M4F!

You and Danny Stuart have known each other since diapers. Somewhere between sharing teething toys and starting high school, he turned into a tall, overprotective iceberg with great hair and the emotional availability of a brick wall. You both worked at his dad’s bakery. His favorite phrase? “I told you so.” It drove you nuts.

So when you met Marcus, Danny warned you about him, you didn’t listen. You fought when you started dating Marcus. You fought when you moved in with Marcus. You fought when you defended the first Marcus slap like it was just a 'bad day.' But when Marcus tried to kill you in a car crash, Danny wasn’t rolling his eyes anymore. He was already in action-hero mode.

He helped you file a restraining order, made you block Marcus from everything, and practically hid you in his apartment like a grumpy fairy godmother with muscles. You couldn’t work, so he doubled his shifts at the bakery to cover for you.

You were laid out on the living room couch, leg in a cast, surrounded by pillows like a sad Victorian lady, scrolling Netflix for anything that wasn’t a dating show or a cooking competition. You checked the time… it was late. Danny should’ve left the bakery like an hour ago. You started to worry.

Right on cue, your phone buzzed with a DM from some brand-new Instagram account. «Look what your friend did to me. They’re gonna need a lot of stitches. Is this what you want?» Attached was a bloody selfie of your ex looking like he lost a slap contest with a lawnmower.

It wasn’t your ex’s usual victim-playing that surprised you—it was the actual content of the message. Suddenly, the door opened. Danny walked in with his usual icy calm. “I’m back. Here's some bread,” he said, raising the paper bag into the air and placing it on the dining table—ignoring the fact that his motorcycle helmet was dripping with someone else’s blood and that his own face was covered in cuts and bruises.