#rhett mood board

[bradshawsbaby]

Slow mornings at home with Rhett ✨

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cowboy Bob Floyd

wearing his hat, a strong hand on your thigh, arms around his waist on horseback. matching boots, wearing his shirts, stealing his jacket. sunset rides, watching the dawn, sitting in the stables for hours.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵

i'm on a bit of a bob floyd kick at the moment, so have another moodboard <3 i'm a sucker for a cowboy and i'm a sucker for lewis pullman's handsome face x

moodboard masterlist

[bradshawswife]

autumn season with bob floyd (or rhett abbott, whichever you prefer)

this looks messy ik. pics from twitter, and pinterest!

[ohtobeleah]

Brawler Visual

[rhettswife]

life with rhett abbott

images from pinterest & his gf’s instagram

[sebsxphia]

i just wanna be daddy bobby’s bunny or daddy rhett’s bambi (that he also calls angel) <33

[lewmagoo]

A naughty Rhett request!

I am in the mood for angsty!Rhett who doesn’t place as high as he thinks he should’ve in a rodeo and thinks the ref screwed him over, so he comes home and takes out his frustration on Reader in bed and needs to hear her give him all the praise and reassurance 👉🏻👈🏻🥹

the ride home was silent.

he always got this way after a bad ride. withdrawn. lost in his head. plagued with feelings of terrible inadequacy. he tried not to let it get to him, but he struggled. and tonight, he was even more upset than usual. you could tell by the way he remained tense, even as he drove home. he didn’t even bother to turn the radio on, which was usually the first thing he did when he started up the truck. it wasn’t just that he’d had a bad ride. in fact, he rode just fine. but when he glanced up at the scoreboard afterwards, his score was one of the lowest on the board.

that score was bogus. you knew it. he knew it. but for whatever reason, it was what he was given. and it had him spiraling with thoughts of, am i not good enough? is this really worth it? you watched him grapple with it, his mind working a million miles a minute as he processed it all during the ride home. you let him have the quiet, not wanting to inundate him with questions or try to get him to speak when he wasn’t ready to. in the early days of your relationship, you might’ve worried about him, as he’d struggled with communicating. but he had gotten better about it since then. he’d talk when he was ready.

he remained silent as he pulled into your driveway, and continued even when you’d finally walked into the house together. you decided to speak then. “are you hungry? i can fix somethin’ for you,” you said. he stood in the entryway, looking defeated. then he mumbled something as he moved to kick off his boots. “what was that?” you asked. “said ‘m not hungry!” he snapped in exasperation. but directly after that, he lowered his head, his shoulders falling. tentatively, you approached him, and he managed to look at you, his features dejected. “i’m sorry darlin’. didn’t mean t’ be short with you. i’m just…” he trailed off.

you lovingly held his face in your hands. “i know,” you hummed, leaning in to kiss him. he relished in your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “i…can we…” he couldn’t seem to get the words out. “what? it’s okay, say what you need,” you urged. he kissed you again, and there was an air of desperation to it. “i need y’ to…i…” you had a feeling what he was trying to ask about. but he couldn’t voice it, because there was part of him that felt wrong for it. dirty, and not in a good way. but you always encouraged him to speak his mind, to make his desires known. “you’re okay. it’s just me and you. talk to me, cowboy.” he had to know that he was safe with you. always.

his large hands came to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing circles over the fabric of your jeans. he let out a breath before he finally admitted what he wanted. “i need you. need to forget about this fuckin’ ride. wanna be inside you. god, i…i wanna have my way with you.” the weight of his words, so desperate, as if he was fighting the desire roiling within him, sent heat thrumming between your thighs. your fingers curled into the fabric of his button down. “yeah?” you breathed. “i’m right here. take what you want, rhett.” that was what he needed. that spoken consent to allow himself to give in to this urge. you trusted him. you wanted to give yourself to him.

one hand came up to rest against the back of your head, and he kissed you deeply, slotting his thigh between yours. something snapped within him. the invisible chains that held him back broke, and suddenly, you found yourself being guided toward the couch. it was one of those nights - you wouldn’t be making it to the bed for this encounter. rhett kissed you like a starving man, tongue and teeth, tasting you. you found yourself being maneuvered down to the floor, and you went eagerly. as soon as you were sprawled on the rug, he stopped to hover over you, and even in the low light, you could see a wildness in his eyes. narrow, like a cat’s. he’d just caught his prey, and he was going to devour it.

in a frenzy of hurried limbs, he had your jeans and panties off, and he unbuckled his belt with one hand, shoving his jeans down enough to free his cock. he at least had the decency to slide his hand between your legs, fingers searching, carefully prodding. he knew your cunt well, and he knew just how to get it soaked for him. your own arousal, mixed with his saliva that he spat upon his hand and used to lube up his cock, provided the right amount of slick for him to inch into you. at the thick intrusion, you gasped, and he swallowed the sound with his own mouth. “shhh, take it, take it,” he whispered, watching your face contort as your anatomy stretched around him.

when he bottomed out, you whined, and he gazed down at the place where your bodies met. “atta girl,” he gruffed. and then he started moving, and you saw stars. slow at first, but he wasted no time in building a rhythm. a hurried push and pull. but you knew what he needed. what he craved. so you gave it to him. “oh, rhett. you feel so fuckin’ good,” you sighed. you weren’t over exaggerating, either. he did make you feel good. he always did. but he needed extra reassurance tonight. and from the sound of the breathless moan he let out, you’d hit it right on the money. you searched for his mouth, leaving open mouthed kisses to his lips. “fuck, right there. nobody else makes me feel like this. n- oh! - nobody gets to be inside me this way. it’s all yours. only yours!” you cried.

he buried his face against your neck, groaning your name. “oh, god. say it again,” he pleaded. you clutched at his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh. “nobody else loves me like you do! nobody else fucks me like you do!” but your second sentence faltered when he offered a particularly deep thrust, cock brushing against a spot that made you squeal, your eyes rolling back. “oh my—oh fuck.” he leaned back to kiss you again, whispering into your mouth. “uh-huh, that’s right. i’m the only one that gets t’ use th-this sweet fuckin’ pussy.” and you keened at his words. “only you!” you echoed. “yo-you’re everything, rhett. f-fuck, i…i love you! i love you, i love you, i love you!”

he growled like a wounded animal, chest heaving against yours. he was losing himself. “fuck, honey, i…i can’t…” his voice was pained. “i-it’s okay,” you assured him. he was so pent up, so needy and desperate for you, that he was already there, ready to topple over the edge. and you encouraged it, begged for it. “c’mon, fill me up. cum inside your pussy,” you pleaded. you knew calling your cunt his would send him over the edge. because it was his, after all. no one else was allowed access to it. only him. and then, with a growl that melted into a broken wail, he fell apart, body tensing above you before his cock swelled within you and soon spilled his release into the very core of your being. you moaned, gladly taking every last drop he had to give.

and when he was finished, it took every ounce of strength in him not to collapse on top of you. he caught his breath, silence hanging between you for a moment as you combed your fingers through his hair. but as the post orgasm haze began to clear, you could see insecurity settling in. “shit, i didn’t mean for that t’ happen so fast. feel like a damn teenager,” he muttered. but you shook your head, smiling up at him. “nope, don’t you dare apologize. i thought it was hot,” you said. he quirked a brow up. “really?” he asked. “uh-huh. seeing you lose control…god, it’s so fucking sexy, babe,” you continued on. he smiled, leaning in to kiss you. a beat. then two. “thank you for, uh, for…yeah.”

you giggled softly. “you’re welcome, cowboy. i love you. so much.” his face grew serious as he nodded, “i luh you too,” he answered. then, “but i ain’t finished. need to take you for a ride.” and before you could say anything else, he was slipping out of you, surging downward to bury his face between your legs to show you his gratitude.

[saltsicklover]

Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part One of Two

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Creepy Dude, Rhett and Jake rescue reader, one use of Y/N, airports and flying, argument, nothing too crazy, angst

---

To all the people that said finding their soulmate was just so easy, and that they didn't even have to look deserve a giant middle finger shoved right into their face. After all, sometimes people's soulmates just fall right into their fucking laps like the divine are throwing them a goddamn bone. 

Most of us have to earn the privilege of finding our soulmates. You would think that the universe would have come up with a better system, some way to be sure that you've found exactly who you're supposed to. But it's truly fucking coincidence.

What a goddamn pain in the ass. 

Those little words scripted onto skin give only a hint, a shred of an idea that comes with far too much hope and no direction. 

In a perfect world, that script would glow when you find your person, or maybe your person would be the one to say them. Maybe there'd be a way to just know that you've found your other half. Maybe the universe could've bloomed with color upon first contact, the whole world coming to life around you. Hell, maybe the fucking ink would itch when you came close, or, maybe it could turn colors, burning like a cinder straight to the skin. 

It could have been a name, or map quadrants, an number even...

But no. 

All we get is the first thing someone else in our earshot says about our other half. It could be anyone, really, family and friends, lovers or enemies. The universe doesn't care, like it's all one big cosmic joke.  

And if you get stuck with something common? You're pretty much royally fucked. 

The amount of sorry souls who are stuck with "oh, he's a great guy," or "she's so pretty!" Have to live with hearing that damn phrase over and over again, just hoping that maybe it will lead them in the right direction.

It's sick, really, the whole goddamn thing. Especially because I want nothing else. 

"Oh, it's just Bob," is etched deep into my skin, the little letters marking over my collar bone like it's laced with disappointment. There's something about the word "just" that make's me clench my jaw. I can feel the muscle tick as I grind my teeth against each other, feeling the ridges catch. 

Whoever Bob is sure as hell isn't just anything. He is everything, and the unlucky bastard who dares say anything different has a swift right hook in their future, or maybe a hard shove, if the mood strikes. Anything that might take the edge off. 

Though I haven't met Bob yet, I feel fiercely protective over him, over the way others see him. After all, his heart is worth more than words like "just". 

The airport is just a little too dead for 3am, a few too few people ambling around half awake. Those who are here wear dark bags under their eyes, snuggled deep into their jackets to keep the too cold air conditioning from hitting their bare skin. Some pull luggage behind them, kicking it at they go, getting more and more pissed off every time their heel catches on their suitcase. Others talk too loudly on the phone, their cell's pressed to their cheeks by shoulders, by hands, others taking through their headsets. 

A sharply dressed man, clad in a brown suit and loafers argues with a woman in a language I don't speak. She is pointing at the board with a well polished fingernail, one that matches her power suit, while the man is shoving his phone into her face. It's obvious they are arguing about their flight, but neither of them seem to budge on their side. 

It's comical, really, how animated they are. I wonder if they are soulmates, if they found each other out if the sheer passion and dedication they are displaying. After all, if one has this much passion for a flight, it would only stand to reason that the business of finding their soulmate would be met with equal fever. They are a good match, too. The universe doesn't always deal out people who look like they should be together. Aesthetics clash, personalities not quite off set. But these two just have an air about them- like they belong; also like they are going to miss their flight.

I pass them as quickly as I can, as the anger rolls off of them. It's much too late, or maybe much too early to witness such an argument, and I have to make it all the way down to gate 93. With each step, my duffle bag seems to get heavier, no doubt taking after my eyelids. 

Whoever designed the Dallas airport needs to be given some sort of medal for "longest hallways that seem to lead nowhere". With every turn I take I feel like I'm headed further away, but the signs keep pushing me forward. 

Almost there, almost there. 

Gate 88 and Gate 89. 

Gate 90. 

As I walk by Gate 91, I catch two men laying on the dirty carpet in front of the lines of chairs. Their forms stand out against the oddly patterned carpet, though they almost look like they belong there. They are waiting in front of a gate that reads no destination. I know I shouldn't stare, but I can't seem to stop the slowing of my feet. I slide one side off my headphones back off of my ear, doing my best to be inconspicuous. I hope to catch a word, a whisper of what they might be saying but their lips are sealed, it seems, neither one saying a thing. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I take in their position on the ground. One has a cowboy hat pulled down over his face to try and keep the buzzing fluorescents out of his eyes. His head is balanced on a small duffle bag, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His hands sit on his stomach, fingers laced together. His skin is golden, one of those tans you get from being stuck outside day after day. 

He doesn't move a muscle. It barely looks like he's breathing, really. There's something a bit eerie about it, the stillness of him. 

The other man, blond with a cropped haircut and equally bronzed skin sits on the ground a few feet from the other. His back is leaned up against the side of a chair, his knees bent. He looks equally exhausted, eyes closed, head leaned back exposing the long line of his neck. 

He shivers a bit, the wholeness of it rolling through his body. Though he keeps his eyes closed, his expression scrunches before relaxing again. He doesn't look even remotely comfortable, unlike his stony counterpart. 

The pair have very different looks about them, the former all home grown cowboy with still muddy boots while the ladder is clean cut and chiseled. The blond has his hands shoved into the large pocket on the front of his hoodie, trying to starve off the chill that hangs in the terminal. 

Not soulmates, that's for sure. Over the years, I have been able to pick out soulmates from just a few calculated but fleeting glances. There's always something about a pair that just reads right, a vibe that they give off when they are finally buzzing together. But one thing is for sure, these two aren't soulmates, the fact that they're even friends feels funny. 

It's not an impossible fact, to be sure. The predestined soul mate, the way it's written into the universe, could be anyone. That's part of the difficulty of it, for sure, but there's always something that seems to click. Souls are like metronomes, clicking away, othering ticking, always out of time; until the right person comes along and you're right on time with each other. With this pair, they are just a little too jagged around the edges, too seasoned in their own rights to slot together. Friendship is different- nothing knit into the weave of the universe, there, though it may have been easier if it were. 

The moment I make it to my gate, I throw my bag down, by body feeling a bit too much like jelly from all of the travel to hold it any longer. The men are just a gate down, living in their own little bubble. I can't fight the smile that blooms across my face. There's that word, about knowing everyone has their own lives, their own loves. Sonder, I think it is, and in this moment it washes over me. 

"Hey," A voice rings out through the quiet of the terminal, over the loudness of my mind. I look up, my eyes meeting a man who must be in his later forties. He's balding on top, glasses shoved awkwardly onto the bridge of his nose. His clothes are a mismatch of dressy and unkempt. A suit jacket thrown over his hoodie, a pair of pajama pants adorning his bottom half. The whole ensemble is wrapped up with the cowboy hat sitting on the chair next to him, crocs on his feet. 

"Hi," I nod more than speak, a strange feeling blooming in the pit of my stomach. This is not a man I care to be around. If I keep my eyes down, hands busy, maybe he will get the message.

"Why don't you sit down and we'll have a chat," There's a sort of greasy smile that spreads across his face. A shudder dances down my spine at the sight, gooseflesh breaking out over my already cold body. The feeling of them breathing to life makes my skin go almost clammy, an uncomfortable feeling under my warm layers. 

"No, thank you," The answer is curt as I push my duffle just a little further away with my foot. It drags against the well walked carpet, the sound it makes echoing the one in my chest. It's a sort of stuck sensation, what it morphs into, one that I feel with my whole body. 

"Oh, come on, what's a little chat going to hurt?" The man tries again, leaning closer to me, sliding to the seat next to him. We are no further apart now than when we started. My foot meets the side of my duffle again, ready to push it once more. Each little move he makes my eyes train on, from the way his hand curls around the armrest to the way he seems to be peering, leering, over the tops of his too thick glasses. 

"Nope," I pop the 'P', waving my hand a bit, "I'm not entertaining this any longer."

I stoop down to grab my headphones from my bag, only to have the strange man's hand appear in front of me as he is reaching too. The step back I take is almost involuntary, more focused on getting away from his incoming touch than my things now sitting in between us. The glare I send the man is lacking due to the bubbling fear popping in my chest. I place my headphones around my neck in a shallow attempt to keep my hands from shaking. 

"Oh come on sweet-"

"Tommy Grace! There ya'are! Ya'walked right past us, girl," An arm is thrown around my shoulder, warm and lean. I shift my eyes over quickly, mind and body shooting from high alert to a sort of easy when I see the cowboy from the gate over, now standing to my side, folding me protectively under his arm. The feeling of being protected shouldn't feel quite so strong coming from a stranger. However, the way he keeps his hand right atop the cap of my shoulder, his heartbeat thrumming against my other shoulder just bleeds that feeling. 

"Oh! Seriously? You must've been hiding," I do my best to play along, instantly feeling a little more at ease as the man across from us looks less so. I can't help but revel in the uncomfortable look on the greasy man's face, as well as the warmth pouring from the cowboy. 

"Is this guy a friend o'yers?" The cowboy asks, looking at the man from under the brim of his hat. I can feel the way the pads of his fingers dig into the muscle of my arm, each finger individually curling into the thickness there. It doesn't hurt. Instead it's a grounding point, from him to me and back again. Two strangers bound together if only for a moment. 

"Oh, no, we've never met before," I tell him, gazing up at his face. The scruff of his cheek is fuller at this angle, the defined slope of his jaw easily tracible with my eyes. He's handsome from this angle, which I bet means he's even better looking from head on. 

"I see, well," The cowboy narrows his eyes, "Your brother'sa waitin' and y'know how Jake gets," 

"Boy do I," I chuckle from the safety of his embrace, throwing a sideways glance to the man who seems to be in some sort of staring match with the cowboy. Their eyes are trained on each other, fighting for dominance over the situation. From the way the greasy man's eye twitches slightly, I know the cowboy must be winning. 

"Go on an' see 'em, I'll grab your bag," He is pushing me towards the other gate, a warm palm between my shoulder blades. It's not a hard shove, but the way his hand is pressed firm to my back gives me a clue on just how quickly I need to get out of there. The cowboy shoots me a wink before turning back to the strange man, his eyes narrowing again. 

I don't want to see the look in his eye when it's turned on the greasy stranger. I can imagine just how dark those blue green eyes could tint given the right amount of rage flowing behind them. So, I keep my eyes forward, keep focused on just where I'm headed. 

Quickly, I make my way over to the now standing blond, Jake. The moment his eyes meet mine he is smiling, the kind of smile that instantly eases my nerves. I wave a bit, my hand not making it any higher than my midsection. I can't help but feel the same tiredness in my limbs that I see in his eyes. There is something weighing us both down, and something tells me it's more than just the travel. More than the overly saturated interactions with strangers and flight attendant served booze. 

The moment I'm in earshot, he's already saying hello, opening his arms wide for me. I step into his space, wrapping my arms around his middle. Carefully, almost too lightly, the blond is wrapping his arms around me. It's one of those hugs- the kind you give that estranged relative at Thanksgiving. It's a tad bit awkward from my end, but Jake squeezed me just a little bit tighter as relax against his broad frame and I can't fight the urge to press my face into the soft fabric of his hoodie. 

"Thank you," I mumble into his sweatshirt. As I pull back, the blond squeezes my shoulders quickly, a quiet "you're welcome" in return. I peer up at the tall blond, taking in the gentle curves of his smile lines, how they frame his headstone like teeth, polished white and perfectly straight. His tongue flicks over the corner of his mouth, eyes positioned somewhere behind me.

There is something in that look of his, something playing behind the sea glass tint of his irises. It's a sort of mirth, if mirth was more gentle than the definition explains. Maybe it's a fondness for the other man, one that's hidden behind layers of faux dislike and teasing. The pair bonded together as brothers are, all bemused, an oath, blood of the covenant, that they don't remember taking.  

As I turn to follow his eyeline, Jake folds me carefully under his arm just as the cowboy had before. Maybe their friendship is stronger than I had originally thought. The way they seem to work in unison to the very clear way they've each folded me into the safety of their embrace. It's different with Jake though. He's more calm, his heartbeat isn't hammering out of his chest. I can scarlessly feel it where our bodies are pressed together. 

"Does he do this kind of thing often?" There's a sideways glance shared between us before Jake's chest raddles with a light chuckle. It awakens him just a bit behind the eyes. 

"Yes, but we usually know the girl," The humor in his voice makes the anxiety in my stomach settle a bit. His voice is too warm, too kind to elicit anything but safety in this moment. 

I can feel the small smile ghosting over my lips, the image of the pair many years younger fluttering through my brain. The cowboy and Jake, rescuing girls in the school hallways, folding innocent girls, with glasses and hair pulled back into tidy braids, into their embrace. There's a sort of teamwork in the way it all went down today, through I missed the progression. From the moment the cowboy tucked my body into his, the intense hammering of his own heartbeat be damned, to the way Jake greeted me with literal open arms. There's so much warmth here. 

"And he'd not your soulmate," It's a statement, plain and simple. That get's him laughing for real this time, his whole face coming to life from how his smile overtakes his expression. 

"Not remotely," The words make it out a moment later as Jake still fights a bit to catch his breath. "We grew up near each other, down the same county road just outside a forgettable town here in Texas," 

"Escaping while you still can?" I chide, nudging him with my elbow. 

"I escaped a long time ago," Jake corrects, a small shrug pulls away his body heat for just a moment before it returns. 

"But you're back?" 

"Rhett and I are headed to California," The explanation comes easy, and for a moment I wonder why he's even explaining it all to me, but I am thankful to know the real name of the cowboy, "He's helping get me settled in Miramar, new permanent station," 

"Station? Does that make you Army?"

There's that laugh again. 

"Naval Aviator," There's no sharpness in the correction, as cocky as it is.

"Wouldn't it be a new port for you then, Sailor?" I nudge him again, playfully. There is something so easy about talking to Jake, his arm folding me into his warmth. Something truly sibling like about it, my place here under his sturdy frame. His protective nature and warm smile, a sort of family for just a few fleeting moments. 

"I guess you're right," There's a tad bit of humor in that sentence, but it's hiding behind the tiredness layered in his voice. 

"Wait, did you say Naval Aviator?" I look up at him so directly, eyebrows pulled tightly together as I fight to keep a smile off of my lips. "And you're going to Miramar?" 

I watch as he pulls his own well groomed eyebrows together in a furrow, his lips curving into a ghost of a frown. 

"Yes, Ma'am," 

I can't fight the laugh that bubbles past my lips, the whole thing sounding a bit too sharp, a bit too loud. Where most men are put off by the sound, Jake just looks at me with curious eyes. His tongue flicks over the corner of his slightly upturned mouth, that grin silently begging for me to continue. 

"What're you lot laughin' bout?" Rhett calls out, his voice filling my ears. 

"Well, turns out my brother," I wink at Rhett now, turning my attention his way, "works under my father,"

If the progression of thought could be clearly mapped through faces with flicks of tongues and furrowing of brows, the pair would have told a whole story in the matter of seconds, of squinted eyes and the pursing of lips. 

"Your father?" The pair speak in unison, accents blending together. I can't help but laugh as I flick my eyes between them. Both wear a sort of confused expression, bemused with eyebrows scrunched together, head tilting just so. 

"Yes, my father. Rear Admiral Simpson?" I offer the name as a sort of clarification, though it comes out as a question. Rhett's eyebrows knit together a little tighter, eyes darting to Jake for assurance, or maybe it's confirmation. Jake's eyebrows are raised, his mouth slightly agape by the time my gaze slips back over him. 

"You're Cyclone's kid?" There's more to it, from the way his mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he catches the tip of his tongue between his perfect front teeth. "Are you Arrow?"

"Oh, hell no!" I can't hold back the laughter, my cheeks no doubt pinking up from the way my smile pushes them out, "That's my older brother, Anthony! He's an Aviator too, hoping to get selected for Top Gun any day now... Though I doubt that they'll send him anytime soon with Dad stationed there," 

Rhett's arms are crossed over his chest, his eyebrows no less furrowed than before. Jake's expression is still scrunched up a bit, but the lines are slowly relaxing with the more information he gets, so I continue.

"My name is Y/N Simpson, but everyone calls me Birdie," I hold my hand out first to Rhett, as I'm still tucked close to Jake, his arm slung over my shoulders. 

"Birdie, is'a pleasure," Rhett removes his hat with one hand, shaking my outstretched one with the other. He gives it a quick squeeze before letting go, a kind smile on his face. 

"Birdie?" Jake asks, tip of his tongue snug in the corner of his lips. 

"Yeah, Birdie. You know, Cyclone, Arrow, Birdie, all things that have to do with wind and flying? My dad and brother both got call signs, but I had zero interest in doing anything with the military, but Uncle Solo dubbed me Birdie when I was tiny and it's stuck ever since." 

"Solo? Is'e Navy too?" Rhett chimes in. He scratches at the back of his head, his hat tipping forward into his eyes a bit. 

"Sure is. Admiral Solomon Bates, goes by Warlock," Jake stiffens a bit at the name, but relaxes a bit soon after. I bump his hip with my own, shooting a wink up his way. 

"Well then, Birdie, it's nice to officially meet you," It's a bad recovery, but he clears his throat and keeps speaking, "I've gotta say, your dad didn't mention he had a daughter," 

"Oh yeah, that's not at all a surprise. You know how Sailors can be, and my Dad is a bit over protective of me. He's big on me keeping men at a distance. And if said man is Military? Ha! Not an ice cubes chance in hell that they'd make it within a hundred feet of me," 

Rhett smirks a bit, eyes flicking from my own glare down towards the floor. I know Jake's arm is still wrapped around my shoulder, just as I know that he is still sparing quick glances over to the greasy man a few yards away. I kick the toe of Rhett's boot with my own, wrinkling my nose at the way he snickers. 

"So no soulmate yet?" Jake asks, tilting his chin down to look me in the eye. The question is so full of genuine curiosity and for once I don't feel terrible answering.

"Nope, not yet. Not even a damn lead, but that's okay. I'm a firm believer that it's going to happen when it's supposed to. I'm not in a rush," That last part may be a bit of a lie. I want nothing more than to finally meet the person that's supposed to be mine, mind, body, and soul. Their supposed to be this sort of connection, one that most people who have met their soulmate have only been able to hint at. It's one of those things where words just don't do it justice, even the great poets seem to have failed to find the words. 

"Tha's too bad, 'cause I'd've jumped at the chance to take ya ta dinner," Rhett shoots me a wink, his blue eyes twinkling under the stark white lights. 

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I jest, sticking my tongue out at him. There's another nudge between boots. 

"Oh, he does, but he sure does have a knack for finding the prettiest ones," Jake interjects, bumping my hip with his own. I push him back with my shoulder, causing him to finally drop his arm he's had draped around me for the better part of the last twenty minutes. 

"Whatever you say," I roll my eyes, "What about you boys, either of you found your better half?" 

The way Jake's face lights up at the question gives me the answer before his words can. Rhett is just shaking his head, mumbling a "here we go" under his breath. 

"I sure have! Rooster, he's an Aviator too," Jake begins eagerly, "We met like eight years ago? Maybe nine? I'm not sure, but it was in the middle of the ocean on a carrier, and we butted heads better than the best of 'em. I had graduated Top Gun not too long before, and he hadn't been yet, though he went shortly after that deployment. I don't think we would've figured it out if we hadn't decided to-"

"Don't even say it, Seresin," Rhett threatens with a point of his finger, aim fixed right between the taller man's eyes. 

"I wasn't gonna go into detail," Jake laughs, though there's a glint of trouble in his eyes, "All I'm saying is that if we hadn't hauled each other into that bathroom stall at the bar and-"

"Flight number 4582, Dallas to San Diego is now boarding Group 1, priority members and military members traveling on active orders,"  A woman voice crackles through the intercom.

"Saved by the fuckin' bell," Rhett comments loud enough for Jake and I to hear. The boys begin to grab their bags, each only traveling with a small duffle bag. Rhett heads for the gate first, his bag slung over his shoulder, hat in hand. Jake follows after him, his bag clutched tightly in his hand. 

"Thanks again you two" I call after them with a little wave. Jake stops in his tracks, turning back around to face me.

"Aren't you coming, Birdie?" There's that cock of his head again. 

"Us lowly civilians have to wait until the next group to board," I joke back.

"Not anymore, you're boarding with me, come on!" Then Jake is all but hauling me through the ticket line and onto the plane. Jake throws my carryon into the bin above the row of seats Rhett has claimed and Jake waved me into the same row with a tilt of his head. Without assigned seating, the pair having decided that I'm going to be sitting in the middle seat between them. Maybe I should be more nervous, sitting between two strange men, but sitting here now the only thing I feel is safe. 

The whole flight my head switches between resting on either one of their shoulders, sleep evading me completely. I went from tracing the lines of Rhett's hat as it sat atop his knee to counting just how many times Jake bounced his knee. 

Part of the way through, he admitted that he's a terrible passenger, had been since he graduated from flight school. Maybe it's a control issue, or maybe it's the surrounding people moving all around the large aircraft. Either way Jake bounces his knee the whole flight. Sometimes he'd wipe his palms down his jean clad thighs to ease the tension and give a slight reprieve to the constant movement. 

Rhett snored gently next to me, though he murmured in his sleep just a little. No words ever slipped past his lips, just half cut off sounds and the ghosts of sentiments. He kept his hands folded across his belly, head lulled towards the small window. I hate to admit it, but I admired the long line of his neck as his head was laid against the wall. 

Neither man listened to any sort of music during the flight, which struck me as odd. My headphones sat snug over my ears through most of the flight, a folk country playlist thrumming through them. 

The flight was fast, in the grand scheme and everyone aboard seemed to be thrilled to get off the plane. This terminal is busier than the last. The early morning traffic of the airport filled with people in suits, both sweat and formal. The boys and I walk side by side by side, making our way through the crowd like a force. Maybe it's the sheer size of the men at my sides, but the crowd seems to part for us. 

The trilling of a cellphone breaks up the sounds of the terminal, following us as we walk. 

"Jake," Rhett flicks his gaze towards his friend, a silly look on his face. 

"What?" 

"That's your phone, dude," I nudge him with my shoulder, our bags bumping together. By the time Jake fishes the device from his front pocket, the factory set ringtone has gone silent. 

"Eyes up, Cowboy," I warn as we approach the tram. Rhett's eyes flick up just long fast enough that he doesn't trip over the gap.  The doors closing behind us quickly, and Rhett bumps into one of the stationary poles in attempt to get out of it's way. 

"It truly amazes me that he's a bull rider, since his sense of personal space sucks so bad," Jake mutters, leaning a bit closer to my ear. I can't help but snicker too. 

"Bull rider?" The question is met with a nod from Jake as he presses the phone up to his ear. 

Jake stands near, phone pressed to his ear with knit brows. The look of concentration on his face is tight, like he's trying to make out a hard to hear piece of information on the other side of the line. He pulls the phone away from his ear as we step off the tram, heading for baggage claim. 

They bracket me between them once again, a tall man on each side of me. We share smiles as we walk in time with one another. A little trio formed because one sleazey dude at the Dallas airport couldn't take a hint. Life is funny that way. 

They say the universe only hand picks soulmates, decorating skin just to prove that point. I, however, think friends are found in the flick of the same pen. After all, there's magic left over in the spaces between the letters, in the flick of the wrist of the universe. There has to be. 

"Long message," Rhett comments, "Who was it anyway?"

"Oh, it's just Bob," Jake informs us. Rhett hums in response, but my feet stop moving. They retreat into the tunnel of my vision, blending in with the other travelers moving around us. Their once recognizable frames, broad and welcoming, melt into the sea of movement. Nothing in my vision sticks out, my brain too busy playing those damn words on loop. 

Oh, it's just Bob. Oh, it's just Bob. Oh, it's just Bob. 

There's a fleeting feeling in my fingertips from where my bag as slipped from them. There's the far off sound of it hitting the tile. My vision buzzes with people but god, those words are in the forefront of it all. 

Oh, it's just Bob. 

This moment may be stillness surrounded by the bustle of the San Diego airport. It may be bodies bumping into my own, shoulders connecting as someone passes. It may be one day be a memory of the way my whole body seems to have gone slick with sweat, far too warm and mildly uncomfortable. It may be a realization, both now and in the future. This moment may be the beginning of the rest of my life. 

I'm not ready. Not for the future. Not for Bob. Not for facing his friends who must have noticed that I'm no longer by their side by now. I'm not ready for any of it. Not even remotely. I guess it sure wasn't a lie when I told them that I wasn't "in a rush". 

The chill of the air hits me as I all but break through the sliding doors, out to the taxi line up. There's shouting, it's far off, covered by those four little words and the beating of my heart. I slide into the back of a taxi, my bag discarded onto the seat next to me. With the slam of the door, the taxi is pulling away from the curb. I press my forehead to the glass of the window, my breath fogging up the sight of Rhett and Jake breaking through the crowd. They stand there, confusion written into their features as they watch the cab pull away. 

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I squeeze them together. A deep sigh escapes me, the realization hitting me. They know my dad, at least Jake does. And we are all going to Miramar. It's only a matter of time before our paths cross again.

Maybe it wasn't even my Bob, I try and rationalize with myself. After all, how many people in the world are named "Bob" anyway? It's shallow in theory, a sort of knowing feeling sitting heavy in my gut. That was my Bob on the other end of that message; the feeling deep in my chest aches in a way that it just has to be true. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It's only a matter of time before our paths cross again. On base, in the commissary as we grocery shop. Eye contact over fresh produce, hands busy but eyes filled with questions. Or in my father's office, Jake dropping by on business as my dad and I sit on either side of his large desk. Words caught in our throats, my father's gaze wandering between us. Maybe it will be at the bar, our eyes locking from across the room. Questions shouted over the music; over the smell of alcohol. 

And maybe Bob would be there too, looking positively like a dream I haven't fully allowed myself to have. He'd be there like the sunshine, glowing and warm and something I just wouldn't be able to outrun. He'd be all smiles and kind hands, wrapping me into his embrace in the same way his friends had. 

It's only a matter of time, but I'll run now. 

[laracrofted]

Hello friends 🩵 In honor of 1989 (Taylor's Version) coming out on October 27, I wanted to do a fun little challenge for us Top Gun and Taylor Swift fans.

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

Use #1989TGM in your tags.

Choose a song from 1989 (TV) and write a one-shot about one (or more) characters from Top Gun using that song as inspiration for the fic. You're also welcome to create a mood board for a song instead!

Send me an ask with your song and your character. I will allow one duplicate per song as long as you're writing about a different character. No more than 2 pieces per song!

And if you'd like to do something for another Lewis character, please send me a message.

Please do your best to post before or around October 27, but if you need more time, you can keep the 1989 TV era going and post in November. This is all for fun!

Tag me and/or send me a message when you post so I can read and reblog.

You must be 18+ to participate. I will block any minors or ageless blogs that send in songs.

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒

Welcome to New York (@purelyfiction | Jake, Bradley)

Blank Space (@notroosterbradshaw | Jake) (@haley-hotchner | Bradley)

Style (@bobfloydsbabe | Bob) (@southpawbitch | Bradley)

Out of the Woods (@laracrofted | TBD)

All You Had to Do Was Stay (@bro-ooke | Natasha) (@hobbit-historian | Bradley)

Shake It Off (@blurredcolour)

I Wish You Would (@mothdruid)

Bad Blood (@topguncortez) ✴︎

Wildest Dreams (@sometimesanalice | Bradley) (@roosterbruiser | Bob ✴︎)

How You Get the Girl (@seresinsweetie)

This Love (@princessphilly | Bradley) ( @bucky-sdoll | PM)

I Know Places (@violentdelightsandviolentends)

Clean (@valhallaas | Bradley)

Wonderland (@cherrycola27)

You Are In Love (@callsignspark | Javy) (@topherwrites | Jake)

New Romantics (@withahappyrefrain | Rhett)

“Slut!”

Say Don't Go

Now That We Don't Talk

Suburban Legends

Is It Over Now?

Please reblog and share with anyone who might be interested 🩵 I’m so excited!

✴︎ indicates a mood board

[delopsia]

(Written to the tune of this ambiance. If you saw this note appear, disappear and reappear, no you did not 🌼)

It's days like today that you're reminded why you love this flyover state.

More specifically, the absurd little town hidden within it. Crudely squeezed between the Teton Mountains and the Wind River Reservation. Doesn't have enough foot traffic to count as a tourist trap, but appears in so many niche, western crevices of Pinterest that it still manages to wrangle in the occasional, starry-eyed traveler, looking for a real-life cowboy.

But the sun is still high, and they're still out in the fields. Like how this one is supposed to be.

The coarse bark of the tree digs into your back, bent knees parted just enough to allow for Rhett to fit between them. His cheek rests against your collar, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your neck and his eyelashes brushing against the underside of your jaw.

Distant thunder rumbles, riding on the coattails of the breeze, strong enough to carry Rhett's hair with it but not enough to blow his hat away. Not yet, at least. If you give it some time and wait long enough for those darkened clouds to creep overhead, you're certain that story will be vastly different.

The arm looped around your waist pulls a little tighter, and for a moment, you nearly forgot that it was there, tucked between your shirt and the rodeo jacket he gifted you last fall.

"Looks like the storm is almost here," you murmur, nails scraping against his scalp.

"Mhm."

"Royal's gonna come looking." Because right now, Rhett's supposed to be repairing a break in the south pasture fence. Technically, he's finished with the job, but that doesn't mean he's at the end of Royal's never-ending list of chores.

"Mhm."

"The rapture is beginning."

"Mhm."

A stray drop of rain kisses your skin, ice cold, swiftly followed by another. Leaves and branches overhead rustle, swaying with the wind, chilly enough to have your cowboy wriggling closer.

"Few more minutes," that deep voice grumbles, so deep that it ought to make the thunder jealous, "then we'll go to town, get feed 'n...get dinner somewhere."

You don't mind the idea of that. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Mmm..." pausing. His lips press to your neck. "You."

A part of you wonders if those Pinterest boards ever mention this part of dating a cowboy.

[bradshawsbaby]

Christmas memories with your husband, Rhett Abbott 🎄♥️

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Preacher Bob Floyd

clandestine meetings, sneaking around, catching eyes across the room. road trips, long walks, sitting by the river. hands in his hair, tracing patterns on his skin, fingers intertwined in secret.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵

I have a strange fascination with forbidden relationships - I always have, for some reason. anyways, this moodboard is very preachers daughter coded, just without the cannibalism x

moodboard masterlist

[bradshawswife]

fancy date with rhett 🤍

-> pics from pinterest & misc social medias

[3tabbiesandalab]

Old Cowboy Sayings (Part 1)

*Updated with reader warnings (sorry forgot to add them before)

Here’s the part 1 of Rhett Abbott x Reader

Prologue Part 2  Part 3  Epilogue

Rhett is a fucking mess but he’s been made to feel mediocre his whole life so he just believes it. Reader comes along to hopefully make him see his worth.

Contains mentions of SMUT

Enjoy!

……

Rhett was hungover as hell. His three rides at the local rodeo last night were frustrating to say the least. Introduced not by name but as the son of the ‘great bull riding champ Royal Abbott’ hadn’t helped his mood as he was bucked all three times before the 8. Rhett had drowned his failure in the bottom of a bottle of whisky and his cock down the throat of some nameless girl wanting to hook up with a rider, losing or not. He wasn’t proud of it, but it had numbed his disappointment and that of his family. Rhett felt like shit, stinking of booze and sweat in last night’s clothes, but was helping Cecelia finish up cleaning the dusty small loft above the barn. Perry as usual of late, was nowhere to be seen but Rhett could forgive the man this once. The loft, an open space big enough for a bed and dresser with a small bathroom attached, was once used by Rebecca. It had remained untouched since her disappearance but was about to be occupied again by the daughter of one of Cecelia’s church friends. With little interest Rhett had overheard some of the story as Cecelia told Royal of her plans. Her friend had left to marry a rancher a few states over long ago, but they stayed in touch over the years. The friend and her husband, who reading between the lines was not a good man, had both died recently and their only kid had sold the ranch to escape ‘bad memories’, as Cecelia had put it. And Rhett knew something about that so he couldn’t fault them for wanting to leave the place that caused it. Royal was a hard, inflexible man and most of the time Cecelia was quiet, passive and went along with his choices. But Rhett knew his mother was a not meek woman and could be steadfast and assert herself when it mattered to her. It used to upset him that she didn’t choose to use it to stand up for him, but he was used to it by now. 

Rhett supposed he was a little like her, following along with whatever his family had decided for him and only speaking when he had something to say, not that anyone listened. The only time he really asserted himself was while drunk in a bar fight and it was usually over some throw away comment, not anything really important. Cecelia said it was her Christian duty to help this girl who had no one and she would be living and working on the ranch for food and board, so he knew her word was final and even a prickly Royal had no say in the matter. Rhett had imagined she was going to be some young, timid church mouse type and that really wasn’t his thing. So while they finished cleaning the loft and Cecelia said he wasn’t to touch her, Rhett chuckled a little and replied “Yes ma’am.” How wrong he was. YFN as she was called, pulled up in her old truck a little later and Cecelia had the whole Abbott family lined up to greet her. She was an attractive, petite woman of a similar age to Rhett. He couldn’t help but run his appreciative eyes over her curvy hips, shapely thighs, and round ass in her worn jeans as she leant into the bed of her truck to get her duffle. As YFN walked towards them, he noticed the swing of those hips and the stretch of her shirt over her ample tits as he scanned up her body towards her lovely face. Fuck. She wasn’t a young girl at all and by the way she swayed her hips, she didn’t look to be an innocent either. She was a pretty little thing, and the no touching rule was going to be much harder than he first thought. YFN greeted Cecelia with a bunch of flowers and a long hug, his mother whispered to her and whatever was said was met with YFN’s sad smile. Cecelia introduced her to his father and brother, and she shook Royal then Perry’s hand with a small nod, Perry openly staring at her. Rhett frowned slightly at that, he’d seen that look on him before and didn’t like it at all. YFN very quickly moved on from him and smiled warmly at Amy and already had his niece wrapped around her little finger by handing her a gift that appeared to be coloured pencils and a notebook. “This is our youngest boy Rhett.” his mother spoke, “Don’t mind the state of him.”

Rhett studied her pretty eyes, pink plump lips and the smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Damn she was a looker. “Hi.” YFN smiled and her eyes met his, “I’m okay with a mess.” she said, voice like honey and she extended her hand to him. Rhett didn’t know if she was talking about his appearance or if she already had him pegged as the family disappointment. He wiped the dirt off his hand on last night’s jeans. Shit he wished he’d cleaned up when he got home early this morning. He took her outstretched hand in his and was surprised to find it calloused and rough much like his own. A slow warmth from Rhett’s palm spread throughout his body. He had lost count of how many women he’d screwed to feel anything, but a simple handshake from her stirred something in Rhett. YFN raised an eyebrow at him. Rhett released the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding and quietly uttered “Ma’am.” She smiled sweetly and dropped his hand before turning back to address Royal “Thank you for lettin’ me stay. I’ll work hard and do what’s asked of me.” “Best you do.” Royal grunted, “You ride girl?” “All my life sir. My horse was sold in the settlement though.” YFN replied unphased by Royal’s coolness. “Go on and get yourself squared away then.” he pointed to the barn and then at Rhett. “The boy will get you acquainted with a horse and then you can help him. His no-good drunk ass surely needs it.” Royal said resentfully. 

His father and Perry walked off in the opposite direction of the barn and without a word, Cecelia took Amy inside, leaving Rhett and YFN standing together. 

He wasn’t surprised at Royal’s comment or his family’s hasty departure because of it, but Rhett’s head and shoulders dropped. “Rhett.” YFN said gently. He was surprised she hadn’t walked off too. Rhett looked at her expecting to see pity or judgement, but he just saw understanding in her eyes. “I had a daddy like that too.” she revealed softly, voice laced with a little resentment, “I ain’t gonna listen to yours either when he says crap like that.”

Rhett was surprised by both her candour and that she had chosen not to believe his father’s words, but he said nothing.

“You know, my mamma had an old cowboy saying, ‘Don’t judge anyone by their relatives’.” YFN said simply. Rhett took a moment and searched her eyes for an indication she wasn’t being genuine, but he found none. 

“You always listen to your mamma?” he asked, voice hoarse from his hangover. A wry smile graced her lips “She was a religious woman so not always…” The corner of Rhett’s mouth turned up ever so slightly, “That so?” “Mm-hmm.” YFN hummed, “I mean it. I ain’t gonna settle on who you are based off them.” Rhett nodded at that, he was grateful but it was only a matter of time until she realised for herself that he was just as they said. YFN laughed lightly to herself, and Rhett thought it was the sweetest sound. 

“You do smell like shit though.” she said amused. Rhett smiled at that. A real smile, one that was usually reserved for Amy or a good bull ride. This girl was something special. A pretty face and curves, and kind with a witty mouth on her. She didn’t need a man like him screwing with her so Rhett knew he would look but do as Cecelia asked and try his best not to touch. “I know. Lemme find you a horse and show you the ropes then.” he said still smiling as he picked up YFN’s duffle and walked with her to the barn. …… A few months passed on the Abbott Ranch, one day rolling into the next as it always did but for Rhett, it felt different. He was still a goddamn mess, but he just didn’t feel so lonely or detached as he once did.  Rhett still drank almost every night, got into fights, and had a few quick fucks when he was irritated at his riding, but it wasn’t all he had anymore. YFN had fit in like she’d always been there. The work was the same, but Rhett was no longer tasked with the bulk of it alone. His father had put YFN with Rhett to learn, but if it was meant as another chore for him, it had backfired. She was anything but a burden to him or to the ranch. And it was almost as if YFN breathed life back into it, and breathed life back into him. She was kind, funny and helpful and Rhett thought her to be very intelligent but in two different ways. Firstly because she’d figured out early on to avoid a hard, dismissive Royal and an unstable, leering Perry as much as possible. And secondly, she was smart enough to give Amy a hand with her homework and helped Cecelia in figuring out to the ranch’s messy financial situation, albeit without Royal’s knowledge. Rhett thought he should be jealous of YFN, as Amy and Cecelia were both obviously fond of her, and his mother trusted had her to help, something that hadn’t ever been afforded to him. But he wasn’t in the slightest, Rhett was pleased YFN was helping the women in his life. From growing up on a ranch, YFN had the skill and the strength to manage the routine and tasks of one. She was hard working and capable and true to her word she did everything that was asked of her to earn her place at the ranch. YFN and Rhett had quickly found a daily rhythm and worked well together, each balancing out the strengths and weaknesses of the other. She wasn’t as lazy or as careless as Perry and didn’t chastise him or judge him in silence like Royal. YFN seemed content just let him work the way he wanted, offering suggestions occasionally but never criticising and she was open when he did the same. From the get-go Rhett had just one problem living and working with YFN. 

It was hard to keep his mind off her. In the beginning, YFN was focused on finding her place and learning the routine, so she didn’t talk a lot save a bit of a chat here or a joke there. And Rhett wasn’t one for talking much anyway so he no issue with the comfortable silence. But fuck did his cock have other ideas.

Rhett was very attracted to YFN, and he couldn’t help but fix on the way her jeans hugged her ass as she bent over, the bounce of her full tits as she rode her horse or her the way her tongue ran over her chapped lips after a day working in the sun. Rhett often hid the growing bulge in his jeans during the day and fisted himself in the shower at night, as he imagined those lips wrapped around his dick or her his face buried in her ample chest as she rode him. Rhett was good at picking up on physical cues of women and was pretty sure YFN was attracted to him too. She flirted with him, but didn’t tease and Rhett noticed her appraising him, biting her lip, and subtly rubbing her thighs together quite often. They had never really touched. Just the occasional contact of fingers when she handed something to him or when they brushed past each other in a small space. But even the smallest contact was enough to make Rhett hard. He knew she was no church mouse, but she didn’t act like a slut either. YFN never made a move so neither did Rhett. They just continued to dance around each other for months on end. Any other woman and he would of her bent over something by now and fucked her. But YFN was special so he let her be. He’d curb the need she set off inside of him by screwing a random ‘buckle bunny’ here and there, all while thinking of YFN. Rhett was a mongrel for doing it, but he wasn’t worthy of her and needed to release his tension with those girls who were willing. And he didn’t want to ruin anything between them because he couldn’t keep his cock under control around her. Rhett had found a way to handle the sexual attraction. But he very quickly found himself catching feelings for her. He hadn’t cared about anyone since Maria and he was pretty naive to it all back then, so Rhett didn’t know how to handle feelings. Rhett was quiet by nature, except if he was drunk then he became a little loose lipped especially when he was fucking. But he had also been led to believe most of his life that what he said was of little value or interest, so he just kept his mouth shut.  But then YFN came along and started asking him about himself like she really wanted to know him. Simple things at first, like his favourite colour or what music he liked. The short lines of questioning eventually morphed into deeper things like why bull riding was important to him, where he felt the most peaceful and they even touched on the shit with his family. Rhett wanted to know her too and YFN was open and honest with him, two things most people weren’t in his experience. She was full of witty one-liners and dirty jokes, and Rhett had laughed more in months, than he had his whole life.

With the money problems at the ranch, YFN encouraged Rhett with his ideas to help turn things around. His family had never involved him, Rhett was labour and nothing more, but she praised him for his thoughts and possible solutions and promised to support him if he presented them to his family. They hadn’t got to spend any time alone outside of working, but she often joined in when he and Amy did something, all of them laughing and being silly together.  Rhett had never dared to dream of a family but as he watched her with Amy, it gave him the smallest sliver hope and set off something off primal inside of him. So Rhett wanted to fuck YFN, in every goddamn way he knew how. But he wanted to love her. Ride bulls, work honestly, breed babies into her and share a life together. Rhett remembered an old cowboy saying his grandfather used to use, ‘You think everything in the universe revolves around the sun, but once you love a cowgirl you know that everything revolves around her’. Rhett used to believe it was stupid, but he felt that way about YFN. He knew YFN was attracted to him and genuinely wanted to know him, but he doubted she wanted these all things with him, no one ever had. So he resigned himself to be content with the ways she was already making his mediocre and messy life better by just being in it.

[callsign-joyride]

John Wayne | Chapter 1 | Rhett Abbott

Despite the mood board suggesting otherwise, my fics are size and POC inclusive.

Series masterlist | Next part

Summary: Rhett ends up in the city for a friend's wedding. You're going through a rough breakup. A meet-cute in a cafe changes both of your lives.

Every John is just the same I'm sick of their city games I crave a real wild man I'm strung out on John Wayne

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader

Content warnings: None yet

Being a journalist was fun. Tiring, but fun. Admittedly, it wasn't the best paying job. Especially for someone two years out of college, living in New York. But it was your dream job, and you ranked up fairly quickly. The summer internships and part-time jobs definitely helped you get there, but you weren't complaining. Even in the questionable apartment that you shared with someone, you were happy. 

Of course, not all good things last forever. You knew that something was off when Tyler, your boyfriend of two years, had texted you to buzz him in. 

“Hey, I'm almost done with editing. Give me a few minutes and I'm all yours,” you said as he walked in the door. The thing that was different about this situation was that he hadn't taken his shoes off by the door. It wasn't something that you or your roommate had ever stressed about, but he always took his shoes off when he came in. 

You submitted your article before closing your laptop and turning your attention toward him. The only background noise was that of the city below you. It was a particularly nice day out so you decided to work with the window slightly open. 

“I think we need to break up,” he said. It felt like time stopped. 

“Okay. Why?” You sniffled and reached for the box of tissues that were on the coffee table. There was a lump in your throat and you knew that this wasn't going to end well. 

“You’ve been so busy lately and I feel like you're kind of blowing me off. My birthday was two weeks ago and all I got from you was a text and a card.”

“With a gift card to that place in SoHo that you like so much. Two weeks ago, I had to be in D.C. for an interview. I think you might be forgetting that I have a job that, God forbid, doesn't require me to sit behind a desk for eight hours straight. I planned on taking you to that restaurant, by the way. Since I got this job, you have known that it occasionally requires travel. So you don't get to act like I'm ‘blowing you off’ when you know exactly what I do for a living. I also told you that I was going to D.C., and I know I told you because I copy and pasted that text and sent it to Rebecca-,”

“Rebecca who's in Iceland right now.”

“I don't think it matters where she is. If you're breaking up with me because I have a great job, then you can leave. I'm not going to be in a relationship with someone who isn't supportive of me and then tries to act like I'm the problem. I’ll let you know when you can pick up your stuff.”

All Tyler did in response was nod his head and leave silently. Once the door to the apartment shut, you locked it before pouring yourself a glass of wine and going to your room with your laptop. You didn't really start to cry until you called Danielle and told her about it. 

“Tomorrow is one of your work-from-home days, right?” She asked. 

“Yeah,” you managed to say through the sobs. 

“Consider going to that little cafe and doing your work there. The change of scenery might help you feel better.”

“Okay. Well now that I feel like I’ve cried what is essentially my body weight in tears, I think I'm gonna go to bed. Or at least try to.”

Danielle let out a quiet chuckle before you exchanged goodbyes and hung up the phone. You ended up taking her advice, and it helped get your mind off of things. 

It became your new “thing”, actually. It wasn't like being at the apartment on your work-from-home days was boring, but you enjoyed the environment at the cafe. Rebecca came back from Iceland about a week and a half after the breakup, and you waited a day or two before actually telling her what happened.

“That’s so ridiculous. His place isn’t even that far away! I’m so sorry. If he wanted to make it work, he would. He’s probably just jealous that you’re writing for The Times and not living in your parent’s basement.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the statement. She was right. Finding affordable housing in the city was difficult, but Tyler had a well-paying job. Maybe not well enough to live completely on his own, but well enough to move out. You had once thought about asking if he wanted to move in with you and Rebecca, but that was clearly not an option anymore.

“You don’t happen to have to work on Saturday, do you?” You asked.

“No, why?”

“I need him to come and get his stuff but I either can’t be here or I can’t be here alone when he comes by. I haven’t talked to him, but it’s not like I really want to, either.”

“I’d be happy to give him his stuff. That and then some. I kinda want to slash his tires if I’m honest.”

“That’s… Completely fair. A little irrational, but fair,” you said.

The following day was particularly gloomy. The rain had been on and off all night, with a few particularly loud rumbles of thunder waking you up. You walked into the cafe and ordered your usual before sitting down and getting to work. There were a few articles to edit and a bunch of emails to respond to. Emails that, had your boss been any different, would’ve been pointless meetings with a bunch of interns around the coffee machines. Even though you always sat facing the door, it was hard to make you lose focus. Until two guys in flannels and cowboy hats walked in. At first, you thought that you had somehow managed to drink way too much caffeine. The texts that you sent to Danielle and Rebecca didn’t help, either. Neither of them believed you until you snuck a picture of them waiting in line to order.

“Excuse me, miss? Uh, can I ask you a quick question?” One of them asked. You nodded your head and put your phone face down on the table.

“Yeah, sure,” you said.

“I’m here with my brother and we uh, we’ve never been here before. Can I ask what you’re drinking? I’m Rhett, by the way.”

You could tell that he was from out of state. None of the New York guys that you had met were ever this nice, even if it was to ask what your drink was. 

“Well, Rhett, it’s a chai latte with a shot of raspberry. I gotta warn you, though. If you don’t like sweet things, you won’t like this. It’s also not as caffeinated as coffee. Where are you from if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, I’m from a small town in Wyoming. You’ve probably never heard of it, and please don’t laugh, but it’s called Wabang. I know.”

“That’s really funny. What brings you to New York?”

“One of my friends is getting married at the end of the week.”

“Oh, nice! Hey, I would love to sit and chat but it looks like your brother is getting antsy over there. Um, I can give you my number if you want?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Rhett handed you his phone and you quickly typed in your name and number. Your phone chimed while you got back to work. It was a text from Rhett to make sure that you had his number. You were surprised when he and his brother started walking over to your table with their drinks in hand.

“This seat taken?” He asked.

“No,” you said with a chuckle. Both of them sat in front of you and Rhett introduced you to his brother, Perry. 

“So, what did you get to drink?” You asked Rhett. 

“Uh, the chai with the raspberry. You have great taste, this is really good.”

“I’m glad that you like it. When’s the wedding?”

“Friday. We leave on Sunday, though.”

You smiled and nodded your head. This might be a bad idea. Actually, probably one of the worst ideas. His brother is right there! You’ve known him for twenty minutes! This could be an episode of Criminal Minds just waiting to happen.

“Would you maybe want to hang out on Saturday?” You asked. Rhett’s eyes widened and he quickly exchanged glances with Perry.

“Uh, yeah, sure. We’re gonna have to go in a few minutes but I’ll text you.”

You tried to suppress a giggle as you continued to talk to Rhett and Perry, and you couldn’t stop smiling. Once they left, you ordered a few pastries before getting your stuff and going back to your apartment. The day instantly felt brighter, and you were able to get the rest of your work done on the couch. Rebecca came home while you were watching an early season of Grey’s Anatomy, and you paused it before getting up and squealing.

“I’m guessing you talked to at least one of the cafe cowboys,” she said.

“Yes! His name is Rhett and he’s really cute. His brother was the other cowboy and he seemed nice, but I might’ve done something stupid.”

“Oh God, what did you do?”

“I kind of asked him out. We’re gonna get something figured out for Saturday, but I’m not even sure if it’s really a date. His brother was right there and it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a girlfriend in Wyoming.”

“Oh, so he’s a cowboy cowboy. Danielle and I thought that he was just some random guy in a costume.”

You laughed before heading to your room to plug in your phone and laptop. When you weren’t doing something important, you were texting Rhett. It was kind of surprising to you, considering that you had just met and you hadn’t really texted anyone for this long. You probably would’ve stayed up all night texting him if it wasn’t for the fact that you had to be in the office early the next morning.

It was one of the rare nights since the breakup that you were actually able to get to sleep peacefully.

Taglist:

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[sebsxphia]

wildflower, wildfire. | chapter one.

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: rhett finds his wildflower, wildfire and he wants everything with them.

￫ c/w: sexual tension, p in v, rough sex, rhett calls you pathetic, rhett uses derogatory language towards reader, fingers in your mouth, harassment, smoking, swearing, blood, mentions of scars, slight fluff.

￫ word count: 1.4K.

￫ a/n: holy moly ravioli! this is the first long and smut piece i have written in years! thank you @shakira-sasha for the one line that made me fold and gave inspiration to this. check out @weakling-grace’s incredible mood board created for this series here! the series masterlist and be found here! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

next chapter

Rhett leaned against the top of the bar trying and failing to get the attention from the bar man for another beer, his second beer coming to a disappointing end. He turned his head right and at a glance it was as if a star exploded when he saw you. The very first thing he noticed were the purple, yellow and blue wildflowers tied neatly into your hair.

Rhett trailed his eyes across your face and he noticed the rosy pink creeping onto your cheeks as you sipped delicately at your drink, the heat of the summer getting to your skin. His third beer now on the way and with two swigs down his throat, he bit the bullet.

“Why the wildflowers?” Rhett questioned brazenly over the distance of you both.

When you looked up through your lashes, he was grateful the bar was holding him up otherwise he would have faltered there and then. He thought you looked like a fucking fallen angel. You had this graceful and angelic look in your eyes, but Rhett didn’t fail to notice how you bit down on your bottom lip. You were forbidden fruit.

Under the neon glow of the bar lights you saw how attractive he was. His features were gentle but his eyes were looking at you with gluttony. It was as if you were the only person in the bar right now and you were about to be his last meal. You swallowed the last of your drink slowly to wet your mouth.

You set the glass on the bar top with a gentle clink and your curiosity pinched at your skin.

“I grow them.”

“Where?”

He was quick and a blissful smile teetered on his lips. He didn’t loose the hold of his eyes on you.

You sat up straighter in your bar stool, pushing your breasts firmly against the bar. You wanted to enlightened him. Rhett could notice the swell of your breasts and how your sundress hugged your figure perfectly. He could only see the top half but swallowed thickly. He could only think about the rest of your body that was hidden under the bar. It only provoked him to converse further with you.

Rhett came outside and reached into his back pocket to light up another cigarette but stumbled upon you pushing a man off your arm, your cigarette ash sparking up into the night sky. The man followed with a string of curse words aimed at you, slightly slurred at best.

You cocked your head to the side, “oh, you don’t like being treated the way you treat me? That must fucking suck.” The man let up and went to find his way home, tripping over his feet one too many times.

Rhett saw how your face contorted to a scowl, but still behind the softness of your eyes he saw the sweet girl who wore wildflowers in her hair.

“You tell me if anyone does that to you again. I’ll put them in the fuckin’ ground for y-”

“Fuck off,” you quick whipped.

Rhett had only been left speechless a couple of times in his life and he made a mental note in milliseconds that this was one of them. However, the way your lips twitched upwards at the corners and the way your eyes focused in on him, he couldn’t really tell from your look if you meant what you said, or if you were about to take him round the back of the bar right now, unbuckle his belt and drop to your knees.

You stubbed out your cigarette and Rhett felt his cock twitch in his pants. He thought without hesitation for the second time that night. He grabbed your forearm as you reached for the door handle to the bar and pulled you back into him.

You were closer to him now, too close. You could smell the alcohol dancing on his lips and his old aftershave, it only enticed you further. Your breathing started to get quicker and if you pushed out your chest any further, you’d be touching his. Your eyes flickered to his and you saw a sight that made your heart jump in your chest and your breath catch in your lungs.

His black pupils were full blown with lust or love, and neither you nor Rhett could tell. Your eyes followed downwards as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip, over a cut that was nearly healed. He could feel your pulse quicken as his index and middle fingers slid down to hold your wrist. Like a noose around a bulls neck, you were captured by the cowboy.

He tightened the grip of his thumb and pressed down harder on your pulse point. It felt like your heart was going to burst through your rib cage and land on his shirt, staining him with a sickly amount of blood. It made you sharply intake your breath. You were trying to hold back the whine that was desperate to escape your throat. You could feel your arousal pool and slick between your thighs.

Just like delicate wildflowers, he knew they could be set ablaze quickly in the heat and by how hot your skin felt under his touch, he thought of you as his wildfire too. Both of you ready to combust if there was one more scorching touch.

“I want to love you forever.” He called out as if he had been searching for you all his life.

Your lips parted slightly in a sudden reaction. You tried not to gawk but you would be lying to yourself if it didn’t take you back at first.

Rhett knew how to treat a woman and be a gentleman, but right now in the back of his mind and just tipping over the precipice was the wanton desire to have you pressed up against his truck with one hand holding your hips so tight it would bruise and his other hand running along your lips, sliding two fingers into your mouth to stop you gawking at him. His pants felt strained now, scalding him.

“Could you handle me forever, cowboy?” You questioned and took the final step so your breasts were firm against his chest. He could feel how your nipples were stiffening below the thin fabric of your sundress. He wondered if it was the cool night air or his effect.

He hoped it was the latter.

Your question had his mind go damn near delirious with salacious desire. He wanted to make you so dumb. So dumb that you’d be a blabbering mess sat on his cock and not able to answer him. His mind wondered to that thought and dreamed for a split second of the filth that would fall off his tongue so easily.

“You wan’ me to keep your cunt full wi’ my cum? Fuckin’ answer me. Fuck, you’re pathetic.”

Bringing his mind back to the present, he leaned into you and you could feel his breath hot on your lips.

“Sweetheart please, I can feel your tits through your pathetic dress, almost fuckin’ smell you.”

Your brain short circuited quicker than it ever had. You rubbed your thighs together desperately and tried to ease some of the frustration you felt so deeply.

“So, I’d love to give that a try darlin’.” He continued with a cocky grin threatening to plaster over his face with pride.

He slid his hand round and onto the swell of your ass, squeezing it so tightly that you yelped. He quickly shut you up by pressing his lips onto yours. Your breath was fervent and heavy on his cut lip. He slid his tongue along yours and dipped into your mouth. His hands reached up to cup your face, thumb pushing under your jawline. You thought he might shatter your jawbone with how hard he was kissing you.

He pushed you back into the wall of the bar and he pulled away. His cock was straining in his pants as he saw how he made your lips swell. With one hand still cupping your face, he landed his other hand against the wall and trapped you there. He searched your face, and there it was. His wildflower, wildfire.

“I want to give you everything, forever.” He tipped his hat upwards with his index finger before placing both of his hands on your face again and leaning back in to kiss you. However this time you noticed it was softer, as if he wanted to remember every inch of your lips.

And oh, how he did.