✧

synopsis: Rue begins tracking Ronnie’s movements through old newspaper articles, missing posters, and town gossip. She discovers Ronnie’s crimes may have been exaggerated to hide something bigger.

warnings: sexual themes, Cowgirl!Rue, vulgar language, mature themes, mentions of violence and blood, western concept, original characters, S3 Atmosphere, Futuristic elements, Sci-fi

playlist

Rue roamed the halls of her home in the dead of night, her footsteps quiet against the wooden floors as her mind wandered.

Bishop's story replayed over and over in her head, each detail sitting heavily as she tried to piece together the contradictions. The blue nails. The indigo ink. The scratches. The stories from the men across town.

And the victim.

Every version of Ronnie Blue seemed different, but Rue knew there had to be a connection hiding beneath the rumors.

Unable to let the mystery rest, she slipped away to her father's old library. The room remained untouched, filled with the scent of aged books and memories she wasn't ready to leave behind.

Rue stepped inside and began her search.

She pulled out old newspapers and a few books from her father's collection, the worn covers stacked high in the corner of the library. The tales written about Ronnie Blue were vicious and dramatic, each story more unbelievable than the last.

It was almost as if she wasn't a real person.

Almost as if she were a character in a movie.

Rue brushed the dust away from the small lamp sitting on the desk before flicking it on. The dim light flickered against the walls as she leaned closer, carefully reading through the articles scattered across the wooden surface.

"The Blued Woman Strikes Again."

"Another Man Marked in Blue."

Each headline painted Ronnie as something more than a woman.

A warning.

A myth.

A name people whispered when the night grew quiet.

The story about the robbery immediately caught Rue's attention.

She ran her fingers along the edges of the newspaper, rereading the details over and over. How could Ronnie have pulled off something like that?

A bank sitting in the center of town, surrounded by armed security, witnesses, and guards prepared for any threat.

Yet somehow, Ronnie Blue walked in, took what she wanted, and disappeared without a single person being harmed.

No blood.

No casualties.

No trace.

It didn't make sense.

Rue leaned back in her chair, staring at the article as the questions continued to pile up. Everyone spoke about Ronnie like she was a monster, a woman who left destruction wherever she went.

But the evidence told a different story.

A thief who didn't kill.

A woman who vanished without a trail.

A legend that seemed too impossible to be true.

As Rue glanced toward the window, she realized the sun had already risen. Golden rays spilled through the glass, replacing the darkness that had surrounded her only moments before. The smell of bacon drifting through the house pulled her back to reality.

She quickly gathered the newspapers and books, placing everything back exactly where she found it. The last thing she needed was for her mother to discover she had been digging through her father's old belongings before sunrise.

Rue slipped out of the library and rushed down the hall, making her way back to her room before Leslie could notice.

She climbed into bed and pulled the covers over herself, lying perfectly still as if she hadn't moved all night.

A few moments later, a soft knock echoed against the door.

"Rue?"

The door creaked open as Leslie peeked inside.

"Breakfast is on the table if you're hungry," her mother said gently. "I also need you to make a quick run into town and pick up everything on this list."

She walked over to the dresser and placed the folded paper down before turning back toward the door.

"Don't take too long."

With that, Leslie closed the door behind her.

Rue slowly sat up, staring at the list while the events of the night before still lingered in her mind.

Rue took a quick walk to the bathroom and washed up before facing her family at the table. The cold water splashed against her face as she took a moment to wake herself up, gathering her thoughts after a long night of searching through her father's library.

She fixed herself up, trying to hide the exhaustion that lingered behind her eyes before stepping back into the warmth of the house.

Gia sat at the table, chewing down on her breakfast while waiting for the day to begin. She glanced up as Rue entered, her expression curious but quiet.

Rue took her seat, pretending the late night never happened.

For now, she had to focus on the morning ahead.

Rue picked at her breakfast, eating small bite by small bite. Across the table, Gia had already cleaned her plate and excused herself, joining Leslie out on the porch.

Left alone with her thoughts, Rue barely tasted the food in front of her.

The newspaper headlines lingered in her mind, refusing to let go.

The Blued Woman Strikes Again.

Another Man Marked in Blue.

She replayed Bishop's story over and over, searching for the missing piece. The blue nails. The indigo ink. The scratches. None of it fit together, yet somehow it all pointed back to the same woman.

Ronnie Blue.

The more Rue thought about her, the less she believed the stories.

And that was exactly what bothered her. Rue cleared her plate and carried it to the sink before making her way back to her room. She grabbed the folded list from the dresser, tucked it into her satchel, and headed outside.

Her Palomino, Jolly, waited for her patiently by the stable. The mare's chestnut coat gleamed beneath the morning sun, her white spots standing out against the warm light as Rue fastened the saddle and gathered the reins.

With one smooth motion, Rue mounted up.

Jolly let out a soft huff before carrying her beyond the ranch and back toward civilization, the steady rhythm of her hooves echoing along the dusty road.

As Rue began checking the items off her list, she stumbled across a group of older women gathered together, their voices carrying through the town streets.

She already knew their version of the story would be filled with exaggerations and rumors, but she needed another perspective. Another set of eyes on the mystery that had been following her since last night.

Her boots pressed against the dirt, one foot after another, as she approached the group. She swallowed hard, adjusting her notebook in her hand before making herself comfortable.

"Excuse me," Rue politely asked. "Could you elaborate on who Ronnie Blue is?"

The women immediately exchanged glances at the mention of the name.

"Chile, who is Ronnie Blue?" one woman repeated, shaking her head. "That heifer who killed ol' Stanford years back? That high yellow girl couldn't keep her eyes off other people's husbands and got that man killed because she couldn't keep her desires to herself."

"Preach," one woman chimed in.

"Tell it," another shouted, leaning forward as the others nodded along.

Rue stayed quiet, pen hovering over the page as she listened.

Another story.

Another version of Ronnie Blue.

But somehow, none of them sounded the same.

"Could you tell me what you believe is the reason she left?" Rue asked, keeping her voice polite as she scribbled notes onto the page.

The women exchanged glances, each one seeming eager to share their own version of the tale.

"Oh yeah, she died," one of them said matter-of-factly. "They shot her because they found out she stole something valuable from this town."

Rue's pen paused slightly.

"Something valuable?" she repeated.

The woman shrugged.

"I don't know what she was looking for, but I suppose she got her answer in the end."

The others hummed in agreement, as if the story had already been decided long ago. Rue looked down at her notebook, the pieces refusing to line up.

A bank robbery with no casualties.

A woman covered in blue.

A stolen treasure no one could name.

And now a death no one could prove.

The more she searched for the truth about Ronnie Blue, the more the legend seemed to bury it.

"Thank you ladies so much for your help," Rue thanked, closing her notebook and offering them a polite smile.

Before she could step away, one of the women leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at her.

"Whatcha being nosy for?" she questioned. "Them newspaper people send you? They just love being in somebody else's business, don't they?"

"Right," another woman chimed in, shaking her head in agreement.

Rue paused, taking in their suspicion.

She knew better than to push too hard. In a town like this, people guarded their stories just as closely as they guarded their secrets.

"I was just curious," Rue replied calmly.

The women continued watching her as she walked away, their whispers following behind her.

But Rue wasn't interested in gossip.

She was looking for the truth hidden underneath it.

Back in the library, Rue laid out every piece of information she had gathered across the wooden desk.

The newspaper clippings.

The stories from Bishop.

The rumors from the women in town.

She began piecing everything together, creating a timeline from the beginning of Ronnie Blue's story all the way to her supposed death.

But the more she connected the dots, the less it made sense.

How could one woman rob a bank in the center of town, surrounded by armed security, and disappear without a single person being harmed How could someone leave behind evidence of their crimes, yet somehow vanish before anyone could find them?

And how could everyone be so certain Ronnie Blue was dead when there was no body, no grave, no proof?

Rue leaned back in her chair, staring at the scattered papers in front of her.

synopsis: Rue comes home from a night’s adventure and catches herself up with the town’s new gossip. As she’s on a steak out, Bishop introduces the Woman In Blue to her. Behind all the jokes and such, the woman is seen as dangerous and frightening in the night.

warnings: sexual themes, Cowgirl!Rue, vulgar language, mature themes, mentions of violence and blood, western concept, original characters, S3 Atmosphere, Futuristic elements, Sci-fi

playlist

The sun sat high in the sky, casting an orange glow over Rue’s skin as she rode through the dusty streets on the back of her chestnut Palomino. Her mocha-colored hat sat firmly against her wild curls, barely moving as the saddle bounced beneath her. Black boots covered her feet, each one designed with an eccentric medallion that caught the light with every step. A thick cigar hung loosely from her bottom lip as she watched the town pass by.

The town ladies nearly fainted at the sight of her passing through. Their delicate dresses fluttered as they stumbled backward, their sweet gasps and dramatic sighs echoing through the streets. To them, Rue was something out of a story, a woman too captivating to ignore.

The men respected her, tipping their hats as she rode past, though a few watched with narrowed eyes. They didn’t see her as just another woman in town. They saw her as competition.

Her horse slowed to a stop in front of The Golden Lariat. Rue swung herself down effortlessly, tying her Palomino to a nearby post before stepping onto the wooden porch. She removed her hat, letting her curls fall freely around her shoulders, and pushed open the doors.

The entire room shifted at her arrival.

She took a seat at the counter, resting herself comfortably against the worn wood before crushing her cigar into the ashtray. Without hesitation, she placed a few coins onto the counter, the metal clinking against the surface.

“May I have a simple beer, Hank?” she requested.

Her attention drifted toward the stage as she shifted in her seat, catching sight of the burlesque dancers performing under the dim glow of the lanterns. Their black and red attire moved gracefully with every step, the fabric shimmering as they captivated the room.

Rue watched intently, her eyes following their every movement. There was something hypnotic about the way they commanded the stage, the confidence they carried as the crowd watched in awe.

The cold beer rested comfortably in her hand as Rue took a slow sip, the bitter liquid sliding down her throat while the performance continued in front of her. She leaned back in her seat, enjoying the show as the dancers moved across the stage, completely consumed by their confidence and charm.

A familiar figure emerged from the back of the saloon.

Bishop.

Her partner in crime stepped forward, carrying a brown burlap sack filled with gold. The weight of it was obvious as he tossed it onto the counter in front of her, waiting patiently for Rue to inspect the contents.

She glanced down at the sack, a small smirk tugging at her lips before looking back at him.

“Perfect timing,” Rue spoke, finishing off the head of her beer.

Rue set her beer down and pulled the burlap sack closer, opening it carefully as she began examining the coins inside. One by one, she counted through the gold, letting each piece slip between her fingers as she inspected the weight and shine of it.

“The ol’ Magnolia House has a few new girls, if you’d like to know,” Bishop mentioned, leaning against the counter as he caught Hank’s attention for another beer. “My eyes have been stuck on this one dancer. Don’t exactly remember her name, but damn, can she put on a peep show.”

Rue continued sorting through the coins, barely looking up as she listened. A small grin tugged at the corner of her lips, amused by Bishop’s choice of conversation.

“You must be talking about Madeline,” Rue recalled, finally looking up from the gold. “You know she’s Sheriff Perez’s daughter, right?”

“Well, ain’t that a bitch,” Bishop exclaimed.

The realization settled over him as he stared ahead, completely unaware that the dancer who had caught his attention belonged to the very family he tried to stay clear of. Bishop had no clue who she was when he first saw her. He wasn’t interested because of her name or where she came from.

He was simply fascinated by her.

“Anyways, has Blackwood been causing trouble while I was gone for the night?” Rue asked, her voice lowering as she leaned back against the counter. “That raid was hard to recover from, and I still got this pain sitting in my shoulder. God damn Rowdys.”

The bitterness in her voice was impossible to miss. The memory of the raid still lingered, the kind of wound that went deeper than the one she carried beneath her clothes. Every movement reminded her of what happened, and every thought of Blackwood brought the anger right back to the surface.

Rue wasn’t the type to forget a debt.

“No, but I did catch one of his boys on this side of town trying to run off with Lil Debbie from the Magnolia House,” Bishop explained, taking a sip from his beer. “Sad to see she had to retire early just to get over the incident.”

Rue’s expression shifted slightly, the mention of Blackwood’s name already souring the air between them. Trouble always seemed to follow wherever his men went, leaving behind a trail of damage that others had to clean up.

“Listen carefully,” Rue ordered, her voice firm as she turned her attention back to Bishop. “We’re gonna be on night duty to make sure this town stays safe. I know it bothers you, but we can’t afford another mishap.”

Bishop let out a heavy sigh, already knowing there was no point in arguing with her.

“You’ll never let me have it easy, will you?” he dreaded.

Rue’s eyes narrowed slightly, a knowing look crossing her face.

“Not since you let Eleanor run from my ranch.”

The words hung between them, a reminder of a mistake Bishop had yet to live down.

The two headed back toward their companions before riding off in the direction of the ranch. The evening breeze followed behind them as the familiar sight of the Bennett property came into view.

Rue’s mother, Leslie Bennett, sat peacefully on the porch, still working on the same blanket she had started the night before with Gia. Rue’s sister sat beside her, quietly writing away in her journal, lost within her own thoughts.

Bishop tipped his hat toward the two women before dismounting from his Quarter Horse.

“Evening, Lady Bennett,” he greeted. “My grandma wanted me to thank you for the medicine. She’s feeling better and says her bones don’t ache as much.”

“Tell her I appreciate her company,” Leslie replied warmly. “I look forward to seeing her soon for the cook-off.”

Before her mother could say another word, Rue rushed past the porch and leaned down to press a quick kiss against Leslie’s cheek.

“I’ll be right back,” she called before disappearing inside.

She made her way to retrieve the night kit, the one she carried for every late-night patrol. Inside were the essentials: an emergency pistol, a first aid kit, binoculars, a pack of cigars, and a flask filled with dark liquor.

The kit was more than just supplies.

It was a piece of her father.

The same kit he carried during his own late-night adventures, the one he had passed down to Rue before his death. Every item inside carried a memory, a reminder of the man who taught her how to survive long before she ever had to do it alone.

The kit rested safely inside her leather brown satchel, secured against her hip as Rue’s boots clicked and clacked against the wooden floors of the ranch house.

As she stepped outside, she paused for a moment, taking in the sight before her. Bishop and her mother stood together, happily chatting as they had known each other for years. The warmth of the moment almost made Rue forget the weight of the night ahead.

Almost.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few coins, placing them into Gia’s hand before bending down to meet her gaze.

“Take these. Buy yourself something nice, and never say I didn’t give you anything nice,” Rue joked.

Gia looked down at the coins before raising an eyebrow at her sister.

“Thank you, but you still owe me a bread pudding from Lori’s,” Gia corrected.

Rue let out a small laugh, shaking her head at her sister’s reminder.

“Of course you’d remember that.”

She wrapped her arms around her mother tightly before stepping away and making her way toward her horse. With practiced ease, Rue mounted the saddle, adjusting herself before grabbing hold of the reins.

“And Rue, please be safe!” Leslie called out. “I know how you like to explore, but stay away from them magnolias and that flower. I don’t want you coming home a different person.”

The warning caused Rue to pause for a moment.

Her mother’s words carried more weight than just a simple caution. They were filled with the fear of losing the daughter she knew, the girl who had grown into someone the world couldn’t easily tame.

“Yes ma’am,” Rue replied, giving her a reassuring nod. “I’ll be home before morn.”

With one final look back at her family, Rue urged her horse forward, disappearing into the fading light.

The doors swung open, allowing customers to drift in and out of the building. The neon crimson sign flickered against the darkness, casting a red glow over the street and illuminating the night before their eyes.

Bishop watched from a distance, his binoculars pressed firmly against his face as he kept a careful eye on the establishment. Every so often, his attention wandered toward Madeline as she stepped outside for a smoke break.

Her dark hair rested against her shoulders like a black veil, her sorrowful eyes glowing beneath the crimson sign. The reflection of the neon light danced across her face, while her two-piece attire caught Bishop’s attention through the lens.

Rue, meanwhile, remained focused on the task at hand.

Her boots pressed into the dirt as she scanned their surroundings, watching every shadow and movement that crossed the street. She knew better than to let a pretty sight distract her.

Not when danger was always lurking nearby.

“See anything?” Rue asked, her voice lowered to a whisper to avoid drawing attention from the guards.

“I haven’t seen anything besides this beautiful rose in front of us,” Bishop replied.

Rue immediately snatched the binoculars from his hands, giving him a knowing look before turning her attention back toward the building. She scanned the doors and windows carefully, searching for anything out of place.

Nothing.

Everything appeared normal.

Fortunately, the sound of distant voices carried through the night air, allowing her to listen in on the conversation happening nearby.

“I heard Ronnie Blue is coming back soon, and this is where she’ll start,” a voice spoke, completely unaware they were being watched. “Folks are saying her blue nails is what killed Ryder and his brother when they crossed town.”

Rue froze slightly at the name.

Ronnie Blue.

A name that carried more rumors than truth, a name that always seemed to arrive with trouble following close behind.

“Bishop,” Rue whispered, lowering the binoculars from her eyes. “Tell me about this Ronnie. Why are people so scared of her?”

The moment her name left Rue’s mouth, Bishop’s expression changed. His usual confidence faded as he glanced around the area, almost as if he expected someone to be listening.

“Ronnie?” he repeated quietly. “Oh no, I can’t tell you about her.”

Rue looked over at him, raising an eyebrow at his sudden change in attitude.

“Why not?”

Bishop leaned closer, keeping his voice low.

“I heard if you even say her full name out loud, she’ll know. And once she knows, you’re already done for.”

Rue studied him for a moment, unsure if he was joking or genuinely afraid.

The stories surrounding Ronnie Blue traveled faster than the woman herself. Every town had a different version of her, a different reason to fear her.

But one thing remained the same.

Nobody spoke about Ronnie Blue without lowering their voice.

“She can’t be that scary,” Rue teased, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

Bishop didn’t laugh.

“I’m serious,” he warned, his voice dropping lower. “Don’t mention anything else about her. I don’t plan on ending up in some nameless grave because you got curious.”

Rue glanced over at him, amused by the fear written across his face.

For someone who had faced gunfights, raids, and men twice his size, Bishop looked more frightened of one woman than any outlaw they had ever crossed paths with.

And that alone made Rue wonder.

Who was Ronnie Blue?

“Okay, well if she’s so bad, then tell me your version of the story,” Rue teased.

Bishop stared at her for a moment, clearly debating whether he should entertain the question. Eventually, he let out a deep breath and looked back toward the dark streets ahead.

“Alright,” he muttered. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He took a moment before finally speaking.

“I heard she was a vicious woman who didn’t care who you were or what you stood for. My pops came across her when he found indigo ink painted all over the walls of his shed. At first, he thought it was just some kids playing a little joke on him.”

Bishop paused, his expression growing more serious.

“But he was wrong.”

The night suddenly felt quieter as he continued.

“He came back with long scratches across his chest and blue stains covering his hands. Nobody knew what happened to him or what he saw that night. Then word started spreading.”

His grip tightened slightly around his reins.

“After that, I started having these real bad, vivid dreams about her. Dreams that felt too real. And ever since then…”

He looked toward Rue.

“She’s been showing up in them.”

“Apparently not,” Rue replied, thinking through the details. “Those men over there said she had blue nails, but you said she had blue ink. Maybe she’s got indigo paint on her fingers that stains whatever she touches.”

Rue’s mind began connecting the pieces, searching for the truth hidden beneath all the rumors. She knew better than anyone that stories changed depending on who told them.

Bishop looked back toward the dark road, his expression unreadable.

“There’s different versions of the story,” he admitted. “But I witnessed mine.”

He paused, his voice lowering.

Wattpad

synopsis: Rue finds herself tangled in the hands of wanted cowgirl, Ronnie Blue, The woman on the run. She uses her detective skills to figure out why and how Ronnie came to be while also discovering things about herself. With all these events, will Rue be able to unblur the lines of a fantasy and reality?

warnings: sexual themes, Cowgirl!Rue, vulgar language, mature themes, mentions of violence and blood, western concept, original characters, S3 Atmosphere, Futuristic elements, Sci-fi

YEE HAW! THIS HORSE IS READY TO TAKE OFF!

playlist

Moodboard

Inspirations: Cowboy Carter, Concrete Cowboy, Cowboys vs Aliens, When I Get Home, Afrofuturism, Gang Of Rose, The Wiz

Rue’s Theme Song: Cadillac (A Pimp’s Anthem)

Ronnie’s Theme Song: 6 Inch

“A mouth slick like that can only take you a long way. Trust me I Know.”

synopsis: Rue takes you to a speakeasy for this week's date night. It starts tame but once the patron hits your lips, you want Rue right then and there. 

warnings: sexual themes, alcohol usage, makeout session, asking for consent, fingering, public restroom, loud sex, drunk.

A/N: This is the result ya'll voted for!

It was date night, and you were excited to see where Rue was taking you. Last week, she surprised you with a trip to the aquarium and a movie since you had been obsessed with The Shape of Water and the different types of fish featured throughout the film.

You stood in front of the mirror, putting on your new brown maxi dress and adjusting your gold hoops. The outfit felt perfect, simple but still special enough for a night out with her. You couldn’t help but smile as you thought about what Rue had planned this time.

An orange poppy bouquet sat spread across the table, waiting for you to notice the small note tucked between the flowers. The little card, decorated with gold embossed lettering on the outside, seemed to hold a secret of its own, almost as if it was waiting impatiently for you to open it.

Before you could bend down to smell them, Rue entered the room fresh out of the shower. Her hair was still slightly damp, and the scent of her shampoo lingered as she walked over to you. She smiled softly before planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

The smell of her floral shampoo filled the room as you watched her get ready. She slipped into a blue striped dress shirt and jeans before carefully drying her hair to keep her clothes from getting damp.

You couldn’t help but admire her through the mirror, watching the little things she did without even realizing how much you loved them.

Her delicate hands explored the jewelry box, carefully picking out each piece before placing her gold accessories on one by one. First came the rings, then the necklace, and lastly the small studs that completed the look.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” she exclaimed excitedly, turning off the lights before grabbing your hand and leading you toward the car.

The passenger door opened as she held it for you, letting you carefully climb inside.

The ride was slow but scenic. Jill Scott played softly through the speakers as you looked out the window, taking in the glowing city lights and passing street signs. Everything felt peaceful, like the world had slowed down just for the two of you.

“Thank you, Rue,” you said softly. “It’s really great to see you making progress and putting thought into things like this for us.”

Rue smiled, keeping her eyes on the road as she listened.

“You know, years ago I wouldn’t have been able to do this,” she admitted. “That’s why I’m so grateful for you and your presence in my life.”

You smiled to yourself, turning your attention back toward the outside world.

The brightly lit speakeasy came into view, waiting patiently in the distance. Its warm glow and inviting atmosphere called you in, promising a night full of memories waiting to be made.

Rue pulled into a nearby parking spot, letting the engine fall quiet as the two of you sat there for a moment. The soft music continued playing in the background, filling the silence between you with a familiar comfort.

She glanced over at you with a small smile, her hand reaching across the console to find yours.

“Ready?” she asked, her thumb brushing gently against your skin.

You looked back at the glowing entrance, the excitement slowly building in your chest. It wasn’t just the mystery of where she was taking you or what she had planned. It was the fact that Rue was trying. She was showing you a side of herself that once felt impossible to reach, and you loved watching her grow into someone who allowed herself to create moments like this.

You squeezed her hand before nodding.

“Ready.”

Rue smiled, stepping out of the car before walking around to open your door. The cool night air brushed against your skin as she offered you her hand, guiding you toward the entrance.

The city moved around you, cars passing by and strangers rushing to their own destinations, but for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you walking into the night together.

You were handed a shot before entering completely into the speakeasy. The two of you exchanged a glance before raising your glasses, swallowing down the Patron and letting the warmth smoothly slide down your throats and settle into your stomachs.

The music surrounded you as you stepped further inside, the dim lighting casting a golden glow over the room. The atmosphere felt alive, filled with laughter, conversation, and the soft hum of the night.

Rue grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the dance floor, a playful smile spreading across her face.

She twirled you around, laughing as your dress moved with every spin. For a moment, everything else disappeared. The worries, the past, and everything waiting outside those walls faded away.

It was just you and Rue, lost in the music and in each other.

As the night began to slow down, the liquor started to take effect. Your eyes grew heavy, slightly glazed as you watched Rue from across the table, unable to pull your attention away from her.

Her voice sat low in her throat as she talked to you, soft and comforting beneath the quiet hum of the speakeasy. You listened to every word, even when the alcohol made your thoughts feel slower and the world around you blurrier.

There was something about the way she spoke, the way she looked at you, that made the entire night feel like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

“I wanna take you out that dress.” She whispered into your ear.

You nodded your head slowly. There was nothing more in the world that you wanted more than that. You guided towards the women’s restroom locking the door behind you. Rue devoured you immediately. Her hands underneath your dress removing your panties.

The rhythm of the music allowing yourself to let go and go along with the beat. You moved your hips and swayed while Rue discovered your insides. Her fingers slithering inside.

A gasp left your throat as you felt the foreign object inside. The pulsating sensation of your skin pumping against her fingers.

“This okay?” she whispered.

“Yes, keep going like that.”

You rocked against her fingers wanting to scratch that itch.

Her lips attached itself back to your neck.

You bit down on your fingers trapping your voice inside your soul.

“Let them hear you, baby.”

Your voice found its own and bounced off the walls. Your sweet moans like music to Rue’s ears as she kept finding your spot at the right angle.

Your leg propped over Rue’s shoulder and your hand gripping the sink trying to keep yourself steady. Your body shaking from the pressure building up inside.

“I can’t, I can’t.” you begged for mercy. “Rue…take it out, I can’t take anymore.”

She ignored your plea and stuffed them inside further. The stretch making you scream with joy. The burn felt too good to stop but you were so close that you wanted to cry.

“Shh Shh. Breath.” She motioned, inhaling and exhaling with you.

“Fuck.” you cried.

Rue allowed her index finger to finish the job, pressing against your button activating your floodgates.

The slick dripped down her fingers as she pulled them out, sucking the flavor off her fingertips in front of you.

It was sexy, dangerous, and erotic.

𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐑𝐮𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Rating: M for Mature

warnings: beach setting, Toxic Relationship, smoking, gaslighting, inspired by Waves (2019)

The sand slipped between your toes and poured back into the shore as you sat listening to the waves. Your high slowly faded along with your thoughts, leaving nothing but the steady sound of the ocean. Water reached the hems of your shorts each time the tide rolled in, cooling your skin before retreating again.

Your eyes drifted over to Rue, who was stretched across a towel with a cigarette balanced between her fingers. Her skin glowed beneath the orange sunset while loose curls framed her face perfectly, moving with every breeze that came off the water.

You brushed the sand from your hands and pushed yourself to your feet before making your way over to her.

“Rue, we should start getting ready to go home,” you reminded her. “It’s getting dark, and I have work in the morning.”

“Just a little longer,” Rue whined, reaching for your hand and pulling you down onto her lap until you were tucked against her chest.

Smoke drifted past your nose as you settled into her embrace, the familiar scent mixing with saltwater and sunscreen. As much as the two of you fought, these quiet moments always made everything else disappear. For a little while, it was just the waves, the fading sun, and Rue holding you close like she had nowhere else she’d rather be.

“Why do we fight all the time? It doesn’t do us any good,” you muttered.

Rue didn’t say a word. She simply exhaled a stream of smoke into the evening air and sat in silence.

It ate away at you, how easily she could dodge conversations like this. Like all the hurt and frustration could disappear if she ignored it long enough. Your eyes dropped to the strings of your bottoms, fingers absentmindedly tugging at the knots while Rue finished the last of her cigarette.

“We don’t fight,” she finally said, flicking the ash into the sand. “We just have disagreements, and that’s okay.”

You rolled your eyes as the words left her mouth and pushed yourself off her lap. Sand clung to the backs of your legs while you brushed yourself off, keeping your back turned to her.

“No, Rue. Disagreeing is arguing over what movie to watch or where to eat. This…” You gestured between the two of you before letting your hand fall to your side. “This is me trying to tell you how I feel and you pretending everything’s fine.”

Rue stared at the dying ember between her fingers until it burned too close to her skin. She hissed quietly and crushed it into the sand, finally looking up at you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say something.”

The waves filled the silence that followed, crashing against the shore in slow, steady rhythms. The sun had nearly disappeared beneath the horizon, leaving streaks of pink and orange across the sky.

Rue reached for your hand, her fingertips barely grazing yours.

“I stay because I love you,” she whispered. “I just don’t know how to talk about the rest.”

Your anger softened for only a second before you slipped your hand away.

“And that’s exactly why we keep ending up here.”

Rue let her hand fall back into the sand.

The space between the two of you suddenly felt bigger than the entire beach. People packed up their umbrellas in the distance, children chased each other through the shallow water, and somewhere behind you a radio played a song neither of you bothered to recognize.

You hugged your knees to your chest and watched the last bit of sunlight disappear.

“I don’t need everything to be perfect,” you said quietly. “I just need to know I’m not the only one trying.”

Rue’s jaw tightened, “You think I’m not trying?”

“I think you’re scared.”

She laughed once, dry and humorless.

“Yeah? And what are you?”

You opened your mouth, ready with another comeback, but nothing came out.

Because she wasn’t wrong, you were scared too. Scared that one day she’d stop reaching for your hand. Scared that every goodbye would be the last one. Scared that loving Rue meant constantly waiting for the version of her that only showed up when the world wasn’t weighing on her shoulders.

“I hate when you look at me like that,” Rue mumbled.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re already leaving.”

The words settled somewhere deep inside your chest. You looked over at her. The wind tossed curls across her face, and without thinking you reached over and tucked them behind her ear.

“I’m still here.”

Rue leaned into your touch for only a second before closing her eyes.

“I know.”

Another wave rolled over your feet, soaking the cuffs of your shorts.

The silence wasn’t angry anymore. It was tired.

Rue pulled a fresh cigarette from the pack in her pocket, turning it between her fingers before placing it back inside.

“I won’t smoke another one,” she said.

You looked at her, confused.

“Why?”

“‘Cause you’ll complain that my hoodie smells like cigarettes when you steal it tomorrow.”

A smile escaped before you could stop it.

“I do not steal your hoodies.”

“You have three of them.”

“They’re basically mine now.”

Rue laughed, a real one this time, soft enough that it almost disappeared into the sound of the ocean.

She shifted closer until your shoulders touched.

“You know,” she whispered, “I still think we’re okay.”

You rested your head against hers.

“I think we’re trying.”

For a while, neither of you moved.

The moon climbed higher, replacing the sunset with silver reflections across the water. Cars slowly emptied the parking lot until only a handful remained.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

8:47 p.m.

You sighed.

“Seriously, we have to go.”

Rue groaned dramatically and flopped backward onto the towel.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“And look how much emotional growth happened.”

You couldn’t help laughing. You reached down and grabbed both of her hands, trying to pull her to her feet. Instead, Rue tugged harder. You lost your balance with a surprised yelp and landed right on top of her, sand flying everywhere.

For the first time all evening, neither of you thought about the argument.

Rue looked up at you with a grin that made your chest ache.

“I win.”

“You cheated.”

“I improvised.”

Before you could argue, she leaned forward and kissed you. Slow enough that the waves kept crashing around you. Gentle enough that you almost forgot every harsh word exchanged an hour earlier.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours.

“I’m still learning,” she admitted.

You nodded.

“So am I.”

READ HERE

𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐈𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

rating: M for Mature

warnings: WLW, mentions of drugs, strangers dynamic, romantic tension, vulgar language, mentions of sexual themes

Rue emerged from a cloud of smoke like an angel. Her eyes sat low, a joint dangling from her mouth, her face sparkling with glitter she’d stolen from an ex-girlfriend. She’d been dragged to this party after insisting on staying home, only agreeing once she heard weed would be supplied.

Across the room, you babysat a red solo cup with God knows what inside. You came with your friend, but she’d ditched you almost immediately for somebody else. With every sip, your drink only seemed to grow more bitter. Your feet eventually moved on their own toward the drink table, your eyes scanning the various bottles lined up for something stronger.

You reached for a bottle of Absolut, but before you could twist the cap open, another hand reached for it too.

Your eyes flickered upward, landing on Rue. The two of you had never exchanged more than a glance, but you knew of each other—same college, same campus, same passing familiarity.

You pulled your hand away from the bottle, expecting it to fall neatly into Rue’s grasp. Instead, it slipped straight through both of your fingers and crashed to the floor.

The sound of shattering glass cut through the room, earning groans from nearby partygoers—some more offended over their shoes and outfits than the actual mess. You dropped to your knees without thinking, gathering the broken pieces into your hands.

“Don’t do that, I got it.” Rue’s voice came soft as she crouched beside you, a dish rag in hand to sweep the shards away.

“It’s my fault,” you mumbled. “I’m such an idiot for letting it go.”

“It’s no problem at all.” Rue smiled, her words dragging lazily behind the smoke in her lungs. “We’re all a little gone tonight.”

You winced as a sharp piece of glass dug into your skin.

“Fuck,” you hissed, pulling your hand back on instinct.

Rue tossed the broken pieces aside and turned her full attention to you, her lazy expression tightening for the first time that night.

“Shit, that looks bad.” She grabbed your wrist before you could inspect it any further. “Let’s get you to a bathroom.”

The two of you pushed through the crowd, weaving between bodies and spilled drinks in search of somewhere quieter. Rue reached the bathroom first, knocking hard against the door. No answer. She twisted the knob. Locked.

Her fist slammed against the wood again, louder this time.

“Hey, get the fuck out of the bathroom!” Rue shouted through the door. “I really have to piss, and I’d hate to walk in on some limp dick guy and his virgin girlfriend.”

The door swung open, revealing exactly what Rue had described. The couple scrambled to piece their clothes back together, avoiding eye contact as they slipped past. Rue didn’t spare them a second glance—she grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you.

The faucet turned on immediately, cold water rushing over your palm.

You bit down on your lip, trying to hide the pain, but the glass had dug deeper than you thought. Rue opened the bathroom drawer and, by some miracle, found a pair of tweezers still wrapped in paper. She peeled them open and began searching through your wound for the shard lodged inside.

It was a first for both of you; being this close, this still and somehow it felt warm.

“Stop moving,” Rue whispered.

Her eyes narrowed in concentration, locked onto your hand. She had never been this focused on anything before, but something about seeing your pain made her chest tighten. Maybe the drugs were finally settling into her system or maybe it was something else.

“What brings you here?” you asked, your feet swinging lightly against the bathroom counter.

“I was forced here through bribery,” Rue answered, carefully lifting the tweezers. “And now I’m pulling glass out of a girl’s hand.”

Her lips twitched.

“Not exactly how I pictured my night going.”

A chuckle slipped past your lips at Rue’s answer. You understood the feeling all too well, but somehow this moment made the night feel less miserable.

“Gotcha,” Rue cheered softly, setting the tweezers down onto the counter.

You rubbed over your palm before pressing a wad of tissue against the cut, watching it slowly soak through to stop the bleeding.

“I know this question is cliché,” you started, glancing toward her. “But have you ever been in love?”

The question settled heavily in the room.

Rue lowered herself onto the toilet lid, her knees spreading slightly as she leaned back against the wall.

Love.

How could someone even begin to explain it?

She’d mistaken it for a lot of things before; lust disguised as loyalty, comfort disguised as permanence, loneliness disguised as devotion. She’d told people she loved them because it felt like the right thing to say, because saying it kept them around a little longer. But actual love? The kind that reached into your chest and rearranged everything? She wasn’t sure she’d ever held it long enough to recognize it.

Her eyes drifted back to you.

“I think I’ve loved the idea of people,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “The way they made me feel. The way they filled space.” She paused, thumb rubbing against the edge of the toilet seat. “But real love?”

Rue shrugged.

“I don’t know if I’ve been lucky enough for that.”

You nodded at Rue’s response and let it sit on your tongue for a moment, tasting the honesty of it.

“I don’t think I could ever find the love I yearn for,” you admitted. “I want passion, something so real it doesn’t even feel real.”

Rue listened without interrupting. Her eyes traced over your face as if she were trying to memorize it; the curve of your mouth, the tension in your jaw, the way your eyes avoided hers after saying something so vulnerable.

For once, she didn’t have a clever answer.

Maybe because she understood exactly what you meant.

Everyone wanted love, but not everyone wanted the same version of it. Some people wanted comfort. Some wanted safety. Some wanted a body beside theirs at night just to keep the loneliness out. But what you were describing—that kind of love—was dangerous. It was the kind that consumed you. The kind that kept you awake. The kind that could ruin you just as easily as it could save you.

Rue had spent years pretending she didn’t want that too.

“You’ll find it,” she said finally, her voice lower now. “Or maybe it finds you when you stop looking so hard.”

Her words lingered in the tiny bathroom.

Then her hand moved before her mind could stop it. Her fingers brushed a loose curl from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a softness that surprised even her.

Her hand stayed there a second too long.

And suddenly the room felt much smaller.

“One more question,” you promised.

You weren’t sure how Rue would react to it, but curiosity pushed the words out before you could stop them.

“Have you ever said I love you during it?”

A soft laugh escaped Rue’s lips, her head dipping for a moment before she looked back up at you.

“I haven’t.” Her answer came easy, honest. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Her hand rested on your lap now. Light, almost accidental, but neither of you acknowledged it.

Your eyes dropped to where her fingers sat against your thigh, and Rue noticed immediately. She didn’t move them. If anything, her touch grew heavier.

“I’m not the best person to be in a relationship with.” Rue’s voice softened, her eyes falling somewhere past your shoulder. “You’d wake up one day at a loss for words, begging for an explanation of what happened.”

“You couldn’t have done something that bad,” you replied, almost instinctively.

Rue let out a humorless laugh.

“I relapsed after my ex left me for the city.” Her jaw tightened as she said it. “It was ugly. I kept chasing after them like nothing had happened like I could somehow love them hard enough to make them stay.”

Your eyes widened as the confession settled between you. The vulnerability of it made your chest ache.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I can’t imagine how you felt in that moment.”

“It’s whatever,” Rue said with a shrug, though her voice betrayed something softer underneath. “She moved on, and so did I because now I’m in some random bathroom talking to a stranger.”

You smiled faintly and nodded, pretending to agree, though the moment felt far from random now.

Rue’s fingers remained on your thigh, her grip light but deliberate, and it made your skin grow hot beneath her touch. Your eyes dropped to her lips, then lifted back to her eyes.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

The silence between you turned thick, charged with something neither of you wanted to name. Your heart beat loud enough to hear, and before doubt could stop you, you leaned forward and crashed your lips into hers.

Rue froze for half a second—surprised, maybe—but then she kissed you back like she’d been waiting for it. Her hand slid higher against your thigh as she deepened the kiss, her lips warm and slightly chapped against yours.

It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t careful. It was messy in the way first kisses often are—driven more by feeling than thought.

And somehow, that made it better.

Your hand found the edge of the sink behind you to steady yourself as Rue stepped closer, the small bathroom shrinking even further around you. The tissue on your injured palm had long been forgotten.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath.

“That,” Rue whispered, her lips still brushing yours, “wasn’t very stranger-like of you.”

“I couldn’t resist it,” you murmured, a grin tugging at your lips. “All that small talk and no first move. Somebody had to do it.”

“Shut up,” Rue whispered.

But there was no bite behind it, only amusement.

Her hand tightened around your waist, pulling you back toward her before you could say anything else. Her lips met yours again, slower this time, less rushed but somehow more intense. Like now that the line had been crossed, neither of you felt the need to pretend anymore.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, drawing her closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies. Rue’s palm pressed firmly against the small of your back, grounding you there, as if she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

The kiss deepened naturally—warm, lingering, exploratory. The kind that made time soften around the edges.

Outside the bathroom door, the party carried on: music thumping, people laughing, bottles clinking; but inside, it felt suspended. Quiet.

Rue pulled away just enough to look at you, her lips swollen, her eyes lower than before but clearer somehow.

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who kisses strangers in bathrooms,” she whispered.

You smiled.

“And you answer a lot of them for someone who claims not to like people.”

HOLLON WHAT U GON DO TO ME?

𝐁𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 | 𝐑𝐮𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Airing in 1997, Buzzcut Season follows the journey of a lonely peasant named Rue, longing for a better life. She dreams of joining the men on the battlefield, fighting in war to earn her badge of honor and prove her courage. Amid the grief and hardship of her story, a princess sits within her kingdom, preparing for an arranged marriage to a prince she has never known. Though the two are burdened by similar emotions, it is opportunity and circumstance that slowly draw them closer.

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