#hello sdv followers!!! i hope youre doing well

[butteredfrogs]

📩 simblr question of the day: any other simblrs that you love

i did something similar to this a while ago but i just wanna spread some love because there are so many amazing and talented people and i just hope you all know i appreciate all of you! (also this post is super long so i apologise i advance)

@squea honestly you are such a sweet person and you’re so so talented! you inspire me so much and you already know i appreciate you but i really do and i’m so thankful to call you my friend💛

@circusjuney june, you are so cool. not only are your edits amazing, you can make poses as well??? you’re so talented and also i love talking to you you’re honestly so lovely and so sweet <3

@youredreamingofroo you have such cool and chill vibes, and your renders are amazing!! i also love reading about your ocs and stuff or seeing the stuff you reblog that reminds you of them, i told you this already but i legit stalked roo and leo’s tag the other day because i wanted to find out more about them!

@druidberries you already know ily, but honestly i am so invested in the tjol gang i love seeing them pop up on my dash and hello the latest update??? i am so excited for baby 3!! also ofc butterberries is the best duo and no i will not accept criticism thank you💛

@sunyos jaci, every interaction i have with you is so chaotic but you never fail to make me laugh so hard! you are honestly so chill and i love seeing your sims so much and i just love talking to you!!

@fizzytoo i love your sims and your gameplay screenshots so so much! honestly your postcard legacy was one of the reasons i wanted to get the horse ranch pack bc you just made it seem so fun! you also just have such good vibes! (also i saw your posts about playing sdv, i’m expecting updates from your farmer butter!!)

@stellarfalls literally where do i even begin. i mean if you haven’t seen bree’s edits already i’m going to assume you’ve been living under a rock? just so talented and honestly you inspire me so much (although i don’t think my edits will ever be on your level)

@stinkrascal honestly again just such a sweet and lovely person!! also i just love your vlad so much and i love reading your story like i love learning more about your characters and their backstories!

@alelelesimz honestly where would we be without your cc free townies, thank you for your service🫡. but not only that the way you style your sims in general is amazing like their outfits are always so so good

@solargrove you are so so sweet! despite the fact we don’t interact much you sent me such a lovely ask after i was upset by that anon and it just really cheered me up! not only that but your builds and your gameplay screenshots always have such a nice warm and cozy vibe to them like they literally can i live in your game pls?

@folkbreeze your edits your gameplay are so so good every time! your screenshots are always so full of life and literally look like they belong in a photo album i love it so much and i just love the way that you edit them as well

@eljeebee such an amazing story teller! if you guys aren’t following lana you should be!!! you put so much love into your stories and it really shows they’re so good! also you are so lovely and have always been so nice and supportive and i appreciate it so much💛

@citrlet honestly i’ve said this so many times at this point but you are so lovely! also your screenshots are so pretty and soft and i love them so much! i also love seeing your stardew valley screenshots like i really love the fairycore/cottagecore vibe <3

@crazy-lazy-elder-sims i’m so sorry i sound like a broken record but you are so lovely!!! every time i’ve interacted with you you’ve just been super sweet or supportive and i really appreciate it! also in general just the fact you reblog so many posts and support so many people is really nice to see honestly i always love seeing stuff that you reblog whether that be sims or not!

@windslar honestly your gameplay screenshots and your edits are so good!! and literally where would simblr be without your psds we would literally be so lost like they’re so good and so useful

@orbitsuns your gameplay posts are so pretty. they have such a sweet and wholesome vibe to them if that makes sense? esp your secret garden screenshots they just feel very cozy and wholesome. also you have the sweetest vibes <3

@wildmelon you have always been one of my biggest inspo esp when it comes to fantasy! also even though you don’t just post sims i love your blog so much. it has such a whimsical vibe and i just always associate you with fantasy <33 (also your sims are STUNNING)

this is already super long so quick fire of some of the other people on here that i love and that you should go show some love to as well @glittermutt @simelune @cottageivy @thefunniestjester @flovoid @finnsim @kopimoss @futurelabs @velvet-disc @aliengirl @zleepyhollow and so so many others that i’m probably missing honestly anyone that i follow has inspired me in some way or another and i appreciate each and everyone of you 💛💛 also just anyone who has liked commented on or reblogged any of my posts i appreciate it so so much thank you all for being here 🫶

[thebiggerbear]

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - Rachel Gatina Prompt Response

Summary: Rachel, who has never spoken to you before, approaches you to ask for a favor. Despite what Bevin said, Rachel decides that she has to gauge this whole "being into girls" thing properly. And she's picked you to help her with that. ...Lucky you.

Pairing: Rachel Gatina x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I started quite a few scenarios for Rachel's response to this prompt but none of them felt right until this scenario popped into my head. I tried to keep this as 2000's as possible. Hope this is okay.

Both characters are over eighteen.

This is meant to take place right after the Bevin and Rachel bathroom scene in 4x13.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: mention of implied sex; internalized homophobia (I hope that's the correct term)

Word Count: 3757

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Rachel Taglist: @nancymcl

You can also read on AO3

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ CJ version ✨ Anael version ✨ Alec version ✨ SDV Leah version

You were just getting your books out of your locker when someone suddenly appeared next to you. You glanced over to see a familiar redhead smirking at you. You rolled your eyes and went back to your locker. “What do you want?”

Rachel Gatina had been the new girl at Tree Hill High who was giving Brooke Davis a run for her money and her non-exclusive boyfriend. Now, she was besties with Brooke and constantly toggling between mean girl and party girl. Either way, she had never been very nice to you or anyone else (except Mouth) who wasn’t in the “cool cliques”. 

“Can’t one senior come over to say hello to her fellow senior?”

“When said senior has never spoken a word to this fellow senior? Then no.” You slammed your locker shut and moved past her to head to class.

“I’m speaking to you now.” She was keeping pace with you, great.

“Oh, well then let me put my entire day on hold since Queen Rachel is speaking to me.” You turned a glare on her. 

“Not queen, just…maybe a little royalty.”

You rolled your eyes again and kept moving. You were going to be late for AP Lit and you did not want to be late for that class. Mr. Barton had a rule that he enforced with an iron fist: one minute late, no class for you. He would lock the door and not unlock it again until the class was over. 

“As it so happens, I need a favor.” She was still following you.

“Oh, imagine that. A favor.” You still didn’t stop. 

“Oh, come on. For someone I’ve never spoken a word to before, you’re being awfully harsh, don’t you think?” She wasn’t wrong. The truth was that she intimidated you a little bit. And that was your go to when it came to intimidation: pushback and biting sarcasm.

“I’m late for class,” you threw at her. “And if I don’t hurry, I’ll be—”

She grabbed your hand and yanked you off to the side, right into the girls’ bathroom.

“What the— Rachel, what are you doing? I’m about to be locked out of class.” You hurried towards the door but she blocked you. “Rachel,” you growled. “The bell is about to—”

The bell rang before you could finish your sentence. You had now officially been marked absent from Mr. Barton’s class and you were locked out. Great. You were screwed.

“So you miss one class, big deal. It’s not like you’re flunking.”

You crossed your arms and sighed. “How would you know that?”

“I asked around. I make it my business to know. Now, about that favor.”

“That you made me miss one of my most important classes for.”

She laid a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. Just tell Barton you had a girl emergency. He’ll offer you a make-up paper before you can get out the word ‘tampon’. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be lying to him exactly. This is a girl emergency.” She smiled, placing her hand on her hip.

You walked over to the gross looking tampon dispensing machine and gestured to it. “If you needed one, it’s right here. Are you out of quarters?”

She smirked and flicked her hair back. “I like you. It’s a shame we didn’t talk before this. I get the feeling we could have been friends.”

“A cheerleader hanging out with a loner? Yes, I can definitely see that.”

“You call yourself a loner?” She laughed. “You’re far from it from what I’ve heard.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “And your emergency is?”

She pressed her lips together and sat on one of the sinks, swinging her legs back and forth as she settled. “I’m not sure how to ask this without sounding…you know, gay, so I’m just going to ask.”

Your heart started to pound at the word ‘gay’. Oh no.

“Will you kiss me?”

Your eyes widened and your heart stopped altogether. Was she for real? 

She gave you an encouraging smile. “It’s just to see if something Bevin said is true or not.”

“Bevin?”

“Yeah. We had class together last period and we had to do this stupid assignment together. She said this thing and now I can’t get it out of my head.”

“So let me see if I’ve got this right. Bevin said something to you in class during an assignment you both were working on together and that had you finding me, who you’ve never spoken to before, to push me into the bathroom with you to ask me to kiss you but not wanting it to sound gay. To see if what Bevin said is true or not.”

Rachel shrugged. “More or less. Yeah.”

“Right.” You immediately began opening stall doors, seeing no one was in here thankfully. You then began checking underneath the sinks, the bathroom mirrors, anywhere a recording device of some kind could be installed. 

“What are you doing?” She asked when you quickly looked under her sink. “I said a kiss not…that.” 

“Wouldn’t you be so lucky,” you snapped. “I’m looking for recording devices of some kind. Someone hidden in here who’s going to jump out and let me know I’m on Punk’d or Candid Camera or something. Maybe you’ve got a couple of the cheerleaders hiding somewhere with a camera to take a picture. Maybe Brooke and a couple of jocks are just waiting outside the door to laugh and spread rumors.”

Rachel crossed her arms. “You are way too paranoid, you know that?”

You shrugged. “Can’t be too safe, especially when it comes to high school. Especially this high school.”

“I’ll have you know that most guys would be dying for the chance if I gave it to them. if I asked them to kiss me, they would already be over here, all over me.”

“I’m not a guy in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Of course I noticed, that’s why I asked.”

“So, you’re just looking for any girl to kiss you. Is that it?” Lucky you.

“Not just any girl. You.”

“Why me?”

“I’ve heard the rumors.”

You tensed up. “What rumors?”

She leaned forward. “You know. And I know you’re into me, even if you won’t admit it.”

She was right; you weren’t going to admit it. “Right, right. Question, how did you fit through the door just now with that massive ego of yours?”

“That’s not the only thing of mine that’s massive.” As if to illustrate her point, she leaned forward a little more until you could see straight down her cleavage. Well, she certainly wasn’t lying.

“Alright, first off, those rumors aren’t true. Secondly, let’s say I do this for you. What do I get in return?”

“This is a favor, not a deal,” she scoffed.

“How long would this have to be for?”

She shot you a look and sat up. “Wow, talk about giving a girl a complex. Is the idea of kissing me really that horrible for you?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m merely trying to determine what I’m going to be asking in trade.”

“Now, it’s a trade.” She huffed a laugh in disbelief. A moment later, she glanced over at you. “Five seconds. No more, no less.”

“Okay then, what I want in return is this: you never tell anyone about this.”

“That’s what you want in return?”

“Yep. I want your word that you won’t whisper a word of this to anyone. When you go away to college and you’re experimenting or whatever, sure you can mention that one kiss in the girls’ bathroom one time, but not here in Tree Hill. Never here in Tree Hill. Or to anyone from here and that includes Brooke. Deal?”

She gave you a nod. “Deal.”

“Alright.” Now you were feeling nervous and self-conscious. “So do I, uh, just come over there or do you come over here or do we meet in the middle or—”

“Just come over here,” she ordered, impatience coloring her tone.

“Okay,” you muttered, moving over to her. 

Rachel studied you and you began to feel like an exhibit in a museum or something. “So, we doing this or—”

“Shut up.” She cupped your face and leaned in, pressing her lips to yours. 

You were sort of having a little meltdown in your brain right then. Rachel Gatina was kissing you. The beautiful, cocky, queen of mean, sexy cheerleader Rachel Gatina was kissing you. Ever since she’d arrived, she had been turning heads, even yours. You never had the courage to approach her or say hello to her, even at a party the two of you were at. Especially since she didn’t seem all that nice. Never mind the whole cliques thing, Rachel had been right; there were rumors going around about you. Most of the girls on Rachel’s side of the hallway so to speak avoided you like the Plague and only acknowledged your existence to make fun of you or gossip about you if somehow the rumors got a second wind (which you made sure they never did, not from you anyway). 

But Rachel was beautiful although personality wise, she wasn’t exactly your type. Though she did prove to be a lot smarter than she let on. You may have asked around yourself, overheard a few things. Plus, you had it on pretty good authority that she may have been the one to cause the whole time capsule business which then led to— You didn’t want to think about that. Now or ever quite honestly. Besides, Mouth had made you promise to keep it to yourself about the capsule. It was obvious that even Mouth had a crush on her. 

You counted down the seconds in your head as you enjoyed the softness of her lips against yours, the smell of her perfume, the feeling of her hands on your face. When you reached the end, you went to pull back but she tugged you back in. Not only did she keep you there but she deepened the kiss. You could have sworn you felt the edge of her tongue against your lower lip.

You continued counting in your head and by 27, Rachel finally let you go. You took a step back and watched as she held her fingers up to her lips, staring at you. Then she did the last thing you expected (or if you were being honest, you totally expected it). She laughed out, “Oh my God.”

There it was. You waited for the joke, for Brooke to pop out of a stall that she mysteriously appeared into and begin laughing and pointing, for the whole school to start filing into the bathroom, one by one, to join in the merriment. “Yeah, that’s usually the reaction I get,” you muttered, wiping your lips with your fingers.

“No, not you. I mean…Bevin was right.” She laughed again, seeming almost pleasantly surprised.

And there was the joke. “Great. Glad she was. Now, if I can be set free from this Bathroom Bastille, that would be awesome. Thanks for the laughs.” You gave her a peace sign and began to walk towards the door. You fully expected to find some cheerleaders or Bevin or Brooke on the other side of it.

“Hey! Hold up a second.” She jumped down from the sink and grabbed your shirt sleeve to stop you. “You don’t have to act like kissing me was such a revolting thing for you to do that you’re now relieved it’s over. You really do know how to give a girl a complex.”

“I know how to give a girl a complex? You’re laughing after you kissed me. What about that doesn’t give a girl a complex?”

She nodded, sticking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “True. I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you.”

You arched a brow over at her.

“Scout’s honor.” She stuck two fingers up in a gesture that you were pretty sure they didn’t use in the Scouts but you kept that observation to yourself. 

“Then what were you laughing at?”

She looked uncomfortable then and you had to wonder if she had been telling you the truth just now. “That Bevin was right. …And not.”

“Right about what?”

She bit at her lip. “Okay, here’s the thing. I don’t know you just like you don’t know me. So if I tell you this, you can’t tell anyone at all. Even if they’re not from Tree Hill. Like ever. Got it?”

So, she also had a secret that she didn’t want getting out. You could understand that. You held up your fingers in the actual Scout’s honor sign. “Got it.”

Rachel looked uncomfortable again but her discomfort also seemed to be tainted by a little sadness. “I was telling Bevin that I never really feel anything with the guys I sleep with.” Ah, you knew where this was going. “I mean, I got this new body and everything but it didn’t change anything. Except for how they looked at me.” She bit at her bottom lip again which you were starting to see may be a nervous gesture on her part. “So, Bevin said she always wondered what it would be like to be a guy, checking out chicks. And I said that might be my problem, maybe I was into girls.”

You kept your face carefully neutral but inside you were half-shocked, and half-not so shocked. 

“She kissed me on the spot which totally took me by surprise, and asked if I felt anything. I told her I didn’t because I really didn’t. She said if I was into girls then I would’ve felt something because she’s a great kisser and I’d be into her.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that one. Maybe Bevin was a great kisser like she boasted but that wasn’t exactly how it worked. You would know.

“And you weren’t?”

“No,” she snapped. “I like Bevin well enough but no. The class ended and that was it. But then it got me thinking.”

“Ah. You thought you’d go to one of the girls rumored to be gay in this school and ask her to kiss you, you know just to make sure.”

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it but yeah.”

You snorted. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Did you feel anything?”

She looked uncertain for a moment so you figured the answer would be no. But then she surprisingly took a step closer to you, giving you a hint of a smile that was absent of her usual cockiness. “Yeah, actually.”

“So according to Bevin’s vast array of knowledge in these matters, you must be into girls then. Mazel Tov. I’ll see you around, Rachel.” You turned to leave, eager to put this whole thing behind you, when she gently grabbed your arm. 

You sighed and turned back. “I did what you asked. I don’t get why—”

Rachel leaned in, kissing you again. 

When she broke away, your brows drew together. “Uh…?”

“Did you feel anything?”

Hell yeah, you did. You felt that down to your toes. But you weren’t about to tell her that. “I, um… It’s really hard to tell. I might need further exploration on the subject.”

She let you go and gave you a look. “Really?”

“Yep. As a matter of fact, I’m going to go find another cheerleader and shove her into a bathroom to make out with her so I can find out. Great idea, Rach. Thanks. Later.” You went to leave when she grabbed you again.

Smiling at you, she pulled you closer. “Shut up.” She kissed you then and you couldn’t help but kiss her back.

You glanced up when you heard the bell ring again, signaling you needed to get to your next class. You groaned and it wasn’t because Rachel’s lips were attached to your neck. You both were currently in a stall with her in your lap (because she refused to get her clothes dirty sitting on a gross toilet seat though she was slightly taller than you with the heels she was sporting, which made positioning awkward at times) and you literally had been making out now for most of the period. 

“I need to get to my next class.”

“Skip it,” she breathed before kissing you again.

“I can’t skip it,” you panted. “I already missed one class while you’re having your gay awakening.” 

She pulled back, scowling at you. “I’m not gay.”

You inclined your head at her sitting in your lap. 

She shoved her hair behind her ear. “That doesn’t mean I’m gay. I’m just…trying new things.” She gave you a bright smile. “Besides, if I was gay, don’t you think I would have enjoyed kissing Bevin?”

“Yeah, that’s not how that works.”

“And you would know.”

“Says the girl who’s currently sitting on my lap and has been trying to convince me to meet her at her house later so she can get me into bed.”

She wrapped her arms around her neck. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Brooke won’t be there if that’s what you’re worried about. She has a date tonight. And I need to find out if those rumors are true.” She leaned in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I hate those rumors,” you muttered.

“Why? They’re not true?”

“What do you think?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Good point. So is it or is it not true that you and Donna DiLorenzo went all the way in the eighth grade at summer camp?”

You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Summer camp? How cliche.”

“So they’re not true then?”

You shook your head. “No. Donna and I were just friends. And I never went to summer camp.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough. But obviously, the other part of the rumor is true.” She smirked and ran a finger along your jaw.

“That I’m a raging lesbian who’s always on the prowl for girls? No. Sorry to disappoint but your friend Brooke made all of that up.”

She didn’t say anything to that. How could she? “But if you’re making out with me, then—”

“I like both guys and girls. That’s the real truth. Which goes without saying, is to be kept secret along with this whole little makeout session and what you told me earlier. It all goes into the vault, for life. Got it?”

She nodded, that cocky smirk making a reappearance. “So I really can’t convince you to come by tonight once Brooke leaves?”

You heard the bell again and you let out a huge groan. “That’s two classes now.”

“You have me on your lap, asking you to come to my house later so we can continue this, and you’re worried about class?” She actually seemed insulted.

“Yes. Because I don’t need the absences which will turn into zeros when they realize I’m cutting.”

Rachel studied you for a moment and flicked her hair back, holding onto you. “Well, since you don’t have to rush off now. Care to feel me up?”

You arched your brows in disbelief, silently asking if she was serious, to which she only smiled wider. “I hate you,” you muttered.

“You certainly have a weird way of showing that.” She ground into you and interlocked her fingers at the back of your neck, grinning. “Come on. You know you want to. They’re a hell of a lot bigger than Donna DiLorenzo’s,” she teased.

“Like I said, I hate you, and I wouldn’t know.”

“You’ve had your hands on my ass for the last half hour. While I’m flattered, don’t you want to feel what my other attributes feel like?”

“You mean holding onto your ass to keep you from falling? You’re welcome.”

“Come on.” She reached down and began to lower the straps of her tank top, her jacket having been hung up on the back of the door long ago. 

You stopped her. “If I agree to drop by your house later, can we stop this ridiculous conversation in its tracks?”

She shrugged, moving her straps back into place. “I wouldn’t call it ridiculous but sure. Brooke’s date is picking her up around 8:00. Why don’t you swing by around 8:30?”

Your jaw tightened. “If this turns out to be some elaborate prank with cameras and people popping out and Brooke, I swear, I will go nuclear on your secrets. The vault won’t be able to withstand the heat of that explosion.”

“You are so incredibly paranoid but got it, loud and clear. For the record, I wasn’t inviting you over as a prank. I’m not Brooke,” she finished in a whisper. She then cleared her throat. “As it turns out, I am inviting you over to watch a movie.”

“Awww. You’re going to show me your Girls Gone Wild collection? How sweet.” 

She swatted your shoulder. “Shut up. I’m talking about that movie The Grudge. Have you seen it?”

You shook your head. “Didn’t really want to if I’m honest.”

Her smile grew. “Perfect.” She leaned in and kissed you, chuckling into your mouth when she moved your hands from her ass to her breasts. 

You squeezed them for good measure and muttered to her lips, “There. Very nice. Happy now?”

“Not yet.” She launched herself at you, kissing you deeply. You barely heard someone knocking on the bathroom door for the fourth time since this whole thing started, and you had stopped counting the seconds in your head long ago. Rachel Gatina was making out with you and she was inviting you over to her house later to “watch a movie”. There was no way in hell you were passing that up or paying attention to anything else (even if you had been dying to see The Grudge since you missed it while it was in theaters). You had missed two classes for Rachel’s experiment, after all.

That made you pull back for a moment. “I can’t miss another class, though.”

She nodded, panting. “You agreed to come over later so, yeah. I got it. But you still have forty five minutes.” She gave you that wicked smirk again before moving back in.

You moved your hands back to her ass and she moaned into your mouth though you could feel the smirk against your lips right before. You didn’t know Bevin Prince very well but damn if you weren’t going to send her some kind of gift basket as a thank you.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

[neetily]

Ch.1 So, Reddit... AITA? — (SDV) Kent

— ✧ chapter warnings: depictions of trauma, family trauma, misogyny, sexism, slowburn — ✧ word count: 4,106 — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ synopsis: AITA (47M) FOR FINALLY FOLLOWING MY DOCTORS ADVICE?

— ✧ A/N: finally caught up to my most recent work :D!! i hope u guys like old grumpy men, cause that's all this fic is gonna be >:D...

next

AITA (47M) FOR FINALLY FOLLOWING MY DOCTORS ADVICE?  Hey reddit. I know the title sounds stupid, but hear me out for a minute. To cut a long story short, I was heavily encouraged to speak to my local doctor for some help with my temper. At the time, he’d suggested that I “try to relax” which honestly just pissed me off even more in the moment rather than anything else. But after some thinking and talking with the family, I decided it couldn’t hurt to try. This is where my son’s (26M ) girlfriend (27F)  comes in to play, and seeing as she was all too eager to help, I took her up on her offer of relaxation.

We get along just fine all things considered, though we usually only meet one on one now because my son has some grievances with me. But that’s neither here nor there: point is, I like spending time with her. She’s helped me learn how to relax better than anything else, but she thinks that more work could be done. Now imagine being me for a moment… It’s tough to be around your family, and your son’s hot young girl is wanting to take things a step further… Like, hello? C’mon, what else was I supposed to do? Not accept her relaxation efforts, just because she’s dating my son? As if. Stupid. It’s literally what the doctor ordered, so in my mind I aint doing anything wrong, right? So anyway, we fuck, and it becomes a regular occurrence. Any time she sees me stressing out: we fuck. Any time my son annoys her: we fuck. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement if you ask me, given how loud she gets. But here’s the main issue:

She wants to call it quits with my son, and he’s already been giving me funny looks whenever his girls around. Like he knows something… And I don’t want another argument. It’s only thanks to her that I’ve become more tolerable, and even my wife thanks her for the help! I’m not stupid, and I know cheating is wrong, but this is for the greater good. So, reddit… AITA? Should I let her break things off with my son? Not gonna lie, it would make fucking her a lot easier, but even just thinking about the fallout stresses me out… Not to mention that I just know that my wife wouldn’t take the news well either, she loves that kid as if she were her own. The betrayal, could you imagine?

TL;DR  son’s girlfriend helps me to “relax” by letting me fuck her. It’s the only thing that works. She wants to break up with my son in favour of spending more time with me, and though I’d also like that, I don’t want to deal with the headache it’d cause following. So, AITA for following my docs advice to relax by banging my son’s hot girlfriend? AITA for wanting to spend more time with her too?

It was Jodi who had suggested it in the first place, bless her heart. All the good intentions in the world, that woman. And yet, all Kent feels in response to her kindness is rotten indignation. A misplaced emotion at best, he knows. But it’s the fact that she remains insistentto the point of annoyance about trying something new, an alternative method not yet prescribed by his doctor; an exhausted sigh of literally anything to try and heal the gaping wounds that he’s returned home with, as opposed to the idle resignation he’s shown this far. That upsets him most. As if she somehow no longer trusts his judgement, or finds him lacking in some respects. God, he can barely stand the thought of being perceived as anything other than capable enough to at least handle himself.

So really, this was all her fault. Or; that’s what he likes to tell himself to make it easier to sleep at night, at least.

Farm life is so nice! She’d said. I’ve already visited a few times with Sam, you should at least give it a shot! She’d suggested. Like the good wife that she is. One that cares only for seeing him do better, to have him acting nicer. To have him return back to the man and father he once was, as if merely spending some time on some stupid plot of land is supposed to undo all of the damage he’s sustained, cure all of the scars he’s got hiding in his mind. And naturally, he thinks it’s all a farce. A cleverly concocted plan to simply get him out of the house and away from the family until he gets his act together— he can scarcely blame her for the attempt, though. Between the tense almost arguments and the struggle of finding his place back within the family unit, perhaps a break will do everyone justice, right? He gets that. Intimately understands that what she’s trying to do for him is kind at heart, but he can’t help the bile that rises to the tip of his tongue any time she seeks to alleviate his pain. Like an animal, defending himself out of falsely perceived threats.

She wasn’t there. She’d never understand. And he doubts you’ll ever manage to get him either.

But who is he to deny his sweet wife? Especially given that every other avenue of relief has been tried, exhausted, and subsequently dropped; he figured he might as well take you up on your offhanded proposal after the not so gentle prodding and stubborn persistence of the woman he pledge his life to. A one week stay at the old farmhouse, a place he remembered only in passing, but that he soon came to find needed no remembrance at all. Because compared to the rickety old make out spot he recalled slacking off with Jodi at when he was a simple teen in love, the place now had a newfound aura of professionalism to it. Done up, as you said. And fucking well too, all prim and proper, with some good work ethic to boot.

He can’t help but feel at least a little impressed with his son’s choice of girlfriend and the place you call home. Which was really annoying, in all honestly. He’d half expected you to be completely useless at your one and only job— call him old fashioned if you’d rather, but he knows that he’s simply being unfair to you. That’s why you needed his son on the farm to help, right? But no, he can see how much effort you put into the place. And part of him hates how his expectations were subverted so effortlessly.

The week would offer ample opportunity to get to know you, as Sam put forth. Though Kent knew it wasn’t an easily swallowed pill. More so Jodi’s recommendation than it was Sam’s, but he understood the sentiment well. No matter how much he’d rather leave your view of him untainted, to remain an inspiring figure to someone, God… He knows it’s for the best that he gets to know you somewhat, given that you’re planning on marrying his son soon enough. Introductions and that is all he had planned to honour you with before burying his head back into something easier, like farm work. That’s the least he needs to do to be considered friendly with you, right?

Come to eventually find out though, that the universe doesn’t care for the least amount of anything. Working against him at every turn, rendering him otherwise helpless despite his best efforts. He’s not at fault, right?

It was night already when he initially arrived, his family waving goodbye to him for the week by the farm gate, causing unfair emotions to bubble away inside his tummy. Look familiar? He thinks to himself as his muscles tense up in, well… Take your pick. Anxiety about meeting you privately for the first time ever, nervousness over the unfamiliar territory he’s about to step foot into, or maybe, just maybe, barely contained elation from the look his son greets him with. An all too similar frown Kent knows he slips into on occasion too. The scowl sent his way was strangely satisfying to him even in the dimly lit ranch, just barely making out the down turned corners of his sons lips, but nonetheless, he sees them. And in fairness, he’d already done what he was supposed to, which was to apologise for stealing his girlfriend away, relegating Sam all alone back in his old childhood bedroom for the week— brat should be thankful to be spending some time with his family again at least. However, if Sam was so against it, he thinks his son should have protested some more. At least that would have been more admirable in the long run, and maybe have even earned him some of his old mans well guarded respect.

But alas, as he remembers upon looking at that scowl, the boy is too much like his mother. Unwilling to confront, hiding behind disapproving looks and hushed complaints. And for some reason, that upsets Kent. Guilty as charged, perhaps.

The sound of your front door opening drew his attention off of Sam instantly, like moth to a flame, and he held a weak hand up to his family before swiftly ducking into your home. Not even bothering to glance back at them, a wash of relief taking sudden hold of his chest as soon as he took that first step into your warm abode.

At the time, he had no idea why he felt so happy to hide from their expecting gaze, the heavy weight upon his shoulders slowly decreasing with every creak of the farmhouse floorboards as you closed the door behind him. Instead of the idle anxiety he’s so used to experiencing on a day to day basis, a too good to be true feeling spread throughout his entire chest, constricting his airways with alleviation. Shouldn’t that be counted as a warning sign, too? But he wasn’t about to complain, welcoming the break from ordinary life with heavy footsteps. Could you hear how tired he really was of keeping up appearances?

And you made it so easy for him to slip into your home, too. Listening half-heartedly to you regale tales of how Robin and her kid had helped you fix the place up, and about how Marnie had been such a big help recently, among other things. It was nice not to be the one expected to talk for once. Heading straight to the guest room you had prepared for him despite your continuous babbles, wanting mostly to get out the way of your sunshine attitude; an annoyance at best, and something to be jealous of at worst. A small space greeted him (a little uncomfortably so), with only the bare necessities included… This irritated him too. Though he’d be hard pressed to give you an answer as to why, simply allowing himself to act out internally because the anger is easier to accept when he has something to aim it towards, even if that something is really nothing at all. Then, after unpacking and checking the comfort of the bed—which you assured him had never been used before, not that he believes you—he escaped his new week long confines in search of the bathroom, only to find you cooking in the kitchen instead.

What hit him first was the smell, a good homely scent that distracted him from his journey to freshen up. It had been years since he smelled some good home cooked food like this, even if Jodi did try the moment he arrived back home. It just wasn’t the same anymore, like the very same hands that had promised him forever had somehow been tainted by his mere presence, turning the food foul.

He might try and lie to himself and say otherwise, pretended not to have known it at the time, but the issue was that Jodi no longer felt like home to him; regardless of how hard she tried. And God did the woman try, he had to hand it to her.

“Just a minute!” You called out to him when he creaked too close to the sun, all toothy smiles and honey sweet toned. He remembers your face the most when recalling his first night in the farm house, how rosy your cheeks were and how he had to cough out of the stare he found himself in. The little apron you adorned was second, of course. He’d be a fool not to notice it, honestly. Tight to your figure as you slaved away at the stove, for him, right? As it should be. “Sam told me you liked risotto, so I went ahead and gathered some fiddlehead fern for you.”

Even then, you had no idea how troublesome you really were for him.

“How is it?” You ask innocently enough, though he doesn’t miss the hint of desperation in your voice. Soft quivering lips, as if he’s somehow caught you doing something bad, but that couldn’t be the case, right?

Truthfully, he’s impressed already with your skills. Any more pandering and he’s liable to act out, which would only cause more issues for himself. Remember, Kent, he thinks to himself. You’re here to relax. And, mid chew, he supposes that your sheepishness is to be expected. You are dating his son, after all. It’s understandable that you’d want to make a good first impression, and yet still his lips press into a thin and telling line anyway. This is nothing more than formalities, a useless way to spend his time.

He’s only three spoonfuls in before your question too, rushing him to quickly swallow his fourth just to answer you. Couldn’t you have waited for a pause to speak? “It’s all right.” He deadpans, only briefly looking up at you through his brow before digging back into the lovingly prepared meal, another greedy spoonful already lifting to his lips.

See, lying comes naturally to him. Embedded in his very existence, buried deep in his bones as a means of survival, even when lying to himself. A skill not formally taught, but rather something akin to natural talent, and he’s aced every class. It only takes him a few seconds before he checks for your reaction, satisfied at the small pout his critique causes. Truthfully, the meal is perfect; no faults. And this, too, annoys him.

He’d sooner die than play his hand so soon. A hidden battle contained solely within himself; and yet still, he refuses to lose.

“I’m glad.” You smile pitifully, and he feels a spark of something in his chest. A jolt of understanding, perhaps. A kindred spirit, absolutely. You too, he thinks, are a filthy liar.

Thankfully, silence befalls the table besides the clattering of metal on ceramic due to his unfair response, and he finds himself ruminating to the shared rhythmic taps!

It’s been difficult since returning home; far more than he’d ever expected, or even liked to admit. Between dealing with his wife’s expectations of the man who left all those years ago, to trying to make amends with his two sons—Vincent far too young to truly hold any real grievances, but Sam on the other hand…—he’s scarcely had the time to just think. How does one return back to normalcy after, well, you know. Even the word war rests thickly at the back of his throat, burning bile against his teeth, leaving his lips dry. Forces him to grasp at the glass of water you had thoughtfully placed on the table for him to take a selfish gulp to try and easy the upset. As if doing so would bring him some sort of clarity on how to become a person again, mimicking your easy actions to somehow remember what being human is really like. It helps that your cooking is good at least, just like the old saying. Every greedy mouthful of the perfectly executed risotto—one of his favourite meals, mind you—worms its way down to his heart and rests there instead of his stomach. Maybe that’s what drew Sam to you too.

“I do hope you enjoy your time here,” you interrupt his thoughts with that sickly sweet tone of yours, his brows furrowing in an attempt to focus on anything other than how your voice goes right through him, and how his skin crawls at the feeling of being seen. “And don’t worry about helping out around the farm! I know Sam mentioned something about that, but really, I’ll be fine by myself!”

The more boyish side of him wants to grunt and groan about how Sam should be helping you himself instead, but therein lies the crux of the broken relationship they share. Instead, he opts only to nodding back at you, resting his spoon in the mostly eaten bowl of risotto and pushing it more towards the centre of the table before offering you some half truths.

“Doc said it’d be good for me t’get back workin’.” It’s part of the reason he even agreed to come stay with you for the week anyway. Surely you know that, so he’s irked that you’d pretend otherwise.

“No, I know…” You laugh awkwardly, matching his actions by setting aside your own spoon before collecting both bowls and placing them in the sink. Routine, likely. It’s somehow familiar to him. And he watches you carefully as you do so, not missing the way you gently lower the ceramic into metal to make as little noise as possible; just like how you ate. It’s annoying having people walk on eggshells around him like this, to treat him like a ticking time bomb, even if deep down he knows it to be true. Fuck, he just wants to be normal again. If he ever finds out who told you to treat him with such care and consideration he’ll be sure correct their stance thoroughly. Probably Sam, right? He’s over here fucking you every night, whispering sweet nothings down your ear. It makes the most sense for his own son to divulge such needless information late at night, the day before his dad arrives on the farm. Now, be careful around my old man, he’s got a bit of a temper; Kent can practically envision the scene perfectly, his fists balling in assumed anger. “But rest is important too. I just don’t want you to feel pressured.” You finish up your sentence, giving him a soft look.

He takes it as pity.

And he fucking knows how wrong it is to feel sickened by how kind you are, to want for more than anything to bite the hand that feeds. But what is a sheep to a lion, really? Having you lay your belly bare for his viscous teeth to sink right into is all too tempting, regardless of what the doctor orders. It’d be so easy to prove how capable he is, too! Which is perhaps the worst part of it all. The fucking restraint it takes not to bark back at you, the innate want to be the enforcer rather than the coward.

He takes a breather, deep and hungry. Fucking awkward, through no fault of your own; he has to remind himself.

“Right,” He clears his throat, digging through his high alert mind to find the right words to express the magnitude of his emotions. And yet, “Thanks, but I wanna help.” Is all he can come up with, answering you tersely, afraid of opening his jaw too wide and showing his sharp teeth.

Rushing water fills his ears and his vision switches to the sink, focusing on the stream rather than the annoyance he harbours for himself. Your back is turned to him, and when you merely hum in response to his obvious upset, he abruptly forces himself to look away. “All right.” You meekly offer him, busying yourself with cleaning up. Shit, he forgot to ask if you wanted help with that—

“Six A.M. start.”

And just like that, on the very first night he spends at your farm, you manage to crack a genuine smile out of him. Because orders are comfortable, he’s well-acquainted to them, and despite the humiliating role reversal, a light laugh escapes him. This, too, should have been a sign of the times

“Understood.” He replies, matching your cut and dried tone of voice with utter resignation himself.

The screech of his chair against the wooden floorboard gives him goosebumps, and he grits his teeth as he stands. It’s habit, really. Survival, right? Blocking out his surroundings in favour of merely enduring, following orders exactly like he was taught to. “G’night, then.” He waves you off, unable to meet your gaze as you send him a much chirpier sleep well, Kent! It’s not your fault that you don’t know he can’t, or that the times he can aren’t really worth the trouble thanks to the repeated nightmares. He only hopes that tonight has tired him out enough to just pass out as he remembers to close the guest bedroom door gently like Jodi had begged him to, to leave a good impression or some other bullshit. The patronising tone she embarrassed him with in front of their kids still rings in his ears even now, and his fists tighten by his side as he leans against the closed door. Fuck, he’s tensing too much again, trying to force his trained muscles to relax just like how Harvey advised, but it’s not working. It’s not working and he’s fucking angry at the way Jodi spoke to him earlier, upset at how he wasn’t able to bite back in fear of scaring Vincent off, and worsening his already dog relationship with Sam.

It’s times like these that he misses having something, literally anything, to hit.

Instead, he keeps his fists balled as he creeps closer towards the old dresser you provided him. Tiptoeing around even himself, mind racing and unsure of what he’s even afraid of. And the thought of being afraid only angers him even more, as if he has anything to be afraid of in the first place given his time spent as a soldier.

“Easy…” he whispers to himself slowly, carefully opening the drawer to access the meagre amount of clothing he brought with him on his little ‘vacation’. Home is literally just down the road, so he figured if he needed more it’s not like it’d be a hassle to obtain despite Jodi’s fretting.

But undressing in your house immediately feels weird, knowing that this space—though unlikely the one he’s currently residing in—is where you and Sam have made a home together. Not yet married, and yet still his son is ever present at your farm. How annoying. How utterly dissatisfying, souring to his mood as he gets dressed for bed and promptly tugs the awkwardly tucked in sheets out for more comfort as he climbs inside the sheets.

Laying there in the dark empty, disappointment strangles his throat. Wishing silently that he knew why it upset him the amount that it did to feel Sam’s presence surrounding him, because it makes him feel stupid for even allowing his emotions to run this far. But then, a balm washes over him, realising that he at least has a break from performing for his family; even if they’re unaware of his performance to begin with. There’s very little that he’d willingly admit to them, Jodi especially, and his faux doting attitude falls under that category. It’s nice to finally just be himself for once in the quiet of your farm that you’ve graciously provided him, even if he feels like some sort of intruder peeping in on your private life.

And, as far as first nights goes, he can hardly complain overall. And by that he means that he didn’t shout once, even if it’s been difficult to keep himself composed. Still, he doesn’t trust sleep to come quietly, let alone at all. But maybe despite it all; Jodi was right about this. Maybe Sam’s begrudging acceptance was helpful too, in some odd way. It’s clear to him that his existence within your home isn’t so much appreciated as it is tolerated, and even then it’s only because the doc recommended busy hands; not because anyone else genuinely cares for his well-being. Except for maybe you, evident from the hearty meal you’ve provided tonight that he’s been missing since being home.

And possibly, this little week long trip wont be for nothing.

[fadingplaidlibrary]

Sunshower ☀️⛈️

Pairing: SDV!Harvey x OFC!Farmer (Black, she/her pronouns)

Word Count: 2,600

Chapter: 1 of ?

Summary: The good doctor meets his new neighbor.

Notes: this was so much fun to write! i did nawt mean for it to be this long y’all, my bad, it's fr looking like this is gonna be a series. this one can be read as a cute lil stand-alone too, tho! my original female character uses she/her pronouns and harvey uses he/him pronouns in this work. my ofc is Black like me <3. this installment is all fluff and sweet beginnings, but this series will likely have smut in later chapters, so be ye warned. canon-typical mentions of stormy weather, thunder, lightning, alcohol consumption (wine), hot beverage consumption (coffee), and grief (R.I.P. Grandpa). i don't think any other warnings apply, but let me know and i'll happily add whatever else is needed! any typos are my own. i do not consent for my work to be re-uploaded elsewhere. many thanks and hugs to my beautiful best friend who let me share the journey with her! enjoy :D

The good doctor wasn’t normally a morning person. His dedication to his work meant that he had developed a habit of waking early to open the clinic, but he never particularly relished being up with the sun. He much preferred his quiet evenings, after his patients had been soothed and sent home with their orders. When Maru locked the clinic door behind her and waved goodbye at him through the glass as she always did. The brisk smell of antiseptic followed him upstairs to his tidy little apartment. He could nurse a glass of Pinot with the radio tuned to something inoffensive, static crackling intermittently while the stars blinked into the night sky. Harvey knew his over-reliance on coffee would catch up to him one day, but until that day came he would drain the pot to make his mornings bearable.

And then you came to town. Rumor had it you had inherited your late grandfather’s farm just west of town. You immediately became a subject of local curiosity. Harvey didn’t like to gossip – who could trust a doctor that did? – but his neighbors seemed very interested in figuring you out. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. Pelican Town was a comfortable, easygoing kind of village, charming in its simplicity, but somewhat lacking in the way of excitement or novelty, as such places tend to be. He much preferred it to the over-stimulation of the city, and he supposed you must prefer it too, if you were willing to uproot your life to be here. As a doctor, he hoped the change of scenery would refresh and invigorate you, as it had for him. And as a neighbor, well… Harvey was no gossip, but he was certainly just as curious about a new face in town as anyone else.

Your paths first crossed by chance on a drizzly spring day, just before the annual Egg Festival. That morning had been a particularly bleary one, and he had just run out of coffee. He stopped by Pierre’s to pick up two fresh bags, one for the office and one for his apartment. Harvey was on his way back to the clinic and focusing mainly on keeping himself dry as he briskly walked the short distance to his glass-doored sanctuary. Most of his neighbors stayed indoors on gray, sullen days like this one, and today was no exception. But there you were, a brand new face in an otherwise perfectly familiar scene. You wore a deep blue raincoat with the hood drawn up over your head, and you seemed… not sad per se, but pensive, as you gazed around the otherwise unoccupied town square. He waved to you from across the square, then raised his hand to shield his glasses from the rain.

“Hello!” he called out, “you must be the new farmer!”

Your eyes met, and you waved back with a grin and replied “Hi, yeah, I am! Nice to meet you!” Your smile was brilliant and utterly serene, undimmed by the haze of light rain in the air. A clap of thunder rumbled overhead, and over your shoulder Harvey saw lightning flash in the distance, way out at sea.

“Won’t you come in?” he called out again. You shrugged cheerfully and crossed the square to follow him into the clinic, the both of you slightly damp but not much worse for the wear. Harvey smiled and nodded politely to you as you crossed the threshold into the clinic, his eyes keen and his soft brown curls sparkling with raindrops. You felt suddenly shy, standing so close to this kind stranger, the both of you dripping water onto the slightly scuffed entrance mat.

“I-I’m Sunny,” you said, extending a slightly damp hand to the man.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Farmer Sunny,” he replied, and he shook your hand warmly. “I’m Harvey, the local doctor.”

You chuckled and said, “Just Sunny is fine, doc. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other around, anyway. Farming’s kind of a contact sport.” Harvey nodded knowingly and released your hand. You couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in his eye. 

“I’m sure it is. I’ve treated quite a few farmers,” he joked lightly, closing the door behind you both. “Just Harvey, then, please. Welcome to Pelican Town, Sunny.” He smiled at you again, and your hands fumbled as you lowered the hood on your coat. “Would you like some coffee?” he asked as he walked to the tan door on the other side of the small reception room. “I was just about to brew a fresh pot. Or perhaps some tea? A warm drink would be ideal, given the weather.”

“Coffee’s great, thanks,” you replied with a grateful smile. Harvey nodded and gestured you over to one of the seats in the small waiting room, then pushed through the swinging door and disappeared into the back of the clinic.

There were no patients scheduled for the day, and Nurse Maru had the day off. The clinic was quiet. Outside, the storm showed no signs of stopping. You glanced around the room, rooted awkwardly to your spot on the entrance mat and trying to avoid getting too much water and mud onto Harvey’s very clean floors. You settled for removing your coat and hanging it on a hook by the door.

In his small office at the back of the clinic, Harvey placed the two bags of coffee onto the desk and shrugged off his green woolen cardigan. He draped it across the back of his office chair, repeating your name in his mind as he went. Sunny. Sunny, Sunny… Farmer Sunny. Just Sunny. It was an old habit of his, a trick he used to remember names. As he absentmindedly unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves, it crossed his mind that the name seemed to suit you. He suddenly felt a slight blush blooming on his cheeks and shook the thought away, sending droplets of water flying. “Just make the coffee, Harvey,” he muttered to himself, and set his focus to the task.

A few minutes passed. Harvey left the coffee machine percolating gently in his office and stepped back through the hall door into the waiting area. You stood by the clinic door still, brushing the last of the water from your hair and clothes.

“Sunny?”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, and your eyes locked with his just as another flash of lightning crackled across the sky outside, much closer than the last one. You didn’t flinch, but you did cautiously step closer to the edge of the mat and away from the glass door. Harvey’s eyes glanced from you to the square outside, then down to the entrance mat, and back up to you with gentle concern.

“Would you like to have a seat?” he asked gently, his eyes twinkling as though he understood your predicament. “The coffee is brewing now.” You shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the way his eyes seemed to take in the sight of you. His demeanor radiated a sort of warmth and reassurance. You understood why your new neighbors had spoken so highly of him.

“Oh- thanks! Thank you doc- Harvey, but um…” you stuttered. “My boots are, uh. Well.” You glanced down at your brand new work boots, now muddy and grass-stained from your trek through Cindersap Forest earlier.

“Mm-hm, I see,” Harvey mused, glancing down at your boots. “Would you like to remove your shoes and leave them by the door?”

Your face perks up at the suggestion. “You sure you won’t mind the socks?”

“Not at all, as long as you’re comfortable.” Harvey smiled graciously and rubbed his hands together. “I’ll bring the coffee in just a moment. Would you like milk or sugar?”

“Both, please, thank you,” you respond with a grin, and kneel to unlace your heavy boots.

“Coming right up,” Harvey replied, and returned to his office. You watched the door swing shut behind him and wondered if he often spent his days in this quiet clinic alone. He seemed like the shy type, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he did. You could hear the storm pick up behind you now, and the thunder rolled overhead a bit more ominously than before. You stood and toed your boots off hesitantly, wincing a bit as they rubbed against the sore spots at the backs of your ankles. Grandpa always did warn you never to break in new boots in rainy weather. A bittersweet smile crossed your face at the warm memory. You stepped onto the shiny linoleum tile in your socks just as Harvey swung back through the doors, carrying a beverage tray in his hands and a clinic blanket over his shoulder. He placed the tray on the reception counter and removed the blanket from his shoulder. You stepped over to him in your socks.

“Would you like a blanket?” he offered, extending it to you. “I just pulled it from our warmer in the back.”

“Yoba, absolutely,” you replied, taking the blanket from him with grateful hands. You draped the blanket over your shoulders while Harvey set one of the mugs aside.

“I typically take my coffee black, but I do keep milk and sugar stocked for Maru’s sake.” He untwisted the cap on the small bottle of cream and began to pour some into the other mug for you. “Say when,” he said, his voice soft.

You counted to four, no, five, in your head while he dutifully poured the milk into your mug, then – “When.”

He fastened the lid back onto the small container and set it aside. While you picked a few yellow sweetener packets from the small bowl on the tray, Harvey took his own mug and stepped over to the large window. The clock behind the reception desk read 11:39am. Harvey blew on his mug gently, then sighed as the steam inevitably curled towards his face and fogged up his glasses. He removed them and rubbed his eyes for a moment before taking a sip of his brew. As you stirred your coffee and gathered the deliciously warm blanket tighter around yourself, you took your time to observe the doctor the way he had observed you earlier. He seemed lost in thought as he gazed out at the rain with a furrowed brow. Tall and neatly dressed, broad shoulders slightly bowed as he sipped his black coffee and gazed out at the world. He wore a simple brown leather watch on his wrist and looked to be a few years older than you. Hot, your mind betrayed you with the thought. You carefully chose a seat and ignored the fluttering in your chest.

“How are you enjoying Pelican Town so far?” Harvey asked after a moment. He glanced over to where you sat blushing furiously into your mug.

“Oh! I love it,” you grinned, and you meant it. “The place is even nicer than I remembered it. To be honest, I really hated my old life in the city.” You shrugged and stirred your coffee with a sigh. “I do miss my grandpa, though. But it feels like he’s still with me in spirit, ya know? Like he’s still puttering around the farm, somehow.”

Harvey nodded slowly. “I had the pleasure of meeting and treating your grandfather. He was a wonderful neighbor.” He sipped his coffee before continuing with a small chuckle. “And a stubborn patient.”

You laughed and replied, “Yeah, that sounds like him. Hardheadedness runs in the family, ya know.”

“Does it now?” he asked good-naturedly. “Hear, hear. Well, I do hope you enjoy settling in,” Harvey lifted his mug to you and ruffled his hair with his free hand. “And feel free to stop by if you’re ever feeling ill. I’m here in the clinic most days.”

“Mm. I’ll think about it,” you gave the good doctor a cheeky smirk and he shook his head in playful exasperation.

A brief, comfortable silence followed, each of you sipping your brews and listening to the rain. Suddenly, Harvey gasped and waved you over to the window. You tiptoed over, careful not to upset your blanket cocoon or your coffee. “The storm broke just enough for some sun to sneak in,” he murmured. “Look there, do you see?” He pointed to a patch of warm, almost golden sunlight, where a shimmering arc of color arched high over the trees.

“A rainbow!” you gasped, your face gleeful. And so it was – a single glorious rainbow, positively singing overhead where the rain had acquiesced to let in the light. You once again fell into silence together, your eyes on the sky and Harvey’s thoughtful eyes on you. Up the hill, the bell tower over the old community center rang out the time and snapped you out of your reverie. “Yoba, what time is it?” Harvey’s eyes fell to his own watch and he cleared his throat. If you hadn’t been checking the clock on the wall, you would have perhaps noticed that the good doctor looked a bit flustered.

“O-Oh! It seems to be noon already. I didn’t mean to keep you, Farmer Su- er, Sunny. I’m sure you’re busy settling in.” He tapped his lean, clever fingers against his mug and adjusted his tie with one hand. You waved his concern off gently, taking a long swig of the last of your coffee.

“No worries, doc!” you replied cheerily as you set your mug on the windowsill. “It’s been great hanging out with you. And thanks again for the coffee and the blanket. To be honest, I needed the pick-me-up.” You smiled gratefully at the good doctor and unwrapped the blanket from your shoulders to fold it in half, then half again. Harvey carefully grabbed your now-empty mug off the windowsill and offered his arm when you had finished folding. You laid the blanket over his arm with a murmured “thanks” before stepping over to where your boots sat waiting for you.

“Well, a good coffee is always better shared with a good neighbor,” Harvey answered, his voice warm and sincere.

“Hear, hear,” you agreed, smiling up at him from your place on the entrance mat. You tightened the laces on your boots and stood to grab your raincoat from the coat rack beside the door. “I’ll be seeing you then, neighbor.”

Harvey raised first his half-full mug, then your empty one, in a sort of awkward dual thumbs up. “You too!” he chirped as you threw your hood over your head. You swung the clinic door open, waved goodbye, and turned toward home. Harvey watched until your blue coat was out of sight. In the renewed stillness of his little clinic, he found himself wondering if you needed any simple medicines. Does she have a first aid kit? He frowned thoughtfully as he sipped his coffee. I’m sure she’ll be fine, Harvard. She’s a perfectly competent adult, he chastised himself.

Still. It couldn’t hurt to have one delivered, could it? Hm… The good doctor made a mental note to himself, and tucked the thought away neatly before turning his eyes to the skies again.

The rainbow kept you company on your short walk home. You found yourself wondering if the soil on your farm would be any good for growing coffee beans. “Plenty of time to find out, I guess,” you murmured aloud. If your big colorful companion heard you, it made no indication.

That night as Harvey rinsed his wine glass before bed, his mind wandered to his new neighbor. Sunny. Sunny, just Sunny. 

Hm. She sure is.