#oc: rhett

[simcardiac-arrested]

[the-huxler]

[2021]

babies..my babies...ill come back to u one day💔

they are my original universe characters. something something paranormal shit happening in small town but no one cares except this group of kids, you know

emo kid who obsessed with demons, nervous scene kid who just trying to survive, mean nerd who wants to raise the dead, clown girl who only moved here recently, creepy rich girl, alien just hanging out with them, popular girl who isnt reach and mean but just wants to chill and look at the frogs, weird artsy kid whos into cryptozoology and lil boy who can see ghosts. oh and there should be demon with them but i didn't include him here idk why.

[fergusdraws]

Some dumb little doodles from today.

[wearerofsocksart]

little art dump

kobi belongs to sporeunfortunatesoul on th

paku belongs to my irl friend

rhett (my oc) and genji (ow2)

fursona cheeb

my new oc jack-o's ref sheet

painted fursona portrait

[zeddiearts]

oc's from an abandoned game project

[miniatureowl]

An extremely short OC-tober 2020! Only three that year and two more for I+S story.

1) Khro the Raven

Sayura's dad and not a good one at that! Starting really easy since I already had Khro put together. Originally I had him as a crow demon, BUT he actually has more characteristics of a raven and I like the idea of that causing confusion!

2) Rhett the Monk/ 37 (updated)

Also known as Rhett the Rat to a few in his monastery that also specializes in demon "cleansing". After a stint doing some unsavory work, losing both an eye and small family in the process, he seeks redemption and now can be a little too by-the-book. Though sweet and helpful, Rhett doesn't see the "greys" as much anymore. Meeting Sayura challenges this.

3) Veran the Demon Hunter/ 40

An independent demon hunter who specializes in knives, daggers, and close combat. He's searching for the demons that killed half his family when he was a kid, but so far has come up empty. Fueled by vengeance, he trusts no one. Sayura is no exception.

[delopsia]

stalling | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 3,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, cunnilingus, hand jobs, a men's masturbation sleeve, PBR! Rhett, implied marriage. (But also, Rhett Abbott being needy.) Exhibitionism, if you wanna be technical about it. Brief Summary: You're going to be in so much trouble if someone walks in and finds out that the PBR's best cowboy is eating you out in a bathroom stall.

It's the obnoxious squelch of his drooling tongue gliding over your clit that's going to give him away. 

Wet little noises punctuate his every movement. So sharp that they bounce off the walls, running round and round the room and in your ears until it's all you can hear. Has your shivering fingers pulling harder on his hair, yanking him away just enough for one of those deep groans to escape, and oh god, it's only making things worse.

The last thing you need to do is give someone a reason to open the bathroom door. Walk in and catch sight of Rhett's knees against the concrete floor, between another pair of legs. Unzipped jeans pooling around his ass, one-of-a-kind rodeo buckle glinting in the light, right next to where his neglected cock rests in his lap, so heavy that it can no longer stand upright. 

Cheers roar outside. A buzzer sounds, chased by the muffled shout of an announcer you've already forgotten the name of—another eight-second ride. But it's not going to be enough to steal the number one slot. No, not with that shiny new record, not even thirty minutes old yet. 

"Thank you," he's panting, hardly able to draw himself back to speak, as if doing so will cause his whole world to crumble.  "Thank you for letting me eat your pussy."

His tongue is so hot. A wet flame that presses into you, lazily working in and out, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit, barely there touches that have your hips jolting. But as quickly as his tongue appeared, it's drifting away entirely. Bold enough to test the waters but too impatient to commit, already venturing up, up, up, back to the swollen little bud that he can't stop tormenting.

You're going to be in so much trouble if someone walks in and finds out that the PBR's best cowboy is eating you out in a bathroom stall.

"Y' taste so good," speaking directly into you, his voice rumbling up your belly and into your chest, jostling the cluster of butterflies that have been resting there. 

The heels of your palms press into his forehead, but it's not doing anything. You can't escape the frenzied twitch of his tongue, rolling back and forth, a feather-light contact that ought to send you through the roof. 

"Rhett, you're gonna..." The sound of your voice is meeting your ears, but you can't feel your mouth moving. "Oh fuck—Rhett, you're gonna get us caught." And there's more that you want to say, but you're being cut short by your own drawn-out squeal, fingers knotting in those deep brown locks.

Your heart hammers against your chest with all the strength and fury of those bulls he rides. Thighs shivering, nerves set alight as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking so harshly that the noise echoes all around the room. 

"'s my reward, ain't it?" He sounds almost innocent. As if his devilish tongue isn't hanging out of his mouth, the definition of sin itself. "They can't object to that."

You'd like to argue that they can, but fuck, those loose little circles are about to put you on the goddamn floor. Hips writhing, held in place by the big hands squeezing the fat of your ass, forcing you to remain upright until he's had his fill of you. 

"Rhett—"

Hinges squeal as the bathroom door swings open. 

Sparkling blue eyes dart up to your face, and you can't see it, but you can feel the grin working its way across his face. Boots thump across the floor, then fall silent. The sharp sound of a zipper sliding down kisses your ears. Whoever it is, they're only here for the urinal. 

But Rhett Abbott doesn't care what they're here to do. Opening his mouth to lick a long, fat stripe up your pussy, so content with himself that his eyes close midway. And there's not a damn thing that you can do about it. Hands flying up to clamp over your mouth, stifling a whimper that would surely give you away. 

That big, dumb idiot is pointing his tongue now. The soft tip of it delicately dancing across you, like too much pressure will cause the walls of this bathroom to come crumbling down. Diligently rolling your clit around like you're a piece of candy that he can just idly toy with. A cry squeaks out of you, hardly masked by the loud flush of the toilet.

There's no reason that this should be causing heat to pool in your lower belly, but it is. Winding tighter and tighter, a taut string pulled to its breaking point. So close to snapping that every step this stranger takes is too slow. Thunking closer and closer to the door, until finally...

It screeches open. Then, begins to close once more. 

You've never been so thankful for someone not washing their hands. Already reaching down to tangle your fingers in Rhett's hair and yanking. Forcing that sinful mouth of his away from your sex before—

"No, no, no," Rhett's babbling, whining, like his life depends on it. "Please, I want y' to cum on my tongue. Please, please, I want, I want..."

You can't even begin to argue with him. Because he's already wriggling himself loose, and his dripping tongue is back on you, and his stubble is scratching against you in the most mind-numbing fashion, and your whole world goes silent. 

Nothing but a faint ringing in your ears as your thighs clamp down around his skull, cumming without the slightest bit of warning. Head tilting back, thunking against the wall. A wildfire rushing across your skin in the form of a shiver. And Rhett just can't help himself, humming, licking you through it until the involuntary spasm of your pussy devolves into oversensitive, full-body jolts. 

"You..." sucking in a gasp, "have a problem." 

Understatement of the century. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was being paid. 

Rhett leans back onto his haunches, scruffy, unshaven chin glistening in the light. Dripping, even. "But I'm your problem." You don't know who taught him that, but they're going to get an earful when you catch them.

"That you are," weak, you pull on his hair, hardly enough to even sway his head. "Come up here, dummy."

There's hardly a bit of strength left in your body, and yet, somehow, your little motion is enough to get him moving, knees creaking and all, as he rises to his feet. Wet nose bumping into your cheek, nuzzling you in some odd, dog-like fashion that has you succumbing to the urge to slide your hand down and scratch him behind the ear. 

Eyelashes flutter. Pushing back into your hand. "You pettin' me?" 

"You gonna do something about it if I am?" Taunting, beneath your breath. 

His eyes roll, but he doesn't need to open his mouth for you to know what his answer is. Not when he's smiling like that, a lopsided grin and half-lidded eyes. So laid back and content that he hardly seems to realize that both of your hands are making their way down to his waist, grabbing hold of it and forcing him to spin around. 

Boots chirp against the floor. And you're reaching toward your purse with one hand, blindly feeling against the stall door until you can find where it's hanging. The other arm slips around his belly, cinching him to you. His back knocks into your chest, so close that his hair tickles your cheek. 

"Y' ain't gotta..." he starts, but whatever he's trying to tell you dies in his throat. Shut up by the clear object you're drawing out of your bag. The new stroker sleeve you've been saying you'll try out but have never had the patience to dig it out of the drawer. Inconspicuous at first glance, just a rubber cylinder, textured with little nubs on the inside. 

"Can you do something for me?" Ghosting your lips over the shell of his ear. 

It's impossible to miss the shiver that rattles down his spine. "Uhuh." Nodding dumbly. 

"Touch yourself." Comes out as more of an order than a request, but that doesn't matter because Rhett's already reaching for himself. Big hand wrapping around his neglected cock, sucking in an audible breath from that alone.

You can't dig the lube out fast enough, popping open the cap and blindly pouring it into the toy. So half-assed that some of it winds up spilling out the side, running over your fingers and dripping to the floor. But you don't care; a mess is worth the sight of Rhett stroking himself, twisting his wrist just how he likes it, hips greedily leaning up into his own touch.

Lazy, you drizzle some of the lube right onto his hand, uncaring of the mess you're making. Almost entranced as he spreads it over himself, shimmering in the dull bathroom light. 

But then he's reaching out, sticky hand impatiently curling around yours, trying to guide the toy toward himself. "I want..." his head shakes, searching for words. "Want..." 

If this were any other day, you like to imagine you'd play dumb. Force him to put into words exactly what he wants and how. But the rodeo crowd and the booming voice of the announcer are still out there, anticipating his celebratory return, and that new, sparkling record ought to warrant him a reward. 

He knows that he's getting what he wants, too. Hand sliding back to his base, holding himself still as you lower that dripping toy onto him.

His head tilts backward with a gasp, falling onto your shoulder.

All that and you've hardly slid the thing past his flushed tip, almost have to squeeze him to you in order to keep him still, working down him inch by devastating inch. 

"Oh my god," a little waver in his voice, hips involuntarily jerking up into the sleeve. Those knees buckle, knocking into each other. "Fuck."

A giggle rumbles out of him, and you don't need to look in the mirror to know that his cheeks have turned a nice shade of strawberry, set off by the sound of his own voice. One of these days, you'll get him to believe that he sounds pretty like this, but right now, you've got a different agenda on your plate.

"Tell me how it feels," you whisper, slowly drawing that toy back up, squeezing your fist past his cock head, then beginning to draw down again. 

"Feels..." but he's forgotten how to talk, mouth floundering without a sound. "'s tight...and—mmh!"

Maybe it's your fault for twisting back up so quickly, but you just can't help it. Not when his ass is squirming back into you, unsure if he wants to push into the toy or wriggle away, mouth hardly muffling that long, drawn-out groan. Even through the thick silicone, you can feel the way he twitches, jerking in your hand like a live wire. 

So, so sensitive after a couple days of no fun.

Your hand is already quickening. Too eager to hear those breathy little oh, oh, oh's, set off by the flick of your wrist when you pass over his head. Thighs squeeze together, one of his hands flying out to brace himself against the mirror. The one that you can't quit looking at. Downright obsessed with the sight of this clear silicone hugging tight around his cock. The way precum is already spilling out of him and dripping onto the floor below. 

"Feels—feels good," tripping over his own words, voice so high that you hardly recognize it. "Fuck." 

And just like that, your hand stops. Squeezing firm at his base as he involuntarily jolts forward. 

A whine echoes through the bathroom. Pitchy. Frustrated. "Why...why did you..." He tilts his head to meet your eye. "You stopped." Speaking dumbly.

"I know." Grinning. Your hand loosens just enough for him to move again. "Try and fuck it by yourself."

Almost automatically, he tries to jerk forward. Boots stumbling across the floor, forearm flying up to catch himself as his upper body falls forward. Forehead against the mirror, dark blue eyes locked on the sight of that sleeve wrapped around his cock. 

Weak, his hips begin to move. 

Hissing as he draws back, almost hesitant to move, like he's afraid to slip out of the toy entirely. And it's...fuck that's a sight you haven't seen before. The obscenity of Rhett fucking a cock sleeve, how his balls sway with the motion of his body, perfect for you to reach down and grab. Heavy in your palm, so full that you worry what may happen if you do anything more than run your thumb up and down them. 

"This ain't—I can't," Rhett croaks, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "This is hard." 

The hand around his dick tightens, sends him jumping. "You can do it." 

And he just can't help himself. Feet shifting the slightest bit, trying again. Quicker this time, the lube squelching so loudly that it bounces off the wall. His mouth falls open, fogging up the mirror, panting like a dog on a summer day. Soft noises tumbling out of him, unable to stop a single one of them. 

"There you go," you murmur directly into his ear. "That's a good boy."

Pearly white teeth sink into his bottom lip. Eyes squeezing shut. 

He's trying. 

He's trying so, so hard. But he just can't move quickly enough. Trapped in the crevices of this awkward position, fucking himself into your hand, arms braced over his head, legs too close together. So frustrating that you can hear it in his little grunts, bubbling out of him with every thrust.

"Please," he rasps, head thunking against the mirror. "Please, please, please." 

You've got a feeling you know what he's after. "What do you want?"

"I wanna cum!" He's blurting before you've even finished talking. "Please—please let me cum." 

The buzz of yet another eight-second ride sounds. Loud. Booming through the walls and into this little bathroom. But it's not enough to cover up Rhett's sob as your hand begins to move once more. Pumping him in tandem with his frantic hips. Drinking in those airy cries rolling off his tongue, hanging halfway out of his mouth.

"This what you were wanting?" Coy, your teeth find the lobe of his ear, tugging gently. 

"Mhm," is all you're getting out of him. And he's reaching down between his own legs, dragging your hand out from where it's still toying with his balls and squeezing it tight. Needs something to cling to. Anything that isn't this cold mirror in front of him. 

Those darkened eyes peel open, locking with yours through the reflection, and his mouth is shaping around what you think is your name, but not a syllable is escaping. Almost immediately, they flicker shut once more. Your wrist flicks once. 

Rhett cums with a strangled moan. Body jerking against yours. Feet stumbling. And your hand is moving so fast that the toy catches that first rope of cum before it can splatter on the mirror, then the second. Smearing it across his spasming cock, creates a dizzying mess with the lube, so much of it that he's dripping, little spots of it scattering on the floor and the toe of his left boot. 

"Fuck," his breath fogs the glass. "That was...oh."

Your hand freezes halfway down his length. Almost forgot it was moving to begin with. 

"No, no, no," lazily tilting his head to peer over his shoulder, "keep goin' for a second."

And so you do. 

Slow as you can possibly manage, dragging the mess of a toy up and down his cock. He's sensitive. You know he is because he's shifting his weight onto the tips of his toes, fist tightening until his knuckles whiten, but there's a shiver visibly running up his spine. Cum spills out of his swollen tip. Hardly enough to count, but it's something. 

"'s good," Rhett murmurs after a moment. You've hardly got to do anything; he's already pulling away on his own, drawing that softening cock of his out of the toy altogether. Falls limp against his thigh, that sickly mixture of cum and lube already beginning to stain his jeans. 

It's a mess that'll have to be dealt with in the privacy of your hotel room because he's already tucking himself away. Pulling up his zipper and fastening that gaudy championship buckle. One of a kind. 

A selfish part of you hopes that tonight's buckle is a little easier on the eyes. 

One of his knees buckles as he turns, a big hand flying out to catch himself against the wall. "Shit," he's giggling, peering at you through the hair that's fallen into his face, "y' got me all weak in the knees, doll."

"Don't tell me you need to be carried," you're saying as if you're not intrigued by the idea of giving it a shot. 

"Nah," shaking his head, smile so big that his teeth glint in the overhead light. "Might need a few kisses to get me through the night, though." 

Eyeroll. Your free hand darts out, grabbing hold of his shirt collar and hauling him in, meeting those pale, swollen lips for a sloppy smooch. The first one lands awkwardly on the corner of his mouth, both of you leaning in the wrong damn direction. But then Rhett's tilting his head, nose bumping into yours, and he's meeting you properly. One little chaste kiss after another. 

A muffled voice creeps through the walls. Distorted, but you can still hear those two little words all the same. 

"They're calling for you, Abbott," speaking against his lips, making no real effort to pull away. It'll be a few hours before you get to steal this many kisses again. 

He hums. "Which one?" Kiss. "There's two of us standin' here." Kiss.

Weak, your hand thunks against his chest. "The dumb one who climbs on dangerous animals for fun."

"That's both of us, sweetheart," he had to have been storing that. There's no way he could have come up with that so quickly on his own, grinning like a cat that's gotten the cream.

"You're not a wild animal," adjusting the hem of your shorts, blindly feeling about to make sure that they've fallen back into place. 

Nobody will know what you've been up to, so long as they don't see the bite mark on your inner thigh. 

"I can be," Rhett winks. 

That's an argument that you'll have to settle in the hotel room. Before you can even say another word, he's darting for the door, sliding open the latch, a melody of laughter trailing behind.

"Hurry!" He's barricading himself up against the entryway. Feet dug into the ground, hair sticking up every which way. "Before Archie comes lookin' and figures out 'm not actually sick." 

You can't get to the sink quickly enough. 

And if anyone notices that Rhett is a little looser than usual when he climbs that stage to accept his award, nobody says a word. Too focused on the hoopla of a brand new record, the glimmer of a brand new belt buckle, tacky as all hell and a lifetime worse than the one that sits sideways against his belly. 

...but they might notice when he turns his head and flashes a ruby red bruise lurking just below his ear. 

Sure wonder where that came from.

[bobfloydsbabe]

arranged marriage au | rhett abbott x oc | sneak peek

Author's Note: This story it set at the turn of the 20th century, somewhere around 1899-1901. I haven't quite decided yet, but it's important context for this story. Women did not have a lot of autonomy at this time, which is reflected in Rhett and Lou's conversation in this sneak peek. Is the timeline right in a historical context? Probably not, but it's fiction, so I can do what I want. Enjoy!

Release Date: Unclear

“Louisa.”

“What?” Her face is all hard lines and thundering eyes. Something twists inside him at the sight of her ire.

“I don’t want to own you,” he says and steps closer, dirt crunching under his worn boots. “Your life is your own, even after we marry.”

She shakes her head, tears pooling in her dark eyes, making his chest feel tight. He yearns to move even closer, wrap his arms around her, and assure her that he doesn’t mean her any harm. Despite not having a choice, he wants to marry her. He wants to build a life and have a family with her.

He’s halfway in love with her already. He hopes one day she’ll love him too.

“You say that now,” she says, tears in her voice as she speaks. “But then I’ll argue or refuse to listen, and you’ll remind me you’re the man and you get the final say. You may not want to, but you will own me.”

Now he shakes his head, disbelief coursing through his veins. It’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard, and he hates that she thinks that way about him.

“Louisa,” he breathes, her name like a prayer on his lips as he closes the distance between them. “You belong to you. Not your father or to me or to anyone, and I’ll do what I can to prove it to you.”

She meets his gaze, bottom lip wobbling as she tries to hold back sobs. “You swear?”

He nods, lifts his hands and tentatively cups her cheeks. “I swear.”

Tension hangs heavy in the air between them, and without thinking, Rhett bends his head down towards hers. His heart thunders in his chest as their breaths mix, and heat blooms under his palms as Louisa’s cheeks grow red.

Their lips are a hair’s breadth from touching when a horse neighs, making her pull back and Rhett’s hands fall back at his side.

“I should get you home.”

He offers the crook of his arm, and she weaves her hand into it, letting him lead her to their horses. Their boots drag across the dirt, and Rhett helps her up on Sally, the reddish brown mare that belongs to his almost wife.

He settles on Blazer, and they begin the ride back to the Kinney Ranch.

“Rhett?”

If her scent didn’t linger, he might’ve forgotten she was even there. He looks to his right and finds her watching him, maybe even with a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“The house is lovely,” she tells him, tone shy and withdrawn for the first time since he’s known her.

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @bobgasm, @attapullman, @cherrycola27, @bradshawsbaby, @kmc1989, @keyrani

[writing-until-i-drop]

Masterlist

*denotes smut

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

Tyler Owens (Twisters 2024)

What's In A Name? Masterlist | Series (Complete!)

Tyler Owens x Harding! FemOC

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

Aesthetics

Jake "Hangman" Seresin (Top Gun Maverick 2022)

Wildflowers For A Hangman Masterlist*

| Series (Ongoing)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Writer! FemOC

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Aesthetics Playlist

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace (Top gun Maverick 2022)

God Complex | One Shot

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x f! surgeon! reader (no use of y/n)

You're a trauma surgeon resident, studying at a bar when you're approached by a woman who steals your focus.

warnings! Slight dom!Phoenix (if you squint), suggestive, drinking, not proof read

God Complex | Pt. 2*

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x f! surgeon! reader (no use of y/n)

You're a trauma surgeon resident, studying at a bar when you're approached by a woman who steals your focus.

warnings! SMUT MINORS DNI | Slight dom!Phoenix, oral (fem receiving), edging, lmk if I missed anything

God Complex | Pt. 3

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x f! surgeon! reader (no use of y/n)

You're a trauma surgeon resident, studying at a bar when you're approached by a woman who steals your focus.

warnings! Scary movie date night, reader is scared, not proof read, fluffy

Rhett Abbott (Outer Range)

Welcome Home, Sweetheart | Drabble

Rhett Abbott x f! reader (no use of y/n)

You and Rhett were childhood best friends and now you're back in town after living out of state for a few years. Your first night in town is one you'll never forget.

warnings! Rhett punches a guy, reader finds it hot, not proof read, written in under ten minutes

Run Away With Me | One Shot

Rhett Abbott x Fem! Reader (no use of y/n)

3 years ago your parents stole you away from Wabang to keep you out of trouble, now you're back, but only for a night.

Warnings: none!

Run Away With Me | Pt. 2

Rhett Abbott x Fem! Reader

3 years ago your parents stole you away from Wabang to keep you out of trouble, now you're back, but only for a night.

Warnings: none! no use of y/n

Pt. 2 requested by many, kitchen dancing requested by 🗡️😘 | read the request here

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (Top Gun Maverick 2022)

A Stepdad For Christmas | Series (WIP)

Sneak peek

Rooster x Single Mom!OC

After divorcing her gay, marriage of convenience husband, Olivia and her teenage daughter move to North Island. Her daughter's one wish for Christmas? A hot step dad. And damn, if Rooster's Hawaiian shirts don't look like the perfect wrapping paper.

Kinktober 2024*

Masterlist - Minors DNI | 18+ Only (WIP)

Comfort Drabbles | Mixed Fandom

Masterlist

[simcardiac-arrested]

rejoice all 3 oc fans

[ereardon]

Colors [Rhett Abbott x Reader]

Summary: Life with Rhett started as a rainbow and nosedived into darkness after a catastrophic loss. Will you ever be able to see in color again?

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Reader

Warnings: References to stillbirth and unhappy relationships

WC: 1.2K

A/N: This was written quickly without proofing so apols for any errors! xx

Rhett’s eyes caught yours across the room. 

That dark, smoldering slate blue that melted the moment your eyes met. For a second, you were throttled back to five years ago, the first time the two of you caught eyes. 

How the smoke had filled the dimly lit back room of the bar, and you pushed your way through the throng of people to a pocket of air, only to stumble on the edge of a pool stick that someone had laid on the ground, large hands catching you just as you were about to fall. 

The way his voice felt like velvet unraveling against your skin. He said his name, and you said yours, too. And somehow, in the middle of the bar, with all of the voices and the sound of shattering glass and the dull beat of the old stereo system, the two of you were alone on a desert island. Just his fingertips on your arm, his small pink lips turned up in a cheeky grin, hair curled around the edge of a cowboy hat as your blood raced through your veins. 

And the moment the two of you broke apart, the noise started again, swelling, unbearable. It swallowed you whole, and Rhett too, and you were once again lost in the crowd. 

But later, once the crowd had died down, you widened your eyes over the orange light of the end of the cigarette. His hands in his pockets, his jaw sharp as the knife in your boots as he appeared on the fringe of your vision. 

He wanted to leave together. And you should have known better, but that was never your strong suit. 

He fucked as good as he looked, the cold metal of his belt buckle digging into the back of your thigh where he had pushed his pants down, your hands spread out on the dusty hood of the old Ford truck your daddy had bought you, Rhett’s hands tight across your tits as he groaned into your ear. And when he came inside of you, you let him. Because in that moment, he was paradise on earth. 

From that moment on, there was no going back. Your life had splintered into two eras. There was before Rhett and with Rhett. 

Later you would find there was a third era. After Rhett. 

In your life with Rhett, things took on a patina in your mind's eye. The way he would twirl your hair around his finger as the two of you bumped down the dirty road going over the speed limit, windows open, air whipping at your face. There was an antique quality in the way your memories of Rhett played over in your mind: how he would scurry out of bed in the cold mornings and bring you coffee in bed. The way he smelled after a day on the ranch. The first time you two spent Christmas together, unwrapping gifts in front of the fire, and later, unwrapping each other in the darkened bedroom you shared. 

Not unlike the orange of the cigarette tip that night you first met, the sky was flooded with dulled citrus smears the first time Rhett said he loved you. You remembered every single second that felt like a lifetime before you replied that you loved him, too. You remembered the relief on his face when you said it back. The way his lips felt against yours. Somehow different. Like you owned a part of him. 

He had taken a part of you, too. 

But then days stretched in the haze of tropical glow began to dim. And your lives were no longer sunsets or sunrises, only the darkness that enveloped the witching hour. Gone was the sweet whisper of wind at dusk. Instead, it had been replaced by the oppressive blanket of silence that held stillness in the early hours of the morning. 

Gone was the laughter that had permeated the walls of the small apartment the two of you rented above a neighbor’s garage. Instead, it was replaced by fights. Starting small, but growing. Like the bags beneath your eyes. Like the number of times Rhett stopped at the liquor store after work. 

And then, the line turned pink. And so did the second one. And you cried, an unknown feeling crawling into your gut. And so did Rhett as he held the onesie you had bought down at the flea market in his rough, calloused hands. 

For a while, the rosy hue was back. Maybe it was the walls of the nursery after you painted them dusty pink once the ultrasound confirmed it was a girl. But there was something else, too. It was the way Rhett looked at you. Like you were coming up for air after a tough swim. Like around you, he could finally breathe. 

The twilight that had settled over the two of you before had never been as dark as the midnights that sat on your shoulders the day you stood above the world’s smallest coffin. Watched as they lowered it into the ground, practically a shoebox. Felt the Earth cave in as dirt was shoved on top of your heart, buried ten feet in the ground as you drove away and left a piece of you back there under the oak tree. 

You wilted in the darkness, rarely coming up for fresh air. Rhett tried, but he couldn’t stay. He was sucked down by it, absorbing your toxins, sacrificing himself. 

You watched him walk away in the middle of the day, sun high in the sky, but it was still dark inside from your chair by the window. 

You heard the rumors about him and the Olivares girl. What they did at the bar. The same bar where the two of you had first met. 

And finally, one day you woke up and the air wasn’t heavy with particulates. Instead, sunlight flooded your eyes. It was a new kind of light. Gone were the pastels of sunset. This was brighter. It practically burned. 

You let it burn you. A part of you wanted it to. 

But instead, you grabbed your phone to call him. Because he was the only one who understood what it was like to live in black and white and suddenly see color. He had done it once before, the night he met you. 

Your eyes caught his across the room. He stood, that familiar gait. The hat molded to his hairline, the way his jeans clung against him tightly, the pink lips that had kissed you and told you stories and whispered to you in your darkest moments. 

It was bright. So bright it practically stung. And then Rhett took one step closer, and the lights faded. It was just him, standing in front of you, in living and breathing color. 

He held out his hand, the skin warped by the sun, veins bulging against bone, nails greased with dirt. You felt him across every inch of your palm as you returned the gesture. 

And then he smiled and the world burst into shards of crystal rainbows all around, illuminating everything around you. 

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Rhett closed his eyes, but all he could see was color. 

Tagging a few people I think may like this!

@bobfloydsbabe @cool-ultra-nerd @blue-aconite @rosiahills22 @bobfloydssunnies @sebsxphia @floydsmuse @topherwrites @lewmagoo @djs8891 @na-ta-sh-aa @spinning-away @fairyheart

[fergusdraws]

have another shit lil jonah comic

[wearerofsocksart]

quick bust of my owsona from last night

[atomicmoths]

Just finished this piece of my Courier 6, Rhett Locklear!

Available as a postcard sized print on my INPRNT.

[avoidghost]

[OCs] Starting a new project come the new year called “Genesis Cosmic Odyssey” 💖

It’s going to be a comic about a silly space adventure to return a literal angel to its home planet 😇

(front to back): Rodney (he/him), Ronin (they/them), Roswell/Rosie (he/him — closeted she/her), Wren (he/it), Rhett (he/him)

[laracrofted]

❝ like runaway horses, it's a long way back home again when every step is a silver prayer in the face of a hard wind // upcoming rhett abbott x oc fic

across the montana state line; past the cattle ranches and the fenced-in pastures filled with horses; down a rough dirt road that becomes damn near untenable in a good rain storm, winding through fields of wildflowers and sun-bleached brush until the land drops away into wide open skies; is a little house. a half-wild thing.

or a broken-hearted rhett abbott helps luke tillerson's fiancée skip town and over the course of a year, begins again.