#ranged fic

[curiositydooropened]

Ranged • 00: Prologue

After Hell brought Horror to the Heartland, America’s dirt roads and open woods began to fall to rot and ruin. To prevent further inter dimensional slips, the government dispatched several workers, such as yourselves, to travel the country saving small communities. 

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 922 - This fic is episodic.

Warnings: very slowburn, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *This chapter contains mentions of animal harm, blood, and vomit/nausea.

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

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Moodboard • Episode 01: Firetower

Blood shone in thick, dark splatters across a freckled cheekbone. It stuck his hair to his ear and his collar to his throat. It stained a shoulder. You watched it glimmer under street lamps, watched the clench of his knuckles around the steering wheel, watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he avoided your gaze.

There was no point saying it anymore, the words exhausted their meaning a year ago, but it was true nonetheless. You can’t save everyone. You both knew it. It didn’t hurt less.

You mopped at the blood splatter on your own cheeks with a spare t-shirt to flirt a discount out of the motel attendant. He slid you a key on a novelty ring while Steve parked on the far side of the lot.

You’d set the phone on its receiver by the time he exited the shower. You rinsed bloody clothes in the sink and brushed your teeth and slipped into an oversized t-shirt. You couldn’t remember who it belonged to. Maybe you’d picked it up at a thrift store along the way. 

“Owens?” He asked, voice gruff, eyes red. A claw mark dug into the flesh of his cheek, to the bone.

You reached into your duffle for the first aid kit to procure ointment and a butterfly bandage. “Sit.” 

He sighed, but did as instructed, towel falling to his shoulder. He winced as you patted ointment into his wound. “Did he say where to go next?” 

You nodded, pressing his flesh together until it wrinkled near his eye. “Small town in Western Montana. Locals think it’s the water supply. Park ranger called it in.” 

“How far?”

“Eight hours.” You zipped the kit closed and wedged it back into your bag.

“Okay,” he muttered, tossing his towel into a corner near the sink. He stretched sore muscles with a groan, and you watched the bruise on his ribs bloom in greens and browns. The swelling was down significantly from two days earlier. “We’ll leave first thing.” 

He meant first light. You glanced out a fogged window at the glow of street lamps. The vacancy sign buzzed bright red. The sky remained dark just beyond.

“Okay.” You sighed and toed under linens that had yellowed years ago. 

Steve triple checked the lock and toted his bat from the nook near the front door to his bedside. Then, he pulled his lighter from his pants pocket and shook it to his ear. By the look on his face, it needed a refill. He placed it to the bedside table between you, just beside the Bible.

“Are you okay?” He’d asked it four times already, a compulsion you’d learned to ignore.

“Yes.” You knew better than to reciprocate, knew he wouldn’t answer you anyway. You had minimal sleep hours left. It wasn’t worth the fight. You can’t save everyone.

“I’m going to turn the light out.” He warned, sliding himself into his own double bed. A large hand reached beneath an orange lampshade and the room went dark.

The darkness was spotted orange and blue, and you fought back the images of Steve’s fists meeting and elderly man’s face. You fought back the screams that rang in your ears, the copper taste on your tongue, and that pang that lay permanent in your nostrils.

Steve shifted in his bed, springs groaning beneath his weight, and you honed in on him instead. Every night, you fell asleep to the steady in and out of his breath, the comfort of him an arm’s length away.

—

The ranger’s uniform matched the coffee and cream in your styrofoam cup. The confusion knit between his brows matched those of dozens of local law enforcement across this country over the last year. You flashed you badges and asked him to take a seat, and hours later you were holding your hand over your nose to mask the smell of decay.

The corners of Steve’s mouth pulled upwards in a grim apology, sipping his own coffee.

A room full of National Guardsmen looked aghast. There was no guarantee a burn of that size could stay contained. Half of the state could be up in flames by the end of the week.

“Better than the alternative.” You promised.

The Spread started on a cattle ranch north of town, the herd dwindling as calves and heifers slipped into cracks and broke legs and necks. A large crevasse rotted through a patch in the back forty, splitting the land down the middle from government land near to the rancher’s estate.

On the back side, it seeped into the river. Trees were downed and turned to mush and rot. Where once sat a hunting perch, now folded into a vat in the ground.

The Ranger had taken you up by four-wheeler, an excursion neither of you had been prepared for in slacks and blazers. You supposed those were hazards of the job though, wading through the remnants of a hillside in nylon stockings.

Steve rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up past his elbows to dive into the meat of a fallen tree. It came back green and gooey, but nothing had nest inside. Not yet, at least.

“You called just in time,” he wiped his hand on his pant leg and you dry heaved a little.

“So this… virus,” the Ranger gestured to the pocket of melted flesh, root to branch, “it can infect humans too?”

“If it festers too long,” you nodded.

“And what might that look like?” He asked like he already knew the answer.

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[A/N: Here she is. These two have been my new best friends lately, the one thing I've written that actually stuck because it felt good. Let's hope it stays that way so I can keep riding this train. I don't know how often I'll update this, but it'll be on-going. I'd love to write blurbs, and I have a few episode locations/monsters in mind.

I'd really appreciate it if you reblogged and/or left me a comment. Or if you're more inclined, head to my Ao3 and leave me a comment there. It'd really mean the whole world. xoxoxo]

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington slowburn #amanda's wips #wip fic #ranged fic

[ahhrenata]

distractions ✨

#for all the shooting range fics and what not #i was gonna make Leon’s face angry but i also think its cute that Luis cant see Leons soft expression #just hears the grumpy voice #i once again struggled with luis’ face… its hit or miss for me sometimes #not safe gun practices so don’t do it lol #serennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #luis serra #luis serra navarro #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil fanart

[jellyfisharesatan]

The foxes are maybe the most interesting iteration of the found family trope I've ever seen. They love each other. They hate each other. They spend half their time fighting. They literally hide behind each other when threatened. They call each other slurs. They're all gay and date each other. They're mentally ill and traumatised. They're so problematic it's ridiculous. Canonically three of them are murderers. They have a massive sleepover where they all snuggle together .Some of them have about two lines of dialogue together. What the fuck

#tfc #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #fr tho like #im reading fics rn and they range from #“these people are codependent due to mutual levels of trauma and mental issues” #to “these people were briefly on a sports team together and a few stayed friends and got married but most of them barely interact” #and its all perfectly reasonable #you can literally write them any way and it fits

[sugarcoated-lame]

Pretend To Be My Boyfriend? | Rhett Abbott x Reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors DNI!

Synopsis: When a guy won't leave you alone, you ask the pretty cowboy at the bar to pretend to be your boyfriend.

WC: 2900

Warnings: not much? this is mostly just fluff :) fake dating, mentions of harassment/guys being creepy, mentions of alcohol and drinking, flirting? like one mention of sex, i feel like that gif of rhett should be a warning

a/n: I've had this idea in my head for a while and finally decided to write it (: kinda feel like it's a bit shit but please enjoy, comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! ♥

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“Hey, honey!” Rhett hears a sweet voice call out through the dimly lit, noisy bar. He senses a figure approaching to the left of the barstool he’s sat on, hand freezing halfway to his mouth as he goes to take a sip from his bottle of beer.

It takes him a moment to realize that you’re speaking to him, his confused expression meeting your hopeful, smiling one. He checks behind him for somebody else, but nope, there’s no one there — you’re definitely talking to him.

“Uh…hi? Do I- do we… know each other?” Rhett places his beer down on the bar, wincing as he asks the question; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten a woman that he’d met in this very bar and drunkenly hooked up with. And that situation never usually ends well for him.

You’re very pretty — beautiful, actually — and Rhett decides right then that he definitely doesn’t know you. There’s no way he’d ever be able to forget a face like that.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you step a little closer to him, and though you’re still smiling, within the newfound proximity Rhett can now see a frazzled, almost pleading look in your bright eyes as you go to speak again.

“Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?” You ask, your voice lowered to a level that only he can hear.

“Uh…” Rhett’s confusion is written all over his face, from his brows that furrow adorably to his gaping mouth.

Your own expression turns sheepish as you realize how silly the question sounds, and you’re quick to intercept and elaborate for him.

“There’s a guy over there,” you turn away from Rhett slightly and nod your head subtly to your left and catch a glimpse of the drunken stranger who wouldn’t leave you alone. “He’s been trying to hit on me for the last thirty minutes. Can’t seem to get the hint that I’m not interested.”

Rhett follows your gaze and sees a man sipping a beer and staring at the two of you from the other side of the bar.

“So… I told him that I was waiting for my boyfriend.”

When he meets your eyes again, he can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, but Rhett can sense that little hint of fear in your eyes and the worry in voice. And, though he doesn’t know you, he feels his protective instincts kick in.

You can see the change in his demeanor almost immediately, shoulders squared as he sends the other man across the room an intimidating glare that you don’t think you’d ever want to be on the receiving end of.

But, when Rhett’s gaze returns to you, his blue eyes soften and his lips turn up just a bit. He gestures to the empty stool next to his and you take the seat with a sigh of relief and a grateful smile.

“If I’m gonna be your boyfriend, then I guess you should know my name. I’m Rhett.”

Your own shoulders deflate in relief that this kind stranger — Rhett — has agreed to help you, a genuine smile now forming on your lips as you introduce yourself as well.

You’re not entirely sure what made you choose him, but for some reason you found yourself drawn to the pretty cowboy sitting alone at the bar and drinking a beer. And, you’re glad you did.

He’s even prettier up close — little curls peeking out beneath his Stetson hat, adorable button nose, and his eyes captivating pools of blue, intense in their gaze that’s now focused on you. His voice deep and rich, and oh-so soothing.

“You new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.” He’d definitely remember if he had.

You nod your head in confirmation. “Very new, I just moved here two days ago for work.”

“Well, welcome to Wabang. I promise not all us guys here are creeps like that asshole.” Rhett promises, once again glancing toward the man who had been harassing you earlier.

That draws a light chuckle out of you, but before you can respond, Rhett narrows his eyes and goes to speak again.

“Speaking of which, he’s still staring over here. I’m gonna put my arm around you… if you’re okay with that.”

Your head nods in agreement without really thinking much about it. Admittedly, you find yourself a little bit lost in the quiet, gravely tone of Rhett’s voice, that deep southern accent, and you’re fairly certain he could get you to agree to anything if he keeps talking to you like that.

Before you can register what’s happening, you’re enveloped by warmth and a pleasant musk that’s a spicy mix of vanilla and tobacco as Rhett leans in and drapes a protective arm over your shoulders.

“Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?” Rhett emphasizes the last word sarcastically; if he’s going to pretend to be your boyfriend, he’s going to have fun with it.

You take a second too long to answer, too busy trying to inhale Rhett’s scent again as discreetly as possible, hoping he doesn’t notice — he definitely notices.

When you look back up into his eyes, there’s a playful mirth to them, and a smirk overtaking his lips at how flustered you are by the close proximity and the use of the pet name.

“Y-yeah…yes.” You shake your head as though to clear it. “I’ll have a beer.”

As you inwardly cringe at yourself for stumbling through your answer, Rhett simply smirks and raises his hand to flag down the bartender and order your drink, all the while keeping you close to his side underneath his arm.

Only when the bartender places the bottle down in front of you does Rhett remove his arm from around your shoulders, and you find yourself already missing the warmth of the denim of his jacket on your bare skin.

“So, you moved here for work. What do you do?”

You tell him all about your new job and how excited you are for this fresh start in a new place, and Rhett listens intently, chiming in when necessary, loving how passionate you are about your work and content to just listen to the melodic sound of your voice.

“Alright, enough about me. What do you do, Rhett?” It’s the first time you’ve said his name tonight and Rhett feels his cheeks heat, deciding right then that he loves the way it sounds on your lips and that he needs to hear it more.

“I help out on my family’s ranch,” Rhett tells you. “…But I’m also a bull rider.” A small grin grows on his lips that tells you just how much he loves it.

“A bull rider?!” You’re beaming at him, eyes widened in surprise. “No way, that’s so cool! Way cooler than my job.”

Rhett lets out a deep chuckle and shakes his head in an attempt to protest. Bashful and blushing even harder now, he tries to brush it off – unable to take a compliment, but you’re having none of it.

“Come on, it’s very impressive! Maybe I’ll come cheer you on in the stands sometime.”

“Yeah?” The two of you share light-hearted grins and you give Rhett an affirmative nod. Yeah, he would definitely like that.

The two of you sit at the bar and talk for a while longer, Rhett buying you a couple more beers. You discuss anything and everything that comes to mind and share a good few laughs, the alcohol leaving you on just the right side of tipsy, feeling open and content – light.

Rhett only nurses the one beer that he’s been drinking since you approached him earlier in the evening. He finds himself already feeling a bit protective of you, liking the responsibility of keeping an eye on you and making sure you’re having a good time. Besides, he just really enjoys talking to you and doesn’t feel the need to get drunk tonight.

Rhett continues to also keep an eye on the guy who was bothering you earlier – though he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t try to approach you again since you’ve been at Rhett’s side for a while now, his arm once again finding itself wrapped securely around your side.

However, Rhett’s noticed throughout the night that he’s not the only man in the bar he’s caught looking at you – yes, you’re new in town, but he knows they’re also looking – staring really – because of how beautiful you are. And he maybe finds himself feeling a bit jealous.

“Seems you’ve caught the attention of just about every guy in here tonight.” Rhett informs you with a teasing lilt to his voice to make light of the situation, smirking into his beer bottle as he takes the final sip.

“Not that I want it.” You roll your eyes dramatically. A playful smirk then takes over your lips — you’ve got an idea. The corner of Rhett’s lips quirk up a bit too as his brow raises in question.

“Just trust me.” Your face is leaning in closer towards him and before Rhett can process what’s happening, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The fact that you’re tipsy has definitely provided you some liquid courage, that much is for sure when you pull back and shift to whisper into Rhett’s ear.

“Gotta let them know that I’m all yours.” Your tone is playful, sarcastically seductive, the warmth of your breath against the skin of Rhett’s earlobe sending a shiver down his spine and he has to fight to hold back a groan. God, does he wish that statement were true.

You can’t stop the little fit of giggles that escapes you as you pull back, and Rhett can’t help but chuckle along with you. Admiring the way your eyes crinkle up when you laugh, the adorable way that your nose wrinkles too. The skin of his cheek is still burning where your plush lips had kissed him.

Now it’s Rhett who has an idea, you can almost see the light bulb flicker behind his crystal blue eyes when they peer into yours again.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asks and your brows furrow adorably, curious as to where he’s going with this. You let him know that you were just going to call an Uber.

“I can drive you home… if you’d like.” Rhett’s nowhere near drunk from the one beer he’s had all evening.

“And there is a way you could show everyone you’re mine.” He proposes, that playful smirk returning to his lips and a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Oh?” You narrow your eyes at Rhett, but you can’t help but grin along with him, still wondering what he could possibly be suggesting.

Rhett goes to remove the cowboy hat from his head, repeating your own words from only a few moments ago. “Just trust me.”

He moves to place the hat atop your head, a silly grin still on his face as he adjusts it over your hair. You meet his look with a puzzled smile of your own, unsure of what he meant, but something within you tells you that you can – trust him, that is.  

Rhett flags down the bartender and closes his tab before lightly knocking his fists on the wooden bar top.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Rhett chuckles like he knows something you don’t, and you can only roll your eyes in jest as you wait to be let in on the joke.

Rhett watches as you shrug on your jacket, stealing a long glance at you wearing his Stetson – feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest and enjoying the way it looks on your head – before he gently ushers you toward the exit of the bar.

Near the door, he sends a self-assured smirk to the asshole who had been bothering you earlier in the evening, who just watches along from a nearby booth with his buddies, a sour look on his face as you walk out into the night with Rhett’s arm draped over your shoulder.

Only when you’re secured into the passenger side of his truck does Rhett divulge the nature of his plan.

“So, uh — the hat,” Rhett nods towards his hat that you’re wearing and your fingers reach up to touch the worn fabric. “If you wear someone’s cowboy hat, you’re supposed to uh…ride the cowboy…”

He trails off, admittedly a bit nervous now – he doesn’t want to come off as a creep – as he explains the ‘cowboy hat rule’ as he called it, to you. His way of making the whole ‘fake boyfriend’ thing seem a bit more real to any prying eyes, showing everyone in the bar that you’re ‘his’.

You stare at him in bewilderment for a long moment, mouth agape. Your expression sends Rhett into a boisterous fit of laughter, unable to refrain, and earns him a playful smack on the arm.

You close your eyes and cover your face with your palms. “Oh my god…”

“Oh, come on. It’s kinda funny.” Rhett contends through his laughter and you send him what you hope to be a scornful pout. But there’s no real malice behind it, a smile fighting to break through as you find it hard to be annoyed with him.

“And it’s not like I’m gonna hold you to it.” He promises with a wink that might make you swoon if you weren’t already sitting down.

Before you know it, you’re joining in on the laughs, unable to hold back any longer and relishing in the humor or the situation.

Once you’ve rattled off your address to Rhett, the ride to your home is filled with quiet music pouring from the truck’s radio – though it merely serves as background noise as you and Rhett spend the entire 20-minute drive talking. Sharing little details about yourselves and making plenty more jokes. His Stetson still sitting pretty atop your head.

Despite having spent hours talking with him in the bar, you still find yourself wanting to know more about him, not wanting the conversation – or this night –  to end.

The truck reaches your little house all too soon, and Rhett finds himself not wanting the night to end either. Pretending to be your boyfriend was the highlight of his evening and he wants nothing more than to see you again.

When he stops the truck at the end of the little path leading to your front door, Rhett clears his throat before moving to speak.

“So, I — uh, I was wondering, c-could I… maybe get your phone number?” Rhett asks quietly, a pink flush taking over his pale cheeks as he internally curses himself for sounding so nervous.

You don’t mind it, though — this seemingly tough cowboy growing all flustered and stumbling over his words for you? You couldn’t find it more endearing.  

Rhett holds his breath as your pretty eyes — slightly glassy still from the alcohol you’d consumed earlier in the evening, look straight into his blue ones, and you grace him with a coy smile.

“Of course. Who else am I going to call when guys are harassing me and I need a fake boyfriend?”

Rhett releases the breath he was holding and bites back a smile, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Great.”

Once you’ve exchanged numbers, you gingerly remove Rhett’s hat from your head, smoothing down your hair.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you scoot closer toward him in the bench seat, reaching up to carefully place it back on top of his head  — your eyes gazing into Rhett’s blue ones as they peer back into yours, the two of you sharing bashful smiles.

With the cowboy hat secured on the head of its rightful owner, you move to pull away. However, you pause before you get too far, deciding to lean in and place one last kiss to Rhett’s cheek before climbing out of his truck.

Rhett’s in such a daze – cheeks flushing that bright pink once again as warmth radiates from where your lips had kissed him, and a dopey grin on his lips – that he almost doesn’t notice as you walk around to the driver’s side of his truck, leaning a bit into the open window. Your face close to his, lit up all pretty in the moonlight.

“Thank you for turning my shitty night around, Rhett.” You bite back a grin. “I had a lot of fun.”

Before Rhett can respond – still flustered from the kiss to his cheek and now from hearing you say his name again, you back away from his window, making your way towards the path. Walking backwards, still facing the truck and grinning at him all the while.

“Oh, and you’re a really great fake boyfriend!” You call out.

Breaking off into a giggle that carries in the night’s slight breeze and Rhett can only chuckle back, shaking his head as he watches you with a fond smile.  

With that, you turn around and walk off to your house with a spring in your step. Rhett stays sat there in his truck until he sees you make it through your front door safely, and he’s absolutely beaming.

Rhett's going to call you first thing tomorrow. He hopes that he can turn this ‘fake’ boyfriend situation into something real.

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Thank you for reading! x

taglist: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91  @memoriesat30  @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 ♥

also tagging a few people that I think may enjoy/liked my last rhett fic ♥ : @roleycoleyreccenter @sunlightmurdock @rhettabbotts @mothdruid @lewmagoo @foreverrandomwritings @pillow-titties @sobshoney

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#rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott imagine #lewis pullman #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott one shot #my writing

[loveinhawkins]

The RV careens out of the trailer park and hits the open road with what pretty much amounts to ‘all speed, no grace.’ The turn Steve makes is, quite frankly, abysmal; he’s sure that if his driving instructor could see him now, the poor man would be weeping in distress.

Yet his passengers erupt into cheers as they pass the Leaving Hawkins sign, like he’s pulled some kind of James Bond move.

And, for all his insistence on being the absolute antithesis to so-called ‘jock culture’, Eddie rushes over to the driver’s seat, starts squeezing Steve’s shoulder with decidedly jock-like exuberance.

“Holy shit, holy shit, that was so fucking cool, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s definitely broken through the depression stage of the ‘finding out there’s an alternate dimension in Hawkins’ journey—landing firmly in the fuck it, might as well have some fun stage.

Steve could tell they’d reached that point even before the goddamn ‘big boy’ comment, when Eddie had taken one look at the Michael Myers mask, looked Max dead in the eye and said, “This is gonna be. So fuckin’ stupid. Let’s do it.”

Steve goes through a few seconds more of having his shoulder pummelled before saying, “Dude, you’re doing a shitty job at being undercover, stay down.”

“Like, do you have any idea,” Eddie says breathily, as if Steve hasn’t spoken, “just how perfect that was? That was, God, a childhood dream fully—”

“You dreamed of stealing an RV?” Steve says dubiously.

“Not in such crude literal terms, no. C’mon, Harrington, you must’ve had an imagination once—”

“Hey!”

“—didn’t you ever dream of, like, daring escapes, pulling the sword outta the stone, all that shit?”

Steve thinks about it. “I mean,” he says, “when I was a kid, I just kinda… climbed trees and stuff.”

Eddie sighs as if he can’t decide whether Steve’s done something especially annoying or endearing. “Of course you did.”

They reach a stop sign and Eddie finally flops into the passenger seat, facing Steve like he’s sitting side saddle on a horse.

“So,” Steve says, “I take a right after this, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm, well remembered, Mr Getaway Driver.”

Steve scoffs, glances over—finds Eddie framing him with his index finger and thumb, like a director trying to capture the perfect shot.

“James Dean,” Eddie says authoritatively, dropping his hands.

“What?”

“Was tryin’ to figure it out, your whole look, you know? Very Rebel Without a Cause.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “but I have a cause, we all do.”

Eddie just blinks at him, and Steve chuckles.

“You, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Steve has a moment to appreciate the way Eddie’s eyes go all soft and maybe just a little shiny, before he has to set off again. He takes the right turning.

“We should watch it,” Eddie says eventually. “Hell, I’ll take any movie. Just gimme, like, two hours of not having to think.”

“Tell me about it.”

Steve’s sure he’ll never complain about double VHS tapes ever again. Then a thought occurs to him.

“Shit.” He calls to the back. “Rob?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’know when we left Family Video, did we even lock up?”

“Yes,” Robin says followed immediately by, “No?”

Steve snorts. “God, we’re so fired.”

He hears Robin making her way up to the front, then Eddie saying, “Oof, Buckley, that was right in the ribs.”

“Why the sudden concern about our jobs, dingus?”

“I’m not concerned, I just got reminded of—Eddie was mentioning—”

“—Rebel Without a Cause,” Eddie finishes.

“Oh, Steve, I know you’ve seen it, I put it on last week!”

“Uh, maybe I was preoccupied doing, I dunno, my job.”

“It’s the one with—”

“James Dean,” Eddie cuts in.

“Yeah, I gathered, thanks,” Steve says sarcastically, but he can’t help smiling as he does so.

“—and it’s, you know,” Robin goes on, “troubled kid moves to a new town, and—”

“Aw,” Steve says, “you think I’m troubled, Munson?”

“It’s all in the eyes, Harrington. Such depths.”

“Right?” Robin says, and she’s laughing, tongue-in-cheek, “I’ve always said so.”

“You ever considered wearing a leather jacket?”

Steve laughs, too. “Tell ya what, Eddie, why don’t I just wear all your clothes?”

“Well, we know denim suits you.”

“If only you saw his last car-stealing outfit, Eddie.”

Steve sighs. “Robin, shut it.”

“Excuse me,” Eddie says, “d’you have form, Harrington? Grand theft auto form?”

“Literally once. Crazy circumstances.” Rest in peace, Todfather. “It was a Cadillac.”

“A Cadillac.” Eddie sighs dreamily. “Do you have any photos?”

“Uh, no, I was kinda busy.”

“I shall mourn the loss.”

“Take the next left here,” Nancy calls, which Steve is grateful for—the directions had gone completely out of his head.

“Wheeler, come up to the front,” Eddie says, “it’s a party.”

She must do, because her voice sounds much closer when she says, “Shit, I think I forgot to lock up, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve says, “no-one’s gonna ransack The Weekly Streak.”

Another stop sign—Steve looks over, smirks at how Eddie has ended up squished between Nancy and Robin, all of them sharing the one seat.

“They better not.” To Eddie, Nancy adds, “I think I gave your uncle the impression that I’m doing a big piece on you. Like, testimonials for an innocent man, stuff like that.”

For a flicker of a second, Eddie looks nauseated at the thought—Steve spots the shift, the decision to make a joke about it.

“Well, Wheeler, you better make me sound good.”

“Oh, I was going more for journalistic integrity.”

“Hey.”

Steve hears a couple of thumps behind him; without even glancing in the mirror, he says, “Sit your asses down, shitheads, don’t make me turn this thing around.”

“Don’t make me turn this thing around!” Lucas parrots.

Max scoffs playfully: “Nineteen going on forty.”

“Eddie was standing before!” Erica points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, Eddie’s a law unto himself. Look, just sit down and, like, make a list or something, I’ll stop off for food after we’ve—”

Dustin laughs. “You really are forty.”

“Uh-huh, one more wisecrack and you’re not getting any chocolate pudding.”

Steve’s hamming it up, he knows he is—smiles to himself as he hears a quartet of giggles.

“Can you believe they used to think I was cool?” he says.

“I dunno, Harrington,” Eddie says warmly, “at least one of them doth protest too much.”

Nancy stands in search of a pen, Robin following, insisting to Dustin that, “We’re getting one of those camp stoves, if I don’t eat something hot soon, I’m gonna die.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. Maybe it’s because they’ll soon be arriving at The War Zone; his levity slips just a little when he says, “It’s probably, like, a proximity thing. Henderson’ll have a scientific term for it.”

Eddie chuckles. “What, the Steve Harrington effect?”

Steve shrugs. “You get too close, the shine wears off eventually.”

He doesn’t realise until he’s said it that the joking, perhaps, has stopped somewhere along the way.

“Huh,” Eddie says. “I’m no scientist, but that doesn’t sound like the Steve Harrington effect to me.”

“No?” Steve says.

He can see the parking lot in the distance, and he gestures for Eddie to duck.

“Nope,” Eddie says. Steve can hear him moving, crouching to hide behind the driver’s seat.

He parks and everyone’s abruptly all business, deciding who’s staying in the RV, who’s going into The War Zone.

Steve hates it, has a sudden intense longing to keep talking about movies, to just be stupid.

And maybe Eddie can tell, because just before Steve heads out, he catches his eye, smiles.

“Hey, don’t worry, Harrington,” he says with a tiny, fleeting wink. “You’re still my leading man.”

#Eddie staring at Steve dreamily: you have the range darling #conversations in the RV are becoming another fave #pre steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve and robin #steve and the party #eddie and nancy #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

[gojonanami]

thinking thoughts about geto swallowing a curse that involves feelings of lust and suffering from unexpected side effects that leave him drenched in sweat and his boxers far too tight. and what can reader do except oblige in helping him…cool down

#sab speaks #ANYWAY #I love these kinds of fics lmao #sab [future fics] #I’m having a range of thoughts and emotions tonight #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #it was either this or gojo eating spiked chocolate so

[kaladinkholins]

"why would you ship mizu and taigen together they're sooooo toxic ugh taigen is AWFUL and mizu should be with ME instead!!!"

of course they're toxic they're both deranged and terrible and that's why they're perfect for each other.

cuz like omg you think mizu would treat you well? mizu would abandon you. look at how she left ringo multiple times. ringo who treats her so well and is nothing but patient and caring and loyal. if you are insecure she will laugh at you because she has no social tact. look at how mikio said "it's a stupid dream" talking about his ambitions of regaining his honour and mizu straight up chuckles and tells him he's right because it IS a stupid dream. and at this point their relationship was cordial and she was even warming up to him!

like. arguably, taigen would be a better romantic partner (per the ideals of his time and culture of course), or at least he would be on paper. cuz i mean as a husband, as he is now, i think he'd be awful. but i'm talking about if you and him were dating or courting or just seeing each other romantically, he would be good to you. like we saw how he behaved with akemi and he was nothing but sweet and gentle. the very reason akemi wanted to marry him so bad was because she KNOWS without a doubt that he respects women and would treat her well. "oh but he cheated on her with the prostitutes while celebrating his engagement!" yeah but per the norms of the time and place, it was not considered cheating and akemi (as well as any wife or romantic partner of that period) would not have minded or even cared.

and yes taigen IS an asshole and he IS obnoxious but come on. so is mizu, if she is allowed to act like herself around you. mizu will tease you and mock you and challenge you and even poke at your insecurities (see:her goading mikio on even though he clearly did not view her teasing as light-hearted banter and took it all very personally). she would tell you to your face if she thinks you're being annoying (see:mizu rolling her eyes and telling akemi to straight up just "shut up" when she'd believed mizu had killed taigen).

mizu is not merely a hot and talented badass with a sword and the insane hyperfocus on her desire for revenge which literally drives her to withstand like, extreme amounts of damage and survive it. mizu is also flawed and the show does a good job at showcasing this, and showing us that she's not merely a victim but also a multilayered person. we see throughout that mizu is blunt and sarcastic and prideful.

oh what's that? oh right, very similar to taigen, who is also hot and talented with a sword and with insane hyperfocus on his desire to duel mizu and regain his honour. taigen who is also flawed (though, arguably, more so) as he is blunt and sarcastic and prideful.

the only thing that sets mizu and taigen apart is the fact that taigen is a man and is not mixed race, which thus affects their positions in society and how people perceive them. these are external factors. taigen being a boy who is not blue-eyed allowed him to easily mingle with the other kids in the village, all of whom were similarly fed the same prejudiced values which led them to gang up against mizu and bully her.

but take all that away. strip them down to the bare essentials. suddenly it's like they are the same person copy and pasted.

and that's what makes them even more interesting. yes absolutely they would be toxic. whatever souls are made of, mizu's and taigen's are the same (derogatory). and we literally see them fight all the time!!!! but the thing is they are both deranged when it comes to this.

do you get me. they both literally get turned on by sparring. mizu's whole spar with mikio was her way of flirting. just look at how she smirked at him and said "unsheathe it" like it's clear that this is an innuendo of not just unsheathing his weapon but also what's in his pants. then during the chopsticks fight with taigen in the snow, despite mizu literally being injured and taigen trying to attack her, mizu gets attracted to him. meanwhile taigen got a boner after wrestling with her in the forge.

taigen goes around saying he wants to kill mizu to regain his honour but he still literally risks life and limb for her constantly. mizu gives ringo stomach ulcers by going around flinging herself into near-death situations 24/7. she ups and leaves her beloved swordfather with barely a goodbye twice to pursue her batshit far-fetched quest for revenge (against people she doesn't even KNOW btw because she literally starts off with practically No Leads and not even knowing the NAMES of the white men who are her maybe-fathers).

these bitches are crazy and you know what good for them. that shit needs to be contained and quarantined though and that's why in that sense they would be good together.

i want to put them both in a jar and shake it very hard and see what happens. personally i think they will argue and insult each other while working perfectly in sync with each other to break out of the jar and then proceed to kill me and make out sloppy style over my dead body while they're both covered in blood.

like that's it that's the dynamic. send post.

#this is written half in jest btw dont take it too seriously. ppl can dislike what they want and ship x reader if they like #what annoys me is just when ppl are being rude about other ppl's ships like. unprovoked. like girl.... #taimizu #taigen x mizu #mizu x taigen #blue eye samurai #im active on twitter again and the algorithm keeps putting bad takes on my tl against my will !!! #also yes i am aware im saying all this while writinf a tender yearning-filled slowburn fic of them #bcs i DO want them to be gentle. definitely i do. but that comes muuuuuuch later after they both wear each other's edges down ykwim #bcs if they get together any time soon they will literally be a flaming hot mess #sexy hot mess tho #but a mess nonetheless #they have the range! love them for that #fandom.rtf #shut up haydar #wank.mp3 #kinda #might delete later

[attapullman]

Good at Makin' Bad Decisions | Rhett Abbott

Summary: Even a year after you've broken up, after a night of drinking you still end up in Rhett Abbott's bed.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: f! reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, fingering, swearing, alcohol, healthy dash of praise k!nk as usual

A Note From Mo: I blame reading an old fic I desperately wanted to re-write and having covid, strep, and my period all at the same time for whatever the fuck this is. Anyway, happy 6 months since the last time I wrote Rhett! xoxo

There’s something about waking up in a bed that isn’t yours that causes an anxiety like none other. Especially when the night before is a hazy blur. And you aren’t wearing any pants.

Wait, where are your pants?

Creamy morning light bleeds through the thin plaid curtains in the room. From your spot half-buried under the comforter, you notice the vaguely familiar rodeo posters tacked up on the wall and dust-covered flannels on the floor. The slight tinge of boy sweat engulfs the room. Definitely not a Tillerson room, but who the fuck did you go home with?

A quick body scan results in these observations:

Your jeans were long gone, but cheekies and tshirt still remained.

Your head was splitting open from the axe of a bad hangover.

Based on the groan that did not come from your body, there was definitely another person in the bed. And they were awake.

You flip over in bed, panicked. Praying to God that beside you is some random Wabang townie. But you would know those dark, grown out curls anywhere. He may be turned toward the wall, but you know him better than you know yourself.

“Rhett?”

A tentative hand leaves the warm cocoon of blankets to roughly shove your ex’s shoulder. He grunts with consciousness and a veiny hand rises up to rub at his eyes. Takes a moment to rake through those unruly curls. Flipping over onto his back, bright ultramarine eyes quirk up at you. 

“Good mornin’ to y’too, sunshine.”

It’s hard to remember everything you want to say when he’s looking entirely too delectable for the morning hours. Something you’d sweetly told him during your relationship, but after your swift uncoupling it’s downright rude of him.

“Why am I in your bed?” His eyes roll slightly as he lifts up onto his right arm, rolling the thick, labor-built muscles of his neck and back. It’s mesmerizing, watching him work out the kinks that come with his profession. Your eyes unable to leave where his hand massages over that bronc tattoo you’re still weak over. “We didn’t sleep together, did we?”

He’s sexy as hell, but you’ve been doing a really good job avoiding him the past year.

“D’ya not remember any of last night?” Your head shakes, cheeks heating. “Not even a little? Oh fuck, really? You had quite t’night, darlin’.”

The color completely drains from your face. In your hey day, the two of you could drink the bar under the table, stumbling out of the Handsome Gambler with the sloppiest grins and even sloppier kisses. Drunken shenanigans were the norm. 

But since your breakup last year, nights out had been quiet. A beer or two, a tequila shot when the time called. Your friends don’t have the tolerance of a bull rider. And neither do you anymore, since you can’t remember much past that third shot of Don Julio.

How had you landed in bed with Rhett Abbott? 

As you watch him roll out his other shoulder, it’s like no time has passed since that night. Sitting in his truck, the front porch light on as your roommates wait for you to come in. Deciding that if he’s gonna be traveling the mountain states to make a name for himself, it’s not fair for you to be sitting at home worrying what bone would break. You can’t take off weeks to follow him around. You’re too young to sit around pining. He can’t handle all that time away from you. It just makes sense to call it quits. And yet tears poured down both your cheeks when you shut that truck door for the last time, Rhett Abbott no longer your business.

Why are you here?

Blinking back the ghost of tears, you clear your throat. “What kind of night exactly?”

In the past, a night of too much tequila in Rhett’s bed would have had Royal knocking on the door at an ungodly hour and Cecelia giving you an exasperated yet playful look when you snuck out the back door in the morning. 

“Do ya really want t’know what happened?” He’s leaning against the headboard, broad chest in view, sheets low on his hips. You say one last prayer that he’s wearing sweats so that you can still believe that you didn’t have a blackout fuck with your ex.

“I’m scared to ask,” you admit, the gentle smirk on his face confirming that this story is not going to paint you in a flattering light. 

Rhett’s head tilts down as he laughs, teeth flashing as the hearty grumble fills the room. Looks back up at you with that boyish mischievous grin you’ve loved for years. There’s a pillow indent still marring his cheek. Your heart lurches for him, for when you could call him yours.

His lip quirks. “Ya threw a rock at m’window in the middle o’the night. Begged me to let ya in. Told ya to go home, but ya threatened t’wake up my folks.”

Your cheeks flame with shame. Drunk you was not in your corner.

“Snuck ya in the back door, like ol’ times. Said yer friends had dropped ya off, so let ya stay until ya sobered up.” The burning embarrassment lifts a little, imagining you quietly climbing in bed and sleeping. But that unruly mischievous smile is back. “Then ya started tellin’ me how much you miss my cock and asked t’go for a ride.”

A hole opening in the earth and swallowing you couldn’t make you escape this embarrassment.

“Please tell me I didn’t-”

“Oh, but y’did, darlin’. It wouldn’t be a drunk night out with ya without asking for m’fingers. Practically gagging for it as I got ya upstairs.” He’s radiating pride. You risk a glance at those thick, calloused fingers. Yep, you can see yourself begging for even just one of them.

“Then ya started strippin’ off yer pants…forgot how cute yer booty looks shakin’ like that.” He lets out a joyful grunt, the happiest sound a cowboy ever did make. “Had to hold yer hands to yer side to keep it from bein’ a free strip show.” 

You swallow down every ounce of your dignity, the scene playing behind your eyes. Those strong hands wrapped around your biceps. Your cheeky comments, grinding your ass on any part of him you could. The lack of inhibitions on your part was concerning, but when had you ever been able to restrain yourself when it came to Rhett?

His giggles fade as you both sit against the rough wooden headboard, the one that is nearly as old as this creaky house. In the silence of the room you can now hear the busy sounds of his folks making breakfast. Figures they still have that louder than sin coffee machine. You could really use a cup.

He shifts beside you, the energy in the room softer. “Ya know, after y’fell asleep, I kept on thinkin’ about all the times ya stayed over here. Nights in the pasture. We were s’good…” He trails off, the silence filled with reminders of rushed kisses between rides, lazy afternoons on horseback, and too many days spent in the barn pretending to do chores while the two of you fell in love. 

It was you. You couldn’t handle the broken bones. The purpled bruises week after week. He loved it, and you couldn’t take that from him. So you had left a part of yourself with him and spent the past year pretending like you weren’t missing a limb. It was him. He didn’t want to be always missing home. Canceling rides purely so he could drive hours back here. He cut his losses before he was in too deep, spending the last year acting like a chunk of his heart wasn’t permanently cemented in you.

When you two crossed paths in town you exchanged sad glances and half-hearted smiles. Nights at the Handsome Gambler a drink was raised in greeting. It was as painful and as amicable as a breakup could be. But this was the closest the two of you had been since that night in his truck. The most you’d spoken other than forced hello’s. The most you’d touched since that last kiss goodbye.

Looking into those impossibly deep oceans he calls eyes, there was an emotion that you couldn’t read. His smile gone, thin lips bitten as he worried them between his teeth. Mirth replaced with angst.

You need to get out of here.

“M’sorry for interrupting your night. You know my libido has her own brain when I drink. Give me ten and I’ll be out of your hair - think Ce will notice me going out the back door?”

You’re barely off the bed when an arm, all hard muscle and thick veins, wraps around your bicep and brings you to a warm chest. “I-I…just for a minute, ‘kay?”

It’s the best you’ve felt in so long. Safe, warm. He’d shaped perfectly to accommodate you. It’s only natural to scoot closer into him, blurring the lines of ended relationships to seek his comfort.

Rhett’s heartbeat is solid beneath your cheek, speed picking up when you curl into him and run your hand along his side. The rumble of his chest vibrates as he clears his throat. “Ya don’t have t’ leave. I like havin’ ya here, missed holding’ ya, yer so soft.”

You hum in agreement and then there’s a beat, and you can almost see the bashful grin splitting his face. “And yer s’sexy in those panties.”

At least you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

One of those perfectly large, comforting hands slides down your side, hitching your hip up so you can straddle his thigh. That thick expanse of pure muscle was exactly where you belonged.

You were already here, already embarrassed yourself. Might as well go the whole way.

“Rhett?” His eyes latch onto yours, eager to hear from you. “I don’t have to go. If you want to, uh, catch up?” If his hungry smirk wasn’t an indicator, the twitch in his boxers below speaks volumes.

Aware there’s an old house with no sound proofing and an entire family downstairs eating bacon, he rolls you over onto your back, rippling biceps boxing you in. That confident smirk that looks as in place in bed as it does atop a two ton bull. The hungover logic in your brain pleading you to go home not nearly as strong as the instant spring of your legs landing either side of his hips.

His lips ghost over yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitance. The slightest groan left you, eager to feel him. Taste him.

“Please…please don’t tease me.” His smirk is bordering on arrogant as you wrap impatient hands around strong shoulders. Your libido was making her triumphant return after not being satisfied the night before, pooling in the apex of your thighs as he presses against you. You want Rhett, and you want him now.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, a shadow of the real thing. “If y’can be quiet f’me, I’ll give you m’fingers, darlin’.”

Dignity fades to the back of your brain as you quickly nod at him, lips pressed close like a good girl.

Scruff scratches along your jaw as he hums along your skin, pressing his weight to one side as calloused fingers make their way south, slipping and catching against your soft skin. Both your eyes fluttering as cotton is pushed aside and he finds your clit, rubbing the softest of circles. His little chuckle at how wet you already are. Small whimpers leaving you before he finally tilts his head down to smother your lips in a warm, soft kiss.

Fuck, he’s an even better kisser than you remember.

Running a hand through those unruly curls, letting the dark hair tangle between your fingers as you fight to keep your moans contained. A struggle as he presses deliciously on the button, delighted at how you squirm against him. Lips ghosting against your ear as he moans your name. “Doin’ s’good for me.”

While his thumb continues its mind numbing descent on your clit, the tips of his fingers brush against your folds. He knows you love a tease, the promise of what’s to come. His special trick to getting you to your orgasm in less time than he rides a bull.

“R-Rhett.” Your voice is barely audible, struggling to keep yourself from screaming his name to the heavens. Your fingers never feel this good, nothing could ever be as satisfying as his touch. Your pathetic whimpers picking up speed as the blinding white pleasure threatened to overtake you.

“Are ya gonna cum for me, darlin’? Y’know y’want to. Cum for me, baby girl, show me how good I make y’feel.”

Scruff against your neck and jaw as he showers you in kisses, whispers praises in your ear, fingers stroking and rubbing and bringing you closer to the promised land. Slips that wild tongue between your lips, groaning at your familiar taste, and that’s all it takes.

A thousand years could pass and you would still remember how all-consuming every orgasm is that Rhett Abbott has given you. The flash behind your eyes, the constriction of your chest. Thanking the good Lord that Rhett’s tongue is deep in your mouth to shush the pleasured scream that threatens to escape. 

You settle from your orgasm with soft kisses and his wet fingers trailing along your skin, soothing you. Not that it’s easy to be soothed when his erection is throbbing against your thigh. He’s hot and ready, prepared to take you all the ways he’s denied himself the past year.

You’re doing the mental math. Your ex giving you an orgasm isn’t that bad. Fucking him? That’s the kind of mistake you can’t undo and should be avoided.

But when you look in those midnight blue eyes, all reason hightails out the door. It’s just sex - not a relationship - you two are so good at sex. And it’s been so long since you’ve taken him for a proper ride.

Your fingers sink into the back of his boxers, itching to sink your fingers into the meat of his ass - hard and toned from hours riding. Tease him a little by pressing a kiss to that scruffy chin as he ushers you along, desperate to be inside you.

Just as you get the checkered material past his cheeks, there’s a knock at the door. Rhett’s a deer in the headlights above you; wide, scared eyes aimed at the door.

It’s Cecelia, speaking through the wood as she walks past with the laundry. “Rhett, hurry up, y’got chores in the barn.” 

The two of you exchange a glance, relief at being in the clear.

“Oh, and sweetie? Since you’re still here, if you want breakfast, there’s some extra bacon.”

Abandoning my normal tag list since it's not Bob and tagging some fellow Rhett bb's who might enjoy: @bobfloydsbabe @sorchathered @bobgasm @auroralightsthesky @creatchie8 @just-in-case-iloveyou @ryebecca @sebsxphia @lewmagoo

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fan fiction #rhett abbott x you #outer range fan fiction #outer range smut

[eriexplosion]

If I have to write another Hunter defense post (this time with added Wrecker) I will because the reunion was pretty much exactly what I expected it to be and while I did scream when the screen cut to black it was a good one, I'm so excited for next episode to see the actual fallout.

Crosshair is my darling and I love him but please remember they know none of the Bad things that happened to him, nothing about what he went through, nothing about his internal growth. What they do know is last time they saw him he told them he had no chip with zero indication of when it was taken out even when Hunter asked, meaning for all they knew he tried to kill them of his own free will. He then paused their escape attempt from the apocalypse HE brought them to multiple times to bitch and insult them. And when they finally did escape he refused to go with them and said he was staying with the Empire.

They still care about him. They still wanted to go rescue him when they thought he was in danger. They'd still die for him. But yeah when he comes back it's going to be fucking rough. (And just goddddd the music choice in that scene. I'm not even a music person and I could scream about it.)

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #anyway fully fluffy reunions can still be put in for fic that's a free range and id eat them up #but this is tonally perfect for the story we've seen so far

[lei-llustrations]

“李相夷已经死了。。。李莲花也快死了” - Episode 38 of Mysterious Lotus Casebook (莲花楼）

When even rebirth isn’t enough sometimes

please read Three Autumns by @rageprufrock

#This also proves I have style range okay haha #Zoom in on LLH for extra sadness #mysterious lotus casebook #莲花楼 #Something something lotus symbolism #Growing from the depths #But he still FUCKING DIES UGH #li xiangyi #li lianhua #mlc #llh #mlc spoilers #cdrama #my art #di feisheng #mlc fanart #fic rec

[curiositydooropened]

Ranged • Masterlist

After Hell brought Horror to the Heartland, America’s dirt roads and open woods began to fall to rot and ruin. To prevent further inter dimensional slips, the government dispatched several workers, such as yourselves, to travel the country saving small communities. 

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: TBD - This fic is on-going, some long chapters, some blurbs. Think of it as a serial, episodic.

Warnings: very slowburn, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *See individual chapters for warnings.

I will be updating this fic whenever I feel like it.

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • WIP Wednesday

Episodes:

00: Prologue - Western Montana

01: Firetower - Cascades

02: Home [Coming Soon]

Blurbs:

---

[Author's Note: This is my little answer to X-Files or Supernatural but in the Stranger Things universe. Think of each episode as like a monster-of-the-week, where Steve and his partner jet off to various areas of the US to stop the Spread of rot and kill demo-beasts. Thanks, as always, for reading. xo]

#stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #stranger things #steve harrington #wip fic #amanda's wips #ranged fic

[sebsxphia]

gentle, rough and loving.

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: rhett abbott’s aftercare is the final piece to the puzzle you need.

￫ word count: 2.5K.

￫ music: listen to the incredible and beautiful playlist made by @laracrofted for this fic here! 💽

￫ c/w: endings of smut, endings of BDSM/rough sex, mentions of BDSM, rope, derogatory language used towards reader, one mention of no previous aftercare in previous relationships, sub space, soothing injuries, kissing, swearing, rhett giving you proper aftercare, rhett being an absolute sweetheart and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ a/n: i’m dedicating this piece to the wonderfully talented @lewmagoo. their writing is absolutely phenomenal, and what always gets me most, is the beautiful aftercare that they write. therefore, this piece was born! please kindly check out their writing, i cannot recommend it enough! <3 i hope you enjoy! <3 my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Gentle, rough and loving are the three words you would use to describe what it felt like to make love to Rhett Abbott. He had your face pushed down with one hand, onto the hard and cold floorboards of your living room floor. His other hand was gripping at your hip so hard, you knew his fingertips would leave bruises. Yet, the hand that was pressed on your face had his fingers curling round to the rise of your cheek, so the wooden floorboards wouldn’t hurt too much. The hand on your hip worked to steady your wrecked frame, so you would never fall forward and hurt your neck.

He had secured your wrists tightly together with some rope. The rope itself wasn’t some tattered and fraying rope that he had found in his barn, no. Rhett had insisted that he purchased proper bondage rope. Your safety was of the upmost importance to him, regardless that he was treating you like a common whore in this very moment. He used his extensive, and ever growing knowledge of cowboy knots, to tie your wrists together and let them rest on the arch of your back. It was the perfect centre of gravity so that you wouldn’t topple over when his thrusts became particularly rough.

At the beginning of your relationship, before any rougher type of sex had occurred, you explained to Rhett your prior experience of aftercare with previous partners was, minimal, to say the least. It was during the quiet confines of your shared bed during one moonlit night. You remember the look on his face, shadowed gently by the moonlight filtering in through your lacy curtains. His face contorted into hard lines above his eyebrows, yet his eyes still wore a soft and loving gaze for you. He was both angry beyond belief that no one would take care of you like that, and deeply consoling to your fears and hurt.

“I promise you, I’ll never let that happen to you, m’love. You’re safe with me. I hope y’ can come to trust me, in time.”

He understood that he had to earn that trust from you in time, and he made a promise to himself that gentle night that he would.

A year later and Rhett had kept his promise.

After the scene was over and he came down from his own ecstasy inducing high, the word loving, was about to replace the word rough. He could still hear your faint whimpers that escaped your mouth in time with your body twitching from your heightened sensitivity. With heightened caution, he slowly slipped his fingers out from under your cheek to allow for your face to gently meet the floorboards. His other hand still had a hold on your hips to steady you, but his moved his fingertips an inch upwards so he wouldn’t press down on the particularly sore points. His hand from your face traveled over the base of your skull, along your spine in your neck and dipped in between your shoulder blades. This was when you first registered his voice.

“Darlin’, can y’ feel that? Feel my hand on your neck?” You let out a small grunt in response. You had intended it to be a hum in agreement, but with lack of water it distorted your voice. He understood your tone none the less and made a mental note to get you water as soon as he was able. He continued to trace your spine with his hand until he reached your tied wrists. He was allowing you to feel his gentle touch, to remind you that his far rougher touch was finished now. His fingertips reached your bound wrists and you heard him speak again.

“I’m goin’ un-tie your wrists now, darlin’. I won’t let y’ go, I promise.” He worked his set of fingers nimbly to un-tie the knots. He only ever used knots that were quick and easy to un-tie, especially with one hand. As you felt the rope be pulled out from underneath your wrists like a table cloth off a table, your wrists went limp and they slid down your hips. Rhett was quick to grasp onto them to allow your centre of gravity to stay. You huffed out a groan that he could only register as, exhaustion.

He made another mental note. “Your poor back and wrists, they must be so sore. Cream, after water.”

“Shh, m’love. I know, I know. I’m goin’ turn you over now, okay?” The hand on your hip guided you down to the floor and then slid round to your belly, to turn you around to face him. The gentle hold on your wrists let go momentarily before he gathered them back in his hand to rest on your stomach. He had you turned over and now sat in his lap, as he sat on the floor. He had one hand resting in between your shoulder blades, allowing him to hold you up right and see your face. Your cheeks were flushed a rosy red, with tear stains tracking down your flesh. Your eyes were drooping and completely glazed over, and you wore a cock drunk, lopsided smile.

He was proud that he could fuck you so good that you would end up as a wreck like this, but that was done now. It was now his responsibility to be gentle and loving with you, and take care of you.

“Can you tell me your name?” Rhett avoided using any pet names that would be used during a scene like that, as to not push you into subspace any further.

“Bambi?” You croaked out with your eyebrows furrowing slightly. His lips quirked up in the corner of his mouth, but he kept it hidden from you.

“That’s not your name right now. Can y’ tell me your name?”

Your brow furrowed deeper and you inhaled a shaky breath. Your glazed over eyes scanned his face and he felt a wave of relief when he saw your eyes crinkle in the corners ever so slightly. It was a tell tale sign that you were coming back around and you remembered Rhett as your lover and someone who was safe, to you. You called out your own name and he placed a softening kiss to your forehead with praise.

“Atta’ girl.” He beamed in delight. “That’s your name ‘nd I’m here to take care of y’ now, okay, darlin’?” You nodded in response and removed your hands from his to grab onto the collar of his plaid shirt. You buried your face into his neck, letting your cheeks scratch over his stubble and your nose inhale his familiar scent, grounding you further.

“Rhett, Rhett, Rhett…” You mumbled incoherently into his flesh.

He smiled to himself and moved his hand to cradle your head. “That’s right, sweetheart. It’s me, you’re safe now. I’m gon’ take y’ upstairs ‘nd get y’ cleaned up, okay?”

You nodded against his shoulder and let him scoop you up under your thighs, allowing himself to get off his knees and cradled you next to his torso. He carried you up the stairs to your shared bedroom, letting you down softly onto the mattress below. He shed his own plaid shirt and instructed you to sit up briefly. He guided your arms into the sleeves and wrapped it around your bare chest, noticing you were shivering slightly. You held tightly onto his biceps as he pulled away from you. There was a look in your eyes, a pleading desperation for Rhett not to leave you. He recognized it instantly and reassured you within a second.

“I jus’ need to get y’ some water and ointment first, m’love. I’m gon’ be ten seconds.” He pressed another praising kiss to your forehead. Your glazed over eyes looked almost tearful and it caused his stomach to drop through the floor. It teared at his heartstrings, knowing that you entrusted him so deeply like this.

You watched as he left your bedroom, with the glass from your nightstand in his hand. You kept your eyes intently focused on the doorway and awaited for his return from the bathroom. You heard the faucet running and the pipes shaking throughout the rest of your home. When he returned, you held out your hand, as to beckon him for his reassuring presence. He squatted down by the bedside and handed you the glass. He reached up to brush the hair out of your eyes, looking up at you with a prideful smile when you gulped down the soothing liquid within seconds.

“I’ll get y’ another glass in a bit. Can I have your wrists first, please?”

Rhett was well aware of the fuzzy headspace that you could be in. Regardless of the stage, he understood that you may be unable to communicate back to him. Therefore, asking for your permission, or telling you what he was doing was always first on his mind.

You held out your wrists and let him take them delicately into his own hands. His calloused fingertips had always been rough, since the day you met him, but somehow, when they were drawing over your skin it seemed as though it was a featherlight and tender touch. You adored how your rough and tough cowboy, could be so gentle and loving.

He moved the ointment over your wrists and asked you to sit up next so he could soothe your aching back. He could feel your eyes fixated on him the whole time. You were tracing and following his every move. But he knew it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, it was because you were finally receiving the proper aftercare that you deserved and you wanted to burn it into your memory forever. He could feel how your body was keening into his loving touch, with every simple swipe and stroke of the cooling ointment. When his fingertips ran over your wrist, he could sense your pulse coming back to a resting rate, which pleased him greatly.

When the pain points that he was aware of were covered, he moved onto your needs that you perhaps hadn’t yet communicated to him.

“Darlin’, can y’ tell, or point, to any other parts that hurt, please?” You out stretched your finger to point at your knees and he let out a quiet chuckle to himself. “Of course. I’m not surprised, y’ took me s’ well, sweetheart.”

He moved up and onto the bed, and caught your gaze in the process. Your eyes had lit up and sparkled brightly at his sweet praise. Your mouth was parted with an anticipated smile.

“I— I did?”

Your fingers twiddled with one another in your lap. He recognized how your body language shifted and the look you wore on your face. You were asking for praise and reassurance, something that you had never had prior.

“Oh, m’love,” he scooted up to where you sat against the headboard. He knelt next to you and took your face in his hands again. “You did incredible for me. I’m s’ proud of you. You’re such a good bunny for me.” He leaned down to gingerly press a kiss to your cheek but your lips met his instead. You hovered mere millimeters away from his lips and you swore you could’ve felt a zap! of electricity connect you both. You felt his warm breath fan over your lips and you gazed up at him through your lashes.

He swallowed thickly and his voice got caught in his throat. “Can I kiss you, darlin’?”

“Please, Rhett.” You breathlessly pleaded. He leaned in to meet your lips and your body almost went limp against his. The first loving kiss that came after a particularly rough fucking, was always the final piece to the puzzle. Like clockwork, you came back around and you were now fully understanding of your surroundings and who you were with. You were with your Rhett, who was gentle, rough and loving.

He pulled away, with you both letting out a small gasp at the sudden contact of air. He held your gaze for a couple of moments longer. He loved the way how you keened into his touch, how you were moving your face to press your cheeks harder against his large hands.

“Let me finish taking care of your knees, ‘nd then I’ll cuddle up close to you, okay?” You nodded in his hold and let him slip away, back down to your legs.

Moments later your body was smoothed out with the ointment, you had another glass of water down you and you had been moved back into Rhett’s arms. He’d pulled out your old laptop from underneath your bed to watch something easy, alongside some emergencies snacks for occasions such as these.

He had taken his plaid shirt off you at your request. You wanted to feel the ever comforting feeling of skin on skin contact. He was sat back against the headboard with you in between his legs. His broad and toned thighs were locking around you and keeping you protected. His hands ran up and down your arms in soothing strokes, and sketched out mindless shapes on your flesh. He occasionally dipped into the snack you had in your hand to feed you one or feed himself, which always earned a giggle from you.

“Do y’ want a bath after this, darlin’? I’ll give y’ a proper massage too, the lavender oil and everythin’.”

Your head rolled back into the crook of his neck and onto his shoulder. You let out a satisfied hum and looked upwards towards Rhett. Your hands moved to cradle the back of his skull and toy with the lick of hairs at the base of his neck. He craned his face down to catch your satisfied, yet still drooping gaze.

“Please, lover.” You paused for a second and sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth. “You’re s’ gentle, rough and loving to me.”

If your hand was on his chest right now, you’d be able to feel his heart beating in double time. So fast, it could burst right through his chest. Your trust was solidified in Rhett and it made his heart feel as though there was a bed of wildflowers blooming inside of him.

“Anythin’ for you, m’love. I’ll always take care of you.”

“I’ll always take care of you too, cowboy.”

Your own statement was as true as his. After a particularly rough ride and having his knees scraped and his shoulder pushed out of his socket, you would be there. Your hands would roughly grip at his chest and shoulder to pop the bone back in its place, but your hands would turn gentle as you pressed the cotton pad to his bloodied knees. You would lovingly run your hands through his hair as he lay with his cheek pressed on your bare chest, when the exhaustion would wrack his body entirely.

You loved and cared so deeply for each other, that you both knew no one would, or could, ever match that.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch @randomfandomgirl97

tagging who maybe be interested: @sunblchdfly @bradshawsbitch @rhettabbotts @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloyds @peachystenbrough @sugarcoated-lame @sushiwriterhere

#(also i hope you all get the header showcasing rhett being gentle rough and loving. okay thank u <3) #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x f!reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott drabble #outer range #outer range x reader #outer range fanfic #outer range fic #outer range imagine #outer range drabble #outer range smut #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

[iamasaddie]

Marcus ‘I can be your baby girl, and I can be your Daddy’ Pike

#pls give me more dom!Marcus fics i need them like i need air #iamasaddie gif #pedro pascal #the mentalist #pedro pascal gif #i’m more of a daddy girl myself but his range is crazy

[strawhbrrries]

Hell on Heels.

pairing: rhett abbott x tillerson!afab!reader

summary: you made the devil a deal; he made you pretty, he made you smart and rhett abbott she’s coming after you.

warnings: everyone calls reader ‘honey’, sweet rhett, the tillersons (they need their own warning tbh but i love a good forbidden romance), mutual pining (sorta), unprotected p in v, car sex, a wee bit of fingering, creampie, let me know if i forgot anything, no use of y/n or description of reader, not proofread 

word count: 4.4k words

author’s note: i love rhett abbott and i think this rivals the cowgirl series as one of the best things i’ve ever written. I’m just a sucker for a white man in a cowboy hat. honey is ENTIRELY inspired by the pistol annies so channel them when you read them. I’ve been hyping this up to @thesirenrealm all night so i’m saying my prayers that it lives up! as always, please enjoy!!! mwah!!!!

read the next part here!

“The rodeo ain’t ‘till later tonight.” 

His voice was warm, wrapping you up in a thick blanket and protecting you from the world. A false sense of security, your brother’s had tried to scare you with some bullshit about not trusting the Abbott boys. As if your family was any better. 

“Stalkin’ me, Abbott?” You turned around to face him, the railing of the arena leaving indents on the undersides of your arms, the corners of your lips turning into a smile.

“Luke know you’re out here?” He looked around, almost like he was expecting your brother to pop out of the shadows somewhere and give him shit for even speaking to you, avoiding your question.

“No, and I’m an adult. I can do what I want.” You huffed, annoyed everyone saw you as an extension of your older brother. Even more so that Rhett did, you’d tried so hard to stand out to him.

“He doesn’t see it that way. Why’re you out here?” He inquired, leaning against the railing next to you, squinting his eyes as the sun found its way under his hat

“Space,” you looked over at him, “ I assume that’s why you’re out here?”

“Bingo.” He looked over at you, holding eye contact until you broke it and looked back into the arena in front of you. “Why don’t you leave the ranch if you want space so much, Honey? You’re out here more days than you’re at your own home.”

His observation was a slight stab in the guts, only because he was right. You loved your family, truly, as best as you could while keeping yourself sane. Luke wanted to control everyone and everything, including you and what you did. You were half surprised he hadn’t implanted a tracker underneath your skin, in your car, or downloaded one on your phone. In some ways it could be written off as well meaning, he just wanted to make sure his people were okay. He was just crazy, you knew it. Billy, he was a sweet thing, just never knew when to shut the fuck up. Your dad had gone off his rocker long ago, probably forget he had a daughter due to your absence around the house. 

“And where do you suggest I go, Abbott?” You scoffed at his suggestion, your family might’ve had some money but you’d never seen any of it. Buying a house or renting was out of the question. 

“Quit callin’ me that.” He scoffed right back at you, his eyes never leaving you.

“Fine, Rhett. Answer the question.” 

“I’ve offered multiple times, Honey. It still stands now.” His tone was softer now, more serious. 

You’d ignored him, walked away and got into your car, drove all the way to your house. You wanted to contemplate his offer, wanted to take him up on it but you’d just be intruding on his family’s space. You’d rather act like you only slept at your house before you became a burden to another family. Your phone lit up three times with Rhett’s name on your drive home, probably telling you to think of the offer or maybe asking if you were gonna see him ride later. 

He’d been shocked when you walked away, didn’t say a single thing or make any indication he’d done anything wrong. He was right, he’d offered you a place multiple times before, when he pointed it out he didn’t think he was going to upset you. He knew all about the loyalty you had for your family but he also knew the type of crazy Luke and Wayne were. Some days he wondered if you were ever truly related to them, sweet ol’ Honey. Your sweet demeanor earned you the nickname, you’d had it for years. It could be your real name and you’d know no different.

“Honey. Honey. Honey what the fuck.” Luke was yelling the second you walked in the door, it made you want to turn around. Pick up your phone. Tell Rhett you’d accepted his offer and was on your way.

“Luke, shut the fuck up.” Is all you had to say to him as you walked right past him and into your room, slamming the wooden doors as loud as you could. 

Luke had yelled something in response, you couldn’t give a singular shit about whatever that man child wanted. You balled your fists, shaking them at your door quietly as he continued yelling. All you wanted was some peace and quiet. That’s why you spent so much time down at the showing arena during the day time, nobody else was there. It was deserted. Just you and your thoughts. Apparently also Rhett, not that you minded. You liked Rhett, a lot. He was just the right amount of rugged to contrast the delicate world built around you from being the only daughter. Just the right amount of mean to contrast your sweetness.

Your phone vibrated from its spot in your back pocket, you pulled it out and looked at the name at the top of your screen. Rhett Abbott.

“Honey.”

His voice was soft, just as soft as it had been at the arena, not a hint of annoyance with you. You appreciated that he wasn’t making you feel bad for leaving him hanging, appreciated that the guilt you were feeling wasn’t because of his words. 

“Hey, Rhett. I'm sorry for leavin’ like that I-”

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have overstepped like that. I just need to know if you’re comin’ to watch my ride.” 

You should’ve given it to him for cutting you off like that, but your sweet heart had a Rhett Abbott shaped soft spot and always had. You listened to him talk like he was preaching the Sunday sermon, like whatever he was telling you would save your life.

“Yeah..yeah I’m comin’.” You flopped back on your bed, imagining where he was and what he was doing. Were his thoughts filled with you? Like yours were of him.

“Good.” 

He hung up and filled you with disappointment, you knew he had to get ready to ride but it didn’t make you any less upset he didn’t have the courtesy to say bye. 

“Bye, Rhett.” You whispered into the air, laying your phone down next to you, staring up at the angled ceiling as your thoughts became overrun with what you’d wear. 

You loved being a girl; loved dressing up and looking pretty, loved the (wanted) attention you got from it, loved the solidarity you got from most other women. Tonight was no exception, the rodeo was your favorite excuse to wear the jeans that hugged your ass in all the right places and the bra that put the girls in the right place to get what you wanted when you wanted it. You didn’t need to dress up to impress anyone, you knew that but god if you didn’t love it. Touching up your hair and makeup was the last thing you did before shoving your phone in your back pocket, walking past whatever screaming fest your brother had found himself in now, and hauling ass to the rodeo. Sometimes, life wasn’t so bad.

“Honey! Over here!” 

Your head snaps to the group of girls calling for your attention, a huge smile immediately lighting up your face as you walked over to join the group. You gave all the girls a hug and a kiss on the cheek before settling in a spot, you hoped Rhett could easily see you in. If it wasn’t your whooping and hollering that would get his attention, it was the cowboy hat he gifted you years ago matched with bright red lipstick. You were sex personified. Hell on Heels. 

He’d spotted you the second you’d walked into the place, watched your hair bounce as you walked and watched the smile that stood proudly every time someone spoke to you. Watched your ass jiggle in the jeans you always wore when you dressed up, he hated them simply because he knew every man you encountered watched you saunter away the same way he did. The cat calling the kettle black. Rhett was many things but he was a dirty hungry man, hungry for all the things Honey Tillerson could offer. He watched you sit with a group of girls he didn’t know, nor did he give a single shit about, and try to get a glimpse of him. Unfortunately, he’d placed himself out of sight. He wanted to admire you from afar without being caught, boy was he glad he did when you started searching for him.

“Here for prince charming Abbott?” One of the girls teased, trying to get a rise out of you.

“Obviously, I don’t support anyone else as fiercely as I do for a man who isn’t mine.” You shot back, rolling your eyes playfully before breaking into giggles to let them know it wasn’t as serious as you’d pretended.

“All I’m sayin’ is, I’d never wait for a man who can’t commit.” You don’t know shit.

“Agreed, I mean I’m sure any Abbott boy is a catch but girl you’ve been pining after this man since grade school!”

You knew the girls were well meaning, just wanting you to go after a man who wanted you more than you wanted him. You’d die lonely before you settled for someone who wasn’t him, it didn’t matter if it took you a hundred years to get him to see you the way you saw him. He already did, you were just oblivious and put it off as some sort of kindness he gave to everyone. Rhett wasn’t the kind man to everyone like he was to you, he couldn’t give a shit if anyone had a place to stay trying to escape their crazy family, but he gave multiple for you. 

“Ash you can’t even talk, your man can’t keep it in his pants. Leave mine alone.” You snapped, feigning niceness despite the venom of your words, tilting your head to the side daring any of the girls to try you one more time. Your sweetness only ran so far before it ran out, they were running it thin.

“God if I was a man, Honey, I’d be knocking down your dad’s door beggin’ him to let me marry you. Scratch that, I’d pay him to let me do it! If anyone supported me like you support Rhett, it’d be a miracle I wasn’t knee deep in kids.” The girl next to you spoke, laying her head on your shoulder as she did so. It felt nice for your support to be noticed by someone. 

“I’ll be next in line in case he turns her down!” 

The girls continued talking about how they’d love to marry you in another life up until the announcer came on to start up the rodeo. The rodeo on a summer night was your favorite place to be. Between the screams of everyone in town coming out to support someone they knew and the lights of the stadium, it filled you with warmth. You only half paid attention to all the bull riders before Rhett, wishing them good luck but not enough that they’d beat your man.

“Everyone stand and welcome our hometown hero! Rhett Abbott!”

You were the first to your feet, yelling louder than you were the last time, making sure he’d see you before his run. He’d whispered to you one night after a run, sneaked to your house to see you and thank you for coming to watch him, that you were his good luck charm. That he searched for you everytime he was getting ready to ride, it was a drunken confession but a true one nonetheless. Ever since that night you made sure he saw you, that he knew his good luck charm was there. Your voice rivaled his parent’s in loudness, depending on the night it was louder.

You held your breath through his entire ride, always scared to death he’d fall and get trampled by whatever bull he was riding that night. He never did. Always came out on top. He was the hometown hero, after all.

“Rhett!” You called after him, running up to him as he exited the ‘Rider’s Only’ area. 

“Honey.” He smiled, scooping you up and twirling you around. It was the most affection he’d shown you, sober.

“Mr. Hometown Hero. Always winnin’, huh?” You teased, matching his smile as you looked down at him. Aware of the fact that he was almost entirely supporting you with one arm, your core just getting a tinge warm at the thought.

“Always, when I got my good luck charm here,” he nipped at your exposed collarbone, “God you are one gorgeous woman. Don’t know how the guys in the stand didn’t maul you before your pretty ass got here.”

“Oh hush, don’t care about ‘em anyway.” You placed a kiss on his cheek, waiting for him to cross the physical boundary of kissing.

He’d been close to it only twice before, once on your birthday and the other on the same night he’d first called you his good luck charm. Both times he’d been interrupted by a knock on a door and the holler of your name.

Your birthday is one you almost kiss you think back on frequently. You’d managed to ditch your family and friends for a few hours, sitting in the passenger seat of Rhett’s truck as he drove you back to your place. You invited him in, no one was home so there wasn’t anyone to tiptoe around. Showed him your room and locked the door. He laid down on your bed, moving onto his side so he could look at you as you laid down.

“Pretty lil thing.” He whispered, tracing a finger from the start of your forehead to the tip of your chin. He used that same finger to get you to look at him. 

The two of you laid there, staring at each other, for a few moments. Admiring the other person. If the rest of your birthday had gone horribly wrong, laying here with him made it all better. 

“Can I kiss you, Honey?” He asked, already running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Please, Rhett.” You whined, it was airy and desperate. 

He leaned in, keeping his finger on your chin and pointed towards him, his lips ghosting yours. There wasn’t a centimeter of space between the two of you, 

“Honey? Are you in there? Rhett Abbott’s truck is in the driveway.” It was Billy, the better of your brothers to have been home first. 

“Yeah I'm here! He brought me back and was making sure I was okay!” You scrunched your face in annoyance, pushing Rhett off of you and trying to hurry him out of your room before anyone else arrived home. 

The night he called you his lucky charm was also the night you think you realized that you loved Rhett Abbott, like truly loved him. He’d had his best ride of all season, gotten dragged out to go drink with the other riders when he���d rather celebrate with you. 

You’d gone home slightly disappointed, you understood the other guys wanting to celebrate with him but you also wanted to see him. You weren’t greeted when you got home, not that you cared, but it only added to your disappointment that the people who were supposed to care about you didn’t. Your phone had found its way in the middle of your bed, being left there while you took a shower in some attempt to scrub away the disappointment. When you got dressed and finally picked it back up it read,

3 missed calls from Rhett Abbott

Your face fell, how could you miss these? You clicked on the notification and waited anxiously as it rang, nervous he wouldn’t pick up. 

“Hey, baby.” His voice was loud, he was yelling over whatever commotion was going on in the back. Baby was new. 

“You called?” Your voice barely above a whisper, gnawing on the end of one of your acrylic nails as you awaited his answer. 

“Wanna come see you, see my girl.” His girl.

“My family’s here, you can’t.” Despite the thick walls providing a lot of sound proofing, you couldn’t help but whisper in fear that one of them had a cup to the door listening to your every word.

“I’ll park at the end of the driveway, walk around to your window. Please?” 

“Just…be careful, please.” You smiled softly at the reflection of yourself on the screen, excited you’d be able to see him tonight. 

What felt like forever went by before you heard a soft knock on your window. You unlocked it and pushed them open, leaning over the sill to look at him. 

“Rebellious rebellious Honey Tillerson, what ever will we do with you.” Rhett joked, putting his hands up on the window to hold yours.

“Congrats, Rhett. You did amazing tonight.” You took his hands in yours and smiled down at him, although you could barely see him in the dark. 

“Cause I had you, had my lucky charm, my girl.” His girl. 

Your smile at that moment could’ve lit up the whole sky, the brightest thing he’d ever seen. If he hadn’t forgotten his phone in his truck he would’ve snapped a picture of you, probably would’ve fucked his hand to it later.

“I’ll be there, every time.” You leaned down just as he leaned up, hopeful it’d finally be the moment you’d kiss. You’d be lying if it wasn’t something you dreamed about constantly since your birthday. Your lips were once again, centimeters from each other when a fucking knock on your door rang out. 

“Honey. Do you know where any of dad’s meds are?” Luke’s voice instantly filling you with rage, didn’t anyone in this house have anything to do when Rhett was trying to kiss you.

“No, I’ll help you look.” You yelled back, giving Rhett an apologetic look before closing your window and walking away to go help your incompetent brother.

Now here you were, in Rhett’s arms, inches away from his face. You felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, that he was gonna feel the excitement and the nervousness spilling out of you. And yet, he didn’t kiss you. He didn’t lean in or pull your face to his. He set you down, he put your feet back onto the ground.

“C’mon, I’m not kissin’ you here.” He read the disappointment written all over your face, grabbed your hand and brought you to his truck. “Because the last thing I need is someone trying to get your attention when it should be on me.”

“And your truck is that much more private?”

“It drives and the doors lock, your family seems to always need you when I do, I’d say it’s a bit more private.” He responded, opening the passenger side door for you and closing it once you got inside.

He got in the drivers side and closed the door, locking the truck and taking a deep breath before he turned to you. 

“Honey, I am going to kiss you. If anyone fuckin’ interrupts me I will become a murderer.” He placed his hand on your cheek, leaned in and placed his lips on yours.

You placed a hand on top of his, just reminding yourself that Rhett Abbott was actually kissing you. He leaned in further, deepening the kiss a bit to test the waters as this was the first kiss the two of you shared together. He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, a small whine escaping the back of your throat causing him to chuckle against your lips. 

“C’mere, pretty girl.” He helped you over the console in the middle and into his lap, his hands caressing your sides before finding their way to your ass. Giving it a nice squeeze, he’d thought about this every damn time you wore these jeans.

“Rhett.” You whined, leaning into him for support. Not because you couldn’t hold yourself up, you simply wanted to feel his hands on you and the strength he displayed earlier when he picked you up.

“What, baby? What? You gotta use your words, you know that.” He whispered, placing open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Need you..”

“Need me to what? Words, Honey, words.” He sucked and nipped at one spot directly under your collarbone, he knew it’d start some shit in the future but at this current moment he had you all to himself. He’d rather be a dead man than not mark you as his, hell he’d fucking carve it into your skin if you’d let him. He’d ask you about it later.

“Need you to fuck me..” You whispered, your skin turning pink at the confession and the lewdness of it all. Rhett wouldn’t be your first, you’d drunkenly hooked up with men before but it was a different kind of need to finally have sex with someone you’d been pining after.

“Was that so hard? I can do that for you. Take real good care of ya. Fuck you six ways to Sunday.” His words turning you an even pinker shade, you didn’t know he could say such dirty things but god if it wasn’t the hottest thing anyone had ever said to you.

Both of your hats were thrown into the back seat as it became a race of who could get their jeans off the fastest, you’d win by a few seconds as your mobility wasn’t limited because of someone else sitting on top of you. Your jeans would soon join the hats in the back, tossed loosely back there to just get them out of the damn way. Sure it would’ve been easier to just fuck back there but the small cramped space of the drivers seat was spurring the both of you in a way you hadn’t before that it didn’t matter where you fucked. You just needed to fuck. Now.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this. ‘Bout you.” He confessed, combing his fingers through your hair before smashing your lips back together, giving you no time to think.

Kissing Rhett was nasty, messy, and you loved it. His mouth was on yours, making up for all the times he tried to but hadn’t been successful in kissing you. His hands were roaming your body, caressing the newly naked ass presented to him. He felt like he was fifteen years old ago, seeing a naked body and losing his mind. But he wasn’t fifteen and you weren’t naked, he was losing his mind at the thought of getting you naked. It’d have to wait because he’d become a murderer if anyone else saw you naked from this point on. 

“Thought about you too. Your fingers and how they’d feel inside me, probably so much bigger than mine.” You confessed, taking breaths in between your words, staring at Rhett as he processed what you just told him.

“You are the hottest woman I have ever met, goddamnit Honey.” He groaned in response, sliding your panties to the slide and playing with your clit. “I’m gonna finger you for a second, just stretch you a bit and then I’m gonna fuck you. Okay?”

You shook your head yes and leaned your head against his shoulder as his middle finger slid inside of you. He twisted it occasionally, adding a bit of fun but never letting your orgasm build up. He wanted you to cum on his cock and not a moment before. He slowly added his ring finger to the mix, fucking into you slowly enough to stretch you and be not enough to get off. You wanted to cry when he removed his fingers, no longer feeling the fullness of his fingers, but it wasn’t long before it was replaced with the tip of his cock.

“How bad do you want it?” He teased, pushing just the head in and pulling it back out. Making sure to never let more than his head go inside of you.

“Rhett please, need it. Need your cock, need you to fuck me..” You cried out into his shoulder, gasping loudly when he pushed the whole thing inside of you. “Holy fuckin’ shit..”

He chuckled at your response and kissed the top of your head, waiting just a few moments before he pulled all the way out and pushed himself all the way back inside of you. 

“This pussy was fuckin’ made for me.” He grunted into your ear, slowly starting to move just a little bit faster. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours Rhett, shit, yours..”

He seemed satisfy with your answer and braced himself with one hand on the console and the over wrapped around you, fucking up into you like he wasn’t gonna see you again and this was your last night together. His thrusts were hard and deep, you’d felt a fullness you didn’t even know was possible until now, fast and rough. His soft grunts and groans were like music to your ears, adding to the warmth that was slowly building in your belly. The knot was slowly coming together and it was all the doing of Rhett Abbott.

“Shoulda done this ages ago, made you mine, made sure no one else touched you.” He rambled, words spilling out of his mouth at a speed you’d never heard him speak at. “Fuck, gonna make you Mrs. Rhett Abbott, shit baby, this cunt is so fuckin’ warm.”

“Gonna cum, Rhett I’m gonna cum..fuck fuck fuck…” 

“I’m right behind you, baby.”

He quickly brought his hand down to your clit and pushed you over the edge he had you teetering on. Your orgasm milked the orgasm out of him as he fucked you through it, making sure not to change his motions until you moved his hand away from overstimulation. The windows had long fogged up, only lines from your hair moving against them were left unfogged. He relaxed completely in the seat, breathing deeply in an attempt to catch his breath. 

“Holy shit, Honey. Fuckin’ Hell on Heels.”

#maddies fics #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbot smut #rhett abbott #lewis pullman #outer range #outer range smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #lewis pullman smut

[sushiwriterhere]

right where i want you

summary: "Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader word count: 6.1k warnings: sub!rhett, pseudo enemies-to-lovers!, mentions of violence, choking, dry humping, overstimulation, aftercare, potentially ooc, no use of y/n.  notes: uhhh walk him like a dog bitch walk him like a dog🗣😼 i'm not even gonna lie to y'all i've never seen outer range but lewis pullman is in my brain. pls let me know what u think! thank you to @sebsxphia for encouraging my rhett brainworms and to @rhettabbotts for reading a snippet ! my other works are here tagging: @lewmagoo @wkndwlff @bobfloyds @sometimesanalice @bradshawsbitch @roosterbruiser @withahappyrefrain @theharddeck - pls let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

You work a comb in steady, circular motions over your horse’s coat, watching as the dust and pollen raises into the soft afternoon light. Just under the background noise of the stable, you hear boots crunching and you immediately know who it is. All your time away hasn’t changed a thing, it seems. 

“Rhett Abbott you leave me alone or I’ll yell at the top of my lungs, I swear.” You don’t even turn around to look at him, as if not making eye contact would mean he’ll leave. He won’t. And he never does.

“How’d ‘ya know it was me?” You hear the way he kicks at the dirt of the barn floor with his boots absentmindedly, and you try to not let his presence rile you up too much since you know that’s what he wants.

You still don’t turn around to face him. “Because y’never leave me alone.” 

“I’m jus’ sweet on ‘ya. Couldn’t help it if I tried. Besides, missed ‘ya while ‘ya were away at that fancy east coast school o’ yours.”

“Well, have you tried?” You ignore the second part of what he said–you’re back for the summer, and you really haven’t been gone all that long even if your parents act like you’ve come back from the dead.

That pulls a laugh from him. 

For as long as you can remember, Rhett Abbott has been a pain in your ass. You were slightly younger than him but that somehow never stopped him from always finding a way to be in your presence. Your dad being Wabang’s sheriff didn’t seem to deter him either, especially when your dad started getting real prickly about having boys around. 

“Nope,” He lets his lips pop dramatically on the ‘p’ sound, then pauses as if to consider his next words, “Plus, you’re real cute when you’re mad.”

All you want is to turn around and throw the rubber brush you’ve got clenched in your fingers at his stupid, smug, face. You know the exact expression he’s wearing in that moment because it’s the same one he’s had every other time he’s taunted you. 

“Decide if you love me or hate me, Rhett Abbott. Quit wastin’ my time.” You hiss, and this time you do turn around. You refrain from throwing anything at him, though. 

“Aw, don’t get too upset now,” He pushes himself off the stall door he’d been leaning against and makes his way into your personal space.

You level him with a scathing glare before going back to grooming. Even the way he breathes around you seems to raise your hackles and you wonder if all this tension is ever going to resolve itself. If he’s ever going to leave you alone.

“I didn’t come by to bother ‘ya, honest.” He murmurs.

You don’t grant him a response, but he stays where he is, undeterred.

“I wanted to see if you’d come out tonight, everyone’s been missin’ ‘ya. Whole town’s in uproar that you’re back.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

That seems to satisfy him as a grin spreads across his face and he spins on his heel, whistling jauntily as he strolls out of the stable.

You’re loathe to admit it, but it makes something twist in your stomach at the thought that Rhett came by to invite you out, to tell you he missed you. That everyone missed you. You shove that feeling down, though. Rhett’s always just been a nuisance and the fact that he seems to have gotten far handsomer while you’d been away is not part of your calculus.

-

For all his insistence that he actually likes you, has been thinking about you this whole time, Rhett sure is more than happy to let some buckle bunny cuddle up to him. You swallow something down, not jealousy, but what feels like a lump in your throat. He’s a liar and you’re a fool. Rhett Abbott will never be anything but a good for nothing, sonofa—

You storm out of the bar in a huff, not noticing the way Rhett’s eyes follow you over the head of the bleach blonde who’s grasping the collar of his flannel. 

In missing Rhett’s gaze, you also miss the way James Earl follows you out. By the time you’re in the parking lot, it’s too late to turn around. James is between you and the door. 

He calls your name and it makes all the hair on the back of your neck stand up, “Wait up!”

“Leave me alone, James.” You really don’t want to deal with him right now, you don’t want to deal with any men, for that matter. 

“I said wait.” His voice turns acidic and you pause before turning around slowly. There’s nowhere else for you to go but back into the bar, and you’re certain he won’t just let you walk off while you try to call your dad.

“Now that you’re back, I’m going to take you out to dinner.” James looks almost like he has good intentions, but you haven’t lost touch with the way news travels in Wabang just because you were separated by a few states. 

You know what the girls who stayed behind say about him. You heard the stories in high school about how he treated his girlfriends–always holding their arms too tight, a little too possessive. There’s nothing about him that you like, or even want to tolerate, at all.

“No, thank you, James. I really should get going.” You try to sound sweet, try to turn on the charm in hopes that he’ll change his mind. 

You turn your phone over in your hands, unlock it, and try to act nonchalant. You remember the Swiss army knife tucked in your bra if things get rough. 

His demeanor switches in an instant.

“You think just ‘cause you’re the sheriff's daughter you can just walk around like you own this place, huh? Too good for us with your fancy college? All of Wabang swoonin’ over a stuck up, prissy, little bitch.” The words are like poison, but you try to stand your ground, “Why I ought’a teach you a lesson.”

When James stalks your way, one hand starting to reach for you as you reel back in fear, you realize just what he intends. The world slows to a molasses, you’re outside your body as you freeze, unable to do much but witness what you know is about to happen to you.

Instead of James’ hand around your wrist or in your hair, Rhett’s voice breaks the moment, “Earl, I’ll make ‘ya sorry ‘ya ever look’d at ‘er if ‘ya don’t step away right now.” 

There he is, illuminated by the bar deck lights, one hand on his belt as he stalks into the parking lot. You’d call him your savior if you don’t blame him somehow; if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in whatever girl was giving him attention in that moment maybe you wouldn’t be here. 

“Like hell you will, Abbott. Leave us alone, this is none of your business.” James whirls around, his attention momentarily off you.

You think you can make your escape, make it back inside the bar where there are more eyes and call your dad to get him to pick you up. Instead, you watch as Rhett and James come face to face, both acting like macho idiots. 

They soil your plan for a hasty escape. It’s Rhett who makes the first move and shoves James, hard. In a split second they’re yelling obscenities at each other as Rhett grabs him by the collar to shake him and clock him across the face. His knuckles split open on James’ face and you aren’t sure if his nose is broken from the blow or not. 

“Stop it!” You try to at least get Rhett’s attention, maybe use his feelings for you for good, but it does little as James tries to gain the upper hand. “Rhett Abbott you fool, get off’a him!”

All at once, a few other patrons spill out of the bar doors at the commotion. You’re standing a few feet back from the pair as they tussle; there’s blood strewn in the dirt and you hope not too much of it is Rhett’s. Suddenly they’re being pulled apart.

You march up to James and stick a finger in his face as he struggles against the men holding his arms, “You ever try that shit with me again I’ll make sure my daddy gives you exactly what you deserve.”

His face is twisted up in a snarl, and he looks like he’s considering spitting in your face, “Still hiding behind your daddy? Figures.”

He’s hauled off in a moment before you can respond, no doubt to get cleaned up and have someone take a look at his nose. Maybe even to face your dad. You whirl around to start shouting at Rhett next, but he’s simply standing there, hands hanging loosely by his sides. No one’s restraining him anymore, they’re all dealing with James you guess, and you realize that it’s just the two of you in the parking lot at that point. 

You make your decision in an instant, “Give me your keys.” 

You don’t get closer to him, you just hold a hand out and look at him expectantly. Rhett doesn’t move. 

“Rhett Abbott, you damned fool, give me your keys so I can take your stupid ass home.” 

He has the audacity to smile wolfishly at you, cheek bruising, and say lowly as he walks to you, “Tryin’ to take me home, sugar?”

Snatching his keys from his fist, you turn around without responding. You don’t check if he’s following you, some part of you knows you don’t need to. 

You climb into the drivers side of his truck and start it, only barely waiting for him to get in and buckle up. Switching it into gear, you start driving. It’s deathly silent in the cab as you drive, ignoring far too many traffic laws along the way for someone who was raised by the sheriff. Rhett fidgets in his seat next to you. 

As you weave down the back country roads to his place, you distantly recall the time during high school when he’d bought the truck. All week, girls had flocked to him, begging him to teach them to drive stick (they all already knew) or even just sit in the back. Trucks were a dime a dozen, but Rhett Abbott’s was special in the eyes of all the future buckle bunnies. 

You’d watched the chaos from afar until he’d lifted his gaze from the girl tugging at his flannel to look at you. You’d looked away quickly, too embarrassed to be caught staring at him despite your continued insistence you didn’t like him in the slightest and that he never crossed your mind.

He never did end up giving any of the girls a chance. He wouldn’t even let them touch the keys.

Now here you are, driving his truck like it’s your own without a single complaint from him. 

When you pull up to his house, you get out the same way you’d gotten in–without a word and barely waiting for him to catch up to you. It’s almost instinctual, the way you grab the house key from next to the truck one, unlock the door and shove inside, only knowing that he’s inside too because of the way the door slides shut softly instead of slamming. 

Once inside, you flick on the kitchen light and round on him, “Now why’d ‘ya have to go and start shit with James Earl, huh?”

Rhett looks like he’s just been scolded by his mother for leaving his socks on the floor at his ripe age, and he scoffs harshly. You don’t miss the way his knuckles are split and crusted in blood. There’s a bruise blooming high on one of his cheeks. 

“I’m the one startin’ shit? He was tryin’ somethin’ with you!” He takes a step toward you but you don’t move, “Earl’s a piece of shit and he got what was comin’ to him. I don’t regret a goddamn thing.”

“I had it handled.” Your defense is instinctual–knee jerk, even—everyone wants you to be fragile, to be something that needs protecting, and you’re sick of it. 

“Did ‘ya?” You’re toe to toe now, and his shoulders are heaving. “‘Cause what I saw said somethin’ else.”

For a moment, you think he might kiss you. It takes all of your mental effort not to shove him and start shouting at him for how stupid he is, so instead you raise a single eyebrow and plaster on your most disapproving expression possible. 

“I’m not arguin’ with you, Rhett Abbott. Get your damn first-aid kit and lemme clean ‘ya up.” 

For once in his life, he listens to you. Eventually you find yourself kneeling in front of him as he sinks into the couch. You’ve turned on one of the living room lights, but there’s still just barely enough light to make out the details of his face and the way he tore up his knuckles on James Earl’s nose and cheeks. 

“Now keep bein’ all tough, I better not hear ‘ya bitchin’ about the antiseptic hurtin’.” You don’t have it in you to actually hurt him though, so you keep the press of the rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton balls gentle. 

He draws his shoulders up by his ears regardless, hissing lightly when it stings. Thankfully, only his pinky knuckle is actually split open on his right hand, so he won’t be entirely useless at work. His left hand is in worse shape, with three of his knuckles bubbling blood where he managed to cut them open. Both hands are bruised.

He doesn’t comment on your position at his knees. 

“Earl’s nose better be fuckin’ broken.” Rhett finally breaks the silence as you finish cleaning his hands. 

You don’t grant him with a response. Instead you stand to your full height and make your way to the kitchen to throw away the cotton balls now soaked with his blood. Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

When you return to him, he hasn’t moved a muscle. He simply tips his head back to look at you. Slowly, you put one knee up on the couch next to his thighs, then the other, and all of a sudden you’re kneeling over his lap. The hem of your dress just barely brushes his jeans. He looks like he’s holding his breath and he barely exhales when you let your full weight rest on him.

“I need to make sure he didn’t break yours.” It’s a lame excuse and you both know it, but you know he won’t call you on it, not when your bare thighs are warm against his denim-clad ones. 

He smells like outside, like the evening sun, and something that tickles your nose; it’s uniquely Rhett. Privately, you wonder if all his clothes smell like him, and if they carry that scent even when he hasn’t worn them in a long while. 

Shifting in his lap, you cradle his face and turn it toward the light. As if he’s trying not to spook a wild horse, he very delicately places his hands on your thighs. He doesn’t grip them, doesn’t let his fingertips twitch, just rests his calloused palms against your bare skin.

“Looks fine to me.” You breathe out, realizing how close your faces are.

“I’ll pretend that was a compliment.” He’s trying to sound flirtatious, trying to sound like the casanova his reputation makes him out to be, only he’s breathless and his face is flushed and you can feel his pulse racing.

You hate when men think they can just take control of you in bed because they’re a man and you’re not. But with Rhett, you can tell you’ve got him right where you want him by the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat and the way his hands rest on your thighs, fingertips just barely brushing the hem of your dress. 

Letting go of his face, you brush imaginary dust off his shoulders before letting one hand rest flat on his chest, and threading the other up into his hair. It’s silkier than you ever imagined despite the way you know you can safely assume he does jack all to take care of it. He’s so damn pretty it makes your chest ache.

Both of you are silent, only the sounds of your breathing barely audible. Ever so gently, you slide your hand from his hair to the base of his neck. He’s like a foal in the way you’re unsure of how he’ll react to your hand placement, a new sort of touch. His heart hammers in his chest beneath your palm.

He doesn’t bolt or react strongly. Instead, he swallows thickly against your hand, blinking slowly at the sensation of your fingers tucked neatly around his throat. You’re not squeezing in the slightest, just letting your fingers rest around the warm, tanned, skin of his neck.

“Are you going to behave, Rhett?” Your voice is low over the sounds of the night outside.

He nods as you flex your fingers gently, testing the waters, and his eyes flutter shut. Rocking your hips experimentally, you feel the way his grip tightens on your thighs and the way he’s hard against you. 

He likes it. He likes the way you’ve got a hand around his throat, the other resting gently on his chest. He isn’t fighting you, he isn’t arguing–for once in his life, he’s quiet in your presence. 

The realization of how obedient he’s being sends a skittering sort of arousal through you. You see yourself pulling on jeans tomorrow and finding his fingerprints on you. You see him staring at himself in the mirror in the morning, lost at how to cover up the evidence of what you’d done to him the night before.

“You’ve spent all this time pullin’ my pigtails, and now that I’m here you can’t even form words.” He keeps his eyes closed and nods ever so slightly.

You want to hate him. 

Oh how you want to hate Rhett Abbott. You want to hate the way he’s spent the last however many years following you around like a stray dog, poking fun at you and riling you up, just to have your attention. You want to hate the way he probably spent more time chasing boys off than your dad did. More than anything else you want to find it in you to feel something other than the way he’s burrowed himself under your skin. 

“Whatever,” His voice is strained and he clears his throat before opening his eyes again, “Whatever you want, sugar. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“And if I want to get up right now, and never see you again?” You aren’t going to make this easy on him. 

Yelling at James Earl is one thing, almost beating him to a pulp is another. You can protect yourself, you’re not a damsel in distress, and above all Rhett needs to learn his place. You’re grateful he was there, you are. But you didn’t need him to go and get in trouble on your behalf.

“Now, sugar, I find it hard to believe—”

You move as if to stand up, going to remove the hand from his neck to use one of his shoulders as leverage. Before you can get far, really even one inch away from him, one of his hands is flying from your thighs to clutch at the wrist of the hand that’s leaving his throat. He holds you there, and you can feel the way his pulse is racing. He maintains the way he stares into your eyes, but this time his are wide, almost as if in fear that you’d actually get up and leave. 

“Try again.” You don’t change the way half your weight is off him, but you let him hold your wrist.

“Whatever you want, goes.” He swallows slowly before speaking again, “Will you just–Will you please sit back down?” 

He doesn’t let go of your wrist.

You ease yourself back into his lap and run your free hand in between you till you reach his erection. It sends a thrill through you to feel just how excited he is by all of this. You want to hear him say please again, you want to see how far you can push your luck with him in the palm of your hand. You want him to beg.

You laugh lightly, if not a bit cruelly, as you squeeze his cock over his jeans, “Does this turn you on, Rhett?” You pause to watch how his pupils dilate at your tone before pressing on, “Not much of a big, bad, man now, are ‘ya?”

To your surprise, that doesn’t set him off. Most men wouldn’t let you put your hand around their throat, much less question just how much of a man they are. But he barely reacts beyond his chest rising and falling, his hands moving back to fully settle on your thighs and this time, gripping tightly. 

“Like I said, whatever you want, sugar–I just want ‘ya to use me. Be good for something,” He licks his lips and exhales shakily, “Be good for you.” 

Jesus. His sincerity bleeds through in the way his face is flushed and he maintains steady eye contact. He doesn’t waver for a single moment. 

Something sick twists in your chest. Never before has a man been so willing, so pliant, for you. They’ve always tried to take what they want from you, always tried to make you submit. But what you actually wanted was this, Rhett’s eyes gazing pleadingly up at you while you sit in his lap. 

“So this is what you wanted all along, huh? Always following me around, playing pranks on me, just wanted me to get my hand around your throat and use you?” You’re goading him on, trying to discern exactly what he wants you to say, what he’ll let you get away with. 

With that, you lean close as if to kiss him and he closes his eyes lightly in anticipation, but at the last second turn your head so you can drag the tip of your nose across his cheek. The shudder that runs through him at the feather-light sensation is delicious; it makes you laugh lightly at how affected he is. His breaths are starting to come heavier, already betraying him if he tried to hide how badly he wants this. But he isn’t hiding, not in the slightest.

Now that you’re this close to him, the scent of him is overwhelming. It floods your mind and makes you almost lightheaded as you realize just how badly you want him. Part of it is that he’s so pliant, so willing, but the other part is the truth of the matter that you finally have to admit to yourself: you don’t hate Rhett Abbott. 

In fact, his whole years-long performance has only meant that his constant presence is lingering somewhere at the forefront of your mind regardless of whether he’s around or not. When you’d gone off to college, those nine months had been odd without him around. You’d half expected him to show up to walk you between lecture halls or push some frat boy off you at a party.

(What you don’t know is that Rhett did almost go out to visit you. He’d looked at plane tickets, at how long it might take him to drive. He decided against it when he remembered every time you’d rejected him or told him to, very unkindly, “fuck off”.)

“Can I kiss ‘ya?” His voice is rough and he licks his lips again, like it’s a nervous habit. 

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek and giggle softly to yourself when he whines and says, “That’s not what I meant and y’know it.”

Finally, you press your lips to his. They’re soft and warm and he’s so much better of a kisser than everyone else you’ve been with that it almost knocks the wind out of you. But he keeps you grounded, especially when his hand moves up to your jaw so he can coax it open. The way he licks into your mouth makes you let out a startled gasp. 

You don’t expect it to feel so good. It’s one thing to sit in his lap and flirt, it’s a whole other to taste him and understand why girls chase him endlessly. You can’t stop the way your hips move against his and he keeps one hand on your thigh while the other goes to your tits. His hand dwarfs your chest and he gropes you haphazardly. 

“Fuck, you’re even better than I imagined,” He sighs, pushing up against the hand that’s still around his throat. 

“I haven’t even taken my clothes off, Rhett.” You tease, wanting to see how far you can push him, see if you can still get a rise out of him.

But it seems he’s given up the fight now that you’re right where he wants you. He smiles gently as he pulls back to look you in the eyes, “I could finish in my pants like a damned teenager with you like this, sugar, doesn’t matter.”

Rhett Abbott, womanizer, absolute menace in your life, admitting that he’s got it so bad for you that he could come in his pants just from having you near him? You could’ve guessed that he wanted to fuck you, but you always thought it would be more of him getting his rocks off and letting you fend for yourself. It never would’ve occurred to you that this is how he’d be in the moment. Him admitting how weak he is for you makes your head spin.

You press yourself ever closer to him, licking into his mouth and trapping his hand between the two of you where it had been stroking your nipples through the thin fabric of your sundress. He manages to free it, though, and slides it down your side to where your thigh creases. He wraps it around you there and the the sheer size difference between his hand and your hip makes a twisted sort of want course in your veins.

The first press of his thumb against your clit through your panties sends a jolt through you. He keeps your hips moving in a steady rhythm against his as he works steady circles over your clit. His other hand won’t stay still as it runs up and down your back, rubs your nipples, yanks on the tips of your hair ever so slightly. It’s mind-numbingly filthy, the quiet of his house filled with both of your gasps and moans, your hand still on his neck. 

“Cum for me, sugar,” Then, as if he’s anticipating your chastisement, he adds, “Please.”

Your orgasm rips through you like white hot lighting as you gasp into his open mouth and he moans right along with you. You realize you’re chanting his name over and over like a prayer, completely unwittingly. He doesn’t let up with any of his movements, prolonging your pleasure til it folds into something more biting, just on the edge of overstimulating. 

“Fuck, Jesus,” He gasps, and after a moment, “I’ll be thinking ‘bout that til I die,” He rasps out, settling both of his hands on your hips and leaning his forehead against yours. 

You want to tease him about taking the Lord’s name in vain but you hold back. For a moment, it’s quiet. Your hips are still against his as you take in what just happened. It begins to dawn on you that he’s still hard under you, but he isn’t making any moves to change that. 

He starts to shift under you like he’s considering standing up but you stop him by leaning into him. 

“Ah ah, I’m not finished with you yet,” His eyes snap to yours in surprise.

“Rhett Abbott. Tellin’ me I could make you cum in your pants like a teen boy?” You lean back ever so slightly with a light snarl on your face, finally tightening your fingers to a tight grip in a way that makes his eyes glaze over, “Prove it.”

Pressing the heel of your palm into his crotch, you watch as he eyes scrunch shut and he grinds up once, twice, three times before a he releases a shaky exhale. You watch as he comes, as he pants and whines through his orgasm, the denim under your hand growing warm and wet. He doesn’t stop grinding and thrusting up against your hand til it draws a pained moan from him. 

“Can I–Can I keep going?” He tries to make eye contact but his eyes are too unfocused from pleasure, “Like it when it, ah, when it hurts.”

God, this is what you’ve been missing out on the whole time? You let yourself rock steadily in his lap as he grinds up against your hand and leans forward to kiss you messily. You wonder if he let the other girls he’s been with do this to him. But something tells you that isn’t the case–you really don’t want it to be.

The whines and gasps he’s letting out as he’s writhing below you are something from your most far-fetched fantasies. You’re only slightly stunned as you feel him get hard again below you, though it seems to draw out the pain more than the pleasure given the way his face twists up and the hiss he lets out. All at once he settles; and then he goes to lift your wrist away from his crotch. 

It’s terribly tender, the way he pulls away from you to press a kiss to the palm of your hand and smile widely at you. You almost get whiplash.

“What are you playin’ at?” You can’t help but settle back into your old ways–the Rhett Abbott you’ve known for so long has only really been around to aggravate you, the heartfelt way he’s looking at you sets you off kilter. 

When he laughs at the way you’re starting to get irritated, you try to pull your hand from his to no avail and it makes the heat rise in your face, “Knock it off, Rhett. You’re bein’ an asshole.”

But he just keeps smiling at you as he pulls your other hand off his neck so that he can place both on his shoulders and cradle your face, “You’re so beautiful.”

As if anticipating the way you’re going to react to his words, he pulls your face to his so that he can press your lips together once again. It’s nothing like before. Before it was all tongue and your lips barely meeting through the gasps and moans being pulled out of you. This time it’s something so warm, so delicate, it makes your chest hurt in a different way. 

“I hate you, Rhett Abbott,” You manage to gasp out once he pulls away fully, a sparkle in his eyes. It doesn’t have any heat to it, lacks all the rage it used to–this time, it just sounds like you might be trying to tell him you love him. 

He ignores you in favor of standing with you still in his arms and declaring, “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up and go to bed.”

Somewhere between your orgasm and when he kissed you that final time, you think he might’ve figured it out too–that you don’t hate him and maybe you never have. Because you let him carry you through his dark home without protest. You let him undress you wordlessly, without fanfare and without ogling your naked form. He simply drops your soiled clothing into a laundry hamper and starts undressing himself.

You watch him strip as he turns on the shower and gestures for you to follow him in when he steps in. For just a second you stare at him, halfway in and halfway out from under the stream of water, the way he’s staring at you expectantly. 

He still has that bruise on his cheek from where James Earl hit him what feels like a lifetime ago. His knuckles are still split in some places, just turning that particular shade of red in others. He’s a goddamn vision under the yellow and white fluorescent lights of his bathroom. It makes you want to hold your breath for fear that you’ll disturb the moment somehow.

The shower proceeds without a hitch. It’s oddly lacking sexual tension, though you notice that he’s still half hard. You have half a mind to sink to your knees and suck him off, just to prove your point, just to show him you mean business. But the way he gently washes you as if he’d done it a million times before stops you. You let him clean you up between your legs without a protest.

When he opens the bathroom cabinet to reveal various creams and lotions after you’ve both stepped out and wrapped yourselves in towels, you feel yourself start to get angry. Is he seriously showing you all the products he buys for all the other girls he brings home?

Instead, he smiles sheepishly at you and rubs the back of his neck, “You always smell so good, I spent ages tryin’ to figure out which one you were usin’. Just bought all of ‘em at some point.”

You feel floored as the fight leaves your body. You don’t have a way to be upset about that. Wordlessly, you pick up one of the bottles tucked in the second row and hand it to him. 

“It’s this one.” 

The grin that spreads over his face is one of such genuine happiness it makes you want to squeal and run for the hills at the same time. You wonder distantly if he’ll ever stop making you feel like that–simultaneously like a trapped animal and like you’re the only girl he’s ever seen. You wonder if this (there’s a ‘this’?) will last long enough for you to find out.

He lends you one of his shirts and you’re pleased to find out that it does hold his smell. It sits long on you, settling around your knees, making you feel just a bit like a sexy ghost with the way it hugs your chest. He pulls on a pair of briefs before flicking off the overhead light and then throwing back the covers and patting the space next to him.

“You’re a vision for a blind man, sugar,” His voice carries through the otherwise silent room, “Now come to bed.”

It’s something out of a daydream, climbing into bed with Rhett Abbott. You’re immediately enveloped in his scent, the way his arm lays heavy around your waist and pulls you close to him. For once, you don’t fight him.

“You okay there, sugar? Been awfully quiet.” His voice is low right next to your ear before he turns away momentarily to turn off the bedside table light. His arm is back around you in an instant.

Wiggling yourself around in his arms, you turn so that the two of you are nose to nose. He smiles that smile again, the one that fills you with warmth and makes your stomach twist. There’s barely enough light from outside to really see him as your eyes adjust to the dark, but you know his face.

“I don’t think I hate you.” 

He starts laughing. It shakes his shoulders and makes the bed creak. His eyes screw up and you can feel the way his stomach moves against yours. You feel your shoulders go up by your ears and you try to pull away, embarrassed that he’s laughing.

“I’m sorry, sugar, c’mere,” He tugs you even closer to him than before, if possible, “I’m not laughin’ at you, I’m laughin’ only ‘cause I never hated you. I don’t really think you hated me either.”

“Hey!” You’re indignant, “Rhett Abbott, who’re you to tell me how I feel?”

“Alright, alright, sugar, I’ll take ‘yer word for it. My heroics do it for ‘ya?” You barely catch the way he winks at you in the dark, but it makes you want to bite him in retaliation.

“The way you almost got the snot beat outta ‘ya? Sure.” Scoffing, you turn yourself over so you’re facing away from him again, only you don’t move out of his arms. 

He huffs lightly in protest, but lets it go in favor of nuzzling into your hair and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. It sends a warm sort of heat through you. You’re not ready to fully give in to him yet, but you think he might be growing on you. You’ll just have to see.

#walk him like a dog bitch walk him like a dog #rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbot smut #rhett abbott x you #outer range fic #outer range fanfic #outer range fanfiction #no use of y/n

[mothdruid]

Love in the Saddle

pairing: Rhett Abbott x fem!reader

summary: the two of you didn't mean to forget about valentine's day, but to make up for it you decided to have a day of riding together.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: fluff!!!! allusions to smut at the end

a/n: happy valentine's day!!

A loud huff passed through the air of the barn. You chuckled and ran the front cinch through the buckle, tugging it lightly after Teaspoon let out another huff. It was a shockingly warm day out, which was good for you and the horses. Teaspoon shook her head from side to side for a moment. Her auburn hair shook about, catching small bits of sunlight through the doorway.

“That so?” You finished the front cinch before moving to the chest strap. You buckled the chest strap into place, having made sure it was snug but not too tight on her. Teaspoon stomped her front right hoof lightly on the dirt. “Excited for the sun? Cause trust me, I bet Sterling is too.”

There hasn't been much sun around within the last few months. Snow had been dusting the ground for months, making it hard to take the horses out. It wasn’t that you couldn’t, it’s just neither you or Rhett were fans of long cold rides. You kept their exercise up though, letting them out into the gated field and taking them into the big round pen. You had been taking them on actual rides more recently since the snow had started to melt, leaving cleared areas of pasture for long rides.

Which is what was happening today. A long ride with Rhett. The two of you hadn’t had a lot of time lately for each other. Rhett had been helping more and more at his parents' place. Royal had started to pester Rhett about needing to get the cattle out on the pastures. Which Rhett hadn’t had too much of an issue with at first, but then it changed into helping with rebuilding fixtures and god knows what else. You had been busy with your own work as well, doing some land survey and mapping. By the time the both of you were home, you were both beat and just wanted to melt into the bed.

By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around you were both flustered, having forgotten. So, Rhett made it a point that the following weekend would be a weekend for the two of you. No jobs, no family, no responsibilities except for each other.

You grabbed the back cinch, pulling it up and tightening it, then threading it through the buckle. After placing the bridle on her head, placing the bit in her mouth and draping reins back around her neck, you gave her a pat of encouragement.

“That’s my girl,” you praised, rubbing her neck.

Rhett was still in town, that you knew of, having said that he had a few errands to run. You took it upon yourself to saddle the horses up, wanting to get right into the quality time he had promised you. You couldn’t help it. You missed him, missed your big strong cowboy. Missed his gruff and grit, and the way it all melted away for you. That soft man that not everyone got to see, the one that came out for you and only you. The goofy little smile he gave you when you laughed a little too hard, or the way he would encapsulate you in the kitchen and sway with you back and forth. Yeah, you missed the sex and being physical regularly. But you really just missed him.

“Stay,” you told Teaspoon after leading her outside.

Sterling was more than excited for you to pull him out. He let out a loud whinny, and shook his head. You smiled and gave him a few pats of excitement. A part of you thought that the horses might be more excited about the little ride today than you or Rhett. You have Sterling a sugar cube, the same you had done with Teaspoon after pulling her out. You had placed the saddle pad and turned around to get the saddle when you saw him. You hadn’t even heard the truck pull in.

“Saddling my horse now?” Rhett let out in his gruff voice.

“Hope that’s not a problem,” you chirped back.

“Thought I would be the only thing you ever saddled up,” Rhett started walking towards you, one arm behind his back.

“Well, if you’re lucky I’ll saddle you up later too,” you gave him a wink, “what’re you hiding?” You went over to where you had placed Sterling’s saddle earlier while getting Teaspoon’s out. Just as the leather was about to touch your hands, Rhett stopped you. His calloused hand wrapped around your wrist.

Rhett pulled your attention from the saddle, guiding you to turn towards him. As you turned to him, the arm behind his back came into view. It was a small bundle of flowers, a bundle of wildflowers. There was a simple small cream colored ribbon holding the collection of wildflowers together. You could make out the off white of the baby's breath, bright white and yellow of the daisies, the soft pink of a flower, and some purple tones of lavender. It made your heart swell seeing the flowers in front of you. Rhett had never been one for buying flowers, but he had a habit of buying them for special occasions.

You went to speak, mouth opening only for Rhett to stop you from speaking. “They reminded me of you.”

“Rhett,” his name was the only thing you could say. Maybe it was because you two hadn’t spent any quality, but the swell in your heart had multiplied at his words. Rhett had never been the best with emotions, but you had seen so much from him over the years. “Thank you.”

Rhett smiled softly, leaned forward, and placed a kiss on your cheek. He felt your fingers creep around the base of the bouquet, brushing against his. Rhett could never get over the way how your hands were still so soft compared to his. You always told him that it was because you moisturized, but he was just convinced that you were perfect with or without lotion.

“Go get Teaspoon warmed up,” Rhett nodded towards the Teaspoon, who was now peeking around the corner of the doorway at the two of you.

“‘Kay,” you gave him a smile with a small nod as you fully took the bouquet from him.

The sound of him moving the saddle hit your ears as you got to Teaspoon. You turned for a brief moment to look at him, fastening the front cinch and whispering to Sterling. The words were indecipherable, but you could hear the gruff of his voice no less. A huff broke your train of thought, pulling you back to face Teaspoon. She took a few steps forward only to shake her head up and down. A toothy smile broke out across your face, amused by her response. It was in moments like this that she felt like a child, being able to read the room between parents.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” you chuckled.

Your fingers wrapped around the left side of her bridle, then guided her away from the stable. Her steps were heavy next to you, hooves digging into the barely warmed dirt below her. When you stopped you undid the ribbon around the flowers Rhett had got you. You tied one end of the ribbon tightly around the stems of the flowers, keeping the bundled with as little length needed. The other end of the ribbon was being tied around the horn of your saddle. Once done, you stepped back to look at it.

“How’s that girl?” All Teaspoon did was barely tilt her head in your direction, looking back ahead without a sound. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll take that as a ‘fine’ then.”

You gripped the horn with one hand, grabbed the back of the seat, and placed one of your boots into the left stirrup. After a few readying bounces, you launched yourself up and swung your leg around to get your other boot into the stirrup. After shifting to get a little more comfortable, you gathered the leather reins in your hands. A tug to the right side of the reins had Teaspoon moving, taking heavy step by heavy step in the direction you’d chosen. As you had started to take a lap around the dried out grass, Rhett led Sterling out of the stables.

Rhett adjusted his cowboy hat after getting up in his saddle. A part of you wished he would have left the hat in the stables, hair out on display for you. Either way you knew you’d be seeing it sooner or later. Those light brown locks that had you daydreaming, imagining the feel of them between your fingers and tugging on them ever so lightly. Once he was half way over you noticed him moving towards you. He had one hand on the reins, the other resting on the horn of the saddle.

The two of you happily moved over to the gate, Rhett hopping down to unlatch and open it. After that the two of you took off in the large expanse of pasture. The sun was shining down intensely in the open space. Sterling’s gray mane was shimmering, Teaspoon’s looking like rays of sunshine. There was a soft crunch of dry grass under the hooves of the horses. It was obviously one of the first days of spring peeking through the veil of winter.

It started as a small trot between the two of you, taking your time to just bask in each others presence. It had been a while since you two were allowed to just ruminate with each other. Being able to be out in the pastures again was exhilarating, almost like a kid in a candy store. There was so much space to run and go, it’s like the possibilities were endless. The trot quickly turned into a gallop, then a race. Laughter bubbled from the both of you as your horses sprinted. The flowers Rhett had got you were resting against your knee, bouncing every now and then depending on the gallop. With each small nudge from them you were reminded of why he got them. Once you were finally ahead of him a small bit, you decided to call it.

“I win!” You shouted and looked back at Rhett. He was wearing a frown already, eyebrows knitted together.

“We didn’t even choose a finish spot!” Rhett yelled back amidst tugging on Sterling’s reins.

“Doesn’t matter,” you jested, guiding Teaspoon around and back towards Rhett.

Rhett relaxed back and let out a huff. He stopped Sterling next to you, Rhett’s eyes locked with your own. You feigned an innocent look, trying to act as if you didn’t randomly decide with the race was over. There was a smirk starting to form on Rhett’s face, making one start to form on your own face.

Appreciation was flowing through your veins, keeping your heart beating in that very moment. All you could do was stare at him and take in the features that you had spent days, weeks, months, even years memorizing. No matter what part of life he was at, he was always catching your attention. When the two of you were on the playground in kindergarten, across the lunch room in high school, how he looked after a bull ride, and even now, looking at you with a smile and smitten gaze. You leaned in, hoping he would too.

His lips met yours halfway, closing the gap between the two of you. It was anything intense, the position and space preventing that from happening, but it was loving anyways. Lips ever so soft, especially after he actually started using the lip balm you had bought him. Rhett smelled like it too, honey butter. It was the only scent you thought that wouldn’t be too bothersome. You pulled back slightly, leaving about an inch or two between your face.

“I missed you,” he whispered, as if he didn’t want the horses hearing.

“I missed you too,” you replied, then gave him a soft peck on the lips.

Before he could pull back fully, you snatched his hat off his head, placed it on your own, and took off. After a small chase you both came to a stop. You couldn’t help but smile, a playful thread weaving through you. Rhett stopped Sterling, hopping down, and walking over to you with Sterling’s reins in hand. You followed suit, getting down from Teaspoon and guiding her over near Rhett with you. Rhett looked at his hat on your head, flicking the brim of it up with his finger. His hair was a windblown mess, but you loved it.

“I think you got something of mine,” Rhett’s voice dropped, kindling a fire inside of you.

“Do I? I don’t remember taking anything from you, Mr. Abbott,” you feigned innocence again, something Rhett loved.

“I’m pretty sure you do, ma’ma,” Rhett ducked his head to look below the brim of his hat more. He was practically eye level with you now. “Hat looks pretty familiar t’my own, and y’know what they say ‘bout wearin’ a man’s hat,” he was laying it on thick now, letting his Wyoming drawl seep into his words.

“I don’t think I do,” you cascaded your fingers down his flannel clad chest, “might have to tell me.”

“I think I’d be able to do that,” his free hand snaked around your waist, tugging you closer to him.

“You could show me too,” you leaned towards him and ghosted you lips over his.

“Course ma’am, whatever you’d ask of me,” Rhett’s breath was hot against your lips.

Just before you were about to press your lips to his, Sterling let out a loud huff and Teaspoon whinnied. The both of you pulled back a little, chuckling at the horses. Rhett leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek quickly. His hand slipped from your waist, making you miss the warmth of his touch immediately.

“I can tell ‘nd show ya back at home, if you’d like?” Rhett teased, keeping the character up.

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer, Mr. Abbott.”

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x female reader #outer range #outer range fic #rhett abbott fic #lewis pullman