I mainly write for Top Gun Maverick Characters. Some Rhett Abbott is sprinkled in there. my main is queenbbarnes so that is where i interact from.
Requests and Tag Lists:
I happily take requests for moodboards, blurbs or headcanons as of right now. I do have a tag list so please let me know if you would like to be added. I reserve the right to decline a request if i do not feel comfortable with it.
My Works:
Bradley Bradshaw
Beach Sunrise
A Rainy Day
Jake Seresin
Flying
Beach Day
Natasha Trace
Sailing
There's not a moment that passes where Rhett doesn't think that you're cute, don't get him wrong, but there are these little things you do that have his heart fluttering in his chest like he's a damn teenager.
And he's not entirely sure what to do with those feelings, has never really been in a situation where he could learn these things, didn't even realize it was a thing until that first date when you couldn't quit yawning.
He still remembers it.
The way your face would twitch as you tried to fight it off, desperate to finish one sentence where you weren't interrupted by it, only for your little eyes to squeeze shut as another yawn took over. Oh, and he hadn't the slightest clue that butterflies could feel like that, tickling in his chest, his right foot mindlessly kicking below the table as if to ward them off before you could notice.
It gets him just as bad when you hug his bicep. You usually do it on the chilly rodeo nights, when the turnout gradually becomes larger and larger, the crowds so big that they'll swallow you whole if you're not careful. And it's just so cold, and he's so warm, it only makes sense that you would hang onto him!
You haven't the slightest clue that he's been taking you to the chutes the long way; there's a shortcut beneath the bleachers that skips the food truck crowds entirely, but Rhett takes you this way just because he knows what you're gonna do. Batting your pretty eyes at him, trying to convince him to let you keep hanging onto him as if he isn't already wrapped around your finger.
There are some days when you get bold enough to shove yourself right under his arm, frozen to the point of trying to steal his warmth rather than asking for it. But with it, you cloud his ability to think and steal the strength right out of his knees. Dumbly follows you around until his name is called to ride, or you decide you've had enough.
But Rhett thinks that you're the cutest when you've just woken up.
You've recently developed this little habit of rolling over in the morning and nuzzling up to his chest, your nose resting against the tattoo mottling his skin, arm loosely thrown over his waist. It always wakes him up, and frankly, that's the best part about it. You and your peaceful face, blissfully unaware of the rough, calloused hands that trace the lines of your features as if to memorize you from touch alone.
He thinks this must be why you occasionally smother him with kisses. Overwhelmed with whatever this fuzzy, warm feeling is that has long since made its home in his lower belly.
Sometimes, he gets to stick around long enough to see you wake. Mindlessly tracing his fingers up and down your shoulder as your eyes flutter open, so out of it that you don't even try to ward off a yawn. God, he wants to squish your cheeks and pepper you with kisses. Is this why you do that to him?
Most mornings, though, ranch work calls, and those cattle ain't gonna sort and feed themselves. And he really does try his best to pry himself away without waking you, delicately lifting and easing your arm back to where it belongs, drawing your leg off of his hip.
It works about half of the time. You haven't the slightest clue he's gone, still asleep, when he sneaks over to press a kiss into your temple. But every once in a while, he'll be standing in the kitchen fiddling with his coffee when the same old tile creaks behind him, and a pair of arms wind around his naked waist.
"Did I wake y' up?" It's always the same question. In that deep, rumbling voice of his, tilting his head to look over his shoulder at you.
The answer is always the same; your favorite white lie, even though you both know the truth lurking below the surface. "No."
His little routine is almost enough to put you to sleep. Meticulously blending milk, sugar, and creamer until his coffee is so sweet that a single sip might give Royal a heart attack. But then he's finished pouring it into the beat-up travel mug you got him three birthdays ago, and he's twisting in your arms to steal a kiss and oh you're looking at him with those eyes again.
"Don't do that," he tries. As if the cracks aren't already forming. "Y' can't do that."
It's so hard to keep up his resolve when you yawn, tightening your arms around his waist, blinking at him with that little half-awake unfocused gaze of yours. "Stay here a few minutes?"
Rhett really, really should have his boots on and be out the door by now.
His truck still needs a few minutes to warm up and shake the cold off. The north pasture fence needs to be mended as soon as possible so that they can herd the cattle up there around noon. If he's too late, then he'll encounter Wayne on his journey down the shared driveway, and there's nothing worse than having to creep into the grass to give that guy enough space to pass.
ļæ« warnings: mentions of sex, some angst, children and fluff.
ļæ« authors notes: this is a collection of daydreams i have about my cowboy husband. my main masterlist can be found here! š
Rhett is a little awkward and shy. For a burly bull rider, when he first asked you out, his thumb moved between each fingernail to pick at it. His hands were twitching with nerves. From a first glance, he simply looked like a man asking a person out. His hands were by his sides and he stood tall.
His father told him to never look small, even though he made Rhett feel so small sometimes.
When you replied with a beaming smile that you would love to go out with him sometime, his cheeks became flushed with a warm pink, that spread over the tops of his ears and down his neck in a hot flush.
He gets grumpy too. His eyebrows knit together in a firm line. His eyes become stone and his eyelids grow heavy. Heāll focus on one particular spot of dirt on his jeans, not baring to look at anything else. He clenches his teeth tightly together and his jaw becomes firmly set.
But, he stands up for himself and what he thinks is right. However, it comes off as him being defensive and angry when really, heās only trying to protect the things that he loves most. That being the life youāve built together on your ranch and most importantly, you and your little baby girl.
Bonnie Abbott was born in the early spring. You spent many days in the summer standing on your front porch, with her in your arms and watching Rhett work not too far from your home. He couldnāt bear to spend long periods away from you both, so he always opted to do work closer to your home during the day.
You would hold her chubby little hand and wave it for her, humming in a sweet voice, āWave to Daddy, Bonnie!ā
You watch as your three ranch cats jump from the rooftops and fences of the barn. Your Anatolian Shepherd, Daisy, sits by your feet and keeps a careful and protective watch over both you and Bonnie. Robin, your Blue Heeler, is always quick on Rhettās heels and trails around behind him, as he works in the hot and sticky Wyoming summer heat. Rhett whistles sharply between his lips and Robin is always quick to follow.
You still live in Wyoming, but you chose your ranch to be two towns over from Wabang. Rhett wanted to distance himself from his family, but he couldnāt leave them completely. Heās still holding onto this deeply entrenched guilt, that therefore causes him to tether to them.
Heās working on it though. Heās working on himself.
He doesnāt deny his mother and father of seeing his grandchild. You go back to visit when you can, but you normally leave after spending the day there. Rhett can only bear so many hours before the familiar and tell-tale signs of his set frown and tense jaw begin to appear. You still go back for occasions such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those are the only two occasions when you, Rhett and Bonnie will stay the night.
His old room is still there. It still comforts him.
You press up against Rhett in his small bed and keep him warm, whilst Bonnie sleeps soundly beside you both in her crib. His room is nearly identical to when he left it, but these small changes with you both now being in there with him, is what gives him the harmony to fall asleep.
You asked Rhett once if he would be gentle with you, as he had your beautiful naked body below him.
āWill you be gentle with me? Please be gentle with me.ā
He gave you the love that you so dearly deserved. He calls you his ābaby,ā his ādarlināā, his love.
He is your dream. He is your cowboy, but a man who needs to be wanted. He needs to feel wanted. He gets so much validation from you, in every way. Emotionally, physically, sexuallyā¦ And you give that to him without hesitation. Heās so over the moon with you. Heās so profoundly and deeply in love with you.
tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @sugarcoated-lame @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @floydsmuse @rhettmotel @mearslot @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @withahappyrefrain @castiel-barnes @sandbarbirdie
Description: Rhett Abbott's dreams start to take shape, but at what cost?
word count: 2.5k
c/w: blood, descriptions of injuries.
a/n: a formed thought from conversations with @sebsxphia that manifested into. This is the longest thing I have written in probably over a year so be kind.
Adrenaline pounded through Rhett. A strong pulse rang in his ears, contrasting the sharp sound of the metal gate latching and the booming announcer on the megaphone. Cheers from the stadium rumble through the earth, the high-pressure atmosphere illuminated by the bright lights shining through the dusty haze kicked up by boots.Ā
Eight seconds. 8 seconds to win.Ā
Rosin sticks to his worn glove as it works into the braided leather. Simultaneously, his other hand readjusts the hat perched on his head. His eyes search over the sea of people in the stands, smiling softly to himself as they land on the familiar shape of your hat and the color of your worn jeans. He can tell adrenaline and concern courses through you, even from a distance. You swallow your worry, manifesting in how your knuckles are white from gripping the metal railing of the bleachers. Pride overpowers your outward worry as you cheer his name, your smile lighting up the stadium.Ā You ease his stagnant anxiety.
He'd had a good circuit, making it to the Semi Finals within the collection of neighboring counties. He placed in the top 3 every ride for the entire circuit. Currently, on his second ride of the night, he sat in first. If he kept the momentum, he'd break into the national circuit at the end of the night.
A rough hand on his shoulder breaks him out of his gaze and back to his place on the bull. With a deep breath and a roll of his bad shoulder, he gives a curt nod. The chute opens.
1 second. 2.Ā
6 more seconds to make his score. You refuse to take your eyes off him in the center of the ring to look at the timer. With each second ticking, the world slows around you.
The bull's heels are high, and in a tight twist, Rhett rides. The buzzer sounds with a sharp ring throughout the arena. Instantly you are on your feet, calling out his name with joy. You were ecstatic, his hard work, and your shared sleepless nights leading up to this minute. Yet, within an instant, your breath hitches as his grip falters and he cries out. In a chaotic flurry of motion, dust kicks up. Your world stops.Ā
The stadium is quiet as the dust settles. Your world is unmoving. Rhett lays on the ground, and the bullfighter is yelling something incoherent to the chute. The commotion is enough to feel fear rise from your feet. Your heart quickens at the telltale stain of dark red on the dry dirt.
"Get up. Come on! Get up" Your heart sinks. "Rhett, come on. Get out of there".
Desperately, you call out his name, breaking the tense silence as the bull returns to the side of him.
"RHETT"Ā
Rhett grunts as he hits the ground. His hat is a few feet from impact. Numbly and gasping for air, he narrowly turns his head into the dirt, missing the hoof land on the ground adjacent to his shoulder. He blinks in a daze as a body collides above him and covers his torso.Ā
Seconds tick by. He gasps for air, the wind knocked out of him. He only registers that he is on the ground when a hand is placed on his chest to stop him from sitting up.
Someone is speaking to him. A blurry figure tugs his vest off. His body limply reacted to the motion, ears ringing. His shaking hand reaches to the bridge of his nose. His eyes squeeze shut in an attempt to subdue the spinning. With his eyes shut, blood speckled across his cheek and forehead, his mind could only focus on you.Ā
Where were you?Ā
The bull clears, and before you can stop yourself, you are trying to jump the railing, ignoring the people beside you trying to call out to you.Ā All you could think about was getting to him.
Pushing through pain and shallow breaths, he cranes his neck, wincing at the stadium lights. Disoriented by the brightness, he could not register the faces or what was said to him. His head spun as he tried to piece together anything. Where were you? He thought he had seen you here. Swallowing, he weakly called out. Your name tasted of copper on his lips. A cough shook his diaphragm, his world growing blurry, edges fading. He felt hands on him and weakly tried to push back. A shadow blocked the harsh lights overhead.Ā
It had been the longest 3 minutes of your life. The determination to make it to Rhett removed any ability to make a sound judgment of time. The moment your boots hit the ground from the 4-foot drop off the stands, you started running. Fear twists in your gut with each step closer. The closer you got, the more desperate you became. Your breath hitched as his neck craned in your direction. His eyes failed to focus on you, just a few feet away. You pushed past the stadium EMT, not caring what he had to say at this moment.Ā
Rhett coughed as your knees sank into the dirt by his head. With your hands cupping his face, you watched as his eyes looked up toward you, his vision wavering in and out of focus. Your heart sank as you realized that he could not see you. He flinched at a motion from the paramedics, overcome by blinding pain. Weakness withheld the ability to reach out to you. Rhett, you said softly in a desperate attempt to help him regain focus.Ā
"I am right here. I am here Rhett."
His eyes never reached yours, and he struggled to focus beyond the blurry edges of darkness. Unknowingly, his wide greens searched desperately for the familiar comfort of yours. Shallowly drifting out of consciousness, he murmured something that sounded like your name.
"Rhett. Rhett! Stay awake. Please- Come on Cowboy. Keep those pretty eyes open." You knew your pleads were useless as you watched his eyes blink into stillness. That did not stop them from tumbling from your trembling lips anyway.
Tears ran freely down your cheeks as you numbly watched as Rhett transferred to the backboard, a neck brace having been placed on while you kept his head still. You flexed your hands into fists in an attempt to stop their trembling.Ā
After briefly speaking to the EMT, you returned to the parking lot. His hat found its familiar home on the dashboard. Tear-stained and with a tight chest, you climbed into the driver's seat. It numbed you to pull the seat forward instead of seating your long-legged cowboy. With a shaky thumb, you flipped through your contacts and let the tone run on speakerphone.Ā
Caller ID: RoyalĀ
You hadnāt slept. The nurse's tried to convince you to take a break or walk to the coffee machine at the end of the hall. Royal looked at you with an unspoken concern when you refused his extended opportunities to rest. You and Rhett had agreed that you wouldn't call him unless it was important and you were grateful for his presence when speaking with the Surgeon. Yet you let Royal off the hook from your anger, not having the energy. He hadn't been there to watch his son ride and couldn't move past leaning in the door frame watching the rise and fall of Rhett's chest. Eventually he had to return to the ranch. He gave a soft smile that didn't reach his eyes as he turned away. Leaving you and Rhett alone.
Yet you never left Rhett's side. Your fingers traced patterns surrounding the IV in his hand. The nights left you with your head buried in your hands next to his bedside, often waking up from short bursts of sleep during the nurseās night rounds with a blanket placed on your shoulders. You were grateful that the staff allowed the violation of its visitor policy with a turned eye.Ā
Before the second surgery to reset his shoulder, he had been in and out. A few mumbled hiās with low squinted eyes and āI love youāsā drawn out into sleep. A concussion haze took over and then the fever.Ā
You were cautious carding a hand through his hair, unable to ignore the heat radiating and the sweat clinging to his soft curls. Fingers carefully avoiding the stitches. It was almost cruel how peaceful he looked. The bruises on his jaw had begun to heal. The underlying yellow served as a subtle reminder of the passage of time. Your heart ached, flooded with memories of similar moments in the light of early morning in your shared bedroom, a calloused hand on your hip.Ā
His recovery hadnāt gone as initially planned. Stitches, broken ribs, and, a dislocated shoulder were enough to land him in the hospital, along with the concussion. The surgeries were successful and it was now only up to time. He had pulled through most of it, however, more concerning was the development of a building fever and potential further bleeding.Ā
A low hum rumbled through his chest. You missed it at first. You felt it the second time rather than heard it. Your hand had traveled to cup his face and brush a curl behind his ear.Ā
Weakly he swallowed and pressed his head back into the pillow. Slowly, with heavy lids, his eyes blinked. His brows furrowed as he blinked again. His vision adjusted to the low amount of late afternoon sunlight streaming in the room through half-open blinds. His whole body felt heavy, he fought against it with a grunt to stay more or less upright. Confusion spun through his mind.Ā
"You are alright", a soft voice said beside him.Ā
He took in the edge of the hospital bed. His eyes wandered to his name written on a whiteboard by the door. He silently studied the patterned hospital gown and the sling on his left arm. Confusion continued, especially as his attempt to sit up was unsuccessful and fatigue coursed through him. His eyes wandered to the hand resting interlaced in his. His breath was shallow as he fought against the heaviness pulling him back.Ā
He slowly turned his head towards you, eyes shut as he tried to fight the wave of exhaustion. His eyes met yours. The familiarity overwhelmed him. Heād spent so much time trying to find your eyes. Now he was searching for himself within them.Ā
"Hi" he mumbled, wincing at the exertion of shifting in bed.Ā
"Hey you", you said softly, smile following.Ā
"Shit. I-" he breathed.
"Itās okay. Youāre okay, take your time" You spoke softly and let him process on his own.Ā After a few moments of silence, he blinked away tears, his hand squeezed yours weakly.
"Darling- Iām sorry. I scared you real bad, didnāt I?" His free hand comes up to cup your face. His thumb gently swipes underneath your eyes.Ā
"What am I going to do with you", you laughed softly, overwhelmed with emotion. You cupped your hand over his and sighed.Ā "but yeah, you scared us all quite a bit there"
"I- I thought I heard you scream my name." He said after some time. "I tried calling out for you. I couldn't find you. Tasted too much like blood" His voice cracking.
Your breath hitched and you closed your eyes. You hadn't expected him to remember.
"I was right there. Ran as fast as I could to you"
He swallowed. Then he leaned back and let his hand drop from your face. His head throbbed, he pinched the bridge of his nose as a wave of dizziness overtook him.Ā
"'m sorry." Rhett stared at the ceiling with watering eyes. Guilt racked through him. "I don't know what I was thinking"
"Rhett-"
"No. It was too good to be true, semifinals." He scoffed to himself. "I should've known I wasn't making the championships anyway. For what? A check and buckle? Just some bullshit. There was never a real chance of getting us out of here. Not like this anyway. " his tone shortened.
"Hey- none of that. You gave them hell Rhett. People dream of riding like you did last week"
"Why'd you stay? You- " He paused and looked up at you knowing not to bring up the fact that he knew that you had probably not slept much. It ate him alive, to know you had worried this much about him. That he had placed this burden on you. Previous arguments between the two of you weighed heavy on his chest. Yet sitting here, on the other end of the fear, he didn't know if it was worth it anymore. Aside from you and the animals, it was his everything. His out. His route to leaving this shitty town behind for good. He decided against finishing his thought. Dizzy, in pain and overwhelmed he closed his eyes.
"Seriously, do you think I'd just leave you like this? After everything-
You paused as you realized the silent tears running down his cheeks.
"Hey Hey. You'll be alright Cowboy. We'll be alright." you said softly as you ran your hands through his hair again. You cursed softly realizing just how warm he had grown. His body started to relax and he mumbled something about being dizzy as fatigue started to return. You pressed the call button and wiped his tears.
"Will- Wiil you stay?" He hiccuped.
"Course. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here when you wake up"
The bull rider to storm chaser pipeline is a phenomenon that ought to be studied. It just so happens that you and Kate are the perfect folks for the task.
A moodboard for the storm-chaser!Rhett fic that I'm working on šŖ
Do not repost (reblogs are fine)
We gotta keep lew with this longer hair and curls. Bc damn. Heās even more my type now and itās actually killing me and tearing me apart at the inside how fucking HOT this man is
- @sandbarbirdie
@sandbarbirdie i couldnāt have said it better myself šµāš«šµāš«šµāš« lew when heās got the longer hair and the little curls at the nape of his neckā
iām SO pleased weāre on the same wavelength!! those fucking curls will be the death of me!! i neeeeed to feel how soft they are when i curl them around my fingertips and how damp they get when the sweat gathers on the nape of his neckā
We gotta keep lew with this longer hair and curls. Bc damn. Heās even more my type now and itās actually killing me and tearing me apart at the inside how fucking HOT this man is
- @sandbarbirdie
@sandbarbirdie i couldnāt have said it better myself šµāš«šµāš«šµāš« lew when heās got the longer hair and the little curls at the nape of his neckā
