#I've already packed THREE BOXES for moving

[bsaka7]

so nervy about this game its got me doing tasks like "folding laundry"

#I hate folding laundry I prefer to have a large pile of clothing and books on the side of the bed i don't use #Footie.txt #Next up I think im genuinely going to clean my kitchen #I've already packed THREE BOXES for moving

[hubbvrd]

number 45 with joe burrow please 💕💕

Surprise | Joe Burrow

summary — Moving house is not always stress-free. But despite the last few hard weeks, Joe makes sure to put a smile on your face with a surprise

pairing — joe burrow x reader

words — 1952

notes — thanks for your request. I hope you like it!!🧡

The last few weeks and months had been associated with a lot of stress and headaches.

Anyone who loved moving and said that it wasn't so bad and stressful was completely wrong.

For Joe and you, there had been nothing worse in the last few weeks and months than setting up your new home and packing moving boxes.

The countless hours spent in various furniture stores had been a lot of fun for you, but when it came to painting various walls and putting together all the countless pieces of furniture, there was the occasional argument between you out of sheer desperation.

However, you were able to resolve the small arguments about how you should place the furniture in the respective rooms fairly quickly, so that every small argument was resolved within a few minutes.

"This is finally the last one." Joe puts the last box down in the hallway before running his fingers through his completely disheveled hair.

"We've finally done it," you murmur with relief and hand Joe a bottle of water before sitting down on the step and catching your breath.

In the last two hours, you've moved countless boxes from your old home to your new home and dragged them inside, so you're more than sure you'll be feeling sore muscles for the next few days.

"Finally," Joe agrees as he sits down next to you on the step and you rest your head on his shoulder.

"And who's going to unpack all our stuff now?" you mumble tiredly as you look at the piles of boxes blocking the passage to the open-plan living and dining room.

"That's the question..." Joe takes a big gulp from his water bottle before running his fingers through his hair again and letting out a loud sigh.

The move is already pretty exhausting as it is, but then there's the hot weather, which has doubled the strain on your strength.

"How about we take a little break first? We rest and eat a little and then we'll take care of all the boxes?" Joe suggests after a few minutes of silence, which almost caused you to doze off any second.

"Sounds like a great plan. If I knew where my bikini was, I'd jump into the cold water first and inaugurate our new pool."

A highlight for you is definitely the large pool in the garden, where you can swim a few lengths undisturbed or simply float in the water with an inflatable swimming animal.

"Fortunately, I've made sure that we can easily get to our swimming gear.

With a proud smile on his lips, Joe lifts a bag in front of your nose, from which he pulls out your bikini and you jump for joy, shrieking softly around your boyfriend's neck.

"You don't know how much I love you."

You give Joe a kiss on the cheek and then pick up your bikini.

Joe gives you a soft laugh in response.

"Let's see who's in the pool first." He more or less challenges you and before you can answer, Joe has already disappeared into the bathroom to get changed.

"That's not fair! You started way too early!" you shout after him with a laugh and slowly get up from the stairs.

You can already feel the muscles in your arms and thighs starting to ache slightly and you probably won't be able to move without pain tomorrow.

But you don't really care about that right now, because the only thing that matters right now is the pool of your new garden, so you quickly change into your everyday clothes and then throw on your favorite bikini before grabbing your towel and running into the garden.

Your old garden was quite small and had hardly any space to do anything big in it, which wasn't the case at all in the new garden.

The new garden is almost three times the size of the old garden and offers so much space for countless possibilities that the huge green space is almost crying out to be filled with beautiful things.

Once the house is ready, Joe and you will get to work on the garden, for which your Pinterest board was already almost overflowing with countless different possibilities just waiting to be realized.

"Do you want to keep staring at the garden or finally join me in the pool?" Joe's voice pulls you back to the here and now.

Your boyfriend is already in the water, floating on his back through the water, looking so relaxed and rested that a smile spreads across your lips.

"The water's even nice and cold" he adds as he slowly stands up and swims over to the edge of the pool.

"Just what I need, then."

A smile forms on your lips as you walk across the warm lawn to the pool and then sit down at the edge and let your legs slide into the cold water.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you begin to feel the cold water on your skin. Joe is right, despite the heat today, the water is incredibly pleasant, so you slide into the cool water without hesitation and then stand opposite Joe.

"I was telling the truth," he smiles, trying to tell you that he's not always pulling your leg like you accused him of a few days ago.

Because every now and then Joe loved to pull your leg, more or less.

Just yesterday he tried to convince you to watch a movie that wasn't even supposed to be scary. But in the end, you were so creeped out that you had to bury your face in Joe's shirt for the rest of the movie.

"This time, but who knows when you won't. I think you like to tease me, Burrow, and that's not fair."

You splash a little water on his face, which only makes the person opposite you start to laugh quietly.

"Lie. I would never do this. How could I?" he replies with a laugh and a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"You're such a liar," you pout lightly as you swim towards him and then cling to him, trying to somehow push him under the water, which turns out not to be too easy.

Joe is standing so firmly that you barely manage to move him even an inch.

A resounding laugh rings out above you, which only makes you pout even more.

"That's not fair."

"Oh, y/n. You really are incredibly cute." amused, Joe presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms tightly around you and starts to swim off with you.

"I'll probably have to eat the whole pizza by myself today so that I can push you under the water tomorrow," you reply with a shrug and a big grin on your lips, to which Joe just rolls his eyes.

"How much time do we have until the pizza arrives?"

After you had put on your bikini, you ordered pizza for both of you via a delivery service so that you didn't have to cook anything or drive out to get something to eat.

"About another thirty minutes."

"That's enough." In one swift movement, Joe lifts you out of the pool and climbs out after you.

"Hey, we haven't been in the pool long," you pout again as Joe puts the towel around your shoulders and you snuggle up in it.

"We still have enough time for this in the coming weeks, months and years."

You watch Joe as he also puts a towel around his shoulders before holding out his hand to you with the words "Follow me, I have a suprise for you"

"A surprise? I love surprises!" you exclaim in anticipation as you take Joe's hand in yours and another soft laugh comes from Joe's direction.

"I know that. That's why I love giving you surprises." Joe squeezes your hand gently before walking with you across the lawn to the small hut at the end of the garden.

In fact, it wasn't exactly rare for Joe to give you a surprise.

He often brought you flowers, your favorite sweets or ice cream after training or after a game.

He also often took you out to dinner or on other romantic dates.

Joe's romantic side was one of the many reasons you fell in love with the Bengals quarterback.

"Do you want to show me all the big, nasty spiders in the cabin?" you ask with a slightly contorted face as you start to think back to the day of the tour.

Because on the day you first visited your dream house and were blown away by it, the hut more or less disgusted you.

Because the huge mess, which was accompanied by countless spiders and cobwebs in the hut, had already given you a big stomach ache during the viewing, so that you were already dreading having to clear this hut of all the spiders and cobwebs one day and then clean it out.

"No, don't worry," Joe assures you as you stop in front of the hut, which now has a new coat of white paint and no longer shows the hideous peeling paint, and Joe takes out the keys.

Outside the windows of the hut you can see white curtains that hadn't been there before.

Before you can even ask Joe why the cabin has curtains, Joe opens the door and gently pushes you inside and what you see inside leaves you open-mouthed.

The walls are lined with countless white bookshelves that reach up to the ceiling. There is a ladder on the shelves, which ensures that you can easily reach the top shelves.

All your books have found their place on the shelves and despite all this, there are still countless free compartments for more new books.

There is also a cozy armchair for reading, a matching stool, lots of fairy lights and lamps, as well as a rug that makes the room even cozier.

"Wow..." you stammer, overwhelmed, as you slowly turn in a circle, trying to take in every corner of the room.

Joe stands in the doorway and watches you with a broad smile as tears slowly well up in your eyes and you look over at him, moved.

"Surprise," he whispers as you cross the room in three long strides and fall into your boyfriend's arms as sobs escape you.

"Thank you, darling," you whisper, sobbing into his chest as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you gently.

"I thought this hut was perfect for your reading room. Here you can read undisturbed and run your book blog and all your other book channels."

"It really is. You don't know how much this means to me, thanks Joe." You slowly lift your gaze and look into your boyfriend's shining eyes.

"I was happy to do that, y/n. It's incredibly important to me that you have your own four walls where you can pursue your passion and since our house isn't really finished yet, it was important to me that this room is finished first and that you have it so that you can retreat and immerse yourself in the world of books."

Joe's words cause countless tears to start rolling down your cheeks.

You can't put into words how touched you are by his words and his surprise, so you whisper a quiet "Thank you" and then press your lips to Joe's.

And you realize once again how much you love Joe. And how grateful you are that he is by your side and that you are the one who gets to wake up by his side every day.

#joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow #nfl imagines #nfl #nfl fic #cincinnati bengals #nfl imagine

[writingforstraykids]

I feel kind of angsty today and I’m in the mood to just read something that makes me cry so hear me out.Minho/Chan or Felix argue with you because you feel neglected and such in because they are so busy and barley make time for you and you just want to feel a little affection and they are also upset because they are stressed and kind of blow up and say stuff they shouldn’t have and evereyone is upset.Maybe they solve it (or they don’t if you want to be mean).But I really need something gut wrenching.

(Also don’t rush and take your time with writing this if you even want to<3)

-🎀

I've decided to be extra mean and make this a poly mess so you have all of the boys in it😂😂 I hope you like it and I don't make you cry too hard...also if you ever wanna talk, just let me know hun🥺🖤

You don't need me

Pairing: Minchanlix x femReader | Minho x Chan x Felix x femReader

Word Count: 2391

Warnings/Tags: angst, argument, insecurities, feeling neglected, feeling left out, loneliness, chan's a little stressed meanie, Minlix is...idk🤣

bold indicates English

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho races down the stairs, cursing quietly as he drops his keys. He quickly bends down to pick them up, and his glasses, which he only quickly pushed up his nose before, fall onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" you ask, amused.

"Obviously not," he says, clearly annoyed.

"Well, can I help?" you ask gently, and Minho firmly shakes his head, grabbing his sneakers.

"I'm late; there's nothing you can do about that," he tells you, and you're about to answer, but he cuts you off. "Yongbok! I swear if you don't move your ass down here in five seconds, I'll drive without you!" he yells upstairs, making you flinch at the volume of his voice.

"Is Channie already-?"

"Don't think he slept here tonight," Minho shakes his head and grabs his bag. "FELIX!"

"Minho, for fucks sake!" Felix yells back and appears at the top of the stairs. "I swear, this man is driving me crazy. As if those five seconds would make any difference at this point, my God. It's Hyunjin, he won't kill us!" he curses as he walks downstairs, his hair messily falling around his head.

"Don't you start talking English now and think I don't know that means you're talking shit about me," Minho tells him, throwing his sneakers at him. "Put those on, we're late."

"Well, if someone wouldn't have taken so long waking up today," Felix comments and rolls his eyes at him. He looks up, startled, as you carefully brush his hair back for him, trying to fix the mess. "Not now, Y/nnie, we have to leave," he gently shakes you off.

You pull back your hand and nod gently, glancing at Minho, who's grabbing his stuff and unlocking the door. "Bye, see you later!" he shouts and waves you, stepping outside. Only two seconds later, he's back. "Felix, I swear I will kick you."

"Fuck off," Felix curses under his breath and grabs his things, waving at you and slipping outside as well. The door falls closed, and you're standing still for a moment.

"Well, good morning and goodbye to you too. I love you too," you whisper to yourself and sigh softly. Turning around you spot their packed lunch boxes still on the table. "Shit," you curse and throw your head back, frustrated. You know they barely make time to eat unless you made it. Well, maybe you could visit them later, get your kiss, and check on Chan.

You stand still in the suddenly very empty house and try to remember the last time they were all home and you've spent some quality time together. It feels like months and you soon realize it has been. One of them has always been either working or not even in the country. Sometimes it really doesn't feel like you're living with your three boyfriends but some roommates who stop by now and then.

"Oh, come on, don't be so dramatic," you shake your head and chew on your lower lip. You don't know when the last time was you had breakfast all together, you got a kiss goodbye from all of them or they came back in time for dinner. Needless to say, no one has properly touched you in weeks as well. Were you that easy to forget? Are you just another assignment to get done on their daily to-do lists? Something they could just reschedule to another day if they can't make time for it?

Sighing softly you make your way upstairs and rummage through your closet, searching for a nice outfit. You find a cute summer dress they all love and decide on that. After a quick shower, you fix your hair and make yourself presentable.

-

Only a little later, you're walking down the hallway to their practice room and gently knock at the door, letting yourself inside. Minho demonstrates some steps as Felix and Hyunjin watch him closely and try to mirror his movements. Felix messes up a step, and Minho starts laughing at him, chasing him through the room. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him against his chest, kissing his cheek. "Yongbokie, come on," he giggles softly, and Felix tries to squirm away from him.

"I'm sorry, hyungie," he laughs, eyes shining bright. "I promise I'll do better."

"Once you're done flirting, we could continue?" Hyunjin groans playfully annoyed.

Minho turns with Felix in his hold, and they face you. Surprise laces their features. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" Minho asks confused.

"Oh, you forgot your lunch today, and I didn't know how long you'd be at the company," you tell them, and Minho nods gently.

"Thanks," he tells you and lets go of Felix, walking over to his phone.

Felix stretches tiredly and watches Minho as he scrolls through his phone. "You wanna go again?"

Minho glances at his watch before nodding. "We should. We have like an hour before the rest join us." You nod gently to yourself and put their lunch down on the bench next to their stuff. "Chan's at the studio," he tells you before turning the music back on.

You watch them stunned as they continue practicing and don't really notice the compassionate smile Hyunjin gives you. Your throat tightens, and you quickly make your way outside. You're clearly not needed here.

You knock at the door, and Jisung opens the door, smiling at you brightly. "Hey, Y/n," he beams at you and pulls you into a hug. "Chan hyung, look who's here."

"Ji, I told you no visitors right now," he groans and pulls off his headphones with a heavy sigh. He spots you in the door and nods. "Oh, hi."

"Hi," you say quietly, holding on tightly to the box in your hand. "I just wanted to bring you your lunch. I won't disturb you for long."

"Ah, okay," he says and gestures toward the small table next to the door. "Just put it there, I'll eat later. Thanks, Y/n."

"You're welcome," you nod and are about to leave again but hesitate for a moment.

"Anything else?" Chan asks, not even looking at you.

"Will you be home tonight?" you ask gently, and he raises his eyebrows, still not looking over.

"Why?"

"Because you weren't yesterday," you say and see Jisung's confused frown at that.

"Hyung, you promised," Changbin sighs from his spot on the sofa, rolling his eyes at you in secrecy.

"Y/n, we've been over this before. If I get done in time, I'll be there; if not, then not," he announces, almost a little annoyed.

You scoff at him and put down the box heavily. "Sorry for asking, I guess," you spit out and open the door, stopping when you hear him groan.

"Stop being so pushy, my god," Chan rolls his eyes and looks at you for the first time today. "I'll be there. Are you happy now?"

"You know what?" you ask lowly. "You can stay here for another night. It makes no difference if you guys are there or not, you only have eyes for each other or work. Sometimes I wonder why my three roommates even need me."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Chan asks quietly and stares at you.

"You fucking heard me," you spit out with tears burning in your eyes. "At this rate, I'm just part of the interior. You don't say good morning, you don't say goodnight, you're not home for dinner, you're not there. And if you are you're busy with work or talk to Minho and Felix only. You don't need me right now, and that fucking hurts, Chan."

"Okay, that's enough delusional behavior for one day," Chan gets up with a groan and shakes his head at you. "We'll talk about this tonight, but right now, I really don't have time for this."

"Don't bother," you shake your head at him, heart breaking. "I'll take myself back out."

"Hyung," Changbin sighs a little, but Chan ignores him.

"Come on, Y/nnie, I'll take you to your car, yeah?" Jisung says gently and wraps his arm around you, pulling you outside. "He doesn't mean it. He's being dumb."

"Yes, he does; they all do," you sniffle, and Jisung frowns at you.

"What do you mean?" he asks worriedly.

"It's been like this for weeks now. They all rush out of the house and act like I don't exist anymore," you tell him, hot tears falling down your cheeks. "I know they're stressed; I know they have a lot to do, but is it really too much to ask?"

"No, Y/nnie, it isn't," he shakes his head and pulls you into a tight hug. "I'm sure what you're describing is true. They sometimes forget everything around them when things here get rough. I'm sorry, hun," he says and soothingly rubs your back. He thinks for a moment before shaking his head and gently patting your back. "Come on, they'll never learn if they don't see what it does to you."

"No, Ji, they're busy-" you protest through tears.

"I don't care," he shakes his head and leads you down the hallway. He rips open the door to the room and pulls you with him to Minho's phone, turning the music off. "Hyunjin, you come with me. You two have something to fix here."

Minho blinks at him, confused, and his face falls, seeing you crying in his arms. "Y/nnie, kitten," he says worriedly and quickly makes his way over. "Honey, what's wrong?" he asks gently, cupping your face and searching your eyes. "Hey, look at me," he says softly.

"Y-You don't need me," you hiccup, and Minho frowns at you.

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused, and Felix steps next to you, gently rubbing your lower back.

"Babe?" Felix asks worriedly as you don't answer.

"Go get Channie," Minho tells him, eyes widening as you furiously shake your head. Chan is usually the best to comfort you when you are really upset. "No? Why, kitten? What happened?"

"Channie s-says I'm delusional," you sob quietly as Minho sits down on the bench and pulls you into his lap.

"What?" Felix asks, confused. "Did you two get into a fight?" he asks, sitting down next to the two of you.

You bury your face in Minho's chest, so desperate for such a simple gesture. Sobs shake your body as you tell them about what happened with Chan and how neglected you felt during those past weeks. It all flows freely now, and they both listen quietly, not interrupting you once. Minho's hand rubs your back soothingly, and Felix fondles your hair gently.

"Oh kitten, I'm so sorry," Minho apologizes sincerely once you're done. "I had no idea you were suffering that much because of us."

"You're right, babe, we're so busy we sometimes forget about you or act a little harsh," Felix nods guiltily and leans down to kiss your head. "I'm so sorry we made you feel like that. You don't deserve that one bit, my dear."

"I know I'm being dramatic," you sniffle into Minho's shirt.

"No, you're not," he shakes his head and rests his head against yours. You really aren't. I didn't even say goodbye properly today. Or good morning," he says, his voice laced heavily with guilt. "And...I should've told you how beautiful you look today the minute you stepped inside."

You giggle sadly and pull back. "Yeah?"

"Mhm, our pretty girl," Felix adds fondly as Minho wipes your cheeks.

"We love you so much, even if we act like idiots sometimes," Minho promises and kisses your forehead.

"I love you guys too," you tell them with a sad little smile.

"I'll go and get Channie, okay?" Felix asks softly, and you nod timidly. He giggles at the comment Minho makes and quickly makes his way to the studio. He doesn't knock at the door and steps inside. "Channie babe, we need you."

"Not now, Lix," Chan shakes his head, writing down some things for Jisung.

"Minho said if you don't move your ass over there in two minutes top he won't have sex with you for the next three months. Our tour comes up, you don't wanna risk that," Felix says with a straight face, making Changbin and Jisung crack up.

Chan glances up at him suspiciously and sees Felix isn't joking. "Oh my fucking God, fine!"

Felix walks next to him and glances at Chan thoughtfully. "Push the group back for a moment, yeah? Stray Kids doesn't matter now, she does."

Chan's face falls a little and he straightens up as they reach the door. "Yeah, okay," he says quietly and steps inside with him. You're curled up in Minho's lap on the floor by now as he's playing with your hair. Tear streaks paint your cheeks, your eyes are reddish, and you're sniffling a little. "Baby, I'm sorry," Chan sighs and gets down on the floor next to you. "I'm stressed out, I didn't sleep last night, and I took it out on you. I'm an idiot, please forgive me?" he asks guiltily and hesitantly takes your hand. He must've really hurt you if you went to Minho and Felix about it. You usually prefer to settle arguments privately.

"It's not just you," Minho shakes his head, and Felix sums it up for him. Chan nods along, and his heart gets heavier with every word leaving his boyfriend's lips.

"Oh, Y/nnie baby," he whispers with tears in his eyes. "Can I give you a hug?" You nod timidly and climb off Minho's lap and into his arms instead. Chan pulls you in tight, burying his face in your shoulder. You relax in his hold and close your eyes. No matter how mad or hurt you were, you would never deny one of Chan's healing long hugs. "I'm so sorry, you're right, we've messed up big time. I love you so much, yeah? You're so beautiful and kind, and I could never stop loving you, baby. Never. I will do better, I promise."

"I love you too," you whisper and exhale softly, your heart feeling a lot lighter now that you've told them all. Minho and Felix join your hug and kiss your hair. "You'll be home tonight?" you ask timidly.

"Yeah, we'll all be home," Chan assures you kindly and squeezes you.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland

#stray kids #skz #chan #minho #felix #bang chan #lee know #lee felix #minchan #minlix #chanlix #minchanlix #chan x reader fic #minho x reader fic #felix x reader fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #chan scenarios #chan fluff #chan angst #minho scenarios #minho angst #minho fluff #felix scenarios #felix angst #felix fluff #stray kids scenario #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #poly!skz

[ash5monster01]

Turnstiles

Chapter Four - I’ve Loved These Days 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, language, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, abandonment issues, slight sadness.

Summary: You and Steve get your first place together and even if it isn’t glamorous, it’s good enough for the both of you as you leave the old days behind.

word count: 2.6k

Three ←→ Five

Masterlist

Summer 1988

We hide our hearts from harder times

There were so many boxes. It seemed to be a never ending pile from the back of the moving truck, one neither of you could really afford but needed. Even with Dustin and Robin helping carry each new box in, it seemed every time you returned to the truck there was just as many if not more. You couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips as you looked at the very daunting pile that you knew would take you more than likely a month to finally put all in place.

“Don’t tell me we’re giving up already” that familiar sultry voice whispered in your ear, arms snaking around your waist from behind.

“Not giving up, just trying to gain the courage” you tell him, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. You knew as much as Steve would try to help he would also play with everything he unpacked before actually putting it away, making the process much longer than it needed to be.

“It’s not that bad” Steve said with a soft shake of his head, small tufts of hair falling loose from the action.

“Yes it is, you packed every trophy you have ever earned in your entire life” you tell him, pointing to the large box labeled ‘Steve’s Achievements’.

“Hey I earned those, I can’t just throw them out” Steve pouts as you break out of his arms, doing your best attempt at climbing up into the truck to grab another box.

“I know handsome, I just have to tease” you say leaning down and he’s happy to bring his pouty lips to yours and leave a quick kiss. As much as you teased, you had felt bad. When Steve announced to his parents you were officially getting a place together they decided to put the house up for sale since they were never there anyways. As much as Steve didn’t have a great childhood it was still the only home he had ever known. You knew it took a toll on him and forced him to pack every single one of his belongings instead of the necessities.

“Hey dingus, why are we the only ones carrying shit?” Robin called out as she stepped out the doors of the small apartment, spotting you juggling a new box while Steve lingered at the back of the truck.

“I need my rest Robin, if Rosy’s shit wasn’t so heavy” he called back and you shot him a quick glare which made him laugh softly.

“You’re an idiot” Robin mumbled as you handed her the box in your arms and picked up a new one.

“What the hell Steve! Why are the girls the only one’s carrying your shit?” Dustin called out, exiting the home as well and you and Robin quickly erupt in giggles as Steve groans out.

“I don’t have a box in my arms for two seconds and I get harassed. What the hell is this?” Steve says mostly to himself, jumping up into the truck much easier than you did and you watch as he goes for one of the small boxes.

“Uh-uh mister. You’re bringing that one in” you say, nodding your head to the trophy box and Steve rolls his eyes before doing what he was told.

“God you’re so whipped” Robin snorts before starting back for the apartment ready to unload the boxes as fast as she can.

“I’m not whipped!” he called out quickly in defense but Dustin just laughed and grabbed a box for himself.

“It’s okay Stevie, you’re allowed to be whipped. I definitely am for you” you tell him sweetly and he grins, the oddly large trophy box now in his arms.

“I love you” he hums out, leaning and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before hopping out of the truck. Your heart flutters due to the sentiment, never getting tired of the words he finally spoke a year and a half ago. Well actually wrote but ever since then he told you every chance he got and you loved it every time.

It had been over three years since you met Steve Harrington and you were pretty sure you’d never get tired of him. He came to you when you needed him most and you did the same for him. Since that day you hadn’t spent a day apart and making this decision, deciding to live together, after years of working and saving money, you had no regrets at all. This was it, he was your soulmate and this was only the beginning of a lifetime of years ahead. Small apartment or not, he was yours and that alone was a breath of relief.

“Need an invitation?” Robin called to you from the small house and you just chuckled before grabbing your things and making your way to the house. A house that would probably hold you and Steve for another few years, be your shelter from the storm, and despite its empty walls and bare floors, you couldn’t wait to make it a home.

It’s dusk by the time all the boxes are unloaded into your home and Robin and Dustin are long gone. Just looking at the mess you know you’re too tired to face it until tomorrow, so you make do with what you have. You make quick work of making a bed of the mattress on the floor, saving the frame building for tomorrow. When it looks decent enough to sleep on you make your way out of your room to find Steve. Much to your surprise he’s in the living room, boxes now cleared off the coffee table, and take out from the local diner on the table.

“I made dinner” he grins at you, sitting on the ground as he pours you a glass of wine in a mug. You giggle at the thought of it being the only thing he could find and join him on the floor.

“What’s this for?” you curiously ask, taking the mug from his hand and smiling at the food and candle he had set up.

“This is to taking our time. The last few years have felt like a race to the finish line and we finally made it” he says, recalling all the long hours and savings account expenses. Had it not been for the alternator going in Steve’s BMW you would’ve been here much sooner but at least you were here.

“Cheers to that” you say, clinking the mug against his own before taking a sip. Steve just smiles and looks to the simple plate of food. He loved that you both could live your lives so nonchalant, spend your nights living a luxurious lifestyle even if it’s just a small apartment.

“The money comes, the money goes, but we finally made it baby” he tells you and you quickly kiss him before grabbing the wrapped burger that your stomach grumbles for. Not realizing how hungry you were after a whole day of moving.

His words wash a sense of comfort over you. Knowing now you could spend your days a bit more relaxed, eat dinner in silk robes and light lamps for atmosphere. Even if the apartment was a passing phase in the start of the rest of your life you were both going long. Hanging hopes on chandeliers while gaining weight and sleeping in late. You had loved those days before living together but it was time to change your ways and love these new days. The days meant for just the two of you before something more comes along, something bigger.

“Did your parents say when they’re selling the house?” you ask around a bite of your burger, trying to get a better read on him and how he feels.

“By the end of the month, Dad says if I need anything to get it by then” he mutters, heart clenching over the fact. He hated that empty house, despised it, but these last few years it wasn’t really empty.

“I’m sorry honey” you tell him, wiping your face with a napkin and he shrugs.

“It’s okay, I was meant to move out sometime. Just wish it was still somewhat mine, you know? They were never there so much it sorta always felt like it did. Then when I started spending time with the kids and you there, I guess I just always imagined I’d stay there, raise my kids, teach em how to swim in the pool and how to ride their bike in the driveway. Make it more of a home then it ever was to me” Steve explains, eyes cast over the table and lost in a memory that hadn’t happened yet. Your heart instantly softens to the boy, hand reaching out to settle in his own just like you did when you first met.

“I’m sorry Stevie, but just think about how we can make those memories in our own home. A home we’ll grow old in and our kids can visit whenever and bring their kids with them” you tell him and Steve can’t help the small grin that cracks along his face at the sentiment.

“Is this you saying it’s you and I forever Rosy?” he inquires, devious eyes glimmering into your own and you laugh, cheeks flushing red.

“Well I’d say moving in together kinda deals the deal” you tell him and Steve grins before reaching over to grab your waist. Much to your surprise he lifts you effortlessly over and into his lap where his face nuzzles into your neck.

“Then it’s you and me forever, I promise” he tells you, warm breath tickling your skin. Now you both could indulge in things refined and hide your hearts from the harder times.

This marked the start of drowning your doubts in dry champagne and dreaming of your future. A future that if you dreamed hard enough could include real pearls, foreign cars, caviar and cabernet wine. Yet the real riches was a future with each other, a future that included kids and endless memories to be shared. You didn’t really care if you only ever lived in this apartment, the boy curled up next to you was the real dream.

“Another toast” you say, reaching for your mug and handing Steve his own. He follows right along, the bright red liquid sloshing up the side. This was something you wanted to say before the old versions of yourself end and the new ones begin.

“A toast to how it’s been and to all the new things we get to love. Including each other” you say and Steve happily clinks the mug against your own as you both tip back the sweet wine since Steve hated dry.

“I’ve loved these days and I’ll love the new ones too” Steve mutters into your neck and you smile and settle against him, finally relishing in the fact you were both sat in your shared living room. A space you and Steve could share while you got big wig jobs and engaged. A space designed for the both of you to grow as a couple who was meant to last forever.

“You think we’ll get tired of each other?” you voice your worries, knowing now that you shared such close quarters you were bound to find flaws within one another.

“Maybe but I’ll always love you more, and isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” he asks, voice a soft hum into the late night of the barren home. You had a lot of work ahead of you but at this very moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I guess so” you smile, a softness twisting in your gut at how in love you are with this man beside you.

“Wait! I have an idea!” Steve suddenly says, sliding you delicately off his lap and to the ground. He’s up in a second, eyeing the labels of each of the boxes in search of something you’re not sure of. You watch with curiosity, waiting to see what the boy could possibly be up to now.

“Ah-ha!” he lets out once he finds what his looking for, large hands pulling back the folded cardboard pieces and digging inside. It’s when the familiar flash of silver is revealed you realize he’s in search of his boombox.

Finding the outlet Steve makes work of prepping the stereo for some mood music. It’s no surprise when the familiar flash of a Billy Joel album is pulled from the bottom of the box. He grumbled only slightly when he realized he needs to rewind the tape, smashing the button with an annoyed scowl. Yet when the tape finally spins back to the beginning, a grin covers his lips instead, as a familiar song starts to fill the room. Say Goodbye to Hollywood, the classic beginning of Billy’s 1976 album Turnstiles. A true testament to his talent, and one of Steve’s favorites.

“Dance with me?” he asks, hand held down to you on the ground and you don’t even hesitate to clasp your own with his, allowing him to lift you up and into his arms before spinning you around the room.

“Tell me something good?” you ask him, heart thumping softly against his own as you both sway around the living room, the barren walls soon to hold a lifetime of memories.

“The first time I heard this song I was spending the night at my Grandparents. I was nine and we were all in the kitchen making cookies. I remember my Grandma smelling like fresh flowers and the way my Grandpas laugh made you feel safe. Turnstiles had just come out, Billy’s latest album and Grandpa knew I hadn’t heard it yet. So he played the vinyl while I frosted cookies and this song began to play. Now every time I hear it I’m back in that kitchen just happy to have two people who really loved me” Steve says, a soft sadness cast over his eyes and you can’t stop yourself from pulling him close and leaving a soft kiss on his lips.

“I really would’ve liked to meet them” you whisper, hand curling at the back of his neck and fingers grazing the small tufts of hair there. He smiles and gives a soft squeeze to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“They would’ve loved you. My Grandpa would point out how smart you are, tease me about it too. Ask how I got a girl like you to date a doofus like me. And my Grandma, she would bake you pies and insist on sewing all your clothes when they got old and worn. Talk about how much she wished she had a granddaughter” Steve says like he knows and it’s because he does. They were the two people in his life who always made him feel safe and he knew them better than anyone. It sucked they weren’t here but knowing how much they would’ve loved you is comfort enough.

“I see them in you. In the way you take care of the kids and in the way you love me” you say and the look he gives you is different than any look you have ever received. Your heart accelerates just at the sight and before you can even process it the boy is kissing you like his life depends on it.

“I’m going to love these days too” he suddenly says, pulling back from the kiss a little breathless. A small laugh escapes your lips as he hugs you close.

“Yeah, well I count on having many of them”

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#steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x femreader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x y/n smut #billy joel #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery steve harrington #joe keery smut #joe keery fic #joe keery imagines #joe keery stranger things #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #joe keery #joe keery x femreader #joe keery x fem!reader #joe keery x y/n

[97linelover]

please please please please please write jeonghan fwb angst where jeonghan is still very much in love with his ex 😭

it will always be her - Joon Jeonghan

18+ / mdi

summary: You finally thought you found your soulmate, but you never had a chance in the first place right?

content: Break UP AU, mentions of cheating , ex lovers, fight, angst, crying

wc: 1.2K

a/n: it´s my birthday week so I´m gonna post this a little early.. thank you for suggesting, I hope you like it :)

2 years and 3 months, that's exactly the time you've dated Jeonghan. You both recently moved in together, he asked you to move in after you spend nearly everyday with him. Ever since you two were unstoppable, you were sure that he would be the man you will marry.

Jeonghan was your first love, he made you experience things you never felt before. But within the last three weeks he had changed.

He was distant, he barely talked about his day and he barely asked about yours, and that wasn't like him.

Jeonghan always asked about you, he always listened to every detail. You tried to ignore the stinging feeling, but you don't know for how long you can ignore it.

You were just cooking some food when the door opened. „I'm home,” he announced. „Hi, Hannie” you said happily, „I made your Favorite, Quattro cheese pasta." It always reminded him of your first Holiday to Italy.

He looked up „I ate after work, didn't I tell you?" You furrowed your eyebrows „no you did not; I spent so much time in here” you whispered.

„I'm sorry, I'll tell you the next time" he walked past you. „How was your day?" you followed him “good, it was a long exhausting day, I'll got to bed right away"

He did not want to tell you, alright.

„Goodnight then” you whispered and walked back to the kitchen packing the food into some boxes for tomorrow.

But the next time he forgot your lunch date was when you were celebrating your new job position. You went to bed alone this time.

You saw the invite at the table for his annual Christmas party, he had bought you a dress for it and just told you to be ready at eight. When he came to pick you up, he was already dressed in his suit, he looked handsome like always, Jeonghan was beautiful.

You always thought he could be in the cover of fashion magazines.

„The dress fits," he stated, and you nodded „thanks, it's beautiful" You smiled and kissed him softly. „Let's go," he walked in front of you, and you tried to follow his steps, but the heels are making it pretty hard.

The party was in full bloom when you arrived „Hello Y/N you look lovely tonight" Mr. Choi said, Jeonghan´s boss. You always liked the elderly man, his wife always gave Jeonghan sweet treats for you. 

„Thank you  Mr.Choi, you don't look to bad yourself" you smiled charmingly „you know how to charm a old man" he laughed, and you shrugged it off “only the truth"

You did notice that Jeonghan´s gaze was on someone else, and you followed it. There she was, in the most beautiful emerald green colored dress.. You needed to look twice but now you are sure.

Ko Hyerin. Jeonghan´s ex fiancé.

You felt the breath getting knocked out your lungs.

„You did not tell me she would be here" you whispered, and Jeonghan looked at you „She transferred back here from Japan" he said with a sad smile.

„Temporary?” you asked with a quivering voice „No, she bought a house here, she will stay for good now" you nodded taking his hand „let's dance?" you wanted to cheer the mood „no I don't feel like it right now love" he pecked your cheek.

With soft affection, everything seemed fine, but you knew.. Nothing will be fine from now on. 

„Hannie" a high-pitched voice interrupted you two „Hyerin" he said soft, and you had this weird feeling once again. „Oh you must be Y/N" she smiled at you „Hello" you said trying to sound confident, but she felt the weird undertone you had.

„Oh Hannie, I've gone to the restaurant we've been to last week; I told my mother about it and now she really wants to try" her hand landed on his  arm and he chuckled at her "And she asked about you; we should go together , you me and momma" she suggested with a gasp and you felt your heart clench. 

Without them noticing you rushed out of the door, you sat down on the bench feeling some tears running down your cheek, you did not think about the possibility that his ex fiancé will come back. 

And you did not think that Jeonghan would talk to her again, she broke his heart, she chose her happiness over his and you glued his broken pieces together just so that he broke yours. 

You don't know for how long you  were sitting there but when you began to shiver you looked for Jeonghan, you found him dancing with her. The embarrassment you felt at this moment was not describable; he chose her once again. 

You stepped through the crowd "Jeonghan" you said with a shaky voice, and he looked at you "Y/N" you saw a flash of concern on his face "can we please go home? I'm not feeling well" you whispered and he nodded "yes sure, let me just get the coats" He walked away, and you looked at her, and she just blinked her eyelashes at you. 

She knew exactly what she was doing and she enjoyed it. 

When you got into his car you both did not say a word, it was not until you reached home that he broke the silence "I think we should break up" he said calmly, and you blinked at him "what?" Your voice was barely a whisper. 

"Maybe we moved to fast.. Since we moved in together I don't feel the same anymore" he was dead serious "no jeonghan" you said with tears in your eyes "Don't blame it on moving in; it's about her right?" you sniffed and his eyes widened. 

"Don't play dumb Jeonghan, I saw you tonight, I saw how you treated her, I saw the love in your eyes" your sobs grew louder. 

"Y/N I did not plan this" His voice got weaker, and you laughed at that. "I never had a chance, did I?" You walked inside the bedroom, grabbing the black suitcase. "I thought I fixed what she destroyed but god I was dumb" You stuffed some things into the suitcase, and Jeonghan watched you. 

"It's not fair I know, I thought I was over her but, I wanted to marry her" he played around with his tie. 

"You're so fucking right; it's not fair to be treated like a gap filler.. Yoon Jeonghan I thought I know you.. but I was wrong" you grabbed your bag "Did you hook up with her?" you whispered, and you saw how his expression changed from guilt to shame. 

"You disgusting piece of shit" you spat and slapped his cheek so that the noise must've woken all the neighbors up. 

"I DO NOT DESERVE THIS" you sobbed, and rushed past him "you played me, god how could I trust someone like you" you turned around "I wish you two only the best, but believe me she will leave again, because remember that she left you once she will do it twice. You lost something so good" with that you carried the suitcase downstairs. 

And when you reached the home of your best friend, you just fell sobbing to the floor "GET ME OUT OF THIS DRESS" you screamed, and you felt your best friend sobbing with you. 

"I did not deserve this," you whispered to her "shhh, he's not worth it, you're way to good for that" she kissed your head softly "You should sleep a bit, and tomorrow me and Cheol will get your things" She smiled softly at you, and you nodded. 

You lost the man you thought was your future. 

#seventeen #kpop #seventeen angst #au #svt #jeonghan #jeonghan svt

[thewritingofspencerrose]

M.Hughes Masterlist

How Many Hockey Players Does It Take To Unscrew a Lightbulb

liked by _quinnhughes, _alexturcotte, and 732 others

"You all really didn't have to come help me pack," Is all I can think to say once I get past the shock of opening my front door to players from the Devils, Ducks, and Canucks. "I- How did you all even know? Let alone get tickets so quick?"

"We're professional hockey players Kid, we have the money for last minute tickets AND the muscles for carrying heavy things into your Uhaul," Is Elias Pettersson's response.

"We're basically the dream team of moving," Is Cole's addition, popping out from behind Nico to give me a hug. Make that four NHL teams represented.

"But you didn't have to all come? I don't have that much stuff and I already had Trev and my brothers."

"Just say you're happy to see us and move over so we can get in," Is Brady's jab, pulling me into a hug before pushing me back into my nearly empty apartment, each boy giving me a hug as they go until the only ones left to enter are my brothers and boyfriend.

"Hey there Kiddo," Quinn greets, pulling me into his side and kissing the top of my head. "You didn't really think we wouldn't call in the army to make this easiest for you."

"Or that we wouldn't be coming with you to Cali to unpack," Jack chimes, holding up three tickets while still in the entry.

"Just the three of us, the other boys are all heading home tomorrow," Lu is the one to comfort, seeing the anxiety in my body rise and making it fall. "It looks like you pretty much have everything packed."

"I do," I agree, looking over the room of boxes, only a few items here and there as the men glance around, most having never seen my apartment before.

"What's left of this place is cute?" Dawson offers, trying his best to compliment what was left. "I'm sure it was even cuter before."

"Thank you Daws, that's a lot nicer than what Jamie was saying the other day," I chirp, the comment directed at said Ducks player who nearly drops the box that he had acquired.

"I didn't mean it like that! All I said was that this place wasn't cute enough for you!" He attempts to defend, looking to Trev for assistance.

"Not to defend his honor or anything, but he did follow it with 'your stuff will look so much cuter in our apartment'," Trev offers, and I can't help but jokingly roll my eyes.

"And this is why he's your one true love," I grumble, the Petey, Q, Jimmy and Mason walking out with boxes in hand, having just taken any old boxes and gotten moving.

"Hey now, you know you're my one true love, baby," Trev assures, moseying up in front of me and pulling me in by my hips, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a peck.

You can hear the groans of the room before you can actually determine who's groan is who's. All I do know is that Jack was definitely the one to say "ew" and Cole absolutely said "oh my poor eyes!"

Drama queens.

"Okay, that's enough of that," Luke is the one to pull me away from Trev, pulling on my hand like he did as a kid.

God when did we all grow up.

Cole, Trevor, my brothers and I. All that we're missing is Alex.

And all my boys made it into the NHL.

And I'm a nurse.

"Hey, don't fall too far in there," Quinn's words pull me out, him and the others having gotten back in the time that I was in my head, Luke having just gently been rubbing my shoulder in the mean time. "Where'd you just disappear to?"

"Just thinking about how much we've all changed since Jack and the boys were in dev camp."

It's a simple answer, but its enough that Q pulls me around the corner into the hallways, leaving Luke behind to lead the continued emptying of where I've lived for two years.

As soon as we're around he's looking in my eyes before pulling me into a hug, tucking me under his chin like he's always done and holding me tight.

"I know change, especially big changes, make your anxiety spike," well he caught me there, "but this is something you've been looking forward to since you were toddling around putting bandaids on us after peewee practice. As much as I hate to say it, you are the most prepared out of any of us to go out into the world."

"Q-" I cut myself off, knowing if I continue I may just cry. "Thank you."

"Hey Mags-a-million, where- oh," Cole pauses, a blush coming to his cheeks at interrupting Quinn's and my sibling bonding moment.

"Uh, yeah, what were you going to ask Coley?" I ask, wiping the few tears that did gather from my waterline.

"I just wanted your permission to move the box that says undergarments. I felt kind of weird doing it without asking and didn't want Trev to kick my ass," He explains, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Cole, it's not like you're digging through my panty drawer," I can't help but laugh, his entire face burning bright red.

Quinn just shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. "I'm pretty sure you made it weirder by asking."

"Why did Mason just tell me that Cole was asking about your under stuff?" Trevor's voice interrupts us once more, taking me from my brothers side and pulling me into his arms, glaring with very little ammunition at Cole. "Back off my woman Caufield."

"See! This is why I asked!" Cole yells, officially having enough of the teasing before glaring at Trev. "You," He emphasizes with a point, "can carry it, jackass," Throwing his hands up to his usual level of dramatics before wandering away.

Trev pecks my forehead, the brightest smile on his face as he leads us after our favorite dramatic.

"I think this is really going well."

#original character #the writing of spencer rose #nhl fanfiction #best friends to lovers trope #hughes sister #trevor zegras x hughes sister #maggie hughes story #trevor zegras x oc

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

im moving in three weeks and ive just started packing up my fabric but there's just... so much of it. every corner of my room is more fabric. how tf am I supposed to get every scrap into a box. Have you ever moved and had to pack up all your fabric? any tips and tricks?

Oh dear, yes that is a big job! I've only moved once with all my fabric, and it did take a while to pack up, but a lot of it was already in boxes. I have a 90 cm wide filing cabinet where I store a lot of it, and then even more than that in some stacks of boxes and bins.

Take this opportunity to go through and find any pieces you know for sure you aren't going to use, and donate those! And get rid of any scraps that in hindsight didn't need to be saved. (I do still have 3 boxes full of scraps and small bits, I am very pro saving scraps, but have gotten rid of the tiniest and worst quality ones.)

Good luck! And when you're putting the fabric in it's new home, you can sort it by whatever quality you find most useful! I organize mine mainly by fibre content.

#ask #not dinosaurs

[louisa-gc]

how to bring less stuff into your home

• don't buy if you already have something similar in function or form — for ex. i already own a pair of boots, therefore any new pair of boots, even if a different colour or a different shape, must stay in the store.

• don't buy to store (unless it's on a good sale) — ex. i'm halfway through my favourite serum and already thinking of buying a new bottle, but i'll hold off until the previous one is actually empty, unless i see it in the store for much less than it usually costs. i also hoard notebooks and try not to buy any more until all have been used up.

• don't buy what you can reasonably rent or borrow — ex. i barely ever buy books because i can find everything i need at the library (including a ladder and a printer).

• don't buy what you truly do not need — ex. did i get a rose quartz roller? yes. did i get it for a purpose? yes, to massage my sore jaw muscles. does it do what i bought it for? meh. is it nice to have? kind of. do i ever use it? not really. so was it a waste of natural resources, cheap labour and my own money? absolutely.

• don't buy spontaneously — ex. i went to the store to buy a new bottle of shampoo but ended up with the rose quartz roller too. in the moment, i could easily justify the need for it and a friend even said to go for it (it wasn't expensive either!). now it sits in its box and i only remember to take it out every three months.

• don't buy what is not on your shopping list — ex. i needed a new pair of black trousers, and had had them on my list for months already. i found the very best pair i could get on my budget, and going into the store i saw so many beautiful pieces, but kept telling myself i only came in for the black trousers. in the end i left the store with only what i needed, because i knew exactly what my mission there was.

• don't buy what won't last — ex. i love to get myself a bouquet of eucalyptus branches every autumn and to let them dry out. i know i can keep those branches for at least a year. while i love fresh flowers too, i know they won't last long. (sometimes i get carnations though, because i know how to keep them going for a relatively long time.) same goes for sweaters: i do not buy acrylic and polyester, simply because i cannot de-pill them the way i can wool.

• don't buy what other's have — ex. i've been dreaming of a rice cooker for a very long time, and especially now that many of my friends have gotten one, i can't seem to stop thinking about it. however i know my current kitchen just wouldn't have the space for it, so i stick to cooking my rice on the stove.

• don't go into stores if you don't need anything and avoid aisles you don't need anything from — ex. i love this ecological store in town, it always smells earthy and pleasant and has beautiful things inside, but if i enter it without a real need for something, i know i will leave with at least a bar of ridiculously expensive chocolate i wasn't even craving. the same principle applies to online shops!

• don't let social media or the people around you create new needs for you — ex. a lot of people on instagram and in my real life are knitting and i would love to do it too! i could easily justify getting all the tools and paying hundreds of euros for wool, but i know i reach for other activities in my free time and that my arms have hurt way too much when i've previously knitted, so it's not for me.

• don't buy unnecessary amounts of things — ex. i recently moved to a very small studio. i've previously always had six of each type of plate, because kitchen things tend to be sold in packs of six. this time i just got three of each (three plates, three bowls, three mugs...) and it has been more than enough. i cannot even imagine having to store double the amount of stuff in my tiny kitchen!

#louisa-gc #minimalism #aesthetic #advice #text post #declutter #anti consumerism #consumerism #low buy #minimalist

[anthurak]

WIP - True Child of Two Worlds

Thought I'd throw up a snippet from the in-progress chapter of my Titan Luz fic that I've had particular fun with.

As for context; remember that time Luz looked at Eda storing a ridiculous among of knickknacks and junk in her hair and said "I wish someday my hair can do that"?

Wellll...

---

“Alright, move aside! I’ll be the judge of this,” King declared before scurrying up Luz’s leg and back.

“You uh, need any help King…?” Luz started to ask but by that point the young titan had already vanished into her newly-voluminous hair.

A silence both pensive and awkward fell on the kitchen as nobody was quite sure what to expect. Then…

“HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES, it’s so CLEAN in here!” came King’s muffled yell from Luz’s hair.

Luz couldn’t help breaking out into giggles and chuckles while Amity let out a confused “…Clean?” with a similarly curious raised eyebrow.

Eda meanwhile, was looking a BIT offended.

“Luz,” King’s head poked out of Luz’s hair over her shoulder, “promise me you won’t be like Eda and actually try to keep this place tidy?”

“HEY!” Eda let out a now quite offended squawk, “What’s THAT supposed to mean?!”

“I can promise I won’t stash food in there,” Luz answered her little brother while seemingly ignoring Eda.

“Oh that’s a GREAT start!” replied a clearly relieved King before ducking back into Luz’s hair, “And it’s so ROOMY too!”

“…are you saying Luz’s hair is bigger than mine?” Eda was now sounding quite offended and indignant.

“No,” King’s head poked back out to glare at Eda, “I’m saying hers isn’t packed full of trash and useless junk!”

“That’s it! You are groun-”

“Eda,” Raine’s voice interrupted Eda, the bard having wandered in at some point and now standing at their girlfriend’s side with a rather cross look complete with crossed arms, “what’s this about your hair being ‘packed full of trash’?”

“Uhh…” Eda blinked very uneasily, all previous indignation instantly forgotten, “I mean… it’s not as bad as it used to-aak!” Eda let out another squawk as her lover’s hand darted into her hair and began feeling around… before pulling out a fairly worn pizza box.

“Oh hey, Papa ‘Pellizeri’s! That takes me back,” Luz’s face lit up with nostalgia, “man that place has been shut down for years…” 

“Uh huh,” Raine nodded at the telling indicator of time while Eda managed a VERY awkward and uneasy smile, “Eda, we’re cleaning out your hair pocket.”

For a brief moment, Eda looked like she wanted to object, but quickly thought better of it, “Yeah, okay.”

“Oooooh,” Luz let out an awed breath, “we’ve never gotten Eda to clean her hair out…”

“Yay!” King let out a triumphant squeak as he dropped out of Luz’s hair, “Thank you new mom! Or, dad?” King paused as he awkwardly tried to parse out what was the appropriate term for his mom’s partner, “…Dadmom?”

“You know…” Raine gave a thoughtful smile to who was clearly soon to be their new adopted son, “I think I’m partial to ‘Dad’, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yay! Thank you new-dad!”

--

I'm pretty sure the first three or so chapters of this fic can be summed up as 'various wacky shenanigans related to learning about Human-Titan Hybrid physiology' XD

#toh #the owl house #toh fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #anthurak writes #fic wip #luz noceda #titan luz #luzan #king clawthorne #eda clawthorne #amity blight #raine whispers #raeda #lumity #comedy #titan luz's hair is a bag of holding just like eda's

[bellysoupset]

For the 🏳️ anon, who asked for Airsick Bella.... Here we go, with LOADS of fluff and sexy talk.

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

"Have you seen my bikinis?" Bella asked, rummaging through her messy side of their wardrobe. Luke was sprawled on the bed watching the replay of last Sunday’s football game, having already finished packing, since his side was neatly folded and he could get a bag done in under 30 minutes.

"You really don't need those," he smirked and Bella rolled her eyes, crouching down to open a drawer.

"Oh yeah, you're gonna be real happy when I'm flashing strangers- Aha!" She held up a bunch of bikinis strung together and didn't bother untangling them, throwing the items on her side of their suitcase, "now I need a hat."

Lucas smiled fondly at her, Bella wasn't even bothering to hide just how excited she was with them finally leaving for a honeymoon. After nearly ten months since they had gotten married, Luke had been over the moon to slip her the tickets, three weeks before. 

She had even requested time off work, something Bella never did, normally insisting she could work from anywhere. Luke had seen her work from the hospital waiting room far too many times to count.

Their flight was Friday morning and it was only Wednesday night, but Lucas had everything ready already, from his suitcase, to their documentation, to their travel guide, hotel... Everything he could think of, he had managed and micromanaged, except for Bell.

Just glancing at her messy process of packing made his skin crawl, so he opted for not saying anything and waited until she finally zipped it up, taking far more shoes than he even thought possible for her to wear.

"You know we're going to a tropical island, right?" Lucas grabbed Bella's waist when she circled the bed in order to grab her jewelry, "I don't think you're gonna get any use out of the combat boots."

"You never know, it rains a lot in tropical places," Bella shrugged, falling against him on the bed, but keeping to the task at hand, sorting through the bunch of silver rings she had, "I'm taking it."

"Okay," Luke rolled his eyes, closing her jewelry box, "I want attention-"

"You're gonna have tons of attention, once we're there," Bella scoffed, squirming when he rolled them on the bed and pinned her down, "skull or snakes?" she raised the rings in front of him.

"Skulls, they're cuter," Luke pushed her hand away from his face, busying himself with kissing her neck, "so we’re taking a chastity vow until we land in Malé?"

Bella snorted at that, picking her earrings, moving her head slightly so he could continue to kiss her, "chastity is a strong word, I've always wanted to be a part of the mile high club."

Lucas laughed, pressing his mouth to her collarbone, "oh yeah, so we can get barred at the customs," he nibbled on her earlobe, "my wife the genius."

"Tonto," Bella scoffed, finally putting away all the items and planting a hand in the middle of his face, pushing him off of her, “help me pack, Luke.” 

By the time Friday finally rolled on, Luke was feeling nearly sick with nerves. They had driven to Portland the night before, in order to avoid the maximum amount of fatigue possible, given the trip ahead of them was stupidly long. Their flight went to Philadelphia, where they caught a 10 hours long flight to London, stayed over the night and then in the morning caught another flight, this one 20 hours long, to the Maldives. 

Luke had genuinely considered talking with Kit about the private jet, but just the off hand mention of his father’s name had Bella shutting down in a way he didn’t like. It didn’t used to be like that before Christmas and he wasn’t entirely sure what had changed since Bell promptly shut down any attempt of bringing up the topic.

Besides, as Jonah had pointed out to him while they chatted in gym, the private jet would need to do all the stops for fuel too, it’d only cut about five hours of their schedule. 

“What’s in your mind?” Bell asked, as they strapped in for the first, shorter flight. Only two hours for Philly. 

“Control freak bs,” Luke scoffed, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek, “my brain won’t stop.”

“I thought therapy was helping,” she teased him, turning her face for a proper kiss, “nothing is going to go wrong, it’s just plane trips. Very long, very tiring, but just plane trips.”

“Uhum,” Luke leaned in to plant his lips on her temple. 

Since they’d be bored out of their minds, Bella had brought an old ipad, filled with movies. Luke leaned back his chair, frowning as he recognized the opening shot of the movie. 

“Jaws? We’re going to a tropical island and you want to watch Jaws?”

“I like to be prepared,” Bella grinned, snuggling against his shoulder, “you did say we could swim in the ocean and that there’s a shark dive.”

“And you want to watch Jaws before swimming with the sharks?” He raised his eyebrows, clicking on the screen and then going back to the list of movies, “you only brought deadly animals movies… Tsunami movie… Isabella, what the fuck!”

Bell slapped his hand away, putting the movie back on, “it's good for you, builds character.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” he said sourly, focusing on the movie. 

The connection to the London flight was uneventful, Luke spending it updating their friends about their current location and taking his own paparazzi pictures of Bell, as she sprawled on the first class lounge, not a thought given to the dirty looks thrown her way. 

He loved her. 

“This is bigger than our house,” Bella snorted as they got in the plane and to their seats. For this flight Luke had splurged with first class tickets instead of regular ones and a private suite, since it was 10 hours long. Bell dropped her carry on in the large space between their seats, which were large like single beds, “really. Honest to God, bigger than my childhood room.”

Lucas knew for a fact this was pretty much true. He rolled his eyes, kissing the top of her head, “and private too, didn’t you want to be a part of the mile high club?”

“Now where’s the fun if it’s all private?” Bella teased him, falling sit and letting out a sigh, “I bet they have cameras everywhere here… Oh man, champagne? I feel like a princess.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her antics, sitting down as well and indulging Bell as she sat criss crossed next to him and continued to talk non stop. 

Three hours into the trip and at least three glasses of champagne each, the instructions of “stay in your seats” were out of the window. Bella had climbed on his lap and she had her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him and letting out a happy sigh as Luke squeezed her ass over the jeans, when suddenly the plane lurched.

It was so sudden that Bella bit on his lip with force enough to draw blood and Luke pulled back with a shout.

“Bell!” 

“Oh my God-” Bella whined, grabbing his shoulders, big blue eyes wide in her face, “what the fuck was that!?”

“Just a drop, Bella,” Luke glared at her, wiping the blood with his thumb, “it’s fine, relax…”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” she scoffed, but leaned in to kiss him again, bumping her nose with his, “sorry about your lip…”

“Uhm, kiss it better?” Lucas grinned, leaning further into his seat and planting a hand on her nape, pulling her in. He felt her smile against his lips and Luke was starting to feel suffocatingly warm, face tingling with how horny he was, when the plane lurched once more, this time around continuing to shake violently. 

Bella let out a sound he wasn’t sure he had ever heard her do before, a whimper-cry, and hid her face on his neck, “Luke!”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s just turbulence…” He hugged her close and Bella squeezed him with all her force as the plane shook again.

“We’re getting nerfed down from the sky because of these stupid, expensive, gigantic cabins,” Bella whined, getting out of his lap and putting the seat belt on, a couple seconds before the red sign popped on the opposite wall. 

The plane lowered once more, before going up, and even with the private cabin, they could hear the other passengers squeal. Bella’s face had gone from healthy tan to olive white and she was clutching the arm rests of her seat. 

“I don’t wanna die on my honeymoon,” she whimpered, closing her eyes, “Luke-”

“It’s just turbulence,” Lucas planted his hand over hers, “I promise you we’ll not fall from the sky, this is fine…” 

“It doesn’t feel fine!” Bella squealed as the plane kept shaking. She moved their hands, so she could squeeze his fingers and Luke cringed, Bell had quite the strong grip. 

He leaned in, completely ignoring the shaking and going up and down that was causing his stomach to freeze, “talk with me, baby.”

“I- I can’t, we’re going to di-die…” Her voice shook under the weight of tears and Lucas scoffed, planting a kiss on her temple and squeezing Bella to him with his free hand. Over their heads, the lights went out.

“No, we’re not. Have I ever told you about our flight to Hong Kong when I was fifteen?” he leaned in and Bell shook her head, staying quiet to indicate she was listening, but still not opening her eyes. 

“Dad was touring there and it was my birthday, so mom packed us both to Hong Kong,” Luke smoothed over the important stuff, leaving out the details. He hadn’t wanted to go to Hong Kong and his mom was actually going there for a business trip, not for his birthday. In fact, he wasn’t sure they had remembered it was his birthday until two days had passed, “and the flight was terrible, let me tell you. But we landed without any trouble, it was just clouds-” without any trouble because his mom had been knocked the fuck out by the wine, “we all got there in one piece. We’re gonna get to London perfectly safe too.”

“And- and your birthday?” Bella asked in a small voice. Luke wiped the tears off her face. 

“I got to watch dad play, it was great,” he lied smoothly. He had spent it in the hotel room just outside the stadium his father was playing, puking his guts up after such a horrid flight, while his mother bossed her entire staff around. 

Bella nodded, letting out a shuddery breath and the plane eased up the shaking. She sat up straight, leaning back on her seat and wiped at her face, while the overhead lights turned back on. 

Lucas smiled at her, “see?”

“I’m gonna puke,” Bella groaned, ignoring his soft smile and Luke snorted, before realizing her lips had gone a terrible shade of white. 

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Yeah-” Bella cupped her mouth, “Lu-”

Luke scrambled to find an airsickness bag, but in first class these were hidden somewhere – it was not pleasing to imply rich people puked – so he settled for the champagne bucket, removing the bottle and holding it under Bell’s chin just in time to catch the first mouthful of sickly champagne vomit.

She hugged the bucket like a pro, so Lucas abandoned it, in order to hold her hair back with a hand, planting the other one on her forehead to help her support it. Bella let out a loud moan, echoing in the metal bucket, and he kissed the top of her head. 

“You’re fine, it’s a lot of ups and downs…” 

Bella sighed, pulling back and resting her forehead to the rim of the bucket, while Luke waited a second to pull back, “you good?”

“Think so…” she rasped, so he got her a water bottle from the huge dispenser under their seats. She took it with shaky hands, sniffling once more and took a small gulp, as Luke ignored the sign to stay with their seat belts and got up, to reach for his own carry on.

“Wendy told me to bring these-” he went through the contents in order to find the sea wristbands and Bella frowned, seeming exhausted as she turned to look at him… Only for the plane to drop once more.

“Fuck,” Bell groaned, lurching for the bucket, while Luke fell flat on his back on the ground, his backpack hitting his chest. He hugged it tightly, waiting until the plane stopped shaking in order to get back to his seat, and once he did he realized Bella was fully crying.

“Stay-” she let out a little burp, forcing up a pathetic gush of liquid, “in your fucking seat, Lucas.”

“Sorry,” he rubbed her back, “sorry. You don’t have to worry, I’m fine.”

Bella raised her head from the bucket in order to send him a bleary glare, her blue eyes even more blue due to the tears and the fact they were red rimmed, “I fucking hate flying,” she declared, turning back to the bucket once more and Luke cringed in sympathy. 

“I know, I know, next time we travel we’ll go somewhere closer,” he promised, pushing the curls away from her mouth and rubbing back.

#mywriting #isabella martinez #isabella martinez-atwood #airsickness #sickfic #emeto #motion sickness #🏳️ anon

[greenorangevioletgrass]

openin' up | b.r.b.

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: it's an ordinary morning in their new house, and bradley gets enlisted for help with an... extraordinary warm-up for a morning rehearsal. [part of "the actress & the aviator" universe but can be read as a standalone]

word count: 1.8k

warnings: established relationship, domestic fluff, bradley is a simp but so is the reader, they're engaged y'all, language, smut [blowjob, dirty talk, switch!rooster, switch!reader, brief daddy kink, spit kink, cum eating, this is really filthy but soft i promise]

notes: i'm BACK, Y'ALL! i literally started this fic back in early october but life happened (i worked out of town, got out of a relationship, got into a new relationship. whew!) so i've only got around to finish it now. im a little rusty, so however much love you can give me would be greatly appreciated <3 thank you and happy reading!

✨ follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

***

The house in San Clemente is new. The novelty of the living room furniture is apparent, bright and shiny and smelling faintly of packing boxes, save from Goose’s old piano they brought home from Virginia. The fridge only has three takeout menus pinned onto it, from the first week you moved in. The shelves and displays have barely gathered any dust on the books and awards and vinyl collections that newly inhabit them.

But the rhythm in how the two of you go about your day in this new home— your shared home… It's effortless and familiar. Tried and tested. Bradley’s alarm sounds off early in the morning, way too early, but you’ve learned to tune it out. But the prolonged absence of the human furnace you sleep with makes the bed all cold and empty, and it’s hard to go back to sleep like that (you wish you were being dramatic, but it’s true.) By the time Bradley gets out of the shower, you’re usually there, sleepily brushing your teeth and giving him a minty kiss good morning.

This morning, you’re already in the kitchen by the time he’s dressed for work. He hears you first; a cacophony of strange noises that would otherwise be alarming if it weren’t for how routine it is now. All the hums and sirens and lip trills and are those meows you’re doing for warm-up? 

“Morning, songbird.” Rooster saunters in with a kiss to your temple. Then, as he pours his coffee, nearly back-to-back as you hold a steaming cup of tea, he chuckles to himself.

You groan, catching the amusement right away. “Whoever thought it was a good idea to have a singing rehearsal so early in the morning is clearly not thinking,” you grumble, voice still gravely from sleep.

“Whoever thought it was a good idea to stay up late and binge Fleabag like she hasn’t seen it 4 times is…” you level his cheeky comment with a glare and he backtracks behind his coffee cup, “…clearly regretting it now.”

You pinch his side, scowling but not really. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Bradley does a shoulder wiggle in response, so bright and chirpy so early in the morning. A multitude of fun contradictions; tall and broad and imposing in his flight suit, sleeves tied up around his waist, yet at the same time…

Soft and domestic and adorable as he puts the bread in the toaster and cracks a few eggs to scramble (he does it with one hand, too, that cocky fuck.)

You love him so much, it’s ridiculous. It is so ridiculous, in fact, that it gives you an idea…

“Hey, what time do you have to be at work?”

“0900, why?”

You hum, taking a thoughtful sip of your magical concoction of ginger, honey, and lemon. And then…

“Can I suck your dick?”

He bursts out laughing. But then, seeing your completely straight face, he stops. “Wait, for real?”

“I’m serious! For singing purposes. I need to open up and warm up my throat.” He opens his mouth again to comment, but you cut him off, “And don’t ask me how I know this works. But it does.”

People would say your love story is one for the movies. A movie star and a naval aviator falling in love while filming thousands of feet in the air. The two worlds collide, and your lives are intertwined forever. It’s a grand Hollywood romance.

Nobody would ever expect that your happy-ever-after is a comedy.

“Well, jeez, buy me dinner first, ma’am.” He rolls his eyes playfully, as if his heart rate wasn’t picking up. He tries to keep it cool, teasing her right back. “Also, is that the only reason? I am hurt.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” there’s an air of innocence in your reply —a stark contrast to your request. You come up behind him and wrap your arms around his middle. “That you look so good in your uniform, and I want you to fuck my face? Come down my throat?”

Okay. Maybe it’s a slightly raunchy comedy.

There’s a heavy three-second gap. Three seconds of Bradley’s tightening grip on the spatula and the pan, from the three seconds of your figurative grasp right where you want him.

Three seconds of his slow, bracing draw of breath.

“Honestly?” He pipes up, “Yes.”

Click. You turn the stove off and he has to remind himself to let go, and let you turn him around. Amusement, intrigue, lust, and love painted his face like a swirl of colors. God, you adore him.

You back him into an empty counter, careful not to bump into any hot mugs or pans. “You know I like seeing your suit half done up like this...” Your voice is still rough from sleep, and he swears it’s the sexiest sound his brain can comprehend. “Makes really, really wanna swallow you whole ‘til I choke on your cock. Will you let me do that?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. His lips fall open slightly, but no sound comes out.

You love him like this. All dazed and dumb when you’ve barely done anything to him. It makes you feel powerful. And there’s no power trip quite like knowing you hold the reign.

Even when you give it up.

You bat your eyelashes, sighing just a little when his dick, now fully erect, flexes against your belly in attention. “Please… Daddy?”

Fuck. 

Bradley Bradshaw is still just a man. And as stubborn as he is (and he is plenty stubborn, ask anyone), he is running out of reasons to believe that this is a bad idea. Then again, who is he to deny his fiancée a blowjob for her own sake?

He groans, guttural as he grabs a handful of your ass. “‘Course you can, baby.”

You lean in for a kiss, tender and loving despite everything, and he wants to melt into your touch. It’s oddly comforting to see that amidst the absurdity, it’s still you and it’s still him. And wherever you are, whatever you do —be it having breakfast or doing weird things for warm-up—, this is home. 

And home is where you sink down to your knees, taking his pants and boxers down with you on a random Thursday morning. 

His cock stares right at you, veins running along the sides as it curves ever so slightly to the right. A pearly bead leaks out of his pinkish tip, and you dart out your tongue to taste him. And a taste is never enough —you want to devour all of him.

He can feel the ground pulling from underneath him. One hand with knuckles white on the counter, the other cradling the back of your head. Not quite pushing you, just… caressing you as you adjust to his girth.

Bradley is a big boy, and you say this with no exaggeration whatsoever. It always hurts a little at first when he fucks you, no matter how much he’s made you come before that, and giving him a blowjob is no different. Exhaling slowly through your nose, you relax your jaw and draw yourself closer inch by inch…

“Shit, baby…” His dick is all snug in your warmth, his dream woman on her knees, and he feels on top of the world. “You gonna be a good girl, take all of Daddy’s cock? Come on. Open up, that’s it, that’s… fuck.”

He reaches the back of your throat, making you gag, and it takes him everything to not lose it at the blissful sensation of you tightening around him.

“Breathe, breathe…” he rakes his long fingers through his hair, although he’s probably partly saying it to himself, too. “You okay? D’you need a minute?”

Your glassy eyes look up at him, and he’s praying please please please I might not even last a minute like this… 

It’s a strange, delicate balance of your relationship dynamic. In your obscured vision and compromising position, it’s Bradley who surrenders himself to you. Gentle. Careful. Vulnerable. It makes you feel fucking glorious. 

So you shake your head slightly, and drag your mouth along his heavy shaft.

“God, baby, you feel so fucking good… so perfect, my baby’s so perfect, Jesus fuck—” he swallows heavily, and groans just as heartily. “You’re all mine, aren’t you? I’m the only one who gets to fuck your mouth like this. I’m the only one who gets to come inside you— forever. Fuck, I can’t wait to marry you…”

You look up at him when you hear that, and he finds your gaze, catching the humorous, mischievous glint in your eyes. His brain is in your mouth, and he couldn’t care any less. If you’re gonna tease him all week for what he said, so be it. Because the truth of the matter is, he means it.

With his whole damn heart.

And as the pounding in said heart picks up, so does the rush of blood all over his body. Your hand joins your mouth at the base of his cock, stroking him closer and closer to his release. And he all but loses his mind. His fists open and close as tingles run all the way to his fingertips.

“Baby, baby, baby…” he chants, almost feverishly, “I’m so fucking close, baby, pleasepleaseplease, can I come, please baby, I need to— fuck… fuck. Fuck!”

Warmth pours into your mouth, and you make sure to catch every last drop of pearly white he’s giving— surrendering— to you. Not letting him go until he rides out the very last waves of his orgasm. And when he does, you rise up to your feet and face him.

All flustered and fucked out just for you.

You cup his chin between your thumb and forefinger, motioning him to open. Bradley leans back against the counter, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out for you. His brown eyes are fixed on you, waiting, wanting like he hasn’t just come less than a minute ago. And when you spit his release back into his mouth… he closes them like he’s coming again.

He takes every single drop just like you did, and swallows it all. But even that’s not enough. He pulls you in by the back of your neck for another searing kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your lips.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him one last time and pull away. Taking a hearty sip of your tea and humming a simple five-note scale. “Mm, much better.”

Bradley watches on, all dumbstruck, as you continue your vocal warm-up while washing your hands and grabbing plates to set up on the table. Carrying on and minding your business as if nothing had happened.

Well. 

Apart from the cheeky look you share as you continue your ordinary morning routine. Making your new home a little more lived-in everyday.

And then, he grins widely, pulls his pants back on and turns the stove back on to finish cooking. “Man, I love morning rehearsals…”

#bradley bradshaw #the actress & the aviator #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #rooster smut #rooster x reader #top gun maverick #ava writes

[faint-kitten]

So about Solid Snake being in Fortnite...

by Faint_Kitten

I got into Fortnite in December 2023 for the first time. I just unlocked Snake and I have so many thoughts on it I can't completely break them all down. But I think I've done my best.

But the #1 thing I think I want everyone to know is: Despite shaving off his ass. Despite being artistically bankrupt and pushed out by Konami and Epic as a means to make money and promote the MGS Vol 2 collection.

Despite artistically, and Narratively being antithetical to Metal Gear Solid…

Snake being in Fortnite feels mechanically and tonally consistent with his legacy.

There is so much inherent "Kojima" in Metal Gear Solid. This weird blend of hyper realism, mixed with anime siliness, mixed with philosophy mixed with trying way too hard to be sombre while also mechanically being silly and then you spin around three times to puke, or Johnny does a big poop fart and all of it adds to the weird just Kojima-esque nature of the series. It extends to the love, the fandom and the humor around Metal Gear Solid. So many memes around Snake, between fan art, in jokes, and original Animations and gifs that it doesn't feel THAT weird to see him do like a...Naruto Run emote. So much of Metal Gear Solid* was a very serious drama taking place in a game that mechanically is silly and lets you do goofy shit and has elaborate bro fist handshakes played deadly serious. And Fortnite is a game where you have these characters doing goofy shit that doesn't mesh with who they are or the universe they came from all the fucking time.

You also have to realize the Battle Royale mode has big locations full of NPC's and Bosses you can kill for loot.

The "narrative" as it is of Fortnite Chapter 5: Season 1 is (near as I can tell) that Peely the Banana has been kidnapped by the Society (who serve as the current skins for this season and AI controlled bosses and NPC's on locations of the map.) And the map is littered with their fortresses with Jonesy (I guess the main character?) Going up against them to get his friend back. Which means there are a handful of locations in the current Fortnite Map that are just Boss bases. These are bunkers, and huge mansions and little outposts that you have to be careful around because once they know you're there they will just start spawning endless enemies to try and kill you, and the attention WILL draw enemy players. So you're shooting out cameras for XP and to keep them from beeping, avoiding turrets to keep from alerting guards and keep them from chewing up your health.

Guards already had the "?" and "!" system for showing if they detected you, despite having no inherent stealth mechanics in the game or any intention of introducing MGS. They didn't do this FOR an MGS tie in. There are recruitable companions and they can't speak so a way for players and enemies to detect if their companion "senses" an enemy player is to use the "?" and "!" system. While it doesn't mean that much without him. This is very clearly taken from Metal Gear, and as a result the alert system feels very natural around Snake.

In game modes where you have teams of two three or Four players, you get downed like Gears of War or Apex, and have to be revived. You can crawl and move. But players who are on their feet can pick you up and sling you over their back, or even yeet you to safety.

Enemy Players can do this too.

When I play Team modes by myself (I am alone, everyone else is in a team) I frequently pick enemies who wandered off of their pack and pick them off, tossing them somewhere their team mates can't get to or won't find them specifically to draw them in to their rescue.

Additionally there IS wildlife to hunt: Chickens, Frogs and Fish which give you medium effect healing items.

The game has items you can put on to "disguise yourself" like bushes, or snowmen during christmas that work EXACTLY like the card board boxes in MGS (though it's debatable if players are convinced by anything but the bush)

All of this was going on BEFORE Snake was unlockable. (I don't know if the camera's and bosses stuff existed before this season)

Which means that MECHANICALLY. Snake doesn't feel out of place at all in Fortnite.

It's super weird when a Xenomorph, or Spiderman, or a Ninja Turtle, or Goku, or a teen from My hero Academia, or Eleven from stranger things comes in and starts mowing people down with an assault rifle. The disconnect is part of the charm for better or worse, and it's both amusing and horrifyingly upsetting when you think about these characters sold as nothing but IP to get rich off of being so taken out of context from their character's intended art, themes and meaning.

It's just weird to see bright bubbly Mina from My Hero shooting people dead. Spiderman doesn't kill people, that's the Punisher, it's fucking weird to have Spiderman just gunning people down, if you get my gist.

It's super fucking weird to see these characters handle a fire arm and move around in a shooter. They feel less like themselves and more like what they are: A skin of a popular thing, plugged into a world to please fans and rake in money. It's fucking weird to see Spider-man holding a firearm.

It is NOT weird to watch Solid Snake do it. As a result of this, Snake kind of slips into the absurd world of Fortnite rather well.

It feels kind of cool strip snake of all like falling trail effects and just watch him super-hero sky dive toward a giant compound full of NPC's and land on the roof (It looks cooler in the dead of night but I didn't get a screenshot of it)

It's not weird to experience Snake in Fortnite's world handling Fortnite's mechanics. Because so many of the mechanics and the tone feels distinctly normal for Metal Gear Solid. This is not the first time Snake has been pawned out as a mascott to other properties.

It's weird as hell to watch Kratos blow a car up with a rocket launcher. That is not a part of his world, you see. It's NOT weird to watch Snake fire an RPG at anything. It's not weird to watch Snake do a bulk of the things he can do in Fortnite.

It's not weird to watch Snake run around a forest and shoot a frog or hunt a chicken for it's meat because we've played Snake Eater

It's not weird to hide in a bush as Snake:

It's not weird to watch snake shoot someone or Reload a fire-arm. The Snowy Mountains bases, the outposts, the big mansions and small cities the open world all feel like places Snake has been at home in, from Shadow Moses, to the Middle East, it's not unusual to see Snake* surrounded by girders and steps and concrete and cabins and tents and forrests etc. It's not weird to watch Snake pick someone up who's downed and carry them over his shoulder, or chuck them into a closet: We've seen this in MGS V: The Phantom Pain. Metal Gear Solid kind of invented a lot of these mechanics.

There isn't that much about Snake in the following footage seems out of place for Metal Gear Solid:

Snake doesn't feel out of place in fortnite. It might feel sacriligious for the biggest thing in gaming adding snake (with no cheeks I might add) to it's roster to be eyerolling or cringe. But Snake doesn't feel "too good" for fortnite. But he also doesn't feel like a total shill in fortnite either. A lot of the gear and missions and challengees to unlock him felt like a someone was asked to put together activities at a Metal Gear Solid themed birthday party (Use hiding spots. Shoot out 2 cameras. Fire an RPG, shoot silenced weapons, uses the disguise mechanics, travel in the disguise items. hack Trains or Vaults) the Emote could have easily been just the alert noise over Snake's head, but they put it on a freaking stick, Wile E Coyote style.

There's a weird Fortnite blend of "Lets make something as cheaply as possible in some places and yet give some things the love and attention that comes from making 5billion in revenue a year affords you." that shows up in everything they do. And they clearly put a lot more effort into this promotion than they did the Family guy stuff (not that I care one way or the other about Family guy I'm just calling it like I see it.) To be honest Snake has been shilled out to so many other games for cross promotion over the years this is hardly his first.

Snake has been blended with many things like Ape Escape, Smash Bros, and Monster Hunter. Seeing him along other games and even other characteres not of MGS's worldbuilding doesn't feel that odd. Snake has kind of left his "world" behind many times. Which is...kind of in keeping with Snake being this cipher? This character the player slips on. Snake is a character an icon but he's also this THING puppeted by us. A lot of games work to break this illusion to make us forget we're not Kratos, or We're not Nathan Drake but ever since Metal Gear Solid 1 Kojima's writing has been pretty clear there's "something" that drives snake. Not motivationally, but literally piloting him giving him what he needed to succeed (us). To put it simply. Snake has always been a bit Meta as a character. And it's hard to see liscenced characters (sold for up to 15 dollars a pop) as themselves when we're piloting them telling them to drink slurp juice out of jars, or swing a pickaxe or or sing "The Real Slim Shady" or do cutesy Jpop dances. All of this is to say, having played MGS 1 through TPP: nothing about this gameplay feels that out of character for Metal Gear aside from the cartoony art style. The look and feel of Fortnite naturally lends itself to having Snake as a Playable character in it. Narratively, Thematically, Fortnite is almost antithetical to Metal Gear Solid. But tonally, and mechanically, it feels in keeping with the series.

Part of this is just the fact that Kojima's games have always been ahead of the curve when it comes to what you can do in gameplay and so many of these things were adopted by gaming later that slotting Snake back into mechanics his games inspired just doesn't feel disjointed. So many games have copied Metal Gear Solid over the years and became main stream. MGS has also had it's own unique air owing to both Kojima's own unique style and the weirdness/humor brought about as the game tries very seriously to balance it's story and themes against poop jokes, and mechanics that are often very silly but very fun and a total detachment from the poe faced somberness snake goes for or is possibly trying to mock. This, overall is a chunk of what makes metal gear feel like metal gear. The mechanics of Fortnite feel eerily comparable to the mechanics of later Metal Gear games (especially MGS V) .

And the tonal disconnect between what Metal Gear games are doing as a plot, and the inherent nonsense the mechanics provide contrasting it, have always been a part of MGS and it's charm, and that's kind of what makes Fortnite the thing it is today? You have a very serious plot about war and the military and a gravely voiced man and then in the corner a Vampire man does a big dance, and large bi-pedal mechs moo like cows. It's why any time any popular thing is announced in fortnite it kind of becomes a joke. Very serious Rapper Eminem is in Fortnite, and has his personal OC Slim Shady as a playable skin, and he's shoving his hand in Pinata's and chugging slurp juice, it's kind of weird to see someone who takes themself so seriously dancing at the whims of whoever controls him. But that's been a core part of Metal Gear and the Metal Gear Solid Franchise, and the fandom forever. I dunno. I'm not trying to defend the fact that Fortnite is a center for companies to strip their IP of all love and meaning and sell it to us as pure nostalgia and profit. I'm just trying to say I was surprised by how weirdly normal (and to be honest kind fun) it felt to run around RPing Solid Snake in fortnite and I've been at it all day. As someone who originally didn't care one way or the other, and felt kind of cynical about such a beloved character being absorbed into this mess: I'm kinda glad he's here now.

*I know Snake and Big Boss (and by extension Venom/Punished Snake/Boss) are all different characters. But for the sake of this discussion I dipped in and out of talking about Solid Snake and "Snake" (any) as a whole in Metal Gear as a whole

#solid snake #metal gear solid #I've been editing and adding to this for hours I'm just going to push it out or I'll never post it #if it has errors grammatical or lore I'm not going to worry about it you get the gist

[haruniki]

Would this character catch you? genshin impact edition pt 3

a/n: hiiiii making a part three to this because these are actually fun to make! I genuinely don't know how i missing from the previous lineups. A few of the characters im not comfy writing for yet but might add them later? this one includes the Inazuma girls 🫶🫶

Raiden Shogun/Ei: 2/10, she doesn't understand

Ei doesn't quite understand why you are running towards her. Are you in trouble? Was someone chasing you?

When you fall on to the ground, she asks you a bunch of questions. Ei is concerned that you're hurt but first point her to whoever was causing you distress.

When you tell her that she was suppose to catch you, she lets out a small "oh" and a surprised expression appears on her face.

Ei helps you up and takes you to get patched up in complete silence

As you both sit side by side, she takes your hand in hers.

"I'd like to make a small request, if that is alright. If you would, please inform me when you wish to do things like that again. I don't wish to see you harmed in any way. What kind of lover would I be if my negligence caused you harm?"

Yae Miko: ??/10, you didn't even get the chance

Yae already knew what you were going to do. She had overheard you speaking about your little prank to another shrine maiden.

Made absolutely sure that you couldn't find her anywhere. Going so far as to even use her fox form to her advantage to hide in small places

As it gets later in the day and your heading back to the shrine to check one last time for your girlfriend, feeling defeated that you weren't able to jump into her arms.

A figure, well small animal crashing into you shocked you. A small pink fox looking up at you with a slight mischievous glint in it's eye.

And with a small flash and a thud on the ground, you feel a slightly heavier presences on top of you.

"My, My, it appears that I've won this little game. I believe next time you should try yo keep your voice down when you're planning something. It would be so disappointing if someone overheard you doing something so fun and ruined it for you~"

Ayaka Kamisato: 7/10, surprisingly strong!

Hears your footsteps from rather far away and already prepares herself to catch you

Ayaka does move to an area that she deems a better setting to catch you in. Reading all those novel from the Yae Publishing House makes her think that catching you in a beautiful setting will make you fall deeper in love with her

As you find and start taking off, she pretends to not see you until the last moment.

Ayaka is able to catch and manages to spin you both around before stumbling on to the ground. She pouts for a moment before you start giggling to which she starts laughing along.

"I apologize, my dove. It seems that i spent to much time leading you i to a better scenery than i should have. Perhaps next time, I'll be able to find somewhere with better footing."

Yoimiya: 9/10, she deserves to be kissed mwah mwah

You unfortunately caught her at a bad time as she was carrying a box of dud fireworks

When she spots you, she excitedly gives you a greeting and tells(shouts) you that she just needs to place this box down and she'll be able to go get lunch with you.

Of course when she sees you quicken your pace into a run but she does decide to drop the box down and run towards you as well.

Slowing your pace down because your both about collide into each other, Yoimiya crashes into you with a laugh as you both land on the ground.

As your still trying to understand what's happening, Yoimiya begins peppering your face with kisses.

"You seemed so excited to see me so i thought i would just run at you too! Oh, did you get hurt!? I'm so sorry! Here's let's go get an ice pack and some bandages just in case."

Kuki Shinbu: 10/10, She's too tired for this

Kuki knew something was going to happen today for the simple fact that everything was quite peaceful.

No one from the gang was in jail or causing problems.

There was absolutely nothing wrong and everything was peaceful.

And when she sees you, she thinks today couldn't get any better. She'd ask you to accompany her on her walk and even ask if you'd like to share a meal together.

However, you do seem to be moving quite fast at her and don't seem to be slowing down. With a sigh, she gets prepared to catch you.

Kuki catches you with ease and sets you on the ground with an annoyed expression, though her hands don't leave your waist.

"And here I was hoping for a normal day, it seems even with the gang not causing trouble, i can still rely on you to cause some. How about you make it up to me? Let's get lunch together and I'll consider not making you pay for it."

Kujou Sara: 10/10, She'll catch you everytime but uhh, let's not do that infront of ppl or maybe you should?

Sara walking with a few of her men talking about a small issue involving a small string of stealing. Sara giving a few orders of things that she wants done for the investigation

She spots you running up to her in the courtyard. She's knows your about to do something and warns you with her eyes not to do anything.

Obviously, you can't see her eyes from the distance your at so you continue your pace.

As you leap at her, Sara catches you with ease. Her arms instinctively wrapping around your waist tightly, her muscle slightly flexing from how tightly she has you wrapped against her.

Her face flushes red as her the two soliders look at her, not understanding what's going on.

Sara let's you go and dismisses the two men. As they leave Sara pulls you to a secluded area nearby. Her face still a nice red color.

"I think i should punish you for doing that in front of people. What if i didn't catch you? Wouldn't you feel embarrassed? And what of your injuries? If you had gotten hurt, I would be greatly upset. I don't wish to see you hurt. And please, don't do that again in public. I don't mind embracing you in private, but i don't wish to have anyone else see you in my arms."

Kokomi: ?/10, let's not scare her actually

Kokomi was just heading to her hideaway. Enjoying the peacefulness of the the surrounding.

However she does note that something feels off. Usually you accompany her on these walks, you had told that you would meet her there.

Thing is, she's now here and your nowhere in sight. With a disappointing look she's goes to head in to the hide away.

And then she hears a slightly rustle from a nearby bush. Standing back up and summoning her catalyst weapon, she waits

As you jump from the push, you get captured by a bubble from the priestess.

Realizing her mistake, she lets you go and runs to your form that's now on the ground. Worried she embraces you and starts kissing you where she can with frantic apologies between each one.

"IM SORRY! im so so so sorry, angelfish! I thought you were a hilichurl that somehow made it's way up here! I should've waited a bit more before attacking. Please forgive me! "

While you did get bubbled, you got as many kisses as you wanted from Kokomi!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #x female reader #x fem!reader #x gn reader #raiden ei x reader #yae miko x reader #genshin impact kujou sara x reader #sara kujou x reader #genshin kokomi x reader #kuki shinobu x reader #yoimiya x reader #ayaka kamisato x reader #i think i forgot a tag???? #.🍓

[delopsia]

Flowers In November (1/4) Rhett x Reader

Word Count: 12,705 ♡‧₊˚ AO3 Cross-Post ♡⊹˚₊ Flowers In November Masterlist₊˚⊹♡ Warnings: Fem!Reader. Briefly mentioned abusive relationships (not involving reader), improper disposal of a horse's corpse, l-bombs, oral sex, physical and verbal altercations, blood, unprotected sex, inappropriate use of a firearm, lying to a police officer, multiple mentions of food and cooking. Part 2 ♡⊹˚₊

Flowers.

No matter where you go, whether it be the big, bustling concrete city or the vast, unforgiving pastures of your hometown, there have always been flowers—poking out from cracks in the sidewalk, dancing like fairies in unkempt lawns and waving daintily from their pots and planters.

But you think this is the first time you've ever seen something quite like this.

When you'd gone to bed last night, the backyard had been green grass for as far as the eye could see. All was normal, not a singular sign to be found that you would wake up to this.

"I've never seen so many flowers in my life," your mother muses from where she stands in front of the sliding door, "and yet, not a single purple flower to be found."

At first glance, you'd thought they were Autumn leaves, freshly fallen from the old Oaks along the tree line, but those trees shed their leaves weeks ago. Overnight, flowers have decorated every inch of your yard just days before December's start. Coming in all possible variations of red, orange, and yellow.

"Would you mind filling a basket of them for me?" She asks, already reaching for the wicker basket she's just put away, "I reckon we could make a beautiful Autumn wreath out of these."

"Sure," picking flowers sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than packing belongings into cardboard boxes and loading them onto a Uhaul.

You don't think you've actually seen her make a wreath out of live flowers before, but again, you can't argue with such a deal. Not when your shoulders ache from days of hauling everything your family owns from place to place.

It would have been so much easier to hire a moving company.

"Do you want the basket to be completely filled?" You question, just to be sure.

"Please," folding up an old flyer for the local raffle. If you'd guessed three-hundred forty instead of three-hundred ninety, maybe she'd have the leather necklace printed on that paper, "keep an eye out for some purple ones, too."

Can't be too hard, can it?

Sliding your headphones up over your ears, you step outside, basket in tow. For as beautiful as it looks, it sure doesn't feel like it.

Frighteningly chilly wind nips at your neck as you walk across the yard, seeking the perfect spot to settle down in. The more you think about it, the more you realize that this is really, truly, weird.

This many flowers, three days before December starts?

Even the pasture in the front yard is full of them; from the looks of it, so are the lots all around you. An endless sea of flowers with absolutely no business showing up as abruptly as this.

You wonder if they'll come back like this in the spring.

A part of you wishes that you could be here just in case that day comes, wake up to a magical sea of brightly colored flowers marking winter's end. But that won't be happening. Not if the brightly colored for sale sign at the end of the driveway has anything to do with it.

Right by the treeline, you find the old tree stump, still stained from all those times you painted it when you were a kid. It's uncomfortable sitting on, but it's better than sitting directly in the flowers themselves.

Drowning your thoughts with the music from your headphones, you get to work. Picking flowers with the longest stems and placing them neatly in your basket.

This isn't how you pictured your gap semester from college going.

The plan was to come back home and take it easy for a few months, pick up a job waitressing at the local mom-and-pop diner, something simple until you could get over your rapidly worsening burnout. But your mom has her heart set on selling your childhood home and moving closer to the city, and that's a process that has had you working for months.

You never truly realize how many things need to be fixed in a house until someone comes in to appraise it. Replace this, replace that, so you'll finally get an offer worth accepting.

But it doesn't work. You've practically renovated this entire house, and not a soul has made an offer. You don't want to see the house sell, but Lord, is it frustrating, working your ass off, only for it to add up to a whole bunch of nothing.

At the end of the day, many people want to avoid buying a property with a not-so-pleasant history. A handful of times, your mother has mentioned that all this land belonged to a single family. Their daughter, the sole inheritor, disappeared in a storm. Your folks bought this place shortly after the final member of the family passed.

"How's it going?"

The sudden appearance of your mother has you jumping out of your skin, your heart rising into your throat.

"Baskets nearly full," you chirp, sliding your headphones down until they rest around your neck, "not seeing any purple, though."

She hums, reaching down to sift through what you've collected. To be honest, you hardly remember picking half of these. How long have you been out here?

"Well, I hate to interrupt you," she muses, still rummaging through the basket, "but dinner's ready."

Alright, so you've been out here for a little while.

It starts to rain the moment you step inside the house. It feels as if the clouds had been waiting for you to get out of dodge, the storm appearing just as quickly as the flowers had. The wind howls as it whips around the corners of the house, angry and threatening to break through even the tiniest of entryways.

Storms around this part of Wyoming are common. Usually, they don't last any longer than twenty minutes, but it only worsens. The wind only grows louder, buckets upon buckets of rain coming down in thick, white sheets that seem to wrap around the house, blanketing the outside world from view.

You're washing dishes, gazing out the window just in front of the sink, when you notice something bouncing around in the lawn.

"Is that an animal?" Thinking aloud, you lean closer to the glass, squinting. No, animals don't move like that.

Shit.

Swearing, you reach for the towel, dying your hands as you rush toward the door, "I forgot the flowers outside!"

That's what it is. Your mom's favorite wicket basket is bouncing around the lawn, back and forth, being whipped around by the wind like a ball.

Without much thought, you pull the sliding door open, and immediately the cold wind starts to painfully nip at your skin with its frigid teeth. It's only worse as you step outside; the tiny raindrops feel like needles as they batter you, but you can't let that old basket be blown away.

You can hardly see, stumbling blindly as you chase the silhouette of that tumbling basket, but the wind is making a game out of keeping it from you. Whenever you think you've got it, the wind picks up, ripping it away.

But the wind slows a bit, and in a last-ditch effort, you jump on the basket the moment you've seen your chance. Your foot catches on a patch of mud, and your back hits the ground with a painful thump.

But you've got the basket. It's mostly empty now, but you've got it.

All your collected flowers are probably miles down the road by now, blowing into who knows where. So much for making a wreath with them. Swearing under your breath, you push yourself back up, fumbling for purchase on the muddy ground, some kind of leverage to help you onto your feet.

"Huh?"

There, right in front of you, lies a dainty purple flower. Remarkably short, its petals fluttering in the wind. No wonder you hadn't found any.

It should be easy to pluck from the ground, but it's not.

No, the damn thing will not so much as budge from its spot in the ground. You change hands, supposing that one is weaker than the other, but it barely moves. Come on; this can't be that hard. Using both hands, you take hold of the flower's tiny stem and pull.

Just like that, the flower plucks from the ground, leaving a dark hole in its former resting place. Strange.

With the flower safely tucked into the basket, alongside the ones that have survived the wind's torment, you try to get up.

But that hole...it's starting to...grow larger?

You think it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but no, it's—that hole is getting bigger. Beneath you, your legs become nothing but jelly, near useless, as you slip around on the muddy ground, fumbling for footing.

One foot catches traction; you've almost got it, you've almost—

the ground disappears out from under your feet,

and you

fall.

You don't know how long you fall for.

Everything around you is pitch black, a blanket of darkness wrapped around you so tightly that you can barely tell if your eyes are open or closed. The sour bubbling in your bones is the only indication you have that you're moving at all. You've become weightless, fluttering through the air like a discarded feather.

All of a sudden, a strong gust of wind hits you from behind. Now, it feels like you're moving back up, like someone's just flipped this hole upside down.

Where in the world are you? Are you halfway down to the center of the Earth, or are you somewhere else entirely?

A twinge of light appears in the distance.

It's faint, but it's there, and it's growing larger. You can't quite tell if you're moving toward it or if it's moving toward you. But it grows bigger and bigger, rapidly hurtling towards you until all you can see is a blinding light as it engulfs you.

All you see is a dark sky, but then, like a quarter, the world around you flips, and all you see is green as you come crashing down into it with a painful thunk. The impact is strong enough to knock the air from your lungs. It feels like someone's picked you up and thrown you against the ground.

Miraculously, your basket still contains its flowers, the tattered handle clenched in your weak hand. Your only sign that you just popped out of a...

...hole that has seemingly disappeared.

No, no, no, none of this is right. Where are you?

Instead of being once again surrounded by your childhood stomping grounds, all you can see is endless pasture hills. It's dark, still raining, but you can see enough to know that you've never been here before.

The ground squelches below your muddy shoes as you slowly stand. White-hot fire shoots up your right ankle as soon as you put weight on it. It doesn't look broken, but it's hard to tell when every bone in your trembling body aches.

There's movement up on the hill.

A woman. You can't see much of her, but her blonde hair is easy to spot as it flows in the wind, waving like a flag behind her. It seems she's seen you, too, because she's coming toward you.

"Hello?" You call out, shielding your eyes from the rain, "ma'am?"

She yells something back to you. Intelligible, borderline a shriek. No, that doesn't sound like the voice of someone coming to help.

"No, no, no!" She wails, "you don't belong here! You don't belong here!"

You have no time to question it. All you have time for is to turn and run.

Every step hurts. Your feet struggle to maintain traction as you race across the slick ground, left foot sputtering out from beneath you with every stride.

You don't know where you're going. You can't see anything. It's all pitch black and silvery raindrops and green grass, and you can't figure out how close this woman is getting to you. Her voice grows louder and louder with each passing step, chanting incoherently; how you don't belong here; this isn't right.

Lightning strikes the ground, lighting up the world around you.

There's a fence in front of you, the silver gate already halfway open. However, there's a black dot just beyond that. You haven't the slightest clue what it is, but you'll take anything over the woman that's rapidly gaining on you.

Come on, come on, come on, you're almost there.

Something heavy hits you from behind, and for the umpteenth time, you hit the ground with a painful thunk.

"You!" Her voice is so loud that your ears feel like they're going to bleed. Silver glints in the dark as you squirm, legs kicking out as you try to get back up. But she's faster than you, climbing up on top of you as that sharp silver glistens. Your nails find purchase on her scalp, clawing at a raised scar. It doesn't faze her. "You don't belong here!"

Black flickers across your vision, and just as quickly as she'd climbed on top of you, she's knocked off, landing flat on her back. She's still yelling, chanting the same thing over and over, but her voice is drowned out by a deeper one that booms through the dark like thunder.

Your throbbing ankle crumples out from under you as you try to stand, leaving you frantically scooting backward. Away from that girl. Away from whoever was crazy enough to go after her. No, no, no, you've just backed into the fence.

...and the fence steps out from behind you?

It's a horse. Black in color, concealed near perfectly by the blanket of the night. She steps out from behind you, feet dancing dangerously close to your face as she does so, and then she turns and...

It's enough of a sight to make you momentarily power through the pain biting at your nerves. Rising to your feet, you stumble for the open gate, each step feeling like it'll be your last.

That horse has three heads.

The man's calling after you, something that sounds like a rushed 'hey!' but you pay it no heed. Your heart hammers against your chest so loud that it drowns out everything else, beating in perfect synchrony with your racing feet. But that three-headed horse is coming after you, barely visible as she runs you down.

Something thin passes overtop of your head and cinches tight around your waist. The next thing you register is the sharp pull of rope, so strong that it stops you in your tracks.

"Hold on, hold on!" That deep voice shouts; it doesn't sound threatening, but it doesn't stop you from fighting the lasso cast upon you, squirming, pulling at the loop.

Maybe it's the rapid in and out of breath; perhaps it's the fear permanently etched into your expression, but something makes him get down from that monster of a horse. Dropping the rope in favor of kneeling and raising his open palms to the sky.

"'m not gonna hurt you," he breathes, speaking slowly, "a'ight?"

You don't know if you believe that, but as a scream echoes through the night, you realize that you don't have much choice here.

"Who..." your voice dies in your throat, "who are you?"

He's quiet like he's considering, and then, "'m Rhett."

Rhett.

You don't think you've ever met a Rhett before, surely haven't met a Rhett who smiled when you uttered your name.

Whatever moment you've just built up is shattered by the rapidly approaching yelling, the shrill voice of a woman who isn't happy about your presence. Rhett peers over his shoulder, then, turning back to you, "do you trust me?"

"Define trust," you blurt, shaking free of the lasso.

With remarkable speed, he stands and mounts that three-headed mare. "Either you play your cards with a woman wielding a handmade knife," holding out his hand, "or you let me help you."

Well, when he puts it like that.

His hand engulfs yours as you take it. There's some effort required, but he's strong and quickly pulls you up onto the horse with him. It's uncomfortable being crammed up here when this saddle was clearly not meant for two.

"Hold on to me," he tells you, peeking back at you, "don't let go until I tell you to."

Mayhaps it's because you're dripping wet, but as you wrap your arms around his waist, you learn that he's remarkably warm. And as the horse starts to move, he reaches down to tuck his arm alongside yours as if they'll slip away at any given moment. You're lucky that this isn't your first time on a horse.

As the fence line disappears from view, you begin to lose track of where you're going. Everything looks the same; everywhere you look, it's the same. It's starting to feel strangely similar to the lots for sale around your home.

There's no way that this is actually happening right now. This must be some wild, fucked up fever dream you're having. There's no way this horse has three heads, and there's not a damn logical reason behind that hole you just fell through.

Yeah. This is all just a vivid dream.

Rain begins to pick up, wind beats against you like it did before you fell into the hole. It feels a little too familiar as you cling to this strange cowboy, trembling under your wet clothes. But at least he's warm.

It's a while before a dark, rustic little cabin comes into view, looking strangely similar to the abandoned one across the street from your home. It bears the same log walls, cement filling in the gaps left between, but this one has a bite-sized front porch with a little white swing that sways in the wind.

The horse stops just in front of the porch steps, and it's only now that you realize you've just about frozen to Rhett. Muscles and bones stiff with imaginary ice, struggling to detach yourself from him.

As soon as you've let go of him, he's hopping off the horse, spinning around with outstretched arms, "God, you're fuckin' cold," he hisses from the moment he touches your numb hand, "you're lucky you still have these things attached."

Beneath you, your legs feel like sticks, completely numb as you let him guide you up the stairs. The door is partially ajar, easily kicked open with his boot, but the house is warm. Hot, even, feels like the heat that first washes over your face when opening an oven.

A little kitchen sits just to the left of the entryway, but the only thing you can focus on is the crackling fireplace directly in front of you. Rhett walks you right to it and places a thick blanket around your shoulders as you sit on the floor next to the dancing flames.

With two thick fingers, he pinches the sopping wet clothing from your shoulder, chewing on his lip as he visibly thinks. Then, he ventures off through a door on your right.

The fire is hot, and you think you can feel the coldness melting from your skin, but it's hard to warm yourself when you're practically wearing a block of ice.

"These are probably too big for ya," he remarks, remerging from what you assume to be his bedroom, "but it's better than nothing."

There are folded clothes in his arms, what looks like a shirt, a pair of flannel lounge pants, and some plain socks. He sets them on the footstool just behind you, careful not to ruin his near-perfect folding of them. The way he speaks to you makes you feel like you're a pair of old friends, like this isn't the first time you've met.

"If you want to get that mud off," pointing off toward the room he just came from, "there's a shower just around the corner; help yourself to whatever you need in there."

Then, without much else, he heads for the door and mutters something that sounds like an "I'll be back in a minute" before the door shuts behind him.

It takes you approximately half a second to decide that you'll take him up on that offer.

You were right; this is his bedroom. Looks just how you'd imagine any man's bedroom to be, plain navy blue comforter, bedside table devoid of anything but a lamp, a phone stand, and what looks like an obscenely large belt buckle.

Fluffy white towels are on the bathroom sink, neatly arranged into a stack of largest to smallest. You don't think you've ever met a cowboy that was so meticulous with arranging clothes and towels.

Thunder rolls as you step under the water, the lights briefly dimming, but they don't go out. The sound of the shower barely conceals the howling of the wind, angry, daring you to venture out and face its frigid wrath once more.

You think you spend a good fifteen minutes scrubbing the mud out from every crevice of your body. Just as you believe you are finished, you find another patch, caked to your skin like glue, refusing to budge. God, it's even in your eyelashes and behind your ears. A part of you wonders if this three-in-one wash has anything to do with how hard this is to remove.

In the light, you can see that your ankle has swelled up. Not too much to be of concern, but it's a visible difference from the other one, puffy around the joint and sore to the touch. Must have injured it during one of your many falls tonight.

Come to find out, he's given you an option of two shirts, a plain black tee, and a soft, long sleeve pajama flannel that matches the pants he's given you. The shirt you choose engulfs you, the pants a little loose in some places, but they're warm, dry, and not caked with rainwater and mud.

As you lift your dirty clothes up, something hard hits the ground.

Your phone.

Huh. How long has that been in there?

It's got no service; the battery is only at half charge, but aside from that, it hasn't been affected by your escapades in the rain. The time though...how is it eleven thirty at night? It was barely seven just earlier.

Rhett's moseying about the kitchen with a basket of laundry. Perking at the sight of you. "Y'almost look like a different person," he muses, holding the basket out for you to place your soaked clothes. You feel like a different person, to be honest.

"Now, if you don't mind me askin'," making off toward the laundry room, just past the kitchen, "how did a lady like you wind up in our west pasture?"

Well...

"I'm still figuring that out...?" Because you're still processing it all yourself. Surely this is just a horrible dream; maybe you banged your head and hallucinated all of this.

Rhett's head pokes out the laundry room door, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn't say anything. That look was enough of a statement.

Calling your mother's phone doesn't work. It doesn't ring, only displays your call screen, and does nothing more. The frustration must be evident on your face because Rhett fishes his phone from his pocket, "y'can try mine," he offers, holding it out for you to take, "service is patchy out here."

But you receive the same outcome, except his phone won't even accept the number as valid. The longer you struggle, the closer together Rhett's eyebrows knit, tongue poking around in his bottom lip. On your third try, he comes over, peering over your shoulder.

"You're still missing some digits," he says after a moment.

"No?" Lifting your phone for him to see, "I have all ten."

You don't understand why he's looking at you like that, absolutely perplexed by what you've just said. He squints at your screen, reaching out to tap and expand one of your contacts. Ten digits. But then he opens his contacts, and you see...fifteen.

What the hell?

Hesitantly, your mouth starts to move, "I can tell you how I wound up there," your voice wavering, "but I don't think you're going to believe me."

But Rhett is all ears.

And so, you tell him from the strangeness of the flowers that chose to appear toward the end of November to the flower that opened up a hole to your unceremonious arrival to his west pasture. As you tell it, you realize that you've lost your flower basket somewhere in that field; the one thing you have to back up your statement.

Somewhere during your retelling, you wind up on the couch, sitting across from one another as you recount your tale. Rhett doesn't say a lot, nodding his head every once in a while, like this happens every Tuesday.

"That may explain the strange noise from earlier," he recalls, gaze fixated on the fire as the flames twirl and lick the air.

Lifting your head up from where it was resting against the couch, "there was a noise?"

Again, his head nods, slow, "my brother sent me a video of it, hold—shit."

He recoils with a pained groan, squeezing his eyes shut as he reaches behind himself, rubbing his right shoulder blade. Is that...

The image of that silver blade flickers through the darkness of your mind.

"Did she stab you?" It's more of a statement than a question; it's hard to mistake the red stain on his jacket for much else.

"Maybe," speaking through his teeth.

Still, he doesn't fight you as you reach over, urging him to turn so that you can see it better. It's easily missable, but there's a thin cut through his jacket, maybe four or so inches long, slicing through two layers of clothing and deep into the meat of his shoulder. Most of the bleeding is concealed by a bit of mud caked onto his shirt, you suppose, from a fall.

"This needs to be cleaned," how long has he been quietly putting up with this? "It's going to get infected."

"Nah, it's alright," poorly concealing his wince as he stands up, "not like I can reach it, anyhow."

"Well, I was gonna offer to do it for you," it shoots out of your mouth before you've even had the chance to process what your reply was going to be.

Your words make Rhett stops in his tracks, arms limp at his sides. Quiet, dead silent, actually, to the point that you're just about to retract your words when he looks back at you, "...okay."

He disappears into his bedroom, and through the wall, you can hear him shuffling around in there, searching, sifting through cabinets and drawers. But eventually, he comes back with a wet cloth and a white plastic box, the little red plus sign so faded that it's barely visible. Looks vintage.

It's heavy in your lap, full of all the supplies you could ever need. Bandages, creams, sprays, tweezers, safety pins, a strange assortment of oddly shaped bandaids. Everything you can think of is in here.

Rhett's jacket hitting the floor regains your attention just in time for you to get an eyeful as he removes his shirt.

Good Lord.

Those muscles in his back could go on for days, rippling under his pale skin with every movement, a display sent straight from the heavens above. Are you drooling? You think you might be drooling.

Red soaks his right shoulder, blood dried and stuck to the skin there, and it's just about what you'd pictured the moment you laid eyes on the slice through his jacket. But damn, are you glad it's not a cut on his chest. You don't see much of it, but you catch just enough to know that you'd definitely be distracted.

He sits on the floor, back to you, granting you ample access to his injury. The wet cloth does most of the work as you gently wash away the dried blood, careful of his still-open wound.

A strange sound plays through the air, loud, like a rusty gate creaking open, only deeper, unnatural. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. "What is that?"

Rhett lifts his phone from his lap, "that's what the sound was." Did that sound come from...you traveling through the hole?

"That sounds like something straight out of a horror movie," your remark earns you a dry chuckle, a slight, easily missable noise that dances around your ears like the sweetest music.

"I was convinced we had a troll on our land again," Rhett barely winces when you touch the antiseptic wipe to his open wound. Still, you can hear the pain in his tone, words becoming tight, higher in pitch. Falls quiet as you clean it properly, removing the mud and a stray piece of grass that wound up there. "Didn't expect to run into a pretty little thing like yourself out there."

Oh.

You have no reason to smile at that, you really don't, but you find your lips twitching upward.

"I—I'm sorry," evidently, your silence is getting to him, "I didn't mean to..."

"You're fine," you can't help the laugh that leaves you; at least he's not being weird about it, "I'm just too focused on your shoulder to think of words right now."

Intentionally vague, leaving him to fill in the blank incorrectly because right now, you're only focusing on how these muscles feel under your hands. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. At least this wound of his doesn't look like it needs stitches, just a bandage.

"Thank you for doin' this," he says, after a while, "I don't think anyone's ever actually..."

"No?" Holding two bandages beside the cut, internally debating which one is big enough. Hm. Seems the one on the right is the better option. "I take it you don't get hurt very often, then."

"Naw, I wind up with a new injury every week," he drawls thickly, "that there is my bad shoulder anyway."

To add to his words, he lifts both arms above his head, and you can see exactly what he's referring to. His right arm looks normal, but his left one fails to go up all the way, falling short by an inch or so.

"How did you do that?" Inquiring while you open up the packaging. His left arm is slower, too, and takes a little more time to drop back down than its companion.

His shoulders shake with a half-hearted sound, nearly making you put a crease in the bandage, "Thought I could make a livin' bein' a bull rider," the bitterness of the memory so thick that you can taste it in the air, "dislocated it in the finals. Went from first, straight to last."

With the bandage applied, he rolls his neck back and forth, cracking the joints, shoulders doing much of the same. From here, you would have never been able to tell that his left shoulder had anything wrong with it. Those muscles twitch and flex all the same, putting on a simple little show that's got you mesmerized.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last long because he soon gets up. Disappearing with his dirty clothes and the bloody cloth, leaving you to pack the first aid kit back up. He isn't gone long, reemerging into the room, pulling the ends of a black tee down over his gently defined belly.

Selfishly, you wish that he only owned two shirts. The one you're wearing and the one that was just ruined.

"Look, I know this ain't...ideal," he mutters, scratching his neck, "but how 'bout you take my bed for the night."

Your mouth opens, protest heavy on your tongue, "I don't...you don't have to give me your—"

"—and my momma taught me never to let a lady sleep on the couch," his voice firm, but his face soft, "I washed the sheets this mornin' if that makes you feel any better."

This argument was over before it even started.

As you rise to your feet, the ache in your swollen ankle blossoms into something sharp, enough to make you wince. It's barely a reaction, a squinting of the eyes at most, but Rhett's already caught it. Eyes already trained on the way you mind your foot.

"No, no, don't you even say a word," effectively killing your protests before they've had a chance to open your mouth; Rhett heads over to his fridge, "I coulda sworn you were limpin' when I found ya."

"I'm not sure what I did to it," you admit, sheepish. You really don't have any recollection of it happening. It hadn't been hurting when you fell through the hole, but adrenaline is a deceiving mistress.

Which could explain why it hurts even worse than it did while you were showering. Putting pressure on it only makes matters worse; nerves feel like they're burning hotter than a blazing wildfire. Still, you make an effort to walk back towards Rhett's bedroom, hopping along to avoid any more usage of it than necessary.

"You sure you ain't part bunny?" Chuckling at the sight of you, Rhett slowly follows after you, armed with an ice pack.

It could be the pain and exhaustion that makes this bed feel so comfortable; even sitting on the mattress feels like a cozy dream. Rhett kneels in front of you as soon as you're off your feet, taking your foot into his large hands. One on the back of your heel, the other gently manipulating it in his grasp.

"Not broken, at least," he observes aloud, "probably hurt it when you fell, and the adrenaline kept you from feeling it until later."

At least his theory is similar to yours.

He's quick to leave you in peace, passing off the ice pack and letting you know that you can find painkillers in the second drawer of the bedside table. Before you know it, he's made off with a pillow, and even from here, you can see his feet propped up on the edge of the couch. Stacked, one on top of the other.

The sheets are warm and soft against your skin, so freshly cleaned that all you can smell is the fresh linen and vague smokiness of the fire. It's almost as good as your bed at home.

Almost.

You're still figuring out if this is all real, if this is really happening, or if it's just a vivid dream. This bed, this place all feels real; even Rhett feels too real to be a figment of your imagination. But a magic hole? And that...woman?

No, that doesn't make a damn bit of sense. None of this does. If these magic holes were natural, they would have been documented long ago. They'd be common knowledge.

But the drowsiness pulling at your eyelids, weighing them down, feels pretty real.

The next time your eyes open, you feel like you've stepped into a new body.

Eyelashes flutter, momentarily blinded by the bright morning sunshine peeking through the blinds. The air is warm enough so that you aren't burning up under this nest of sheets. You don't want to move, your head full of clouds, your body as light as the comforter nestled on top of you.

Your eyes adjust. This isn't your bedroom. This is...Rhett's.

Sitting up, it all comes flooding back to you in the form of watery memories, vague and fuzzy around the edges. The flowers, the hole, the strange woman, the cowboy, and his three-headed horse. There's a peculiar squishy material under the blankets: the ice pack.

No, no, no, this isnt—

your mom's flower basket sits on the floor next to you. Battered, strands of the material stick out, the handle crushed and deformed, but it's the basket. Flowers and all. There aren't many left, but a handful of orange and yellow have survived, accompanied by some flowers you don't recall picking. Three daffodils and a handful of daisies. Rhett must have added these.

On the very top, though, lies that purple flower.

Pale petals with a darker center, with three red stigmas standing proudly. A fourth one has been crushed, lying bent alongside its companions. The little flower that your mom would have loved.

You wonder if time has passed the same for her. Selfishly, you hope your disappearance has stopped time, wherever she is. You can't imagine how worried she'd be, knowing that her daughter disappeared in a horrible storm, leaving little to no trace of where she'd gone. There has to be a way for you to get back...but how?

Considering the horse...maybe Rhett will know. Thinking back, you don't recall a trace of disbelief as you recounted the night's events to him. If the three-headed horse you saw last night was real, surely this place can't be normal.

This time, your ankle doesn't hurt as badly when you put weight on it, but it stings and is still somewhat swollen. It hurts enough to affect your stride, limping toward the bedroom door.

"Rhett?" You croak, voice echoing about the house. No response.

You can properly take in the room with the sunshine creeping through the windows. It bears the same white horizontal wood paneling as the bedroom did. Two long brown couches on either side of the fireplace and a matching, short sofa in between them. The kitchen is tiny and feels more like a hallway than anything.

Barely any decor, aside from a tall cabinet that stands next to the bedroom door, decorated in trophies, awards, and little knick-knacks of all things Western. The golden bull wearing a cowboy hat is your favorite.

"Rhett?" You try again; maybe he didn't hear you the first time.

Nothing. Must be outside. Your shoes sit in the gap between the fridge and the front door. They've seen better days, but they're dry, slipping over your feet like they always have. The door squeaks as you open it, painfully loud compared to the silence leading up to it. It takes a little effort to shut; the door a hair too big for the frame.

There's an old wooden barn off to your left, not far from the house; everywhere you look, you find nothing but rolling green pasture. In the distance lies the same snowcapped mountains that surround your childhood home, identical. Is this the same location?

"Rhett?"

Again, nothing. But at least a bird chirps in response this time.

A little dirt path leads to the barn, worn down from years of walking the same route until the grass has died and refused to return. Beside the barn sits a GMC Sierra, looking a little worse for wear and desperate for a good scrub. So thoroughly covered in dirt that you have to wipe away some of it to see its actual color.

Blue. Like his eyes.

The barn doors are wide open on either side; it feels like a tunnel, dark inside, with light pouring in from the entrances. Horse stables line the room, maybe twelve in total, with a big back room to your right and what appears to be a feed room to your left. Something's rustling around near the doors on the other side. What that could be, you're not sure you want to know.

Three-headed badger?

A portion of you wants to investigate. Maybe it's Rhett or an adorable barn cat that deserves some head pats, but rationality reminds you that you may not like what you find. The rustling growing louder is what makes up your mind.

Not today.

Turning on your heels, you leave. You've had enough life-altering escapades for the foreseeable future. Lord only knows what else you may run into, given your current luck. But walking away from the barn means walking away from your only viable idea of where Rhett could be. Glancing at the endless fields surrounding the house, there's no telling how hard it would be to find the guy.

A strange sound resonates from behind you, metal on metal. The hair on the back of your neck stands straight.

"Make any sudden move, and I'll put a bullet right between your eyes."

That's not Rhett's voice.

"Turn around."

In your chest, your heart hammers so hard that it feels like it'll throw you off your feet as you slowly turn, raising your palms to the sky. Innocent. Mean no harm.

You find yourself in the middle of Rhett's dirt driveway, staring down the barrel of a gun.

"What are you doing here?" Growling, the man steps closer. Words fail you. Stunned stupid by the gun that bumps into your nose. "You here to take Amy too? Huh?"

Stammering, your feet tangling as you try to step back. Who is this guy? Who's Amy? He won't get the gun out of your face. The barrel pressing into your trembling flesh. You step away. He steps closer.

"Answer me, bitch!" He barks, spit hitting your cheeks.

"I—" gulping, "I was looking for Rhett."

The gun doesn't lower.

"Don't you bullshit me, girl," his words drip with so much venom that it makes him tremble, "I'd know if my brother brought one of his bitches home."

Brother.

Your tongue evaporates. Language forgot. Sweat beading on your forehead. Rhett's brother clenches his jaw, breath whistling through his teeth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I—"

"Perry!" Barking so loud that it sounds like it's come down from the heavens above.

The world goes dark.

It takes you a moment to realize that you're looking into the back of a jean jacket with a rip down the right shoulder, exposing the plain white shirt underneath. Even longer for you to catch on to the fast-paced bickering, words hurled back and forth with such malice that they burn your ears.

"How about you quit waving that gun around like it's a fuckin' toy?" Rhett's nose to nose with him, teeth bared.

"This bitch is trespassing on our land and saying she knows you," Perry's stepping back and forth, a caged dog trying to get around him.

Rhett's always a step quicker. "They have a name, Perry," he hisses, "and you'd know that if you were decent enough to ask before you put a gun in their fuckin' face."

The argument is over. Not because of a loss but because Rhett walks away from it. Whatever words Perry has to add to the pot go ignored.

"Y'alright?" He's slow to approach you, allowing you to close the space if you're comfortable. When you do, he reaches out to rub dirt from your nose using his thumb, likely from the gun.

"As alright as I can be, considering the past twenty-four hours," his touch tickles, a welcome sensation to distract from the spasming of your gut.

"Are you really pretending I'm not here right now?" Perry huffs, raising his hands up, gun-free.

Rhett tilts his hat, effectively blocking his brother out, "were you the one callin' my name earlier?"

Nodding, "I can't exactly remember why I was looking for you, though."

You're only just now recognizing that his horse is off to your left, one head idly sniffing at the sparse ground below her feet. It's hard to tell what the other two are doing.

"'ts alright," chuckling, he nods toward the house, "was about to come checkin' on you myself."

If only for a moment, the two of you step back inside. Rhett's fridge is the definition of baren as he rifles through it, but he produces two breakfast rolls, says he made them this morning. They don't taste how you expect them to. At a glance, you figured they must have been some gross concoction of ingredients, but biting into it is like biting into a dream.

"Not as bad as you thought, huh?" Rhett grins around a bite of his, "I saw that look you gave me."

Has it always been this warm in here? "Only because I don't know if the food here is different." Lie.

Glancing up from his phone, "is it?"

You pause. Now that you think about it..." it's better," you conclude, and with that, you finish it.

"Good," his chest rising and falling with a silent laugh, "don't tell my mom I stole her recipe."

Rhett doesn't have the answers you're looking for, but he suspects that his father will know something. Based on the way he phrases it, it sounds like strange things happen all the time here. What kind of place is this? The cowboys where you come from would not be as calm as Rhett is.

"Takes too long to drive," Rhett explains as he walks you to his horse, "Isabel won't mind a second passenger, though."

Isabel.

Despite her unearthly appearance, the horse isn't as scary as you expect her to be. She happily accepts the pets you offer her, leaning into your touch like any other horse. In fact, everything about her is absolutely normal, aside from the head situation and her massive size.

You've ridden horses enough times to know how to get on their backs, but Isabel is so tall that you need Rhett's assistance. It's a miracle that you fit up there last night, all things considered. Once you're up there, though, it's alright. Especially not when you're graced with the opportunity to wrap your arms around Rhett. Snuggled close, your head tucked below the brim of his cowboy hat, perfectly blocking the sun from your eyes.

You learn that there are four pastures. Rhett lives in the north, Perry in the south, and their parents reside in the south pasture. He says nothing about the east one.

There's something shiny moving in the pasture as you ride through it. Too far for you to tell what it is; its location is only given away by the way the sun glints off of it. You struggle to piece it together as you ride directly toward it.

But then it clicks. "What the hell is that?"

While you can't hear it, you feel him laugh, vibrating against your skin, "you ain't got cows where you come from?"

"Of course, we have cows, genius," you retort, "but we don't have cows with shiny gold horns!"

You can't believe what you're looking at. A herd of maybe forty cows, black in color, bearing long, golden horns. At first glance at those horns, you'd thought they were longhorns, but they're much too fuzzy. The animal equivalent of cotton balls.

The words that left your mouth are enough to make Rhett look over his shoulder, eyeing you, "no?"

What kind of world is this?

A good portion of you expects to see miniature elephants next, somewhat disappointed when you don't see them. The only other animal you pass is a singular bison relaxing in the west pasture. Just beyond lies a marvelous, towering mansion. The close you get, the bigger it becomes until you can no longer comprehend if this is a house or a stadium.

"Good lord, Rhett," choking the words out, "are you sure this is a house?"

His hand squeezes one of your arms like he's trying to make sure you're still there, "still decipherin' that myself, actually."

An older woman is sitting on the front porch, a stablehand at her side who wordlessly takes Isabel off to a paddock next to the house. For the longest time, she doesn't speak. Not when she leads you inside, not when she has to pry an adventurous kitten from your pant leg, not even when Rhett asks if she's alright.

The inside of the house is just as ridiculous as the outside. Towering white walls, vaulted ceilings, glistening chandeliers, and sculptures that cost a pretty penny. A variety of kittens scamper about, tiny, too young to be taken away from momma just yet. Paintings of cowboys and horses hang along many of the walls, accompanied by pictures of Perry with a blonde woman and an equally blonde daughter.

But try as you might, you can't find any pictures of Rhett. Even when his mother leads you into the living room, you fail to come up with anything. No embarrassing school pictures, no baby photos, no nothing.

"Rhett," her voice firm, quiet, like she's afraid of being overheard, "what have I told you about bringing women home?"

Rhett begins to speak, but an older man steps into the room before he can get the first syllable out. Dark, graying hair, an equally colored beard, and a hat nearly identical to Rhett's. This must be dear old dad.

"Rhett, can I speak to you alone?" he says, smiling, but it fails to make the statement sound any less cold.

For a moment, Rhett hesitates, gaze flickering between you and his parents, until you nod and motion for him to go ahead. Then, albeit reluctant, he leaves the room without a sound.

Friendly family.

"Listen, honey," his momma begins, "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but..."

Tilting your head to the side. "But...?" Where is she going with this?

She sighs, loud, exasperated, "I know you must like my son. He's a good man. Exactly who I raised him to be."

You have no idea what she's trying to tell you, but you force a smile, pretending that you do. Sure hope Rhett is gone for a while.

"But he's a bit of a casanova; he's darn near slept with every young woman in this town," oh, that was...not what you expected her to say, "I just want you to know that before you go and get your heart broke."

With that said, she scoops up a gray kitten from the floor and leaves the room.

You feel like you've just been slapped.

What the hell just happened?

It's probably a minute or two, but you must sit there for an hour, staring at a picture frame containing a pressed flower as you try to comprehend her words. Does she think you're Rhett's girlfriend? Did Rhett not tell her how you got here? You wish you were here all for a pretty cowboy, but you're not.

Just as quickly as they'd left, Rhett and his father return. You're thankful that Rhett sits next to you again. Even though you don't know him very well, the familiarity is much welcomed after the uncomfortable experience you just had. His dad carries a large book, the binding so old and tattered that it barely holds together.

"So, Rhett tells me that you...came out of a magic hole in my pasture last night?" His father inquires after a minute.

"Picked a flower, a hole opened up, and now I'm here," you get the feeling that you're going to become sick of recounting this.

For the longest time, he stares at you as if you've grown three heads yourself. Gaze hard, but his eyes wide with unspoken recognition. Then, carefully, he begins to flip through the book's pages. You squint, trying to read the pages, but you're too far away.

"Strange things happen on this land all the time," Rhett elaborates, "our family has been documenting it for generations. If it's happened, it's in that book."

Explains the age.

You don't like how long his father looks through it. Flipping through it once, twice, gradually becoming faster with time. Rhett looks at you. You look at him.

You're still looking at each other when his dad says, "Books got nothin'."

Your expression drops. A million and one worries flicker through your psyche. Rhett's jaw tightens, the muscles flexing under the effort. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," his dad's voice raises, "what, do you not believe me?"

"Couple of months ago, Perry said a hole just like that appeared on his land and swallowed up half his kelpies," Rhett chides, leaning forward, "now, according to him, you handled it and got them back."

So this has happened before.

Abruptly, his father stands, the book falling to the floor with a resounding thunk, "how many times have I told you to stay out of Perry's bullshit?" He howls, going from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye.

Not backing down from the fight, Rhett stands and steps off to the side, away from the couches. Leading the argument away from where you're sitting. "You only say that shit when it's convenient to you," hissing, an octave deeper, "but you involve me in his business when you want me to do his work for him."

"Because it is your job as a younger sibling to cover for him while he's grieving!" Words shouted so loud that they echo, bouncing down the towering hallways of the house, shaking the paintings and the house's very foundation.

Rhett scoffs, incredulous, "it's been nine months, pops. Nine months."

As if on cue, they both yelp, stumbling away and rubbing their ears. Rhett's mom stands between them. "That's enough!" She bellows, a completely different woman from before, "Rhett, I think it's time for you to leave."

You wish you had your phone; you could definitely use the twisting of the ear technique in future ventures.

Rhett barely waits for you to catch up to him on your way out of the hose. Winding through hallways, past rooms that you know you've passed but have no memory of, everything looks the same, but it's all different spaces. He holds the door open for you, though.

"Did my mom give you a...talk while I was gone?" He inquires as you step past him out onto the porch.

Nodding your head yes, "she practically told me you were the town whore, if that's what you're asking about."

That seems to be the statement that he's looking for because his eyes roll. "She keeps telling that to every woman I so much as glance at," shutting the door behind himself, albeit a bit too hard, "I haven't slept with anyone since I was twenty-three."

"And how old are you now...?" Please don't be a hundred years old, please don't be a hundred years old, please don't be a hundred years old.

"Twenty-six," tilting his hat downward.

Oh. Well, that's a lot more palatable than what you were afraid of.

"Wow, a whole three years without sex," melodramatic as you can manage, "how have you ever survived?"

"It's easy when you don't get nothin' out of it," you can't tell if that's bitterness or jealousy leaking through his tone, drenching it.

"Get nothing out of it?" You parrot as if it'll help you decipher what he means.

"Nope."

So much for elaborating.

On your ride home, it starts to rain.

It's hard to do much of anything. Even with the weather, Rhett still has work to do, leaving you alone in this strange, unfamiliar house. Without a working phone and hardly anything to distract you from the situation. There's a television above the fireplace, but the remote is nowhere to be found.

Chores are your only escape for a while. Washing the few dishes left in the sink, making the bed, and sweeping the floors until it's pristine, without a single flaw. But even then, it's difficult to silence your thoughts. You think about your mom, your disappearance, all over again. If time passes, the same for her, and if she saw what happened.

Your head is torn between hope and horror. If Rhett told the truth about the hole, you can find a way home. His father doesn't seem keen on helping, though. What if Rhett's wrong? And wait, what happened to that girl last night? And his brother, what's up with him?

Oh, what if there's another variant of you here, and what if she's why Perry was so hostile towards you?

This is getting out of hand.

Your only option to stop your racing mind is to make a game out of organizing the shoe rack that sits by the front door. It's a disaster; shoes piled onto its shelves with little to no care. Once you're done with it, though, it's picture-perfect. Boots, dress shoes, and sandals are carefully arranged into appropriate sections, ranging from tallest to smallest.

Come to find out, the remote was also in that mess.

You don't even realize it's a remote at first. Rather than being built vertically like the remotes where you come from, it's horizontal, like a keyboard. Fitting somewhat strangely into your hand, but it turns the television on just fine.

At least Rhett has a few streaming services, all with familiar logos but different names. Prime Pictures, Hoop, and something named...Kibble. But who would have thought that this world had the same shows and movies? There are so many things to rewatch. Are they going to be the same? Different?

It's too easy for one movie to become two, and soon you lose track of how many you've started.

"Where the hell did you find the remote?"

Words as sudden as a thunderclap send your heart into your throat.

Rhett. Dripping from head to toe with rain water, cheeks covered in a thin sheen of dirt.

"Over in the shoe rack," nodding toward the door, "not sure if I want to know why, either."

He turns, casting a long glance toward his newly organized shoes, then a sheepish grin works across his face, "I uh..." rubbing his chin, "I tend to reorganize the house when I'm drunk."

You laugh. His face blossoms into a bright cherry red. Unable to form many words all of a sudden, he fishes out his phone, telling you to order any pizza you'd like while he takes a shower.

Pizza boxes are circular here.

"The fuck you mean they're square?" Rhett sputters, so shocked by your words that he has to put his slice down.

"They just...are?" You think it's got something to do with cost-effectiveness, but you're unsure. "I'm being serious; we don't have round pizza boxes where I come from."

With how he looks at you, you're not sure he believes you.

"I need to see one to believe it," that sounds like intrigue laced around his tone.

"Well, if we can figure out how to reopen the hole," you say, leaning forward, "then I can show you all the square pizza boxes in the world." And...you know, go home.

"Deal," Rhett grins like a cat, "we need to look around the west pasture and figure out where you came out at, anyway. Mash two potatoes with one fork."

Mash two potatoes with one fork. That's different.

An aggressive slam of the front door wakes you around three in the morning. The sound startles you awake, and as you sleepily call out for Rhett, you get no response. He's not on the couch, his blanket and pillow lying in a messy heap on the floor.

You expect him to be mulling around the house when you wake up around eight. Or to at least be within the vicinity of the place. Nine o'clock is the time you've set to go and visit the west pasture because his father tends to have visitors that will get in the way if you wait until any later.

That time comes and goes with no sign of him.

You shower, hunt down a vase to place your slowly wilting flowers inside, reheat some pizza, and still, nothing. This was his time suggestion; he was the one that insisted that you go early, and now the blue-eyed bastard is late to it.

If he doesn't want to come to you, fine. You'll go to him.

The land around his home is vast and unwelcoming to those unfamiliar. His property is that it's mostly flat. You noticed it yesterday when you were riding on the back of Isabela. It's nearly impossible to lose the house if you keep its silhouette within your view.

"Rhett?" You call out, "Rhett!"

No dice.

He's not in the barn, and his truck isn't here. Asshole must have left. Not like you're stuck here against your will or anything.

Isabela knickers at you as you walk past, a harmonious synchrony of three, her own little choir over in the pasture.

"Hi, Isabela," reaching out to scratch her foreheads, "you wouldn't happen to know where your owner went, would you?" You don't know why you expect a horse to respond to you, even a three-headed one.

She looks behind herself, her ears pricking like she hears something. Is that..?

"What is he doing?" Isabela can't talk, but you're pretty sure she understood every word you said because that's Rhett's truck out in the middle of the field. In hindsight, the fresh tire tracks leading toward the gate should have been enough of a clue.

It's a longer walk than you thought it would be, but still, Rhett fails to see you coming. He's got a shovel, throwing dirt into a bottomless hole in the ground. A tarp lies in the bed of his truck, audibly rustling in the morning breeze. It's covering something, but you can't quite decipher what.

"Did you forget you had something planned for nine o'clock?"

He jumps, swearing expletives under his breath, "Jesus, how long you been fuckin' standin' there?"

"Just got here," biting your bottom lip, "you're two hours late to the plans you made because you wanted to do...this?"

"Somethin' came up last night," grunting, he lifts the shovel again, spilling dirt into the hole.

Very descriptive, Rhett. Very descriptive.

"Something?" Isabela nudges you from behind, politely demanding that you give her more pets.

The shovel hits the ground with a soft sound as he marches to his tailgate. Grabbing the edge of the tarp, he yanks it upward. Revealing two severed legs, but not to a person; no, they belong to a horse. Or, they used to belong to one, anyway.

"I don't..." looking back at the shovel, then back to the house, "I don't understand."

"Perry drove home drunker than shit last night," he elaborates, tucking the tarp back down, "moron went off the side of the road and hit one of the neighbor's horses."

You're still not computing this. "So you're hiding parts of it on your property...?" So bewildered that it simmers in your speech.

"The horse is a retired racehorse worth a couple million, at least." Rhett hisses like his neighbors can hear him from here, "if they find out Perry did it, they'll sue us and take the whole ranch."

Exciting. You hope you won't be here when the law comes knocking. "Well, can we look for the hole after you're done?"

"Probably fixin' to be out here all afternoon," he says as he lifts the shovel with his foot.

"Tomorrow?"

"Probably be busy all that day, too."

Helpful. So helpful that you can feel your blood bubble in your veins, red hot, "so when can we look, huh?" It's not even like you can go by yourself. You don't even know which direction the west pasture is in, never mind how to get there on foot.

"God, fuck, I don't know, Monday?" Throwing his hands up, Rhett drops the shovel for a second time, "look, I know you're wantin' to go home, but I have to run this ranch all by my damn self. I don't have time, woman."

You're speechless. What does he expect you to do? Lay around without a care in the world until he feels like helping? Not like you've been uprooted from your entire life and everything you've ever built!

"Alright, alright," deadpanning, your feet move, turning back for the house. Then, under your breath, "with how you talk to women, you probably had to pay all those girls to sleep with you."

A shadow casts over you. "You wanna say that again?"

"I think you heard me well enough the first time," you smile, tight-lipped.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back. The cold metal of the truck presses against your skin.

"I don't think you know what you're talking about," he says, voice lower than you've ever heard.

"What, you gonna prove me wrong?" You shouldn't be taunting him when you're backed into a corner like this. But for some reason, you still do. "Call one of them up for a testimony?"

The bastard laughs, "oh, honey," his hand coming down to plant itself next to your head, "you don't need no damn testimony when I'm standin' right here in front of ya."

Your eyebrows raise. He can't possibly be suggesting..."I thought you didn't like sex?"

"Not usually, no," his head drops down as he speaks, looking you dead in the eye, "but there ain't nothin' better than watchin' a pretty woman fall apart on my tongue."

You're unsure how you feel about the heat that sparks between your legs as he sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact with you. Here you are. In the middle of this pasture, with a cowboy on his knees...for you.

One of his hands caresses your hip, thumb teasing the brim of your—no, his sweatpants. You shouldn't be doing this. You just met this guy for crying out loud!

Logic doesn't stop your hips from twitching forward into his touch.

That's all he needs to hook his thick fingers into the waistband, "no panties, hm?"

"I didn't exactly have the luxury to pack," there's more you want to say, but it's hard to when he pulls the material down until it pools around your ankles. Cold air nips at your previously covered skin, only warmed by the hot breath that fans against you.

Rhett's hands trail up the inside of your thighs, callouses tickling the sensitive skin there. It's been so long since the last time that his simple touch alone makes you start to drip. His hands continue to rise until his fingers comfortably dip between your folds, running from your entrance to your clit.

"Cute." Before you can even process what he's just said, Rhett leans forward and—

oh.

His tongue is so unbelievably hot as it presses against you, spreading you open around him. Then, one slow, flat, broad stroke of his tongue dragging from your entrance to your clit, circling it lazily. The motion pushes his hat into your belly, and as he drops back to tease your hole once more, it ultimately falls off. Leaving nothing but messy hair, perfect for you to tangle your fingers into.

And you do just that.

"That's it," he coos, voice vibrating against your swollen clit, "pull on my hair while I eat this perfect little pussy of yours."

One little tug, and he moans directly into you, laving over your clit in sloppy figure eights, and that, that. It has no right to feel as good as it does, making your hips start to writhe.

"So squirmy," big hands settle upon your hips, forcing them to stay still as he works you, rapid, quick little licks that wrench a cry right out of your throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this guy knows what he's doing. "Still think I had to pay them, girls?"

You don't recall closing your eyes, but when you find the strength to open them, you see those blue eyes peering back up at you. He smiles at the sight of you, flits his tongue against you a little harder, the tip pointed just at the right angle.

Chest heaving, you tug on his hair a little harder; your legs are starting to shake from it all, "fuck," the tone of your own voice foreign to you, "Rhett."

"God, you make my name sound like it's a fuckin' sin," growling, he pulls you close toward him, giving you no chance of escaping the onslaught of his wicked tongue on your pussy.

The sensation of him sucking on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure, heat pooling between your thighs while he keeps fluttering his tongue over it. You're whimpering out into the open air, helpless as he downright devours you like a starved man, and you're his last meal. It's been so long since the last time you felt the subtle nudge of your gut tightening that it's almost foreign.

"R-Rhett—" struggling to formulate words, "'m close."

"I know," grinning, he doesn't stop what he's doing, loudly slurping at your cunt, "come on, darlin', cum on my tongue for me."

You barely feel it coming on.

All it takes is one more suck against your clit, and you're spiraling toward the edge with no guardrail to catch you. Too much, too fast. You yank on his hair so hard that Rhett moans around your clit, a beautifully pitchy noise that sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Like a tidal wave, your orgasm washes over you. Convulsing as he licks you through it, straddling the border of too much and just enough. Lungs burning, head spinning.

Just as quickly as it had bubbled up, it fades away, leaving you a panting, trembling mess, all for him to see.

"Damn," his scruffy cheek is pressed against your hip, lazily smiling up at you like a cat who got the cream, "you're out of this world."

You could hit him.

His chin is so drenched that it's downright glistening in the sunshine, thin lips swollen, so completely, utterly relaxed against you. A totally different man from the one a few minutes ago.

"You know," carefully running your fingers through his hair, combing out the mess you've made of him, "I can't tell who this benefitted more."

He laughs, cheeks starting to turn pink, "consider it a mutual trade-off." The end of his sentence distorts around a sleepy yawn, "'m sorry, I tend to be a real ass when I'm tired."

The way he's peering up at you is awakening something. An uncanny urge to take him back to the house and look after him until he's well-rested and that lively spark has returned to his eyes. But, for the life of you, you can't understand why.

What the hell did you just do.

Taking your silence as a reply, he opens his mouth again, "whaddya say we try and make a quick trip to that pasture?"

Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

You're lucky he offers to drive you back up to the house because your legs tremor so much that you can hardly walk straight. Rhett's quick to notice it, winking at you as you stumble past him and toward the front door.

Curse orgasms and their need to fill your bladder with half the water in the Pacific ocean.

By the time you step back outside, a little more stable on your feet, Rhett's already got Isabel ready to go. She's standing next to the small porch steps, and with the added leverage, it's much easier to climb up.

"If you can't figure out how to get you home," he chuckles as you squeeze in behind him, "we're gonna have to find you a horse."

"You gonna go hit one too?" It shoots out of your mouth before you can stop it.

Lucky for you, Rhett laughs some more, "somethin' like that, yeah."

Back to the pasture again, bypassing Rhett's little stash of evidence. Should you be concerned about that horse's owners coming knocking? Probably. Are you?

Not really.

Maybe you would be if you thought about it more, but it's hard to linger on it when fluffy cows appear in the distance. With their long black fur and glistening horns, something straight out of an art piece.

"Are their horns actually gold?" You inquire. It looks damn close to real gold to you.

"Yes, ma'am," Isabela slows as you grow closer to the herd, stopping just shy of them.

One of the cows is feeling friendly, approaching you like an old friend. She's close enough for you to touch, but as you reach out, she looks at you kind of...funny, making your hand freeze midair.

"You can pet her," demonstrating, Rhett reaches out, scratching his nails against her cheek.

You're not too sure about that one. She sure doesn't seem to like it when you brush your nails over her forehead, absolutely fixated on you, as if you've just offended her to the core. Yeah, no, you probably shouldn't...

A careful hand curls around the back of your own. Slow, Rhett guides your hand to pet her forehead, up and down, in the same fashion you would pet a dog you've met. She's so unbelievably soft.

"Are all cows this soft?" You've never felt anything quite like it. Silky, a little velvety, even.

"Nah, not all of 'em," he lets go of your hand, gives her golden horn a little tap, "these right here? Solid gold, not hollow."

Their horns are entirely and utterly mindboggling, perfectly smooth and cool to the touch, not at all like you'd expect a horn to feel. How strange.

"Do you raise them for their gold or their meat?" A part of you isn't ready for the potential answer.

Rhett chews on his bottom lip, "both." He gives the cow one last head pat before Isabela starts to move again, "the gold pays for most of the expenses 'round here."

So gold is still considered valuable here. Interesting.

"But just between you and me," he continues, "lately, I've been lyin' sayin' nobody's in the gold market no more."

You have to cling to him a little tighter now that Isabela is starting to move quicker; with every step, you fear you may fall. "How come?"

"They think they're entitled to it," he reaches down, grazing his fingertips along your arms, where they're looped around his waist, "always askin' me to slaughter my cows before their time so that they can buy stupid shit."

A memory flickers into the forefront of your head. "Is that how your parents could afford that giant house?"

"You catch on quick."

The gate to the west pasture is just up ahead. While it's hard to say, you think this is where you first met Rhett. Barely even a few days ago, and yet, it feels like a distant memory, fuzzy in your head. You can almost feel the way that lasso cinched around you, catching you with such little effort.

After you go through the gate, it takes a lot of work to come up with much of anything. You know you were close to the fence that borders the end of the west pasture, but the land looks so different during the day than it does at night.

"I've got nothing," you frown, "it all looks the same."

Rhett hums. A deep sound that vibrates through your arms and up into your chest, leaving you feeling all tingly after he stops. "Y'know, I think you landed a little further down."

"How would you...?" Unless... "Rhett, were you there when I came out of that hole?"

"Sorta." You can't see his face, but the tips of his ears tint a pretty shade of ruby red, "I watched the hole open and headed off to let my dad know," he peeks over his shoulder at you, "but then I heard Autumn start screamin' and I turned back 'round."

Autumn. So that's what that woman's name was.

Up ahead, there's a patch of dead grass. Perfectly circular, maybe ten feet in diameter, brown in color, a stark contrast to the green surrounding it. Isabela stops short of it and refuses to move any closer, even as Rhett asks her to continue. Seems you'll be going on foot.

You're unsure why you feel nervous about walking closer to the patch of grass. Ideally, if it reopened under your feet, you would wind up back at home, and all of this would be over. So why are you feeling like this?

Rhett audibly sucks in a breath as you step into the circle. Like he's expecting it to swallow you up at any given moment.

No, no, no, there should be something here. A sign, a clue, something, anything. The realization of there being absolutely fucking nothing is suffocating. Brings your heart rate up until it beats in your ears like a drum. You look and look, kicking the ground as if that will force it to open.

Nothing. Nothing happens, and the only things out of the ordinary are the few remaining flowers strewn about the grass.

"If it can open up once, it can open up again," Rhett tells you, holding out his hand to help you back up, "we'll figure this out, one way or another."

You're beginning to wonder if that's truly the case.

Rhett hums the entire way back. Some slow little tune that he doesn't have a name for. It's not much, but it's enough to distract you from the sour taste this trip has left in the back of your mouth. At least for a little while.

Something possesses you to stick around while he untacks Isabela, petting her as he busies himself with unclipping various things you don't know the name for. You're thankful she enjoys all the attention because it's the only thing keeping your hands from shaking.

For the first time, it hits you. The realization that you could be stuck here for the rest of your life. There's a very good possibility that you're never getting home. That you'll never see your mom again, your friends, your old life. They'll never know what happened to you.

"You're gonna spoil that horse," you've almost forgotten that Rhett was in here with you.

"Probably," you wish you could come up with more to say, but you can hardly think up another word.

Rhett has already caught on to your mood. Doesn't say anything else, instead communicating without words. He tells you he's ready to turn Isabela out by placing his hand between your shoulder blades and giving you the slightest nudges to get you going in the right direction. Does it again when he's done with that, wordlessly telling you to head for the house.

As you step inside, you can't help but feel like something is...off, but you don't know what it is.

"Y'alright?" It's now that you realize you've stopped dead on the threshold, leaving Rhett no choice but to idle on the porch. You start to turn, but along the way, your eyes catch a glimpse of the vase sitting on the counter.

"Someone's been in here."

Behind you, Rhett stiffens, gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you back onto the porch. Eyes wide, flickering between you and the wide open door, "what do you mean?"

"When I left," gulping, "my flowers were sitting in that vase on the counter."

It's empty.

All it takes is one long gaze into the house before Rhett reaches for the door, slamming it shut. Your mouth opens, but he's quicker, "we're goin' into town to get a doorknob that actually locks."

Part 2 ♡⊹˚₊

#flowers in november #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott imagine #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #oneshot #ao3fic #ao3 oneshot #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #x reader #self insert #reader self insert #rhett abbott outer range

[newtonsheffield]

Molly I trust you when you say light-moderate angst, and also I’m pretty sure for anyone who has had a messy complicated fwb/best friends sitch this story is definitely hitting the angsty feels, but also very cathartic since kanthony does get their happy ending 😭🥹

They do get their happy ending!

And imagine how happy they are.

Imagine three weeks into the official start of their relationship and Kate comes home to find Anthony packing boxes in her bed room.

She touches him lightly on the arm to catch his attention, trying not to startle him, "What are you doing, babe?"

Anthony grunted, gesturing around, "Packing. You're moving in with me. I wanted to ask you to live together when we graduated uni but honestly, I knew I'd be jealous as fuck of other guys you brought home so I didn't and I've fucking regretted it ever since."

It catches in her throat, of course it does, the idea of them properly sharing space, not just for a few nights in a row but forever, her things and his things forever, but she can't let him get away with it that easily. "And what if I'm not ready to move in with you? You snore really loudly."

Anthony huffed, his brow furrowing, "Well I never hear myself so it can't be that loud."

She bit back a chuckle, stepping back into the cradle of his arms, but letting her back press against his chest so they could still see one another's hands. "My mistake."

She heard Anthony's breath rattle in his chest for a long moment before he spoke, his chin resting on the top of her head, his fingers moving gently. "Move in with me. Because I love you, and we've wasted so much time already."

"We haven't wasted anything. We waited until the time was right." She turned towards him, kissing his forehead gently. "You're my favourite person, you know me better than anyone and you still wanna live with me? You know how messy I am. It's going to drive you insane, and we said no takebacks on this relationship."

He grinned, his eyes dancing behind his glasses, "I don't care. Come steal all my clothes for good."

"Fine, I'll do it for the clothes," She said, brushing their lips together. "I've got my eye on that Tom Ford sweater."

Anthony Groaned, "Just have the blue one, not the green one."

"Deal."

#BTW the sign for 'snore' is amazing pls look it up #my hand was the one you reached for au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[maleficentmrsofallevil]

Project Journal - The Wall of Doll

I am exceptionally lucky to have two rooms in this house that are mine to do with as I please. This Project Journal is for my home office, where I spend 99 percent of my day. Therefore, it needs to have the greatest concentration of happy go-go-brain-juice decorations.

The room is 9 feet by 11 feet with one window and a closet. This mock-up is already inaccurate, because the round blue circle up top (trash can) will fit under the desk. I'm going to get a little kid chair and put Elysia in it instead. Also, I've mocked up a wall of shelves from IKEA's room planner that will stretch to cover the entire wall:

Sure, that seems like a lot of money. But considering how much I've paid for a new Iplehouse doll? Yeah. Not bad. My ceilings are 8 feet up from the floor, so I should be able to fit big girls on even the top shelves. I'm hoping to get my monsters (Rita mantitaur) to stand on the bottom shelves, which are 15 inches deep.

Behind the shelves, I'm putting up a peel-and-stick wallpaper mural.

I like this one so far.

The enormous desk that's currently in here will be perfect for Craftorama room (future project). But before I can even start the fun stuff (order the mural and shelves, decorate), there's so much boring crap to do.

Remove dolls, MLPs, cardboard, packing stuff, and empty the closet of BJD boxes. I've made an executive decision: the dolls stay out where I can see them, and the boxes are going in the trash. All respect to the careful BJD owners who keep their dolls in boxes and only remove them to photograph and dress them. I am not you. I need to see my dollies.

Trash and shred old paperwork in the cabinet. There are years and years of old documents in there. They gotta go. Easily the worst part of this project. The good thing to come out of this will be more storage for doll stuff.

Steam off the gawdawful wallpaper border in this room. It's very country cottage-chic. I hate it.

Pick a paint color I like from the mural, and paint the other three walls. Actually, I'm thinking two colors. One dark "accent" wall (I've heard those are a thing) and two light colors. Reinstall door trim.

I'm also thinking of some over-the-door organizers, like those shoe organizers that are terrible for shoes (they get dirty and stinky quickly). Washing them is also a nightmare - I know. I've tried. I ended up trashing it. So, it will have to be for non-shoe storage.

Install and hang curtains to protect dollies/MLPs from sun.

Assemble new desk and install.

Concurrently, disassemble monster desk and remove. Oh, and move all the computer stuff from one desk to the other, which is another task I am dreading.

Assemble the bookshelf that has been sitting in a box for 3 years now and put it in one corner. I don't remember what it looks like, other than it's weirdly geometric. I can't remember if it's black or wood color. It may need painted.

Order and install mural and wall of shelves.

And the best part - fill shelves with dollies and MLPs (the little row of shelves).

None of this, of course, can interfere with work. Considering that I spend most of my weekends sleeping, and I have to complete a certification for work during my "free" time (ha ha ha - free time), this should be interesting.

#project journals #wall of doll