#toolbox with door

[inplacetechnology]

Large Bed Mount Toolbox with Swing Door

TB-36X18X28-FH BED MOUNT TOOLBOX WITH HINGED DOOR TOOL BOX WITH REAR-SWINGING DOOR MEASURING 36″ WIDE X 18″ DEEP X 28″ TALL CONSTRUCTED OF 16 GAUGE SMOOTH STEEL. DOOR SWINGS ON THE LEFT SIDE WITH RUBBER STRIPPING AND LOCKING SWIVEL HASP CLOSURE ON RIGHT SIDE. POWDER COAT WHITE. PERFECT FOR SECURING TOOLS, SUPPLIES, AND EQUIPMENT AND PROTECTING THE CONTENTS FROM WEATHER AND CONTAMINANTS. TOOLBOX…

[masked-daydream]

Ok so you did the one when us the reader is pregnant, what if the reader had the baby?? What would think the Dateables would do?? How would they help the reader??

DATE EVERYTHING! SCENARIOS

Single! Pregnant! Mom Reader! x Dateables CONTINUATION

Single! Mom Reader x Dateables

Baby & Dateables

Part 1, Part 2, Reggie's Part

Due to popular Demand, I have finally made a part 2 of this particular scenario, but this time it will feature after the Reader gave birth. So here's a treat everyone 😁 who wanted a continuation.

The Baby will be refered to as they/them or genderless for now, it's up to you on what they're gender is.

"You know...I haven't been breastfed as a child..." Tony wiggled his eyebrows as he looks at you while feeding your newborn.

You just narrowed your eyes at him then flicked his forehead, which he responded by a resounding yelp.

You then remind him of his current task on making sure that the newly built crib that he made is safe for your child. Which he immediately went to check on again.

It's been a few days passed ever since you gave birth to your little miracle. And you still remember the reactions of the objects when your water broke.

You giggled remembering that time as you slightly remembered Florence appearing and ordering Phoenicia to call the ambulance, as Celia is consoling you and calling someone to carry you to Koa. Farya teaching you breathing exercises and Teddy helping you calm your nerves until the ambulance came.

You vaguely remember leaving the dateviators to someone as the paramedics took you to the hospital where you gave birth.

Fast Forward when you finally got home carrying your newborn to your home. You saw the dateviators in the couch and remembered about the others.

As you put them on you're immediately surrounded by the objects asking you if you're ok and also about the baby as well. As you show them your little pride of joy in your arms there worries turned into relief as they cooed in the appearance of your newborn.

Then you remember Dorian, Farya and Celia controlling the crowd telling them to see you in another time to not overwhelm you as Dorian took you into his arms bridal style with your baby in your chest to bring you to your bedroom. You told Dorian that you could just walk to your bedroom but he insisted in carrying you so Farya could check on you and the baby.

You feel bad about leaving them while you're in the hospital but Celia told you not to worry about them and they understood the circumstances of your birth and they have been preparing your return while you're in the hospital.

You then smile as Dorian settled you into Betty as she and Mateo already prepared the other side of the bed with a blanket and small pillows to put your baby in.

After Farya's done with her check up in which she concluded that you are both healthy which you and the others are thankful for. she then excused herself and the Mayor as they went back to their respective places.

Then you feel yourself getting lighthearted as you watch your newborn rest. as the fears since you've returned melt away as you remembered the objects care for you which will soon be applied to your newborn as well.

You smile fondly remembering that time, as you sat in a chair near your bedroom as you began rocking your child to sleep again after they are done suckling.

Then you felt Chairemi coo at your newborn admiring their adorable face as Curt & Rod manifested to talk about your baby in hushed whispers as to not disturb your child.

A new surprise then happened when you thought that the ability to see the objects can only happen with the dateviators on. But you were surprised when your baby first opened their eyes and smiled at the first object they set their eyes upon in the middle of the night.

Which is Mateo who was very much shocked as he slowly let's one of his fingers close to the baby which they grabbed and cooed. Which made his heart swell with cuteness.

He then informed you and the others regarding this information which the other objects took in with excitement at the new revelation.

Because of that as time passes in your household all objects have settled a new routine with you and your baby. With nearly all of them being willing babysitters everytime you need to focus on your work or needing a break.

For example, whenever your child cries as they noticed you're gone when they woke up, they would immediately be calmed down by either Betty, Teddy, Dorian or Ben-Hwa who despite being a very bold is surprisingly good at calming down your baby with their smooth voice and calm demeanor.

Some objects immediately step in to carry your baby when they wake up so they could hang-out with them. With explicit instructions from you on how to carry your child.

Some objects would carry your child to let them in on some very child-safe activities which will be monitored by Dorian or Wallace to make sure your child is safe and also meeting their needs whenever they needed it.

Some activities which includes The Hanks letting the little house homie watch some of their stunts as the baby laughs in excitement at the group being boisterous and fun.

In the Home Gym, when the baby will eventually will be passed on by each of the objects in the Gym, Each of them either talking to the baby about their activities with Kristof telling the baby on how they will be a strong warrior someday, With Dunk and Shelley probably trying to teach the baby on how to crawl or roll over to impress you and with Stepford on which your baby immediately took a liking to him from how shiny he looks and looking at the Trophy with wonder.

Sometimes the objects in the attic will come down and look after your little love, infact some of them are very good babysitters.

Lady Memoria will reminisce and talk to you (if you're present) and your baby about your similarities and will also use some of your old toys from back when you were a kid for your baby.

Infact she probably was the one who helped you organized some old stuff from your attic to be reused or gifted to your child. Which you will be grateful for.

Sophia may come off as a suprise when being a babysitter for your child. You thought that since she despises disobedience she will be very annoyed at your baby who can't even comprehend things yet.

But you were shock on how good she is when she strutted in your office, carrying your baby who looks quite calm despite the big oversized black sunglasses in their eyes in her arms demanding you where you keep your child's formula and bottles so she could bottle-feed them.

You later found out that she was basically Monique's parental figure since she also can be a bit protective as her duty as a safe.

Speaking of Monique she is also quite helpful in doing some budgeting for your baby's needs and also for some reason, decides to teach your baby about how finances and budgeting works which your child just looks at them cutely while sucking on their pacifier.

And there is also Hector who pretty much cherishes your baby holding them in a way that a good father should. With his calming voice and loving demeanor which made him one of the best babysitters in your household.

At some point just like how Dunk and Shelley are trying to teach your child on how to roll or crawl on their own. There will be a little competition on who could teach/help your baby on achieving their very firsts so they could impress you.

With Phoenicia and Lady Memoria being there to take pictures and memories for every first achievement your baby does which is kinda wholesome.

Like with the Kitchen crew where the moment there's a green light on your baby being ready for solid foods they will be the very first to feed them.

As you sat in one of the Dining room chairs with your daughter/son in your lap you see Mitchell and the others preparing various foods for your child to try, you can't help but feel happy as you see their eagerness for another milestone for your child.

As they are done preparing the various foods each of them take turns on making your baby try some of the foods which includes some fruit and vegetable puree, infant cereals and more...

On which of them take in on every reaction your child makes to each food and making sure that they are not allergic to any food. Sometimes your child's reaction made them laugh like the one where Freddy made them try their first lemon slice which made say a few 'awws' and giggles as your child recoiled from the sour.

Then during bath time or change time you see Jean-Loo being the expert on changing the diapers on your baby whenever they poop or pee themselves which kinda makes sense.

And then there's Rebel who was warned by multiple dateables to watch their language whenever their around your baby. Which they are very annoyed by which is why they try to avoid your baby whenever it's bath time.

But unfortunately your baby quite likes them for some reason. infact whenever they see Rebel they start reaching out their little baby arms to them and cooing like their asking them to carry or just wanting to touch their yellow wing-like arms.

And as much as Rebel wants to leave they can't help but stay, cause the baby starts crying in fear of their favorite rubber ducky leaving. Which some of the other objects in present giggle and tease Rebel about it which will they respond with a glare or a hidden middle finger.

As some objects volunteer in being babysitters each have their own way on making sure your baby is taken care of. whether it will be them talking about their hobbies or just overall doing odd stuff to make sure your baby doesn't cry.

For example, You see some gossipy objects like Wyndolyn, Curt & Rod, Bathsheba, Scandalabra and Tina include your baby in their whenever the do a little gossip, one of them will hold your child in your lap as they talk. They would occasionally ask your baby something which the baby then respond in random babbles and sounds. Which they respond in "I know right?!" , "Preach it little man" , "Oh you are Soo right!" surrounding your child in laughs and entertainment on which your baby enjoys.

Some Calmer objects with good aura and a approachable presence are very good in keeping your child asleep.

Which include Teddy (obviously) in which your baby made him their favorite napping spot because of their storytelling, Betty, Koa, Able, Stefan and Gaia whom are also good napping spots when they're being carried.

And for your child's development and creativity Lyric, Keyes, Rainey, Miranda, Mac, Artt and Telly will help with your child's learning and artistic development.

As Keyes, Miranda and Rainey sing and perform for you and your Baby you see your darling's eyes grow wide with wonder as they smile and babble when those three performed.

Which is kinda funny as your child also reacts the same way when Johnny Splash and Jean-Loo performs as well.

Telly will make sure to show your child some educational and fun shows. None of those brainrot stuff. Infact there is a chance your baby will be shown some songs from Gracie's corner or shown some cartoon like Bluey or turn on some old cartoons like The Backyardigans. Your child will definitely grow up to be creative 😊

As your Child learns how to dance because of the shows and music televised by Telly, their little arms and legs waving in excitement while laughing. They will be joined by Bodhi who starts to dance and sing with your child.

Speaking of Creativity as they are exposed to Lyric and Artt they will soon learn on how to create art and stories. There will be a time where your child show you their creativity; either through a painting/drawing of you and them or a story that they made by themselves.

This will help them in their critical thinking skills in the future as both Chance and Parker and the rest of the Office Crew whenever they have one of their G&G game sessions. Sometimes they even let your baby join as an adorable character in each sessions.

There will be some objects who can get a bit protective. Like Bobby Pinn who at first will be all tough and uncaring at first saying that a baby is not that useful in a criminal empire.

Then you saw them crying while holding the baby as they cuddle them. Saying that they'll protect them no matter what. 🥹

Like Captain Jaques Pierrot who have decided to promote your child as his 'cabin boy' which sooner or later will be the 'first mate' of his crew. Despite the odd titles he gave to your daughter/son, Jaques will hold your baby gently as they interact with his eye patch wearing chick. Who your baby loves to touch it's fluffy feathers.

As the night falls and everyone lay to rest including you, Your baby will dream of Nightmare but this nightmare will not scare them. Oh no, infact Nightmare herself cherishes your little spawn as your baby looks at them with no fear as they smile, letting your little spawn laugh as they play with her various heads and arms, each eyes looking at your beloved spawn with fondness.

At some point each night you woke up urgently as you hear your baby cry. As you approach them to feed- you see a white shirtless figure already doing it.

Doug holds your baby in his arms talking to them with that deadpan voice of his on how they nearly woke up the entire household with their cries, making the others think that their hurt but no, you're just hungry. Doug says as he holds the milk bottle in his other hand as he talks to your child with no malice despite the words. You just smile fondly, That even Existential Dread himself can exist for your child without the feeling itself.

At some point you get confused, lost and wonder on how you can raise the little human. Despite the others saying that they will help you in any way they can nearly all of them have no experience in babies well except for one.

Mikey Transaction will guide you in childcare in anyway he can, as he got 3 kids himself. He is also one of the best babysitters in the home easily making your child laugh and relax and maybe someday he'll introduce you to his Kids as well.

Another contender for being good with childcare is Winnifred as she makes sure that every bath time the water is in perfect temperature. As she joins in the bath with you as she hugs you like a lover as you both make sure your baby is clean including yourself. And also making sure that every baby bottle or pacifier is sterilized and the milk formula will be warm enough for your baby.

During the time after you gave birth you will probably get a video call or text from your dearest friend Sam as she demands pics of your child and also will join you in shopping with your child as sooner or later will call her Auntie Sam.

As time passes with each day hearing laughter and feeling love, as your child grows up with the love and care they deserve. You begin sigh watching them hangout with various objects and concepts in the house each caring for your baby in their own unique way

You thought to yourself that you will be alone, being scared of the growing life inside of you. But as you watch your beloved child smile all your worries melt away.

As you feel someone's arms hold you in your waist you remember that you are no longer alone. As you have your friends and lovers beside you with your baby. You know that you will never feel that you're not enough ever again.

After all Home is where the heart is- as each day is filled with the love you have for your child and family.

[knight-says-eyyyy]

Housekeepers Analysis

Right ok so as the person who literally named this ship? This post is long overdo. Have a shitty edit as compensation

Below is going to be me breaking down why Dorian and Tony just work together, heavily based in character analysis but I’m definitely going to be posting headcanons later

Fundamentally it’s ‘force of stability’ vs ‘force of change’ both with the goal of care for others

Tony is someone who craves the safety and trust required for emotional vulnerability but struggles with letting people be that space for him, he needs help letting walls down because he isn’t sure anyone else will help hold them up.

Dorian is someone who desires, above all, to be understood - to be cared for enough to be analyzed and known but can’t risk taking the initiative to make that easy, he needs to be cared for and maintained.

Both of these needs are inherently fulfilled by what the other stands for in ideals, function, and personality.

Dorian keeps things safe, he is devoted to the goal of being supportive and providing a secure environment. Tony takes things apart and puts them back together, he learns hands on how to understand them so that he can fix them.

Someone who exists to keep things safe and someone who exists to disassemble and repair.

Two people who share the same motive of keeping the household in good condition. They want their friends to be safe and happy and healthy, they don’t tend to include themselves in their own outlooks but still reflect back their hypocritical attituds - they’re good for canceling out each other’s bad habits.

It’s the fun dynamic of ‘high energy with false bravado’ meeting ‘low energy with real confidence’ it makes the manner they interact with those around them overlap in a neat way.

They’re also both misjudged on a surface level! Tony is presumed a complete dumbass and Dorian is considered emotionally robotic when both subjects are more complex than that.

And… not to hate on canon pairings but uh. Tina was not a good match there. At all. I don’t even need to explain Keith, I know everyone’s already on the same page there, but Dorian also has a kinda implied thing with Reggie himself?

So they both have horrible exes. Horrible taste that led to similar experiences that both require a level of understanding/solidarity to unpack or heal from. This would be good for them.

AND THEYRE SO SILLY IN STUPID WAYS!!

Monotone “whee.” + ✨PPE grippy socks✨

Anyway this concludes my rambling list of reasons why these two need to kiss thank you n goodnight you’ve been a wonderful audience

[xglamcow]

I think Tony and Dorian should kiss but that’s just me.

[sun-e-chips]

One of these bots you must approach with caution the other will probably roll over for you.

[howelljenkins]

that anon wasn't me but you deserve an ask box full of compliments. youre the coolest smartest person on this website and that is not a joke. i'm glad you still use this site just cuz I'd miss you if you stopped. you deserve to be stress free and content every day of your life and i am wishing for every good thing for you. you deserve it.

thank u I really appreciate it! sometimes I wish I still had some fandom obsession tying me to regular tumblr use like the old days but then I realize that would be kind of antithetical to who I am as a person lol and there is so much life to live! my little check ins are enough for me

[calpalsworld]

Kind of crazy... all the Doors Floor 2 things I disliked are literally changing as I play. I suppose thats a positive of it being a Roblox game. Theyre constantly patching things and you arent alerted of the patch or anything.

List of all the things I disliked and how theyve all changed:

1. Screech spawns too often (it is definately spawning less than it was yesterday)

2. I was frustrated by the room that would spawn around 130 with the Figure but I have not gotten that room in like 6 runs now so I think they temporarily removed it (?) (or maybe just weird luck)

3. I thought ladders were annoying and the climbing animation was way too slow (maybe imagining it but im pretty sure they sped up climbing)

4. I did not like how sprawling and annoying some room layouts/ fuse spawn points could be. it felt like a time waster and removed tension. (I feel like I am encountering a lot of different rooms than I was yesterday)

5. I did not like how the Seek Minecart segment did not say "press C to crouch" because I could not figure out what to do and had to youtube someone else doing it LOL 😂 (as of the last time I played it now gave me the pop up "press C to crouch")

6. Glitches (i already feel like I am encountering less glitches)

[r-train-cyannn]

Day 934

主要fandom一周年到啦！

[crowscadence]

The absolute horror on my friend’s faces when we were at homecoming and Country Girl (Shake It For Me) by Luke Bryan came on and I started singing along at the top of my lungs

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

next

[thefuzzzz]

Batboys who, when they’ve upset someone in their lives who they care about, just buy them copious amounts of things they like because that’s how Bruce tries to rectify his small mistakes with his children

Wally: Hey, Dick? Did you order basketball tickets?

Dick: Oh, yeah. Last week. I ate your leftovers and you were upset about it, so I got you tickets for your favorite team in apology.

Wally: …thank you? Weren’t these expensive though? It’s the finals.

Dick: :)

Roy: Hey, Jaybird, did you get a new toolbox?

Jason: It has your name engraved on it.

Roy: I saw that.

Jason: Apology for when I forgot to lock the bedroom door when you asked, and Lian walked in on us

Roy: That was, like, a month ago? And I wasn’t even mad?

Jason: Engraving takes a long time.

Tim: To make up for missing our last date due to work, I made reservations and laid out outfits for both of you on the bed.

Bernard (in the bedroom with Kon): I don’t remember these being in our closet?

Kon: Since when did you have that necklace?

Bernard: And you those earrings? Shit, is that diamond?

Kon: Oh, I see what’s happening. Tim does this when he feels guilty.

Bernard: I hate rich people so much.

Damian: Hello.

Jon (jumping): Oh…hey? How did you get here? And when? I thought you said you were busy today and couldn’t hang out.

Damian: Irrelevant. I have a gift.

Jon: Oh my god! Is that a signed guitar?

Damian: …do you like it?

Jon: Yes, duh. But, how? Why? When?

Damian (climbing out the bedroom): Bye.

Clark (walking into Jon’s room): Oh, you and Damian made up?

Jon: WE WERE FIGHTING?

(Bonus SuperBat)

Clark (to his mom on the phone, walking into his Daily Planet office): Me and B were in a bit of a fight last night. Nothing big, but I feel bad about it. He slept in the guest room- holy shit.

Martha: What? You ok?

Clark: Yeah, yeah. I just walked into my office and…like everything’s been upgraded?

Martha: …what?”

Clark: There’s a really nice keyboard and computer and one of those fancy desk chairs and…oh. Hey, B.

Bruce (in the corner of the room): Good?

Clark: Uhhh…yes?

Bruce: :)

[knight-says-eyyyy]

Ouughhhh Dorian/Tony my beloveds

Calling them housekeepers because they’re the two responsible for the household <3 They ensure all the objects’ safety and health

Security + maintenance is such a good foundation and they’re so compatible and I need a 20k slowburn immediately

[kannady]

rendezvous

summary: sylus has realised he's real, but everything around him isn't. but what happens when he decides to kidnap you from the real world?

a/n: ok! so contrary to my expectation, this week wasnt bad at all, just super tiring. i had no time to read anything let alone write. but i have a couple days off so hopefully ill finish this one. also this lovely idea from @tofufairy was just too good to only write as a oneshot. ill write it in two long ass parts. lemme know your thoughts!

word count: 6k

genre: sylus, love and deepspace, sexual tensions. slight stalking.

read part two here!

Sylus wiped grease from his knuckles with a ragged cloth, squinting at the bike’s engine like it had personally offended him. The bike wasn’t even broken, he just needed something to do with his hands, something to keep the silence at bay. The garage was quiet except for the occasional plink of a loose bolt hitting concrete and the distant hum of traffic. Then, footsteps. Light, almost skipping.

He didn’t look up until she was right beside him, her shadow stretching across his toolbox.

“Hey!” she said, voice bright enough to make his teeth ache. “Nice bike. Vintage, right?”

Sylus clenched his jaw. Don’t engage. She’ll leave if you don’t engage. He grunted, flicking a speck of rust off the carburetor.

She didn’t take the hint. Leaning in, she tapped the fuel tank like they were old friends. “My neighbour used to have one just like this. Well, almost like this. His was blue, and the seat had this weird tear-”

“Mhm.” Sylus reached for a wrench, deliberately turning his back.

“-oh, you’re so right, it’s totally going to rain later-”

Sylus stared.

Her voice twisted, warped. The words melted together like a shrill. His chest ached, hollow and heavy all at once. He knew this feeling. The one that came after the anger, when the fire burned out and left nothing but ashes.

Alone.

Even when she was here, screaming at nothing, he was alone.

She kept talking. About the weather. About some café down the street. About nothing, really. He tuned it out, focusing on tightening a bolt until his fingers hurt.

Finally, he stood, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He didn’t bother with a goodbye, just walked toward the garage door, her voice still bouncing off the concrete walls behind him.

Then it hit him. The talking hadn’t stopped.

He glanced back.

She was still there, grinning at the empty space where he’d been standing, gesturing animatedly to no one. Her laughter echoed, high and bright, as if he’d never left.

Sylus exhaled through his nose. Not real. Again.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

Somewhere behind him, she was still laughing. Somewhere inside him, the silence was worse. (a/n: cue play last of us intro)

***

The clock glared at you from the corner of the screen. 11:47 PM.

Twelve minutes. Twelve fucking minutes.

Your fingers hammered the keyboard like it had personally wronged you. The essay was done, mostly, but the last paragraph was a wreck of half-formed thoughts and caffeine-induced word vomit. You backspaced violently, teeth sinking into your lower lip. “Come on, come on.”

Your roommate’s cat, a judgmental ball of fur called Binx, hopped onto the desk and sat on your notes.

“Not now,” you hissed, nudging him away. Binx flicked his tail in your face and settled just out of arm’s reach, watching you suffer with unblinking yellow eyes.

11:53.

You skimmed the essay one last time, your vision blurring from screen fatigue. Was that a typo? Did you mix up “affect” and “effect” again? The words swam on the screen, morphing into meaningless shapes. 

Good enough. With a shaky breath, you hit Submit.

The page loaded with agonizing slowness.

11:58.

Your knee bounced under the desk. The cursor spun. Spin, spin, spin.

Submitted successfully!

The clock ticked over to 11:59.

You made a sound between a sob and a laugh, slumping back in your chair. The tension drained from your shoulders all at once, leaving you boneless. For a long moment, you just stared at the ceiling, your heartbeat finally slowing. The desk lamp cast long shadows, the room suddenly too bright, too quiet.

Binx meowed, unimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, but there was no heat in it. The relief was too sweet.

You got out of the chair, your muscles protesting like you’d run a marathon instead of typing. The shower beckoned you. Hot, steamy, glorious. You turned the water up until it nearly scalded, letting it pound the stress from your back. The shampoo smelled like coconuts, the steam fogging up the mirror until your reflection vanished. For the first time in weeks, you could finally breathe.

After, you slipped into your favorite slip dress. The oversized lavender one that pooled around your thighs. Your skin still hummed with the warmth of the shower, hair dripping lazily onto your shoulders.

Then, the real reward.

You snatched your phone off the charger, thumb hovering over the app you hadn’t opened in weeks. Love & Deepspace, the game you’d been too buried in assignments to touch. Just the icon made your pulse skip. The opening theme swelled as it loaded, the familiar melody wrapping around you.

“Please don’t crash. Please don’t-”

The home screen loaded, vibrant and welcoming. A rush of warmth flooded your chest. God, you’d missed this. Missed the pixel-perfect smiles of your favorite characters, the cheesy dialogues, the way your stomach fluttered during the romance scenes. It was stupid. It was perfect.

You curled onto your bed, pulling the comforter up to your chin. Binx settled beside you, purring.

For the first time in forever, you grinned.

“Alright, boys,” she whispered to the screen. “Let’s fall in love.”

You blinked at the screen, waiting.

The Destiny Café’s afternoon glow bathed everything in honeyed light. Cozy, inviting, but wrong. Because he wasn’t there.

Sylus should have been front and center, seated on the couch with that infuriating smirk, his silver-white hair catching the light like frost under the sun. His crimson eyes like blood spilled over fresh snow, should have been locked onto the screen, onto you, with that knowing glint that always made your stomach flip.

But the space where he usually stood was empty. Just an untouched coffee cup and the faint imprint of where his hip would have rested on the couch.

Your finger hovered over the screen.

What the hell?

You switched to Rafayel. He appeared instantly, greeting you with a soft smile. Then Zayne, Xavier, Caleb. All were present. Exactly as they should’ve been. But Sylus?

Gone.

You reloaded. Same empty café. Same hollow silence where his voice should have been.

A weird, creeping unease settled in your chest. This wasn’t right. Sylus wasn’t some side character. He was Sylus, the one who always greeted you, made you laugh but did, the one whose rare, genuine smile felt like a secret just for you.

You clicked the “Date” option. His name was still there. But his icon was grayed out, as if you’d never unlocked him. But you had. You knew you had. You remembered the grind, the late nights, the way your heart jumped when his story finally unfolded. You remembered the exact shade of his eyes. His sly remarks. 

And now?

Now it was just… nothing.

The game hummed on, oblivious. The other characters chatted, flirted, existed like nothing was wrong.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was.

Where the hell was Sylus?

You switched characters again, as if he'd magically appear this time. But no. His spot remained empty. No silver-white hair catching the light, no crimson eyes glinting with amusement. Just emptiness.

Frustration settled under your skin. You exited the game, force-closed it, reopened it. Same empty café. Same missing man.

“Okay, maybe it’s just a bug.”

You hopped onto Reddit, scrolling through forums, searching for anything about Sylus missing. But there was nothing. No posts, no complaints, no panicked "Where's Sylus??" threads. Just the usual chatter. Fan theories, event guides, thirst edits about the other guys.

Your stomach twisted. 

Why was no one else talking about this?

You checked the official website. No mention of him being removed. No maintenance notices. It was like the universe had decided to gaslight you.

What was the point of playing if he wasn't here?

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table. 2:43 AM. You were too tired for this. Maybe it was just a weird glitch. Maybe tomorrow, when you logged back in, he'd be there like nothing had happened.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone onto the nightstand, flicked off the light, and yanked the covers over your head.

***

You were jolted awake by a sudden, unnatural sensation. Not by any sound or dream, but by the distinct feeling of movement while lying completely still. Your eyes flew open to complete darkness, but this wasn't the familiar comforting dark of your bedroom. The air felt charged.

You rubbed your eyes and felt yourself lifting, floating, as if gravity had momentarily forgotten you existed. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized you were actually hovering, weightless. Before panic could fully take hold, you sensed a presence beside you, touching you. The heat from his body searing through his clothes, enveloping you. Did someone kidnap you?

Slowly, almost afraid of what you might see, you turned your head.

And there, carrying you bridal style, was Sylus. Not as pixels on a screen, but as a living, breathing being. His silver-white hair seemed to glow faintly in the darkness, like moonlight reflecting off fresh snow. Those crimson eyes, the ones you'd have known anywhere, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart pound violently against your chest.

"You noticed," he murmured, his voice deeper and richer than you'd ever imagined, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. The scent of winter air and something faintly metallic, like cold steel, surrounded him. Every rational thought screamed that this couldn't be real, that you had to be dreaming, but the warmth of his breath against your skin felt terrifyingly real.

He smirked, that same infuriatingly perfect smirk you'd seen a hundred times on your phone screen, but now it was directed at you in a way that made your stomach flip. In this impossible moment, only one thought rang clear in your overwhelmed mind. He was real, he was here, and nothing would ever be the same again.

How the hell was he here and not in the game? But he wasn’t actually here, right? You were probably just dreaming. A dream that felt dangerously real. That had your heartbeat accelerating, the hairs on the back of your neck standing upright, your palms clammy, and your thoughts all mushed up. 

In that moment, you could think of nothing else but to do the only sane thing. The one thing any normal person would do. You screamed. Maybe Sylus wasn’t expecting that. He stopped in his tracks and just for a faint second, you noticed his eyes widen. Your scream tore through the night air. Before the second shriek could escape, Sylus' gloved hand clamped over your mouth. 

The leather smelled faintly of gun oil and winter mint, an unsettlingly human detail for someone who shouldn't exist.

"Easy there, little kitten," he murmured, crimson eyes glinting with amusement under the moonlight. "We're in the N109 Zone. Do you really want an audience here?" 

His thumb brushed your cheekbone almost tenderly as he said it, lingering for just a moment longer, making your pulse stutter.

The scream died in your throat as his words registered. N109 Zone. You'd seen it in the game before. You remembered what almost happened to the MC when she first came here. Your wide eyes darted past Sylus' shoulder, finally taking in your surroundings properly.

Moonlight bled through the trees, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. The air hummed with something electric, raising goosebumps along your arms. You looked ahead to where Sylus was walking, still holding you swiftly like you weighed nothing. It was a glorious mansion adorned with intricate details, sculptures, gardens punctuated with red roses.

Sylus followed your gaze. "Ah. You've noticed our destination." His hand slid from your mouth and he stopped just for a moment to let you down. "Walk with me. Questions can wait until I’ve safely escorted you inside."

Every survival instinct screamed to wrench away, but the rational part of your brain knew escape would be futile. This was Sylus, after all. Dream or not. 

You found yourself matching his strides as he led you toward the glowing mansion, your bare feet sinking into unnaturally warm moss with each step.

The night was still young. Your slip dress that had once been perfectly comfortable in your bedroom, now felt flimsy as a tissue paper.

"You're shaking," Sylus observed without breaking stride. His thumb stroked your pulse point, where your heartbeat fluttered like a caged bird. "Don't tell me you only like me from behind a screen."

“I do like you. But you’re not even real.” You managed to speak without stuttering, although you knew he sensed the nervousness in your voice anyway.

“Or am I, sweetie?”

"I like fictional characters who stay fictional," you snapped, then immediately regretted it when his fingers tightened fractionally.

Sylus laughed, a rich, unsettling sound that didn't quite reach those blood-bright eyes. "Oh, darling. If only you knew how fictional your world seems from here."

The mansion loomed closer, its glowing arches humming. Something in that sound made your teeth ache. Sylus' grip shifted to your elbow as you approached the massive doors, his breath warm against your ear. "Deep breaths now. I wouldn’t want my guest to panic. What kind of host would that make me?"

You locked eyes with him. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite discern. This dreaming was driving you crazy. 

As the doors swung open silently, revealing a cavernous hall pulsing with strange light, you realized with dawning horror that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't just some bizarre dream. The game had never shown this place. Never warned about any of this.

And the man beside you, the one whose smirk had once made your stomach flutter, now felt about as safe as a live wire in a thunderstorm.

Your breath caught as you took in the grand hall, its vaulted ceilings stretching endlessly. The air hummed with a faint warmth, carrying the scent of aged parchment and something richer, like smoldering embers and black tea. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, their swirling patterns shifting subtly under the glow of floating orbs of light that drifted lazily through the space.

This place shouldn't have existed.

You'd spent hours in Love & Deepspace, memorizing every pixel of Sylus' world, or so you'd thought. But this? This had never been in the game.

As if reading your thoughts, Sylus chuckled low beside you. "The game only showed the places I wanted it to."

You tore your gaze from the opulent decor to glance at him, but he was already looking away, his expression unreadable. Still, you caught the faintest curve of his lips, smug, satisfied. Like he was enjoying your bewilderment.

Before you could retort, he stepped forward, extending a gloved hand toward you. "Come." It wasn't a request.

You hesitated, fingers twitching at your sides. Every rational instinct screamed that you shouldn't take it, that you should demand answers, find a way back, run. But curiosity was a traitorous thing.

You placed your hand in his.

His fingers closed around yours, warm and firm, and suddenly, you were moving.

He guided you through the mansion with quiet precision, his grip on your hand unyielding as you moved through rooms that felt too expansive, too real to belong to any game. The air smelled of polished wood and gun oil. The walls were lined with sleek display cases, holding meticulously maintained firearms. Some modern, some antique.

A long hallway opened into what looked like an armory, racks of rifles and handguns. You recognized some from the game. The sleek, futuristic designs that had always appeared when you fought alongside Sylus. But others were unfamiliar, their edges worn from use. You paused beside a case holding a silver revolver. “This wasn’t in the game,” you murmured.

Sylus hummed, stepping closer. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached past you to tap the glass. “No. Some things are just for me.” His voice was low, intimate.

The next chamber was a training area. mats covering the floor, a shooting range tucked behind soundproof glass. A half-dismantled rifle lay on a workbench, its parts spread out. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Yes, Sylus was your most favourite fictional man. He was just your type. You’d spent hours reading his fanfictions, replaying his memories. Watching his fanarts. But this? This was incomprehensible. You were torn between the thoughts whether this was dangerous or exciting, whether you were dead or dreaming?

You turned to him, your pulse quickening. “Is this real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or am I inside the game?”

Sylus studied you for a long moment, his crimson eyes unreadable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached out and caught your wrist, guiding your hand to his chest. Beneath the fabric of his shirt, you felt the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.

“Does it matter?” he murmured.

Your fingers curled slightly against him, warmth seeping through the material. It was too real, the heat of his skin, the faint scent of leather and something darker, like black coffee. The game never felt this real. It felt, well, just like a game.

He tilted his head, watching your reaction with that same infuriating smirk. “You wanted answers,” he said. “But you haven’t asked the right question yet.”

You swallowed. “Then what’s the right question?”

Sylus leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. “Not where you are,” he said. “But why you’re here.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

Before you could respond, he straightened and tugged you forward again. “Come. I want to show you something.”

And despite the unease coiling in your stomach, you followed.

The heavy oak door swung open under Sylus' touch, revealing a library so vast it made your breath hitch. Towering mahogany shelves stretched toward the ceiling, their upper levels vanishing into darkness. Rolling ladders stood along the walls. The scent of aged paper and polished wood wrapped around you, rich and comforting.

You took an involuntary step forward, your fingers already itching to touch the spines. "This is..." Words failed you as your gaze traveled up, up, up the endless shelves.

"Excessive?" Sylus offered, his voice laced with amusement. He leaned against the doorframe, watching your reaction with those piercing crimson eyes. "Or perhaps just adequate."

You turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Adequate for what? Collecting every book ever printed?"

His lips quirked in that infuriating half-smile. "For you."

"For... me?" Your hand froze halfway to pulling out a volume of what appeared to be 18th century botanical illustrations.

"You like books." He pushed off the doorframe and strode toward you, his boots silent on the thick rug. "I noticed. When you wouldn’t log in to finish a book you’d just bought. When you'd pause the game just to squint at some background text."

Heat crept up your neck. You hadn't realized he'd been paying that much attention. How could you? Until now you didn’t know he was real. Although you still weren’t entirely sure. "So you... what? Built me a library?"

"Some of these don't exist in your world. First editions of books that were never published. Manuscripts that were lost to war or censorship." His gloved fingers brushed a bookspine. "Thought you might appreciate holding what others never got to read."

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. This wasn't just some game logic, this was thoughtful in a way that unsettled you. "But why go to all this trouble?"

Sylus tilted his head, considering you. "Why does a hunter maintain his weapons? Why does a scholar preserve his texts?" He reached past you to pull out a slender volume bound in deep blue leather. "We care for the things that matter."

That matter? Did you matter to him? So much to have him build you an entire library.

The book pressed into your hands felt strangely warm. You opened it carefully to find handwritten pages in a language you didn't recognize.

When you looked up, Sylus was watching you with an expression you couldn't decipher. "This is impossible," you whispered.

"Yet here you are."

Sylus watched you trail your fingers along the book spines, his gaze darkening as you bit your lip in concentration. When you pulled out a volume, his shadow fell over you, close enough that his breath stirred your hair.

“Find something interesting?” he murmured.

You turned too fast and suddenly you were chest-to-chest with him. The heat of his body seeped through your clothes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips.

“I-uh.” Your voice cracked. His smirk deepened. Ugh! How is he sexier in person?

He reached past you to rplace back the book, his arm caging you in, the scent of leather, gunpowder and black coffee wrapping around you. “Take your time, sweetie. I’ll always be right here.”

You had no idea how much time you spent immersed in the books, how long Sylus kept looking at you. As you put back a leather-bound book onto the shelf, you heard a soft ruffle a fabric as he stepped closer. “Not interesting?”

“Overwhelming?”

“Do you want to see your room, sweetie?”

“My room?”

He lead you through many different halls and up a long flight of stairs. The door swung open under Sylus' touch, revealing a bedroom that stole the breath from your lungs. Soft blush-pink walls glowed in the golden light of crystal sconces. White curtains fluttering gently in the breeze from the open doors that led to a private balcony.

You took an involuntary step forward, your fingers brushing against the plush velvet pillows in shades of ballet slipper pink and creamy ivory. Each one was embroidered with tiny floral details. On the nightstand sat a collection of porcelain trinket boxes, one shaped like a kitten, another like a miniature treasure chest. Exactly like the ones you'd been eyeing online but could never bring yourself to buy.

"I..." Your voice caught as you noticed the vanity table, arranged with crystal perfume bottles and a jewelry box with a tiny ballerina dancing inside. The mirror was framed with tiny LED lights, just like the one in your wishlist. "How did you...?"

Sylus leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Even in setting, he looked effortlessly beautiful. The sharp features of his face contrasting with the softness surrounding him. "I know you have a particular fondness for pink," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Your cheeks warmed as you turned in a slow circle, taking in more details. A bookshelf held familiar titles, all your favorite novels in first edition hardcovers. The sitting area by the balcony had a plush reading chair with a crocheted blanket draped over one arm, the exact shade of cotton candy pink you'd once tweeted was your favorite.

On the dresser sat something that made your breath hitch. A limited edition snow globe from that anime you'd mentioned in passing months ago. Only 500 had been made worldwide. You reached out with trembling fingers to lift it, watching as glitter swirled around the tiny figures inside.

"You remembered this?" you whispered, unable to hide the wonder in your voice.

Sylus pushed off the doorframe and walked toward you, his boots silent on the plush cream carpet. "I remember everything," he murmured, so close now you could see the flecks of darker red in his irises. His gloved hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the leather cool against your flushed skin. 

"The way your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite things. The exact shade of pink that makes you smile."

Your heart hammered against your chest as his fingers trailed down to tilt your chin up. The air between you was fused with tension, his gaze dropping to your lips. His right hand slid slowly up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair as he leaned in. 

But your stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

Sylus blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh, stepping back. "Dinner is at eight," he said, adjusting his gloves with that familiar precision. "The closet should have everything you need." He gestured to a door you hadn't noticed before. "Though I suspect you'll find the contents... predictable."

With that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

You stood frozen for a moment, still clutching the snow globe. Then, with shaky legs, you moved to investigate the closet. When you opened the door, a soft gasp escaped you. Racks of halter tops, micro skirts, mini shorts, bell-bottom jeans. Dresses with delicate lace trim, cozy sweaters with pearl buttons, even pajamas with little cartoon characters, all in your exact size.

A sound from outside drew you to the balcony doors. You stepped into the cool evening air just as the first notes of a piano floated up from the garden below. Leaning over the railing, you could see Sylus seated at a grand piano beneath a tree, his silver hair glowing in the twilight as his hands moved effortlessly across the keys.

The song was unfamiliar but beautiful, a melancholy melody that seemed to echo the strange ache in your chest. You wrapped your arms around yourself, watching as petals drifted down around him, caught in the breeze.

This man had recreated your dream bedroom down to the smallest detail. He knew your tastes better than anyone in your real life. And yet, as you watched him play with such quiet intensity, you realized with a pang that you didn't know the first real thing about him.

You slipped into a chiffon dress from the closet, one that hugged your curves in all the right places and a neckline that dipped just low enough to feel daring. After smoothing your hands down the fabric, you took a deep breath and headed downstairs, following the scent of roasted herbs and something rich and buttery.

The dining room took your breath away. A long, polished table stretched beneath a glittering chandelier, set with fine china and crystal glasses that caught the candlelight. Platters of food covered every inch. Seared scallops drizzled in lemon butter, rosemary-crusted lamb, truffle-infused mashed potatoes, and a dozen other dishes you couldn’t name but made your mouth water.

Sylus stood at the head of the table, his back to you as he poured wine into two glasses. He’d changed into a tailored black suit, the fabric stretching across his broad shoulders before tapering at his waist. When he turned, his crimson eyes flickered over you, lingering for a heartbeat too long on the dip of your neckline before meeting your gaze.

"You look exquisite," he said, his voice low.

Your pulse fluttered. "You didn’t have to go through all this trouble."

His lips curved. "I wanted to."

He pulled out your chair, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as you sat, sending a shiver down your spine. The meal began in quiet elegance, the clink of silverware the only sound between you, at first.

But then you stole a glance.

His hands were unfairly elegant. Long fingers, swift movements as he speared a piece of lamb with his fork, the way his thumb pressed against the edge of the fork before bringing it to his lips. You watched, as he chewed slowly, the muscles in his jaw flexing before his throat worked with a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

God! Why does he have to be so sexy?

At that point, you were torn between two dilemmas, as if two angels were fighting over what was right or wrong. He was hot and now you were imagining not so decent things. Why? Well, of course because he was Sylus. You loved him. But you hardly knew him. Technically, you knew him. But who knew if he was the same person? Did his looks make you forget one crucial thing? What the hell were you doing here!? What kind of dream was this? Maybe he knew… 

You always knew he was dangerously attractive, but now you’d been too mesmerised with the newfound surroundings to notice. But now that you did…

Heat pooled in your stomach.

You looked away, taking a sip of wine to distract yourself, but it didn’t help. Every time he lifted his glass, you caught the way his fingers curled around the stem, the way his lips parted just slightly before the red liquid touched them.

A traitorous wetness settled between your thighs. Without thinking, you clenched them together, biting your lip. Sylus’ fork stilled.

"Careful now, kitten," he murmured, his voice a dark caress.

Your breath hitched.

He set his utensils down with deliberate slowness, his gaze locking onto yours. The candlelight flickered in his crimson eyes, turning them molten. "You keep looking at me like that," he said, "and I’ll start thinking you want something."

enjoy this cute gif. think of it as the room sylus prepared for you.

lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist for the next part!!

[navybrat817]

Good as New

Pairing: Trailer Park!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your neighbor helps with a small repair, and you'd like to repay him.

Word Count: Almost 4k

Warnings: Flirting, swearing, dirty talk, tension, sexual chemistry, world building, bits of insecurity, smut mention, Bucky Barnes (he's very forward and a warning, okay?)

A/N: More of our trailer park!Bucky! I hope you like it!❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @mumbles411 , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divided by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The light had barely broken through your window when you decided you should work on the outside of your trailer. As much as you wanted to sleep in, your new chapter wouldn't continue if you didn't put forth the effort. Getting out of bed and distracting yourself would hopefully help forget about your dream of your bold and handsome neighbor. You didn’t want to think about it. You wouldn’t think about it.

But the wetness between your thighs served as a stark reminder that you dreamed of Bucky and his cocky smirk. How he said in a low voice that he was going to have you and that you’d enjoy every second of it. How he stripped you down and wrecked you with his mouth and cock, muttering filthy praise that still had heat flowing in your veins. You felt the burn between your thighs, which you didn’t think was possible in a dream. What was worse was that he held you after, whispering how well you took him and how lucky he was to have you. The tenderness was enough to break you from your slumber and make your eyes burn with unshed tears.

It was silly to get worked up in any capacity. The dream was just that… a dream. It was a fantasy, an illusion. There was no reason to cling to it, especially when it was too much and too soon.

“Don’t think about him. Just get up,” you mumbled.

You didn't jump out of bed, but you didn't drag yourself out either and that was already an improvement to your recent past. Waking up and facing the day should never feel like a burden. You shouldn't feel like a burden. 

“I’m strong and capable.”

You went through a checklist in your mind as you showered and dressed for the day. You needed to fix the door, fill out applications, bake for the potluck, and unpack more. After the furniture was delivered, you had spent the rest of the previous day emptying some of the boxes. You stilled at times as you went through your past and memories, like something you had witnessed instead of being a part of. It was the life you lived, but it wasn't meant to be yours. You didn't cry, even when your chest tightened to the point that you felt something crack. 

And for a second, you thought you spotted a pair of blue eyes watching you from across your trailer before you went to sleep.

“What am I doing?” you whispered when you walked out the screen door that was still hanging on its hinges. 

After going through your toolbox, you managed to get the door off completely without hurting yourself in the process. But once you set the door down and listened to the instruction video you found online, your cheeks burned with shame when you couldn’t get the screen quite right. You stopped and started the video again. The tips didn't make any sense to you and your heart sank as you stared at the door. You prided yourself on being a smart and capable woman just like you told yourself earlier, but you couldn't begin to fix a simple screen. You could almost hear your ex laughing in your mind. 

“You're pathetic.”

You silenced his voice. It wasn't fair to beat yourself up over it. While it was never too late to learn something new, you had to give yourself grace and remind yourself that you wouldn't be an expert overnight. Not to mention, the skills you learned growing up were different, but it didn't mean you were hopeless or less of a person because of it. You wouldn't let previous influences in your life make you feel bad about yourself. 

You heard the footsteps before you turned your head, your heart picking up at the sight of Bucky. He was in an outfit similar to the one he wore the day before, except this time he had a denim vest on. You wanted to be angry at him for being so enticing, but that wasn’t his fault… or was it? And how were you supposed to stop thinking about him when he was right there?

The signature smirk was on his face when he said, “Morning, Sweet Cheeks.”

You snorted and pushed yourself up, wiping your knees off in the process. That nickname wasn't going away. “Good morning,” you said. 

“It is a good morning since I’m seeing your beautiful face,” he said with the utmost sincerity. 

You mentally scolded your heart for the funny flip it did. “Do you ever stop?”

“I would if you asked me to,” he answered just as sincerely. 

You remembered how he backed off when you mentioned harassment and that brought you comfort. “Good to know.”

He looked relieved in a soft sort of way and you wondered if he had thought about you after you parted ways. “Did you have a good night?”

“Uneventful, which is good,” you replied. You slept much easier than you anticipated considering it was brand new and unfamiliar. You were not going to tell him you had a wet dream about him. Nope. But had he dreamed about you? “How was your night?”

“Same. Uneventful.” That mischievous look said something was up. It wasn't like he had visitors that you knew of. Not that you were looking or paying any attention to that. “Except for the dream I had about you.”

You bit your lip without meaning to. “You dreamed about me?”

You dared to look him in the eye when he moved closer. He looked like he was ready to eat you alive. “Happy to give you the vivid details if you’d like.”

Your breath hitched, but you maintained some sense of control. “Not until after I’ve had my caffeine,” you teased. You mentally kicked your own ass. Why not let him tell you?

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. It wasn’t fair how easily his laugh made you smile. “Oh. And I told my sister and my best friend about you.”

That made you pause. “You did what?” you asked. He told a family member and a friend about you? 

“Said I met my future wife and that you have Alpine’s approval.” He winked and you glanced away to hide your smile. 

“You're ridiculous,” you said with no heat behind it. He probably told them that a new neighbor moved in and nothing more. Maybe he mentioned that he flirted, but the future wife comment? Wait, weren't his parting words to you that you might be his future wife?

Bucky was trouble with a capital T. 

“And you just glared at that door like it stole something from you.”

You were thankful for the subject change. “It did kind of steal something.”

He tilted his head. “What did it steal?”

“My pride,” you half teased. “And by stealing my pride, I mean… I don’t know how to fix the screen. I don’t… even know where to start.” Your fingers wrung together before you put your hands before your back. “I tried watching a video, but it didn’t help me.”

Admitting that this was a shortcoming was somehow a relief as painful as it was. That didn’t make sense since you felt so embarrassed by the thought before he walked over. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve folded in on yourself. Why didn’t you with Bucky?

Maybe it was because there was no judgement in his blue eyes. There was almost an understanding, the kind that had you choking up for no good reason. “I can help,” he offered, like it was no big deal. “I don’t mind.”

You had to turn your head away and will away the burn from your eyes. “I can’t ask you to do that,” you softly said. It wasn’t easy to ask for or accept help when you wanted to stand on your own two feet. Accepting a helping hand wasn’t a weakness though, and having help didn’t mean you couldn’t maintain the sense of independence. 

“You didn’t ask, and you don’t have to since I offered.” He shrugged and offered you a smile. “Told you I’m good with my tools.”

He had said that in a very sexual sort of way. “I’d really appreciate it if you could, but if you're busy…” He was already jogging away, leaving you there to stare after him. He didn’t leave you hanging for long, his toolbox in hand as he came back.  You didn’t question why he was using his own instead of yours. “Wow, you’re really going to fix it?”

“You sound surprised,” he said, setting the toolbox down close to you and allowing you to pick up the scent of his soap. It was a scent you wouldn’t mind having on your skin. “It’s what good neighbors do.”

You crossed your arms as he crouched down to go through his tools. “You do this for all the neighbors?”

“Pretty much,” he replied. 

A smile tugged at your lips. While part of you wanted to feel special that he was helping you, you respected that he did this for everyone. “I feel bad. I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself,” you said. No one with the exception of Bucky had stopped by to say hi either. You wouldn’t take that to heart.

“They’re letting you get settled before the potluck,” he said. Did he somehow spread the word to give you some peace until then? “But they’re anxious to meet you.”

That had your stomach turning with excitement and nerves. “I am, too.” You hoped you made a good impression. “Do you mind showing me and explaining what you’re doing?” you asked, your smile widened when he looked up at you. He looked good from this angle, and you wouldn’t think of him kissing up your legs. “Just in case I ever have to fix another screen.”

He pointed at you with a screwdriver. “You mean so you don’t have to rely on anyone,” he guessed. Once again there was no snark or humor, just that quiet understanding that made you want to know more about him.

“You got me there.” It was difficult to depend on people when you were made to feel invisible. “But before you get started, do you want some coffee?” It was the least you could do since he offered to help.

It was his turn to look surprised. “I wouldn't mind, please and thanks.”

“Cream and sugar?”

He smirked and you awaited whatever dirty comment was about to leave his wonderful lips. “I’ve got plenty of cream, but you can provide the sugar.”

You burst out laughing and stepped back. “Yep. You're ridiculous.”

“Maybe just a little. If you're offering though, I would like some cream with that sugar,” he said. 

“You got it.” You paused and winded. “I’d invite you in, but it isn't ready yet,” you said apologetically. It was going to be a warm and cozy place. You had already begun to leave little touches around, like vases and knickknacks, but it was far from visitor friendly. 

It didn’t phase him since he had a smile on his face, likely sensing he’d be in your home sooner rather than later. “Your home, your rules.”

“So you won't come inside without permission?” Your face felt like it was set ablaze the second the words left your mouth and Bucky looked all too pleased. “Not. A. Word.”

He threw his hands up with laughter in his eyes. “Aww, c’mon, Sweet Cheeks. That was the perfect setup!”

“Not a word!”

“I won't come inside without your permission…” He smirked again and your knees went weak. “And you’ll beg for it.”

“Bucky!” You could hear his laughter when you rushed inside and you started giggling, too. When was the last time you laughed like this so early in the morning?

You sobered up quickly when you began to make the coffee. Bucky was being a kind neighbor and helping you fix the screen door, nothing more. Even if he was flirting and looking at you like you were the reason that the sun rose today. You needed to focus on your to-do list and he wasn’t on that list.

Not yet at least.

Bucky grinned the second you walked back outside. “Just made my morning all over again by seeing your beautiful face.”

You snorted so you wouldn’t swoon. “My face isn’t worth getting that excited about, but caffeine is worth it.”

He took the mug with a frown. “You think your face isn’t worth it? Tell that to my racing heart,” he said, gently blowing on the drink. The man was smooth like butter. The pleased groan he let out when he took a sip sounded smooth, too, and had you heating up. “Fuck, this might be the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

“Liar,” you smiled, not-so-secretly pleased that he liked it.

“I’d never lie to you. Anything I ever tell you will be the truth,” he said so seriously that your breath caught in your throat. You lived your whole life around fake smiles and people prepared to stab anyone and everyone in the back. Was Bucky the type to stab while looking someone in the eye and making them face the ugly truth? “What’s the pen and paper for?” he asked, nodding to where the pad was tucked under your arm.

“Oh. For the instructions for the screen. I like to write things down,” you replied, gripping the pen a little tighter. You relaxed when you realized he wasn't going to poke fun at you. 

“Gimme.” He gently pried them from you and jotted something down on the sheet, your fingers tingling from where they touched. There was a soft smile on his face when he handed the pad back. 

“‘How to fix a screen. Step one… Ask Bucky. Step two…’ Wait. Is this your phone number?” You giggled when he wiggled his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Yep. And I’m going to watch as you put my number into your phone before I leave,” he said, smugly taking another sip of the coffee. 

You stared at the sheet to avoid his watchful eyes. “So, the neighbors all have your phone number, too, to help with repairs?”

“Everyone knows they can reach out to me for help, but I’m giving you my number because I want you to have my number.”

You lifted your gaze to see him scratch the back of his head. Was he worried you wouldn’t want it? It was sweet. “Tell me how to fix the screen and I’ll put your number in my phone.”

You held your breath when he leaned close to your ear. “Say ‘please, Bucky’,” he whispered.

Your brain nearly short circuited and you shivered when you felt his warm breath against your skin. He was driving you crazy. “Please, Bucky,” you whispered. 

“‘Atta girl,” he whispered, quickly pulling away and giving you a chance to exhale. “Okay. Let’s get started.”

Watching Bucky work was admittedly a joy. The ways his brows pinched when he concentrated was adorable and he couldn’t seem to keep his tongue in his mouth. He didn’t roll his eyes or seem at all agitated when you asked questions and he paused every so often to drink his coffee, which gave you a chance to look at him between taking your notes. What you really appreciated was that he took the time to explain what he was doing and why in a way that was easy to understand without making you feel dumb. It was nice.

“Wow. It looks amazing,” you said once he was done. You could cross it off your list. “It looks as good as new.”

You thought his cheeks turned pink for a second when he picked up the door to put it back where it belonged. “Just about.”

“Thank you so much,” you said above a whisper. “Not just for fixing this, but for not making me feel bad about it.”

It would’ve been easy to shove it in your face that you didn’t know what you were doing, but Bucky didn't seem like that kind of man. Flirty, bold, but not cruel or discouraging. He wasn’t the type of person who would demand perfection from you. It comforted you like a warm blanket. 

“Nothing to feel bad about,” he said, tenderly smiling. “I’m glad you accepted my help.”

Something soft passed between you before he put the door back on. He carefully tested it and while you didn’t feel any sense of pride since you didn’t fix it yourself, you were happy. That was a start.

“How much do I owe you?” you asked. 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed and you realized how quickly you made a mistake by asking. “Not paying me, Sweet Cheeks. I said it’s what good neighbors do.”

“I need to do something,” you said, holding up a hand when he tried to argue. “And don’t say giving you a coffee counts. It took you a lot more work to fix my door than it did to make your coffee.”

He brushed his hands off with a huff once he put his tools away. “You don’t ‘need’ to do anything. I’m not an obligation.”

“That’s…” Guilt filled you and you didn’t want him to think you were trying to do something because you had to. “Bucky, I’m not offering anything out of obligation. I want to, okay?”

A heartbeat passed and a smile slowly crossed his face. “Oh, yeah? Have a drink with me.” He waited for another beat. “Tonight.”

You took a breath, only somewhat surprised by what he wanted. That sounded dangerously like a date. It wasn’t. It was just a drink with your neighbor. Your very hot, sexy, flirty neighbor.

“A drink?” 

“A drink. Maybe two.” He shrugged, but his stance was anything but nonchalant. “Whatever you want.”

You considered it and slowly nodded. “Okay.” It wouldn’t hurt to hang out, especially with how happy he looked that you accepted. “Where do you want to go? Is there a bar around here?”

“Yeah, but it’s a total dive and everyone will hit on you. We can stay here.”

That had you laughing, but he wasn’t. “No one will hit on me,” you said. Whenever you went out with your ex and friends no one paid attention to you. Minus Bucky, you were invisible to people.

“Yeah, they will. Remember how I reacted when I saw you? It’ll be like that, but worse.” He looked you up and down. “Trust me. I’m a gentleman compared to them.”

You laughed harder. You couldn’t imagine anyone hitting on you the way Bucky did. “Fine, fine. We’ll stay here,” you agreed. 

You were already thinking about what you were going to wear. Would perfume and makeup be too much? Yes, it would. It wasn’t a date, so there was no need to dress up. A casual drink meant casual wear.

“And we won’t have to yell over music to talk to each other.”

“Good point,” you said, tilting your head. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because you still need to put my number in your phone.”

You playfully shook your head and grabbed your phone, but didn’t program it in just yet. “Say ‘please, Sweet Cheeks’,” you said, giving him the same order he gave you earlier. It didn’t sound anywhere near as sexy coming from you, but he seemed to like it since his eyes went dark. And you didn’t back up when he invaded your space, holding your gaze. 

“Please, Sweet Cheeks,” he whispered, wrapping a calloused hand around yours. “Please, put my number in your phone and message me before we have that drink tonight.”

You thought back to your dream, how he had his hands and mouth on you, how husky his voice was… You needed to get a grip and fast. “Message you?” you asked breathily. “I have a lot to do today. I have to fill out job applications and-”

“Message me,” he interjected, cupping your other hand. 

“Bake for the potluck,” you continued, your heart racing.

“And message me,” he said again, taking another step forward.

You exhaled. Was he going to kiss you? He wouldn’t. “And unpack some more.”

His forehead touched yours for a brief moment, but he backed away before you could blink. “And message me.”

It was dizzying that this man not only paid attention to you, but seemed to want your attention. Why? What was so special about you?

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” you said, pulling further away so you could breathe without taking in the scent of him. “I’ll send you a message, okay?” 

He put his hands over his chest. 

With a smile, you glanced at the pad and put his number in. “Did you really tell your sister and best friend about me?” you asked. 

“I did.” His smile was gentle and easy. “They’re great. You’ll like them.” Your heart turned over at the fondness in his voice. They were clearly special to him. And if he thought you’d like them he clearly intended for you to meet them. “Do you really not want to rely on people?”

You looked at the door he fixed with a sigh. It was personal, but it didn’t feel like he was being nosy. “The people I should’ve been able to depend on let me down one too many times. I’m trying to be more careful going forward,” you explained, trying to keep your tone emotionless. It was difficult to pretend that you didn’t care because the truth was you cared too much. 

“I get that.” His hand brushed yours again. “I’ve been let down before, too, and it sucks when the person should’ve had your back,” he said. Who did that? Who hurt him? “But we’re both still standing.”

“Yeah, we are,” you said. Bent but not broken.

“And I’m not saying you should depend on me since you don’t know me that well, but I will be an open book for you. No secrets, no bullshit,” he promised. 

You blinked. Your ex fed you poison coated in sugar. Bucky was promising that he wouldn’t and you wanted it to be true, that he would be honest even when it was easier to lie. Because the truth hurt at times, but pain was real and you needed something real. 

“I’ll be an open book, too,” you replied. You were rewriting your story and there was no reason to hide. 

“Good,” he smiled, taking out his phone. “Now, I need to pick a ringtone for you once you message me. Let’s see… Pour Some Sugar on Me… Honkytonk Badonkadonk… Cherry Pie…” 

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, but you smiled. He was ridiculous and wonderful. 

“Milkshake… Fat Bottomed Girls…” He looked up when you gathered up the empty mug, pen and paper, and went back to your door. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I told you, I have things to do,” you answered. 

His pout could make anyone lose their resolve. “You can do me between your other tasks,” he called out. 

You could, but you had to maintain some of your dignity and not fall into his bed right away. He could work for it. “Another time, if you're lucky.”

He groaned a little. “You’re breaking my heart, Sweet Cheeks.”

“You’ll live. Say hi to Alpine for me! I’ll see you tonight for that drink!” You giggled to yourself and stared at his number before you shot off a text. “Hey, Bucky. It’s Sweet Cheeks. Thanks again for your help with the door. Looking forward to that drink. And by the way, I dreamed about you, too.”

You tucked your phone away, refusing to sit and watch for his response. You had work to do, but you were looking forward to tonight. What kind of questions would you two ask each other tonight? What were the stories behind his tattoos? 

And who let him down?

Okay, lovelies. What are they going to discuss over drinks? And who let 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lady-luckk]

how about a cowboy or a farmer with a bimbo city girl reader??

itd b so funny if she was just like “do brown cows make chocolate milk??”

or maybe she almost kills the guy by accident trying to rake some hay

i love the trope “she’s an idiot but she’s my idiot”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ so like, what’s the wifi password?

# pairings: yandere farmer cowboy x bimbo / himbo reader

# synopsis: while making your way to a fun hangout with your friends your car suddenly breaks down. a kind farmer allows you to stay with him until someone can pick you up. but why are the roads weirdly empty?

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession, kidnapping, and murder. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

you’re not entirely sure what led to this. one second you were on your way to hangout with your girlfriends, the next, your pink convertible broke down next to the most farm-ass farm you’ve ever seen. and now? you're standing in front of a barn that smells like hay and something suspiciously meaty, trying to get a signal with your rhinestone-covered phone held toward the sky.

"phone ain't gonna save you out here, princess."

you nearly jump out of your glittery crop top. standing behind you is a tall, broad, sun-scorched wall of man with stubble, a permanent scowl, and arms like they personally fought god for dominance. he's wearing a stained flannel shirt, worn jeans, and a scuffed cowboy hat pulled low like he’s hiding from the law—or just the concept of smiling.

you blink up at him. "omg, hi! are you like, the farmer or cowboy guy?"

he snorts. "i’m the farmer. ain’t another soul within miles, and i sure as hell didn’t call for no... barbie doll on a breakdown."

you gasp, offended. "excuse you, this is Y2K chic. and my name isn’t barbie—it’s..."

"...of course it is."

“you’re not from around here, are you?"

"nnooope. GPS brought me out here for, like, reasons. and then my engine started making this very dramatic sound. sooo now i'm, like, a damsel."

he crosses his arms, face unreadable, then sighs. "you standin’ out here in the heat for long?"

"i mean, i guess? i was gonna call someone, but I’ve only got like, one bar and a lot of hope."

another pause. then he turns and mutters, "c’mon."

"huh?"

"you want heatstroke or you want a glass of water?"

you blink. "omg, you’re nice."

"i ain’t nice," he snaps, opening the screen door wider. "i’m just not leavin’ some glittered-up stranger to roast in a ditch."

inside, it’s a mix of rustic charm and obvious bachelor chaos. he pours you a glass of water without asking, sets it down in front of you like he’s done this a hundred times, and leans against the counter like he’s regretting all of it.

although internally he’s a whole different story. he can’t believe his luck meeting someone as cute as you in this area. he swore he felt his heart leap out of his chest the minute he saw you. 

"name’s eli," he says at last. "i’ll take a look at your car. if it’s fixable, i’ll fix it. if not… guess you’ll be stuck here a bit."

you bat your lashes. "you wouldn’t mind that, would you?"

he shifts, jaw flexing. then: “don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.”

but he won’t meet your eyes. and he doesn’t notice he poured you a second glass of water before you even finished the first.

you follow eli outside, trying not to trip on your own wedges as you strut across the gravel like it’s a runway and not, in fact, a minefield of dirt and despair.

he walks a few steps ahead, toolbox in one hand, broad shoulders shifting beneath that flannel like they’ve never known a day of weakness. he doesn’t say much, but you catch him glancing back once—just once—to make sure you’re not lost or dead or doing something ridiculous.

you're doing all three, probably.

when he reaches your car, he pops the hood with one rough tug and peers inside like he’s about to deliver bad news to a family of four.

after a beat, he grunts. “when’s the last time you had an oil change?”

you blink. "what’s that?"

slowly, so slowly, he turns his head and looks at you.

his face is completely blank. emotionless. a man on the brink. like he’s just been told that gravity is optional now. or that the cows have unionized.

you smile up at him, unbothered, chewing your bubblegum. “is that, like, something you get at a drive-thru? because i only do drive-thrus if they have fries.”

he says nothing.

just stares.

a long, long pause.

then: “you shouldn’t legally be allowed to own a vehicle.”

"that’s what my driving instructor said!" you chirp.

eli shuts the hood and mutters something to the lord, probably begging for patience, strength, or a strategic lightning strike.

“you’re lucky i don’t believe in abandoning helpless creatures,” he mutters, already walking toward his truck. “i’m gonna get the part you need. stay put. don’t touch anything. don’t lick anything. don’t—just... don’t.”

you wave sweetly. “k love you, byeee!”

he stops mid-step. shoulders stiffen.

and without turning around, he mutters under his breath, "you’re gonna be the death of me."

later that day, eli returns with what looks like half a junkyard and a grim set to his jaw. he spent hours elbow-deep in your car, occasionally muttering things like “what the hell is this glitter doing in the engine?” and “is this a sticker of a unicorn on the oil cap?”

finally, he slams the hood shut, wipes his hands on a rag, and delivers the verdict with the gravity of a man announcing a funeral.

“pinky, she’s dead.”

you gasp dramatically. “pinky? you named her??”

he squints at you. “she named herself the minute i saw the pink steering wheel cover. and now she’s toast. fried the transmission, shredded the belt, and i’m pretty sure the air freshener doing psychic damage.”

“oh noooo,” you moan. “so what do i dooo?”

he sighs. long and loud, like you physically pained him. “you’ll stay here until i can find someone to tow it and get you back to civilization.”

"yay!" you beam.

“that wasn’t meant to be exciting.”

as the days go by, eli gains a large affection for you. he believes that since you’re “living” with him now, that practically means that the two of you are married. 

when you two finally travel into town. he doesn’t like people looking at you. not the guy at the gas station who dared compliment your lip gloss, not the mailman who called you “darlin’” with too much sugar in his voice, and definitely not the tourist who asked if you were “lost” with that fake concern dripping off his words. 

eli’s a walking warning sign the second you step into town with him. the locals know him—eli carter, the mountain of a man with a scowl carved into his face and hands that could bend steel. most folks keep their distance, half-respecting, half-fearing him.

they say he’s good with his work, bad with people, and meaner than a rattlesnake if you push the wrong buttons. so when he rolls into town with you, all glitter and sunshine and questions like “do horses get cold?”—yeah, people notice. the butcher’s wife whispers that he’s gone soft. the old mechanic raises a brow like he’s seeing a ghost. when someone chuckles a little too long at your rhinestone boots, eli’s jaw ticks. when a guy at the feed store offers to help you lift a bag of seed, eli’s already there, grabbing it with one hand like it weighs nothing. “they’re good,” he says flatly, not even looking at the guy.

even when you try to chat with the locals, eli’s always close—never rude, but not exactly inviting either. he doesn’t trust easily, especially not when it comes to you. and if someone even looks at you sideways, he’s suddenly all sharp glances and low muttering, hand at your lower back like a silent claim: they’re mine to worry about.

eli’s jaw gets tight, voice real low when he steps between you and anyone who so much as thinks about flirting. once, a farmhand from a neighboring ranch tried to strike up a conversation with you at the feed store—eli didn’t say a word, just calmly picked up a full grain barrel, one-handed, and moved it like it weighed nothing. the guy left before eli even had to speak. you giggled, called him “jealous,” and he growled something about “men like that not knowin’ how to treat you right.” 

he won’t say this out loud , but every time someone shows a little too much interest in you, he finds a new chore to do right beside you. fencing, fixing the barn door, chopping firewood shirtless in the sun like that’s normal behavior. once, you saw him bend a crowbar back into shape like it was a breadstick and he acted like it was no big deal. he claims he’s just “lookin’ out for you,” but you’ve noticed how fast his mood shifts when someone else tries to.

eli always has an eye on you. he always seems to know exactly where you are. no matter what he’s doing, his eyes find you like it’s instinct. you’ll be picking flowers by the fence or sneaking another cookie from the jar, and somehow, he’s already looking. not hovering, not smothering—just always aware. like keeping you safe is a reflex, not a choice. it’s subtle, but constant. protective, almost possessive. like some part of him’s decided you’re his to watch over, even when you don’t realize you need it.

he can’t keep his eyes off you. to him, you’re just his precious darling.

eli gives you a curfew like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “sun’s down, you’re inside,” he says one evening, arms crossed and eyes steady like he’s expecting a fight. you blink at him. “wait, like... a bedtime?” he grunts. “ain’t about sleep. it’s about not wanderin’ into a coyote den in your platform heels.” you try to argue, but he doesn’t budge—just mutters something about you being a “walking hazard” and how “ain’t nothing good happens after dark out here.” and true to form, every evening as the sun dips low, he’s there on the porch, arms folded, waiting.

if you’re even five minutes late, he’s already out with a flashlight like a grumpy dad looking for a runaway puppy. he won’t admit it, but the curfew isn’t just about safety. it’s about knowing exactly where you are. keeping you close. keeping you his.

every night, without fail, you end up in the kitchen with eli—him cradling a mug of coffee, you wrapped in one of his old flannels, sitting on the counter like you belong there. the light is soft, the air warm, and he’s always gentle with you at this hour, like the quiet makes him softer. he’ll brush your hair back without thinking, pass you the sweeter drink without asking, and murmur low little comments that sound more like affection than teasing.

sometimes he rests his hand on your knee when he walks past, like anchoring himself to the moment. he doesn’t smile much, but with you like this—half-asleep, blinking at him under kitchen lights—there’s a warmth in his eyes that says more than he ever will.

there’s always a comfortable silence between you, broken by the occasional sarcastic quip or dry comment from him when you ask if cows dream or if the moon looks closer out here. sometimes he’ll pass you a spoon to taste something he’s cooking, or nudge your knee with his hip to get you to move over so he can reach a cabinet. it’s quiet, almost domestic. like this little nighttime routine just… happened. and neither of you questioned it.

and just like that it’s been a month. you no longer notice how the roads seem to “get worse” whenever you mention leaving, or how eli’s smile always grows just a little too warm when you say, “maybe i’ll try calling a tow service again.”

you’ve stopped wondering why your cell service hasn’t come back. you’ve accepted that the mountains are just “that bad,” as eli puts it. eli’s a good guy, there's no way he’d do anything to sabotage you from going back home. like eli totally did not install a signal jammer two days after you arrived or that he's murdered everyone who ever offered to take you home. there's just no way. 

now, you’re completely settled in—no wifi, no car, and definitely no cute outfits from home. but honestly? you’re so content. the cozy flannel shirts, freshly baked cookies, and endless cups of lemonade have turned life here into a dreamy routine.

but something nags at you.

you’ve been living with eli, enjoying his hospitality, but you don’t want to feel like a useless freeloader. so one afternoon, you decide it’s time to step up and offer to help around the farm. you can’t just keep eating his food and just looking pretty, right?

you walk up to eli, who’s messing around with the tractor, and clear your throat.

“eli, I was thinking… i should help out more around here. you know, so i don’t just sit around all day being a freeloader.”

eli glances up, his face a mix of surprise and a hint of reluctance. he wipes his hands on his pants, a sigh escaping him.

“you sure about that?” he asks, his voice gruff. “you’ve been here for a month and you’re just now deciding to help?”

you nod, determined. “yeah, i wanna pull my weight.”

he doesn’t seem convinced but shrugs. “alright, fine. you can start by feeding the animals. that’s simple enough.”

you beam. “great! i can totally do that!”

you were definitely not cut out for farm life. after eli told you to help with feeding the animals, you felt determined, but that determination quickly turned to chaos.

you squinted at one of the cows and asked, "so, uh... do brown cows make chocolate milk?" eli froze mid-step, gave you the most soul-dead stare, and muttered something about regretting every decision that led him to this moment.

then the chickens got involved. you tried to scatter feed like in the movies, but instead slipped on your own glittery flip-flop and fell right into the middle of their breakfast—cue one chicken hopping onto your back like it was claiming a new roost. 

the goats were no better; one of them chewed on your hair extensions while you screamed, "sir, boundaries!" and the pigs? the pigs chased you across the yard when you accidentally dropped a granola bar from your purse. eli didn’t even try to hide his grin as you ran by him yelling, “they smell fear, eli, they smell fear!” 

by the time it was over, you were covered in hay, dirt, feathers, and regret, and eli just handed you a wet rag with a grunt, like this was all perfectly normal. 

but this wasn’t the first time you’d gotten yourself in a mess. oh, no. this was just the latest installment of “you vs. farm life.” you had managed to almost flood the barn by forgetting to turn off the hose, break a shovel trying to pry open a stubborn gate, and somehow trip over a rock and sprain your ankle—while sitting down. eli had bailed you out every single time. and he didn’t even seem to be all that surprised anymore.

like that one time you got it in your head to “help” eli with a small fix on the tractor. it involved welding, and you’d sworn you could do it. five minutes in, you had almost burned off your eyebrows and started a small fire by the side of the barn. eli was on you in an instant, throwing a bucket of water over the flames, shaking his head like you’d done this a million times before. “i swear to god, you’re gonna burn this place down before we even finish building it,” he grumbled as he handed you a fire extinguisher.

"you really know how to ruin a moment, eli," you pouted.

“moment?” he muttered, sounding exhausted. “you were about to become a human torch.”

there was that time you tried to be helpful in the kitchen by making dinner, only to end up dropping an entire pot of spaghetti on the floor, then attempting to "clean it up" by throwing it into the trash—half of it splattered on the walls and the other half stuck to the ceiling. you’d been standing there, horrified, when eli walked in. “don’t even ask,” you said weakly.

he’d just sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work fixing it. “get out of the kitchen before you burn yourself,” he grumbled, tossing you out of the way with a gentle nudge, as if you were a ragdoll. “and don’t try cooking again until I’m here to supervise.”

you gave him a smile that could’ve melted the coldest of hearts. “you love me.”

he grumbled something unintelligible, but you could see the hint of a smile beneath his gruffness.

and it wasn’t just accidents. oh no. it was your sheer ability to get into trouble. like the time you wandered off into the woods to “explore” and ended up trapped in a thorn bush because you thought you saw a unicorn. yes, you. a unicorn. by the time eli found you, you were stuck, practically covered in thorns, and looking like a glittered-up forest creature. “if I hadn’t come to find you,” he’d said, grinning slightly, “you’d still be out there, trying to make friends with a unicorn.”

you had the decency to look sheepish. “i was trying to be imaginative.”

"yeah, well, next time, try not to get stuck in the thorn bush before you start trying to talk to magical creatures.”

safe to say after that incident eli forced you to wear and carry an airtag with you permanently.

then came the day you decided to help eli with manual labor—big mistake. you tried lifting a hay bale and almost dislocated something. when you grabbed the post hole digger, it practically dragged you across the yard. eli didn’t even let you finish struggling; he took it from your hands with a grunt, muscles flexing like it was nothing, and muttered, “you’ll break before the tools do.” you huffed, but he didn’t budge, already finishing the job in half the time. apparently, your job was now “supervising,” which mostly meant staying out of the way while he manhandled the entire farm.

and then there was the one time you decided to “fix” your own car because you were “bored” and “needed a project.” that involved you somehow locking yourself inside the trunk while trying to find your spare tire. it was a whole dramatic saga that ended with you yelling for help from inside the trunk, much to eli’s amusement. when he finally popped the trunk open, you had the nerve to ask him, “how’d you know i was in here?”

“because you’ve gotten yourself in a mess, like, again,” he replied, his tone dry.

you beamed up at him. “i’m just that special.”

“special? yeah, that’s what we’ll call it.” he smirked before pulling you out of the trunk and checking over your car like he wasn’t wondering why he didn’t just lock you in there himself.

but despite all the chaos you caused, despite the non-stop antics and trouble that seemed to follow you, there was something comforting about it all. eli might grumble, he might make fun of your messes, but he never left you to fend for yourself. he had this way of always being there—whether it was pulling you out of a thorn bush, rescuing you from your own cooking disaster, or simply watching over you while you made another mess in the barn. eli didn’t get frustrated. he just dealt with it—and, in his own way, he took care of you.

you were a disaster, sure, but you were his disaster. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for both of you.

[onlyhappyvibes]