⋆˚࿔ ʚ ౨ৎ ɞ ࿔˚⋆

He groans, laying back against his headboard as he watches you. "But I miss you so bad," He sits up a little, taking your lack of focus on him as an opportunity. Normally, he’d ask you to shut your laptop and notebook for a couple minutes so he can enjoy all of you after a whole day of not hearing the sound of your voice, but he’s so pent up and he doesn’t have you to take care of him.

"Tell me about your day, baby," he mumbles, one hand moving off his phone to discreetly slide his hand lower, lower… until it was at the waistband of his pants, slowly pushing them down so the camera doesn’t shake.

He doesn’t feel obligated to mute his microphone as you start talking, either. Maybe because there’s a thrill of you catching him and scolding him. Or better, you catching him and stripping and giving him a show as you touch yourself along with him. The thought sends a shiver down his spine and a twitch to his hardening cock.

Either way, he just wants your attention.

"It was mostly just classes today. Nothing special," You say, and he whines, not wanting you to stop talking. You smile, continuing to write notes and study. "Okay, okay. You’re such a baby, Rafe."

"I am not."

"You are."

"Fine. You never let me disagree with you anyway."

You laugh softly, a pretty twinkling sound that literally gives him butterflies. He grunts softly as his fingers brush against his hardening cock. He's been thinking about you all day, imagining all the things he wants to do to you when he sees you again. He's not sure how much longer he can last like this.

"So tell me more," He coaxes through a grunt, hand wrapped firmly around his cock. Just seeing you in your skimpy little clothes while you chew on the end of your pen while making direct eye contact with him is enough to make him throb. You huff teasingly, eyes rolling playfully as you get started on elaborating on your very boring day, unaware that his pants are off and he's rubbing his thumb back and forth on the drooling slit of his mushroom tip, panting softly into the receiver.

You're still not noticing. He's partially disappointed. It's not hard for you to take notice of it either. The camera's bobbing unnaturally, he's flushed and grunting softly, and his responses are soft 'uh huh's' and 'mm... yeah's'. Regardless, his eyes roam your body, landing on your plush lips through the screen as he imagines you wrapping them around his cock and sucking him off when you see him again during break, your ass up and back arched while he lays down and you give him a nice view while your tongue swirls around his tip, fuck, he moans loudly, squeezing his cock with his fist.

"Rafe?"

He looks up, eyes hooded and hazy. You look confused, and he hopes you're finally starting to catch on. He grins, sweat trickling down the side of his jaw. He hasn't stopped. With neither of you talking, the schlick schlick schlick sound of him milking his cock is quite audible. Just his luck though, you still don't catch on.

"Just asked you a question, baby."

He groans, partially annoyed, extremely turned on. "What's that, gorgeous?" You smile so adorably at the compliment. He wants to ruin you. "I wanted to know what gifts your family would want for when I come over. I think Wheezie mentioned a Squishmallow."

"The hell is that." He grunts, now looking at the way the light reflects off your tits. You laugh, and he frowns, wanting you to see. He lowers his phone just enough for you to see the flushed tip of his cock if you really focus, still stroking himself. His eyes flutter and he bites back a moan, now thinking about you sucking him off again, but this time using your breasts too.

You tilt your head curiously, still not quite catching on to Rafe touching himself. "A kind of stuffed toy? I'll ask her to make sure," you reply distractedly, flipping through a few more pages of your textbook. Rafe growls lowly, your casual demeanor only encouraging him. He wants nothing more than to reach through the screen and grab you, to pull you onto his throbbing cock and make you feel every inch of his pent-up desire.

But for now, he's left to grind his teeth and stroke himself, hoping like hell you'll notice his telltale movements and sounds. Sometimes you could be so blind. "What about me? What do I get?" he murmurs suggestively, almost letting you see his hand gliding up and down his shaft, the camera angle unmistakable now. He squeezes his thick cock from base to tip, lips parted slightly. His cheeks are a pretty pink.

"Me, duh." You smile. "Why? Want me to get you a gift with the money you keep putting in my account? You'd basically be getting a gift for yourself, Rafey."

You lean over to grab your pen, your breasts strain against the thin fabric of your bra. The flimsy material does little to hide your hardened nipples, clearly visible in the dim light of your dorm room. Just then, you hear a loud groan over the phone, startling you. "What's wrong, Rafe?" you ask, brows furrowed with concern.

Rafe grits his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a moan as he realizes you've finally noticed his predicament. "N-nothing, baby. I just… I got a cramp, that's all," he lies unconvincingly, his voice strained.

His hand moves faster, milking his cock intently. The obscene sound of his strokes fills the otherwise quiet room. You notice his labored breathing, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly with each panting breath. A flicker of realization crosses your face as you realize what's really going on. "Rafe, are you...?" you start to ask, a hint of amusement and surprise in your voice.

Of course he'd be touching himself to you. He's always been kinda pervy for you. He tells you all the time which of your pictures make him cum the hardest, but jerking himself off to you in real time is sort of different. Before you can finish your question, Rafe lets out a deep, guttural moan, his hips bucking up off the bed as he starts to come undone. "F-fuck, baby. I can't... I need you so fucking much," he growls, his hand moving in a blur beneath the sheets.

He thrusts into his hand, head tipping back. He fully lowers his phone, letting you watch what he's doing. It adds to the thrill he experiences, and he groans loudly, not bothering to hide anything from you anymore as he brings himself to the edge, hot spurts of cream coating his long fingers.

He rocks himself through his orgasm, mumbling your name under his breath and imagining he came inside you instead, causing him to leak a little more. He squeezes out all he's got, panting and leaning back against his bed as he comes down from his high.

He lowers his head to make eye contact with you, a lazy grin spreading across his handsome face. "Did you see that, baby? Did you see what you do to me?" he asks teasingly.

You blush deeply, suddenly feeling the warmth of your own arousal spreading through your body. "mmm.. mhm," you hum softly, shifting in your seat to relieve some of the pressure building between your thighs.

He leans back against the headboard, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thunk as he groans. "Fuck, I need to be inside you. You better be ready for me, hm? Gonna fuck you like I hate you."

ᥫ᭡.

Rafe likes to watch everything when he wrecks you. He has your legs shoved upwards as his body slots between you, drilling into you in a mating press on his bed.

The second you came to visit him during the holidays, he made light on his promise. He had picked you up, shoved your suitcase by his front door for later, and swung you over his shoulder like a caveman. You had merely squealed and giggled, squirming playfully when he gave your butt a little squeeze. It was cute, he'd thought then, how you had no idea what he was going to do to you. You just thought he was playing with you.

You're a little more conscious now about what he wanted as he thrusts into you hard and sloppy, your face scrunched up in pleasure while needy whines leave your kiss swollen, bitten lips. He rolls his hips rough and firm into you, and you're so soaked that each thrust had filthy gushing sounds resounding through the room as your slick coats Rafe's cock and your thighs.

"Rafe!" You scream, heart slamming against your chest with each thrust. Perhaps the time apart has made him sloppy in bed, or maybe he's so desperate that he can't control himself, because his thrusts are uncoordinated and hard and rough.

He moans, loud and unashamed, spreading you apart further as he shoves his fat cock into you sporadically, his strokes rough and hard enough to jolt your whole body. "Fuck, this fucking pussy," He groans, using every bit of his willpower not to bust his load in you each time you squeeze down on him or dig your nails into his broad shoulders. "Drives me... ugh, fucking insane."

Each time he bottoms out of your creamy hole and drags his cock against your walls up up up until the flushed tip of his cock is nestled against that really soft spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl, he doesn't stop until he hears that telltale squelching sound of his cock filling you to the hilt, with his bulbous mushroom tip hitting the very back of your cunt, kissing all your little sweet spots all at once.

Rafe grunts in satisfaction as he feels you clench around him, your velvet walls gripping his thick cock like a vice. He knows you can feel every ridge and vein as he grinds against your most sensitive spots. Because you're screaming, legs shaking and fat tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks.

"Fuck, knew you wanted me to fuck you like a whore," he grunts, feelings the pleasant sting of your nails dragging down his back and leaving red welts in their wake. You moan, eyes locked onto his, which are hooded, the pretty ocean blue replaced with a dark, stormy color. He looks rabid. "Mngh yeah… 'm your whore, Rafey," You mewl, reaching up to grab onto his face and push your mouth against his.

He swallows all your little cries, tongue shoving into your mouth and tangling with yours while his leaking cock rams into you. "Fuck yeah, you are. My little slut. Allll mine. Fuck, you're fuckin' made for me, you know that? Listen to how your little pussy takes me in. She doesn't want me to leave," he moans into your mouth, practically slurping on your tongue. "We aren't meant to be apart, pretty girl,"

He nips and sucks on your lower lip, laving his tongue over it, before trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. He latches onto your pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a vivid mark. "Got so fucking sick of daydreaming about you all the time." He moans against your neck.

"All the time. All I did was think about my perfect little girlfriend. I can't fucking take being without you." You keen, back arching as he gropes at your tits, the pad of his thumb rolling roughly over your swollen nipples as he practically slobbers onto your throat, marking you up. "Missed you too, mmm… f-fuck… more, Rafe," You babble, and he almost, almost cums when you moan his name like that. Gosh, he can't handle you.

He can feel his release building, his heavy balls drawing up tight as the telltale tingling starts at the base of his spine. But he grits his teeth, refusing to let go just yet. He wants to make this last, wants to linger in the exquisite torture of bringing you to the brink again and again before finally allowing you the sweet relief of climax.

He slows his thrusts, rolling his hips upwards to hit that gummy spot in you without fail with each thrust, simultaneously stimulating your clit with each pass. He pinches your nipples one by one, before licking your clavicle. "Yeah? Feels good?" he moans, hips driving forward mercilessly. Each thrust drives his fat fucking cock deeper into your pussy, stretching you around him until you swear you can feel every throbbing inch of him pulsing inside you. "Feels real fucking good for me, princess. Can't get enough of you."

Unable to muster an intelligable response at this point, you cry out his name, voice slurring as your hips buck up to meet his. Your needy sounds in response are all he needs to come down. He leans down to sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, biting down as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm crashes over him.

His cock pulses and throbs as he shoots thick ropes of hot cum deep into your hungry womb, painting your walls white as he fills you up just like he promised. You both cry out all loud and wanton as you cum with him, your hips jerking as you ride out the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He collapses against you, weight pressing into the mattress as he leaves sloppy kisses over your tits, sucking on your breasts to help your orgasm crash down long and hard.

see more in my obx masterlist

and…when you need it, he takes care of you in other ways, from time to time. it’s not like you’re seeing anyone else, not with a toddler on your shoulder. and it’s your right to ask him for something, he’s your baby daddy. why not ask the man who gave it to you so good in the first place?

he always knows what u want before you even ask, can see the way you look at him when he comes through the door, arms out and jorts so low you can see his happy trail. biting your lip at his stupid mustache, and his stupid hairy stomach, and his stupid hot arms. eyeing him up as he rocks the baby to sleep, talking low to you about work.

when he puts his girl down for a nap, shutting the door quietly he’s nudging you into your bedroom. “cmon, get on the bed. know what you want.” he closes the door soft behind him, already unbuttoning his pants as he watches you crawl on the mattress. you’re bare under your big shirt, it’s your house, you’re feeding, doing nothing with your baby all day. no real need for panties.

he’s got you on your back, legs hiked up over his shoulders as he plows into you, smirking along to your slew of moans. “fuckin love this pussy, this’s my pussy. all mine, yeah? not lettin anyone in this shit?” “never, never boyd promise,,” you’re so smitten by his cock you can’t help but submit to him, especially when he talks so low in your ear with that voice you like.

and he’s so fuckin possessive too. he has to be, you might not be his lady, but you’re the mother of his child. he’ll be damned if he lets you out his sight. “you better not have. better not let any dirty fucks round my daughter either, alright? i’ll fuckin’ kill em, you understand? say you understand momma.” he’s slapping at your ass, you’re so out of it that it inflicts a moan. “i-i understand, i understand i promise daddy ohmygod!” he ssooooo annoying oh my god

If there was one thing you loved most about your best friend, it was his persistence. And if there was one thing you hated most about your best friend, it was his persistence.

There wasn’t a whole lot you couldn’t talk about with Felix. Not because you felt comfortable with him, but more so because he made it next to impossible for you to hide things from him. He didn’t mean to be pushy, not really. He never meant to hurt you. He was just being playful, trying to get you out of your comfort zone. He had always been a curious person. A nosey person, you would argue. Bringing you discomfort was all in good fun—for him, anyway. Until it wasn’t.

Today was one of those days.

He always felt terrible when he would push you to the brink of tears, which seemed to be happening a lot more lately. He didn’t understand why you were so guarded all the time. You weren’t like that with your other friends.

All he wanted was for you to trust him. 

“Alright…” he sighed, stopping you in your tracks so he could stand in front of you. He reached out to adjust the collar of your jacket, flattening it down and smoothing out a few wrinkles. “What’s wrong?”

You set your gaze on a nearby weeping willow, studying its branches and snow-covered leaves just barely touching the icy pond below. You refused to meet his eyes, gazing down at the ground. He let out a laugh, crouching down so he was now looking up at you, forcing himself into your line of sight. In his efforts to get you to look at him, he slipped on a rock and stumbled backwards, landing in a sitting position. He leaned his elbows back against the snow and crossed his ankles leisurely, as if sprawling out there was a deliberate choice on his part.

You had to repress a laugh, your shoulders shaking as he smiled up at you. He couldn’t have picked a worse moment to be so overtly clumsy. You tried your best to hide your smile, but it was no use.

“Come on then, this is infuriating,” he chuckled. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You shrugged. “Just missing home, is all.”

You were both silent for a few moments, and Felix began to shiver. You reached down and held your hands out. He grabbed onto you and slowly stood up, towering over you. He walked closer towards the willow tree.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked. 

“You’re not alone, you know,” he said pointedly, ignoring your question as he picked a leaf off the tree. Felix was like a golden retriever in some ways; regardless of what you were doing or where you were, he had to see everything, touch everything. He could never just leave things alone. “You don’t have to stay here. You’re welcome to come home with me. You know that, right?”

You weren’t quite sure how to feel about his offer. The gesture was a sweet one, sure. But there was something off to you about Felix’s sense of charity. It didn’t seem born from pure kindness, so much as a sense of superiority. Felix knew he was special, and by extension, everyone else was not.

Especially you.

…which was what, ironically, made you so special to him in the first place: the fact that you were nothing special at all. You had a handful of close friends before Felix came along, but he dubbed them unimportant. Irrelevant. Your family didn’t measure up to his standards, either. They couldn’t afford a plane ticket for you to return home for the holidays, nor could you.

Felix wanted to make you happy, and he would. He thought about buying you a ticket himself, but then he got an idea. It was going to be perfect. Instead of shipping you off to see a bunch of people he didn’t even know—people who hardly ever called you, who never came to visit, who didn’t see your value—you would just come to Saltburn.

“Look at it this way: I’ll be bored to tears without you.”

You knew that much was probably true. Ever since meeting you, it was like he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to be with you all the time. Nevermind that you were planning on spending Christmas at the dorms with your boyfriend.

“Besides, why would you spend Christmas with him when you could spend it with a real family?”

Him. Contempt dripped from his voice as he admonished you, refusing to use your boyfriend’s actual name. Felix never liked Michael. He felt he took up too much of your time, that he was possessive and controlling. It wasn’t difficult to tell he disliked him; you easily picked up on that. Michael wrote off his comments as pure projection.

“Clearly he has a thing for you. He’s threatened by me. That’s why he hates me so much.”

…which was why he was so elated when Michael picked a massive fight with you right before the holidays. It was perfect timing. Felix almost wanted to thank him. Little did he know, this argument would lead to an actual breakup.

You couldn’t tell Felix. Not yet. You didn’t want to hear an “I told you so.”

Michael didn’t view your relationship as sustainable, whatever that meant. When he broke up with you, he was oddly vague. You couldn’t get much else out of him when you pried for more information. He figured it would be easier for you both if he simply threw in the towel. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone else.

“So you’re coming, then? You’re coming to Saltburn?”

You thought about it for a moment. Your only other option was spending Christmas alone.

As you walked back to the dorms, Felix’s happy mood was almost infectious.

“We’ll get you all packed up and head out tonight. God, you’re going to love it.”

Almost infectious.

…if you weren’t so miserable.

💎

Felix’s family—with the exception of Venetia—was, in short, insufferable. Their home was decorated extravagantly for the season, with wreaths gracing every door, holly attached to chandeliers, and golden candles lining the hallways. You felt uncomfortable and out of place within the castle walls. In under an hour upon your arrival, Felix’s mother had asked you a barrage of invasive, borderline insulting questions.

“Oh, sweetheart! My darling Felix has told me all about you. You’re the one with the destitute family, aren’t you?” 

On the brightside, Felix gave you little gifts each day. You didn’t even want to think about how much money he spent on the perfume, jewelry, and plush blankets he presented you with. He also forced you to change the date on his advent calendar every morning. It was ridiculous how excited he was for Christmas. He loved giving gifts, so naturally it was his favorite time of year.

You hadn’t spoken with your family much. You had been ignoring their calls, determined to forget about what you were missing out on. Michael hadn’t called, which Felix quickly took notice of. 

“The fight was really that bad, huh?” he asked one evening, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. You were curled up on opposite sides of the couch, sitting in comfortable silence as the fireplace crackled. The warmth of the fire was making you drowsy as you tried to focus on writing in your notebook. You always liked jotting your thoughts down on paper, and there was no better time to do so. It wasn’t like you could talk to Felix or his family about what you were going through. His voice startled you out of your daze, making you sit up.

“What?”

“With him,” he said. “The fight with loverboy. He’s been ignoring you, hasn’t he? Must’ve been pretty bad, yeah?” 

You shrugged, biting your nails. You were avoiding telling Felix about the breakup. For one thing, you just didn’t have the patience to deal with his reaction. With how much he hated Michael, you knew you would never live it down. You could picture it now.

“I told you he was an idiot, but you didn’t listen.” 

And there was…something else. Some other reason you didn’t want to tell him. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The idea of telling him about it seemed incredibly daunting, like waiting to get a tooth pulled. It made you sick to your stomach, and you couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad once you did, maybe you were overreacting, but something in your gut told you that being honest about the situation wouldn’t be helpful—at least, not right now.

“We’re fine.”

“Fine?” he snorted. “You were supposed to spend the holiday together.” 

“He wanted to see his family.”

“He couldn’t have brought you with?”

“We’ve only been dating a few months. It’s a little early to—” 

“Pshtt,” he waved you off dismissively, as if that was the most ridiculous thing you could’ve said. “What, is he ashamed of you or something?” 

“I’m the one that didn’t want to go,” you snapped. 

Felix flinched, clearly not expecting you to lash out like that. You almost felt guilty, like you had accidentally kicked a puppy. 

“Michael and I are fine.”

“You sure about that?” he asked, chuckling—but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. There was a hint of annoyance in his tone, which would’ve been nearly imperceptible if you hadn’t known him very well. He was irritated with you. Why was he irritated with you?

“I’m sure,” you nodded resolutely. “Besides, does it really even matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

You flinched as he slammed his magazine down on the coffee table, raising his voice slightly. He sighed and crossed his arms, quieting back down as he leaned back against the couch. “Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

“Honest? What are y—“

He leaned forward, grabbing your notebook out of your hands. 

“Give it back!” You tried to ignore the pit in your stomach as you scrambled to retrieve your diary, leaning closer towards him. The amount of fun he was having dangling it just out of reach wasn’t helping to ease your nerves. 

“What? This? What’s so important about this?” he asked. He held it up in front of you only to rip it away again, and again. 

And again.

“Felix!” He made it so you had to keep moving forward if you wanted any chance of reaching it. You had no choice but to crawl closer. “Please. Please just—”

“Please just what?“ He lunged at you, tossing the notebook across the room. It landed in the fireplace, making the flames expand before slowly simmering back down.

“What the fuck?” you yelled.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, holding his hands up defensively. He nodded towards the fireplace. “Didn’t mean to aim for that.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, relax,” he laughed. “We’re just having a bit of fun, which you’re long overdue for.” He smiled and nodded towards the fireplace once again. “…at least, according to that thing.” 

You took a sharp breath in, the little hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

Oh no. 

“You read my diary?”

“Poor thing. Got your heart broken, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Felix!”

“You left it lying on your bed when you were having a bath last night. I came in to talk to you and got curious, alright? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing.”

“I would literally never do that!”

“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I shouldn’t have done it.” 

“No shit, you shouldn’t have done it! Oh my god, this is so humiliating!”

He laughed. “I’m the one that just admitted to invading your privacy and you’re the one that’s embarrassed?”

“You’re totally missing the point.”

“Come on, then. I knew you fought but I didn’t know he straight up dumped you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You truly don’t get it. How do you not get it?”

“You’re right. I don’t get it. Why are you always so secretive and weird about everything? What are you so afraid of? We’re supposed to be friends. Why can’t you talk to me?”

“Because it’s none of your business!” you yelled. 

Felix’s eyes widened. You felt a small sense of relief as he got up, opting to sit down across from you on the floor. He looked like he had just been slapped, and had moved away to avoid it happening again. 

“None of my business?” he repeated, incredulous. Indignant. Pouty. “I invited you to my family’s home for Christmas, for christ’s sake. Do you think I do that with everyone?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because I invited you here, under my family’s roof, yet you still have the audacity to lie to me.”

“Are you kidding me? I never lied to you!”

“You lied by omission. Need I explain to you what that means?”

“I was embarrassed, alright? I know how much you hate Michael.”

“I don’t hate him,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“No?” 

“I loathe him.”

“Exactly!” 

“Why is that such an issue? The boy’s an idiot.”

“He’s not an idiot. And maybe I didn’t want a lecture. Besides, it’s not like things are set in stone. After the holiday, I’m sure we’ll get back together. We’re just going through a rough patch.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Right. Since he’s made such a concerted effort to keep in touch.”

You took in a sharp breath, your eyes filling with tears. Your body felt like it was on fire, your hands shaking as you stared each other down. 

“Enough,” you said, standing up. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“No. No, we’re not done talking yet. You don’t get to just—”

Just as you were about to leave the room, Elspeth sauntered in, a bottle of wine and two empty glasses in hand. “My dears, is everything alright?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. She had probably been eavesdropping on the entire conversation. “I thought I heard yelling.”

You smiled weakly at her, contemplating whether or not to break the silence.

Felix cleared his throat, clearly not knowing what to say. 

For once.

💎

You hadn’t seen it coming.

Snow fell relentlessly across the countryside, stacking up high on the narrow road leading to Saltburn. Even if you wanted to leave—which you did, badly—there was no possible way you could. Felix seemed determined to notify you of this, standing in your bedroom doorway late into the evening.

“Hey, you.” 

You hadn’t spoken since your argument the night before, after which you shared a very uncomfortable glass of wine with Elspeth. Felix remained moody throughout the evening, barely saying two words as you and his mother chatted away. It was the first and only time you were grateful for her presence. Rude as she was, Elspeth broke the tension in the room with her tipsy, tone deaf comments about your “gorgeously affordable” clothing. The more she talked, the less you dwelled on your anger towards Felix.

“It’s blizzarding out.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the door jamb. “There’s a bad snowstorm. Just started a few hours ago. There’s a driving ban and everything.”

You burrowed beneath your blankets, turning away from him. “So I can’t go anywhere?” you mumbled, shutting your eyes. He was silent for so long that you started to repeat your question. “So I can’t—”

“And where might you be off to?”

You sighed and opened your eyes, turning to face him. You sat up and lightly knocked your head back against the wall. “Back to the dorms. Home. I don’t know.”

He sighed. “We both know you can’t afford a ticket home.”

“Maybe you don’t know nearly as much as you think you do.” 

Felix stared at you for a few seconds, studying you carefully.

“You’re really that upset?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“If someone read my diary?” 

You nodded. 

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t keep a diary in the first place.”

“Right, because you lack substance. What would you even write about?”

He scoffed. “Excuse me? I said I was sorry. You can’t be angry with me. And besides, I’ve got something for you.” 

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Felix’s love language was gift-giving—or rather, attempting to buy love with money.

It didn’t take much to figure out where that came from.

Any time he messed up or needed to apologize for something, you were met with a gift. What he didn’t seem to realize was that this never made you feel any better. Not even remotely. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

“This isn’t gonna fix it. You do realize that, don’t you? I’m actually really mad at you.”

“But you haven’t even opened it yet!” he whined. 

You stared at the box for a moment, wondering if you should even open it. You didn’t want another Christmas gift. What you truly wanted was simple: just a little bit of space. You began to open the box, tugging at the thin powder blue ribbon wrapped around it. Judging by the size of the box, you knew it was jewelry of some kind. 

“Oh my god.”

Felix grinned, walking closer towards you. He sat down next to you on the bed.

Many years ago, just before she died, your grandmother gave you a ring. It had belonged to her for years, and she gladly passed it down to you. You somehow misplaced the ring a few years ago, right around the time you first met Felix. You were devastated when you discovered you lost it, moping around for weeks. 

You stared down at the box in awe.

“Is this…?”

“Sunstone. Just like the one your grandmother gave you. I had it made special. It’s got your name engraved on the band, if you take a closer look.” He pulled it out of the box and held it up in front of you. You grabbed hold of it and squinted. Indeed it did. You were completely taken aback. 

“Felix, oh my god.” You turned to face him. “It looks just like it. I don’t…I don’t…” 

“Merry Christmas,” he said, beaming. He had been excited to give this to you, that much was clear. He seemed proud of himself for moving you to tears. He wrapped you up in a big hug, burying his chin in the crook of your neck. “Feel better?” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

The acquisition of your new ring had somehow clouded your mind, all thoughts of the diary temporarily forgotten. He gently placed the ring on your finger. He lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles, one by one. You jumped slightly, surprised by the gesture. Felix could be very affectionate when he wanted to be, but this felt more strangely intimate than usual.

Friends didn’t do things like that.

He stared at you for a few seconds, his eyes searching your face. You weren’t sure what for. 

And then it happened.

“Baby…” 

He had never called you baby before. 

“What did you say?” you asked, chuckling nervously.

He cradled your face with warm hands, staring at you reverently as he leaned in to kiss you. You froze, allowing it for a few moments before sharply pulling away. Your mind was swimming, your thoughts scattered all over the place. What the hell was happening? You held his hands in yours and pushed them against his chest.

“Felix,” you said, out of breath. “Wait. This is not a good idea.”

“What’s not a good idea?” he asked, holding onto you tightly as you tried to pull away. “Hm? What’s not a good idea?”

“Felix, we’re friends.”

“I know, but—”

“But what?” you asked. “What?”

“I know we’re friends, but I just thought—” 

He looked at you for a few seconds before going silent. He smiled at you then, a strained smile. Dejected. Deflated. He got it. He heard you loud and clear. 

It almost made you feel guilty. 

“Friends. Right.” 

“Felix—”

“No, no. I heard you. I get it.” 

He stood up from the bed, barrelling towards the door. 

“Felix!” you called out. “Felix, wait.”

You watched with wide eyes as he stormed off, slamming your door shut behind him.

💎

Hours passed. Days. A strange silence seemed to have overtaken your world, confined within the walls of Saltburn. The snowstorm refused to let up, much like Felix—steadfast in his determination to ignore your very existence. He was giving you the silent treatment. Punishing you.

In short, you felt...bad. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You knew implicitly that you would have to be the one to approach him first. He was wounded, his ego bruised. There was no way in hell he was going t—

“You want to know something?” he asked, slamming your door open.

Your eyes widened.

"Hello to you, too."

He had finally snapped, the bratty side of him—the side that simply couldn’t control himself—had come out. You didn’t like where this was going. 

He began to pace back and forth. “I don’t know if you know this, but my parents are rather important at Oxford. Alumni, both of them. Alumni, alumnus? Whatever. They went there. They’ve got connections at that vile place you love so much. Did you know that?”

You stared at him, confused. “Why would I know that?”

“Ah, well. Maybe you don’t know nearly as much as you think you do.”

You scowled at him. “Where are you going with this?”

“Connections…they’re powerful. Magical, really. One good word from my father can make a world of difference when it comes to getting accepted, or changing a grade, or switching a class. Even skipping a class. For fuck’s sake. How do you think I’ve made it through the way I have?”

It made sense, what he was saying. Felix partied a lot. A lot, a lot. He was constantly late to classes, and it was a rarity when you saw him actually doing homework. You always wondered how he was passing. 

“Now, here’s something I wouldn’t know about—do you know how easy it is to lose a scholarship?” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down for a moment, then back up at you. He smiled grimly. “Of course, I probably shouldn’t speak on this. I wouldn’t know anything about it. My parents are more than willing and able to pay full price. But you know who might know about this?”

“Felix, what are you—” 

“You. You might know about it, being a scholarship student and all. Do you know how easy it is to get kicked out of a place, to get kicked out of a program? You know how fragile things can be. I mean, it’s crazy, right? One wrong move and poof—it’s all gone.” 

He began walking towards you then, slowly, hands still in his pockets. Your stomach lurched and your jaw tightened. You could feel yourself getting hot, you could feel yourself start to shake. The little hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Your eyes were tearing up as he approached.

“Connections can help build relationships, and they can divide them just as easily. One wrong word from the right person, and someone’s whole world can come crashing down. Now that’s something I would know about.”

He stood just a few steps away from you, leaning over you. Looming. 

“You wouldn’t,” you snapped. 

“I wouldn’t…” he paused. “...if I had the right incentive.”

You were trying your best not to cry in front of him, but tears began to roll down your cheeks.

“Come on," he sighed. "Don’t make me feel like a monster. All I want is a chance.”

“A chance? A chance to do what?”

“A chance to show you that I’m better than him," he said, stepping even closer towards you. He grabbed your hands. "A chance to show you I can take care of you, because I can. A chance to be more than just friends.”

In that moment, any and all handsomeness Felix possessed had faded in your eyes. He was ugly, unspeakably so. From the inside out. You had grown to expect the unexpected, but you hadn’t expected anything like this. Not from Felix. He was your friend, your best friend. He couldn’t do this.

And yet, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that something had shifted in him. His gaze had hardened. The look he gave you was one he had never given you before, one that chilled you to the bone. It was a strange look, a smug look. Mocking. An “I’ve got you now, haven’t I?” look. And “I didn’t get my way, but I’m about to” look.

And with that look alone—regardless of what he’d said, what he was willing to say, what he was willing to do—he had effectively broken the silence.

You smooth down the front of your dress, taking one last look in the mirror by the front door. On top of the kitchen counter, your phone is on speaker, your best friend’s voice filling the room as you smile, satisfied, and walk over to type out a quick text to your date.

Some Kook—Flynn, you think he said his name was. He'd asked you out at some house party a couple nights ago. And you'd just broken things off with Rafe (again), so you figured 'why not?'.

Flynn eta?

You just leaving my place see you in fifteen xx

"I'm telling you, if he doesn't order an appetizer, it's a red flag," your friend's voice crinkles through the speaker. "But regardless, it's good you're finally getting back out there, you deserve a good night. But if that man calls, do not answer."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. "I won't, I promise. I'm not letting him ruin my fun." You assured, making sure you had everything in your clutch before picking it up and moving towards the front door. "But I'm literally walking out the door right now, so I'll text you when—"

You turn the doorknob and step out onto the porch, the words dying in your throat when the sound of a familiar truck door slamming echoes out. Your eyes snap to the driveway, immediately blinded by headlights.

Rafe’s truck is parked completely crooked, half on your lawn, the engine still ticking. And he's already halfway up your driveway, his chest heaving, jaw clenched, and his eyes fixed entirely on you.

You immediately groan.

"Hang up the phone," he grumbles, his voice low as he stomps up the porch steps.

"Who is that?" your friend asks over the speaker. "That better not be Rafe. Is he at your house?! Speak of the fucking devil, oh my—Rafe, go away—"

Before you can even react, Rafe is in your face, the scent of his cologne washing over you. You hastily hit the red button, ending the call, and glare up at him.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he counters, stepping right into your personal space, forcing you backward into your own entryway as his eyes look you up and down.

"None of your business." You smile bitterly before letting your face fall completely. "Get off my porch."

"Tell me," he demands, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. But he already knows. Of course he knows. Figure Eight is too small, and Rafe has eyes everywhere. "I already know, so just tell me." he presses. "You know my people are everywhere. I don't even know why you would try some shit like this—"

"Rafe, seriously, get out," you say, your voice trembling slightly but rising in anger. You look down at your screen, trying to bypass him to just send the text. "I'm leaving, and you're kind of in my way."

"No, you're not," he snaps. He steps closer, towering over you, his breathing ragged. "Text him. Tell him it's off, that you're not coming."

"What?" you scoff. "No—"

"Call off the fucking date."

"No!" You try and shoulder past him, but it's like trying to move a brick wall and you just ending up stumbling back yourself. You huff, shifting your weight as you scowl at him. "I am not canceling my plans because you decided to show up at my house and throw a tantrum! Get the fuck out of my house—"

In a flash of irritation, Rafe's hand shoots out and he rips the phone right out of your grip.

"Rafe, give me my—"

With a brutal swing, he launches your phone straight down the hallway. It hits the wall, shattering into pieces before clattering to the hardwood floor.

You freeze, staring at the broken device, before turning back to him, your blood boiling.

"Are you fucking insane?!" You scold, slapping him swiftly across the face. "That's my phone, you dick! I need that!" You seeth as he takes a deep breath, swallowing down the slap as he jaw twitches and he shrugs.

"I'll buy you a new one," he says flippantly. He doesn't care about the phone. He cares about you. "I'll buy you ten of them. But you're not going on that date."

"We are broken up." you his. "We've been broken up for weeks, Rafe! You don't get a say in what I do anymore—"

"Weeks! Weeks, exactly." Rafe paces a short circle, running a hand through his hair, laughing. He stops and points a finger at you. "We’ve been broken up for three fucking weeks, and you’re already throwing yourself at some guy who doesn't even have the decency to come pick you up? What, you're driving yourself to meet him?" He twists his face. "What kind of cheap bitch makes a girl drive to a date?"

"We are over! What part of that is so hard for you to understand?"

Rafe's face goes entirely blank, closing the distance between you in a single stride, trapping you against the bottom of the staircase.

"Oh, yeah? You're over me?" He reaches down, aggressively tugging the collar of his shirt to the side, exposing his neck and collarbone. "Because the hickeys you bit into my skin just three nights ago say a completely different fucking story."

Your breath hitches. You stare at the faint, fading purple marks on his neck—marks you had left in a moment of weakness when he had showed up at your window at 2 AM.

"So?" You shrug, teeth clenching as you try and shield your emotions. "Accidents happen."

"The hell they do," he snarls, his face inches from yours. "You think can just erase me? You can't. You love me." he eggs on, but you're backing up the stairs now.

"I hate you."

"Keep telling yourself that." he mutters, following you up, step for step, never breaking eye contact.

"I will." you hiss, backing into the upstairs hallway, your heart racing.

"Uh-huh," Rafe taunts, his voice dropping as he corners you right at the threshold of your bedroom. "Lying to yourself doesn't do either of us any favors."

You back into your bedroom, intending to slam the door in his face, but he’s too fast. He catches the wood as it flies towards him, slamming it shut behind him as he steps inside, locking you both inside.

"Get out—" You grit, throwing your purse across the room.

Before you can even finish, Rafe lunges forward. His hands grip your waist firmly, lifting you effortlessly and throwing you back onto the mattress. The impact knocks the wind out of you, but before you can scramble up, his heavy body is hovering over yours, pinning you down by your hips.

You huff as he looks down at you, his hair tousled, his eyes dark. A slow, cocky smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"So," Rafe murmurs, leaning down so close his warm breath brushes against your lips. "Think your guy is still waiting for you at the restaurant? Probably checking his watch right about now."

You tilt your head, a smirk of your own growing. "How'd you know we were meeting at a restaurant?"

Rafe breathes out a laugh, head dipping before he reconnects his eyes with yours once more. "I told you. Eyes everywhere, sweetheart."

"You need a life. You and your 'eyes'," you bite out, your voice breathless. "One that—"

"Let me guess, 'doesn't revolve around you'?" He finishes for you, quirking an eyebrow. "I'm good."

You glare up at him, your chest heaving against his. You're still furious with him, your blood boiling, but the proximity is doing absolutely wicked things to your resolve. You reach up, your fingers wrapping tightly around his collar, pulling him down until your noses are practically touching.

"You're buying me a new phone. Tomorrow." you tell him, your voice sharp and low. You tug him a fraction of an inch closer, your eyes locking onto his lips. "The newest one. And you’re transferring all my shit. Understand?"

Rafe lets out a breathless chuckle, his gaze dropping to your mouth as his lips stay slightly parted. Deep down, though he knows it's not exactly healthy, he loves when you're angry like this, when you try to boss him around.

"Yeah," he whispers, his hand sliding up from your hip, tracing a burning path under the hem of your dress. "Whatever you want, princess." He agrees casually. "Anything else? That iPad you wanted? Another necklace? Since I see you like this one so much." He teases, lifting one hand to play with the jewelry around your neck.

You shake your head, fighting a smile. "I hate you," you breathe, but the insult loses its edge as you arch your back into his touch.

"Good," Rafe grunts, pressing a kiss to your neck before leaning back on his knees, taking his shirt off in one swift motion. "Keep hating me." He tosses it, flexing above you. "I think I'm starting to like it."

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading. follow & turn on post notifs for @theharlowpost for writing exclusive updates!

He had found that thought enough incentive to shut his eyes after setting an alarm for an hour—and five minutes—time to haul himself and the tender muscles in his shoulder back to the PTMC to go old school with fax machines and white-boards. 

It took all of the three minutes out of the spare five he had added to his alarm, for his phone to light up and buzz against his chest. Thumb against the button on the side to preemptively end the call before it even started. Jack almost chose himself over whomever decided that 4PM was the sweet spot to catch a conversation with the physician. 

And then, in one sweep of realisation that thrashed its way to the forefront of his mind, Jack remembered that it might’ve been a perfect time for you to call. 

Shit. 

Without much deliberation, he flipped his phone over, eyes halfway to being peeled open, when he saw your Caller ID spread across the top of the screen with a photo of you and Jack smooshed together on your fourth date as the chosen background image. 

(You hated the photo. Which made Jack love it even more.) 

His thumb swiped to answer, phone pressed to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Jack-y Jack-y. Break my back-y.”

Wow. That was a crude—but not unwelcome—way of introductions over the phone. Jack could practically smell the Fourth of July bottomless brunch through the phone, not to mention that the slur of your words may have given away the level of intoxication you were experiencing from a couple of patriotic cocktail mixes of red, white, and blue and two stolen Mimosa’s from another table. 

That was yours and the empty Table 12’s little secret though.  Jack let a chuckle slip, “Hey, baby. What can I do you for?” 

“Just calling—” You hiccuped, “—To ask how your Fourth of July has been? Uneventful? Boring?” You teased, knowing fine well, a SWAT shift was far from those two adjectives. 

“Oh, you don’t even know half of it.” Jack pandered to your drunken taunt, his eyes fully shut now. “How are the girls?” 

“Well…” You took in your surroundings of a litter ridden street and a tired sun dropping below the horizon and let out a puff of air in response.

Jack opened his eyes at that. 

Suddenly, dosing off to the dulcet tones of your voice on the other end of a phone call seemed like a far fetched idea. Who needed sleep anyway? Especially when their—unlabelled—significant other blew out hot air in response to a simple question of how her impenetrable fortress of her friendship group made up of women from all walks of life were. 

Oh, Jack couldn’t wait to hear this one. 

He zeroed in on your hesitance. “You still with me?” When you hummed lazily, Jack narrowed his eyes at the wall across from him, “Is that a hard question to answer all of a sudden?” 

“Sheesh, Abbot.” You drawled, “Let me just…think for a minute.” 

(Absolutely not.) 

“Where are you right now?” Jack asked with the phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder. Already tugging at his prosthetic leg. 

You frowned, “Why?” 

“Why—?” Jack let out an impatient laugh. Not at you. Never at you. But, at the conclusion you would eventually come to during the phone call. He stood to full height and added, “Because, I’m coming to get you. That’s why.” 

“Uh, correction. You’re not invited.” You held your forefinger up in the air to draw emphasis on the correction you were making. You spoke again with one eye closed, “Don’t style my cramp. Or, however that saying goes.” 

Jack fished his keys from the bowl at his front door, “Oh yeah? Let me talk to one of them.” 

OK. Part of you took a mental note to be more consistent in recalling the fact that Jack Abbot was incredibly intuitive. Perceptive to a fault. Which meant, before you could even string a coherent excuse together from the jumble of words sloshing about in your brain, Jack had already been two steps ahead in deciphering the lack of female presence in the background of your phone call. 

Because, if it was a bottomless brunch that stretched far beyond the definition of ‘brunch’, that meant Jack would’ve been met with more than just one voice. How could he possibly know that? Perhaps, you had just stepped outside. Jack Abbot knew because of two things: 1) You never just called. It was always FaceTime, regardless of your location. And, 2) Your friends took every opportunity to interfere in your phone calls with Jack, because he had made a good, lasting impression on all of them. 

Put two and two together. The equation was…you had been ditched. 

Your fists clenched as you mouthed a profanity at Jack’s request. No, it hadn’t been entirely intentional that you were the last woman standing at the get together. The rest of the group—besides one who was married and left well before the lines got blurry on it being brunch drinks, and just, all day drinks—were single, and heavily active on all dating apps. Thus meaning, a holiday celebration statewide, and eight drinks thrown back; all your girlfriends were out for some metaphorical fireworks with someone they’d never cross paths with again. 

So, they all were picked off, one by one. Completely innocent. You’d never get in between a woman and her sexual prowess. 

With that, and a short-lived chastising from Jack after you held your phone further away from your mouth, your voice raised two octaves higher to imitate the bubblier friend; Jack had your location and was already on his way before the call had officially ended. 

He found you sat on the sidewalk of East Carson Street. Knees drawn up to your chest with your chin propped up on the palm of your hand, you were a vision of tranquil inebriation. (You know, considering you had been abandoned like a dog after the novelty of owning one wore off.) 

You visibly brightened when you saw Jack round his truck, shoulders squared as he scoped the surrounding areas.

You could take the man out of the military. 

“Hey, sweet cheeks.” You announced when he reached you, admiring the way that he did his best to crouch to meet your half-lidded eye level. You scratched lovingly at the stubble on his chin, “Fancy a drink? Some guy gave me, like, $150 for the night.” 

Jack mulled it over. “Tempting. I think I’ll pass.” His eyes dropped to your purse, because he couldn’t help himself, “You didn’t use the money I gave you?” 

You blinked, “Some guy gave me, like $150 and I have $20 of it left.”

That had Jack’s smile grow wider. Just as he had intended. 

“How about…we save it for later, and I’ll even throw in some Tylenol, if you get in the car.” Jack tilted his head. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Jack Abbot.” 

Without much resistance, you allowed Jack the triumphant win of getting you off of the sidewalk infested with gum and other substances, and into the passenger seat of his car. If you hadn’t had a hard time knowing which way was up, you would’ve noticed the small act of kindness in which Jack had ensured that the passenger side of his car was flush against the curb; so you weren’t reduced to playing with the traffic whilst trying to get inside the vehicle. 

That was his problem. And the zero sleep under his belt. 

He strapped you in with the seatbelt, and when the metal clicked inside the mechanism, Jack planted a kiss to your cheek, amused by the way you melted into the seat from his affection.

The drive to his house was comfortably silent. Jack had brought bottled water and two sachets of Liquid IV to ensure the electrolytes were pumped back into your body to ease the foreboding hangover you would experience in a day or so. His hand would occasionally come to rest on the meatiest part of your thigh, or lovingly rub against the nape of your neck and you would lap it all up under hazy vision. 

And then you sobered up a little when you pulled up to his apartment. 

“I’m staying here?” You asked, a little surprised. 

Jack pulled at the handbrake, his voice low, “Is that okay?” 

“Yeah.” You blinked and mustered up a smile that wasn’t the average expression for you, “That’s absolutely fine.” 

It was fine. Even if your face painfully didn’t translate that. 

The thing about it was…you had never officially stayed over at Jack’s apartment. The two of you had reached a consensus that whatever affectionate adjacent companionship that had blossomed through the cracks like pretty delicate flowers, there was no reason to hasten to the end result. Let the flowers grow at their own pace, without unintentionally yanking at their stems to forcefully encourage them out. 

This meaning, the whole staying over thing was a month ahead of schedule. 

You had been in Jack’s apartment before, because, he wasn’t a brick wall. The apartment itself was pretty clean, everything had a place and if it didn’t…it would be organised neatly for a later day. He had a little fern that he took care of, and then you bought him an another house plant under the guise of keeping the fern company.

(Really, you just enjoyed the limited times that you were able to spend money on Jack.)

“Don’t panic.” Jack mumbled, leaning in between the two front seats to grab a plastic bag of goodies from the backseat of his car. A place you both had come nakedly accustomed to. He gave you a lopsided smile when he pulled himself back to the drivers seat, “I can see those thoughts. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.” 

“No thoughts here, Abbot.” You tapped a finger against your temple, “Just alcohol.” 

“Uh-huh.” Jack mocked before exiting the car, quick to shut the passenger door after you had cracked it open to get out yourself. You let out a laugh at his stern glare through the tempered glass of the window, and when he re-opened the door for you, he said, “We had a deal on who opens doors.” 

You slid down until your feet met the ground, “Put that patriarchal tone away.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

And then, you let Jack open the doors anyway. There were three doors to get through, and each time he’d gesture for you to step through the threshold, not missing an opportunity to let his hand come into swift contact with your backside. Jack wasn’t the type of guy to take advantage of your drunken state, however, he wasn’t opposed to letting you know—physically—that he liked the way your ass looked in that outfit you had chosen for your night out in Pittsburgh.

When you entered his apartment, Jack flicked the lights on and guided you with a hand on your hip, through the corridor and to the room on the left; his bedroom. 

But, you already knew that. 

Hands planted behind you, you sat on the edge of Jack’s bed and watched him lower to kneel on his better leg in order to solve the mystical contraption that were your heels. The last time you had worn them, Jack had gotten thus far in his attempt to strip you naked in record breaking time, and then had forgone the idea of seductively taking your shoes off when he couldn’t figure out how they came off. 

Albeit, a good anchor for him to hold onto at the time, Jack Abbot would conquer the removal of the heel this time round. 

You nudged his chest gently with your foot, a smile growing on your face when he pressed a kiss to your inner ankle. He mumbled against your skin, “Why did the girls leave you at the bar?” 

“Alcohol induced libido.” You muttered nonchalantly, “They’re all single and well—”

Jack eyed you carefully as he gently wrangled your foot free of your heel, watching as your brow furrowed. You were truthfully stumped in the piloting of your own thoughts through the definition of whatever you and Jack were. Not that slapping the sticker of approval on the whole boyfriend thing would have Jack running in the opposite direction. But, it was the principle of it all. 

You were intransigent in not being the one to leap over that hurdle. 

Jack nodded slowly, “And you’re with me.” (Call a spade, a spade, you guess.) When the skin of your nose wrinkled in a scrunch, Jack lifted himself to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “We can talk about it later. For now, take a look in the bag. Got you some stuff for tonight.”

Grateful for the diversion, you peered into the plastic bag tossed onto the bed. The contents had your heart warm. A toothbrush—in your favourite colour—makeup wipes for sensitive skin, the pot of (rather) expensive moisturiser that Jack knew you worshipped the ground of, and a pyjama set that was made for the scorcher of a July you were already having. 

When you gave him an all-knowing glance matched with the smirk on your face, Jack deadpanned and smacked your backside for the fifth time that night, to get you and your smart mouth moving into the bathroom to de-shed the bottomless brunch attire off of you. 

He helped where he could, respected the part where you told him to turn around whilst you changed—despite seeing you naked several times—and even let you apply a dollop of moisturiser onto his face, because he wasn’t getting any younger. (That part earned a pinch to your hip.) 

You sauntered out of the bathroom, feeling less weighted down by the buzz of alcohol, and more lighter on the aspect of being loved correctly. Jack close by as if he were a dog on a lead.

Where you’d go, he’d follow.

It was just a bonus that he got to appreciate the view whilst doing so.

You flipped his duvet sheet back as you spoke, “I don’t know, Abbot. Seems like you’re going soft on me.”

Jack rounded the bed to approach you as you nestled into his bed, pillows propped up with all intentions of watching some re-run of Love Island. A show Jack swore against, but still somehow managed to catch up on it intermittently. One hand came to your hip as he leant down and kissed you like he meant it. And then two more times for good measure.

He spoke quietly against your lips, “Well, you make it pretty easy to fall in love.”

Oh.

You were really doing this.

Jack stood at full height, gratified by rendering you speechless.

“Alright, honey.” He continued with his voice laced with amusement, “I gotta go. The PTMC waits for no man.”

You slapped a palm to your forehead. “Oh my god. I completely forgot you had a shift at the Pitt today. Jack! I should’ve just gotten an Uber, holy shit.” 

“I am your Uber. Don’t forget it.” Jack reminded you on the agreement that was made that, it didn’t matter what time of day it was. If you needed help—no matter how small—you call him first. He was also feeling a bit playful as you reeled in guilt, “Plus, the SWAT shift wasn’t exciting enough. I only got shot at once.” 

“You got shot?!” 

“Shot at.” Jack corrected, “I’m fine. You should see my buddy. Not good.” 

“And you didn’t think to say anything.” You gawked, but deep down, you weren’t surprised. You let out a hefty sigh, “Did you even manage to sleep?” 

“Nope.” 

Looks like you owed him a couple of homemade dinners, and an abundance of leg massages. 

You dragged your hand down your face, “Why not?” 

Jack looked at you, amongst the sheets of his bed, now fresh-faced and sobering by the minute, and it left him confused as to how it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. Sleep, and everything in between, came second to you. 

You were like a goddamn Northern Star to someone like Jack Abbot. 

Yeah. You two were definitely having a conversation about labels and all that ooey-gooey relationship shit, when he got back from his shift in the morning. 

With his camo bag thrown over his good shoulder, the answer was readily available for you. 

He smiled softly, the flowers beginning to flourish between the cracks as he spoke the words that would come naturally for the rest of his life.

it was a slow day at the pitt but the day was soon coming to an end. Robby had just given a handoff to Jack, your boyfriend of 2 years. You could’ve gone home but you decided to linger and take your time.

“Girl” Trinity slides up beside you at the hub “have you seen that trend on tiktok where you make a comment about seeing someone you know on tinder and wait to see how long it takes your significant other to notice?”

You furrow your eyebrows as you think and then your eyes widen.

“Oh my god yes, that shit is funny as hell” you giggle, leaning your head on Trinity’s shoulder .

She shoves your arm playfully.

“Imagine how Abbot would react if you did that.”

“You mean my silently possessive, military conditioned, volunteer SWAT member boyfriend? Yes I guarantee he won’t have a cow about it at allllll.” the sarcasm is obvious through your laugh.

“Pssh c’monnn girl, does he even know what Tinder is?” she questions shaking your arm.

Your smile grows bigger “Maybe? Robby’s probably talked about it with him at some point.”

Trinity claps her hands loudly making you jump.

“That’s it! Say you saw Robby’s profile. It’s perfect!”

You shake your head in amusement.

“Okay but if he gets upset, I'm not making lasagna this weekend.”

“WHAT? Okay okay trust me it wont even come to that. Don’t threaten my favorite meal!” she begs.

You roll your eyes as you both wait for Jack to seek you out.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Not even an hour later and Jack makes his way to the nurses station in search of you. You see him come around the hall corner and scan the room until his eyes land on you.

He smiles wide as he walks over.

“Hey honey,” he kisses the side of your head “thought I missed ya leaving.”

You smile up at him from where you’re sitting.

“As if I would leave without saying goodbye.”

He chuckles as he pulls a chart and leans on the front of the desk and starts writing.

You look up and see Trinity make eye contact with you from the other end of the hub. She throws two thumbs up at you.

You grin a little before pulling out your phone.

“Oh my god that’s crazy.”

“What is?” Trinity asks to aid in the joke.

You look to her

“It’s Robby”

The name causes Jack to look up from the chart and at you.

“What? What about Robby, baby?”

You shake your head and raise your eyebrows.

“He’s on tinder. Didn’t know he was serious when he said he was looking for someone to break the seven week thing he has going on.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack says and looks back at the chart “said he was ‘serious’ this time. Love him but I don’t think he’ll stick with it right now.”

You furrow your eyebrows and look at Trinity. She shrugs, just as surprised as you.

She stands up and walks over to your side.

“Have you seen Mateo’s account yet?”

You shake your head playing along.

“No but if I do, I'm swiping left so fast. He’s like a brother to me.”

Jack doesn’t join in, clearly engrossed in the current chart he has.

You let out a dramatic huff.

“Hmm?” He looks towards you.

“Nothing baby” you sigh as you lean your head back against the chair.

Prank: failed.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Jack leaves you and Trinity at the hub to find Robby for clarification on a chart.

He finds him in an exam room with Mateo as they clean up and restock.

Robby quickly helps him with the chart so it’s correct.

Jack leans against the doorway.

“My girl told me you’re finally on Tinder. Proud of you for putting yourself out there brother.”

Robby and Mateo look up.

“Thanks man, I'm hoping it goes well. Not sure what will happen.”

Mateo still looks at Jack with raised eyebrows.

Jack stares back with a confused expression.

“Spit it out Diaz, what’s wrong?”

“You said your girlfriend saw Robby on Tinder?”

“Yeah?” Jack nods slowly.

Mateo laughs a bit.

“So, your girlfriend saw Robby’s Tinder account. A dating app where you have to have an account to see anyone else’s account.”

Jack stares at him and they notice the moment it clicks for him.

“Oh fuck no.”

He then takes off at a jog in search of you.

“Some social media prank I’m assuming?” Robby asks with a smirk as he continues restocking.

“Oh you know it.” Mateo laughs.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You’re sitting in the break room getting ready to leave in a few minutes when quick footsteps grab your attention.

Looking up you see Jack walk in.

“Give me your phone.”

You scrunch your eyebrows.

“Uh why?”

He gets closer and tries grabbing it from you but you move it out of his reach.

“Nuh uh, what are you doing J?”

He huffs and leans all in your space to grab the phone.

“You have a tinder.”

Then it clicks.

He finally got it.

You try and hold back a smile.

“Now who said I did?”

He crowds you against the table, chest pressed to yours.

“Mateo said you can only see Tinder accounts if you have one.”

You try and hold in your laugh but fail as your body shakes from the giggles.

“Oh my g-god. I-I can’t” you laugh with a massive smile.

He looks at you confused.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just a prank baby” you lay a hand on his bicep.

His hand goes to your hip.

“So, no Tinder account?”

You shake your head “No Tinder account baby. Pinky promise.”

He leans his forehead against yours and lets out a quiet laugh.

“Thank god. You can’t leave me sweetheart.”

You bring your other hand to his face and pull back to look him in the eyes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He kisses you briefly.

“HA YOU FELL FOR THAT. PRANK WAS A SUCCESS” a voice yells from the hallway.

He looks towards the doorway and then back to you.

“Santos?”

You grin and nod.

“Santos.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・