#hanahaki disease stranger things AU

[queers-gambit]

Hanahaki Disease collection masterlist

Japanese folklore ― fictional disease where the infected coughs up flower petals when suffering from one-sided love; ends one of three ways:

-> one: when the Desired returns feelings for the Infected. happy ending. -> two: when the Infected endures an operation to clear the flowers but in turn, forgets the Desired entirely. -> three: when the flowers prove fatal.

featuring: Eddie Munson, Felix Catton

total collection parts: 4

note: there are thousands of ways to write HD, these are just my variations. if you have you own idea in the form of a request, i am frothing at the mouth to hear it!

status: active and open

requests OPEN

universal warnings: requires maturity and caution. cursing, angst, unrequited love, depiction of physical illness, medical phenomenon, blood, borderline self destruction, Lord's name in vain, AU timelines, "best friends" trope. only Saltburn spoilers.

Eddie Munson

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

when Eddie tells his best friend he wants to ask Chrissy Cunningham to prom, she begins to cough out flower petals.

word count: 8.8k

🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warning 🎭 drama 🥰 romance 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon

read here

Tears in the Rain

feelings are confessed and a decision is made; only thing left to do is heal and be okay.

word count: 8.4K

🙊 general language and content warnings 🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt, s o m e comfort 💔 angst 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon 💛 proceed with maturity and caution

read here

Gone with the Sin

he loves another, and your fate is sealed.

word count: 8.9k

🙊 general language and content warnings 🎭 drama 🥺 hurt 🚫 NO comfort 💔 angst ☠️ character death 💛 proceed with maturity and caution

read here

Felix Catton

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

Midsummer Night(mare)'s Dream

when Oliver's obsession reaches new heights, you fear Felix might return the affection - resulting in bloody flower petals suffocating you.

word count: 12.9k+

🍒 author's favorite 🤮 depiction of physical illness 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon 🩸 depiction of blood / injury 🫠 depiction of self-destruction ⏳ alternate timeline ✝️ Lord's name in vain 🥂 alcohol consumption 🚬 brief illicit material use 🥊 brief depiction of physical aggression 🙊 general language and content warning 💔 angst 🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort ⚠️ spoilers ♻️ "friends to 'strangers' to lovers" kinda 🧂 Fix It Felix 👯‍♀️ "best friends" trope 🐍 dead parents / family angst 💛 requires maturity and caution

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

[runraerun]

Billy with hanahaki disease ?🌸?

Pain!:’)

I love it! Here ya go🌸🩸

Fic prompts are: OPEN if anyone else is interested 💌 -> 📬

Tw; blood, slight body horror.

—

It started shortly after Billy moved to this shitty little town in the middle of assfuck nowhere. He chalked it up to the air quality being dogshit compared to California, or maybe he was allergic to that pungent smell of manure that the locals seemed totally nose blind to. The absolute last thing he would have considered was a goddamn plant had started growing inside of him–a love plant.

It was rare. You were only susceptible to it if you had a certain gene that you inherited from your maternal line. Lucky him.

Guess he can’t say his mom left him with nothing when she packed her shit up and skipped town. No, instead of a forwarding address, Billy’s mom left him her shitty, fairy genes. Thanks, Mom. Real swell of you.

“Has there been anyone you’ve had your eye on?” The school nurse asks, voice pitched low, gentle, like she was trying to soothe some kind of volatile beast.

Billy spits another mouthful of blood into the pan he’s holding, the crumpled up flower petals that he’d just finished hacking up look like chunks of his lung rather than a part of a plant. Runs his tongue along his teeth to try and fish anything out that may have gotten left behind in the carnage.

“No.” He says, stubbornly. He doesn’t look up from the pan.

“Well, Hanahaki disease can only take root under very specific circumstances. It feeds off a pheromone our bodies release when we experience a certain emotion; the stress of a love that’s unrequited. It’s the only–”

“I said no, alright?” Billy barks, voice still a little ragged from his coughing fit. Like he’d swallowed with a mouthful of gravel. “Get off my back.”

The nurse sighs, but she doesn’t move to stop him when he puts the pan down beside him and gets to his feet.

“It’ll only get worse if you ignore it, Mr. Hargrove.” She warns.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Billy mutters, but he doesn’t have the energy to put any heat behind his words, so it doesn’t do much to wipe that stupid sympathetic look from her face. He grabs his jean jacket and leaves, shoving the door open with enough force that it slams back against the wall.

Despite his repeated denial, Billy knew who was responsible for this fucking mess.

Steve Harrington.

With his perfect hair and his stupid fucking Bambi eyes, lighting up every goddamn room he strode into with those long legs of his. Jesus… How could Billy ever have stood a chance?

Just thinking of him brought a tickle to the back of Billy’s throat. He suppresses a cough into his fist as he stomps down the hallway, now empty due to everyone else having gone home for the day. Except Billy, who of course couldn’t fucking breathe after gym class today after getting a little too rough with Steve.

It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, but something about the way Steve elbowed Billy away, how he barked at him to give him some breathing space, yelled at Billy to fuck off already—it had Billy’s chest acting up.

He held out for most of the class, fighting against the fucking petals that were pushing their way up through his fucking esophagus by beating at his chest, shouting to clear his airways, but then in the showers, Steve had avoided him completely. Had somehow managed to slip and out of the stalls without Billy noticing, depriving him of their usual naked back and forth banter that Billy had come to look forward to.

It was one thing for Steve to hate him, but it was another thing entirely for Steve to be indifferent toward him. That was way fucking worse.

The sting of rejection quickly turned to a coughing fit, worse than any he had experienced before. Like he’s hacking up a fucking lung. A few of the other boys had asked him, ‘you okay man?’ or, ‘should we get the coach?’, and worst of all, ‘oh shit is that blood?’

Billy was barely able to shove his legs back into his jeans and shoulder one of his classmates out of his way before he stumbled into the nurse’s office.

Fat lot of good that did him…

He’s gotta pick up Max. He can’t afford to hang around and talk about his pathetic, one-sided love with a complete stranger anyway. Billy leaves the school, gets into his car, puts the windows down and cranks the music as loud as he can stand it, and he tries very hard not to think about Steve and this ever growing thing that’s taken root inside of his chest, steadily consuming him from the inside out.

Christ, who knew he was such a fucking romantic…

[sagegreenflow3r]

Will with hanahaki disease, the pain of one sided love.

But we all know Byler isn’t fully one sided 🙌🏻

[medusapelagia]

31 AU-gust: Two of 2022 prompts (Hanahaki Disease + Surfer)

[This is the last one!!! Thank you so much for staying with me during this experience and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!]

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Characters: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson WT: blood, sickfick, mutual pinning WC: 3804

"What would you like to do when all of this is over?" "Go back to California."

That's what Billy has murmured to Steve on the sticky floor of the Starcourt.

Many things have happened in the meantime.

The world has almost ended, again, someone has been badly hurt, again, they were almost killed, again, but at the end of the day, Steve is sitting on a chair between Billy and Eddie and Max is just a few rooms down.

It's past the visitors' hours and the nurses have tried to make him leave more than once but he hasn't and both the boys have become so distressed that in the end, they decided to let him stay for the night. And the next night. And the next one. Until Steve was absolutely sure that no one was going to die.

"Steve, you should go home." Eddie says while he is writing in the hospital notebook that Steve stole for him.

"Uh?"

"He is right. You have been here for days, Muson here is getting better every day, and Max is only waiting for her leg to heal and she will be home soon."

The only problem is that there is no home.

The trailer park was devastated, like half of the town, so they are keeping Max at the hospital as long as they can. Peak of being involved with Upside Down shit, five stars treatment at the hospital.

"No, I want to be here in case you need something." Steve states and then gets back to the crossword puzzle that he was doing.

"Steve. You stink. You need to take a shower and to sleep in a fucking bed." Billy replies in a stern voice.

He trembles.

"I... stink?"

"You do. You have been here for days without taking a shower or anything. Come on!"

Steve feels something scratching his throat.

"That's what you think of me?"

Billy grins "Don't make it personal! It's just the truth."

Eddie glares at Billy “I think that you should stop it, Billy, before saying something you will regret.”

“He stinks. Can’t you smell him?”

“He has stayed at your bedside for days, Hargrove. And he didn’t complain.”

“Yes, but…”

Steve lifts his hands “Ok, ok, don’t argue. I’ll go home and grab a shower, ok?” 

The tickle in his throat is becoming really annoying.

“Listen, Steve, Hargrove here didn’t mean it like that, you know how he is and…”

Steve starts to cough, and cough. He feels like something is trying to get out of his mouth, like in some horror movie.

He runs toward the bathroom, coughing even more.

He drinks some tap water and slowly the strange feeling starts to fade.

“Are you ok there, big boy?” Eddie calls.

Steve looks at his face in the mirror. He really looks horrible. Maybe going home for the night is not a bad idea. But what if someone takes them away when he is not here? Or if something happens? Or if another creature from that hellish dimension appears out of nowhere?

“Steve?” Billy’s voice drags him away from his thoughts.

“Sorry. Spit just went down the wrong pipe.” he replies, getting back to the room.

He is scared. He is fucking scared that something will happen if he is not there. But they are right. He can’t stay all his life in a hospital room. But at least here they are together.

“Are you scared?” Eddie asks, always too intuitive.

Steve denies it, but Billy grabs his arm and lets him sit on his bed “Your parents’ are still away?”

He nods, silently.

Billy’s hands close in a fist.

“But it’s fine. I’ll go home and I’ll come back tomorrow and…”

“No, no, no, you know what you are going to do? You are going to take a shower, grab some things, and come back here. I’m sure that Billy can convince a nurse to let you sleep here with us.”

“But I’m not sick.”

“You got bitten by interdimensional bats. Who knows what could happen to you!” Eddie replies with a dramatic gesture.

Steve smiles at the performance and then he feels Billy’s hand on his back “That’s better isn’t it?”

And the tickle in his throat comes back.

  ***

 Steve will never know how Billy and Eddie managed to convince the nurse to let him stay, but when he comes back there is a little cot in a corner of the room, and for the first time in days he doesn’t have to sleep on a chair. But that doesn’t mean that he gets a good night's sleep.

 "What would you like to do when all of this is over?" "Go back to California."

 “Steve. Steve!” someone is calling his name and shaking him.

He opens his eyes and Billy’s face is in front of him.

“Billy! Are you ok?” he asks, sitting on the bed and looking at him worriedly.

“Am I ok? You were screaming in your sleep!”

Oh. That.

“I do that sometimes. I’m sorry I disturbed your sleep.”

“That’s not what I meant!” he grumbles “Are you ok?”

Is any of them ok?

Of course not! 

He has nightmares and fears and he is terrified of losing sight of his friends.

He is not fucking ok.

“I’m good. Go back to sleep.”

Billy stares at him in the pale light of the street light for a long moment and then goes back to his bed.

He doesn’t limp anymore as he used to.

“Billy?” he calls.

“Uhm?”

"What would you like to do when all of this is over?"

Billy stares at him in silence and for a moment Steve thinks that maybe he remembers, that he is going to answer "Go back to California."

“Get out of this shitty hospital, find a job, and live my fucking life.”

Oh. Ok. That’s a good idea too.

“Good night Billy.”

“Night.”

Steve closes his eyes but he stays awake for a long time, fighting the horrible tickle in his throat.

  ***

Discharged.

The guys are going to be discharged and Eddie is already planning an entire trip.

“I need to find a fucking job Munson, and you too actually.” Billy complains.

“Naah, you don’t need a job when you have the government money!”

“It will not last forever, soon or later you’ll have to find a job.” Billy insists.

“I will when I need to. Why don’t let me tell you about the trip that I organized? I have found all the most bizarre tourist attractions between here and… California.”

Billy’s eyes shine for a moment at the word, then he becomes serious “I shouldn’t…”

“Come on! Live a little! It will be fun!”

“What about Max?”

“Your little sister will be just fine with the Sinclairs! So, what do you say?”

“Ok. I’d like to see the ocean.”

“What do you say, pretty boy? Let’s go to California?”

Steve turns abruptly toward him “Are you asking him to come?”

The tickles become stronger and stronger until he has to take a paper tissue and cough loudly.

“Are you ok Stevie?” Eddie asks.

Steve, who is giving them his back, sees some blood on the tissue.

That can not be a good sign.

“Fine. I’m fine. I had something stuck in the throat but now I feel so much better.”

It’s not a lie.

The boys look at him worriedly but then they keep talking about the little trip they are going on.

  ***

A petal.

In his fucking tissue there is a petal.

He should show it to Robin, she would probably tell him what kind of flower it is, but the truth is that he doesn’t care. All he wants to know is why he coughed a petal.

He makes some generic questions to his doctor during his check-up but the man knows nothing about coughing flowers.

He doesn’t want to travel with Billy and Eddie if this is contagious, but they already slept in the same room for weeks and no one of them seemed to be coughing flowers.

Maybe they are hiding it, just like him.

“Have you… have you ever coughed flowers?” he asks Eddie while he is filling up the car and Billy is in the bathroom.

“Coughed flowers? What does it mean?”

“Uh? Nothing is just… a line from a song. I thought you knew it.”

Eddie shakes his head “No, sorry, never heard of that. Is that famous or…”

Billy comes back, wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him up.

“What were the two of you plotting?”

Steve feels the sensation he is too familiar with.

“Nothing. I just have to go to the bathroom.”

“I thought you didn’t need it.”

He frees himself from Billy’s grip “One sec.”

He runs toward the bathroom and starts to cough.

That’s not one petal, these are many, many red petals mixed with blood and spit.

Disgusting.

“Are you ok?”

Billy’s voice calls from the entrance and Steve coughs again, throwing up even more petals.

He keeps coughing petals, struggling for oxygen, and when he thinks he is going to blackout in the stupid stall, the cough finally stops and he breathes again.

“Steve?”

“I’m fine. But don’t pick me up again please.” he replies.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that your stomach was so sensitive.”

It isn’t.

But it’s better than the truth.

  ***

California.

Blue sea, white sand, ocean breeze.

Billy seems like another person while he swims like a dolphin between the waves.

Steve would like to swim too but he is too scared of the flower thing so he stays on the beach with Eddie, waving at him like a parent to his kid.

“You should talk to him.”

“Uh?”

“Billy. You should tell him what you feel.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Eddie studies him for a long moment and then he nods to himself “Maybe it’s too soon.”

Steve has no idea what he is talking about, so he turns his head and Billy is right in front of him, his skin is glistening and he is smiling so brightly that he gets almost blind when he looks at him.

“Are you having fun?”

“I am. Would you like to surf?”

“Surf? Me? I have never…”

“I can teach you! Come on. Put on your swim trunks and let's go!”

“What about Eddie?”

“I don’t think that Eddie is going to like the water. He is like a stray cat!”

“Fuck off Hargrove! And you go, Stevie. Don’t worry about me. Have fun for once.” Eddie replies with a wink.

Steve gets back to the van and puts on his swim trunks and when he comes back, Billy is waiting for him with a board in his hands and another in the sand.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

Billy takes the board and surfs some little waves, showing off a little, but Steve smiles at him proudly. 

“Who is that freak?” someone asks at his side and Steve looks back at Billy.

His white t-shirt is wet and has become completely see-through, so all his horrible scars are showing.

“He is someone who survived certain death and is riding those fucking waves like a pro!” he rebukes them, and the two guys quickly move away.

“Have you seen me?” he asks, shaking his head like a wet dog.

“I did. You were amazing!”

“Would you like to try?”

He gets in the water.

“Go on, lie on the board, not too forward and not too far, almost in the middle, so you can jump on the board when you catch the wave.” he explains to him “We will start with some whitewater waves. They are the easiest to catch and the more forgiving.” 

Billy gets on his board, showing Steve how to move in the water “First of all start paddling, big long, cupped strokes. Don’t forget to kick your feet. And when you are ready…” he jumps on the board and surfs.

“Easy, right?”

Well, not at all! Steve is quite good at surfing on his belly, but when he tries to stand up he falls every single time.

“You should go. You will have more fun without me.”

Billy shakes his head “Come on. I know you can do it. Let’s try again.”

And they try again, and again, and again, and finally Steve manages to surf a little whitewater.

Eddie is cheering for him from the beach and Billy… Billy is behind him looking proudly at Steve and he loses his balance falling into the water while he starts to cough underwater.

He sees the red blood in the blue of the ocean and a few seconds later Billy is pulling him out from the water.

“Are you ok? I saw blood. Did you hurt yourself?”

But Steve can’t answer. He keeps coughing and coughing and finally, he spit a big red rose.

Eddie gets closer to him and looks at the flower with horror.

“It wasn’t a fucking song, right Harrington?”

Billy stares at the two of them confused, the bloody rose still in Steve's hands.

“What the fuck is happening?”

“Our Steve has been coughing flowers. For a while, I suppose, but he didn’t tell us.”

“Coughing flowers? What the hell does it mean? Is he sick?” Billy asks, holding Steve even tighter.

“I’m not sick. Or, if I am, it’s an unknown disease. I already spoke to a doctor.”

“Not the right kind of doctor.” Eddie replies, sharing a look with Billy.

  ***

California’s hospitals are no different from Hawkin’s. The only difference is that he is isolated and that Owens has done a lot of tests.

His left lung is completely obstructed, and the right one is not so good either.

“There are flowers that are growing into your lungs, Steve. And I don’t know how that is possible.”

“Maybe I breathe a seed or something…”

Owens stares at him behind his mask “I think that you breathed something. In the Upside Down. And now it is growing in your lungs.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Owens sighs, sitting on a chair next to him “My advice is surgery. We might have to remove the left lung but maybe we could save part of the right one.”

“And if it’s too compromised?”

“I think you know the answer.”

He does, but he is not ready to die at twenty-one.

“How long do you think…?”

“One month. Maybe two.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want me to call your parents, Steve?”

“No. They are in Europe. I… I’ll deal with it.”

The man puts a hand on his shoulder and leaves the room.

After a few minutes, he hears some noises in the corridor and he hears Eddie and Billy complaining that they want to see him.

His heart starts to beat faster. How can he tell them that he has only one month, maybe two?

He is still thinking when the door opens and the two of them get in the room.

“Are you ok Steve? What did he say?”

Steve doesn’t answer and starts to cry, and Billy hugs him tight.

“It’s going to be ok, Steve. We will find a solution. It’s going to be ok, I swear.”

“They gave me one month…” he tries to say while he keeps coughing, and coughing and coughing spitting another horribly beautiful flower.

“It’s you.” Eddie says from the other side of the room, pointing at Billy.

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“It’s you!” Eddie repeats, taking away Steve from Billy’s grip.

Steve's coughs subside and then stop.

“What the fuck does it mean?”

“I don’t know but he gets worse when he is near to you.”

Billy lowers his head “I’m sorry. I don’t know how this works… but if you will feel better far from me so be it. I will never see you again and…”

But Steve knows that he has only one month to live and he doesn’t want to waste it being separated.

“No!” he yells “If I only have a month I want to spend it with you. I love you Billy, and I don’t care that you don’t love me back but please, please, don’t leave me alone now.” he cries, still in Eddie’s arms.

Billy kneels in front of him “I love you too and I feel so stupid now. We could have had all the time in the world and now… now…”

Steve doesn’t want to waste any more time so he kisses him and Billy doesn’t seem to care that he still has spit and blood on his mouth.

Billy soon gets control of the kiss, kissing him deeply, almost aggressively, trying to devour him, and Steve lets him take what he wants until he feels the familiar sensation that grows into his throat.

He starts to cough, but the thing is stuck inside him. He keeps coughing and coughing and he feels the flower in his mouth but it doesn’t get out.

Eddie holds his head gently, while Billy grabs the fucking flower and starts to pull it.

It burns, it hurts, all Steve can feel is pain, and before loses consciousness he sees what looks like bloody roots.

  ***

The floor it’s sticky from the monster’s body that melted on the ground.

Billy’s eyes are blurry while Steve holds him.

“Help him! Help him!” Max is screaming in his ear. No emergency kit could stop the blood that is coming out from Billy’s body, but he keeps pushing on the wound, trying his best to keep him from bleeding out on the fucking floor.

“Hey, hey, it will be ok. Help it’s on the way. You just have to wait for a little longer, ok?”

The blond boy spits some blood on Steve’s uniform but he doesn’t flinch.

“Hold on, ok? Hold on. Just for a moment longer.”

Robin is rambling with someone, maybe a doctor but Steve can’t move his sight from Billy’s eyes. He has to keep him here with him.

“Hey, now that you have graduated you can do whatever you want, right?” he tells him, trying very hard to keep his tone calm.

"What would you like to do when all of this is over?" he asks him with a smile.

"Go back to California." Billy whispers, and then he takes a big breath and his eyes close.

“Billy? Billy?”

Max is screaming, trying to shake him but Steve will not have anyone close to him.

“Put pressure on the wound!” he orders and Lucas and Dustin obey immediately while Steve starts to perform CPR.

“We are going to California. Do you hear me, fucking moron?” he yells, while pushing hard on his chest, hearing the ribs fracture “We are going to fucking California and you are going to teach me how to surf. And we will drink on the beach, looking at the stupid sunset! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?” he keeps pushing, and then breathing two times into Billy’s mouth.

It’s the closest thing to a kiss that they ever shared.

“Please, move, we have to…”

But Steve is not listening, he loves that fucking heart and even if he doesn’t love him back he is not going to let him rest.

He keeps pushing, and breathing, until he sees Billy’s chest moving.

“Good job!” one of the paramedics says to him, and then he drags him away while the other starts to work on Billy.

“Are you injured? I suspect you have a concussion and…”

“Billy!” he says, pointing at the boy.

“He is in good hands.”

“Robin!” he looks around and the girl is nowhere to be seen “Robin!” he calls again.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m ok. Let her have a look at you, ok dingus?”

Steve nods.

The only thing in his mind is California.

"What would you like to do when all of this is over?" "Go back to California."

  ***

When he comes back to his senses, the first thing that he hears is a steady beat from somewhere to his right.

He tries to move and he feels someone holding his hand.

“Steve? Are you awake?”

He opens his eyes, his vision is blurred but there is no mistaking those blue eyes.

“Billy?” he asks, his voice is rough.

“That’s me, pretty boy. How do you feel?” he asks, helping him sit and then he gets him some ice chips.

Steve stays still for a moment, waiting for the familiar pain, but when he feels nothing at all he opens his mouth and lets Billy feed him a couple of ice chips.

They are delicious.

“Slowly.” Billy scolds him with a warm smile while he feeds him another chip.

If there is something more taster than ice chips, Steve has never tasted it.

“How do you feel?” Billy asks again, brushing some hair away from his face,

“Good?”

“Is that a question, pretty boy?” Billy says amused, then he gets serious “You gave us quite a scare, Stevie.” he scolds him, holding his hand “I really thought you were going to die in my arms.” 

Steve knows exactly how that feels.

“Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, but I want you to promise me that if you don’t feel well or something strange happens to you, you will tell me. Immediately.”

Steve nods and when he turns he sees that on his nightstand there are a couple of beautiful flowers with roots.

“Are they…?”

Billy nods “I ripped one from your throat and Owens and his doctors were able to rip the others. You had a seven-hour-long surgery, but there are no more roots or flowers in your lungs.”

“Did they… Did they remove my lung?” he asks, trying to look at his chest, but Billy takes his chin between his fingers looking him in the eyes. 

“No. They just took away those damned flowers.” Billy looks at the flowers for a moment “I wanted to throw them away but Munson insisted that they were beautiful so…”

“They are, actually.”

Billy looks at them with hatred “They would be if they wouldn't have almost killed you!”

“I would like to plant them.”

“Really?”

Steve nods, looking at the flowers. “They are beautiful. And they are the reason we finally found love so… why not?”

Billy smiles at him “When you put it like that…”

“How is our flower boy?” Eddie asks, entering the room.

“Fuck off Munson!” Billy admonishes him.

“Oh, so you are not grateful to me? I’m the one that cracked the case!”

Eddie is always so melodramatic.

Steve laughs and then starts to cough and both Eddie and Billy freeze, waiting for some flowers.

“Sorry. Spit just went down the wrong pipe.” and when they see that there are no flowers they all breathe a sigh of relief.

[stacetanicpanic]

Eddie slammed the door behind himself, leaving Steve in the hall as the petals began forcing their way up. He prayed that the thin wood was enough to dampen the sound of his ramping coughing fit. “Eddie, are you alright in there?” Steve questioned. “Let me in, okay?” Why did he have to be so kind? Why couldn’t he just— Petals—two, five, seven—dropped into the sink. Eddie gagged. Another and another.

...

It wasn’t Steve’s fault. That every gentle touch— Every term of endearment— was a new bloom.

(fic details and tags below)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, Robin Buckley Additional Tags: Hanahaki Disease, Hanahaki-Typical Body Horror, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Flowers, Hurt/Comfort, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Protective Steve Harrington, Oblivious Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is Bad at Feelings, Eddie Munson is a Mess, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Hurt Eddie Munson, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Ficlet, Protective Wayne Munson, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Sick Eddie Munson, Sickfic

[sillyguymeow]

[lizzy06]

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My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

ab intra ✨✨💖💖by andypantsx3 (humor, eventual smut, brainwashing)when a wave of disturbing crimes sweep the city, pro hero Hitoshi Shinsou is assigned to work the case with you. What's even more frustrating than his obnoxious personality is the fact no one will tell you why he’s involved. Things only get more suspicious from there.[COMPLETED]

no grave to hold my body down✨ by Hawnks (supermintfluff) (oneshot, hurt/comfort) Kindness is its own superpower. Love is, too.[COMPLETED]

Jealousy✨ by @alienaiver (oneshot, fluffy banter)Shinsou wants your attention after coming home, but you are preoccupied.[COMPLETED]

 The Sports Festival✨ by @writing-freak(oneshot, fluff) reader with a weather quirk faces off against shinsou in the sports festival[COMPLETED] pt 2: Parties for No One ✨by @writing-freak (oneshot, fluff)you consider approaching shinsou after the sports festival. an unlikely friendship commences. [COMPLETED]

Why aren't you scared of me? by @bakugohoex (oneshot, slight angst, fluff)in which shinso joins class 1a and whilst everybody seems to be scared of him out of fear he’ll use his quirk, you try to befriend the boy and he develops feelings as soon as you talk to him.[COMPLETED]

Diary by @onyxiana-is-obsessed (oneshot, fluff)Shinsou finds your diary where you’ve written way too much about him. Good thing he feels the same way.[COMPLETED]

Speechless by @alaskamonsters (oneshot, first meetings)[COMPLETED]

18 by @songbirdsingingthings (oneshot, jealousy, fluff) .[COMPLETED]

how to start an office romance✨ by animepseud (multipurposeroom) (fluff, humor, angst, slowburn)When a serial killer shows up to terrorise the neighbourhood, who do you call? According to the neighbourhood, not Shinsou.is there a better time to pursue romance than in the midst of a serial killing investigation?[COMPLETED]

Friendly Reminders & Math Equations✨ by kingyohno (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)What one person writes on their skin also appears on the skin of their soulmate. Reader is forgetful and Shinsou is bored. Awkwardness ensues.[COMPLETED]

lilac eyes | shinsou x reader✨ by personb (strangers to lovers, fluff, angst)You just wanted to live for one night at a party with Jirou, though it seemed your night was going to be far more eventful than you anticipated. And you welcomed it, well him at least, with open arms. And to be fair he was very, very hot.[COMPLETED]

Your name on my skin✨  by  @dira333 / Fogfire (oneshot, soulmate au, )What your soulmate writes appears on your skin.[COMPLETED]

Two mind related quirk users walk into a train  ✨ ✨ by  wotefokizbrunch (oneshot, mindreader! reader, humor)When Shinso is sleep deprived his inner monologue just rambles non-stop and you, being a mindreader, find it hilarious.[COMPLETED]

Heart & Mind ✨ by orphan_account (oneshot, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort)You have trouble finding a sparring partner because of your Quirk. Few are willing to have their emotions manipulated, after all.[COMPLETED]

Love at First Sight by ScatteredScribbles (oneshot, fluff, coffee shop au, love at first sight) Even though Shinso knows better, some part of him still wants to believe it’s possible–that there’s a single person in the world made for him, and they’re lounging about in the coffee shop he works at.[COMPLETED]

Just Say It by @sunnieskies02 (oneshot, soulmate au, hanahaki disease, slight angst with happy ending) [COMPLETED]

Show Me by hunnybby(oneshot, crush, fluff, humor) Shinsou Hitoshi's classmate just won't leave him alone. If she wanted to know his quirk so bad then she should have paid attention.[COMPLETED]

We Really Need To Stop Meeting Like This by spicyNess (oneshot, tooth rooting fluff, crush)The more you bumped into him, the more you wanted to.[COMPLETED]

Late Night Visits by candlelight27 (oneshot, college au, fluff, smut, idiots in love)A not-so-innocent game of truth and dare and all your conspiring friends might give you an opportunity to sort out the feelings you have for your best friend, Hitoshi Shinsou.[COMPLETED]

 Heroes Together by @writing-freak(oneshot, fluff)after growing up close friends with shinsou, you are forced to move away and leave your home behind. years later, you return, reunited with the best friend who doesn’t seem to remember you. [COMPLETED]

In All Honesty by Avistella (oneshot, fluff)People have always been wary of talking with Shinsou, but not you. When you start distancing yourself from him, Shinsou becomes worried.[COMPLETED]

Chocolate kisses and Catpuccinos by HydrangeaPartridge (coffee shop au, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, smut)In which you are an accident prone-waitress in a cat café where Pro Hero MindJack (aka Shinso Hitoshi) likes to spend time. How will your relationship evolve through the four seasons of one year?[COMPLETED]

[astraystayyh]

skz quotes series masterlist

these are the fics i am currently working on, where the quote is part of the dialogue or it inspired the fic as a whole!! brainstorming these was very fun, i hope you'll enjoy reading it <3 2/8 done.

chan x reader. soulmates!au. strangers to lovers.

in a world where you can only see colors once you meet your designated soulmate, you already know that you and chan weren't destined for another. but maybe, just maybe, the stars were wrong about you both.

"on purpose. i love him on purpose." - Casey Mcquinston.

Echoes of love- minho x reader. lovers to (one sided) strangers. memory loss trope. [posted]

if given the choice to, would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

"to love someone is to firstly confess, I'm prepared to be devastated by you." - Billy-Ray Belcourt.

changbin x reader. fwbs with so much emotional and physical tension.

things were clear and simple between you and changbin- a strictly physical relationship with no strings attached. until those same threads bursted at the seams, making you question everything you thought you knew about him.

"if i kissed you right now, i don't think I'd be able to stop." - unknown. & "please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it" - Mikko Harvey

hyunjin x reader. art students. forced proximity. slow burn. hanahaki disease!au.

working on an assigned art project for three months with hyunjin is an easy task, right? not so much when you're both exactly what the other is afraid of, and simultaneously, terribly longing for.

"f i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more." - Jane Austen.

Volcano- han x reader. enemies to friends to lovers. uni au. [posted]

you've never gotten along with han, your mutual prejudices ruining any prospect of friendship between you both. but you slowly realize that you are more similar than what you originally thought- your darkness recognizing his, and his light yearning for yours.

"I'll take care of you. it's rotten work. not to me, not if it's you." - Anne Carson.

felix x reader. exes to lovers. second chances. [au is yet to be determined]

in which you meet your ex felix years down the road, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, the love never truly deserted your heart.

"for a while it was love, wasn't it? for me, it was love." - Unknown.

seungmin x reader. best friends to lovers with a taste of unrequited love.

seungmin believed he was content with only being your friend. of being the one picking up pieces of you that others carelessly broke. but in the depths of his bruised heart, he desperately needed you to stitch him back together, for once.

"oh god, please. please. love me. love me. desperation sits heavy on my tongue." - a.m.

jeongin x reader. strangers to lovers.

jeongin hated the commute he took daily from his hometown to his work in Seoul. Until the day you stepped in the train and sat on the seat facing him, changing his view of this train ride, and his life.

"on the train we swapped seats, you wanted the window and i wanted to look at you." - Mahmoud Darwish

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

the taglist for this series is closed, there is no set schedule nor a particular order. comment or send me an ask if you want to be added. (general taglist is also open :))

p.s: if u happen to know whose the owner of these quotes, please tell me. most of them come from tiktok slideshows ajdjdh

[delopsia]

every storm runs out of rain | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 17,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, Hanahaki disease, soulmates AU, childhood friends to lovers, alcohol, food mentions, vomiting, first kisses, thunderstorms, (temporarily) unrequited feelings, almost kiss, unprotected sex, eventual happy endings 🌹. Vaguely based on the Gary Allan song of the same name. Brief Summary: It's a cruelty you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The perpetual ache of your heart, longing for a man who was never meant to be yours. Everything about him is as if he's made for you, and yet, your tattoos don't match. You're not made for each other.

It's hard to tell if the feelings started with the stuffiness in your lungs or if it's something that has always been there. 

An indescribable sort of longing that has flown beneath your radar for the better half of a decade. The kind of thing that has let you assume a false sense of comfort under the title of childhood friend. 

Best friend, if Rhett has a few drinks buzzing through his system. Two shining plaques with your name written across them in bold letters.

But neither of them are what you and your dumb heart crave. The pride of being called his significant other is a feeling you will never know, so long as your tattoos are around to remind you that they don't match. So, so close in nature, and yet, they're not the same. 

It's a cruelty you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The perpetual ache of your heart, longing for a man who was never meant to be yours. Everything about him is as if he's made for you, so perfect he could fit into your life like a puzzle piece, and yet fate has destined him and you to fall in love with strangers. Not each other. 

Never each other. 

That tickling rises in the back of your throat. Snowballing larger and larger until you can no longer—

A horn blares. 

Your head jerks back toward the street just in time to see the passenger door of an old GMC squeal open. Rhett. Leaned all the way across his bench seat, hair in his face and all. 

"Y' comin' or not?" He chirps, already beginning to impatiently pat on the cloth seat, beckoning you in like he would a stray cat.

In this cold little town, your heart burns a little warmer.

How he got here so fast, you'll never know, but you've never been more thankful for it. Water splashes beneath your feet, darting toward his truck and away from the crowd of people raging on behind you. Up into your designated place in his passenger seat, slamming the door closed before you've even gotten settled, effectively shutting off the thumping music and flashing neon lights.

"How did you know where I was?" Because last you recall, you never told him about where you were headed tonight. 

Rhett just hums, the noise lost to the rumble of his truck engine. "Recognized the floor in the picture y' sent." 

Of course, that would be one of his many odd talents. 

"Being able to identify a bar just from the floor tile might mean you have a bit of a drinking problem, Cowboy," your eyes roll, shifting to rest against the door. 

"Listen," the streetlight catches in his eyes, lighting them up with a memory, "that checkered pattern is cute 'til your head stars spinnin'." 

He's...got a point. 

Ugh. 

The silence that falls into the truck is a comfortable one. It's the kind of quiet that lets you hear the impatient drum of his fingers, dancing to the soft drone of his radio set to an old country station. Backdropped by the sound of water spraying beneath his tires, washing away weeks upon weeks of built-up dirt from the ranch. 

His whole truck could use a good wash, but it won't see a bucket of soap and water until he scores another date with some no-name from the rodeo grounds. Or alternatively, you show up in the middle of the night and scrub it from top to bottom.

Your phone lights up with a text asking about where you went. Sent from some guy you cared so little about that you haven't even bothered to save his number in your contacts. But as you move to unlock the screen, it opens up to a different set of messages. 

You: Nothing quite like being stuck at a bar, waiting on your designated driver to decide she wants to leave. 10:47 PM

Rhett: What's wrong? 10:51 PM

You: I told a guy I didn't want to dance, and he 'accidentally' spilled his drink on me 🙄  10:51 PM

You: But my ride doesn't want to leave for another hour or two. 10:52 PM

You never noticed the message that was sent right after yours. 

Rhett: On my way 10:55 PM

Maybe not every man in this world has gone to shit. 

Rhett's hand bumps into your chest, some kind of gray fabric balled up in his hand, "here."

You've seen this old shirt before; it's the first thing he ever bought online, hadn't realized until it arrived that it was a few sizes too big for him. Not particularly ideal for a cowboy who can get caught on equipment, but perfect for your impromptu sleepovers.

"You still have this old thing?" You're already beginning to tug your damp T-shirt over your head. Potential onlookers be damned, you're ready to be free of the overwhelming whiskey bitterness reeking from it.

The back of his knuckles graze up your naked side, guided by the thin path of a decade-old scar. A branding from younger, brighter days; the ones when Cecelia would let you spend weekends on the ranch. Waking up at dawn to help Rhett with his ranch chores because the quicker things got done, the sooner you got to run down and play in the creekbed. 

"Still can't believe that piece of glass marred ya like that," Rhett mutters after a long moment. You can't see into his thick skull, but you've got a feeling that he's got a similar memory flickering through his mind. 

"To be fair, I did fall on it," slipping your arms through the clean shirt, you pull it over your head, and once again, that old scar is out of sight. 

That half-hearted chuckle sends a warmth rushing through your veins. The exact one that shouldn't be there. But he hasn't the slightest clue of the wildfire sitting next to him, back to tapping along on his steering wheel as he drives through the main stretch of town. Past feedstores, tourist shops, dinners, the grocery store, and every other little niche boutique hidden between. 

"Thank you." You hardly recognize that it's you speaking. Hadn't realized it was your voice until the sound of it met your ears.

It's a little too quiet in this truck.

But Rhett just reaches over to shake your shoulder. "Y' don't gotta thank me for shit like that," for a fleeting second, he's got just enough time to look away from the road and offer you a lazy smile. "'s what friends do, ain't it?"

Your chest feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. Meek, you nod, attention suddenly on the floorboard and nothing else—nothing else to say. 

Yeah. That's what friends do. 

He doesn't make mention of it, but you've got the feeling that your SOS text must have interrupted another one of his dates. A pile of rose petals rests at your feet, scattered as if they've been swept off the seat in a hurry to make space. Caked in mud and the rainwater that tracked in from your shoes. Storebought, that much you know for sure.

Roses don't grow in Wabang. 

The next time you see him, it's planned. 

You have, for some reason, allowed yourself to become roped into the craze of Wabang's beloved Sugarbeet festival. Right smack dab in the middle of some old ranching land that the county bought some years back. It would have been a pleasant idea if the festival was hosted in spring or autumn and not in the blistering heat of summer. Not an ounce of shade to be found, nothing but cheap tents to protect you from the beating sun. 

It's the kind of misery that makes the outdoors feel like a goddamn oven, and heading out to start your car is its own kind of devil. The air jammed in your AC blasts your face with the boiling winds of hell itself. So damn intense that if Rhett's truck weren't crawling down your driveway, you would have canceled and called it a day.

And you're so glad that you didn't, because good lord. 

The last thing you expected was for Rhett to hop out in that unbuttoned flannel, broad chest on display for all to see. The sleeve falls just far enough from his shoulder that you can see the scar hiding below his left collarbone. 

"Quite the festival outfit you've got," you chirp, dragging your eyes away from his bull tattoo and over to a nearby tree, feigning interest. The back of your throat is starting to tickle, lungs tight as you fend off the urge to cough. Not here, not here, not here.

He laughs, "What, y' don't think I look good like this?"

You do, but he doesn't need to know that. Not in the slightest. 

"Its...certainly a choice," faking a grimace, you turn your attention back to your car, slowly but surely growing cooler the longer it runs. A pleasure that Rhett and his broken air conditioning unit haven't known since last summer. 

You don't mind the idea of it staying broken if he keeps showing up at your house looking like this. Even if that does mean that you become his ride on the hotter days, fearing an onset of heat stroke. 

The passenger door is silent as he opens it. No longer squealing due to whatever he and Royal did to it last weekend. Being friends with a family of DIY ranchers has its perks. 

Thunk_

"Shit." 

You blink. Was that...?

Yeah. 

It was. 

As if last time wasn't enough of a lesson, Rhett's got his knees pinned up against your glovebox, the seat too far forward for him and his big body to fit. Though this time, he isn't hurriedly pawing at the seat levers like he'll die if he doesn't get any more space. Instead, he's resigned to a frown. More annoyed with himself than anything.

"You alright there?" 

Rhett's sigh is so heavy that his shoulders visibly deflate. "Yeah," reaching off to the side, pushing the seat back as far as it can go. "Humbled, but 'm alright."

It's toward the end of your drive that you notice the flower petals sitting on your dashboard. Roses, you think. It must be what you get for leaving your windows rolled down all morning, vulnerable to adventurous squirrels and other varmints that enjoy trespassing into property they don't own. 

They're certainly not from you, and you would have asked Rhett if your destination hadn't come up so quickly. Fighting for a parking space in the withered grass is a bigger task than folks let on. Even with folks on the ground, pointing you to the perfect spot, someone will always try to steal it out from under you. 

For a festival in such a small town, there is a hell of a lot going on inside of it. Food trucks, concession stands full of sweet treats, craft booths, and cheap knick-knacks bought offline to resell under the guise of being handmade locally. Apple bobbing, the duck pond, and ring toss. There's a precariously placed dragon roller coaster and a horse carousel that Rhett tries convincing you to get on. 

Worse. There are so many people. Faces you recognize and those you've never seen before. Waiting in lines and shoving themselves between you and Rhett because the small gap between your shoulders looked like a good opening to get somewhere quicker. 

"'s a lil crazy out here, don't ya think?" Rhett's asking through a laugh, once again stepping over to you. Two kids dart between you, their hands occupied with bags of fake goldfish. 

Only took a decade for them to learn not to hand out live fish. You can still remember the three you and Rhett got when you were small. One didn't survive the drive back to his house, and the other two managed to stick around long enough to see New Year's. 

Rest in peace, Goldie Junior and Patches.

"I think it's always been crazy," tilting your head to cough into your elbow, dislodging that goddamn tickling sensation—you look away before you can see what it is. 

There's a girl off to the side, staring in your direction. Or rather, Rhett's direction. Long, wavy hair and a delicate sundress, the kind of woman who looks like she's walked right off the beach cover of a magazine. Her warm gaze has long since settled on Rhett; it's a look you've seen a million and one times at the rodeo. The one that gets him a little weak in the knees.

You look away as quickly as they flickered over there. If you don't make eye contact, maybe she won't come over to introduce herself. 

"We weren't that bad, though," but then, pausing to look at you, concern lacing his narrowed gaze, "...right?" 

Rose-tinted memories flicker through your mind. Rhett falling and breaking his wrist after taking you out on a green horse. Trespassing onto the Tillerson property to play with Luke and Billy, only to get hauled home in the back of a police cruiser, 'cause their momma didn't care much for you two. Getting busted, sneaking out your bedroom window to go spend the night with Rhett. All those times, you had to run through back alleys together because you'd been caught out after Wabang's curfew. 

"I like to think we were relatively well-behaved," concluding after a moment. Though your families may have a vastly different opinion on that. 

Laughter rumbles from you at the same time it does from Rhett, shoulders bumping together. Sends a little shock of warmth rippling through your bones, twisting around your heart like briars.

Maybe the conversation would have lasted longer if you didn't get distracted. Rhett lays eyes on a truck dedicated to a locally crafted beer, and the small frame of a self-serve station from the local candy shop catches your attention. It only makes sense that you would step aside and regroup in a few minutes. You're in desperate need of a breather before that girl works up the nerve to approach him and turns you into a third wheel. 

There's more to this little station than what initially met the eye. It's shelves full of caramel apples, peanut brittle, fudges of every flavor you can imagine, covered pretzels, cookies, and hard candies galore. And here you thought that it would have been wiped clean by the folks who came early in the morning before the sun could reach mind-numbing temperatures. Even your favorite candy is here, the last box left on the shelf.

The price is a little steep, but the flavor of them on your tongue is enough to distract from the pained cries of your wallet. If Rhett knew these were here, then he absolutely would have skipped out on beer in favor of convincing you to split them together—the candy mooch. 

But you must have taken too long to make your decision because you don't see Rhett. Not by the crudely decorated truck, and he said he would be waiting next to the old wooden bench under the oak tree, but it's entirely empty. Not a cowboy in sight. That stuffiness arises in your throat again. 

Maybe he's...

"Hey!" A herd of kids are darting around you. Like a bunch of cats scrambling from the bang of a tractor. One slams into the side of your leg as she rushes past. It doesn't affect her in the slightest, but your feet stumble. Knocked off kilter. Your open container of candy threatens to spill onto the dirt. 

 But then another kid is bursting through the crowd, and this one... 

You recognize this one. 

"Amy?" 

She doesn't need to say a damn thing. Her wide eyes tell all you need to know. 

The crowd is too tall for her to see over it, but as she tugs you along behind her, you've got the feeling that she knows exactly where she's going. Navigating the festival based on terrain alone, over thinly spread gravel, and down a broad dirt path. Her hand clings to your wrist so tightly that her knuckles have gone white. 

You don't know who she's bringing you to or what could have happened. But it has to be something. Perry could have fallen into another one of his rages. Rhett very well may be doing something dumber than getting a DUI on the back of a horse. Or, or—

It's both of them. 

Perry's clawing at Trevor like a goddamn cat. His teeth bared like an animal. Crazed. Feral. Someone's got him by the collar. But it's not doing anything. He barks something incoherent. Jabbing a pointed finger at Trevor. Amy's shoulders jolt. Squeezing your wrist impossibly tighter. 

Plaid shirts scuffle behind them. Cowboy boots and Prada sneakers kick up plumes of dirt. Two brick walls slamming into one another. Caught in a spiral until someone makes the first pull backward. Luke's fist connects with Rhett's jaw. 

Flower petals burst into the air. 

All of a sudden, Luke is jumping backward, his palms raised to the sky. A rare white flag. One that you didn't even know was in the Tillerson arsenal. "I'm sorry, man," is all he can say. Pale as a damn ghost. 

Almost pale as the baby pink petals fluttering onto the dirt floor. 

"Is that..." Amy's the one to break the silence, looking your way as if you hold all the answers. In a sense, maybe you do. "I thought it was a myth?"

Air catches in your windpipe. Feels like you're about to choke. "I did, too." 

What the fight was over, you're not sure. It couldn't have been something serious; they've dropped the issue far too quickly for it to be something worth fighting over. There and gone within the blink of an eye. The Tillerson brothers are dispersing into the crowd without another foul word, Rhett's wordlessly pawing at the fresh red mark on his jaw, and Perry's barking something you don't care to hear. 

Amy's long nails are biting into your skin, threatening to tear through and draw blood, but you can't ask her to loosen up or let go. The sting is half the reason you haven't unraveled like a loose ball of yarn. It isn't enough to stop your lower belly from twisting and turning, a bitterness rising in the back of your raw throat.

"Sorry," Rhett's voice comes so suddenly that you jolt. 

"I leave you alone for five minutes." Your tone comes out blander than you intended, doesn't match the roll of your eyes, deliberately avoiding the sight of flowers lying in the dirt.

He must catch onto it because his frown deepens. But he doesn't say anything, and neither do you. Only offering a wave and a forced smile when Amy ultimately ventures off with Perry for another one of his ice cream apologies. Those seem to be happening more and more lately. 

Hypothetically, someone should say something. Explain what the fight was about, how he got across the festival so damn fast. Was the beer any good? Want to share this candy before your jaw starts to ache like a bitch? The words are flickering through your head a million miles a minute, but not a syllable makes it to your tongue. 

"It's over someone at the bar," Rhett's admission comes in the tune of a guilty child confessing to breaking a vase. Meek. Like he'll fall apart if pushed any harder. "If that's what y' were wanderin'." 

Falling back into the character of annoying best friend is easy. All you've got to do is throw your weight into his side, not strong enough to deliver a playful shove. "So there really is another person stuck with that god awful tattoo," letting your mouth rise into a smile, almost thrilled to be pulling this off so well.

"Hey!" He's pushing you back, laughing, though he's careful not to knock you off your feet this time."'Least mine ain't a shoe."

Defiant, you raise your left arm, the tattoo on your wrist just as dark and bold as it was the day you were born. "It's a lucky horseshoe, thank you very much." 

And just for a little bit, you can deceive yourself into thinking you can still breathe.

You never do put the passenger seat back into its place. It's so far back that you catch yourself thinking it's not there at all; more than once, you clamber into the vehicle and think someone has robbed you of it. A part of you wishes it would happen. That some ridiculous bandit would break in and take that seat. 

It would be doing your dignity a favor; you're acting as if he's dead. 

You passed his truck on the way over here, parked outside the Handsome Gambler. If you weren't worried about wrecking, you would have tried to get a glimpse through the open door to spot him with his shiny new soulmate. 

A good friend would stop in and say hello; if she makes Rhett happy, then you should be happy. It should be on the forefront of your mind; you're three stores down from the bar, but your feeble heart jerks in your chest with a familiar sourness. Hand trembling, struggling to hang onto this little bag of chips. 

A good friend would be happy for him. 

But you're not a good friend. 

And if this cashier doesn't hurry up, you might also become a horrible customer. Your stomach is twisting like you're about to puke, something bitter rising in the back of your throat. Damn near dropping the receipt when she hands it to you, shoving it into the bag, and darting out the open door. 

You hardly make it to the edge of the sidewalk. Keeling over with a wretched noise. 

But the only thing that comes up is the shit that's been lodged in your chest all afternoon, stubbornly sitting in your chest with the weight of a damn elephant. Refusing to move, restricting your airway until you crack, and confess your feelings to a man who was never meant for you. 

"Hey!" 

Bleary, your eyes peel open. Really hope they're not talking to you. 

"I have your sidekick!" Sherrif Joy's voice cuts across the night air like a knife. Swift and straight to the point.

Turning your head might be the thing that puts you on the ground, vision spinning like your eyes have gone loose in your skull. Funny. You can almost deceive yourself into thinking that's Rhett she's towing along.

Maybe because it is him. Boots dragging against the sidewalk, shoulders so loose that they sway in the wind, eyes hardly open, simply led along by the hand Joy has on his bicep. You've got just enough time to paw at your mouth with your sleeve before she's close enough to notice that something may be off.

"I know he's not your responsibility," the glint in her eye suggests she's getting more amusement out of this than she should be. Probably because this wouldn't be the first, second, or third time that she's sought you out. "But he wouldn't shut his mouth when he saw you."

Rhett's grin is too bright for his flushed face. "Hi." 

You don't need to look at your phone to know that it's too damn early for this, and yet, you can't seem to muster up the slightest bit of irritation as you ask. "How are you already drunk at eleven at night?" 

"I—" Hiccup. "Been here all evenin'." Shreds of red rose petals cling to his lips, flaking off with the movement of his mouth and fluttering to the ground like rain.

Oh, Rhett. 

"If you don't want him, I can bring him to the station," Joy always says this, the same damn line over and over, as if she doesn't know what you will ultimately say, "it's no big deal for me." 

Looping your hand through the handle of your grocery bag, you reach out to take Rhett by the wrist. He comes to you easily, long arms reaching out to wrap around you, clinging like an oversized piece of velcro. 

"I'll take him," feigning annoyance is impossible when he's smiling at you like that. Drunk but completely and utterly happy to be with you. 

If only he looked at you this way when he's sober.

Getting him to the car might be the hardest part of this excursion; it takes you and Joy to get him into your passenger seat without banging his head on the roof like last time. But this isn't your first Drunk Rhett Rodeo; Lord knows it ain't Joy's either. It might even break your previous record of five and a half minutes. Not that you were counting.

"Where we goin'?" He chirps the moment you've clambered into the driver's seat. 

"Home." It's the only response you've got. Not entirely sure if he's got the capacity to follow long sentences. 

But his head cocks to the side like a goddamn puppy. "My home, or...home home?" 

Ice forms in your wrist. Suddenly caught before you can turn the key in the ignition. Is he...? It's gotta be. What else would he be referring to? 

"Home home?" More of a question than anything, but he's not sober enough to notice the difference. That grin simply grows a little bigger. His boots kicking against your floorboard, happy as a clam in high water. 

It doesn't fade, either. Even as you get the car going, and he fusses about leaving his truck behind, he doesn't lose the excitement that bloomed the moment he laid eyes on you. Content to sit here and let you drive, looking out the window and commenting on whatever he sees. The crazy lady on Second Street has added more flamingos to her lawn hoard, and someone's mailbox has been knocked over. What does that sign say over there? 

"So what's your soulmate like?" You ask, reaching to turn down the radio. "You haven't said anything about her." 

Rhett's shoulders rise and fall with a shrug so subtle that you nearly miss it. "They're alright," pause. Then, a weary laugh. "I jus' wish they'd like me back."

Yeah. You understand the feeling. 

He doesn't seem to notice the petals clinging to the lower strands of his hair and into his flannel, hanging off the edge of his pocket and accumulating in his lap. They're identical to the ones sitting on your dash, dry and shriveled from the sun, bouncing as your front tire hits a pothole. 

Now that you give it some thought, you suppose that's why he's drunk. 

"My throat hurts," he grumbles out of the blue, rattling you from the sanctuary of your thoughts. 

You hum, not entirely there. "Getting sick?" 

Quiet, he reaches into his flannel pocket, producing a small assortment of something green. Rose stems, their thorns stained with crimson. There's no way that he's...

Your tire smacks the edge of a curb. The steering wheel yanking out of your hands.

Shit. 

Right. The road. 

"You've been coughing those up?" Voice strained by your heart, sitting high in your esophagus. You're so damn lucky that was a concrete curb and not another car. 

And yet, you dare to peer at him through your peripheral. Those stems still resting in his big palm, as if he doesn't have the strength to put them away again. You reckon he's not sober enough to have noticed your mistake. He would have commented on it by now, making fun of it as if he's any better of a driver. 

"Fuckin' hurts," it comes out softly, a confession that his own ears are afraid of. 

And it's the kind of statement that echoes throughout your car for the rest of the drive. Rattling between the pauses between songs and bubbling to the surface at every lull of the music. Clouded over by too many wonderings of how long he's been quietly dealing with the roses growing in his lungs. A condition so extreme that the stems are beginning to come up, too. 

You would ask why he's never told you about this, but...

Rhett's head cracks against the window with a heavy thunk as you pull into the driveway. So sharp and sudden that you fear he's broken the glass. But the only wound to come out of it is the red spot on his forehead, the color already rising to the surface by the time you put the car in park.

"Did that hurt?" It's impossible to ward off the lightness in your tone; a smidgen amused. 

"Nuh-uh," but he's rubbing at it like it does. 

You shouldn't have believed him, either, because by the time you get him through the door, it's already begun to swell. Miniscule at first, but if you give it some time, it'll grow into a proper bump. One that he'll grimace at in the morning but will lie through his teeth when you ask if it's hurting him. 

If he were sober, he would be nipping at your palm for daring to venture near his face; you can hear it now, the prematurely yelped "'m alright!" before you've even opened your mouth. But he's not sober. Has to put his hand on your waist to stabilize himself, not entirely aware of how you're curling your hands around his cheeks, holding him still. 

You don't think this one will rise too horribly, but you've been wrong before. Like how you insisted the cut on your side was just a scratch and wound up needing more stitches than you knew how to count. 

"Will you let me put ice on it?" You find yourself asking, your fingers drifting up to smooth over the bump. 

Defiant, his head shakes. 

"What if I order a pizza? Will you let me then?" Trying again. But even at the prospect of his favorite drunk snack, he's not interested. 

"Ice cream?" No.

"A movie?" Wrong again.

"Two movies?" Nope.

"A promise to never speak of this again?" Nada.

Huffing, you let go of his face, throwing your hands in the air instead. "Is there anything I can bribe you with?"

His brows furrow. A thought flickers behind his eyes.

Slowly, he nods. 

You've got a bad feeling about whatever this could be, but God, it's too late for you to care. "What is it?"

Even if he would have let you go on for the next century, you would have never guessed that he wanted this. 

Here in the soft sanctuary of your cozy little unmade bed, nestled beneath the myriad of sheets and blankets that you swore you'd throw into the washer three mornings ago. There might be a few crumbs left over from your snack last night, too distracted by the video on your phone to notice the mess until it was too late. 

The state of it all would bother you under normal circumstances, but you reckon you're getting contact drunk. Head spinning at the sight of this cowboy, snug as a bug in your bed, his cheek squished against the spare pillow. His arm has wound up draped over your side, over the sheets, and you can't remember when your hand drifted to his face, thumb swiping back and forth over his scruffy, unshaven jaw.

For once in your life, you can breathe.

You've started to forget what that was like.

He's so unnervingly close that you reckon he can hear the hammer of your heart rattling against your chest like a caged animal. Furious. Determined to burst through and spill its contents for him to see. The devil on your shoulder suggests that you should let it happen; chances are, he won't remember any of this come morning. But the soft, whiney voice of the angel reminds you. 

Rhett's got a soulmate. And it isn't you. 

"What made you ask for this, anyhow?" The sound of your voice comes as a surprise; one of those thoughts that have journeyed to your mouth, rather than staying up in your head. 

Those sleepy blues peel open; maybe the slightest bit cross-eyed perfectly matches that crooked little grin. "'s like a sleepover."

There's a word you haven't thought of for a while. Probably hasn't surfaced in your vocabulary since your early teenage years, arising in arguments about how unfair it was that hitting puberty meant no more sleepovers. It was okay before, so why did it become a problem when your ages started ending in 'teen'? 

Hesitant, your attention drifts to the tattoo on your wrist—that not-so-lucky horseshoe. A symbol that only became a problem in your second year of high school when your heart decided that it wanted your best friend over a soul mate. "Like the ones we're banned from?"

"Uhuh," his foot juts out to kick your ankle, "'cause we're too damn old." 

You're kicking him back before you can think twice about it. Old habits be damned; you're not letting him get a shot in without getting one yourself. But he's already fighting back, socket feet smacking against yours. Tangling. Fighting to get one punch in over the other. His leg bangs against your knee. Your hands lightly shove against his chest. 

All of a sudden, Rhett's lurching forward.

The room spins.

And you're lying on your back. Caged beneath the broad frame of a man proven to handle animals over a thousand pounds heavier than you. His hands planted on either side of your head, knees straddling your hips. Long hair strays into his face, slipping out from behind his ears, but it's not enough to block your eyes from locking.

You're itching to reach up and tuck it back into place. To drift your palms across the roughness of his cheeks and trail a thumb over those thin lips. They're bitten to all hell, but try as you might, you can't imagine they're anything other than soft. 

Time itself might have stopped. 

God. You can't breathe. Don't know if it's from the infestation building in your lungs or the overwhelming scent of alcohol on his tongue. 

Or maybe...maybe it's because he's gradually growing closer. Minimizing the gap between your bodies, inch by debilitating inch. An image plucked right out of your own imagination, replayed a hundred and one times. 

But this version of Rhett doesn't belong to you. 

The one in your head didn't reek of whiskey and beer. 

"Rhett..." You're whispering as if anything louder will shatter you like glass. But he's still...he's still leaning in, and, and— "Rhett. You're drunk."

He freezes. Stiff as a board. Eyes so wide that his irises look tiny. 

"Shit," jerking away as if he's been burned, "sorry." 

This time, when his back hits the bed, your belly doesn't fill with butterflies. It fills with something much, much worse. 

It's the silence that eats at you the most. He's right next to you, and yet, not a word can leave your mouth. What if you hadn't stopped him? Did he confuse you for the pretty thing at the bar, wandering around with the same marking as him? Your heart lurches in your chest, tummy twisting sourly. God, why are you even entertaining this sort of thing? 

He's your friend. Friends don't think of each other like this, especially when one of them has a soulmate waiting on them. 

A funny feeling swells in the back of your throat, stomach gurgling so loudly that it's got Rhett tilting his head to look at you. 

"Are y—"

You're getting up before he can finish talking. Darting for the bathroom for the umpteenth time today. 

You wake to an empty bed. 

Sunlight trickles through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the freshly made sheets that Rhett once occupied, tucked in the best he could get it. He's been gone long enough for them to feel cool to the touch, but you can't hear him moseying around your house, either.

Your bare feet drift across the chilly, wooden floor, still frozen with midnight's temperature drop. Where Rhett would typically bump the thermostat up a couple of degrees, today, it sits the same as you left it. 

"Rhett?" Voice a smidgen too fragile for the hammering of your heart. 

All you receive is an echo, variants of your own tune. His boots are missing from where they once sat by the front door, and when you creep far enough to peer through the kitchen window into the backyard, you don't find him there, either. The ice pack has been resting in the freezer long enough to begin hardening again. 

And your phone left sitting on the counter overnight, contains a notification from everything and everyone, except for one man. Still the same text messages from three days ago, no matter how many times you refresh the page. But the magnetic whiteboard on the side of your refrigerator has a new smiley face on it. 

...and the marker is once again missing.

With a sigh, you reach for the phone, fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. 09:47 PM

It's not until after you've got a morning drink in hand that you recognize the tire tracks in your front yard. The grass flattened in the corner of your driveway in a fashion that only Perry Abbott can pull off. No matter how many times he's driven here, he's always overshot the turn and ventured into the lawn.

Your phone is still quiet when you cruise through town a little after nine. Rhett's truck is missing from its place in front of the bar, the space now occupied by a vehicle that the Abbotts can't afford. 

 On its own, your heart lurches in your chest. The tail end of a blue pickup is poking out from a streetside parking spot just down the main drag, and that's got to be him. You know this town like the back of your hand. There aren't many trucks that look like Rhett's. If you catch him now, maybe you can smooth things over regarding last night. Before the dust begins to settle and erode away at your psyche—

But Rhett's truck doesn't have stickers. 

This time, you don't make it to the bathroom before that damned sickness overtakes you. Spewing onto the side of the road at the only red light in town, right in front of the old cafe with its outdoor seating. 

A hangover would be more dignifying. At least then, a little old lady wouldn't be tilting her head at you, her kind, wrinkled eyes soft as she offers you a smile. You understand that look more than you'd like to admit. 

It's the same expression you carried when those petals burst from Rhett's mouth. 

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. Yesterday.

Odd. Usually he responds fairly quickly, at least when it comes to him hijacking one of your belongings, but maybe he's busy. Summer has never been kind to the Abbotts, between blistering heat and cattle who love to take down the southern fences to get at the neighbor's grasses. Judging by the forecaster rambling on the news, things aren't about to get easier, either. 

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. Two days ago.

You: I'll give you a hint. It writes in purple ink. 07:33 PM

No dice. 

How are you meant to leave reminders in the kitchen when a rogue cowboy has pocketed your only marker? It's barely been three days, and you've already started to forget things. Today was laundry day, but now you're standing here, swaddled in Rhett's oversized shirt because it's the only clean thing you have left. Maybe there is a benefit to not returning his clothes. You were meant to go get a spice for this new recipe but didn't remember until you were halfway into working on it. Come to find out, that recipe really, really relied on it. 

You can try to blame your lack of an appetite on your cold, unseasoned dinner all you want, but it only goes so far. Heart lurching in your chest, as the screen lights up with a text.

Autumn: Still coming with us Friday night? 👀 07:51 PM

 You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. One week ago.

You: I'll give you a hint. It writes in purple ink. Five days ago.

You: I'm going to call a bounty hunter if you continue this hostage situation. Three days ago. 

You're getting sick of feeling your heart twist every time you look at this damn screen. But that stupid son of a bitch still hasn't—

"Excuse me," a lady whispers, squeezing past you, "I'm sorry." 

The entrance of Odessa's probably isn't the best place for you to be checking your phone, now that you think about it. 

That's alright; you're already sliding the device into your back pocket, reaching to catch the door before it can close behind her. You've wasted enough time for your friends to have already secured a spot at the Handsome Gambler. It's a wonder nobody hasn't given you a ring to make sure you weren't nabbed off the street. 

Stepping outside does nothing to ward off the drone of multiple shop televisions. All of them moan about how another wicked storm is due to ravage Wabang and every town around it. Same channel. Same woman talking. Same obnoxious blue background. It's a tale you've heard so many times that you can nearly quote it word for word. 

There's a serious storm rolling in tonight. Tornadoes and hail are possible. Here's what to do in a tornado. Do not do these five things in a tornado. Download the news app to stay connected. Tune back in soon to find out if the forecast has miraculously gotten better or worse! 

Looking overhead, you can already see the dark accumulation in the distance, a humid breeze tickling your neck as it drifts past. It feels just like the night you and Rhett rode out into the west pasture to watch the storm roll in. 

Sitting in the grass, watching those dark gray clouds roll closer and closer whilst the horses relaxed behind you, their attentions focused solely on the greenery below. You can still hear the tune blaring from the speaker of his phone. He'd really thought he was clever, playing that Gary Allen song about how every storm runs out of rain. It wasn't so cute when the south pasture flooded. 

A laugh cuts across the evening air. Sharp and pitchy enough to have your head tilting in the direction of it. Right behind you, on the corner of the block. 

Maria Olivares. That's a face you haven't seen in a long while. Wasn't she off to medical school, a couple hours away from here? Who in the world could she possibly be...

You know that cowboy. 

Puzzle pieces click into place. The darkened mark gracing her inner wrist. Too small for you to make out. How she giggles and batts her eyes up at Rhett, as he talks about something in that wonderfully deep voice of his. 

Of course, Rhett's soulmate would be Maria. How could it not be? No wonder why he was so crazy about her in high school; they've got the same damn marking on their bodies. 

As if to spite you, a muscle spasms in the juncture of your wrist. Sourness bubbles in the back of your mouth, but for once, you're able to swallow it down. Not here. Not when either of them can turn their heads and realize that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring like some kind of creep. Even coming from a childhood best friend, that would be weird. 

"Are you in line?" 

You jerk backward. Wide eyes landing on the wirey frame of some middle-aged man standing in front of you. He motions, with the brim of his hat, toward the door. The Handsome Gambler. Your destination.

"Distracted," you blurt, scurrying to grab the handle before he can, "sorry."

"There you are!" A glass of beer rises from the opposite end of the bar. Autumn. "I was fixin' to come looking for you!"

You have to wait until you're within earshot before you can respond to her, squeezing past the group of cowboys crowded at the corner, watching a PBR ride on someone's cellphone. "I was eavesdropping," You supply, can't keep a damn thing to yourself these days, "Maria Olivares must be Rhett's shiny new soulmate."

Autumn's jaw slackens, eyes so big they might comically burst out of her skull, "are you kidding?" 

One of her friends, you forget her name, gives you a gentle nudge with her arm. You suppose Autumn has already filled her in about your situation. "How did you find out?" Her tone is gentle, nearly washed over by the music blaring from the stereo. 

"Saw them laughing together in the street." There's more to that statement, context, and a reason behind why you've come to that conclusion, but Autumn is taking a brightly colored drink from the bartender, passing it your way.

The Handsome Gambler and mixed drinks do not go hand in hand; there's always too much or too little of something. But out of the corner of your eye, you can see the door opening, two familiar frames entering the bar, the happy new couples themselves. 

Tonight, you don't give a damn what these things taste like. So long as it makes you forget the sour twist in your chest, lungs tightening as if all the air has been sucked from them. Without second thought, you bring the glass to your lips.

It doesn't leave until it's halfway empty, and that's only because the need for oxygen has grown superior. 

The lady behind the bar lifts a freshly cleaned shot glass. You've got a feeling that she's overheard your ramblings. "Need something stronger?"

She doesn't need to say another word. "Absolutely." 

One shot. 

Fuck this town.

A second. 

And fuck Rhett Abbott. 

You're feeling delusional enough to ask for a third, but Autumn's nudging you a glass of water instead. It doesn't have the same bite, but it's equally unpleasant against the back of your throat, still raw and sore. 

Next to you, Autumn and her two friends are already delving into a new conversation. Something about the oddities going on around town and how some old man says he walked into a cave and saw a mastodon. You suppose there must be some inside group dedicated to continuing the claim because it's a rumor you've heard every year. 

A smile fights its way onto your face. You and Rhett used to gear up and go mastodon hunting up on the old trails behind the Abbott property. Royal loved to ask what y'all planned to do with it once you caught it, but you and Rhett never thought that far ahead. 

Your gaze follows the bartender, ready to ask for something sweet, but she's on the other end, gathering a dozen beers for a party that just walked in. Someone leans onto the bar. His head blocking part of your view. But then he looks over, and—

Rhett's eyes widen at the sight of you. By the feel of it on your face, the expression is mutual.

At least, it is for a second. That sourness jumps into your throat. Lower gut churning with a fervor unlike ever before. 

"I'm heading out back," you blurt, hand rising to cover your mouth, "you don't wanna follow." 

The girls frown, but they're certainly not making the risk to stop you. Autumn's already reaching for your drink, accepting your nod as a sign that she can finish off what you've got left. A voice jumps across the blare of the music. Almost sounds like the call of your name. But you don't have the luxury of stopping and looking. 

Your feet are barely falling into line. Rushing to push through the men gathered by the back exit. Past the blasting jukebox. There's that tightness in your lungs again. A thick sensation rising higher. Higher. Higher in your throat. There's the door. There's the door. Your hands are reaching out. Grappling at the handle. 

Hinges squeal open. Shoes scuffing on the concrete. 

Vivid purple petals burst past your lips like goddamn confetti. Stems and all. Ripping past your already battered windpipe and sticking to your tongue, little bits of purple carrying in the wind. 

Those three-petalled flowers were pretty until they started growing in your lungs. You can't stand the sight of them, but you've got no choice but to cough more of them up. As if any amount of effort will make them disappear. 

 A bundle of them have caught in the back of your mouth, stubbornly thwarting your ability to breathe. Light as a feather, your head spins, feet stumbling as you scurry to one of the chairs, sitting against the wall. The plastic groans under your weight, so brittle that it ought to give away at any moment.

Lightning flickers as another wave of flowers rain to the floor, and it's a wonder you can get these out at all. 

The back door opens with a screech. Music pours through the gap, an incoherent tune so loud that you can hardly hear the thunder rolling through town. Someone in boots stumbles out, keeling over.

A bloodstained rose tumbles to the ground, pink and red petals dancing behind it, landing amongst your mess of purple. 

When you lift your head, you know what you're going to see. But that doesn't make the look in Rhett's eyes any easier to bear. Some kind of hellish cross between horror and bewilderment that manages to look akin to a wounded puppy. 

Not a word leaves his mouth. Doesn't get the opportunity to, for that matter, another plume of petals forcing their way past his lips before he can do anything about it. Just the sight of them has that tickle building in the back of your throat, but for the time being, your tank is empty. 

Thunder booms as Rhett falls into the chair opposite you. His hand dips into his flannel pocket, producing...

your marker. 

"'m sorry," he mutters, sentence broken by a cough, "Didn't realize I stuck it behind my ear 'til you texted me."

"Which time?" You can't help the bitterness seeping into your tone, plucking the little writing utensil from his outstretched hand. 

His eyes dart away. 

The tension in the silence doesn't come from the storm. Wind howling around the corner of the building, rustling through the trees. Lightning flickers, illuminating the world around you for the briefest of moments, and just like that, rain begins to fall. Coming down in a thick sheet, so strong that even under the awning, it manages to reach you, mist tickling your skin and dampening your clothes.

Idle, your fingers twist the marker back and forth; it's still warm from where it rested in his pocket, snug against his chest. A part of you wonders if he always runs this hot or if your hands are just cold from the Wyoming air.

"So you and Maria, huh?" Even with the roar of the storm, your voice is too loud; a megaphone in the library would be more tolerable. 

"Nah, I just ran into her 'bout a half hour ago." Rhett's head shakes, eyes on the floor. "We were both goin' to the same place, 'n that was about it."

"Damn, and here I thought she was your soulmate." You hate that a selfish part of you floods with relief. So overcome with it that you can feel the way your shoulders drop. "It would have made for the perfect story."

You could have been the perfect story, too.

"I don't know why I liked her in high school," he's continuing, running a hand through his hair, fingers visibly catching on a tangle, "'s like talkin' to a fuckin' wall."

Of all the things you've imagined him saying, that wasn't even close to making it on the list. Though, you can't say he's entirely wrong; ever since that time you got paired with Maria for a history presentation, you haven't been able to see what's so interesting about her, either. Nothing but one-word answers and giggling with her friends while you worked on the assignment by your lonesome. 

It may be petty, but you're still bitter. 

"I'm sorry, I..." Rhett's talking again, caving to the silence that you've unintentionally put between you two. His hands fall into his lap, clasping together. Then, break apart just as quickly, one of them reaching up to rub at his forehead. "I shouldn't have tried to kiss you the other night."

"It's alright—" your tongue pauses before the rest of your sentence can follow. I wanted you to. But you're looking down at your tattoo, and it's still the same horseshoe. It doesn't match Rhett's. 

It will never match Rhett's. 

Finding your voice is damn near impossible, but you do it anyway. "You've done stranger things while under the influence." 

"Like gettin' a DUI on the back of a horse?" He says it so bluntly that you can't help but sputter. 

It's easy. Dissolving into laughter. Peering at each other through smiling eyes. Yeah, getting a DUI on horseback is much, much worse than trying to steal a kiss. You've still got the voicemail from when Joy called you in the dead of night, asking you to come get Rhett and his horse. 

White flashes. Lighting up the world for the briefest moment. An ear-splitting crackle erupts from above. So loud that the town lights flicker in unison like a bunch of candles nearly blown out by the squealing wind. 

"'s gettin' pretty bad out here." The sound of Rhett's voice is nearly lost to the ringing in your ear. 

"Tell me about it," you lean forward, peering over at the miniature river that runs down into the alleyway, carrying with it a parade of purple, pink, and red flower petals. "The road'll be flooded by the time Autumn decides she's ready to leave."

Rhett's head tilts to the side. "You didn't drive?" 

"Couldn't." Shocker, you know. "I had a hot date with a shot of whisky."

"Two from what I saw," so he was watching you do that, huh?

You wink. "I would have made it three if I knew you were watching."

Something crackles in the distance. Maybe a tree struck by lightning, bits of bark falling like rain. A little too close for comfort, whatever it was.

That tickling rises in the back of your throat once more. Forces another cough out of you. The purple petals catch in the wind before they can hit the ground, soaring off like tiny planes. Rhett's eyes follow them until they're out of sight. 

All of a sudden, he rises to his feet, spurs chiming with the motion. Must have forgotten to take those off again. "Need a ride?" Offering his hand. 

You take it before you even realize what he's asking. 

A part of you is beginning to suspect that Autumn can see into the future because she's hardly phased when she turns her head to see you meander back into the bar, hand in hand with Rhett. Her white teeth flash you with a smile, perhaps a little too interested in whatever Billy Tillerson is babbling into her other ear. With their hands intertwined, you can hardly tell that they've got timers imprinted on their wrists, bearing identical numbers.

Autumn doesn't need to ask when you hand her the twenty from your pocket; in the time you've known each other, you've proven to be a creature of habit. Instead, she offers you a wink, not a word said. 

Rhett's already by the door, working his beat-up wallet back into his jeans before he can set it down and forget that it's there. "Y' ready to get wet?" He chirps once you're within earshot. 

You're not, but there's no stopping the rain now that it's coming down. "Ready as I'll ever be." 

The door creeks open. A gust of wind rushes in through the gap. Slams you with the force of a freight train. Damn near strong enough to knock you on your ass. But Rhett's grabbing hold of your wrist and him hauling you forward is the only thing keeping your feet from being swept out from under you. 

Freezing rain splatters against your skin like a million tiny bullets. So sharp you think they might pierce through and come out the other side. A sheet of white blinds you. Forced to lower your head and prey Rhett's hauling you the right direction. The sidewalk is already flooded. Splashing up to lick your ankles. Soaking through your shoes. 

You're moving. You know you're moving. But you might as well be on some hellish treadmill because it doesn't feel like you're going anywhere.

All of a sudden, Rhett's pulling you to the right. Toward the curb. Reaching for the handle. Yanking so hard you can hear it over the rain. 

It opens. You're inside within the very same second. Clambering into the cloth passenger seat, pulling your legs in, just as Rhett slams the door shut. Through the blurry dash, he's only identifiable as a big blue splotch, travelling around the front of his truck. His door rips open just as quickly, the vehicle rocking as he all but throws himself inside.

"'s fuckin' cold!" He sputters, blindly jabbing the key at the ignition. Miss. Miss again. Another miss. He tilts his head. It slides home. 

It's been a minute since the last time you heard this old truck roar to life. Even longer since you've last felt your skin go this numb. Shivering like a leaf, nerves so ruthlessly beaten by the elements that they're shot. There's a texture to this seat. You know there is, but you can't feel it. 

A weary hand darts out. Wavering back and forth. Narrowly misses the little heat dial.

"Ain't got heat, remember?" Rhett almost sounds guilty, though you can't say for sure. It's hard to get a read of his face when he's focused on putting the truck into gear, looking straight ahead as he pulls onto the road. Though you're not entirely sure why, he's still got that old—

...no. His spare shirt is still sitting in your clothes hamper, next in line for a wash. Even if you had miraculously known to carry it with you tonight, there's no way it would have done you any good. Not with how soaked your clothes are, dripping like you've just gone for an impromptu swim in the coldest river you could find. 

Your arms rise to wrap around yourself, clinging to what little body heat you've got left. A jacket. Why didn't you think to carry a jacket? Lightning flickers. Crackling so loudly that you can feel it travel through the ground; almost sounds as if it's laughing at you. 

Even in the safe confines of this truck, the win threatens to wriggle in and get ahold of you. Screaming around the truck. Whipping past light posts. Rattling them so hard that they sway back and forth. Something is telling you that a power outage is in your near-to-distant future. With how you can look out the back window and see it ravaging the main part of town, there's no way it's not going to take out a power line. One little mess up is all it takes to plunge this little town into darkness. 

There's already a tree down. Its long branches obstructing part of the road, forcing Rhett onto the other side to squeeze past. 

"'m I over far enough?" He sounds like he's got a handle on it, head tilting back and forth, drawing the truck closer and closer to the edge of the road. 

Your eyes squint. Struggling to see through the window. "I think so."

It's an obstacle easily overcome, but as you begin to pick up speed once more, a new problem arises. Those poor little windshield wipers can hardly keep up with the rain. Coming down in sheet after sheet, splattering against the glass quicker than it can be swept off. Driving in the ocean would have better visibility.

"Can't fuckin..." Rhett's talking to himself. You hope he's talking to himself because you can't hear him over the chatter of your teeth. Trembling like some kind of exaggerated cartoon character.

The truck gently veers to the right, off into some kind of gravel space on the side of the road, grinding to a halt.

"The— the wipers can't go any faster?" Tongue limp in your mouth. Impossible to move.

Rhett's head shakes. "No, they don't..." 

His eyes lock onto yours. Even that might be enough to eat away some of the ice forming in your bones. His jaw softens. Eyelashes fluttering with an incoming thought.

Slow, his arm rises from his side, extending your direction. "C'mere."

Your breath catches. Is that...no, you....you shouldn't—

"Promise I won't kiss ya," his fingers tap your shoulder, "'m jus' gonna warm ya up."

Another bolt of lightning flashes. 

You're scooting across the bench seat before thunder even has the chance to arise. Slipping beneath his outstretched arm, helpless to do anything but fall into his big chest, equally soaked as you are, but he's warm. A big furnace, wrapping around and squeezing you into him. 

He shifts the slightest bit, leaning against the door, opening himself up for you to properly squirm into his side. With such little space in this truck, it's a squeeze, but you fit nonetheless, cheek resting atop that old bucking bull tattoo, the scruff of his jaw tickling your forehead. 

Another rumble rolls through, wind slamming into the side of the vehicle, rocking it back and forth like some kind of giant cradle. Rhett's legs shift, properly rising up onto the seat, knees knocking into yours as they settle. There's no way that you can feel his body, not with those thick jeans in the way, but a part of you swears that you can. So certain of it that you think the ice in your bones is beginning to thaw.

A big, warm hand runs up and down the expanse of your arm as if to create a little friction there. "Can y' still feel your hands?" He murmurs, voice rumbling against the top of your head, and you think that's the tip of his nose bumping into you.

You're wiggling your fingers, can see them moving in the darkness, but hardly any sensation comes of it. Feels as if you're operating a separate object and not a part of your own body. "I don't know." 

He reaches down, both hands wrapping around yours, and immediately, it's as if you've been set ablaze. Fire burning in your frozen joints, sensitive to even the slightest change in temperature. Rhett's thumb swipes against yours, a rough glide, his skin weathered by a lifetime of labor on the ranch. 

They're so much bigger, too, dwarfing yours in comparison, long and thick with muscle and built-up callouses. He must be noticing it as well because he's sliding his index finger down next to yours, and even in the dark, you can tell that he's at least twice the size. So big that you can hold just the four of his fingers, and not even need the rest of his hand.

You don't know why you're doing this or why he's letting you. 

Careful, your gaze crawls upward, roaming over the wet fabric of his flannel, up his damp neck, and the dripping curls resting at his nape. And he's...

he's already looking at you. Half-lidded eyes fixated on your face, the corner of his lip twitching upward for the briefest moment. A tickle rises in the back of your throat. Nothing comes of it. Lightning lights up the world like a light switch flicked, but you don't hear the thunder that follows. 

His nose bumps into yours. Breath fanning out against your skin. 

This...you shouldn't...but...

Those blue eyes drop down to your lips. Then back up to you. His eyelashes flutter. You think yours might, too. He's so close. Can feel the stubble on his chin brush against you, a fleeting thing that you can somehow still feel, even after the contact breaks. A breath trickles out of your chest. The slightest little movement that brushes your bottom lip against his. And he's not moving away, he's—

An ear-splitting boom tears past the truck. Rattling it back and forth. Sends you and Rhett jumping. Your head bangs against the seat cushion. His elbow hits the horn. 

"The hell..." he grumbles, with a shake of his head. "Was that s'pposed to be thunder?" 

"Is that what it was?" Parroting him, looking toward the window as if that could possibly give you an answer. 

The rain has slowed into a slow trickle that is easily swept away by the windshield wipers, unveiling the world around you once more. You recognize where you're at now, just two or three miles down from your house.  So damn close, and yet...

"Let's get you home," Rhett's sitting up, and you've got no choice but to do so as well. The scoot to the passenger side is almost shameful, the cold, soaked seat squishing beneath you like a sponge. 

A thick collection of petals swell in the back of your throat as Rhett's foot finds the gas pedal once more. Were you about to kiss him? What the hell were you thinking? That isn't how this works. You're not soulmates.

Somehow, the air has grown even colder without him wrapped around you, his very presence haunting you like a ghost. Lingering in the back of your mind so strongly that you can almost deceive yourself into believing that you're still snuggled into his side. But no matter how hard you focus, you can't force it to manifest into reality. 

Cruel is what it is.

Even as the rain picks up once more, it's not enough to pull you over again, swept away from the windshield as quickly as it lands. There's another tree down, but it has barely made its way into the road, such a simple obstacle that only takes a second or two to get past. And just like that, your porch light is emerging in the distance. A golden glow that grows larger by the second, like a tiny sun rising to greet you.

The gravel driveway crackles beneath the tires; it's usually a pleasant sound, but today, all it does is cause your stomach to sink. Such a sour feeling that it rises, flower petals tickling the back of your throat until you cough. Little bits of purple scatter across your lap. Rhett's foot jumps to the brake pedal, a soft squeal emitting from beneath the vehicle as it comes to a stop. 

You've never been so disappointed to see your front door. 

"Thank you," barely a whisper as it leaves your mouth. Anything louder might break you.

He nods, eyes darting from your lap and up to your face. "Yeah." 

The only sound in the truck is that of the frozen rain pitter-pattering on the metal roof. Nothing more. Nothing less. With a forced, tight-lipped smile, you reach for the door handle. It opens with a groan, creating just enough space for you to slip out, the oversaturated ground squelching beneath you. He doesn't say anything as you shut the door, so neither do you. 

Resigned to silence, you trudge through the rain. Wind rips past, determined to lift you up off the ground and whisk you into the sky. But you don't lift off the ground. You don't even slip. Your feet find the front steps of your porch, hand fishing into your pocket and producing a set of drenched keys.

The confines of your home are so much warmer than it was outside, and yet, as you toe off your muddy shoes, you can't help but compare it to Rhett. Your heater may be strong, but it doesn't wrap around you the way his arms did. Big. Secure. The kind of thing you thought only existed in your daydreams. 

Strange, you don't hear his truck pulling out of the driveway. You know he hasn't; that old GMC runs far too loudly for it to slip by unnoticed. Curious, you hook your finger into the blinds, pulling them down.

No, he hasn't moved at all.

...what's he doing out there? Even from here, you can tell that the storm is picking back up again, rustling through the trees, swaying them back and forth. 

Nothing has fallen or otherwise obstructed the driveway, and something couldn't have gone wrong. Not that quickly. Unless he's suddenly developed the ability to hear your heart hammering against your chest, wordlessly begging him not to leave your driveway, there's no reason for him to still be parked. 

The cab light flicks on. Then off again. All of a sudden, he's rounding the back of his truck. You're opening the door, socked feet stepping out onto the cold, wet porch. His spurs chime, boots thumping up one stair. Two. Three. Four. No, no, something must have happened. His eyes are wide, and his jaw is slack, looks half scared to death. 

But he's not stopping. 

"Rhett—"

"I forgot somethin'." One more step, and he's leaning down, and, and...

It's the simplest of things, merely pressing against each other for a long moment, but heaven itself cannot compare to the feeling of Rhett's lips against yours. His nose crushed uncomfortably against your cheek, big hands cradling your cheeks like you'll break if he doesn't. 

Just as quickly, he draws away, soft blue eyes meeting with yours. Lightning flashes, but even the following slam of thunder cannot stop you from grabbing a fistful of his flannel and yanking him in once more. Lips crashing together, feet stumbling with the force of it. One of his arms is wrapping around your waist and your hands are sliding up into his hair. Bold. As if this is familiar, something you've done every day of your lives. 

The press of his mouth and the stubble of his chin are so much more than your imagination ever could have crafted. Warm and scratching against you so deliciously that your head goes quiet. Soul mate markings be damned. This is where you're meant to be. Right here. Twisting your fingers through his unruly curls, gasping against him. Drowning as he kisses you again, and again, and again. 

Your head is spinning. Stumbling blindly as he leans into you, forcing you backward. Your heel catches on the doorway. "Rhett—" But you don't fall. You can't. Not with that strong arm around you. "Cowboy!" 

"You're the only one that's ever called me that." He breaks away, kicking at the door with his foot. There's no doubt a mud stain on the white frame now, but you've hardly got it in you to care. 

"What?" Your nose bumps into his cheek. A little too close.

"Cowboy." He mutters, lips brushing against yours. So, so close. 

A breath hitches in your throat. "Should I stop?"

"Never." And he's kissing you again. 

Muffled thunder rumbles outside, and you're pretty sure the power has gone out, but you can't open your eyes to check. Helpless to do anything but tug on his hair, drinking in his deep grumble like you're starved. You should be embarrassed. Shouldn't be this desperate over a first kiss. 

But Rhett's got it just as bad. Pushing you backward until you're bumping into the wall. His big, calloused hand is venturing beneath your soaked shirt. God, and you're letting him. Back arching as his fingertips trail up your spine, chest pressing into his. Gasping against his lips like you're trying to put on a show. 

More. You want more. Reaching down to toy with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one at a time, shaking fingers struggling to push them through the holes. Too eager to feel the expense of his chest beneath your palms. 

"You're gonna have t' stop me," Rhett's speaking against your lips, batting your hands away. Makes no effort to finish your handiwork as he yanks the flannel off his shoulders, the final three buttons snapping off and scattering across the hardwood floor.

Before you can stop it, your hand drops to his belt, pulling him closer. Earns you an affectionate chuckle that echoes throughout the house. Those hips of his press forward, obnoxiously large buckle digging into your belly, not an inch of space left between your bodies. 

"Why would I stop you?" It's too early for you to be reaching down to grab at the hem of your shirt, but you don't care. You want this damn thing off. The soaked fabric stubbornly clings to your frame, heavy as you drag it over your head. It hits the floor with a wet thunk, a mess for the future version of you to handle. 

Those deep blue eyes might eat you alive. "Good point." 

It's hard to tell who makes the next move. All you know is that you're leaning in to kiss him, noses crashing together, and his hands are appearing on your ass, squeezing until you get the hint to jump. It all happens so fast. The thunk of your back against the wall. His hips slotting between your thighs. 

"Y' feel what you're doin' to me?" He grunts, and he doesn't need to specify for you to know what he's talking about—heavy bulge straining against his jeans, pressing perfectly against your core, igniting a familiar heat there. 

"Uhuh," is all you're capable of. Greedy hands sliding across his chest and up his shoulders, feeling over all the little freckles and marks that have haunted your imagination. Fuck, and he just lets you. Too busy leaning in to steal a kiss off you. One. Two. Three. Before he shifts to the juncture of your jaw, stubble tickling as he kisses down your neck.  

Your hips buck forward. 

"Fuck," Rhett's voice tickles your ear, "shoulda let me kiss you earlier, sweetheart."

A shiver ripples down your spine. That's new. 

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Finding your words is a task in of itself. Hard to do much of anything when his lips find the soft spot beneath your ear, sucking lightly. 

"You were drunk," voice strained, wound too tight in your throat. 

"Felt pretty sober in the moment," He hums, tongue poking out to wet your skin. Fuck, you wonder what that would feel like in other places, thighs squeezing impossibly tighter around his hips, works a groan right out of him. 

Thunder booms outside, but it's not enough to stop your lips from crashing once more. Teeth clattering, hopelessly grinding down into him, and even these layers of clothing can't stop you from feeling the way he twitches. 

It's all a blur. 

One moment, you're up against the wall. The next, you're on the ground again, socks sliding against the floor as you stumble down the hall. Hands tangled in his hair. Gasping against his lips. Moving blindly, too focused on each other to spare even a second. You don't know you're in the bedroom until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, falling backward with a yelp. 

Fuck, you shouldn't be doing this. There's no reason for you to be letting Rhett Abbott climb into bed with you and slot his big, warm body between your legs. He's your friend. You've known him since you could walk. And these tattoos. They don't match. You're not soulmates. 

Rhett's hand rises, pinning yours to the mattress, fingers slotting together. Must know what you're thinking about. "Who gives a fuck 'bout soulmates," he whispers, leaning forward to bump his nose against yours, rubbing them back and forth. "A damn stranger ain't gonna make me as happy as you do."

And you don't...you don't know what to say. 

Maybe you don't need to say anything because he kisses you like he's heard everything your heart has to tell him. Stealing your breath away, plucking every little flower from your lungs, so dizzying that your legs have to curl around him to keep from floating away. As if you could possibly escape the big, warm arms that have settled on either side of your head. 

Slow, his weight settles on top of you. Bellies snug together. So close that you can hardly grind up into him, reduced to a needy squirm, whining high in your throat. 

"Shh," he coos. A big hand curling around your cheek, thumb stroking the thin skin there. "I'll take care of you."

He's already making good on his promise, pulling away to kiss down your neck once more. Hot tongue poking past his lips, running over a vein, leaves behind a glistening trail as he makes his way to your collar. One of his hands dips behind your back, pinching the clasp of your bra, opens it so easily that it almost surprises you.

The last thing you expect is for him to gasp when he pulls it away. Awestruck by the sight of you, bare, for his eyes only. "So fuckin' pretty," whispering, as he kisses down your chest. Too eager to run his tongue down the swell of your breast, so content that his closed eyes seem to smile. 

Oh, that's...

"Rhett..." Heat swells in your lower belly. The feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple is...truly something... 

Just as quickly, he's darting to the other one, all too excited to feel the little bud harden beneath his touch. Sensitive. Only takes the slightest bit of suction to make you jolt. But he must have noticed something even more enticing because he's pulling away from that one as well, a big hand rising to toy with it as his head dips down lower. 

A delicate kiss presses to the scar on your left side. 

Then another. And another. And another. Loving on the old wound, as if he can possibly reverse the damage if he gives it enough attention. Maybe just one more kiss will do it. If not, then surely the next one can make it happen.

"It was nobody's fault," you say softly, reaching to run your fingers through his hair once more. Truly, it wasn't. Nobody could have anticipated that shard of glass. 

"I know," the rumble of his voice tickles, pausing to run his tongue up the expanse of the mark, "jus' wish it didn't hurt ya like it did."

Gradually, he draws himself away from your side. Kissing his way down your belly until he meets the thin, delicate band of your underwear. His eyes peer up at you with a silent question. Your answer comes in the form of lifted hips, allowing him to pull the material down your legs. Then, he reaches for his belt, pinching it open with mesmerizing ease.

One boot thunks against the floor. Then the other. You really hope he didn't track mud all over your hardwood.

"You and that obnoxious buckle," the comment slips off your tongue before you can stop it. Too busy watching him undress. It's unfair how well the fabric clings to his thighs, fitting him like a damn glove. 

He laughs, kicking his jeans off his feet. "What, don't think it looks good on me?" 

"If I answer that, your ego will go through the roof." Your eyes roll; the last thing you need to do is tell him that, yes, you do like it. Lord only knows he'll run himself through four more rodeo seasons, trying to score an even bigger buckle. 

"Already has," he winks, hooking a thumb into the waistband of his boxers.

You don't know what he's got to be so confident about until...

"Jesus, Rhett."

"What?" He grins. Absolutely fucking obnoxious. But you can't formulate a single word. "What?"

Your thighs cinch together, hiding yourself from view. There is absolutely no reason why that should be springing up from its confines, so heavy that it smacks against his hip, unable to stand up against his belly. So wet that even in the dark you can see him glistening.

"Naw, y' don't gotta be shy," Rhett's hand travels up your knee, slipping between your closed legs, callouses dragging deliciously against your sensitive skin, "'s just me." 

A little too easily, you fall apart once more, feeling a little too exposed as his hungry eyes rake down your body. Every imperfection and curve is on full display. An exhibit of the life you've lived. And Rhett just might be your biggest admirer, his warm frame slipping between your legs, big hands gliding up your sides, pressing lazy kisses as he settles on top of you. 

"Rhett..." you don't know why you're saying his name, thighs curling around his sharp hips. His cock head bumps into the meet of your thigh, sends you jumping before you can realize what's happened.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya," uttering beneath his breath, a sentiment meant for your ears only. "I promise." He reaches between your bodies, gently guiding himself to—

Your head tilts back with a gasp. That's new. The delicate drag of Rhett's cock, gliding between your folds, the underside of him nudging at your clit. Hadn't realized you'd gotten this worked up until now, so wet that you can almost convince yourself that you don't need any lube at all. Not a hint of dryness to be found, sliding so, so easily against you.

But then you're gathering the courage to peer down between your legs, and even the darkness can't hide how big he is. Thicker than your daydreams have ever depicted, just a hair longer than any of the toys hiding beneath the bed.

"Bedside table," you blurt, heart fluttering in your chest. Walking is a privilege you'd like to keep. 

An unforeseen positive to letting your best friend between your legs is the fact that he knows exactly what you're trying to say. No need for questions as Rhett reaches off to the side, hand disappearing into the drawer. Comes back with the bottle, then delves back in, producing some tiny, round hunks of plastic.

You don't recognize them until he flicks one on—the tiny, fake candles from a few Halloweens ago.

"How romantic," there's a strangeness to this that you didn't expect; oddly casual, even with this newfound situation. 

"What?" He asks, innocent as can be, like you have a choice in the matter, already putting one flickering candle off to the side. Another, next to your hip, and he's still got four or five of them left to turn on. "Ain't in the mood for some mood lightin'?"

Lying to yourself is fruitless. The soft golden glow is a welcomed addition to this dark little bedroom. Highlights the room just enough for you to catch the way he drizzles the lube into his palm, reaching down to spread it over himself. That big hand almost tricks you into believing his cock is smaller than it really is, the flushed tip nudging at your cunt with every upward glide. 

They say monsters hide in the dark, and you know you caught sight of one between his legs. 

Two fingers press into you. No warning to be found, the thick digits easing in like they've done it a million and one times, crooking upward, dragging against your walls. There's the slightest hint of a stretch, a soft ache that—

You suck in a breath, a soft noise escaping past your lips. 

Rhett's cock twitches against you. "'s that it?" 

Weak, you nod. Don't trust yourself to speak. Not with him gradually beginning to move, shallowly pumping those long digits into you, never pulling out far enough to make you feel empty. But it's so hard to stay quiet when he continuously rubs up into those little nerves, nudging them on every pass over. 

"Rhett..." hips writhing against the bed, not sure if you want to lean into it or squirm away. 

That must be all that he's planning to give you because all of a sudden, he's drawing away. Wet fingers glisten in the candlelight as he reaches for his cock once more, guiding it back between your folds. Not entirely the same as what you had before, but the drag of his cock head against your clit is so, so worth the exchange. 

His warm chest settles against yours once more, lips finding your cheek, scratchy jaw tickling the skin there. Sounds like he murmurs your name as he travels to the corner of your mouth, pressing another kiss there. Finally. Finally, he meets you for a proper kiss, almost immediately broken by the swivel of his hips, reformed just as quickly.

Your hands are on the move. One in his hair, the other on his naked shoulder, feeling the way his muscles flex and ripple beneath your fingertips. Strong from a decade of bull riding and all that time spent on the ranch, chiseled and perfect in every way you can imagine. Fuck, it's like he was built just for you and this. Rutting between your legs like he's in heat, dragging against your needy clit until your hips twitch off the mattress, pressing into him. 

Swallowing down his groan is enough to put you up on cloud nine. 

A pressure appears at your entrance—the soft nudge of his tip. Your antics must have caused him to wander a little too far down. But you're pushing down onto him like it was your intent all along, and by God, he's not trying to stop you. 

Rhett stiffens. "You want me to...?" Muttering against your lips, unable to draw himself away any further. 

"Yeah," it's the easiest thing you've said all night.

It's all the encouragement he needs, mouth meeting yours once more. Slow, that pressure between your legs begins to grow, his blunt tip spreading you wide. There's a part of you already beginning to wonder if you should have asked for more lube, but his incessant lips are so damn distracting. Tangling with yours, drawing you into a captivating dance, spinning your head round and round, drawing your mind away from the burn. 

His head slips into you with a soft 'pop,' such an odd little feeling that has you gasping into his kiss, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Now you can really feel him. The delicate drag of his length gradually filling you, centimeter by debilitating centimeter. You'll be waddling come morning. You can already feel it.

There's no way you won't be. Not with how your pussy aches with the overwhelming stretch of him.

"Y' want me to stop?" Rhett's low voice rumbles against your bottom lip; when did the kiss break? 

Thunder rumbles outside, your only reminder of the storm that looms just past the thin walls of your home. Even the memory of running with him in the rain feels like it was forever ago. There were flowers filling your lungs just a few hours prior, but as you draw in a breath, you can't feel a shred of evidence that they were ever there.

"Yeah," nodding, your nose bumping into his, "you're just...a lot." 

God, you shouldn't have said that. 

But it's too late. There's already a wild grin emerging onto his scruffy face, so pleased with your words that his eyes seem to sparkle. As if the sight of you struggling to take his cock wasn't enough of a boost to his ego. 

"'s that it?" Speaking through his smile, still has the audacity to sink even further into you. "Ya never had anything big as me?" 

Your eyes roll so hard that they might get stuck.

All at once, his hips are flush with yours, not an inch of space left, your legs tightening around him as if there's a risk of him pulling back out. But that's not happening. Not with the way he's blindly nuzzling his nose into you, so lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him that he can't hold his eyes open.

"Y' alright?" His eyelashes tickle your cheek as they flutter open.

"Uhuh" is the best that you've got at this given moment. It's so hard to speak when you're so full. Couldn't take another millimeter of him, even if he begged you to. "You can..." pausing for a breath, "you can move."

In perfect synchrony, your attentions flicker down to where your bodies meet. A sight lit by the golden glow of the artificial candles, illuminating the slow withdrawal of Rhett's cock, where you're stretched so wide that you don't think your smaller toys will ever satisfy you again. 

"Shit, look at that," there's no reason why Rhett, of all people, should be so mesmerized by this, but he is, and it makes you fucking dizzy. "'s fuckin' hot."

And then he's sinking back in and—

"Fuck," it's too early for you to be whimpering so high in your throat, but his blunt tip is dragging right against the sensitive nerves hidden within you, and it's so, so much. 

This close, it's hard to miss the way Rhett's breath hitches, "'s that the spot, baby?"

All you can do is nod. Nails biting into his shoulders as he draws back once more, rubbing past that little spot once more. Toys don't normally get this sort of reaction out of you, but there's just something about it being Rhett that's getting to you. Your childhood best friend. The man that your weary heart has yearned for since high school. Eye candy at every rodeo he's ever set foot in. 

His lips find yours, tangling lazily, humming all the while. A part of you wonders if he always demands this many kisses. If he makes a habit of smiling into them. The rest of you knows that he doesn't because otherwise, he'd know that the heavy thrust of his hips would send your teeth clattering together.

"Ow," he's jerking back as if he's not the main culprit behind it. 

His cock head drives right up into those nerves. Sends your back arching up off the bed, pussy spasming around him, and you don't know which of you cry out louder. 

"There, there, there," you're babbling like a fool, but he's already missing it again. Such a minuscule thing that every correction is an overshot. 

Rhett's brows furrow, focusing so damn hard, and yet, "I can't...shit, that ain't it either." 

But you've got an idea.

Without a word, you begin to lean up, foreheads bumping together as Rhett tries to follow along, his big blue eyes so wide that they glisten in the light. Slipping out of you entirely as he falls onto his haunches, looks like a big puppy when he's confused like this.

"On your back," your command is soft. It could easily be bent if he really wanted to, but he's already following through on it, twisting and falling back onto the bed without a fuss. 

Settling into his lap is a feeling you've imagined a million and one times, and yet, somehow, it's unlike anything your mind has ever come up with. Warmth radiating off him like he's a damn heater, broad chest making your hand look impossibly tiny, as you lean on him for balance. He's already one step ahead of you, carefully guiding his cock back to your dripping cunt; all you've got to do is sink down and—

A pair of gasps tear through the room. Louder than the storm raging outside.

"Y' look so fuckin' beautiful on top of me, baby," Rhett sputters, peering up at you as if you've hung the moon and the stars in the sky. 

Already, you're beginning to move. Knees digging into the mattress, palms firm against his chest as you lift yourself up. The curve of his length alone is enough to make your thighs shudder.

"You're not so bad yourself," you're breathless already, hips swiveling, searching for that deceptive little angle. Maybe if you...lean a little further forward...

There it is. 

A tingle ripples up your spine, clamping down around Rhett's cock, and he must feel it because his head rolls to the side, lips parting with a groan that ought to make your head spin. Those big hands settle onto your thighs, gripping like he'll fall off the bed if he doesn't.

"Is that—oh fuck,"  his hips jerk up off the bed, leaking tip kissing those little nerves head on, "is that it?"

You can't answer. Palms shivering against his chest, already fighting to keep yourself upright. An ache blooming in your thighs with every rise and fall, head tilting back, a familiar heat beginning to bloom in your lower belly.

Rhett must be feeling it, too. There's no way he isn't. Head rolling from side to side, back arching off the bed, unable to keep himself still beneath you, a whiny mewl escaping his parted lips. And all it's doing is jostling his length inside of you, sporadically tapping against all those sensitive spots.

A calloused thumb appears on your clit. Not sure when he started reaching down, but it's damn near got you collapsing onto his chest, a tremble setting into your exhausted bones. 

"Fuck, Rhett!" You're squealing, poorly built rhythm already beginning to fall apart. 

Again, his hips snap upward, heavy balls smacking against your ass. "'m sorry, I'm not trying to buck my hips. I just..." he doesn't get to finish that because you're falling forward into his chest, face burying into his shoulder. It's too much. It's too much. 

Big hands settle on your hips. Gripping tight as his knees bend, feet digging into the mattress to pump into you properly. Lewd smacks of skin on skin echoing through the room, artificial candles bouncing with his every motion. 

"Anyone else ever fill your sweet pussy like this?" He rasps in some rumbling, guttural tone you've never heard before. "Hm?"

Your head shakes, but it takes a moment to realize that he can't see what you're doing. Not with you nuzzled up under his jaw. "N-no," whimpering right into his ear. 

Those hands are moving again, gliding up your back, big arms securing themselves around you like a hug, the only damn thing that keeps you from bouncing further up the bed. Your forearms settle on either side of his head, shivering as you try to lift yourself up, but you can only go so far, barely able to meet his eyes.

Lips clash, so loose that it hardly even counts as a kiss. Drinking down Rhett's feeble whine. Makes your head spin so much more than the alcohol ever did. Heat pools between your legs, pussy tightening like a vice around his pistoning cock, thick tip rubbing into those nerves over and over and over. 

You're close. 

"I love you," it slips out of him so quietly that you nearly believe it's a figment of your imagination. "I love you, I love you, I love you." 

One of your hands delves into his hair, noses colliding. Think you might be whispering it back, but you can't hear what's coming out of your mouth. Overridden by the blood rushing to your head and the slap of his skin against yours, and, and, and...

Spots appear in your vision. Body going taut as you cum around him without the slightest warning. Crying out high in your throat, forehead knocking against Rhett's, an invisible flame racing across your skin. Every thrust pushes your head higher into the clouds, could damn near float up to the ceiling if his arms weren't tightening around you, his hips stalling. A melody of whimpers bubbles out of his throat, orgasm washing over him like a tidal wave. 

You think you can feel it. The spasm of his cock and the warmth of his cum painting you white, flooding your pussy so full that you think it's already beginning to pour out of you. His hips jerk up into you, punctuated by a sickening squelch and his own broken moan. 

And yet, somehow, you've got the strength to meet his swollen lips, lazy tongues poking out to twist together like a greeting. Wet and messy as can be, saliva running down your chin, drooling like dogs in the summer sun. Rhett twists beneath you, and you're vaguely aware that the world around you is spinning, falling into the mattress beside him. 

A tickle rises in the back of your throat, forcing a cough out of you. Two purple flowers dance out onto the bed, obnoxiously vibrant and dainty. They've always been small, nothing compared to the roses Rhett's been choking up, but they look even tinier in his sweaty palm.

"Spiderwort," he murmurs after a moment, running a fingertip over their petals. Bleary blues peer flicker up to you, half-lidded and turned upward by his dumb smile.

They've always been his favorite. 

"So there was no girl at the bar?" You ask, hand wandering onto his cheek, curling around it like he's the most delicate thing on this planet. 

His head shakes. "Never." 

There's still a storm lurking outside, rattling the house, lightning and thunder striking the ground with an unmatched fury, but you hardly notice it. Too distracted by the warmth of a cowboy, his legs tangling with yours, uncaring of the mess you've made together. Kissing just for the hell of it, wandering across cheeks and peppering over old scars, musing about the memories attached. 

When you fall asleep, you're not sure, but you wake snuggled into his naked chest, his big arm looped around you like a blanket. Sunshine peeks through the gap in the curtains, the shrill tune of a bird singing her song, and for once, it's dreamy rather than irritating. 

On its own accord, your fingers drift across his sleeping face, warm and maybe the slightest bit flushed. Wandering over the scruff clinging to his jaw, finally at that length where it's grown soft to the touch. Drifting around the minuscule scar above his brow, the only remnant of the night you snuck out together and wrecked the four-wheeler. 

As far as you're aware, Royal never did find out why it started making that funny noise.

...or maybe Rhett was never asleep to begin with because when you look back down, his eyes are open. 

"Keep doin' that," he grumbles, voice deeper than the rumble of last night's thunder, leaning in to press his lips against your forehead. You don't need any further encouragement, trailing your fingertips across his face just for the hell of it.

There are things you should be saying. Discussions to be had about where this puts you and what you are to each other, but the upturn of his lips tells you a million and one words. Seriousness can wait. For now, all you want to think about is this next kiss he's planting on you.

And then another between your eyes, and another on your left cheek, one more on the tip of your nose. Slowly but surely sprawling across your face, peppering you with them so quickly that it feels like the wings of butterflies fluttering against your skin.

"Rhett!" You squeal, pushing at his jaw, but it's no use. He's rolling on top of you, and you're helpless to do anything but squirm and cry out, forced to endure all these kisses. 

As quickly as they start, they stop. 

You're half anticipating them to begin the moment your eyes peel open, but he's not even looking at you. Too focused on something next to his face, just past your wrist.

Or maybe...

"What?" You're not following. 

He leans back, brows furrowed as he looks down at his arm. 

You don't get it. What, was he expecting the tattoos to change overnight? It still looks the damn same to you—

...oh. 

That's not the same marking that has marred your skin from birth. And Rhett's turning his arm to let you see, and it's—

It's the same. Rhett's old bucking bronc, your shoe flying behind its upturned feet. It was never meant to be identical; they were meant to complete each other's picture. 

"Are you serious?" You're sputtering through the smile emerging onto your face, so wide that it shapes your eyes with it. 

And Rhett's not doing much better. Red-cheeked. Grinning from ear to ear. "We just been wrong 'bout it the whole fuckin' time."

This time, when he leans down to kiss you, there isn't a single flower to be found in your lungs. No roses. No spiderwort. Just you and him collapsing into these messy sheets, tangled together as one, matching tattoos at all. 

Separation is only temporary. Breaking apart just long enough to venture into the shower together, uncaring of the tight fit, so long as Rhett's hands are gliding along your body. Tangling together in the kitchen, waiting on the microwave to beep, feet knocking into each other beneath the table like you're five years old, and sharing breakfast at the Abbott house again.

He kisses you in the hallway while mopping up the mud he tracked in. Peppers them along the side of your neck when you stumble out onto the porch to find that a tree has fallen, blocking your driveway completely. Perry says he'll come by with a chainsaw tomorrow afternoon; he could be here within the hour, but you've got the feeling that he's already caught on to what's happened. 

In the middle of summer, you begin to suspect that some familiar flowers are beginning to grow around your home. Vibrant little buds sprout from amidst the dewy grass, nestled against the foundation of your home and roaming out into the lawn, running rampant now that the storm has run out of rain.

Roses don't grow in Wabang. Unless, of course, they're accompanied by spiderwort. 

A few kisses from a cowboy are all they've ever needed. 

[queers-gambit]

Stranger Things masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

requests are OPEN where to watch: Netflix

general dating HC

headcanons about boyfriend!Eddie.

🔥 NSFW 🙊 general language and content warning 🥰 romance 💛 proceed with maturity

read part one here read part two here

Stoner!Girlfriend HC

headcanons about boyfriend!Eddie and stoner!girlfriend.

🔥 NSFW 🚬 illicit material mention / use / description 🥰 romance 💛 proceed with maturity

read here

mad or frustrated HC

headcanons about boyfriend!Eddie being mad or frustrated.

🙊 general language and content warning 🎭 drama 💔 angst 💛 proceed with maturity and caution

read here

All I've Ever Wanted

Eddie's her dealer and decides he can't sell to her anymore because she's all he's ever wanted.

word count: 2.3k

🚬 illicit substance 🙊 general language and content warning ⏳ slight AU timeline 🥰 romance 😵‍💫 wonky brain go a little wonky

read here

Angel is the Centerfold

insecurity runs deep when Eddie's secret lady-love finds the worn pages of a centerfold - marked on a woman who looks nothing like her.

word count: 2.7k

🙊 general language and content warning 💔 small angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🎭 drama 🥰 romance

read here

Don't You (Forget About Me)

Eddie confronts his mother to bargain for custody of his little brother, Teddy.

word count: 8.9k

🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warning 💔 angst 🎭 drama 🥰 romance 🐍 toxic family / family angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💉 depiction of illicit drug use 🥊 mild depiction of physical violence and / or aggression ⏳ AU timeline 🔏 barely edited

read here

Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

when Eddie tells his best friend he wants to ask Chrissy Cunningham to prom, she begins to cough out flower petals.

word count: 8.8k

🌸 Hanahaki Disease AU 🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warning 🎭 drama 🥰 romance 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon

read here

Tears in the Rain

feelings are confessed and a decision is made; only thing left to do is heal and be okay.

word count: 8.4k

🌸 Hanahaki Disease AU 🙊 general language and content warnings 🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt, s o m e comfort 💔 angst 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon 💛 proceed with maturity and caution

read here

Gone with the Sin

he loves another, and your fate is sealed.

word count: 8.9k

🌸 Hanahaki Disease AU 🙊 general language and content warnings 🎭 drama 🥺 hurt 🚫 NO comfort 💔 angst ☠️ character death 💛 proceed with maturity and caution

read here

Pretty Boy Swag

your big ass family comes to town and hosts a town-wide family reunion. after they meet your boyfriend for the first time, your proximity is criticized, and when you try to fall back, Eddie's swift to your side again. -> or when someone else calls you clingy, you try to fall back but your man doesn't want that.

word count: 6.2k+

⏳ AU timeline 🐝 stand alone / oneshot 🙊 general language and content 🐍 toxic family 🎭 drama 🧠 depiction of mental health: insecurity, anxiety 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🧸 some fluff 🚬 drug use 🥂 depiction of alcohol use 💍 established relationship 🥰 romance 🛑 abrupt ending 🔏 not edited

read here

traveling HC

headcanons about traveling with boyfriend!Eddie.

🔥 small NSFW 🙊 general language and content warnings 🧸 fluff 🥰 romance

read here

Happy Little Accident

something sweet with Eddie making reader a pink sleeved Hellfire shirt.

word count: 2.4k+

🙊 general language and content warnings 🧸 fluff 🥰 romance

read here

How to be a Problem Solver

bestie!Eddie and reader have to say goodbye; he gives you one of his rings to remember him by. you send him care packages, and inside: polaroid photos of your college adventures - with his ring on a chain around your neck.

word count: 4.7k+

🙊 general language and content warnings 💔 angst 🐍 toxic family / family angst 🔏 barely edited

read here

Birthday Baby Blues

fearing your friends had forgotten your birthday, you show up at your boyfriend's to the surprise of a lifetime.

word count: 5k+

❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🎭 small drama 🧸 fluff 🥰 romance 🐍 toxic family / family angst

read here

discontinued and deleted: Up In Smoke

general dating HCs

headcanons about dating Robin Buckley.

🙊 general language and content warnings 🔥 small NSFW 🥰 romance

read here

The Bathroom Scene, Act One

after being drugged by Russians, you, Steve, and Robin share confessions in the bathroom.

word count: 3.8k

🙊 general language and content warnings 🤮 symptoms of physical illness 🥰 romance ❤️‍🩹 small hurt and comfort

read here

Dating Billy HC

headcanons about dating Billy Hargrove.

🙊 general language and content warnings 🐍 toxic family / family angst 🍄 toxic relationship 🔥 small NSFW 💛 proceed with maturity

read here

Up and Out

Billy protects reader from his father when Neil comes home early one evening.

word count: 4.1k

🙊 general language and content warnings 🐍 toxic family / family angst 💔 angst 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression 💛 proceed with maturity

read here

Up and Out [ part two ]

( requested ) Neil returns home unexpectedly when Billy's girl is alone, and it's up to her to defuse her boyfriend's anger when he finds out.

word count: 4.8k

🔏 barely edited 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression

read here

Do As You're Told

getting into a fight with Billy at a party; he needs you to do as you're told.

word count: 4.1k

🔥 NSFW 🙊 general language and content warning 🧃 underage drinking 💛 proceed with maturity

read here

Bobby Flay or Billy Flayed?

Eleven and Max come to Billy's girlfriend for aid, and she learns about her boyfriend's mind control the hard way.

word count: 7.5k

🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depictions of physical violence 🤮 depictions of physical illness 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort ⚠️⏳ season three spoilers and AU timeline

read here

Careful What You Wish For

he's highly reactive, you're incredibly enduring. he's a righteous dick, you're criminally empathetic. he's temperamental, you're amenable. but you're done being his doormat. > > > or in which Billy resorts to breaking up when you two fight, but when he comes to make up (like clockwork), you finally have a change of heart.

word count: 5k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🎭 drama 🍄 toxic relationship 🐍 implied toxic family (Billy) 🥦 plot twist: healthy family (Reader) 💔 angst 🥺 hurt 🚫 not a lot of real comfort 💣 relationship angst 💍 established relationship 😭 breaking up - emotions are hard 🐝 oneshot 🍑 character with given nickname (Reader's sister) 🔏 not edited

read here

Make a Grown Man Cry

she's Queen Bee and everyone knows not to fuck with her unless they wanted a bruised ego - or bruised cheekbone when Billy finds out.

word count: 3.6k

🙊 general language and content warning 🐍 possible depiction of family angst 🧃 underage drinking 🥊 depiction of physical violence / aggression

read here

Cheating Billy HC

headcanons about Billy cheating on his lover, and then trying to fix it.

❗️READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING❗️

read here

Mom's Pot Roast

could you maybe write something about billy trying to self-sabotage/start a fight with the reader out of insecurity and she doesn't play along and comforts him?

word count: 1.8k+

🙊 general language and content warning ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort

read here

Mommy Issues

billy getting together with his s/o right before his "date" with mrs.wheeler. and while she's relieved that he didn't show up to the date she's also a really salty that Billy's giving someone else attention and not her.

word count: 3.1k+

🙊 general language and content warning ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🍄🐍 depiction of romantic and familial angst

read here

The Weight of Words

about Billy with an insecure reader? like just concerning her body and stuff.

word count: 3.0k+

🙊 general language and content warning 💔 angst 🐍 toxic family 💛 requires maturity and caution

read here

Natural Instinct

after a fight, Billy leaves you at a gas station; and your savior arrives in a maroon BMW.

word count: 3.4k+

🙊 general language and content warning 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 is this hurt and comfort ?

read here

Bottom of the Barrel

reader and Billy get in a fight, Billy cheats, reader finds out, and breaks up with him. months go by and Billy’s ready to win reader back, but reader’s moved on and is doing better.

word count: 2.4k+

🙊 general language and content warning 💔 angst 🥺 hurt, 🚫 NO (real) comfort 🍄 toxic relationship ��� barely edited

read here

untitled 1

hiiii, if u have time can you do billy and reader running away back to california together after high school, maybe the reader decides to go to college there?? reader isn’t from there but they both just want to escape to somewhere.

read here

When The World Seems So Cruel

Billy knows something's bothering his girl, so, he follows his instincts and checks on her - family, friends, and slutty cheerleaders in bikinis be damned.

word count: 5.1k+

🙊 general language and content warning 💦 smut 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and SMALL comfort 🐍 toxic family 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression (background, but still)

read here

What Goes Around, Comes Around

Billy's known for his temper and being obsessed with his pretty little girlfriend - which gets her severely injured by his past transgressions.

word count: 6.7k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 HURT and small comfort 💣 relationship angst 💍 established relationship 🙊 general language and content warning 🍄 toxic relationship 🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🩸 depiction of injury and blood 🥂 alcohol consumption 💛 requires extreme maturity and caution 🔏 barely edited

❗️READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING❗️

read here

Talk Shit, Get Hit

your high school bully picks the wrong day to taunt you and it's up to an equally hotheaded Billy to calm you down. call it irony.

word count: 5.4k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💍 established relationship 🐝 stand-alone / oneshot 🙊 general language and content warning 🚬 brief illicit material use 🐍 toxic family / family angst 🥊 depiction of violence and / or aggression 🩸 depiction of injury and blood

❗️READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING❗️

read here

Max Dating a Girly!girlfriend HCs

headcanons about Max dating a sweet, girly girl.

read here

Unrequited Love

little lady loves her bestie!Max, but fears telling the truth.

read here

In This World, It's Just Us

dialogue prompts #95, #102, and #103.

word count: 1.3k+

💔 angst 🌈 internalized homophobia

read here

sweet, silly drunk Reader with Steve, Eddie, and Billy

sweetness about the boys with their lover being drunk.

🧃 underaged drinking 🧸 cutie fluff 🐑 cutie filler

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

[dollfaceksj]

♯♯MASTERLIST

✱ MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. ✱

✱ all works are written by me. no reposts. ✱

✱ all works contain mature themes. ✱

✱ banner by @archivedkookie. ✱

✱ mainly yoongi & jk fics. ✱

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⇢ i tend to write bratty y/ns. if that’s not your thing, i doubt my fics will be enjoyable to you.

⇢ ♤ [ angst ] ⋆ ♧ [ fluff ] ⋆ ♡ [ smut ]

⇢ ✎ [ wip ] ⋆ ✄ [ on hold ] ⋆ ✓ [ completed ]

━━ S E R I E S ↴

·˚ ༘ escapism. | knj (m) ✦ [ ♡, ♤, ✄ ]

↳ [ namjoon x fem!reader ⋆ drugdealer!namjoon ⋆ divorced!y/n ⋆ plottwist ⋆ drugs&gangs ⋆ strangers ]

COMING SOON

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ O N E, T W O & T H R E E S H O T S ↴

·˚ ༘ the pink pill | knj ver (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✄ ]

↳ [ drugdealer!namjoon x fem!reader ⋆ acquaintances ⋆ pwp ⋆ one-shot ]

COMING SOON

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ D R A B B L E S ↴

·˚ ༘ the end of a movie i’ve seen before | knj ✦ [ ♤, ✓ ]

↳ [ namjoon x reader ⋆ friends with benefits ⋆ sad ending ]

COMPLETED

━━ S E R I E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ O N E, T W O & T H R E E S H O T S ↴

·˚ ༘ met him last night | ksj (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✓ ]

↳ [ nerd!seokjin x fem!reader ⋆ plot-twist ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ two-faced seokjin ⋆ two-shot ]

COMPLETED

·˚ ༘ the pink pill | ksj ver (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✄ ]

↳ [ incubus!seokjin x fem!reader ⋆ neighbors ⋆ porn without plot ⋆ one-shot ]

COMING SOON

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ D R A B B L E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

━━ S E R I E S ↴

·˚ ༘ schemin’ | myg (m) ✦ [ ♡, ♤, ♧, ✓ ]

↳ [ ceo!yoongi x fem!reader ⋆ producer!yoongi ⋆ artist!reader ⋆ boss/employee ⋆ infidelity ]

COMPLETED

·˚ ༘ can’t afford love | myg (m) ✦ [ ♡, ♤, ♧, ✎ ]

↳ [ yoongi x fem!reader ⋆ exhusband!yoongi ⋆ divorced!au ⋆ mom!reader ⋆ dad!yoongi ⋆ exes ⋆ second chance ]

DISCONTINUED

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ O N E, T W O & T H R E E S H O T S ↴

·˚ ༘ the pink pill | myg ver (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✎, ✓ ]

↳ [ yoongi x fem!reader ⋆ exes ⋆ second chance ⋆ porn with a lil plot ⋆ one-shot ]

COMPLETED

·˚ ༘ ornery, scandalous & evil | myg (m) ✦ [ ♡, ♤, ✄ ]

↳ [ yoongi x fem!reader ⋆ age gap (post uni) ⋆ brother’s best friend ⋆ enemies ]

COMING NOT SO SOON

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ D R A B B L E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

━━ S E R I E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ O N E, T W O & T H R E E S H O T S ↴

·˚ ༘ bitter | jhs (m) ✦ [ ♤, ♡, ✄ ]

↳ [ hoseok x fem!reader ⋆ divorced ⋆ infidelity ⋆ porn with a little plot ⋆ one-shot ]

COMING SOON

·˚ ༘ the pink pill | jhs ver (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✄ ]

[ hoseok x fem!reader ⋆ established relationship ⋆ porn without plot ⋆ one-shot ]

COMING SOON

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ D R A B B L E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

━━ S E R I E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ O N E, T W O & T H R E E S H O T S ↴

·˚ ༘ everybody loves somebody | pjm (m) ✦ [ ♤, ♡, ✓ ]

↳ [ jimin x fem!reader ⋆ best friends ⋆ fwb ⋆ hanahaki disease ⋆ one-shot ]

COMPLETED

·˚ ༘ the pink pill | pjm ver (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✄ ]

↳ [ jimin x fem!reader ⋆ brother’s friend ⋆ camgirl!reader ⋆ porn with a little plot ⋆ one-shot ]

COMING SOON

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ D R A B B L E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

━━ S E R I E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ O N E, T W O & T H R E E S H O T S ↴

·˚ ༘ the pink pill | kth ver (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✄ ]

↳ [ showbiz!taehyung x manager!reader ⋆ co-workers ⋆ porn without plot ⋆ one-shot ]

COMING SOON

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ D R A B B L E S ↴

·˚ ༘ pending. . .

━━ S E R I E S ↴

·˚ ༘ taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) ✦ [ ♡, ♤, ✓ ]

↳ [ jungkook x fem!reader ⋆ fuckboy!jk ⋆ university ⋆ toxicity ⋆ improv ⋆ crack drabble series ]

COMPLETED

·˚ ༘ devoted to you | jjk (m) ✦ [ ♤, ♡, ♧, ✎ ]

↳ [ jungkook x fem!reader ⋆ best friends ⋆ plot-twists ⋆ lots of conflict ]

COMING NOT SO SOON

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ O N E, T W O & T H R E E S H O T S ↴

·˚ ༘ reminder | jjk (m) ✦ [ ♡, ♤, ♧, ✓ ]

↳ [ jungkook x fem!reader ⋆ proboxer!jk ⋆ exes with benefits ⋆ second chance ⋆ three-shot ]

COMPLETED

·˚ ༘ the pink pill | jjk ver (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✓ ]

↳ [ jungkook x fem!reader ⋆ best friends ⋆ porn without plot ⋆ one-shot ]

COMPLETED

·˚ ༘ still don’t know my name | jjk (m) ✦ [ ♡, ♤, ✎ ]

↳ [ jungkook x fem!reader ⋆ frenemies ⋆ neighbors ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ collab three-shot ]

COMPLETED

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

━━ D R A B B L E S ↴

·˚ ༘ see you like that | jjk (m) ✦ [ ♡, ✓ ]

↳ [ jungkook x fem!reader ⋆ fwb ⋆ porn without plot ]

COMPLETED

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ taglist ⋆ askbox ⋆ requests & commissions ⋆

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⋆ ko-fi ⋆

⋆

[browniefox]

I asked for fic recs so it only makes sense that I provide some.

The Invisible Stan by The Last Speecher (HeidiMelone)

Simple, short, but elegant. You know how hanahaki disease is a trope? I feel like this should be a trope, but idk what you'd call it - Ninny disease sounds bad, but like it's clearly based off of Ninny from the Moomins. Anyway, great fic <3

An Outreached Hand by WDW

Ghost trick au! Love a good ghost trick au! I reread this recently and it still holds up so well, still so good even if unfinished. Haven't played ghost trick since, some of the twists make a hair more sense - especially the twist in the last chapter posted and being like 'OH IT'S *THE* GHOST TRICK'. Shoutout to undead creepiness and cute kitties :3

Retrograde by scrawling_stardumb

Kissing this one on the mouth. Only one chapter and unfinished, but it's a long chapter and really makes you go 'whoa'. It's interesting because the summary *technically* gives you more info than the chapter itself, but it's that kind of dramatic irony that fits the writing so well. A good solid McGucket POV too, which there really isn't enough of. Tbh, it stands okay almost as a one shot? I wish this became a whole popular au like all the others, bc it kicks ass as a concept.

Finding the Right Frequency by impish_nature

A pretty cute one! Ford trying to figure out how to deal with Bill, and Stan having found a stable job, and someow their two worlds intersect. Cute moments between the two, and some good Stans getting to reconnect.

Things You Can't Take Back by thesnadger

Classic by the Snadger! I always appreciate people who take Stan's memory less and make it more complicated, or at least have there be aftershocks to have your whole life erased :D So well written.

like they were a perfect fit by hapful

Stanford Pines and the photo he never looses. A beautiful story about Ford throughout the ages and his opnions on family, specifically Stan.

putting the dog to sleep by parsnipit

Old Yeller is such a sad story, and also some of this made me think of Mice and Men, and ugh just Stan and Ford and beign willing to kill something you love - sometimes because you love it - and it's such a perfect analogy to them I could die.

none of those phds is an md, you dumb idiot by untrustworthyglitch

I always love a fic that acknowledges language barriers. It reminds me of a really old fic where I did something similar, but like, being away from Earth would lead to you forgetting a lot of things, including language.

Too Late, Too Soon, Not Enough by IncomingAlbatross

Ah, gotta love a good fic that shows the missing scene of Ford and Stan switching places. Who came up with the idea? Who needed to be convinced? What swears do they get to use while off camera? Stan I love you so much, and Ford I lov eyou for beig nso complicated.

Raising Stakes by MaryPSue

Mwah! A Classic if I've ever seen one! While I'm partial to werewolf!Stan, Vampire!Stan does have so much potential and MaryPSue puts it to use so well! A great look into what Gravity Falls was like back in taht time period, and I love when people utilize Susan in fics that take place pre-portal <3 Also, Carla! I miss you so much Carla <3 It's drama, it's action, it's everything!

Lost and Found by PengyChan

Tate & Fiddleford have a lot of untapped potential, and while I think going the angst route makes a lot of sense, this one is almost more fluff and catharsis, I guess? I love it, near and dear to me.

Off-Season by anistarrose

Time Travel fic, but not a timestuck au? More likely than you think! A cute oneshot with particular focus on Stan, Mabel, and Dipper. Just a fluffy little thing with a couple strangers helping Stan out through a difficult winter.

Persist and Dwell by fencesit

A bit of Soos's trust in Grunkle Stan, and a mystery that isn't so much mystery as it is simply just not explicitly said. One of the final scenes has still stuck with me, and this is defo a concept I'd love to see explored more.

flee from your ghosts (burn your house down) by thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

While typically OTGW x Gravity Falls crossovers are, like, Pinescone, I'm partial to this version where Wirt is their dad. There'a few details that didn' sit well with me, but over all so incredible and well written. Some of the metaphors are just so evocative I could eat them. The descriptions are to die for. And I love the depiction of a dad struggling to get his kids to open up to him that feels like it's part dads struggle with teens and part those pines twins just won't tell the truth.

If you have any Gravity Falls fic recs, feel free to comment them!

[morverenmaybewrites]

His Father's Son (A Dark Fantasy!Gotham AU): Preview

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

CW: Horror, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Dark Fantasy!AU, Hanahaki Disease!AU, Childhood friends to lovers

Synopsis:

Gotham City: the world’s last and greatest bastion of magic. A city made out of spells and twisting steel.

And the only place where the dead can be brought back to life.

After Jason Todd had been forcibly resurrected by his father, he left Gotham City in search of a new life. One where he did not have to be constantly reminded that he now sits on the border between the monstrous and the miraculous.

One where he could forget that no longer quite belongs in the world of the living.

But when a strange curse surfaces, one that causes plants to take root inside of living people and leaving flowering corpses in its wake, Jason finds that he must come back and help solve the case before it devours the city whole.

Preview:

Jason Todd hated taking the bus. 

He hated the fact that there was only one exit–one escape route, and that he was almost always seated too far from it. He hated the constant contact with strangers, any one of whom could be carrying a gun or a bomb or a knife, never mind the fact that Jason himself had all three on his person at any given time. 

He hated where this particular bus had been taking him, right before it had come to a screeching halt in the middle of the road.

The thing that had somehow snuck aboard, ripped off the driver’s left arm, and curled up above the glass doors did not help improve this sentiment. 

It had a man’s head, its once-blue pupils now milky with death, sitting on top of a writhing mass of arms. Some of the hands scrabbled at the glass windows, fingernails tapping out a meaningless rhythm that made his head ache. Others were grasping blindly at the steering wheel.

The man’s head opened, once, twice, as if trying to speak. But no sound came out. A quarter-sized hole, neatly slotted in the center of its forehead, sluggishly oozed out blood. 

Jason’s gun was still smoking. 

Someone behind him spoke in a shaking voice. Jason could smell the stink of urine. 

“Is it dead?” 

The head twitched, when it heard the woman’s voice.  

Then it smiled, showing far too many teeth, yellowed and cracked like old tombstones. Its arms stilled their distracted movements, muscles cording underneath gray skin. 

Though its eyes didn’t move, Jason knew that the thing’s attention was focused solely on him. 

He reached for his other gun. 

“No.” 

[onstoryladders]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers. Spread the self-love~🫶🏽(i know you have quite a few so it might be hard picking but i'm excited to see which you enjoyed writing most!🌻)

RUHI DEARESTTTTT THANKS FOR THIS ASK!!!!

OK SO. very hard to choose five fics. I enjoyed writing all of them for different reasons, but some of them make me prouder than others ngl 💓🤧

in no particular order (because id go crazy):

SECOND CHANCES (Taekyung/Daon/Shinwoo, Light On Me)

This is one of the stories I'm most proud of! It's the first story I wrote with a poly relationship, it explores Daon's feelings after the ending of the show and how he starts falling in love with Shinwoo too and struggles to make sense of it.

I love Daon a lot and it was very cathartic to delve into his journey, I put a lot of myself in this since I headcanon Daon to be demiromantic and I'm aro soooo yeah I had a blast and it always makes emotional when someone reads it <3

IN BLOOM (Pat/Pran, Bad Buddy)

My first attempt at writing Hanahaki, I usually don't like the trope so I had to modify it a little. In my version the disease is linked to the secrecy of your feelings, so you only die (or have to get treatment) if you don't confess, it doesn't matter if the feelings are unrequited or not.

This was fun and I cried writing it because once again I projected a little too hard onto Pran and his relationship with his mom, what can you dooo

MIKE WHEELER AND THE 5 STAGES OF DEALING WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND'S SECRET ADMIRER (Mike/Will and Mike & Max, Stranger Things)

IT TOOK ME A YEAR TO FINISH THIS ONE. The funny thing is that WEEKS after posting the last chapter I realized i had posted it exactly one year after the first, same day same month.

Anyway!! Once again this is projection galore, Mike is arospec in my heart and El is aroace, lots of queerness and exploration and friendship and conversations about feelings. Another cathartic journey for yours truly

Also I had SO MUCH FUN because with so many characters you can explore all kinds of dynamics and create some pretty funny dialogues <3

PAIN & PLEASURE (Vegas/Pete, Kinnporsche)

This is technically a series but I can't choose between Thorns & Roses and A Splash Of The Sun, they're pretty similar anyway. This is the Tattoo Parlor VegasPete AU, the vision came to me in a state of great horniness dream and now here we are........

I don't read much smut but I do like writing it when the right idea hits me. The thing I liked the most, besides the smut itself, is that I had to keep the characters IC even though their background is completely different from the source material, but people told me I did alright so I'm pretty proud of that!!

BEHIND THE MASK (Tin/Can, Love By Chance)

Oh I had so much fun writing this because Can is SO FUNNY TO WRITE!!!!!! He has no filter and Tin keeps popping up in his surroundings like he's trying very hard to make his life impossible, it was so delightful to write their exchanges

I love Tin and Can, they're one of my first Thai BL OTPs and will always have a special place in my heart!! 💓💓💓

Honorable mention to my GramBlack fics because I LOVED WRITING THEM!!!!!!! I wouldve written more but then. Oh well. The horrors

Thanks again for the ask 💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

[a-little-unsteddie]

60+ Prompts for 500 Followers!

500 followers! Insane! Thank you so much! I’ve compiled 60 very self-indulgent prompts to celebrate!

Send as many numbers as you want, make sure to specify if the prompt has multiple options below it, which option you want! (i.e. 8c for “We have a problem.” / “No, you have a problem.”) Also! Include the pairing and vibe (angst/fluff/etc).

pairings i’ll write: steve/eddie, steve/jonathan, steve/argyle, steve&robin, robin/chrissy, robin/nancy, robin/vickie, p much any platonic ship <3

edit: i will work on these as i can! probably tomorrow night :)

prompt list below the cut :)

20 dialogue prompts

1. “We should compare hand sizes.”

2. “Easy, you’re alright, I got you.”

3. “So, how’d that work out for you?”

4. “It’s not fair.”

5. “I expected more.”

6. “I must be in heaven.”

7. “I must be in hell.”

8. “We have a problem.”

a. “Let me guess. You caused it?”

b. “It’s 7:30am.”

c. “No, you have a problem.”

d. “Of course we have a problem. Why wouldn’t we have a problem?”

9. “You’re staring.”

10. “Excuse me, I have to go make a scene.”

11. “I’m gonna need therapy after this.”

12. “I’ve never seen you that angry.”

13. “I thought that if I acted like it didn’t matter, then it wouldn’t.”

14. “Let me take care of things for once, okay?”

15. “Do you wanna get some fresh air?”

16. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

17. “You’re my person.”

18. “Why would you do that?”

a. “As if I could do anything else.”

b. “It was fun.”

c. “You were standing right there!”

d. “It was a dare.”

19. “That was supposed to be a secret!”

20. “And just who do you think you are?”

20 tropes

21. enemies to lovers/friends

22. strangers to lovers/friends

23. whump

a. illness

b. stress/anxiety

c. injury

d. other (specify if you want)

24. fake dating

25. only one bed

26. memory loss

27. magical au (specify if you have smth in mind)

28. nerd/jock

29. forced proximity

30. time loop

31. modern au (specify if you have smth in mind)

32. hanahaki disease

33. miscommunication

34. mutual pining

35. monster au

a. vampire

b. werewolf

c. cryptid (specify if you want)

d. other (specify if you want)

36. mafia au

37. famous au (specify otherwise i’ll go hogwild and self indulge :b)

38. animal transformation

39. superhero au

40. canon-divergence/alternate canon

a. eddie joins s3

b. different first meeting

c. numbered!character (007/010)

d. other (specify please)

20 moments

41. first kiss

42. first meeting

43. last kiss

44. coming out

45. feelings realization

46. lost scenes

a. rv conversations

b. forest scene conversations

c. other (specify please)

47. break up

48. sharing a secret

49. love confessions

50. oh. oh.

51. sharing clothes

52. game night

53. first time holding hands

54. movie night

55. rewrite scenes

a. boathouse

b. finding eddie at skull rock

c. other (specify please)

56. surprise party

57. gift giving

58. comfort after a nightmare

59. morning after

60. accidental kiss

[v1nsmoke]

𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒂 | 𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊 | 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒑 | 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒇𝒂𝒏

hey, welcome to my corner! name's maya, and i write silly stories and make silly fanarts, mostly one piece related!

𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔: one piece, resident evil, the boys, the last of us, red dead redemption 2/1, far cry, fnaf, game of thrones, stranger things, arcane, naruto, star wars, marvel, dc, hunger games, kingsman, final fantasy, devil may cry, you, the walking dead, the council, mortal kombat 11 and mk1, western movies, and just movies in general

my ask box is always open if anybody has questions or needs a listening ear ♡

clicking on the underlined parts will take you directly to the post itself!

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑽1𝑵𝑺𝑴𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑺 𝑺𝑷𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 (𝔬𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱)

𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

-> Wine & die // Shanks x reader (zombie apocalypse au) -> Guns n' Roses // Cult leader!Law x reader

-> House of Blood and Death // Vinsmoke Sanji x vampire!reader (re8 x one piece)

-> Guns N' Roses // Cult leader!Law x reader - PART 2

-> Party Killer // Slasher!Zoro x reader

-> Guns N' Roses // Cult leader!Law x reader PART 3 -> The Circus // Buggy x reader

-> Family Dinner // ASL bros x reader

༄ ‧₊° 𝑴𝒀 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺

Prince // Vinsmoke Sanji x reader (full fanfic out on wattpad)

Hanahaki Disease // Vinsmoke Sanji x reader (angst oneshot)

Officer Friendly // cop!Shanks x reader (oneshot)

Save a Horse... // cowboy!Rick Grimes x reader (oneshot)

Match My Freak // John Hancock x reader (fallout 4 oneshot)

Cure For Boredom // Frenchie x reader (the boys oneshot)

Casanova // Sonny Corleone x reader (oneshot)

For Old Time's Sake // Soldier Boy (multi-chapter fanfic) CHAPTER ONE

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑴𝒀 𝑭𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑺

Sanji playing pool at a bar uncoloured coloured

Slasher zoro (spooktober oneshot inspired)

Nami

The Godfather 2 poster (digital art featuring robert de niro's vito corleone)

Egghead arc Sanji

Taz Skylar as Sanji

One Piece Live Action - Baratie fight

Shokugeki no Sanji panel redraw in my style

Sanji w/ gloves

Human version of Foxy from fnaf

Wano Sanji screenshot redraw

Kimiko x Frenchie fanart (the boys)

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

v1nsmoke's taglist - comment what posts you want me to tag you in♡

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑺𝑻

Casanova // Sonny Corleone x reader (oneshot)

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹

A LETTER TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN... (update about my recent inactivity) FIND ME ON AO3 FANFIC WRITER EMOJI ASK

© v1nsmokes 2023. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.