#ivory sinclair

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ CHAPTER ONE. ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ “menthol and malice.”

the bell above the door let out a tired little jingle when she pushed her way in, weak against the dry heat that trailed in behind her. the morning sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but already the sky outside the glass front of the gas station had gone a dusty sort of gold, with pale clouds strung through it like pulled cotton. the wind had passed through the cottonwoods earlier, and their leaves rustled gently, though the world now stood still in that early hour hush that came before the trucks started rumbling down from the upper valley and the men came out of their homes with dirt in their palms from dreams.

ivory sinclair moved with the kind of grace that wasn’t practiced but born, an unhurried, sleepy sway that came from a body accustomed to being watched, though she never acted like she noticed. her boots made a dull sound against the worn tile floor, leaving behind a trace of dust from the dry road she’d driven in on. her hair was tangled from the night before, wild in a way that suited her better than polish ever could. long and dark and soft-looking, it fell down her back in thick waves, pushed half behind one ear, the other side left to fall freely over her shoulder. the tips were sun-warmed, kissed gold from the last stretch of june, and a few strands clung to the faded curve of her collarbone.

her shirt had slipped off one shoulder some time during the drive, or maybe before that, and hung low on her frame, loose and worn and torn a little near the hem. the old print of an american flag had been washed so many times it was more ghost than graphic, barely there in a haze of red and blue that bled softly into the pale fabric. the neckline sagged enough to make her tug it back up once or twice when she thought someone might be looking, though it never stayed where it ought to for long. her lipstick, some dark berry color she’d borrowed from marlene the night before, had faded to a dull stain around her mouth, and her mascara smudged messily under each eye in a way that made her look softer, almost bruised. her skirt was short and stiff with the starch of denim, the bottom seams frayed, her legs long beneath it, honey-pale and bare but for a few old scars from when she used to climb fences barefoot. and those boots, always the same pair, scuffed brown leather worn down at the heel, made her look taller than she was, though she was already tall for a girl, and carried herself even taller.

rhett carver stood behind the counter, sorting through a box of receipts with a half-bored scowl and a matchstick hanging from his mouth, unlit. he didn’t look up when she came in, not right away, but she felt the drag of his eyes the second she stepped down the last aisle and pretended to busy herself among the dusty shelves. there wasn’t much to look at. a row of canned beans, a few candy bars gone soft in the heat, bottles of motor oil. she wasn’t really here for anything in particular. she never was. she didn’t want to go home yet, not when the house would still be so dull and hot and full of yesterday’s air, her dad had already gone out into the fields by now, no one else up but the flies by the screen door.

“mornin’, ivory,” rhett muttered eventually, rough-voiced, like gravel being turned over. she didn’t answer at first. her fingers skimmed along the row of gum packs, the pink ones with dust along the edges, and then she picked one up, turned it over, and set it back without much thought.

he watched her. not the way a man might watch someone he cared for. not even the way a man watched a girl he was fond of. no, it was more calculating than that. colder, heavier. something else behind it. not desire, not really, but that subtle gleam of disapproval that ebbed now and then into something murkier, something more possessive. rhett carver was a good-looking man, if you squinted past the rough edges. he kept his shirts tight to his chest, sleeves rolled past his elbows to show the veins in his forearms, the scar running down one hand from wrist to knuckle. his skin was leathered and deep tan, sun-seared from years outside, and his hair was thick and dark, streaked in places with cinder gray that made him seem older than he probably was, though no one ever knew for sure. his face was sharp, unsmiling, with a strong nose and a jaw that could’ve been cut from rock, and eyes a little too observant for comfort.

he didn’t speak again, but she could feel him growing annoyed as she kept wandering back and forth in front of the same shelves, fingers always touching something, then dropping it again. a bottle of water. a honey bun. a lighter she didn’t need and didn’t even flick. he didn’t like when people wasted time in his store. but she liked the feel of being in here alone with him, for some reason she couldn’t really name, only admit to herself when it was this early, when nobody else would know. maybe it was because he made her feel a little profane, just by being looked at. maybe it was because he made her feel older than she was, more woman than girl. or maybe she liked knowing he was handsome and bitter and didn’t quite know what to do with her, didn’t approve of her hanging around but never told her to leave either.

she took a slow step toward the fridges and let the door swing open with a soft hiss. the cold air crawled up her arms and caught in her shirt, made her shiver slightly. her reflection in the glass showed the mess of her hair, the low slant of her shirt, the bruise-colored circles under her eyes. she looked like the kind of girl men warned their sons about. or maybe the kind they warned their daughters not to become.

“you gonna buy somethin’, or waste both our time?” rhett finally said, voice sharper now, though still slow. he wasn’t looking at her anymore, or pretending not to. his hands were sorting change behind the counter.

she didn’t answer right away. she pulled out a can of soda and then, just as slowly, put it back. then she turned, let the fridge door swing shut behind her with a soft clatter.

“maybe,” she said, brushing a hand through her hair, her voice dry and thick with sleep. “i’m thinking about it.”

he gave her a look that didn’t mean anything. or maybe it meant everything. it was the sort of look he gave when she walked into the larkspur diner barefoot once, back in april, or when he saw her riding on the back of clay halbrook’s bike one night, skirt flying up past her knees. a look that said he didn’t think much of her, but thought about her all the same.

she moved past the candy aisle again, dragging one hand across the top shelf, then walked slowly down the center of the store toward the counter, but didn’t stop there. she paused, glanced around, then backtracked as if she’d forgotten something important. she didn’t look at him, but she could feel him watching her. could feel the heat of it under her skin. her shirt slipped down again and she didn’t fix it. the boots creaked softly as she shifted weight from one foot to the other.

there was a hum of a fridge, the buzzing light overhead that flashed in and out, the sound of rhett shifting behind the counter. no one else had come in yet. the road was still empty outside. it was too early for anyone decent to be up. just her. just him.

she thought of lucy’s laugh from the night before, that sharp-edged howl echoing across the hills by the riverbank, the warm beer bottles they didn’t drink clinking against each other in a paper bag. she thought of marlene singing something stupid with her bare feet in the water, and ivory had been the one to watch the stars, not the bottle, not the boys, but the sky, so wide it hurt to look at for too long.

now here she was again. standing in a place where the lights buzzed and the air smelled of gasoline and burnt coffee, and rhett carver looked at her like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw her out or pull her behind the counter.

“you sure you’re alright?” he said, quieter now, not quite concerned, but something else.

ivory shrugged. “i didn’t sleep much,” she said truthfully, leaning against the counter now, resting her elbows there. “but i’m fine.”

he nodded, slowly. said nothing.

she stayed a little longer, wandering again aimlessly. he didn’t ask her to leave. she didn’t ask him anything at all. and the sun kept climbing, slow and steady, until the glass front of the station was drenched in gold. her dad would be halfway through the first field by now. but she didn’t want to go back yet.

and for now, she liked the hum of the fridge and the weight of rhett carver’s stare, even if she never met it directly.

rhett had disappeared through the back door without saying much, only a low grunt and the familiar rasp of his boots across the tile as he muttered something about inventory and keys. the sound of it grew fainter behind the door marked “storage,” the clatter of something metallic echoing through the back hall, and then a dragging silence settled over the station like a fine dust. the kind that coated everything in its stillness.

ivory stood for a split second in that solitude, half-crouched near a rack of sour candy she had no intention of buying, her reflection faint in the glass cooler beside her, warbled by the dew that gathered on the inside. something inside her itched. something restless and spoiled and too young to know better, too proud to care. it wasn’t boredom exactly. it wasn’t thrill-seeking either. it was that strange, sharp craving for consequence that came to her sometimes when everything felt too placid, too manageable. she didn’t drink. didn’t smoke. never saw the point in stumbling through the world when she already felt half-dreaming most of the time. but she wanted to do something. she wanted to feel something. she wanted the heat of blood moving faster under her skin, the low throb in her neck that came from risk. maybe she wanted to punish herself a little too. she didn’t know. it wasn’t clear, but the feeling was.

her eyes drifted toward the counter, empty now, the swivel chair behind it spinning from where he’d shoved off. behind the register, past the shelf of chapsticks and stale gum and souvenir keychains that hadn’t sold in years, was the wall lined with tobacco products. cartons of marlboros, camels, some cheaper stuff with labels in worn reds and greens, all stacked clean and square, waiting to be bought by men who smelled of diesel and road salt and work. she didn’t smoke and never intended to. she hated the way it clung to clothes, hated how it made some girls’ voices go hoarse too early, hated how it reminded her of truck stops in arizona when she was a child. however, something in her turned toward it now with steady purpose.

she moved cautiously, almost slow enough to seem innocent, boots soft against the tile, her shadow long and misshapen in the fluorescence above. then she slipped behind the counter.

the world changed a little once she was back there. there was a strange heat to it, a closeness she hadn’t expected. the register droned beneath her hands and the wall of cigarettes towered behind her, rows and rows of vices she didn’t want but now had access to. she reached without looking too hard and grabbed a few menthols, some of that red-labeled kind she saw that guy smoking behind the mechanics shop, and shoved them down into the purse hanging loose off her shoulder. her hand shook somewhat as she pulled away, though her face didn’t change. she felt the cold flutter of adrenaline bloom in her chest, her pulse skimming higher, and her mouth went dry. she hadn’t done anything like this before. not really. not unless you counted slipping into the movies through the back alley or stealing lipstick from the rite-aid up in eldora. but this felt different. it was personal. it was rhett carver’s.

she slipped back out before the door creaked again. and it did. right as she made her way to the end of the aisle again, pretending to examine a bottle of something or other, the back door opened with a long wheeze. rhett’s footsteps followed, a little heavier now. she turned as he came into view, gave him a lazy glance over the top of her shoulder, nothing in her face to betray her hands or what they’d done. he grunted again, rubbed a scarred hand through his hair, then went back to his post behind the counter.

“you find what you were lookin’ for?” he asked, voice flat.

“not really,” she murmured, walking slowly toward the door now, purse hanging casual and low at her side.

she was two feet from it when he called out, “hold up.”

she stopped. turned.

his eyes were different now. sharp, no longer disinterested. they scanned her, drifted downward toward the purse. she saw it. that glint of recognition. then he came out from behind the counter. grabbed the bag before she could step back.

“what the hell is this?” he muttered, already unzipping it.

she didn’t fight him. didn’t say anything. she watched as he pulled the cartons free, one by one, each thudding soft and final against his palm.

“jesus christ,” he said under his breath, then louder, “you really that fuckin’ bored, huh?”

he didn’t shout, but the way his voice rose made the space feel suddenly smaller. hotter.

“you had to prove somethin’, didn’t you? daddy’s little girl with nothing better to do but piss people off. steal shit you don’t even want. what, thought i wasn’t gonna notice?”

she stayed motionless. arms crossed. her mouth curled a little at the edge, not in a smile exactly, but something close.

he kept going. “you ain’t smart, ivory. you think you are, but you ain’t. you’re a brat. a dumb one at that. ain’t even sly about it.”

he tossed the cartons onto the counter like they disgusted him, then grabbed the phone off the wall and yanked it down with one hand, his fingers curling tight around it.

“guess we’ll see if sheriff burke thinks it’s funny,” he muttered.

she raised her chin indignantly. “go right ahead,” she said. “he’s friends with my dad. they shoot together on sundays. he’ll give me a lecture, maybe ask if i need to come down to the station as a warning. you won’t get much more than that.”

rhett’s eyes narrowed. “fine,” he said, dialing. “then maybe i call your stepmom.”

ivory blinked, once. exhaled through her nose. “is that supposed to scare me?”

he didn’t answer. simply let the dial tone hum in the silence.

ivory leaned back against the nearest shelf and crossed one boot over the other. she wasn’t scared. not really. jodie burke had known her since she was ten years old, back when she was wearing gingham dresses and bringing home frogs in jars. she remembered her standing by her dad’s side at the summer festival with her pageant smile and bright green eyes, hair in a smooth style and skin like the inside of a pecan shell, too pretty to be real. she remembered when jodie moved back to sierra valley after nevada crowned her miss something-or-other, all the men looking twice at the diner window when she passed, all the women watching too. but jodie only ever looked at vernon sinclair.

and ivory knew her. knew how she worked. jodie was strict sometimes, especially when it came to lipstick and curfews and bad manners, but she never yelled. never raised a hand. she had a soft touch and a stern mouth, and she always smelled of jasmine and smoke, even though she didn’t smoke either. she was better than most people ivory had known, and she knew she wouldn’t be furious. maybe disappointed. which was worse. but not scary.

as rhett began to speak into the phone, low and serious, ivory’s fingers gripped a little around the frayed strap of her purse, and she looked away toward the door. the sky had gone paler now, the morning inching on toward full sun. somewhere out in the distance, a truck passed. and the world kept turning.

she heard the car before she saw it, that low engine purr gliding smooth over gravel, tires crunching through dust with a kind of grace that didn’t belong in a place like this, too sleek, too polished, too red against the pale desaturated backdrop of the gas station lot. jodie burke pulled up in the coupe vernon had bought her two winters ago, the one that smelled of new leather and lilac-scented lotion inside, the one she never let anyone else drive. sunlight hit the hood just right, catching the chrome trim and making it glint, too clean for this side of sierra valley, too pretty for the dirt that clung to everything else.

the door swung open with a smooth hiss and ivory watched as jodie stepped out, a blur of long limbs and effortless glamour even in denim and a tucked blouse. she wore her hair down today, chestnut tresses grazing her shoulders, and her eyes, vivid and unreal green, scanned the station in one sweep before landing on ivory with a softness that never really went away. she wasn’t angry. she didn’t even look irritated. and she didn’t rush toward her with the frantic step of a woman furious with a stepdaughter. no, she walked calm and slow, posture perfect, all fluid composure, as if this were just some casual social call. the sunlight caught on the small diamond studs in her ears, and her lips, glossed with something nude and expensive, were curled into the slightest expression of concern.

“morning, ivory,” she said lightly, as if nothing was out of place at all. “rhett called me, said something about cigarettes? what in the world’s going on?”

ivory opened her mouth, heart l rabbiting inside her ribs, but rhett stepped forward from behind the counter before she could speak. “she tried to walk out with a bunch of them,” he said gruffly, tossing his hand toward the stack of cartons still laid out where he’d thrown them. “went behind the counter while i was in back and stuffed them in her bag. then strolled to the damn door like i wasn’t gonna notice.”

“i did not stroll…” ivory started, cheeks burning, her voice weak with protest, but rhett snapped a glare at her.

“don’t interrupt,” he bit. “you don’t get to play innocent now.”

jodie’s gaze lingered on the cartons, then went to ivory, brow raised just slightly, but not in judgment, but puzzlement.

“she doesn’t smoke,” jodie said flatly, folding her arms in that casual, precise way she always did when trying to make sense of someone. “she won’t even stand too close to someone who does. always says it’ll ruin her skin.”

ivory made a small, exasperated noise. “i wasn’t gonna smoke them, i…”

“i don’t give a damn what she was gonna do with them,” rhett cut her off again, harder now, voice rising with all the aggravation he’d kept bottled since she first set foot in his store that morning. “i can’t let this kind of bullshit slide. she walks in here with her little games, thinks because her daddy runs half the valley and her stepmom used to be miss nevada, she’s untouchable. well, she ain’t.”

jodie angled her head, as if she’d heard this before but hadn’t expected it to come from rhett’s mouth. “i’ll pay for the cartons,” she said after a pause, tone cool, almost diplomatic, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve. “tell me how much.”

rhett shook his head, short and sharp. “no. that ain’t the point. she don’t get to walk outta here without a single scrape ’cause you’ve got the wallet for it. that’s not a lesson. that’s a damn vacation.”

ivory felt her pulse spike again. she hated this, hated how cordial jodie stayed, how rhett’s voice kept ringing in the fluorescent-lit space with no one to stop him. “it was stupid, alright?” she blurted, stepping forward. “i know it was stupid, you don’t have to act like i set the place on fire…”

“shut up,” rhett barked, pointing a finger at her without even looking. “you’re lucky i didn’t call sheriff burke. you’re lucky all i did was call her.”

ivory went rigid, jaw clenched, eyes hot with fury she didn’t dare unleash fully. she didn’t cry. never in front of people. not even when she fell off the hayloft when she was eight and split her arm open clean to the bone. she wasn’t gonna cry now, not for this, not for rhett carver and his self-righteous drawl and his cheap shelves and his goddamn cartons of menthols she didn’t even want.

jodie’s voice came calm and clear after a moment of silence. “what if she worked it off?”

both ivory and rhett turned toward her.

“what?” ivory said sharply, as if she’d misheard. jodie smiled.

“at the diner,” she continued, as composed as ever. “she works for you. two weeks. covers the cost. you get your lesson. she gets hers. fair trade.”

rhett looked her up and down, one dark brow lifting. he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, then nodded slowly. “that ain’t a bad idea,” he said, and there was something in his voice, almost satisfaction. “hell. it’s fair.”

ivory could barely breathe. “you’re kidding.”

jodie didn’t answer her. she just turned toward the door, purse swinging from her wrist. “come on,” she said, like this was all settled. “we’ll talk about it in the car.”

rhett didn’t say goodbye. he stood there, arms crossed, watching her as she followed jodie out, boots scuffing the tile, shoulders stiff with disbelief. she didn’t look back. she didn’t want to see the smug expression he probably wore. she only heard the low jangle of the bell again as the door swung shut behind her.

outside, the sun was sharp and glaring, and the heat climbed up through her boots and into her bones. jodie clicked the car open and slid into the driver’s side, already adjusting the mirror like this was any other thursday morning.

ivory climbed in beside her, arms crossed tight, face turned to the window. she didn’t speak.

jodie finally glanced over, that same easy smile tugging at her mouth, her lipstick catching the light.

“you’ll like it at the diner,” she said in that honeyed, unbothered way of hers, starting the car. “won’t you? some of your friends already work there. lucy does. carrie too.”

ivory stared straight ahead, lips pressed into a flat, bloodless line. the car pulled out of the lot, smooth as ever, red paint gleaming in the sun.

“you’ll do just fine,” jodie added, voice too bright for the trouble of ivory’s silence. “and it’ll give you something to do this summer.”

ivory slumped further in the seat. “this is punishment.”

“this is real life,” jodie said, easing into the road. “you’ll be fine.”

ivory leaned her forehead against the window and muttered something foul under her breath as the red car sped off into the sunlit valley.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the house smelled of sautéed onions and rosemary, warm and thick and heavy in the air, clinging to the corners of the rooms in the way supper smells always did when jodie was in the kitchen, moving through the space with those sure, precise motions that came from years of making meals for people she loved, for men who came home sunburned and quiet, for children who never quite stayed young long enough. the radio played low in the background, some soft country croon that barely rose above the pop and hiss of the skillet. jodie stood barefoot on the old tile, wearing one of vernon’s flannels rolled at the sleeves, the buttons loose over her faded jeans. her hair was pinned up in that effortless twist she always managed, a few strands brushing down her temple as she stirred the pan with a wooden spoon, the window above the sink open to let in the warm breeze off the hills.

vernon sat in the living room, book cracked open in his lap, glasses low on his nose. he wasn’t reading so much as pretending to. his eyes kept straying toward the doorway that led to the kitchen, then to ivory where she sulked across from him, curled into the corner of the couch with her knees drawn up and a throw blanket over her bare legs despite the heat. the air conditioner hummed gently, too old to be efficient, but loud enough to fill the space.

he hadn’t said much since they got home. only nodded when jodie relayed the story, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and muttered something about “that damn rhett carver never did learn any manners.” he hadn’t been mad, not really. not at ivory. he knew his daughter, knew her temper, knew her stubborn streak, knew the way she’d get restless sometimes, hungry for something she couldn’t name, couldn’t hold in her hands. he hadn’t liked the idea of her working for rhett, not one bit. but he hadn’t said no either. not when jodie looked at him that way, calm and certain, the peacemaker as always. although, he’d muttered under his breath all through setting the table, and his lack of monologue now was more protest than peace.

“he talks to me like i’m some spoiled brat,” ivory mumbled again, voice low but edged. “i mean, yeah, maybe i took something, but it’s not like i was gonna keep it. i don’t even smoke.”

vernon glanced at her over the rim of his glasses. “you gonna repeat that again or are we supposed to keep listening forever?”

she pulled the blanket higher and sank deeper into the cushions.

jodie laughed gently in the kitchen. “you know she’s venting,” she said, the wooden spoon tapping against the skillet rim. “let her.”

ivory didn’t respond. her eyes were on the ceiling now, arms crossed, mouth set in that defiant pout she’d worn since they got home. the purse sat forgotten at her feet, empty again, and her boots had been kicked off somewhere by the door. her hair was tied back now, a little neater than earlier but tousled, and she’d wiped off what was left of the smeared makeup. she felt bare in a way she hated, and the house, despite its softness, felt full of unspoken things.

then came the doorbell.

it rang once, low and solid, the sound echoing through the foyer. vernon didn’t move. jodie wiped her hands on a towel and stepped lightly across the wood floor, the hem of her flannel brushing her thighs. ivory sat up slightly, brow furrowing.

the door opened with a soft creak.

“well, look who it is,” jodie said, and her voice rose just slightly, touched with something warm.

ivory craned her neck, already knowing.

sheriff jack burke stepped in, the early evening sun framing him from behind like some old western postcard. his silhouette cut through the gold light, broad-shouldered and clean-postured, the badge gone from his chest but the weight of it still in how he moved. his uniform shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the tan fabric rolled at the sleeves, revealing strong forearms dusted in sun and speckled with the faint marks of fieldwork. his hair was golden brown, a few shades lighter than jodie’s, but they shared the same bone structure, the same proud line of the jaw, the same laugh tucked into the corners of their eyes. his own eyes were a forest green, the kind that caught details whether you wanted them caught or not.

he stepped over the threshold and took his hat off, that old beat-up thing he always wore, holding it against his side like a gentleman. he extended a nod toward vernon, who raised two fingers from the page in acknowledgment.

“jack,” vernon said. “you’re early. or late. dependin’ what you’re here for.”

“just on time,” jack replied, grinning faintly as he stepped inside. his eyes landed on ivory, and his grin widened. “well, well. what’s the matter with you?”

ivory huffed and sat up straighter. “rhett carver had a damn fit over nothing.”

jodie gave her a look, more amused than reproachful. “language.”

“he did,” ivory insisted, folding her arms. “i was…” she hesitated. “…i was bored. i grabbed a few things. i was gonna put them back. but he acted like i burned his gas station down.”

jack snorted and leaned one hand against the doorframe. “rhett carver ain’t been right since the accident. too rigid for his own good. man’s got no humor in him. especially for someone i’ve had to haul in twice for driving drunk and once for nearly running down a mailbox.”

ivory blinked. “wait, seriously?”

“reckless,” jack said, shaking his head, “and mouthy. always has been. never could take a joke.”

that did make her laugh, a breathy sound she hadn’t let out all day. vernon’s mouth twitched behind his book. jodie glanced back toward the kitchen, stirring something again but listening closely.

jack turned toward his sister. “you makin’ dinner or conducting a symphony over there?”

“a bit of both,” jodie replied without turning around. “you want to stay? we’ve got plenty.”

jack rubbed the back of his neck, his hat still in hand. “appreciate it, jodie. but i’m here for something else.”

she paused at that, briefly. the wooden spoon stopped its movement.

ivory straightened up more slowly. vernon lowered his book half an inch.

there was a pause before jack spoke again, the kind of reluctance thick with unspoken thoughts. he stood steady in the archway, one hand holding the brim of his hat, the other resting against his belt like he hadn’t quite meant for the question to land as plainly as it had, but it had. his voice was calm when he said it, maybe even a touch amused, but the words themselves weren’t ones to be mistaken or shrugged off.

“i was thinkin’,” jack said, eyes on vernon now, “maybe i take ivory out for a spell. nothing fancy. out and about a while.”

vernon lowered the book proper now, let it rest across his thigh, one thick brow lifting over the rim of his glasses. he glanced at jodie, who was already smiling in that familiar, patient way that always meant she knew something before it happened. she stirred the pot once more, then turned and leaned back against the counter, arms folded, her expression unreadable but warm.

“you’re askin’ to take her on a date?” vernon said, no malice in it.

jack gave a half-smile, his teeth white against his tanned skin. “figured it’d cheer her up.”

ivory’s heart kicked in her chest, not panic this time, but something startled and vaguely electric. she sat up straighter without meaning to, eyes darting between her father and the sheriff. jack burke had always had that kind of ease about him, the stable confidence of a man who could handle a fight without ever starting one. and he wasn’t old. not too old. not in any way that mattered. women around town never stopped talking about him, the way he wore his badge, the way he talked slow and deep, the way his eyes always seemed to be smiling even when his mouth wasn’t. carrie had once whispered she’d marry him in a second if she could, and even brenda, who despised most men, admitted he was probably the finest-looking one in town.

vernon didn’t speak right away. he scratched his jaw, then reached for his glasses and pulled them off with a sigh. “she’s nineteen years old,” he said.

“i know,” jack replied.

“she’s my daughter,” vernon added.

jack nodded again. “i know that too.”

a longer pause. then, jodie said, “she could use a reason to smile, vernon. you know that.”

vernon exhaled slow. stared across the room at ivory, who met his gaze full-on this time. her face was unreadable for once, no frown, no fire, but wide-eyed, waiting. he studied her a moment, the shape of her mother in her eyes, the stubborn in her chin, and all that dark beauty.

“you bring her back at a decent hour,” vernon said at last, voice low but not unkind. “or else i’ll be gettin’ my own damn gun.”

jack smiled, wider now. “understood, sir.”

ivory broke into a grin, the first real one all day. she scrambled to her feet, blanket falling from her lap, and looked toward the hallway.

“go on then,” jodie said, shooing her gently with a flick of her wrist, already laughing. “you’ve got ten minutes or i’ll tell him to pick a better behaved girl.”

ivory didn’t need telling twice.

she nearly ran to her room, feet skimming the hardwood, heart thudding in her ribs like something untethered. her room was warm with late-day light, casting shadows against the walls where her dresses hung in crooked rows. she moved fast, faster than she had all week. the white dress came off the hook easy, cotton with a soft off-shoulder cut that grazed the tops of her arms just right and cinched at the waist with that brown-gold belt she’d bought months ago and never worn. her boots were dark and polished, heeled enough to make her stand taller, and she slipped into them with practiced ease. her hair she half-pinned back, letting the rest fall in dark waves down her back, some strands tucked, others trailing soft along her cheekbones. her skin still held that pink glow from the sun, and she touched up the corners of her eyes with a dust of gold shimmer, cleaned the last smudge of berry gloss that lingered on her lips and reapplied something clearer, glossier, more careful. a little perfume at the neck. two gold bangles. the dainty necklace she rarely took off, resting against her collarbone, warm to the touch.

the mirror told her what she needed to know. she didn’t look sorry anymore. she looked alive.

outside, the sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows across the gravel. jack stood leaning against his car, one of those older models, tawny and built solid, engine ticking. he saw her the moment she stepped through the door, and straightened up.

she came down the steps with slow, measured steps, the breeze catching the hem of her dress.

“well, hell,” he said, pulling his hat off again and letting it hang at his side. “you clean up nice.”

she smiled, tried not to show all her teeth, though it spread easy across her face. “thanks.”

he opened the passenger door for her and stepped back. she climbed in without hesitation, the seat comfortable beneath her legs, the smell of his cologne in the cab, clean and sharp with a hint of cedar.

he closed the door after her, not with force, but firm.

a minute later, the engine growled to life, the wheels rolled over gravel, and they were off. ivory leaned back into the seat, dress gathered in her lap, pulse calm now, but quickened all the same. the world beyond the window blurred gold and green and quiet, and the last thing she saw before they turned out of the drive was her father standing on the porch, arms crossed, watching them go. not angry, but watching.

the windows were rolled halfway down, enough for the wind to sweep softly through the cab, warm and thick with the smell of dry grass and summer dust. twilight had begun to lay itself over the land in thin strips of gold and lavender, stretching shadows long across the hills, wrapping the road in that peculiar hush that only seemed to fall over the valley right before night claimed it. the cicadas had started up in the cottonwoods, and jack’s car moved steady along the backroads, its old engine purring smooth beneath their silence.

ivory sat back against the leather, her fingers trailing along the lace of her dress where it met her thigh. her bare shoulder caught the last light as they passed an open field, and the fine golden hairs there glowed faintly, her skin soft against the wind. she glanced over at him, his strong profile framed against the windshield glow, hands steady on the wheel, jaw relaxed but watchful, the way it always was.

she leaned in, slow and steady, not rushed, not coy. her lips brushed the stubbled curve of his cheek, warm and sun-damp from the day, skin rough with the scrape of a man who hadn’t shaved in a while but somehow made it look right. she wavered a second before pulling back.

he turned, a crooked smile pulling at the edge of his mouth. “was that for good behavior or just to distract me so you can steal the car?”

“maybe both,” she said, grinning.

he shook his head, smiling, and tapped the steering wheel once with the flat of his palm. “truth be told, darlin’, i’ve arrested murderers and meth heads and once had to drag a drunk outta the river at two a.m. in january, but askin’ your daddy if i could take you out? that’s the thing that damn near gave me a heart attack.”

ivory laughed, full and breathy, letting her head fall back against the seat. “well, you’re not wrong. most people are terrified of him.”

“respectfully terrified,” jack corrected, nodding once. “man’s never been anything but straight with me. but he’s protective. everyone knows that. can’t blame him, though. hell, any man would be the same if he had a daughter who looked like you.”

she flushed at that, but didn’t shy away. instead, she stretched her legs, boots tapping gently against the glove compartment. “he hates church people too,” she added offhandedly. “one time, i almost went with marlene to that baptist place off main, and he told me flat out i could find another ride home if i walked through their doors.”

jack barked a laugh, hand lifting to sweep back his hair. “that sounds about right. i remember him refusin’ to stand during the prayer at a council meetin’ a few years back. he sat there, arms crossed. didn’t flinch when the room spared him some harsh glares.”

“he says faith’s a crutch for people who don’t wanna think,” ivory murmured, eyes distant now, watching the farmland roll past them. “but he also says god’s not gonna pay our taxes, so.”

“the man’s practical,” jack mused.

“he never thinks he’s wrong,” ivory said, soft but not without affection.

jack smiled again, this time with a glint of memory. “so,” he said, glancing toward her, “where do you wanna go?”

she didn’t answer at first. she just let her lack of response hang for a second, lips pressing into a faint smirk before she said, “larkspur diner.”

he blinked, looked over. “you serious?”

she nodded, slow and smooth. “yes.”

“after what happened this mornin’?”

she shrugged. “rhett doesn’t scare me.”

jack chuckled, low in his chest. “you’ve got guts. or no sense at all.”

“he’s mean because he hasn’t gotten laid in a while,” she said plainly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

jack looked at her, eyes wide in mock offense. “well, that’s a theory.”

“it’s the only one,” she said, deadpan. “he walks around all stiff and brooding like he’s auditioning for a marlboro ad and snarls at anyone with a smile. it’s textbook repression.”

he laughed harder this time, the sound echoing against the closed windows. “i doubt that man’s got any trouble gettin’ company when he wants it. rhett carver’s rough, but he’s the town’s most tolerable bastard.”

“well, maybe,” ivory said, rolling her eyes, “but i don’t care.”

he glanced at her again, slower this time, his eyes lingering a breath longer than they had before. she didn’t look away. her dress fluttered from the breeze, and the golden glint of her necklace caught the last rays of sun as the car turned off the main road and headed toward town.

the larkspur sat warm in the belly of the town, its glow spilling onto the dust-coated sidewalk like a lantern hung in the dark. the neon buzzed against the early night, the color of dried blood where it blinked from the old sign in the window, letters worn to a soft haze from years of summer heat and winter storms. jack pulled into the lot with slow, practiced care, his arm resting out the window, the engine sighing as he cut it. the gravel crunched faintly beneath the tires, that familiar sound that ivory had heard all her life, there was no other lot in town that sounded quite the same. she recognized every crooked crack in the pavement, every patch of oil-stained dust. the larkspur diner had been there longer than most houses in sierra valley, longer than some family names, and it showed in the faded siding, the chipped linoleum visible through the double doors, and the rust-creased trim along the bottom windows where time had curled the metal upward like peeling bark.

he got out, then came around the front before she could reach for the handle herself. he opened the passenger door for her with a subtle, old-fashioned ease, something he hadn’t learned but had been born into, part of that burke bloodline, the kind of man who held doors and remembered names and never sat before a lady. ivory stepped out, her boots tapping soft against the ground, dress falling smooth over her thighs. the breeze caught it, lifted the hem enough for her to tug it back with a careful motion. jack closed the door behind her without a word and they walked side by side toward the entrance.

inside, the air shifted from warm to warmer, kitchen heat, coffee steam, the scent of fried potatoes and grilled onions clinging to every surface. the bell over the door gave a sharp ring, one she remembered from her childhood, from the first time she sat at the counter and ordered a strawberry milkshake that came melted and too sweet but perfect all the same. tonight, the place was alive in that slow, rural way, half-filled booths, families tired from the week, two mechanics from the service station elbow-deep in plates of meatloaf, a high school couple sharing fries across the table with their legs tangled beneath it.

then, from behind the counter, a flash of copper.

lucy sutton turned at the sound of the bell and caught sight of them at once. her face lit up in that sudden way only lucy’s could, all her emotions worn plain and bright across that pretty, sharp-boned face of hers. she had a towel in one hand and a receipt book in the other, and she abandoned both as she stepped out from behind the register.

“well, look what the damn wind dragged in,” she said, brushing her hair behind one ear, ponytail swinging. “ivory sinclair in the flesh. and sheriff burke on her arm? it must be a full moon!”

ivory laughed before she could stop herself. lucy always had that effect on people, disarming, warm, impossible to stay stiff around. “it’s not what it looks like,” she said, already reaching for a swift hug.

lucy’s grip was tighter than expected, her small frame stronger than it looked, and when she pulled back her hazel eyes drifted between them with quiet mischief. “you mean to tell me the sheriff didn’t finally come to his senses and ask out the prettiest girl in town?”

“well,” jack said, shrugging, “i guess i did.”

lucy looked mock-offended. “that wasn’t your cue to confirm it, jack.”

he smirked and gave her a subtle two-fingered salute.

“c’mon, booth by the window’s free.” she turned without waiting and grabbed two menus from the counter. “i’ll try to seat you where the fryers don’t scream too loud.”

they followed her to the back corner, the booth just under the wide pane window that looked out onto the street. the cushion seats were sun-faded and the laminate table bore the rings of years-old spilled coffee, but it was cozy and familiar, the kind of place where everything stayed mostly the same. lucy handed them the menus but didn’t leave right away.

“so seriously,” she said, leaning one hip against the booth’s edge, eyes narrowing. “rhett’s been in one of his moods. came in griping earlier about ‘ivory sinclair this’ and ‘ivory sinclair that,’ said she was gonna be workin’ here by next week. sounded real proud of himself, like he’d won a bet.”

ivory rolled her eyes and slumped slightly in the booth. “he’s a jackass.”

lucy grinned. “yeah, but he runs this place. can’t say it too loud or the lights will start sparking in protest.”

jack chuckled, easing into the other side of the booth, one arm over the top, posture relaxed.

lucy glanced at him. “are you keeping nate in check for me, or has he gotten himself in trouble again?”

“he’s fine,” jack said dryly. “only had to write him up once last month. he’s got a good head on his shoulders, at least when he’s not distracted.”

ivory’s smile faltered but recovered. she remembered the days before nate had become lucy’s. he’d been tess’s boyfriend, back when they were sixteen and still thinking life happened in big, sweeping gestures. he’d been tess’s until a friday night party changed that, and then he was lucy’s. no one had really seen it coming, except ivory, maybe. and even then, she’d picked a side. she always had. and it had been lucy’s.

lucy gave a satisfied nod. “i’m the reason he’s got a good head. now, what do y’all want to drink?”

“strawberry lemonade,” ivory said. “and don’t give me that watery kind from the back. it’s disgusting.”

lucy scoffed. “i’m a waitress, not a miracle worker.”

“coffee for me,” jack added, drumming his fingers once on the table. “black. hot.”

“you get anything else, i’ll have to check if hell’s frozen,” lucy said, scribbling the order. “i’ll be back.”

she turned and walked off, sliding around a busboy with a half-cleared tray, disappearing through the swing doors near the kitchen, where the sound of sizzling oil echoed sharp.

jack tilted his head slightly and looked at ivory, one brow raised. “so.”

“so,” she repeated.

“you really gonna work here?”

she made a face, turned her gold bracelet absently with her thumb. “apparently.”

“and rhett agreed to it?”

“he was pleased by it, in fact.”

“hm.”

they sat a moment. the low murmur of the diner around them, the buzz of the old fluorescent above.

ivory leaned back and smiled without humor. “he’s mad as hell. but he’ll get over it. he always does.”

jack shrugged. “he’s a bastard, but he’s fair.”

“well,” ivory muttered, “then he needs to do better with his attitude.”

the laughter lingered. not loud, but full. the night outside darkened against the windows, the town dim under a sky thick with stars, and inside the larkspur, ivory sinclair sat across from the town sheriff, knowing full well that by tomorrow morning, everyone in sierra valley would know exactly where she’d been tonight. and she didn’t mind one damn bit.

lucy came back in with her usual flourish, the tray balanced on one palm like a dance prop, her hips swaying with the rhythm of the diner’s hum. the overhead light caught the copper tones in her hair as she slid their drinks onto the table, ivory’s lemonade, all pink frost and sliced citrus, and jack’s coffee, dark and steaming in the thick porcelain mug with a crack down one side that had been there since last summer. lucy’s eyes sparkled as she stepped back, pen already tucked between her fingers again, ready to jot down their orders with that quick, sure hand of hers.

“alright, let’s hear it,” she said. “and don’t make me stand here long. pete’s makin’ jokes back there and i think the hash browns are burnin’ in protest.”

jack answered first. “steak sandwich. fries. extra onions.”

lucy scribbled with a nod, not missing a beat. “sure thing, sheriff. onions’ll keep the girls at bay.”

he smirked and didn’t deny it. ivory kept her eyes on the menu but wasn’t reading.

“salad,” she said. “and a biscuit.”

lucy blinked. “a salad?”

“i’m not hungry.”

lucy clicked her tongue but didn’t argue. “i’ll bring the biscuit first, you’ll change your mind. be right back.”

then she was off, gliding back toward the kitchen, ponytail bouncing behind her, voice already rising in laughter at something called out from the cook line. the sound of a plate shattering rang out from the back and someone swore, but lucy’s voice rose louder, teasing, no-nonsense, the way she always was with the boys in the kitchen.

ivory sighed, her legs curled under her, the condensation from the lemonade cold against her palm. her shoulder brushed the window as she turned, eyes drifting across the familiar layout of the larkspur diner, the old counter with its cracked stools, the faded clippings of news articles on the wall, the jukebox blinking low in the corner playing something from thirty years ago. this place had never changed. not once.

but then she heard the sound. not the bell this time, not the door, but the scrape of the kitchen hinge opening, heavy and distinct, followed by the slow, deliberate rhythm of boots on tile. no one else in town walked like that. she knew it the way you knew a storm by the smell in the air before the clouds rolled in.

rhett carver walked in from the back hallway, the edges of his black button-up rolled to the elbows, dark with heat and work, the line of his jaw sharp, mouth set in that hard expression he always wore, etched deep from years of squinting through oil smoke and grease fumes and rage he never raised his voice to show. his hair was a little damp, curling at the nape from the back heat, and his hands were stained dark, calloused, scarred, roughing through the receipts stuffed in one palm as he passed behind the counter.

he glanced around, expression neutral until his eyes landed on ivory.

they narrowed.

without pausing, he walked toward the table, no hesitance in the way he moved, no glance at jack, no acknowledgment yet of the sheriff seated across from her. he came right up to the booth, arms crossed, his shadow stretching long across the checkered floor tiles.

“what the hell are you doin’ here?” he asked, voice low but strained with disbelief, and something else, something coiled tight.

ivory blinked slow, took a sip of her drink, let the pause stretch long enough to irritate.

“i’m on a date,” she said sweetly. “unless that’s not allowed either. do i need your permission to do anything now?”

his jaw twitched. “you think this is funny? strollin’ in here after what happened this mornin’? you’re supposed to be workin’ here, not makin’ it your goddamn hangout.”

“maybe i’m scoping out my workplace,” she replied, crossing her arms. “getting familiar. shouldn’t you be glad?”

he leaned closer, bracing one palm on the table edge. “you’ve got a lotta nerve.”

“so i’ve been told.”

that’s when jack moved.

he lifted his coffee, sipped once, then leaned slightly forward, his presence suddenly more tangible, more weight behind it. “rhett.”

rhett blinked, as if noticing him for the first time. he straightened slightly, eyes going toward the sheriff with a grunt of recognition.

“jack.”

“evenin’.”

rhett nodded, not deferential but acknowledging. then he turned a pointed look toward ivory. “you tell him what you pulled this mornin’? or just the bits that make you look innocent?”

ivory opened her mouth but jack cut in, tone mild, expression unreadable. “i heard enough.”

rhett scoffed. “figures.”

“i’ll make sure she suffers the consequences,” jack added, tone laced with something half-amused.

rhett didn’t laugh. “this ain’t a joke, sheriff. the girl waltzed behind my counter and grabbed five packs of smokes like it was a fuckin’ souvenir stand. can’t let shit like that slide.”

“i’m sure she knows that,” jack said calmly.

rhett’s eyes flicked back to her. “you best know it. ‘cause next time, i won’t be callin’ jodie. i’ll handle it myself. you understand?”

ivory rolled her eyes and stirred her lemonade with her straw. “sure thing, boss.”

“you’re startin’ next saturday. seven sharp. you better show up on time, wear the uniform, do everything i say and do it right. or i’ll take it up with mayor graves. and he owes me a favor, so you won’t like what that looks like.”

she stared up at him, jaw clenched. “whatever.”

rhett stood there another breath, then nodded once to jack, short, curt, never warm, and turned, walking back the way he came, his boots striking hard against the floor. the kitchen door swung shut behind him with a muted slam.

the absence he left behind was thick and uncomfortable. ivory exhaled slowly, stared down at her drink, the lemon slice already beginning to brown at the edges from the ice. her appetite, if she’d had one, was gone. she rubbed her fingers against the side of the glass, nails tapping slowly.

jack watched her, didn’t speak right away. his brow creased as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, coffee between them.

“you alright?”

she nodded, but didn’t speak. her lips pursed.

he let the silence stretch, not pushing her, but not looking away either.

she stared down at her lap. “i’m so tired of him thinking he owns this whole town.”

jack didn’t disagree. sumply said, “he’s been that way since before you were born. but he don’t own you.”

her fingers tightened around the glass.

lucy appeared a few seconds later with a biscuit in a little red basket, unaware of the exchange. “figured you’d want this early. they’re hot.”

ivory smiled, barely, but didn’t reach for it. her thoughts still sat back there, in rhett’s shadow, in the weight of his stare, in the sharpness of his voice. the booth didn’t feel as warm anymore. even the lemonade had gone dull.

the salad sat wilting in front of her, a pool of vinegar dressing collecting at the bottom of the plate, soaking the greens until they lost all texture, all color. ivory nudged a slice of tomato with the prong of her fork, not piercing it, just pushing it until it smeared a red mark across the ceramic. she’d eaten a single biscuit and drank half her lemonade out of boredom more than thirst. her appetite had dissolved somewhere between rhett’s words and the way jack hadn’t bothered to say a damn thing in her defense. not that she expected him to fight her battles. she didn’t. but somehow the lack of retort stung in a way the sharpest words wouldn’t have. jack had sat there unmoving, sipping his coffee with that unreadable expression, while rhett towered above her, throwing threats like stones.

now she just wanted to go home.

jack tossed a few bills on the table, the tip crisp beneath them. he didn’t ask if she wanted dessert or if she was finished. he just stood, slow and stiff, and she followed without speaking. the diner had emptied some. a few folks sat nursing coffee at the counter, and lucy gave her a small wave from where she was boxing leftovers. ivory didn’t wave back. she walked out into the warm summer dark with her shoulders squared, the taste of bitterness on her tongue thicker than the lemonade.

they got into the car, and jack said nothing.

he drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh, his jaw clenched, the tendons there sharp under the surface. the window was cracked and the scent of hot tar and distant hayfields drifted in through the gap. the road back home was familiar, lined with silhouettes of trees and cattle fencing and the occasional flicker of porchlight from homes tucked into the land. ivory kept her arms crossed. her face was turned toward the glass, the reflection of herself faint, caught between the road and her own scowl.

eventually, jack spoke.

finally, he said, “you know, you shouldn’t let that man crawl under your skin like that.”

his voice cut through the air. flat. a little tired. no anger, but no kindness either.

ivory blinked slowly and turned her head, her voice brittle when she answered. “oh, i’m sorry, were you planning on defending me in there or just sipping your coffee while i got talked down to like i’m twelve?”

jack exhaled hard through his nose. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“don’t turn it around. i wasn’t the one who walked into his place after stealing from him.”

she laughed, dry, humorless. “oh, that’s what we’re calling it now? stealing?”

“ivory…”

“it was cigarettes. i wasn’t gonna smoke them. i wasn’t even going keep them! it was nothing. but he acts like i broke into a damn church and stole the altar.”

“you were behind the counter,” jack said, his voice stressed now. “you were taking product you didn’t pay for. you tell me what the hell that is if it ain’t stealing.”

she leaned hard against the door, her head turned back toward the dark window. her voice was colder now. “you know, for someone who said he wanted to take me out to feel better, you’re real good at makin’ me feel worse.”

“i’m not trying to make you feel worse. i’m trying to give you a damn reality check.”

“yeah? well maybe i didn’t ask for one.”

he braked slightly as they reached a bend in the road, the red tail lights illuminating the thick dust stirred behind them. his hands gripped the wheel tighter.

“look,” he said, “you’re about to start working for a man who doesn’t like you. who already thinks you’re a spoiled brat who gets whatever she wants. don’t prove him right.”

she turned sharply toward him, her gold jewelry catching the dashboard light. “you really think that’s what this is? that i’m some spoiled brat out for attention?”

“i didn’t say that…”

“but you didn’t say the opposite either.”

jack said nothing. his knuckles whitened around the steering wheel.

“god,” ivory muttered, sinking into the seat. “you’re just like everyone else in this town. maybe a little smoother about it, but just the same. always so ready to decide who i am without ever asking.”

his voice was lower now. not cold, but steady. “i’ve known you since you were a child. you think i haven’t seen the way you walk into a room? you think i haven’t seen the way people look at you, the way you use it?”

“i don’t use anything,” she spat. “i exist. that’s all. and somehow that’s enough to make everyone mad.”

he didn’t respond.

“and you sat there tonight,” she went on, “sat there while he threatened me in front of the whole diner. called me out like i was nothing. and you didn’t say a goddamn word.”

“you want me to go to war over you takin’ five packs of smokes?” jack snapped suddenly, his voice raising for the first time all evening. “you want me to throw fists in a town where i’m the one supposed to be keeping order?”

“no,” she said, her voice tight. “i wanted you to act like you gave a damn.”

he didn’t speak after that. the air between them hardened. nothing moved but the road beneath the tires. no music. no hum of life. merely the engine and the wind and the shared, burning silence of two people suddenly aware of the space between them.

they reached the sinclair property a few minutes after ten. the house looked peaceful under the moonlight, porch lit golden and serene, the fields beyond it beautiful and soft. jack pulled up without ceremony. the tires crunched to a stop. he didn’t say a word. he didn’t even glance at her.

ivory opened the door and stepped out slowly, boots crunching on the dry earth. she stood beside the car for a moment, one hand still resting on the edge of the open door, waiting for something, an apology, a farewell, some remnant of the man who had once asked her out with a softness in his voice. but he didn’t even shift.

he watched the road ahead.

she slammed the door.

he drove off before she’d reached the porch, taillights trailing down the dirt path like two burning coals, swallowed by the trees.

ivory stood there a minute longer, her arms folded over her stomach, the air thick with summer heat and dust. then she turned and climbed the porch steps, her boots thudding heavier with each one.

the screen door creaked open. the house smelled of rosemary and heat. inside, the living room was dim. her father was asleep in the recliner, his mouth somewhat open, his hand draped over the book resting on his chest. the lamp beside him flickered faint, casting long shadows across the floor. the fan above turned slow, rhythmic, the blades whining with every rotation.

past the threshold of the hallway, in the glow of the kitchen, stood jodie.

she was dressed in her robe, the pale cotton loose at the waist, a mug held loosely in both hands. her green eyes were lined with tiredness, but she didn’t look surprised to see ivory. she never did. she always waited up when she could. her chestnut hair had fallen out of its earlier style and was swept over one shoulder now, and she looked more woman than wife at that moment, older, sadder, but unbreakable.

“you’re home early,” she said softly.

ivory’s hands curled at her sides, her jaw set tight.

“did you have a nice time?” jodie asked.

ivory stared at her, heat prickling behind her eyes, the sting of the entire night catching up to her all at once.

“to hell with your brother,” she bit out.

then she stormed down the hallway, boots loud against the hardwood, bracelets jingling with the sharp rhythm of her stride. her bedroom door slammed with the kind of force she hadn’t used in years, echoing down the narrow hall and shaking a picture frame on the wall outside.

jodie stood in the kitchen a second longer, staring at the hallway as if trying to see through it. she exhaled and sipped the tea that had long gone cold. then she turned, poured it down the drain, and began washing the dishes still sitting from dinner, the sink water running louder than it needed to in the quiet house. frustration tugged at the corners of her mouth.

the bedroom door opened fast, then shut behind ivory even faster.

inside, her room was everything the rest of the house wasn’t, paler in hue, more lavish in design, touched with little things her father had let jodie pick out for her after she turned sixteen. silk curtains, white sheets, antique vanity with a mirror from jodie’s pageant days. her perfume bottles lined the shelf like weapons. gold and silver chains spilled across the dresser. everything was polished and untouched. she threw her purse on the bed, kicked off her boots, pulled the pins from her hair one by one, and stood in front of the mirror, watching herself breathe.

her face was tired. her lipstick smudged. her expression unreadable even to her.

to hell with jack.

to hell with rhett.

to hell with this whole goddamn town.

[alivia-riddle]

OUTER BANKS DR!

name: Ivory Maybank.

Face Claim: Olivia Holt.

Age: 17 / 18

Sibling: JJ Maybank. (Twin brother.)

S/O: Rafe Cameron.

Pogue or Kook: Pogue to Kook.

Best friends: Juliette (Jules) Sinclair. (FC: Madison Beer.), Caroline Lockwood. (FC: Madelaine Petsch.), Topper Thornton, & Kelce.

Family: The Pogues.

Favorite Color: Pink.

Favorite Animal: Dolphins.

Dream: To be a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader with Jules and Caroline.

Yes I mixed OBX and DCC. But we don’t audition for the DCC until later on in the future after the OBX seasons are done!

[making-your-fave-in-fr]

Hello! Could you please make Baby Sinclair from dinosaurs? :D

I made Baby Sinclair from Dinosaurs in Flight Rising!

H Snapper (Common Water eyes) Ivory/Basic | Ivory/Basic | Yellow/Underbelly

[rhonissancee]

The Mond-ivory gang >< (except one)

Have some doodles of the children because I'm bored TT + Sinclair beta designs (or should I say......the twin Sinclairs hehe...I couldn't help myself....)

[thetinyadventurer]

"Let's go home."

It's Milo outside, shivering and soaking wet, and looking absolutely miserable, like the whole world has taken turns kicking him, and then doing it againonce he's down. Like he might cry if he isn't already doing so. His glasses are set crooked, so he probably is barely able to see, and thus, he probably doesn't know where he is.

“Oh, my god, Milo!”

I sprint outside so quickly that I don’t even bother putting on my boots. All I’ve got in hand is an umbrella which I struggle to open as I shuffle down the street.

“Milo!” I call out as I run up to him, managing to open the umbrella just in time.

I raise the umbrella up above his head, shielding him from the rain. I have to stand on my tiptoes as I reach up and remove his glasses. I haphazardly use the hem of my shirt to clean off his glasses before gently placing them back on his face. I get how hard it is to see with water-logged glasses as I wear glasses, myself. I don’t even think twice before I grab Milo’s shaking hand.

“Let’s go home.” I murmur, softly as I pull him towards my apartment building, keeping the umbrella above our heads. I squeeze his hand gently for good measure. I know how it feels to be alone and miserable. Milo’s such a sweet, kind-hearted soul and even though I can’t carry his problems for him, I can damn well make them lighter! He would have done the same for me, after all.

I guide him up the stairs and into my apartment building. It’s small for an apartment in Washington DC in the early 1900’s but I do my best to make it feel welcoming. The ivory walls are tinted amber from the lamp-light and the crackling fireplace gives off much needed warmth.

I pull Milo into the bathroom and gesture for him to sit on the edge of the tub.

“I’ll be right back.” I say as I sprint into my bedroom where I rummage through the dresser until I find what I’m looking for: A cozy pair of pajamas, a big, fluffy towel and a pair of socks that an ex of mine forgot to reclaim after we broke up. They’re big enough that they should fit him. I hurry back to the bathroom and gently place the clothes and towel on the edge of the sink.

“These might be a little big on you but they’re better than nothing.” I comment before turning back to him, looking him in the eyes.

I reach out and gently squeeze his shoulder— A simple gesture to reassure him that I’m there for him and that he’s not alone, anymore.

“Take a bath to warm yourself up.” I instruct. “You can put your wet clothes in the sink and I’ll hang them up to dry. Don’t worry about the water, I can clean it up later. There’s some bubble bath here if you like scented things and a rubber ducky to keep you company. His name is George. Feel free to take as much time as you need, okay? When you’re done, dry off and put on these pajamas. Then meet me in the living room. I’ll make us some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows!”

I give him a brief but tight hug. “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to but please know that I’m here for you if you need me. If you need to cry then cry, I won’t judge. If you need to vent to me, I’ll listen. As for advice, well, I’m a shitty advice-giver but I’ll do the best I can to help out. Just do whatever you need to do to feel better, okay?”

I stand up and walk towards the door. “I’ll give you some privacy. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

I give him one last smile before shutting the door behind me. I crack my knuckles.

“Okay, time to make some hot chocolate and chicken noodle soup!” I announce to the empty air.

Milo can take all the time he needs to recover. As long as he’s happy and doesn’t catch a cold, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him out. And if I find out who made him cry I’m calling my neighbor, Helga Sinclair, to go kick their asses.

//Sorry that was so long! Thank you for the first ask. Not sure how I did but I hope you like it!//

[decadeofjoy-au]

EXPERIMENTS

Baby Long Legs(Stella Greyber): https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776677224061468672/introducing-stella-greyber-as-baby-long-legs

Voloveoraptor(Richard Lovitz): https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/775400516257759233/experiment-1672-voloveoraptor

The Garbage Disposal(Leith Pierre): https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/775272543096569856/lists-of-adults

Chester The Chess Piece(Dr. Bruno White): https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777554878921900033/dr-bruno-white-aka-chester-the-chess-piece

Bron(Thomas Clarke):

The Doctor(Dr Harley Sawyer):

Eddit Eddie(Eddie M. N. Ritterman): https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781240338080792576/its-eddie-m-n-ritterman-as-edditedit-eddie

Clarance The Clayman(Kamren Burch, Martin Lloyd and Jaelyn Dennis)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/775618661321949184/new-clarance-the-clayman-lore

Handyman(Angel Creek)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/775712895319343104/new-handyman-lore

Antsy Antilope(Boyd Phillip)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778530307764879360/antsy-antilope-has-finally-gotten-lore-boyd

Mr Sandman(Leo Saldana)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777883650926821376/mr-sandmans-lore-better-explainedrevamped + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778061644140101632/leo-saldana

Bolt(Leroy Gallops)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778742210905735168/bolt

Figaro(Austin Brando)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778841789397352448/figaro

Buddy Putty(Oskar Rolf)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779455927014342656/buddy-puttybuddy-the-puttyman

Percival The Plasticine Beast(Darcy Kieran)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779664003199811584/percival-the-plasticine-beastpercy-for-short

Shrimphony(Liam Crepe)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780019719841415168/new-experiment-for-tdojyes-another-subject

Trixie Deck(Azalea King)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780579608855724032/ivory-and-trixie

Ivory Dice(Rowan King)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780579608855724032/ivory-and-trixie

Foreshore the Time-Stopping Wolf(Weldon Rollins)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781502382650638336/i-have-to-confess-everyone-these-characters-have

BitterSweet(Valerie Santos)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781502382650638336/i-have-to-confess-everyone-these-characters-have

A.C.[Auto Correct]-(Lorrie Oak)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781585144990613504/acauto-correct

Mercy The Mixed Beast-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781963850473963520/introducing-someone-new-notes-made-by-catnap

Building Brick Baron(Luther Bullock)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/782567402129981440/building-brick-baron

Misery(Duke Mayer)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/782925191029374976/lolcat-alphatype-and-misery

AlphaType(Nathan Mayer)-TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/782925191029374976/lolcat-alphatype-and-misery

Changing Table(Harry Schwartz)-Mr story: https://www.tumblr.com/mr-story/777888035164569600/no-idea-if-i-understood-all-the-rules-but-here-i

Sunnie Daze(Norma Smith)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/775922653139763201/behold-the-toy-connies-mother-was-turned-into

Patty The Putty Dragon(Doris Emily + Terra Louis)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776392605774790656/meet-patty-the-putty-dragondoris-emily-right (OLD…) https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779591574871048193/doriss-head-on-the-bottom-right (NEW)

Silas The Scorpion(Cooper Sinclair)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778234960642539520/meet-silas-the-scorpion-or-cooper-sinclair-he

Doodle the Stretchy Mime(Angela Watcher)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778412366719221760/meet-doodle-the-stretchy-mime-angela

Mr Bergamot(Elliot Harper)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779150458316062720/meet-mr-bergamot-elliot-harper-name-changed + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780859357972791296/monster-mr-bergamot (NOT RELATED TO MARIA HARPER)

Candi Bee(Cindi Floss)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779578777348063232/meet-candi-bee-real-name-cindi

Motza Cheese(Lola prince)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780789708804456448/subject-name-lola-prince-experiment-number

​Mezmer The Dreamer(Daria Morris)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780839111886061568/meet-mezmer-the-dreamer-subject-name-daria

Splotch Easel + Splatter Easel(Harven Willows + Ophelia Derrickson)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781479290468548608/splotch-easel-right-sideannoyed-or-burnt-out

Lottle The Putty Axolotl-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781985948093333504/experiment-number-9887-experiment-name-lottle

S.E.N.T.R.Y-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/783379357869686784/meet-sentry-subject-namedelilah

Lauren Whitlock(Hunnie)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/783936507357626368/subject-name-lauren-whitlock-experiment

Dr Flask(Wendall Anderson)-Anewbieartist356: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/783936507357626368/subject-name-lauren-whitlock-experiment

Hug-a-gotchi(Jamie Maverick)-Doctor tan: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776226325210988545/new-oc-the-hug-a-gotchi-experiment-1598-the

Melly Collen(Sylvia Fordger)-Sweatycowboyqueen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776003528378499072/i-made-an-oc-for-your-au-i-hope-you-like

Dainty Dricket(Melody Forager)-Sweatycowboyqueen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776244506930610176/i-made-another-oc-experiment-1671-dainty-dricket

Fifi(Charlie Fordger)-Sweatycowboyqueen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777135201628323840/i-made-a-new-oc-experiment-1772-fifi-or-charlie

Felix Brook-Sweatycowboyqueen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778665983246286848/i-made-a-new-oc-i-hope-you-like-him-experiment

Devin Devill(Jonah Birch)-Sweatycowboyqueen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/782029274223935488/i-made-a-new-oc-experiment-name-devin

Shadows The Bellmaster(Marcus Danielwoods)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776296291767566336/2-for-1-oc-based-on-that-jester-image-in-a

Coo-Coo the dog(Johnathan Rachels + Mario Gerald Rachels)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776197007247310848/redoing-a-previous-submitted-oc-experiment

Stacey Strongson(Alfred Michaelson)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776008501477670912/my-oc-for-this-i-checked-the-rules-and-it-said-i?source=share + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778828850034507776

Snooze the Dragon(Laura Farcraft)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776669405762453504/back-to-an-experiment-oc-after-a-while-this-one

Pizzaman(Pablo Pizzermin)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777126654720049152/another-oc-ive-been-developing-for-a-while

Riggi Ravioli(Paula Pizzermin)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780053947439267840/meet-the-ravioli-oc-riggi-ravioli-her-story-is

Sock-It(Fredrick Woodley)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777851949167050752/new-experiment-oc-toy-name-sock-it-human-name

Larry Limelight(Clover Katsune)-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778299292224045056/meet-the-theater-oc-larry-limelight-or

Plug-n-Play(Kaitlyn Katsune)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778314983047053312/before-i-forget-heres-the-video-game-oc

Hysteria Hyena(Ira Smiti)-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778563208249262080/hysteria-hyena-lore-post-for-anyone-else-reading

Bear Trap Bernie(Doctor Quincy Cross)-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778755515922661376/meet-bear-trap-bernie-or-as-most-refer-to-him

Pink Cozy(William Grimes)-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779203749557272576/the-koala-ocs-meet-the-cozy-twins-blue-cozy + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779303092325892096/cozy-twins-part-2-separation-in-the-modern-day

Blue Cozy(Mandy Grimes)-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779203749557272576/the-koala-ocs-meet-the-cozy-twins-blue-cozy + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779303092325892096/cozy-twins-part-2-separation-in-the-modern-day

SOSD Nemo-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779314870877372416/okay-heres-another-oc-i-made-with-the-creator-of

Grumpy Huggy(Chris Father)-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779370972692234240/meet-some-way-too-early-christmas-ocs-grumpy

Tye-Dyeler(Max Jones)-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780028116508753920/okay-third-question-time-tye-dye-oc-meet-the-most

Sir-Poops-A-Lot(Douglas Tihs)-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780037169336238080/okay-im-submitting-it-now-before-i-forget-sir

​Ms Moondust(April Annie Saldana)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780740816620699648/meet-a-new-theyve-existed-for-like-month-or-2

Arcade Mole(Daniel Undergrowth)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780851626411950080/fun-facts-for-my-toons-arcadewhacky-he + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780851249085087744/heres-my-4-toon-ocs-fluke-i-forgot-his-last-name

Mrs Cake(Liliana Deleon)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780851626411950080/fun-facts-for-my-toons-arcadewhacky-he + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780851249085087744/heres-my-4-toon-ocs-fluke-i-forgot-his-last-name

Fluke Gacha(Felix)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780851626411950080/fun-facts-for-my-toons-arcadewhacky-he + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780851249085087744/heres-my-4-toon-ocs-fluke-i-forgot-his-last-name

The Dearest Family(Marilyn, Gary, Sally, Randal, Clarissa and Mike Charms)-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780950690969354240/submission-time-the-dearest-family

Pedro-icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781475465315680256/heres-a-oc-ill-be-submitting-another-real-quick

Scraps(Amia Blackwell)-Scrappythescrapstrap: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776785159504658432/hello-i-heard-you-were-listing-some-ocs-so-i + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777868745020473344/im-alive-with-scraps-new-recharistic-and

Zipper(Jack Blackwell)-Scrappythescraptrap: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778022383862841344/human-identity-age-22-years-old-name-jack

Rosalie(Mackenzie Allan)-Corelex: https://www.tumblr.com/corelex/777592730293501952/rosalie-experiment-2067?source=share

Dupin Lupin(David Allan)-Corelex: https://www.tumblr.com/corelex/779178986041376768/dupin-lupin-experiment-2081

Ruby Ridge-Hugcat4ever2468: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778143256159584256/experiment-9876-how-dangerous-dangerous-to-toys

Meringue The Kuddle Bear(Markus Jones)-JustAFreak40: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778719668832763904/my-contribution-to-the-sweet-treats-toy-brand-exp + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778934932966899712/ello-and-how-are-you-just-thought-to-give-some + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779745882344243200/meringue-the-kuddle-bear

Sarah The Slime Gal(Nancy Stokes)-JustAFreak40: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779891299572695040/my-contribution-to-the-dough-and-co

Cindy Ma(Jake Tella)-Portalling101: https://www.tumblr.com/portalling101/778746502759776256/adult-experimet-name-jake-tella-tella-the

Visqueux the slime boy(Antoine Allare)-Doctor Tan: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779922212080746496/a-resend-of-my-dough-and-co-oc-this-is-visqueux

Meadow Dancer(Wyatt Moore)-DeadZoneDenizen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781482799071903744/human-name-alan-moore-toy-name-meadow-dancer

The Funhouse(Dr. Rowena Morrigan)-DeadZoneDenizen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/782176334616150016/feeling-very-wally-darling-esque-today-toy-name

EXTRA(because there’s a lot of it-)

icanexplainwhythisnameisbad: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776142413530054656/for-the-whole-experiment-thing-experiment — https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776142413530054656/for-the-whole-experiment-thing-experiment — https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776146395680980992/part-4-icarus-human-name-isabelle-crawfoll

Mini Handymen-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad(They created the toy type): https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778669337347227648/sorry-for-the-low-effort-for-this-one-but-i + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778670188537233408/heres-the-stuff-i-forgot-to-add-in-the-last-thing + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779748434660999168/meet-the-remastered-and-not-an-aprils-fools-joke + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780037316329816064/meet-my-7th-mini-handyman-oc-miracle-based-on + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780561496202788864/3-more-mini-handymen-aka-rivals-squad-smartie +

-

TDOJ: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780042509470646272/two-mini-handymen

-

DeadZoneDenizen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781238297107333120/bruddah-how-are-you-still-awake-i-say-like-a

[poetryincostume]

When I was regathering my long-neglected research for my Helga Sinclair ribbon corset, I rediscovered this gorgeous extant example in the V&A from 1895. Unlike most extant examples I've come across, this one doesn't feature overlapping ribbons. This suggests that it was made for a particularly slim woman who needed very little support and for particular summertime breathability (supported by the garment waist measuring 19", suggesting a laced waist of 22-24".)

To me, long-since trapped in The Locked Tomb, the ribcage-like appearance was inescapable. Wouldn't you know it, I have a Crown Prince Kiriona Gaia costume that I started a year ago that was needing a little something something to pull the design together and to help motivate me.

The pattern was adapted from my Helga ribbon corset, allowing for 24mm wide ribbon to meet at the sides and spread evenly in a ribcage like fashion at the front panel.

This time I used a beautiful shell-coloured silk ribbon. The ribbon is so beautifully soft, that it was a nightmare to work with. I do not recommend it for something that needs quite so much working as it marked with so much as a hard look! I am fairly certain that the V&A example the ribbon is self-mounted, so I again mounted my main ribbon, this time on a white cottong taffeta ribbon. If i slipped with my mounting or the ribbon twisted or buckled, i thought the white would be a suitably stark and skeletal contrast to the main silk ribbon.

As I am perhaps a little more fleshy than the lady who owned the original 1895 example, I cheated and also added a base layer of nude tulle to help smooth out the laced-up silhouette.

The overall construction process was the same as Helga: quilted the ribbon panels across the boned panels before covering and sandwiching them, and inserting the bones from the side to allow for for hem stitching.

To finish, another ivory powder-coated busk and stitched over eyelets for security.

References:

Underwear Fashion in Detail, 2010, Eleri Lynn

Corsets - Historical Patterns & Techniques, 2008, Jill Salen

Corsets & Crinolines, 2017, Norah Waugh

1895 Ribbon Corset, V&A - https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O138887/corset-unknown/

How To Make A Basic Ribbon Corset, Sidney Eileen - http://sidneyeileen.com/sewing-2/sewing/corset-making/basic-ribbon/

An Edwardian Ribbon Corset, History Wardrobe - https://historywardrobe.wordpress.com/2014/04/10/an-edwardian-ribbon-corset/

[the-anastasia]

Dark Rise Summary

Leaving this here for anyone else about to read the second book and who remembers f-all from the first one. (And since I couldn’t find a good one online.) Spoilers ahead, obvs:

Will came to London to find out who killed his mom. It was Simon’s dad, Edmund, the Earl of Sinclair. He worked on Simon’s ship and tried to subterfuge it. His mom’s old servant finds him and gives him a medallion. He was caught by Simon’s men and shackled down in one of Simon’s ships. All Simon’s men got a brand on their arm, a letter S. Tom was there that day to get the brand and his sister Violet followed him. Stewards attack the ship trying to get one of their own back from Simon - Marcus. They fight. Justice fights Tom and when they fight in the ship a crate opens and it’s the corrupted blade and it starts destroying the ship and it can kill people with a touch but Will manages to sheathe it and tells to Violet to get everyone out and she does but then comes back to help Will. Since Justice found them there on the ship he assumes they were both Simon’s prisoners and takes them to an inn and tells them the ancient history. Violet tries to go back to her family but overhears her dad saying he only kept her alive cause she and Tom are both lions and Tom needs to kill another lion to get his full powers so she sashays away. Justice takes Violet and Will to the hall of Stewards (formerly the hall of kings). He thinks Will is the blood of the lady cause of the medallion. The lady is who killed the dark king in the past. They train in the hall of stewards and the elder steward tries to get Will to reach the light inside him and bring a dead hawthorn tree back to life but he can’t. Elder Steward tells Will the dark king will be reborn and Simon is trying to bring him back. The first step is to unleash a shadow.

One night Will and Violet hear some Stewards returning from patrol and sneak out to eavesdrop. Justice and others heard where Marcus might be and went out to get him but it was a trap. James was there. In old world he was servant of light but turned and started serving the dark king. He’s called the betrayer and he is a reborn so he can use magic and almost killed them all. Will thinks they want Marcus back so desperately cause he knows how to summon a shadow. Violet says she could find out how to get him back.

They sneak out back to London and she goes to back to her family and overhears where James will be alone and when. Will goes to secretly meet Simon’s fiancée Katherine and they develop a thing. When they return to the hall they are taken and shackled. Apparently Cyprian never trusted Violet, an outsider, so he followed her. They tell her they know she’s a lion and lions fought for the dark king so she must be bad. They try to tell them they know how to get to Marcus but no one trusts them. Then surprisingly Cyprian comes to free them and sneak them out. Marcus was his brother (The high janisarry adopted them both after “losing his son”). Cyprian says if there’s even a small chance they’re telling the truth and they could get Marcus he’ll risk it.

They corner James at Robert Drakes Ivory shop. Devon the last unicorn works there. He hides his identity. They capture James and slam some anti magic shackles on him and bring him back to the hall. The stewards have a severed unicorn’s horn (Devon’s) and it compels someone to tell the truth but you gotta stab them. Will takes it and with a slow, homoerotic precision stabs James in the shoulder. They learn that the High Janissary is his real dad. He was kicked out as a child when they found out who he was. Scared and alone he found the only person willing to take him in, Simon’s dad. They learn where Marcus is being held. That Simon is looking for a powerful artifact and that a man named Gauthier had come to England with it. But then James also tells them all the truth about the cup of the Stewards. The cup is what the novitiates drink from to get their steward strength. But it’s cursed and eventually turns them into shadow. Four kings of the Hall were offered great power in exchange for a price by the dark king. 3 of them agreed and drank from the Cup. Those who drank gained extraordinary physical abilities for a time. But when their time was done they turned into shadow kings controlled by the dark king. Chaos in the hall ensues. Everyone realizes the stewards are desperate to get Marcus back cause he about to be shadow boy. They plan a full frontal assault to get him back.

Will tells Cyprian and Violet there might be another way. They sneak out and Will goes to meet up with Katherine. They kiss and a Hawthorne tree in the garden by her house blooms. Katherine freaks out and asks Will “what are you”. Her lady’s maid came out looking for her but before they parted Will tells Katherine Simon is not a good man and if you ever feel in danger come to the marsh (where the hall is) and you’ll be safe. Failing to get any useful information from Katherine the three return but Marcus had already turned and came into the hall and killed everyone. Elder Steward managed to fight him and kill him cause she was almost shadow herself at that point before dying herself. The only survivors were her two janissaries, Grace and Sarah. Janissaries fail the test and so don’t drink from the cups. They become knowledge keepers, scholars, artisans, etc.

They go to find Gauthier and James is already there. A novitiane (Emery) had freed him after they left cause he had the feels for James. They overpower and shackle him again. Apparently the mighty artifact Gauthier has is a collar that controls James. Ones its on it can never be removed. The Dark King used it to control James then had him executed so he can be reborn with him. The executioner kept the collar and it was passed down through generations to Gauthier. It’s dark power ending their family line to one sad old man hanging on to the collar. Will decides to free James and gives him the collar.

Katherine and her little sister Elizabeth do come to the hall after she overhears Simon talking about killing people. She says Simon said he needs the blood of the lady to release the shadow kings from a stone they’re trapped in and that will make the dark king return. Will realizes Simon can use the blood of his mother where she was killed so he sneaks out and goes to the place. He kills Simon’s remnants and then Simon (but not before he managed to release the shadow kings). Simon tried to kill Will with the corrupted blade but of course it didn’t work on Will cause surprise surprise he’s actually the dark king reborn. Turns out his mom had tried to kill him. Katherine and Elizabeth were her daughters who she gave away to protect them. Devon appears there and tells him he knew who he is all along and calls him my king for some reason (even though the dark king slaughtered the unicorns who were fighting with the stewards). Devon also kills his boss and friend Robert after Robert steals his horn back and gives it to him saying he knew all along. Frankly, Devon just doesn’t make any sense. Katherine apparently followed Will and overheard everything. Will tells her she’s the one who made the tree bloom and she’s the blood of the lady. They can hear two shadow kings coming for her. Will commands them back to the stone. Katherine is scared of Will. She picks up the sword to fight him but the corrupted blade kills her.

Back in the hall Elithabeth stumbles and touches the dead tree and it comes to light and they realize she’s the blood of the lady. The third shadow king is there and breaks through the hall wards. Violet tells them all to run and stays to fight the king. She defeats him with a lions shield that was hanging in the hall as a relic of the old world.

Will goes to an inn to write a letter to Katherine’s aunt and uncle who were taking care of her. James shows up there. He doesn’t know who Will actually is and tells him he’s there to follow Will. Will says “Of course you are.”

Characters:

Will Kempen - the dark king (Sacrean) reborn. Dark king gave the order to kill all his servants so they be reborn with him.

The Lady - her and dark king loved each other and she killed him.

Eleanor Kempen - Will’s mom. The Lady’s descendant. Sister Mary was killed by Simon. Also mom to Katherine and Elizabeth.

Mathew - servant who worked for Will’s mother. Gave him her medallion.

Violet - Will’s friend. Half Indian on mother’s side. Half brother Tom. Super strength. Father kept her alive so Tom could kill one like him in order to come into his power.

Simon/Lord Crenshaw - Descendent of dark king who wants to bring him back. Coat of arms: three black hounds.

Tom - Simon’s lion. Super strength. Violet’s bro.

Stewards - keepers of the last flame. And of the knowledge of the old world. Fighters for the light. Wear white.

Janissaries - those who don’t wanna be stewards or fail the tests. Wear blue.

Novitiates - training to become stewards. Wear grey.

Marcus - Steward. caught by Simon. Cyprian’s brother. Turned to shadow.

Cyprian - the book’s Draco Malfoy. Novitiate.

High janissary Jannick - Cyprian’s and Marcus’ adopted father. Biological dad to James.

Justice - Steward. Was sheildmate to Marcus.

Elder steward / Euphemia - the wisest and most powerful Stewards.

Grace and Sarah - Elder Steward’s janissaries. Grace is more put together.

Leda - Steward captain

Katherine Kent - Simon’s fiancée.

Elizabeth Kent - 10yo. Katherine’s sister.

James St. Clair - Dark kings sexy boy toy. The Betrayer reborn. Used to be on side of light before the king slapped a collar on him and used it to control him and possibly also took him to bed.

Remnants - have part of ancient dark kings inner guard’s armor. The book’s Nazgûl. All living things wither at their touch.

Valdithar - Will’s brave horsie

Devon - unicorn. Clerk of ivory merchant Robert Drake. Sometimes a runner for Simon.

Gauthier - descendant to Rathorn, who executed the betrayer.

Objects:

Magic Mirror - in which Will looks into the past and sees the lady. He finds this mirror in a warehouse by the docks. It’s never mentioned again.

Medallion - inscribed “I cannot return when I’m called to fight so I will have a child” AKA the hawthorn’s flower, The lady’s medallion. Will’s mom had it. It got passed on to him.

The corrupted blade - used to be sword of the champion, Ekthalion. Corrupted by one drop of blood of dark king. Legend has it a champion can restore it.

The final flame - atop the hall

Shield of rassalon - shield of the first lion

The hawthorn tree - The tree stone in the hall of Stewart’s used to be tree of light. The lady’s touch will bring it back to life and make it shine

Cup of the stewards - they drink from it to get strength but eventually it turns them dark. “calico del re”. That’s why they’re in pairs and have shield mates. To watch for change and kill the other when the time comes.

The shadow stone - 3/4 kings made bargain with the dark king. They got power but upon their death turned into creatures of shadow. Are trapped in the stone. Will commands two back into the stone after they’re released. One is killed by Violet.

Gold collar with rubies - controls James. Never opens once it’s on.

Quotes: “Kindness is never a mistake, somewhere in the heart it is always remembered.” Pg104 (nothing to do with the summary I just like it.)

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ CHAPTER TWO. ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ “bad women, worse men.”

ivory woke before the sun had fully risen, before the birds had stirred enough to sing, before the warmth of the valley could burn through the dull, shivering fog that clung to the windows of her room. the light that bled through the curtains was a thin, silver sheen, akin to frost melted down to smoke. her body resisted the pull of the hour, every limb weighed with an aching reluctance, and her mind swam thick with the dregs of a dream she couldn’t remember and didn’t want to. she sat up in bed slow, spine stiff, legs curled beneath her like a girl waiting for the comfort of someone long gone to return.

her first shift. her first real job. the larkspur diner. it wasn’t what she wanted, not really, not at all, waitressing over some damned cigarettes she hadn’t even asked for, cigarettes she never should’ve taken, not that it mattered. rhett carver had smiled that stupid, smug little smile of his and agreed before ivory could open her mouth to protest, jodie had suggested it with that disarming, well-meaning tone she always used, and once rhett was on board, it was done. just like that. no room for ivory to say no. the decision made before she’d even opened her mouth. she was meant to start last week but it got pushed, though only by a few days, and she’d hoped it would fall apart. it didn’t. and now, saturday morning, here she was, teeth clenched as she forced herself out from under her thick covers, bare feet touching the cold hardwood, standing in her pale cotton slip with the wind rattling gently at the windows, her hair a tangle she had no will to brush just yet.

in the mirror, she looked older than she had before summer. not old like a woman or anything, but older in a tired, distant way. her mouth stayed set even when it wasn’t frowning, and the hollows under her eyes refused to disappear even when she slept all through the night. her skin sunkissed a little from the long days outdoors but she didn’t glow. she looked more worn in.

she dressed without extravagance. the issued uniform was folded on the back of the armchair in the corner, the black skirt they said should hit at the knees, hers hit an inch or two above what was standard, and a white button-up blouse that smelled of starch and the clean, flat scent of commercial detergent. she left the top few buttons undone, enough to let a small breath of skin show at her collarbone, but not enough to earn comment from rhett, or maybe enough to make him uncomfortable. she wasn’t sure yet. she fastened the necklace last, the little gold chain catching the morning light just as she snapped it around her throat. the pendant was small, a deep red stone no bigger than a fingernail, encased in a delicate gold leaf setting. it had belonged to her late mother, nadine. she never wore it to church or around her father because he always looked away when he saw it, and once, when she’d worn it to a wedding, he told her outright to take it off.

“it looks cheap on you,” he’d muttered, even though it didn’t.

she assumed it was because he couldn’t stand being reminded of his beloved wife’s death.

jodie was already up, her footsteps light down the hall, the soft squeak of her tennis shoes echoing off the polished tile as ivory came into the kitchen. she wore those tight black leggings with the brand name down the side and a matching athletic jacket in sage green, hair twisted up in a loose clip that let a few pale strands fall around her neck. the countertop was cluttered with her protein powders, the blender base plugged in, a half-finished green smoothie sweating in a glass beside a bowl of sliced bananas. jodie glanced up and offered a smile that ivory didn’t return.

“you want something to eat?” she asked, her voice too cheerful for how early it was.

ivory shook her head and muttered, “no.”

jodie didn’t push. she reached for her water bottle and took a long sip, then leaned a hip against the counter.

“you want me to drive you?”

ivory had every intention of driving herself. her white car was parked neatly in the drive, dusty from the last windstorm, and she’d already left the keys by the door last night. but something in her mood made it hard to argue, hard to summon the effort to insist on independence, and the thought of sitting in silence, letting the morning roll past her window without having to steer or think, felt more tolerable than fighting. she shrugged.

“sure.”

they walked out together, ivory trailing behind. jodie’s red coupe was freshly washed, the windshield streakless, the leather seats warmed by the remote start that hummed gently in the driveway. it was newer than mostly anything in town. ivory slid into the passenger side, the scent of clean upholstery and jodie’s perfume, floral, too sweet, prickling at her nose. she crossed her arms. her thighs stuck a little to the seat.

the car pulled out onto the road with barely a sound. the sky was still more gray than blue, the early light casting a pale reflection across the valley’s dry fields and the far silhouettes of old barn roofs, black against the hills.

“it’s only for a few weeks,” jodie said after a minute, her tone soft but too optimistic to sound convincing. “you’ll hate it less once you get the hang of it.”

ivory didn’t answer. she stared out the window, hand curled loosely around her thigh, one fingernail digging absentmindedly into the meat of her leg. her stomach was a slow-turning knot of resentment and dread.

“i mean, rhett just wants the debt to be paid. it’s not like he’s trying to punish you. you did take the cigarettes.”

“i didn’t even want them,” she muttered, voice flat. “he practically shoved them at me.”

“well,” jodie said, turning at the old intersection where the gas station sat, “you shouldn’t have let him. you know how he is.”

ivory scoffed. she leaned her head against the glass, the chill of it soothing her temple.

they passed the old feed store, then the schoolhouse, then the edge of the gravel stretch that led toward larkspur. the diner would be at the corner by the grain mill, its sign painted in flaking white cursive and framed with artificial ivy that no one had bothered to replace in years. she’d seen it all her life. it had always been there.

after another long stretch of silence, jodie glanced over. “you and jack aren’t talking?”

ivory didn’t lift her head. her eyes were half-closed, the light now falling low and gold through the windshield.

“he’s a jerk.”

jodie gave a small, understanding nod, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching to adjust the air vent. she didn’t press.

“well,” she said after a beat, “most men are.”

the car rolled on down the road, the wind lifting soft dust across the road ahead. ivory said nothing, her fingers drifting to the pendant at her throat, thumb brushing the smooth edge of the stone, the intangible memory of her mother tucked into the hollow space that her father never let her name aloud. the sun was rising slow behind them, the valley bathed in a sickle of golden haze, and her first day, whether she wanted it or not, was beginning.

jodie pulled up to the larkspur diner as the light was settling fully over the town, turning the cracked asphalt pale gold and brushing the wide windows of the building in a soft morning gleam that made the streaks and age of the glass appear almost romantic. ivy, withered plastic, sun-bleached and stiff, framed the window trim in lazy arcs, and the flickering neon “open” sign buzzed faintly in the corner. the smell of fryer oil and coffee drifted through the seams of the door even before it opened. ivory sat stiff in the passenger seat, fingers looped around the edge of the seatbelt strap, her stomach curling in slow resentment at the sight of it all.

“i’ll be back when your shift ends,” jodie said.

“i can drive myself next time.”

“i know,” jodie replied, her tone mind but too upbeat to be sincere, “but it’s no trouble.” she waited for a beat. “you’re gonna be fine, okay?”

ivory didn’t answer. she opened the door and stepped out, the sharp heat of the pavement already beginning to warm through the soles of her shoes. the sun was climbing higher now, catching in the curves of the chrome handle as she shut the car door behind her. jodie gave a small wave, then pulled off, tires crunching softly over the gravel shoulder, her silhouette vanishing around the bend that led back into town.

ivory stood there for a moment, hand already at her chest, and without thinking, she slipped open two more buttons of her blouse, enough to make a point, to leave the line of her collarbone and the upper swell of her chest in clear view. not because she wanted attention, but because she wanted control. she hated how easily she could already hear rhett carver’s gravel-toned voice in her head, and if he was going to look at her like a problem, she figured she might as well give him something to choke on.

the door gave a low creak as she pushed it open, the bell above jangling too bright for how tired she still felt. inside, the diner was beginning to wake. the floor tiles were waxed but chipped at the corners, pale green worn into gray, and the light fixtures buzzed overhead. the scent of burnt toast and brewed coffee saturated the air, threaded with the faint sweetness of pie crust and industrial soap. a fan hummed behind the counter, stirring the stale morning air, and the jukebox by the wall stuttered softly to life with a scratchy country tune from three decades ago.

carrie winslow stood behind the register in her apron, notebook in hand, head tilted forward as she scribbled something in her usual delicate scrawl. she looked up when ivory entered, her blue-green eyes catching in the light with that ever-present shimmer of mischief. carrie was short, softer in feature than most girls they knew, with hair the color of fresh espresso, curling a little at the ends from the dampness of morning heat. her mouth pulled into a grin that was half-greeting, half amusement.

“you made it,” she said.

“barely,” ivory muttered. “you’re on shift today?”

“lucky me,” carrie smiled, stepping out from behind the counter and tucking her pencil behind her ear. “you, me, and nora was supposed to be but called out. food poisoning or something. guess we’re down one.”

ivory didn’t respond. her gaze swept the space, one table already taken by an older man nursing a black coffee, the booths mostly empty, light filtering in through the blinds in slatted stripes across the red vinyl cushions. she smoothed her skirt down absently, adjusting the apron that hung limp at her waist.

the door to the back swung open with a shove and in walked rhett calder, shoulders broad beneath his old plaid button-up, boots heavy with dust, a thick leather order pad already tucked under his arm. he barely gave her a glance as he stepped into the front, his eyes immediately on carrie.

“coffee’s burnt,” he said gruffly, voice rough as ever.

“i didn’t make it,” carrie replied with an innocent shrug, not even pretending to sound apologetic.

rhett gave a quiet grunt in return, then finally turned toward ivory. his eyes swept her frame in a brief, unspoken calculation, then narrowed as they landed squarely on her blouse. he stepped forward, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, reached out and tugged at the lowest undone button of her shirt, not hard, but enough to make her stiffen and draw her chin up.

“button it,” he said plainly. “you’re not here to distract.”

her mouth twisted before she could stop it. “lucy wears her uniform the same way.”

rhett’s eyes darkened a fraction, a humorless little smile forming just at the corner of his mouth. “lucy,” he said, “doesn’t have what you have.”

ivory’s face flushed, not from shame, but from fury, that hot, tight feeling that rose into her throat and made her fingers twitch. she said nothing. she simply stared at him, her eyes sharp and cold.

he didn’t linger. he stepped back, not quite smirking, not quite serious either, and added, “dress right. do the job right.” then he turned and walked off toward the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him.

ivory stood motionless, her heart beating louder than it ought to have been, her hands clenched at her sides. carrie laughed behind her.

“he’s so riled up by you,” she said, her voice low and amused. “i swear, i’ve never seen mr. carver get so flustered. it’s sort of charming.”

“he just wanted an excuse to pull at my shirt,” ivory muttered.

carrie let out a soft snort and went to refill the sugar caddies at the nearest booth.

ivory took a breath, then another, and made her way to the counter where the menus were kept, the steps of her shoes tapping quietly against the old tile. the uniform itched, the collar pinched, and the air smelled too much of meat grease and coffee grounds for her to breathe right. but she opened her notepad, picked up her pen, and began the shift anyway. her first table was waiting.

the hours passed slow but not painfully so. there was something oddly hypnotic about the way the work came together, how the morning haze dissolved into a soft midday glow that filtered through the diner’s wide windows and caught in the chrome of the counter stools and the sweat beading on tall glasses of sweet tea. ivory hadn’t expected to do well, and truthfully, she hadn’t cared to try, but it turned out that there was something about the cadence of it, the back-and-forth between tables, the muted chime of the bell over the door, the crinkle of dollar bills pressed beneath emptied plates, that made it easier to fall into than she thought.

she figured part of it was her face. she knew how to smile the kind of smile that seemed sweeter than it was, soft-spoken and tired enough to charm older men, and her figure didn’t hurt either, especially not in that black skirt, or the blouse she’d only half-heartedly buttoned to propriety. she wasn’t trying to seduce anybody, not really, but she knew what she looked like and knew, in the back of her mind, that being pretty had always gotten her a few inches ahead.

by noon, she’d already made more in tips than she expected for a saturday morning. a trucker from out of town gave her five for refilling his coffee twice and calling him sir. a pair of old ladies left three ones neatly folded between the salt shaker and the pepper, telling her she had a nice voice. even the teenage boys who sat at the back booth, probably skipping summer school or football practice, had the decency to cough up a few crumpled bills between them and give her bashful looks as she cleared their baskets. carrie, ever the efficient one, didn’t comment much but kept flashing her those little knowing glances, the ones that said ‘see? told you you’d be fine.’

but it all started to shift, subtle at first, the way a storm makes the air feel a bit too calm, when ivory saw who had just walked through the door.

tess harlow.

and behind her, flanking her on either side, guards who didn’t know they were guards, were two of her usual tagalongs, those dull, tight-lipped girls from the honor society or student government or whatever place bred the kind of girls who smiled too politely and never had anything of value to say. they dressed too neatly, in those muted pastels and button-up cardigans that made them look like they’d been spit out of their mothers fully formed and deeply boring. ivory didn’t know their names. she didn’t care to. but tess, tess she knew.

the tension between them was old, crusted over but not dead. it had started a few years before, the spring that lucy had slept with nate granger behind tess’s back. ivory hadn’t slept with him, never would’ve, never wanted to, but she’d known. she’d known what lucy was doing, hadn’t stopped it, hadn’t warned tess, and when the fallout came, she’d stood squarely on lucy’s side without flinching. to her, it was simple, tess had always been a bitch, and lucy was her best friend. the math did itself.

but tess hadn’t forgotten.

and now here she was. all smirking lipgloss and concealer and curled hair, wearing a lemon-yellow sundress and a face so smug ivory could’ve slapped it off. she slid into the booth by the window, her friends crowding in beside her, and didn’t so much as glance at the menu.

ivory approached slowly, not nervous but already irritated, one hand smoothing the apron at her hip. she forced her expression neutral.

“hi there,” she said, voice syrupy enough to rot teeth. “welcome to larkspur diner. what can i get y’all?”

tess glanced up with a smile that could’ve cut glass. “oh, ivory. didn’t expect to see you here. i guess times are tough.”

her friends tittered under their breath, not quite brave enough to laugh outright.

ivory didn’t blink. “i’m trying to keep busy.” she pulled out her notepad. “what’ll it be?”

“do you take tips in cigarettes or just attention from married men now?” tess asked sweetly, angling her head.

ivory smiled thinly. “i can take yours in compliments, since i doubt you brought cash.”

carrie, wiping down the counter behind her, looked over briefly but didn’t intervene.

tess looked over the menu, though it was clear she wasn’t reading it. “i’ll do a diet coke. sarah wants an iced tea. janelle’s doing the grilled cheese with tomato soup. no ice in the drinks. and don’t forget the lime this time. if it’s not fresh, i’m sending it back.”

ivory jotted the orders down, her pen digging hard into the page.

“right away,” she said with a little curtsy she didn’t mean. she turned on her heel before tess could add anything else.

in the back, she poured the drinks with measured precision, the cold fizz of soda hissing against the glass in a way that sounded too much like spite. she made sure the lime slices were fresh. she didn’t want tess to have any reason to call her over again. but when she turned and began walking back toward the booth, balancing the small tray on one hand, the heat outside had crept in through the windows, the tile floor felt slippery beneath her shoes, and her mind, full of old insults and the sight of nate’s smug grin at the bonfire that night lucy confessed it all, churned too loud for her to focus.

she stepped forward.

and her hand quivered.

the diet coke splashed, cold and sharp, down the front of tess’s sundress, right across the bodice and lap, a wide dark stain blossoming through yellow cotton like ink in water.

there was a silence that followed, thick and perfect. one of tess’s friends gasped.

tess stood halfway up, both hands out to her sides like she didn’t know where to begin. her voice, when it came, was venomous.

“are you fucking serious?”

“it was an accident,” ivory said, not sounding sorry. “i guess your face was distracting.”

tess’s jaw dropped. “you’re a backstabbing slut,” she hissed. “always have been. everyone knows it. you’re pathetic. standing behind lucy after she whored herself out to my boyfriend? you’re both garbage.”

ivory’s mouth curled at the corner. she didn’t raise her voice, didn’t need to.

“not my fault you’re an ugly bitch and lucy’s prettier. nate went where he actually wanted to.”

gasps again. louder this time. carrie stood frozen behind the counter. one of tess’s friends tried to shush her, but tess’s face was already red, her hands trembling.

ivory stood with her head high, unbothered, one hand on her hip, the other holding the empty glass.

rhett carver stepped through the swinging door from the back, clearly having heard the noise.

“what the hell’s going on out here?” he barked.

ivory turned toward him slowly, voice sugar-sweet and calm.

“a spill, mr. carver. i’ll clean it up.” she gave tess one last look. “some stains just don’t come out though.”

and then she turned, with restraint and grace, glass in hand, leaving tess harlow sputtering behind her, drenched and defeated, while the whole diner pretended not to have watched every single second.

she returned to their table slower this time, a while after taking their orders and redoing the drinks, tray steadied in both hands, the edge of it digging into the bruised strip of her hip from where she’d been carrying it too long. her knuckles whitened against the metal. the glasses, now full and sweating, clinked with every step, and the smell of tomato soup curled upward through the steam of it, sweet and thick. the diner had settled into that stretched, uneasy lull that always came just after the tail end of the lunch rush. the sun had reached high in the sky outside and now hung like a bright, burning burden over the town, pressing its glare through the windows and onto the red vinyl booths where customers sat with flushed cheeks and dust on their boots. a teacher from the elementary school sat by the jukebox grading spelling tests. an older couple picked at split pancakes. the din of utensils clinking, boots shuffling, coffee sloshing in carafes, it all felt distant and muffled under a tension that hadn’t quite drained from the walls.

and ivory could feel them watching her.

tess and her two little shadows. janelle, the one with the mousy bangs and colorless voice. and sarah, who wore her cardigan in the middle of summer and only ever spoke to agree. three pairs of eyes. cold. expectant. smug in that mean girl way that wasn’t loud, but surgical. calculated. they sat stiffly, too composed, as if waiting for a cue.

ivory approached without saying a word. she kept her shoulders squared and her face smooth, not smiling, not glaring, but aloof. she moved with care, her motions practiced despite herself, grilled cheese and soup slid in front of janelle, iced tea to sarah with the lime wedge she’d asked for, no ice, and then, finally, the turkey sandwich to tess. no onions. just as ordered. she didn’t meet her eyes. she didn’t need to. the rage radiating off tess’s narrow frame was louder than words.

she lifted the last drink, diet coke, freshly poured, and reached to set it down with the same careful touch.

but tess was faster.

her hand shot out, not clumsy, not accidental, and with a single flick of her wrist she threw the entire glass forward.

the soda hit ivory dead in the chest. a soundless splash at first, the kind that knocked the breath from her lungs, followed by the sharp sting of cold. it soaked through the white cotton blouse instantly, clinging to her ribs, her collarbone, the curve of her breasts. the sugary liquid pooled at her sternum before dripping slowly down, into the waist of her skirt, following the slope of her stomach like ink crawling through paper. the lime wedge bounced against her apron, then fell to the floor, followed by the glass itself, which struck tile and spun off under the booth.

the diner hushed. everything stopped.

the old man at the bar turned his head. carrie’s pencil froze halfway across her order slip. even the babies in the corner booth seemed to go quiet.

ivory didn’t move.

her fingers were midair, her left hand hanging open, useless, the tray heavy and slipping to one side. she blinked. once. twice. the soda was starting to seep through to her skin, her bra growing dark beneath the fabric, translucent and clinging. she could feel a single cube of ice melting, cold enough to sting. her throat constricted. her jaw clenched.

but she didn’t cry out. didn’t stumble. didn’t even flinch.

she just stood there, shoulders drawn back, face perfectly calm.

there was a particular kind of silence that came when humiliation met fury, ancient and female, carved from centuries of girls knowing better than to fall apart in front of witnesses. ivory stood in it like stone. unblinking. untouchable.

and then.

boots.

rhett carver’s boots.

they sounded heavier than usual against the tile, his long stride closing the space between kitchen and front floor in seconds. he emerged from the back like a storm breaking through the dust curtain, expression etched in stone, broad chest taut beneath his faded shirt, hands curled into fists at his sides. he looked at the scene only once.

at ivory. soaked. frozen.

at tess. upright in her seat, that smug little smirk ghosting her lips, as if she hadn’t just thrown a glass in a waitress’s face.

he didn’t speak at first. not until he stepped closer. not until his shadow fell directly across tess’s booth and the weight of his presence turned the tension sharp.

then he spoke, low and measured, each word clipped to the bone.

“pay your bill and get the hell out.”

janelle gasped. sarah shrank. tess straightened, about to open her mouth.

“now,” rhett added. “before i call the sheriff.”

tess’s eyes narrowed, full of poison. but she knew better than to argue. there was something in rhett’s tone that brokered no negotiation, no manipulation, no chance to contort the scene in her favor. he wasn’t angry. he was done.

with a huff, she reached into her purse, dug out a handful of bills, and slapped them onto the table without counting. the slap of them echoed through the lack of noise. she didn’t say thank you. didn’t apologize. she simply stood, tugged her bag higher on her shoulder, and tossed one last searing glance at ivory as she passed.

ivory didn’t look back.

the door slammed shut behind them. the bell above it jingled once, then fell still.

and then rhett turned.

his posture was rigid. his eyes unreadable.

“storage room,” he said, his voice rougher now. “now.”

ivory followed, drenched and demeaned.

the staff door closed hard behind them, and inside, the storage room pulsed with heat and dim fluorescent hum. the light buzzed overhead, flickering slightly as it always did. it smelled of ammonia and flour, of old mop water and canned peach syrup. metal shelves lined every wall, stacked with dry goods, salt packets, stacks of takeout containers and paper towels. the air was dense and unmoving.

rhett didn’t speak at first. he ran a hand down his face, his palm catching at the stubble across his chin and dragging low like he wanted to scrub the entire scene out of existence. when he turned, his expression was flat with disbelief, exhaustion threaded through every line of it.

“first fucking day,” he muttered, louder now. “and you manage to turn this place into a goddamn sideshow.” he shook his head, stepping forward, pacing now. “you walk in here three hours ago, maybe four, and already i’ve got girls throwin’ drinks and the whole diner watchin’ for drama.”

ivory’s arms crossed over her chest, the wet fabric cold and clinging.

“they started it,” she said sharply. “you saw it.”

“shut your damn mouth.”

his voice cracked like a whip. she startled. his eyes flared. but he didn’t yell again. didn’t repeat it. simply let it hang there, potent and ugly and final.

he sighed hard, his breath scraping out between his teeth as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“what the hell am i supposed to do with a girl like you,” he said, more to himself than to her. “goddamn firework in a field of dry grass.”

ivory didn’t answer. she didn’t look away. but she didn’t speak.

she thought of her father, of his voice echoing down the halls, of how quick he’d be to turn this into something about her behavior. how jodie would try to smooth it all over with passive wisdom, how no one would ask what tess did, only what ivory did to let it happen.

she swallowed hard.

“i’m sorry,” she said. meek. bitter. forced out like blood from a split lip. “fine? i’m sorry.”

rhett looked at her for a long second, unreadable, then turned and left the room.

he came back a minute later with a fresh white blouse, folded over his arm, the starch still sharp in its creases. he tossed it at her.

“change.”

he didn’t leave.

he turned halfway, back angled toward her, gaze fixed on some spot along the upper wall like he didn’t trust himself to look.

ivory didn’t flinch. she peeled off the soaked blouse unhurried, gradual, the sound of the wet fabric separating from her skin loud in the hush of the room. she stood there in her bra for a moment, black lace against pale skin, then slipped the new shirt over her arms, the cotton crisp and dry.

she caught him looking.

his eyes moved back to the wall.

she began buttoning slowly, and murmured with dry humor, “if you stare any harder, i’ll get shy, mr. carver.”

rhett didn’t answer immediately. he exhaled, jaw working, then turned to face her fully. his expression was tight, his voice flat.

“you mess up again,” he said, “i call your father. i mean it.”

ivory lifted her chin. nodded once.

and without another word, she stepped past him, dry blouse clinging clean to her back, leaving the ruined one behind in a crumpled, sticky heap on the floor. forgotten. a remnant of the mess she didn’t plan on repeating.

the air outside the storage room hit her sharp, drier than the stale breath of canned goods and mop buckets behind her, and it took her a moment to adjust. rhett said nothing as the door clicked shut behind them. his steps were heavy, shoulders squared, jaw set the way it had been when he’d snapped at her. but he didn’t speak again. didn’t so much as glance back. he headed toward the counter, back into the business of running his diner, as if none of it had happened, no shouting, no soda, no moment in that narrow room with her blouse undone and her voice sharpened by pride.

ivory stood there a second longer, her fingers brushing the fresh collar of the blouse he’d given her. it fit a little looser than the last and smelled of lemon soap and linen starch. she tugged it down at the hem, squared her shoulders, and stepped back out onto the floor with her chin lifted and her mouth poised, ready to pretend that nothing at all had been out of place.

carrie caught her near the coffee machines, where she was busy refilling the pot with practiced ease, her pencil tucked behind one ear and her hip cocked the way she always stood when she was amused. her eyes sparkled the moment she caught ivory’s expression, cool and unreadable with a flash of something stormy alive beneath.

“jesus christ,” carrie whispered, glancing around first to make sure rhett was out of earshot. “i really thought he was gonna murder you in there. like, honest to god bury-you-out-back kind of murder.”

ivory let out a low laugh, the kind that caught a little in her throat. she leaned against the counter, her fingers lightly tapping the rim of an empty sugar caddy.

“no,” she said. “i took my shirt off and he forgot the whole thing.”

carrie’s mouth gaped open. “what?”

ivory grinned. “it was ruined,” she added coolly, motioning toward her chest. “soda. everywhere. he brought me a new one. i changed. it wasn’t a show, calm down.”

“doesn’t matter,” carrie said, her voice catching in that breathless way that happened when she was both horrified and delighted, “that man was red. i thought you were gonna get fired, or cuffed to the sink or something.”

“he was too busy being stunned,” ivory muttered dryly. “he probably thought he was gonna scold me and ended up needing holy water.”

carrie snorted, nearly choked on it. “god. you’re gonna make him quit his job.”

“well,” ivory said with a shrug, picking up her order pad and smoothing her hand over it, “then he shouldn’t stare.”

the laughter that followed was easy, warm, and cut the tension that had lingered over the diner since the soda hit her chest. it wasn’t gone entirely, but it had softened. dulled at the edges. and more importantly, it had settled into something she could push past. tess was long gone. rhett had said his piece. and the shirt, while somewhat too big in the shoulders, was dry and clean and clung a little softer to her skin.

ivory turned toward the front again, scanning the tables for anyone new. the booth by the window was being cleared by carrie now, the tip untouched, the lime slice left abandoned on the plate. an elderly couple had sat down by the far end near the blinds. a girl with a baby stroller was fiddling with her menu near the door. ivory moved toward them with her notepad in hand, face composed, eyes calm.

rhett passed behind the counter then, checking something in the register, but didn’t look her way. didn’t speak. he was back to being rhett carver, stoic, stern, eyes always half-shadowed.

ivory, true to her word, resumed her work.

she approached the next table with the poise of someone unbothered, as though no altercation had ever occurred, as though she hadn’t nearly been thrown out or drenched in soda or dragged by the arm into a supply room where the dust hung thick between the shelves.

her pen hit paper. her smile returned. her tone was smooth and soft-spoken, dipped in syrup, and her steps fell steady as the jukebox kicked up an old, whining country song from the corner of the room. outside the light grew harsher, the day folding further into afternoon, and the larkspur hummed back to life, plates clattering, coffee pouring, the salty scent of grease rising into the ceiling fans.

ivory didn’t glance back. not even once.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the sky had shifted to the bruised, half-golden kind of light that clung to the edges of the evening, where everything looked a little dustier, a little lonelier. the fields they passed on the way home were bathed in it, long rows of withered brush and stubborn weeds casting thin, crooked shadows across the road. ivory leaned her head against the passenger side window, arms crossed over her chest, the mental toil of the day beginning to settle somewhere low in her spine. the clean blouse stuck a little to her back where the cotton met skin damp from sweat and sugar residue that wouldn’t wash out until she properly showered. the seatbelt pressed across her ribs in a way that made her feel too aware of her own breathing.

jodie was humming along to the radio, a half-forgotten country ballad that played low, the kind of thing their father would’ve grumbled about if he were there. but he wasn’t. he was stull out doing business, or whatever he called it when he went around town meeting with other men in boots and suit jackets, sipping watered-down bourbon and muttering about land and debt and favors owed. ivory had no interest in asking what it meant. he always came back tired when he handled “business,” and she knew better than to press.

jodie glanced over after a long stretch of silence. “so,” she said gently, “how was work?”

ivory didn’t look up. she kept her eyes on the window, where the light fractured around the reflection of her face, casting a long thin line down her cheek.

“fine,” she said.

jodie waited a minute, expecting more, but none came.

“fine?” she asked with a small smile.

“what else is there to say?” ivory murmured, not turning.

jodie seemed to take the hint. she gave a gentle hum and tapped her fingers along the wheel in rhythm with the song. ivory kept her gaze steady out the window, refusing to let the scene from earlier replay behind her eyelids. she didn’t need jodie’s look of concern or her voice going tender with that particular strain of pity. she didn’t want to explain tess, or the drink, or rhett’s shouting, or the storage room where she changed without shame to reclaim some dignity. she didn’t want to make it real again. she wanted to go home, scrub herself clean, and forget the way the cola had soaked through her skin and into her lungs.

they pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, jodie’s red car crunching over the gravel path that curved behind the sinclair property. the windows were lit with soft yellow from the inside, curtains drawn lightly, porchlight already on. the world smelled faintly of cut grass and the distant smoke of someone’s barbecue. a moth circled the porchlight with frantic devotion.

ivory stepped out without a word, her shoes scuffing against the pavement. she moved toward the door, key already in hand, wanting to get to her room before jodie said anything else. but as soon as she stepped inside, she felt it. not a chill exactly, but something close. a stillness. the air inside was quiet, too quiet, and she sensed immediately that someone else was there. someone who wasn’t vernon sinclair.

jack burke stood in the living room, posture too casual for someone who’d once been a stranger. his sheriff’s badge gleamed dull in the light, clipped neatly on the chest of his collared shirt. he wasn’t in uniform exactly, his sleeves were rolled, his boots freshly dusted, but there was something about the way he stood that screamed law. not bitter, not angry. merely present. overly present. he looked up the swcond they entered and offered that same tight smile he always wore, the one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“evenin’,” he said. “how was the first day?”

ivory stopped in the doorway, shoulders stiff. her grip fastened around the strap of her bag.

“fine,” she said again.

jodie swept in beside her and gave her older brother a grin, breezing past toward the kitchen as if the atmosphere hadn’t gotten ten degrees heavier.

“she survived,” jodie called over her shoulder, already pouring herself water at the sink. “and i didn’t hear any sirens, so i’m callin’ that a win.”

ivory didn’t laugh.

jack stepped closer, not enough to crowd her, but enough to make the silence awkward. he rubbed the back of his neck, gaze drifting briefly to the floor.

“you didn’t look too thrilled when i walked in,” he said after a minute, attempting something light. “don’t worry, i’m not stayin’ long.”

ivory met his eyes flatly. “i wasn’t worried.”

he smiled a little at that, tried to make it warm, but it faltered. he glanced over toward the kitchen. jodie had already found something to busy herself with, sorting mail, refolding a towel, some excuse to step out of the conversation. she lingered a momenr longer, then, almost too conveniently, said, “i’ll be out back, waterin’ the planters. you two can talk.”

ivory didn’t want to talk. she stood there, arms crossed, every line in her body giving away her discomfort. her stomach churned. not from guilt, not even from bitterness. it was something else. something cold. the recollection of that awkward date the week before hovered, unwelcome, like smoke that wouldn’t air out. she remembered the tension between them over dinner, how he kept trying to ask about her father, how she kept pretending she was tired so she could look away. how he dropped her off without another word and no goodbye kiss, and she hadn’t spoken to him since.

he shifted again, hands in his pockets now.

“i… uh, i meant to say sorry. for last week,” he muttered. “didn’t mean for it to go terrible.”

ivory raised a brow, unimpressed. “it was terrible.”

he chuckled. “yeah. i know. you made that real clear.”

she didn’t answer. didn’t want to. the silence stretched again. he filled it with another question.

“work wasn’t too bad, was it?”

she shrugged, walking past him into the living room and dropping her bag onto the couch. “i said it was fine.”

he didn’t follow right away. when he did, his steps were slow, careful.

“you don’t have to talk to me,” he said tenderly, pausing by the fireplace. “i just wanted to check.”

ivory turned toward him then, but her eyes a little softer. she didn’t smile. she didn’t owe him that.

“you checked,” she said simply.

he nodded, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. whatever else he might’ve said died in his throat.

jodie remained outside. her watering can scraped along the porch railing.

jack gave ivory another look.

he stood there, not quite in the center of the room but far enough from the fire that the light painted one side of his face while the other stayed shadowed. his boots were planted, his mouth drawn into something strained and unreadable, and for a second ivory wondered if he’d frozen there altogether, struck dumb by the pressure of what he wanted to say and the sheer reluctance to say it.

she didn’t move either. her arms were folded, not out of defiance now but as a guard against something else, something duller and more difficult to name, disappointment, maybe. discomfort. the low pulse of a hurt she wasn’t quite ready to bleed out. the house was quiet except for the ticking of the old wall clock in the hallway, the one that ran a little fast, and the occasional distant clatter from the kitchen where jodie was finishing whatever task she’d made up for herself to buy them space.

jack cleared his throat. then again, louder, aa if he was trying to jar something loose from his chest.

“i’ve been thinkin’ about what happened,” he said finally. “at the diner. with rhett. and… you.”

his voice wasn’t smooth. wasn’t practiced. it came out slow and low, every word was being weighed in the back of his throat before it got pushed into the air.

ivory didn’t look at him at first. she dropped her arms and let them rest at her sides, fingers brushing the hem of her blouse, knuckles stained from where the soda had dried along her skin. she stared at a point on the rug for a second, then lifted her eyes to meet his.

“you might’ve been right,” she said, her voice quiet but clear. “i probably shouldn’t have taken them. the cigarettes. maybe it was stupid. i know it was stupid.”

she let the words sit, let them hang there, delicate and sharp, and then added, almost in the same breath. “but it hurt. when you let him talk to me like that. stood there while he yelled, like i wasn’t even worth defending.”

her voice didn’t crack, but it came close. she looked away, not because she was ashamed, but because the heat in her chest had returned too suddenly. not fury. not even embarrassment. just that heavy, hollow ache that came when someone you didn’t trust had the power to hurt you, and did anyway.

jack took a breath.

“i know,” he said, and then again, “i know. i should’ve stepped in. i should’ve said somethin’. i…” he paused, searching for it, that excuse that didn’t sound like one. “it’s hard. wearin’ the badge and still tryin’ to be a man. there’s rules i gotta follow. things i’m supposed to let play out.” he hesitated, the words raw now. “but you’re not… anybody, ivory. i didn’t want to make it worse.”

she looked at him again then. long and measured. there was no fire in her eyes, not anymore. only a slow-burning sadness that hadn’t cooled yet.

“you didn’t make it worse,” she said. “but you didn’t make it better.”

he closed his eyes at that, pressed the heel of his hand to his brow, and exhaled.

“i’m sorry,” he said, and this time the words didn’t sound rehearsed or obligated. “i mean that. i really do. i never should’ve let it happen that way.”

he stepped closer. cautiously. not the way a man moved when he wanted something, but the way a man moved when he wasn’t sure he was welcome. ivory didn’t step back. didn’t flinch. she held her ground and let him come.

his hand lifted slowly, uncertain, then brushed a lock of her hair from her cheek, fingers lingering for a heartbeat too long at the side of her face. it was a careful touch, reverent in its way, and she saw the softness in his expression, something boyish and ashamed and too human to hate.

then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

it was warm. light. no pressure to it. and yet it carried the intimacy of something unspoken. not lust. not even affection in the way boys gave it. something else. regret, maybe. apology. some small yearning to undo whatever wall had been built between them.

when he pulled back, he looked at her again, eyes steady, searching, and asked, his voice hoarse.

“would you ever consider givin’ me a second chance? not now. not right away. just… sometime. i don’t want the last memory you got of me to be that mess of a night.”

ivory didn’t answer right away. her breath caught at the trace of a laugh, not quite a sound of amusement, more a breath of disbelief. she tilted her head, studied him. and when she finally smiled, it was slow, almost reluctant, but real.

“maybe,” she said, her voice hushed now. “you’re not the worst. and you are handsome. and… kind of charming when you’re not being a self-righteous jackass.”

he smiled at that. really smiled. and for a moment it felt almost easy between them.

then she leaned forward and kissed him. softly, but not shy. it wasn’t long, wasn’t showy, but it was enough, enough to startle him. enough to surprise herself. her mouth pressed against his long enough to make him blink, his hands frozen at his sides, and when she pulled back, she felt the warmth of his breath still lingering against her lips.

his eyes were wide for a split second before he cleared his throat and looked toward the door.

and that’s when they both heard it, the creak of the screen door, the metal catch clicking as jodie returned from the back porch, footsteps light on the tile.

jack jolted slightly, stepping back in a motion so casual it was too obvious, his fingers brushing his sleeve as if trying to compose himself. ivory didn’t move. didn’t rush. she folded her arms and tilted her head as jodie walked into the room, hair damp from the mist, cheeks pink from the evening chill.

“everything alright in here?” jodie asked, eyes flicking briefly between them.

“yeah,” jack said, a beat too fast. “i was heading out.”

jodie nodded, distracted. she walked past them toward the hallway, eyes on the pile of mail she’d left earlier.

jack looked at ivory one more time. he didn’t smile this time. he didn’t touch her. but his voice dropped again when he spoke.

“i’ll call you soon.”

and then he was gone, the front door closing with a gentle click behind him, boots fading down the porch steps into the dark. ivory stood

with her heart still fluttering, the taste of him lingering on her lips like a secret. and in the quiet that followed, she breathed in deep, held it, and let it go slowly, as if she could exhale the entire day from her chest all at once.

the door had barely shut behind jack when ivory felt it, that shift in the air, small but certain, as if the house had exhaled something it’d been holding onto. she didn’t turn or move right away. she just stood where he’d left her, fingertips grazing the hem of her skirt, the kiss hadn’t been grand or deep or daring, but it had meant something. something private. something that didn’t belong to anyone else. and yet she knew before the creak of the hallway floorboards that jodie had noticed. maybe not the kiss, maybe not the affection in his voice or the way he looked at her, but something. something had changed, and jodie was too sharp not to catch it.

jodie neared to where she was, her bare feet whispering across the tile as she stepped back into the living room, cheeks flushed from the mist outside, her brown hair tucked behind one ear and a knowing, dangerous little smile playing across her lips. she held a half-full glass of water in one hand, a mail flyer in the other, but her eyes weren’t on either of them, they were on ivory. warm, watchful, and bright with something she wasn’t bothering to hide.

“he’s sweet on you, y’know,” she said, casual but unmistakably direct. “my brother.”

ivory glanced toward her, face unreadable. her voice came low and dry. “nothing happened.”

“mhm.” jodie didn’t sit. she leaned against the archway, that little curve of her mouth never fading. “i didn’t say anything did.”

ivory turned her head. the porchlight outside flickered once, then steadied, casting a thin golden glow through the front window.

“then why bring it up?” she asked, softer this time, though the challenge was still there in the tilt of her head, the steel behind her lashes.

jodie shrugged. “because it’s okay,” she said. “it’s more than okay.”

ivory said nothing, eyes going to the floor, where a scuff mark from her father’s polished shoes caught the light against the wood grain. she could feel her throat tightening, not from guilt, not even from fear, but from the oddness of hearing it said aloud. that someone thought this, whatever it was, whatever it could be, might not be wrong.

“jack’s been askin’ about you for a while now,” jodie continued, walking slowly toward the couch. her voice stayed light, but her words were pointed, clear. “not in some creepy way. but… hesitant. every time he’d come by, I’d catch him glancing toward your room. askin’ how you’re doin’. makin’ little excuses to stay longer.”

“he’s the sheriff,” she continued evenly, but it didn’t land the way she meant it to.

jodie sat on the edge of the armrest, her elbows resting against her knees now, fingers twirling the rim of the glass in slow circles.

“he’s also a man,” she said. “and not a stupid one, either. he knew vernon wouldn’t take to it kindly. you know how your father is. old rules. old grudges. and jack… jack thinks the world works best when you ask permission first.”

ivory tilted her head. “so what, he asked you to talk to my father?”

“no,” jodie said, smiling. “i did that on my own. i figured it was better comin’ from me anyway. vernon trusts me with things like that. told him straight up, jack was askin’ after you, and he wasn’t doin’ it to stir trouble.”

ivory blinked. something heavy, warm, and unfamiliar spread across her chest.

“and?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“and he said…” jodie leaned back, her smile softening. “he said jack’s stable. respectful. said if you were gonna end up with someone eventually, and you would, with that face and that temper, he’d rather it be jack than half the other boys in this town.”

ivory didn’t know what to say. she didn’t know if she wanted to say anything. something about the way jodie was looking at her made her skin prickle, not from judgment but from expectation. from hope. and she didn’t like it. she didn’t want anyone getting ideas about her future, least of all her stepmother.

“you two,” jodie added, brushing invisible dust from her leg, “would be lovely together. truly. you’d soften him. and he’d keep you from driftin’ too far into yourself.”

ivory’s mouth trembled at the corner. not quite a smile. more an expression of unease. she didn’t want to say no. but she couldn’t say yes, either. she didn’t even know what she wanted, not really. jack burke was handsome, sure. and there was something in him, something righteous and good, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who knew how to hold onto good things without bruising them.

“i’ll think about it,” she said, too swiftly.

jodie raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. she stood up slowly, setting her glass down on the side table, her eyes watching ivory with that lingering sweetness, the kind that belonged to women who’d already made up their minds.

ivory forced her own smile then, more out of politeness than anything.

“goodnight,” she said, her voice calm, her posture poised.

“goodnight, ivory,” jodie replied, brushing her hand gently across ivory’s arm in passing.

ivory waited until her footsteps faded down the hall. then she turned toward the stairs. the air upstairs was cooler, darker, the shadows longer across the banister, and her room felt even more lonely than before. she pushed the door open and stepped inside without switching on the light.

she shut the door gently, let her bag slide to the floor, and moved to the end of the bed. sat there for a long time in the dark, staring at the outline of her dresser, her mirror, the window cracked scarcely to let in the hum of crickets from the valley below.

it hadn’t meant nothing, what happened in the living room. but she wouldn’t let it mean everything either.

not yet. not tonight. not when her heart beat with someone else’s rhythm and her bones ached with the trouble of pretending she didn’t want anything.

she laid down slowly and pulled the covers over herself, pressing her face into the cool fabric of the pillow. and somewhere far off, she heard a car engine humming down the road, fading into the serenity of the sierra valley night.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

it had been close to two weeks since she started. twelve long, aching days of aprons stiff with starch, of coffee poured with hands that trembled sometimes in the mornings, of the grease that clung to her skin no matter how long she scrubbed after each shift. the routine of it had begun to settle somewhere in her bones, less foreign now, less unbearable. her legs didn’t hurt as badly by the end of the day, and her posture behind the counter had straightened into something natural, almost proud. she hadn’t slipped up again, not since that first day. no shouting matches. no spilled drinks. no arguments with customers or cold stares that ended in reprimands.

she kept her mouth shut when she had to. smiled when it helped. wiped down tables that didn’t belong to her. took on more hours than she wanted. rhett hadn’t said anything since that day in the storage room, but he was still watching. she felt it, those glances from the counter, the way his eyes hung back a second too long when she walked by with a tray of orders. he would raised his voices at times. other times, his silence did the work. she could hear it even when he was in the back doing inventory, or counting bills behind the till, jaw tight and hands moving with slow precision. he didn’t trust her yet. maybe he never would.

but she was close now. only under twenty bucks left from the cost of those cigarettes, and then, in theory, she could walk. she didn’t know if he’d let her. didn’t know if she’d even try. some part of her had begun to sink into it, not comfort, not exactly, but something between resignation and purpose. there was something about the work that filled her time in a way nothing else did. maybe it was the way the hours bled into each other. or the strange, bitter peace of purpose.

it was late afternoon when she and lucy slipped into the back to rest between tables. the kitchen was half-warm with the smell of oil and onions, and the fly strip above the dish station buzzed faintly with a fresh catch. the clatter of plates and forks still rang out from the front, but there was a lull. that in-between hour when most of the truckers had cleared and the dinner crowd hadn’t yet started to roll in. ivory leaned back against the far wall, apron streaked with coffee grounds, a pencil tucked behind her ear. her hair stuck to the back of her neck from the heat. she rolled her shoulders, stretching them slow.

lucy sat on an overturned crate, picking at her nails and chewing a piece of gum too loudly. her shift had started two hours ago, and she already looked fed up with the world. her hair was pulled into a haphazard ponytail, wisps of it falling out around her ears, and her lipstick was smudged across her top lip, the way it always was when she got bored and started biting.

“i feel bad for you sometimes,” lucy said abruptly, glancing up at her. “with rhett.”

ivory raised a brow. “what?”

“with how rhett treats you.” lucy exhaled, rolling the gum between her molars. “he’s strict with everyone, sure, but with you? he’s downright mean.”

ivory angled her head, arms folded across her chest.

“he just thinks i’m a spoiled brat,” she muttered. “i’ve never worked before. this town’s not fond of girls who haven’t gotten their hands dirty.”

“i don’t know,” lucy said, shaking her head, “he doesn’t have to be such a jerk about it. you mess up once, and he acts like you set the place on fire.”

ivory smiled. not out of amusement, but from the sheer truth of it. she had burned once, and now she was always ash in his eyes.

“he watches me like he’s waiting for something,” she said. “i think he thinks if he blinks, i’ll steal the register or slap a customer.”

“i wouldn’t blame you,” lucy muttered, rubbing her hands on her apron. “half the people in here deserve it.”

ivory didn’t argue. the regulars had their charm, sure, but some of them stared too long, said things too peculiar, left tips in the form of phone numbers scrawled on napkins. she had learned to brush it off. she had learned to keep walking.

lucy glanced over again, more serious now.

“you know,” she said, voice low, “you were justified. with tess. everything that happened. all of it.”

ivory didn’t respond. she didn’t have to. the image of tess’s lemon-yellow dress stained in soda, the icy sting of coke sliding down her own skin, the bitter, breathless aftermath that followed, it all still lived in her. tess hadn’t spoken to her since, not that ivory expected her to. she’d seen her once, from across the town square, standing by the corner of the market with her posture stiff and her lips pressed into a tight line. ivory hadn’t looked away. they had become something closer to actual enemies now. not the loud, dramatic kind. not the type that threw punches in parking lots. but the cold, enduring kind, girls who would never forget the sting of public humiliation.

“i mean it,” lucy said, her voice a little sharper now. “i should’ve been the one to say something. i should’ve said it to her face. or done something. that bitch had it comin’ for a while.”

ivory looked at her. “you weren’t there,” she said softly. “it wasn’t your fight.”

lucy let out a slow breath. her gum cracked.

“next time it will be,” she muttered. “i’ll beat her bloody. i swear to god. she comes near you again, or me, i’m not waitin’. i’ll throw her through the goddamn window.”

ivory laughed, the sound unexpected, “i’d pay to see that.”

“you will,” lucy replied, serious as she had ever seen her friend.

the kitchen door swung open with a creak then, and both girls stiffened as rhett’s silhouette filled the frame. he glanced at them, his expression unreadable, the clipboard tucked under one elbow.

“we takin’ a break, ladies?” he asked dryly.

“only catchin’ our breath,” lucy said quickly, standing.

ivory stood slower, brushing off her apron and adjusting the fabric of her skirt. rhett didn’t say anything else. he gave a short nod and stepped aside.

ivory moved past him first, eyes forward, steps even.

she felt his gaze on her back the whole way to the counter.

the hour that followed passed in that long, grimy stretch of time that didn’t feel real, an hour that pressed down on ivory’s shoulders as if the heat itself had hands, that left her breathless from moving too fast for too long, that dragged across her spine until even her bones felt worn thin. her legs ached from the pace of it. her lower back throbbed. she’d been running orders nonstop, coffee refills to the same man who never tipped, a greasy plate of country-fried steak to a woman who snapped her fingers when she spoke, three root beer floats that started to melt before she even reached the booth. she was dripping by the end of it, hair clinging damp around the curve of her neck, apron damp with heat and spilled ketchup, skin flushed raw from leaning too close to the heat of the fry station. the pads of her fingers stung from wiping too many laminated menus down with watered bleach.

her head was starting to pulse behind her eyes, the kind of dull pain that meant she hadn’t eaten since morning and had forgotten to drink more than two sips of lukewarm water since the start of her shift. she blinked down at her notepad and realized she’d written the same order twice, crossed it out, and rewritten it again. she shook her head. she needed a break. only ten minutes. five, even.

rhett hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t needed to. his gaze had landed on her at least five times in the last hour, always steady, always stern. he watched her when she thought he wouldn’t. when she was bending to pick up a dropped fork, when she leaned too close to a customer to grab an empty plate, when she rubbed her temple with her knuckles for half a second in the corner by the register. she felt it more than she saw it, that subtle pressure of being constantly assessed.

but she hadn’t made a mistake. not once.

when the wave slowed, when the booths were emptied and lucy had taken the far counter, ivory slid into the back again, her arms heavy with empties, her mouth dry as chalk. she dropped them into the tub, wiped her hands on the ragged towel by the sink, and turned toward the back bench, desperate for five minutes of peace.

she sat down slow, her body sighing into the break, and barely had time to close her eyes before his voice cut through the doorway.

“ivory.”

she didn’t even look up.

“what?”

“come out back,” rhett said. “got some shipments in my trunk. need you to help move ’em.”

she opened her eyes slowly. “i sat down a few seconds ago.”

he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes cool. “and now you’re gettin’ up.”

she gave him a look. annoyed. wordless.

“it’s ninety-five degrees,” she muttered. “i’ve been on my feet since nine.”

“you want those cigarettes paid off or not?” he snapped, and there it was again, that tone. dry and rough and full of that slow, simmering challenge he always kept tucked behind his teeth.

she stared at him. she didn’t move.

then, with a long sigh, she rose to her feet.

the sun outside was punishing, the kind of heat that made your lungs feel smaller the second you stepped into it. the gravel behind the diner shimmered faint beneath their feet, and his car, an old, dust-dulled ford, sat parked just to the side, trunk popped open, the weight of the boxes inside casting shadows across the back bumper.

she looked down at the shipment, bulk containers, canned goods, boxes of soda syrup and flour sacks, all stacked too high and packed too close together. her shoulders slumped.

“you expect me to carry these?” she muttered.

“you ain’t glass,” he replied. “lift.”

she grabbed one of the smaller boxes, twelve cans of diced tomatoes, and hoisted it with both arms, immediately regretting it. the car is dug into her forearms, and the weight shifted the second she turned toward the back door. she staggered a step, her knee buckling beneath her.

behind her, rhett let out a snort. “hell. you holdin’ that like it’s breakable china.”

“i’m trying not to drop it,” she snapped. “it’s awkward.”

“you’re awkward.”

she shot him a glare over her shoulder. “you could’ve asked lucy.”

“lucy’s busy.”

“no, she isn’t.”

he only shrugged. “then consider this character-building.”

she didn’t respond and kept moving box after box. the heavier ones forced her to bend lower, her arms trembling by the time she made the third trip. sweat gathered between her shoulder blades and at the backs of her knees. she could feel the heat sliding down her skin like honey.

on the fifth box, something full of dry goods and sealed with too much tape, she bent low, legs braced, and tried to haul it up in one smooth motion. she managed halfway before her hand slipped, the weight tilting, her thigh jerking upward as she overcorrected.

rhett was behind her instantly.

his hand slid low. too low.

his palm pressed against the back of her thigh, but above the bend of her knee and far too close to the hem of her skirt. he steadied the box with the other hand, but he didn’t move that first one.

her breath caught.

his thumb grazed the skin along her thigh. shameless. slow.

she stood there, blinking hard, heart pounding. she didn’t say anything. didn’t move.

his hand stayed a second longer than necessary, then let go.

“watch your balance,” he said, voice gruff. “don’t throw your hip out.”

she stared straight ahead, the box digging into her ribs.

she hated that her skin prickled. hated that he touched her like that, acted like it meant nothing, and then would turn around and speak to her like she was a nuisance. like she was something he had to manage. hated that he could feel her up behind the damn diner and look her dead in the eyes like he owned the moral high ground.

she bit her tongue.

she didn’t say a word.

only lifted the box, hauled it toward the door, and let the heat swallow her whole.

the sun beat down on the back lot with the same mean consistency it always did, no breeze to cut the weight of it, no shade except the thin sliver offered by the roof’s overhang above the rear door. ivory’s arms ached. her thighs burned. sweat pooled beneath her clothes in, and the sharp sting of gravel dust rose every time she shifted her shoes across the cracked pavement. the shipments seemed endless, one after another, as if rhett had planned this very afternoon to punish her through pure physical labor. not a word of thanks. not a single nod of acknowledgment. simply silence or little remarks whenever she let a box hit the ground too fast or adjusted her grip too many times.

by the seventh trip, she was done. not physically, she could haul the boxes. but mentally, emotionally, something had curdled. something deep inside her had snapped clean in half, so small and swift it barely made a sound, but she felt it. she was sick of it. sick of his smirking, his silence, his constant hovering. sick of being watched and insulted and touched like she was a convenience. she was tired of feeling powerless, tired of the constant game he played where he got to bark orders one second and rest his palm against the soft of her thigh the next.

and the worst part? she knew he was attracted to her.

he wasn’t subtle. rhett carver never was. his eyes lingered too long on her chest when she leaned forward behind the register. his voice always roughened when she spoke back. his stare followed her every time she walked past the counter with a tray of food balanced on her hip. and he hadn’t flinched, not once, when she’d changed her blouse in front of him in the storage room, bare-skinned for the briefest moment. he’d looked at her then like he wanted to tear something apart.

and now here he was again, watching from the mouth of the alley as she stooped low beside the open trunk, her hands under the last of the boxed drink syrups. he leaned against the brick like he was born to do it, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, mouth drawn into something that hovered between boredom and scrutiny. he hadn’t lifted a single box.

her jaw ached from clenching. her pride was in tatters. she thought briefly of jack, his voice, his steadiness, the way he touched her forehead with something that almost resembled care, but that thought drifted off as fast as it came. because jack wasn’t here. jack hadn’t shown up. jack didn’t pay her bills or clear her name or treat her like she was anything other than a maybe.

rhett, for all his gruffness, was standing here in the sun, watching her work herself into the ground. and that meant he could be played. maybe not kindly. maybe not softly. but played, nonetheless.

if she was going to be humiliated, at least she could hold the reins.

so, eventually, she made a choice.

she turned her head over her shoulder, let the sun catch on the side of her face, her lower lip shining faint with the sweat beading there, and said in a voice just a little too light to be innocent, “you always make the girls do the heavy lifting, or am i special?”

rhett didn’t answer immediately. she heard the sound of him dragging his cigarette, the paper crinkling soft beneath his breath.

“depends on the girl,” he said.

she smiled, but didn’t let it reach her eyes. bent lower over the box and gave the smallest little exhale of effort as she lifted it up, slow and steady, the motion precise. she felt his stare on the curve of her spine. the back of her knees. the sliver of skin that peeked above her waistband where her blouse had ridden up.

she walked toward the back door, the box pressed against her stomach. when she passed him, she turned her head just enough.

“are you staring because you’re judging my form or because you’re enjoying the view?”

she didn’t wait for a reply. simply kept walking, her hips shifting slightly more with each step than they usually did. subtle. practiced.

the frustration in her body didn’t fade, it stayed molten, bitter, but she kept her expression calm. collected. by the time she reached the doorway, she almost looked serene.

on the next trip back, he was still there. hadn’t moved. he stubbed out the cigarette on the brick wall, thumb pressing hard into the ash. he watched her as she approached, eyes darker now, less detached.

she crouched again, slower this time, her hands sliding along the sides of the last box, breath catching in her throat as she shifted the weight. her blouse pulled at the collar, showing more of her collarbone than it should have. when she stood again, she let out a sigh, small but feminine, weary but soft.

rhett took a step forward. only one.

“you always so shameless when you’re mad?” he asked, voice low.

“only when i want something,” she said without hesitation.

he blinked, startled for half a second. then he grinned, barely.

“and what is it you want?”

she looked him dead in the eyes. not wide-eyed. not sweet. something colder than that. something older.

“a little respect.”

he didn’t laugh. didn’t speak.

she cocked her head, held his gaze. “or at least a break.”

then she turned, walked the box back toward the rear door, and didn’t look over her shoulder once. not even when she knew he was standing there, watching her with something dangerous stirring just under his skin.

the last of the boxes were hauled inside, stacked beside the dry pantry door, and ivory’s arms felt slack with heat and effort. sweat clung behind her knees and her throat was dry from breathing in the warm air laced with dust and the rot of old cardboard. the hem of her blouse clung to her waist where she’d bent too many times to count. her skin itched with heat and salt. she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and glanced back toward the lot, where rhett stood in the shade near the brick corner of the building, arms crossed, watching. the same posture as always, stern, unreadable, but his mouth wasn’t pulled tight anymore. there was something in the set of his jaw now, something less firm. something waiting.

she stepped back out into the glare of the sun and walked toward him with a slowness to her step, methodical but not theatrical. she let her fingers brush the ends of her skirt as she passed, let her shoulder angle a little too close to his when she came to a stop. he didn’t move. he didn’t pull away. his eyes dipped briefly to her blouse, then back up.

“you gonna stand there all day?” she asked, the corner of her mouth curled gently.

“watchin’ your form,” he said, voice dry. “you’re startin’ to lift proper.”

she gave a mock-innocent glance over her shoulder. “i wanted to make sure i was worth the view.”

he didn’t smile, not fully. but his eyes didn’t look away either. he took a breath, the air between them thick and slow.

“the last box is in the front seat,” he said then, almost offhand.

she blinked. “what?”

he gestured toward the car. “passenger side.”

she hesitated for a half-second, her mouth twitching in skepticism, then walked slowly toward it. the lot was noiseless now, no deliveries, no customers sneaking around the back to smoke. only the heat and silence and the crunch of her shoes against gravel. rhett followed behind her, a few steps back, close enough that she felt the tension in his gait even if she didn’t turn.

he reached ahead of her and unlocked the passenger side door, metal handle clicking with a shudder. the car groaned open.

she leaned in.

nothing.

no box. no shipment. not even a clipboard.

she turned her head somewhat, brows drawn. “rhett…”

but then his hand was on her lower back, and he was gently, firmly, pressing her forward, guiding her into the passenger seat before she could get the rest of his name out. her breath caught at the contact, but she didn’t fight him. her body folded easily into the seat, her legs tucking in as she turned enough to face him.

he bent forward, one arm resting against the top of the open door. his eyes drifted across her face, slow and steady. her breath rose shallow in her throat.

“you gonna follow through with all this teasin’?” he asked.

his voice wasn’t raised. wasn’t demanding. but there was severity behind the words, a trace of challenge that made her chest ache. his hand stayed right there, resting on the frame of the door, but she felt the potential of it like heat radiating off the metal, he could touch her again if he wanted. he could say her name a different way. but he hadn’t. not yet.

ivory stared at him for a long second. her lips parted but no words came. the inside of the truck smelled of gas, cigarettes, and something warmer, his cologne, maybe, though she’d never been close enough to pick it apart before. the seat beneath her legs was cracked with age and radiated warmth from where the sun had baked through the window.

she thought about her name, how it would sound if someone saw her here. if someone opened the door. if someone told her father. told jodie. told jack.

she hoped to hell no one ever found out what she was doing. the damage it would do, the way the whole town would talk about it, reshape it, make it something filthier than it already was. jack would never look at her the same. not after this. she could see the headlines in their small-town gossip already. sinclair girl whoring for lenience. another spoiled valley girl undone by her own mouth.

but that wasn’t what this was. not really.

she tilted her head back against the seat, let her lips curve into something subtle. then looked up at him beneath her lashes.

“depends,” she said. her voice shook a little. “you planning on bein’ nicer to me if i do?”

for the first time, he didn’t have an immediate answer. he stood there, watching her. the summer heat pressed in all around them, and the cicadas screamed somewhere beyond the trees, loud and eternal and uncaring.

his mouth moved, finally. not a full grin, not a boyish smile, but something enough to be called that, a curve at the corner of his lips, a softening in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. it passed through his face so quickly she might’ve missed it had she not been staring straight at him, had her heart not been thudding so loud in her chest it drowned out the rest of the world.

“i’ll consider it,” he murmured, voice low, roughened now, something deeper in it. “after.”

and then he leaned in.

his mouth met hers with a force that wasn’t gentle, but wasn’t cruel either, but assured, practiced, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission but didn’t steal anything either. his hand came to her waist, calloused fingers pressing into her hip as he climbed in after her, the truck’s suspension creaking beneath their sudden weight. the door shut hard behind him, sealing them in with the heat and the silence and the sharp scent of his skin, sweat and cigarettes.

what followed was not soft. not slow. it was not sweet or careful or delicate. it was what it was, flesh and sweat and breath tangled in the backseat of a car that had probably carried shipments and tools more often than people. it was quick, too, the way these things usually were when they weren’t planned. his breath harsh against her neck, her own mouth bitten down hard to keep from saying anything. she hadn’t expected to feel much, and she didn’t, not love, not anything close to it, but there was a short instance, only once, where she thought to herself maybe this will change something.

and then it was over.

he pulled away, adjusted himself, and reached into his shirt pocket for the cigarette before she’d even finished buttoning the top two buttons of her blouse. the lighter flared in the low light, casting a quick, hot glow across his face as he lit it, lips closed around the filter. smoke filled the car in seconds. it settled into the fabric of her skirt, her hair, her tongue.

ivory hated smoking.

she always had. the smell of it made her stomach churn. her father reeked of it most nights, the kind of stale, chemical rot that stuck to the back of your throat and didn’t wash off no matter how hard you tried. she’d watched people rot themselves with it, fill their lungs like empty chimneys. and now here she was, barefoot in the passenger seat and rhett carver sitting beside her, bare-armed and unbothered, smoke curling from his fingers and his mouth.

he exhaled slowly, lazily, like he’d forgotten she was even there.

“funny,” he muttered after a while, eyes on the windshield. “you don’t even smoke.”

she didn’t answer.

he took another drag, the red ember pulsing in the corner of her vision.

“all this,” he said, a vague gesture with his cigarette, “over a pack of menthols. shit you don’t even touch.”

the shame crept in like water under a locked door. not the act itself, not what they’d just done, but everything around it. the way his hand now rested on her leg like it belonged there. not in a tender way. not possessive either. but there. his thumb brushed the inside of her knee absently, like she was something he could pick up and put down again at will.

she stared out the passenger window, watching the shimmer of heat ripple up from the gravel. the wind had gone still. no sound except the droning of the engine cooling down and the drag of his breath every time he inhaled. her heart wasn’t racing anymore. it had calmed into that same dull rhythm it always did when she realized something couldn’t be undone.

his hand stayed on her leg. his body stayed close. but he didn’t speak again. he didn’t call her pretty. he didn’t ask if she was alright. he didn’t pull her in or hold her hand or kiss her temple or say anything that might’ve made it feel like more than what it was.

and ivory didn’t ask for it.

she sat there with her polished nails digging into her palms and her chin lifted, proud even now, and pretended that none of it meant anything. because if she let it mean something, if she gave it significance, it would ruin her. this wasn’t softness. this wasn’t romance. this was survival, leverage, strategy.

and she had no illusions about the man beside her. he would watch her with those flat, assessing eyes. speak to her sternly in the hallway. expect her to wipe tables and lift boxes like she owed him something. not much had changed.

except now she had something too.

and ivory hoped to god no one ever found out.

[alivia-riddle]

The Moon Necklace Scenario.

(TBH I had Chat GPT help me write this lmao.)

The night was warm, the salty sea breeze rolling off the waves, whispering through the towering oaks and Spanish moss that framed the edge of Figure Eight. The party at Tannyhill had died down, leaving only a few lingering stragglers drunk on expensive whiskey and summer mischief. But I wasn’t interested in the party — not tonight.

I stood near the dock, arms crossed, the soft pink silk of my dress catching the moonlight. My blonde hair, curled to perfection, cascaded over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the deep blue sky behind me. I should’ve been inside, drinking, laughing, stealing the spotlight like I always did. Instead, I was here, waiting.

For him.

Rafe Cameron.

I hated that he could make me wait. Hated that I cared. Hated that after all the sneering insults, the heated arguments, and the constant push and pull between them, I’d let myself fall. Hard.

“Didn’t think you were the type to take orders, Maybank,” Rafe’s voice came from behind me, low and teasing.

I rolled my eyes before turning to face him. He stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his jeans, his usual cocky smirk tugging at his lips. His hair was messier than usual, his shirt slightly unbuttoned like he’d just thrown it on in a hurry.

“Please,” I scoffed, flipping my hair. “You wish I took orders from you.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “You do when it counts”

I arched a perfectly sculpted brow, arms crossing over my chest as I tilted my head at him. “Oh yeah? And when exactly would that be, Cameron?”

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his smirk fading into something softer — something that made my stomach twist in a way I refused to acknowledge. The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine, but I held firm, refusing to be the first to break.

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between us.

“What’s this?” I asked, glancing down as he unfolded his fingers to reveal a delicate silver necklace. Dangling from the chain was a crescent moon, the metal catching the moonlight just enough to make it shimmer.

My breath caught in my throat, but I forced myself to scoff. “You rob a jewelry store or something?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Yeah, cause that’s exactly what I did.” His voice was dry, but there was something else beneath it — something careful. He hesitated for only a second before taking my hand, placing the necklace in my palm.

I stared at it, the cool metal pressing against my skin. “Rafe…”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before speaking. “Look, I know we can’t always be together,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “People talk, and we both know we don’t exactly fit the whole picture-perfect Outer Banks bullshit.”

I swallowed, refusing to let his words affect me, but it was hard when he was looking at me like that — like I actually mattered.

“But whenever we’re not together,” he continued, eyes locking onto mine, “just look up at the stars.” He tapped the moon charm in my hand. “No matter where you are, I’ll always be with you.”

My throat tightened, and I hated it.

I hated how much he meant it.

I was used to guys wanting my attention, saying whatever they needed just to get a reaction out of me. But this? This wasn’t some smooth-talking, manipulative bullshit. Rafe wasn’t just trying to get under my skin — he was already there.

I ran my fingers over the moon pendant, my nails grazing the cool metal as I tried to find the right words, something sarcastic, something dismissive — something that wouldn’t make me feel so damn vulnerable.

But nothing came.

Rafe must’ve noticed because his smirk was completely gone now. In its place was something more serious, more real. “You don’t have to say anything, Maybank,” he murmured, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Just… take it.”

I should’ve shoved it back in his hand, rolled my eyes, and told him not to get all sentimental on me. That would’ve been the easy thing, the Ivory Maybank thing to do.

Instead, I unclasped the necklace and fastened it around my neck.

Rafe’s eyes flickered to the charm now resting against my collarbone, and something in his expression shifted. There was a hint of satisfaction there, like he was proud, like he was claiming some small piece of me, even if no one else knew it.

“Looks good on you,” he said, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips again.

I scoffed, my confidence snapping back into place as I tilted my chin up. “Obviously. Everything looks good on me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, but there was something warm in his gaze as he watched me, like he saw past the walls I kept up, past the attitude, past everything. And that scared the hell out of me.

I sighed dramatically, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “You better not get soft on me, Cameron. Would hate to ruin your whole ‘reckless asshole’ reputation.”

Rafe smirked, tilting his head as he watched me. “Oh, don’t worry, Maybank. I’m still an asshole.” He leaned in just enough that I could smell the faint scent of cologne and saltwater on his skin. “Just your asshole.”

My breath caught in my throat, but I refused to let him see how much that affected me. Instead, I rolled my eyes, even as my heart slammed against my ribs. “You wish.”

He chuckled, reaching up to toy with the moon pendant resting against my collarbone, his fingers brushing against my skin for just a second too long. “You’re wearing it,” he pointed out, voice smug but softer than usual.

I huffed, crossing my arms like it was no big deal. “Yeah, well, would’ve been rude to throw it in the ocean.”

Rafe grinned. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

We stood there for a moment, the party still going on in the distance, music and laughter spilling from the house. But here, by the dock, under the glow of the stars and the moonlight reflecting off the water, it was just us. No Kooks. No Pogues. No reputation to uphold.

Just us.

Rafe exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at me again. “So, what now?”

I smirked. “Well, I’d say we could go back to the party and pretend none of this happened but we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

Rafe raised a brow, amused. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

I stepped closer, tilting my chin up, the moon pendant resting just above the dip of my collarbone. “Because you just gave me a necklace, Cameron. That’s practically a confession.”

His smirk didn’t waver, but there was something in his eyes — something dangerous, something intoxicating. “And if it was?”

I should’ve laughed it off, played it cool. But the warmth of the pendant against my skin, the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world worth paying attention to — it made it impossible.

My voice was quieter when I finally spoke. “Then I’d say we’re both screwed.”

Rafe exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, no shit.”

We were.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to hate each other. We were supposed to be on opposite sides of the island, opposite sides of everything.

And yet —

He reached out, fingers brushing against the necklace, barely grazing my skin. “For the record,” he murmured, “I meant what I said.”

I swallowed, my usual quick comebacks failing me. “About what?”

Rafe met my gaze, his voice steady. “Whenever you look up at the stars.” His thumb brushed over the pendant. “You’ll know I’m with you.”

I hated how much that got to me. Hated how real it sounded.

But instead of pushing him away, instead of making a joke or rolling my eyes — I let him pull me in.

Just this once.

Rafe’s hand slid to the side of my neck, his fingers grazing my jaw, his touch warm despite the cool night air. I should’ve pulled away, should’ve thrown out some sarcastic remark just to put distance between us. But I didn’t.

Because for once, I didn’t want to fight it.

The space between us disappeared as Rafe leaned in, his breath fanning across my lips. It wasn’t rushed or desperate — it was careful, almost like he was waiting for me to stop him. But I didn’t.

I let myself fall.

When our lips met, it wasn’t like the heated, anger-fueled moments we’d shared in the past — the ones that started with an argument and ended with me shoving him away before we both lost control.

No, this was different.

It was slow, deliberate, like neither of us wanted to admit how much we’d wanted this. Rafe’s grip on me tightened, fingers tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling me flush against him. And me — I let him. I let myself melt into him, my arms slipping around his neck, my heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to break free.

When we finally pulled apart, Rafe didn’t move far. His forehead rested against mine, his breathing heavy, his hands still holding onto me like he was scared I’d disappear.

I was the first to break the silence, my voice barely above a whisper. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle, his lips still ghosting over mine. “Keep telling yourself that, Maybank.”

I wanted to argue, to throw up my walls again, to pretend like this was just another game we were playing. But the weight of the necklace resting against my skin, the way his hands still lingered on my waist — it was too real. Too much.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to step back, even though every part of me wanted to stay right there, pressed against him. “This doesn’t change anything,” I muttered, running a hand through my curls as if that would somehow reset the moment, make it easier to breathe.

Rafe tilted his head, watching me with that infuriating smirk. “If you say so.”

God, I hated him. Hated the way he always acted like he had the upper hand. Hated that he was right.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I turned on my heel. “You coming back to the party, or are you gonna stand out here and stare at the moon like some lovesick idiot?”

He chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets as he fell into step beside me. “Depends. Are you gonna keep pretending you don’t care?”

I shot him a glare, but it held no real heat. “I don’t.”

Rafe hummed, unconvinced. “Mm-hmm.”

We walked in silence for a few moments, the distant sound of the party growing louder with each step. Before we reached the house, Rafe grabbed my wrist, stopping me just before we reached the porch lights.

I turned to him, raising a brow. “What now?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just glanced down at the necklace resting against my collarbone. When his gaze met mine again, something in his expression softened. “You’re not alone, you know.”

My breath hitched, but I masked it with a scoff. “Whatever you say, Cameron.”

He let me go then, and without another word, I stepped inside, back into the noise, the attention, the chaos of the party — the world where we weren’t supposed to exist together.

[dragonflylady77]

i know how i feel about you now

This fic is my present for @spaceofentropy for the Harringrove Corner discord server's valentine exchange (you can find the whole collection right here).

Find the fic on Ao3

Thank you @whenyouwishuponastar7 and @discodeviant for the chance, it was so much fun. <3

Without further ado, I present to you... LIMO DRIVER STEVE!!

Billy is back in Hawkins for Max and Lucas's wedding. He might have expected a limo to take them to the church. He wasn't prepared for the limo driver to be Steve Harrington...

“Billy, can you get the door? That should be the limo driver.”

Billy rolled his eyes. A fucking limo?! Was Susan for real?

As he made his way to the front door, Billy decided that he was surprised that a bumfuck town like Hawkins, Indiana, actually had a limo service.

He pulled on the stupid bowtie his sister was making him wear and straightened the jacket of his tuxedo, muttering about Max being lucky he loved her so much he let her use his hard-earned money to pay for the most ridiculous things for her wedding as he opened the door and froze.

Billy simultaneously thanked his lucky stars and wished for the ground to open and swallow him, for, on the front porch of the house he’s helped Susan buy after his dad had fucked off into the sunset, stood his high school crush and former kinda nemesis.

“Well, well, well, Harrington. Long time no see.” Billy couldn’t help the teasing lilt in his voice, dragging his eyes down the length of the man’s body then back up. The black suit and tie he was wearing looked on the cheap side but fit him rather well. His hair was a bit longer than it had been in high school and fuck, he looked good.

“H-Hargove. Hi.” Steve sounded as shocked as he looked, his hands visibly tightening over the driver’s cap he was holding.

Billy forced himself to move his eyes away from Steve’s fingers, instead dragging them to the beauty spots on his neck and hollered, “Maxine, your fancy ride is here!”. He ignored the chattering coming from the living room at his words, knowing Max had been ready to go for some time, despite Susan’s need to find something else that needed doing or fixing.

“Coming!” Max called out, and a moment later she appeared in the doorway, her long red hair plaited in an intricate way and decorated with little sparkling threads.

The ivory dress she was wearing was the one she had picked when she’d come visit Billy in Chicago for the weekend a few months back, and Billy knew it had sparked a long drawn out fight with Susan. Max had won, of course. There was no way she wanted to wear the dress her mother had worn for her wedding to Neil Hargrove and Billy would never fault her for that, traditions be damned.

Billy now knew way more about capped sleeves, sweetheart necklines and the appropriate amount of beading on a bodice that he ever expected or needed to know—wasn’t like he would ever need that knowledge for anything, being extremely gay as he was, but the resulting bonding with Max had been well worth the shopping expedition.

“I, um, I didn’t know you were back in town,” Steve said, bringing Billy’s attention back to him.

The smile stretching his mouth felt easy and he enjoyed the way Steve’s eyes widened. Billy resolved to find a moment to apologize to Steve for what had transpired between them in high school before the day was over. He had changed so much in the past decade, since getting free from under his father’s grip, and he needed to make amends.

“Oh, I’m here for the wedding. I live in Chicago.” Before he could say much more, Billy had to step out of the way so Max could walk out of the house, Susan close behind her. With a sigh, he locked the house while Steve followed the two women to the limo.

***

Steve drove them to Hawkins Presbyterian Church on autopilot, his mind still reeling and going through his interaction with Billy Hargrove.

He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d got the booking for the Mayfield-Sinclair wedding but it certainly wasn’t to come face-to-face with the guy responsible for his bi awakening wearing a fucking tuxedo, looking like a fucking five-course meal.

As far as Steve or anyone else knew, Billy had high-tailed it back to California the second he’d graduated from high school. One day, Hargrove was walking across the stage in front of Steve, the next his Camaro had vanished in a cloud of dust. No one knew for sure where he’d gone, there had even been rumors his father may have put him in the ground but Sheriff Hopper had squashed those right quick.

Steve delivered his passengers to the church on time, then he parked the limo off to the side, dumped the stupid cap on the passenger seat, and fixed his hair as quickly as he could before following the last of the guests into the church. Lucas had made sure he had an invite but Steve didn’t feel overly comfortable joining the kids (who weren't really kids anymore) at the front of the church, behind family.

He was glad the Party were still friends, even with the Byers moving to California for a few years. He’d been there when Mrs Byers had become Mrs Hopper, right after Will and the other kids had graduated, but he didn’t feel like he was part of their group.

He found an empty row in the back and sat down. Times like these, he missed Robin. They always had the best time people-watching and making up stories about them. He was glad she’d got out, first a scholarship to college in Indianapolis then an internship in New York. She was living her best life, doing something important for some non-profit agency while he languished in Hawkins, driving a ridiculous car for people to make an entrance at events with. At least, he hadn’t ended up working that dead-end job for his father.

Steve’s introspections were cut short by the starting notes of a piano cover of All of Me by John Legend and he turned around. The doors opened and Jane walked in first, wearing a lavender colored dress, followed by Erica, in a similar outfit. Behind them stood Max and Billy, Max looking wonderful in her gown and Billy. Well…

Steve let himself stare. People would assume he was staring at the beautiful bride but his eyes never left her handsome brother. The tuxedo looked like it was made for him, the black pants hugging his thighs in a sinful way that made Steve’s pants feel a bit tighter. His hair was shorter now, darker too, and slicked back, his face with that three-day stubble that Steve was unexpectedly dying to feel against his skin.

Fuck. He willed his eyes shut but it didn’t work. The duo walked past Steve and he could have sworn Billy glanced at him as they did. The siblings finished their walk up the church aisle and Steve decided the back view was as enticing as the front.

If Billy was only there for the wedding, Steve would discreetly stare as much as he could and fill his spank bank.

***

Billy kept an eye on Steve during the reception to make sure he wasn’t leaving before they could have a little chat. He was sitting at a table towards the back of the church hall, with some people Billy didn’t recognize. Probably some of Susan’s workmates or something. He wondered why Steve wasn’t sitting at the same table as the Weird Kids Brigade.

The speeches had taken forever—Billy had kept his on the short side, but then each member of the Dork Squad had wanted to add anecdotes and fun stories about the happy couple. The food was nicer than Billy had expected and Max had punched him in the shoulder when he’d said as much, telling him to quit bitching about Hawkins.

The bridal couple had done the first dance, then he’d waltzed with Max while Lucas took a turn with Susan and now the dancing portion of the evening had finally started and Billy was free from any more obligations.

Time to find that pretty boy and get his groveling shoes on.

Billy slowly made his way to the table he’d seen Steve at but when he got there, there was no sign of him. The old biddy with the bad perm and too tight gold dress told him Steve had ducked out to check on the limo. Billy smiled as he thanked her and headed for the closest exit.

The car was easy to find, and Billy spotted Steve leaning against the side of it. Steve brought something up to his mouth and took a drag out of it. The cloud from the vape billowed around Steve and Billy had never felt jealous of an inanimate object before—it was a weird feeling.

“Those things can kill you, you know, pretty boy” he called out as he walked closer, feeling Steve’s eyes on him again and liking it. A lot.

Steve chuckled and Billy wanted to kiss him on his stupid mouth and eat the chuckle from his lips.

“About as much as those Marlboro Reds you were always sucking on in high school,” Steve said, shaking his head as Billy came to a stop a foot away from him.

“Well, yanno,” Billy started, leaning against the car next to Steve, and bumping shoulders with him.

Steve offered him the vape and when Billy shook his head, Steve shrugged and took another inhale.

“Sucking on Reds was always less likely to get me beaten to death by my old man than sucking on dick was,” Billy said, stifling a laugh when Steve choked on his mouthful of air. He patted Steve’s back a couple of times until the coughing died down.

“Jesus, Hargrove, warn a guy.”

“Sorry, man, I thought you knew.”

“That you were gay or that your dad was an asshole?”

Billy shrugged. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore. “Either. Both.”

He turned his head to look at Steve and found him staring. “What?”

“Nothing. I…” Steve shook his head and stopped talking.

Billy took it as his cue. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize to you. For how I was in high school. My home life was shit and I took it out on you and I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, Billy.” Steve put his vape back in his jacket pocket and looked down at his shoes. “Max, um, Max told the kids about how bad things were for you back then.”

“Yeah?” Billy was surprised Max had been willing to open up that much with so many people, but he guessed she’d probably told Jane and Lucas and it had spread from there.

“It was, um, once your dad had left. Once they figured he wasn’t coming back, I mean.”

It had taken a few years and a lot of therapy for Billy to get over being abandoned by another parent, even if Neil barely deserved the title. Then a lot of coaxing by Max for Billy to try and build some kind of a relationship with Susan. It had worked and they were family now. But he wasn’t about to tell Steve that. He’d come to apologize and he’d done that.

Billy rubbed a hand over his face then looked up at the sky, wondering how different life could have been if he had stayed. He wouldn’t be earning as much as he was currently as a sports agent in Chicago, that was for sure, but maybe he wouldn’t feel so lonely all the time.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice was soft and Billy felt a warm shoulder press against his. It felt nice.

“Yeah?” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the stars above them, leaning against the limo.

“Was that the only reason?” Steve moved closer and now they were touching from shoulder to hip. Billy dug his nails into the palm of his hands to stop himself from reaching out.

“What?” Billy stopped looking at the stars to look at Steve instead, confused.

“Was your dad being an asshole the only reason you were constantly riding my ass in high school?” Steve asked, that soft tone threatening to undo Billy’s composure faster than his choice of words.

Maybe it was time to tell the truth…

“No…”

“About that…” Steve reached out and slid his fingers between Billy’s and just like that, they were holding hands. Billy’s brain blue screened then rebooted when Steve moved to stand in front of him, Billy’s legs spreading without conscious thought on his part to accommodate Steve.

There was something in Steve’s brown eyes that kept Billy captive. Billy started to wonder if maybe it had always been there. He heard the words fall out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I had a massive crush on you and I knew my dad would kill me if he found out. He moved us here from Cali after he figured out I liked guys and I couldn’t risk it, even if you hadn’t been straight.”

Steve moved his hands, fingers trailing up Billy’s arms until he could wrap them around Billy’s neck. “Meeting you made me realize I wasn’t as straight as I thought. It took me a while to work it out, and by then, you’d left Hawkins.”

“Pretty boy…” Billy’s brain was playing catch up but his body didn’t have the same problem as his hands gripped Steve’s hips and pulled him closer.

“Turns out you weren’t the only one with a massive crush…” Steve said, moving his left thigh between Billy’s legs and leaning forward.

Billy groaned at the sudden pressure on his crotch, his fingers tightening on Steve’s sides, eyelids fluttering when Steve’s mouth found his neck. “Fuck, Steve…”

“Such a mouth on you, still,” Steve said, his lips a mere inch away from Billy’s, then Billy’s brain whited out because Steve was kissing him.

It took Billy a few seconds to get with the program and start kissing Steve back, but then he was all in—hands roaming, thighs pressing, tongues tangling. Years of pining and yearning came crashing down on him and Billy was two seconds from shooting his load in his tuxedo pants when Steve ended the kiss.

Panting like they’d gone for a full quarter on the court, they stayed leaning on each other, the music from the party reaching them faintly. Billy started laughing when he recognized the song.

“Listen,” he said when Steve looked at him, a question in his eyes. Steve’s eyes crinkled when he heard the lyrics.

“Fitting…”

Can we bring yesterday back around?

'Cause I know how I feel about you now

I was dumb, I was wrong, I let you down

But I know how I feel about you now

“I’d say. Wanna get out of here, pretty boy?” Billy asked, one arm around Steve’s waist, his free hand sliding down to grab Steve’s ass. The moan that came out of Steve’s mouth was worth it.

“Yes. God. Fuck, yes, please.” Steve rested his forehead against Billy’s collarbone. His words were a bit muffled after that. “Take me away from this place, this town, this state.”

Billy laughed at how eager Steve was, then his words registered and he looked down. “Steve?”

“I’m sorry.” Steve sighed and lifted his head, avoiding eye contact. He looked dejected and lost, and it made something in Billy’s chest break. “Too much, too soon, sorry. Forget I said that. I’ll just… go home.” He attempted to take a step back but Billy moved both hands to cup Steve’s face and stop him in his tracks.

“Steven Middlename Harrington, I’ve been in love with you for literal years and now that I know you want me back, you really think I’m not gonna do everything in my power to make this work?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Billy dropped a kiss on Steve’s mouth but didn't linger. He dropped his hands to Steve’s waist again, fingers tracing along the waistband of Steve’s pants. “Do you have to drive anyone home tonight or are you free to go?”

“I’ve been done since we got here. That was my only booking today. The bridal party has arranged taxis to get home or wherever they’re headed so I could, and I quote, ‘party like it’s 1999’.”

Billy laughed at the look on Steve’s face when he used air quotes, and wondered which one of Max’s friends told him that. His money was on Henderson.

“So I have you all to myself?” he asked, feeling something warm unfurl inside his chest at the happy smile on Steve’s face.

“For as long as you want.” Steve toyed with the edges of Billy’s bowtie, his eyes dipping to Billy’s mouth then back up.

“What if I want forever?” He had to ask, okay?

Steve grinned, pulling on the ends of the bowtie and dragging it off Billy’s neck before shoving it in his pocket. “Please refer to my previous statement regarding taking me away from here.”

“Do you mean it?” Billy undid the top two buttons of his shirt, finally feeling like he could breathe properly and tangled a hand in Steve’s tie.

“Yes, Billy. I do. I love you. There’s nothing for me in Hawkins except memories and I’d rather make new ones with you.”

“Well, then, pretty boy…” Billy pulled Steve by his tie, his breath fanning on Steve’s plump bottom lip he couldn’t wait to nibble on. “Ever had sex in a limo?”

[space-station-nursery]

𑁯ᰍSpoopy names for your stuffies!ꕀꕀ

𑁯ᰍ For boy stuffies: Dorian, Draco, Griffin, Hawthorn, Lazarus, Poe, Talon, Blackwell, Sonder, Atticus, Dante, Keir, Florian, Ivor, and Necro! ★ For girl stuffies: Anastasia, Lilith, Annabel, Ophelia, Evangeline, Bellatrix, Claudia, Drusilla, Ivory, Guinevere, and ebony! ꮺ For non-identifying stuffies:

Keir, Averill, Raven, Marlowe, Sinclaire, Blair, Jinx, Nyx, Thorn, Onyx and Eros!

[shiorihyugawrites]

A Soft Place

In a post-Rumbling world, where the threat of Titans no longer looms, Vanessa Sinclair finds herself living a quiet life, working at her family’s bakery in Wall Rose. Curvy and self-conscious, Vanessa has always faded into the background, overshadowed by her more outgoing friends. But everything changes when Captain Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest Soldier, begins visiting the bakery regularly. What starts as a simple exchange of tea and pastries quickly evolves into something more. Levi, drawn to her quiet strength and beauty, takes Vanessa on a journey that forces her to confront her insecurities, while learning that sometimes, what lies beneath the surface is more than enough. (Levi x Plus Sized OC)

Chapter Thirty Two

The day had finally arrived—the day Levi and Vanessa would become husband and wife. The air was filled with a soft warmth, the sun casting gentle rays over the garden, illuminating everything in a golden hue. Not a single cloud marred the sky, as if nature itself had conspired to bless their union. The setting was perfect, an outdoor garden with rows of white chairs neatly lined up for the guests, decorated with delicate flowers in shades of ivory and blush. A gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming roses through the air, mingling with the soft murmur of voices as guests settled into their seats, eagerly awaiting the ceremony.

The guest list was an intimate one, filled with the people closest to Levi and Vanessa. Vanessa’s family was seated beaming with pride, and occasionally dabbing at their eyes, overwhelmed with excitement. From the military side, the Scouts were in full attendance, a testament to the strong bonds they shared with Levi. Commander Pyxis was seated in the front row, a content smile on his face, while Queen Historia, radiating grace, had come to give her blessing as well. Everyone present seemed to feel the significance of the day, the culmination of Levi and Vanessa’s journey together.

Inside one of the nearby buildings, Levi was getting ready with the Scouts, his closest friends gathered around him, each offering their own form of support. He stood in front of a mirror, adjusting his formal attire—an immaculate black suit, sharp and perfectly tailored. Though he appeared as composed as ever, there was a spark in his eyes, an eagerness that even he couldn’t fully mask.

Jean, grinning from ear to ear, gave him a light nudge. “So, how does it feel, Captain? Just a few more minutes, and you’ll officially be a married man.”

Levi rolled his eyes, though the faintest hint of a smile played at his lips. “It feels… right,” he replied simply, his voice steady but warm.

Connie chuckled, adjusting his tie as he looked at Levi in the mirror. “I gotta say, I never thought I’d see the day when Humanity’s Strongest Soldier would be all dressed up for a wedding, let alone his own.”

Sasha, standing nearby, grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “And can we just talk about the fact that he actually smiled when he said it?”

Levi shot her a mock glare, though he couldn’t keep the smile from breaking through. “Don’t push it, Sasha.”

Hange, ever the ringleader of mischief, clapped him on the shoulder, grinning widely. “Oh, come on, Levi, don’t pretend like you’re not excited. We all know you’ve been counting down the minutes until you get to see her.”

Eren, watching with quiet amusement, nodded in agreement. “They’re right, Captain. It’s written all over your face.”

Levi let out a low sigh, resigning himself to the teasing. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his voice softening. “It’s been… a long time coming.”

Armin smiled gently, sensing the depth of Levi’s emotions. “You deserve this, Levi. After everything you’ve been through… you deserve to be happy.”

Mikasa, who rarely spoke up, offered him a quiet nod. “And Vanessa is wonderful. She’s perfect for you.”

Levi’s gaze softened as he looked around the room, taking in the familiar faces of his comrades—his family. They had been with him through everything, the good and the bad, and now they were here to witness one of the most important moments of his life. A warmth spread through his chest as he gave them a small, grateful nod. “Thank you. All of you.”

Jean cleared his throat, breaking the sentimentality with a playful grin. “Alright, Captain, don’t get too soft on us. You still need to survive the ceremony first.”

They all shared a laugh, but Levi’s mind had already drifted to Vanessa. He was just minutes away from seeing her for their “first look,” a moment he had been looking forward to with an eagerness he couldn’t quite explain. He knew she’d look beautiful—she always did—but there was something about today, about knowing she was about to become his wife, that made his heart race with anticipation.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, Vanessa was surrounded by her mother and her closest friends. Robin and Emma fussed over her dress, making sure every last detail was perfect, while Vivian stood back, a handkerchief in hand, her eyes already brimming with tears. Vanessa’s gown was breathtaking—a soft, flowing dress that hugged her figure perfectly, with delicate lace detailing that shimmered in the sunlight. The off-the-shoulder sleeves added a touch of elegance, framing her face and collarbone beautifully, while the long train trailed behind her, giving her the appearance of a true princess.

Vanessa took a deep breath, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. She could hardly believe this was real. She was about to marry Levi. Her heart swelled with joy, and her hands shook slightly with the sheer weight of the moment. She was going to be Mrs. Ackerman.

Vivian approached her, dabbing at her eyes as she carefully placed the veil on Vanessa’s head, pinning it into place. “My beautiful girl,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe this day has come. You look… you look absolutely radiant.”

Vanessa turned to her mother, her own eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispered, reaching out to take her mother’s hand. “For everything. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Vivian sniffled, pulling her daughter into a gentle hug. “I am so proud of you, Ness. And I know Levi is going to be a wonderful husband. You two… you’re perfect for each other.”

Robin and Emma, who had been standing back to give them a moment, finally stepped forward, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Robin let out a small squeal, unable to contain her excitement. “Oh, Vanessa, you look incredible! Levi is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

Emma nodded, her eyes shining with pride. “And don’t be surprised if he gets a little emotional. He may be stoic, but I think we all know how much he loves you.”

Vanessa laughed softly, her cheeks warming. “Thank you, both of you. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Emma wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug, while Robin joined in, their laughter mingling with the happy tears they were all shedding. They had been through so much together, and now, they were here to celebrate the beginning of this new chapter in Vanessa’s life.

After a moment, Vivian gently cleared her throat, stepping back to admire Vanessa one last time. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Vanessa took a deep breath, looking at herself in the mirror one last time. She felt beautiful, confident, and most importantly, she felt ready. She was about to marry the man she loved more than anything in the world.

She nodded, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Robin clapped her hands, practically bouncing with excitement. “Alright! Let’s get you to Levi for the first look. I can’t wait to see his reaction!”

With one final look, Vanessa gathered her courage and followed her friends and mother out of the room, her heart pounding with excitement and love. She was about to see Levi for the first time as his bride, and she couldn’t wait to share this moment with him.

Levi stood waiting under the shade of a lone tree, his back turned to the path, his gaze fixed somewhere far in the distance, lost in thought. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves above him, and he took a steadying breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. He had been through countless battles, faced death and despair, but nothing had prepared him for this moment. The weight of what was about to happen, the enormity of it, settled over him in a way that was both humbling and exhilarating.

His body betrayed his excitement—he was bouncing slightly on his heels, a barely noticeable shift in his stance as he waited, a rare display of his eagerness. Levi Ackerman was not a man who displayed his emotions outwardly, but today, standing here on the edge of a moment he had dreamed of for months, he couldn’t quite contain himself. He wanted to see her. To see his bride.

Footsteps approached, soft and measured, and he knew—he felt—her presence before she touched him. Vanessa’s hand came to rest gently on his shoulder, the warmth of her touch seeping through the fabric of his suit and grounding him. Levi took a steadying breath, his entire being focused on that single point of contact, the way her hand fit perfectly there, as if it had always belonged.

He turned around slowly, every part of him aware of the gravity of this moment, his heart swelling with anticipation. 

And then, he saw her.

Vanessa stood before him, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, her wedding dress flowing around her like a whisper of lace and silk. The delicate embroidery shimmered, each stitch catching the light, creating an ethereal aura that made her look like something out of a dream. Her veil was delicately draped over her face, casting a soft shadow that made her look even more radiant, her features softened, glowing.

Levi’s breath caught in his throat, his entire world narrowing down to her and only her. He was rooted to the spot, completely overwhelmed, as the memory of the first time they met flashed through his mind. The day she had nearly spilled tea on him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her wide, hazel eyes meeting his for the first time. He remembered the way something had shifted inside him then, the quiet recognition of something he hadn’t dared to name.

But now, standing before him in her wedding dress, Vanessa looked more than beautiful—she looked perfect. Every part of her, every detail, spoke of a grace and warmth that was uniquely hers. And the realization hit him all over again: she was his. Today, she would become his wife.

Vanessa’s heart melted as she watched him, noting the way his normally stoic face softened as he looked at her, his eyes wide with something raw and unguarded. She had seen that expression before, the same look he wore the night he had picked her up for the ball, when he had been too stunned to speak. But today, there was something deeper, something more vulnerable. She saw love in his eyes, a depth of emotion that was rare and beautiful, and it took her breath away.

After a moment, Levi swallowed, his lips parting as he tried to find the words he wanted to say. He reached out, his hand trembling ever so slightly as he took hers in his own, bringing it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, lingering there for a heartbeat, his touch tender and reverent.

“You’re… you’re beautiful,” he finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper, laced with awe and something that bordered on reverence. He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time, his gaze tracing every line, every curve, as if committing her to memory.

Vanessa felt her cheeks warm beneath his gaze, her own heart pounding as she took in the sincerity in his eyes. She felt vulnerable, exposed in a way she hadn’t expected, but it was a good feeling, a safe feeling. Levi’s admiration was quiet but intense, and she felt cherished in a way that made her want to cry.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft but steady, her lips curving into a shy smile. “I can’t believe… we’re really here. I can’t believe I’m going to be your wife.”

Levi’s eyes softened even more, and for a brief moment, she could have sworn she saw a glint of unshed tears in his gaze. He let out a quiet, shaky breath, one hand reaching up to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from her face, his fingers grazing her cheek with a touch so light it made her shiver.

“I never thought…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. “I never thought this kind of happiness was something I’d get to have. But you… you changed everything, Vanessa. You gave me something I didn’t even know I was looking for. And now… I don’t want to imagine a life without you.”

Vanessa’s eyes grew misty, her own emotions rising to the surface as she felt the weight of his words settle over her. She could feel the depth of his love in every syllable, every glance, and it filled her with a warmth that spread through her chest, filling every part of her. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached up to touch his cheek, her thumb tracing a gentle line across his jaw.

“Levi… you’re my home. My safe place,” she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. “You’ve been my strength, my peace… everything I could ever need. And now, I just want to spend my life giving you that same love, that same peace.”

Levi’s gaze softened even more, his expression unreadable yet overflowing with a quiet intensity. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air thick with the love that filled the space between them. It was a love that needed no words, no grand gestures—just the quiet, steady certainty that they were each other’s everything.

Gently, Levi lifted her veil, his fingers lingering on the delicate fabric as he revealed her face, her radiant features coming into full view. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the moment.

“I love you, Vanessa,” he whispered, the words raw and unguarded. “More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

Vanessa closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she whispered back, “I love you too, Levi. More than you’ll ever know.”

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the world around them fading into nothingness. The love between them was quiet, steady, unbreakable—a bond forged through trials and tribulations, a love that had blossomed into something beautiful and enduring.

After a few moments, Levi pulled back and adjusted her veil back in place, his hand still resting on her cheek as he gave her a small, tender smile. “Are you ready?” he asked softly, his voice filled with quiet anticipation.

Vanessa nodded, her own smile radiant. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Taking her hand in his, Levi led her toward the garden, where their friends and family waited, their hearts filled with joy and excitement. And as they walked together, hand in hand, they knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime filled with love, laughter, and the promise of forever.

…

Levi stood at the front of the altar, his back straight, his hands folded in front of him. Despite his usual calm exterior, anyone who knew him well could see the telltale signs of his excitement. His eyes held a spark, a quiet energy that he hadn’t felt in years, if ever. He shifted slightly, his gaze fixed on the aisle, waiting for Vanessa to appear. This moment, the culmination of everything he and Vanessa had shared, was just seconds away, and Levi found himself overwhelmed with a rare mixture of nerves and anticipation.

The garden was alive with the gentle hum of nature, a soft breeze rustling through the leaves as the sunlight streamed through, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The rows of guests sat in quiet expectation, a respectful silence filling the space as they too waited for the ceremony to begin. Among the guests were members of the Scout Regiment, including Commander Pyxis, and even Queen Historia, each attending with genuine smiles and a sense of warmth that only close bonds could bring. Vanessa’s family filled the other seats, her aunts, uncles, cousins, and family friends all watching with pride and joy.

Levi’s gaze shifted as the wedding procession began. He hadn’t originally planned to have anyone stand with him at the altar. The concept of a “best man” felt unnecessary to him; he wasn’t one for grand displays or big groups. But Hange had made her opinion clear when he’d told her of his decision, her face twisting into a look of offense. “Levi,” she had exclaimed, “do you really think I’d let you stand there alone on your big day? Absolutely not!” And with her usual exuberance, Hange had declared herself his best man, leaving Levi no room to argue. Now, he was glad for her presence, her familiar energy calming his nerves in a way only a close friend’s presence could.

Hange’s grin was as wide as ever as she escorted both Emma and Robin, who had been chosen as Vanessa’s Maids of Honor, down the aisle. Hange, dressed in a tailored suit with her hair pulled back, walked with an air of playful confidence. Emma and Robin wore matching dresses in a soft lavender shade that complimented the garden’s greenery. They shared excited glances with each other and with Levi, each of them visibly thrilled for their friend’s big day. As they reached the altar, Hange gave Levi a small wink, mouthing, “Looking good, Captain,” before moving to her designated spot beside him. Levi rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint smile that crept onto his face.

And then, the music shifted, and a hush fell over the guests. Levi’s heart stilled, his entire focus narrowing to the end of the aisle, where Vanessa would soon appear. He took a deep breath, his anticipation reaching its peak as he waited for his bride to make her entrance.

And there she was.

Vanessa appeared at the end of the aisle, her arm looped through her mother Vivian’s. Her wedding gown flowed around her like a cloud, the delicate lace and soft fabric moving gracefully with each step she took. Her veil framed her face, casting a soft, ethereal glow over her features. She looked like a vision, every part of her radiating a quiet beauty that took Levi’s breath away. He’d known she would be beautiful, but this—seeing her now, walking toward him with that shy, radiant smile—surpassed anything he could have imagined.

Vivian walked beside her daughter with quiet pride, her own eyes misty with emotion. She was clearly holding back tears, her grip on Vanessa’s arm both supportive and tender. Every few steps, Vanessa would glance at her mother with a grateful smile, as if drawing strength from her presence. When she looked back down the aisle, her gaze met Levi’s, and all her nerves melted away. His expression was so full of warmth, so tender, that it grounded her, reminded her of everything they had shared and everything that lay ahead.

The guests rose to their feet, each person standing in silent respect as Vanessa approached the altar. She felt a wave of shyness wash over her at the attention, but she kept her eyes on Levi, finding her calm in his steady gaze. She could feel her heart racing, a mixture of excitement and love filling her to the brim as she finally reached him.

Vivian paused, glancing at Levi with a soft, motherly smile. She released Vanessa’s arm, stepping forward to give Levi a quick, heartfelt hug, surprising him slightly. But he accepted it, his expression softening as he returned her embrace. Vivian pulled back just enough to plant a light kiss on his cheek, her eyes filled with a warmth that spoke of her approval, her pride, and her happiness.

“Take care of her, Levi,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion, though her tone held a playful note that softened the intensity of her words. “You’re family now. And nothing makes me prouder than to welcome you as my son-in-law.”

Levi nodded, a rare glimmer of emotion shining in his eyes. “I will,” he replied quietly, his voice steady. “You have my word.”

Vivian gave him one last smile before placing Vanessa’s hand in his, a gesture both symbolic and deeply personal. She stepped back, moving to her seat, her heart full as she watched her daughter take the final steps toward the future she deserved.

Vanessa turned to Levi, her eyes meeting his as she handed her bouquet to Emma, who gave her an encouraging squeeze before stepping back with Robin. With the guests seated once more, Levi and Vanessa stood before the officiant, their hands clasped together, their gazes locked. In that moment, the world around them faded, and it was just the two of them, bound by love and commitment, ready to face whatever the future held.

The officiant began to speak, his voice calm and gentle, welcoming everyone and speaking briefly about the journey that had led Levi and Vanessa to this day. But neither Levi nor Vanessa paid much attention to his words. They were lost in each other, each touch, each glance saying far more than words ever could.

Levi’s thumb brushed over the back of Vanessa’s hand, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured softly, his voice so low that only she could hear. “More beautiful than I deserve.”

Vanessa felt a tear slip down her cheek, though she didn’t try to hide it. “You deserve every happiness, Levi,” she whispered back, her voice filled with quiet conviction. “And I am so honored to be the one who gets to give you that.”

Levi’s hand tightened around hers, a silent promise in his touch, in the way he looked at her. He had always been a man of few words, but in this moment, Vanessa could feel his heart, his love, in every unspoken gesture.

As the officiant continued, leading them through the traditional vows, Levi and Vanessa remained utterly focused on each other. When it was time to exchange their personal vows, Levi took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts as he looked at her, his normally stoic expression softening.

“Vanessa,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “I never thought… that I’d get to have this. This kind of happiness. I was a soldier. I thought my life would be nothing but duty, sacrifice, and loss. But then you came into my life. You showed me that I could have more, that I could be more. You’ve given me peace, love, and a home. And I promise, for as long as I live, I will love you, protect you, and stand by your side. You are my everything.”

Vanessa’s tears flowed freely now, her heart swelling with each word. She took a shaky breath, her voice thick with emotion as she began her vows. “Levi… you’ve been my strength, my peace, and my home. You taught me that I am enough, just as I am. With you, I feel loved, cherished, and accepted. I promise to love you, to support you, and to be your partner through everything. I am yours, Levi Ackerman, now and forever.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the audience as Levi and Vanessa exchanged their rings, sealing their promises with a simple but powerful gesture. And when the officiant finally pronounced them husband and wife, Levi leaned in, his hand cradling her cheek as he kissed her, a kiss filled with all the love, respect, and devotion he felt.

Their friends and family erupted in applause, cheers filling the garden as Levi and Vanessa held each other, their hearts racing as they took in the enormity of the moment. They were married. They were finally husband and wife.

And as they walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, surrounded by the people who loved them, Levi and Vanessa knew that this was just the beginning of a life filled with love, laughter, and the promise of forever.

…

As Levi and Vanessa entered the Scouts’ transformed mess hall, their breath caught in unison. What had once been a practical, no-nonsense space filled with rows of sturdy wooden tables and benches had been entirely transformed. Elegant white linens draped over the tables, soft candles flickered in glass jars, and delicate garlands of greenery and roses adorned every surface. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm, golden glow across the room, and a gentle melody from a string quartet filled the air. It was breathtaking, more than either of them had ever imagined.

Vivian had clearly spared no expense, and it showed in every detail—the elegant floral centerpieces, the shimmering fairy lights, the array of foods laid out on a beautifully decorated buffet. Vanessa caught her mother’s eye from across the room, and Vivian beamed back at her, looking every bit the proud, ecstatic mother.

Levi, standing beside his new wife, took in the scene with an unusual softness in his gaze. He was usually someone who appreciated simplicity, who avoided extravagance. But tonight, he felt grateful for every bit of it. He knew how much it meant to Vanessa and to her family, and if he was honest with himself, it made him feel… honored. Honored that this was all for him and for Vanessa, for the life they were starting together.

He leaned over to whisper in Vanessa’s ear, his voice low and affectionate. “Your mother really went all out, didn’t she?”

Vanessa laughed softly, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “You know how she is… she wasn’t going to settle for anything less than perfect.”

Levi nodded, a small, almost shy smile playing at his lips. “Well, it is perfect. Just like you.”

Vanessa’s heart swelled at his words, and she turned to him, reaching for his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “For everything. For today… for every day.”

They didn’t have time for more, as the music shifted, a gentle melody starting up, and the guests began to clap and cheer, signaling the start of the couple’s first dance. Levi led Vanessa to the center of the floor, his hand securely around hers as he guided her with a quiet confidence. They looked into each other’s eyes, both of them momentarily oblivious to everyone around them, lost in the significance of this moment.

The music swelled, and Levi pulled Vanessa close, moving with a grace that surprised even himself. He had never been one for dancing, but with Vanessa in his arms, it felt as natural as breathing. The world around them faded, and for a few blissful moments, it was just the two of them, spinning in time to the music, their movements in perfect harmony.

“You’re really good at this, you know,” Vanessa murmured, her gaze never leaving his face.

Levi shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Only because I have a good partner,” he replied, his voice gentle.

Vanessa laughed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “I love you, Levi Ackerman,” she whispered, her voice soft and tender.

He didn’t say anything in response—he didn’t have to. The way he looked at her, the way he held her, spoke volumes. They continued to dance, their connection so palpable that it seemed to fill the room, casting a warm, invisible glow that wrapped around everyone present.

As the song ended, the guests erupted into applause, some wiping tears from their eyes, others smiling broadly as they watched the couple’s quiet but powerful love on full display. Levi and Vanessa shared a tender smile before stepping back, allowing the festivities to continue around them.

Then came the bouquet toss, a tradition Vanessa couldn’t wait to share with the women around her. She held her bouquet in her hands, a mischievous glint in her eye as she glanced over her shoulder, where a small crowd of women, led by Emma and Robin, waited eagerly. She took a breath, turned her back to them, and with a soft laugh, tossed the bouquet high over her shoulder.

The flowers sailed through the air, and with a gasp of surprise and delight, Vivian leapt forward, her hand shooting up to catch the bouquet with a triumphant grin. The guests burst into cheers, and Vivian raised the bouquet proudly, her face flushed with excitement. Vanessa watched her mother, laughter bubbling up as she clapped along with everyone else.

“Oh my, looks like my mom is next!” Vanessa teased, shooting a grin at her mother.

Vivian laughed, clearly enjoying every moment of the attention. “Don’t jinx it, sweetheart,” she called out, but the twinkle in her eye said otherwise.

Next came the garter toss, and the men gathered with amused anticipation as Levi took his turn. Standing in front of his friends and comrades, he removed the garter from Vanessa’s leg, his touch gentle but sure, then tossed it over his shoulder. The men scrambled, some more eager than others, but to everyone’s astonishment, Commander Pyxis caught it with a deftness that belied his age. The room erupted in laughter and cheers, and Pyxis held up the garter with a playful smirk.

“Oh dear, look at that,” he chuckled, looking around with a twinkle in his eye. “It appears I’m still in demand.”

Vivian, bouquet still in hand, caught his gaze, and to everyone’s surprise, the two exchanged a flirtatious smile. The crowd watched in amused disbelief as Pyxis crossed the room to where Vivian stood, extending his arm to her with a charming bow.

“May I have this dance, madam?” he asked, his tone gallant.

Vivian, laughing and clearly delighted, accepted his arm with a gracious nod. “It would be my pleasure, Commander,” she replied, her voice playful.

Levi and Vanessa exchanged a look, both of them caught off guard by the turn of events. They shared a laugh, each silently acknowledging that they hadn’t seen that one coming. But as they watched Vivian and Pyxis waltz across the dance floor, they couldn’t help but smile. The sight of Vivian finding joy and companionship, even in such a lighthearted way, warmed their hearts.

The reception continued, filled with laughter, dancing, and love. Hange and Robin were tearing up the dance floor, moving with wild, carefree abandon that drew laughs and cheers from everyone around them. Emma was off to the side, giggling as she flirted shyly with Armin, who was blushing furiously but couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her. Vanessa caught sight of them and nudged Levi, who glanced over with an amused smirk.

“Looks like Armin’s finally found his courage,” Levi muttered, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Vanessa chuckled, squeezing his hand. “Good for him. Emma’s wonderful… she deserves someone as kind as Armin.”

Levi nodded in agreement, his gaze drifting back to Vanessa, who looked radiant, her face glowing with happiness. He tightened his hold on her hand, guiding her back to the dance floor as the music shifted to a slower tune. They moved together, their steps soft and unhurried, content to simply be in each other’s arms.

As they danced, Levi leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Today… has been perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Vanessa looked up at him, her eyes shining. “It has, hasn’t it?” she whispered back. “It’s everything I ever dreamed of.”

Levi’s gaze softened, his hand resting at the small of her back as he pulled her closer. “And this… it’s just the beginning,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet promise. “Day one of forever.”

Vanessa’s heart swelled, and she blinked back tears as she looked up at him. “Forever sounds perfect,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

They continued to sway together, oblivious to the world around them, wrapped up in each other. The laughter and chatter of their friends faded into the background, leaving just the two of them, standing at the start of the life they would build together.

As the night went on, they shared more dances, more laughter, more quiet moments that would forever be etched into their memories. It was a celebration of love, of friendship, of family, and of the future they would create side by side.

For Levi and Vanessa, it was more than just a wedding day. It was the beginning of everything they had ever hoped for, a testament to the love that had brought them together and would carry them through whatever lay ahead.

And as they finally left the reception, hand in hand, stepping into the world as husband and wife, they knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was where they were meant to be. Together. Forever.

~

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[ofblanketsandkittens]

Dearest Gentle Reader...

you do not know me but rest assured i know you, 𝙼𝚁𝚂. 𝙽𝙰𝙸𝙳𝙰 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝚉𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚅𝙰. you are the 𝚆𝙸𝙵𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙾𝙳𝙾𝚂𝙸𝙰 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝚁𝚂. you maybe be known for your 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙳 but it is only a mask for the true nature of your 𝙿𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝚅𝙴 ways. however, i am not here to spread slander on the queen’s jewels, though i suspect you are her 𝙰𝚀𝚄𝙰𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙴. the ton says your name reminds them of 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙼𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙱𝙰𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳𝚂, 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙵𝙵𝙸𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚀𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝙶𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁, 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙼𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝚉𝚈 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙺𝙴𝚃 𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙰𝚈, 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝚄𝙳𝙳𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙿𝚄𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙲𝙰𝚃. how scandalous! you have been warned, dear reader, that i will prove if this is true and share every last detail.

Meet Mrs. Naida Gamzatova...

Full Name: Mrs. Naida Madina Gamzatova.

Rank: Distant Cousin to the Sinclairs.

Date of Birth and Age: 1st of September, 1798 ; Six and Twenty Years of Age.

Zodiac Sign: Virgo Sun.

Place of Birth: Anji (Makhachkala), Kumykia (Republic of Dagestan), Russia.

Gender and Pronouns: Cis-Woman ; She/Her/Hers.

Romantic and Sexual Orientation: Theo-romantic Theo-sexual (Panromantic Pansexual).

Appearance: Black waves, thick and mid-back length ; Hazel, almond eyes with long black eyelashes ; Ivory skintone.

Courting: Married to Lady Theodosia Hermance Gamzatova.

Getting To Know You...

Naida is the distant cousin of the Sinclairs. Her mother is originally from Kumykia in the Caucasus Mountains but was adopted when she was younger. During her first season, she happened to be matched with a man also from her hometown and the two fell in love. Moving back to their original homeland so that they could raise their family there, connected to their land and culture.

Despite their family's wealth, they lived a rather humble life. They did everything together, between cooking their meals to tending to their home, there was nothing they didn't do themselves.

For as long as she could remember, she loved being able to take care of things. Cooking, baking, tending to the family garden, creating blankets; she knew that she was ready to become a wife and have a family of her own, to take care of them and to love them. With her parents, she grew up knowing what a perfect love was like. And she wanted it so much.

As soon as she was old enough to start her first season, she came to Mayfair to stay with her distant cousins and partake in her first season there. While she had numerous matches, no one touched her heart the way Miss Theodosia Hermance did.

She fell in love with the woman as soon as she saw her. She knew that she was her soulmate, the kind that poets wrote about. Even after she married another, her love for her friend only grew.

Theodosia heading to war as a nurse broke her heart, but she didn't want her friend to believe that she was wanting to control her or to indicate as to what she could do with her life. And yet, something was... different after she returned. While she ached for her friend becoming a widow due to the war, she admittedly was most happy when she married her. Ready to dote on her wife and give her a happy marriage and life together.

These past few years, Naida has worked hard to make Theodosia happy and comfortable. Especially after what happened to her father and how she took her to the country so that she could work on becoming happy again.

All Naida wants is for her wife to be happy. But, deep down, she feels as though she is failing her. Or worse: that her wife is happier without her around. It's incredibly heartbreaking to realize that, and she hopes that she is wrong.

Especially now that for the past year, she's been contemplating ways for them to grow their family. Yet she hasn't told her wife that she wishes for them to have a baby. She just wishes that their marriage could become better before a child is brought into their family. If they have a child together.

To be continued with time...

Connections...

The Sinclair and Hermance Families: Whether already in play or with intentions to bring them in, I would love to do any and all plotting regarding these families!

Past Matches: I'd love to work on some past matches Naida would've had before she was matched with and married Theodosia! Theo is Naida's first and only love, but I figure that she would still be friends with her matches all these years! (Taken by Amos Locke)

General Connections: Friends, enemies, acquaintances (either positively or negatively), those who knows about her secretly being a great lover of cooking and baking, anything and everything!

To be continued with time...

[decadeofjoy-au]

TDOJ CHARACTERS HEIGHTS

All heights given were confirmed by their owners

Jamie Maverick(Hug-a-gotchi)= 2 inches

Kaitlyn Katsune(Plug-N-Play)= 2.87 inches

Lottle The Putty Axolotl= 7 inches

Vegefiends= 1’4

Mercy The Mixed Beast= 1’9

Mini Handymen= 2’0

Mini Smiling Critters= 2’0

Mini Nightmare Critters= 2’0

Baggie= 2’2

Stella(Baby Long Legs)= 2’3

Tammy Brook= 2’4

Lolcat= 2’4

Mini Huggies= 2’4

Poppy Playtime= 2’5

Thomas Clarke(Bron)= 2’5

Type and Talk Tommy= 2’6

Medic= 2’6

Scout= 2’6

Zacker= 2’6

Jake Tella(Cindy Ma)= 2’7

Markus Jones(Meringue The Kuddle Bear)= 2’8

The Scruff= 2’9

Byte= 3’0

Visqueux the Slime Boy= 3’5

Hixel Pixel= 4’0

Dr Bruno White(Chester The Chess Piece)= 4’0

Six Coins= 4’2

Zack Danielwoods= 4’3

Vile= 4’3

Mr Shortcake= 4’4

Prince Spruce Cashwell III= 4’4

Elliot Harper(Mr Bergamot)= 4’4

Commander Cinnatart= 4’5

Mangus J. Harper/Maggie= 4’7

Melvin Karobs= 4’8

Lauren Whitlock(Hunnie)= 4’9

Amia Blackwell(Scraps)= 4’11

(The) April Fool= 4’11

Usher Pyper= 5’0

Harry Schwartz(Changing Table)= 5’0

Orion Asteria= 5’0

Madam Macaroona= 5’1

Aether F. Beaumus= 5’2

Azure Nilson= 5’2

A.I.= 5’2

Adrienne Snow= 5’3

Jack Blackwell(Zipper)= 5’3

Rusty/Rusty Myth= 5’3

Caleb= 5’4

Maria Harper/Lucky= 5’4

Angel Creek(Handyman)= 5’4

Eddie M. N. Ritterman(Eddit Eddie)= 5’4

Alon Habagat/Lonnie= 5’5

William Grimes(Pink Cozy)= 5’6

Mandy Grimes(Blue Cozy)= 5’6

Melody Forager(Dainty Dricket)= 5’6

Michael Lamo/Hixel + Maury Serge(Hexabug)= 5’6

Maury Serge= 5’7

Austin Brando(Figaro)= 5’8

Vigilante Velvet= 5’8

Spyro-crylic= 5’8

Leroy Gallops(Bolt)= 5’9

Wyatt Moore(Meadow Dancer)= 5’9

Nurse Mariposa= 5’10

Daisy= 6’0

Lorrie Oak(A.C./Auto Correct)= 6’0

Mackenzie Allan(Rosalie)= 6’1

Azalea King(Trixie Deck)= 6’1

Icarus Tank= 6’1

Richard Lovitz(Voloveoraptor)= 6’3

Miss Delight= 6’3

Connie Stellation= 6’4

Dex the Dracopead= 6’4

The Queen= 6’4

I.D.I.O.T.= 6’5

Norma Smith(Sunnie Daze)= 6’5

Valerie Santos(BitterSweet)= 6’5

Wendall Anderson(Dr Flask)= 6’7

Fallen Petals= 6’8

Doris Emily(Patty The Putty Dragon)= 6’9

Terra Louis(Patty The Putty Dragon)= 6’9

Motherboard= 6’9

Ophelia Derrickson(Splatter Easel)= 6’9

Harven Willows(Splotch Easel)= 6’9

SOSD Nemo= 6’11

Rock-a-bye Rupert= 6’11

Pianosaurus= 7’0

Daniel Undergrowth(Arcade Mole)= 7’0

Weldon Rollins(Foreshore the Time-Stopping Wolf)- 7’0

Doctor Quincy Cross(Bear trap Bernie)= 7’1

Frosty The Yeti= 7’2

Angela Watcher(Doodle The Stretchy Mime)= 7’2

David Allan(Dupin Lupin)= 7’2

Adrienne Snow(Isabelle)= 7’3

Fredrick Woodley(Sock-It)= 7’3

Oskar Rolf(Buddy Putty)= 7’4

Hero= 7’4

Radio Friend= 7’4

The Squirrel= 7’5

Mother Nature= 7’6

Liam Crepe(Shrimphony/Rim)= 7’6

Yarnaby= 7’7

Max Jones(Tye-Dyeler)= 7’8

The buddy blocks= 7’8

Kamren Burch + Martin Lloyd + Jaelyn Dennis(Clarance The Clayman)= 7’8

Mario Gerald Rachels + Johnathan Rachels(Coo-Coo The Dog)= 7’9

Silly The Slime Snake= 8’0

Boxy Boo= 8’0

Die-Aye= 8’0

Bunzo Bunny= 8’3

Wisecrack= 8’3

Cooper Sinclair(Silas The Scorpion)= 8’5

Max McShake= 8’5

Liliana Deleon(Mrs Cake)= 8’6

Madeline Felix + Gabriel Joyfolds(Gray the Gooman)= 8’7

Carmen Apple= 8’7

Mommy Long Legs= 9’1

Pablo Pizzermin(Pizzaman)= 9’2

Lady Sweets= 9’5

Doey The Doughman= 9’5

Douglas Tihs(Sir-Poops-A-Lot)= 9’8

Pedro= 9’9

MooseLtoe= 10’0

Nathan Mayer(AlphaType)= 10’0

Sylvia Fordger(Melly Collen)= 10’6

Boyd Phillip(Antsy Antilope)= 10’6

Cloud the Slimeguy= 10’10

Mr Ideas= 11’1

Rowan King(Ivory Dice)= 11’1

Ira Smiti(Hysteria Hyena)= 11’6

Lola prince(Motza Cheese)= 12’0

Baba Chops= 12’6

Clover Katsune(Larry Limelight)= 12’6

Silencer/Nostalgia Nancy= 12’7

Paula Pizzermin(Riggi Ravioli)= 13’0

Laura Farcraft(Snooze The Dragon)= 13’1

Dr Draco Draconic= 13’1

April Annie Saldana(Ms Moondust)= 13’11

Alfred Michaelson(Stacey Strongson)= 14’0

Kitchan Sink= 14’5

Monkey Bars= 15’5

Luther Bullock(Building Brick Baron)= 15’7

Watcher= 15’11

Dr. Rowena Morrigan(The Funhouse)= 15’11

Leo Saldana(Mr Sandman)= 16’3

Calvin Construt-a-bot= 16’9

Kissy Missy= 17’0

Riley= 17’0

Marcus Danielwoods(Shadows The Bellmaster)= 17’0

Picky Piggy= 17’0

Duke Mayer(Misery)= 17’3

Chris Father(Grumpy Huggy)= 17’5

Huggy Wuggy= 17’5

Catnap= 17’5

Craftycorn= 17’8

Kicken Chicken= 17’9

Hoppy Hopscotch= 17’9

Nancy Stokes(Sarah The Slime Gal)= 17’9

Sir Sheet Serpent= 18’2

Bobby Bearhug= 18’5

Jonah Birch(Devin Devill)= 18’10

Bubba Bubbaphant= 18’11

Dogday= 19’8

Felix Brook= 20’0

Charlie Fordger(Fifi)= 20’0

Marilyn, Gary, Sally, Randal, Clarissa and Mike Charms(The Dearest Family)= 26’0

Clawful= 30’0

Not-Quite-Dead= 35’0

Leith Pierre(The Garbage Disposal)= 40’0 <- Note that any character over this height is unable to move properly due to already having reached ceiling height

UNDETERMINED.

Ruby Ridge, Cotten Talls-Hugcat4ever2468

Taffy, Laffy-Scrappythescraptrap

EXTRA(more to be added)

Rosalie(Max Height)= 12’0

Percival The Plasticine Beast(Monstrous)= 12’5

Clarance The Clayman(Monstrous)= 13’11

Dupin Lupin(Max Height)= 16’0

Buddy Putty(Monstrous)= 17’5

Gray The Gooman(Monstrous)= 21’0

Silly The Slime Snake(Monstrous)= 24’11

Catnap(Standing up)= 27’0

Cloud the slimeguy(Monstrous)= 28’11

Doey The Doughman(Monstrous)= 29’6

Sarah The Slime Gal(Monstrous)= 36'09"

[bahloid]

A [CONCERT] ?!

"WILDFIRE (GONE, GONE, GONE) / DEATH SONG" (RABBITOLOGY) SONGTIVE NOT A REQ !

NAME: Anya, Aura, Blair, Buffy, Circe, Cinder, Cyril, Dahlia, Dawn, Edith, Eidolon, Emery, Fran, Fraser, Fae, Grace, Hazel, Ione, Ivory, Ivy, Jesper, Keir, Lark, Lamia, Maddox, Mallory, Marisol, Nola, Oleander, Oracle, Pathos, Quinn, Reznik, Rhys, Roux, Rune, Sabel, Stag, Selwyn, Sinclair, Scy, Tasnim, Thorne, Umber, Uma, Verity, Via, Wisteria, Wolf(e), Wren, Xanthe, Xerxes, Xyla, Yael, Yuri, Zinnia GENDER: Transfem, Sunsetcosmic, Komorebian AGE: Infinage PRONOUNS: she/her, shi/hir, shy/hyr, flame/flames, seek/seeks, lie/liar, curio/curios, it/its, ix/ix, vie/view, cae/caer, ce/cem SOURCE: "Wildfire (Gone, Gone, Gone) / Death Song" by Rabbitology ROLE: Absorber, Advisor, Anchor, Archivist, Census Taker, Comforter, Communicator, Companion, Groundskeeper, Guardian, Hobbyist, Hydrator, Journal Keeper, Mortician, Muse, Music Holder, Narrator, Order Keeper, Scout, Sister Figure, Spoon Generator, Watcher CIS IDS: CisShapeshifter, CisCryptid, CisAracial TRANSIDS: TransLovely, PermaBleeding, PermaShapeshifting, TransBlind PARAS: N#cro, Zoo MUDS: OvPD, Aglophage TITLES: The World-Eater, [prn] Who Does Not Recognize, [prn] Who Cannot Be Stopped, [prn] Who Will be Gone, The Death Song/The Song of Death TYPING STYLE: Types with perfect grammar and punctuation. Tends to speak slightly more chill than average. PERSONALITY: Generally very caring towards those around her. Ix often acts sort of as a 'mother hen'; making sure those around seek are all taken care of and content. Vie is often found keeping a (figurative) eye on those around hir. Curio is very quiet, only occasionally talking- simply out of preference. Ce also enjoys taking notes on things it finds important. Lie is a very logical being, struggling to process their own emotions most of the time. FACECLAIM: