishing in the thought of waking up next to Jake every morning, for the rest of your life.
Whispers In The Dark | Bob x Reader x Rhett
Word Count: 8,777
Cross Posted on AO3
Warnings & Notes: Fem!Reader, poly relationships, unprotected sex, playful bickering, a dash of hurt comfort, threesomes, oral (reader giving and receiving) Rhett and Bob both going down on you at once, thigh fucking, sex in the back of Rhett's truck, not so subtle plotting, a toy car crash, and some pointless fluff.
Vacation.
As your Google search defines it, a vacation is 'an extended period of leisure and recreation, especially one spent away from home or traveling.' A time to escape from work, enjoy yourself and spend a couple of days forgetting all of your work-related worries. Going to bed and waking up late, exploring the world around you, and buying souvenirs you don't need.
A vacation is not the time or place for waking up by yourself because Royal Abbott cannot stand to let your boyfriends spend the weekend without working them half to death. Nobody wants to hear a mid-fifties woman ask if you're sure the clothes you're wearing are appropriate for men to see you in. And as much as you love Amy, nobody wants to spend their vacation babysitting her while her father and grandparents fuck off to God knows where.
With a melodic tune, your phone lights up. Natasha's name flickers across the screen. You're better off getting a hotel up by Grand Teton like you were originally planning.
Even as your fingers dance across the screen, typing out a response, you can't figure out how you wound up here. Visiting Rhett's parents and picking up the last of his belongings was only meant to be an overnight thing. But Royal had a ranch hand quit, and so Bob and Rhett agreed to stay and help for one day.
You've been here for fucking three, going on four. Leaving a little over a week to maybe visit Grand Teton, like you've been planning for the past six months. It's hard to get Bob away from the Navy for a weekend, never mind two whole weeks. You and Rhett had to fight with your workplaces to get the green light, and now, all of that effort has added up to this.
A big waste of fucking time.
I'd hate to ask them to leave if they're not ready to go themselves. The pleasant send-tone is drowned out by Cecelia's raised, shrill voice echoing up the stairs. Quickly blanketed by Royal's heavier one, booming throughout the hallways, rattling the doors. Another day, another argument.
You nearly miss the next notification tone. Too busy shoving your head beneath what smells like Rhett's pillow. The next time you visit the Abbott ranch, you're bringing earplugs. You say this as if Bob hasn't yabbered my ear off about Grand 'Talon' for the past six months.
The doorframe trembles as Royal's voice tears through the silence. Always one to remind you of where you are. Sincerely, you hope he permanently loses his voice.
Rolling to face the wall, you pull the covers up a little higher, burying your face beneath them. Rhett and Bob should have been back by now, but as the room grows darker, you wonder if they're going to come back at all. Maybe Royal's already worked them to death in the fields.
At least these sheets smell like them. Rhett's soft, woodsy musk and remnants of Bob's warm, expensive cologne clinging to the fabric. But the bed's not as warm as it usually is with them in it; there aren't a myriad of arms and legs tangled with yours. Bob's cold nose isn't pressed into the crook of your neck; Rhett's cheek isn't smushed against your forehead.
These sheets can only do so much.
You can almost feel Bob's arms winding around your waist, strong and confident as they secure you to his chest, nuzzling his face wherever he can comfortably fit. But that puff of breath against your sensitive neck...
feels a little too real.
"'s just me, sweetie," Bob murmurs, winding his arm around you. Deft fingers curl between your waist and the mattress, pulling your back flush to his chest. You don't remember feeling the bed dip or the old oak door squeal open, but he's here. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Completely bypassing the customary 'are you okay's and 'how are you feeling?'s. If there's one thing about Robert Floyd, it's that he doesn't see the point in asking pointless questions that only eat up time.
"I don't know," squirming until your legs can comfortably tangle with his, still damp from a shower. How long has he been back?
The bedroom door squeaks, and those heavy footsteps that follow can only belong to one person. "What's goin' on?" Drawers slide open and closed; the metal handles rattling against the old painted wood.
"Somethin's got our baby upset," vaguely, you can feel Bob tilting his head to look behind himself, the lack of warm breath against your neck leaving your skin unusually cold.
Abruptly, a drawer shuts, the floor creaking as Rhett comes over to the bed. It's the first time you've seen him all day, wearing nothing but a pair of old jeans; water drips from the curls peeking out from beneath his ears, fresh out of the shower.
The mattress sinks as he crawls up to join you, settling between you and the wall. His lips find your forehead in silent hello. Chapped and bitten, an old habit that rears its ugly head every time he comes back here. Words are hard to come by; the room so quiet that you can hear when Rhett scratches at his jaw, disturbing the stubble there.
"Can we...?" you wish Rhett were closer, so you could hide your face in his chest while you speak. "...maybe not spend our entire vacation here?"
"Baby, we never canceled our plans," Bob's voice vibrates against your spine, rattling all the way down to the tips of your toes, "what made you think we weren't going?"
"Well, we haven't exactly stuck to our original plans," it comes out a little rushed. Like you only have a few fleeting moments to say what you want, "and now I've hardly seen you two for the past...what? Two? Three days?"
Rhett's eyes flicker, looking toward Bob; you can only assume it's a shared look because you can't exactly turn to see for yourself. The corners of his lips downturn, "I'm sorry," and you can practically feel the frown when he kisses your forehead again, "we can still go, yeah?"
The end of that is more directed toward Bob than it is toward you. Visible in how he slightly lifts his head to look at the man curled against your back. All of a sudden, Bob's letting go of you, bare feet audibly hitting the floor.
"The hell you doin'?" Eyebrows knitting together, Rhett sits up a bit, prompting you to roll onto your back to see what's going on with your own eyes.
You hadn't been expecting to lay eyes on Bob's boxer-clad ass, but who are you to complain?
"Looking for this...ah," he produces a laptop from the suitcase he's rummaging through, tucked safely between the neatly folded clothes. One of these days, you and Rhett really need to talk him into getting a proper computer bag.
It's open before he's even sat down again, the fan roaring to life so loudly that you think it may take flight. A stray arm ventures out across your belly, securing itself around you as Rhett squirms closer until his cheekbone is pressed against your shoulder.
"Grand Talon, right?" You're glad Bob's double-checking because something is amiss here.
"Teton," there's a strain in Rhett's tone, carrying the burden of months worth of gentle corrections that never stick. You're starting to think that it could be a great excuse to buy trinkets you don't need and place them around Bob's little office space.
Give it five minutes, and he'll start calling it Talon again.
Fingers dance across the keys, a blur right before your very eyes. Pausing for the piss poor Abbott wifi to work, tapping impatiently on the edge of the screen. The screen changes. Click. Tapping again.
"Is the internet that bad?" You ask with a yawn. To be fair, you've yet to try asking Cecelia for the password; mobile data has been enough to get you by as of late.
"I get better reception when I'm a couple thousand feet in the air," as he says that, the page loads in.
With prior context, you already assumed he was doing something related to your original trip, but you're still surprised to see that familiar lodge homepage. The same one you've looked at so, so many times over the past few months. All three of you are supposed to have been there by now; you should be laid up on an unfamiliar mattress, wasting time.
But here you are, laying in Rhett's barely functioning childhood bed, listening to Royal and Cecelia's argument burn out.
"Do you think we could make it if I got a last-minute room for tomorrow?" Eyes never leaving the screen, darting back and forth.
Rhett yawns, breath tickling your shoulder, "if it's as close as I remember it bein', then yeah."
Click.
Click click. Screen flash. Lightning-quick typing.
Click.
Click click. A grin wires its way across Bob's face as he turns the laptop to face you.
He's placed a room reservation for tomorrow.
"Not sure how thrilled Cecelia's fixin' to be," he chirps, turning it back toward himself, "pretty sure she was makin' plans for us."
"Yeah, well, I'll tell her it's because her lounge pants were too scandalous," curse your quick tongue and its innate ability to spit words out before you're sure if you should say them.
Rhett sits up. Bob grabs him by the hair.
"I told you I heard her makin' them goddamn remarks again," Rhett hisses through clenched teeth, squirming as he's led back onto the mattress. It never fails to amaze you how easy it is to control him once you've got a hand in those pretty curls.
"And the last thing our baby probably wants to hear right now," cautiously, Bob releases him, "is another argument."
Melodramatic, Rhett huffs, but he doesn't make to move again. A storm brews behind those dark blue eyes, raging seas that threaten to drown you if you peer into them for too long. The same cannot be said for Bob, always has been better at controlling those eyes of his. But his clenched jaw gives him away, that small, telltale vein in his neck bulging.
"You're horrible at hiding that vein." Leave it to Rhett to leave it up.
"At least I don't look like I'm about to commit a homicide."
For a moment, you're afraid Rhett's going to jump clear across you and tackle him to the ground like he has so many times. You don't need any magical ability to know that's exactly what's flickering through his mind.
"Now that I've dug myself a grave," turning his affections towards you, Bob reaches out to graze his knuckles against your temple, gently stroking, "what do you two say we get out of here for a little while?"
You're unsure of what he means by that, but you nod anyway, "where are we going?"
"Walmart," together, in perfect unison.
They've been planning this.
A trip to fucking Walmart.
"Bunch of small-town losers, the whole lot of you," but even with your half-hearted complaint, you find yourself getting out of bed to pull on some clothes.
It's not necessarily cold out, Wabang is quite comfortable on summer nights like these, but you still reach out and steal Rhett's big, comfy black hoodie that's been sitting on your suitcase.
Bob's eyes flicker with the slightest complaint.
Rhett reaches over and snatches that US Navy jacket from him. The black zip-up, with 'Navy' written across the left arm in big white letters. "Problem solved," absolutely beaming as he wriggles into it.
"You two are something else," but there's a fond smile on Bob's face as he slips his glasses on, careful to mind the lenses.
Out in the hallway, you're met with a blanket of darkness that never seems to end. Rhett steps past you, taking your hand on his way, and with remarkable ease, guides you through it. You're not sure where you're going, but it's easy to fall in tandem with his step. A soft left and you're looking at the staircase.
On the living room couch, Royal's completely knocked out. Snoring, still dressed, his hat laying discarded on the floor. Laying the wrong way, the brim flat on the floor threatens to warp its shape, but Rhett makes no move to fix it, so neither will you.
Keys jingle. Bob opens his mouth.
"Absolutely not," Rhett's quicker. "You drive like an old lady."
His old ranch truck looks so out of place compared to Bob's. That little old '01 GMC Sierra looks cute until it's placed right next to a monster of a Toyota Tundra. It's going to look even stranger next to Rhett's current vehicle once you get it back home.
"I've missed this old thing," its scrap value probably isn't worth the gas and time it took to drive here, but you can hardly complain. The cowboy practically has heart eyes as he clambers into that old driver's seat.
"I'm convinced you'd marry this truck before you marry us," you can't help but tease as you settle into the middle. Bench seats need to make a comeback, so couples like you can equally sit up front and not fuss over who winds up in the back.
The engine roars to life just as any other vehicle would, refusing to show her true age. "Those rich assholes won't even let me marry both of you," that big hand of his lands on your knee, squeezing it. Like clockwork, Bob's hand lands on your other one, doing much of the same.
Always evening things out.
You don't remember there being a Walmart nearby, but in the year since you've last been to Wabang, they've built one along the outskirts of town. Bordering a flourishing uppity town that's been getting a lot of business due to a newly constructed highway.
It's strange to see so many cars over here; nice ones too. Modern vehicles that look like they couldn't be more than five years old, big, glistening trucks that Rhett so lovingly refers to as Pavement Princesses. For it being ten o'clock at night, this store is pretty busy.
"Both of you," already, you know what Bob's about to ask; hasn't even let you fully get out of the truck yet. "Hands. Now."
You're rolling your eyes, but you hold your hand out for him to take anyway. Rhett, however, fusses like a small child, whining as Bob laces their fingers together.
"Why do you do this to me?" He grumbles, but there's a smile fighting its way across his pouting lips.
"Because keepin' you two together in a store is like herdin' cats," you hate that he's got a point. Store runs have been nothing but chaotic until Bob practically started leashing you.
Someone inevitably wanders off for one thing and gets distracted. Someone else picks up the things you need by memory, only to learn that they've already been put in the cart. Someone, cough, Bob, winds up with the list, wondering where the hell you and Rhett went.
The hand-holding only lasts so long. Carts are always necessary with these two men, and like a pair of kids, you've got to have a hand on it at all times.
"I don't wander," Rhett grumbles, and you can already see his eyes skittering about the signs, looking for his favorite aisle.
You'd beg to differ. "We've found you in the toy section three trips in a row."
Admittedly, Bob's not much better. Their mutual toy car collection is truly something else, with Bob's Matchboxes and Rhett's Hot Wheels. Almost every store visit ends in a new member being added to the family. Nerds.
"Can I convince you two to get snacks first?" You can see the chip aisle from where you're standing, and you can hardly tear your eyes off it. Something, anything, sounds good compared to Cecelia's stale veggie straws and off-brand cheese crackers.
Two pairs of blue eyes land on you.
And they're both silently telling you 'yes.'
These aisles are massive, never seeming to end, even when you're standing dead in the center of them. You don't recall the last time you've seen this many variations of chips, spicy, extra spicy, toasted, odd flavor combinations that no sane man comes up with. Bob's already found his beloved barbeque chips, Rhett's...staring at Bob, eyebrows knitted. Flicking over to you, then back to him.
All these variations, and yet no matter where you look, you can't find your favorite. They're not where you'd usually expect them to be; they should be at the very end, alongside the rest of the brand. What if...
oh.
There's a slot for them on the bottom shelf. Completely empty.
"Of course," leave it to you to want the one thing they don't—
"You know," Bob's staring at the cart, expressionless, "I have no memory of doin' it, but evidently, I picked you up a bag and put it in here already."
Because there they are. Evidently, the last bag and Bob's impulsively grabbed them for you without thinking twice.
"Y'have a hell of an autopilot system, Playboy," Rhett's absolutely grinning as that nickname rolls off his tongue; he's finally picked what he wants. Jalapeño Cheetos. Go figure. It was either that or pork rinds.
"I am beggin' you to quit callin' me that."
"Then you best get on your knees because you're doing a shit job at beggin' so far."
You really, truly, cannot take them anywhere.
The toy aisle is where you assume you'll go next, but they completely bypass it. You're all talking, commenting on the different things you pass by; Rhett lays eyes on toddler cowboy boots and absolutely loses his mind over the size difference, but neither of them explains where they're off to. They see the aisles, you know they do because Bob comments on the silly shelf of plushies called Living On The Veg, but they don't stop.
And the only place they seem to be headed is toward...camping gear?
"What are we doing?" Context clues aren't enough; you can't figure this one out.
"Looking for an air mattress," Bob says as if it's plain as day; why wouldn't they be looking for an air mattress?
...did he book a hotel or a camping ground?
Rhett's several steps ahead of you, already halfway down the aisle, by the time you step foot into it. Arms folded across his chest, peering up at the top shelf. Eyes scanning, searching, knows exactly what he's looking for, just doesn't know where it is.
"Found it," standing on his tip-toes, he takes down a box you hadn't initially noticed.
An air mattress designed for truck beds.
"Am I missing something?" You don't...what?
And this time, when two sets of blue eyes, one pair a sweet baby blue, the other so dark that they look black, it hits you.
They're planning something.
"This feels like a plot to kill me."
"It is."
"It's not," Rhett groans, running his hands through his hair, "what about watching the stars in the bed of my truck screams 'I'm going to kill you tonight' anyway?"
Bob's chuckling is the only thing sound you can hear in this quiet, neglected little field. You suppose Rhett was the only one who cared for this part of the pasture because it doesn't look like anyone's touched it since he moved out. Wild shrubs, briar patches that you've narrowly avoided stepping in.
"Without context, you two taking me out into a field at midnight, and insisting I get on an air mattress that you shoved in your truck bed, is a little strange," but while you speak, you're trying to figure out how the hell to get up here.
Rhett hopped up just fine, but you're not sure how to make the jump.
"Hold on, hold on," Bob's glasses fall low on his nose as he bends down to pick you up, "I've got you, sweetie."
No matter how many times they do it, it still feels strange to be swept off your feet as if you weigh nothing. He places you right on top of the air mattress, careful eyes watching as you squirm up to sit next to Rhett. As soon as you're settled, he hops up, moving with such ease. Muscles flexing with the effort, the veins in his hands so fucking prominent that you might start drooling like a dog.
"How long have you two been planning this?" The back of the truck is hard against your back, the window pane digging into your shoulders, but you don't have a single complaint. You physically can't, not with them snuggling up to you the way they are. Rhett's head coming down to rest against yours, Bob's arm sliding around your shoulders.
"Since we got here," Bob's confession is so faint that it's nearly lost in the breeze.
Rhett's head tilts, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek. "Y'get a lot of time to brainstorm in these fields."
Funny, it's been hard to hold a single train of thought cooped up in the old Abbott home. Someone's always needing a favor, Cecelia's constantly got things to say, and you've got to hear those things whether you like it or not.
"I think they offered to give Rhett his truck back so they could get free labor out of us," there's more Bob's trying to say, but his sentence is punctured by a yawn that he can't talk through. Jaw nearly unhinging, eyes scrunching shut; you've no recollection of when his hand wound up on your knee, but it loosens, falling further between your legs.
Involuntarily, you shiver.
"Someone's sensitive," Rhett muses; his eyes flicker up to you, watching carefully as a devilish hand slips between your legs. Even with pants on, you can feel it clear as day; the heat radiating off their big palms like two blazing infernos.
"Subtle," you grumble, "real subtle."
But again, it's impossible to truly complain. because Bob's pressing a kiss to your cheek, sleepy-eyed and so utterly fond. As soon as you've turned your head, he's dipping down and stealing a proper one from your lips. Once, twice, until he's hooked, can't bring himself to draw away for a third time.
It's only been an hour since the last time he kissed you, but it feels like it's been centuries since the last time you felt these soft lips dance with your own. So long since the last time you've found the taste of that peppermint chapstick on your tongue. Can't remember the last time you've felt the cold metal of his wire frames bump into your cheek.
A second pair of lips brush at your exposed neck, familiar stubble tickling you, sending you gasping. Such a faint noise that shouldn't be audible, but Rhett's chuckle tells you otherwise, brushing his scruffy jaw against your skin just to get another rise out of you.
Blindly, you feel around, searching for and tangling your fingers in those messy curls. Merely serves as an incentive for him to move closer, swinging his leg over to straddle your thigh as he nibbles at the soft spot just below your ear. A burning tongue soothes over it when he's done, making you squirm, unintentionally pushing up into his groin.
"Oh."
Such a sudden little noise has you and Bob breaking away, mouths agape as you turn your attention to the cowboy perched on your thigh. You've made a mess of his hair. What usually stays tucked behind his ears now cascades against his cheeks.
He's yet to notice that you're looking at him, eyes closed, lips agape as he tentatively grinds against your leg, eager for some sort of contact. Even as you lean forward, he doesn't notice. Not until your lips are brushing against his, and those eyes flutter open for a fleeting moment, snapping shut once more when you close the gap.
"Didn't expect for you to be the first one to crack, shug," there's a soft clack as Bob sets his glasses down on the roof of the truck, the only place they're safe from being smushed.
There's the faintest of grunts against your lips, Rhett's determination to express his annoyance easily overtaken by the sudden attention he's being given. Nose bumping into yours as you lazily tangle together, kiss after kiss, never lasting longer than a few seconds before a new one is started.
Curious, your hand wanders up to feel how much he's worked himself up. Only expecting to find him semi-hard, but he's solid as a rock under your palm, eagerly pushing up into it. "Jesus, Rhett."
"Don't 'Jesus, Rhett', me," he fusses, jolting as you squeeze the outline of him through his jeans, "maybe you two have been fine, but I've been hard all fuckin' week."
You truly believe that if there were an actual scale to measure sex drives, Rhett would break it every time.
Such an unfortunate thing for him, but fuck if a few days without getting off doesn't make him the most pliant thing you've ever seen. It's so easy to push him back until he's off your leg and you're able to sit up on your knees properly. There's only a small gap between your back and the truck window, but Bob fits into it just fine, his arms winding around your waist.
One wandering hand cups you between your legs, and all of a sudden, you're the one who's gasping.
You're thankful Rhett's not wearing a belt for once, makes it so much easier for you to pop open his button and yank down the zipper. And he's falling right into your open hand, nothing else there to restain that heavy, dripping cock of his.
"Didn't," licking his lips, "didn't intend to wear those jeans for more than a few minutes."
There's an uncomfortable coldness as Bob takes his hand away from you, bringing his hand up to Rhett's agape mouth and hooking a thumb inside. You're sure Rhett would gripe about it if not for the visible pressure being applied to his tongue.
Just as he's closing his lips around it, Bob's pulling away, skin absolutely glistening with saliva. Reaches right down to encase your hand that's already wrapped around Rhett's cock. Wickedly, that wet thumb finds his sensitive, plush head and starts to rub circles into it.
Rhett's mouth opens with a surprised gasp. Not a sound comes out at first.
And then you find yourself blessed with the sweetest, whiniest wail you've ever heard from him. Left leg thumping against the air mattress as Bob draws spiral after spiral. It's been a while since the last time you've seen his head tilt back like that, so overwhelmed that his eyes have bolted shut, can do nothing more than take it.
Shaky hands reach down, batting all of your offending hands away."Mean." There's no venom to it. He tries, but there's none there to give.
"Like a damn faucet," only when Bob mentions it do you realize that his thumb is absolutely soaked. Only able to look at it for so long because now, that same hand is pushing past your waistband. Dripping, pre-cum covered thumb to your clit.
Slower than how he assaulted Rhett, but those short, tight spirals against that swollen little bud are downright menacing.
"Absolutely fucking mean," you find yourself grumbling, "God, shit, Bob!" Squeezing your legs together does nothing.
"What?" Chill as a fucking cucumber.
You don't realize you're making noise until Rhett's quieting you with his mouth, swallowing down those faint sounds that ripple out of your throat. Impossible to stifle, always finding a way to slip past your futile resistance. Your hips are squirming on their own accord, but you can't make Bob move a damn millimeter.
Circle after tantalizing circle, unrelenting. You've still got your pants on, and he's already playing one of his best cards.
"Stop, stop," and he comes to a screeching halt; even Rhett freezes. You are going to lose your goddamn mind, need a moment to catch your breath. "Not like this."
"No?" Bob's composure may be perfectly maintained, but no amount of self-control can hide the hardness resting against the curve of your ass, twitching when you grind against it, "you wantin' somethin' else?"
"Want more," cut short by a curious, momentary pressure on your clit, "at least get my pants off first."
Fingers hook into the brim of your pants before you're even done talking. You have to get off your knees in order for Rhett to slide the garment past; he goes to toss them, but Bob catches them, neatly folding them. Midway through tucking them off to the side, he freezes, whites of his eyes flashing.
"Fuck, of all the days that you could be wearin' those panties," and it takes you until the end of the sentence to realize that Rhett's lips aren't moving.
You hadn't thought much about it when you put them on, but now that you think about it, you remember that they're Bob's favorite. Pale pink, with little white polka dots and the tiniest of bows at the top. Rhett bought them for you at random a few months ago, and you fear a second pair may be enough to give Bob a heart attack.
"Swearin' sounds good on you," Rhett teases, "Playboy."
What you don't expect is for both of them to make a move to get between your legs. Rhett on your left, Bob on your right, both equally surprised by the actions of the other. Neither yields.
Two pairs of eyes ask you to cast the winning vote.
"I..." you're grasping for straws here. Bob is the one who ate you out last, but he keeps looking down at your panties, where his hand is toying with that little bow. But Rhett's practically drooling like a dog, merely held back by a thin, invisible leash that could snap at any time.
Fuck, how are you meant to decide when they're looking up at you like that? Pleading, hopeful, like you've just hung the moon and the stars in the sky, and they want you to hang their paper stars up too.
"I can't decide."
They look at each other. Words are shared, but their mouths never open.
Then, slowly, as if a sudden movement too fast will shatter the moment, they lean down. A pair of lips find each thigh. One is soft and leaves faint, peppermint-flavored imprints, the other chapped, the cracked skin tickling your sensitive thigh.
Your back smacks into the sharp edge of the truck. It should hurt, there'll likely be a bruise in the morning, but you can't feel a goddamn thing. All you know is that kisses slowly trail up your overwhelmed thighs, leaving little marks behind to keep them from getting lost in you.
That is...
that sight is fucking something.
They hardly fit; the higher they reach, the closer they have to squirm. By the time their combined breath tickles you through that thin polka-dot fabric, they've got hardly any room. Cheeks squished together, Bob's unable to fight his dopey grin, and it's leaking over onto Rhett.
It's Bob who moves forward, dragging his hot tongue up the fabric that separates him from you, but only once. Impatience seeps through the seams as he pulls them to the side, tentatively kitten-licking your clit.
Rhett's staring him down. He's aware of it, peeking off to the side. As if one more lick is going to result in a surprise wrestling match right here and now. When Rhett doesn't move, those eyes finally close, at peace enough to use the rest of his tongue. Broad, flat strokes that leave you wanting more, to reach down, grab him by the hair, keep him right there.
Slow as molasses, Rhett leans down and attaches his lips to Bob's vulnerable neck, sparking a little, surprised whimper. You can't see it, but the tremble in Bob's tongue tells you that Rhett's sucking on the little vein that pokes out behind his ear, the sensitive one that always begs to be left littered with marks.
One, two, three audible kisses are pressed to it before Bob twitches away from you with a gasp.
They switch.
Where Bob was careful, Rhett's absolutely fucking messy. Sloppily lapping at your quivering entrance, his tongue is short, but he fucks it into you anyhow, giving you something to clench around. From that alone, he's panting as hard as you are, drenching you in his hot breath when he works himself up to give your swollen little bud some attention too.
His focus gives Bob the opportunity to return the favor. But even when he has reason to assault those weak points where Rhett's collarbone meets his neck, he doesn't. Instead, pressing soft kisses that lead from beneath his ear down to the juncture of his neck. Gentle, offering warning before he starts to shower that lovely, scar-mottled collarbone with attention.
Rhett's eyes flicker up at you, fluttering. You don't know if it's from his desire to eat you out or the love being peppered into his neck, but he's absolutely drooling into your pussy. Saliva runs down his chin, each swirl of his tongue around your clit marked by a faint wet noise. Enough for Bob to collect on his fingers, using it as a lubricant when he eases a finger into you.
"Fuck," is that you who's talking? It sure doesn't sound like it. "You two are something else." The synchrony of amused chuckles you receive is pretty enough to count as a melody.
Bob's fingers are thicker than Rhett's; you can already feel the stretch as a second one eases inside. You don't know what you did, but Bob's already sensed that slight discomfort. Distraction comes in the form of a familiar 'come hither' motion, massaging a familiar bundle of nerves that sends you jolting up into Rhett's mouth.
"Please hurry up," on a normal day, you'd beat around the bush about it, but the heat blossoming between your legs is enough to have you bypass that completely. "Please, before I lose my ever-loving mind."
Rhett pulls away and reaches into his back pocket, revealing a quarter. Had that been there this whole time? Not that you're complaining, but couldn't he have flipped that damn thing before?
He flips it with his thumb, the small piece of metal dancing through the air, then dropping onto your unsuspecting belly with a soft thunk.
Tails.
On reflex, Bob falls to his haunches, sending you and Rhett bouncing. Damn air mattress. "'ve got condoms in the—"
"Don't need 'em," Rhett's already got his shirt halfway over his head, revealing that wonderfully sculpted chest built from years of hard, manual labor on the ranch. He pauses and looks up at you, having spoken too fast; you shake your head no.
Bob's the one to tug your panties down, careful to place them somewhere safe. Somewhere between that and you rolling over onto your belly, you catch the faint murmur beneath his breath, "uncouth."
"I don't know what that means," Rhett hums, tracing his blunt nails up your ass, "so it can't hurt me."
"You two are going to be bickering, even when we're six feet under in our separate graves, aren't you?" When you went into this, you knew what you were walking into, but even now, you're amazed that they manage to keep it up. Even as Rhett's cock is gently slapping against your wet cunt, seconds away from opening you up with it.
"I'll make sure you get buried with earplugs," Bob says as he settles between you and the truck's rear window. An awkward squeeze at first, but once you're situated, it's perfect. His lap perfectly comfortable to rest your head in, barely concealed bulge right there for you to run your palm over.
A retort burns on your tongue, but it slips away when you feel a plush cockhead press into you. The stretch normally burns a bit without lubricant; Rhett's too goddamn thick for his own good, but your wetness is already drenched in his saliva, makes the initial slide easy. Manages to sink a good inch or two inside before you feel that uncomfortable stretch again.
"Bobby—"
"Catch," Bob's already heard, understood, and acted before Rhett's gotten more than a word out. A packet audibly tears as he pulls out of you, audibly slicking himself before sliding right back in.
Rhett's nails trace up your spine, tickling. "Better?"
"Better," you breathe.
It's hard to think as he eases into you, inch by slow, careful inch, splitting you wide. Can hardly focus on popping open the button on Bob's jeans, and how the hell are you meant to? Rhett knows the angle his hips need to be at in order to hit all those nerves on his first pass in, distracting you with idle tracings of invisible shapes.
"Here, sweetie," Bob's even gentle when he bats your fumbling hands away. He's quick to undo his jeans, never one to insist that you give him attention while Rhett's fucking you, but always willing to let you if that's what you want.
And here you think Rhett's the monster of the relationship.
It never truly hits you until you watch him slide out from his confines. How long it takes him to get all the way out. You'd swear at the sight, but you're distracted by the comforting sensation of Rhett's hips coming flush with yours, bottoming out.
Rhett whistles, "and here you two say I'm the pain in the ass."
Your hand looks remarkably tiny as you take hold of him, incapable of standing up to all nine inches of him. His usually light-pink tip is now an angry red, completely neglected up until now. Bob's pleased grunt is lost to your own gasp, taken aback by the teasing thrust into you.
"Rhett," your warning is anything but.
"'m sorry," another short thrust, hardly enough for it to count as one, but the strokes gradually become longer and longer, "strugglin' to hold myself back with this little pussy of yours."
Lubricant dribbles over your hand, Bob gently taking hold of it to guide up and down his length, coating himself. Where the slightest breeze has Rhett dripping precum like a leaky faucet, Robert needs a little outside assistance, or else he'll rub himself raw.
Rhett's hands slide across your hips, taking hold of them; your only warning before he really draws back. It's still not enough to count as a long stroke, but it has you whimpering anyway. So thick that he drags against that bundle of nerves without any effort at all.
"So good for me," he groans, already pulling back again, "y'gonna take care of Robby while I fuck your little pussy, hm?"
His sentence is punctuated by a hard thrust, sending you jumping forward, the sound of your skin smacking echoing through this deserted field. Your cheek presses against Bob's lower belly, mouth opening to suckle at his head, whimpering around him. Every thrust has the truck rocking, sending you fluttering around Rhett's cock like a goddamn butterfly.
"Jesus," grunting above you, Bob curls his hand around the back of your head, holding onto you, "usin' me like a damn—hah! Pacifier."
Rhett's working up a rhythm, and it's the worst possible one he could be going for. Each snap of his hips punches a noise out of your throat, hips angled to drag his thick, dripping head against the gooey spot inside your cunt, never once letting it escape the attention. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't think straight.
The hands gripping your hips leave you no room to squirm or writhe; you've no choice but to arch your back and take what he gives you. Can feel the truck moving with each heavy thrust into your dripping pussy, unrelenting. Stimulating that sweet spot of yours like it's his fucking job, offers you no time to recover.
"This what you needed, hm?" He grunts, swallowing down a uniquely pitchy groan, "you been missin' gettin' filled up by us?"
Your only response is to hum around Bob's cock, trying your damnest to properly suck him off, tongue caressing the underside, cheeks hollowing. Labored breathing through your nose with every inward thrust because there's not enough room in you for air and both of their cocks.
"Just like that, sweetie," Bob's voice is raspy, unnaturally so, "shit, baby, just like that."
Rhett drops down to curl his big body around yours, muscled chest against your back, cheek resting on your shoulder. One arm wraps around you, the other dipping down between your legs, calloused fingers finding your neglected clit. So sensitive that you quiver around him, eliciting a gruff noise that vibrates around your ear.
"'m gonna cum in you, doll," that's not a warning; it's a promise, "fill you up until you're nice 'n full, then let Robby have his way with your poor little cunt."
The length in your mouth twitches, breaking your suction. You fear that even the neighbors down the road can hear that loud, filthy 'pop.'
"That what you want?" Pressing kisses into your cheek, Rhett just keeps talking, "hm? Want us to ruin you until you need us to carry you 'round all day tomorrow?" And fuck if that doesn't have you clamping down around him like a damn vice, downright ripping that gasp out of him.
You don't know when you started reaching down, but your hand never gets to reach Rhett's and urge it faster because he's already quickening to match his pace. Short, quick strokes that have your brain rattling around in your skull, mouth popping off of Bob to gasp for air.
Bob's gathering you up, urging you to bury your face in his soft belly and just cling to him, "c'mon baby, c'mon," and you don't know which of you he's talking to, but there's something snowballing between your legs. Tight, boiling hot.
You're muttering a name, can't quite tell if you're saying Rhett or Robby, maybe both, but you're chanting without thought. A fog settles into your head as you feel yourself start to tighten, that boiling heat washing over everything around you.
Rhett's getting twitchy, ruining his rhythm in such a way that you whimper into Bob's stomach, almost there, almost there, almost there. "Come on, doll," his voice strained, hips stuttering, "be a good girl and cum on my cock for me."
It hits you so hard that it takes you a moment to catch up, hearing Rhett's pleasured gasp and Bob's sweet coo before you feel it. Body going taut as you cum around that still-thrusting cock, vision blurring as everything goes warm and fuzzy. Rhett's hips are stalling, and you can't comprehend why until you feel that first hot gush of cum flooding your swollen cunt. Filling you up until you're sure it's leaking out.
Your high fades, leaving you limp against this air mattress, lungs burning for a full breath of air, but unable to lift your head out of Bob's warm body. Hands stroke the back of your head, kisses are peppered over your back. Who's doing what and where is anyone's guess.
"You alright?" Is that Bob? Rhett?
Weakly, you nod. Hands find your hips, working together to roll you onto your back again. There's an ache you didn't know you had, brought on by the angle Rhett once had you in, soothed by the comfortable air mattress beneath you.
Bob's hard length catches your eye. Too heavy to stand up, instead resting against his hip, right there for you to reach out and stroke.
"Y'don't gotta do that, sweetie," he chuckles, but he twitches in your hand all the same.
You need a moment to find your voice, "want you to cum."
"You heard the little lady," there's Rhett, crawling up to lay next to you, "c'mon, want you to cum too."
Bob hesitates, but slowly, he begins to move. When he settles between your legs, you expect him to immediately guide himself to your dripping, full entrance, but he doesn't. No, instead, he smacks his cock against your spent pussy, entranced by the sight.
"Really did a number on the poor thing," he muses, pushing some of Rhett's cum back into you with his thumb.
His blunt head pushes into you, opening you up just enough to take the tip of him. On their own, your legs wrap around him, semi-distracted by Rhett's hand that wanders under the hoodie covering your belly. Doing nothing more than massaging, just needs something to do while he snuggles up to you.
"I've half the mind to make you cum 'round me too," Bob's reaching down to take hold of your thighs, pushing them up until they're flush together, "but I wanna do that tomorrow when we have a nice hotel bed that I don't gotta worry 'bout poppin'."
You don't know what he's doing, and you're about to ask why he's pulling out of you, but then you feel it. A nudge between your thighs, cock sliding between them.
Oh.
There's something about the way his cock peeks through your thighs that has your head falling against the mattress, dizzy at the sight. Full, heavy balls smack against your dripping entrance with every downward motion, the slight stimulation enough to make you jolt each time. The thick underside of his cock slips between your sensitive folds, opening you back up as he makes a mess of you.
Saliva, your own juices, Rhett's cum, leftover lubricant, there's so much there that every motion sounds downright filthy, wet. Creating a dizzying, creamy mess between your legs as he carefully fucks your thighs.
"That too much, honey?" Fuck, why does he have to only call you honey when he's got his dick between your legs, "hm?"
"Feels good," your thighs are going to be so sensitive after this; it'll be a wonder if you can walk up the stairs when you get back.
His thrusts are calculated, smooth as silk as he fucks your poor thighs, cockhead kissing your pussy on each inward pass. Behind his head, the midnight stars sparkle, the perfect backdrop to his messy hair and pink cheeks, eyes clouded as they stare at the sight beneath him. Your pretty face, his cock disappearing between your quivering thighs.
Rhett's lips ghost the shell of your ear, "try squeezin' him a little tighter."
That's exactly what you do.
The pitchy whine you're rewarded with is angelic, "fuck, sweetie, please keep doin' that."
His hips are beginning to quicken, pumping in and out, rubbing against your sensitive, exhausted cunt. Spent, all there for him to use to get himself off. Smooth thrusts begin to break down, jerky, quickening, chasing a high that you can feel radiating off of him.
"Come on, Robby," you coax him, reaching out to hold one of the hands gripping your legs, "please cum for me."
Those twitches are starting up, sudden, quick little involuntary movements of his cock. Pearly white teeth dig into his thin bottom lip, but they fail to stifle the pretty noises you're squeezing out of him. Breathy and needy, you could listen to them every day for the rest of your life.
Rhett moves his head to rest on the edge of your shoulder, "that's it, Bobby," he coos. One of his hands reaches down between your legs, letting that sensitive cockhead bump into his palm with every thrust, "cum."
And then you hear it, the faintest little "fuck," before he switches angles and presses his twitching mushroom head against your clit. The first rope of cum has you jumping, surprised by the contact. Overflowing, dripping down between your legs like a waterfall.
You wish your phone was near, so you could have a picture of Bob's blissful face, features so, so relaxed as his orgasm washes through his exhausted body.
"All over my damn hand," Rhett fusses, but that's easily fixed by running his tongue along his palm, cleaning up the mess made.
Slow, Bob pulls himself out of your thighs, letting them fall back open.
You're going to need a long bath to clean yourself up. Don't even want to think about the mess that's likely drying against the new air mattress or how it's going to be cleaned up without Royal or Cecelia butting in.
Bob's bulging biceps tremble as he settles down next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "I love you."
From your other side, there's a jealous whine.
"Hold on, hold on, I didn't forget about you," eyes rolling; Bob sits up, meeting Rhett halfway to give him a proper peck on the lips, "I love you too, shug."
"We're in trouble if Cecelia or Royal heard anything," you breathe, staring up at the star-speckled sky. The house isn't necessarily close, but a loud enough noise can probably be heard from the front porch.
"Not like we have to tell them the truth if they ask," that's a strange statement coming from Bob that you have to double-check that it's actually coming from him. "Those noises were mere whispers in the dark, nothing more, nothing less."
You don't remember too much after that. There's a gap in your memory where you suspect you fell asleep, somewhere between Bob pointing out a specific constellation and Rhett insisting it looks like a penis. You think you wake up when Bob scoops you up and carries you out of the truck. No idea when or how you got inside the cab, but you're being lifted out of it anyway.
And you must wind up in the bath somehow because you wake up completely clean the next morning. Devoid of any of that mess you three had created. Like it had never happened.
Tiny wheels run up and down your naked back. One is driving up your spine, the other across a sensitive bruise that has formed overnight. The vehicles crash in a whispered explosion, tires squealing through hushed whines in the backs of throats, a little 'psshh' indicating the climax of the catastrophic event.
"What the hell are you two doing?"
"Waiting on you to wake up," Rhett yawns; admittedly, he doesn't sound very awake himself.
From your other side, Bob presses a kiss to your shoulder, grinning when you turn to look at him, "we're all packed. The final thing we need to get put in the truck is our baby."
It's merely four in the morning. The sun has yet to rise, Cecelia and Royal are still tucked in their bed when you creep past their bedroom door. A goodbye note rests on the kitchen table, promising to stop by to fetch Rhett's truck after you leave Grand Talon.
"Talon, again?" Bob's cheeks pinken at your teasing.
Rhett's head rises from the open refrigerator, chewing on a piece of cheddar cheese that he's just hijacked, "and here I thought you were the one who got fucked stupid last night, not Bob."
You blink, and Bob's halfway across the room, both of them falling to the floor with a loud thump. Rolling around in a fit of giggles as they fight to see who comes out on top. Rhett's a goner before it's even started, Bob's fingers tickling up his sides. Makes it so, so easy for him to roll their bodies over and straddle Rhett's lap.
Bob's got that block of cheese now, "you're lucky we're still in your momma's house, sugar."
God, you can't take them anywhere, can you? Rhett's squirming, trying to fight back, but today is one of those rare days where Bob's true strengths shine through. All those years of maintaining his spot in the top percent of the Navy, all to pin an unruly cowboy to a kitchen floor.
"Alright, alright," bending down, you press a kiss to Bob's temple, "we'll settle this at the hotel, Playboy."
You're halfway out the door before they realize you've stolen their block of cheese. Scrambling to their feet, laughter bounces off the walls as the front door slams shut behind them. Giddy, full of energy that will be burnt out by noon. Energy that will be recharged after their honorary, communal nap with you in the hotel bed. It'll be gone by the time you settle on where to go for dinner.
So far, your vacation hasn't adhered to Google's abstract definition, but you're starting to like it that way.
Everything I didn't know I needed...but now I absolutely do!!
Bones, Hearts, & Marriages
Summary: You and Javy "Coyote" Machado did not get married for the right reasons. Now, three years later, you are going to make sure that you two at least get divorced for the right reasons to make up for it. However, per usual, things don't always seem to go to plan when Coyote is involved.
(Thank you @bradshawsbitch for this stunning gif 🫶)
Pairings: Javy "Coyote" Machado x AFAB! Reader
Word count: 11k
AO3 link
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Marriage of convenice, PinV, Realistic intimacy conversations, implied plus size reader, insecurity, self image issues, Valentine's Day.
Please let me know if I missed any.
Authors Note: Oh gosh, I have been working on this for a while now. It was supposed to be posted for Valentie's Day, but then life happened. I love Coyote soo much, and I actually NEED him to be my husband or I will perish. Coyote Hangman BFF supremacy implied. As always, apologies for any mistakes.
Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.
There was no question in your mind that your husband, Javy "Coyote" Machado, was your dream man, and most people would think that it is very lucky to be married to your dream man. Most people also wouldn't think falling in love with your husband was a terrible mistake. However, most people's husbands were in love with them back. You hadn't married Coyote because you loved him, and he certainly didn't marry you out of affection, either. The truth was, it was just a very convenient arrangement for the two of you. Javy hadn't wanted to live on base anymore, plus the benefits and pay for married men were better. Also, he was so tired of being bottom of the totem pole for vacations and holidays off to the aviators and sailors who were married or had families. For you, being married would change your financial aid status to receive almost three times more money each term. Having a clean, financially stable roommate was the cherry on top of the deal. You and Javy had really only known each other a few weeks when you had jokingly mentioned your need to get married. After several conversations where Coyote was deadly serious, you found yourself at the courthouse with him signing licenses and throwing a small party with your friends. Even now, nearly three years later, you would still catch yourself thinking about the sweet kiss he had bestowed on you.
To say you were unhappy with your marriage or your husband wouldn't be true. You were happy, and Javy was good, almost too good and kind to you. That itself could be an issue because it was so easy to slip into being his wife, being Mrs. Machado. Nowadays, it was second nature to snuggle up on the couch with him, celebrate your wins together, and seek him out for comfort with your losses. You would try anything new he would whip up in the kitchen and offer a detailed critique. It was natural to want to make Javy happy. You worry and care about him. Though you try not to make comparisons, you were pretty sure you missed him just as much as any other military spouses missed their partners anytime Coyote was gone. You never allowed yourself to consider the possibility of your marriage being more with Javy. It didn't take much for you to deter those thoughts; typically, just some extended longing looks at Javy paired with a glance in the mirror to remind you that Coyote was out of your league. No matter how often he would compliment or say that you were beautiful. Three years into this marriage, you two still had separate rooms and hadn't fallen in love or bed even once, despite your secret hopes, which was telling enough.
You and Javy were friends first, no matter what the other circumstances were. So, picking Coyote up from the bar certainly wasn't something unusual. This evening his texts, where most things were misspelled and littered with random emojis, made you thankful that he shared his location with you because they were borderline incomprehensible. He wasn't actually answering any of the questions you were asking either. It was there at the bar picking him up that you started to realize maybe the benefits of this marriage weren't enough anymore.
"Howdy, Mrs. Machado," Jake says affectionately when you enter the bar and found the group of familiar aviators that made up your husband's friends. You kiss his cheek in greeting, taking stock of his well-being, pleased to find Jake mostly sober.
"Hey, Hangman," You verbally answer, looking around for Coyote, wanting to get home and into bed as quickly as possible. His tall form isn't around the table with the other aviators, so you look back to Jake expectantly. "And where is Coyote?"
"Aw, little M&M, you don't even care about me anymore," Hangman says in a fake whine while pouting.
"That just isn't true," you say, rolling your eyes at the blond while continuing to look around the honestly concerningly dark bar.
"He's at the bartop," Jake finally supplies. You try hard to contain your frown, but you aren't fully successful. Javy had already been very drunk when he texted you earlier. Sighing, you turn to the bar, finally spotting the tall and broad shoulders you were looking for. He is on the back side, furthest away from you. It takes conscious effort not to let your eyes linger too long, lest you get caught up in just how tall, broad, and what a great ass your husband has. You wave a hand towards Hangman and the rest of the group in a half thanks and beeline to the bar.
Coyote is laughing with the bartender when you get there. You slide in close next to him, leaning in against the bar top. Javy's eyes flash a glance at you, away, and then back towards you as he turns to face you completely.
"Oh my god Mark, my wife is here!" Coyote says enthusiastically and at least two times louder than he needs to, considering how close you are standing.
"It's nice to meet you," Mark says, smiling at you. Javy wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a half hug so that he doesn't let you go after. His lips press to the side of your head that is lingering. You ignore how he nuzzles you and how warm and strong his arms feel, reminding yourself that Coyote is just a very affectionate drunk.
"Hi Coyote," You greet him, trying not to let the wide smile he gives you go straight to your heart. However, when his eyes crinkle, it was a fool's errand. You see that smile nearly every day, and it still manages to make heat blossom in your chest. Finally managing to tear your eyes off him again, you focus back on the conversation.
"It's nice to meet you, Mark. Has Lieutenant Machado paid his tab yet, or should I?" You ask, nudging Javy's side playfully. It has the opposite effect than you intended as Javy pulls you even closer and tighter into his side.
"He hasn't. In fact, he was just ordering another Shirley temple," Mark informs you. Shooting a halfhearted glare at Javy for ordering another drink this late, his grin hasn't dimmed once. Sloppily he raises the drink to his mouth, taking three attempts to finally find the straw and slurp up a large gulp. When he sees your frown, Javy sets the drink back down on the bar.
"It's a virgin," Coyote reassures you with a small laugh, no better than a schoolboy with what he finds funny sometimes. Once he manages to contain the giggle, he continues on, "I know better than to drink after 12:30."
That answer placates you as you start rummaging in your purse for a card to pay. However, when you go to hand over the card, it is smacked out of your hand. There wasn't any real force or aggression to the action, but it certainly was surprising, causing the metal rectangle to clank against the bar top.
"Javy!" You gasp in surprise, turning to see him glaring at you.
"You're not paying for anything when I'm around," he all but growls. His arm that is snug around your shoulder hasn't moved one bit, but his free hand is digging around his pocket, clearly looking for a wallet.
"Javy, sweetheart. It's okay. I know how you feel about this." You pick up the card from where it fell on the bar and show it to him. As you explain, the Navy Federal Credit Union logo is clearly visible for him now, "This is the card for our joint account."
Halting the digging in his pocket, he narrows his eyes to fully observe the card. Once he is convinced it's the card attached to his account, he weakly apologizes, "Oh. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, " you say as you pass over his soda and then nudge his side again. "Why don't you say goodbye to the boys. I will close your tab."
"You're not going to leave, right?" He asks you worriedly. His thumb brushes a broad stroke against your arm while he asks the question.
"Not without you, handsome." You reassure him, ignoring the small butterflies he still inspires in you.
"Promise?" Javy asks you in a small voice.
"I promise," you say. You squeeze his hand gently and then peel his arm off you.
"Pinky promise?"
"Pinky promise," you guarantee, hooking your pinky with his. A wide grin splits Javy's face again, and he kisses your forehead. Walking away, mostly steady on his feet, to say goodbye to his friends. Once you're sure he made it alright, you turn back to Mark.
"I'll grab his tab, and we might as well grab Seresin's Tab also. The blonde one over there," you request, gesturing back their direction.
"Sure thing," Mark says, offering you an easy smile and taking your card to run through the POS system. It's in that quiet moment in-between while paying when your whole night shifts. You hear a group of men a bit farther down the bar, but there weren't even any people between you and their gabbing. You were sure they were all drunk enough to think that the conversation wasn't one that could be overheard.
"That's Coyote's wife?" One asks in disbelief catching your attention.
"Yeah, I'm shocked every time," someone else confirms. You resist the urge to look over at the group and see which one of them had met you before or if they just knew because of Javy's previous yelling. It's not like you exactly played the part of trophy officer's wife very often like someone married to Javy should be.
"I don't understand," the first man says like he is trying to solve a very complex math problem. It's not an uncommon reconciliation someone might have to make seeing you and Javy together.
"There is no way Coyote settled for that," One of them says in disbelief. Their conversation is a dagger to your heart and self-esteem. While you knew that Coyote was out of your league, confirmation from someone outside yourself doesn't make it hurt less.
"Maybe she looked different when they first got together. You know a lot of women let themselves go after marriage."
"Well, she is kinda pretty… If that's what you're into." Gritting your teeth to keep from crying, you wish you could just disappear or that Mark would hurry up with your card so you can collect Javy and leave.
"Fair enough, but Coyote is a ten dude." Maybe it was more offensive that they thought you weren't aware of your husband's attractiveness than their opinions on your own looks. As if you weren't aware, like you didn't see Coyote shirtless daily or when he got home from his run and the gym. The 5-inch inseam shorts he wore on your last beach vacation and just how great his thighs looked haunted your dreams for months. As if you hadn't seen him in his dress whites, dress blues, and the Tuxedo he wore to his cousin's wedding last summer. You were very conscious, hyper-aware even, of how attractive Coyote is.
"You know who else has an ugly wife?" Someone interjects, and their conversation moves on. You wish it was as easy for you to move on. Of course, it's not the first time you have heard similar comments, but they still nearly bring you to tears every time. It's not fair so much importance is put on physical looks, on something you can't even fully control, despite what most people think.
You make eye contact with Mark, who is looking at you with something much too close to pity, while your card is processing. How he looks at you makes the pit in your stomach fall a bit lower like he agrees with them but would never say it. As if he is embarrassed that you were forced to endure hearing the truth on this matter. You manage to give him a smile, but it clearly is forced. Anyone thinking you weren't painfully aware of the discrepancies of attractiveness between you and your husband must also believe you are blind. When Mark gives you the receipt to sign, you quickly scribble a tip and your signature, wanting to escape as quickly as possible. As you shove your card into your purse, you finally look over to the group who made the comments trying to remember their faces in the din of the bar so that if you meet them again, you can avoid them at all costs.
You go back to Coyote, who is laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and his eyes are crinkled. You know that he isn't laughing at what you just heard. Javy's sense of duty regarding you and your sham of a marriage is boundless, and he hasn't hesitated to play the part of a protective husband before. However, you feel so sensitive now that part of you thinks he must be laughing at you. Despite how irrational it is, you can't fully push the thought away. Coyote must find it funny that he has gotten you to come pick him up. It's funny that people always view the discrepancies in your marriage in his favor.
As your feelings and thoughts start to spiral darker, your nails bite into your palms. The looming cloud over you is shoved to the side because Javy is making grabby hands at you. As a human embodiment of sunshine, something magnified by how carefree and open he is while drunk, it only takes that and a smile for the dread hanging over you to significantly lessen. Even though you don't feel quite as low as you did when leaving the bartop, you still aren't in high enough spirits to settle into Javy's welcoming embrace. His strong arms fall back to his side at your denial, which also dims his smile as he comes close to you.
"Are you ready to go, Coyote?" You ask, trying and failing to achieve the upbeat tone you were shooting for.
"No," he answers petulantly.
"No?"
"I want to dance before we go." He pouts, opening his arms wide again. You try to ignore all his friends' eyes on you and Hangman's amused sniggering. Javy is very affectionate when drunk, and it wouldn't shock you that Jake had been on the receiving end of that affection in the time it took you to get here to pick your husband up.
"We aren't dancing. We are going home," you respond, maybe a bit too curtly because all the joy in Javy's face is sucked away. Watching his grin become a frown and the mirth in his eyes drop just serves to add to the heavyweight you feel coiled up in your chest. The one that is always there but was aggravated by the conversation you overheard and will be as sensitive as an open wound for several days to come.
"Bye guys," Javy says halfheartedly, waving to his friends and now quickly striding to the door, not even waiting for you or checking if you are following. You look over to Hangman and shrug quickly, telling him that you got his tab too.
"Little M&M, you do care!" Jake gasps, pressing a hand to his heart.
"And don't you forget it," You say, while accepting his side hug.
"Thank you, honest. And you get my wingman home safe, please." Jake says, letting you go and shooting you a stellar smile. The rest of the group calls their well wishes, and You give one last wave before hustling after your husband. Coyote is standing, waiting near the door outside. You immediately start to walk to the car but turn around when you realize Javy hasn't moved.
"Can still hear the music out here," Javy mumbles.
"True, they must have an outside speaker." You say while backtracking to him again. Javy lifts a hand, settling it on your shoulder, then running it down your arm until his fingers tangle together with yours.
"Dance with me? Please." He requests again, and you can't say no with the way he is looking at you.
Setting down your purse on top of one of the outside tables, you hesitantly step closer into Javy's waiting arms. He hums contently the moment you are there. Singing along with the music into your ear, he holds you close. The dancing is little more than swaying together almost in time with the music. That doesn't really matter to you, though, because Javy is warm, and being this close to him makes you feel safe. Two songs pass that way. However, when a more upbeat tune comes on Coyote tries to spin you, nearly falling in the process, and you think it's probably time to get home.
He doesn't make any complaint getting into the car, except for insisting on carrying your purse and then holding it in his lap once his seatbelt is secured. While driving home, Javy is staring at you instead out of the window. He was so quiet at first you thought he had fallen asleep. However, when you cut your eyes over to him at a stop light, you are trapped in the deep brown of his gaze. You're lucky the roads are mostly abandoned because you nearly miss the green light you are so caught up in him.
"Do you ever wonder?" Javy eventually asks you.
"Wonder what?"
"About us. About this," He says, spinning and twisting his wedding ring. Javy had surprised you when he had come home one day with the matching bands only a few short weeks after you got married. There had hardly been an occasion since that he could be found not wearing it.
"I don't know. What is there to wonder about Javy?"
He blows out a long sigh through his nose, and your stomach clenches with anxiety. Javy had always been so resolute, so committed to this deal you two had. His steadfastness is what you would desperately cling to on the days that you felt like you conned him. Javy questioning your union suddenly shakes everything in you. Maybe he had heard what those men in the bar were saying after all. Perhaps after all this time, it was going to click for him that he shouldn't waste away in a loveless marriage, that he could do so much better than you.
"I suppose so. 'S Not like we could go back and change anything."
"Do you regret what we did?" You ask him, barely above a whisper. The quietness following your question is heavy, and the dark of the car makes it nearly suffocating. Javy's left hand peels your right hand away from the steering wheel, and he threads your fingers together tightly.
"No. I never regret," he says firmly. Neither of you utters another word on the way home, but Javy doesn't let go of your hand either.
The men's comments from the bar hang over you all night as you fitfully toss and turn, trying to sleep. You consider them beyond just the comments about your looks, but more about Javy and what he deserves. How he deserves something more than you. You want to keep him, but the more you think about it, the more wrong that seems. While meditating on your husband, you come to the decision there is nothing, not even your own comfort, that you care about more than seeing Javy "Coyote" Machado happy and in love. Something he will never be with you. You rationalize it's like a bone that had been allowed to heal the wrong way; the only way to remedy it and set it on the right path is to break it first. Bones, hearts, and marriages all practically the same thing.
You are buzzing with this revelation, and when you wake up the next morning, you know you can't wait. The sooner you get it over with, the better it would be for both of you. Still wearing pajamas, you go straight to the kitchen after waking up. You can hear Javy there making noise.
"Javy, I want a divorce," you declare more confidently than you feel. The words leave your mouth before you have even fully gone through the kitchen doorway. There is a clattering and your eyes are instantly drawn up from the floor near your feet where you had been focusing. Javy is standing by the counter wearing his Kiss the Cook apron and drops a knife he was holding.
He opens and closes his mouth twice before he finally says something. It sounds directed more toward himself than you. "I can't believe you just asked me for a divorce on Valentine's day."
"Is it Valentine's Day?" You ask him, shocked. Quickly pulling out your phone to check the date, the device confirms that it is absolutely February 14th. You can't believe you woke up and let the holiday sneak up on you.
"It is," he reaffirms, a deep frown marring his handsome features.
Guilt immediately floods through you because Javy loves Valentine's Day. He had openly admitted on your first anniversary that it was one of his favorite unexpected benefits of being married. He loved having someone to do all the typical Valentine's Day things with. Someone he was guaranteed to spend the day with. He wouldn't admit it, though you suspected he also liked that it was a day you were guaranteed to think of him. An added day to the calendar that he knew he wouldn't be forgotten.
There are not one or two, but three large bouquets of flowers scattered in the room. The table is all set up with a cloth covered in pink and white hearts. With a glance at the pan, you see the potato pancakes Javy is cooking as well as the sweet crepes arranged with strawberries he had cut to be heart-shaped. All of this on top of the various decorations littered around the room. The room is littered with evidence of Javy's joy for the holiday, almost decorated to the point of tackiness. Every part is thoughtful as well as endearing, and you hadn't even realized the day. Tears prick at your eyes while taking the whole thing in. He leads you to rest at your small round dining table his palm warm on your arm as he guides you.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I can ask again tomorrow, I guess." You say with a wobbly voice.
"No sweetheart, I don't want you to ask again." He says tightly. Javy isn't even sitting in the other chair. Instead, he kneels in front of you while holding your hands, looking so earnest. "Why do you want a divorce?"
"Well, the reasons we got married don't really apply to us anymore. You will still live off base now no matter what, at your rank, and I'm finally graduating." Javy's thumb is still swiping across the back of yours. You recognize it's wrong to take comfort from him right now, but you also can't help how you relax slightly which each stroke.
"Okay," he says slowly. Staring at you intently, you can see how hard Javy's brain is working to process the information you just threw at him. He traces over your face, then falls down to look at your joined hands. Javy squeezes your hands and drops them, sitting back on his heels, and you feel the dread seep in again, not having his steadying warmth so close anymore. "Can we dissect this together, please? You want a divorce?"
"Yes," you answer. He blows out a long heavy sigh, scrubbing his hands across his face as he sits in the chair on the other side of the table. Silence starts to stretch before Javy breaks it again.
"Have I been making you unhappy?"
"No. Not directly at least," You answer quickly, and it's not a lie. Javy himself is rarely the cause of your unhappiness.
"Indirectly then. And you have been unhappy?"
You think over his question and then start to think of a lie. You don't want to detail your feelings about this. Honesty would certainly lead to both your feelings being hurt more than necessary. You have been unhappy but in ways only of your own making. Wanting that which you could not have, fancying yourself a sort of Icarus.
"As much truth as you can spare me, please. Don't want to hear whatever lie you were just cooking up."
"It's more about the happiness we are cutting ourselves off from. The opportunities that we are missing."
The hold on the very neutral look Javy has been wearing slips, and he clenches his jaw hard. You are momentarily distracted by the flexing muscle, nearly forgetting the conversation at hand. The deep frown that pulls Javy's lips reorients your priorities, and you really wish this was a conversation that didn't have to happen face to handsome-distracting-gorgeous face.
"Is there someone else? Has Mrs. Machado's eye finally been caught after all these years?" Javy asks the questions more casually, curious than you are expecting. It does make you feel foolish to look for jealousy in his words. However, the idea of there being someone else is so funny you can't contain your dry chuckle.
"Our divorce is not a laughing matter!" Javy cries so indignantly it just makes you laugh harder. Then a few breaths later, his deep laugh intertwines with yours. It is not long until you are both breathless after the chuckles turned giggles turned howling. Javy is actively pushing away stray tears, and you are clutching your side, feeling a small stitch. Leaning back in his chair, he blows out a breath, sniffing in hard and breathing the air out in a measured way.
"Okay, well. This isn't something that can really happen today, is it?" Javy asks you.
"No. I guess not," you agree.
The corner of his right mouth quirks up then, and some of the severity eases on his face. "It's still valentines day then, and you're still my wife, so —" He trails off and reaches across the table, picking up an envelope that was sitting in the center, handing it to you. With shaky fingers, you open it. The card inside is almost more beautiful than any card Javy has ever given you. The front is covered in tasteful pastel hearts, gold foil, and your name. It's just as high quality as you knew it would be. You aren't sure where he has been buying these over the years but every card you have ever gotten from him is stunning. Seeing the inside filled with Javy's cramped writing with an extra sheet included almost moves you to tears, and you shove the card back in its envelope.
"I'll read that later," you mutter with a watery smile. Javy doesn't push you, which you are thankful for. Instead, he just holds out a hand, and you immediately grab it threading your fingers together.
"Will you be my valentine?" Javy asks you hopefully.
"Yes, of course, I will."
He grins, but it's not as wide as you would hope. There is still a clear air of somberness to him. "If you don't want to spend the day with me now I understand."
"Oh Javy, I'm so sorry. I should have thought through bringing this up to you much more than I did, including factoring in relevant holidays. Of course, I want to spend the day with you."
"No sweat, my Valentine. How about I finish cooking us breakfast then? I have the whole day planned, you know."
"Yes, I know," you say affectionately.
"Today's menu and itinerary can be found to your left," Javy informs you. His free hand gesturing to a small decorated chalkboard propped on the table. Then he lifts your joined hands up to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of your palms. When he tries to detangle your fingers and stand from the table, but you stop him.
"Hold on. I have to go grab something."
"You already had papers drawn up?" He asks in a strained voice.
"No, I haven't. Let's set the divorce aside for the day okay?"
"That's a good idea," he agrees.
"I didn't completely forget about Valentine's Day. I just didn't remember this morning. Do you really think I would miss all the heart decorations all over the place? Or the 14 hearts you drew on the calendar." You ask him teasingly.
"Well, I don't want you to think you have to do anything."
"Javy," you sigh affectionately. Then telling him to stay put, you rush to your room and grab the wrapped gift youpicked out only days after new years. Coming back down, you excitedly plop the box in front of him on the table.
"This is so kind you didn't have to."
"I never mind doing anything for you Javy. Now stop delaying and opening it."
Obeying your command, he excitedly rips at the paper and into the box, searching for the gift. When he pulls it out, he smiles so wide his eyes crinkle, and everything is right again. "A candle of the month subscription?"
"I thought you might like it," you admit.
"With a wood wick," he sighs, opening the candle to smell it.
"And they let me put a list of all our no-no scents," you say.
"I love this, really. Thank you so much, sweetheart." Javy says while he reads over the little brochure that had been sent with the first candle.
"I'm so pleased you like it."
After that you finally allow Javy to finish cooking breakfast, making surprisingly easy conversation. It almost seems as if he truly has taken the temporary tabling of your divorce to heart. The day preceding light hearted and upbeat the rest of the morning, following the same patterns as years past.
You and Javy do have Valentine's traditions at this point, gifts, and the day spent together. The first Valentine’s you spent together he had made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town weeks in advance. Only for the meal and service to be subpar, both of you agreeing Javy could have made something just as good if not better at home. In the years following, you two have still dressed up, but Javy makes the meal. Valentine's day is also one of the two days a year you are guaranteed kisses from Javy. He will drink too much wine, becoming affectionate and playful. Then he will pout about all the work he put into cooking, never in a way that makes you feel guilty. Huffing until you ask what he wants in repayment. Then Javy will always request the same thing. Each of the last four Valentine's days and all three of your wedding anniversaries, a kiss. It never stays at one kiss, but it has never been more than a heated make out session. It's something that neither of you ever brings up the next day.
You think it seems odd that you should make an exception to that tradition just because it's the last one. You hope that your foolishness of suggesting a divorcee on today of all days won't make an impact, but the more rational part of you knows it already has. Regardless, you still dress as nicely as you always do that evening for dinner.
The hallway into the kitchen and the kitchen itself are decorated with way too many mini candles to be considered wholly safe. The soft lighting is accented by the heavy aromas of Javy's cooking, making your mouth water slightly. Javy has a dress shirt on with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and has a towel thrown over his shoulder as he puts the final touches on some of the dishes. Glancing up as you enter the kitchen he freezes into place before straightening to his full height.
"You look beautiful," he utters, throwing the towel on a rack and striding across the kitchen to you.
"Oh come on Javy, don't make fun."
"I ain't making fun," Javy says, catching your hands and holding them tightly in his large warm palms. When he sees your disbelief, he repeats the words again, squeezing your hands urging you to believe him. With a breath, you accept his words the best you can. You had spent a lot of time deciding what to wear and were pleased with how the overall styling went.
"Thank you. You look very handsome. Are you an aviator or a model? We may never know."
"Why can't I be both?"
"Don't worry Coyote. I'm sure the day the Navy decides to do a shirtless Naval Aviator calendar you will be number one on their speed dial." Which makes him laugh as he pushes in your chair for you at the table. Then pressing a kiss to your forehead, he goes back to the kitchen.
"Callsigns at home, on Valentine's Day. Sweetheart, you are trying to break my heart." Javy teases, bringing over your plates. Paying him all his compliments due, You had only had the first few bites when Javy asks you a question that catches you off guard.
"What about health insurance?"
"What?" You splutter.
"What are you going to do for health insurance when we are divorced? You need that insurance, sweetheart."
"Javy, I thought we were leaving it."
"I can't leave it. I don't want a divorce. So, I'm sorry, but I can't leave it. Who's going to take you to your doctor's appointments? Where are you going to live? Am I moving, or you, or both of us? Are we selling the house?"
"I don't have it all figured out yet. It's something that we are going to have to do as we go along."
"I just don't understand what we would gain from this," Javy says, frustrated.
"Freedom!" You cry out, wishing you could find it in you to explain the twisting feeling, the dark and sad thoughts you had to endure in this marriage. Knowing you not only would never be enough but that you were less than. Your words make Javy stiffen like a board.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I had entrapped you into this relationship," The words are biting, and you wish a conversation could ever go the way you were hoping.
"It's not like that," You tell him quickly. "Don't you want the freedom to choose to be with who you want? Don't you want to date and not have to awkwardly explain that you're married to your roommate?"
"So there is someone else?"
"No, just you Javy."
"Can you tell me what it is about me that you don't love?" He asks you in a quiet way. Javy's eyes drop down to his plate and you feel his knee bouncing quickly. Your mouth goes completely dry, and you scramble to sip some water from the glass set out. After a big gulp you still aren't sure how to answer. But then Javy's shoulders slump slightly, you see part of him crumble, and you crumble with it. He deserves honesty, maybe more than anyone else you know, because Javy is straightforward, ambitious, loyal, funny, kind, and you love him.
"That's the problem. There isn't anything about you that I don't love Javy. And god, you would think after nearly four years married to you, I would have found something not to love. I honestly think you are more wonderful now than when we first met."
Javy's eyebrows draw together, and he clearly is struggling to process your confession. Then he lets out a sigh of relief, "Thank god, this is wonderful news. I love you too."
"Javy you could do so much better than me. You should be with someone who is on your level."
He laughs. Javy laughs, and you wish you could manifest yourself out of existence. But then he is out of his chair and crowding in close to you, hooking a finger under your chin lifting it so that you can no longer avoid his gaze. "Sweetheart, there is no one better than you."
Then slowly, so slowly, he leans in and catches your lips in a gentle kiss. A kiss before wine, and before a drawn out preamble. It was a kiss because Javy loved you with no other pretenses involved. He pulls away, and you suck in a heaving breath. His eyes study yours intently, and he leans in for another kiss. Meeting him halfway you wrap your arms around his neck, awkwardly pulling him closer while deepening the kiss.
Javy looms over you, and the angle makes your chair squeak shifting backward, trying to take the shifted weight. You are saved from falling completely thanks to your arms and his that instinctually wrapped around your waist. Once you are both steady on your feet and the danger of falling has passed, you meet Javy's eyes while biting your lip to keep the giggles in. He looks in a similar state of mirth, not able to stop smiling even as he presses kisses to your face.
"Do you know how hard it's been? Blissful torture every day of our marriage. Able to have you here, to see you, but not allowed to touch. And I have wanted to touch you for so long."
"Where do you want to touch Javy?"
"Oh everywhere sweetheart," he says roughly. His hands drifting from your waist over your ass and then starting to trace the shape of your thighs in slow appreciation. Just when you are finally getting to appreciate Javy's tongue against yours, his phone rings. He pulls away from you with a pained groan, glaring across the room. His phone is set on the furthest away counter that it can be practically tucked away. You know Javy would have had the phone turned off and tucked away if he was allowed. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he strides quickly across the room and picks up the phone.
"This is Lieutenant Machado," The tone is stark and official. His eyes haven't moved from you, though. Then a tick forms in his jaw, and he grits out, "Hangman, are you serious? It's Valentine's Day. I care about you, but unless this is life or death, I'm spending the night in bed with my wife." Hearing who it was that called, you follow Javy into the kitchen. Sliding up to him, you slot yourself into his side, draping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer.
"In bed with M&M?!" You hear Jake start to yell, but you are taking the phone from Javy.
"Seresin, don't call back through do not disturb unless it's a real emergency," you mutter into the receiver before hanging up. Javy's lips are tracing your neck less than a breath later.
"What was this you mentioned about bed?" You ask Javy.
"Do you want to get in one with me, like right now?"
"Yes, please," you agree breathily. You hand Javy his phone, and he tucks it in his pocket, clearly displeased by the device's proximity.
"I hate being on call."
You are pulling him in the direction of his room just because it is closer before you can let any further idea of work enter his head. Entering the room, you both practically scramble to undress each other. Javy whines while reminding you that his shirt is Armani, and he wants to keep all the buttons when you fumble opening them. You roll your eyes but slow down and take care not to ruin one of your husband's favorite shirts.
"I think about these pretty lips every single day," Javy tells you. He kisses you again, but it's more tender than you expect. When he pulls away, he smiles.
"I think about how pretty they are when you smile and all the ways that they could touch me. What they feel like against my lips. How they would feel wrapped around my cock." Javy's thumb starts to trace your lower lip, and you suck it into your mouth, gliding the tip of your tongue against the pad. Inhaling sharply, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, to your disappointment.
"I think about touching your tits all the time." Javy pivots while grabbing a handful of your breast and squeezing, taking the opportunity to unhook your bra. You help him slide the straps off your shoulders, and he takes a moment to admire your breasts. Then dipping down to kiss them as well. Urging you to lay back on the bed, once you are lying down with Javy's eyes raking over your form, you start to feel self-conscious. Even as he pulls your panties off and starts kissing your legs. You cross your legs and do your best to cover yourself. His intense gaze nearly making want to reach for the throw blanket that is on the end of the bed. The sight of Javy's chiseled chest and cut edges reminds you of your soft edges and curves, the thought that you are ill matched flooding your brain.
"Now Mrs. Machdo. That is not how things go in this bedroom. But don't you worry, I'm here to teach you." Javy tsks at you. Javy grabs an ankle in each large hand, pulling you toward the end of the bed. Then completely unabashed, he stares at your pussy. You try to close your legs again, but Javy's hands on your ankles prevent you from doing so. Kneeling down, he presses soft kisses to your legs and the inside of your thighs.
"I'm going to take my time with you," he tells you, kissing up your legs. He bypasses your sex, instead kissing your stomach. As he is teasing one of your nipples, you dare to touch him back, letting your fingers dance over the shape of his arms and then across his strong shoulders. It's an exploration you have dreamed of many times, but the soft smoothness of his skin is better. When Javy has paid attention to both nipples and leaves a mark you know will blossom into a hickey near your collar bone he is kissing you again. With one of his strong thighs in between your legs, you push against it trying to seek some friction and relief from your burning arousal. Pulling your lips away from his.
"Javy, I want you now," you gasp, pouting. Squirming against his thigh, you trace your hands down his back with the full intention of pushing down his briefs. Instead though, he is easing himself back down your body and kneeling on the side of the bed.
"No Ma'am. I'm going to do everything I wanted to on our wedding night when we should have consummated this marriage." Javy starts tracing your skin again, peppering kisses where he sees fit. You jump slightly at the feeling but quickly relax. Even though you two have not ever been intimate, that doesn't mean that you aren't comfortable with him in almost every other way. It feels surprisingly easy to take this new step, to be pressed together. You had always thought it might not be there, a physical spark, that maybe you were compatible with Javy in every other way. However, the moment Javy's tongue meets your clit, and he is the one who moans first, the doubt largely vanishes from your mind; it's so evident he desires you too.
While licking your clit Javy traces a finger along your lips, occasionally dipping into you, but the whole action is teasing. Just when he edges the length of his finger inside you, he kisses your thighs. When he licks your clit in firm strokes, he starts to edge his finger out of you. It's building you up but also making you feel like there is no end in sight.
"Javy, I need you now," you beg again.
"It's too soon." He tells you, lifting his head and pulling his mouth off you, and you nearly cry at the loss. "I have to warm you up baby, or it will hurt."
It will hurt, Javy claims, and the thought of his dick being big enough that is something he worries about sends another wave of arousal rushing through you. Married three years, you had seen the delicious outline of it in boxers, briefs, grey sweatpants, and towels, and even now, you still haven't seen all of him.
"Now, please," you whine.
"Prove you can take my fingers, and then we will see," Javy tells you, attempting to compromise with a teasing lit. He only has one finger in you, and you buck against it, seeking more. When he teases another at your entrance, you shift taking that finger as far as your position will allow. Sighing contently when with the stretch, feeling more full. As you clench around his thick fingers, Javy grunts out a low moan, speeding his digits and occasionally scissoring you wider open.
"What about a third?" He asks eventually. The idea sends another wave of arousal through you. As you clench around his fingers, Javy hums against your clit. Gasping desperately, you fist your hands in his forest green quilt. Javy doesn't actually indulge you in a third finger but continues to tease your entrance like he might. His tongue drags against your clit, and the wet sounds of the whole act making you clench harder around his fingers.
"Please, just fuck me. Please, Javy."
"You think I'm going to fuck you before you cum on my tongue? You're so silly, sweetheart. I'm taking my sweet time with you. I have so much to make up for," Javy nips playfully at your inner thigh. You hum at the contact spreading your knees and legs a little wider to accommodate Javy's broad shoulders. Flattening his tongue to give you a broader stroke and occasionally licking around his fingers. You feel dripping at the combination of your own juices and his spit. It's teasing and playful, a pattern you're starting to notice with him.
Nearing an orgasm, you try to grind harder on Javy's tongue, but when you do he teases a third finger again. The push for new fullness drags you back from the edge. Teetering there, you try to figure out if another one of his fingers will enter you. When he curls it away, you groan lowly. Javy stops sucking at your clit and turns his face back to pillow on your thigh. You can feel his smirk against your skin. You weren't prepared for this kind of edging, and the desperation feels nearly raw and beyond just needy.
"Please, Javy. Do I need to beg more? Do you want me to cry? Or—" you trail off, hoping that he will fill the blank for you. You are willing to give him whatever he wants; you just don't know what that is yet. Navigating sex is always something a little awkward with a new partner. It feels an extra layer of odd because you know Javy, and have known him for years. You know that the smallest glance with a squeeze of your hand means he wants to leave a party. You know when he spends too long at the gym by the slightly slower pace he walks. You know the soup to make him when he has a cold and tries to hide it from you. You know Javy. Suddenly having a situation where you are unsure feels foreign and uncomfortable.
Javy sits back more on his calves so he can better gauge your reactions. "I want to rock your world. I want to ruin every other man for you. I want my name to be the only one you know. I want you to be mine and only mine. Sweetheart, you are all I want."
"You already have all those things," you reassure him. Propping yourself on your elbows so you can meet his gaze. Even heavy with lust, his eyes still make you feel warm and safe. A small genuine smile lifts on his lips, then grows into a splitting grin that makes his eyes crinkle.
"You've been so good and giving for me Mrs. Machado. About time I give back to you ain't it?" He asks, peppering more kisses all over your legs. His fingers resume pumping into you steadily, and he is purposeful in how he drags them along your inner walls. "I want one more thing, though."
"Anything Javy. Anything."
"I want you to cum for me whenever you're ready. I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want, baby." Javy isn't teasing this time. He starts to work you over again with his lips sealed around your clit. He sucks while also tracing hard twisting strokes of his tongue. His digits maintain a steady speed, but they are fucking into you harder, and he continues to curl them, occasionally dragging over your walls. Arching further to the edge of the bed, Javy's arm lays across your hips, holding you down so he can grind his tongue against you harder.
"Don't stop," you beg, and this time he listens. It takes a few more pumps of his fingers, and you are tumbling over the edge. Your pussy spasming around his fingers. Javy moans, and the vibrations travel right through you, extending your orgasm and making your hips stutter before falling all the way down to the bed. Closing your eyes tightly with short breaths, it takes you several moments to come back to your body. When you finally feel yourself, you find Javy on the bed with you resting with his head on your tummy. As your brain starts working, you try to push Javy's head away, but he resists snuggling further into you.
"Javy," you start to say, not sure how to explain to him your insecurities.
"Thank you, baby. That was so good. You are so beautiful," he says, mouthing little kisses near your belly button and up your chest.
"I love that you're so soft," he mutters, almost in awe. One of his hands squeezes your side, and the other graces over your lower belly. Javy presses his lips to your breasts and sucks a nipple. You keen under him. Using your knees to urge him that much further up your body so you can kiss Javy, tasting the hint of yourself on his tongue still. Once he knows that you don't mind your own taste he deepens the kiss and rolls you both to be less perilously positioned on the end of the bed.
"Will you fuck me now?" Javy is nodding, but not as enthusiastically as you expect him to. So you ask him hesitantly, "Or we can do other stuff?"
"I really want to make love to you, but."
"But?" You ask. Groaning, Javy slides to lay next to you, hiding his face in your chest. You run your fingers across the shaved prickly skin at the base of his skull, patiently waiting.
"I'm worried I'll cum too fast. I don't want you to get the wrong idea."
You make no attempt to stop the burst of tenderness and love you feel at his small confession sharing vulnerability. Then in the kindest voice, you say, "that's okay. It doesn't really matter to me. As long as you enjoy yourself, that's what matters."
Lifting his face from your chest, the look Javy gives you is horrified and a little offended. Immediately he starts jumping into explanation, "To start, fuck no. That is not what matters. Like I said, I don't want you to think that I'm always quick to cum. I've just wanted this for so long, and I spent so much time putting everything together today that I didn't even jack off in the shower. My second round of the day is always so much longer, I promise."
"Javy, thank you. I promise this isn't going to change my thoughts or feelings about you. Okay? And a second round sounds great to me. We have to get through the first, though."
"Okay," he says with a sigh. Javy stands off the bed again, and you take the opportunity to scooch  further back against the headboard. You watch, entranced, as he finally peels his briefs off; Coyote’s cock is mouthwatering. You aren't at all ashamed of the small gasping moan that falls from your throat.
"How do you want me?" You ask him as he crawls back up the bed. You stare at his body, suddenly overcome with the urge to trace over every single inch of him with your tongue.
"How do you want me, beautiful?" He fires back in an easy tone.
"Missionary?" You suggest. Nodding his head enthusiastically to your suggestion. Settling in between your thighs and you have to widen your knees to accommodate his broad frame.
"Fuck yes, I want to be in this pretty pussy and able to see your pretty face too."
He wasn't lying when he told you that he was big, and as he starts to push in, you are appreciative that he took his time with foreplay. Being stuffed so full of him leaves you gasping, and your mind keeps repeating better. This is better than you ever thought it would be. He is better than you always knew he would be.
"How are you doing, sweetheart?"
"So good. I'm so full of you Javy. I want more."
Taking your permission, he starts rocking into you at a steady pace. With one arm, he anchors himself against the headboard gripping it tightly, then his free hand traces your face. You can tell Javy is trying to hold himself back and take things slow for the sake of his ego. You start to meet his thrusts lifting your hips a bit more to get a better angle. Javy's hand falls from your face to your ass, helping support you. The steady pace starts to increase to a hot frantic tempo. He moans your name brokenly, and you grab his ass, trying to urge him even closer to chase his pleasure. His hips start to stutter, and panting he slips out of you. His hand lets you go to give his cock a few harsh jerks, and Javy cums on your chest. He is frozen like that for a moment before rolling to your side with a wide grin on his face.
"You could have cum inside. We are married, you know." You tease Javy. He stops breathing momentarily, and you turn your head to see him better. Despite having just cum, his eyes are still heavy with lust, and when he does take a breath again, it's a little ragged.
"We've never really discussed that and should have used protection anyways. I'm sorry." Javy hasn't even finished the apology when you drag your finger across some of the cum on your chest. Delicately you swipe your tongue across your finger, tasting him. Javy groans low in his chest, turning to lie flat on his back and his face in the crook of his elbow. You hum happily, the power you have over him intoxicating to a degree.
"You're right. That's definitely something we need to talk about, but next time…" You wait for Javy' to remove his elbow and look at you again. He does peek at you a few seconds later. "I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you dripping down my thighs. I want you to fill me up."
Javy's mouth falls open, and his eyes are so dark you feel like you could get lost in them. He is surging forward then and kissing you. It's a dirty and quick tangle of tongues. Then he pulls away and starts mouthing at your throat. "Do you want to be stuffed with my cum, baby?"
"Yes, Lieutenant Machado," you say cheekily.
"Fuck. You drive me a little crazy," he warns you lowly as you move to straddle him. You can tell he is still sensitive, but his dick is already starting to thicken again. You settle on his thigh instead, deciding that you could be patient waiting for him. You rock against his thighs for the smallest bit of stimulation just to start you going again. Javy watches you, completely captivated.
"You being a good girl and waiting for me? Just give me a few minutes."
"I've been waiting three years. I can wait a little while longer to be full of your cum," you tell him, but it comes out as a whine like you're trying to convince yourself that's true. Javy settles a hand on your hip, giving you a small bit of encouragement to grind against him harder.
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, sweetheart. No more though. I've got you now. I promise. I've got you." He repeats gently. His sweet and caring tone only makes the desperation in you burn higher. Shaking your head at him, unable to form the words explaining how you are feeling. Instead, you drop your eyes down to look at your chest again. You thought you would feel a little more peeved at the feeling of his cum drying against your skin. Rather, you just find more you can scoop into your mouth. The fact that his dick isn't in your mouth feels criminal.
Taking a moment to not just admire him but also strategize. Javy has a long cock, and you know you wouldn't be able to take all of him down without practice and working your way up to it. Something that definitely wouldn't be happening tonight. However, then the taste of his cum isn't enough, and neither is just looking. You slide further down his thigh; your own pleasure is lost in the haze of this need.
It's a more burning type of relief to have your mouth on him. You give the head a few soft licks, vaguely wondering how different he will taste when he hasn't already been in you. Javy lets out another shuddering moan. You want to lift your head in order to take in his features, but you are too absorbed in the feeling of his cock in your mouth. Javy clearly doesn't mind as you set about tracing his length. After a thorough exploration, one of your hands joins the mix, appreciating his shape and how heavy his dick is in your hand.
Sucking Javy until he is fully hard again, you become braver, daring to take more of him in your mouth. Bobbing slightly and sucking, letting your hand make up for the rest. However, just as you start to feel pleased with your rhythm, Javy gently pulls you off him, cooing when you whine.
"Baby. Baby stop. It's okay. Take a breath. That was so amazing. You are so fucking amazing."
"I hope it was okay. I might be a little out of practice," you admit to him shyly. Your lusty haze ebbing, you trace the lines of his chest but don't want to meet his eyes. Surely he hadn't been expecting you to be this much during your first time together.
"You're doing so good, sweetheart. I love you, and I love this," he reassures you. You shimmy up to straddle him again, lightly dragging your dripping cunt over him. Javy's cock is pressed hotly between your thighs, spreading your lips while nudging against your clit. You rock along him, wanting that friction while bracing against his chest, leaning down to kiss him.
"I love you too," you mutter against his lips. When Javy shifts his hips in tandem with yours, catching your entrance and then sliding past it, you're spurred into action. "I need you in me, Javy."
"I ain't stopping nothing, but are you sure you are okay?"
You don't answer him directly; instead, you reach between you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. Leaning back for a better angle, you slide down his whole length. You are taken aback, letting out a sharp almost pained gasp. Having already accommodated him inside once tonight, you didn't expect to still feel the slight burning stretch of his girth now. Once you adjust riding Javy is a dream. Praise spills out of his mouth along with the most delicious sounds. It's a great angle that makes you feel incredibly full. Your thighs start to burn when you stop the slow grinding and transition to you bouncing quickly on his dick. You hope the increased pace, paired with the snapping of Javy's hips, would get you there. However, it's still not enough. Not even when Javy brings his thumb up to circle your clit in strong consistent strokes. Although you are nearly in tears, Javy looks perfectly content like this is exactly what he wants.
"Javy," you cry high pitched, completely ceasing your movements. Even though you froze, he doesn't. Javy's hips continue lifting up fucking into you, and his thumb doesn't falter either. You take a moment to just feel it, and savor the moment. Then tiredly you slump down against his chest. A few thrusts later, you bite Javy's peck hard. He doesn't complain as he runs one of his hands down your back and squeezes your ass, chucking.
"What do you need, sweet girl?" He asks you. You bite him again, licking one at his nipple before nibbling it too. That rewards you with an extra hard thrust from Javy.
"I don't know," you admit, frustrated. The constant stimulation makes you burn hotter and is tantalizing, but it doesn't give you any push to the final release. Javy completely stops moving but stays hilted in you. His hands urge you to sit up, and he holds your gaze steadily.
"It's okay. We always figure things out together, don't we? This isn't any different."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, of course. Now tell me how you are feeling. Tell me what you like."
"I really like you. I love you Javy. And I've been thinking about this for so long."
"I've been dreaming about it too. I can't believe neither of us said anything sooner."
"I couldn't ever tell you."
"I wish you had. Why didn't you?"
"We both know you're out of my league, Javy. I never thought that you would want me back." He makes a pained sound hearing your admission.
"I'm not out of your league, and I've always wanted you back from the beginning. Okay?" You feel a little frustrated that he doesn't see or understand what you're saying, and if he wasn't literally still inside you, it might have been possible to press the issue. Right now, though, you know your insecurities could be tabled to another day.
"Okay."
"Good," Javy mutters, slipping out of you with a wet sound. "Let's try a different position. Does that sound okay, sweetheart?"
"Okay, we can try that," you say with a shrug.
Then with little effort, he gently manhandles you off him into a new position. Your front is pressed to the bed ass up for him, and Javy helps slide a pillow under you for better support. Kissing down the length of your spine. He asks twice if you're comfortable, taking his time pushing into you. It's a good position, allowing Javy to fuck into you harder than before. Your biggest complaint is the loss of being able to appreciate his handsome features.
In between telling you how good you are and just how wet and perfect your pussy is, Javy asks if he can spank you. It's a suggestion that has you biting your lip and agreeing hesitantly. It's not even a hard spank against your ass, just enough for a slight sting. The sharpness in contrast with how deliciously you're being filled, has your back arching. With a few more spanks, all of which you can tell Javy is holding back for, you feel close to an orgasm again.
"I'm getting close," you warn him.
"Going to give you every last drop, sweetheart. I'm going to make sure you're so full of me. I really want to feel you cum, though. Can you do that? Will you cum for me, Mrs. Machado?" Javy finally gives attention to your neglected clit again, and you know it's only a matter of time. Every time he bottoms out and gives your pulsating bundle of nerves a tweak, you feel yourself teetering.
"Call me that again," you request, relishing the way it falls off his lips more than nearly any of the other times he's said it in the past.
"Mrs. Machado," he repeats. "My wife, my girl, my love. Mrs. Machado, I want you to cum now."
With an extra hard press of his thumb, you're cumming. The heat that had been building in your abdomen bursts flooding bliss through your limbs. Crying out his name and fluttering around his cock, your legs start to spasm too. Coyote keeps fucking you, though, a little harder, a bit more selfishly chasing his own release.
"Javy, fill me up now," you demand, turning your head as much as you can to watch him. His pace falters at your request but immediately picks up again.
"Yes ma'am," Javy gasps. Speeding up so fast and hard, you feel a twinge against your cervix at the abuse. Just as you think you are going to have to tell him to be more gentle with you, Javys hips stutter. Holding himself entirely in you, his hands gripping your hips so hard you won't be shocked to find bruises later, he finally fills you up. You clench purposely around his length, wanting to help him milk his orgasm as long as possible. The warm spreading feel of his seed in you makes you sigh happily, and the boneless tired feeling after a good orgasm hits you like a truck.
Javy lays down on the bed, his breath still coming out in short pants. Immediately you cuddle closer to him, turning to lay your head on his shoulder. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you even closer to him. As his breaths even out, he starts kissing you slowly, hands cluching you tighter to his chest.
"Come closer, sweetheart," he requests quietly. Part of you wouldn't be surprised if Javy will ever think you are close enough to him again now that he's been inside you, but most of you relishes that concept. You scoot even closer, more than half laying on his chest, pressing as much of your skin together as feasible.
Later after one of the most tender intimate showers of your life, you are snuggled into Javy's bed with fresh sheets, trying to pick out a sappy Valentine's Day movie to watch. Javy had brought the extra pillows in your room, so you could make an extra area for movie cuddles. You are still scrolling when he comes back into the room with a plate of reheated dinner. Ravenous from skipping dinner and the following activities, you grin widely seeing the food.
"You are the most amazing man to ever walk this earth, Javy Machado." You tell him, patting the spot you left for him next to you.
"Sweetheart, you'll give me an ego if you keep talking to me like that." Javy expertly balances the plate and nestles in close. "Please tell me more," He says cheekily, pressing a kiss casually to your lips. You have to take a full minute to process that's a thing that can just happen now. So you lean a little more of your weight into him, and seek out Javy's lips again, simply because you want to and can.
'Well, no one cooks like you do."
"Yeah?"
"And no one gives as good cuddles as you do."
"I think that one's actually about you because you are the most comfortable and soothing person I have ever met. Of course it turns me into a snuggle monster." You laugh at him, and he casually throws an arm over your shoulder. He feeds you a small bite in off the plate before taking one himself. However, he doesn't seem overly invested in it like you expect.
"You ate a plate in the kitchen, didn't you?" You guess and feel Javy stop breathing.
"That maybe could have happened. I'm sorry sweetheart, I was so hungry." Javy adopts an exaggeratedly apologetic face sticking out his lower lip pleadingly.
"I guess, I could be convinced to forgive you."
"Oh, I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness."
"How about breakfast in bed tomorrow," you suggest casually.
"Absolutely, whatever you want. Quiche? Waffles? Omelettes? Croissants?"
"That all sounds good, but I was thinking of something else."
"Really? And what do you want to have, sweetheart?" He asks curiously.
"The only thing I had on the menu was you," You tell him cheekily. His eyes widen a little, and his teeth dig into his lower lip. He kisses your neck sweetly, nosing under your jaw. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.
"Marry me?"
Finding his joke funny, you laugh lightly, playfully tapping your elbow into his side. Javy remains quiet and serious, though. When he doesn't respond, you set the plate aside, so it has no danger of spilling and turn to face him more fully. You are sure that he is waiting for that to reveal his mirth, but his eyes are just as serious as his tone.
"Javy, we are already married." You say, chuckling again.
"Marry me, again." He requests earnestly. Taking your hand in his, he gently pulls off your wedding band, holding it out like an offering. You pluck the ring back from him, sliding it into place on your finger. A smile breaks out on his face following your movement. Then you place that same hand on his face, holding him so he wouldn't be able to avoid your eyes.
"No. We are not going to get remarried." Javy pouts, and before he can reach true sadness, you lean forward to kiss him again. "But we can throw a really nice party if you want."
And when you two do finally get around to throwing a big old party, most of the room is confused about why exactly you and Javy are exchanging vows. However, absolutely no one is surprised when Javy produces seven cramped front-to-back sheets of paper of written vows when it's his turn.
It's a whole thing...
it’s a few minutes before rhetts time to go on at the rodeo. You’re pushed up against a trailer, your hand in his pants, jerking him off, sort of as a good luck. Or at least that’s what you told him. You got into a fight earlier that day, so right when he’s about to cum, you pull away from him. “Time to go, cowboy.” You say, patting his cheek lightly before walking away.
YOU’D FUCKING DIE
but oh my god, the image of being pushed up against a trailer and hidden behind the bright lights. rhett’s palm is pressed against the wall of the trailer and he’s standing in front of you, caging you in with his tall frame towering over you.
he’s wearing his hat and due to the low lighting, you can barely make out his face. there’s only subtle shadows falling on the crease of his brow and the tight muscle in his jaw as he grits his teeth and focuses on the feeling of your hand.
his cock is still partly in his pants but hanging out enough of his boxers that you can jerk him off hard and fast. he grunts and follows by moaning your name, “feels s’ good, baby. shit-” and you can tell he’s close. the adrenaline of the ride is coursing through his veins and it never takes rhett long to come before or after a ride.
you bite down on your bottom lip tightly to brace yourself for the cruel move you’re about to pull. but he deserves it. rhett got on your last nerve earlier today and this was his punishment.
“i’m gon’ come, keep going, darlin’, fuck.”
at rhett’s last groan of need for you, you pull away. he lets out a frustrated groan in response and his eyes fly open to look at you with an expression that mirrors a deer in headlights.
“shit, what the fuck, darlin’? don’t stop, please-” rhett pleads with you and goes to take your hand to shove it back into his pants but you pat his cheek lightly with a coy smile.
“time to go, cowboy.”
you saunter away and you can feel rhett’s gaze burning into you from behind. you think your skimpy little sundress could catch on fire. you hear him let out a low and animalistic snarl and walk away when his name is called.
to your surprise, rhett rides the best he has all season. you catch him after and smother him in your congratulations and praising kisses, but he gives you no reaction.
“truck, now.”
“but, baby, don’t you want-”
“truck. now.” rhett grits through his teeth and grabs you by your arm, with you giggling quietly in anticipation next to him.
rhett laughs in your face when you’re in the truck and you ask him if there’s going to be celebratory sex tonight.
“oh, no, no. not for you, angel face. i’m gon’ tie you up, coat you in my cum as much as i want and leave you for the night.”
giggles in brat!!! omg thank you so, so much for this insane thot my dear anon!! your mind is too powerful!! 💌💖
Beautiful 🥵
texts with rhett abbott. | part (?).
￫ a/n: i had a lot of fun making these! let me know if you wanted to see anymore? my main masterlist can be found here! 💌
LINGER | rhett abbott x oc | chapter 1
one: hey cowboy
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 | next chapter
WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, horses/ranching/bull riding inaccuracies, i don't understand american culture but i try.
WORD COUNT: 2.5k
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He’s sitting in his truck in the parking lot of the general store the first time he sees her.
She’s wearing jeans, sensible boots, and a denim jacket. Her dark hair is in a soft braid that rests against her back. He watches her open the door to the cab of her truck. She whistles once and a black and white dog effortlessly jumps in, crawling across the bench seat and lies down.
Rhett doesn’t recognize her, figures she’s passing through town like so many before her. No one stays in Wabang unless they were born here, and this girl definitely wasn’t.
So, safe to say, Rhett’s a little surprised when he sees her nursing a beer at the Handsome Gambler later in the week. Even more so when he stops by the diner for coffee and lunch a week after that, and sees her laughing with Patty, who owns the place.
She offers him a small acknowledging nod when she passes him on her way out, her dog trailing behind her happily. Patty rarely allows dogs in her diner.
A month passes before he learns her name. He’s walking into the feed store when he hears Old Man Arthur call her Louisa. She corrects him and says it’s Lou.
She’s walking away, her dog once again following closely behind, when Rhett comes up to the counter to pick up their order.
Lou suits her, he decides.
A few days later, Amy comes skipping into the house, waving a piece of paper in the air with a bright smile on her face. Her friend from school is having a birthday party at Oak Creek Ranch, and Amy’s one of the select few invited.
Oak Creek went up for sale when Rhett was seventeen, and the Taylors bought it about a year later. A local family who traded their jobs as a nurse and a veterinarian for ranch living. They opened an equine sanctuary and rehabilitation center that’s become popular with people from across the state.
He didn’t know you could host a kid’s birthday party there, but as his truck winds down the dirt path to the Oak Creek driveway, he sees a banner announcing Sydney’s 9th birthday.
He’s late to pick Amy up. Perry was supposed to, but he was too drunk to drive. Rhett tries not to be mad at his brother, but it’s hard not to be when he’s neglecting his daughter.
He passes endless pastures and folds with grazing horses. A large barn comes into view, along with an even larger stable building. He knew the Taylors had renovated the place when they bought it, but it’s nearly unrecognizable to him now. He remembers having his first beer on the front steps of the then abandoned house when he was fourteen.
Seems like a lifetime ago now.
He pulls up next to a line of trucks in various stages of disrepair, but most pickups look worse for wear around here. Rhett looks at the house and spots Mrs. Taylor through a window. He can’t remember her name, but he knows she has two boys who are a few years older than Amy.
He lifts a couple of fingers in an acknowledging gesture, and even though the sun is high in the sky, he sees her smile as she waves back. The Taylors are good people.
He looks around, and a few feet away, at the end of a downtrodden path, is a metal round pen where he spots the back of his niece’s head.
Rhett gets out of his truck and makes the short trek down to where Amy stands on the fence to see over it. As he gets closer, he sees Louisa stand on the inside of the pen, her back turned to a black horse trotting wildly behind her.
She doesn’t flinch when it whinnies.
“Hey,” he says quietly, coming up next to his niece to watch the scene before him.
“Uncle Rhett,” she exclaims, giving him a hug as best as she can without falling off the fence. “Look!”
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips at her enthusiasm before he turns his attention back to Louisa, and the horse that has now slowed down to a walk. Rhett sees the fear in its dark eyes, but there’s a level of curiosity, too.
Louisa still doesn’t move, but casts her eyes upward, meeting his for a brief second. She smiles at him, and his insides feel funny.
The horse takes tentative steps towards Louisa, and all the muscles in Rhett’s body tense, ready to step in if something should happen.
But nothing does. The horse walks towards the center of the pen, and finally, after what feels like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, it stands at Louisa’s side and nudges her arm with its muzzle.
Amy cheers quietly as to not disturb the moment in front of them.
A grin splits Louisa’s face in two, and Rhett watches her dig into her pocket for a treat that she offers to the horse. The wind carries the sound of her soft praises as the horse chews the treat and lets Lou run her hands over its muscular body.
“That was incredible, Miss Kinney,” Amy says as the woman approaches the fence, horse trailing calmly behind her.
“Lou,” she corrects. “Storm’s a good boy,” she replies, casting a look at the black stallion behind her. “He just needs someone to give him a chance to be good.”
“Sorry, I’m late,” Rhett says before Amy can say something else.
“It’s no problem,” she says, and he can tell she genuinely means it. “Sydney only got picked up five minutes before you got here.”
“Thank you,” he saying, nodding at her slightly before turning his attention to his niece. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Amy agrees and jumps off the fence, landing on the ground with a thud. Rhett offers a small wave goodbye to Lou, who’s watching him and Amy as they walk back to his truck.
“Bye, miss Kinney!” Amy shouts and waves at the woman who offers an enthusiastic wave back. Amy closes the truck door, and the world goes quiet.
He waits for her to put her seatbelt on and then makes his way back down the drive, the same way he came. “Did you have a nice time?”
“The best,” she says excitedly, launching into a long talk about everything that happened at the birthday party. She briefly mentions her other friends, the cake, and the presents, but most of her endless chatter is about Lou.
“That thing she did when you got there is called join up, and it’s so cool. She just turned around a let Storm do whatever he wanted until he trusted her enough to come. It was awesome!”
He chuckles as he opens the front door to the house, letting Amy duck under his arm to go inside first.
His Ma’s in the kitchen, placing plates on the dining table, but it’s only set for four. Perry is probably sleeping off his bender upstairs, the whole room reeking of alcohol and sweat.
Rhett frowns at the thought and tries to push the brewing rage down. He’s not above day drinking, has done it many times, but he would never do it over taking care of his kid.
It’s a realization that has crept up on him in the months since Rebecca disappeared and Perry changed into someone barely recognizable. He’s putting his misery above his daughter and there’s no one Rhett wants to protect more than his niece.
He kisses his mom’s cheek in greeting and goes upstairs to clean up before dinner, the sound of Amy talking about Lou fading with each step he takes. There’s something about her innocence that tugs at Rhett’s heart and makes the faintest smile spread across his face.
A couple of days later, Rhett rests his head against the rim of his beer bottle, trying not to move his bad shoulder too much. It’s been bothering him for a while, but the bull got the better of him tonight and he took a bad fall.
The slide of glass along the bar top makes him lift his head. In front of him is a shot of tequila that he downs with a nod towards Jimmy, who’s been a bartender at the Handsome Gambler since before he was born.
Homegrown cowboy almost lost the rodeo tonight. He’s lucky he didn’t.
“It’s Rhett, right?” A soft voice says as a warm body sinks down on the seat next to him.
He hums in agreement, turning his head slightly to face her. He recognizes her voice immediately. It’s been ringing in his ears since he first heard it a few days earlier.
“Amy hasn’t shut up about you since her visit,” he says. It sounds harsh even to his own ears, and he could probably have found a better way to say it, but she seems unfazed.
He wants to ask her name, even though he already knows it. Just to hear her say it.
She smiles, and he could be imagining it, but it looks like her cheeks flush pink. The odd lighting in the bar makes it hard to tell.
She looks down at her hands, then meets his gaze. “She’s interested in the work,” she says finally. “I’m sure she’d talk about anyone who did it.”
Rhett’s not so sure, and he almost says as much.
She orders a beer and wraps her small hands around the glass, immediately picking at the label with her long fingers.
Rhett doesn’t know what to say as the silence stretches between them. There’s a million questions he wants to ask, but all he does is watch, and by the time he’s built up the courage to say something, Lou beats him to it.
“Heard you had a good ride tonight.”
A snort escapes him. “You heard wrong,” he says, sipping from his bottle. He grimaces as the stale beer hits his tongue.
“But you’re moving up, right?”
He tilts his head at her, looking at the paper graveyard surrounding the beer bottle still in her grasp. “Yeah.”
“Then it’s a good ride,” she decides and raises the bottle to her lips, taking a long sip. His eyes trace the lines of her throat. He likes the way her hair graces her shoulders, and he wonders if it feels as soft as it looks.
“You think so?”
She nods, brushing hair behind her ears. “I know so.”
He’d forgotten all about his sore shoulder until he shrugs and a jab of pain courses through it. He half-heartedly suppresses a groan at the strain, but the woman beside him catches it.
“You should take it easy,” she says, eyes flicking from his face to the hand he’s placed on his shoulder as if that would soothe the ache. “Joe said you took a tumble.”
He supposes tumble is one way to describe being thrown off a bucking bull after barely lasting eight seconds.
His brows knit together. “Joe?” There are about seventeen people named Joe in this godforsaken town.
“Taylor,” she clarifies.
“Your boss.”
“My boss,” she agrees.
Silence falls between them again, but Rhett feels less awkward this time. He drums his fingers on the wooden counter and watches Lou sneak a glance down the line of the bar, only to wipe the tattered scraps of the paper label onto the floor.
He raises a brow at her.
She puts a finger against her lips to shush him as Jimmy comes back down towards them.
“Can I close out my tab?”
Rhett tips his hat down a little to hide the grin he’s sporting, but his success seems doubtful as his body shakes with a quiet chuckle.
He feels, rather than sees, Lou jump off the barstool next to him. Her hand skims along his back as she passes, a touch so light he can’t tell if it was on purpose or not.
A shiver runs down his spine as her touch leaves him. He waits until she’s gone and the door clicks shut to push his hat back up and ask Jimmy to close out his own tab.
He’s going to call it a night. Sitting alone at the bar doesn’t seem as appealing as his bed right now, but he doesn’t understand why.
After a ride, he would normally go looking for some woman to screw hard and fast, just to let off some steam, but not tonight. Tonight he’s just tired and sore and his ego is a little bruised because some new kid placed ahead of him.
He steps outside the bar and feels the cold Wyoming air hit his face.
“You come here often?”
Rhett jumps a good few feet in the air as the sound of laughter fills the quiet outside the bar. His heart races furiously in his chest, watching as Lou clutches her stomach, wheezing for air.
“Scaredy-cat,” she comments through uneven breaths as she regains her composure.
He looks over his shoulder, contemplating going back inside for another drink, just to settle the nerves Lou sparked to life. He can still hear the rushing of his pulse in his ears.
When he looks back at her, she’s already walking across the street to a faded yellow truck that has definitely seen better days. His feet carry him towards her before his head can register the decision to do so.
She reaches out to open her the driver’s side door, but Rhett’s arms are longer, so he yanks it open before she can. She startles, spinning around to face him.
“Jesus Christ, you scared me!”
He pulls open the truck door more with a grin threatening at the corners of his mouth.
“Not so funny when it’s you, huh?”
She huffs out a laugh as the tension leaves her shoulders and she hangs her head for a moment, letting it rest on his chest. When she lifts it again, he catches a whiff of her shampoo. She smells like summer.
She meets his eye, mischief and laughter radiating off her. There’s freedom in her eyes, making something in his stomach twist.
She climbs into the cab of her truck and lets Rhett close the door for her. She keeps her eyes on him as he takes a few steps back and the engine stirs to life at the turn of her key.
“Say hello to Amy for me,” she instructs him, and throws the old rust bucket in drive.
He watches her truck disappear down the main road until the taillights are no longer visible.
He can’t read her, not that it’s his strongest suit to begin with, but for someone who keeps to herself, she seems to be making an impression on the residents of Wabang.
He shakes his head, trying to will the hot feeling in chest to go away. As he reaches his own truck, he wants to blame the alcohol, but some part of him knows that’s far from the truth.
A/N: I can't believe it's finally here. I've been so excited to share this story with you, but I'm also nervous because this is so different for me, both in terms of style and tone. Comments and reblogs make the world go around. I hope you enjoy! (does this mean I have to watch the show now???)
TAGLIST: @wkndwlff, @joaquinwhorres, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @chickensarentcheap, @bradshawsbitch, @dhwanishah09, @lt-bradshaw, @phoenixhalliwell, @chicomonks, @18cutebutalsopsycho, @cherrycola27, @mikaymeee, @callsign-cacti, @laracrofted, @thedroneranger, @yanna-banana, @rhettabbotts
Excited tippy-taps!! Go read the thing and share the thing!!
you have no idea what i have given up to protect you!
Public service reblog
Counterweight // Rhett Abbott
Summary: At the Amelia County Fair, you prove to yourself and the people around you that you’re one of the boys. You and Rhett finally fall head first into the slow burn love you’d been harbouring for one another since your childhood.
Warnings: Mentions of Rodeo accident. Injuries sustained from said accident. Best friends to lovers trope. Rhett Abbott x Female Reader. Fluff. Angst.
Word Count: 6.5k
Author Note: This weekend we welcomed Rhett Abbott and Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia to the every growing list of fictional men I’d let rail me.
Amelia County Fair. It had always been your favourite place to be—the smell of kettle corn always lingered in the air the closer you sauntered over to the state rides, forever in search of a Pluto Pup that rivalled one you had in your youth. Carnival food—albeit not the best for your gut, would forever be a comfort that you sort out when you were nearing your call time. You could never ride on an empty stomach. For a serial spewer, your thought process always led you to believe it hurt less to throw up a small amount of food than to hurl stomach acid and bile.
“I thought I saw your name on the mixed division sheet.” Rhett stood behind you in line for a Pluto Pup. Was he going to order one? Fuck no—but he’d seen you gallivanting off after handing over Sir Rocco to the holding pens. Knowing exactly where you were heading. Rhett Abbott saw you as his counterweight, the one thing that kept him in line, in pace, in check. “You competing in the camp draft too?” He asked as you passed the lady at the stand the three dollars she’d asked for and stepped aside. Rhett followed as to not hold up the line.
As you stepped aside ready to entertain the boy who grew up on the ranch that boarded your father’s, you watched as he tipped his brim and smiled softly at Maria as she walked past in what had to have been the shortest skirt you’d ever seen.
“Mornin’ Maria, nice day for it, yeah?” You wanted to gag as she kept walking, turning on her heels to respond to Rhett like she had him wrapped around her little finger.
“It’s a nice day every day Rhett—it’s getting it that counts.” It almost hurt how hard you rolled your eyes and groaned beside your best mate. You could have sworn he’d been in love with that girl since you were both sixteen. Too busy pining over her to realise you were always right by his side. In his corner. He’d worked all his life with hands on his throat, searching for highs to balance the lows. You just wished he saw you there too, right by his side.
“Y/n, I saw your name down for the camp draft?” Maria turned her attention to you as you looked down at your boots for a brief second. Not really wanting to draw too much attention to yourself.
“Yeah well, I thought I’d give it another go—see what happens.” You had come in second place at last year's state fair, on your own horse Ella. You were this year's pick for top spot. The talk of the town. Only for all the wrong reasons.
“Yeah well, good luck with it—not that you need it of course.” She smiled before heading off. You knew that the moment she turned her back that Rhett’s eyes lingered down to her ass. Slapping his chest as you scoffed, secretly wishing that you had that much attention from your best friend.
“If that skirt were any shorter Rhett you’d see her bloody tonsils.” You could have sworn the laugh Rhett let out came from the heavens above. It was lengthy and genuine, the kind of laugh that takes you by surprise and stems from a place so wholesome it shows the world such a true and deep part of you. You didn't hear Rhett laugh all that much these days, too serious and broody for his own good. “I’m just having a lend.” You felt the need to clear the air as the lady at the food stand handed you your Pluto Pup. “She’s nice enough–” You truly had nothing against Maria, except for the fact she drew all Rhett's attention away from you. He’d never see the way you looked at him while he was too busy looking at her.
Everyone else however, including Maria–knew how you looked at Rhett Abbott. To put it frankly it was quite clearly the most pathetic display of puppy love they’d ever seen.
“I know I know.” Rhett cooed with the corner of his mouth as he walked with you back to the Rodeo Rings. “I bet you a slab you won't win–” He teased as you took a bite, offering him some as he politely declined. He could never eat before a competition and never understood how you could.
“Just make sure it's full strength and cold.” It was always the same, each and every time. Rhett would make bets he knew he’d lose just to give your ego a little bit more of a stroke. You and Rhett had both been born and raised around the rodeo so there was no surprise when you both fell in love with it—the only surprise to everyone around you was that you hadn’t fallen in love with each other. Not that you didn’t try.
“Righto.” You and Rhett had known each other since before pre-k. “Why Sir Rocco?” He asked as he walked beside you, tilling his hat every which way at people who nodded his way—his father’s friends, your fathers friends. A gentle hand on the small of your back as he guided you through a particularly crowded part of the fair.
“Everyone talking–” You mumbled as you stopped in your tracks, Turing in to face Rhett as he poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t all that big on words, he knew you were suffering a lose that was unexpected. They way you chose to work through that grief he couldn’t judge—but sometimes he felt the need to reel you in before that grief got you hurt.
“It doesn't matter what people think Y/n and you know that.”
“Yes it does.” Your Father Jack had recently passed away from a heart attack. “They all know that I fired my stockman, they all know the shearers walked out on me.” When your father had died so suddenly, the farm immediately became yours. His only daughter, his only family. “they’re all saying Y/n Y/l/n can’t do it, not on her own, not without her dad and that's not true.” The stockman had been stealing oil from your tanks, you’d caught them in the middle of the night and fired them on the spot. No questions asked. The shearers wanted more money per head, you could afford to pay them any more than what you were already paying them—and you knew they wouldn’t have asked your father. They walked off the job thinking you’d beg them to stay, but you didn’t. You finished the job yourself after four days of non-stop labour. Rhett had come over to ask for a hand fixing the north paddock board fence—he ended up staying to help you finish the job.
“So you have to prove you're as good as he was?” Rhett eyed you down as you poked your index finger into his chest—your lips in a firm line.
“I have to, cause I am.” He knew you had a heart of gold, but you were just as stubborn as your father was. There was never a need ask for help when you were drowning—you got yourself into whatever mess you’d stumbled into so you could claw your way back out. If those who doubted you saw you ride and win on your father’s temperamental stallion exactly like he did then they’d have to start treating you with respect and not just shrug you off like some hobbyist buckle bunny.
“There's gotta be an easier way to keep Drovers Y/n.” Rhett spoke through gritted teeth, crewing on the toothpick he’d fished out of the little packet from the top poker of his flannel. You’d both settled against the fence of the main rodeo rink. Watching on as amateur hour finished up.
“What? like marry you?” You smirked, bumping your hip against Rhett’s as he scoffed softly at you.
“Royal and Jack's plan, wasn't it?” Rhett had and always would be in love with you—he was just too blind to see that you were head over heels for him as well. He always thought that the friendship you both shared was priceless and to ruin that by letting his own selfish feelings get in the way would be unfair. Hence why he pinned after Maria—it always hurt less to fool around with her than to know that if he spoke up about the fact he would marry you tomorrow if you let him. That would never happen, who was Rhett to kid himself.
For a moment you both stood by the fence drinking in the sight of each other, eyes trailing the expanse of each other’s faces. Every perfect imperfection was memories and studies like a fine art. There was even, for the briefest of moments, a split second where you leaned in as Rhett ducked his chin—closing the gap a little more as if you were both about to allow your selfish desires escape. But when you realised there was hesitation looming in Rhett’s eyes? You shook off the moment, cleaning your throat as you stepped back and turned your attention back to the amateurs getting their adrenaline kicks.
“Silly old bastards.” You sighed as you checked your watch. “I should probably get going, camp drafts about to start and I’m second on the call sheet.”
“Yeah, yeah no of course—“ Rhett Agreed as he tipped his hat and cleared his throat. “Good luck.” He mumbled, giving you one final longing look as you pressed your lips together and smiled tight. “I’ll be watching darlin’.” The term of endearment slipped out far too easily for you to not notice, your heart skipped a beat in your chest as you turned on your heels. Heading towards the shoots before you could think about Rhett any longer.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“Second up, we have a very special horse that came in first place last year in the open campgrounds—Sir Rocco.” The announcer bellowed through the speakers as Rhett stood in the crowd ready to cheer you on. “As most of you would know, Jack Y/l/n won on Sir Rocco last year—sadly, Jack is no longer with us, but we have a brave little lady here to hopefully carry on the tradition.”
“A brave little lady?” Perry frowned as he came to find Rhett in the stands, handing him a crisp beer as he’d just finished standing in line for what felt like half an hour. “Oh Y/n’s gonna hate that.”
“Sure will—bet I won’t hear the end of it too.” Rhett added as his eyes never left yours. Watching as you stalked around the holding pen trying to segregate your target. Pulling on Sir Rocco’s reins.
“Let’s give a big welcome to Jack's daughter, Y/n Y/l/n!” The announcer yelled through the speakers, revving the crowd up to cheer you on. Rhett being the loudest, the proudest, the most invested.
“Dig your spurs in darlin’!” He shouted as he cupped his hands around his mouth. Perry chuckled beside his brother as he took a sip of his beer. Fuck that kid was in love with you.
“Y/n’s got ten seconds to choose her heifer.” The announcer explained as Rhett never looked away from how you worked to separate your choice. Back and forth, side to side—. “Okay she’s picked her beats!” You were ready to go, nodding at the guys who watched on from the fences.
“Gate!” You shouted, the second the gate was sprung open you took off after the heifer, guiding it around the ring expertly. The crowd was wild for you—cheering you on as you focused on your one chance, your one shot to make your name known.
“Heading to the first peg now.” The announcer explained as Rhett’s eyes followed you around the ring. You were stunning on the back of Sir Rocco, handling the fiery animal with expert poise and grace.
“Go! Y/n Go! You got this!” He shouted, Perry cheered you on as well, but it was always Rhett who was louder, more invested.
“Looking for the second peg, she’s gaining up on her.” Everything felt like it had slowed down into slow motion as you heard the announcer explaining where you were at. “She’s crossing over to the second lap.”
“Come on darlin’ bring it round! Bring it round!” Rhett couldn’t stop cheering you on as he whistled from the crowd.
“Remember folks, Y/n’s got to complete the full figure eight or else she’s disqualified.” That didn’t make things any easier, hearing just how easily it would be for you to be disqualified. But you kept your head clear of the negative as you focused on the task at hand. You were so close.
“Get him there! Go you good thing!” Perry finally joined in as Rhett beamed a bright smile, still cupping his mouth to echo his cheers as loud as he could.
“Come on Y/n! All the way home baby! All the way—!” Rhett was high on your performance, he couldn’t believe how well you were doing. He’d seen you ride last year but he didn’t remember you being this entertainingly captivating. Perhaps that was just because he’d fallen even more in love with you since. “Go darlin’!”
“Now they’re heading towards the gate!” As soon as the heifer you had chosen was back in the pen you pulled back on the reins, slowing Sir Rocco down to a standstill as you beamed an unbelievably bright smile. You’d done it. “And it’s a completed course ladies and gentlemen—let’s wait for the judges to give their marks.” Waving to the cheering crowd you caught Rhett in the crowd. He was cheering you on so loud and proud it made your heart burst.
“Y/n’s score today is twenty three for camp, sixty three for horse work, four for the course—“
“That’s gonna be bloody hard to beat Perry!” Rhett gabbed at his older brother’s shoulders as he excitedly cheered for you. “She’s gotta make the final for sure.” Perry had to hold his tongue as he just watched as Rhett had looked the happiest he ever had. He hadn’t been messing around with that Maria girl as much these days. Sure he still flirted and kept her close—but that was only to ward of the ever looming fact that Rhett Abbott was and always would be obsessed with you. Perry just wanted the pair of you to fuck and find out for yourselves.
“That’s an excellent score ladies and gentlemen, for Y/n Y/l/n and Sir Rocco—Jack would be proud, that score should see her into tomorrow’s finals.” When you’d made it back to the holding pens only a few short minutes after your first run, Rhett was there to greet you with a wide child-like smile, as was Perry.
“Well done champion!” Rhett beamed as you slowly flung your leg over to climb down from the saddle, feeling the burning sensation rising in your cheeks as Rhett helped you down, your hands on his shoulders as he cupped at your waist. “You did great, I can’t believe Sir Rocco didn’t give you shit.”
“Damn good run Y/n.” Perry added as he watched Rhett scoop you up into his arms and spin you around. Still trying to regulate his own emotions after having seen you ride so amazingly. This was the most he’d touch another human with clothes on in months.
“Better pay up fast Abbott—“ You chuckled as Rhett put you down, slapping his chest softly with the back of your hand. “I always hate it when welsh out on a bet.” There had only been a handful of times where Rhett had forgotten to pay up. Ever since? You’d never let him forget.
“Get away.” Rhett smirked with one side of his mouth. “The finals aren’t till tomorrow—“
“Make it Budweiser too!” You ignored Rhett as you started undoing Sir Rocco’s saddle. He deserved the world after that ride.
“Honestly Y/n, I really thought he was gonna play up.” Perry chuckled. “That last turn when he buckled a little cost you a couple of points but I don’t think I could’ve done any better myself.” Perry had always been like an older brother to you so his feedback meant a lot. “Don’t let your own ego mess up the finals for you though.”
“Yeah well, I can make it up in tomorrow’s heat.” You sighed, finally unclipping the last claps on the saddle before Rhett was swooping in to lift it off Sir Rocco for you. “Besides—I still got Mixed Division to have a little fun in now.” Wiggling your eyebrows Rhett’s way, you smiled bright as he returned the expression.
“Ah, let’s be real for a second here, you might be a hot shot in camp draft but you and I both know I’m coming out on top in mixed.” Rhett was careful as he placed your saddle into Sir Rocco’s trailer. Coming back to stand before you, tilting the brim of his hat up as he looked down at you. Perry was quick to make himself scarce—not wanting to see the train wreck that was about to collide. He’d seen this place out far too many times, the almost kiss followed by the awkward silence.
“In. Your. Wet. Dreams. Abbott.” It may have been the adrenaline rushing through your veins or the feeling of accomplishment that made your confidence level boost to a new high, but as Rhett smiled down at you, you reached up and around the back of his neck—pulling him down to meet your lips. No almost kissed this time, just a single kiss that had you forgetting how to breathe.
Rhett’s hands quickly moved to find a hold on your hips, bringing you in flush against him as he took over, deepening the kiss as his tongue trailed your bottom lip in search of permission to enter. You granted him that wish—a soft moan escaping as you took Rhett’s Stetson off his head and placed it on your own. Tipping the lip up so as to not smack against his forehead.
If it were anyone else? Rhett would have snatched his Stetson back in a heartbeat—but because it was you? Well—he’d let you keep it if you wanted it all that bad.
The kiss felt like it lasted for an eternity, neither of you wanting it to end. Scared of what were to come when you pulled away to face the reality of the situation, the gravity that this one silly little kiss could cause. But as Rhett moved his hands up from your hips to cups your cheeks? You didn’t fucking care about the consequences of your actions. All that mattered was that Rhett Abbott was finally kissing you the way you always thought about. He was kissing you and not some buckle bunny. He was kissing you, his best friend, the love of his life.
“Y/n—“ Rhett mumbled as he bit down gently against your bottom lip, pulling it back softly before letting it go. Pulling his lips away for yours as his hands still cupped your face—the pads of his thumbs rubbing against the expanse as f your cheeks. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”
“Well it’s a bit of a coincidence that I was gonna say the same thing.” Catching your breath as your eyes drank in the sight of one another, it was Rhett who made the love to spark the kiss again. Guiding you back until your back was flush against the railing of the holding pen. “Rhett—“ It sent chills down his spine and blood rushing to his length the way you said his name in a flurry of soft moans.
“Fuck—“ Rhett had to pull away before he got to carried away. Pulling back as his eyes never left yours. “This isn’t over.” He sighed, grabbing his Stetson back from the top of your head. “After I flog you in mixed, I'm taking you out for dinner.” Rhett pointed his index finger in your face as you wiped your swollen lips on the back of your flannel. His flannel, one he’d left at yours ages ago that you’d gaslit him to believe was always yours. Rhett knew, he just wanted you to have it.
“You don’t take people to dinner, Rhett.” You moved on the fence and made your way back into the middle of the holding pen, Sir Rocco still needed to be looked after before your next event.
“You aren’t people, you’re Y/n, and I’m taking you out to dinner because you’re the only person who’s ever looked at me like I’m worth more than my next ride.” It took you back for a moment as Rhett stood there confessing his inner thoughts to you. “I know I don’t bring an awful lot to the table darlin’ but if I’m gonna do this with you? I wanna do it in all the right ways.” You couldn’t help the smile they came across your face as he took a few steps forward. “So dinner, after I win.” Rhett had always thought of himself as Mr.forgettable, but as he watched the way your eyes lit up at his suggestions of dinner, he couldn’t help to think that maybe for a moment you’d always remember him.
“You mean after I win?” Rhett chuckled softly as you bit at your bottle lip, trying your best to hide your smile as the heat in your cheeks intensified. “Because I’m gonna win the mixed division as well, Abbott.” You teased as Rhett once again leaned in a little closer, drunk on the taste of your lips. A hint of bourbon still on your breath from the drinks you’d had earlier to settle your nerves and the vanilla of your chapstick mixed perfectly together. “I'm gonna knock you right off the leaderboard.”
“I’d like to see you try darlin.” Was all Rhett managed to mumble before his lips were on yours one final time, wrapping your arms up and around his shoulders as he drew you into him. Enjoying the moment because this was all he’d ever wanted.
You.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Amelia County Rodeo. It's great to see you all here today–“ You’d been loitering around the shoot watching as your competitors dropped like flys. The bulls were particularly nasty today and you couldn’t say that made you a little nervous.
“Getting the action underway again–we have our Mixed Division Bull riding championship Rhett Abbott stepping up into the shoot as we speak.”
“Come on Rhett just hold on—“ You mumbled to yourself as you watched Rhett climb up onto the back of the seemingly relentless bull. “You got this.”
You knew Rhett would be able to hold out, but for how long you weren’t too sure. When the buzzer sounded and the gates flug open he came barreling out as Mickey bull tried to shake him off.
“Go Rhett!!” You shouted as you jumped up and down on the spot. “Hold on! Hold on!” Your cheers escaped like a mantra of praise and admire for your best friend. Watching Rhett ride was one of your favourite past times. He looked untouchable, fearless. Rhett Abbott belonged on the back of a bull, much like he belonged with you.
“Hold on Rhett! You’re so—Ohh!” Before you could even utter the word close, Rhett was dismounting with a thud as he hit the dirt. Laying on his stomach for a moment longer than you would have liked. Your heart raced as you watched him stand slowly, waving with a pressed lip smile to the car that cheered him on before limping back to the shoot.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Rhett Abbot—six seconds total.” The announcer said with a tone you knew Rhett was going to hate. “Is it enough to advance him into the next round? Possibly.”
“I hope you don’t think that because you fumbled the bag that I’ll take it easy on you?” Rhett looked like he was in a foul mood as he took the stairs down to meet you. Limping the whole way down from the platform as you waited with your arms crossed over your chest. “Mickey Bull is a pain in the ass to ride Rhett—“
“Six seconds ain’t enough.” He mumbled through gritted teeth as he met you at the bottom of the stairs. “It won't be enough.”
“There’s like twenty more riders on the call sheet still to ride.” You were quick on the draw to remind Rhett that there was still a chance. “You aren’t out just yet.” You always knew just what to say to ease Rhett’s temper. Thinking about all the time he’d wasted not loving you the way you should be loved, Rhett just smiled, shaking his head softly as he took off his riding glove.
“Nineteen if you take yourself off the short list.” Rhett smirked for a brief moment, taking in the sight of you geared and ready to ride. “Grip tight, dig your knees in and just hold on for dear life darlin.”
“You just find a good spot to watch and learn Abbott.” Whatever the hell it was that had been sparked between you and Rhett would have to wait. He was still your best friend before anything else. Tapping him on the shoulder as you made your way over to the shoot. “Keep an eye on the leaderboard for me!”
“Darlin I got bets placed on your ride today so don’t you go fucking this up!” Rhett countered your taunt before you were stormed with officials ready and helping you settle down into the shoot. Rhett had to admit it to himself as he made his way over to the edge of the rink, climbing up so he could perch pretty on the railing. A front row seat. He had to admit that he was scared to watch you ride knowing how pissed the hills were as a whole today—they were relentless, took no prisoners and saw no mercy.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“Y/n already in the shoot?” Royal asked as he came to stand beside where Rhett sat patiently waiting on the edge of the fence. A nod was all Royal got as a response. “I always thought she had more smarts about herself than you did.” Royal smirked to herself as Rhett turned his head down at his old man. “Until she rode that Bronco bear back and fell face first into the mud.”
Rhett smiled for a brief minute at the moment, he’d been the one who dared you to give it a go. Royal and Jack had been furious at the pair and of you for days after—but now it was just another memory that sat amongst all the rest.
“Lining up in the shoot now—“ The announcer's voice bellowed through the speakers loud enough to cut whatever Royal was about to say next off completely. “She's only up and coming but hell on earth is she making a big impression on the old timers today.” Rhett's cheeks hurt with how much he’d been smiling today. “Thats right ladies and gentleman, Y/n Y/l/n showing us what she's made of again, give the kid a round of applause.” The crowd began to cheer and raw as you nodded one final time and braced yourself—holding your breath as you tensed your entire body.
“Go! Go you good thing!” Rhett shouted as the gates sprung open and you came out with one hand held above your head and the same bull Rhett had been riding not a few short minutes ago tried to Buck you off with everything it had. “Hold it darlin! Hold onto it!”
“Oh-hooo look at her go folks.” You were struggling to keep yourself steady. “She's getting tossed around like a rag doll but she's holding on tight, she's holding on.” You tried to last just one second longer than Rhett, one second was all you needed, but when you were riding bucking bulls seconds felt like hours.
“Stay on! Stay up Y/n! Stay—!” Rhett winced at the sound that you made when you hit the dirt. It was rough and for sure knocked the wind out of you as you landed on your left side. Popping your shoulder out of its place with a whelp.
“Ohh—! and she's down!” The announcer cried out, as you rolled over to escape from chaos that had begun to unfold around you as clowns rushed towards you—everything all at one felt like it had caught on fire. No part of you was safe from the crushing weight of four hundred pounds of pure muscle.
“Ohh! she's getting trampled! Getting trampled folks, someone get her outta there! Where are the medics? The poor kid’s gonna get killed!”
“Fuck! No no no no no—“ Rhett didn’t think as he jumped into the rink, racing straight for you as rodeo clowns raced around trying to get a handle on Mickey bull. “Y/N! Y/N! darlin—I’m here.” Rhett shouted as he slid to your side, kicking up the dirt as he held your head in his lap. “Oh god! Oh my god oh my god oh my god—“ He didn’t know what to do, Rhett had never seen so much blood. The Bull had been right on top of you for a split second but that was all it took.
“Rhett—“ Blood spilled from your mouth as you coughed his name, dripping down your chin as your eyes rolled, struggling to stay afloat. You saw everyone rushing around you, the clowns chasing the bull away, the sound of the ambulance and the medics attending the scene, officials shouting, but none of that meant shit to you when Rhett was looking at you the way he was. “Mm-fine.”
“Shut up you look like fucking road kill Y/l/n.” That made you laugh, although it hurt an astronomical amount. “You’re gonna be alright though, just keep talking okay, you can do that can’t you pretty girl?” Rhett couldn’t stop himself from crying as he let a sob escape. You couldn’t leave him now, not when you’d been with him since day fucking one. “Just hold on for me okay? Just need a couple of stitches.” Rhett didn’t know who he was trying to kid, you or himself. He knew how bad it was just by the blood seeping out from your stomach and the way your leg was bent in all the wrong ways. The gash on your head worried him the most though.
“Hey Rhett?” The sirens were all too loud as Rhett leaned a little closer to hear you mumble his name. “Rhett—“
“I’m here, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere darlin you’re gonna be alright.” Rhett felt like he couldn’t breathe
“I love you—“ It was barely audible, but Rhett heard you say the three words the two of you had been far too afraid to say for your entire lives. Rhett had been spending his days with reckless abandon, searching for balance, day in and day out. You were his balance though, he knew that now. His counterweight. He was drifting away with no counterweight as he held you in his lap, watching as your eyes rolled and your jaw slacked and a steady stream of blood poured from your mouth.
“No, no Darlin don’t you go leaving me here alright?” Rhett had never asked for a goddamn thing in his life. He was a simple man. “Please?” As medics asked him to move, Rhett could barely stand—on unstable legs he watched as your lifeless body was carted away into the ambulance. He couldn’t bring himself to love as he stood near the blood of blood that had seeped into the dirt. Your blood.
With blood on his hand Rhett wiped his tears before collecting himself as much as he could so he didn’t fall apart, hoping his feet took him in the right direction.
“Rhett what the fuck happened?” Perry asked as he hurried over. “I heard the announcer? Is Y/n alright?” Rhett had nothing in his reserve to give, simply stumbling as he leaned into Perry for support.
“Take me to the goddamn hospital.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
It was the steady rhythm of a heartbeat monitor that brought you back to reality. Through a few fluttered blinks, your vision was clear enough as you slowly but surely looked around the room you were in to see that it was in fact a hospital room.
The continuous flow or oxygen felt funny racing through your nose as you reached up to tug at the oxygen tube strung across and back behind your ears. It didn’t budge when you tried to remove it, giving up as you settled in deeper to the bed with a groan. Everything hurt, you felt stiff and sore and groggy as all hell.
But then you saw the heap of a man slung over the small armchair in the corner of the room. The worn in jeans and patchy flannel were dead giveaways to the fact it was Rhett.
“Rhett—“ Your throat was dry and scratchy like you hadn’t talked in weeks. “Rhett?” You tried again this time a little loud. “Hey, Abbott—?” Third times a charm. At the sound of his name Rhett jolted slights, groaning as he looked around for whoever had been calling his name, not expecting to see you laying there awake. “Hey cowboy.” You cooed, smiling softly just enough to have Rhett’s heart leaping out of his chest.
“How are you even awake right now the doctors said it would be weeks?” Rhett was in utter disbelief as he came to your bedside, dragging the chair along with him. “It’s only been a week—“
“Miss me that much you’re counting the days huh?” It was meant to be a joke as you let your head fall in the direction Rhett was sitting. His hand in yours as he brought his lips to your palm.
“I thought I’d lost you forever.” Rhett choked back tears as he sat back, looking at the love of his life, his girl, his pluto pup loving best friend. “I watched that bull tear you to shreds Y/n.”
“What have they got me on?” You replied softly. “I feel so groggy and out of it.” You knew it was going to be a long road ahead, there was nothing light hearted about being trampled by a bull. But for now you didn’t want to know, didn’t want to ask about all the things that were wrong with you or what chances you had at ever riding again. You just wanted to be with Rhett. Nothing else mattered.
“Hydromorphone, and a bunch of other things for the pain.” Rhett explained as he drank in the sight of you, the strongest woman he ever knew.
“Huh, no wonder I can’t feel my legs.” It was the softest of laughs, a split in your lip that was healing nicely stopped you from turning the corners on f your lips too much. “Have you been here long?”
“Oh I uh—I haven’t left.” Without you, Rhett had no counterweight. His whole life he’d known you, you’d been right fucking there. But if you were always in front of him, why did you dying in his arms awaken the kind of sensation of falling suddenly, every step he took could be pulled from under him. At any second—as if to outrun the reaper himself Rhett moved at the speed of light, losing his peace of mind, pursuing his demons, lucid or dreaming, just waiting for you to come back to him. “I tried to, once, but I only made it halfway down the hall before turning back.”
“You didn’t have to stay.” You cooed. “But I really appreciated that you’re here.” Rhett knew you didn’t have anyone else to visit you, except for maybe his own family. “I’m assuming you didn’t go back and ride?”
“Are you kidding me?” Rhett couldn’t get the image of that bull dancing on top of you out of his head. In the waiting room he’d sat in for hours upon hours just waiting for any information, he sstarted actually giving a fuck about who would be there to catch him when he fell down. He always knew the only person who’d ever truly been in his corner was you. “Fuck the would I do that for when you’re all I got huh?” Rhett wanted to get as far away from Amelia County as he could. He prayed that you’d follow him, he’d pave away to escape from this lotto if you told him you were with him. Through anything, through it all. Amelia was a beautiful town but Rhett knew the longer he stayed it would become heartbreaking.
“The rodeo is all you’ve ever cared about—“ Rhett withdrew his entry from the rodeo before Perry had even made it to the car to take him to the hospital, there was no way he could ever ride without you riding right by his side. Leaning in as he held your hand tight, with tears falling freely from his eyes, Rhett confessed his deepest love.
“I saw the love of my life nearly die, fuck the rodeo, you’re all I care about Y/n, none of it matters if you aren’t there by my side.”
“Rhett, what about the farm? Dads land?” You were starting to panic, Rhett could see that clear as day. But all he did was lean in and kiss your forehead as gently as he could.
“One day at a time, yeah?” All you did was nod as you held back a sob. “One day at a time, but I'm by your side every step on the way, your counterweight.”
Such angst! Much fluffy! I love!
GLEN POWELL in Everybody Wants Some!! 2016, dir. Richard Linklater
