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drewsephrry · 1 day ago

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Love Island - Episode 14: Brutal

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 5.5k

warnings: cuss words, sexual innuendos

series masterlist

The sun rises beautifully over Mallorca, spilling into the villa as the islanders slowly stir awake. Soft greetings pass between beds as they begin another day in paradise.

Rafe and Y/N are still tangled together, her face buried in his chest like it's second nature. One of his hands lazily rubs her back while the other reaches for his sunglasses, sliding them on with practiced ease.

Across the room, Cleo sits up with a grin, leans over to give Pope a quick kiss and then tiptoes toward Y/N’s bed.

“Good morning, sunshine.” She whispers, plopping down beside her. Y/N groans in protest, not moving.

“She says good morning back.” Rafe says dryly, earning a laugh from Cleo as she gently shakes Y/N’s shoulder.

“Come on, get up!”

Y/N cracks one eye open, staring at Cleo like she’s just committed a personal betrayal.

“What did I ever do to you?” She mumbles, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“I need you for something.” Cleo tugs her camisole strap back onto her shoulder and leans in. Y/N immediately sits up.

“What are we baking?”

“You know me too well.” Cleo grins. “Okay, Pope loves chocolate. So, like, cookies? Brownies? Something cute. I’ll help, I promise.” She adds quickly, glancing around to make sure Pope isn't listening. Most of the girls are heading upstairs and a few boys wander outside. Pope is still lounging in bed, clearly not ready to move.

“Brownies are faster. We can add frosting or something fancy on top.” Y/N says, already reaching for her stuff on the bedside table. “Let me wash my face and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Cleo hugs her tightly. Y/N smiles, squeezing her back before Cleo heads toward the back doors.

Just as Y/N grabs her stuff, Rafe speaks up behind her.

“Wow. No ‘good morning’ for me?”

She turns to find him sitting up with his arms crossed and one brow raised, playfully wounded. She smirks, crawling back onto the bed and leaning over him, not-so-innocently.

“Good morning.” She murmurs, planting a quick kiss on his lips, then pulling back suddenly with a hand over her mouth. “Wait, ew. I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“I don’t care.” He mutters, leaning in again. But she dodges him with a grin.

“Later. I promise.” She backs away, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“I’m holding you to that.” He replies.

She giggles and bolts upstairs.

Later, in the kitchen, Y/N leans against the counter beside Cleo, both girls focused on carefully piping frosting onto the cupcakes. Across the villa, Rafe and Kelce are lounging on the daybed, catching their breath and hydrating after their morning workout. Y/N glances in their direction, then turns to Cleo.

“Hey, Cleo?”

“Yeah?” Cleo looks up from the bowl, wiping her hands on a towel.

“How are you and Pope doing?” Y/N asks, hopping onto the counter, swinging her legs and Cleo’s face softens instantly.

“We’re good. Really good, actually. He’s so sweet, like, genuinely. It’s still a little awkward sometimes, but things are going really well.”

Y/N nods, watching her.

“Have you guys…you know. Been intimate? At all?”

Cleo lets out a slow breath, considering her words.

“We’ve had a couple solid makeout sessions, yeah. But nothing more than that. I don’t know…it just feels weird knowing everyone’s right there. It's hard to feel comfortable.”

Y/N hums in agreement, twisting the cap off her water bottle and fidgeting with the strap.

“What about you and Rafe? Don’t tell me nothing’s happened.” Cleo narrows her eyes slightly. Y/N’s gaze drops to her bottle. She doesn’t answer right away and that silence speaks louder than anything.

Cleo clocks the look instantly and gently changes gears.

“Okay, okay, switching topics, what kind of frosting are we thinking, chef?”

Y/N blinks and straightens up, visibly grateful.

“Umm…maybe peanut butter? That could be cute.” She suggests.

She hops down and heads to the cupboard, pulling out ingredients. As she sets them on the counter and begins mixing, Cleo rests a hand on her shoulder.

“You know you don’t have to rush anything, right?” She says softly. Y/N looks up at her.

“If you’re not ready with him…that’s totally okay.”

“I am.” Y/N admits quietly. “I just…I don’t know. I think I’m scared.”

“Scared how?” Cleo frowns.

“I haven’t been in many relationships. And I don’t want to mess this up. Not with him.” Y/N shakes her head.

“You won’t.” Cleo assures her without hesitation. “Have you told him any of this?”

“He kind of tried last night.” Y/N says, voice barely above a whisper. “To take things further. And I panicked. And I pushed him away.”

Her hands are back on the spatula now, stirring again just to stay busy.

“I feel like I hurt his feelings or something.”

“No way.” Cleo says firmly. “That boy is obsessed with you. He’s not going anywhere because you set a boundary.”

“I think I just need some time to figure it all out.” Y/N exhales shakily, eyes still focused on the frosting.

“Then take it.” Cleo says gently, rubbing her back, smiling at her.

Confessional - Cleo “Y/N’s like my little sister. I care about her so much. Seeing her stress over where things stand with Rafe, especially about intimacy, just breaks my heart. She’s so beautiful, so kind and honestly one of the wisest people here. And I get why she’s anxious, but she needs to know she’s allowed to go at her own pace. Rafe will wait. And if he doesn’t? He’s not worth her.” She shakes her head.

Kelce and Rafe lounge on the daybed, sweat cooling under the shade of the tree. A soft breeze cuts the heat as they sip from their water bottles, catching their breath from the workout.

After a beat of silence, Rafe glances over.

“Hey…can I ask you something?”

Kelce nods, chewing absentmindedly on his straw.

“You know her better than anyone in here.” Rafe starts, hesitating. “And I told myself I wouldn’t ever ask you anything about your relationship with her, because honestly, I cannot hear all that, but…” He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“Has she always been kind of…hesitant with the more intimate stuff?”

Kelce sighs, lowering his bottle.

“Yeah.” He says quietly. “Y/N’s always been like that. Cautious. When we were together, it took her a while to fully open up. Not because she didn’t care, but because trust isn’t something she gives lightly. Especially when it comes to physical stuff.”

Rafe nods slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“I respect that. Like, I don’t want her to ever feel pressured. But last night was our first night back in the same bed…we were kissing and I thought maybe we’d go a little further. Nothing major. Just…a step.” He sighs, frustrated more at himself than anything. “But then she got all tense, kind of pulled back. And of course I stopped. No question. I just…I don’t know, it threw me off. Made me wonder if I’d messed something up.”

Kelce watches him for a second, then speaks evenly.

“Y/N likes you. A lot. That much is obvious. But you have to let her move at her own pace. She’s not someone you can rush. She needs to feel totally safe first. If you want this to work, let her lead when it comes to that stuff. She’ll let you in when she’s ready.”

“Yeah. Got it. Thanks, man.” Rafe nods again, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“Anytime.” Kelce shrugs. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me when it comes to her. I’m not holding on to anything. I just want her to be happy.”

He glances toward the kitchen, jaw tightening almost involuntarily.

“And from what I’ve seen…she is. With you. So don’t screw it up.”

Rafe follows his gaze, Y/N is laughing at something Cleo said, the two of them looking carefree and glowing.

“I won’t.” He says quietly.

“Good.” Kelce gives a small nod.

The two lapse into silence again, but there’s a mutual understanding between them now, unspoken, a little uneasy, but real.

As the afternoon sun blazes over the villa, islanders sprawl across the yard, some tanning, some swimming, others deep in conversation, while Pope and Cleo enjoy the brownies. But the lazy vibe is cut short by the familiar ping of a text.

“I got a text!” John B calls out, already grinning as everyone scrambles toward him.

“Islanders, it’s time to find out how well you really know each other in the Higher or Lower challenge. #numbersdontlie #truthhurts.” He reads.

Cheers erupt, but Y/N shares a nervous glance with Sarah and Maddy as they slump back onto the couch.

“This is gonna get messy.” She mutters and both girls nod knowingly.

Soon, the islanders are split into two teams, seated on opposite bleachers across the lawn. In front of them, photos of each girl stand in a row, heart stickers hiding the key numbers.

Pope steps up with a deck of cards and a grin that says he’s loving every second of this. He holds up the first card.

“I’ll read out a fact about one of the girls and reveal a number tied to it. Then the boys have to guess whether the next girl's number is higher or lower. Each correct guess earns a point. Winning team takes it all.” He explains the rules and then, glances at the first photo.

“What’s the most amount of money the girls have ever spent, on a man, in one occasion?” He reads and peels off the heart sticker from Maddy’s photo.

“Maddy has spent…$550.”

The boys react instantly.

“Damn.” JJ whistles. “What was that for?”

“I was dating this guy and he lost his AirPods…so I bought him AirPods Max.” Maddy shrugs.

A mix of impressed and mildly horrified expressions ripple through the bleachers. Pope moves to the next photo.

“Alright, Kiara. Higher or lower than $550?”

The boys huddle quickly.

“Lower.” Topper decides.

“Yeah, definitely lower.” Ryan agrees.

“$200.” Pope reveals. The boys nod, satisfied. Alyssa’s up next and they guess lower, but she surprises them with $250. Cleo follows and as expected by the boys, she’s lower at $150. For Abigail’s number, the boys guess higher and they’re right, again, at $450.

Pope steps to the next photo and smirks.

“Okay…Y/N. Higher or lower?”

“Higher.” Rafe says without hesitation, arms crossed.

“I’m not so sure. She never spent that much when she was with me.” Kelce raises a brow.

Despite Kelce’s skepticism, the boys stick with higher and Pope peels back the sticker.

“Y/N has spent…$300.” He reveals as laughter erupts as “Told y’all.” Kelce leans back smugly.

The boys look over at Y/N, waiting for the backstory.

“I took Kelce to a Knicks game.” She shrugs, hands resting on the wooden seat.

“Oh my god, yes! I completely forgot about that!” Kelce’s face lights up.

She laughs, shaking her head.

Confessional - Y/N “I feel like $300 is totally reasonable.” She says with a shrug and a grin.

Pope moves to the last photo in the lineup, Sarah.

“Alright. What do we think about Sarah?” He grins.

“Definitely higher.” Topper says without hesitation.

“She’s bougie.” JJ smirks, making the girls burst out laughing as Sarah flips her hair, proudly owning it.

Pope peels back the sticker and the boys erupt.

“$2,000?” Pope yells, holding up the card.

“I booked us a trip.” Sarah says casually with a shrug. The girls gasp in admiration and even the guys look impressed.

Pope focuses back on the stack of cards, grabs the next one and reads it before smirking.

“Okay, okay. Boys, this one’s juicy.”

Everyone leans in.

“How many nudes have the girls sent?”

The yard instantly fills with oohs and laughter. Pope turns to Maddy’s photo first, peels back the sticker.

“Maddy has sent…thirty.”

The boys look over at her, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve had two serious relationships.” Maddy explains, unbothered. “One of them ended up being long-distance. So...”

The group nods understandingly. Pope moves down the line.

“What do we think about Kiara? More or less?”

“I’m saying more.” JJ throws in and the boys agree after a quick debate. Pope lifts the sticker.

“Fifteen.”

The boys blink, mildly surprised.

“Wow.” Ryan mutters.

Next up, Alyssa.

“Higher. Definitely.” The guys say in unison.

Pope reveals the number, three digits.

“In the hundreds?” Topper laughs.

“I’m a tattoo artist. Let’s just say...a lot of clients slide into my DMs for reasons that aren’t about tattoos.” Alyssa smirks.

The girls squeal in shock.

Confessional - Alyssa “What can I say?” She grins. “I’ve had a few very hot customers.”

Back in the yard, Pope points at Cleo’s photo.

“What about Cleo?”

“What do you think, Pope?” JJ raises a brow.

He thinks for a beat.

“Honestly? I’m gonna go with lower.” He says and the boys nod, trusting the call.

“Go lower.” Rafe confirms.

Pope peels back the heart.

“Two.”

“I had just broken up with my ex…sent him two pics…and yeah, we hooked up that night.” Cleo laughs, explaining herself.

“Cleo!” Sarah yells, laughing in shock, while the girls dissolve into giggles.

The boys guess higher for Abigail and they’re right, as it is seven.

Then Pope turns to Y/N’s photo.

“Okay. Y/N. Higher or lower, boys?”

“Higher.” Topper doesn’t hesitate.

“Nah, I think it’s lower.” Kelce tilts his head.

Rafe stays quiet, eyes flicking to Y/N, searching her expression.

After a quick team huddle, they go with higher.

“Ten.” Pope says, revealing the number. Y/N just shrugs, completely unfazed, as the boys nod and move on.

Finally, Pope turns back to Sarah’s photo.

“Alright. Last one, Sarah again. What are we thinking?”

“Higher.” The boys all say in chorus, not even debating. But Sarah just stares blankly at her photo, lips pressed tight.

Pope removes the sticker and the crowd gasps.

“Wait. Two-thousands?” JJ blurts.

“One of my nudes got leaked on Twitter.” Sarah confesses and the yard goes silent.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Maddy says quietly.

Y/N immediately reaches out and squeezes Sarah’s hand. Within seconds, all the girls are around her, pulling her in for a group hug.

Confessional - Sarah “I went viral for, like, two days.” She grins, eyes wide as she looks into the camera. “But my mom’s a lawyer, so…handled.” She wipes her hands together like she’s dusting them off, done and over it, before she smirks proudly.

Back in the yard, Pope claps his hands together.

“Alright, boys. Time to find out your girl’s body count.”

Gasps echo from the bleachers. The girls shift in their seats while the boys lean forward. Pope steps up to Maddy’s photo and peels back the sticker.

“Maddy's body count is…eighteen.”

“Totally respectable.” She gives a casual shrug.

The girls snap their fingers in approval, supportive energy flowing across the yard.

“Next up, Kiara. Higher or lower than eighteen?”

“Higher.” Topper says confidently.

“No way. Lower.” Rafe argues.

The boys debate but end up siding with Topper. Pope pulls off the heart.

“Twenty. Another point for the boys.”

Cheers go up as Pope moves to Alyssa’s photo.

He barely gets a word out before the guys all shout in unison.

“Higher.”

Pope chuckles, before revealing the number.

“Thirty-one.”

“No need to explain myself.” Alyssa raises her chin.

“Fair enough.” Pope laughs, before heading to Cleo.

The guys settle on lower and they’re right. Her number is seven. Next is Abigail. The boys guess higher.

“Ten.” Pope reveals before moving on. He stops in front of Y/N’s photo.

“Okay. What do we think, boys?”

The boys gather closer and debate among themselves.

“Honestly? No clue.” Rafe frowns slightly, shaking his head.

“Wait, you haven’t asked her?” Topper looks over.

“Doesn’t really matter.” Rafe shrugs.

“Lower.” Kelce cuts in, firm. The rest of the guys nod.

“We’re going with lower.” John B announces and Pope peels back the sticker.

“Five?” JJ raises an eyebrow. Rafe looks at her with wide eyes.

Confessional - Rafe He tilts his head, clearly trying to work something out. “Five just…surprised me, I guess. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.” He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “But like, that doesn’t change anything. At all. I still feel the same about her.”

Across the yard, Y/N stares at her hands, suddenly a little tense.

Maddy nudges her playfully.

“Hey. That’s a perfect number.” She says.

“It’s…whatever.” Y/N gives a small eye roll, brushing it off, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. Maddy just smiles and squeezes her hand, holding it quietly.

Confessional - Maddy “I could tell Y/N got in her head a bit, but she seriously has nothing to be insecure about.” Maddy raises an eyebrow, voice full of sass. “If someone’s still judging people over body count in this day and age? You’re just…dumb. Period.”

Back outside, the boys turn to Sarah’s photo.

“Alright, higher or lower than Y/N?” Pope asks.

“Higher.” Topper says instantly and the rest of the boys nod in agreement.

Pope peels off the sticker.

“Sarah's body count is…twenty-five.”

A few whistles and nods echo around the yard, no one surprised.

“Okay.” Pope announces, holding up the final card. “Last question, how many sexual partners do the girls think is too many for the guy they’re dating?”

A dramatic ‘ooh’ ripples across the group.

Pope steps to Maddy’s photo first.

“Maddy thinks…one hundred is too many.”

The boys glance over at her. She shrugs.

“Honestly? I don’t care what you have done prior to our relationship.”

Everyone nods and Pope moves on. For Kiara, the boys guess lower and they’re right. Her answer was fifties.

Next up, Alyssa. The boys confidently guess higher and Pope cracks up as he removes the sticker.

“Infinity.” He reads and laughter breaks out across the yard.

“I truly couldn't care less about what you have done in your past.” Alyssa grins.

The boys nod, clearly impressed.

They go lower for Cleo and they’re right, again, as her number is thirty.

“I’m a relationship type of girl.” Cleo says seriously. “I don't want to date a player”

Respectful nods follow.

They guess lower again for Abigail, but they’re wrong. Her answer being ninety.

Next up, it's Y/N and the boys guess lower.

“Alright.” Pope says, stepping to her photo.

“Y/N thinks…” He removes the heart sticker. “Somewhere in the hundreds is too many.”

The guys groan in defeat.

“Like, live your life. Just…I don’t want to be with someone who’s been with everyone. That’s all.” Y/N shrugs, calm and unapologetic.

The boys nod, understanding while Rafe looks away.

“Valid.” John B says.

Finally, Pope reaches the last photo. The boys guess for higher.

“Okay, Sarah. You think too many is…” He peels back the sticker. “Seventy.”

A round of nods and clapping follows as Pope walks to the bleachers, while the boys start to cheer.

Cleo walks up, grinning as new photos of the boys are lined up across the yard, heart stickers ready.

“Alright, ladies, let's bring this one home!” She grins, rallying the girls, who cheer in response. She steps forward and reads the first question aloud. “What’s the most money the boys have spent on a woman in one occasion?”

With a dramatic pause, she peels the sticker off the first photo, which is Kelce's.

“Kelce has dropped $1,000.” She announces.

“Oh my god.” Sarah gasps, while Y/N just nods like she’s not surprised.

“Yeah…I, uh, booked an Airbnb in the Hamptons for a weekend.” Kelce says, scratching the back of his neck. Y/N smiles at the memory, while the girls react with impressed 'oohs'. Rafe glances over at her, but quickly shifts his focus as Cleo moves on to the next photo.

“Alright, what do we think about Pope?” She asks. The girls guess lower and they’re right. $300.

Then comes Topper’s turn. His picture appears and the girls debate before finally going with higher. Cleo lifts the sticker.

“$150.” She reads. Everyone blinks at him.

“Just dinner.” Topper shrugs like it’s obvious, making Cleo scrunches her nose.

“Whatever you say, frosted tips.” She mutters before moving on.

Next up is John B and the girls guess higher.

“Please don’t let us down.” Maddy teases, making the girls laugh.

Cleo reveals the amount is $250. The girls cheer and John B just smirks like he expected it.

Then it’s JJ’s turn.

“Lower.” The girls say confidently and Cleo peels back the sticker.

“$50.” She reads as the villa bursts out laughing, even JJ.

“Wanna explain that one?” Kiara asks, wide-eyed, her smile creeping out of her shocked face.

Y/N clutches Maddy, crying with laughter, while Sarah doubles over holding her stomach.

“I’m…not great with dates or gifts.” JJ admits, grinning. “I just grabbed some KFC and took a girl out on the boat.”

“Aww, that’s actually so cute, J.” Y/N beams. JJ shrugs but smiles as Cleo clears her throat and moves on.

“Okay, Ryan’s up. More or less than fifty?”

The girls all agree on higher and they’re right. $500.

Finally, Rafe’s picture comes up. The girls gather, whispering like they’re about to launch a conspiracy theory.

“More than five hundred is insane.” Y/N says, shaking her head.

“I don’t think it is for him.” Maddy counters. “Have you seen his closet? He’s always in designer everything.”

After a moment of back and forth, the girls lock in their answer, going with higher.

“$3,000.” Cleo pulls off the sticker, shocked. Y/N’s jaw drops. The girls erupt into cheers.

“Wait, what did you even buy?” Cleo asks, stunned.

“A Louis Vuitton bag.” Rafe replies, totally unfazed.

“For her birthday or like…a random Tuesday?” Cleo fires back, making everyone laugh, including Rafe.

“Nah, it wasn’t for anything special.” He shakes his head.

“Lucky you.” Maddy murmurs, leaning over and nudging Y/N.

“Shut up.” Y/N whispers, cheeks flushing.

Confessional - Y/N “Okay, yeah…I was a bit shocked by Rafe’s answer.” She says, raising her brows. “Like, I know he has money, the man’s always in designer stuff and he literally owns a whole company, but just casually dropping three grand like that?” She blinks dramatically. “Wild.”

“Next question is how many nudes have the boys sent?” Cleo announces as the girls get excited.

JJ immediately turns to John B, shaking his head.

“This is gonna be bad.” He says.

“Really bad.” John B agrees, both of them already bracing for embarrassment.

“Forty-five.” Cleo says, peeling the sticker off Kelce’s board. The girls gasp in unison.

“Yeah, uh…no explanation there.” Kelce says, hands raised in surrender as Cleo blinks in disbelief and moves on.

“Okay, Pope.” She doesn’t wait for the girls to weigh in. “We’re going lower.”

The girls nod and Cleo pulls off the sticker revealing the number ten.

Next is Topper.

“Higher.” The girls say, and they’re right again, as his stands at sixty-three.

Then comes John B.

“Higher.” They guess, but Cleo reveals it is fifty.

“Agh, so close.” Maddy groans.

JJ’s up next. The girls guess higher and the number on the board sends the villa into chaos.

“One-ninety.” Cleo reads aloud, stunned.

“What?” Sarah gasps, as everyone bursts into laughter.

Confessional - JJ “Don’t slut-shame me on Twitter, please.” JJ grins.

“Okay, what do we think about Ryan?” Cleo reads. The girls guess lower this time and they’re right again. “Thirty-six.”

“Okay.” Cleo says, grinning as she reaches the final picture. “What about Rafe?”

The girls hesitate, some voting lower, others whispering amongst themselves. Finally, they agree on higher.

Cleo peels the sticker off slowly.

“Twelve.”

Y/N blinks in surprise and turns to look at Rafe, who’s relaxed on the bleachers like it’s no big deal.

“Twelve?” Cleo repeats, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” Rafe says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been in many relationships, but I’ve used dating apps…so, you know.”

Everyone nods, seemingly impressed by the honesty.

“Alright ladies, now for my favorite part, body count time!” Cleo claps her hands together.

The girls cheer as she pulls the sticker off Kelce’s picture.

“Kelce's body count is...thirty-five.” She reads.

Next is Pope and the girls go with lower. They get it right, at ten.

On Topper’s turn, they all agree on higher.

“Seventy.” Cleo reveals as eyes widen around the yard, while Topper grins smugly like he’s just won a trophy.

John B’s photo is next and the girls guess lower.

“Fifty-seven.” Cleo reads.

Now it’s JJ again and the girls guess higher, after all his previous answers. Cleo pauses, peels the sticker slowly, then stares.

“In the hundreds?” She blinks. The girls scream in disbelief as the boys erupt in laughter. Topper reaches over to dap him up.

“I had fun in high school and college.” JJ shrugs. “Well, the three weeks I went.”

The girls are still giggling as Cleo moves on.

“Ryan?” She asks the girls, still trying to recover.

They all decide on lower and they’re right once again as his answer is twenty-five.

And finally, Rafe.

“Alright. What about Rafe?” Cleo turns to the girls, but all eyes turn to Y/N.

“I-I have no idea.” She says honestly. “We haven’t really talked about that.”

“What do you think though?” Sarah nudges, gently. Y/N glances toward the bleachers, then back to the group.

“It’s gonna be higher.” She says quietly. “I just…I just know.”

The girls nod and look to Cleo.

“We’ll say higher.” Sarah confirms for the group.

Cleo removes the final sticker.

“Forty-two.” She reads.

The girls react with surprised nods as the boys cheer and clap Rafe on the back. Y/N’s lips part slightly. She doesn’t react outwardly, but a weight settles in her chest.

Confessional - Y/N “Like…I knew he had experience. I mean, obviously, have you seen the guy?” She says, eyes wide. Then her tone shifts, more thoughtful. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t…scare me a little?” She admits, her voice softening with a flicker of vulnerability.

Rafe chuckles from the bleachers.

“I’m 27. I went to business school. I ride a motorcycle.” He says with a shrug, earning a round of laughs from the boys. The girls smile as Cleo claps her hands together.

“Alright ladies, last question!” She grins as the girls cheer. “How many sexual partners do the boys think is too many for the girl they’re dating?”

She heads to Kelce’s photo and peels off the sticker.

“Kelce thinks fifty is too many.”

All eyes turn to the bleachers.

“Okay, but let me just say.” Kelce jumps in, holding up a hand. “I’m not the guy who asks that kind of question or cares about it. What someone’s done in their past? Not my business.”

The girls clap, impressed by the answer and the boys nod along in agreement.

“Aww, okay, that was sweet. Moving on.” Cleo says with a grin. She stops at Pope’s photo. “What do we think, ladies?”

They guess higher, only to get it wrong.

“Pope said 30.” Cleo reads, surprised.

“I totally agree with Kelce.” Pope says quickly. “I just grew up super religious and you know, I haven’t had as much experience as most people here.”

The girls nod respectfully.

“Well, good thing mine’s lower.” Cleo adds with a mischievous grin before bursting out laughing. The rest of the villa joins in.

Next up is Topper. The girls guess higher and miss again.

“Ten?” Cleo reads, blinking.

Topper cringes at his own answer as JJ elbows him. The girls exchange looks, confused and not happy.

Confessional - Alyssa “That was some double standard bullshit.” She says bluntly. “Like, what do you mean ten is too many for your girl when you’ve slept with seventy people? Make it make sense.”

“Wanna explain yourself?” Cleo narrows her eyes at Topper.

“I, uh, I don’t really care about that stuff.” Topper says, stumbling.

“Mm. Sure.” Cleo mutters, unconvinced, before turning to the next board.

John B’s up. The girls guess lower and they’re right. His answer was one hundred. Then it’s JJ and they guess higher.

“Twenty.” Cleo reveals.

“That’s such a fake answer.” Kiara squints.

“Okay, yeah, I was kidding. Honestly, that stuff doesn’t matter to me. It’s your business, not mine.” JJ raises his hands in surrender.

He shrugs, but no one looks convinced. Kiara just rolls her eyes.

Next is Ryan. The girls confidently vote higher. Abigail crosses her fingers, hopeful.

“Infinity!” Cleo reads and bursts out laughing. The girls cheer and clap while Ryan laughs along.

“Yeah.” He says. “Doesn't really matter to me. Your past is your past.”

And last but not least, Rafe.

“Alright, what do we think?” Cleo asks.

“We’re going lower.” Abigail declares. “Obviously.”

“Excuse me?” Rafe gasps dramatically.

“You can’t go higher than infinity.” Abigail smirks.

“Infinity and beyond?” Rafe fires back, sass in full swing. The girls laugh as Cleo removes the sticker.

“Two hundred.”

The girls clap, amused and a little impressed.

With that, the game wraps. The boys are declared the winners and erupt into cheers, hollers echoing across the villa. The girls shake their heads, rolling their eyes, already plotting to win the next challenge.

The islanders start drifting off into smaller groups around the yard, voices buzzing and laughter echoing in the background. Rafe and Y/N grab their water bottles and head to the daybed, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over them.

She settles in beside him, legs crossed as he stretches out, one arm behind his head.

“You mentioned something about riding a motorcycle?” She asks, raising her brows, a playful grin tugging at her lips. He chuckles, his hand naturally coming to rest on her thigh.

“Yeah. Been riding since I was seventeen.” He replies.

“That’s…ridiculously hot.” She mutters, locking eyes with him.

“Yeah?” He smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t. I already regret saying it.” She groans, looking away.

“No, no, say it again, baby.” He teases, voice low and gravelly. His hand gently finds her chin, turning her face back toward his.

Her breath catches as she meets his blue eyes. His thumb traces her cheek, slow and tender. The tension crackles between them like static.

“I…uh…” She pulls back, clearing her throat. “Can we talk about…the challenge?”

He immediately drops his hand, sitting up and nodding, the playfulness fading into something more sincere.

“Of course.” He says, taking a sip from his bottle, while she fidgets with the cap on hers.

“I just…you heard it already, but I’m not…super experienced. And I think that’s why I haven’t been able to go further with you, yet. I’ve always taken things slow and being in here…just...everything moves fast. Like, really fast. And knowing you’ve had more experience…it kinda freaked me out.” Her voice is quiet, vulnerable, as she finally meets his eyes. Rafe shakes his head gently.

“There’s nothing to be scared of.” He leans in, his tone soft. “I would never rush you. Ever. Whatever we do, it’s gonna be when you’re ready. I care way more about you being comfortable than about moving things forward.”

He reaches for her hand.

“And yeah, I’ve had more experience, but that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. We can go at your pace. Only your pace.”

“So…you’re okay with taking it slow?” She blinks slowly, emotion flickering behind her eyes.

“I’m more than okay with it. I want you to feel safe. That’s what matters to me.” He cups her face again, his voice steady and sure.

“Did…did my body count bother you?” Her voice trembles.

“No. Not at all.” His response is immediate.

“But…it’s low.” She admits, a whisper.

“So what?” He scoffs softly. “Y/N, I don’t care if it’s one or zero or a hundred. I like you. That’s what I care about.”

“You mean that?” Her eyes widen slightly.

“Of course I mean it.” He says firmly. “You never have to stress about that kind of stuff with me.”

She exhales deeply, the relief visible on her face. Her smile grows and she leans in, pressing her lips to his in a soft, thankful kiss.

“Thank you.” She whispers as she pulls back slightly.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re safe with me.”

They hold each other’s gaze, quiet understanding passing between them.

Then, suddenly, Y/N lets out a happy squeal and wraps her arms around him tightly, knocking them both back onto the pillows. They burst into laughter, limbs tangled, hearts light, warmth radiating between them.

“Oh, by the way.” Rafe says, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “You still owe me that kiss from earlier.”

She smirks, fingers reaching up to toy with the chain around his neck.

“I was hoping you’d forgotten.” She murmurs.

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Not a chance.”

He leans in again and this time, she meets him halfway, closing the distance between them before curling up by his side.

And just as the villa settles into that rare calm, a loud ping cuts through the air.

“What now?” Rafe groans, head flopping back.

Y/N grabs her phone and grins.

“I got a text!” She shouts. The villa immediately perks up as everyone turns toward her.

“Islanders, it’s time to get dressed up because tonight you’re having a blue party! #party4u #glamup.” She reads aloud.

The villa erupts into cheers, already buzzing with excitement.

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harrysfolklore · 1 day ago

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Future wife pre Silverstone dinner with George and fam?! Or!! A look back on Silverstone with them over the years 🥹

something short but i wanted to write for our favorite babies before silverstone !

You're parked outside your parents' house for the Silverstone weekend family dinner, but Lando's lips on your neck are making it very difficult to remember why you need to go inside.

"We're going to be late," you breathe, even as you tilt your head to give him better access.

"Mhm," he hums against your skin, "Probably."

"My parents are waiting..."

"Five more minutes," he murmurs, finding that spot behind your ear that makes you gasp.

"That's what you said ten minutes ago," you manage, but your hands are already threading through his hair.

"Can you blame me?" he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark. "Do you know how good you look in that dress?"

"The dress you're trying very hard to ruin?"

"I'm not trying to ruin it," his hand slides higher. "I'm just... appreciating it."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

He grins wickedly. "Would you prefer a more detailed description of what I'm—"

A sharp knock on the window makes you both jump apart.

"If you two are quite finished," George's amused voice calls through the glass, "Mum's about to send out a search party."

You roll down the window, trying to fix your hair. "We were just—"

"Yeah, I know what you were 'just'," George smirks. "But maybe save it for after dinner? When I don't have to watch my sister getting felt up in a car?"

"Jealous, Russell? That you're not getting felt up in a car." Lando asks sweetly.

George's face scrunches up in disgust. "I'm telling Mum you're being inappropriate."

"What are you, twelve?"

"Children," you cut in, straightening your dress. "Can we go inside like adults?"

"He started it," they say in unison.

"I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Oh my god," you open your door. "I'm dating a child."

"Hey!" Lando protests, following you out. "I'm very mature."

"Says the man who was just trying to convince me to skip family dinner for car sex."

"I wasn't..." he stops at your raised eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I was. But in my defense, you look really good in that dress."

"Gross," George comments. "That's my sister."

"Your sister who looks amazing in this dress."

"Stop talking about my sister like that."

"Make me."

"Boys," you warn as you reach the front door. "Behave."

They both straighten immediately, making you roll your eyes. Some things never change.

Your mum opens the door after two knocks, face lighting up when she sees Lando. "There you are! We were starting to worry!"

"Sorry Mrs. Russell," Lando says sheepishly. "We were just—"

"Snogging in the car," George cuts in with a smirk.

Your mum's eyebrows shoot up while you elbow George hard in the ribs.

"We were not," you protest, though your flushed cheeks probably tell a different story.

"The state of your dress says otherwise," George mutters, earning another elbow.

"Well," your mum says, fighting a smile, "come in, come in. Dinner's getting cold."

You're sitting between Lando and George at the dining table when your dad fixes Lando with an intense stare.

"So, Lando," he says seriously. "Your intentions with my daughter..."

"Dad," you groan. "We've been dating for months."

"Yes, but this is the first time he's been to family dinner," your dad points out. "I think I'm entitled to ask about his intentions."

"I'm going to marry her," Lando blurts out, then turns bright red. "I mean... if she wants... obviously not right now, but someday... if she'll have me..."

George snorts into his drink while your mother beams.

"Well," your dad says, fighting a smile. "That's certainly direct."

"Sorry," Lando mumbles. "I just... I love her. A lot. And I've kind of been planning to marry her since we were teenagers, so..."

"We know, dear," your mum says kindly. "You used to tell everyone who would listen that YN was going to be your wife someday."

"Mum!" you protest, but Lando perks up.

"You knew about that?"

"Everyone knew about that," George rolls his eyes. "You weren't exactly subtle."

"Says the one who helped him track my dates," you shoot back.

"You knew about that?" George looks betrayed.

"Everyone knew about that," you mimic his tone. "You weren't exactly subtle."

After dessert, your dad clears his throat. "Lando, fancy joining me on the balcony for a moment?"

"Dad, absolutely not," you protest, but Lando squeezes your hand.

"It's okay," he says softly, following your father outside.

You stay in the living room with George, nervously watching through the glass doors.

"He's probably going to scare him off," George says, "You know, say that it's not convenient that you have a brother driving for one team and a boyfriend driving for another."

You give him a horrified look.

George laughs. "I'm just kidding, sis. Dad knows Lando's been in love with you forever. Pretty sure he's just giving him the obligatory father speech."

When Lando returns, he's grinning, and your dad looks suspiciously misty-eyed.

The goodbyes are warm - your mum hugging Lando tight, your dad clapping him on the shoulder with obvious approval, and George threatening to tell everyone about the car incident if Lando doesn't let him win at Silverstone.

Back in the car, Lando pulls you close, kissing you softly.

"What did dad say?" you ask against his lips.

"That's between me and my future father-in-law," he grins.

"Future father-in-law?"

"Well, I did announce I'm going to marry you at dinner," he reminds you. "Might as well commit to it." You laugh. "My home race weekend, dinner with the family... everything's perfect," he murmurs.

"Even with George catching us in the car?"

"Especially with George catching us in the car," he smirks. "Now we can traumatize him forever."

"You're ridiculous."

"But you love me."

"Yeah," you smile. "I really do."

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cinnam0ngirlxo · 2 days ago

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domestic bliss ✮

j. todd x ex-vigilante f!reader ... headcanons for when it's time to settle down

notes: lots of fluff, some suggestive content(?), established relationship, you both are ex-vigilantes, reader and jason have known each other since robin days

✮ Jason loved having you as his girlfriend, but he had always dreamed of building a life with you, and having children... and he couldn't have that without popping the ring.

✮ He didn't follow Dick's advice— no boring ass sunset proposals or dinners. He proposed at home, while you both were reading (well, re-reading) your favorite romance novel. He knew that you were homebody like him, and that you didn't care for grand proposals. (and yes, it took him days to actually do it)

✮ The wedding is small and intimate; you two were lucky that your lives aren't as publicized like Bruce Wayne's. It was only really the Batfamily and a few other of your superhero friends (and of course, Lian as the flower girl <3)

✮You guys moved away from Gotham, because Jason didn't want to raise his future kids in a city that reeked of crime. Your new home was in a suburb about 45 minutes away from Gotham, just in case there was ever an emergency with the Batfamily

✮ The first thing you guys do right after moving in is buy a kitten. You didn't want to fuck up the whole parenting thing, so you guys decided you would take it in baby steps (that was the excuse you told him)

✮ Inside jokes are a big thing in your relationship. Come on, you guys have known each other since you were fourteen. Even years later, Jason will still find a way to reference Alfred's hidden toupee you guys once found 11 years ago in the basement.

✮ Leaving the vigilante life was hard at first, especially for Jason. he was so conditioned to think like a detective, to move like an assassin, and it was hard to turn his brain off.

✮ So he gets a job, and he does the only other thing he's ever known: fixing vehicles. The pay is nice, he supposes, and the rest of the guys are pretty friendly. You scold him when you see him doing background checks on all of his coworkers (you had tried, but you couldn't take the Red Hood out of him)

✮You were pretty much the same; once you had got your job as secretary at the HR office (Jason urged you to put your psychology degree to good use); you had turned over every electronic device in your office to see if it had been tapped.

✮ You both still had your vigilante costumes stored safely away in the basement of your home. Jason had always kept a gun under the floorboard of the bedroom (you didn't know), and you kept your stash of knives under the floorboard of the living room (he didn't know)

✮Your touch had grounded Jason, and that still hasn't changed. Even when you were out grocery shopping, his hand was always latched onto yours, a silent display of his affection

✮ You two have two little girls, named Elizabeth and Imogen, because you two are avid literature fans, and Elizabeth Bennet was one of Jason's favorite characters.

✮Jason dad is a girl dad to the max: he loves spoiling his little girls, to the point where you have to play bad cop because your husband just turns to mush when it comes to those two

✮He loves reading them books (even when they were in the womb), and I think he'd buy those classic literature books that are simplified for younger audiences

✮ Like just imagine Little Women or The Secret Garden being on your bookshelves, and having nightly readings where your daughters get to ramble about all the March sisters or wonder who's the boy that Mary keeps hearing in Mistlethwaite Manor

✮Bonus that when little Lizzy grows up, she ends up loving Pride and Prejudice

✮ Jason also loves to tell his girls stories about adventure you both had when you were both vigilantes, even pulling out the Red Hood helmet

✮ Your daughters idolized you even more when they found out you two were heroes, and started wearing your old outfits on the daily, playing "hero vs villain".

✮Jason recorded the entire thing, of course ;)

✮When your girls start elementary school, Jason loves to make a whole entrance when picking them up. He loves to pull up to the school in his motorcycle

✮Of course that leads to a herd of kids waddling over to him, admiring him and the motorcycle. He's pretty much earned street cred from a bunch of 5 year olds

✮You two also make sure to be affectionate in front of them, because he read once that it helps shows the kids what a healthy relationship should look like, and he doesn't want any of his girls ever being in any future toxic relationships

✮Both of you swear like a sailor, but you've learned to tone it down after the girls were born. Jason, however, has not.

✮ It's gotten to the point where Lizzy would call her Uncle Roy "asshole" just because that's what her daddy calls him

✮And Imogen is even worse: she once said 'fuck' out loud after tripping and falling in class, which had earned a phone call to you.

✮ "I don't know where she picks that stuff up. We don't swear here," You said into the phone as you glared at daggers at your husband, who just rubbed the back of his neck nervously

A/N: (not edited)

hey guys, i had sm fun writing this! i felt like writing jason some more, and i really believe that jason deserves his happy ending and i just don't think he would stay in gotham if he ever hung up the red hood mantle.

anyways should i write a part 2? i can't think of anything else to write rn but i'd love to write more about this

xoxo, maple <3

#maple posts!#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #domestic! jason todd #husband!jason todd #girl dad #girl dad!jason todd #i really love jason todd #red hood #bat family #dc comics

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shadowlord420sgf · 3 days ago

Text

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Abandoned & Aching

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx | Skips x reader ୭ ˚.

⌗ summary: You left Skips waiting, aching—now that you’re back, he won’t let you go until he’s felt all of you again. word count is 1.6k

⌗ warnings!: female reader, fingering, p in v, missionary, creampie, established relationship, porn with feelings, everyone & everything is desperate, skips is kinda emotionally deranged, fucking on the floor (sorry florence!), i think: hurt + angst with comfort

⌗ author’s note: (you can also read this on my ao3!)back with everyone’s favorite sad emo boy ☹️ thanks for all the support I’ve received on my fics it actually means a lot to me and i love everyone!! like and reblog if you would peg skips 💕 also my irl friend: @funnygirlwriter104 gave me the idea for this fic, check out her dirk one!

It had been some time since you’d last paid Skips a visit. You two had left off on a high note, he asked how you slept and told you about his efforts of keeping the silverfish away. Cute. However, you couldn’t help the excitement you got from speaking with other objects around the house. The dateviators just made you so curious that you didn't notice how you strayed away from the person, or shadow, who loved you the most...

Your ignorance wasn’t on purpose though, so many objects were really so entertaining! You especially liked helping Maggie solve cases, or going on extreme adventures with the Hanks. But none of that changed how you felt about Skips. If only he knew that, instead of assuming that you’d left him for good.

So, when you focus your dateviators on the shadow of Gaia one morning, what you find is a bit unexpected. It’s your beloved Skips, obviously, but something seems to be off with him.

“Hey you.” He greeted, looking a bit surprised that you were in front of him. “I was wondering when you’d come back to see me.”

You winced internally. It couldn’t have been that long since you spoke to him, right? Either way, you felt terrible for being the reason his voice sounded unsure, and a little hoarse like he hadn’t used it in a while.

“I—I know, I’m sorry,” you said gently, stepping closer to him. “I didn’t mean to be gone for so long. I just got caught up with everything—”

“It’s okay,” Skips interrupted quickly. A little too quickly. “You don’t have to explain. I mean, you’re here now, right? That’s all I wanted.” He gave a shaky smile, eyes flickering across your face like he was trying to burn it into his retinas.

He gazed at you like that for a moment before speaking, barely loud enough for you to hear, “I just… I thought maybe you didn’t wanna come back. Like Benji and the others, you know?”

Oh my god, you’ve fucked up this time. You’d left him alone for so long that he compared you to his old friends from way back in his Thiscord roleplaying days. You knew how important those memories were to him, and how hurt he felt as his companions drifted away. You never wanted him to feel like that again.

You stepped even closer, and he didn’t move away. He never would.

“Skips…” you started, finding the words to apologize, but you didn’t get far. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around you like he couldn’t stop himself, pressing your warm body against his cool one. He buried his face deeply into your neck, breathing in. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this. You missed being in the comfortable darkness and silence around Skips. Everything was just so natural with him.

You hugged him impossibly tight, and it still wasn’t as hard as he clung to your body. Your hands tangled into his hair and he made a let out a noise that you swear was a sob. Oh Skips… His voice was muffled against you, “I really fucking missed you. I kept thinking maybe I did something wrong, or maybe you found someone better. Or maybe you just—”

He cut himself off with a shaky breath. “But you’re here. You came back. You came back for me.”

His words made your heart shatter inside. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “There’s nobody like you, Skips. No one.” You whispered, not a hint of dishonesty in your voice. “Of course I’d come back for you, I love you.”

He paused hearing those last three words. You’ve said them to him before, and always meant it of course, but it changed something in him at this moment. There was a beat of silence, and then his lips brushed your jaw. Then your cheek. Then—finally—your mouth.

It wasn’t a careful kiss. It was desperate, uncoordinated, messy. Like he was scared you’d vanish again if he didn’t taste you right now. His hands were everywhere—your neck, your waist, clutching tight, tugging you closer like there still wasn’t enough of you against him.

You groaned at finally feeling his lips on yours again, after so long. “I need you,” he gasped between kisses, eyes half-lidded, voice wrecked. “I’ve been needing you every single night and—I didn’t think I’d ever get to touch you again—please…” Skips was practically whining for you.

You nodded, touching and kissing him all over just like how he was doing to you. “Ah…Need you too, Skips.” He groaned again hearing your sweet voice that he missed so much.

“I need you,” he rasped again, grinding his hips against yours with a frustrated moan. Oh how he wishes your clothes weren’t in the way. “I need to feel you. Now. Please—just—let me have you.”

“You always have me…” you mumbled against his lips. “I’m yours—fuck—I promise.” You both needed each other more than it was possible. It would never be enough.

“O—Okay, can you uh…get on the floor for me?” Skips panted, barely getting the words out. You obeyed him with a smile, pulling off your shirt in the process. Shit, everything you did drove him crazy. Skips did the same before slotting himself in between your thighs, where both of his hands gripped. You felt like melting under his gaze… His dark eyes were actually staring into your soul.

Skips moved his hand higher and higher up your thigh, until his fingertips met with your clothed core. Your back arched up a little at how the small touch sent heat throughout your entire body. Skips chuckled, “So wet already, huh? Knew you missed this as much as I did.” Moving your underwear to the side, he pushed a finger into your wet cunt, and groaned as you did.

“Missed touching you like this,” he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, and you cried out his name. “Missed the way you whine for me when I touch you just like this—fuck.” He always knew exactly what to say.

“M—Missed it too—” You couldn’t bother to answer him properly, not when he was so close to making you come all over his fingers and make a mess. “Ah.. Skips, I’m—I’m close,” you managed to blurt out, hips squirming under him.

Just then, he pulled his fingers out of you. “I know, Penumbra… I always know,” he was right, “And you know I’ll make you finish— But it has to be when I’m inside you. There’s nothing I missed more than that.”

His words alone could’ve made you come undone. They made you forget how close you’d just been, made you wetter than you already were. “Yes—Yes, please I need you… need to feel you, Skips.” You mewled, hands reaching for him on instinct & dragging him down into another kiss that was all tongue and teeth and desperation. He kisses you back with more force than you gave him. He’d never ever let go of you.

Skips was quick to slide off his pants along with his boxers in one impatient motion, allowing his hard length to spring up. You couldn’t help but moan a little at how perfect he was. He gave himself a few quick strokes before positioning himself between you again. “Are you ready, my Penumbra? I sure am…” You nodded, voice too broken to say anything except a “Please…”

With that, he pushed into you, agonizingly slow. You both gasped at the feeling, the familiar stretch of his cock and the wet warmness that enveloped it. You two stayed like this for a bit before you whimpered, “Skips… y-you can move, please I need you.”

“Right. S-Sorry, I just missed this—missed you— so much.” Before you could answer in agreement, he crashed his mouth against yours again, hips rocking into you as he began to move—deep and slow at first, like he was savoring the feeling of being inside you again after so long.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, digging your heels into his lower back as he hit that perfect spot in you again and again. You were already so close, pleasure building fast, curling deep in your belly like it had been waiting for him this whole time.

Your moans turned into soft sobs, overwhelmed. “Skips—fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he gasped, voice cracking, hips stuttering, “Me too—just… come with me, please. I need it. I need you.”

Before you knew it, your orgasm ripped through you like a wave crashing, sharp and hot and all-consuming. You cried out his name, clinging to him like your life depended on it as your walls clenched around him, pulsing hard.

Skips let out a broken, guttural sound—his body trembling as he followed right behind you, spilling inside you with a low groan pressed against your neck. His thrusts slowed but didn’t stop, like he couldn’t bear to pull away just yet, even as the continued thrusts made you both twitch and whimper.

“Don’t leave me like that again. Please don’t.” Skips begged, still panting. You kissed him yet again, breath heavy. “Never—I’ll never leave you Skips.”

Later, Skips had you tell him what objects you were hanging out with, giving his own input on them. He scoffed when you mentioned that you had to talk to Scandalabra, who Skips refused to interact with. Something about the light contrasting with darkness? It didn’t matter.

There was really no one like your Skips.

#date everything #date everything x reader #smut #skips date everything #xxxshadowlord420xxx #skips shadley #xxxshadowl0rd420xxx x reader #skips x reader #skips shadley smut #dividers by kodaswrld

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bullet-prooflove · 1 day ago

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Dr Daddy & The Short King: Jack Abbot x Reader x Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

Tagging: @kmc1989 @daydreamsareallineed @starstruckunknown-princess @sillymuffintrashflap @thedamnqueenofhell

Summary: Jack confronts you about the transfer at your fire station.

Companion piece to:

Together - Jack comes home to find Robby in the kitchen and you sleeping the morning away.

Pretty Girl - Jack and Robby spend a little quality time with their pretty girl.

Shift Work - Robby knows you've got something on your mind.

“Your short king is here.” That’s what Emil tells you when he pops his head into your office with Jack in tow. You sigh as you glance up at the clock above your desk because Jack, he’s supposed to be asleep right now, resting up for his shift tonight.

“Short king? Jack asks quizzically as he steps inside your 6x9 office, pulling the glass door shut behind him.

“It means you’re silver fox with big dick energy.” You inform him, twisting in your chair as he takes a seat on the edge of your neatly made bed. He hooks his good foot around the pillar of your wheelie chair, dragging you into his proximity. “They call Robby Dr Daddy.”

“What do they call you?” Jack asks as he pulls you into his lap. Your thighs part straddling his hips, your hand reaching up to draw the blinds closed blocking out the outside world.

“Lieutenant.” You answer with a smile.

“And they’re good to you here?” He asks you, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing over that scar you have tucked underneath the hinge of your jaw. “They don’t make fun of you for being with me and Robby?”

“Fuck no.” You respond jerking your thumb towards the canteen where you can hear a rowdy game of gummy bear poker going on. “Eighty percent of these assholes wish they were me. The other twenty percent’s dicks haven’t worked since the 90s.”

Jack barks out a laugh, rubbing his grizzled cheek up along the column of your throat. Your fingertips comb through his curls, grasping them lightly as you tip his head back so that his whiskey eyes meet yours. “Did Robby snitch on me about the transfer? Is that why you think I’m being bullied?”

Jack’s breathing hitches, his fingers curling into your PFD t-shirt, bunching the fabric. You can feel him hardening against you and it does a little something, knowing how needy and desperate this man is for you.

“Jack.” You tut. “Do I have to punish you right here in my firehouse or can we save it for later when Robby’s available to play?”

The edges of his mouth tip up into a dry smile because it’s been a while since you’ve got a little dommy with him.

“You gotta do what you gotta do honey.” He says in that gravelly tone of his. “But before we start breaking out the whips and chains maybe you wanna give me the low down on why you wanna move out of this place and into one of the most conservative firehouses this side of the river, a place that we both know is going to make your life beyond miserable.”

“Ohh my short king’s been digging around getting intel.” You say, grinding down against his cock and he bites his lower lip to supress the low moan that rises up in his throat. “I can’t decide if that turns me on or pisses me off.”

This is what happens when you don’t feel like you can't talk to him. You deflect, try to divert the attention elsewhere because you don’t know how to cope with the emotional distance between the two of you. Robby, he never let’s that happen but Jack, he’s become complacent trying to figure his own shit out with this shift problem, he hadn’t really factored in how his lack of communication regarding the matter would be affecting you.

His arm encircles your waist before he shifts positions, trapping you underneath him. His fingers lace through yours, pinning your hands to the mattress as he fixes you with a stern stare.

“Anna.” He says firmly, his voice a rough whisper. “You don’t need to put on this big girl front with me right now. I get that you have a hard time communicating but we need to have a real conversation about something that’s going to effect all of us. Robby doesn’t want to see you unhappy and I don’t want to see you unhappy and this bullshit with the other firehouse, it’s going to make you unhappy-”

“Jack.” You say softly as he nuzzles his face against the hollow of your throat. “I know that you’re not happy. You think you can hide it from me but I see it and I know it’s because we’re not connecting the way that we did before I took the job here…”

You sigh, your cheek coming to rest against his, your breath ghosting in is ear. “I’m just scared that right now this threesome is in danger of going back to a twosome. You and Robby are one of the best thing that have ever happened to me and I know I’m fucking it up…”

“You aren’t fucking it up.” He promises you, planting featherlight kisses all over your pretty features. “Me and Robby, we love you so damn much and that doesn’t change just because the two of us are out of sync.”

“If I don’t transfer then we don’t get back into sync.” You tell him frankly as his palm cradles your face, guiding your gaze towards his. “There’s not really another option-”

“There is.” Jack assures you as his whiskey eyes drink you in. “One of the other attendings at the hospital is going through a divorce, he wants weekends off so he can spend them with his kids. If I do his weekends after we go to the cabin then my days off will pair with yours, I’ll have to take over his residents but Shen and Ellis are pretty good kids from what I’ve seen.”

“You’d do that?” You ask him. “Switch up your days, take up some extra responsibility, just so you can be with me?”

It galls him that you haven’t experienced that level of dedication before, that it’s such a foreign concept that you. You don’t seem to understand that Jack, he’d fight to spend time with you, the same way he’d fight to do the same for Robby.

“If trading shifts and training a couple of newbies gets me a few more nights with you then it is worth every second.” He tells you, palm smoothing away the hair that’s come loose from your ponytail. “You are a priority in my life Anna, the same way that Robby is. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you both which is why you need to promise me you aren’t going to go through with the transfer.”

Your mouth captures his and his tongue traces over the seam of your lips until you yield to him, your entire form relaxing into his. He cradles your face between his palms as he kisses you like you were meant to be kissed, like you’re something precious, something to be loved, to be cherished.

“Promise me.” He mumbles, his fingertips untucking your t-shirt allowing his hands to roam underneath it. “Promise me and I’ll fuck you so good in this bed, you’ll be dreaming of me every night you spend in here.”

His palm kneads your breast through your sports bra, his thumb tracing over the pert nipple as his hips rock against yours.

“Jack…” You breathe and he thrusts harder so you can feel him demanding and urgent in the confines of the denim. “Fuck Jack I-”

You’re interrupted by the sound of the bells coming to life, the first alarm hollering through the entire building summoning you for duty. You groan as he rolls off you, springing to your feet like a cat as you tuck in your shirt.

“Anna.” He prompts, propping his head up on his arm. “I never got that promise.”

“No transfer.” You tell him, glancing over your shoulder as you yank open the door. “I’ll stay here, right where I belong.”

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cheriedivine · 2 days ago

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𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter 8

previous | chapter 8 | next

꩜ pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (No use of y/n)

꩜ content warnings: smoking, drinking, suggestive themes, evil parents:(

꩜ WC: 13.4k

꩜ Author’s note: holy fuck… it’s finally here after almost a month (i apologize), i think ill take a small break or post a one-shot while i write the next chapter<3 okay luv u angels enjoy! this one was a roller coaster!

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

Three years ago…

The advertisement looked sketchy at first, you weren’t even sure if it was recent or it had been up for months now, but you were desperate to find a job. Your options were running low, including your savings.

All because your parents were throwing a tantrum, and you’d finally had enough of their bullshit, so you packed your stuff and left to prove them wrong, that you figure things out on your own, without them. You weren’t a kid anymore. You were freshly graduated from college and all you wanted now was freedom and independence, and for your parents to stop controlling every single part of your life.

Since you were a kid, they had it all perfectly laid out. Calculated. What you’d wear, what you’d say, how you’d behave. God, even who would you like. And when they found out you were into girls, thanks to those stupid rumors in your freshman year of Highschool about you making out with girls under the bleachers (which weren’t entirely false) they lost it. The principal had called them in. You still remembered the way their faces dropped like the world had ended.

They didn’t take it well at first, but eventually they just accepted it wasn’t going away, so they redirected their grip, controlling any other side they could take, college, extracurriculars, everything else. So when you finally graduated, you made it your mission to run away from that life, and start over. Getting an apartment was the first step, it wasn’t that hard, you connected with a girl from a facebook group looking for a roommate. Sally was her name. She was sweet but kind of serious, two years older than you, working some corporate job and seemingly having her life put together.

The second step was telling your parents.

The hardest part.

They didn’t say anything at first, praying that you were joking. But when you showed them the apartment keys jiggling in your hand they lost it. Your mother broke down crying, screaming about how ungrateful you were. followed by a long silent look of disapproval from your dad. Then came the guilt trip, the list of all the things they had sacrificed and done to raise you, only for you to “turn your back on them.” It was pointless, really. Fighting wouldn’t get you anywhere. So all you did was sit there silently and pack your stuff as quickly as you could.

They took away your car keys, like that would stop you. You called an uber as tears threatened to spill, quickly wiping them away when you heard the driver pull into your front lawn.

They didn’t even say goodbye, just stared at you as you left.

A part of you was sad this is how it had to go.

But the other part?

The other part felt free.

Not having to live under their conditions, their curfews, their rules. It was all up to you now, and yeah, it was scary. But you had been waiting for this moment your entire fucking life.

The bell jingled above the door as you entered the diner. It was packed with families, old couples and some loners hunched over their coffee mugs. The floors were sticky beneath your shoes, and the place smelled like syrup and grease. You made your way to the counter, and spotted what seemed to be a waitress wearing a ridiculous outfit. You asked her if the manager was around, showing her the “we are hiring” ad you had seen online.

She smiled kindly and told you to wait.

You sat on the empty stool while you waited, ironing your clothes and flattening the creased resume sheet against the counter. Your breath hitched when a woman in her fifties leaned on the counter in front of you. The small nametag on her shirt read ‘Maria’. Her gray eyes were sharp, piercing your soul as you stared at her, like she could read you in seconds.

“Hello sweetie. You here for the waitress job?” she asked softly, her voice less intimidating than her stare.

“Yes—well for anything you have available,” you said. “I saw the ad online, and I’m desperate.” Your voice cracked, but you couldn’t break down just now. This was your last shot, and there was no way you could go back home to your parents. “I’m a fast learner, and I’m good with people most of the time. I studied business at college—I could be a good addition to the team. I just…I really need the job.” You said, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

Maria gave you a tender look. Not the pity kind of look, more of a curious one.

“And why are you here, then? she asked. “Why this place?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t invasive, it was caring.

“Well I—” You exhaled. “I wanted to start fresh. Get away from my crazy ass family, and prove that I don’t need them. Mostly to myself than to them. I don’t have much experience in this area, but I’m willing to work hard. I don’t care about the hours, I just need a sign that this can work out.”

Maria stayed quiet for a minute, like she was reconsidering everything, but when she finally spoke up her voice was firm and steady.

“Alright sweetheart. You start tomorrow at 8am sharp, I need you here early so I can walk you through everything. Tasks, scheduling, and pay.” Her eyes narrowed a little.” Don’t make me regret it.”

You blinked at her, stunned, as a relieved smile bloomed across your face. The weight you’d been carrying for weeks seemed to melt off. Maria smiled back and slid a form toward you. You filled it out with trembling fingers.

You stood up, dizzy with relief, and turned around to leave.

But on your way out, you bumped into someone—a girl around your age, hoodie slouched low over her head like she didn’t want to be seen. You didn’t catch much of her face, just a few strands of auburn hair sticking out from under the hood. She muttered a quick sorry and slipped past you toward the counter. You didn’t think much of it. Not then.

You stepped into the cold air outside, hands in your pockets, the note from Maria crumpled in your hand.

It wasn’t over yet. You were going to be okay. And you couldn’t afford to fuck this up.

Not a chance.

Now, the diner felt like a second home. You moved through the kitchen with ease, checking stock, flipping switches, restocking napkin dispensers, keeping everything running smoothly before the real chaos of the lunch rush began.

You liked mornings. Liked the quiet. Liked being alone with your thoughts…except today, your thoughts were anything but quiet. They were noisy and burning. Your mind kept spinning all around her, like she was the sun, and you were just orbiting helplessly in her pull. Jesus, you even made nerdy space references in your head now.

There was still a hum in your chest, soreness and warmth rushed through your veins in the best way. Your thighs ached faintly, a quiet, secret reminder of her. Your lips were still a little puffy. And when you accidentally brushed the spot behind your ear with your fingers, you swore you could still feel her mouth there, like she had left something permanent behind.

Your stomach flipped just remembering it all over again. How she looked at you like you were made of stars or cosmic dust.

And god, your heart… Your heart felt like it had been cracked open. Not in a painful way. Just… exposed. Wide and aching and open, and entirely hers to hold.

You hadn’t slept much. After you curled around her, her breathing slowed. You just watched her. Tracing the small scar near her ribs. Letting your fingers drift along the lines of the fern tattoo on her forearm. You didn’t speak for a while, after all, it had all been said with touch.

But now, with morning sunlight pouring through the diner windows, the silence felt a little heavier.

You left a note before slipping out, folded and left on her desk rereading it three times before leaving.

You turned back toward the coffee machine and checked the brew. The smell filled the air, rich and comforting, and you tried to lose yourself in the routine of things, stacking mugs, cleaning the counter, keeping your hands busy.

But your mind never stopped spinning.

Had she woken up yet? Had she read it? Was she thinking about you the way you were thinking about her?

The bell over the door jingled. And your heart jumped before you could stop it.

You turned around and there she was.

Ellie stepped in, hoodie slung low on her shoulders, camera bag hanging from one side, and a smug little smile already tugging at her lips. Her hair was a bit damp, and her eyes had that slow, sleepy glint that made your knees weak.

She looked so real. So casual. Like she hadn’t kept you up all night with the memory of her hands and her mouth and the soft way she whispered your name. And yet, seeing her there, framed by the morning light and smirking like she already knew what she’d done to you?

You were gone all over again.

“Morning,” you said, casually, as if your heart wasn’t flipping inside your chest.

Ellie tilted her head, eyes sweeping over you from head to toe in that annoyingly slow, intentional way. “Didn’t expect to wake up alone.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Didn’t want to ruin your beauty sleep.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“I think you drool in your sleep.”

Ellie grinned, wandering toward her usual booth. “Missed your face,” she said quietly, almost under her breath, but it still landed straight in your chest.

You turned away before she could see the way your cheeks were heating up. You busied yourself with pouring coffee, letting the silence between you stretch long and comfortable.

Ellie watched you from the booth, her fingers drumming softly against her coffee cup. You slid a plate in front of her. Chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs and crispy bacon without asking. You knew her order by heart.

“Didn’t even let me ask for it,” she said, eyeing the plate.

You shrugged, suppressing a smirk. “You’re a creature of habit.”

“Guess I am.” She poked at the eggs with her fork. “You left early.”

“I had work,” you said lightly, folding your arms across your chest. “Did you get my note?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours. “Yeah.” Her voice dropped, a little rougher now. “Made me smile like an idiot.” You looked away, chewing on your bottom lip.

Then she added, “I didn’t want you to leave.”

Your chest pulled tight. You couldn’t tell if it was the way she said it, soft, like it embarrassed her, or the way it made your entire body hum.

You nodded slowly, brushing your fingers over the edge of the table. “Next time I’ll wake you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she said, gaze still on you.

You grabbed the coffee pot and gave her a refill. “Eat your breakfast, Williams.”

She grinned, and something in your chest fluttered.

A few minutes later the bell above the door jingled again, and you turned to see a vibrant Dina striding in, hair pulled back messily, sunglasses pushed to the top of her head even though it was cloudy outside.

She spotted Ellie instantly and made a beeline for her, flopping into the booth seat in front of her. “Morning sunshine.”

“Dina,” Ellie said, not even surprised.

“Dude, I texted you like three times,” Dina said. Then she turned her head toward you, her expression lighting up. “Oh hey, you’re here too. Cute.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I mean, I kinda work here so…”

“Ha. Ha.” Dina leaned forward on the table like she was about to tell a secret. “Anyway… party at my place. It’s happening.”

“What kind of party?” Ellie asked, raising a brow.

“Massive orgy” Dina said dramatically. “Halloween. Costumes. Alcohol. Fake blood. Dozens of people”

You blinked. “Sounds like you’ll have to clean vomit off your couch for days.”

“Ew,” Dina said, nose scrunching. “You guys are disgusting. Perfect match.”

Ellie choked on her coffee.

You raised an eyebrow. “Who’s coming?”

“Well obviously you guys, Jesse, some college classmates and whoever you guys want to invite. ”

You snorted, shaking your head. “And how will we fit in your apartment may I ask?”

“I already bribed my landlord for the terrace babe,” Dina addressed, pointing a finger between you. “No excuses.”

Ellie gave her a long, dramatic sigh. “What if someone falls over and dies?”

“Well I’ll hope it’s you,” Dina snarled, throwing a piece of bacon at Ellie.

Your eyes met Ellie’s across the table. “Alright,” you said, trying not to grin. “Count us in.”

The three of you kept chatting for a bit, brainstorming halloween costumes and Dina ranting about decorations. You excused yourself as you returned to the back of the diner, continuing with your checkup and restock.

You stacked some empty napkin boxes and double-checked stock before a soft knock interrupted your focus. It was Ellie standing in the doorframe, her slim figure silhouetted by the hallway light hovered yours as you approached her.

“I wasn’t heading out without a goodbye kiss y’know” she said with a lazy smirk, but you could hear the truth under it. She meant it.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the stupid smile that was spreading across your face. “You know Maria banned you from being back here right?” you teased wrapping your arms around her neck.

“She doesn’t have to know I was here,” Ellie whispered like she was on a secret mission, tugging the loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Besides I have a meeting with Mr. Davis and I need emotional support.”

“Oh, Els—it’ll be fine, you doubt yourself too much. What’s the meeting about?” you asked, trying to distract her from her self sabotaging thoughts.

“He wants to show me some venues for the gallery. I told him to pick one, but he’s insisting I see them in person, so…” She murmured, her fingertips tracing small circles on your waist, grounding herself. “I’ll see you after work?”

“I didn’t scare you off yesterday?” you mumbled quietly, pulling her closer.

She smirked, “If anything I think it made me more obsessed with you.” And with that she closed the distance between you two, pulling you in like you were the only thing keeping her sane right now. The kiss was slow, tender, but firm like she didn’t want to let go.

“Okay, enough,” you whispered breathlessly as you pulled back. “You’ll actually get me fired if Maria comes in.”

“You are no fun,” Ellie pouted. “I better get going before Mr. Davis starts blowing up my phone. I’ll see you later.”

“Byeeee,” you sang after her as she walked away, clutching her camera bag in one hand, leaving you leaning against the wall with your pulse still racing.

When you stepped back into the main dining area, the shift had picked up a bit. Two new tables filled, more coffee cups clinking. Dina was still lounging comfortably in the same booth she had previously shared with Ellie, legs stretched across the seat, scrolling through her phone like she had all the time in the world.

You raised a brow, approaching the table. “Thought you left too.”

Without looking up, she replied, “Wow. Just because I’m not Ellie, I don’t get the special treatment?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I met you way before she did, just saying,” she added, glancing up with a shit eating grin.

You snorted, grabbing the coffee pot and refilling her mug. “You want anything else, or just planning to hang around?”

“Hmm…” she tapped her finger on the table. “Surprise me. I trust you.”

You scribbled a quick note for the kitchen and leaned against the counter nearby, arms folded, as you waited. Dina took a long sip of her coffee, watching you over the rim of her mug.

“So,” she said eventually, voice just a little too casual. “You and Ellie, huh?”

You exhaled. “Dina.”

She grinned, leaning closer across the table. “Don’t Dina me. You’re glowing. Your voice has a new softness. And don’t think I didn’t notice how she disappeared back there before she left. She’s a shit liar. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

There was a pause.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her mouth falling open dramatically. “You slept together.”

“Jesus—would keep your voice down!” you hissed, glancing at the nearby customers.

She gasped like you’d just confirmed the juiciest gossip of the year. “You did! You guys totally fucked!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hand. “Please shut up. For real.”

She leaned closer, practically bouncing in her seat. “Okay, okay, I’m calm. I’m cool. I’m chill.”

You gave her a look. She waited two whole seconds before whispering again, “So... are you, like, a thing now?”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

You hadn’t even asked yourself that.

Your brain scrambled, searching for the right words, for something concrete. But all you found was the way Ellie kissed you last night. The way she had looked at you. The way she held you like you were something she was afraid to lose.

And still… no label.

“We haven’t really talked about that,” you said softly.

Dina tilted her head, “Oh.”

The silence stretched for a second. And just like that, doubt started seeping in. Quietly. In the corners of your mind. You stared down at the counter, fingers tracing invisible shapes over the laminate.

What if it had just been one night? What if she regretted it? What if she didn’t want anything more?

Dina was quiet for once. She sat back a little, her teasing expression softening.

“She likes you, you know,” Dina said, “She really does, but you know Ellie. She’s just… slow sometimes. Emotionally constipated, even.”

You nodded slowly, chest tightening.

“I mean, look,” she continued, voice gentler now. “I don’t know what’s going on in her head, but I do know she doesn’t let people in easily. And the way she looks at you?”

You looked up.

“That’s not nothing.”

“I just…” you began, then stopped. Swallowed. “I don’t want to get my hopes up if we’re not on the same page.” You swallowed hard, that ache in your chest tightening. “I… don’t want to fuck this up.”

Dina reached across the table, giving your hand a small squeeze. “Then don’t, and maybe talk to her. When you’re ready.”

You smiled weakly, lips curving into a faint smile as you turned and disappeared into the kitchen, though your heart was still a mess. Her food was ready, a stack of pancakes, hash browns, and scrambled eggs. You slid the plate onto her table a minute later, topping off her coffee. “Here.”

She clapped her hands together, dramatically gasping. “You do love me.”

You gave her a dry look. “Don’t push it.”

But she was already too deep in her own world to care. “Okay, so here’s the plan, string lights across the terrace, maybe jack-o-lanterns by the stairs, fake cobwebs if I can find any that don’t look like trash. I’m thinking spooky but not cheesy. Jesse’s on music, but I’m stealing the aux before he kills us from boredom.”

She rambled on, waving her fork for emphasis between bites of pancake.

You tried to focus. Really, you did, but your mind had wandered the second you stepped away from the table.

Ellie.

The way her lips felt on yours just half an hour ago. The way her voice had dipped when she said, “I think it made me more obsessed with you.” The way she’d kissed you like she didn’t want to let go. Like maybe she wouldn’t.

But… then again, she hadn’t said what this meant.

And neither had you.

It’s not like you could blame it on her, or you. The topic just had never come up, maybe because you were both so absorbed in each other that you didn’t even have time or space to think about it.

You swallowed hard, still standing by the booth, arms folded across your chest like a shield. Dina was talking about costume contests now. “I was thinking Lara Croft for me, or maybe cat woman, but I don’t know if it’s too basic—” Her voice sounded far away.

Your thoughts were too loud. Was this just casual?

It didn't feel casual. Not when she looked at you like that. Not when she held you like her hands were memorizing your entire body. Not when she kissed you like it was the first time and the last time all at once.

But she hadn’t said anything this morning. No “what are we now.” No “do you want more.” Just soft touches. A goodbye kiss. That smug little smile.

And you wanted to believe that was enough. Yet you couldn’t help wondering if you’d built it all up in your head.

You stared at the coffee pot behind the counter, jaw tight. It was too much to feel this much and still not know where you stood.

“Earth to you?” Dina waved her fork in front of your face.

“Huh?”

“I said,” she repeated, “you’re helping me decorate, right?”

You hesitated. “Yeah. Sure.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You good?”

You nodded automatically. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But you weren’t.

You were spiraling, quietly. Smiling through it. Nodding at Dina while your chest felt like it was folding in on itself.

You loved that night with Ellie. You wanted more. But now that it happened, all you could think was if she wanted more too.

Dina watched you for a beat, chewing slowly, like she was considering dialing it down. “Hey,” she said softly. “Don’t spiral. If it’s eating you up that bad… you should just ask her.”

You nodded again, unsure if you meant it.

Because what if asking ruined it? What if putting it into words made it less real?

What if she didn’t want what you wanted?

On the other side of town, the air was cold and Ellie was already standing near the entrance of the building when Mr. Davis arrived, clipboard in hand, black coat neatly pressed despite the wind outside.

“Miss Williams,” he greeted, offering a handshake. “Good to see you.”

Ellie returned the gesture, adjusting the strap of her camera bag. “You can just call me Ellie, y’know.”

He chuckled. “Alright Ellie, follow me, I’ve got a few venues I’d like to show you. We’ll start with the smaller ones.”

The first place was a renovated industrial loft, with high ceilings and exposed brick walls, the windows were a plus, it gave a beautiful view of the city, but Ellie wasn’t a fan of the exposed pipelines taking away more attention than the actual photos. Mr. Davis walked a few steps ahead, pointing at various spots along the walls where the pictures might hang, already rattling off ideas.

“How’s the creative process going, by the way?” he asked over his shoulder.

Ellie shrugged slightly, walking beside him. “It’s going. Still working on the final series. I've got more photos than I know what to do with, but somehow I keep going back to the same ones.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he said, scribbling something in his notes. “Sometimes we’re drawn to what we can’t explain. Stick with it. You’ll find the right throughline.” He glanced sideways at her. “Speaking of, I need you to prepare a speech for the exhibition, something simple, a little story about the work or what the collection represents to you.”

Ellie made a face. “God. I’d rather die.”

Mr. Davis snorted. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be you.”

His words lingered on Ellie’s mind for a second, she didn’t have the slightest idea of what felt like her at the moment, when all her thoughts were occupied by you, and all she did and lived for was you. It felt like her mind wasn’t hers anymore, since you roamed it for months now, and her heart wasn’t hers, if it was completely beating for you.

The second venue was more polished, white walls, adjustable lighting rigs already in place. Ellie took a few notes but kept quiet, hands jammed in her hoodie pockets, eyes flicking occasionally to the glass paneled ceiling. Her mind kept drifting back to last night, to your smile, to the lingering taste of your mouth.

She shook it off.

“I think this one might be my favorite one,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, “It’s got amazing lighting, and the walls don’t take all the attention away.”

“Wait until you see the next one dear, it’ll blow your mind.” The old man said cheerfully.

When they finally reached the third venue, Ellie’s jaw almost hit the floor. It was a wide open room with massive arched windows. The wooden floors creaked softly beneath their steps as they walked deeper inside. The place felt cozy, maybe due to the warm lighting from the chandeliers, and the curtains that separated the different areas of the venue gave it an interesting touch, almost hauntingly. Ellie admired the place with wide eyes, pulling out the camera from her bag and snapping a few shots, to show you later.

Mr. Davis flipped to another page of his clipboard and cleared his throat.

“It has come to my attention while revising your portfolio, that there’s this girl you always take pictures of, is she a friend of yours?” Mr. Davis asked, the curious gleam in his eye seemed genuine, nothing more than polite curiosity.

However it wasn’t the question itself that struck Ellie, but the words he used.

Friend.

Were you? Just a friend of hers?

Her breath caught as she moved toward the windows, staring out without really seeing. What has this past month meant? Last night? How your lips were engraved on her skin forever, how your touch was the only warmth she wanted to know.

It rattled her, because she didn’t know where you both stood.

You weren’t girlfriends, but you weren’t exactly best friends either… It had become something more than that.

And yesterday that line had been crossed. Because how was Ellie supposed to go on about her day when she knew how you tasted on her tongue, and how her name sounded spilling out of your mouth like a prayer you only say at night.

She stayed silent for a bit, unsure about her answer. But Mr. Davis was oblivious about the mess going on in her head.

“Yeah,” she finally spoke, voice tighter than she meant. “She's, uh…a very good friend of mine.” She sighed, walking slowly across the room, like it had the answers she desperately needed.

Mr. Davis continued talking about estimated costs and capacity, where people might stand for wine and finger food, but Ellie wasn’t really paying attention anymore.

It scared her, where you both stood. How should she introduce you to people?

Her best friend? girlfriend?

She’d never been good at relationships. The last serious one in college… didn’t exactly end up great. It crashed so bad it made her swear off commitment for a while. Since then, it was casual flings, unspoken boundaries. Nothing too serious.

She hadn’t even asked you what you wanted. What this was.

What it could be.

Because this? This didn’t feel like anything she experienced before. Not when you traced her scars so carefully she forgot they were even there.

And not when she looked at you and thought, God, maybe I’d let this ruin me.

The lunch rush had ended a while ago. you were just sitting by the counter hunched over your notepad, scribbling down a list of the vendors that were due to pay. The sunlight spilled through the diner’s windows in long, syrupy streaks, casting everything in a golden haze, the warm lighting filled the room, cozy and familiar.

A few customers lingered in the booths, sipping on coffee and chatting lazily, but for the most part it was peaceful and quiet. You finished rereading your list for what seemed like the third time, because your brain was too distracted.

You hadn’t heard from Ellie since she left this morning, and while a rational part of you knew she was probably busy with venue hunting, the other part kept thinking she was avoiding you, which was stupid, and you knew it but you couldn’t help overthink it.

You exhaled, trying to shake the thought, and pulled out your phone, clicking on her contact. Her little contact photo was some blurry pic of her flipping off the camera with a smirk. Classic Ellie.

You started typing nervously, fingers moving faster than your brain.

“How did the venue hunting go? Wanna hang out if you’re not too tired?”

Her reply came almost immediately, as if she was waiting for you to text.

“It was fine, took some pictures to show u the one we chose. I’ll be there in 10;)”

You smiled at the screen like an idiot. And then quickly tucked your phone away before anyone could catch the stupid grin spreading on your face.

“You and that damn phone,” Maria called out, emerging from the kitchen with a knowing smirk. “I might as well ban ‘em, y’know.”

You looked up, already grinning. “Hey! I finished all my stuff. Besides, Jasmine’s always on hers too, you just happen to turn around every time I’m on a two minute phone break—”

“The difference,” Maria said, wiping her hands on her apron, “is that Jasmine’s probably scrolling through shoe sales. You? You’re over here smiling like an idiot, texting your little girlfriend.”

“She’s not—”

“Your girlfriend,” Maria interrupted, holding up her hands. “I know. I know. But she might as well stop acting like it if she doesn’t mean business, alright, hun?”

Your smile faded just slightly, replaced by something more unsure. “Do you think it’s bad we haven’t, like… talked about that? I mean—we literally had sex and—” You stopped yourself, eyes wide. “Oh my god, sorry. That is way too much information. And you’re my literal boss, so I should shut up.”

Maria let out a laugh so loud it startled the customers still nursing their coffees. It was the kind of laugh that made her eyes crinkle and her chest rise with effort.

“Oh, honey,” she said, wiping the tears coming from her eyes. “I think we’re way past that.” She leaned against the counter, still smiling. “Look, my advice? Talk about it. Clear that shit up before you get in too deep. The sooner the better”

“Yeah, maybe. But… seriously, thank you. I just—I dunno. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Maria’s expression softened. She reached across the counter, and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “I don’t want to see you hurtin’, sweetheart. Just promise me you’ll figure it out. Maybe not right away, but eventually.”

You nodded, your voice quieter now. “Yeah. I will. I promise.”

The bell above the door jingled and Maria’s gaze flicked toward the entrance.

“Speaking of the devil…” she murmured.

Ellie walked in, her hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up, camera bag slung over her shoulder like always. Her eyes found yours instantly, and that familiar crooked smile tugged at her lips.

“Hey, you,” she said as she reached your side, ruffling your hair playfully. “Miss me?”

You winced, batting her hand away. “Not the hair, come on.”

Maria smirked and started backing toward the kitchen. “I’ll leave you two to it. Oh—and don’t forget to call the vendors tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, boss…” you sang after her.

As soon as she was gone, Ellie turned to you, rubbing a bit of sleep from her eyes. “You ready?”

“Just lemme grab my bag,” you said, slipping behind the counter and ducking into the back. You returned with your jacket and a small brown paper bag in hand.

“What’s that?” Ellie asked as you both stepped out into the crisp evening.

“Leftovers. Maria told me to take the food or she’d haunt my dreams.”

Ellie grinned, reaching out to take the bag as the two of you approached her truck parked just across the street. You climbed into the passenger seat, the door creaking slightly as it shut behind you. Ellie tossed her camera bag in the backseat, set the food carefully between you both, and turned the keys.

The engine rumbled to life, and the stereo crackled with music already queued up, some mellow indie track giving way to a low, thumping beat.

Ellie cranked the volume just a little as you buckled in, one arm resting on the open window, the wind already tugging at loose strands of your hair.

She glanced over at you with a lazy smile, like everything about this moment was right.

“I love when it’s this quiet out,” she said. “Sunset and a cute girl in my passenger seat.”

You turned your head, biting back a grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“Don’t act like you’re not eating it up.”

You were.

And as the truck pulled away from the diner, the sky bleeding warm oranges and fading pinks, all the noise in your head dimmed just a little.

The ride to your apartment was calm and quiet, the comfortable and familiar type of quiet, Ellie hummed along to the music, fingers tapping the steering wheel, and every now and then you’d catch her glancing sideways at you, quick and subtle, but it always left your stomach fluttering.

You unlocked the door with one swift motion, Ellie followed you in, immediately kicking off her boots and shedding her hoodie, leaving her in a black tank and worn jeans that hugged just right. You tried not to stare, but failed miserably.

The apartment was dim, cozy. A candle flickered low on the coffee table, meaning Sally was home already, and the smell of cinnamon and garlic from the food filled the air.

“Wanna see the venue pictures I took?” Ellie asked, her hand resting lightly on your waist as you made your way toward the table.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go to my room so you can use my laptop,” you replied, grabbing the food containers and leading her into your bedroom.

Ellie plugged her camera into the laptop, downloading the photos while you changed into something more comfortable, a mismatched pajama set, soft shorts and a worn in tank top. You settled onto the bed, sitting cross legged beside her, and handed her one of the plastic forks Maria had packed. The two of you dug into your food as Ellie scrolled through the pictures, pointing out angles, potential framing spots, and where her photos would hang.

Her voice was full of excitement. Animated, bright. It made you giddy, watching her speak about something she loved so much.

“What do you think? Be honest.”

“I think it’s perfect,” you said, voice soft. “It’s kinda eerie in a cool way. Like… hauntingly cool.”

“My exact thoughts,” she said, grinning wide. “All the other places were just bland brick boxes with industrial lighting. Made my head hurt.”

“I think this one suits your style perfectly.”

Ellie nudged you gently. “That a compliment?”

“Take it before I take it back.”

She grinned, but her expression softened when you stayed close, chin still tucked near her shoulder. You could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

The next few pictures passed in silence, her hand casually resting near yours, your thighs touching. Eventually, she closed the folder, and the desktop stared back at you both.

“So…” she said slowly. “Dina’s party.”

You sat up a bit. “Right. You have any idea what you’re dressing up as?”

“I don’t think I’ve dressed up for halloween since i was like thirteen.”

You groaned. “You’re so boring.”

Ellie shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, but my costumes were the shit. Best dressed always.” She started swiping through her gallery, then turned the screen toward you. “Dino Ellie. Age six.”

You squinted at the image, a younger version of her in a massive green foam dinosaur suit, her face barely visible through the mouth of the costume. Her expression was all attitude, her little freckled nose scrunched up, hands on her hips, like she was king of the Jurassic world.

You lost it.

“No way. That’s the cutest photo I’ve ever seen.”

She chuckled. “I wore that three years in a row. Joel was like, ‘You sure you don’t want to try something new?’ and I was like, ‘Dinosaurs are cool forever.’”

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, still laughing. “Stubborn since birth I see.”

“Oh, I’m not done.” She flipped to another one, this time she was in a diy astronaut costume, duct tape and a cardboard box mimicking the astronaut gear.

“Is that a motorcycle helmet?”

“Tommy borrowed it for my costume. I took it very seriously.”

You were still giggling when you closed your laptop and tossed it to the side. “Okay, okay, my turn.” you said, grinning. “I’m pulling up my old costume photos. Prepare to be amazed.”

Ellie perked up. “Oh, hell yeah.”

You clicked through a few folders and found a picture from when you were eight, dressed in a sparkly witch costume, complete with a lopsided hat and your face covered in green glitter.

“Oh my god,” Ellie said, leaning in with wide eyes. “You were so serious about that spellcasting.”

“I did,” you said, smug. “Halloween was sacred.”

Then another picture, it was you wearing a skeleton onesie, you were probably like five years old, your mom had painted your face like a skull too, and you were smiling so big, basket full of candy.

“I’m going to cry, you were so cute.”

“Were?” you questioned, brows knitted, but the smile on your face gave you up.

“Are. Obviously.”

“Okay, okay enough of the baby pictures, we need to focus. What the fuck are we dressing up as?” You said as you opened a new tab and typed in halloween costume ideas.

“Wait you’re serious about dressing up?” Ellie asked.

“Duh. It’s Halloween, come on it will be fun, we can do matching costumes.”

“Like what?”

“Raven and Beast boy?”

“Yeah no. I’m not painting my face green.”

“Ughh party pooper” you made a dramatic groaning noise and flopped back on your bed, arm thrown over your eyes. “How about pirates? It’s easy.”

“And basic. Everyone is a pirate.” Ellie said, rolling her eyes, face smug.

“You’re impossible. What do you suggest then?” you teased, nudging her leg with your foot.

“You ever watched adventure time?”

“Every gay kid watched adventure time I think.”

“Yeah exactly, we could be Marceline and princess bubblegum—I’d be Marceline obviously.” Ellie peeked at you from under her arm, smirking. “And you could totally pull off the whole ‘pink nerdy princess’ thing.”

You stared at her, heat rushing to your face. “That’s… actually genius.”

Ellie shifted beside you, leaning back against the headboard, arms stretched behind her head. “Obviously, It’d be cute.”

“You think we’d be cute?”

She gave you that infuriating half smile. “I know we would.”

Your stomach flipped. Again. And just like that, the tension that had been bubbling in your chest all day started to soften. All the overthinking and wondering of what this was faded away. Replaced by the image of her lying down beside you, shoulders brushing, her fingers grazing your arm slightly, warm and gently. Normal.

Just you and her.

You looked over at her, trying to bite back the smile creeping up your face, but Ellie was already watching you, eyes lazy and soft under the glow of your bedside lamp. She didn’t say a word.

And then, like a devil possessed her, she lunged.

Her fingers dug into your sides, fast and merciless. You shrieked.

“NO—not again Ellie! You know I’m—ticklish.” you gasped, half laughing, half pleading, trying to twist away from her grasp.

Ellie cackled as you writhed beneath her. “Huh? Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

“Ellie pleasee!” you choked out between laughs, eyes watering, clutching her wrist in a weak attempt to save yourself.

Her fingers found your ribs and you damn near screamed.

But suddenly (and thankfully) she stopped. Her body still hovering above yours, breathing a little heavier now, strands of auburn hair falling over her face, while her hands rested gently at your waist, no longer playful. Just…there. Steady.

Her eyes found yours and stayed there. Locked in your gaze, like if she looked away you might vanish into thin air under her grasp. And then, the room got very, very quiet again.

You were both breathless, and she was grinning like the devil, the soft curve of her smile was all you could focus on, until she leaned down slowly and kissed you.

Naturally, the kiss deepened, her body melting into yours, the moment slowing down like the world outside no longer existed. She pulled back just an inch, nose brushing against yours.

“I should go,” she whispered, voice husky. “You’ve got work tomorrow.”

You looked up at her, eyes half lidded, chest rising and falling beneath her.

“…or,” you said quietly, “maybe you could stay.”

Ellie blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded, barely more than a breath. “Yeah. Just sleep. Just… stay.”

Her lips curved into a smile, and she kissed you again. This time slower, and sweeter, like she had been waiting for you to make the call.

“Alright,” she whispered against your lips. “I’ll stay.”

Ellie kicked off her jeans at the foot of the bed, folding them neatly and placing them on top of your chair, flopping back onto the mattress in just her black tank and boxers, arms splayed like a starfish.

You stood by your dresser, slipping into your comfiest pajama shorts and an oversized tee. You caught her eyes trailing lazily over you in the mirror, her gaze unapologetic.

“What?” you said, grinning.

Ellie raised her brows, folding her arms behind her head. “Nothin’. Just appreciating the view.” You threw a pillow at her. She caught it effortlessly and tucked it under her head like she hadn’t just said something that turned your whole body to static.

You made your way to the bathroom and opened the cabinet above the sink. Ellie’s toothbrush was still there. Blue with green stripes, a little chunk missing from the handle, the result of some accidental chewing incident she blamed on “deep focus.”

You held it up, peeking back toward your bedroom. “Still using this one?”

“Unless you’re offering yours,” Ellie called back.

You laughed and passed it to her when she stepped into the doorway, hair a little tousled, tank clinging to her frame. She looked so at ease here, so at home, it made something in your chest bloom.

Both of you brushed your teeth side by side, bumping shoulders occasionally, smiling through minty white foam. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, the type that wrapped around you like a blanket and said you’re safe here.

After rinsing off and wiping down the sink, you flicked off the light and returned to your room. Ellie was already curled on the side of the bed she assigned as hers, one arm thrown casually over your pillow, waiting.

You slid in beside her and didn’t even have to ask, her arms were already there, pulling you in close, her body warm against yours.

For a few minutes, it was just breathing. The soft hum of the night outside. Your fingers trailing gentle patterns on her bare shoulder. Then Ellie spoke, voice low in the dark.

“So…” she started, dragging the syllable out, “last night.”

You snorted into her collarbone. “What about it?”

She hesitated for a beat, then said, “It was… really fucking good.”

Your cheeks burned. “Mhm?”

“You’re unreal, a figment of my imagination probably.”

You pulled back just enough to look at her, to meet her eyes in the faint moonlight that leaked through your window.

“Your imagination is a little fucked up then” you said, lips twitching.

“Oh yeah?” she scoffed. “I wonder what was going through your imagination huh.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Mmm I guess we’ll never know will we?”

She grinned and leaned in to kiss you again, and everytime she kissed you it was like she couldn’t get enough of it. Of you. Of your taste, and your soft lips, and the sweet sounds you made when her tongue slipped past yours.

After a long pause, you settled against her again, resting your head on her chest. You could hear her heartbeat, steady and solid beneath your cheek. Neither of you said anything else about what last night meant. About what this was. And maybe for now it’s how it’s meant to be. Like a secret you both are too scared to tell.

You just laid there, wrapped up in each other, her fingertips drawing shapes on your back, and your arm slung over her waist. Sleep crept in eventually, your last thoughts were of the way her breath hitched when you kissed her collarbone, the look on her face when you showed her your childhood costume, the stupid grin she wore when she saw you at the diner that morning.

You fell asleep like that, limbs tangled and exhausted.

The next morning was a blur, your alarm woke you first, pressing snooze as you laid back down rubbing your hands on your face, when you realized Ellie was lying peacefully beside you, the soft curls that formed on her temple fell beautifully over her face, framing each feature so softly. She looked like an angel. You tried not to move so harshly, to breathe so loudly… But then your alarm went off like a fire drill once again, slicing through the softness.

You groaned immediately. “Fuck—”

Ellie groaned louder. “Five more minutes, please. Please. I’m begging.”

You reached for your phone with one arm still wrapped around her. “Maria will murder me if I’m late. She’ll actually gut me and feed me to the dishwasher.”

Ellie clung tighter to you. “Let her. We lived good lives.”

You tried to wiggle out of her arms. “C’mon, I’ll be fast. You can go back to sleep while I get ready.”

She loosened her grip just slightly, flopping dramatically back against the pillow. “You better come back and kiss me before you leave or I’ll die.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, climbing out of bed and stretching your arms over your head. You could feel Ellie’s eyes on you.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re stretching in tiny shorts. I’m not made of stone.”

You grabbed your uniform from the dresser, trying to hide your blush as you shuffled to the bathroom. From inside, you could still hear Ellie grumble into your sheets.

By the time you came back out, showered, dressed and bag packed, Ellie was completely knocked out again, her face buried in your pillow, one arm stretched toward the side you’d vacated.

You paused at the door, heart full and aching and soft, and tiptoed back to press a kiss to her temple. “I left my keys on the counter,” you whispered. “Lock up when you leave and bring them to the diner.”

She didn’t stir, just exhaled a soft sigh and turned slightly in her sleep, mumbling your name like it was a dream.

You closed the door behind you, still smiling. Still dizzy from her.

A couple hours later, Ellie finally stirred awake, her limbs were all tangled on your bedsheets, and the weight and warmth of you was long gone by now. Only the faint trace of your perfume lingered in the air, clinging to the pillowcase. She rubbed the sleep off her eyes and blindly reached for her phone sitting on the nightstand, a couple texts from Jesse and Dina, and you, reminding her about the keys.

With a groggy sigh, Ellie sat up, dragged herself out of bed, and padded out of your room in nothing but her black underwear and a wrinkled tank top. She headed toward the bathroom down the hall, still half-asleep.

But just as she rounded the corner, she froze.

Sitting at the kitchen counter with a steaming mug of tea in hand, was your roommate Sally, hunched over her phone, scrolling lazily. Until she looked up and caught sight of Ellie. She blinked, then nearly spit her drink out.

“Rough night, huh?” Sally said, coughing lightly behind her mug.

Ellie’s eyes went wide. That’s when it hit her, she was basically naked.

“Shit—sorry! I thought you weren’t here,” she blurted, instinctively covering her underwear with her arms as her face went beet red.

Sally raised an eyebrow and took a long, unimpressed sip. “Clearly.”

Ellie hovered awkwardly by the wall. “I—yeah, I stayed the night, but we didn’t—like, it wasn’t—”

Sally held up a hand, already shaking her head. “Relax. None of my business what you two do. Just saying… maybe stash a spare set of pajamas in her drawer next time.”

Ellie let out a breathy, nervous laugh, eyes darting down to her bare legs. “Yeah. Good idea. Sorry about that.”

Sally set her mug aside and gave Ellie a long, considering look. “So,” she said casually, “it’s getting serious, I assume? You and her.”

Ellie blinked. “Uh… I mean, I think so?”

“You think so?” Sally raised an eyebrow.

“I—yeah. Yeah. I mean, I hope so,” Ellie said, scratching the back of her neck. “I really like her.”

“Good.” Sally nodded slowly, leaning an elbow on the counter, “I’m just saying, I’m very protective of her. She’s like the little sister I never had.”

“I know,” Ellie said quietly. “I’m not messing around. I care about her. A lot.”

“She cares about you too, y’know,” Sally said, standing up and grabbing her bag from the hook by the door. “So don’t be an idiot.”

“I won’t.”

“Good,” Sally said, walking to the door. She opened it, then paused to glance back over her shoulder.

“Because if you hurt her, I’ll skin you alive.”

Ellie blinked. “Noted.”

“And lock the door when you leave,” Sally added, stepping out. “She left her keys on the counter.”

The door clicked shut behind her and Ellie let out a long breath she didn’t know she was holding, and ran both hands down her face.

“Jesus fucking christ.” She mumbled to herself, finally making her way to the bathroom, still half dressed and mortified, and also slightly terrified of Sally.

The days that followed blurred into a quiet turmoil.

Ellie threw herself headfirst into the gallery prep; shooting, printing, editing, arranging, emailing, pacing, doubting, overthinking. She barely slept. Her studio became a mess of contact sheets and crumbled prints on the floor. You dropped off takeout more than once, sitting on her couch while she worked in silence, only breaking it to say things like “Do you think this one’s too on the nose?” or “What if no one shows up?”

You reassured her every time, and she’d smile—soft and crooked, but the anxiety didn’t really leave her eyes.

Meanwhile, your schedule had become its own kind of madness. The diner was short staffed again, and you were picking up extra shifts, even if it wasn’t on your tasks, it helped you keep yourself busy. By the time you got home, your feet were aching and your back felt like it had aged ten years. Sometimes, Ellie would pass to say hi, but she always ended up passing out on your couch with her laptop still open on her chest. Other times, you missed her entirely, your hours never quite lining up.

Still, there were small moments.

A shared smoke break on the back of the diner. A lazy dinner eaten cross legged on the floor. A half-asleep kiss on the cheek before either of you could fully register it happened. And the mornings—those rare mornings, when you both woke up in the same bed, tangled and warm, the world quiet around you.

But still…No, what are we? No real talk about anything that mattered. Just small gestures, and nothin’ else.

You noticed it more in the silences. Silences that made your mind get too loud. Like the time you were folding laundry in the living room with Sally..

“She hasn’t been over lately,” she said, not looking up from the shirt she was folding. “Everything alright between you two?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, she’s probably just busy with the gallery y’know.”

“You happy?” she asked.

“Yeah. I think so.” You hesitated. “I think we’re both just… scared,” you admitted. “Or waiting. Or hoping the other person says something first.”

“You should talk to her,” Sally said, sliding the neatly folded clothes into a basket. “Like, for real. Before one of you implodes from emotional repression or whatever.”

You threw a sock at her head. “Thanks, Dr. Phil.” You changed the subject after that. But her words stuck.

By the end of the month, a new kind of energy was creeping in. October was drawing to a close, the cold was getting sharper, and Dina had gone feral about her Halloween party plans.

Your phone buzzed with a text from her while you were mid-shift.

“GET YOUR SEXY ASS HERE TOMORROW AT 6PM. NEED HELP WITH DECORATIONS. COSTUMES MANDATORY!!! also remind Ellie. I already told her but she ignores me when she's stressed.”

You laughed and texted back a quick ‘yes ma’am’, and a second message, ‘I’ll remind her. Promise.’

Ellie didn’t answer right away when you texted her that afternoon. You assumed she was drowning in gallery stuff again. But it left you with a familiar ache in your chest, one that had been persistent for the last couple weeks.

Ellie sat cross-legged on the floor of her studio, surrounded by prints. Dozens of them. Test shots, alternates, ones she swore were decent three days ago and now couldn’t even look at without cringing.The overhead light buzzed. Her laptop fan sounded like a jet engine. There were three empty tea cups on the windowsill and a half-eaten granola bar melting into the corner of her sketchpad.

She dragged both hands down her face and muttered into her palms, “This is fucking garbage.”

She stood up, grabbed a 16x20 she’d printed yesterday, a soft portrait of an older woman watering plants, sunlight slicing through the glass behind her—and held it at arm’s length. It looked wrong. Staged and meaningless.

Ellie groaned and tossed it onto the growing pile of discarded “maybe’s” in the corner.

None of it was working. Not the angles, not the light, not the message. She’d had a vision a few weeks ago, something about capturing small, quiet moments of care and connection, but now all of it felt stupid. Disconnected. Too literal or too soft or too obvious.

She hadn’t slept more than four hours in two days. Every time she closed her eyes, her brain screamed about editing, deadlines, how fucking expensive it all was, and—

You.

She missed you. In the worst, most vulnerable, aching kind of way.

It wasn’t just that she missed your voice or your hands or the way you always brought her snacks without asking. It was that she missed feeling understood. The way you made her feel like being messy didn’t mean being unworthy. That even when she was overwhelmed and distracted, you still looked at her like she mattered.

But that’s what made it worse.

Because since that conversation with Sally, Ellie hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what this was. What you were. What she was to you.

And if she was even good enough for any of it.

You deserved someone who didn’t cancel plans because of panic attacks over light metering. Someone who texted back faster than twelve hours. Someone who didn’t need to be reminded to show up for you.

The guilt coiled hot in her stomach.

She picked up another photo and stared at it blankly. It was a candid you took of her, camera in hand, brows furrowed, that little crease between them deep with focus. She looked exhausted.

Her phone buzzed from somewhere under a stack of notebooks. She dug it out, blinking at the screen.

It was a text from you, reminding her about Dina’s party tomorrow. She stared at the message for a full ten seconds. “Tomorrow?” she whispered.

She checked the date. Then double-checked.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

She scrambled to her feet, knocking over a cup, nearly stepping on a lens cap.

She hadn’t finished editing her selects. She hadn’t written the blurbs. She hadn’t even thought about her costume.

You were going to kill her.

No—worse. You were going to be disappointed in her. And that, somehow, was so much worse than being mad.

She fired back a quick “yup got my costume ready.” Lie. She just threw her phone onto the couch, and started frantically digging through her closet for anything vaguely vampire-like.

The photo prints stared up at her from the floor. Mocking her. She needed a break desperately.

The sun was already dipping behind the rooftops by the time you made it to Dina’s.

The terrace was partly adorned with plastic bats, tangled string lights, poorly carved pumpkins and a sad fog machine that wheezed like it had asthma. Jesse was crouched over a power strip with a screwdriver and a grimace. Dina was flitting between the small kitchen area and the outdoor table, waving around bags of snacks and drinks.

You dropped your tote by the railing and rolled up your sleeves. “Put me to work, boss.”

“Thank god,” Dina said, practically shoving a pile of fake cobwebs into your arms. “Jesse keeps trying to make the lighting ‘thematic’ and now the bathroom looks actually haunted.”

“You should be grateful someone’s out here helping you,” Jesse said from the floor.

“And you should be grateful I even let you in,” Dina shot back.

You stifled a laugh and got to work, stretching the fake cobwebs over the railing, adjusting paper lanterns, taping plastic spiders in little clusters by the drink table. You moved quickly, keeping your hands busy, trying to drown out the quiet buzz of anxiety that had started somewhere in your ribs and refused to leave.

Ellie hadn’t texted again. You tried not to take it personally. She was swamped, probably losing her mind over work. You knew that. She’d told you that.

Still, it sucked not hearing much from her.

You two hadn’t been hanging out as much as before, except for those few times one of you would crash at the other’s, or small unexpected visits, but other than that there was silence, half answered texts, or waiting for a callback. But the silence felt like a door half-closed. Like a draft you couldn’t quite place.

“Costume time babyyyy,” Dina called suddenly, snapping you out of it. “Time to get dressed, remind me what are you dressing up as?.”

You rolled your eyes. “I already told you like a million times, princess bubblegum, from adventure time?”

“And Ellie’s supposed to be Marceline?” She blinked at you teasing.

“Yeah, if she even shows up.” you replied, your tone coming out more gloomy than you expected.

“She will, I would kill her if she didn’t.” Dina said with a reassuring hand to the shoulder. “Alright let’s get dressed!”

Both of you ducked into her bedroom and started changing. The bubblegum pink mini dress clung in the right places—tight at the waist, flaring slightly at the bottom. Long and bell shaped sleeves, giving it a whimsy vibe, along with the glitter embedded in the fabric. It made you feel like a sugar cube.

You slid up the pink thigh-high stockings carefully trying not to rip them apart, and slipped into the white boots Sally borrowed you for the night.

The long, pastel-pink wig had taken you three tries and Dina’s help to get right. The synthetic hair tickled your collarbone as you leaned in, pushing the bangs gently to one side. It looked okay now. A little over the top. But that was kind of the point.

You reached for the bright yellow foam crown, and perched it carefully on your head. Tilted slightly. Like she wore it.

You stepped back out, adjusting your sleeves.

Dina’s eyes lit up. “Okay, damn. You’re gonna give that poor girl a heart attack.”

You smiled, but it felt tight. “Let’s hope she shows up.”

“She will,” Dina said. “Ellie’s not an idiot.”

You raised a brow. “Debatable.”

It was already dark when people started showing up, some in full costume, some in lazy afterthoughts, a few already tipsy from wherever they'd pregamed. The terrace lights glowed warm above your heads, flickering slightly from Jesse’s earlier “repair.”

You were three sips into a mystery punch that probably had too much vodka when Dina nudged your arm. “Look who’s here.”

You turned, heart kicking up, and you saw her.

Ellie stepped through the sliding door, a little late, giving strangers a half smile as she weaved through the crowd toward you. She was wearing an oversized gray tank that had the edges torn, her black sports bra peeking from the sides, paired with worn denim jeans and her old red chucks. She looked effortlessly cool, like she didn’t even try. And somehow that made your cheeks burn hotter.

“Hey, Princess,” she murmured, voice soft as she reached you. “Sorry I’m late, I got caught up with some stuff and—”

“It’s okay, Els,” you cut in gently. “Better late than never, right?”

And just like that, the knot in your throat loosened. The anxiety that had been sitting in your chest all evening slipped quietly away. She was here and that was enough.

“Come on, lemme get you something to drink,” you said, grabbing her hand and guiding her toward the makeshift mini bar. “But don’t ask what it is. Jesse made it.”

“Oh so we are fucked…” she sighed dramatically, grabbing one of the red cups. The first sip made her wince, whole face contorted on instinct. Sweet at first, like cherry soda, maybe strawberry, but then the burn kicked in, sharp and unmistakably vodka soaked. It hit the back of her throat like a surprise slap, she swallowed hard, coughing once.

“What the fuck is in this?” she asked, nose scrunching like she licked battery acid.

You laughed. “You get used to it. Third sip did it for me.”

Ellie looked at you, eyes softening a little. “You look beautiful, by the way.” She said quietly.

You blinked. “Wow. Drink’s already kicking in, huh?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m serious. You look… really nice.”

Your heart did a dumb little flutter. You glanced away, trying not to grin too hard.

“Well,” you said, bumping her with your shoulder, “you’re not so bad yourself, Marceline.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go dance or whatever you do at these parties.”

“Oh, I thought you were more into trick or treating.” You teased, batting your lashes at her.

“Nah I quitted when I got tooth decay so…” She joked, sliding one arm around your shoulders, walking through the crowd together.

The night blurred in warm pulses, drinking games, Ellie and Jesse arguing over the music choices, bass vibrating through the floorboards, voices overlapping, neon lights casting everything in a multi-colored haze. You were definitely tipsy now, your fourth drink working its magic somewhere behind your eyes, loosening your limbs and untangling your nerves.

You were sitting with a group of Dina’s college friends while Ellie disappeared into the bar to grab another drink, maybe water this time, she’d said. You’d nodded, letting her go with a gentle squeeze to her hand.

Dina emerged from the crowd, spotting you instantly and grabbing your arm, laughing. “Come dance with us. Sally is drunker than I am right now.”

You let her pull you in, spinning into a mess of limbs and laughter. Sally was already dancing with a couple of Dina’s friends, some theatre majors dressed like Dracula and a girl with fangs and glitter tears. You slipped easily into the circle, smiling, letting your hips sway to the beat. You tossed your hair back and giggled when Sally bumped her hip against yours.

It was like that for a few minutes, all of you dancing with each other, without shame or care, until you turned to adjust your crown, and felt someone brush against your side—too close. A guy you didn’t recognize, dressed like some half-assed cowboy with a paper badge stuck to his chest.

“You’ve got moves,” he said, leaning in.

You offered a polite smile. “Alright.”

“Wanna bounce somewhere quieter?” he asked, eyes trailing down your legs.

Your smile dropped. “I would rather jump from the railings.”

“You play hard to get,” he said, stepping closer. “I like that.”

You stepped back. “Go fuck yourself please.”

He smirked. “Aw, come on, you don’t gotta be such a bitch about it.”

You turned to walk away, face flushed in anger, but his hand shot out and caught your arm.

That’s when everything froze. Because suddenly Ellie was there, moving fast, voice sharp and low as a blade.

“She told you to fuck off man.” she barked, pushing him away from you.

The guy flinched, startled. “Whoa, chill—”

Ellie slapped his hand away and stepped between you. “I said fuck off.”

The guy held his hands up and backed away, muttering something under his breath, but Ellie wasn’t listening. She was already turning to you, eyes scanning your face like she wasn’t sure you were really okay.

“Come on,” she said, voice tight. “Let’s get out of here.”

Ellie led you to a quieter corner of the terrace, somewhere near the back, where the music dulled to a low thump. A few people were already passed out on beanbags, and a couple others murmured softly in conversation, draped in costumes and shadows.

“You okay?” she asked, brows furrowed as her eyes searched your face for anything off.

“I’m fine,” you said with a lazy shrug, your voice warm and slow from all the drinks. “Y’know I can defend myself.”

She gave you a look, unconvinced.

You grinned, leaning closer. “That was kinda hot though.”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“You gettin’ all protective and shit.” You let your arms drape loosely around her neck. “Kinda does it f’me.”

Ellie let out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “It does?”

“It’s cute how you get all jealous and mad,” you teased, tilting your head.

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re full of shit.”

“Maybe I am,” you whispered, and before either of you could think better of it, you leaned in, lips crashing into hers, messy and hungry. She kissed you back instantly, pulling you in, her hands sliding over the curve of your waist like she needed to anchor herself.

You tugged at her tank top, lips still on hers, and murmured between kisses, “Come with me.”

“Where?” she asked, barely above a breath.

You didn’t answer, just grabbed her hand and led her through the hallway, past the kitchen, weaving around bodies and noise until you reached the upstairs bathroom. You turned the knob and sighed with relief when it clicked open.

The door shut behind you as you pulled Ellie inside, and the second it clicked shut, her mouth crashed into yours like she was drowning and you were the only breath she could find. Your back hit the bathroom sink with a thud, her hands gripping your waist like she needed to feel every inch of you to make sure you were really there, really hers.

Ellie pulled you closer gasping into your mouth, sliding her hands under the hem of your glittery pink dress, fingers skimming up your thighs, thumbs dragging across the sheer band of your stockings. not quite touching where you wanted her yet, but close. Too close.

Fingers tugged at her tank top, curling into the thin fabric, feeling the heat of her skin beneath it. Her body pressed flush against yours, the hardness of her jeans rough against your stockings. The moan that escaped your mouth drowned in her own, and that was all the encouragement she needed to press you harder against the sink—knee slotting between your legs.

You gasped, arms wrapping around her neck, fingers tangling into the soft, auburn strands at the base of her neck. She kissed you with a fierceness that spilled out in the way her teeth caught your bottom lip, how her tongue moved with messy purpose, how she pulled back just to breathe you in, her eyes darkened.

“God,” she whispered, dragging her lips across your jaw. “You taste so fucking good.”

You tilted your head back, letting her mouth explore your neck—wet, open-mouthed kisses pressed to your pulse point, your collarbone, your shoulder. Every touch sent sparks through your skin, your whole body leaning into her like gravity wasn’t even a choice anymore.

Her hands found your waist again, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. Her thumbs pressed into the soft skin above your hips, fingers sliding under the hem of your panties just enough to make you lose track of your breath.

“Ellie,” you breathed, the sound barely holding together.

She groaned at the way you said her name, deep and quiet, like it meant something. Her lips crashed back to yours, hungrier now. Desperate. Her fingers tightened where they held you like she couldn’t get close enough, like she needed you inside her bones.

You couldn’t keep your hands off of her, roaming up her torso, dragging your nails along her ribs, fingers dipping beneath the edge of her sports bra just to feel the heat of her skin. She shivered at your touch, hips grinding softly against yours in a rhythm that made your knees tremble.

The room felt like it was spinning. Music thudding faintly through the walls, the taste of cherry vodka and her breath on your tongue, the smell of sweat and perfume and want. Her thigh pressed harder between your legs and you moaned, clinging to her.

She pulled away to look at you, at how you were crumbling under her touch, but all you could do was stare at her—hypnotized, you could notice every little detail on her face, her dilated pupils, the freckles you would never get tired of kissing, the little scar on her brow. You were looking at her like she was something precious. Your lips brushed against hers again, softer now, and without thinking—the words slipped from the tip of your tongue. Like a prayer, a plea, you whispered it. “I fuckin’ love you.”

You mumbled, almost incoherent. Drenched in heat and alcohol and truth. You held the words for a second, waiting for something, anything. The vodka in your system had given you the value, but could she give you the answer? The meaning of all of it, of the past few months?

Ellie stilled. It wasn’t obvious. Just a shift in the way her mouth paused against yours. You had caught her off guard, her breath hitched—slightly, but you felt it. Like someone had pulled a string taut between your ribs and let it go.

You blinked—once, twice and still not a single sound came out from her, her eyes were avoiding yours, and like a shock wave, you realized the weight of the situation, of the confession you just spilled, and maybe both of you were too drunk for it.

Suddenly, the door thudded heavily, ‘BANG BANG BANG’

You barely had time to gather yourself before Ellie instinctively walked toward the bathroom door and opened it, only to freeze.

And there she was…Sally. Crying.

Mascara ran down her cheeks in black streaks, her breath coming in sharp, hiccupping sobs. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, shoulders shaking as if she'd sprinted through a storm.

“Sally?” you said, startled. “What happened? Are you—”

She didn’t let you finish. She stepped forward and hugged you hard, burying her face into your shoulder.

“He–he was kissing another girl,” she choked out, sobbing. “In front of my face, who the fuck does that?”

You blinked, the last of the alcohol draining from your system like someone had ripped a plug out of you.

Wait. Sally’s boyfriend. Had just cheated on her.

You were fully conscious now. “Are you fucking serious?” you snapped, arms tightening around her. “That piece of shit. I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

She sobbed harder. You pet her hair gently, holding her close. “You wanna leave?” you asked softly. She nodded against you without lifting her head.

“I can give you guys a ride,” Ellie said suddenly from behind you. “It’s late.”

You turned, blinking at her.

“You sure? We could just Uber—”

“No,” she said quickly, tugging at her earlobe the way she always did when she was anxious. “It’s fine. I’ll drive.”

You nodded, and made your way out of the bathroom, collecting your bag and Sally’s from where you had left it at Dina’s living room earlier.

The ride home was quiet.

You sat in the backseat with Sally curled into your side, your arm wrapped protectively around her as she continued to cry softly into your shoulder. You whispered whatever comfort came to mind. Little nothings like “you’re okay,” and “he’s an asshole,” and “we’re almost home,” even though none of them felt like enough.

Ellie drove in silence. But her mind was louder than it ever had been. Her hands stayed firmly on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, expression unreadable under the dim dashboard light. Every few minutes her eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, but she never said anything. Never stared too long.

The feeling bubbling up in her chest was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to say, or exactly what to do. She was thrown back, confused. Did you mean what you said back there? Was it just the heat of the moment? She couldn’t even process it right now.

You, on the other hand, were focused on Sally, and taking care of her. Your poor heartbroken roommate sobbing into your lap. You couldn’t afford to think about what happened before she stormed crying to the bathroom. Not yet.

So you focused on her instead. On being steady. On pretending your throat didn’t still burn with the words that had been sitting on your chest for too long. On pretending that the silence that followed after was killing you.

Ellie pulled up in front of the apartment, headlights casting long shadows across the lawn. “We’re here,” she said quietly, tapping the gear shift into park.

You nodded, unbuckling your seatbelt. Sally stirred beside you, blinking slowly. “Come on, Sal,” you whispered to her gently. “We’re home.”

She sniffled and let you help her out of the car, still leaning against you like her bones couldn’t quite hold her up on their own. You guided her toward the door, glancing back once, just as Ellie stepped out of the driver’s seat.

She stayed by the truck, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jeans, eyes not quite meeting yours.

“I’ll… talk to you later?” you said, voice low. Too careful.

“Yeah, sure.” Ellie said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

You waited a second. Just in case. Just in case she’d say anything else—but she didn’t.

“Night Els.” You muttered, trying to meet her gaze but she didn’t.

“Goodnight.”

You walked Sally inside. Shutting the door behind you. And that was that.

She watched the apartment door close behind you. Without moving, like a marble statue that was cold to the touch, with her hands still buried in her pockets, and her heart thudding aggressively.

Fuck she should’ve said something else. Anything. But she just watched you disappear behind the door, watched the light dim from your eyes as poured your heart out to her and she didn’t answer. She just froze.

After all of that. After your lips on hers, after your eyes searched hers, quietly asking if she felt it too.

And she did. God, she fucking did. But she couldn’t say it. Didn’t know how. Didn’t trust herself to do it without ruining everything.

It felt like everything was overlapping. And she was about to crack.

Ellie exhaled a breath she didn’t even know she was holding and climbed inside the truck, slamming the door shut harder than she meant to.

Now it was just her and the low hum of the engine. The warmth from your perfume lingering faintly on her shirt. And she fucking hated it. The smell suddenly made her feel nauseous. She gripped the steering wheel tight enough to make her knuckles white.

“I’m such a fucking coward,” she muttered into the silence.

The streetlight cast soft shadows across the dashboard, and her reflection stared back at her in the dark window—eyes red from the remaining alcohol and the headache that was creeping in.

Her jaw clenched. She should’ve said something. She should’ve said it back, but her chest had locked up. Every instinct screaming to run. Because loving you meant being known. Exposed. It meant being vulnerable in a way that terrified the shit out of her. And when you said it—so softly, so honestly…she panicked. Like a fucking pussy.

Too scared of breaking what was already so close to perfect. Too scared of not being enough for you once it was real.

Now the moment was gone. And all she had was the sound of her own shaky breath catching. She didn’t even realize when the tears started to spill out.

She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “fucking—stupid—asshole!.”

She let out a sharp breath, head falling forward until it rested against the steering wheel. Mouth pressed into the crook of her elbow to stifle the pathetic sobs. “Fucking idiot,” she whispered. She was crying—quiet, bitter, frustrated tears. Not just because of what happened tonight. It was a build up from everything, but mostly because she knew, deep down, she might’ve just ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

And how wouldn’t she ruin it? It was all too good to be true. There had to be something, a crack, something that would make all slip away. You had been nothing but patient, you opened up for her. And she just kept hiding. Avoiding you, avoiding stepping too close, reading too much into it. She always ran from what she truly felt. Because she was terrified it might scare you away, that she—might scare you away, with her mess and her fucked up feelings.

She didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve to be loved by you. Why would you? When she was a complete mess. And that was clearer for her now.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

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idk-karla · 21 hours ago

Text

The Neighbor, pt. 2

Pairing: bucky barnes x single!mom!reader (Post Thunderbolts)

Summary: Bucky helps you with the groceries and stays for dinner.

Author's Note: I'm gonna be so real with you my guy, I have not edited this so I apologize for any mistakes. Also there are barely any long hair bucky memes. I love short hair bucky but long hair buckt is so fucking daddy idk. Especially that little cunty blow out out in the Thunderbolts post credit. 😭

Part 1

It started with a cookie.

Then I started seeing him more often. He would pass me in the mornings on his way out with a smile, putter around the porch in the afternoon. And then he started sitting balcony every afternoon at 4pm. Which coincidentally was the same time Ellie and I played outside.

And just like that a tradition was born. Ellie would bring him a new “delivery” every day on her way in from school. A flower she picked from the sidewalk, a crayon drawing of a purple dinosaur, a single cheese puff in a napkin. He took every offering with that quiet nod and tiny smile that I was starting to recognize as rare currency. Sometimes he gave her something back- a shiny coin, a folded paper crane, a soft high-five that she beamed about for hours.

He still didn’t say much. He would watch. He would smile, softly like if he did it too hard it would hurt, he would wave. Sometimes, when I turned my head just slightly, I’d catch him watching me like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. Butterflies swarmed my stomach everytime he looked at me like that.Like he didn’t quite know what to do with the way he was looking.

Truthfully, I barely knew either. I hadn’t been with anyone since I left Ellie’s dad when she was barely two and I hadn't had much interest in dating after that. Not trying to balance a full time career and a very active kid. Not to mention, Ellie’s dad hadn’t quite made me want to be with another man again. I knew he was never going to be my forever guy, but I had stayed for a while hoping he would change. Then I got pregnant and I really thought he would change. Instead, he got worse. I had been anticipating my exit since Ellie was still in my womb but I didn’t have the resources until it was almost too late. We were never going back.

We’d started over. Fresh. Clean slate. Now with a broody neighbor that had my curiosity peaked,

We hadn’t seen him for two weeks after a full month of quiet interactions. Ellie had been sad the first few days, worried he had moved out. But I’d reminded her he was an avenger and he was probably out working or something. I think I was trying to convince myself just as much.

I hated to admit my heart skipped a beat when I pulled into my usual parking spot and spotted the familiar heavy bike stationed. Ellie didn’t notice and I didn’t alert her that he was back. Instead, I parked, got her unbuckled and continued our animated conversation while she put on her big girl strength and helped me with the grocery bags.

We were standing in front of the trunk, gathering as many bags as we could carry while Ellie talked animatedly about something that happened in class today when a familiar voice sounded behind me.

“Need some help?” The voice startled me to dropping the bags, sending Ellie into a fit of giggles.

“Mr. Soldier!” Ellie squealed. “You’re back!”

He titled his head at her and gave her a small salute. “Ma’am,” he said seriously, which sent her into giggles.

“Hi,” He greeted me quietly. The butterflies in my stomach were having a frenzy.

“Hi,” I replied. Somehow the exchange felt intimate. I hated to admit, seeing him now after so much time made me relieved. I hate coming home the last few weeks with no Bucky on the porch, hated not seeing his bike parked next to my car.

I wanted to tell him I’d missed seeing him. That I hated how… empty the afternoons had felt without him. That I checked for his bike every day, hoping it would be back. But the words stuck somewhere between my chest and my throat. So I just smiled.

“I missed you!” Ellie wrapped her arms around his knees without permission.

Something passed across Bucky’s face. A flicker of surprise, emotion, something I couldn’t quite name. He crouched carefully to her level.

“Sorry I missed our daily delivery, I had to go work for a little bit.” Bucky finally replied.

I leaned against the car, watching as Ellie cupped his face like he was some long-lost best friend. I saw it when his face caught he reflection of the light, a split lip, faint bruises blooming along his jaw.

“Thats okay! I put all the deliveries in your mailbox!” She giggled diabolically.

My eyes widened. “You did what?”

“I didn’t have space in my toy box, Mommy! And Bucky wasn’t here to pick them up. The mailman leaves stuff in our box when we’re gone, remember?”

I didn’t have the heart to be mortified, I was mostly kind of intrigued to find out exactly what she had put in his mailbox. Bucky looked… stricken. Like someone had slapped him in the face.

Ellie grabbed his cheeks again. “Did you beat up all the bad guys?”

He nodded solemnly.

“Thank you, Mr. Soldier!”

His voice softened just a touch. “My friends call me Bucky.”

Her eyes lit up like a thousand suns. “And we’re friends!!”

Bucky looked back to me for permission. “If your mom says it’s okay.”

I sighed, but I couldn’t help smiling. “I suppose it’s too late to stop it now.” Ellie gave another excited yelp and turned to grab the grocery bags.

“Let me help,” he offered, glancing between us. “Put me to work, boss.”

And just like that, we were playing “how many bags can fit on Bucky’s metal arm.” Today’s count: fifteen.

I tried not to look flustered as I opened the door and let him carry the groceries into the kitchen. His eyes swept the space like he couldn’t help himself; quick, cataloging. Like he was assessing danger, even here.

Ellie ran off into her room. Now alone, Bucky finally turned those piercing blue eyes back on me.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said as he set the bags down.

“I know,” he answered, setting the bags down gently on the counter. “You looked like you needed a third arm.”

“Or two,” I muttered. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he heard. Of course he heard. He was quiet for a beat longer than necessary, and when I looked up, he was staring at me like he wanted to say something but didn’t.

“You do this alone?” he asked, those eyes trained on me

I leaned on the counter, tilting my head at him. “The groceries?”

He gave me a look that said he didn’t mean just the groceries.

“Yeah,” I started unpacking said groceries to avoid his watchful gaze. “It’s just me and Ellie.”

He nodded slowly, like he was filing that away. “You’re doing good.”

The words were simple, but they landed heavier than they should have. Maybe because no one really said things like that to me. Or maybe because it was him.

“Thanks,” I whispered, warmth blooming in my chest.

I scratched the back of my neck. “Also… sorry about your mailbox. It’s probably full of dirt and rotten snacks.” I said sheepishly.

A flicker of something crossed his face. Not annoyance. Something closer to... wonder.

“That's okay, I don’t mind…” he said, voice almost too soft to hear, looking around the room anywhere but at me. “I- uh- I think it’s sweet. She was thinking about me.”

My heart ached. This sweet, lonely man who didn’t expect to be remembered.

“I… thought about you too.” I admitted quietly. “I wondered if you moved. Maybe the noise and glitter scared you off.”

Now his eyes locked on me firmly when he shook his head. “I had to work.” He repeated solemnly. “I like having you and Ellie as neighbors.”

Neighbors.

“Neighbor friends,” I teased, nudging his shoulder lightly.

“Friends who are neighbors,” he echoed, smiling that rare, crinkly smile.

And suddenly, we were both grinning at each other like idiots. The moment broke when Ellie came barreling out of the bedroom at full speed, toy gun in her hands.��

“Mr. Soldier!” She yelled in a playfully authoritative voice, weapon trained on him. Bucky turned around with wide eyes, hands above his head.

“Don’t shoot!” He pleaded dramatically.

“Did you take Captain Glittersword with you to work?” Ellie raised a serious eyebrow, jiggling her weapon.

“I did, ma’am!” Bucky saluted her again.

“Show me prooooof!””

“I keep my promises, General.” He pulled the sparkly plastic toy from one of his many utility pockets, presenting it with exaggerated care. “Captain glittersword got me home safe and sound.”

Ellie cheered and accidentally let off her gun, hitting Bucky in the chest with a foam ball.

“Sorry!” She squeaked sheepishly. Bucky roared playfully and took off after her, the sound of their laughter spilling out onto the porch.

I watched them through the window as Bucky chased her in a circle, clearly letting her evade his hold on purpose. My heart was heavy in my chest.

After a few minutes they made it back inside, crashing onto the living room floor in a heap of sweet and labored breathing.

“Hey,” I said, voice soft. “We’re doing tacos tonight. You want to stay?”

“Tacos!!!” Ellie cheered. “They’re chicken! You have to stay Bucky!”

His face shifted, surprised, like he hadn’t expected to be asked.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

Ellie was in charge of the cheese, which meant about half of it made it into her mouth before it made it onto the tacos. Bucky helped chop tomatoes with a carefulness that made me think he’d never done it before, or like he was terrified of doing it wrong. He held the knife awkwardly in his right hand, the left one curled loosely around the vegetable, as if it didn’t quite know what to do when it wasn’t a weapon.

I tried not to stare. But I couldn't help myself.

“You weren’t lying about not being able to cook, huh?”

His lips tugged into a sheepish, almost boyish smile. “Not unless it comes in a can I can heat with a lighter.”

I stepped closer. “Can I show you?”

He nodded once, quiet and still.

I reached out, slowly curling my fingers over his, repositioning the knife in his hand with gentle pressure. A jolt of warmth sparked down my spine when my finger grazed over his. My breath hitched.

“Knife goes here,” I murmured, guiding his grip. “Firm, but not stiff. Let it do the work.” His gaze was trained where our hands touched. “And you curl your fingers in, so you don’t accidentally cut yourself.”

I gently nudged his vibranium hand into the proper position, ignoring the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I literally can’t cut it off,” he murmured.

“I know. Humor me.”

I kept my hand on his, guiding the first few slices, our arms pressed close. He leaned in, just slightly, but enough that I felt the warmth of his chest at my back. My hips shifted, the softest, subtlest movement and I felt him freeze, a breath catching somewhere deep in his throat.

The air around us changed like something unspoken had just brushed the edges of what could be. And then Ellie dropped a spoon and we pulled apart like teenagers caught by their parents.

By the time we finished assembling the tacos, they were a gloriously soggy mess of loose food, sauces, and questionable amounts of cheese.

Bucky eyed his with skepticism, then took a bite. A low groan of approval rumbled from his throat.

I smirked. “Better than canned beans?”

He looked almost offended. “We eat military rations. Vacuum-sealed mystery meat. This is gourmet.”

A flush crept up my neck. “Thanks.”

“Mommy looooves to cook,” Ellie announced proudly, tomato sauce on her nose. “I help her.”

“You must know a lot, then,” Bucky said seriously, leaning forward. “You’re gonna have to teach me.”

“I can be your cooking teacher!” she declared, chest puffed out.

Bucky gave a solemn nod. “Deal, Chef Ellie.”

She beamed.

Ellie kept up a steady stream of chatter through dinner- stories from school, a play-by-play of her imaginary army base in the backyard, questions about Bucky’s arm (which he answered patiently and honestly), and whether or not he knew how to ride dragons.

“No, but I did ride on top of a tank once,” he told her. “Pretty close.”

Her jaw dropped, awestruck. “Mommy, he’s so cool.”

I smiled behind my glass. “Yeah. He kinda is.”

Bucky looked at me just then. Not just looking seeing. That soft, searching look again. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. It made my heart do that slow, warm curl in my chest.

After dinner, he followed me into the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, plate in hand.

“I’ve got the dishes,” he said.

“Oh, you really don’t have to-”

“I want to. Let me.”

Ellie tugged on my shirt. “Mom, can I have TV time?”

It was Friday. “Yeah, bug. Go grab your arsenal- I’ll set you up with dessert and a movie.”

She raced off like I’d just handed her a mission from NASA. I packed a little snack board; cut-up fruit, mini cookies, a juice box. Bucky rinsed the dishes beside me. The kitchen felt warmer with him in it, our bodies moving in sync in the small space, shoulders brushing here and there. Not rushed. Just comfortable. Intimate.

At one point, I reached past him for the dish towel, and his arm grazed my waist.

We both paused. Neither of us moved. We’d just stared at each other for a few seconds. I’d watched his eyes flicker down to my lips and back up almost like he was asking a question I was going to definitely say yes too.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said. His voice was quiet, almost unsure. “You have a… a nice home. You’re nice. This is nice.”

His face crumpled like he hated every word the moment it left his mouth. He ran a hand over his face and groaned. “God, that sounded better in my head.”

A grin tugged across my lips. I couldn’t stop it if I tried.

He moved toward the door, clearly flustered, hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them. “Anyway. Thanks again.”

I followed him to the door. “Thank you for spending the evening with us. Ellie loved it.” I paused, nerves catching in my throat “I did too.”

He turned slowly, meeting my eyes. The porch light cast golden shadows across his face.

That look again. The one that said: If I could explain what this means to me, I would.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Buck.”

The door closed behind him, but I stood there for a while, hand on the knob, breath caught in the quiet.

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christian-zelda · 6 hours ago

Text

HAROLD?!😭🤣

Thank you for butchering Hiccup's name so badly. I would've gotten way too angry about seeing this argument for the 10th+ time if you hadn't.

It is normal for things to grow up, I agree. And I like that they tried to make him look older. But they way they did it was awful. Tell me, in what world does it make sense an aerodynamic predator become less so as it gets older? And, as I later clarified in the OG post (you could've saved yourself all this time if had simply checked the OG post first), I'm fine with HTTYD 2 Toothless. It's not an ideal design, but enough time passes between 1 and 2 that changes could be natural. But HTTYD 3 gave him the wolf to pug evolution in the span of one year.

Well you see, the reason I'm not upset about Hiccup, or any of the other characters, is because they're skulls don't completely change shape across the movies (except for Valka between 2 and 3, but I don't have space to get into that here). The characters all look mostly the same, just slightly older, and with different outfits.

Animals tend to become less cute as they get older. However, Toothless kept looking more cute as the movies went on, and less dangerous. There are very few shots in HTTYD 3 in general where Toothless looks dangerous or threatening, and he never looks as dangerous as he does in HTTYD 1. Heck! He never even looks as dangerous as HTTYD 2 Toothless.

It isn't bad that he ages, and I happen to really like some of the things they added (the extra chin nubs and taller head spikes for example). But completely changing the shape of his skull, and making his face look more "human", are very bad changes (plus they got rid of his stripes/spots, and while that could make sense with aging, I still think it was a bad idea to take them away).

And maybe I would be less mad about it, if they changed the other dragons this drastically too (probably not, but then I could at least give them props for being consistent). But nope! All the other dragons look exactly the same, other than a few minor changes that you wouldn't notice at a glance.

Also! One last point. If all these changes are meant to show him aging, then why does his live action design look like HTTYD 3 Toothless, rather than HTTYD 1 (he's got the extra nubs, the taller head spikes, and those massive brows bones, plus he doesn't have his stripes/spots).

It wouldn't have been that hard to make him older, while still sticking close to his OG design. These edits prove that.

Believe the "he's just getting older" theory if you want, but this is just the case of the creators trying to make their product more marketable.

I'm still salty about them changing his design after the first movie.

EDIT: Since people keep saying the changes are subtle/not really there, I'm putting this in the main post.

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verricherri · 1 day ago

Note

HIIIII (another ask bc I have ideas)

I need need need sunshine reader who is always bubbly and fun and grumpy rhett and someone suits on reader and makes her sad so now rhett has to fight a batch (maybe slash their tires)

Where Wanting Isn’t Wrong

A/N: when my cherri asks, i DELIVER 🍒💌 did cherri send this like a month ago? …yes. am i sorry i’m late? …also yes 😭 and yes, this is a little long... Warnings: blame the dust, blame rhett, blame me wanting something that’s not easy but real. Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated ☀️

The morning smelled like sun-warmed grass and cheap lemonade, the kind the PTA sold in Styrofoam cups for fifty cents, a line of sticky-handed kids waiting while you poured, bright and easy, your laughter ringing out as you ruffled hair and handed out cups with that smile everyone in Wabang knew.

You were a light in this dusty town, the kind that made people pause, made them think maybe today wasn’t so bad. That made Rhett Abbott stop dead in his tracks when he caught it from across the schoolyard.

You didn’t even see him at first. He’d shown up because Perry made him, a truckload of hay bales for the petting zoo you were setting up with your class, because it was the kind of thing you did, volunteering when no one else would, organizing a fundraiser so the kids could go see the state fair, your clipboard clutched against your chest as you gave instructions to parents who never listened.

Rhett tried to drop the bales and leave, quiet, unnoticed, his boots scuffing gravel, hat pulled low, eyes avoiding the way you were bent over tying a kid’s shoelaces with a soft word and a gentle pat.

But you looked up, saw him, and your face cracked into that wide, warm smile, your hand lifting in a wave that made his throat tighten.

“Rhett! Thank you so much for bringing these, we couldn’t have done this without you!”

Your voice carried, soft but somehow stronger than the heat rolling off the asphalt, and he fought the way his stomach twisted, nodding once, tipping his hat without meeting your eyes, his jaw working as he swallowed the words he’d never let himself say.

“Yeah,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear, turning away, wanting to leave before you could get closer.

But of course, you did.

Your boots crunched on gravel as you jogged up, wiping your hands on your jeans, eyes bright.

“Really, thank you. The kids are going to love the petting zoo.”

Your smile didn’t falter, and that was the worst part, the way you looked at him like he wasn’t just Rhett Abbott, the screwup, the one who could never quite get it right.

He shifted, uncomfortable, eyes darting to the kids running past, to the truck, to anywhere but you.

“You need anythin’ else, just let Perry know.”

You opened your mouth like you wanted to say something else, but the whistle of a kettle from the bake sale table cut through, and you turned, waving as you jogged back.

“Thanks again, Rhett!”

He watched you go, that bounce in your step, the way you ruffled a kid’s hair as you passed, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, scrubbing a hand over his mouth before climbing back into the truck.

He didn’t look back, but he could feel you, the way you made the world around you warmer just by being in it.

—

He drove back to the ranch, windows down, the wind hot against his face, trying to shake you off, trying to tell himself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, that you were just being nice, that it wasn’t for him.

That you were sunshine, and sunshine didn’t belong to anyone.

—

But later, when Perry teased him over dinner, elbowing him as Cecilia laughed softly, when Amy giggled about how “She is the best teacher, Uncle Rhett, she’s so pretty and nice,” Rhett felt that tightness in his chest again, pushing at the edges of his ribs, a pressure that made it hard to breathe.

“You gonna help out at the fundraiser tomorrow?” Perry asked, eyebrow lifted, grin lazy.

Rhett shook his head, stabbing at his food.

“Ain’t my thing.”

“Could be,” Perry drawled.

Rhett looked up, eyes sharp.

“Drop it.”

Perry put up his hands, still grinning, but Rhett could feel Cecilia’s eyes on him, warm and sad, like she knew, like everyone in this damn town knew, like the whole world was in on the joke except for you.

—

That night, Rhett sat on the porch, beer bottle sweating in his hand, the crickets loud, the stars sharp and clear.

He thought about you, your laugh, the smudge of flour on your cheek from the bake sale, the way your eyes met his and didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, didn’t judge.

He thought about the way you’d smiled at him, the way it had made something in him ache so badly he wanted to punch something, or pull you close, or both.

He took a long swig, swallowing hard, letting the bitterness burn down his throat.

“Don’t be stupid,” he muttered to himself, leaning back in the creaking chair, eyes on the dark sky.

You weren’t his.

You’d never be his.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting.

—

The next morning smelled like dusty gravel and the sweet tang of early summer, the kind that stuck to your skin before noon. You were there early, pinning up streamers on the chain-link fence around the schoolyard, hair tied back, shirt tied at the waist, humming under your breath as you directed volunteers where to place tables and fold-up chairs.

You were always there, Rhett thought. Always smiling, always making the tired look up and the grumpy pause, even if only for a moment.

He wasn’t supposed to be there. He told Perry he wouldn’t come. Told himself he wouldn’t come. But there he was, parked across the street, engine ticking as it cooled, watching you fuss over the lemonade table, your laugh floating over the hum of the small crowd gathering.

Then he showed up.

Caleb. Fresh boots, crisp plaid shirt, the too-bright grin of a man who wanted everyone to notice him. Wanted you to notice him.

He sauntered up, carrying a box of donated snacks, all swagger, throwing a wink at you that made Rhett’s hands tighten on the wheel.

“Well if it ain’t Miss Angel herself, brightenin’ up the whole damn parking lot.”

You laughed, easy and polite, stepping forward to take the box.

“Morning, Caleb. Thank you for bringing these.” “Anything for you, darlin’,” Caleb said, voice too loud, too slick, eyes lingering too long.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t drop your smile, just turned away, gesturing where the snacks needed to go, pulling your clipboard against your chest as you gave instructions to a pair of teens trying to wrangle folding tables.

Rhett watched you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your shoulders rolling back as you squared up to face Caleb again when he followed too close, leaning in like he had a right.

“Can I help with anything else, sweetheart?” Caleb drawled, leaning against the table, elbows spread wide, like he wanted the world to see how close he was standing.

“We’ve got it handled,” you said, still polite, still warm, but Rhett saw the shift in your shoulders, the way your fingers tightened around your pen before you turned away.

Caleb followed you anyway, stepping around a kid with a juice box, flashing you a grin like he thought it meant something.

Rhett’s jaw ticked, heat blooming in his chest, crawling up his throat, bitter and sharp. He forced himself to look away, to focus on the cracked dashboard of the truck, the sweat rolling down the back of his neck, the buzzing hum of the cicadas screaming in the heat.

“Ain’t your business,” he muttered to himself, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

—

But he couldn’t leave.

Couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Caleb hovered, the way you laughed politely at something he said, though it didn’t reach your eyes. The way Caleb’s hand brushed your arm, lingered for half a second too long, your shoulders stiffening before you pulled away, moving to help a kid adjust the sign on the lemonade stand.

It was a small thing, that moment, but Rhett felt it like a punch, the blood rushing in his ears.

—

Later, Rhett moved to the edge of the lot, leaning against his truck, arms crossed, cap pulled low. Watching.

Caleb kept orbiting you, always too close, always talking too loud, throwing jokes your way that made the PTA moms giggle, made the other men smirk, but Rhett saw your eyes darting away, your smile thinning at the edges.

“So, what’s a girl like you do after hours, huh?” Caleb’s voice carried across the lot as he leaned against the fence where you were stapling up a banner. “Grade papers, eat dinner, go to bed. Same as everyone else,” you replied lightly, focused on your task, not looking at him. “Aw, c’mon. A smile like that deserves better than microwaved leftovers,” Caleb pushed, stepping in, shadow falling over your shoulder.

Rhett’s knuckles went white where they gripped his arms.

—

You turned then, looking up at Caleb, your smile polite but your eyes cool.

“I appreciate your help today, Caleb, but I need to focus on getting this ready before the parents arrive.”

“I’m just tryin’ to be friendly,” Caleb said, leaning in, voice dropping, low enough that only you and Rhett, standing far enough to watch but close enough to hear, could catch it. “Unless you’re too stuck up for that, Miss Angel.”

Your jaw tightened. Rhett saw it, that flicker of steel beneath the sweetness, the way you squared your shoulders, chin lifting.

“I’m not interested. Back off.”

For a heartbeat, Caleb’s grin slipped, replaced by something colder before he forced the smirk back.

“Your loss,” he drawled, pushing away from the fence with a shrug that tried to play it off.

You turned back to your banner, fingers trembling just once before you pulled the last staple from your pocket, pressing it into the fabric with finality.

—

Rhett let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, tension snapping along his shoulders as he pushed off the truck.

“Don’t,” he muttered to himself, jaw tight. “Don’t do nothin’ stupid.”

But he watched you walk back to the tables, greeting parents with a smile, letting kids hug your waist, your laugh bright but a little tighter, your eyes flickering once across the lot where Rhett stood, meeting his for half a second before you looked away.

He stayed, arms crossed, boots planted in the dirt, watching as Caleb slunk around the edge of the event, trying to catch your eye, smirking when you turned away, whispering something to another ranch hand who chuckled.

Rhett’s hands twitched, rage simmering under his skin, mixing with something else, something he didn’t want to name. Something like want, like need, like the ache that burned low in his belly every time he saw you smile at someone else.

—

The sun dipped lower, the crowd thinning, the air cooling as shadows stretched across the lot.

Rhett didn’t leave. Couldn’t. Not when Caleb was still there, hovering, eyes on you like you were something to claim.

Not when you were there, sunlight in your hair, holding it all together, holding him together without even knowing it.

—

The fundraiser wound down with the taste of dust in the air and kids running through the last dregs of sunlight, parents laughing, cars pulling out one by one, the lot slowly emptying until it was just you and a few volunteers folding tables, the hum of cicadas rising with the cooling air.

You were tired, but it was the good kind, the kind you earned, the kind that made your skin glow as you wiped sweat from your temple, pushing stray hair from your face while you stacked leftover cupcakes into boxes for the staff lounge.

You didn’t see Caleb watching from the fence, didn’t see the way his eyes tracked the last volunteers as they left, didn’t see how he lingered, waiting until you were alone.

You were humming, the soft song you always sang when you cleaned up alone, because it made the silence feel less heavy.

—

“Need a hand?”

The voice made you jump, the cupcake you were packing toppling sideways.

Caleb.

You turned, forcing the polite smile, brushing frosting off your fingers onto a napkin.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” you said, moving to close the box, folding it carefully. “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart. Let a man feel useful.”

He stepped closer, boots crunching gravel, the sun catching the edge of a smirk that made your stomach twist, but you kept your voice even.

“I said I’ve got it.”

“Don’t be like that,” he said, hand reaching out, brushing your arm, lingering, thumb stroking the inside of your elbow like he had a right.

You stepped back, pulling your arm away.

“Caleb, stop.”

“You’re just playin’ hard to get, Miss Angel. Everyone sees it.”

The air felt thicker, pressing against your ribs as you held your ground.

“No. I’m not interested. Leave.”

“Don’t act like you’re better than me,” he snapped, the grin dropping, eyes hard, stepping in until your back bumped the table.

You lifted your chin, letting your eyes flash.

“I said. Leave.”

His hand snapped out, gripping your wrist, fingers pressing bruises before you could wrench away. The world narrowed to the smell of stale cologne, the heat of his breath, the weight of his anger.

“Let go of me.”

“Stop pretending you don’t want this—”

Your knee came up fast, slamming into his thigh. He stumbled back with a curse, loosening his grip enough for you to shove him, hard, your breath ragged.

“Touch me again, and I’ll bury you.”

Your voice didn’t shake. Your hands did.

Caleb’s eyes darkened, rage and embarrassment twisting across his face as he stepped forward again.

“You think you can—” “She said stop.”

The voice was low, calm, deadly.

Caleb froze. You turned, chest heaving, and there was Rhett, standing a few feet away, hands balled at his sides, hat low over his eyes, boots planted in the dirt like he was part of it, like nothing could move him.

Caleb let out a breath, scoffing.

“Oh, this what it is? You lettin’ Abbott here fight your battles?”

You stepped forward before Rhett could, shoulders squared, voice sharp.

“I don’t need him to fight for me.” “Doesn’t look like it,” Caleb sneered. “Get. Out.”

Caleb’s jaw ticked, spit hitting the ground as he glared at you, at Rhett, at the way Rhett’s body blocked your view, even though you pushed forward, refusing to hide behind him.

“Crazy bitch.”

You flinched, but you didn’t step back.

Caleb turned, heading for his truck, muttering under his breath, shoulders stiff with wounded pride.

—

You felt your breath leave your body, knees threatening to buckle, adrenaline making your fingers tingle.

“You okay?” Rhett’s voice, low, careful, like approaching a spooked horse.

You nodded, but your eyes were hot, throat tight.

“I had it handled.” “I know.”

Your eyes flicked to him, the way the tension in his jaw trembled, how his fingers flexed like he was holding himself back from tearing the world apart.

“Don’t—” “Stay here.”

And before you could speak, he was gone, long strides across the gravel, boots thudding, darkness swallowing him as he rounded the corner.

—

You stood there, chest rising and falling too fast, fists tight, the air thick with dirt and the smell of hot metal, your pulse drumming in your ears as you tried to decide whether to scream or keep it together.

You heard it first—a dull thud, a sharp grunt, the scrape of boots on gravel.

Then Rhett’s voice, low, dangerous:

“Don’t put your hands on her again.”

You rounded the corner, heart in your throat.

Rhett had Caleb pinned against the side of his truck, forearm pressed hard against his chest, the other hand fisted in Caleb’s shirt. Caleb’s face was twisted, blood trailing from his nose, his eyes wide with panic.

“Rhett,” you called, your voice hoarse, steady. “That’s enough.”

Rhett didn’t look at you. His jaw was tight, shoulders tense, eyes fixed on Caleb with a rage so cold it made you shiver.

“You hear her?” Caleb spat blood, trying to shove Rhett off. “Your girlfriend says it’s enough.”

Rhett’s fist slammed into the truck next to Caleb’s head, hard enough to leave a dent.

“She’s not your business,” Rhett said, his voice like gravel.

You moved closer, boots crunching on the gravel.

“Rhett. Let him go.”

His eyes flicked to you then, dark, unreadable, before dropping to your wrist where Caleb’s fingers had left a smear of dirt and red.

Rhett’s jaw flexed once, twice.

Then he stepped back, letting Caleb stumble forward, gasping.

Caleb wiped his mouth, spit in the dirt, trying to cover the fear in his eyes.

“Crazy bastard,” Caleb muttered, backing away.

“Get in your truck and go,” you said, your voice flat.

Caleb hesitated, but your stare didn’t break. He glanced at Rhett, then back at you, before climbing into his truck and peeling out, tires spitting gravel as he fled down the road.

—

The silence that followed was thick, the only sound the rasp of Rhett’s breathing, your own heartbeat loud in your ears.

You turned to him, anger rising to your tongue before you could swallow it down.

“What the hell was that, Rhett?”

He didn’t look at you, hands flexing, blood drying on his knuckles, chest still rising and falling.

“He touched you.”

“I told him to leave. I handled it.”

“Didn’t look like it to me.”

You stepped closer, pointing at him, heat rising to your face.

“You can’t just beat the shit out of people because you decide it’s your business.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment you saw it, the flicker of something raw, unguarded, terrified.

“It is my business.”

You froze, blinking, your hand dropping.

“Why?” you asked, your voice quiet, the anger draining into something you didn’t want to name.

Rhett swallowed, looking away, jaw working.

“Because I wanted it to be.”

The words hung there, heavier than fists.

You opened your mouth, closed it again, unsure whether you were angry or grateful or something else entirely, something that burned in your chest in a way you didn’t have words for.

Rhett took a step back, shaking his head.

“I need to go.” “Rhett—”

But he was already turning, walking toward his truck, boots crunching over the gravel, leaving you there under the harsh glow of the single light above the school doors, your arms wrapped around yourself, the night pressing in, your breath shaking out of you as you watched him go.

—

You didn’t sleep that night.

You went home, showered off the sweat and dust and the lingering scent of stale cologne on your arm where Caleb had grabbed you. You tried to eat, pushed food around your plate until the cat meowed and you set it down for him instead.

You replayed it over and over—the way Caleb’s hand tightened, the fear that turned to rage, the way you’d shoved him off, the way Rhett appeared out of nowhere, fists and fury and cold, hard rage.

And the look in Rhett’s eyes when you asked him why.

“Because I wanted it to be.”

—

You didn’t sleep that night, the ceiling above your bed glowing faintly in the dark, your mind replaying the way Caleb’s hand had clamped around your wrist and the heat of your fear twisting into anger as you shoved him off, replaying the thunder of Rhett’s boots on gravel and the flat crack of his fist against Caleb’s jaw, the way blood had splattered on the side of the truck, the way Rhett’s shoulders had risen and fallen like a man barely holding himself back, the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you demanded to know why, how his voice had gone low, wrecked, as he’d said, Because I wanted it to be, and how that had settled in your bones like something you didn’t want to carry but couldn’t let go.

You got up before dawn, pulled on jeans and an old T-shirt, hair still damp as you tied it back, the air sticky even in the early morning, and you didn’t think, didn’t plan, just grabbed your keys and drove, the road to the Abbott ranch familiar and empty, the sky slowly bleeding light as you passed fields that glistened with dew, your heart pounding in your chest as you rehearsed what you would say but none of it feeling right, none of it feeling enough.

You pulled up to the ranch just as the sun broke over the fence posts, painting everything gold and sharp, and there he was, near the corral, hammer in hand, fixing a section of fence that didn’t need fixing, his hat low, the muscles in his arms flexing with each strike as dust rose around his boots, sweat already clinging to the back of his neck, his entire body wound tight with that restless energy you had felt in him since the day you met him, the energy that made him look away whenever you caught him staring, that made him leave rooms you entered, that made him clench his jaw when you smiled at other men.

You stepped out, slammed the truck door a little harder than you meant to, the sound splitting the quiet morning, gravel crunching under your boots as you crossed the dirt toward him, the heat of the rising sun pressing against your back, dust swirling around your ankles as you planted yourself a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest like armor as you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, felt it burn in your lungs as you forced out his name.

“Rhett.”

He didn’t look up, didn’t pause, kept driving that nail into the fence post with methodical violence, the wood splintering as the hammer cracked down again and again, the sound sharp and cruel in the soft dawn.

“Rhett.”

This time his shoulders tensed, the hammer pausing midair before dropping to his side, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he slowly set the hammer down on the post with deliberate care, like he was afraid of what would happen if he let it fall.

When he turned to face you, his eyes were dark and tired, the skin under them shadowed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at you like he was bracing for impact.

“What do you want me to say?”

Your throat tightened, but you held his gaze, forcing your voice to stay steady.

“Anything. The truth.”

A harsh sound slipped from him, almost a laugh but empty, broken, as he shook his head, dropping his eyes for a moment before lifting them back to yours, letting out a breath that ruffled the hair falling across his forehead.

“The truth? Fine. I saw him touch you, and I wanted to kill him.”

You felt the words settle heavy in the space between you, the heat of them searing across your skin, anger rising to meet the fear and confusion you hadn’t had the time to process, your hands curling tighter around your elbows as you forced yourself to respond.

“I didn’t need you to do that.”

He scoffed, the sound low, bitter, as he took a step closer, the heat of him meeting yours, his eyes blazing.

“Yeah, you did.”

Your lips parted, incredulous, the flush rising in your cheeks as your pulse quickened.

“Excuse me?”

“You think I don’t see it? The way you’re always smiling, always being nice to everyone, how you act like nothing ever gets to you, like nothing can touch you, but he got to you, I saw it in your face, and I couldn’t—”

You shook your head, cutting him off, your voice rising as your heart hammered painfully against your ribs.

“He scared me, Rhett. That doesn’t mean I needed you to fix it.”

His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, his breath coming heavier as he stepped closer, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, could see the way his chest rose and fell like he was trying to calm something inside him.

“I know you can handle yourself,” he snapped, his voice low but shaking, the veins in his neck standing out as he fought to keep control, “but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stand there and watch some piece of shit put his hands on you like he has the right.”

Your hands dropped to your sides as you took a step forward, refusing to look away, your voice trembling with the frustration and heat that had been building in your chest for months, years.

“Why? Why do you care so damn much, Rhett?”

And there it was, the way he flinched, the way his eyes flickered with fear before he swallowed hard, shaking his head as if he could stop the words from coming out before they slipped past his lips.

“Because I can’t not.”

The silence that fell was so heavy it felt like it pressed down on your shoulders, the air thick and buzzing with everything unspoken, your breath caught in your throat as you tried to find words, but all that came out was a whisper.

“You think you get to just—what, beat the shit out of people who look at me wrong? You think I need that?” “No.” “Then what, Rhett? What the hell do you want from me?”

His chest rose and fell once, twice, before he let out a breath that sounded like it scraped his lungs raw, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again, dark and shining.

“Everything.”

Your heart stopped, the word echoing in your mind, your breath catching as you tried to swallow, tried to push down the way it made your chest ache.

“You don’t get to say that,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, “not after you’ve spent so long acting like I don’t exist, like I’m nothing to you.”

His eyes shuttered for a moment, his jaw clenching, before he stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, so close you could smell the sweat and soap on his skin, the scent of dust clinging to him like it was part of him.

“I never acted like you’re nothing,” he said, his voice low, rough, every word carrying the weight of something he had tried to bury. “I stayed away because I can’t give you the kind of life you deserve, because you deserve someone better, someone good, and I am not—”

“Don’t decide that for me,” you cut in, your voice sharp, your eyes burning, your hands shaking as you stepped closer, so close your boots almost touched.

“You don’t get to decide what I want, Rhett.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, shaking his head.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“And you don’t know what you’re denying yourself.”

Your eyes burned with the weight of everything unsaid, but you refused to look away, refused to let him shut you out again, refused to let him retreat behind that stoic silence he wore like armor, because you were done letting him hide while you carried the burden of pretending you didn’t see the way he looked at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, the way his jaw would tighten and his throat would bob when someone else made you laugh, the way he would leave the room with his head down, boots heavy on the floor, because staying was too dangerous for him, too close to everything he spent his whole life running from, and you let the words pour out, your voice low but fierce, layered with the ache you had kept buried for too long.

“You think I don’t see you, Rhett, you think I don’t see the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking, how you find reasons to leave when I walk into a room because you can’t stand to be close, how your jaw clenches so hard I can see it from across the damn room whenever someone else makes me smile, you think I don’t feel it every single time you stand near me, like the air changes, like the world tilts just a little because you’re there, and you think I don’t know what that means?”

His hand lifted then, hesitating in the space between you as if he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t let himself, couldn’t cross that final distance, before it fell back to his side, fingers curling into a tight, shaking fist, his eyes locked on yours, dark and searching, voice cracking under the strain of all the things he had never let himself say.

“Don’t.”

The single word was a plea and a warning, thin and breaking.

“Don’t what?” you asked, your breath catching as you stepped closer, refusing to give him room to run.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he ground out, each syllable heavy, painful.

“Like what, Rhett?” your voice softer now, trembling but unyielding, your chin lifted as you stared him down.

“Like I’m worth it.”

Your chest cracked open at that, something inside you splintering wide in the quiet between his words, something raw and terrified and real unraveling inside of you as you let out a slow breath that trembled on your lips.

“You are.”

—

The silence that followed was thick enough to drown in, stretching between you in the dusty morning air as the world seemed to hold its breath, the whisper of wind across the dry grass and the distant groan of the barn the only sounds that dared to break it, and you could hear your own heartbeat, loud and insistent, thundering in your ears as you watched the way Rhett’s eyes dropped to your mouth and then dragged back up to your eyes with that same war-torn look, like he was fighting a losing battle with himself, with the need that was carved into every tense line of his body, with the fear that clung to him like sweat.

“Don’t,” he said again, softer now, the word so quiet it almost disappeared, but it carried everything he couldn’t say out loud, everything he was too afraid to admit, everything that made him take a half step back even as his eyes pleaded with you not to leave him standing there alone in the wreckage of everything he’d tried to bury. “Rhett,” you whispered, and it came out as a promise and a demand all at once, your own fear swirling in your chest but overridden by the certainty that you weren’t going to walk away from this, from him, not now, not ever. “Don’t,” he repeated, the word a cracked thing, fragile and desperate. “Please,” you breathed, your voice trembling, your eyes searching his, refusing to let him retreat, refusing to let him hide from you, from himself, from the truth that was sitting between you like a live wire.

—

Your hand lifted slowly, fingers trembling with the weight of everything you felt, everything you had kept bottled behind polite smiles and quiet strength, and you reached for him, letting your fingertips brush the edge of his jaw, the roughness of stubble scraping against your skin, the heat of him sinking into your bones in a way that made your breath catch, in a way that felt like it was searing itself into your memory so you could never pretend you hadn’t felt it, never pretend you hadn’t wanted it.

He flinched under your touch, his eyes squeezing shut, his breath leaving him in a shaky exhale like he had been holding it in for too long, like the simple contact of your hand against his face was enough to crack something deep inside him that he had fought to keep locked away, and you didn’t pull back, didn’t let him retreat behind that wall of silence and fear he wore like a second skin, you simply let your palm settle against his cheek, steady and warm, your thumb brushing lightly along the rough edge of his jaw.

“Look at me,” you whispered, your voice low but steady, carrying across the small space between you like a promise and a command all at once, because you were done letting him hide from the truth, done letting him pretend you didn’t see him, didn’t feel him, didn’t want him.

His eyes opened, slow and reluctant, dark lashes lifting to reveal eyes that were glassy and raw, that held fear and longing and something so soft it made your chest ache, and for a moment he just looked at you, breathing hard, like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face in this light, in this moment, like he was afraid if he blinked you would disappear.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, barely above a whisper, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet, like it was the only sound that mattered, the only truth you needed him to hear.

He let out a breath, one you felt against your wrist, warm and uneven, and his hand came up, hesitating for a moment before it covered yours where it rested on his cheek, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, not to push you away, but to hold you there, to keep you close, to ground himself in the feeling of your skin against his, the reality of you standing there, refusing to let him hide.

And in that moment, in the heat of that silence, in the roughness of your breaths and the closeness of your bodies, with the smell of dust and hay and the sharp morning air between you, something shifted, something gave way, something finally broke open.

You didn’t know who moved first, or if it even mattered, only that one moment you were standing there breathing the same uneven air, your eyes locked on each other with a desperation that bordered on painful, and the next his hand was sliding up to the back of your neck, his palm warm and rough, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw as if he was memorizing the feel of you, grounding himself in the reality that you were there, that you weren’t turning away, and your own hand was curling around the collar of his shirt, your fingers tightening in the fabric because you needed something to hold on to before you drowned in the way he was looking at you.

Your breath hitched as his forehead dropped to yours, the brim of his hat brushing lightly against the top of your head before he lifted it off with a clumsy, shaking movement, tossing it aside without looking, his other hand coming up to frame your face, and you could feel the tremor in his fingers, could see the way his eyes searched yours for any sign that you would pull away, that you would leave him standing there alone in this raw, terrifying moment he had tried to avoid for so long.

And you didn’t pull away.

You let your eyes flutter closed, let your lips part on a breath that felt like it carried every quiet wish you had ever made in the dead of night, every silent hope you had pressed into your pillow, every ache you had hidden behind your smiles, and when his lips finally touched yours it was soft, so soft you almost thought you imagined it, the lightest brush of rough lips against yours as if he was giving you one last chance to stop him, to step back, to end this before it began.

But you didn’t step back.

You leaned in, just enough for your lips to press more firmly against his, and that was all it took for something to break open between you, for the kiss to deepen, for the soft, hesitant press of his mouth to turn into something hungry, something messy, something real, your fingers tightening in his shirt as you pulled him closer, closing the last breath of space between your bodies, feeling the solid heat of him against you, the rough scrape of stubble against your skin as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his breath hitching against your lips in a way that made your knees weaken, made your pulse thrum everywhere, made heat bloom low in your belly.

And it happened fast, in the way storms roll in across the plains, unannounced but inevitable, when the air shifts and the pressure drops, when your body knows before your mind catches up that everything is about to change, and you let it, because you’re tired of resisting things that are meant for you.

Rhett didn’t reach for you like a man seeking comfort; he reached for you like a man who had decided to stop punishing himself, his hand sliding into your hair, not gently, but with a certainty that made your breath catch, tugging you forward as he lowered his mouth to yours, not testing, not asking, but taking in a way that made your stomach tighten and your knees soften, your fingers finding the front of his shirt and fisting it just to keep yourself standing upright.

The kiss wasn’t soft; it was alive, a push and pull, his teeth catching your bottom lip as you gasped, your hand sliding up to his jaw, feeling the roughness of stubble against your palm as you tilted his face, deepening the kiss because you wanted more, because you were done pretending you didn’t want everything he was trying to hold back.

You felt him exhale against your mouth, a low sound that was almost a curse, almost a laugh, like he couldn’t believe this was real, like he’d spent too long telling himself it couldn’t happen to let himself enjoy it, but you swallowed that sound with your mouth, pressing closer, your hips bumping into his, the sun at your back, the taste of dust in the warm air between breaths, the world beyond the fence line falling away as your lips moved against his.

When you pulled back, it wasn’t because you wanted to, but because you needed to breathe, your lips brushing his as you caught your breath, your eyes meeting his in the narrow space between, and for a moment there was no fear, no running, no doubt, just the two of you, here, now, in this place that smelled like hay and sweat and warm earth.

You smiled, a small, sharp thing, as your thumb traced the line of his cheekbone, your voice low, steady, alive with something that had been sleeping inside you for too long.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Rhett.”

And he let out a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching, and he shook his head once, short, almost like a laugh, before he kissed you again, harder this time, his hand splaying across your lower back to pull you in, to remind you he was there, solid and warm and real, and you let yourself lean into him, let yourself kiss him back like you meant it, like you had always meant it, like you would mean it tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.

There was nothing gentle about it, and you didn’t want it to be. You wanted to feel it in your bones, to carry it with you when you left this spot, to let it remind you that some things are worth wanting, worth taking, worth keeping, no matter how hard you’d tried to convince yourself otherwise.

—

It was strange how quiet the world felt afterward, how the air seemed softer somehow, as if the wind itself was holding its breath, letting you have this moment undisturbed.

You didn’t pull away, not fully, even after the kiss ended, your lips swollen and warm, your breath a little uneven as you rested your forehead lightly against his collarbone, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed until this exact moment. You let your hand settle against his chest, the rough fabric of his shirt scratching your palm as you traced your thumb in small, absent circles, feeling the hard beat of his heart beneath your hand, steady and strong, like a promise you hadn’t asked for but found yourself accepting anyway.

Rhett’s hand didn’t leave your back, his fingers splayed wide, holding you there, not possessive but certain, like he wasn’t ready to let go, like he wasn’t sure how to step away now that he had let himself touch you, now that he had stopped running from what he felt and had let it spill out into the world, tangible and undeniable, painted across the dust and the morning air and the soft heat lingering between your bodies.

Neither of you spoke for a while, and it didn’t feel like silence so much as it felt like a pause, like the world giving you space to breathe, to find your footing again after the rush of something you had both spent too long pretending wasn’t there. You could hear the rustle of the dry grass in the breeze, the creak of the fence settling under the heat of the rising sun, the distant call of a bird overhead, but mostly you could hear him, the low, steady breaths, the way they caught slightly when your thumb pressed a little harder against his chest, the quiet exhale when you shifted just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his face, trying to read him in this new light.

His eyes were softer than you had ever seen them, the harsh lines of his brow eased, the tension that always lived in the set of his jaw loosened as he looked at you, his lips parted like he might say something, like he wanted to, but the words caught, tangled up in everything else he hadn’t said, everything you both already knew.

You were the one who spoke first, your voice low, careful, but steady, like you were testing it, letting it carry between you without breaking the fragile warmth hanging in the air.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

His breath hitched, a small, almost disbelieving smile ghosting across his lips, and he let out a sound that was part laugh, part sigh, before he nodded, once, sharp and certain, his hand tightening slightly against your back as if to anchor himself to the truth of it.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough, the word scraping out of him like it cost him something to say, but there was relief in it too, soft and raw. “Yeah, we are.”

You felt the corner of your mouth lift, a small, honest smile, your thumb brushing over his shirt as you let your forehead rest against his again, your eyes closing for a moment, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, into the reality of this moment you had both been dancing around for far too long.

“Took you long enough,” you murmured, the words teasing but gentle, the kind of soft laughter you hadn’t let yourself share with him before, the kind that tasted like relief and hope.

“Don’t,” he muttered, but there was no real heat in it, and you felt the way his chest shook under your hand when he let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling through you in a way that made your heart clench, made you want to pull him closer, made you want to keep him laughing just to hear it again.

You lifted your head, your eyes meeting his, letting the smile linger as you studied him in the morning light, the way it caught on the dark of his hair, the curve of his jaw, the softness around his eyes as he looked back at you like he wasn’t quite sure how you were real.

“I’m not going to break, Rhett,” you said softly, your thumb brushing against the side of his neck where his pulse beat fast and strong beneath your touch, reminding both of you that you were here, that this was real.

His eyes flickered, dark and uncertain, before they softened again, his hand lifting to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering there, brushing lightly against your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you under his touch.

“I know,” he said, the words low, steady, carrying a weight you felt settle in your chest, heavy but not unwelcome. “I just… I don’t want to hurt you.”

You let out a quiet breath, your hand dropping from his chest to catch his wrist, pulling his hand from your face only to hold it between yours, your thumb brushing over the roughness of his knuckles, the small cuts and bruises from the fight, your eyes meeting his with a clarity you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You won’t,” you said, your voice sure, your gaze steady, and you saw the way his eyes widened slightly, the way he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He nodded, once, like he was accepting it, like he was letting himself believe it, and you stepped closer, your bodies pressed together in the quiet morning, the heat of him sinking into you as you rested your cheek against his chest, letting your eyes close as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, the warmth of his hand as it settled against the back of your neck, holding you there, holding himself there, in this moment you had both chosen, finally, without fear.

You didn’t need to talk about what came next, not yet, because there was time now, time to figure it out, time to learn what it meant to stay, to want, to keep, and you felt the way his thumb brushed lightly against the back of your neck, the quiet way he let out a breath, his head dropping to rest against the top of yours as he held you, and it was enough.

For now, it was enough.

—

That evening you had parted quietly, the weight of what you’d shared still humming under your skin, and when you woke the next day, you moved through your morning with a soft, uncertain lightness, your chest tight with the newness of letting yourself want something without apology.

The next morning came with a quiet you hadn’t felt in a long time, the kind that settled in your bones, warm and calm, as you moved around your classroom, sliding books into cubbies, checking the small plants on the windowsill, letting the morning light fill the room with soft gold as you tried to keep your hands from shaking.

You heard the knock on the door before you saw him, and when you turned, there he was, standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee in one hand, a small clay pot in the other, a tiny green sprout poking out of the dirt, and something about the way he held it, awkward and unsure, made your chest tighten, made your lips twitch into a smile you couldn’t hide.

“For your desk,” he said, clearing his throat, his eyes darting around the room before settling on yours, holding there, soft but steady.

You took the plant from him, letting your fingers brush against his, warm and calloused, and you set it on your desk, turning back to him with a small, real smile that felt like it reached all the way into your chest.

“You’re impossible,” you said, your voice light but your eyes soft, your fingers reaching for the coffee, your thumb brushing against his knuckles as you took it from him.

“Yeah,” he said, his lips twitching, a breath of a laugh leaving him as he scratched at the back of his neck, a flush rising on his cheeks. “But you still want me?”

You didn’t answer with words.

You set the coffee down, stepped closer, letting your fingers hook into the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to you, your lips finding his in a soft, quiet kiss that wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate, just was, and when you pulled back, you let your forehead rest against his, your eyes closing as you let out a soft breath, the world beyond the classroom door falling away for a moment.

“Yeah,” you whispered, letting the word hang in the quiet, letting it fill the space between you.

And it wasn’t everything, but it was Rhett's, and that was enough to start.

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