#he wants her to come back to abbott so bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rhettabbotts · 4 months

Text

baby, if you only knew - dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

summary: tensions boil over and everything changes for you and rhett one night at a rancher’s event you attend.

w/c: 5.4k (she’s a mammoth)

warnings: 18+ only. smut. age gap (babysitter 20s, rhett 40s). dirty talk. making out in an elevator. daddy kink. possessive rhett. slightly rough sex. cunnilingus. hair pulling. overstimulation. size kink. aftercare. rhett’s grey hair. some fluff.

a/n: i can see you by taylor swift is to blame for this. enjoy the filth! also couldn’t stop myself from adding some babysitter lore. also see green, green dress from tick, tick…boom! for the dress reference!

Six months. Six long, tortuous months of working under Rhett Abbott’s roof.

Okay, it wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be in your head. His daughters were angels, and you appreciated that he worked with your school schedule as you attended your graduate program. And he let you live in his guest room rent free.

But it was sweet torture. You had fallen hard for the single father of two and it made every day even harder than the last. Rhett was a wonderful man, an attentive father, and a hell of a cook. A hard worker and he was so handsome, you could hardly breathe around him. Who wouldn’t fall in love with the cowboy?

You tried everything in the world to rid your thoughts of him, but you were highly unsuccessful. And he only did things that made it worse. Every time you brushed by him in the halls it felt like electricity coursed through your entire body. He had to feel it too, right?

Delusional. That’s what you were. You were the babysitter. Nothing more. Eventually, the girls would grow up and you wouldn’t be needed anymore. And that thought caused your chest to tighten painfully.

What a thought to have while washing the dishes. You heard your name but it sounded far off, like your ears were full of cotton.

“Tilly, come quick!” Grace shouted once more to get your attention. It made you turn abruptly, soap suds went flying as you dropped the ceramic pot you were washing. “Sorry,” she mumbled when you glared slightly at her.

“What’s wrong, Gracie?” you questioned as you wiped your hands off with the flower embroidered kitchen towel. Something you bought and put out to leave your own touch on this place.

“Oh. Nothing. Ellie just wanted to show you that we won our game.” The girls had been obsessed with Super Mario Brothers and had been playing it for days.

“That’s great guys! How about we take a break and you help me get dinner started?”

“Can we have ice cream for dessert?” Ellie, Rhett’s younger daughter pouted, bright blue eyes pleading. She and Grace were the carbon copies of Rhett. Same eyes, same nose, same crooked smile. You could never say no to them.

“Of course. But don’t tell your dad,” you whispered, placing your finger to your lips like it was a top secret.

The girls helped you finish the food just as Rhett came in from another long day of herding and branding cattle. He was dusty, covered in dirt and sweat and tendrils of his hair stuck to his forehead, the ends curling up. You wanted to run your fingers through it, sweat be damned.

“Daddy!” “Daddy, look at what we made!”

The girls ran towards Rhett, pausing when they got close enough to smell him.

“You stink,” Grace commented flatly.

“Thanks. Love you too. Listen, I’m gonna go shower and I’ll be down in a bit. You all can start without me,” Rhett said as he kicked his boots off by the door and took the stairs two at a time. “Oh, and Tilly?” He called from the upstairs landing.

“Yeah?”

“I gotta ask you something later. Don’t let me forget.”

You just nodded, stomach turning at the thought of what it could be.

Grace and Ellie helped you set the table, always eager to follow your every move. It makes you smile. Sometimes you felt like an actual family. And then you had to bring yourself back to reality. Just the nanny. Nothing more. Dinner was quiet, everyone was hungry and occupied with getting their bellies full.

You were resting on the couch as Rhett finished bath and bed time with the girls, trying to read your latest book but your mind was going a thousand miles a minute. Your heart started to beat faster as you heard Rhett descend down the stairs.

Rhett took himself to the kitchen, busying himself by pouring a glass of whiskey. A bottle you bought for him for Christmas the year prior. You peeked at him over the top of your book, watching his back muscles flex in the tight black tee he wore. Your mouth watered at the sight of his strong arms and his soft stomach as he turned to face you.

You quickly raised the book above your eyes, fearing that you had been caught staring. You missed Rhett’s knowing smirk.

“Move over,” Rhett poked at the bottom of your foot, the motion tickling you ever so slightly and causing you to jerk your leg towards you. “What are you reading? New dirty novel?” He teased.

“No…” you said quietly, a little shamefully.

“Liar. Is this one better than the last at least?”

“So far. Hey, what did you want to ask me earlier?” You stretched your legs back out and they landed in Rhett’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind. His unoccupied hand landed on your shin, calloused thumb lightly brushing the bone there. Your mind went blank and you could hear nothing but static in your ears.

“I got invited to this rancher’s event. They want me to give a speech. Stupid, but I agreed. And I… I need a plus one. And I figured maybe if you wanted to-“

“Yes!” You said eagerly, spine straightening. “I mean- sorry- go ahead…” Your cheeks felt hot at your abruptness. He was probably going to ask you to set him up with someone. Probably Lisa, Ellie’s dance teacher. She always had her eye on him.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me. Give you a break. It’s the weekend my parents wanted to take the girls camping. That is.. if you didn’t have any plans…”

Rhett sounded nervous. He was looking down at where his hand rested on your leg, avoiding all eye contact.

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t have anything going on. I’ll go with you. As-“

“Friends, of course.”

“Right. Friends. What’s the dress code?” You asked, heart sinking slightly.

“Black tie,” Rhett grumbled. He hated dressing up. If he can’t wear flannel, he doesn’t want to be there.

“Perfect. I’ll find a dress to wear.”

“Well. I’ll leave you to the reading. Goodnight, Tilly.” Rhett tapped your leg a couple of times before moving you so he could stand.

You sighed deeply as he left the room, trying to ignore the gut wrenching feeling you had at his response. You couldn’t focus on your book and you eventually went upstairs to attempt to sleep.

“I want you so bad,” Rhett growled against your neck, teeth sinking into your skin causing you to whimper and arch against him. His leg was in between yours, keeping your thighs separated and your barely covered cunt brush against his suit pants. “You’re fucking soaked, sweet girl. You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?”

“Rhett, please!” You whined pathetically, grinding down on his thigh, searching for any sort of relief.

“Beg for it, baby. Beg for daddy. Tell me what you want.” Rhett said, voice low and gravelly. He pressed you into the wall harder, flexing his thigh as you keened. “I know you want me to fu-“

“Tillyyyyyy, wake uppppp,” a tiny voice called from the other side of the door. Your eyes shot open so fast it made your head spin. Your entire body was hot even though you just had the sheet covering you and the ceiling fan was on. You were having a dream about Rhett. A fucking wet dream. And now Ellie was yelling at you in the hallway. You felt like you were being punished.

You checked your phone. 5:37am. Jesus, why was she awake?

“I’m up, El. Hold your horses.” You went to the en-suite bathroom to splash cold water on your face. “Get yourself together. Now,” you said through gritted teeth, pointing a finger at yourself in the mirror.

The four-year-old stood outside your door with her stuffed horse tucked under her arms. Her eyes were a little red and she was sniffling.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I feel sick,” she whispered weakly, clutching the horse to her chest tighter.

“Come on, bug. I’ll get you some medicine.”

You picked her up and perched her on your hip as you carried her down the stairs. Her forehead felt a little warm. She sat patiently on the counter while you poured the medicine in the little cup and you rubbed her back as she swallowed it.

“Good job, El! I’m proud of you. Here, drink some water and let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded as she took a big gulp of water from her sippy cup. You trotted back up the stairs, bouncing her slightly to make her giggle.

“Alright, you got your water here and Honey is right here with you. Try to get some sleep, bug. I’ll fix pancakes when you wake up.” You tucked Ellie in, kissing her forehead before you stood up.

Her eyes were already heavy and she mumbled something you couldn’t hear.

“What was that?”

“Luh you, mama.” She repeated sleepily, snuggling her horse and then started snoring softly immediately.

“Oh… I- I love you too, bug.”

You didn’t know how to react. She had never called you that before and it made your eyes misty with tears. You couldn’t go back to sleep. Not after the dream and not after Ellie calling you mama.

The next few hours went by in a blur. You had planned to go shopping with your friend Tabitha to find your dress for the dinner. After dropping the girls off at school, you met Tabitha at the mall. You were in a daze, barely listening to her rant about her latest failed Tinder date.

“Hellooooo,” she snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, sorry. No, I’m just- I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sighed as you placed your face in your hands.

“What do you mean?”

“With Rhett! It’s like- why am I going to this dinner? Why do I keep torturing myself? And Ellie! She called me her mom this morning! I want a family and I feel like I have it but it’s not really mine, you know?”

“You need to get laid. That’s what you need,” Tabitha said nonchalantly. She looked through the dresses on the rack in the store you were in. “Oh. My. God. This. This dress. Go try it on. NOW!”

She shoved a velvet dress into your arms and pushed you towards the fitting rooms. It was a deep green color, the fabric felt soft against your skin. It wasn’t a dress you would pick out for yourself but once you slid it over your head your jaw dropped at the sight in the mirror.

The bodice was a corset type, something you didn’t typically reach for but was pleasantly surprised at how it looked on you. The dress was form fitting but not uncomfortably so. The strap tied around your neck, lifting your chest and displaying the tops of your breasts tastefully.

The dress hugged your every curve, accentuating parts of your body you weren’t necessarily happy with, but now you felt sexy. Powerful. You opened the door and called for Tabitha. She came running with a few other options in her hands but her reaction matched your own as she laid eyes on you.

“Holy fuck. Yeah, no, forget these. You have to get that one. If he doesn’t fuck you, I will.”

You rolled her eyes at her antics and looked into the mirror once more. You felt so beautiful in the dress. It made you a little giddy at the thought of Rhett’s reaction. If he even had one. You tried to shake the negative thought away. If he didn’t appreciate it, someone else would. Maybe a nice cowboy who’d be down for a one night stand at a fancy hotel.

The week passed by in the blink of an eye and before you knew it, Rhett was packing the girls’ bags for their camping trip and was shouting up at you that he was going to pick up his suit in town from the tailor’s.

You took your time styling your hair the way you liked and you did your makeup, keeping it light but putting on a red lip. Just to be a little bold.

You hid in your room until you heard Rhett finish getting ready and head down the stairs.

“Tilly, you ready? We should leave so-“ Rhett stopped as he turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the wood. “Wow…” he breathed. “You look, ehem, you look nice. That’s a pretty dress.” He fiddled with his cuff links, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you,” you responded shyly. He held his arm out to escort you to the black pickup truck. The ride was silent except for the radio and the hum of the engine. You couldn’t stop from looking to Rhett. His hair was slicked back, the gray hair looked more prominent. His temples were nearly white. He had a shadow of stubble on his jaw and his suit fit him in all the right places.

You pulled up to a beautiful hotel. It was a grand building, accents of gold sparkled in the setting sun and gorgeous flowers lined the walkways. Rows of trucks indicated that you were at the right place. And the men in bolo ties and cowboy hats gave it away.

Rhett forwent his Stetson and chose a sleek black tie, looking a little out of place but you thought he looked beautiful.

He parked and inhaled deeply, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and closing his eyes.

“Everything okay?” You questioned, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his forearm.

“Huh? Yeah. M’good. Just nervous. I can’t stand half the people in that room,” he mumbled, smiling softly at you. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You’ll do great. I can fake an emergency if needed.”

“Fall down the stairs if I give you a look,” Rhett joked.

“You got it, boss,” you winked at him. You reached for the door handle, preparing to get out of the truck but his hand on your arm now stopped you.

“Wait… I have something for you. A token of appreciation for coming with me. Also, an early birthday present.”

Rhett pulled a long, rectangular box from the side of the door. He opened it to show a diamond bracelet.

“Rhett- that’s- I can’t-“ You couldn’t stop from reaching out and running your fingers along the jewels.

“You deserve it. You work so hard and I don’t say it enough but you mean a lot to me. To the girls. Just wanted to give you something nice,” he said, voice a little shaky.

Something shifted as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist. His touch lingered on your skin and it was hard for you to breathe. You tried so hard to keep things professional, but it’s changed. Everything has changed in the cab of Rhett’s truck.

You headed inside, arm linked with Rhett’s as he greeted the people inside. He was so charismatic, putting on a face you’d never seen before. It was sexy. He was controlling the room. Everyone loved him.

You could feel eyes following you as you walked towards the front of the ballroom. You heard a few whispers from the older women, surely gossiping about the obvious age gap between you and your employer.

“I’m gonna grab some drinks. You gonna be okay here?” Rhett whispered in your ear, his warm breath washing over your skin and sending a chill down your spine.

“I’ll be good. Can you get me a Long Island?”

“Of course. Be right back.” He hurried off towards the bar, getting stopped several times along the way. You felt like a fish out of water here. You chewed on your thumb nail, anxiously waiting for Rhett to come back.

“I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen,” a voice said from behind you. You turned to see the chair to your right being pulled away and a young man, around your age, sat down beside you. His black cowboy hat hid his eyes but he had a wide smirk on his face.

“I bet you’ve said that at least ten times tonight,” you responded, trying to ignore him.

“Name’s Wes. And you are-“

“Not interested. Beat it, buddy,” Rhett growled as he sat your drinks down and sat on the other side of you, wrapping his arm around the back of your chair possessively.

“I see how it is. Rhett… good to see you.”

Rhett hummed as he glared at Wes over the rim of his glass, silently willing him to scram. It was hot.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“He’s trouble,” Rhett mumbled.

The evening went on without a hitch. Dinner was decent and you joined in on a few conversations. Rhett’s speech was wonderful and informative about the cattle business. He looked good on stage but you knew he was nervous. He made his way back to you, smiling slightly.

“Come dance with me, honey,” he spoke lowly.

“Let me go freshen up a bit,” you squeaked, rushing to the bathroom. Your nerves were getting the best of you. It was just a dance. A quick dance and you’d be heading home. Nothing more.

You made your way back to the ballroom, catching Rhett’s eyes and you trembled slightly at the heat that formed there. A slow song started just as you made your way to the dance floor.

His large hand engulfed yours as his other splayed on the low of your back. You could smell his cologne as he pulled you close to him. You felt a piece of paper in your right palm as Rhett swayed the two of you around.

“What’s that?”

“You can read it when we’re done dancin’,” Rhett drawled, looking down at you. Even with you in heels, his frame still towered over you.

The song ended too quickly for your liking and Rhett was called over to a table filled with older gentlemen, leaving you standing in the middle of the floor. The crumpled napkin had been left in your hand and you spread it out to read the note.

Meet me at the staircase by the piano - R

You gasped slightly and looked around, meeting Rhett’s eyes as he chatted with the group he was with. He was expressionless but there was a fire in his eyes again. One that made your body react and you tried not to squeeze your thighs together in front of everyone there. You made your way back to your table to drink the rest of your drink, a little liquid courage, before you made your way to the staircase.

You stood there for what felt like ages but in reality was only a few minutes. You bounced on your feet, nerves building every second that passed.

“Hey, you,” Rhett’s voice called from behind you, approaching you with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” you responded, feeling awkward.

Rhett pulled a key from his pocket. A hotel room key. Room 475 engraved in the key tag.

“You can say no. You can tell me to fuck off. You can quit-“

“Yes,” the answer came without a beat.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his thin lips.

“You have no idea how bad I want you, Rhett,” you confessed, breathless.

Rhett let out a desperate noise as he reached for you and crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head. You moaned wantonly as his tongue expertly licked into your mouth. You should go upstairs, should stop before anyone sees you.

“Rhett, we should- we need to-“

“Yeah… Yeah.”

His hand linked with yours as he pulled you to the elevator, not wasting time pushing you inside and against the wall, the railing digging into your lower spine a bit uncomfortably. His lips reconnected with yours, a low grunt escaping his throat.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered, lips barely leaving yours. Hands explored your body, gripping at your soft hips and thighs, circling around to grab handfuls of your ass. The touch caused you to arch your body towards his, back bowing as he traveled higher and started palming your breast.

“I’ve thought about this - thought about you - for longer than I’d like to admit,” Rhett spoke, deep voice rattling in his chest. “Makes me feel like a dirty old man.”

You just whined pathetically, gripping at his lapels to anchor yourself. You were about to grind against the thigh that had pushed its way between your thighs but the high pitched ding of the elevator caused you to jump apart. Moving so fast, you would have thought you had been electrocuted.

A little old lady walked into the elevator, not missing the way you and Rhett looked disheveled. It was blatantly obvious what you were just doing. Rhett cracked a smile at her, nodding his head in her direction. Your chest was still heaving and your knees felt shaky.

She only went up two floors, a quick ride that felt like an eternity. Rhett’s pinky brushed against your hand where it rested on the rail, the small touch sending shocks through you.

“Have a nice evenin, ma’am,” Rhett said sickeningly sweet and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh at the look she threw his way as she exited the lift.

Your stop was next and nerves bubbled in your stomach at what was about to happen.

Silence surrounded you and Rhett now as you walked to the room. Not a word was spoken as he unlocked the door and made his way inside. You stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, wringing your hands together as you looked toward the wooden floor.

Rhett tossed his jacket haphazardly onto the floor, approaching you slowly. Giving you the chance to run. It reminded you of a lion stalking a gazelle before it pounced. His calloused hands rubbed the length of your arms before his touch brushed the side of your neck, eventually cupping your face. A rough thumb caressed your cheekbone.

“Darlin’, look at me. Please,” Rhett spoke quietly, as if not to scare you. You continued to look down, which caused him to pinch your chin and lift your gaze to him. “Are you sure about this? We can- we don’t have to-“

“No. No, I want to. I have for a while. A long, long while.”

“Good,” he said, coming out an octave lower and his eyes landed on your red covered lips. His thumb ran across the pout of your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “I want to devour you.”

A shaky breath escaped you before you wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking softly on the digit.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

You stood there for a moment, his thumb in your mouth and your eyes locked on each other. It made tensions rise tenfold. You pulled away with a ‘pop’, a trail of saliva following in its wake.

Impatience got the best of you as you started clawing at his tie and shirt buttons, nearly sending them flying through the room. Rhett chuckled at your huffy breaths of frustration as you yanked on his clothing. You threw the tie behind you, his shirt was shoved off his shoulder and into the chair next to the door. His belt made a loud clink as it hit the window.

“Easy, girl. Don’t destroy the room. Or my clothes,” Rhett teased, stopping your hasty movements. You finally took the chance to pause and look at the man standing before you. Hairy chest on full display. The dark hair traveled down in a continuous line all the way down to the waist of his pants. His soft stomach and love handles made your mouth water.

“You’re so- fuck, Rhett. You’re so sexy,” you said.

“My turn.” He untied the neck of your dress slowly, taking his time pulling the bow loose. He turned you so your back was to him, unzipping you unhurriedly. You let the dress fall to your feet as you turned to face him again, leaving you in your lingerie and high heels.

“My god. Look at you.” Rhett took in the sight of you. Black lace left little to the imagination.

Things moved in a blur after that. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you tried to remove the heels and he almost ripped your bra as he unclasped it with one hand. He tossed it aside and you tried not to giggle as it landed on the lampshade of the lamp that sat on the bedside table.

The edge of the bed knocked against the back of your knees as he pushed you softly so you landed on your back, bouncing on the mattress slightly. He stood between your spread thighs, undoing the button of his slack and pushing them down, revealing the tight black boxers he wore underneath.

You let out a quiet whine as your eyes traveled down his torso and stopping at the large bulge that was confined by the cotton. Even in the low lighting, you could see a small wet spot from the precum.

Large hands massaged your inner thighs as he spread them apart even farther, causing a slight burn in your muscles. He groaned at the sight of your barely clothed cunt. Rhett fell to his knees swiftly and delved into you without warning. Expert licks moved against your wetness through the thin lace, which had been quickly ripped away. His nose bumped against your bundle of nerves as his tongue explored your folds.

His long fingers soon joined his ministrations, finding that spongy spot inside of you in a matter of seconds. You’d question how he did that later. As of now, you tried to control your shaking limbs as he pushed you higher and higher towards your peak. Scratchy stubble rubbed against you, causing a delicious burn.

He stuck true to his word and devoured you, not leaving one part of you undiscovered.

Rhett’s lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking softly, tongue flicking against the bud. You trembled beneath him and your back bowed off the mattress, bucking against his mouth. A strong arm slung itself over your middle, keeping you pinned to the bed.

Your hands gripped his locks tightly, tugging hard when his tongue sped up.

“Rhett. Oh, Rhett. Fuck. Daddy!” It didn’t take much for your moans to become near screams and for galaxies to explode behind your eyelids as you came against Rhett’s face. Your body was jerking involuntarily as you traveled down from your high. Rhett placed feather light kisses against you before pulling away, hair sticking up in places and his face covered in your release.

He traveled up your body and kissed you soundly, the tangy taste of your desire mixing with something so Rhett made you both moan into each other’s mouths.

“Lay back, sweetheart. Gonna take care of you,” Rhett said quietly. You made yourself comfortable against the soft pillows as Rhett stretched you in preparation for his cock. “Damn pillow princess,” he joked. It made you smile.

He had three thick fingers inside of you before you stopped him.

“Stop! Please! I- I wanna come with you inside me,” you pleaded, gripping his wrist. He nodded and pulled his fingers out fleetingly.

You blindly shoved at his boxers and he clumsily kicked them off the end of the bed, his hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. Fuck, he was big.

Rhett pulled back and sat on his knees, gripping the base of his dick and placing it on your stomach.

“Look, baby. You think you can take me? Think you can handle daddy’s cock?”

“Please! Please, fuck me. Need it. Need you. Please!” You begged, lifting your hips and causing the leaking head to brush against your already sensitive clit. You simultaneously let out a loud moan. He rubbed himself through your folds, teasing you and him both.

“Wait, hold on.” Rhett pulled away and searched for his trousers, pulling his wallet out and rummaging through it. He pulled out a foil wrapper and ripped it with his teeth. You had never seen anything sexier.

“Can I do it?” You asked shyly, propping yourself up on your elbows. He handed the condom to you and kept eye contact as you rolled the latex down his length carefully. He was heavy in your hand.

You laid back once more, a trembling breath escaping your mouth as he lined up with your entrance. Even with his prepping, it was still a stretch. The slight burn caused you to hiss and dig your nails into his biceps. He took a break between each inch, time passing slowly as he made small thrusts. He eventually bottomed out, a broken moan coming from his chest as you squeezed around his length.

You stayed like that for a moment, both breathing heavily as his forearms caged you in.

“Daddy. Move. Please,” you whined, fingers moving tangle in the curls at the base of his neck. He slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, before thrusting back into you, the girth and length of him touching places you’d never been able to reach before. It started slow, he was allowing you to get accustomed to him.

However, it didn’t take long before his thrusts became a little rougher. His hands now were placed a the top of your head as he put his body weight into his movements, grunts escaping him with each pass, your high pitched breaths matching him.

“So tight. Taking me so well. Like you were fucking made for it. Made for me. All mine, all mine,” Rhett rambled. The headboard started to smack against the wall slightly as he pounded into you. You couldn’t breathe. You were approaching a feeling you had never felt before. Your brain was becoming fuzzy and your ears were beginning to ring.

“Da-daddy. M’gonna- I’m almost there,” you squealed as a particularly harsh thrust hit your g-spot.

“C’mon, sweet baby. Come for daddy,” his deft fingers started rubbing your swollen clit in tight circles and you let out a scream as your release washed over you. Rhett continued fucking into you until he pushed deep inside you and threw his head back towards the ceiling, filling the condom with his own release.

He collapsed on top of you, full body weight covering you like a blanket. You felt like were floating. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed against Rhett’s back, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. You stayed silent for a while, both trying to catch your breaths as you came down. He eventually pulled out of you slowly, causing you to wince. He discarded the condom and went to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth and a glass of water.

You were quiet as he took care of you, smiling softly as he pulled you to sit up and take a few sips of water. You had never been cared for like this after sex. It made your chest constrict. You moved under the covers and waited for Rhett to follow suit. He immediately pressed his warm body against your own, pulling you tight to his chest.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you said with a slight giggle.

“I can’t believe it took us this long,” Rhett retorted, fingers dancing along your spine.

You both laughed a little before it fell silent once again.

“Rhett?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“What does this make us?” You asked as you ran your fingers through the thick chest hair.

“Well… I think this means you’ll be sleeping in my bed when we get home. But don’t call HR on me.”

“You are HR, Rhett. Seriously, though. Are we like-“

“I want you to be my girl. I have spent the past several months falling in love with you. And I know it’s soon, but damn it, darlin’. You’ve stolen my heart,” Rhett confessed, his words causing your eyes to well with tears.

“Rhett… I- I love you, too.”

“The girls are going to be excited. They’ve been begging me to ask you to be my girlfriend since you moved in.”

“They’re trouble, I swear,” you laughed, snuggling closer to your man.

“They’re the reason I have all of this gray hair.”

“Yeah, but it’s hot. Very… very… very hot,” you responded, emphasizing the T. You giggled as he rolled over on top of you and started kissing against your neck playfully.

You kissed each other softly in the dark until you fell asleep holding each other tight. And when the sun rose in the morning, a new beginning would be awaiting you.

tagging those who may be interested:

@ryebecca @whisperofsong @floydsmuse @laracrofted @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @bobfloydsbabe @callsign-magnolia @attapullman

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott au #dilf rhett 4 ever <3 #rhett x babysitter #rhett abbott fanfic

611 notes · View notes

milfjuulpod · 6 months

Text

I Bet On Losing Dogs

after realizing your feelings for Melissa, you stop putting yourself in the position to be hurt over and over again.

content warnings: angst, eventual comfort, mentions of alcohol

A/N: heyyyy…so this was more of a therapy session for me so ignore how sad it is lol

It was your first open house at Abbott Elementary when you realized the feelings you had for Melissa were more than friendly. Throughout your second year at the school, the redhead and you became closer than ever. The first year was cordial between the two of you, but upon seeing you return for another go at the underfunded school, Melissa’s view on you changed from just another newbie to someone who might mean something. You took advantage of that change, taking up on her offers to help you with planning or grading after school, listening to her few open moments about her personal life with all the attention you had. There was something about the older woman that drew you to her, a constant need to be in her presence. To learn from her, to make memories, to exist in her world. You chalked it up to being impressed, wanting to be mentored. Until she started acting friendly, giving you space to learn about who Melissa was, not just Ms. Schemmenti. She felt like a breath of fresh air and the strongest of drugs all rolled up with a red ribbon tying it together.

It was when you sat and watched Melissa play Jacob in poker it hit you. It wasn’t wanting to learn, or wanting to be friends, you wanted her. She sat smugly as she threw down her cards, beating Jacob after she had just lost to him. “So, we’re tied. Dealbreaker?” She asked her opponent. Upon his agreement, she started shuffling cards for the third time. Without looking up, she called to you. “Hey hon? Could you go grab my purse for me? I’m gonna need to put all this cash away after I win, again.” It was small, but for some reason, it awoke something deep inside. The pet name slipping from her mouth, the fact she knew that you knew where her belongings were, and the way she trusted you with it. It felt domestic and familiar, and you wanted more.

It was the wanting of more that killed you, knowing she would never feel the same. At first, it was easy to ignore the sadness that came with the euphoria of being around her, her attention was worth the pain. Shortly after that moment in the break room, your view on every interaction changed. Did she notice the way your cheeks flushed at the slightest touch? The way you held on to her every word? Now that you were aware of your feelings, they only grew stronger by each passing day. Which meant everything Melissa said or did, was taken a lot more seriously. You barely survived the day Gary first came into the break room, the way he looked at her and talked to her. Most importantly, the way she ate it up. She seemed to love this attention from a new person, taking all of it in. As if you didn’t do everything she asked, and even things she didn’t. It hurt, more than words could describe. But you couldn’t act out, of course not. So you swallowed the anxiety and sadness that washed over you every time he came in.

And yet, you always came back. The minute her attention was back to you, it was like nothing bad had ever happened, she made it all worth it. Every moment of melancholy, she could take it away, despite being the reason for it all. You knew that she was hurting you, even though she didn’t mean to. She would never do something on purpose to hurt you, which made all the pain even worse. She cared so deeply for you, just not the way you wanted. For whatever reason, you continued down this path. Romanticizing every interaction together, every time she called you hon or love, you told yourself maybe it meant just as much to her as it did to you. Until she didn’t give you what you wanted, and the vicious cycle continued.

The wake up call could not have come sooner. After a Friday spent practically alone, you had a breaking point. Melissa didn’t stop by your classroom at all that day, when usually she would check in multiple times with you. At lunch, she spent the whole time working, shooting you a text letting you know she wasn’t coming to the breakroom. You opted to stay in too. You were happy she was able to spend some time working, always admiring the dedication she had for this job. But after her unusual absence in the morning, it hurt a little more than usual.

When she left with a simple “See you later, kid,” you knew it was time to create some distance. For whatever reason, it felt like your heart was breaking (the reason was love, of course). You had become so used to Melissa’s constant attention that the moment you didn’t have it, it was like the world came crashing down. Maybe it would be easier if she knew how you felt, if you could just tell her everything that’s been going on inside your head the past few months. Except it wasn’t that simple. The fear that she wouldn’t return the immense feelings, or laugh, or stop talking to you all together, it was too much. And it stopped you from ever opening your mouth about it.

The pain had begun to override the love you felt, and you were tired of letting yourself go back to such a dark place. So after the boring Friday without much from Melissa, you decided to skip your weekly wine night with her. Every Saturday night, Melissa would cook for the two of you, and she would task you with picking a wine for the evening. You felt like a coward sending the text saying you couldn’t make it, but it was better than confronting your feelings. Her response made it even worse.

I understand hon, take it easy tonight. But I will miss you.

That cancellation was the first of many. Day after day, and week after week, you pulled back from Melissa. The two of you went from being inseparable to you avoiding her at all costs, even if it meant taking hours to respond to her texts.

It was stupid to think she wouldn’t notice. Sitting on the couch with a near empty bottle of wine, you felt your phone buzz.

You’re not coming tonight, are you?

You stared at the screen, Melissa’s name at the top, rereading her message over and over again.

Not tonight, I’m sorry.

You half expected her to respond with care, or maybe anger. But when an hour went by and she still hadn’t answered, you knew she was upset. What you didn’t expect, however, was a rather aggressive knock at the door. Standing up from the couch, you realized opening the second bottle of wine might not have been the best idea. Opening the door, there she was.

“What the hell is going on with you? What did I do?” Melissa asked as soon as she saw you, voice filled with so many emotions. You were surprised to see her so emotional.

“Hello to you too, Mel.” You teased, hoping to lighten the situation. It didn’t work.

“You don’t get a hello, and don’t call me that. You have been hurting my feelings repeatedly and I still don’t know what I did. Every day and night I think about the last time we hung out and what I could have done to make you hate me so much.” Somewhere in her speech, the redhead walked past you and was now pacing in your living room.

You felt awful. In the midst of distancing yourself for the sake of your own emotions, you completely disregarded hers.

“I don’t hate you, Melissa. I…I don’t know…”

“Yes you do. You don’t pull away for no reason. Is this the wine we were supposed to have tonight? You don’t do that for no reason either.” She gestured to the empty bottle on the table. Her voice was loud and angry, but you could read on her face how hurt and sad she was by all of this.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I had to pull away it’s-it’s too much. You’re too much. My feelings for you are too much and it’s suffocating and as much as I love spending time with you it hurts too much now. I can’t do it Melissa.”

“Can’t do what?” She asked, slowly stepping towards you. At the same time, your words that just left your mouth came back to your brain, and you felt sick. But you were in deep waters already with her, might as well sink.

“I can’t be around you knowing you look at me differently than how I look at you.” Melissa didn’t answer to that, so you continued. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, you’re so kind to me and sweet but at the same time the strongest person I know. I admire everything you do. I love you.”

“I love you too, but-”

“No, Melissa. I love you.”

You watched as the gears turned in her head, but quickly looked away. Tears began filling your eyes and despite not facing her, you were worried she would see. You felt arms wrap themselves around your torso and the scent of perfume engulfed you. For a single moment things were okay, until you remembered who it was. You tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let you, instead, she turned you around to face her. To your surprise, her eyes were watery as well.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She said so quietly you could barely hear, but her arms still held you so closely you were able to understand.

“I didn’t know how you would feel, I was terrified to lose you. So I just did it myself. I’m sorry. I was scared of what you would say.”

“I would say I love you too.” Melissa responded, louder this time, so you would absolutely hear her. You were silent, still unsure of what was happening. As if she could read your mind, she rolled her eyes and smirked. “Oh my god, just come here.” That was the last thing you heard before you felt soft lips on your own.

She kissed you like her life depended on it, and she tasted exactly how you imagined. Not wanting to push it, she pulled back. “You taste like wine,” she smiled. “I love you,” you replied. That made her laugh, and it was so lovely to hear that sound again. “We’ve established that. And we’ve established I love you too, hon. Y’know we could’ve avoided all of this had you just told me.”

“You could’ve told me too, Mel.” You giggled, feeling silly that this whole time, you could’ve been with her instead of avoiding her. “I thought you knew, you think I treat anyone else like I treat you?”

“What about Gary?” You nervously asked.

“What about him? He’s a flirt, and you were avoiding me. You are the only one I want that attention from.” She erased those negative thoughts from your head immediately.

“Good, I know it’s late but, can we still have dinner?”

“Of course, I would love to. But I think you’ve had enough wine for the night.” She smirked, and pulled you with her into your kitchen to start cooking.

#abbott elementary fics #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #wlw #reader fic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti

520 notes · View notes

spoilmesweetieforficssake · 2 months

Note

hi hi hi!! I love your fics so much and i don't know if you're still taking requests but if you are could you write a Melissa x reader where the reader is madly in love with Melissa and everyone kind of knows except for Mel. And when Mel starts flirting with Gary reader starts going on random dates to try and get over Mel, but Mel gets jealous and hates every person that reader tries to date. And their friendship gets all angsty but they of course end up happily together and everyone at Abbott is like "finally took you two long enough"

I feel like saying this has taken forever isn't actually an exaggeration - but better late than never! I hope after all this time that this is at least close to what you were looking for. I admit though, I got a bit indecisive with the ending, so there are actually two and you can pick which you prefer.!

Melissa and Gary are a thing, and you hate it. Worse, you hate that you hate it. You want to be happy for her, you really do, but you can’t help the way your heart clenches painfully every time you hear her talk about what she and Gary are doing together, or apparently the nausea that comes with seeing them together.

Still, you weren’t raised without manners and in love with your friend though you may be, you are Melissa’s friend first and foremost. So you slap on a smile and endure the looks of sympathy from your colleagues.

When you start to distance yourself it’s not because you don’t want to spend time with the redhead, but as an act of self-preservation. Your little Abbott family, who were annoyingly quick to pick up on the fact you were in love with the red head, are also quick to pick up on the shift.

Barb is the first to say something out loud, offering to set you up with a nice girl she knows. It’s unexpected and takes you by surprise. “Thanks, Barb. It’s really sweet of you but I’m not looking for anything serious just now.”

You miss the daggers being aimed at the kindergarten teacher behind your head and in making a break for the coffee machine you also miss the older woman’s raised eyebrow in response to a certain red head.

“So, how many matches did we get?” asks Jacob like it’s some kind of team game, as he comes into the break room to find you on your phone.

It had been games night the night before, but the board game had ended up set aside and Jacob and Janine got you set up on Tinder. Melissa suddenly becomes very interested in your phone screen over your shoulder.

“You really think you need an app to get a date?”

“Well we can’t all have our other halves roll in with our favourite drinks, can we?” you quip, ignoring her jibe. You keep your eyes on your phone, all too aware of the silence that has fallen over the breakroom at your comment.

You jump as Melissa suddenly leans over your shoulder, swiping at your screen.

“She’s too old for you.”

You turn to look at the red head with a raised eyebrow. “Actually, I set the age range myself, so she’d have been just the right age.”

She huffs and you turn back to your phone, and if you swipe with a little more vigour than before, well, it’s certainly not to prove a point.

You manage to set up a couple of dates via the app, but they’re terrible. What you hoped could be a chance to blow of a little steam ends of being up being a few awkward drinks with people who are more interested in their image and talking about themselves than anything else.

Not that you tell that to Melissa. No, as far as she’s aware the string of dates you’ve on have been great.

“Yeah, that’s why you keep going on new ones,” she quips one day.

“I didn’t say I planned on marrying these people,” you huff. “But it’s not illegal to want a little fun!”

Melissa snorts. “You’re not that shallow,” she smirks as she passes you on her way out of the room.

You lay your head on the table, groaning.

“Those dates that bad, huh?”

Your head flies up at the words, eyes wide as you take in Ava pouring a liberal amount of sugar into her coffee. Had she been there the whole time? “They’ve not been great,” you admit. “I don’t tend to well on dates when I’ve never really met the person, never mind barely messaged them,” you admit.

Ava cocks her head to the side. “You let Tweedledumb and Tweedleditzy set up that account, didn’t you?”

You nod, not quite sure where she’s going with this.

“Yeah, you ain’t gonna get dates who just want to do the dirty and not expect breakfast in the morning with something they set up.” She slides into the seat opposite you and holds out her hand. “I can fix that. Gimme your phone.”

She rolls her eyes as you flinch back. “You know what? Forget that stupid app. I’ll get you a date. You’ll love this one. Trust me.”

You’re not entirely convinced you do as she waggles her eyebrows playfully at you, but surely anything has to be better than the dates you’ve recently been on?

You walk in to the bar and for a moment you think that Ava has somehow set you up with Melissa. The red hair catches you attention first, the feminine curves a quick second, but then you realise the hair is not quite the right colour, the curves less pronounced. The description of the outfit matches though so after taking a moment to compose yourself, you make your way over and say hi.

Blue eyes meet yours as she stands and the woman takes a moment to look you up and down as you squirm under the attention. How people can do anything other than blush and stutter under the scrutiny of a beautiful woman you’re not sure. One thing you do know though, is that this woman is indeed beautiful.

“Ava said you might be a little nervous, so got you a drink.”

You thank her, taking a sip only to realise that Ava must have also told the woman what you drank. Your second sip turns more into a gulp as you proceed to down the drink. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Could at least have asked your name before I downed the drink you bought me.”

She smiles at your embarrassment, extending a hand. “Joanne,” she offers. “Jo, if I decide I like you.”

“Here’s hoping,” you smile back, shaking the offered hand.

It’s going well, you realise. The conversation is flowing between you and can’t deny she’s attractive. She seems to like what she sees too if her flirting and casual touches are anything to go by. There’s just one problem. There’s another red head on your mind and you can’t help but compare the two.

Joanne seems to feel your hesitancy. “It’s fine,” she says, her smile turning gentle as she places a hand on your arm. “Ava suggested you might be a little emotionally unavailable, but it’s been a while since I had a date with a cute girl, so I figured what’s the harm?”

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head.

“Don’t be,” smiles the red head. “Look, we’re here, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“You don’t deserve that,” you say, shaking your head.

Joanne merely smirks. “You’re buying the drinks.”

There’s something about her easy manner that puts you at ease. You look up at her, waiting patiently for you to speak. Ava had clearly told her more than your favourite tipple.

“What’s her name?” she asks.

You feel your cheeks heat up. Here you are, sitting on a date with a beautiful, interesting, apparently endlessly patient woman, and she’s asking about her. “Melissa,” you say in all but a whisper.

“Let me guess,” smirks the other woman. “Red head, my kinda age?”

Your blush only deepens.

Joanne chuckles. “Ava ain’t subtle, honey. But you know you gotta move on before your little heart breaks even more.”

The hand that had been resting on your arm moves to cup your cheek as she leans in to kiss you. It’s nice. It’s really nice. And for a moment, you find you’re not thinking about Melissa.

“Well fuck,” sighs Melissa, halting in her steps. She stands, unable to look away as she sees you in the bar, clearly on a date. For a moment, she’s not sure what to do. She had been on her way to your apartment, but she can hardly interrupt your night now. “What a shitty end to a shitty night,” she breathes, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets as she turns on her heel and heads home, her steps much less determined than they had been.

When Monday rolls around you’re in a better mood than you’ve been in a while. To your surprise, you actually enjoyed Ava’s date. She was good company, and after you were honest with her, it turned out she was also rather good at giving advice. The advice being that you should be the friend you’ve always been to Melissa, after all, it’s not the red head’s fault you fell in love with her. The kissing and light making out was just a bonus, really. A little fun never hurt, after all.

Melissa, however, isn’t quite so bright come Monday. She’s quiet, distracted and when you finally ask what’s wrong at lunch, she just shakes her head and leaves the room. You look to Barb, hoping she’ll take pity and at least cast a little light on the situation.

“She and Gary broke up,” she tells you quietly, her voice low to keep the other’s from hearing.

“Oh,” you breathe. You’re not quite sure what to say to that.

At the end of the day, you look up from your tidying to find Melissa loitering in your doorway. “Hey,” you say by way of greeting. “Barb told me,” you tell her, offering a sad smile. “Sorry to hear.”

She shrugs. “I think I knew it was coming…just, didn’t expect it to happen the way it did.”

You watch as she comes to sit on the edge of your desk. “Saw you out on your date on Saturday. Was actually on my way to yours.”

“Oh,” you say, your cheeks heating up. “Yeah, Ava set me up. She was great but we’re not taking it any further. Or at least, it’s nothing serious.”

“But you looked like you were having a good time, and she…”

You shake your head. “I was…it was…Gary’s an ass by the way, for leaving you,” is what finally comes out.

“Actually, Gary isn’t an ass” she sighs. “Gary called it quits because he asked me if I’d ever say yes if he asked me the question…and I told him I couldn’t.” She drops her gaze, hanging her head. “He knew it wasn’t just my past that meant I couldn’t say yes. He knew my heart wasn’t in it…”

You start putting two and two together and getting dangerously close to four. Gary broke up with Melissa because she wouldn’t say yes to that question. Because her heart wasn’t in it.

“Why did Ava set you up with that woman?” asks Melissa, still not looking up.

Unable to properly see her face, hidden as it is by her hair, you can’t read her expression as you’d like to. Your next words feel important thought. “Ava knows my type.”

Melissa nods, her eyes still on the floor. “Why ain’t you gonna see that woman again?” This time she does look up. “You looked like you were actually enjoying yourself.”

“I was,” you admit. There’s no point lying. She saw you, probably smiling and laughing. “Ava set me up with her because she knew I’d find her attractive. But she also told her I might be a bit hung up on someone else, so that night, when you saw me with her, I was probably talking about you.”

“You were talking about me, with her, while she was kissing you?”

That comment lets you place when Melissa would have walked by. You nod. “When you saw me, that was probably right around the time she told me I should think about moving on if I didn’t want to break my own heart even more.”

Melissa stands and is in front of you before either of you can think. She looks at you for what feels like forever, green eyes searching your face, for what you don’t know. She reaches up to touch your face and you close your eyes on instinct, gasping at the featherlight touch of her lips against yours. Covering the hand on your face with your own, you open your eyes as she pulls back. “I can’t do this if your heart’s not in it.”

“What if it is?”

* Ava

“Well I was gonna ask how you enjoyed my date but I guess I got my answer.”

The pair of you jump at the sound of Ava’s voice.

“About damn time you two got your shit together. If I’d knows all it would take to get you with this spicy white was to put another firecracker in front of you I’d have done it months ago!” She claps her hands excitedly. “Oh this is too good to keep!” She disappears from the doorway, only for her head to pop back around a moment later. “Just no funny business in front of the kids. But what happens in the supply closet stays in the supply closet,” she grins, waggling her eyebrows at the pair of you. With that, she leaves you, the sound of her heels echoing along the hallway.

“Ava!” scolds Melissa, thinking she’s going to have to take disinfectant wipes the next time she ventures into the supply closet. With Ava, there’s no guessing what level of depravity the room has been subjected to.

You know your cheeks are beet red, and you hide your face against Melissa’s shoulder.

“This isn’t exactly how I saw this going,” admits the red head.

Raising your head, you look up at her with hopeful eyes. “But you saw it going somewhere?”

She shrugs. “You seem keen on going on all these dates, how about one with me?”

Biting your lip, you take a moment to just look at her; the slightly shy expression, the twinkle in her eye. Nodding, you lean in to kiss her once more.

“You know I almost didn’t believe her.”

You pull apart to see Barb in the doorway.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “Anyone else wanna come and watch?”

A moment later Janine’s head appears around the doorframe, Jacob close behind.

“Seriously?” snaps the red head, hands on her hips.

Ava returns, a wide grin plastered on her face. “They wanted to come and confirm before I collected my winnings.”

“Winnings?” asks Melissa, eyebrow raised and tone bordering on dangerous.

“Hand it over people,” smirks Ava, hand extended.

“Oh hell no!” The red head snaps into action, heading for the group. “You did not bet on me!” She snatches the notes from Ava’s outstretched hand. “You bet on my happiness I’m sure you won’t mind if this goes towards it! Y/N? Let’s go!”

You look at the hand being held out towards you and are quick to hoist your bag onto your shoulder and follow her. You duck your head and blush under everyone’s gaze but can’t help but grin as your hand settles in her own.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” calls Ava.

The group watches you both go, Melissa rolling her eyes at the hollering they let out as she puts a possessive arm around your waist.

* Barb *

If Barb notices that Melissa is unusually reserved as they order their drinks she says nothing of it. Truth be told, she had only suggested the meal to make sure Melissa wasn’t left sitting in the house on her own on a Friday night, or worse, going out to the bars on her own in search of some company for the night.

“There’s something I gotta tell you,” says the red head, setting down the menu wasn’t even reading.

“You’re not getting back together with him, are you?” asks the Kindergarten teacher.

“What? No! No, I…that’s over and it’s for the best,” replies Melissa. “No, the night Gary broke up with me, I ended up going for a walk to clear my head and ended up heading to Y/N’s apartment, except I didn’t quite make it there,” she admits. “I saw her out on that date Ava set her up on.” She sighs, wishing she had waited for their drinks to have arrived. “And it made me feel…”

“Jealous?” Barb ventures.

Melissa looks up, meeting her friend’s eyes. “I guess that covers it, yeah.” Taking a deep breath, she pushes on. “Anyway, I spoke to her on Monday about it…and I might have kissed her.” Admission made, she looks away, pleased to see the waiter arriving with their drinks. She doesn’t even let him put it on the table before she takes it and raises it to her lips. It’s only when she finally sets her cocktail glass down, half empty, that she dares to look at her friend once more.

What she sees is a gentle smile.

“Took you long enough.”

“What?” she asks, a frown creasing her features.

“You have liked that girl since before Gary was even on the scene,” says Barb.

Melisa’s frown only deepens. “Then why did you push me, literally may I add, in his direction?”

At this, Barb’s smile falters. “I hoped it might make you realise how you felt about her.”

The red head lets out a huff, reaching for her glass once more. “Well that went well, didn’t it?”

“It wasn’t my finest moment”, admits the older woman. “But maybe it’s all finally working out in the end?”

Melissa fidgets with her straw. “So you don’t think she’s too young? Too…”

Reaching out, Barb places a gentle hand on her friend’s arm. “I think she’s in love with you, and I think you like her, a lot.”

Cheeks pinking, Melissa puts down her glass. “I do. A lot. A helluva lot.”

Knowing it says something in itself the fact the red head isn’t making a joke, but rather admitting how she feels, Barb knows this is the real deal. She knows if this goes South that hearts will be well and truly broken, but she’s seen the two of you together. You work well together. There’s a quiet in you that balances out the boisterousness of Melissa. A steadiness that although she won’t admit it, the red head craves.

“I think you could be good for each other,” she says softly. “And no, I don’t think she’s too anything.”

#melissa x reader #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader

240 notes · View notes

missesnott · 16 days

Text

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together | Theodore Nott X Fem. Hufflepuf Reader

—> Part 2 of "Last Kiss''.

•Summary: Some weeks after starting to get over Theodore, he comes up to you and says he wants to get back together.

•Song: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together, by Taylor Swift.

Two weeks had went by, since you made the decision of getting over Theodore. It wasn't going bad, since you didn't looked at him when you both had the same classes, you didn't care that he had a new girlfriend or anything that anyone could say that might had pissed you.

"So, is it really over between you and Nott...?" Hannah Abbott, one of your friends, asks you.

"Yeah, I'm getting over him. It's weirdly working." you say, having another bite of your dinner.

"Well, I though that you both looked so cute together!" Susan Bones replies.

"Me too, but, he literally switched you for another girl. He's a coward. I'm happy you're doing alright" a brunette said, giving you a warm smile.

You and the trio continued to talk, when you notice a certain slytherin looking straight at you. You looked at him, seeing his sad expression, but ignored. You had nothing to do with him.

A few moments later, the girl he switched you for walks right by you. She also seemed sad, maybe they had gone into a fight.

You and your friends finish having dinner and leave the Great Hall.

"I have to grab some books at the library for tomorrow, I'll you in some minutes!" you warned, waving them a quick goodbye and walking to the library, praying for it to not be closed. Thankfully, it wasn't, so you walked in.

Taking slow steps searching for the two books you needed, carefully watching the shelves, you hear a noise behind you. You slowly look back and see Theodore.

"Hello." he said on a low tone.

"What do you want Theodore?" you asked not giving him much attention.

"You used to call me Theo." he pointed.

"Used to. What do you want?" you crossed your arms, looking at him.

"Let's get back together. You and me. We're great, you know? We made a great couple..."

"Uh, no thanks." you said with a smile and walked over to the next shelf.

"Come on! Think about everything we were and went through. Do you wanna throw that away?" he looks at you, grabbing your wrist softly, with a look you knew damn well. His manipulation look.

"You threw everything we had and will ever have since you broke up with me. You switched me for that Ravenclaw girl, you broke up with her and you think that I will accept you back. Well, I won't." you pushed him slightly away so he could stay back but he didn't.

"Y/n, I love you. I love you so much." he looked at you, grabbing your wrist again, pulling you close. "Let's get back together..."

"I don't know... No. We are never getting back together, like ever!" you pulled your wrist away from him and walked away. Luckily you already had your books, so you just left to your dorm, leaving a specheless Theo beside you.

[...]

You walk to your dorm and you open the door carefully so you wouldn't wake up the other girls. As soon as you enter they turn their heads to you.

"Y/n, are you alright? We saw Theo going after you, but you were both far away." Susan stats.

"Did he talk to you?!"

"Yes, Hannah, he did. He asked me to get together with him again." you answered while taking your shoes off and placing the books on a table near.

"And?!"

"And I said no. I didn't accept him back."

The girls smiled at you and pulled you to bed waiting for you to spell out all the details.

4th post! I don't have many ideas on how to make the scavenger hunt one, but I'll come up with something, don't worry 💗

#tumblr fyp #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #lorenzo zurzolo #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #fypツ #fypシ #fypage #fyp #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #louis patridge

87 notes · View notes

aspirationalpeony · 5 months

Text

Quit Playin' Games (With My Heart)

Summary: While you're trying to puzzle out the mysterious Ms. Schemmenti, Janine invites you to a dinner party--at Melissa's house. Board games, bonding, and lasagna... What could go wrong? (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.) Content Warnings: A brief paragraph discussing homophobia. AO3 Link

Does Melissa Schemmenti like you?

You've got everyone else figured out. Janine would befriend an electrical pole if it had a smiley face stapled to it; Jacob befriends anyone Janine befriends. Gregory stays a little aloof, but he's been warming up the more you show him your LEGO sets. Barbara--well, she sees you as another one of the kids, you think, but you know she appreciates your self-sufficiency, tolerates you with a smile when you're in the conversation. And Ava is... Ava.

Melissa? Who knows? She called you by the wrong name the first month you were at Abbott, knowingly, watching your face with a wry twist to her mouth, waiting for you to take the bait. When you didn't, you earned your name back. She started making dry comments to you, like "You got enough glitter glue there, Martha Stewart?" as you passed her in the hall, arms full of art supplies. She saw you struggling with the copy machine one day and said, "Here," giving it a swift kick that brought it wheezing to life, but followed up with, "Thought your generation was good with tech. What do we keep you around for, huh?"

After those backhands you'd be in a spin, wondering and confused; then later that day or the day after she'd say something else, like, "Hey, not bad, shortstop," when you got something off a high shelf for her (why shortstop when you’re taller than her? Reverse psychology?), or "Good job on lunch duty. They didn't kill ya," and you'd go warm all over and your confusion would deepen and all you would think was: does she like me or not?

You’re just not sure. So you try not to listen the day they’re all in the break room, talking about a party at Melissa’s house. You can’t help but overhear snatches—Janine insisting she’ll bring lasagna, Jacob saying he’ll do dessert, Melissa saying “oh, brother” and Barbara assuring her gently, a smile in her voice, “And I’ll bring the wine”—but you keep your head down over your lunch and turn the page of your lesson plan and ignore them until Janine realizes, suddenly, that the room isn’t empty, that you’re at the table just next to them, and burbles, “Hey, you should come, too!”

Your eyes go to Melissa right away. She glances up over her cat-eye glasses and her look is inscrutable.

“Oh,” you say, “um, I don’t know. I have, like, a thing—“

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Janine says. “We’ll eat some amazing food—“ she flicks a curl over her shoulder, playing at an Ava-like preen—“we’ll play board games, we’ll bond…”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding!” Janine looks imploringly at her friends. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Melissa says at last, still looking at you. Your heart thumps. “You should come.”

And that’s how you end up here: Melissa’s house. You crossed the welcome mat reading GO AWAY, a cheesecake in your hands, and tried not to make it obvious how badly you wanted to stare around yourself, scrutinize every photo and every piece of furniture, trying to get a window onto this woman you can’t figure out. Everyone’s piled onto the couch or onto chairs, plastic creaking under them as they lean forward to the table to swipe a snack or their glass of wine, and there’s an open box, a few stacks of cards.

“I found this amazing get-to-know-you game,” Janine declares, sliding down to sit on Mel’s carpeted floor. “So, you spin the spinner, right, and whatever it lands on, you take a card with the same color, and then you ask the question that’s on it, and everybody answers, and—“

“How do you win?” Melissa says. She’s holding a glass of wine, its rim printed with her pink lipstick. She’s got her hair in a ponytail that leaves lots of little curls hanging everywhere. She’s wearing a tank top. These details feel incredibly important; you try not to think about them.

“Oh, uh…” Janine frowns at the instruction booklet. “I don’t think you win.”

“What’s the point of a game if nobody wins?” Melissa leans over to the coffee table, grabs a grape off a serving plate, pops it into her mouth. She glances over at Barbara, who’s perched very straight-backed in a plastic-covered armchair, nursing a little bit of wine.

“I, for one,” Jacob says, “think competition is over-valued in our society. American individualism—"

“Just spin it, Janine,” Barbara says.

Beaming at the approval of her mentor, Janine spins. She plucks a blue card: “What’s your favorite sexual—“ her eyes widen. “Uh.”

“Oh, this just got interestin’,” Melissa says, and sits up straighter.

“Let me take another one.” Janine puts that card aside. “Have you ever had a threes—okay, no. Are they all like this?”

Gregory, a silent presence sitting stiffly alongside Janine, turns over a card from the green and red piles. He reads one: “How do you like your partner to style their pubic hair?” Then, the red: “Confess to a sexual fantasy you’ve had about… A member of the group.” The questions sound even more bizarre in his level voice, although his lifted eyebrows and widened eyes telegraph his discomfort. His gaze darts to Janine, then away.

“Janine, what’s the name of this game, please,” Barbara says, looking as though she’s one syllable from combustion.

Janine lifts the lid of the box. “Adult Dinner Party. But I thought, you know, adult dinner party, a classy kind of—oh.”

Jacob picks up a blue card gingerly and turns it over. “Have you ever had sex in a public place?”

“I have,” you say. Every face in the room turns toward you. Your cheeks heat. Your eyes flicker between each incredulous look. “What? We’re supposed to answer them, aren’t we?”

“This just got interestin’,” Melissa repeats. There’s a strange look on her face, not quite amusement; you wonder if it’s respect. “Me, too.”

“Melissa!” Barbara gasps.

“What? You never got fingered in a dark ride at an amusement park?”

Barbara stands up with her wine and walks out of the room, muttering to herself. Glances pass between the rest of you. The corner of Melissa’s mouth curves up. “Spin again,” she says.

The next few questions are mercifully tamer: do you think French kissing is overrated, what’s one thing you’ll never do for a partner? More wine is poured, Melissa going around and topping off each glass, saying to Gregory and Janine, “Lighten up a little, will you?” Eventually she comes to sit on the floor with everyone else, four people around the coffee table. She’s picked a spot right at your side, your knees bumping, thighs aligned.

“Is Barbara okay?” you ask. You can smell her perfume; it’s spicy and floral and it makes you feel tipsier than you are.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Melissa says. “You don’t wanna know how many of my parties she’s walked out of. Hey, Barb!” She bellows it close to your ear, making you wince; it’s followed by a twinge of peculiar affection that so much volume can come from one little woman. “Check the lasagna, will ya!”

There’s an indistinct answer from the other room, full of barely-contained irritation. Melissa slugs back another swallow of wine as Jacob flicks the spinner.

He draws a card and reads, “Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? Oh, well—obviously.”

Gregory and Janine shake their heads.

Melissa says, “Listen, what happens in cheer squad stays in cheer squad, alright,” to scandalized gasps from her audience. She looks at you. “How about you? No girls, huh?”

You’re arrested by her green gaze so close, the wine on her breath, the question itself. You start to tell her, yes, plenty of girls, but you’re blushing again, embarrassed, all your bravado from earlier draining away into the floorboards.

“Here,” she says, and leans in. You register the thought Holy shit in the moment before her lips touch yours. Her nose brushes your cheek. Her mouth is very soft and a hot breath puffs over you in the instant before she delicately parts her lips and you feel the sweet flick of her tongue. She leans back again. “Now you’ve kissed a girl.”

“Melissa!” Janine says, outraged, bewildered.

“I bet Ava would have come, if she’d known it was this kind of party,” Jacob mumbles to the bowl of pretzels in front of him.

“I’m going to go check on Barbara,” Gregory says, his shellshocked eyes firmly on the ground as he gets up.

“Hey, I’ll come with you,” Janine says, all nerves, “maybe the lasagna needs more parm,” and scrambles up after him.

Melissa’s pouring herself the last of the wine. She’s smiling to herself. You don’t get it: what was that for? Was it bait, like your name, like the ribbing comments, trying to get a rise out of you? Or maybe just out of the people around you—trying to be the most shocking in the room? You stare, trying to read the look of satisfaction on her face.

"I'll--the bathroom," you say, and get to your feet. "'Scuse me."

You've got kind of an idea where it is. The problem, you realize, is that you have to cut through the kitchen to get there. It's savory-smelling, rich with tomato scent, and full of furious whispering that dies instantly as you cross the threshold; Janine, intently grating parmigiano into a bowl, gives you a guilty look as Gregory quickly parts from her side. Barbara is at the island counter, maybe only half-participating, but she looks at you, too, and you know they've told her.

You feel it all over again: these are people who've had years to get to know each other. Who are you to them? Not really a friend, just a colleague, half-acquaintance. You're the new invitee, the odd one out, and even though it was Melissa that kissed you, you'll be the one who gets the blame for the ruined party, the awkwardness now swamping Mel's rowhouse. Your gut clenches. "Excuse me," you repeat and dart past them to the bathroom.

You run cold water from the tap and stick your wrists underneath the faucet, like you've got heatstroke. You wet your hands and press them to your cheeks, your neck, your nape, trying to quiet your thumping heart. You look in the mirror: there's a glazed look in your eye; you're conscious your lips are tingling. Why'd she do that?

You've been played with by straight women before. Not always out of conscious cruelty: some women, you've realized, are hungry for a kind of attraction that doesn't have fear and imbalance, and they can't always have that with men. They want to be wanted by someone they think won't hurt them, and they pick you--never thinking about what it does to your heart; never imagining that desire for a woman can be real, that it can mean anything to anyone.

Is that Melissa? She said that thing about the cheer squad. If she likes women, too, why would she mess with you? If she thinks you're straight, is she just trying to shock, the way she did Barb with that dirty answer about fingering, needling at what she thinks are your reservations and limitations? Because that's what she does, what she's been doing. Poking and poking, trying to get a rise. Should you have shouted? Should you have cried? What would satisfy her?

"Melissa Ann Schemmenti," you hear Barb say from the kitchen, muffled on the other side of the door. You freeze a moment, heart pounding all over again, then turn the water down to a trickle and inch toward the door, leaning closer. All you can hear are bits and pieces of what must be a thunderous lecture: "That girl... Well, I won't... You know that... Sweet, but... Learn to behave."

There's a sulky rumble in Mel's voice in answer.

You're going to have to go out there eventually. You listen a few more seconds, but if there's footsteps of people dispersing, or more conversation as they linger, you can't hear it. You resign yourself, turn off the water, dry off your hands. You give your cheeks a last press with your cold fingers, trying to ground yourself. You'll go out there and pretend it didn't happen. You'll make it through the night and see what happens tomorrow. That's all you can do.

Of course, you go out into the kitchen, and everyone else is gone, and Melissa's there.

She's frowning deeply and scrupulously wrapping the parmigiano in plastic. She says something under her breath; you catch a Sicilian curse and a "kids don't know..." When she hears the bathroom door click, her head goes up, and there's a moment, her eyes meeting yours, where she looks as nervous as you feel. She looks back down at the cheese, tightly sealing and wrapping its edges, then crosses to the big stainless fridge to put it away.

"Guess I scared you back there," she says. There's a challenge in her voice. Suddenly, your fear and loneliness uncoil; they spool out into anger. It's one thing to mess with you in words. You could call that friendliness, call it teasing. It's not fair to mess with you like this.

"You didn't scare me," you say. Your voice is stronger than you expected. Not loud, but sure. "I've kissed more girls than a cheer squad."

"Huh, look at you," Melissa says, "big player."

"What is your problem with me?"

The question catches her in the act of moving to the oven. She looks sharply at you--then away. There's something strangely un-Melissa about the act. She fiddles with the oven dial, then leans her hip against the counter and folds her arms over her chest. "Hon, if I had a problem with you, you'd know."

"Then what the hell was that?" You catch yourself starting to cross your arms, to mirror her, and lower them to your sides, where your hands clench tightly.

"I kissed ya." She lifts her chin and looks at you. "What, you didn't like it?"

Your anger wobbles; the question stumps you. "It--that doesn't--look, you've been doing this all year. Pushing me around. I don't get it. I didn't do anything to you. Maybe you think I'm annoying, or stupid, or--"

"Pushing you around?" Mel moves closer. Her voice gets a little tighter, a little louder. Her eyes glitter with challenge. "I invited you to my house."

"Yeah, you invited Jacob and Janine to your house, too."

"I don't like them the way I like you," she says, and freezes. You have a sense she's blurted something she didn't mean to say. It's stopped her right in the tracks of what she might have made an argument, draining the confidence out of her posture.

Your heart is thundering in your ears again. You replay that delicate, barely-there kiss: her face leaning toward yours, spicy scent of her perfume, wine on her breath, her green eyes, her soft, hot mouth. Her tongue. "What?" you say.

Her mouth twists. There's something faintly absurd about it, how it turns a grown woman toddleresque, and you get another pang of that strange affection from before, when she yelled right in your ear. It's strong enough to filter through your anger.

She shifts from foot to foot. With her shoes off in her own home, she suddenly looks half her usual height. Fondness washes against you. "Look," she says, "I'm forget-about-it years older'n you and I don't have time to play games, so--"

"This isn't playing games?"

She ducks her chin toward her chest. It's another gesture that's strangely unlike her. You hear Barbara's voice in your head: Melissa Ann Schemmenti... Learn to behave.

You move closer again. Her eyes flick up to yours and there's a sulky defiance in them, even when they drop briefly to your lips.

"Is this..." You don't know how to ask it. How do you ask Melissa Schemmenti do you want me in her own kitchen? "Melissa, what do you want?"

"C'mere," she says. She takes your chin in her grasp and brings you closer and kisses you again.

Wine, perfume, her skin. This time, it's not some playful schoolgirl thing. You can feel intention behind the slow press of her lips against yours. She lets it linger for a second, two, then leans back, looking into your eyes.

Whatever she sees has her turning you, your back against the counter, a hard line of granite. This time, you lean forward into her kiss. Her body presses into yours, all hips, soft belly, breasts. Her hands bracket your body against the edge of the countertop. Her way of deepening the kiss is to nip your lower lip and make you gasp, so that her tongue can flick into your mouth, brushing against yours and sending tingling ripples through your whole body.

You cup her jaw. She’s so, so warm. You slide a hand back and brush some of those loose, careless locks of red hair behind her ear. You kiss her and kiss her; when your tongue teases against hers, deliberately now, she makes a sound like a whimper that you feel head to toe, like a current of lightning passing through you, dispersing into the ground.

“So,” she says, with you securely pinned, flushed, breathing hard, “what do you think?”

What do you think? You go back in for another kiss. She chuckles against your mouth and can barely kiss you back for her smug smile. This time, it’s your kiss, not hers, and you explore exactly how you want to: sucking and nibbling her lower lip, licking into her mouth, your hands dropping to her waist, pulling her against you. She melts into you, and there’s a thunderous sense of power and desire in you, tied to how her arms come up to loop around your neck, how her spine softens and her body sways into yours.

When you’ve got your breath back, you ask her, “Should we go back out there?” You know you have to, but you don’t know how you’ll manage it. You’re sure you have this moment written all over your face, glassy-eyed and out of breath. Melissa does, too: her lipstick is smeared. “Maybe in a few minutes?”

“I think,” she says, “I should kick all of ‘em outta here, and you’n’me keep the game and the lasagna, and we have some fun.” Her hand drops, intervening between your body and the counter so she can firmly grab your ass. You squeak. “Huh?”

“I—I think that would be pretty rude.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” she says, though she doesn’t let go of your ass. “And they planned this whole thing for us, so…”

“Wait—” you lean back a little to get a clear picture of her face. “What?”

“Janine’s idea,” she says. “I found out after they invited you. They knew I thought you were cute—“

“You told them that?”

“Course I didn’t,” Melissa says, “I look like somebody who goes splashin’ their business everywhere? ‘Specially where Janine can hear it? I’ll tell you about what she did to me’n my sister some time. They figured it out on their own. I mighta been lookin’ at your ass at work.” She gives it a pinch.

“So the board game…” You frown.

“I think that was an accident for real.” Her face pinches in a frown. “‘Magine Janine tryin’ to get us to talk dirty to each other out there?” The frown vanishes and the leer she gives you makes you feel very, very naked. “We could talk dirty in here, if you wanna.”

“Okay,” you say, “I think we have to go serve dinner.” If you let her keep going, you don’t know if you’ll have the will to stop her. You hear the next thought in her voice: What? You never got fingered in a kitchen with all your coworkers right outside? “Wait—“ your brow creases. “Did Barbara seriously go along with this?”

Melissa clears her throat. “She didn’t know at first—and then, I wanted her here, y’know, in case, uh…”

“Things went badly?” you supply. Melissa pinks. You smile at the sweet strangeness of it. “Were you guys going to drink a bottle of wine so you could… Mope about me?”

“I wasn’t gonna mope about ya,” Mel says, “because I knew you weren’t gonna turn me down, and you’d be an idiot if you did, so.”

“I would,” you agree, and have to go back in for another kiss, two, three. “I would be an idiot,” you murmur against her.

“Okay,” she says when you can finally stop kissing her, “okay.” She gives your ass a slap that makes you gasp. Her eyes narrow, cataloguing that response, and her smirk, of course, resurfaces. “You take the lasagna out of the oven. I gotta fix my lipstick.” She steps away, and pauses. “You might wanna…” She gestures to her mouth.

You rub your tingling lips and your fingers come away with the pink of her lipstick. Your face heats.

“Or keep it,” Melissa says, “looks good on you,” and she gives a preening toss of her high ponytail as she turns away to the bathroom.

You watch her go, her hips swaying as she moves. You have a sense of the world tilted on its axis: all that teasing and game-playing—because she likes you? More than likes you—wants you? Janine inviting you, Jacob and Gregory playing along—because they really do care? Barbara scolding Melissa in this kitchen—because she wants her best friend to treat you right?

You find a napkin and scrub the lipstick off your mouth. Each step you take across the kitchen feels like levitation, an inch or two above the floor. You check the lasagna. There’s two: one big lasagna, and another small, plain one for Gregory. You lift each casserole dish out of the oven, and they smell better than ever in a house full of friends.

You cross to the doorway and peek out into the living room. “Lasagna’s ready,” you say to the four faces that turn to yours, and you know you’re smiling like an idiot, but you can’t help it.

Janine bounces up. “I can’t wait for you to tryyyy itttttt,” she sing-songs. “I learned from the best!”

Barbara passes you to find plates and ready the table. She gives your arm a little pat as she goes—the first time she’s ever touched you. You feel a Janine-like burst of effervescence at the thought that Melissa’s best friend approves.

Melissa reappears. She picks up a cutter for each lasagna, an armful of cloth napkins, another bottle of wine. Jacob and Gregory gather the glasses from the coffee table. You stick your hands back into the oven mitts to carry each dish in.

As everybody gets settled in, pulling out chairs, Janine proudly adding her bowl of grated parmigiano to the table (“just in case!” she burbles), you catch Melissa’s eye. She’s looking at you, a soft fondness in the gaze; the tender creases at the corners of her eyes make your chest squeeze around your heart, which feels three, four times as large as it was before.

“What do you think?” you ask the table. “Should we bring over the cards?”

Your friends laugh. Barbara shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Melissa Schemmenti, looking at you, smiles.

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

Author's Note:

My next fic was intended to be a sadder hurt/comfort fic, but I received the following prompt from @morgana-larkin:

I love your first fic and I wanted to know if you could do one more on the fun side. Where the whole group goes to either Melissa or reader’s place for game night and they all end up playing truth or dare while drunk and someone dares one of them to kiss the other. Then after everyone leaves the two of them end up admitting their feelings. Thank you!

I did make some tweaks to the premise to suit my storytelling style, which I hope is okay. I did my best to honor this fun and lovely prompt. Thank you so much!

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader

322 notes · View notes

delopsia · 7 months

Text

Please [Rewrite] | Rhett Abbott x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...so that's how it's going to be.

Alright, two can play this game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can't stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But oh, is it difficult.

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

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

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

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

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

...oh, what the hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...except he's not looking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it's almost you.

God, it's almost you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pictures.

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

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

He's cracking.

You're cracking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, she did.

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

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

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

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

You're going to have technical difficulties.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Five seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

There he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is too perfect to be true.

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

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

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

Curious, you tilt your head, "hm?"

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

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

His Adam's apple bobs.

...maybe this will convince him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eyelashes flutter. Incredulous. "Huh?"

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

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

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

But you're not moving.

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

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

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

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

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

"Please fuck me."

Not another word needs to be said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he doesn't.

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

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

You don't know how it happens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that's alright.

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

But oh, when you do.

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

187 notes · View notes

major-mads · 2 months

Text

Chapter 7: Lucky 25

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: please comment or reblog and tell us what you think!! thanks for reading!! <3

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 11k

Thursday, September 16th: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich: 1300 HRS: 1 PM

Hope’s back ached as she bent over her old Singer sewing machine, silk fabric sliding effortlessly as the needle punched thread through it. Silk was hard to come by with rationing, and there was no way, even with Hugh’s help, that she could afford a new wedding dress. Luckily for her, Frank had a knack for making things disappear from the storeroom on base and later making them reappear in the girls' hut.

Ruth hummed Artie Shaw out of tune from behind her as the blonde cut out more fabric from the pattern, laying the pieces of cloth over the tissue paper cutouts. Tatty and Helen hand-sewed small pieces of lace together, just some odd cuts they’d gotten from the local fabric shop.

The girls worked hard all afternoon, measuring, cutting, and sewing. The dress was coming along nicely, and with only three weeks to go until the big day, Hope was anxious to get it finished in time.

The Singer buzzed along nicely as three familiar heads poked around the nissen hut door.

“Knock, knock,” Hugh called out, stepping inside, his hands on his hips as he assessed the girl's work. Gale and John followed him closely.

“You guys can’t be in here,” Helen scolded.

“It’s bad luck to see the dress before the wedding, Cleven,” Tatty hissed, marching over to the men. “You better get going before…”

“My dear Tatty, don’t be so defensive, I merely come to offer my services,” Hugh bowed dramatically.

Hope snickered, all too aware of Hugh’s sewing skills, “I don’t think your skills are required here, Hugh. You’re not really one for a needle and thread.”

Hugh scrunched his face up at her just like he’d done since they were children, and before he could throw out any more ridiculous ideas, Gale stepped forward.

“I don’t want to cause trouble, I merely want to spend some time with my girl,” Gale smiled charmingly at Tatty who moved aside.

“No wonder Hope can never say no to you, Major. That damn smile.”

Gale made his way across the room just as Hope finished covering the dress with a sheet. “Hello darling,” he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Hope stood up, pressing her lips against his again, smiling into his touch.

“Tatty, come on,” John all but whined, pointing into the hut while Tatty stood firm on the doorstep. “It’s me.”

“And that is exactly why I’m not letting you in. You’d get your grubby mitts all over the dress.”

“I wouldn’t dare! Please,” John clasped his hands together, looking rather sad and pathetic until Tatty sighed.

“Fine, but one step out of line, Major, and you’re out.”

John moved past Tatty towards Ruth who was still sitting on the floor, surrounded by a collection of differently shaped pieces of silk.

“Never knew you were such a seamstress,” he grinned, kissing her gently and enjoying the familiar blush that crept across her pale cheeks.

“Well, I’m a woman of many talents,” Ruth retorted, grinning up at the Major.

“That you are.”

“Hugh, put that fabric down now,” Hope hissed, moving away from Gale’s arms to scold her brother, smacking his arm until he released the precious fabric. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a hold of this?”

“It’s just some silk, I’m sure any white fabric would do,” Hugh replied nonchalantly, pushing the reeling of cotton across Helen’s desk and glancing awkwardly around the room as it fell to the floor.

Hope sighed, “Hugh, for once in your life, please just be serious and stop acting like a child. It’s for my wedding day. Please don’t mess this up for me.”

Hope loved her brother dearly, but sometimes it felt like she had to do all the work in their relationship.

Hugh nodded apologetically, “I will. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your big day, Little Bird.” Hope smiled at her childhood nickname, it had been a long time since he’d called her that. “But is there anything I can help with?”

“Yes, there is,” Helen grabbed ahold of Gale and John’s sleeves, marching them towards Hugh, “You can take these two and keep them out of trouble until this evening.”

“Oh, come on, we just got here,” John groaned, glancing at Ruth in the hope of some sympathy, but she just waved at him. Gale glanced around Helen, blowing a kiss in Hope’s direction before the three men descended from the hut.

“You ladies have fun now, we’ll see you later,” Hugh called out, slamming the door dramatically.

Helen turned back to the group, hurrying back to her spot beside Tatty, “I honestly don’t know how you’ve put up with Hugh for so long.”

“I didn’t have much choice,” Hope laughed, turning back to the sewing machine, “He’s my brother after all.”

A few moments passed until another knock sounded at the door, and Helen marched back over with a groan, slinging it open to reveal John leaning on the doorframe.

“What is it?”

He peered around the woman, his eyes falling on Ruth. “Can I get a kiss?”

“You just got one!” she giggled, rising to her feet and approaching the door. “You’re so needy.”

Helen moved out of the doorway, chuckling as Ruth rose on her tiptoes and quickly kissed John before pushing him out the door with a wink. “See you later, hotshot!”

As the door closed in his face, John couldn’t help but shake his head at Ruth, his heart racing at the mere sight of her. Buck clapped his shoulder and turned him toward the nearby mess hall where Hugh walked a few feet ahead of them. “You gonna tell her tonight?”

“If Dye gets back in one piece, I will,” Johnny nodded, scratching his mustache.

“He will.”

One Week Earlier: September 10: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base

The mess hall was unusually quiet as John and Gale sat eating their breakfast, having missed the morning rush by sleeping in an extra hour. They both laid awake the night before, their minds unable to shut off after the events of John’s party. Since they’d arrived, Bucky was silent, only speaking to thank the mess hall worker for his coffee.

Buck stared at him skeptically, taking in his slightly pursed lips and distant gaze that focused on the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. “I can hear the gears turning from here, John. What is it?”

A few beats passed until he spoke up, his eyes remaining on his food. “Ruth.”

“Hmm,” Gale nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “What about her?”

“Everything…I can’t get her off my mind, Buck. I don’t know what’s going on.”

‘I do,’ the younger man thought.

John shook his head with a sigh, his brow creasing as his conflicted gaze lifted from the table. “I can’t explain it.”

Gale put down his coffee cup and smiled softly at his friend. “I can…you love her.”

“I don’t know, Buck.”

“What don’t you know?” he asked as his brows furrowed. Gale saw the deep thought behind the Major’s eyes and realized the confident and boisterous John Egan was nowhere in sight. This Bucky was unsure of himself, facing emotions he’d never felt before. Buck’s voice softened as he continued. “What do you know?”

John raised a questioning brow and Gale leaned his elbows onto the table. “How do you feel around her?”

“I don’t-” Bucky frustratedly groaned, sitting back into his seat. ”I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Just try.”

Every moment he shared with Ruth replayed like a film in John’s mind as he tried to find the words to describe the way he felt.

“When I think about her,” he finally began, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It just…It just does somethin’ to me, Buck, and can’t think straight.”

Gale listened intently, nodding along as John continued, his voice growing softer.

“And after last night, how she did all that for me? I’ve never met anyone like her.” His brow creased in thought as he struggled to find his next words. “She’s…she’s-”

“Everything,” Buck finished, Hope’s smiling face forming in his mind.

Gale’s words hung in the air for a few moments as the Majors thought of their beloved nurses.

Bucky nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the window where the morning sun filtered through the glass, lighting up the mess hall in a golden glow. He took a deep breath as he finally came to terms with what he was feeling.

John Egan was in love.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “She’s everything.”

A knowing grin painted Gale’s face as he repeated his earlier statement. “You love her.”

“That how you feel about Hope?”

“Yeah, it is.”

As Buck’s words settled over them, John felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It was as if hearing the words out loud made them easier to grasp, and he couldn’t deny it any longer…he was in love with Ruth Morgan.

But even as the realization settled in, Bucky couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered in the back of his mind. This was a new territory for him, uncharted skies that both excited and terrified him. He’d always prided himself on his wild heart, but now he found himself willingly surrendering to feelings he’d managed to avoid for so long.

“You know,” Gale began, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “You should tell her. It’s pretty clear she feels the same way.”

“We said we’d take it slow.”

Cleven pushed his plate aside and leaned further over the table. “So? When have you ever been one to follow the rules?”

Finally, John’s serious expression faded and he shook his head with a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And when have you ever encouraged me to break them?”

“Today,” he shrugged. “But only cause you need an extra shove.”

“Should I get used to this new Buck?”

“Don’t count on it,” Gale smirked as he sat back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee.

1900 HRS: 7 PM

The lively sound of Glenn Miller filled the Officer’s Club as the band brought the hall to life. Couples jitterbugged and lindy-hopped across the dance floor, and happy conversation filled the air, including loud cackles and laughter from a table in the bar section where Hope and Ruth sat with their Majors. They were reminiscing about their time in San Angelo, Texas, with the girls’ under their arms and Hugh to the right of his sister.

Buck took a sip of his ginger beer with a raised brow. “Isn’t that where you picked up that damned jacket?”

“Sure is,” John replied and sucked his teeth. “My pride and joy.”

“So that’s where you got it,” Ruth giggled, shaking her head.

“Well,” he shrugged, holding a hand up defensively. “It was being discontinued, so I had no choice.”

Sitting up in his chair across from them, Hugh let out something between a chuckle and a scoff. “It was a choice, alright.”

Hope’s eyes met Ruth’s at the comment, waiting for a snarky comeback from the Major, but the blonde just patted John’s chest consolingly before he could respond. “It was being discontinued for a reason, John. Have you seen that thing?”

“Thank you. It always looks dirty,” Gale interjected as he smirked at John. “Seems Ruth is on my side for this one, Bucky.”

A giggle escaped Ruth’s lips and she sheepishly looked up at Johnny to see him already staring down at her, a playful frown on his lips a few inches away. “Say it isn’t true, Ruthie.”

“Sorry, hotshot,” she laughed, her eyes unable to resist flicking to his mouth at their close proximity. “Buck’s right, hon, but know you’re still my favorite Major.”

John’s frown faded and his lips curled into a mischievous grin as her laughter filled the air, and to his surprise, she leaned up and kissed him softly. Ruth pulled away after a moment with bright pink cheeks. The taste of her drink lingered on Bucky’s lips as his gaze locked with hers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His plans to finally tell her how he cared about her, how he loved her, flashed in the forefront of his mind. But even as he stared down at her smiling face and a wave of pure adoration washed over him, his stomach swirled with nervousness.

What if she thought it was too fast? Too soon? Too much?

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, John forced himself to look away and took a sip of his pint before turning to Hope and pointing at her across the table. “And whaddya think, Hope? About my jacket? It’s nice, right?”

The woman met Ruth’s lovesick eyes and chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen, but I prefer Gale’s.”

Gale smiled smugly, pressing his lips firmly to her forehead, “That’s my girl. Always knew you had good taste.”

“Well, of course, I do. I picked you didn’t I?” She grinned at him, leaning up to press her lips to his, smiling into the kiss.

“Well, that’s right. You sure a lady with a good eye,” Gale mused, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Gale,” she chuckled, feeling his breath tickling against her collarbone, while her fingers carded through his tousled, blond locks.

“Gaaaale,” John teased, dramatically drawing out the name with his eyes closed. “What kind of name is Gale, anyway?”

Hope’s eyes widened in amusement as Gale groaned beside her, having heard the joke a million times before. “Well, what kind of a name is Bucky?” she asked, tilting her head with a sarcastic grin. “Now Buck I can get because he’s a dashing young man, but Bucky? I don’t know…”

The group burst into laughter and John tried to send the woman a dirty look, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling into a smirk and joining in with them. Before long, he itched for a dance and stood to his feet, pulling Ruth toward the dance floor.

“I think it’s time for a dance, Ruthie.”

“Alright, I’m coming!” she giggled, sending Hope a wave as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides in her tight skirt.

The couple found themselves at the edge of the dancefloor, swaying hand in hand to the soft trumpet solo ringing through the hall. Ruth rested her head on John’s chest, calmed by the gentle thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear and his warmth as they danced.

She could’ve stayed there in that moment forever…just her and her hotshot…just her and the man she loved.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured against her hair, breaking the silence between them. “I know I told you earlier, but you do.”

Lifting her head from his chest, Ruth smiled sheepishly at him. “Thank you. I don’t normally wear my dress uniform, but-”

“Oh, I’m so glad you did.”

She raised an eyebrow and slid her hands around his neck. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a smirk, his eyes drifting down to her breast pocket area that proudly displayed her pair of wings and lieutenant’s bars. “I’m a sucker for a woman in uniform.”

“So I need to worry about the WACs?”

Bucky chuckled, tugging Ruth against him. “Don’t worry. You’ve got nothing to worry about, lieutenant.”

As the music swirled around them, John’s gaze softened as he looked into her deep blues. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers in a tender kiss. Ruth’s cheeks flushed pink as she returned it, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, melting into his embrace. She felt him smile against her lips and pulled back to get a good look at him.

“What are you smiling about, Major?” she joked.

Bucky wanted to say, ‘How much I love you,’ but anxiety churned in his stomach and he couldn’t go through with it.

“Just you.”

Rolling her eyes, Ruth pecked the corner of his lips before returning her head to its place on his chest. “I’m so happy for Gale and Hope.”

“Me too,” he replied, his eyes scanning the room for the couple. “Speaking of Buck…where is he?”

Ruth joined him looking for their friends, but she had no luck and wiggled her eyebrows at Bucky. “They’re probably having some alone time.”

He sent her a mischievous smirk, and she knew what he planned to do. “Leave ‘em be, Johnny,” she groaned, sighing as he pulled her along behind him toward the door. “Don’t bother them.”

“But it’s my job to bother Buck.”

Before Ruth could respond, he flung open the side door and stuck his head outside. By the wild grin on his face, she knew he’d found them. “Hey, Lovebirds! Hurry up, you're missing the party!”

“Five more minutes!” she heard Gale groan, and then John closed the door, a proud smirk hanging from his lips.

“You’re terrible.”

Bucky shot her a wink and led her back to their table, settling back into their seats as they saw Gale and Hope enter the hall and begin swaying slowly.

“Would you look at that?” John scoffed, sipping his pint and throwing an arm over the back of Ruth’s chair. “I’ve been trying to get Buck to dance for years and Hope did it in two months.”

The couple couldn’t help but watch their friends dance, both with lovesick smiles as they got lost in the song, spinning around the floor with a practiced grace that neither Ruth nor John expected.

Buck was good at dancing.

Their concentration on the couple was broken when yells echoed through the air. Following the sound, they saw Harry throw peanuts across the table into Hugh’s mouth, laughing hysterically as Hugh caught another one.

Ruth opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Hope beat her to it.

“I leave you two alone for all of five minutes and you wreak havoc,” Hope tutted, patting Harry on the head like a small child. “If you choke on all those nuts Hugh, I swear…”

A giggle escaped the blonde’s lips at the comment and John chuckled beside her.

“Alright mother,” Hugh laughed, throwing one of the nuts at his sister.

Hope and Gale took their seats beside Harry, settling easily beside each other with Gale’s hand draping lazily around her shoulder. The six of them fell into easy conversation, and soon, the table became more crowded when Veal, Crank, Brady, Blakely, and a few other airmen joined the group. Laughter and wisps of cigarette smoke filled the air as the men and the two nurses unwound, enjoying the company of friends.

Ruth remained tucked under Bucky’s arm, listening to yet another story from training in the States. This one was about a failed exercise where several forts experienced ‘equipment malfunctions’ and ‘discrepancies’ that forced them to land in or near the hometowns of family and girlfriends.

Crank grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, the Hundredth almost got canned after that.”

“And I got demoted for the first time,” John chimed as he thought about just how many times he’d changed commands over his time with the 100th.

Eyes widening in surprise, Ruth playfully smacked his chest. “For the first time? I thought you getting demoted back to Squadron CO only happened once?”

“It would’ve been three times if LeMay would have found him or Buck that day he came to base,” Kidd added.

Nudging Buck with her shoulder, Hope smirked. “And what about you, Gale?”

Gale shrugged as he hid a smirk behind his glass of ginger beer. “I don’t know why LeMay thought both of us were responsible for the ‘raunchy discipline’ on base.”

“So you’re sayin’ it was just me?” John asked with an incredulous grin.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I mean,” Benny started, trying to hold in a laugh as he rubbed Meatball’s head affectionately. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck tear up a bar with a narwhal tusk.”

Laughter erupted like a sudden burst of fireworks around the table, echoing around the lively room and drowning out the music.

Narrowing his eyes at them, John pointed around the table. “Technically, none of you dodos saw any of that!”

“We didn’t have to. We saw the aftermath,” Brady called out through his chuckles.

After a few moments, the laughter died down, and the large group broke into smaller conversations.

Gale spoke quietly to Benny as Hope whispered with Hugh, and Ruth listened as Jack shared more stories of John’s escapades back in the States. Before long, the two majors went at it as they often did, but Ruth’s attention was drawn away by Hugh and Hope slinking away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

‘This outta be good,’ she thought.

When the band slowly faded out, Ruth smirked, knowing what was most likely coming. She peered over at Gale, expecting him to be watching Hope, but he was engrossed in a conversation with Benny and didn’t seem to notice his fiancée’s absence from the seat beside him.

The band thrummed to life, music springing out across the room in a less-than-subtle fashion that had all heads turning toward the siblings. Then Gale’s eyes found Hope’s across the room and he did a double take, glancing back at her empty chair in confusion.

Ruth pointed at siblings, a wide smile painting her face as she whispered in John’s ear. “This is gonna be interesting. They both can sing.”

“Sparky? No way,” he griped with a grimace. “No way he’s got better pipes than me.”

Giggling, she patted his cheek lightly and turned back to the stage. “Just wait and see, hon.”

Hugh took his place in front of the microphone, encouraging Hope to do the same as he pressed his lips near the cool metal grille. The conductor gave them the queue, and she took a deep breath before singing into the microphone.

“One of our planes was missing, two hours overdue.

Yes, one of our planes was missing with all its gallant crew,

The radio sets were hummin', they waited for the word,

Then a voice broke through that hummin',

And this is what they heard!”

The song, rather aptly chosen by Hugh for Dye’s 25th mission, began to flow easily. Hugh joined in, belting out,

“Comin' in on a wing and a prayer!”

The second Hugh’s voice rang through the speakers, the skeptical smirk on John’s lips fell, and he raised a brow at Ruth, who just rolled her eyes at his reaction.

“I told you he was good.”

“I never said he was good,” he defended.

The corners of the blonde’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “You didn’t have to.”

Around them, some of the crowd began to join in, all looking at Dye whose cheeks were growing redder by the minute as he stood beside Lil, trying to shield his face.

“What a show (What a show),

What a fight (What a fight).”

The instrumental section began to play, and the couple watched as Hugh took Hope’s arm and spun her around in quick concession. A wide grin spread on Ruth’s face that matched her best friend’s on stage.

With her eyes glued on Hope, Ruth started to sing along. Her voice was slightly off-key, but she didn’t care, continuing to sing quietly where only John could hear. The man couldn’t look away from her smiling face as she sang. His gaze wandered over her face with a gentle intensity, watching how her lips moved, the slight quirk of her smile adding to her already breathtaking look.

“Yes, we really hit our target for tonight,

How we’ll sing as we limp through the air,

Look below, there’s a field over there.”

Ruth’s eyes flickered over to John and caught his gaze. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and she noticed the same vulnerable glint in his eyes as the night he told her of his past. She offered him a questioning look, silently asking what was on his mind.

Johnny’s mind raced as his lips parted slightly. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he sent her a small, reassuring smile and barely shook his head as if to say, ‘nothing.’

There was something in his eyes that Ruth couldn’t quite put it into words, but it made her heart flutter nonetheless. With a soft nod, she turned her attention back to the stage, her hand reaching for John’s beneath the table, intertwining their fingers gently.

The Major’s heart sank as Ruth turned away, his own hand squeezing hers softly in response. He cursed himself silently for his inability to tell her how he felt, and frustration bubbled up within him.

How many more opportunities would he let slip away without telling her the truth?

“With our full crew aboard,

And our trust in the Lord,

Comin’ in on a wing and a prayer.”

As the song came to a close, Hugh wrapped his arms around his sister, squeezing her hard before grasping her hand and pulling her down from the stage. Hope hopped down the best she could, ignoring the small ripping noise from her skirt that would surely be a problem later. Hugh had a little skip in his step as they made their way back to the table.

Hugh threw himself down into his chair, downing the last of his whiskey, while Hope took her seat beside Gale, his face still in awe and his lips turned upwards into the largest smile.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” He mumbled softly, kissing her cheek, letting the rough stubble on his chin graze against Hope’s cheek.

She squirmed, laughing lightly, “Oh only about every hour that I’m on base and in every letter.”

“Good,” he mused, kissing her cheek once more, “Because you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met…” Gale was broken off by Bucky’s loud declaration.

“What the hell was that, Sparky?” John asked with a mischievous grin, his eyebrows raised at Hugh.

Scoffing as he settled into his chair, the lieutenant rolled his eyes. “I sounded a helluva lot better than you ever have…Isn’t that right, Croz?”

Harry’s expression dropped, his eyes widening nervously as he darted glances between Hugh and his Squadron CO, who sported a smirk and an eyebrow raised expectantly. “Uhhhhh…”

Ruth was in the middle of sipping her when the comment left Hugh’s lips, and she choked on the liquid, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she coughed, trying to regain her composure. Immediately, John’s hand on her chair moved to rub her back as he ducked to check on her, the rest of the table turning their attention to the pair. Before he could speak, she waved him off with a sheepish smile, finally managing to swallow.

“Sorry about that,” she rasped, wiping at her eyes. “I’m alright…please continue.”

Looking around the group, Ruth met Hope’s concerned gaze and sent her a teary grin, her pale face splotchy as she caught her breath.

“Where was I?”

Bubbles chuckled under his breath before sending Hugh a smirk. “You were complimenting Bucky’s singing abilities.”

“Right! I-”

“Everyone look here!”

A flash of light momentarily blinded the group as Captain John Schwarz, the 100th’s photographer, stepped forward with his camera in hand.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get a good one!” he called out cheerfully, adjusting the settings on his camera.

The group quickly turned toward him, and Ruth managed to put on a bright smile for the photo despite still trying to clear her throat. They all posed in their seats, and John’s arm draped casually over the blonde’s chair, her hand resting on his knee as she leaned into him.

With the click of the camera, the Captain took the picture, but before he could step back, John called out to him with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, Schwarz. Mind getting a picture of just the two of us?”

He nodded enthusiastically, adjusting the camera to focus on the couple. Bucky flashed a charming smile as he reached over and gently tugged Ruth from her chair into his lap.

“Hey!” she protested playfully, her cheeks flushing pink as John wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

Ruth giggled as Johnny leaned in, his cheek pressing against hers as they posed for the picture. Despite her initial protest, she found herself melting into his embrace. The photographer chuckled at their antics, capturing the moment with a few clicks of his camera. She glanced up at the Major just as Schwarz lowered his camera, and Bucky planted a soft kiss on her lips.

The table erupted into a chorus of whistles and hoots, their friends cheering them on as they kissed. Ruth laughed against John’s lips, feeling a rush of happiness and warmth enveloping her. Pulling back slightly, John gazed into her blue eyes, his own filled with pure adoration as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink.

“Alright, lovebirds. That’s enough,” Gale grinned, repeating Bucky’s words from a few minutes before.

Schwarz moved around the table, snapping a photo of Demarco and Meatball, Hugh with poor Harry in a headlock, until he moved around to Hope and Gale. Buck stood up, leading Hope slightly away from the table, and wrapping his arms around her from behind kissing her temple. Hope grinned widely at the photographer who snapped the picture with his own smile.

Hugh appeared beside the Captain, mumbling something under his breath before moving over to the couple.

“Could I please borrow my sister, Cleven?”

Gale looked a little forlorn as he released Hope from his embrace, stepping back towards the table. Hugh pulled his sister into his side, a bright smile on his lips as Schwarz took the photo.

Back at the table, Hope slipped into her seat beside Gale, his arm draping over her shoulder as they got comfortable. Ruth sent her a bright smile from her position on John’s lap, and soon the group’s conversation picked back up, laughter filling the air once more. This continued for a little while longer, but when Dye made his way over with Lil under his arm, there was a shift in the air.

It was almost unnoticeable at first.

Ruth chuckled under her breath, watching John take a drag of his cigarette across the table and point to Dye as he neared the group. “There’s our very own Charlie Robertson!”

She’d moved back to her own chair when he got up to get her another ginger beer. Ruth learned her lesson with alcohol after waking up with a raging migraine the morning following John’s birthday party.

“Charlie? Who’s Charlie?” Lil asked, trailing behind Glen and smiling at John as she passed him on his way back to Ruth.

“Not me,” Hugh snickered, sipping his whiskey with a grimace. The British liquor was nothing compared to the ‘good ole American stuff,’ as he called it. In his footlocker sat an unopened bottle of VAT-69 he was saving for his own 25th mission.

No one else thought anything was wrong with the alcohol, but Hugh just had his particular taste and he stuck to that.

“1922. White Sox at Tigers. No runs, no hits, no errors,” John answered, his hand gesturing in the air with each word before sinking into the chair beside Ruth. He kissed her on the cheek quickly, scooting his seat closer to her until their shoulders touched and she wrapped her arm around his bicep, whispering into his ear.

“He threw the last perfect game, right?”

“Sure did,” he grinned, shooting her a wink. “Way to go, Slugger.”

Benny nodded from beside Hope and Gale, not having heard the blonde. “Yeah, he’s the last guy to throw a perfect game.”

“Til’ now!”

“You get to go home before Florida?” Jack asked, but the conversation soon Ruth faded as she turned her gaze to John with a fond smile. She traced the outline of his face, her eyes trailing over the dark pink scars from Regensburg, the slope of his nose, his mustache, and the natural pout of his lips…the soft lips she’d kissed dozens of times. The warmth of his touch seeped through her uniform, and a feeling of contentment washed over her.

Over the last week, the couple exchanged multiple letters corresponding about the party and how each was doing, but John mainly raved about how much he liked his birthday present.

‘Doll, I think I’m hooked…’ John wrote two days after the party.

She was broken from her inner dialogue when the toothy grin on John’s face suddenly fell, and Ruth’s heart jolted in concern as she became aware of the hush that fell over the group

“We’re all that’s left, aren’t we?”

At Glen’s question, her eyes quickly scanned those around them and found that all the airmen shared the same pained and exhausted look. Curt’s smiling face flashed in her mind…a reminder of the sacrifices of the heroes from the 100th.

Hope’s wandering eyes met Ruth’s across the table, and she sent her a weary frown at the way the lively men quieted, each lost in their thoughts.

Blakely spoke first, breaking the silence that fell over the group “12 crews out of-”

“35 that flew in from Greenland,” Crank finished.

With his lips in a tight line, Bucky nodded solemnly. “That’s right.”

Ruth reached out, her free hand finding John’s atop his chair’s armrest, squeezing it gently. He didn’t meet her gaze, but she felt him deflate slightly beside her just before Gale began to speak.

“We’re just happy for you, Dye.”

“That’s right. We are,” John added, his voice deepening as he raised his glass. “Very happy for you. Very happy.”

Glen held out his drink to the group. “And to all the fellas that aren’t here tonight, who should’ve been.”

The table broke out into quiet mumbles of agreement as they all lifted their glasses in a toast before tipping them back. Ruth’s ginger beer fizzed as it traveled down her throat, and beside her, John downed the rest of the amber liquid in his glass, unfazed. She watched him stare at the tabletop in front of them for a few seconds until Dye’s voice filled the air.

“Gentlemen…and ladies, I’m gonna go check on the boys, make sure they aren’t celebrating too hard without me.”

As he walked away with Lil tugged against his side, John’s eyes followed them and he pointed in their direction, muttering, “Charlie Robertson,” under his breath.

The jovial atmosphere from before shattered as the group remained quiet despite the raging party around them. And to think…John’s day had started off so well, had gone off without a hitch until that very moment.

He got to see Ruth, and Dye made it back from his 25th Mission, but as Bucky leaned back in his chair, he couldn’t help but be bothered by all the new faces and the lack of old ones.

Even Ruth’s presence beside him wasn’t enough to quell the rising anger and frustration that swirled in his stomach when he thought of the numbers.

Out of 35 crews that flew in from Greenland, only 12 remained.

120 men out of 350…230 gone in the matter of a few months.

‘Will we all just be another number? Another crew marked off the list until replacements come and fill the huts like we never existed in the first place?’

These questions floated in his mind while his gaze stayed on the empty glass in front of him. “I’m, uh, gonna get another drink. I’ll be back,” he announced quickly, rising from his chair and turning toward the bar. Ruth’s anxious eyes followed him before she glanced back at Hope.

Buck watched him go with a pang of concern and kissed Hope on the temple, promising his return before he got up and followed after his friend. The women shared a knowing look as they watched the men they loved disappear into the crowd. Seemingly following their Majors, the rest of the men got up and trailed after them a few minutes later, leaving Hope and Ruth alone at the table.

“I’m worried,” Ruth muttered, chewing her bottom lip nervously. “What happens if John or Gale don’t make it back one-”

Hope cut her off quickly and moved to sit beside her. “Hey. They’re going to be fine, Rue. Before long, we’re gonna be celebrating their 25th mission, alright?”

“Alright,” she whispered as her gaze fell to the table.

The dance floor cleared over the next few minutes, and just a few couples remained dancing. In the middle of the floor was Helen, wrapped up in the arms of an airman they’d never seen before. Wide grins grew on their faces as they watched her place a few kisses against the dark-headed stranger’s jawline. Over his shoulder, Helen’s eyes wandered to the two women sitting alone, and Ruth smiled, giving her a thumbs up as Hope winked at her.

Feeling someone’s gaze on her, Hope scanned the room, meeting the familiar but concerned blues of Gale across the room from where he leaned against the bar beside John. They talked to yet another new airman the girls had never met, but even she could see the grimace on Bucky’s face as he leaned closer to the man, gesturing his hands out.

She glanced over at Ruth who thankfully was too busy tidying up the mess the men left before returning her eyes to her fiancée. In the few seconds she’d looked away, the replacement airman disappeared, and the two Majors stood alone.

“Come on, Rue. Let’s rejoin the party, shall we?” Hope asked, rising to her feet and offering Ruth her hand with a forced smile.

She knew something was up with John. She could tell by Gale’s body language alone.

The blonde took her hand, allowing Hope to lead them towards the men. But just as they passed Helen and the dancing soldier, Colonel Harding and Major Bowman stepped through the doors and sauntered over the bar, a fat cigar hanging from Chick’s lips.

“My boys!”

Not wanting to interrupt, the women stood on the outskirts of the group, moving to stand beside Tatty, even though both Buck and Johnny sent them a questioning look. Ruth scanned Bucky’s face, but her smile fell when she immediately noticed the line between his brows and the muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Listen up! I just had a mood-killing conversation with Doc Stover. He thinks you sissies could be getting flack happy.”

“No, not us, sir,” the airmen chorused.

“I told him war is war. The longer you go at it, the more it screws a man up. And it’s been that way since the first caveman son of a bitch picked up a club and went after the other. Did cavemen go for head-shrinking?”

As the men shook their heads, Ruth and Hope shared a wary glance.

Where was this going?

“No! Damn sure not! What counts is that you soldiers show up ready and able to fight. What you do between battles…” Harding trailed off with a chuckle, smirking as he took a drag of his cigar.

Hope watched as Buck remained stoic, no reaction on his face, but John looked over at Ruth, sending her a wink. “I like your style, sir!”

For the first time, Bucky’s wink didn’t make her heart skip a beat…it made it drop into her stomach. His grin was so clearly forced that her mind went haywire, and he was the only thing she could focus on. Sensing the blonde finally picked up on John’s demeanor, Hope silently intertwined their hands, squeezing Ruth’s reassuringly.

Red broke his silence, shaking his head slightly as he spoke. “Aerial combat like this hasn’t been around since the caveman, sir.”

“Of course not, Red. Every war has its novelties,” Harding dismissed the Major, turning to look at the dance hall. A few seconds later, his demeanor changed, and his voice grew serious. “Who the hell decorated this fiesta?”

Everyone looked around the group before Jack hesitantly spoke. “I put together a committee, sir.”

Craning their heads to see around the Colonel, the women confusedly searched the hall for what he possibly could be upset about, but had no such luck.

“The damned plane looks like it’s in a nosedive.”

The sound of chuckles filled the air as John grinned over at Ruth. “Fire ‘em. Fire the committee…Ruth can decorate next time.”

She did her best to smile back at him, but it was just as forced as the grin on his lips.

“I won’t bother next time,” Kidd muttered.

Harding seemed to move on and faced the men again, waving them all closer. “Come on, get in. Come here. Got something to tell ‘ya.”

Hope and Ruth stepped forward, watching the Colonel over Tatty’s shoulder, their eyes moving between their Majors and the CO.

“You know how we could end this whole thing tonight?” Chick asked, his face scrunched into a half-grimace as he leaned into the group. “We fill up one of our forts with as many 500-pounders as she can hold, we bomb the hell out of Hitler’s hidey-hole.”

The grin on Johnny’s face fell, and he tilted his face to the floor with slightly pursed lips for a moment before returning his gaze to Harding. His forced smiles and strained banter only added to the underlying tension in the room. Ruth’s fingers tightened around Hope’s hand, seeking reassurance as Chick continued.

“I’m sure Red and Bubbles could locate that mustachioed little fucker.”

Bubbles grinned proudly. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, now who’s flack happy?”

The second the words left John’s mouth, Ruth’s heart plummeted, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She held her breath waiting for what would happen next.

What happened in the last few minutes to change his attitude completely?

All the officer’s went silent, shooting each other worried looks while Bucky and Harding stared at each other.

“Who?”

“You are,” John nodded, his expression bearing no trace of any amusement.

Harding smirked, “You are.”

“No, you are,” Egan leaned forward, thwacking Harding’s chest with his hand. “Sir.”

The next few seconds seemed to stretch on for hours as the atmosphere became even more tense, the room seeming to hold its breath. Gale quickly glanced over at Hope, his eyes filled with concern, much like the rest of the officers. The blonde beside her didn’t notice Buck, unable to tear her eyes away from John, who looked like he was teetering on the edge of an outburst.

The Major and the Colonel stared at each other until a smirk broke out on Chick’s face and he chuckled, the rest of the group following suit when the tension eased.

“Mmm, Single fillies. Come on, boys. Let’s get the lead out!” Harding smirked, taking a drag from his cigar, and left the party with Red trailing behind him.

The officers dispersed out onto the dance floor, leaving John, Gale, Hope, Ruth, and Benny at the bar.

Gale turned to catch Hope’s eye, his face saying ‘hold on while I talk to him’. Hope nodded in agreement, catching Ruth’s arm and leading her away from their men.

“What about John?” Ruth looked hastily over her shoulder for him, meeting his conflicted eyes momentarily, but Hope pulled her on.

“Gale’s going to talk to him, it’ll be okay. They’ve been through a lot, remember? It’s bound to catch up with them all at some point, and we just need to be here to help them if they fall.” Hope led her back to the table, sitting her down and placing the glass of ginger beer in front of her.

Hope hated watching Ruth’s worried eyes keep darting back toward the boys, but she knew that her own eyes kept drifting back to Gale’s. If this evening had taught her anything, it was that life was more precious than they could ever realize, and each moment should be cherished.

They needed a distraction from their anxieties, and Hope blurted the first story that came to mind.

“Do you remember that day when you were new to the Grove and you walked in on Frank naked?”

The blonde’s cheeks immediately heated up as she buried her head in her hands, “How could I forget? I’d only known the man for three days.”

Hope laughed too, “Well, it could be worse. On my first day on base, he nearly ran me over with a jeep. That was before he realized I was on his plane. He bought me a beer that same evening to apologize.”

Ruth laughed, imagining a younger Hope giving Frank hell for trying to run her down.

“We had a medical technician on our plane with us back then. Joseph was his name. He was a right pretty boy…thought he was the bee's knees but I soon told him otherwise.”

Ruth chuckled, knowing Hope probably gave the poor boy hell. It was strange thinking back to when they first came to the Grove, the airbase that had quickly become their home and safe haven.

“It seems like a lifetime ago that I met you, Hope. I thought you hated me at first.”

“Oh, I didn’t hate you…I just thought you weren’t going to make it,” Hope replied honestly, feeling slightly guilty about how she’d misjudged her best friend. “You soon proved me wrong though, Rue. You’re a good nurse.”

Hope looked up as Gale approached them, smiling brightly at her while John still stood near the bar still looking quite somber. Ruth stood up, quickly excusing herself as she made her way over to the bar, resting her hand against John’s arm.

“Hey,” she whispered, her blue eyes filled with worry. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

He nodded, allowing her to take his hand and tug him to the door.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she finally asked when they excited the club into the English night, her voice soft with concern.

John pursed his lips and a flicker of hesitation crossed his features before he shrugged. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

“John,” Ruth urged, her voice hardening as she gave him the look that always made her students squirm in their seats.

And her tone…it was only used when dealing with problem students, the ones who lied directly to her face when she already knew the truth.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “I’m fine.”

“What was that, then?” Ruth pressed, refusing to let it go. She needed to know exactly what was wrong…needed to help him in whatever way she could.

But how could he tell her the truth?

He could go down the next day and it would be like he never was there in the first place. Gone like the 230 men they’d lost.

How was he supposed to tell the woman he loved that she could lose him in the blink of an eye?

That he could lose her just the same?

That he couldn’t write another life-shattering letter to a boy’s family?

His nervousness to confess his feelings was replaced with guilt, anger, and frustration that compounded in his chest, creating a volatile mixture that was bound to explode.

“Nothing,” he insisted, his tone growing defensive. “Like I said.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Ruth pleaded as she grasped his hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know-”

The flood he’d been trying to hold back finally broke, and his voice raised just a fraction as he pulled his hand from hers. “Damn it, Ruth. I said I’m fine!”

The sharpness of his tone caught the woman off guard, and she recoiled slightly, blinking furiously to hold back the tears threatened to fill her eyes. “I’m just trying to help,” she whispered.

Without another word, she turned and walked back into the dance, leaving Bucky standing there in the chilly night. His hands moved to his hips as his chest heaved, the anger slowly leaving his body and morphing into guilt as his mind replayed her baby blues shining with tears and the tremble in her voice.

He was supposed to be a better man, someone worthy of her, and what did he do at the first chance?

Despite the mix of emotions within him, Johnny knew she was only trying to help, only trying to be there for him, and he’d raised his voice at her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before following after her, his heart pounding in his chest.

Pushing open the door and stepping inside, the sounds of the party filled Bucky’s ears, but for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care that the band played ‘Blue Skies’. His eyes scanned the bustling club and caught a glimpse of her blonde hair disappearing into the women’s bathroom.

John hesitated where he stood in the middle of the club, lost and unsure of what to do next. He knew he needed to talk to her, to make things right, but he also didn’t want to intrude on her privacy. Frustratingly running a hand over his mouth, he caught sight of Gale on the dance floor where he swayed slowly with Hope. Buck’s brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced in the direction Ruth had gone over Hope’s shoulder. With a nod of his head, he silently urged Johnny to go after her.

It was the push that he needed to make a decision.

Swallowing thickly, he approached the bathroom door and knocked, his knuckles rapping against the wood gently. “Ruthie, can I come in?”

His heart sank when he heard sniffles from inside.

“Please,” John murmured softly, his voice barely audible through the door.

A few seconds ticked by and he was about to ask again when the door clicked open, giving him a view of her reddened and splotchy face. Ruth backed up, allowing him to slowly push in the door. She stood before him with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, barely meeting his gaze as her eyes remained on the floor. John silently stepped into the room and closed the door behind him gently, muffling the sounds of the party outside.

They stood there silently for a few moments until Ruth finally looked up at him, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek as she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling her softly into his chest, running a hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry, doll. So sorry.”

Ruth stiffened for a moment before relaxing against him, burying her face into his chest.

“I’m not mad at you. I just,” he sighed against her hair. “I hate myself for making you upset. I know you’re just trying to help me.”

She lifted her head from his chest and broke her silence, her voice wavering. “Then talk to me.”

John stared at her for a moment, running his fingers through her hair gently as he thought of a way to explain what he felt…the weight he felt on his shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Ruth,” he muttered, his face tilting to the ground.

“I don’t care,” the nurse answered quietly, reaching up and gently lifting his face to meet her teary gaze. "Just…just please don’t shut me out.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence as Bucky nodded to himself with his lips pulled into a tight line. When he finally found the words, his voice was barely audible as he fought to keep his composure.

“You heard Crank earlier. We’ve lost so many boys, and I-,” he cleared his throat, looking over her shoulder at the wall while fighting the burning sensation in his eyes. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Ruth’s heart broke at his confession, and she cupped his cheeks and pulled him down to her, their foreheads pressing together.

“John, you are going to get through this. We are going to get through this,” Ruth whispered. “I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere. You can talk to me, alright?”

He released a shuddering breath against her face, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he savored the feeling of her warm touch. The three words he’d been meaning to say all night danced on the tip of his tongue but refused to pour from his lips.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I-”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she interrupted, her thumb caressing his cheekbone lightly. “I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you. You make me so happy, Johnny.”

Bucky raised his hand to cover her much smaller one on his cheek as he sent her a soft smile. “I should be the one thanking you. You…you mean everything to me, Ruth. Everything. And I’m so sorry for talking to you like-”

“Just kiss me,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips.

John immediately obeyed, tilting his head to connect their lips softly, their worries fading away as they lost themselves in each other. Ruth’s hands slid from his face to the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss with an eagerness he’d never seen from her before. He fought against every instinct in him urging him to take things farther, but she deserved more than that…they both did.

As they pulled away from the kiss, they remained wrapped in the other’s arms, their breaths mingling in the air between them. John’s gaze softened as he looked into Ruth’s eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He noticed the remnants of tears still clinging to her lashes, her eyes red and puffy, and his hand raised to brush her hair behind her ear.

“I’m getting a weekend pass to London,” he said breathlessly, nervously peering down at her. “Come with me.”

Ruth grinned and pecked his lips again softly. “I’d want nothing more.”

In that moment, with Ruth in his arms, John Egan vowed London would be the place…would be the time he’d confess his love for her.

How he couldn’t imagine life without her.

London…it would be the place that everything changed.

Monday, September 20th: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 0700 HRS: 7 AM

Hope let out a long sigh as the C-47’s wheels left the runway in one swoop, rising above the airstrip and leaving the base far below them as they climbed into the clouds. Frank talked quietly to Bill in the cockpit, and both girls couldn’t help but smile at their pilot's antics. He was a good pilot, but as a mentor, he was a hard task-master, and Bill was being put through his paces. Ruth pulled John’s latest letter from her pocket, rereading his words with a small smile.

September 17th My Ruth, Hey, slugger. I hope you’ve had a good few days. Have your runs been okay? Has Frank been nice to you? You know I won’t hesitate to rough him up if not. I have been unable to keep my mind off of you…as usual. Schwarz developed the pictures from the party yesterday, and I’ve found myself staring at our photo for longer than I’d like to admit. You’re just so beautiful…the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on…have I told you that? Schwarz also gave each Buck and Hugh individual pictures of them with Hope. I’m pretty sure Buck is sending copies of the letter he’s writing from his bunk. You’ll find one of us in this envelope, as well. I’m sure you’ll love it just as much as I do. I keep my copy in my breast pocket, next to my heart so you’ll be with me everywhere I go. When I start to spiral, I just look at you and your smiling face, and I remember what all this is for. Every day I ask myself how I got so lucky that you landed on my base out of the hundreds scattered around England, and after months of wondering, I still have no explanation. All I know is that I kiss the lucky cross around my neck every time I leave and come back from a mission, thanking Mrs. Virginia Morgan that I made it back to the ground…back to you. I still can’t believe you wouldn’t take it back, Ruthie, but I promise to keep it safe until you’re ready to. I can’t wait to take you to London, doll. Did your CO approve your leave? I can try to pull some strings if she doesn’t. Maybe I could give her a call and use my charm to convince her? What do you think? Stay safe up there for me, alright? Yours Completely, John Egan P.S. The Yankees swept the Athletics in their series, keeping their 9-game win streak alive. We’ve got the American League in the bag! What do I always say? The Yankees always end on top! Remember that, doll. You’ll be hearing it a lot after we win the World Series next month.

Both women received letters from their Majors late the night before and immediately wrote their responses, promising to send them the following morning. But when they were called up for a run before dawn, both dashed to the post room before hurrying back to ‘The Angel.’

“So how is the hotshot then?” Hope asked with a grin, amused by Ruth’s embarrassed expression, her pale cheeks blushing deeply.

“How do you know I call him that?” Ruth asked curiously, but Hope just shook her head with a chuckle.

“Ruth, you've read his letters out loud enough times when I’m around that I’ve basically read them myself.” The blonde nodded slowly, half listening to Hope and the other half of her too engrossed in John’s words as she reread them again. After a few moments, she looked up from the letter.

“I wrote to my parents about John the other day,” Ruth called out over the engine’s whine, a fond smile on her lips.

“Oh yeah?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah.”

“What all did you tell them?” Hope asked with a raised brow.

Ruth’s innocent smile turned into a mischievous smirk as she chuckled to herself. “Well, my Mama always reads the letters, so I wrote the basics for her to tell my Dad and Jamie, but gave her all the details.”

“John’s right,” she laughed. “You are a sneaky woman.”

Shrugging, Ruth pulled out the picture he sent from her pocket, her heart fluttering as she studied it, tracing the lines of John’s face on the small photo. She was glad to finally have a piece of Johnny to carry around with her, being able to whip it out whenever she missed him or just wanted to see his handsome face.

The plane rocked from side to side as they gained altitude, and the large metal bird flew ‘through the ‘gate’ as Frank liked to call it as she moved to full throttle, soaring up into the clouds.

“Stop being a clot,” Frank hissed to Bill, flicking a few switches in the cockpit with a long sigh, “You know what you’re doing kid, but shit, try using your head sometimes okay?”

“Yes Sir,” Bill nodded shyly, turning his attention back to the plane's control panel. The girls smiled at each other, listening to the two men bickering in the cockpit

“Where do you think the boys are right now?” Ruth asked, looking up nervously at Hope. She always worried when she thought of where their men could be. The thought of them in harm's way made her sick to the stomach.

Were they flying like girls were? Were they in danger?

Hope slouched in her seat as the plane leveled out, “I don’t know, Rue. I’d like to think that they’re at Thorpe Abbotts. Hugh’s probably getting into some sort of trouble or terrorizing poor Harry Crosby. John is probably having some coffee with his whiskey about now at breakfast.” This caused Ruth to laugh lightly at the thought of John’s usual morning routine.

“What about Gale?”

Hope took a little longer to reply this time. “I think Gale would… well I don’t know. He’s probably either eating breakfast with John, walking Meatball, or he’s with his baby.”

“His baby?” Ruth sputtered, cocking her head and looking at her friend for the answer.

“His Fort, ‘Our Baby’,” Hope laughed, watching as Ruth nodded, understanding the men’s attachment to their Forts. She guessed they all felt the same way about their own plane, although Ruth thought if she never had to fly again it would be a blessing.

The pair soon fell into silence, both organizing their mussette bags for the hundredth time, as if they hadn’t checked all their supplies pre-flight. Hope moved up to the cockpit to check in with the pilots while Ruth moved along the racks of supplies, laying out fresh blankets on each cot, humming an Artie Shaw song to herself as she went.

“How’s it going up here, boys?” Hope leant over Frank’s shoulder, watching as the cloudy sky unfolded before them.

“Can’t complain,” Frank replied plainly. “I think Billy Boy here is getting the hang of things at last.” The young pilot grinned at the compliment and Hope couldn’t help the sense of pride that filled her chest. They’d had several copilots training with Frank, but Bill was definitely the girl's favorite.

Looking back out the window, Hope pointed towards the dark clouds erupting ahead of them.

“Hey Frank, what’s that up ahead? That’s not what I think it is…right?”

“That, my dear Hope, is flak fire,” he said regretfully. “Looks like we’re heading to the movies. I suggest you girls grab a seat…Ruth may want a blindfold for this next part.”

Hope swallowed, nodding quickly before rushing back to her seat. Bill talked quickly to Frank in the cockpit but remained calm, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t been through before.

Ruth’s fearful eyes widened as Hope explained what Frank had told her before swiftly strapping herself into her seat. Her mind raced at all the terrible outcomes that could occur.

What happens if they go down?

What would happen if they just blew up over Germany?

She tried to put on a brave face but she knew Hope would see right through it, she always did.

The plane swerved as flak erupted around them, swooping and diving as the black clouds and wuffs from the Ack-Acks flew wildly around them. Hope and Ruth were thrown around in their seats as the plane swerved, flack bursts shaking the bird. They were very grateful that they always secured all their supplies and stretchers down pre-flight.

Hope’s fingers dug into the metal seat and her eyes closed as her stomach flipped in circles with each turn. She’d not had any issues with her motion sickness since her training, but the urge to vomit up her breakfast only grew as the bile rose in the back of her throat.

Ruth opposite from her was as white as a sheet, her already pale face now the color of a corpse with her lips set in a thin worried line. Her teeth clenched tightly together and her eyes squeezed shut as flack pierced through the plane's fuselage above her head.

“Shit!” Ruth shrieked, covering her head with her hands.

“You okay, Rue?” Hope shouted over the noise of the war around them. A glossy-eyed and panting Ruth only nodded quickly in response.

Bullets ripped through the riveted sheets of the fuselage with a series of metallic pings, piercing through easily and sending metal flying into the cabin like confetti. With the chaos surrounding them, Ruth barely noticed when a piece of shrapnel flew past her face, just grazing her temple. Flak fire continued to blast in the air surrounding the skytrain and the noise was deafening to everyone inside.

How could anyone think strategically in these conditions?

“OH FUCK!” Frank’s voice shouted from the cockpit as he leaned over to Bill, “Stay with me, kid.” Bill’s lifeless body lay wide-eyed staring straight ahead, his young face frozen, expressionless. “DAMMIT!”

“What’s wrong, Frank?” Hope called out as she unbuckled herself and stumbled from her seat, edging her way towards him.

Ruth’s eyes widened. “Hope! What are you doing?!”

She simply sent her a worried glance, seeing the blood trickling down Ruth’s cheek before disappearing from view, and the blonde stared at her in disbelief. When another burst sent burning hot metal through the plane’s fuselage around her, Ruth’s eyes clenched shut, her head bowing as she mumbled a prayer for them, her hand instinctively reaching up for her usual comfort… her necklace….her lucky necklace that now hung around the neck of John Egan.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

In the cockpit, Frank didn’t turn to face Hope when he spoke, his eyes trained on the incoming fire from the Messerschmitts flying in all directions around them.

“We have been fucked by the fickle finger of fate and today is not our day. We’re down to one engine and she isn’t sounding too healthy. We’re littered with holes and,” he paused, his throat constricting as he motioned to the young boy who lay dead beside him. “And the Krauts…they got Billy.”

The plane juddered and smoke poured from the remaining engine with a horrendous screech as Frank took a steadying breath. The next words to leave his lips sent a shiver down Hope’s spine.

They were the ones every airman, flight nurse, and pilot prayed they’d never have to hear…

“There goes the last engine. We’re going down!”

Tag List: @xxluckystrike @precious-little-scoundrel @bcofl0ve @violetdaze25 @docroesmorphine @kmc1989 @gfofsadie @artlover8992 @karashaw99 @dustyjumpwjngs @camicanos-blog @storysimp @b00ks1ut @sunny747 @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok @yoongiscxr @blueberry-ovaries @sidneysidney123 @p-polaroid @ginabaker1666 @yorkshirekiwi @barrykeoghussy @slowsweetlove @groovin2beats @imusicaddict @imaginationlover101 @justheretoreadthhx

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

66 notes · View notes

lewmagoo · 2 months

Note

Happy early birthday!!! Can I please have earl grey- “You come first. You’re always my first choice.” With rhett from the fluff prompt list?

rhett couldn’t understand why you’d dropped everything to come to him. it was just a dislocated shoulder. he’d sustained quite a few of those in the past, so it was nothing new. but this one was a little more serious than the other times. this one landed him in the emergency room after a particularly nasty bull had tossed him like a ragdoll to the ground. rhett knew, as soon as he hit the dirt, that it was bad. he felt the pop, and the pain that radiated down his arm made him grit his teeth so hard he was certain they’d crack. he was dragged out of the pit, in so much pain he couldn’t even find it in himself to stubbornly protest as a medic approached him. in fact, it was so unbearable that the edges of his vision had begun to go spotty. “i’m…i’m goin’ down,” he managed to slur, suddenly feeling as if he was outside of his body, watching himself fall.

when he came to, he was in a bed in the emergency room. he was still in a world of pain, but it had lessened considerably. he looked down to find his arm in a sling. “rhett!” he heard your voice, your intake of breath, and he turned to find you at his bedside, your eyes wide with concern. his brow furrowed. “what…what are you doin’ here?“ you were supposed to be leaving for a work trip. that was why you hadn’t been there to watch him ride that evening. but now here you were, disheveled, still in your traveling clothes. “i got the call while i was on the road. i turned around and came right back here so i could be with you,” you replied. he shook his head, ignoring the twinge that went through his shoulder as he did so. “you…you came all the way back because i dislocated m’ shoulder?” your face softened, and you shook your head, opening your mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by another voice.

“not dislocated. fractured, mr. abbott.” a doctor stepped into the room. hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. a kind look in her eyes. “you suffered a pretty nasty fracture to your clavicle.” so that explained why the pain was severe enough to steal his consciousness from him. but even so, that still bore the question; you’d postponed your trip just for a fractured clavicle? it wasn’t life threatening. he’d be fine on his own. yet here you were, chewing anxiously at your fingernails as you listened to the doctor explain rhett’s injury, and what would need to be done during recovery. he stared at you, hardly listening to the doctor’s spiel. it wasn’t until she left the room that he spoke. “darlin’, i’m fine. you didn’t need to come back. you’ve been plannin’ this trip for months,” he insisted. you looked at him, immediately shaking your head. “no. you come first. you’re always my first choice. my first priority. work takes a back burner when it comes to making sure you’re okay.” you spoke with conviction.

rhett leaned back against his pillows, grunting softly at the flash of pain that radiated along his shoulder and down his arm. “you…you really dropped everythin’ for me?” he clarified. you stepped toward him, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead. “of course. and i’d do it again. that phone call scared the hell outta me. i don’t care if it’s just a busted shoulder. you got hurt, and i had to make sure you were alright.” at your words, rhett’s chest tightened. he wasn’t used to the way you cared for him. the way you’d drop everything to run to his side when he was in distress. he was so used to going it alone. he was self-sufficient, everyone always assumed he was fine, that he could handle it himself. but truth be told, oftentimes he couldn’t handle it alone. he needed that extra support that others never seemed to want to give. and then there was you. you always showed him such care and concern. you prioritized him, and to rhett, knowing you had his back was the equivalent to stepping outside and feeling the sun warm his face. it felt good. it felt right.

“thank you,” he whispered. you smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him. “don’t thank me. this is what people who love each other do. they look out for one another. and i’ll always look out for you, rhett.”

#asks #rhett musings #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #leah’s birthday tea party

75 notes · View notes

jungle-angel · 2 months

Text

I'll Kiss Your Hurt Away (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Rhett's had the roughest ride of his life and has to call it quits in the bull riding ring, but one decision leads to new beginnings.

Warnings: Mentions of adoption, parenthood, injuries, hospitals, light smut etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @bradleybeachbabe @sebsxphia @kmc1989 @cowboybarbie

"Alright, watch yourself Rhett," you said, guiding him in through the door.

Rhett winced as he moved on his crutches through the door, his leg in a brace and his body bruised beyond all comprehension. His ribs were so sore he could hardly breathe and all he wanted was to be able to lay down.

Amy came waddle running from the kitchen with her blankie and her little circus clown ragdoll in her hand wanting nothing more than for Rhett to pick her up and give her kisses.

"Sweet pea let Daddy get upstairs and lay down," Royal told her from the kitchen.

Rhett hobbled for the stairs where you set to helping him up. Royal threw Rhett's arm across the back of his shoulders and helped him upstairs, giving you an extra hand until you finally reached your shared bedroom where he could lay down.

"Ya'll want anything son?" Royal asked him.

"Grilled cheese with bacon and a Seven-Up," Rhett croaked.

"Roy I can get it, it's alright," you told him.

"Nah don't worry about it (y/n), you've done enough," Royal said.

You curled up beside your husband on the bed, coiling an arm around him but backing off when you noticed the pained grimmace.

"M'sorry sweetheart," he croaked. "Wanna hold you and the baby so fuckin bad but I'm hurtin."

You kissed his lips, letting it linger before you left the room and returned with Amy. You didn't dare release her, knowing she'd crawl all over Rhett.

"Daddy kissy!! Kissy!!" she demanded.

Rhett leaned over a little and gave her a big wet kiss on her cheek, throwing her into a fit of giggles before you left to put her down in her bed for a nap.

He only ate a little throughout the day with your father-in-law popping in every few minutes to see how he was and offering to shoulder most of the parenting duties with Amy. Cecelia called from her mother's place in Casper to check in, informing you that she would be home by next weekend to help, but for now, you and Rhett would take what little time you could to heal.

"Didn't think I'd look this bad," he chuckled as you dabbed his forehead with a cool washcloth.

"I'll say," you said. "You look like a battered grape."

Rhett laughed, wincing as a wave of pain tore through his ribs and took the breath right out of him.

"Where does it hurt?" you asked him. "Show me."

Rhett gave you a playful but exaggerated look, the same way Amy often did when she didn't get what she wanted.

"Come on," you laughed. "Show the nurse where it hurts."

Rhett lifted his shirt up just past his nips, revealing the ugly black and blue spots that had pooled just about everywhere. You giggled a little when he gave you that cheeky grin of his.

"What, you're afraid darlin?" he asked.

You shook your head and kissed the little dip in his chest between his pecs and around his nips, reveling in the little purr that caught in his throat.

"Little lower there darlin."

You wiggled your eyebrows and kissed all the way down his ribcage, your tongue swirling around every little bruise and around his bellybutton, shushing him gently when he got too loud so that nobody would hear if they came into the house. Sure enough, you heard Royal coming in with Amy, the two of you quickly fixing yourselves so that he wouldn't notice.

"Feel any better?" you asked when the two of you had settled into bed for the night.

"Better than the damn pain meds Pete gave me on the way out," Rhett mumbled.

You kissed him before you both drifted off into sleep, happy to be in each other's arms once again.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #outer range

60 notes · View notes

rhettabbotts · 9 months

Text

it’s a bad idea, right? - rhett abbott x fem!reader

pairing: rhett abbott x fem!reader

summary: mixing tequila and calls from your ex. what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ only. smut. rough sex. drinking. bad decisions. mentions of a breakup. p in v. a lil choking. dirty talk. yearning. love confessions.

a/n: this is for my dear abby’s (@mothdruid) writing challenge. i have been thinking about writing a fic with rhett and this song since i heard it and abby gave me the perfect reason to do it 🥺💜

“Come over.”

You couldn’t help but scoff as you took another sip of your Long Island. It’s been nearly three months since you heard from Rhett. Nothing but radio silence since the day he left town. He was chasing his dream of riding professionally, you needed to focus on your career. You were on different paths and you grew further apart with each month until the end when it was nothing but slamming doors and heated arguments.

Your friends warned you about him. Told you he’d chew you up and spit you out in a heartbeat and you didn’t want to believe them at first. You fell hard and fast for Rhett and you couldn’t have stopped it.

Another message came in. And then another. All of which went ignored while you ordered another drink. Eleanor was talking about her coworker, the one she so desperately wanted to fuck she could hardly stand it. You felt bad for zoning out but your mind kept going back to the man texting you.

“El, I’m sorry. I gotta- I gotta get some fresh air. Save my seat?”

You hopped off the bar stool and headed towards the door, taking a look over your shoulder before walking out into the crisp autumn air.

Your thumb hovered over the call button. You knew it was a bad idea. You knew you’d regret it tomorrow. But between the tequila shots and the memories of Rhett’s hands, your phone was ringing before you could change your mind.

“Hey,” his gravelly voice muttered on the other end of the line and it sent a white-hot fire through your veins.

“Hi,” you stuttered out, pressing your cool hand to your heated face. “Why are you texting me now?”

“I miss you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I do! And I just moved into a new place. My place,” Rhett said, a little breathless. He sounded like he was pacing the floors, or he had been running, or he was- No. Don’t think about that.

“That’s nice. What does that have to do with me?” You questioned, a snarky tone escaping you.

He smirked at that. It had everything to do with you. He needed you. And he knew you needed him.

“I just wanna see you. Friend to friend,” he said playfully.

“I don’t know... I’ve been drinking and I’m out with a few friends and-“

“Please, darlin’. Just for a little bit,” Rhett pleaded. God, he sounded so pretty when he begged. You shook your head at the thought. “I’ll send you the address.”

You sighed deeply before hanging up the phone, a text coming in not a second later with his new address. What were you going to tell Eleanor? Lexie? You really didn’t want a lecture. You just kissed them on the cheek while grabbing your bag and called for an Uber.

Passing street lights and the light hum of the engine was enough to make your brain turn static. There was nothing on your mind but Rhett. The way he smelled. The way he kissed. The way his fingers would curl just right when he-

“We’re here, ma’am,” the driver notified, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you ascended the stairwell to the second floor. He was already standing there, hand braced on the top of the door frame. When did he get a tattoo on the inside of his bicep?

Rhett had a smile on his face. That crooked grin that always meant trouble. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off his stupidly handsome face.

“There you are,” Rhett said proudly, knowing the hold he still had over you.

“Shut up,” you commanded as you pushed him through the door, tugging at the hem of his white t-shirt. He pulled it off with one hand, tossing it haphazardly onto the side table’s lampshade.

You were tripping over your feet as he pulled you towards the bedroom, hands pushing down the straps of your dress. They were calloused as ever. You couldn’t wait to feel the roughness of them rubbing against your chest, your thighs, your hips.

“God, you taste the same. I wonder if that’s everywhere,” Rhett muttered, mostly to himself but his words never failed to make your thighs clench.

“Less talking, more undressing.”

One second passed and then you heard a loud rip! before the cool air hits your back. Rhett had torn your dress right down the zipper, shoving his tongue in your mouth once more before you could protest.

Once you made it through his bedroom door, he took a moment to stop and take a look at you. You were standing in the middle of the room in nothing but your bra and panties. You should’ve worn something more fancy, more lacy like he liked. But he looked at you hungrily as his eyes roamed your nearly naked form. A low growl released his throat as he stalked forward, grabbing handfuls of your breasts roughly.

“Fuck, baby. Such a gorgeous thing. I’ve thought about you every night for the past three months,” Rhett confessed. He sounded genuine but you couldn’t be for sure. You were here to fuck. Nothing more.

Your eyes rolled back when Rhett pulled one cup down, bending slightly to wrap his lips around a peaked nipple. He suckled and tugged with his teeth, moaning loudly when your fingers tangled in his hair and pulled harshly.

“Bed. Now. Now!” You whimpered, pushing at his chest until the backs of his knees knocked against the mattress.

Rhett pulled you on top of him, his hard cock nestling perfectly against your clothed cunt. It caused you both to let out desperate noises, his hands finding their way to your hips and guiding you to move over the denim.

“Condom?”

“Drawer,” Rhett exasperated, eager hands tearing the flimsy cotton of your panties until they ripped as well.

“Rhett! Jesus, stop acting like a fucking caveman! I have to go home tomorrow, you know,” you fussed as you jerked the button open on his jeans.

“We’ll see about that,” he proclaimed proudly. That damn smile is back on his face. You rolled your eyes and ripped the foil with your teeth, causing a winded sound to leave Rhett. Good. You had the upper hand now.

He wriggled out of his jeans, hastily kicking them off the end of the bed and tugging his black boxers halfway down his thighs. He hissed as you gripped the base of his erection, slowly rolling the condom down while biting your lip. The head was red and leaking and your mouth watered at the sight. No time for that. You needed to feel him inside you.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that, woman. I ain’t a piece of meat,” he teased, then groaned wantonly when you positioned him at your dripping hole. You were going to regret not prepping yourself in the morning but you couldn’t wait another second. You gasped loudly as you slowly descended his length, nearly hissing at the stretch.

“So desperate for my cock, sweet girl couldn’t even take the time to stretch herself,” Rhett tutted, bracing his heels against the mattress and sliding his hands behind his head. You didn’t know if you wanted to smack him or kiss him. You eyed the black ink that lined his inner bicep. It took you a moment for your mind to process what the words were but your heart seized in your chest when you realized it was song lyrics from yours and his favorite song. You used to sing it in the truck all the time.

“You gonna ride me or are you gonna keep staring?”

“Do you ever shut your mouth or does it just keep running?” You retorted as you settled against his lap. You wiggled your hips and squeezed your thighs, grinning proudly when a pinched whimper came from him. You took your time slowly sliding up and down his cock, savoring the feeling of him hitting that spot inside you just right.

“I like you better when you’re not talking,” you said, picking up your pace ever so slightly.

“And I like you better when you ride my cock like you mean it,” Rhett growled, bucking his hips into you, causing you to fall forward and brace your hands on his upper torso. You snarled at him and his witty comment. Fuck him.

Your right hand slid across his collarbone and toward the column of his neck, bracing your hand there.

“Do it. I know you want to, baby,” Rhett responded, looking up at you with his crystal blue eyes wide and thin bottom lip tucked between his perfect teeth.

Everything became a blur after that moment. It was all nails and hands and moans. The headboard knocked against the wall as you bounced desperately on him, your hand wrapped tightly around his throat. He grunted loudly as he chased his release along beside you, the sound of skin slapping filled the room. It was filthy and feral and you could feel your thighs trembling uncontrollably.

“Come for me, sweet girl. Fuck, like a fucking vice. Come. M’right there with you,” Rhett begged, voice raspy.

Stars exploded behind your eyelids as you reached your peak, nails digging into Rhett’s pectorals. A sound escaped you that sounded like a near scream, disregarding whatever neighbors Rhett may have. He was not far behind you, even with the condom on you could feel his release.

You collapsed forward onto Rhett’s sweaty chest, trying to catch your breath. His heart pounded against your ear and his chest rose and fell rapidly, moving you with it. You heard a car horn down below, pulling you from your post-sex haze.

You winced when Rhett lifted your hips, a slight sting radiating from between your legs. He grunted deeply, grimacing at the feeling of his oversensitive member. You rolled over onto your back before rolling onto your side and propping yourself up on your elbow, watching him throw the condom in the wastebasket beside the bed and making his way toward the en suite bathroom.

You took the time to look around the room. It didn’t look much different than the room that he had at his parents' home. The same posters decorated the walls; his record player in the corner on the old table with the records stacked beneath it. His bed was bigger, that much you noticed.

Another tug at your heartstrings occurred when you saw a picture framed tucked on the back of his dresser. You couldn’t see the entire thing but you knew the picture all too well. It was a picture of the two of you at the lake the previous summer. It was your favorite picture. You couldn’t believe he still had it, still displayed it. Not that you could judge. It still sat proudly on your desk at home.

You blinked the tears away as Rhett emerged from the bathroom, still naked but now carrying a damp cloth. He cleaned you gently, awkward silence swirling around you. He placed a small kiss on the inside of your knee, stubble tickling you slightly.

“Thanks,” you whispered softly, earning a hum in response.

Rhett tugged a pair of sweatpants on and crawled into bed behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight to him.

“Rhett… we need to talk,” you spoke into the darkness.

“In the morning,” he said, soft snores escaping him not but a couple of moments later.

Birds chirped outside the window and the smell of french toast and fresh coffee flooded your senses. Your head pounded and your mouth was dry but you grinned at the familiar scent of Rhett. You didn’t get to enjoy the moment long before your phone buzzed on the floor in the pocket of your shredded dress.

You wrapped the sheets around you and bent to pick it up, groaning when you saw that Eleanor had called you twenty times. An incoming call making it the twenty-first.

“Don’t yell at me,” you pleaded, waiting for the berating to begin.

“Where the hell are you? I tried coming by your place this morning for our usual morning after brunch and you’re not answering. I’m worried!”

“Sorry, I was asleep.” Not a total lie.

“Where are you?” El questioned.

“Not at home…”

“Hey, honey. You want cream in your coffee? I got a fresh pot going.”

You smacked your forehead and cringed at the sound of Rhett’s voice filtering through the room.

“That’s not- Oh my god. You didn’t-”

“Love you, El! I’ll talk to you later,” you rushed to hang up the phone, throwing it across the mattress and letting out a frustrated noise into your hands. Rhett was standing at the door with a tray of food.

“Hungry?” He asked as he made his way towards you, taking a seat next to you on the bed. He sat the tray to the side and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Starving, actually. Look… about last night. I- I don’t normally do that,” you confessed.

“What? Come to your ex’s house in the middle of the night and fu-”

“Yeah. That.” Rhett laughed at your sudden shyness. He always knew his crudeness flustered you. “I just- these past few months have been hell without you. And I guess I got a little too excited when you called me last night. But I don’t think I can just be a late-night booty call for you.”

“I don’t want you to be that,” Rhett said.

“Oh.”

“I want so much more.” Rhett’s large hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to make you look at him in the eyes. “I was a damn fool to let you go, sweetheart. And I’ll be damned if I make that mistake again.”

Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as you surged forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed your temple and held you close.

“Now eat up. I learned to cook this just for you.”

It may have been a bad idea last night, but now you’re thinking it was the best decision you’ve ever made as you shared a piece of french toast with Rhett.

tagging those who may be interested: @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @laracrofted @whisperofsong @damrlova @arctvrvs @bobgasm @mxgyver @ryebecca @nobody7102 @sebsxphia

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #SOURGUTS #SOURGUTS writing challenge

536 notes · View notes